Mage Resolution (Book 2)

by Virginia G. McMorrow

  “Do not forget Anders. He, too, has been telling tales.” Anessa’s smile was one of conspiracy as she touched my cheek. “The only one who swears you are perfect is Gwynn, and I am afraid,” —she laughed— “that the longer he cozies up with all those traitors, that he, too, will start telling tales.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  We were some miles north of Jendlan Falls, three days into our journey. Anders, Gwynn, and myself; a ragtag band, first in search of a Glynnswood scout, and then renegade mages. I really preferred to be back at the cottage, snuggled in bed, with or without Anders, preferably with him.

  “Be a good apprentice,” I told my brother, “and change that pile of wood to a campfire to keep me warm.”

  Before Gwynn could move an inch, Anders cut in. “That would be a waste of his talent.”

  “You never said that to me when I was apprenticed to you,” I complained, “and you forced me to do the same thing, as I recall.”

  “As I recall, you were difficult, slow-witted, and reluctant.” Anders dodged the bedroll I tossed at him. “Your brother gives me hope.”

  “For those nasty words, I could challenge you to a mage duel. But since we don’t have time, and Gwynn needs discipline—” I tried to distract Anders by pointing at my brother as I aimed a coil of rope at his backside and succeeded.

  The old beast grumbled, disentangling himself from the rope. “You need discipline.”

  With a foolish grin, I snapped my fingers. “The campfire?”

  “Talent should not be used for frivolous purposes,” Gwynn intoned, in a perfect imitation of Anders’s voice, reminding me of his mother’s recent warning.

  “Elena’s troops are waiting at Bitterhill, and your father’s scouts are even closer. Whose company do you prefer?” I challenged the boy.

  Gwynn ran a hand through rumpled brown hair and met my stern gaze with preposterous innocence, so very much like Anders. “How large should I make the blaze, Mage Protector?” Before I could respond to his cocky question, Gwynn started to concentrate, a burst of flame appearing at the center of the woodpile.

  “That is an impressive campfire, Master Keltie.”

  Gwynn jumped, losing his focus, at the unexpected voice. The flame sputtered and died.

  I laughed aloud at Gwynn’s scarlet face. “It’s good to know someone can sneak up on you,” I said, one eye on my brother, the other fixed on the edge of the wood where our visitor was likely to appear.

  “My apology for intruding unannounced, Mage Protector, Crownmage.” A scout stepped lightly from the cover of the trees and gave us both a polite bow before shooting an impish grin at my brother. He, no, lords of the sea, she, looked no older than Gwynn. No wonder Sernyn had a devious smile on his face when he mentioned another scout.

  “My apology for being rude.” I studied the young woman. “But do they train you as scouts the day after birth?”

  “Alex.” Anders tapped me on the shoulder. “You’re being very rude.”

  “Oh, no, Crownmage,” the young woman assured Anders with a ghost of a smile, “in Glynnswood, Alexandra Daine Keltie is well known, as are her brave exploits and courage in the face of danger.”

  “What, ah, precisely, do her virtues have to do with her rudeness?” Anders looked befuddled as he scratched his head at the young woman.

  The scout grinned openly. “Along with her virtues, she is known to be direct and not very shy when seeking knowledge.”

  “That’s the politest way I’ve ever been called rude,” I admitted, not sure whether to be insulted or not.

  “Your pardon again.” The young woman turned sober. “I meant no disrespect but your humor is also known. If I have taken liberties, I apologize and will make amends.”

  “No, please. Don’t worry. Everyone else takes liberties. Come join us.” I took a seat by the nonexistent campfire opposite my brother as the scout sat on the hard ground, legs tucked beneath her. “What’s your name?”

  “Maylen Stockrie.” Gwynn sliced through her answer with a look of undisguised and uncharacteristic disgust.

  “You know each other?”

  Maylen’s foot sneaked out and nudged my brother’s boot. “I was born one year before Gwynn Keltie, and he still will not admit that I am wiser, more skilled, and a better hunter.”

  “Because you are not,” muttered my brother, dodging her foot as it snaked out again to nudge him.

