Last Stand: The Black Mage Book 4

by Carter, Rachel E.

  Then why was I afraid?

  “I would ask you how you made it this far, but I suspect my dear, sweet brother has something to do with the circumstances of your escape.” Blayne’s eyes swept along our surroundings to the dark passage leading to the kennels, and his lips curled into a sneer. “The moment I heard he pulled Mira into some ludicrous meeting, I knew. I sent guards to check the dungeon.” Paige had been right, the alarm sounded early. “And after that, it was simply a process of elimination.”

  The king took another step forward, and I inched back along the wall, the blade shaking in my hand. It was lighter, I realized, slender instead of thick, a rapier when I needed a broadsword.

  “I thought I’d try the kennels,” Blayne continued. “After all, it was the place he and I used to hide when we were boys, and that passage, well, it was my first guess.”

  I bit down on the inside of my cheek, trying to hold my ground. “You don’t have to be your father, Blayne. You don’t have to do this.”

  The king cut me off with a laugh. “I’m not my father, Ryiah. I’m better.”

  I was back against the wooden fence. There was nowhere I could retreat, and to turn around and climb would be inviting a blade to my back.

  Blayne didn’t leave me a choice; he lunged.

  I ducked left and parried right, clashing blades. The air shook with a resounding screech.

  My blade was not the caliber of the king’s own.

  I withdrew and ducked, narrowly avoiding a swing that would have cut me from navel to chest.

  Then I parried again at another slash aimed for my head.

  Every muscle burned. I could not keep up the deflections forever, or even for long. I could call on my magic, whatever little I had recovered in two days alone in my cell without Mira’s ministrations, but it wouldn’t be enough for me to outlast Blayne.

  Another twist and turn. Another deflection with only seconds to spare.

  I caught his leg with a low sweep, but then I made a sloppy block. The impact rattled my bones.

  I might have been the better swordswoman, but now? He had the better sword.

  Blayne continued his advance with an onslaught of attacks. There was no chance to recover, no chance to think. It was his sword against mine in a series of thrusts with every intention to kill.

  With every counter I lost stamina. Sweat beaded my brow and I was hot—too hot. My heart beat like a drum against my ribs. I counted the minutes ticking by, trickling away the last moments of my life.

  Slash and cut. Parry. Dance.

  The next charge brought a deep cut to my arm. I switched grips as my teeth gritted against pain. I would have to fight left-handed. I couldn’t afford my fingers to slip now.

  I wasn’t as good with my left.

  Blayne pressed the advantage, his boots stirring up a swell of dust and straw as he advanced.

  I was cornered between the wall and the fence.

  Another slash, and this time, I had no choice—I drew too slowly with the sword.

  My magic swarmed out like a whip. A phantom blade met the king’s just in time. Instinct. A moment later, my real blade met its target, just as the magic fettered away.

  Blayne pushed back.

  My sword quivered; I didn’t have much magic left to cast. My whole body shook under the pressure. It cost me just to hold, just to think.

  Buckling under the king’s weight, I felt Blayne digging down with his heels and the arching of his legs as he pressed forward.

  He was trying to breach my defense.

  No. I was not going to let this tyrant win. I’d worked too hard for it to end like this.

  I shoved with everything I had, every fiber of my being.

  Blayne stumbled back, and I charged.

  Swing left and then up. Down. Right. Half-crescent spin. Another shallow cut at his waist. Parry and shuffle. Block again and strike. Cut.

  Blood. Blood. And more blood.

  I would cut the boy until he was a walking river of blood.

  I pressed on, my eyes locked on the king as he fell back, one step at a time. Blayne ducked and staggered, and I was closing the distance, thriving in hate. How could this monster destroy everything I loved? How could I let his crimes go unpunished?

  Someone had to be the hero, I wasn’t sure that someone was me, but I was certainly going to try. I’d been holding back for Darren’s sake, but what did it matter now?

  Who cared if Blayne was a broken boy with monsters in his past? Blayne was a villain now.

