Sands of Time

By Ty Johnston

Cursed by Heaven and Hell, the Mage of Many Names wanders the ages from land to land, his ways often mysterious, his goals changing with events and his moods. At periods he is generous, even honorable, while in other times he is diabolic and quite mad.

From ancient Rome to modern Iraq and then to worlds beyond, he goes by names such as Simon Magus, John Dee, and many others. He can be the strongest of companions yet the most dangerous of enemies.
Within this collection are 16 short stories:

The Mage Who Would Not Die
Midnight in Oplontis
The Unconquered Mage
Behold Now the Behemoth
Carcass and Mallet
Devil and Devil Damned
Where the Baptized Drown
Interlude in Lombardy
Bullets for Amy
Born to Bring Trouble
Walking Between the Rain
Terror in the Flare Lights
Killing Just for Fun
Beneath a Persian Sun
The Way the Sunlight Lies Upon Her Hair
The Impulse to Punish

A number of these stories have appeared elsewhere in print or in digital formats, but this is the first time they have all appeared together.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ty Johnston
• Release date: Jul 24, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476125220

Ty Johnston

Originally from Kentucky, Ty Johnston is a former newspaper journalist. He lives in North Carolina with loving memories of his late wife.Blog: tyjohnston.blogspot.com

Book preview

Sands of Time

a John Dee collection

(the Mage of Many Names)

by Ty Johnston

a Monumental Works Group author

Copyright 2012 by L. M. Press

cover artwork by Ty Johnston

visit the author’s website: tyjohnston.blogspot.com

author’s newsletter: tinyletter.com/TyJohnston

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

for Jason

Fiction available from the author

Demon Chains

Ghosts of the Asylum

City of Rogues: Book I of The Kobalos Trilogy

Road to Wrath: Book II of The Kobalos Trilogy

Dark King of the North: Book III of The Kobalos Trilogy

Blade and Flame (short story prequel to The Kobalos Trilogy)

The Kobalos Trilogy: Omnibus edition

Bayne’s Climb: Part I of The Sword of Bayne

A Thousand Wounds: Part II of The Sword of Bayne

Under the Mountain: Part III of The Sword of Bayne

The Sword of Bayne: Omnibus edition

The Castle of Endless Woe (novelette)

More Than Kin

100 Years of Blood

The Storm

American Crossroads: five turning points

Non-fiction from the author

100 Web Sites for Fiction Writers

100 Days of Fantasy: a memoir

Table of Contents

Introduction

The Mage Who Would Not Die

Midnight in Oplontis

The Unconquered Mage

Behold Now the Behemoth

Carcass and Mallet

Devil and Devil Damned

Where the Baptized Drown

Interlude in Lombardy

Bullets for Amy

Born to Bring Trouble

Walking Between the Rain

Terror in the Flare Lights

Killing Just for Fun

Beneath a Persian Sun

The Way the Sunlight Lies Upon Her Hair

The Impulse to Punish

Introduction

Dear reader, what you will discover here is a collection of sixteen short stories of fictional events taking place at various points during the last 2,000 years. To be more exact, a couple of these tales are set in the relatively near future while the rest are historical or set in modern times. Fans of the speculative will find stories from all their favorite genres, fantasy and horror and even some science fiction. Some of these tales are adventurous, some hopefully chilling, still others having a literary bent. But what all these stories have in common is they are centered around one particular figure, a man of various powers who never seems to age. He goes by many different names at different points in time. Some of those names will be familiar to those who have studied their history, while other names are more unfamiliar. Also, this singular individual wears differing demeanors at various stages of his long existence; sometimes he is quite benevolent, while in other periods he is murderous and even deranged, seeming quite mad. Why is this? That is a mystery, one which holds answers not to be found in this particular collection, though there are hints here and there. As the author, I simply think of this character as Dee. Readers with a bent toward religious scholarship might be particularly interested. Many of these tales have appeared elsewhere, either in print or in a digital format, but this is the first time all of them have been collected into one publication. The very first story, The Mage Who Would Not Die, has never before appeared in a publication. I hope you find something to enjoy.

The Mage Who Would Not Die

Southern coast of Italia

79 A.D.

The two thugs eased down the narrow alleyway, each hugging the shadows along opposite walls. Ahead lay the exit, a cobbled street beyond revealed by fluttering torches hanging on posts every dozen yards.

The only sounds were the sobs of a gentle wind and the shrill etchings of daggers sliding from metal scabbards.

Straddling the alley, one moccasin planted on a rooftop and the other on a second-story drainage pipe, Calidus watched from above. Normally he would not have exposed himself on such an open perch, but the early morning was moonless and heavy clouds shielded the glow of the stars.

The patter of sandaled feet sounded down the street. The target drew close.