  Hiding a smile, I exchanged an amused glance with Anders over my brother’s head. “Now who’s being rude?” I kicked Gwynn’s other boot playfully. “I thought all you Glynnswood people pride yourself on being polite and civilized.”

  “Sometimes difficult circumstances make it impossible to be polite and civilized.” Gwynn’s tone was so serious as he tugged at the rebellious lock of hair that I immediately covered my grin with a cough.

  “I see. Well, then. Gwynn, why don’t you—” I shook my head, visions of a burning forest clear in my imagination. “No, never mind. I’ll make the campfire. You get our guest some food. And Anders—”

  “Why don’t I get some Marain wine?” he suggested amiably.

  “Why don’t you?” I closed my eyes and called on the fire and ice, merging their sharp sting to cool warmth, envisioning the dry wood as a merrily blazing campfire. I soon felt the heat nip at my fingers. “Much better.” I sighed in satisfaction and released the talent with regret. “Now then,” I continued as Anders and Gwynn provided food and drink, “what news do you bring?”

  Maylen tossed a long, blonde braid over one shoulder and sipped the wine with thanks. “There is no further word of dangerous mage sightings in Edgecliff or anywhere else nearby. But there is another matter.” She paused to bite into an apple, wiping the juice from her chin with one slender finger. “There have been stories of women disappearing, and sometimes children.”

  “All in the same area?”

  “Yes. All within twenty miles of Edgecliff. The people missing live at the edge of Glynnswood, on the border.” Maylen looked disturbed, but said nothing further as she took another bite.

  “Maybe there’s a mage who wants to merge bloodlines again,” Anders suggested, digging in the dirt with a stick, eyes thoughtful. “Isn’t that similar to what we overheard six months ago in Elena’s court when Erich suggested he send Barrow’s Pass troops to investigate?”

  “Nothing was ever brought to light.”

  “Yes, well, my guess is that Erich likely never sent troops.” Anders caught the apple I tossed his way. “Or never bothered to report on what they found.”

  “Good possibility either way, according to Elder Keltie,” I agreed, recalling our recent conversation. “But why kidnap Khrista and Kerrie and the boys? None of them are from the area Maylen mentioned.”

  “Maybe they were a mistake.” Anders bit into the apple with a crunch. “Maybe there’s no connection. Maybe they’re not particular about whom they kidnap.”

  “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “It does not, Mage Protector. I agree. We need to find out more,” Maylen said, adding with a bland expression, “Elder Keltie asked that one of us meet with you again in two days. That should give you enough time to reach Bitterhill.” Anders nodded, lost in thought, staring past Gwynn at nothing in particular, oblivious to Maylen’s diplomacy regarding Sernyn Keltie. With a graceful motion, Maylen stood. “Then I will leave you now.”

  “But you haven’t even rested,” I said, looking up at the young woman in confusion, trying hard not to feel centuries old and a doddering fool as I envied her energy and grace.

  With a sidelong glance at my brother, she hid a smile behind a raised hand. “I do not need as much rest as some others do.”

  “Let her go, Alex.” Gwynn’s uncharacteristic annoyance prompted a hundred thousand questions, but I held them back. “We will be better off without her. There are other scouts.”

  “Do not miss me too much, Master Keltie,” Maylen’s voice dripped sweetness as bright blue eyes danced with mis
chief. “Elder Keltie has asked me to meet with your party again and relay the news.”

  At Gwynn’s indignation, I caught back my teasing words. “Well, then,” —I kept rigid control over my laughter— “if Elder Keltie has asked you to take on such important work, then he must value your skills.”

  With a completely disarming smile for me that Gwynn couldn’t see, she nodded. “Indeed, Mage Protector, he does.”

  * * * *

  “What was all that about?” Anders whispered in my ear later that evening as he crept closer for warmth, on the opposite side of the campfire from Gwynn.

  “Typical.”

  “Typical what?” Anders snaked a hand into my bedroll and pinched my backside.

  “Ow! Flameblast you, Anders.”

  “Hush. Your brother’s trying to sleep. Now what were you saying?” he asked me. “Typical what?”

  I rolled over and glared. “Typical man.”

