***
The cobbles shook under my feet as the Wizards approached on their lightning powered iron steeds. It was only my fourth day in Bagwar’s Run and I had already assumed leadership of one of its gangs and was about to lead them into battle.
The Wizards came into view as they turned down Green Street, riding four abreast on black, iron monstrosities that they had saddled like horses, but floated on clouds of smoke and sparks and were guided with long handlebars. At their lead was the Archmage of the Wizards, Blaster Eldren, a tall, muscular man whose long, red hair was now streaked with gray and blew in the wind loose behind him. In the middle of his forehead was the tattoo of an eye that reputedly gave him second sight. Behind him came the Wizard’s cadre, forty-five strong. They were a dirty, hairy lot; and to a man, they were mean.
I stood waiting for them alone in the middle of Green Street. I was down the street from the Amazon’s clubhouse, where Emerald Park came right up to the west side of the road. My sword was in my hand as I waited to see what the Wizards would do. Blaster slowed, eyeing me. When he was about fifteen feet away, he stopped.
“Who are you?” he asked. “Where’s that slag Maygride and the rest of the wenches hiding?”
“My name is Glory. I lead the Amazons now,” I said. “You aren’t welcome here. I’m going to give you just one chance to turn around and head back to Cortland.”
Blaster laughed and a little ball of spittle ran down his mouth and hung in his beard. His eyes were darting back and forth, looking for the ambush that he knew was there. He couldn’t see anyone, but his forehead began to twitch and he suddenly yelled, “Magic! Watch it boys!”
The Archmage pointed his wand at me and lightning shot forth quicker than I could react. It hit me in the chest and rebounded back at Blaster, leaving me unhurt. I could breathe again--the charms worked. The surprise on the Archmage’s face as he was knocked off of his steed was priceless.
“Now!” I shouted.
On the park side, an illusionary treeline faded to reveal twenty-five Amazons, led by Nevia, armed with war axes, swords, and throwing knives. Behind them in the real treeline were fifteen archers with bows ready. They released a volley.
Some of the Wizards erected hasty wards, but several shafts struck home. Twenty-five Amazons charged forty-five Wizards. The Wizards let loose with their wands, firing off lightning, fire, ice, death curses, bad luck jinxes, and more. Without fail, the Wizard’s magic bounced off of its target harmlessly, sometimes right back at the caster, sometimes in a random direction. One stray lightning bolt took out a tree branch that landed on an archer, but that was the only Amazon casualty in the opening exchange.
The Wizards were slow to react after the failure of their spells. They went for their weapons, but in most cases they were too late. A few had crossbows and one got off a hasty shot that struck and Amazon named, Bonnu in the chest. She fell and did not rise again.
I charged at Blaster. His hair was singed and his clothes were smoking. He appeared dazed, but was still game. He took off his belt, a heavy length of chain, and held it in his left hand; in his right he held a long knife. Blaster was in good shape for an older man and he was strong with his rage making him stronger. It was apparent to me though that he had little real skill with his weapons, whereas I had been training with mine as long as I could remember.
He swung the chain in a looping, over handed circle. I skipped back once or twice until I had the timing down. The next time he swung the chain, I came in under it and stabbed for his heart. He deflected my sword with his knife. I let my momentum carry my sword around for a massive strike at his lean torso. He tried to block it, but the force of my blow broke his knife, cut through his arm and into his black, leather jacket.
“You bitch!” he spat out. “I’ll kill you and regenerate that arm, I’ll...”
His words trailed off as I put the point of my sword into his heart. He collapsed to the ground, dead.
I turned to see how the other’s were faring. Some of the Wizards had figured out that the charms that Dark Emily and her friends had fashioned out of the stolen wand only protected against direct attacks. One Wizard had turned part of the street into quicksand and three of my women were mired down in it. Too little too late. When Blaster fell, the Wizards who were still alive lost heart. The only magic that they were casting now was to help them escape. Patches of darkness and smoke popped up as they turned and fled.
I did not intend to allow any of them to get away. My gang owned some horses and I had been assured that the Amazons were excellent horsewomen. So I had told Maygride to pick the best twelve and had them hiding on Forest Hill Road out of sight.
When the fleeing Wizards rounded the corner, the cavalry attacked.
When it was over, a few Wizards did manage to escape back to their clubhouse in Cortland Heights. Three, maybe four. As a power, the Wizards were finished in Bagwar’s Run.
As for us, I had lost only four women, though twice that many had been wounded.
From out of the park, I saw Dark Emily emerge. She was accompanied by four witches. Together, they had created the charms that we had worn and the illusion that had hidden my fighters.
“These charms will only protect against magic from a Wizard’s wand—nothing else,” she had warned while lecturing me on the properties of the wands the previous night. I had assured her that it would be fine, and luckily for us, it had been.
“You were right,” Emily said now. “Worked like a charm.”
I laughed to be polite, skilled sorceress or not, Emily was not a comedian.
“Now that the Wizards are done for,” I said. “You and the other women can come out of hiding. I was hoping that you would consider an alliance with my gang. Us girls need to stick together.”
“What are you proposing exactly?” Emily asked.
“You are well-respected by the other sorceresses and witches. I want you to join with me and bring them in. The city is wide open now. We could take it over if we worked together. I’d remain Warchief and you could call yourself Archmage or Headwitch or whatever. We can share leadership, me over the warriors and you over the mages,” I said.
“Well, I do owe you for getting rid of Blaster and the rest. Alright, I agree,” she extended her hand and we shook. “We can work out the details later. We should get the streets cleaned up and get out of here before a column of guards or some of Janessa’s Regulars arrive.”
I wasn’t sure what a “Janessa’s Regular” was, but I was sure that I would learn. My instincts told me that I had found a pretty good thing. And whatever might occur in the future, I was sure of one thing—it would not be boring.
THE END
About the author
Erik C. Martin is originally from Cleveland, Ohio, a city geographically not unlike Bagwar’s Run. He currently lives in San Diego, California with his lovely and supportive wife, Toni. When not writing Erik has been a social worker, police officer, delivered singing telegrams, child care worker, case manager, and book store owner. He loves hearing from readers and can be contacted at
[email protected]. Check out his website at https://www.erikcmartin.com, and his blog at https://martin-inabind.blogspot.com.
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