  Vaguely, I felt my energy depleting with each step I took, but I was no longer concerned. If I died alongside him, so be it. I wouldn’t let Blayne walk out of this kennel alive.

  Too late, my swing missed, a misstep from drilling too many days with the right arm instead of the left. A first-year’s mistake, driven by adrenaline and emotion instead of the calm I needed to keep.

  Blayne’s counter caught my left shoulder on a downward sweep.

  My sword clattered to the floor.

  The king raised his blade to my throat.

  My casting rose.

  And something behind me let out a raging howl.

  Wolf.

  Blayne froze as a shadow leaped across the divide; the king couldn’t hold off two attackers at once. His indecision cost him, and the dog sank its jaws into his leg.

  Blayne swore as the dog evaded his kick and bristled, growling and snapping at my side.

  I ducked low, scrambling to find my blade on the ground.

  There was another bark just as my fingers closed on the hilt. I rose, ready to charge—just in time to watch the king of Jerar plunge his blade into Wolf’s chest. “Should have killed that thing a long time ago,” he drawled.

  I roared and charged as the dog crumbled to the floor.

  Wolf.

  All I saw was red.

  I swung with everything I had, again and again.

  The dog whimpered at my feet; cold fury bound my lungs. Wolf was dying, and once again the villain lived.

  I didn’t even realize I was crying until my vision blurred to the point I couldn’t see. I lifted an arm to wipe away the tears and the king lunged.

  This time I didn’t raise the rapier quick enough, or perhaps, fueled by a victory of his own, Blayne’s swing was faster, better. Our blades collided, and a sickening crunch followed as my sword splintered and broke.

  In the blink of an eye, my rapier was in half. My chest heaved as my magic rose to hold off the rest of Blayne’s attack, but even that faltered under the king’s weight.

  There was a strange, tingling sensation in the back of my skull. That was all the warning I had before my casting gave way.

  I dropped to the ground, ducking my head.

  Blayne’s sword cut the wall where my neck had been just seconds before.

  Now I didn’t have magic or a weapon. But the fight wasn’t over.

  My shoulder raged, and I could hardly see as I jabbed the jagged edge of my broken rapier into the center of my palm.

  I bit down to keep from screaming out as the pain lit up my limbs, scorching every vein like hot water and ice. I twisted, hard.

  The pain casting shot through me like an arrow.

  The king hit the opposing wall with a thud.

  His sword skidded across the dirt.

  I sprinted forward and kicked the sword as far as it would go. Then I held the broken rapier against Blayne’s throat, watching as the jagged end cut a light trickle of red across his pale skin.

  Pale like a palace recluse, I had once thought. A boy who lived with shadows where there should have been light.

  I faltered, the sharp metal biting into his neck. I heard the heavy thud of rain pounding the roof above our heads and the even heavier beat of his pulse. The king’s chest rose and fell.

  Do it. Do it now. There were so many reasons to end his life. Everything he had done. Derrick. Wolf. All the others, all the future lives that would be lost to a pointless war….

 
But in Blayne’s face I saw the same haunted past as his brother. Blayne might have Lucius’s eyes, but it was Darren’s heart that would bleed.

  And then I remembered that day Derrick escaped and the moment Darren found me in the hall. Please. The Black Mage had chosen to spare my brother out of his love for me. Without ever knowing the truth, he had chosen me.

  I needed to choose Darren.

  I can’t do this.

  I started to withdraw the blade, and an unexpected blast hit my chest, sending me flying across the room. My shoulders slammed against the wall, and I struggled to rise.

  My vision swam.

  I barely had time to blink before my whole body was lifted and hung high in the air. My fingers shot to my neck, clawing desperately at an invisible noose. I sputtered and choked, trying to see who was in the shadows besides Blayne.

  And that was when the king finished pushing himself up off the ground, brushing his dirty hands against his vest. No one else was in the room. He was watching me struggle with his lips curved up in a smirk.

  Why had I never considered it? Because Blayne was born an heir?

  The king had magic.

