Gryphon (Rise of the Mages Book 2)

by Brian W. Foster

  The man ignored her and started rifling through her bags. Good.

  Slurping sounds indicated one of his buddies making his way through the mud. With her shoulder mostly healed, she concentrated on the one going through her stuff, pulling lifeforce from him.

  He looked back at her and tilted his head. “I feel weird. Almost like she’s …” The man toppled to land on his side in the mud, unconscious.

  “Mage!” The second man yelled.

  An arrow landed not six inches from her leg. She needed to take out the archer, but the second man ran toward her, a bigger threat.

  Tasia drained life from him. He rounded the horse with a knife held in front of him. The man was huge, and his long strides would take him to her before she could drain enough to make him pass out.

  Another arrow. It whizzed past the second man’s head.

  “Watch it!” He whipped to the side.

  His foot slipped in the mud, and he pitched forward. He landed, groaning, on top of her legs. The knife pierced the edge of Tasia’s dress, thankfully sticking into the ground instead of her stomach.

  Expecting another arrow at any moment, she finished draining life from the second man. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he slumped, out cold.

  Still no arrow.

  Ahh. With the second man draped over her and the two of them behind the horse, the archer couldn’t risk a shot. He moved toward her, but he was far away.

  She turned her attention to draining his life and made him collapse before he could get another shot off.

  Tasia laid her head back into the stinking mud and closed her eyes. Her body trembled. She struggled to get control of her breath.

  “Get ahold of yourself, girl,” she said finally. “No time to go to pieces now.”

  The man was too heavy to shove off her, but the mud allowed her to pull her legs from underneath him. Finally, she stood and surveyed the scene. Big, thick raindrops fell. Lightning flashed across the sky.

  The men had surely robbed, probably killed, and only the Holy One knew what else. Death was what they deserved.

  That wasn’t her call, though, even if she were able to make herself do it. Which she so couldn’t.

  But she also couldn’t just leave them to hurt others.

  She sighed. The correct thing to do was to go back to the castle and report the bandits to the guard captain. Searching for Xan would have to wait.

  With a sigh, she double checked that the men weren’t likely to awaken before the duke’s soldiers could collect them, draining a hair more life from the archer to make sure, and once again mounted her horse.

  The ride back dragged on forever, and her heart pounded as she approached the gate. “Greetings, captain.”

  He smirked. “Had a spill did you, my lady?”

  What? Oh, her muddy dress.

  Tasia shrugged. “I encountered bandits.”

  “My lady! Are you harmed?”

  “I’m fine … and I am so sorry to be a bother … but could you please send a few of your men to retrieve them? They should stay unconscious for another couple of hours.”

  The captain’s jaw dropped.

  “They’re down near the old mill pond,” Tasia said. “Two are lying right by the road, but the third is hidden up the side of the hill on the left.”

  The captain just looked at her.

  “Captain? Captain?”

  “Yes, my lady?”

  “Can you please do as I asked? I really want to get warm.”

  “Yes, my lady. Sorry, my lady.”

  Tasia groaned. The captain would have to make a report. And tongues would wag, both at her appearance and what happened with the bandits.

  Any hope of General Flynn or the duke himself not learning of her excursion was ruined. She was so in trouble. And she hadn’t even begun to look for Xan. They’d not allow her to leave the castle again for a month.

  Xan might not live that long. If he were alive at all.

  * * *

  Tasia rode into the stable.

  Despite the dim light outside due to the storm, the inside was well-lit. Usually, leaving lanterns, even the glass-encased ones, burning in the hay-filled environment was frowned upon, but there they were.

  She grinned. Andre must have heard from the soldiers at the gate that she was on her way back.

  Such a sweet boy. Well, man really. Almost as big as the duke.

  Unfortunately, though, he was nowhere to be seen. Ugh.

