by Lisa Cassidy
They arrived just over a week after fleeing Carhall, weary to the bone. Rothai had pushed them hard and Alyx hadn’t fought him on it. The exhaustion had helped keep her bitterness and grief at bay. As had her determination to do something, anything to make this better. The time in the saddle had allowed her to think, to come to a decision that at least would allay some of the terrible guilt she’d been feeling.
“I’m sorry about Cayr’s father.” Tarrick looked uncomfortable as they dismounted and saw to the horses.
“So am I,” she said shortly. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since we left Carhall, and I want to talk about what happens next. I think we need to go to Sandira.”
“Magor-lier, we talked about—”
“I know it’s dangerous, and I know we just walked away from another Hunter attack, but the king of Rionn is dead!” Anger filled her voice. “What if Shakar sees that as a vulnerability and attacks? We need allies and we need Zandia’s army.”
“Cayr might be young, but he’s not weak,” Tarrick said.
“We know that, but Shakar doesn’t. What is it you think comes next—more running from place to place? When does it stop? I need to do something.”
“Tomorrow.” Finn stepped between them, voice calm. “We’re exhausted and upset. We can discuss this first thing tomorrow after rest.”
She stared at him, chest heaving, wanting to keep shouting, wanting to force their agreement now. She wasn’t sure she could sleep without feeling like she was doing something to help Cayr.
“Please, Alyx. None of us are thinking straight,” Finn pleaded. “We’ll talk tomorrow, I promise.”
“Fine.” She pushed past them both, stalking into the mine entrance without another word.
They occupied only a small section of the mine—the remainder of it too unstable after so long in disuse. Even so, Alyx managed to avoid running into any of the mages living there on her way to her private room, a tiny space carved into the rock which branched off a long, winding tunnel. Someone had left a fresh lamp burning, illuminating the narrow pallet and her few possessions scattered across the top of an old crate.
She pulled the curtain across the entrance and tugged her boots off before changing into an old, baggy sleeping shirt. Her stormy emotions were quickly fading in the face of physical exhaustion. Now all she felt was heartsick.
Once settled, she reached under her pillow and pulled out the small silver bracelet she kept hidden there. Tears welled in her eyes and she blew out the lamp before curling up on the pallet, hugging the blanket to her and finally allowing herself to think about Dashan.
Alyx hadn’t seen him since that bright, sunny morning they’d said goodbye on the dock at Ester. His features had faded in her mind, but she still remembered those expressive dark Shiven eyes as if she’d seen them only yesterday. She’d never imagined they’d be apart so long; she missed him badly, and that feeling had only intensified in the time since she’d last seen him.
He’d only completed a half year of training on ShadowFall Island before her father had sent for him. Unrest in Shivasa had steadily worsened until much of the south of the country was in open revolt. With his Shiven blood and Taliath skill, Dashan was the perfect man to send into Shivasa to help the rebels in undermining the Shiven government. Her father had written to her about it, noting he hoped to cause enough problems in Shivasa that the military had to be diverted away from the Rionnan border to help quell the unrest.
Ladan too had left ShadowFall Island. He fought in the disputed area, helping to hold back the encroaching Shiven army, his life in danger every day. And when he wasn’t there he was back at Widow Falls, helping to ensure the movement of supplies and weapons from Tregaya kept moving through safely.
Despite their best efforts, the Shiven gained inches more territory each month. Darien Llancarvan's death placed Rionn in a more precarious state than ever. The court had little choice but to accept such a young king, but Cayr might have to spend so much time and effort bringing them to his will that he had little left over for dealing with the Shiven pushing at their borders. And all amidst grieving his lost father.
She worried about all of them constantly. It wasn’t only Dashan she ached at being apart from—those she loved most in the world were all fighting in one way or another. What if something happened to one of them and she wasn’t there to help?
It would break her.