Calidus tensed, as did the two men below. Then he rolled his shoulders to loosen his muscles. He was here mainly as an observer, but would step in if needed. Their target was a wealthy man, a vacationer from Rome who had settled in Italia. More importantly, he was rumored to be a sorcerer. Calidus had no wish to tackle such a mark without first gauging the man’s capabilities.

Which was why the two goons were stationed below. If they got lucky and claimed their prize, so much the better. If not, Calidus would have a front row seat to witness whatever talents his mark possessed. Afterward, he would be better suited to formulate his own assault. A senior Roman statesman was paying for this kill, and Calidus did not plan to disappoint, especially since the payment would be enough to allow him to retire young.

The slapping noises of one person walking neared.

Then the walker appeared, a man with a slight limp. A simple pale toga wrapped his tall and muscular form, though he had not the size and girth typical of strong men. His features were dark, his nose hawkish beneath black hair cut short in the Roman style.

The two thugs sprang from the alley. They were not quiet about it, the fools, and their heavy footfalls alerted their quarry. The nearest to the sorcerer, the one on Calidus’s left, slung open his robes and drew back a knife for a killing blow.

The sorcerer muttered something, the words lost over the distance to Calidus, and the thug began screaming and stabbing himself with his own blade. In the face.

The other rogue was caught off guard by the awful change in his companion. He paused, his own knife out low.

The wizard did not hesitate. He lunged. His right hand shot out as if a sword, the joined, taught fingers spearing the throat of the thug. Blood sprang forth, spraying the sorcerer and both failing assassins.

Within seconds, two bleeding dead men lay at the sorcerer’s sandaled feet. The dark-haired figure paused over the bodies, staring down at them in silence.

The night returned that silence.

Then the sorcerer stared up, straight through the blackness of night to where Calidus watched. The sorcerer smiled.

Then turned and walked away.

Calidus shivered in the chill of the night as urine warmed his leggings.

***

He slid into a seat behind a table in a dark corner and clutched his head in his hands.

Calidus?

He didn’t look up. He knew the voice. It was Libo, owner of the tavern. Libo tended to be overly curious. Calidus was not in the mood for the overly curious. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts. He needed to think what to do. His plan had been to watch how the sorcerer responded to the attackers, then step in and finish the target himself.

That had not happened.

Calidus had been too shaken.

He had never witnessed true magic before. Of course he was familiar with dozens of soothsayers and prophesiers and all sorts of con artists who claimed to be magicians, but that had been real magic he had seen earlier that morning. It was beyond his reckoning. A man stabbing himself to death. Another man’s throat ripped from his neck by fingers alone. It was maddening. How could a man combat that which seemed pulled from the air itself?

Calidus? the voice repeated.

Calidus looked up with red, bleary eyes.

The portly figure of Libo took a step back, his own eyes broadening in surprise. By the gods, lad, what’s happened to you?

You don’t want to know, Calidus said.

But of course Libo did want to know. And a few free drinks later he did know.

Who is it wants this man dead? Libo asked with a hushed voice, sitting behind the table next to Calidus, a mug of wine in his hands.

For the fourth or fifth time, Calidus glanced about, his eyes roaming over the few patrons remaining in the tavern this early in the morning. None of the faces appeared trustworthy, but all were familiar, locals with troubles of their own they were drowning in Libo’s wine. More importantly, none of them were near and none showed any interest in the small, dark-clad fellow at the back table with the tavern keeper.

It appeared safe to speak further.

But that didn’t mean Calidus was a total fool. Naval praefect, he said, intentionally not giving a name. Stationed across the bay in Misenum.

Libo nodded. And why would a navy officer want this wizard killed?

Not sure, Calidus said, clutching his head once more and staring at the table top. It’s generally best not to ask in my line of work.

But you’ve got some ideas, of course, Libo said.

Calidus looked up. It was his turn to nod. Of course.

Out with them, lad.

Calidus paused before speaking again. He was young, but well beyond being a boy. Libo, on the other hand, was an old man who had retired from the army a few years earlier to set up shop here in this small piss-pot of a town known as Oplontis. To Calidus’s knowledge, Libo was a nobody. But the man had spent years upon years in the army. Perhaps he knew people. Perhaps he was even friends with people. Perhaps Calidus had already said more than enough. It was already too much that Libo knew how Calidus made a living, but then Libo seemed to know a lot.

The tavern keeper noticed the hesitation. Look, boy, he said, I might be a fat, old man to you, but I’m no fool. Gaius Plinius Secundus is praefect over in Misenum. And Pliny isn’t exactly the bloodthirsty sort. He’s no Nero. If he wants someone dead, it’s got to be for a good reason. The man’s a lawyer and historian. Why in Hades’s name would he hire an assassin unless it was with good purpose?