  She felt, and looked like, a drowned rat. All she wanted was to get into dry clothes and thaw out in front of a hot fire. Instead, she would have to see to the horse by herself. Such a chore, and one she had never done on her own. Maybe she could just leave it for him …

  Wait. That wasn’t right. Taking care of the poor animal was important. She thought, anyway. Really, she had no idea. People who dealt with horses seemed like they saw to the task immediately after they finished riding, though.

  No help for it.

  She dismounted, hitting the dirt without even stumbling. Not bad.

  Feet scuffled the ground behind her. Yay. Andre had returned.

  She spun, a smile on her face.

  Nope. Not Andre.

  Ashley.

  Tasia froze.

  “What are you doing, cousin?” Ashley said.

  What had she been doing? Xan. But she couldn’t say that. What was her excuse again? “I was, uh, you know, just, uh, out for a ride?”

  Ashley snorted. “Yeah, that’s it. Because you love riding, and it’s such a lovely day ... evening … out.”

  Thunder crashed.

  “Well, you know …” Tasia said. “Wait. Medicine!”

  “What?” Ashley said.

  “Medicine. That’s what I was doing. Treating refugees.”

  “Uh, huh. I don’t doubt that, while you were ‘riding,’ you treated some peasant or another for some malady, but that is not why you went out in the first place.”

  Tasia chewed the inside of her cheek.

  Ashley smirked. “So no sign of him, huh?”

  “Sign of who?” Tasia’s heart thudded.

  Ashley rolled her eyes. “Xan. Tall guy? Kind of gangly with a really messy mop on the top of his head? Remember him?”

  Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap.

  Tasia sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have … But I’m worried, okay? He fell from the sky. Fell. From the sky. Is it so bad that I want to know if he’s alive?”

  She grimaced. Of all the people in the world to admit that to, Ashley was the absolute worst. Tasia tensed, expecting an explosion.

  Instead, Ashley’s expression softened. “I’d like to know, too.”

  Tasia opened her mouth to respond, but no words came to mind.

  “Hey, don’t look so surprised. I do have some feelings, after all.”

  Tasia grimaced. She’d never considered that possibility, unlikely as it was.

  Great. Just great. On top of the reasons for penance she’d already accumulated, add betrayal of her best friend. Ashley wasn’t always the easiest of companions, but she’d taken Tasia in. Allowed her to work in the hospital. Treated her like a real lady-in-waiting instead of a pain-in-the-neck commoner relative.

  And how did she repay that kindness?

  By kissing Ashley’s fiancé. And not just a chaste peck on the lips, either. And not just a kiss, either. There had definitely been roaming hands involved as well.

  Tasia was officially an awful, awful person.

  “So if I find him,” Tasia said, “what would you have me do?”

  Ashley broke eye contact. “Heal him and let him go.”

  Tasia had never known Ashley to contradict her father’s orders so blatantly. Skirt them. Bend them. Pretend not to have heard them. Sure. But to do the exact opposite?

  Could she have real feelings for Xan?

  No. Not possible. Couldn’t be. The thought of Ashley pining over an apothecary from the outskirts of the kingdom was so ludi
crous that Tasia wanted to laugh. Only it wasn’t funny.

  “Do you need … I mean … Can I give you a hug?” Tasia said.

  Ashley turned up her nose. “As if I’d let you touch me looking and smelling like that!”

  Tasia glanced down. Stinky mud still clung to her dress despite riding through the downpour.

  “Did you win?” Ashley said.

  “Win what?”

  “Well,” Ashley said, “I’ve heard that, in the less reputable taverns in Kaicia, the ones near the seaside, girls wrestle each other in the mud. The men apparently find it quite entertaining.”

  Tasia frowned.

  “I think you’ve missed the point, though, by wearing a dress,” Ashley said. “If you want to make a real go at the occupation, you’ll need to wear less. A lot less. Not much at all, really.”

  So much for Ashley being a real person with true feelings.

  Tasia sighed. “How’d you find me, anyway?”

  “I have my ways.” Ashley grinned.

  “Let me guess, you flirted with Andre.”