Unable to manage more than an hour or two of sleep, she was up early. A rusted iron ladder took her down to a large space they used to prepare food and drink. Over plain oats and hot tea she mused on what it was going to take to convince the others that a trip to Zandia was necessary.
The emperor commanded the most powerful armed forces on the continent aside from Shivasa, and his support would be crucial to any successful alliance. Alyx hoped that together they could first deal with the Shiven threat, which would then leave them free to focus all their resources on defeating Shakar. A much better strategy than relying on Alyx’s magical abilities, no matter how strong they were.
When she’d first raised the idea a few months earlier, Rothai, Tarrick and Finn had all decided against it. A public trip would place Alyx in too much danger, they believed, leaving her vulnerable to a Hunter attack. But Darien’s death had changed the balance. Rionn was in trouble, Cayr was in trouble, and she needed to do something to help.
“You mind some company?” Finn’s head of messy curls appeared at the top of the ladder.
Alyx waved him in, her gaze searching him from head to toe for signs of injury. She’d been so upset in their escape from Carhall she hadn’t properly checked if any of them were hurt. “You’re okay?”
“Not a scratch,” he assured her.
“This time,” she muttered, anger surging despite her best efforts.
“Alyx, I know the king’s death was upsetting, and that you wish you could be there for your friend.” His understanding gaze met hers. “But at least, right now in this moment, we’re safe. Appreciate that.”
She scowled at him. “Not anymore, Finn. I can’t appreciate being forcibly cooped up in here. Something has to change.”
“We’ve talked about this.” Finn’s patience didn’t help her irritation.
“Running away isn’t going to help us defeat him. And now things are worse. You know as well as I do how vulnerable Rionn will be until Cayr can establish his rule.”
“I get that, but it’s also not going to do anybody any good if you get killed because you face Shakar when you aren’t yet capable of defeating him,” he pointed out. “Training and time will increase your chances of defeating Shakar.”
Alyx shook her head. “Shakar is a mage of the higher order who has been alive far longer than I have. He has undoubtedly absorbed many more abilities and has had a lot of time to hone them. I can’t ever catch up. And even if I could, he’s invulnerable.”
Silence filled the room, her words echoing around them with the inevitable ring of finality. It was the elephant in the room. The thing none of them had spoken aloud, but all knew in the backs of their minds. Mage of the higher order she might be. More powerful than any other mage, maybe. But Shakar was invulnerable to magic.
After a moment, Finn shook his head in obvious frustration. “It’s not as simple as you keep making it sound. Yes, he’s invulnerable, which means you can’t touch him directly with your magic. It doesn’t mean you couldn’t use telekinetic power to pick up the chair you’re sitting on and throw it at his head.”
Around and around this argument always went. She bit down on her usual response: that invulnerable or not, Shakar was still stronger and more skilled, and forever would be. “I’m not talking about facing down Shakar tomorrow. I’m talking about travelling to Sandira to seek a military alliance with the emperor of Zandia. Cayr can’t leave Alistriem now to do it, and I doubt Mastaran will be willing to venture outside the walls of Carhall anytime soon.”
Finn sighed. “We just need to—”
�
��Magor-lier?”
Both turned to the narrow opening in the rocky wall opposite where they sat. The young warrior mage standing there lifted his eyebrows in surprise at the looks directed his way. Finn’s patience with her had finally snapped, and irritation was written all over his face. Her disgruntlement came from a different source—she detested the title everyone insisted on giving her. Rothai had started it, but only because she was the strongest mage fighting against Shakar. She held no real power, evidenced by her confinement to whichever hiding place they’d found for the moment.
“What is it, Nordan?” Finn asked.
Tall and slim, the ice-mage’s demeanour matched his mage ability perfectly. Slicked back dark hair framed a narrow, pale-skinned face and grey eyes. Beyond his faint indication of surprise, he was utterly unmoved by their bad moods. “Sorry to interrupt. Master Rothai is awake—he asked me to fetch you. He said you’d planned to meet this morning?”
