Mage Slave (The Enslaved Chronicles Book 1)

by R. K. Thorne

  “Can we—” she started, but then she hesitated, hating what she was about to say. “Can we use it somehow?”

  His eyes lit up. “Ah, I like the way you think. If we can get them near it, we can… make use of it, shall we say?”

  The vines continued their pursuit of the horses, but they were also putting up a struggle, prancing and jittering out of the vines’ grasp as best they could.

  “Let’s go.” She gave one last savage slash at Cora’s vines and then whispered, Make for the road up there, I’ll be right behind you.

  She leapt to Kres’s back after a quick hack at one persistent vine. She quickly tossed the blade back to Sorin and charged forward. At the same time, she gave a halfhearted attempt at pulling energy from the vines, not enough to really stop them—at least not yet—but perhaps to take some of her adversary’s energy for her own.

  To his credit, Sorin was quickly on her heels, as were the wolves. She rode all the way to the very edge of the road at full speed and watched in horror as Sorin executed her plan. A blast of perfectly targeted wind sent the nearest wolf over the edge, tumbling down toward the rocks below.

  Her heart in her chest ached. She gripped Kres’s reins tighter in her hands.

  She maneuvered Kres away from the edge itself, dodging each of five wolves in turn. And each Sorin dispatched with astonishing speed. When the third started to dart away, seeing what was coming, he changed tactics. A lightning bolt touched the ground just in front of the wolf sending rocks sliding, and the creature lurched until it, too, fell to the cliff.

  Silence fell, aside from their panting. She looked at Sorin, who smiled triumphantly, but she couldn’t return the expression. She could only hurt at the loss of these mages who’d fought valiantly for something she, too, believed in.

  As her tension eased slightly, the pain in her forearm and cheek throbbed suddenly with full force, and she gasped for a moment at the intensity of it.

  “Did you bring any bandages in that pack?”

  “What would you have done without me, love?” He reached into his saddlebags.

  “And some water,” she said gruffly, and nothing else. As if he’d have even survived the encounter they’d had with the Devoted, let alone still had his bandages with him. To hell with him.

  What would she have done without him? Perhaps she would have died at the hands of honorable mages trying to save their future king, rather than having been the instrument of his destruction. She might have preferred that end to the one that waited for her. Instead, the Akarians had made a last-ditch effort to save him. And they had failed. Because of her.

  But she had no choice in the matter. Sefim had told her time and time again that it made a difference. She could only hope he was right. She cleaned her wounds and bandaged her arm but left her cheek open to the air.

  Let the Masters have no illusions. This journey had scarred her for good.

  As the sun rose, they were surrounded by the thinner forests of Kavanar. The mountains in the distance were the same ones that sat beyond Mage Hall.

  They were nearly back.

  She and Sorin ate as they rode, trudging on even though they needed to stop. Aven, strangely, did not stir. She hadn’t thought Sorin had hit him that hard. Perhaps it was also just the fatigue of the journey. Hopefully, they could rouse him before they arrived—she didn’t want to explain an unconscious Akarian to the Masters. Damn Sorin.

  The forests thinned even more, and soon they reached the farmers’ fields that lay to the west of Mage Hall.

  Eventually, Aven roused. He didn’t sit up at first—she just noticed that after a while, his eyes were open, watching her. She risked a small, sad smile for him, and he smiled back. She let him have his peace. When he finally moved to sit up, he discovered how they’d tied him down, and she stopped the horse to untie him.

  “What happened to your face?” Aven said, voice barely above a groggy whisper as she untied him.

  “Wolves,” she said. “Wolves attacked us while you were down.” Akarian wolves, she added, straight to his mind so Sorin couldn’t hear. Mages, I think, transformed. I think they were trying to save you.

  Aven said nothing in response, in his face or even in his mind. His thoughts were a sad, blank expanse, not that different from her own. There was a vague pain in his eyes, possibly from his own impending doom or riding a horse like that for so long. He had his choice of pains to pick from.