Calidus blanched. So, he had said too much.

Libo jabbed one of the young man’s arms with a finger. Listen to me, boy. You’re in over your head. I’ve been on both ends of a sword, and I’ve sat in this heap for the last three years watching all the comings and goings, and knowing more than I ought. But I’ve always kept my mouth closed to the local officials. The gold you and a handful of others send my way helps to supplement my pension, after all. But this is a wizard you’re talking about, right here in our own little town. And this is an important person who wants this wizard dead. Something has to be done, and you can’t do it on your own.

Calidus rolled his eyes. He had definitely said too much.

I want in, Libo said.

Calidus shot up in his seat. What?

You heard me, Libo said. I want in.

The sudden movement combined with the wine sent Calidus’s head swimming. The young assassin eased back onto his chair and slowly shook his head. He should have known better than to be plied with liquor and then spill secrets, at least his most recent secrets. It could get him killed. Hades, it might even get Libo killed.

Pliny’s got to be paying you well, Libo went on. I wouldn’t expect an even split. Let’s say seventy-thirty. With my thirty, I’d probably be able to sell off this place and buy myself a nice little cottage in Arretium or someplace. Someplace nice and quiet.

Calidus sighed and glanced up at his friend. He had known Libo a few years now, and the man had proven more than capable in a bar fight, but was the ex-soldier up to tackling a sorcerer? Calidus didn’t know. But if he still wanted this commission, he was going to need aid.

Okay, okay, the assassin finally said. You’re in. Seventy-thirty is fine with me.

Good. Libo’s face turned into a long, outstretched smile. Then we can get down to business.

That’s the problem, Calidus said, running a hand through his hair, the business. Normally I’d know how to operate. Normally I would have taken care of the target as soon as he was past the two men I hired. But this situation is different. I just don’t know what to do.

Think, Libo said, tapping the table. What do you know of your mark?

He really, truly is a sorcerer, Calidus said. I saw it with my own eyes. I never would have thought such existed.

Libo grimaced and eased back in his seat. That’s just your fear talking. Think about what happened, what you saw and heard.

Calidus closed his eyes and sent his memory back. The slight fogginess caused by the wine didn’t help, but the events had just happened hours earlier. He had been roosted atop an alley between two buildings. The two thugs had been below. The sorcerer had come walking along.

Calidus’s eyes snapped open. He hadn’t known we were there, at least not at first.

Good, good. Libo goaded for more. What else?

It was weird, silent. The early morning is always quiet, but not like this. It was as if I could barely hear the scuffle below. Then afterward, no screams, no town guards. Just…weird.

Probably magic. This bastard doesn’t want people to know his business. Anything else?

The attackers caught him off guard, but they were slow. He had enough time to chant some magic words or whatever it is wizards do.

He took out your two men, Libo said, but he had been surprised.

He saw me up in the shadows.

You sure about that?

I’m positive.

Libo shook his head. Doesn’t matter. By that point, he probably expected others.

Calidus ran a hand through his sweaty hair once more. Maybe. But I don’t see what good this talking does us.

He’s not infallible, Libo said. You also mentioned he had a limp. That means he can be wounded. He’s not a god. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen to him before it happens.

But he’ll be tipped off now, Calidus pointed out, then cursed. I should have leapt down and put a dagger in his heart.

Then you’d be just as dead as those other jokers. Libo patted Calidus on a shoulder. No, thank Jupiter you did no such thing.

Calidus looked to his new partner. So what do we do?

A hard gleam came into the older man’s eyes. We take him out, just like your contract requires.

Calidus frowned. How are we going to do that?

We surprise him, Libo explained. He’s going to know another attack is imminent, but he won’t expect it until dark. We won’t give him that much time. We’ll hit him today, in broad daylight. You know where he lives?

Calidus nodded.

Good lad, Libo said. We’ll hit him during the day, and we’ll hit him from a distance.

Bows?

Bows.

I don’t like bows, Calidus said. They’re not good for my line of work. Not dependable. Rarely kill with one strike.

That gleam brightened in Libo’s eyes. Leave that to me.

***

Groaning as he stumbled out the back door into an alley behind Libo’s tavern, Calidus cursed himself for drinking that much wine. He normally wasn’t much of a drinker, but that wizard had shaken him to his core.

Calidus planted a hand against a stone wall, leaned forward with his head down and jabbed two fingers into his throat. Red spewed from his mouth, coating the wall and the dirty, cluttered alley floor. After a few moments, once the deluge had subsided, he leaned back to look at the mess he had created.

It looked like blood. A lot of blood. And worst of all, it had painted the front of his tunic.

