The Dark Mage

by Jace Mitchell

  His was bringing this woman back.

  As was making sure no one saw that his loyalty was in question, at least until he knew his next move.

  “I’m positive that he’ll take care of it.”

  The Right Hand stared at him for another second and then nodded. “Let’s go, then.”

  “First, tell me why? I can usually smell a trap, but I don’t smell anything with you. You came of your own accord. Why?”

  “Because I’m not going to let the good people of New Perth die so that I might live. You’re a bunch of psychopathic pricks, but I’d rather you have me than everyone in there.”

  Harold shrugged. “I wish I could say I admire your nobility, but I don’t. It’s moronic. However, this is good news for me. Go ahead and take that sword off, dear.”

  The Right Hand’s eyes widened for a split second, and Harold recognized that look.

  Losing her sword was like losing an appendage.

  This woman was a true warrior, and he’d do well to remember it. Harold thought if he forgot it for even a second, he might lose his nutsack.

  Riley pulled at the belt on her waist, and it started falling. Her hand was lightning quick, grabbing the sword hilt and holding it. The sheath and belt fell to the ground, but the sword remained in her hand, not falling with them.

  She tossed it forward gently and with skill, catching the blade but not harming herself. She gave the hilt to Harold, not taking her eyes from his.

  “Careful. It’s sharp. I wouldn’t want it to open your stomach.”

  Harold smiled. “Me either.”

  He took the sword.

  “Belarus!” he shouted. He’d half-hoped the damned old Prefect would let the woman kill his second-in-command at the gates, but alas. Harold was stuck with the oaf for now.

  He heard rustling across the camp and the man stood up, a campfire showing his silhouette.

  “Yeah, boss?”

  “Get over here!”

  The doofus rushed across the camp, kicking and stepping on people as he came. There were grunts and cursing, but Belarus kept on.

  “Yeah, boss?” he asked again.

  His eyes found the Right Hand.

  “Oh, hell yes ….”

  “Close your jaws, Belarus. We’ve got her, but I need to chain her up. Get the wrist and ankle links. Be quick about it.”

  Belarus was looking at the young woman as if she were a hunk of roasted meat and he a man who hadn’t touched a morsel in days.

  “You hear me, Belarus?” Harold’s voice grew lower and deadlier. “Get the links.”

  Belarus nodded, still not taking his eyes from her. “Can I taste her, boss? Just once. Just for a second.”

  “You’ll taste my steel if you stand there ten more seconds. Move.”

  Belarus blinked, breaking his trance.

  Harold watched him go, then turned back to the woman. Her eyes followed Belarus.

  “I’m going to kill him.” The Right Hand looked at Harold. “And that’s bad news for you because if I get loose to kill him, I’m going to kill you too.”

  “I’m not too worried about it, dear.”

  Belarus came back carrying the heavy chains. Harold tossed the woman’s sword to the ground, noticing with sweet satisfaction the flash of anger that crossed her face.

  He held up the wrist links. “From Right Hand to prisoner. The mighty fall and the meek rise. Am I right, Belarus?”

  “Right is right, boss. Right is right.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  William could feel the vein in his head pulsing. Actually pulsing, his heart beat with such ferocity.

  “It’s not fucking possible. It’s not fucking POSSIBLE!”

  His voice spread out over the open expanse, echoing off the walls and gates behind him.

  No one was in front of him to hear it. Verith stood behind him, and a host of soldiers behind the general.

  The Prefect was still in the castle.

  Riley was not.

  And the army, the army William had watched until his fucking eyes shut on him last night, was gone.

  William had woken this morning and known something was wrong. For one, he looked outside, and the damned fires were still burning. The sun was up, so the army wouldn’t still have fires going. They would have cleaned that shit up and got to the business of being pains in the collective ass of New Perth.

  They were gone.

  Riley was gone.

  And William knew what that meant.

  “She fucking lied to me.” He turned around and looked at Verith as if it might be his fault. “She fucking lied, and now she’s gone with those psychopaths.”

