by C. A. Szarek
He’d killed people and not felt as much guilt, for Blessed Spirit’s sake.
Not an innocent lass, though. Not even when they’d raided the three holdings for Drayton. Nason and Bracken had taken care of the killing.
It wasn’t that he didn’t have the stomach for taking lives, but most of the deaths he’d caused had been justified. They died for reasons other than mercenary duties. Or if it was a hired job, the men deserved death for whatever they’d done.
“She’s not dead, get over it.” Yet. For some reason, he couldn’t shake that knowledge. The old codger practiced blood magic, and taking the lass to him had signed her death warrant.
Drayton had wanted her so badly because of her strength. He was going to absorb her magic. Take her powers, and her life.
Charis was at fault. Leaving her there was the same as running her through with his sword. He blew out a breath and knocked his head into the tree he sat against. Closed his eyes and dragged a hand down his stubbled cheeks.
They’d left Terraquist’s city center and were about a half-day’s ride south. They’d head to North Ascova next; there were whispers of work for men like him and his lads.
Charis hadn’t even been able to enjoy their time in the tavern in the arms of a lass. He’d been so in his cups, amber liquid was all he’d wanted to see. Ignored all the female attention trying to drape themselves all over him. Unlike like Nason and Bracken, who’d both spent a ridiculous amount of Drayton’s coin on whores.
Bracken’s yell had him on his feet, and drawing his sword. He ran toward the center of their camp and made eye-contact with Nason, who stopped tending the fire to follow.
The big man was near their horses. Hovered over the chest of gold the old codger had given them to split three ways. Rage rolled off Bracken in waves, and his back visibly seethed, as if he was panting to hold it together. When he exploded—truly exploded—no one wanted to be in his way.
“What’s wrong?” Charis snapped.
“This.” Bracken flung the lid open so hard it screeched a protest.
Charis cursed.
Instead of gold coins, the chest was full of rubble. Small pieces of wood and metal, debris filling it to the brim.
“What did ya do wit’ our gold, ya brute?” Nason asked, but he didn’t get near Bracken. He knew better.
“Nothin’” Bracken hollered. His eye ticked as he towered over the blond man.
Charis slapped a hand on Nason’s thin wrist before he could do something stupid. “He didn’t do anything. We’ve been tricked.”
Bracken cursed in Aramourian—words so foul there wasn’t a human equivalent.
“I seen gold in there,” Nason protested. He tugged free of Charis’ hold and pointed at the contents of the chest.
“I did, too,” Bracken said.
“As did I,” Charis said.
“Then what—”
“Magic. Are ya daft?” Bracken barked at Nason.
They bickered back and forth, then both pinned Charis with matching glares.
“How did he get away wit’ it?” Bracken asked. “Why didn’t ya know? You carried the chest out of tha cave.” The man threw more accusation than anger at him.
“I don’t know.” Charis ran a palm over the debris filling the chest. He muttered a spellword, but nothing happened. Not a shimmer of magic touched his senses. He shook his head. “It must’ve been a powerful spell to just wear out with no trace.”
Bracken and Nason cursed again, simultaneously.
“I checked it for magic, I swear. Said every revealing spell I know before I left the cave. He fooled me as much as you two.”
Bracken studied him with narrowed eyes, before giving a curt nod. The brute believed him.
“I paid the wenches with coin from here,” Nason said.
“It’s coin no more, then. If the spell wore off for us, no doubt it has for them,” Charis said.
Bracken flashed a grin. “Serviced for free.”
“We won’ be goin’ back to tha’ tavern.” Nason smirked.
“I guess we wouldn’t be welcome.” Bracken nodded. When Nason echoed his grin, Charis rolled his eyes.
“I don’t work for free,” he said, deadly.
“Neither do I.”
“I don’t, either.”
The three of them exchanged a glance, then collective growls.
“I’m gonna kill tha’ bastard.” Bracken brandished a huge fist.