Alyx stood and shoved her chair back against the table with more force than was necessary and stalked from the room. Finn followed silently.
The constant waves of Hunters coming at her made it nigh impossible for Alyx’s group to gain strength or plan strategically. It was beyond frustrating that Shakar’s assassins were able to find them no matter where they went outside of the mine, and despite Tarrick, Finn and Rothai’s reasoned arguments, Alyx was beginning to suspect there was more than just Shakar’s telepathy at play.
While she didn’t claim to be a master at that aspect of her magic, she was not convinced she’d be able to track down a single group of minds over an entire continent so consistently. Particularly given how disciplined their mental shielding was. He’d have to be watching at one of the infrequent instances where one of them lost concentration and dropped their shield momentarily.
She would talk to Dawn about it next time they spoke. Whenever that was. A pang tugged at her. She missed her friend, currently in Alistriem with Cario. At least Cayr would have them at his side—the thought made her gladder than ever she'd left them behind to help fight back the Shiven in her absence.
Tarrick stood as she and Finn ducked under a low entrance way to enter the room they used to hold meetings. It had once been a storage area for sacks of food, judging from some mouldering supplies they’d found on first arriving. Rothai leaned against a half-cracked beam holding the roof upright. She gave it a dubious look, glad she wasn’t claustrophobic.
“Magor-lier!” Tarrick greeted her brightly.
Oh for...! “Damn it, Tarrick, how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that!”
“It’s your title.”
“No, it’s the title that you insist on giving me.” She tried for calm. “I’m not anybody’s leader, not hiding in here wrapped up in twenty layers of protection.”
He cleared his throat, clearly struggling for patience. “Magor-lier, there are good reasons for—”
“Stop calling me that!”
A stack of rolled up maps on the table went flying in all directions, one smacking Finn’s shoulder as it flew past. Another landed precariously close to one of the few lanterns providing light. Rothai gave Alyx a look of reproach at the evidence of her lack of control over her magic. Nobody said anything. She abruptly felt like a child all the adults were disapproving of.
She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for shouting. Tarrick, you’re one of my best friends. Please can you just call me by my name?”
Finn smiled slightly, then jerked a finger at Rothai. “I enjoy how you don’t have a problem with him calling you by your title.”
Tarrick chuckled, and even Rothai’s severe expression softened, breaking the tension in the room. Alyx smiled too.
“I know you wish to talk to us, Magor-lier, but before we start, a message from Lord-Mage Astor arrived while we were away.” Rothai held up a small piece of curling parchment.
Her heart thudded. Astor. He wouldn’t know about Darien’s death yet, but he would grieve the king’s loss deeply. “What did he have to say?”
“That he was leaving Alistriem on a trip to meet with the Mage Council—apparently they requested it. He asked that we meet him in Racc if we get this message in time and are close enough to travel there.”
“That’s good,” she said firmly. “Racc is not far out of the way if we’re heading north to Zandia.”
A moment’s silence. She tried not to be furious at the glances the three men threw each other. Tarrick let out a breath. "I concede that the situation has changed. Rionn’s new vulnerability could be dangerous—if Shakar’s Shiven pressed harder now…an alliance with Zandia might make Shakar more cautious. But the danger to you hasn’t changed. I propose that Finn and I travel to Sandira to speak with the emperor.”
Alyx lifted an eyebrow. “And what will I do while you’re off enjoying the emperor’s hospitality?”
“Continue your training,” Rothai said smoothly.
Spending weeks cooped up in the mine doing nothing but practicing magic was an unbearable thought. Not with how helpless she felt, how desperate she was to do something, anything. “No, I’m coming with you.”
Finn cleared his throat. “This is a very public trip to Sandira, or at least it will be once we’ve arrived. If Shakar gets wind of where you are, he’ll send his Hunters after you.”