  William wanted to attack someone—anyone, and perhaps everyone. All at once.

  “We’ll send scouts,” the general said.

  “Scouts? Scouts! The scouts will have better luck seeing each other’s dicks than the army. They’re shielded, just like they were when they came down here, and just like they were last night. No, they’re gone, and the only way we’re getting her back is to get up to that compound.”

  Verith said nothing. His loyalty was to New Perth, and he would do nothing without the Prefect’s blessing.

  My loyalty is to the Prefect too, William thought.

  To hell with that. Goland better send us after her or I’ll go alone.

  William had never thought something so subversive about the Prefect, but he couldn’t help it. They had to get Riley. She’d saved his life.

  William walked past Verith and went through the troops behind him, the men moving out of his way without thinking. To get in William’s path at that moment would not end well for the offender.

  William wound his way to the castle and did not pause as he entered the Prefect’s quarters.

  “She left,” Goland told him as he entered. He was staring out his window at the now-empty spot in front of the gates. The false fires disappeared.

  William dropped to his knees in front of Goland.

  “Please, Your Grace. Please. We must go get her, and if not the army, then send me. I’ll go alone.”

  The Prefect looked down at his Right Hand. “Mason will return tomorrow. We will wait until then.”

  His voice was soft but firm. He had ruled without challenge for decades, and his voice said that even though his directive might hurt, he expected it to be followed.

  “Your Grace, I’m beggin’ you.”

  “Mason will be here tomorrow, hopefully with mages. We will be better able to see what to do then. To go now is foolish, William. You must see that. It will take them four days to return to their compound.”

  William stood up, just barely able to keep his anger in check.

  “They’re not going to kill her, my Right Hand.”

  “You don’t know that. He tried to when we were there.”

  William shook his head.

  “I know Rendal. He wasn’t trying to kill her. He was testing her.”

  “Boss, do ya think the boss will let me have a go at her?”

  Riley heard the bastard ahead talking about her. He hadn’t stopped since they began their retreat.

  Have a go.

  Get at her.

  The phrases didn’t matter. They all meant the same thing, and Riley was sick of hearing it. She’d made her choice to go with this group of cretins and she would deal with the consequences, but listening to him talk about it was almost unbearable.

  For Harold’s part, Riley felt pretty positive he hated his underling. Belarus was just too stupid to see it. The rest of the troops traveled behind Riley; she was between them and Harold. Belarus came and went between the larger group and his boss, seeming not to realize he wasn’t wanted.

  The rest of the troops had no problem seeing it.

  Riley wasn’t one to usually provoke people, but this was day one. She had the rest of it plus three more before she’d be rid of this jackass, and she wasn’t sure she could take him talking the entire time.

  “Hey, Belarus.” Ril
ey spoke as the horse moved easily beneath her weight. “Don’t you see your boss doesn’t want anything to do with you? Look at the rest of your crew. They’re behind, where they belong. Why are you even up here to begin with?”

  The man whipped around on his horse, bright red embarrassment flooding his cheeks.

  “I’m his damned second-in-command. That’s why I’m up here. Now shut your fuckin’ mouth.”

  Riley smiled; it was working. Harold had yet to turn around.

  “No, you’re not up there because you’re his second-in-command, you silly jackass. You’re up there because you’re trying to get permission to rape me. Tell it true—am I wrong?”

  Belarus snapped his head to Harold. “I’m gonna make her keep her mouth shut one way or another.”

  “I’m only a few feet away, Belarus. No need to get permission from your boss. Just come on back here and break my jaw. I’m sure Rendal won’t be too mad about it. Plus you won’t have to listen to me yapping the whole way, because I’m not going to stop.”

  “Boss, ya hear her? She ain’t stoppin’. She says she ain’t gonna stop.”

  “I hear her, Belarus. I’m right next to her, as are you.” Harold still didn’t turn around, but Riley heard the anger in his voice.

  “You gonna let me do something?”