  “I’m missing a critical piece.” Puzzled, Anders leaned up on one arm, intrigued.

  I shoved his arm and toppled him over. “You men always miss a critical piece.” Dodging vengeful fingers, I grabbed his arms and held them to his side. “Gwynn is a typical boy.”

  “Young man, Alex. Or haven’t you noticed?”

  “Yes. But not mature enough to enjoy a female’s interest,” I whispered, slanting a glance in my brother’s direction to be sure he was asleep beneath the elm and not just pretending.

  “Interest?” Anders whispered back, looking even more befuddled. “She was goading him on purpose, the little imp. Just like—” He stopped suddenly, recognition apparent in his eyes. “Aha. Just like you goad me.”

  “I knew that old head held some intelligence.”

  “Oh, my.”

  “Amusing, don’t you think? Particularly if Sernyn really sent Maylen, knowing full well she’s skilled and has an undisguised interest in my little brother.” I laughed, keeping my voice low. “I didn’t think he was that devious, but Elder Keltie had distinct mischief in his eye when he spoke to me of the other scout he would send our way. Rosanna must be corrupting him.”

  “Oh, my,” Anders repeated, squirming free of my grasp. “You won’t torture the poor boy, will you? That would be cruel.”

  “You know me better than that.”

  * * * *

  “So—” I munched on a wedge of cinnamon loaf, the very next day, and sipped cool water fresh from the stream out of the neck of my leather waterbag. “Is Maylen really wiser, more skilled, and a better hunter than you?”

  Gwynn sent me a disgusted look, something he would never have dared only weeks ago. “I cannot believe you would ask me that.”

  “Is she?”

  With a melodramatic sigh, he took a long swallow from his own waterbag. “Of course not. She is good,” he admitted, after long consideration. “She would have to be or she would not be allowed to scout for the village, but she is not better than me, Alex.”

  Still hungry, I reached for an apple. “What does your father think?”

  The boy frowned, tugging at the lock of brown hair standing on end. “She is skilled.”

  “Better than you?”

  “Alex!” Anders scowled across the cold campfire, trying to comb his hair into a semblance of neatness.

  Gwynn threw Anders a grateful look. With another sigh, he turned a somber face in my direction. “She is very skilled. We were taught together.”

  “So you’re friends?”

  “No.” At my raised eyebrow, he grimaced. “No, Alex. She is a terrible pest. We are not friends.”

  “I didn’t think so.” Packing up my belongings, I let the matter drop, ignored the issue even as we traveled northwest for the remainder of the day. But on the following day, as we approached the far borders of Edgecliff, I took a closer look at the situation as our new scout reappeared.

  “Definitely not friends,” I muttered to Anders behind my hand. Maylen materialized from the dense thicket closest to the bridge at Edgecliff, over the Jendlan River; that same bridge where I had slapped Anders in a rage.

  That bridge.

  “It all depends on whose eyes you’re peeking through,” Anders whispered with a crooked grin as he nodded to the Glynnswood scout.

  Gwynn ignored Maylen, who caught my eye and beamed. I started to laugh in feminine support until Anders jabbed my side with an elbow. Restraining myself, I slanted a sidelong glance at Gwynn, who was busy unpacking his gear, my gear, and Anders’s gear, but decidedly not Maylen’s gear.

  The young woman shrugged with an easy smile and perched on a log in one fluid movement. “I have received word from Elder Keltie.” She tossed a braid over her shoulder, pretending not to notice my brother’s sudden stillness. Keeping her pretty young face exquisitely neutral, she added, “He has given me explicit instructions depending on the information our scouts have gathered.”

  I didn’t know what was coming, but I held my breath. “And?”

  “Elder Keltie has commanded” —a swift glance at Gwynn to be sure he was listening— “that if we found any sign of other renegade mages in the area, I should accompany you.”

  “Did you?” Gwynn blurted, almost losing his balance and tumbling over the dusty packs.

  “No.”

  Anders caught back my arm as I stretched behind Gwynn to shove him over, cool seagray eyes scolding me in eloquent silence. I ignored Anders and grinned at my brother’s blatant relief, which would somehow be short-lived. The mischief in Maylen’s bright blue eyes warned me. So, of course, I baited the hook.