  “Not as good as my brother.” The king adjusted his sleeves. “But then again, becoming a mage was never my goal.”

  I choked as the knot grew tighter and tighter against my throat.

  Blayne was good enough to kill me. As weak as the casting was, it wouldn’t take much.

  My magic wouldn’t come, the pressure too much. I couldn’t concentrate enough to cast. I was too busy struggling to breathe, my legs kicking up air.

  “The red tunnels aren’t the Crown’s best kept secret.” The young tyrant laughed. “You should feel privileged, sister dear. Very few know the truth, not even Darren. Only Father, and, well, he’s dead.” Another villainous laugh. “Of course, you will be joining him soon.”

  I couldn’t see; all I could do was feel and wait for my neck to snap under the building pressure like a log split under an axe.

  “It’s a shame you chose the rebels. It really is.” Even Blayne’s voice faded. In another second, I would run out of air.

  My eyelids fluttered shut.

  Come on, Ryiah, fight.

  I couldn’t. Magic was struggling to break free, but the pain grew worse.

  This isn’t how my story ends.

  And then the pressure stopped. The noose fell away as the king’s scream hit the air.

  I collapsed to the ground, unable to stand. I tried a hitching breath as I bit back a cry. I was in so much pain I could barely move.

  “You!” Blayne’s snarl jolted me enough to blink.

  Through the shadows, I saw the king. Blayne was using one hand to staunch a flowing wound at his side as he glowered at a figure to his right. “You’re supposed to fight for the Crown!”

  The figure lunged, and the king swore, retreating a couple of steps back.

  My breath hitched as Paige’s voice rang out from the dark. “My loyalty is to Jerar.”

  The knight swung, twisting in and out of Blayne’s defense as the king dove.

  Paige countered just in time.

  Two blades collided, again and again. Everything was on fire, but I didn’t have time to rest. My legs quivered as I pushed up off the floor.

  Paige advanced, backing the king into a corner of the room and knocking the blade right out of his fist. She was a better fighter, and he was weary from our duel.

  Her sword pointed at his neck.

  “Surrender,” the knight ordered, “and I’ll spare your life. I say this only once.”

  I saw the flare in his eyes the moment they turned to ice.

  “Paige,” I gasped as my knees wobbled in an effort to rise, “he has—”

  But it was too late.

  The blade he’d dropped shot up off the ground and caught her by surprise. The girl screamed as the sword spun and cut a crescent she didn’t have time to defend against.

  I couldn’t run. I could barely even stand as Paige dropped to her knees, blood streaming from her chest.

  Something inside of me snapped. Something angry and hot.

  Magic bubbled and surged. It sang inside of my veins like a scream.

  And then the king screamed as my magic lashed out and threw him against the wall. He cried out as I sent the second half of my rapier at his chest. I held my hand out in front of my face, casting the blade to twist.

  The king slid from the wall to the floor, the second half of my rapier sticking out of his ribs.

  Blayne clutched the shard in an effort not to move. His face was ashen and his lips kept closing and opening in a soundless cry.

  I waited a moment, bracing for an attack with magic sparking along my fist… but if Blayne had the ability to pain cast, he hadn’t mastered it. If he had any normal magic remaining, he didn’t know how to control it. Not with the pain.

  He wouldn’t be stopping us now.

  Darren.

  Something tugged at my gut, and I swallowed, looking away. I couldn’t think of the prince now.

  And then I staggered forward, chest heaving as I reached Paige’s side.

  My throat was on fire, my pulse so loud I couldn’t hear anything but the thudding of my heart.

  Paige’s face turned white and her teeth chattered as I knelt. “K-keep g-going, m-my lady.”

  “No!” I shook my head as tears blurred my eyes. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. First Derrick, then Wolf, now Paige.

  Paige wasn’t even a rebel. Her only crime was believing me over the Crown.

  She wasn’t supposed to be a sacrifice.

  “G-go…” Paige’s face was strained and her lips were shiny and red as she coughed, choking on blood. Her skin grew paler by the second. “P-please, R-Ryiah…”

  She never called me by my name.