  Harold sighed, and Riley felt elation. Even bound in chains, she could easily kill this man. While she outmatched him physically and mentally, she’d feel no guilt. She’d be doing the world a favor.

  If she wasn’t allowed to kill him, injuring him would suffice. It would at least keep him quiet for the next few days.

  “What would you like to do, Belarus?” Harold asked.

  “Can I break her jaw?”

  Harold chuckled, shaking his head. “I could let you try, but I think you might come away with the broken jaw.”

  “You gotta be kiddin’ me, boss. I can handle that little girl.”

  “You couldn’t handle me in bed, Belarus, let alone in combat.” Riley laughed.

  “I’m gonna break her jaw or shove my sock so far down her throat she chokes.” His face was turning even redder, a vein pulsing in his neck. He was growing angrier by the second.

  Harold sighed again. “Belarus, go on and do what you want to her, but if she hurts you, don’t come crying to me.”

  “HOLD THE LINE!” Belarus shouted, sticking his hand up and stopping his horse. He turned it around so that he was facing Riley full on. “All right, ya little bitch, now you’re gonna see what talkin’ so much gets ya.”

  He hopped off his horse, pulling a small mallet from his belt. Riley knew the weapon—in New Perth, they called it a skull-breaker. Good for hand-to-hand combat, especially when your enemy only had their hands.

  Criminals used them, and they were pulled out when bar fights got vicious, too.

  Riley hopped off her horse. She knew this would be slightly more dangerous than usual; her hands were bound with only about a foot in between them. She could still use her legs, but her hands would be a problem.

  “Belarus,” she remarked as the man started squaring up. “I can see your dick in those pants. If that’s what you wanted to rape me with, you might want to use someone else’s. That little thing won’t get the job done.”

  Belarus screamed unintelligibly, and Riley focused at that moment. Her jest had gotten her what she wanted, him angry and rushing forward, but now her mind only cared about his movements.

  He swung and Riley dodged, the wind from the mallet brushing her face. Belarus wasted no time, swinging a second time in an uppercut fashion.

  Riley spun left, only able to dodge the man as he attacked.

  Belarus stopped and laughed.

  “Is this the girl everyone’s so scared of? The one stumblin’ ‘round in front of me?”

  “Belarus, have you hit me yet? This girl is avoiding your best shots, and my arms are chained.”

  Belarus spat and came forward again, moving slower this time. Riley watched, her hands out in front of her.

  Belarus swung from the right, the mallet ripping through the air. Riley stepped into the swing, opening her arms and catching his wrist in her chain.

  She kept moving around, bending his arm as she twisted hers.

  His wrist’s snap was audible.

  Belarus shrieked, but Riley wasn’t done. She was going to kill the bastard if she could. She unwrapped the chain from his wrist and whirled around behind him, dropping it over his neck.

  She pulled hard, immediately cutting off his oxygen supply. He started gurgling, spit foaming out of his mouth.

  “Now, Belarus, what were you saying? You wanted a go at me?” Riley whispered into his ear.

  “Release him.”

  She felt the tip of the sword in her back. Riley had heard Harold dismount, knowing he was coming to stop the assault. Nothing escaped her senses, but to try to fight him right now would be disastrous.

  “Remember, you vicious twit, I’m going to be the last face you ever see. I promise.”

  Riley raised her hands, letting Belarus go. He fell to the ground, his wrist broken and his neck swelling horribly.

  “I told you, Belarus.” Harold still held the sword to Riley’s back. “You didn’t want to hear me, though. Now get your ass back there with the rest of the troops.”

  Belarus rolled in the dirt, slowly climbing to his feet. He looked at Riley as he passed her on the way to his horse, and his eyes said what his mouth no longer would. He wanted to kill her.

  Come and get it, she thought. Just come and get it, you fucking prick.

  Night came, and Riley was kept away from the rest of Rendal’s army. They’d tied her to a tree, her arms and legs still bound, and given her a quarter ration of gruel. Riley ate it because she knew how important it was to keep her strength up.