He cursed and pulled the cloth over his head, dumping it in a barrel next the tavern exit. The last thing he needed was to look like a stabbing victim on the streets. The city watch would come calling quick; better to go shirtless until he could get back to his rented room for clean garb. The sun barely shone above the tops of the buildings, thus there shouldn’t be too many folks about.

He trotted out onto the main road, leaving Libo’s behind him.

The sun darted between two columned villas, stabbing the young man’s eyes, but he only winced and kept moving down the street that fronted a small harbor of wooden docks and ships bouncing on waves. He could tell already it was going to be a clear day with a bright sun and few clouds.

Not killing weather. But Libo had been right. The mark wouldn’t expect an attack during the day, at least not this soon. Besides, there had been a Vulcanalia, a festival to the god of fire, the day before in the nearby town of Pompeii, and many citizens of Oplontis had remained there overnight. Better yet, most of those who had returned home would be sleeping off the after effects of the festival.

In other words, the town was likely to be empty today.

Making his way down the street, the harbor on one side and a row of marble homes of the wealthy on the other, Calidus paused as he neared a deep shadow. He glanced up, to the north and his right, to spy the craggy heights of Mons Vesuvius some few miles away.

Despite the morning sun and the remains of warm wine in his belly, Calidus shivered once more, nearly as bad as he had upon seeing the sorcerer’s grin. For more than a score of years Calidus had walked beneath the shadow of that mountain and it had never troubled him before despite the occasional quakes and jets of smoke. Today was different.

He smacked himself in the jaw. That wizard had frightened him, that was all. There was nothing to fear from the mountain. It was a piece of home to the young killer.

He continue to walk along his route, crossing into the deep shadow of the mountain, all the while thankful Libo had confided in him that he, Libo, had been a champion archer in the Roman auxiliary.

Their plan was set. The sorcerer would die by noon.

***

The wait was longer than Calidus would have liked, three hours of skulking beneath the heat of the tormenting sun. It was nearly noon, and the gray tunic he had retrieved from his apartment clung to his back. He should have known better than to pick a flat rooftop with no shelter for his vantage point. True, the spot gave a direct line of sight upon the entrance to the villa that was the sorcerer’s home, but the heat and the light were not Calidus’s usual working conditions. He liked the night for its protection. There was no protection here.

Even the short re-curved bow in his hands was slick with sweat, and he was constantly rubbing his palms against his leggings to dry them. He glanced down at the bow made of a bright, yellowish wood. Calidus had noticed Libo’s own bow had been nearly white, possibly made of some kind of bone, and it had been thicker and heavier and just a tad bit longer. Apparently the man knew his bows.

Calidus just hoped he knew how to use it.

After making sure their choices for hiding spots were empty, the tavern-owner-turned-assassin had stationed himself down the street on Calidus’s right atop another house, this one directly across from the wizard’s abode in the quiet neighborhood. Libo had sworn he could make the shot.

It’ll be easy, the man had said with a grin full of teeth. Right through the throat at fifty yards. Not a problem. You said he muttered some magic words before killing your fellows. He won’t be able to mutter anything without his throat.

It had not sounded like a good idea. To Calidus’s way of thinking, assassinations took place in the middle of the night and up close with a knife or short sword. This wasn’t how he worked. In fact, it went against everything he felt in his bones.

But Libo claimed to be an excellent archer.

Now all they had to do was wait for the bastard to come marching out his front door. So far there had only been a couple of servants coming and going. Would the sorcerer ever show?

Yes.

He strolled out the front entrance of his home.

Calidus tensed, his grip tightening on his bow as his free hand retrieved an arrow from the quiver hanging at his side.

The wizard paused, turning back toward the house as if speaking to someone inside.

Calidus raised his arrow and nocked it against his bow. He took aim. And waited. Libo was supposed to strike first.

The wizard turned again, this time back toward the street. He took a limping step onto the cobbled stones.

There was a blur from across the road. An arrow protruded from the front of the mage’s throat, the projectile’s barbed head jutting out the back of the neck and dripping gore. More scarlet flowed down the front of the wizard’s toga, and a look of shock and surprise lit up his face.

Then he collapsed to the ground.

There was silence.

Calidus waited a beat. He glanced about. The streets were empty other than the unmoving body. When there were no screams or noise of running feet approaching, Calidus slid his arrow back into the quiver and dropped over the side of the house.

As soon as his feet touched dirt, he squatted and glanced about again, his right hand resting on the hilt of a dagger at his belt.

Still, no one else appeared. No one came scurrying out of the house, crying for their master.

Odd.

Then a noise. A thud.

Calidus glanced down the street.

It was Libo. The old archer had lowered himself from his perch down onto the cobbled stones. He too was squatting, looking not unlike a frog with his jowls and his gut hanging out beneath his tunic. His smile could be seen at the distance, and he waved for his young companion to draw near.

Still on watch