The Defender: Elderwood

  ***

  His outing the previous night weighed on Allan’s mind as he fixed his breakfast. He was surprised at what he’d said, but also not surprised by it. Thinking about it, what he’d said and what he’d done had felt right then, and still felt right the morning after.

  It’s one thing to keep a man from being robbed, he mused. Saving him didn’t feel right without asking him if he needed to be saved. It didn’t feel right unless he knew about the scarred young man.

  Allan had been returning to Elderwood Ford, every week, for a few months now. He had gotten better at fighting; last night’s adventure had proven that. He’d done a little good here and there, but it hadn’t felt like he’d accomplished all that much.

  Until last night. Until I said what I had to say.

  Allan looked around the ruin that had become his home. What I said wasn’t just what my sister had taught me. It’s also what Damien had written, in his history of magic. You have to use your power to help people, or they get resentful of it. I guess it’s the same for money, too. If you don’t use it to help people, you create boys like that thief. Boys, men, who would kill for half a loaf of bread.

  Allan could see contradictions in his actions the previous night. It was obvious that using his power to cast spells, as well as his increasing skill at fighting, could protect people like the older man from becoming victims of criminals. It was equally obvious that doing so was right and just.

  Yet it was as obvious that the scarred youth wasn’t evil, but desperate to stay alive. No one helped him in his time of need, thus he felt no obligation to help anyone else. He had no trouble stealing, even killing, because that lack of help severed any connections had to strangers. If they had something he wanted, be it gold coins or a scrap of meat, he’d try to take without a second thought.

  That’s what my sister warned me about, after we saw him get his scars. You head down that path, and you don’t see people. You see things, and people just get in the way.

  That’s also what Damien wrote about. Many of those old mages didn’t care about who they hurt when they rose to power, or picked a fight, or decided they wanted to live well. They used magic to get what they wanted. They saw things, and brushed the people away.

  That left Allan with a question. Now that I understand that, what do I do about it?

  The obvious answer was to continue doing what he was doing. He should return to Elderwood Ford and make it a better place.

  I can’t return as myself. I might still be wanted. If someone saw me, they’d know what I did. Then I might have to use my magic out in the open to save myself.

  Allan caught sight of his leather helmet and face-mask. If I kept wearing that, no one would see most of my face. I’m older, and my voice is different from when it was when I fled. I’m taller, and getting stronger. As long as I wear that, no one would recognize me.

  I couldn’t do much during the day. Well, I could, but I’d need spells to disguise my hair and eyes. Maybe some other clothes, too. If I kept to the streets, and avoided the guards, I might be able to move around somewhat during the day.

  Doing what? I can’t just fight crime. I have to fight for justice. I have to defend people like my sister and me against those who harm us, be it criminals or the rich men who use their wealth and power to get their way.

  He looked at the mask again. Would anyone notice what I was doing? Should they?

  He sat up straight. Yes, they should. That merchant needed to know why he was being robbed. Maybe me telling him why will make him give a little more to those who don’t have anything. They can’t just know that someone is standing up for them; the need to know that they can stand up for themselves, too.

  That was something else Damien wrote. People rallied around mages when mages helped the people. When mages only helped themselves, no one helped them. He was sure that’s what led to their downfall, once the magus diminished.

  He took a deep breath. Fine. Who should they notice? Not Allan the poor young man. Certainly not Allan the mage.

  What was it I thought before? Defend people.

  Yes! The Defender.

  He nodded. Well, it’s something. Now, how to I go about being this Defender?

  I can’t go back and try to stop every crime. I could never do that.

  Memories of life on the streets of the city flooded into his mind. While some crime was carried out by individuals, other actions were directed. There were groups of youth organized into bands of thieves. There was the “dark brothel” someone warned them about, where women were taken into prostitution against their will. There was “Conner's Crew,” a group who forced some of the shops by the river to pay to keep them safe.

  There are men giving orders to some of the criminals in Elderwood Ford.

  He sucked in a breath. That also means that the guards aren’t always allowed to act against all the crime that happens. If they did, the men giving the orders would lose money. That means there must be some reason why the guards don’t do more.

  He let out a breath. That must be the reason for my actions. I have to find out who those men are, who are protecting them, and see to it that they are dealt with. I can’t stop all crime, but maybe I can stop men from gaining power and profit from crime.

  FOUR