“Not if I get him first,” Charis vowed.
“Let’s go, now. Get tha lass back ‘til he pays up right,” Bracken said. “He pays, then he can ‘ave her.”
The lass.
He had a chance to get her away from Drayton. Especially if he ran the codger through.
Charis’ gut clenched.
Why was he worried more about the lass than being tricked?
* * * *
They’d retraced their ride from the day before, covering the same ground, but it’d seemed to take twice as long to get close to where the old elemental lived. And, it’d taken nearly an hour of roaming the area before Charis realized they weren’t lost.
Magic was preventing them from locating Drayton’s cave.
He sighed and dragged his hand down his face, slumping in Barley’s saddle. When he thought of the cave’s location, his thoughts darted to something else. “It’s got to be a spell.” Disorientation clouded his mind and made him dizzy. He shook his head and shoved the magical haze away.
Damn distracting.
Bracken narrowed his eyes. “Aye, you’re jus’ figurin’ tha’ out?”
Nason snickered and Charis sent them both black looks.
“Fix it.”
“I’ll try. I have to figure out what magic he used before I can block it.”
Bracken muttered, “A tracker indeed.”
Charis let it go. He didn’t have time to haul off and punch the big man.
Had the old codger killed the lass already? His heart rate picked up and he chided himself.
This was about being swindled. Had nothing to do with the lass. He teetered back and forth between Bracken’s idea of taking the lass until Drayton paid them what he owed, and just killing the bastard outright. The world wouldn’t mourn a mage who practiced blood magic.
“I need a moment,” he said.
Bracken smirked, but Charis closed his eyes and blocked out everything—his companions, the sounds of nature, rustling wind, even the neigh of one of their horses. He concentrated on breathing deeply and seeking the magic preventing him from his desire.
His heart fell into a calm even rhythm, and he sent his magic out from his body. Charis’ limbs warmed and his skin tingled. He located the magic without further effort. It was a dark spot on the horizon, and it throbbed red and black. The two colors writhed and intertwined, as if alive. Charis probed farther, and clarity hit him.
A scatter spell.
A magical, ‘Stay away!’ Now the disorientation and memory loss made sense.
He studied the magic for a moment. Was confident in how to destroy it. The only complication was it would unmask the whole area. If anyone else was looking for the cave, they’d be able to locate it without effort.
Charis blasted Drayton’s spell with one of his own.
He squinted at the brilliant flare of golden light. Slowly it faded, taking the black and red with it. When he glanced at his lads, Bracken had his eyes shielded and Nason had his closed.
“Is it done?” Bracken asked.
“Aye.”
Without Drayton’s spell, the path to his home was laid out before them. The area had many caves. It could take hours to explore them all. But only one direction pointed to something sinister. The ground before it was dark, devoid of magic and exuded evil. Darkness spread out from the entrance, like reaching, rotting fingers.
Blood magic.
The surrounding foliage was dead, even the trees shriveled and black. The old codger was killing the forest. From their distance—probably a
n hour’s ride—Charis could sense Drayton’s black protection spells. He shuddered.
How have I not noticed that before?
Bracken snapped his fingers. Nason laughed.
“Let’s go get the bastard,” the big man snarled.
Charis gave a curt nod and kneed Barley.
They didn’t talk as they rode, but it was for the best. Charis was stewing and worrying, trying to convince himself this was all about coin, and not the lass. A noble lady, although he’d never gotten her name. She’d demanded his, and he’d not complied. He never did. Had his lads trained well, too. No one was referred to by name when they were completing a job.
He pulled Barley to a stop outside Drayton’s cave. Jumped from his horse’s back. His boots kicked up black dust and he fought tremors. Even the debris outside the wide mouth of the codger’s home seeped evil.
“Coming with?” Charis looked up at Bracken.
Nason shook his head even though he’d not addressed the blond man.
Bracken hedged, even before he spoke. Made a point to reach for Barley’s reins. “I’ll leave ya to it.”
