Mark of the Mage: Scribes of Medeisia Book I

by R.K. Ryals

  Chapter 17

  I practiced with the bow while I waited for Ena, drawing it back over and over until I grew used to the feel of it. Kye was right. It took way more force than I was used to, and my arms burned after only a few draws. It was no wonder he left me no arrows.

  “What do they say to you?” a young voice asked, and I almost dropped the bow.

  A dark-haired child stood just behind me, her tanned skin unblemished, her green eyes wide. My gaze followed hers, and I spotted the wolf that sat at the clearing's edge, unafraid despite the humans training nearby.

  “Right now?” I asked. “He says nothing.”

  The wolf had been watching me for a while now, his ebony eyes burning into me. Oran. I looked away.

  “He's scary,” the child admitted.

  I looked at her. She couldn't be more than ten or eleven turns, and yet on her wrist I caught a glimpse of a mark; the burning star. Impossible.

  “You? A mage?” I asked.

  The girl's eyes moved away from Oran. She saw my gaze and held up her wrist.

  “A midwife claims she felt the power in me at birth.”

  My eyes widened. “And they let you live?”

  It seemed an awful question to ask a child, but the girl only lowered her head.

  “Because of who I am,” the girl answered. “They waited until I was five turns before they marked me.”

  A glance at my own wrist brought back the pain, the memories of the metal prong in my skin. And they'd done the same to a child! I didn't ask her why being who she was had spared her life. Something told me the rebels preferred to keep their secrets. I certainly preferred to keep mine.

  The child's gaze was on my wrist now. “You are a scribe?”

  I could see the burning curiosity in the girl's eyes, but I could also see the restraint. It made me smile. I didn't have much experience with children, but this one seemed easy enough to relate to.

  “I wanted to be one, but I wasn't. The people who marked me . . . they accused me of practicing scribery, license or no.”

  The answer seemed enough for the child.

  “The king's soldiers aren't interested in true justice.”

  Big words for such a small girl. Something told me she'd heard it said often.

  “Are you bothering the lady?” another voice asked.

  Ena approached, holding a cup of water and a carved wooden plate full of food. The rosy-cheeked, chubby woman smiled, a dimple in the side of her face making the sternness in her voice less effective. The child rolled her eyes, and Ena sat the plate down on the log I'd been sitting on earlier before swatting the girl on the bottom.

  “Shoo! Off with you now, child!”

  The girl shrieked, a small surprised laugh escaping her before she scurried off. Ena faced me and motioned at the plate.

  “Tis a sweet thing, the child, but a more curious thing you'll never meet,” Ena said. “Now, eat. Tis not much, but it will do in a pinch.”

  The plate contained several slices of cold meat, cheese, and a hard piece of bread. My stomach rumbled.

  “Who was the child?” I asked, sitting next to the plate before tearing off a piece of the meat with my teeth. It was a little tough, but surprisingly tasty.

  Ena placed her hands on her hip.

  “Nikalia,” she answered quietly. “She be a Lord's daughter before she come to the forest.”

  I stared at the space where the child had stood. A Lord's daughter?

  “How . . . ?” I asked, my words trailing off, but Ena seemed to understand.

  “Her mother brought her to the forest, yelled for the rebels, and begged us to take her. She was only six turns then, poor thing. I'm guessing some dignitary was scheduled to visit the Lord, probably because of the child. The mother chose not to come with her. We can only assume she is dead.”

  I didn't speak for a long while. I ate instead, each bite dull now in my mouth as I glanced at the people surrounding me. So many people, so many stories, too many deaths.

  “I've a comb with me, miss. If you'll allow, I'll straighten out your hair and plait it.”

  I looked up at the middle-aged woman and smiled. She took that as an invitation and moved behind me, gathering up my hair in her hands before producing a comb from a makeshift apron she wore around her waist.

  “I was a Lady's maid before, you know,” Ena said. “Working for the nobility is a good place for the marked folk. It keeps us alive longer, as long as we do our jobs.”

  “What happened?” I asked, my interest piqued.

  Ena sighed as she worked carefully at the tangles. My head hurt where she pulled too hard, but I didn't complain.

  “I upset my mistress, and she placed me on a prison wagon en route to Aireesi. It was overtaken by rebels.”

  There was a lot she didn't say. Secrets again.

  “And so you all fight now?” I asked.

  The comb paused, and then continued, the bone bristles working tangles I was afraid could not be undone.

  “We survive.” Ena said after a moment. She nodded at the forest. “Do you speak with 'em often?”

  I glanced at Oran. The wolf again.

  “I do not know them well yet,” I said. “I've always been told my magic would have something to do with the forest. Until now I'd not realized what that meant.”

  Ena considered this. “Rightly so, I suppose.”

  Her voice was clipped, and she glanced often to the foliage, to my silent sentry.

  “Does he bother you?” I asked.

  Ena somehow managed to detangle my fine hair, and she lifted it, using her fingers to break the hair into separate sections before beginning to plait it. I never wore my hair up, and whatever she was doing felt strange.

  “He makes me nervous,” Ena admitted. “We live peacefully among the forest's inhabitants here. And we have allied ourselves with the dragons, but other than Kye, we never see the dragons in true form, and the animals rarely show themselves.”

  I was careful to keep my head straight as Ena pulled pins out of her apron, placing them carefully in my head as I glanced surreptitiously at Oran.

  “It's not your fault, miss,” Ena assured. “It just seems a sign that things are changing. We welcome change, but we also fear it. The forest has become our sanctuary.”

  I didn't comment, mainly because I had no sanctuary. My home had been ripped away, my nurse murdered, and I had discovered a magic I still needed to explore.