  His eyes studied her as they rode, as if he were looking for something. Did he hope in these last hours that she would let him see some slight indication of her love? Would it really hurt anything now if she did show him? But she wasn’t about to show him anything with Sorin around to notice. It was too late. She’d lost her chance.

  They rounded a bend, and the last of the trees stopped. Mage Hall squatted in the distance now, a black, disgusting lump between the flat green fields and the grayish mountains.

  Sorin kicked his horse into a canter when he saw it. “Almost there!” he cried as if excited. Maybe he was.

  At any rate, she was not excited, but she did want to get this over with.

  She grunted. Kres knew her meaning, and Cora followed, and they sped past the farmers at a faster rate now. Occasionally, a man would stop and eye them suspiciously, whether for the right or wrong reasons, she didn’t know.

  At the next field, several men stopped working, turning to look at them at once, on both sides of the road. Now, the farmers might hate the mages, but was it really worth such…

  Seconds later, she discovered what they were really staring at as a shadow crossed Kres’s mane.

  “What the—” Sorin started. He turned to look up just as talons sank into her shoulders.

  She couldn’t withhold a cry. Animal impulse took over now, and she felt herself change. Clawed paws reached toward the feathery beast above her, scratching, writhing, but also twisting the talons deeper into her shoulders.

  The creature shrieked, releasing her as huge wings flapped into the air. She glanced back over her shoulder at it—an eagle! She had injured it, and it was struggling to gain altitude. Two others behind it were headed right for her.

  Perhaps some of those creature mages had survived after all.

  She dug in her heels and hugged herself to Kres’s neck. He did not really need the encouragement. She groped for Cora’s reins as the two horses hit a gallop. The east gate to Mage Hall was now easily in sight.

  She risked a glance over her shoulder. Sorin had not been as lucky as she in fending off the eagle. His horse had stopped because he was on the ground, the eagle diving at him from above, dodging his wind blasts, riding them as if they were a normal part of the hunt. A second eagle joined. Served him right. Thick storm clouds gathered quick and low above him, preparing for his use in an attack.

  She had no time for this. She had no time to analyze the situation. Sorin would have to fend for himself, and she knew he could. If not, she could send more help from inside.

  Protecting Sorin was not her mission. Aven was. Much as she might like an excuse to fail.

  She pressed herself down harder against Kres’s mane as a shadow swept overhead again. The eagle circled around and headed for Cora instead. Miara jerked both horses’ reins abruptly to the right as close to the last second as she dared, and the eagle missed. Cora was spooked, but it only made her run faster.

  They were close now. Miara reached her mind toward the gate—were there mages there? Indeed there were.

  We’re under attack—get ready! she cried to them. She could feel from their confusion that they had yet to spot her racing toward them or the eagles circling above.

  She glanced back at Sorin. The air was whirling now, clouds thickening above him in the otherwise blue sky. She couldn’t see him, but she could see several eagles circling and diving.

  More shadows dotted the ground between them. Four? Six? More than she’d be able to fight off on her own.

  She glanced at Aven and found him watching her,
also bent down on the horse, eyes wild but with what, she wasn’t sure.

  She trained her eyes ahead on the gate. There wasn’t much more she could do now. Her abilities only went so far. There were no animals to call from the surrounding fields, no time to transform, and nowhere near enough energy. She didn’t want to kill them anyway—escape was the priority. Hers was not the best magic for defending oneself in this sort of situation, even against other creature mages.

  The first shadow enveloped her. She winced and held tight to Kres’s reins in anticipation. Even if they attacked, if she could just stay on the horse until they were inside, endure the pain and hang on—

  But instead of the pierce of talons, she heard a shriek from above. Her eyes darted around frantically—what was happening? To her left, an eagle careened off-balance into the fields.