Charis smirked. “Thought you were going to fight me for the honor.”
“Nay, ‘tis your duty.”
“Aye, I’ll handle the old codger.” Charis’ chuckle was whipped away. A cringe took over as he strode through the protection spell-wall, and ignored the sensation of crawling on his back. Pushed forward hard. Needed surprise, or this’d be a very short confrontation.
He drew his sword and had the most powerful stunning spell he knew at-the-ready. Needed to knock Drayton on his arse—and pray it’d work.
His quarry was in the main room, where he’d always received Charis.
The old codger’s eyes widened as he threw the stunning spell without warning. A ball of bright white light hit the elemental mage square in the chest. Drayton crumpled in a heap in front of his dais.
Charis rushed forward. Didn’t have much time.
Drayton was ready for him and threw a magical sphere of black light at him.
He dodged, barely. It wasn’t anything of the elements he could recognize, but looked nasty. Would probably hurt. Sweat broke out on Charis’ forehead, but he couldn’t afford to get distracted, or Drayton would kill him in less than a heartbeat. He only had the upper hand because he’d taken the man by surprise.
Charis fired three more spells. Drayton answered by throwing up a wall of water that stopped him short when it crackled. If his spells had hit the old elemental, they hadn’t any effect.
Dammit.
He circled the water shield. Couldn’t get closer. Sparks played on its surface. It was far from harmless. The spell wouldn’t just wet him, but burn him. Jolt through him, like lightning. Kill him. “You tricked me!”
Drayton’s high-pitched cackle filled the air.
The lass wasn’t in sight, but Charis couldn’t acknowledge the sinking feeling in his gut.
Was he too late?
“Took you long enough to figure it out, half-breed.”
Charis advanced as far as he dared. He glanced around the cave. Needed something. Anything.
Dimithian.
Where could the old mage keep it?
He racked his brain to remember the spell Drayton had used to call it to him. Charis knew the one to remove the force shield around it.
Two little words he needed. Now.
The rock would affect his powers if he could find it—use it—but he still had his sword.
Running Drayton through would be more satisfying than killing him with magic, anyway.
He sucked in air and raised his palm flat and high.
Drayton watched him, head cocked to one side. The water wall wavered, but only for a moment. The codger raised his hand and the wall thickened, less transparent. More sparks danced around and through it. Weaving in and out, like snakes.
Charis yelled the spell and prayed the rock would appear in his palm. Revulsion roiled his stomach at the same time Drayton yelled.
“Nay! Nay! ‘Tis mine!”
“It’s mine, now.”
“It’ll take your magic!” A mixture of satisfaction and fear coated the old mage’s voice.
“I don’t care. I don’t need magic to kill you.” Charis yelled the spellword that vanished the protective magic around the Dimithian. He threw it at Drayton.
The old man screamed, and the water wall disappeared. He cowered as Charis approached.
Shudders rolled down his spine and Charis pushed it all away.
No magic. He felt naked.
He’d get his magic back as soon as he had the shield back in place on the rock. He hoped anyway. “Where’s the lass?”
“She’s mine.” Spittle dribbled down the man’s chin, but he didn’t move a muscle when Charis put his sword to his neck.
“Nay. You didn’t pay for her. Which makes her mine.” He pushed his weapon forward slowly.
Drayton gasped. The apple of his throat bobbed.
Shouted orders and the rushing of thundering boots had Charis pausing, even though the tip of his sword was pressed tight to Drayton’s jugular.
That’s not Bracken and Nason.
Too many footfalls for it to be his lads alone. Then he heard the clash of swords. No doubt Bracken and Nason challenged whoever was at the mouth of the cave.
Charis’ spell had bared the area to whoever sought it.
The lass’ knights?
He froze and Drayton’s eyes darted toward the now unprotected cave entrance. A streak of silver-white darted into Charis’ periphery, but then it was gone.
The wolf.
He needed to get out of here.