  “Y-you’ll be f-fine.” My voice was breaking. I was breaking.

  The knight shook her head and her face contorted with the effort. Her back was growing sticky and hot, and her pulse beat frantically under my hands…

  Something smoldered in my chest. “I’m n-not l-leaving you.”

  Paige didn’t reply; she couldn’t. Her eyes were glassy as she raised a trembling hand to my cheek and a sad smile fluttered across her lips.

  My fingers curled to fists and I clutched the girl to my chest, swallowing hard. Everything ached. The guards would arrive at any moment. Every second could cost my escape, but I couldn’t leave her behind—even if that meant waiting out the last minutes of her life.

  I would wait as long as it took.

  The first tremors that rocked her body came too soon. Her whole body trembled against my arms, and the longer I held her, the more violent they got.

  And then they grew less. Her head dipped as her fingers brushed my arm. At first I couldn’t figure out what she was doing.

  She kept repeating the same pattern over and over, tracing lighter each time.

  She was trying to etch letters into my skin, to speak what she couldn’t say aloud.

  O-U-I-B-E-L-I-E-V-E-I-N-Y

  A sob caught in my throat.

  I believe in you.

  Paige’s tracing stopped and her finger rested on my skin. Her breaths turned shorter, and labored.

  Behind us I could hear Blayne gasping for air. I clenched my jaw and blocked it out. He didn’t deserve my pity. He deserved to die.

  It would come quicker now that the king had nothing to plug his wound.

  My hand covered Paige’s, and I held onto my friend as the final breath left her lungs.

  Her body went limp in my arms. It was that same moment footsteps sounded outside.

  King’s Regiment. I withdrew the half-rapier from Paige’s back and blinked away tears as I gently laid her down. With two shaking fingers, I shut the lids of her eyes and then stood, crouching against the shadows and readying to run.

  Her sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain.

  The steps drew closer as someone approached the kennel d
oor.

  “Paige?” Someone knocked. “I saw the horse. I know you’re there.”

  I wanted to collapse in relief. Darren. It was Darren.

  And then I remembered who else was in the kennels with me. I had already lived out this scenario once. I knew whom Darren would believe.

  Blayne moaned from the other side of the room, but he was far past the point of shouting his brother’s name.

  My pulse thundered in my ears. I couldn’t call out to Darren; I couldn’t let him open the door and find me like this.

  He’ll know either way.

  I bit down on my tongue. Blayne’s muffled groans were growing softer. Maybe Darren wouldn’t hear. Maybe he’d go away.

  I drew a sharp breath as the door creaked. “Mira is only minutes behind me.” Darren’s outline was swathed with light. Storm clouds rolled behind his shadowy form. “I managed to lose her, but…”

  He stopped talking.

  I was standing in the center of the hall. My guard uniform was covered in blood, and my hair was plastered to my face and neck, short and brown. I looked nothing like my former self. Still, it took all of one second for recognition to cross his face.

  “Ryiah?”

  I didn’t say anything. I stood there, watching his gaze slide to the floor.

  To Paige.

  A sharp intake of breath. “Why is s-she—”

  His hand caught on the frame as he spotted Wolf. Darren let out a horrible choking noise as he rushed forward.

  Then, he spotted his brother.

  I stood frozen, unable to move.

  The prince dropped to Blayne’s side, hollering for a healer at the top of his lungs. His hands shook as he tore at his sleeve, desperately trying to plug the wound.

  I knew I should run. I knew what it looked like. I knew what it was. I knew the guards would be here any second.

  But I still couldn’t run.

  Darren’s heart was breaking, and all I could do was watch him clutch his dying brother as Blayne sputtered, choking on his own blood.

  “D-Darren…” My lips couldn’t form the words; my throat was dry and my tongue felt like sand.

  Run, Ryiah.

  But my feet were frozen in place. I had to explain; I couldn’t.

  “How could you?” Darren’s voice was hoarse, and when I looked, there was only pain.

  So much pain it was drowning me alive.