Star Mage (The Enslaved Chronicles Book 3)

by R. K. Thorne

  “Halt. Who goes there?”

  “Who wants to know?” called a voice farther back. It sounded strangely familiar and carried a hint of authority. A thin figure straightened and began walking toward them.

  “I am Lord Dyon of Liren, in the company of the king. And who are you?”

  Aven winced, not entirely sure he wanted that to be known. Too late now.

  “The king?” someone said, laughing a little.

  “What’s the king doin’ out here with a lord and lady and a bunch of fools on foot in the middle of the night?”

  “The king of tricksters, he means, methinks. What does he take us for?”

  Dyon cleared his throat and glared haughtily. “I command you, in the name of King Aven Lanuken of Akaria, not to take anything from those bodies.”

  “He thinks we’re common thieves,” another voice muttered, amused.

  “Barbarians, eh?”

  “We didn’t leave the road full of the dead,” said another.

  The thin figure who’d first spoken had almost reached them now, coming into the light of the nearest fire. “King Aven, is it?”

  “Regin!” Aven dismounted as fast as he could and ran to the wiry old man, throwing his arms around him. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

  “Certainly not here, I’d wager,” said Regin, patting Aven’s shoulder and smiling slightly.

  Dyon cleared his throat. “You two—know each other?”

  Aven nodded. “Our paths crossed ways once, not so long ago.”

  “He didn’t tell me he was a king,” Regin said to Dyon.

  “You didn’t ask.” Aven smiled crookedly. “And I was only a prince then.”

  Regin’s expression faded as he looked back out over the carnage. “I… What happened here, Aven?”

  “Sire,” Dyon corrected.

  “Kavanarian mages attacked,” Aven said quickly. “It was a disaster. We barely survived.”

  “How did you survive?” Siliana asked. “Last I saw, you were airborne and flying into the clouds on a hunk of earth.”

  Aven wished he had something remarkable to say, about how he’d mastered the rock or the storm or figured his way out of it. Instead, he shrugged. “I fell. Tried to break my fall with the wind. It worked, mostly.”

  “You fell—”

  “Let’s talk about it later,” Aven said. “Regin, tell me your people aren’t looting these bodies?”

  “And who exactly are you people?” Dyon added.

  “Just some wanderers,” Regin said mildly. “We live a nomadic life, moving town to town, camp to camp. We aren’t camped far from here, but we saw something strange was going on and came to check for danger. It seemed to have passed. And no, we weren’t looting them.” He glared at Dyon now, even though Aven had been the one to ask.

  Aven glanced over his shoulder, up to the north. “It’s not clear if that danger has entirely passed. The mages who did this are still alive, about a mile up that way. They could come back.”

  “We were hoping to bury them, but there are so many.” Regin scowled.

  “Regin, if your people would do us the favor of tending to our fallen comrades, we would be very grateful. A funeral pyre would be acceptable if you can’t bury them all. Come to Panar after, bring what effects of the dead you can manage, and you will be greatly rewarded.” For that, and for explaining the truth about Miara, and for everything else. Without Regin’s help, he might have never freed any of them.

  Regin nodded sagely. “We don’t usually travel so far south, Aven—sire.”

  “I might suggest you consider it,” Aven said, looking pointedly at the bodies. “War has reached this place, and it’ll be moving to Panar soon.”

  “War?” Regin breathed. “With Kavanar?”

  Aven nodded. “Anonil has fallen, betrayed. The south stronghold is in flames. We were headed there when this regiment was ambushed.”

  Regin scowled. “I can’t say I want to be anywhere near where the folks who did this are.”

  “Well, they’re just up the road. Panar may be their destination, though. Your choice.”

  “We’d be happy to tend to them, with or without reward,” Regin said, clasping his hands in front of him.

  “Thank you,” Aven said, genuinely grateful. “We can leave some of these soldiers to help you, if you’d like.”