  “I am a lady, the niskma of Vierna. You dare suggest that I would lower myself to flirt with a mere stablehand? I should have you flogged.” Her stern expression didn’t hold long before a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “He is, however, a quite loyal servant.”

  Tasia shook her head. “I am so sorry, your majesty, for impugning your dignity. You’d never deign even to notice the barrel-chested, muscular brute. I don’t know what I was thinking to suggest you’d view him as anything more than a competent person who takes care of your valuable equines. You’d certainly never take any excuse to come down here in the heat of the summer to watch him, shirtless, shovel out the hay.”

  “Well, you know …” Ashley shrugged. “I also heard you ran into trouble? And there was magic use involved? Against my father’s orders.”

  Tasia told her about the bandits.

  “You’re okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Tasia said. “Though I’ll be much more careful next time.”

  “See that you are,” Ashley said. “You’ll not get the opportunity tomorrow, though. Father’s called a meeting first thing in the morning. All mages are to be present.”

  “But I’m needed at the hospital …”

  Ashley snorted again. “You mean you’re needed to ride around in the rain pointlessly trying to find Xan. Again, not tomorrow. All mages.” With that, she turned and walked away.

  “Thanks for helping with the horse,” Tasia called.

  There was no response, not that she’d expected one.

  She chewed the inside of her cheek. A meeting meant that Duke Asher had finally decided on the fate of his mages. Lainey and the others were still in danger of being executed.

  In the short time she’d known them, Xan’s friends had grown on her. Lainey was almost like a sister, and she thought fondly of Dylan. Even Lucan, though gruff, had proved himself to be so valuable at the hospital.

  And Brant …

  Well, he must have some good qualities if Xan liked him so much.

  Tasia couldn’t even imagine the duke putting them to death. For that matter, being elevated to the nobility because of a marriage wasn’t the strongest protection for saving her own life.

  One way or the other, they’d know tomorrow.

  * * *

  Brant woke with a start.

  Panicked, he gazed through the dim light of his room at the cot next to his bed. Ivie’s small figure was still there, sleeping, the cover rising and falling as she breathed.

  Funny how everything about her appearance differed from how she actually was. Her close-cropped dark hair resembled a boy’s, and her pale skin made her seem fragile. She definitely was a girl, though, and there was nothing delicate about her.

  Well, another night passed without her trying to escape. And better, she hadn’t tried to kill him.

  Yet.

  He rose, and his getting out of bed caused her to stir. A light sleeper, that one. “How do you feel?”

  “A bit woozy, master, and the spots are still there.”

  Brant had seen enough, caused enough, head injuries to know how they could last awhile, and she’d been having problems for three days. And she’d been in and out of consciousness since he’d rescued her, not to mention that she’d thrown up twice yesterday. Xan had hit her pretty hard.

  Still, she might be faking.

  Then again, even if she had told the truth about not being able to access her magic, that condition wouldn’t last forever. What the blast had he been thinking, bringing an enemy death mage to his room?

  She wasn’t a rads-infested pet!

  “What am I going to do with you?” he said. “If I tell anyone about you, you’ll be killed. They might even torture you.”

  Not to mention that he’d be in deep shit.

  She cowered from him, panicked, making him feel like a complete asshole.

  When he’d found her on the battlefield, she’d been mostly naked. Her back was scarred from whippings, clear signs of having led a tough life, and with her slight frame, she looked little older than a child for all that she claimed to be almost Lainey’s age.

  His dad had instilled in him the duty of the strong to protect the weak, and he’d met few people who appeared weaker than her. But she was a blasted death mage. She could kill him with a thought.

  Weak was the last thing she was.

  He was being a complete idiot.

  “If I don’t tell anyone, though,” he said, “one day I’m going to wake up dead.”

  She looked at him funny, like she wanted to grin but was afraid to.

  Brant replayed what he’d said. “Not wake up dead because, if I’m dead, I wouldn’t … You know what I mean!” He shook his head. “Anyway, every morning I try to figure out why you haven’t already killed me.”