  She whipped her head around. Her eyes caught on Aven’s. They said everything she needed to know—the sadness, the love, it was all there.

  He was defending her. Saving her, when he should be saving himself.

  “What are you doing?” she shouted.

  Another eagle was blown away from her. A third got through. Talons scratched through the leather on her back, and she felt a hot, sticky wetness on her right side. Before it could sink its talons in again, it, too, was batted out of the way by a powerful gust.

  The horses reached the gate. The eagles did not follow, instead circling back toward Sorin.

  Several mages came running. “We heard your call!” “Are you all right?” “Get a healer!”

  She shook her head, dismounting quickly. “No, no, the danger’s over for me. Sorin is still out there—under attack from those eagles. Get a warrior, not a healer. Get someone to help him. But don’t go out of the gate if you can’t fight.”

  “You need a healer, I insist!”

  “Fine,” she relented. “Fetch a healer, but only after you fetch help for Sorin. I must see the Masters first before I can be helped.” They looked from one to another and seemed to believe her. None of them wanted to interfere with a mage on a Master’s orders.

  Turning away from them, she found Aven had dismounted as well. He waited next to Cora, watching her.

  She strode to him and stopped, running a hand through Cora’s mane as she spoke. “Well,” she said. “Here we are. This is where I’ve been taking you. At least you’ll get some answers now.”

  He nodded grimly.

  She turned back to one of the gate mages, a young boy. “Take these horses to the stable, and see that they get fed and brushed down.” The boy nodded and started off.

  She took Aven’s arm, partly to keep up the pretense that he was in her charge and partly to be closer to him. She led him down the path and into the compound.

  “This is where I live,” she whispered, as if only the two of them were listening and not her bond as well, eavesdropping and choosing what she could say and what she couldn’t. All constraints of the mission should be released at this point, given that she’d basically achieved it. She should be able to say more about herself. “In that building there, I sleep. And in that one there, I work—the stables.”

  He followed her gestures with keen eyes. Was he sincerely interested? Plotting the landmarks for a potential escape? She could only hope.

  “I mean, when I’m not out kidnapping innocent people and the like.”

  He snorted. They were passing between two buildings and were about to head into the main open courtyard. She stopped abruptly and glanced around. No one was nearby. She pulled him off the side of the path, hoping that her bond did not torture her for delaying a few moments longer.

  She felt nothing at all. Perhaps since she had succeeded, it did not mind a few stolen moments. Perhaps this served its purpose somehow? There was no reply from her shoulder.

  “Well, Aven Lanuken. This is where we will reach our end. In a few moments more, I will take you to those that bind me. I do not know what they will do, but know this: if I could have my way, I would do nothing but take you back to Akaria.” Her bond was strangely silent at her words.

  “I know that, Miara,” he whispered, using her real name for the first time. His rough voice and the sound of her name on his lips sent an unexpected thrill through her. “And if I could have my way, I would have you come with me.”

  She felt herself blush. “Ah, but what use are these idle wishes? They cannot be. What can we say about a world like this, a world where people like the Masters can control people like us? How can there be a Balance or a Way when there are moments like this? If I had died on this journey, or if you had run away, then I could have died knowing that the world was just. But as it is, my heart breaks to see them win.”

  “Don’t lose faith,” he whispered.

  She nodded. She was not about to argue. And she wanted desperately to believe him.

  “I have something to give you,” he said now. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper. “I think I would rather have it in your hands than theirs.”

  “What is it?” She wanted to open it, but it might not be safe. She slipped it into her pocket without a glance. The Masters hadn’t said anything about possessions or owning folded pieces of paper, so it should be safe with her for now. She would hide the paper as long as she was able.

  “I’m not sure,” he replied. “A map of the stars, I think. Just promise me you’ll look at it and remember all this.”

  She nodded solemnly. “Of course.” They said nothing for a moment, just looking into each other’s eyes.

