To his surprise, she laughed. Burchard just stared at her, not sure what to think.
“The king does not own this land,” she informed him.
Out of the corner of his eye, Burchard saw Ruschmann stumble forward, onto his knees, as the figure shoved his friend at sword point. Ruschmann pulled his gaze from the archer as he fell, which was when Burchard realized that the big man who had captured Ruschmann wasn’t a man at all, but a centaur. Startled by that realization, Burchard felt himself swaying. He braced his legs more tightly against the saddle, not wanting to give these people, whoever they were, any indication that he was not capable of rescuing his friend by himself. Burchard bit his cheek hard to keep from reacting, drawing blood.
Centaurs don’t exist. Maybe I hit my head again?
“We will have to agree to disagree on who owns the land we’re standing on,” Burchard murmured. I guess my father was right. Something was definitely going on in the northeast. “Can you tell me who you believe this land belongs to?”
“No, I cannot tell you who this land belongs to, not yet,” she replied.
“Is there anything you can tell me? Your name?” Burchard asked, at the end of his patience. Burchard watched as the archer glanced at the centaur, who gave a subtle nod. He had thought she was in charge, but apparently that was not the case.
“My name is Jade, and this is Damos. We are druids,” the archer replied. “You are Squire Burchard Wolfensberger, middle son of General George Wolfensberger, and your companion is Squire Ruschmann Blackwell, born in Wanonia and adopted into the Blackwell family.”
Burchard blinked a few times as she revealed details that were not common knowledge. “How do you know who we are?”
Jade shrugged. “I imagine the same way I know this land doesn’t belong to Etria.”
Burchard ground his teeth together. He didn’t think rolling his eyes would be a wise move, but clearly Jade and Damos weren’t willing to tell him anything useful. “Do you have a healer?”
“When we get to camp, Damos will heal you,” Jade said. “Now let’s get going.”
Burchard watched as Damos nicked Ruschmann with the tip of his sword, encouraging him to walk in front of him. Jade brought up the rear, stepping just a hair behind Burchard, who was surprised to still be allowed to ride. He kept silent while praying Chip would not decide to kick Jade and get him in more trouble than he was already in. They walked in silence for quite some time through the trees. In addition to the growing darkness, fog was rising, making it even more difficult for Burchard to see where they were going and had come from. If he had the opportunity to escape, he doubted that he would get very far.
I still don’t know much about these people. Damos is a centaur who can heal, and Jade is clearly a skilled archer with an owl pet.
They walked through a narrow gap between some boulders and a clearing opened before them with a large cave at its back. Leosor Hollows, Burchard realized when he saw the cave. He knew there were several large caverns that were linked together in the area by smaller tunnels. Wanting to get a better look around without being overly obvious, he tipped his head forward, allowing his hair to slide over most of his face as he peered around. He saw evidence that a larger group had been there recently, but only one small fire was closest to the cave mouth.
A firm hand gripped his leg. “Keep moving,” Jade ordered.
Burchard sighed and lightly bumped Chip with his legs. His arm was sticky with blood and was starting to really throb. Hopefully Damos was a proficient healer.
“Dismount and leave your horse over there,” she instructed, waving an arm to a post at their left. “Then come and sit by the fire, and Damos will look at your arm.”
Burchard followed Jade’s instructions, finding a spot by the fire where Ruschmann was already sitting. Damos stood waiting, but Burchard couldn’t get a read on him. In the firelight, he could make out some more details of the centaur. He seemed to have olive-colored skin that was mostly hidden by a leather coat, dark blue-black hair, and golden eyes. His horse parts were also blue-black. He wore a wide belt with a small axe and an empty scabbard hanging from it.
“Take off your coat. It needs to be mended or scrapped,” the centaur ordered. Burchard carefully slid the coat off, looking mournfully at the shredded sleeve. His shirt underneath was caked in drying blood. “Shirt too.”
Burchard obeyed and pulled off his shirt. Since Damos was standing and Burchard was sitting, he heard Damos’s whistling breath as he saw the scars on his back.
“Who did that to you?” Damos demanded angrily.
Burchard was surprised at the reaction and wasn’t completely sure what the centaur was talking about. “Who did what to me?”
“The scars on your back. You were whipped,” Damos snarled.
The comment clearly piqued Jade’s interest as she stopped preparing a meal and came over to peer at his back too. Burchard felt a very feather light touch on his back, just barely grazing his scars.
“The General,” Jade said softly.
Burchard clamped his mouth shut and kept his eyes on the fire. If Jade had a way of seeing who had held the whip, then good for her, but he was not going to tell anyone who had whipped him or why. He felt Jade step away.
A heavier hand settled on his shoulder. “I will heal your arm now,” Damos said in a deep voice. Burchard sucked in a breath. When he let it out, he could feel the tendrils of magic wrapping around his arm. He glanced at it, unable to help himself, and was surprised to see green and gold threads encasing his arm. As he watched, the gash the arrow had made in his arm knitted itself together and shrank. When Damos finally let go of his shoulder, all that was left on his arm was the barest of scars and dried blood.
“Thank you,” Burchard murmured.
The centaur shrugged and carefully moved away from him and over to Jade. Burchard glanced at Ruschmann, who was gazing at him with a difficult-to-read expression. He arched his eyebrow, wondering if his friend was going to say something. Instead of speaking, Ruschmann scooted closer to Burchard so their shoulders were brushing.
“Have you ever seen magic like that before?” Ruschmann asked.
Burchard shook his head. “No. To my knowledge, Etrian mages who heal use their magic inside someone’s body so you can’t see it. Or at least non-mages can’t see it.”
“What do you think it means?” Ruschmann asked.
“Only that the magic Damos has is different than what is normal for Etrian healers. Since I am not a mage,” Burchard said with a pointed look, “I don’t know everything there is to know about them.”
Ruschmann bumped his shoulder. “Yes, but you do know something. Since we first met, you have always made it clear that you believe it is important to not only be an expert at skills you have but also to have knowledge of those you don’t. I am sure you have more to share.”
Burchard rolled his eyes. “Fine, I will tell you some of what I know. In Etria, Wanonia, and Stinyia, elemental magic is the most common type of magic. Fire, air, water, and earth. Some mages are more specialized within those categories, such as metal or stone. Although less common, they can wield two elements. Even more rare is weather magic. However, there are places beyond those three I mentioned, and they have other kinds of magic that might use elements, but I would hesitate to call it elemental magic. Shadow, nature, and death are three I know of.”
“Death?” Ruschmann questioned.
“Yes, you know—raising the dead,” Burchard explained.
“That’s not a fairy tale?” Ruschmann said with a quiver of fear in his voice.
Burchard laughed, but it came out more like a bark. “I have not spoken to anyone who has death magic, so I cannot be sure, but I did find some firsthand accounts, and from what I could tell, yes, it is a very real type of magic that is primarily used to raise the dead.”