Charis slid his blade into Drayton’s throat and didn’t even wait to watch the gurgling. The codger slumped in front of his dais. He jumped out of the way of the blood starting to pool and darted around the corner to follow the beast, sheathing his bloody sword.
Relief rolled over him when he saw her.
She’s alive.
The lass wept, her arms around the silver wolf.
“My lady.” Why he’d had to see her with his own eyes, know she was fine, was something he’d examine later.
Her eyes were wide and startled when their gazes locked.
The beast broke away from her, growling, hackles raised down to his stiff tail.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Elissa had spent the last two days crying on her pallet.
Drayton had tried to cajole her into joining him in the main living space of his cave, but she’d had no desire to join her captor, and didn’t hide her glares when he brought her food.
He was gentler to her now, since he’d announced her pregnancy. The old mage hadn’t lifted a hand to her for disobedience or sharp tongue, either. But she could feel his patience waning through their link.
And she was so weak. Her magic was there, but being denied access to it gave her a constant headache, plus she could feel Drayton drawing on it. Little by little, as much as his bracelet allowed. When he called her powers, Elissa’s head would spin and the stone would alight, shooting out a column of red illumination.
Afterward she was always so sleepy she couldn’t fight the heaviness of her eyes.
Elissa worried Drayton’s actions would harm her baby. Mischief, too. Was her magic hurting their bond? Even though she couldn’t feel her bondmate, she didn’t stop calling out to him every day. So far, it’d yielded nothing, but she couldn’t lose hope. If she sunk into the hovering despair, she’d die. Then her child would die, too.
She thought of Alasdair way too much. Fantasized about being a family with him. Pretended he’d want her, want the child she carried. She closed her eyes, imagining a dark-haired little lad with big blue eyes and her grin.
Smiling, she sighed and put her palm flat to her stomach. Elissa looked down. “I promise we’ll get out of here.” Her whisper bounced off the curved walls.
A noise caught her attention and her gaze shot to the entrance of her l
ittle nook. The outline of a wolf stood in the doorway.
The bracelet on her wrist opened and fell off, hitting the ground with a thud. The red stone was black as night.
Elissa blinked. Surely she was dreaming—about both?
Then Mischief barreled into her chest, whining.
Why’d the bracelet fall off?
Her magic rushed to the surface of her skin but exhaustion enveloped her and she reached for Mischief with both hands. She threw her arms around her wolf and buried her face in his neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you for finding me, Mischief.”
She wanted to ask him how, but he couldn’t answer how she needed him to. In words.
Why hadn’t she sensed his closeness?
He sent her feelings of warmth and love and she sucked in air. Wagged his tail so hard his body shook, but he didn’t leave her embrace.
She needed his warmth, his furry muscled form against her torso. Needed to feel his rapidly beating heart and smell his familiar scent. It made her know—really know—he was real.
He’s here.
Elissa was afraid to look away from him.
Pebbles sliding across the cave floor had her gaze darting up against her will. The frame that filled the space was too tall to be Drayton.
“My lady,” he said.
Mischief broke away from her body and whirled. Hackles up all the way to his tail. He hunched, ready to pounce.
“I mean you no harm. Drayton is dead. And the knights have come for you. Listen.” The familiar voice jolted her as much as what he’d said.
My half-elfin captor.
“Dead?” Shock about his presence, as much as what he’d said washed over her.
He nodded. “I must go, but you’ll be safe. They came for you.”
“What’s your name?” she blurted.
He flashed a smile and shook his head.
Then he was gone.
Her heart thundered and she clutched her bondmate to her torso in tight arms. Mischief whimpered and licked her cheek.
The pounding of boot steps had her tensing, and kicked her heartbeat up all over again.
Alasdair gasped when he saw her, but he didn’t say anything. His eyes darted all over her, although he probably couldn’t see much of her, since her bondmate was plastered against her. Her gown was dirty and torn, a mere shadow of the beauty it’d been.