  Regin eyed the men. “No, they look like they’ve seen enough death. We tied some horses off down that way, though.”

  “Good.”

  “Aven, should we try to send word back to Panar?” Siliana asked. “I’m sure I can find a bird.”

  He turned to Regin. “Have any parchment? Yet again, I owe you.”

  “You assume this nomadic wanderer can write?” Regin said with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Yes…”

  “Well, you assume right. Hold on.”

  Aven scribbled a hasty note, and Siliana woke up some poor bird and sent it off. Then Aven gave Regin one last hug goodbye. “We should keep going then, head south, I think.”

  Regin nodded. “Safe travels, Aven. Sire. Safer than this. Anara watch over you.”

  “I hope I’ll see you there, my friend.” He nodded, and they rode off down the road, none too soon. The more time passed, the more certain he became that he agreed with Siliana.

  Pooling their forces in Panar was quite possibly their last hope.

  13

  DUTY

  When they’d reached the inside of the cave, Niat had collapsed. From the running, the arguing, from all the walking that morning—everything—it was too much. She’d gone down and been asleep almost immediately on the rock floor of the steamy cave he’d found with a bright blue pool in the center.

  She awoke sometime in the early morning hours, before the sunrise. The warm, humid air around her confused her as to where by Nefrana she’d woken up, until she finally remembered stumbling in here the night before. The beautiful sound of the running water and the way it sapped into the air and dampened her gown all had probably helped to lull her to sleep; the symphony of echoing sound was astonishingly relaxing. She simply sat listening to it for a while. When had she slept so well? She couldn’t remember a time she’d slept better, and she was sleeping on solid rock.

  But where was Thel? She scanned the darkness—there.

  He was sitting up about a dozen feet across the cavern from her. His profile was outlined in moonlight, which trickled through a crack in the cave’s ceiling. She could just make out the barest suggestion of his forehead, his nose, his hand cupping his stubbled chin in the silvery light; he looked noble, thoughtful, pensive. Handsome. How had she ever thought any differently?

  “Thel?” she whispered. She sat up and stretched, her body aching.

  His face turned toward her voice. “I can’t believe they killed him because of me. I was trying to help.”

  “Thel—”

  “No need to gloat.” He held up a hand. “You were right, clearly. I should have stayed out of it and played the coward.”

  “Coward?” She was fully awake now. Had she not just saved him from five mages all by herself, including one giant snake? She stabbed a finger at him, not that he could see it. “Hey, I’ve lived my whole life hiding from danger. Don’t judge me for trying to stay alive.”

  He glared. She could tell, even in the low light. “Can I judge you for weighing your own life versus his and choosing your own?”

  “Oh, fine. Judge all you want. I shouldn’t have expected you to understand.”

  “I do understand,” he said quickly. “I just—”

  “No, you don’t. You don’t know me, Thel.”

  “I—well, tell me then.”

  “What?”

  “Give me something to think of other than that sound.”

  Her heart leapt in sympathy for a moment. She’d forgotten it that quickly, slept peacefully afterward. A man’s throat was sliced, no big deal, time for bed.

  He shook his head. “What danger did y
ou spend your privileged noble’s life hiding from?”

  Her sympathy evaporated, and she wanted to throw the sand at her feet in his face.

  “My father, among other things,” she snapped.

  His gazed hardened, intensified on her. She suspected the look wasn’t meant for her.

  “What happened to your mother?”

  “She died. When I was born.”

  “In childbirth?”

  “No. They caught her trying to smother me with a pillow. I was off to a nurse after that, then a governess. But my mother threw herself off a tower a week or two later. Or so they all told me. I don’t know how much of the story I can trust, but it seems true. I changed her. Made her sick.” Shouldn’t be a surprise, since she’d spent plenty of her life sick herself.

  His head hung lower now. He didn’t say anything. There was only the soft burbling of the water in the pool beside them.

  “They say she was never like that before,” she continued. “My father insisted he didn’t blame me, but I know he did. We never spoke.”