  “Ah. I see.” I coughed and settled my chin in cupped hands, which rested lightly on my knees. “What were, ah, Elder Keltie’s orders if you didn’t find any trace of renegades?”

  With a bland look in my direction that assured me she knew what I was doing, Maylen took the baited hook and dangled it in front of the fish. She looked straight at my brother. “To accompany you on your journey.”

  With a loud, impolite curse, my ever-polite brother toppled on his side as I shoved him over.

  “Alex.” Anders’s expression was stern as he crossed his arms in disapproval. “At least have the decency to look contrite.”

  With a somber expression, I reached over to help Gwynn sit up. I changed my mind, laughing at his surprised expression when I pushed him over again.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Alex, I don’t mean to tell you how to deal with your family.” Anders hesitated. I kept pace alongside him as we forged a path through the woods near Edgecliff. “But really—”

  “You were never shy before.”

  With a glance over his shoulder at Maylen and a glance forward at Gwynn, he whispered, “Gwynn’s just a boy.” When I hummed under my breath, quite content, he said, “It’s not fair. And you know it.”

  “Gwynn needs to develop a sense of humor about women sooner or later. He’ll survive.”

  “He feels betrayed by your teasing.”

  I shot Anders a quick sidelong glance. “How do you know?”

  “He told me.”

  “Foolish nuisance. I’m not serious.”

  “He thinks you are. Alex, he’s hurt by it only because he’s so young and embarrassed and new to all this maneuvering. Please stop torturing him.” Anders drew his brows together in a scowl. “And what’s worse, Maylen is as bad as you.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “Quite.”

  “I’ll consider the situation.” And I did, finally agreeing the poor boy was in need of consolation. Feeling guilty, and cranky because of it, I manipulated Gwynn into sharing a private walk while Anders and Maylen set up camp for the night. My brother kept his head down, shoulders slumped, kicking at twigs along the way, until I grabbed his shoulders and forced him to sit on a tree stump. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

  Avoiding my eyes, Gwynn shook his head.

  “Liar.”

  Gwynn shook his head again. “I am not lying.”

  Sighing with heavy
drama, I thought back on the chat we’d had with Elena a lifetime ago. “It’s all right to be angry with me. I won’t run away.”

  A quick blink indicated he was listening, considering my words, until he finally raised his head to look at me. “I do not understand why you are saying these things to me.”

  “Have I hurt you?”

  Gwynn’s handsome face flushed scarlet as he turned away, breaking my heart.

  “Have I?”

  “Yes.”

  Anders was right, which infuriated me all the more. “I’m sorry.”

  “It does not matter.”

  I put both hands on my brother’s face, felt the soft stubble of a beard, and forced him not to look away. “It matters to me,” I said quietly. “It matters very much to me. I was only teasing you, Gwynn, because Maylen likes you.”

  Hurt and uncertainty vanished, replaced by disbelief. “Likes me? She is a pest, Alex, and a nuisance. And that is what she thinks of me, too.” He was so adamant, I stepped back and crossed my arms. “She provokes me. It is not possible that she considers me a friend.”

  “Don’t I provoke Anders all the time?”

  “Yes, of course, but—” His face flushed even brighter as he reconsidered.

  When I laughed, it was not at him, but with him. “That’s why I’ve been teasing you.”

  Speechless, Gwynn gestured lamely. “Is it really possible?”

  “From how I torment Anders, and you, too,” I added with open affection, ruffling his unruly hair, “I think it very possible. How does she act with other scouts?”

  “She laughs and teases them, but not—” Gwynn’s expression was so incredulous he appeared no older than Jules’s twins. “Not as she does with me. She is always provoking me, making fun of me. Lords of the sea, Alex, she is very much like you in that way.”

  “Does it trouble you, if she’s, ah, interested in you as more than just another scout?” Gwynn’s blush deepened as he tugged furiously at his rebellious lock of hair. “What?” I prompted, as he became intrigued by his dusty boots, which I nudged with my foot. “Tell me.”