  She had left with these losers, but she had no intention of missing an opportunity to kill them all.

  She wasn’t heading to the compound to die or whatever else these fools might have in mind. She was heading to the compound to try to burn it down.

  So, if they gave her gruel, she ate gruel.

  Riley heard someone approaching from behind her, despite the fact that they were moving extremely carefully. The people keeping her prisoner sincerely had no idea how dangerous she was or how powerful her focus and attention to detail could be. There was no sneaking up on Riley Trident, Right Hand of Mason Ire.

  “If you touch me, I can kill you from here.” She meant it too. Her torso was tied to the tree, but she could wrap her legs around a man’s neck easily, snapping it like a twig.

  “I didn’t think I could get close to you without you knowing.”

  It was Harold.

  But he hadn’t come from the camp in front of Riley. He’d come from behind her, meaning he hadn’t been trying to sneak up on her but away from the camp.

  He didn’t want any of the soldiers to see him.

  Harold kept his distance as he circled behind the tree, both to show her he wasn’t here to hurt her, but also to make sure she didn’t hurt him.

  “What do you want?”

  “You’re deadly.” Harold stopped in front of her.

  “You snuck away from your soldiers to tell me something I already know?”

  “My boss—”

  “Your master,” Riley interrupted.

  “Whatever word you want to use is fine with me. I didn’t come out here to debate on that subject. I came to discuss the future.”

  Reilly’s eyes narrowed.

  “The future?”

  “Yes.”

  “Whose future?”

  “Yours. Mine.”

  Riley didn’t know where this was going, but she thought it would be dumb to ignore it completely. “What are you getting at?”

  “My boss is going to want you to join him. To serve him as I do.”

  “Well, his ass is going to be sorry if that’s the case. I’m not joining him.”

  “I thought that migh
t be the case. If you don’t join him, it’s going to be worse for you.”

  “Then it’ll be worse for me,” Riley answered. “I don’t care. I don’t join psychopaths. I serve New Perth.”

  “You don’t desire to rule?”

  “No. Rulers are born to it. I was made a warrior. I want to serve my rulers, and that’s it. Now, why the hell are we having this conversation?” Riley was tired of talking to him. She had thought it would be smart to listen, but she didn’t have any desire to discuss her philosophy with this man.

  “I wanted to hear what you’d say. That was all.”

  “Well, now you’ve heard it. I’m not joining your master. I’m not joining any part of this organization. I’ll die first.”

  “You may get your wish.” Harold looked at her for another second and then walked off, heading back the way he’d come.

  Riley listened to his footsteps fade, wondering what the hell the man was planning.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “She left?” Mason asked.

  “Of her own volition, son.”

  Mason was stunned. He sat in his father’s quarters, William across the room looking out the window at the courtyard below. Worth and the crew he had brought were down there; Mason had had the servants bring them food and drink.

  “Spirits, sir?” one servant had asked.

  Mason had said yes, but from the sound of things downstairs, that might have been a mistake. The group was growing louder and louder, and from William’s cross face—he wasn’t pleased.

  But now Mason was dealing with the fact that his Right Hand was gone.

  “When?” he asked. “When did she leave?”

  “Two days ago.”

  “And you haven’t sent anyone after her?”

  “No.” His father looked at him, his eyes level, but clearly, he didn’t like the tone in Mason’s voice.

  “Why not?” Mason didn’t care about the tone. Riley was gone, and the castle sat here as if nothing had changed.

  “You’re not thinking clearly, Mason.” The Prefect looked at William, but the big man gave no sign he was listening. Mason thought that was an act, but he didn’t care what William heard. This was ludicrous. “Had I sent someone the moment they left, we probably would not have seen anyone. Rendal holds sway over our minds when we look at them, son. It’s a magic I don’t understand. We needed magic to battle magic, so I waited for you. Our scouts said you were returning, and you have. Now we can discuss our alternatives.”