  Should she tell him? Should she confess how much she really loved him—the honor she felt when his eyes rested on her with that look in them, the desire she felt when she saw him move or laugh, the way she looked at him when she knew he wasn’t looking? Would it make it easier for him—or harder?

  Certainly, he had a right to know, but—

  A shout rang out from behind her. “Miara! Don’t hog all the glory for yourself! Wait for me!”

  Sorin. He was scratched and scraped but largely fine. He strode toward them.

  No time to tell him now. She sighed.

  She turned back to Aven. “Just one more thing. I am so sorry,” she said.

  “I’m not,” he replied. “For any of it.”

  Daes’s ears perked up at the first sound of bells clanging during their midday lunch. None of the others seemed to notice, all too intent on the hearty potatoes and roast rabbit. All four Masters were convened for one of the elaborate midday banquets Seulka insisted on orchestrating. It gave her some joy to have a household to preside over, but he was also quite sure that she simply enjoyed having something to order the slaves to do.

  Sounds of shouting by the east gate reached them on the wind, finally stirring his companions. Daes rose and strode to the window, unwilling to hope just yet. Could it be? Could she have actually succeeded?

  Indeed. Three horses stood at the south gate, and mages were swarming around them as if something very out of the ordinary had occurred. To underscore this, unnaturally low clouds dotted around them, fog-like, but flashing with snaps of lightning swirling around their length.

  He sat back down. It wouldn’t be long now if it were the mage slave and the prince. The compulsion in her must be strong by now, so close to her goal. She would not dally.

  “What is it?” the Fat Master asked into the expectant silence.

  Daes smiled wryly—the others were all eyeing him. “Three horses have arrived at the east gate,” he said casually.

  Seulka glared at him. “Why must you always be so opaque?” She paused, but he would offer no more explanation.

  “Is it her?” the Tall Master demanded.

  He shrugged, smiling. “I’m sure we shall see any moment now.”

  Just as a roast boar was being added to the feast, the hall doors thundered open.

  And there they were. His fiery, rebellious creature mage, the air mage, and another, presumably the prince. He met the description—light haired, green
eyed, the muscular build of a seasoned soldier.

  “I see you have returned,” Seulka said smoothly, probably delighted to have this to preside over on top of her unnecessary dining affair. “And not without gifts. Tell me what has transpired.” Her voice was smooth and authoritative when it came to commands, one of the few things he enjoyed about her.

  The air mage spoke first. “I found Miara not far into Akaria and was able to be of service on the perilous journey back.”

  Daes wanted to roll his eyes, and he heard the Tall Master cover a laugh with a cough. Yes, he had a few scuffs, but he was far too proud of them. Not as a true warrior would be, one who’d seen a thousand scratches in his day, as Daes once had.

  As his eyes turned to the woman, the rebellious one, he missed those days a little. Or perhaps envied her just the slightest for the power, the experience she had gained. Bragging rights she would not use. Her eyes were bright with a fire he recognized, dormant too long in himself—the fire of battle. Not long now, though, and he would get to stretch his legs again. Wounds on each of her shoulders oozed blood that had begun to drip strikingly down the front of her black tunic and leathers. Bandages on her arm were beginning to bleed through. Fresh claw marks on her cheek gave her a raw, savage beauty soaring beyond what she’d already possessed. He had to admit that it appealed to the fighter in him.

  When she spoke, her voice was strange. Different than before. “I present to you, milady, Aven Lanuken, Prince of Akaria. As you asked, and before the turning of the moon, I might add.”

  He smiled. She hadn’t missed that they had sent help before they’d said they would.

  Daes eyed her as Seulka left her seat and marched around the banquet tables to get a closer look at the prince. She turned to Daes. “How can we be sure this is him? He looks like I’ve seen in portraits, but—”

  “Well, aren’t we fortunate to have a friend to identify him?” Daes turned to one of the guards. “Fetch the knight.”

  Seulka turned to the creature mage again. “How did you identify him?”