“Have you considered that the Zandian emperor will be much more likely to listen to our request if I’m there in person?” she countered, arching an eyebrow. “Tarrick, you’re the one that told me the Zandians have a great deal of respect for mages of the higher order, that they remember the days of the Magor-lier. What makes you think he’s even going to grant an audience to a motley collection of non-council mages, no matter your family connections?”
Tarrick’s jaw clenched and he looked away.
Rothai opened his mouth. “Magor-lier—”
She summoned as much granite into her voice as she could muster. “I’m going, and that’s final.”
“Please, think it through,” Finn urged. “There’s a good chance Shakar will find out that you’re in Sandira. If he does, we can’t protect you.”
“I think we can mitigate the risk.” Reason was all that would convince them. “If we limit our time there, say to a week or two, no more, Shakar won’t have enough time to get his Hunters so far north even if he learns of our presence as soon as we arrive in Sandira.”
“He might have Hunters already there,” Finn pointed out.
She raised a hand to forestall the inevitable agreement with Finn. “I’m going. You won’t change my mind.”
Rothai straightened from the wall and shrugged. “Then I’m coming too.”
Relief flooded through her, leaving her almost lightheaded. Finally, she was going to be able to do something, and maybe even make a real difference to this war.
Chapter 3
Tarrick took the lead as they left the mine and headed east and slightly north, Rothai bringing up the rear. It was hard to tell which of the two was more focused. Alyx’s gaze drifted over the rest of the party—it was a small group, but Rothai preferred that. It helped them avoid attention.
Apart from Tarrick, Finn, and Rothai, there were three other warrior mages, all handpicked and well-drilled in erecting their mental shields anytime they were outside the caves, and most particularly when they were near Alyx.
Of the three, she was most familiar with Jayn. The small, dark-haired mage was skilled with her staff and wielded a powerful magical shield. Perennially good-tempered, Jayn had been a member of Third Patrol when they were apprentices together back at DarkSkull Hall.
Adahn was another mage Alyx had met at DarkSkull, though she didn’t know him as well. He’d passed his trials after her first year. Tari was an older mage, close to Rothai’s age, with black hair always pulled back in a long plait that fell down her back. She was a quiet woman, and Alyx wasn’t quite sure what to make of her yet.
Finn rode up beside her. “You look more relaxed already.”
> She smiled, giving another firm tug on the reins to hold in a restive Tingo. “Is it that obvious?”
He gave her a wry look, dark green eyes glinting with humour.
“I’m sorry I’m not better at this.” She sighed, hands fiddling with her reins.
“Better at what?”
“Being the Magor-lier. Doing what you all need me to do.”
He was quiet for a moment, thinking that over. She thought she’d surprised him, as if he hadn’t realised that was the source of her discontent. “There’s no manual on how to be the perfect Magor-lier,” he said eventually. “Just like there’s no manual on how to follow one. We’re all doing our best.”
“I know.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Maybe remember that before you snap at Tarrick or me next time?”
She huffed a breath. “I’ll try.”
“Don’t bother about Rothai, though. Snap at him all you like.”
Alyx chuckled and returned Finn’s grin, abruptly feeling better. She hated fighting with her friends, and despite their frequent disagreements, Finn was one of her oldest and dearest.
“We’ll be okay,” he said as if he could read her thoughts. “We just have to keep muddling through, and we’ll get there in the end.”
“It’s not me that I’m worried about,” she said, trying to keep the tears from her eyes. “It’s Cayr, my best friend who has to become king in the middle of war, and everyone else I love who is in danger every moment and I can’t help.” Her hands tightened painfully on the reins.
He said nothing for a long moment, then he reached out to lightly touch her hand. “Me too,” he whispered.
Two days later, Tarrick, Rothai, and Alyx left the others encamped on the outskirts of the bustling town of Racc. Clothed as travellers, they made straight for a specific inn on a secluded side street. Rothai spoke briefly to the innkeeper before directing them upstairs to a room on the top floor. A delighted smile spread over Alyx’s face as the door opened to reveal her godfather. “Astor!”