  “Why would I do that, master?”

  “To get away. With me dead, you could be long gone before anyone thought to even look for you.”

  Great. Plan it for her. Why not just give her a bag of gold and a knife while he was at it?

  “Part of me wishes I could just let you go, but I can’t. A few days ago, you stood as a part of Truna’s army and fought against us. You belong to Dastanar. I can’t just give you back to the enemy.” He sighed. “And even if I was okay with that, I don’t know if General Flynn would let me. I’m the only one who knows you’re a mage, but everyone knows you’re from the enemy camp. The only reason they’re not saying anything is because they think we’re … that you and I are … well, you know.”

  She stared at the ceiling. “I know what everyone thinks, master. And I do appreciate you waiting until I’ve recovered to demand … that … of me.”

  “Speaking of you killing me, do you think I’d try that? You’re a blasted death mage.”

  “You’re also a mage, master, and bigger and stronger than me besides. And I’d be put to death as soon as I raised a hand against you. Really, it’s not like I could stop you.”

  Brant groaned. “I will not be using you for that. Frankly, I don’t know what to do with you.” He felt like he had a snake by the neck with no way to set it down without getting bit. And a particularly venomous one at that.

  “Your best bet is to kill me, master,” she said. “It’s what I would do.”

  His hand went to his sword hilt. “That is the smart thing.”

  She closed her eyes, clearly terrified.

  Each of the last two nights, he’d stood over her with his blade held over her chest but hadn’t been able to make that final plunge. Bad enough to assassinate nameless, faceless enemies in the dead of the night, but to steal her life without her having any chance to do something about it?

  He gritted his teeth. “Good thing for you that I captured you instead of Xan. He’s the smart one.”

  Ivie stared at him, eyes wide with surprise. “Then you should turn me over to your officers, master. You’ll be punished for not telling them soo
ner.” She shrugged. “Take your lumps. You’ll be fine.”

  “If I turn you over to them and they kill you, how is that different from me killing you?”

  “Is it better to risk me betraying you, master? Your friends? How can you ever trust me?”

  Brant clenched and unclenched his hand around his sword hilt. She was right. So right. It’d be so easy. Just block her magic and cut her straight through. He had the experience to make it a clean kill. Almost no pain. And no problem to explain. Tell everyone she tried to escape or attack him or whatever. No one would even think twice about it.

  “Do you want to die?” he said. “Is that it?”

  “No, master.”

  “Then why? Why haven’t you run away? Why haven’t you tried to kill me?”

  She stared at the floor, and for a while, Brant thought she wasn’t going to answer.

  “Do you think death or whatever you end up doing to me is the worst that can happen?” she said finally, still looking at the floor. “If … when … my country re-captures me, I’ll be tortured beyond anything you can imagine.”

  “Then run. Kaicia. The far reaches of Bermau.”

  Ivie barked out a harsh chuckle. “You think your kingdoms are safe? That your few mages and one measly wizard can stop what’s coming? Nowhere is safe. At least here you feed me and give me a place to sleep.”

  Brant grimaced. “Tell me, then. Tell me what’s coming, so we can prepare.”

  She pursed her lips and didn’t say a word.

  “You obviously feel no loyalty to King Barius,” Brant said. “What harm could it do? Numbers. Plans. Anything at all would help.”

  Ivie shook her head.

  “Don’t make me torture you. Please.”

  “Do what you must.” Her eyes went wide, pleading despite her bold words.

  Argh! Why did his dad have to burden him with such a strong sense of duty? Brant sighed. And why couldn’t he shrug that burden off when it was so foolish?

  “I’ve got to go out,” he said. “Do not leave this room.”

  “Yes, master.”

  Considering his newly-won status as a landed noble, the proper term was “lord,” but he hadn’t made a big deal out of being called that. And really, she wasn’t out of line to call him “master.” Pretty standard for a servant to refer to the head of household as such.