  “So who raised you then?”

  She shrugged. “In some ways I raised myself. But I had one governess for quite a while at the end. I was a fairly ill little girl. Peluna was the one who suggested the temple could get me away from my father. She taught me a little, but mostly she taught me what to be afraid of. And she was afraid of everything, saw evil in everyone. Perhaps that’s why she pushed me toward the church.” Peluna had especially been afraid of men, Niat recalled, thinking of the way the woman’s rough knuckles would whiten on the arm of her chair when Lord Sven came near. “Some of her fears were realistic. Some not so much. It was hard to distinguish as a thirteen-year-old.”

  It still was, truth be told.

  “She taught me poisons. To defend myself, she said, as I’d surely need to. And other tricks and tools of a… less than honorable trade she had once been employed in.”

  His head snapped up. “That sounds… inappropriate for a governess to teach her—”

  She snorted. “She wasn’t a courtesan. She was an assassin and a poison taster in Takar.”

  “Ah. Useful skills. I am relieved on your behalf.”

  “I suppose the other skills would be useful, someday, if taught in a more appropriate setting,” she muttered. What the hell was she saying? She cleared her throat, glad he couldn’t see her cheeks were flushed hot. She was supposed to be telling him off, letting him know why he was an ass for questioning her instinct to preserve her own life. And instead she was flirting? She cut short the slight smile that had crept onto her lips.

  “When my blood moon came, it was like some kind of debt had come due. My father persisted in attempting to marry me off to the highest bidder and be rid of me. At least his greed made him hold out a bit for a higher price.”

  At that, Thel threw up his hands. “As if he’s short on money. Not that there’s any justification for such behavior.” He scooted a few feet closer to her, but still under the moonlight.

  “Well, you don’t see how much he spends on wine. I think he still missed her, under all that vileness.”

  “Hmm.” Thel didn’t sound like he cared much for that excuse.

  “This set my father and my governess at odds. Peluna was absolutely positive that a husband would be the death of me, and I don’t know, maybe she was right.”

  “I would think your father has plenty of resources to protect you.”

  “To do that, he’d have to choose to use them, though. Or care to.”

  Thel snorted. “I still think she was wrong. Marriage is not death for most people.”

  “Perhaps. But especially considering what happened to my mother, I’m inclined to agree with her. My luck clearly hasn’t been good so far.”

  “I think you are due a turn of luck in your favor.”

  There she was smiling again. Damn it. “Do you, now? Let’s hope.” He almost seemed like he might be smiling over there. He scooted another foot closer again.

  “Did your father succeed in his quest to marry you off?”

  “No. Peluna and I were able to get the temple to accept me before he found a suitable price. I’m sure he’s still looking, though. Well, I suppose he thought he’d found a deal in Alikar. Lord Alikar, sorry.”

  “Don’t be. He’s probably been stripped of that title.”

  “You think so?”

  “I don’t understand why you persist in being so unsure of the monarchy that rules the country you actually live in, but can’t you take my word for it? It’s my family, by the gods.”

  “My family has been nothing but a source of terror, betrayal, and insecurity.”

  He ran a hand over his face, briefly illuminating contours of pain further.

  “See, I told you you didn’t understand,” she said, feeling less triumphant than she’d thought she would.

  “Just because it hasn’t happened to me—”

  “There’s more,” she said quietly, holding up a hand.

  He stopped. “More? Niat, I’m so—” He actually got on his hands and knees now and crawled toward her. Her heart was pounding. Why was it pounding? Why were her eyes glued to every shift of his tall, powerful form in the moonlight?

  He stopped just beside her and held out a hand, just barely visible in the dim light. She looked away, hoping that would rebuff him and also hoping that it wouldn’t. But she also moved her hand toward his, hesitating.

  His hand closed, warm and smooth, over hers. She smiled. Not a soldier’s hand, that was for sure, but she imagined it would feel good against—

  She focused on the dirt, still looking away. “When I got to the temple, I was finally free of them. But I got sicker. And sicker. I was frequently weak, couldn’t eat, feverish, and none of the priestesses could determine what was wrong.”

  His fingers squeezed hers.

  “That was when the visions started.”

  “Visions? Of what?”

  She took a deep breath. Of you, among other things, she thought. “War, mostly. Anonil. I told you of those. But there are others. I’ve seen… many battles. Some of them are ancient, some of them— I don’t think they’ve happened yet. Many deaths.”

  She turned finally to meet him. His eyes were brighter in the moonlight than she’d have thought, and they locked with hers. They were concerned, the blue pale like precious glass in the darkness.

  “The thing is, visions don’t start so late. Shouldn’t. Seers don’t come into their power so long after blood moons. I should have been having visions my whole life.”

  He frowned. “But you hadn’t. Are visions supposed to make you sick?”

  She shook her head. “No. But as the priestesses started to acknowledge what I was—am—must be—whatever, I realized there was one explanation that made sense. There was a poison Peluna had taught me about, called pale dove. A pink powder. It’s supposed to be fairly tasteless if a little sweet, and it’s highly addictive. It makes you mildly weak and feverish, and it suppresses visions of all kinds.” She ran the back of her hand over her forehead. She was suddenly sweating even mentioning the stuff.

  “Someone was giving it to you? To suppress your visions?”

  She nodded. “I can only think that it was Peluna, given all she knew. Now with each vision, I go into withdrawal, craving the drug, and that lasts much longer than the visions. Perhaps I told her of the visions when I was very young, young enough not to remember, and she started it then. I don’t know. She could have taken me to the temple then, and if that was always her goal, why didn’t she? Why try to smother the visions away? She must have known they would return as soon as she and the drug left me.”

  “Did you ever ask her?”

  “I tried. Weak as I was, I went looking for her. She’d gone missing. Her rented room had been abandoned. No one knew where she’d gone. I fear my father took revenge on her, as in many ways she’d won in the raising of me, getting the priestesses to accept me into the temple and depriving him of his wedding b
ounty.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “Then again, it could have been my father giving me the drug, or ordering her to do so. Maybe that’s why she had such handy skills. She could also have simply left. I shouldn’t blame him for something that I’m not even sure happened. Also… if she was so concerned for my wellbeing and wanted me in the temple for my own good, she could have easily done so. There was something more to it.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, she could have told me about the drug. She must have known I’d figure it out once it wore off and the effects of the addiction took hold. I’d been on it for years. Who knew what it might have done to me to take something clearly harmful for nearly my whole life? Fifteen years? Eighteen? Who knows.”

  “Gods. How old are you, Niat?”

  “Twenty.”

  “That is a long time, indeed.”

  She studied his face thoughtfully, what she could see of it in the darkness anyway. She could more feel his presence now than see him, as his face was no more than a foot from hers.

  Huh. He had listened for a long time, not turning away. He hadn’t even mentioned himself, save that bare tangent about Alikar. People were usually more self-centered. And here he was trying to add pieces to the confusing puzzle of betrayal that was her life. Trying to help her put them together.

  “How long did it take to get over the addiction?”

  “I’m not sure I am over it,” she said quietly. “But after a year, the constant fever went away.”

  “A year? No wonder you’re so thin.”

  She blinked, her mouth falling open and searching for a clever retort. But nothing came out. She only had a sinking feeling, a sudden dizziness with all her discussion of those difficult days. She didn’t care what he thought of her; what did she care if he found her plain? What had they called her, a board? A rail? She didn’t care about any of that. Still, a surprising swell of disappointment hit her. She’d thought—he’d kissed her back, when she’d stolen that foolish moment beside the bear. No, no, what did she care? She didn’t want him. Or need him. Or…

  She glanced back at his blue eyes, then back to the sandy distance she’d been staring into. Now, that wasn’t true at all, was it.