  “The creatures of Silveet have always been unknown to man. We live amidst them. They use us, sometimes they abuse the natural way of things, and yet there is always fear. They walk among us confident, and still they stare up into our limbs warily as if we mean them harm.”

  I wasn't prepared for the trees' abrasive voice, and I jumped. Ena dropped her hands.

  “Did I hurt you, miss?”

  I looked up at the trees before my gaze moved to her face. A worry line had formed between her eyes.

  “No,” I said quickly. “No, you did not hurt me. I had a sudden chill is all.”

  Ena sighed, her relief obvious as she finished quickly with my hair before stepping away.

  “You'll be given a bedroll to sleep on. Most of the men and some of the women sleep in the open, except in winter. The rest of the women and children are provided a small shelter, simple tents. We've placed yours close to the men. Lochlen and Kye agree you should be placed near them.”

  I gawked at Ena.

  “I'd rather not,” I said, my voice low.

  Ena smiled.

  “Kye is a good man, I swear it to you. Young to be a leader. Only 21 turns he is, but he has been spying for the rebels for a long while now and knows the dragons and the woods as well as the animals. And Lochlen . . . well, he is Lochlen.”

  She laughed at the last, and I found myself fighting a smile. Lochlen was certainly the type to leave an impression. Ena's face grew serious as quickly as it had grown warm.

  “Your magic is grea
t, miss. The king employs sorcerers. He may outlaw magic, but he still keeps a select few who practice it with him, and there will be no doubt they will find you eventually. You are not safe.”

  Ena left with those words. She gave me no chance to reply, and I doubt I could have if I wanted to. The food I'd eaten was a heavy weight in my stomach.

  “Fear not. The forest will always warn you.”

  I didn't have to look to know it was the wolf, Oran, who'd spoken.

  “You can speak to me, and the trees can speak to me,” I said. “What else can I do?”

  “Do you think that not enough?” the wolf asked.

  I sensed the humor in his rumbling tone, and I looked at him, a wry smile on my face. “Aigneis once told me a girl should never settle for less when she can always have more.”

  “A wise woman your maid,” a voice cut in, and I straightened.

  “Does the same philosophy work for female dragons?” I asked.

  Lochlen moved into view. He was a man again, but his eyes gave away his true form. I couldn't see him now and not think of the magnificent gold dragon.

  “Our females are strong and assertive, and yet much less temperamental than the males. It takes much to anger our females but once angered, they are terrifying.”

  Lochlen nodded at the wolf. It was obvious they understood each other, and it seemed only natural they should. Both were creatures of their domain. The wolves had the forest, the dragons had their mountains.

  Lochlen sat next to me, one long leg stretched out in front of him.

  “You should be scared, you know,” he said. “Scared, or at least a little intimidated having seen what I really am. Even those we choose to ride us are uncomfortable at first.”

  I watched him, his strange eyes, and the way he moved his foot from side to side in the soil as if he wished it were his tail sliding back and forth.

  “I was scared,” I argued.

  Lochlen laughed. “Maybe a little at first, but not normal fear. It's a gift you inherited from Soren. You will always feel at home and comfortable among the trees, among non-human beings.”

  I gave this some thought, leaning over to place my cheek against my knees as I played with the small blades of grass at my feet. Lochlen was right. I had accepted the animals and trees easily. I had assumed it was because Aigneis had warned me the forest would one day speak to me, but I knew that was more an excuse, a way to explain away the unease I felt at my own behavior, at my easy acceptance.

  “It's good the power in your veins is so quick to make you feel at home, Stone,” Lochlen said. I didn't correct his name choice. “Because learning to fight is going to be a priority for you now.”

  I turned my head so that I was looking up at him.

  “And so you assume I have decided to fight with you?”

  Lochlen shrugged. “Haven't you?”

  The sound of metal against metal seemed appropriate just then, a backdrop to a significant moment.

  “I will fight because I owe so many who sacrificed themselves for me.”

  Lochlen smiled. “And words like that make me think my father may be right about you.”

  I sighed and closed my eyes. “Why do you stay in human form when you obviously hate it so?”

  “Hate it?” Lochlen asked in surprise.

  “It's the way you move, the way you constantly look around, the way you breathed in the cave when we entered it last night as if it was the best thing you had ever smelled.”

  I felt Lochlen shift.

  “You're wrong.”

  I opened my eyes. “Am I?” I asked. “Why do you do it? What are the dragons fighting for?”

  Lochlen peered down at me, his reptilian eyes bright. “Because Raemon has something we want.”

  He didn't mince words or try to avoid my question as Feras had, and I sat up.

  “And that would be what?”

  Lochlen looked me in the eye, his gaze steady. “Remember the text you read? In the year of the dragon, a kingdom was divided. Twin heirs were born to the sovereign and greed divided the kingdoms.”

  I nodded, and Lochlen leaned back, his leg moving faster now in the soil.

  “The dragons flew freely then,” Lochlen said. “And Medeisia was a beautiful kingdom, free of turmoil. The king and the dragon rex were good friends.”

  I watched Lochlen, watched the anxious way he moved his foot.

  “You remember this?” I asked.

  Lochlen laughed. “I have been around a long time. Dragons have walked these lands long before humans. The dragons have always laid claim over this country. We share it with the humans because we have no interest in your politics or the way you live. But we do find your kind fascinating. We are drawn to you.”

  Lochlen glanced at me, and I inclined my head, encouraging him to continue. “Your king then was a kind man, headstrong, and a great leader. Feras gifted him a pendant in the shape of a dragon, made of gold, and forged by dragonfire. It was meant to strengthen his rule, and it brought an era of peace until the king bore twin sons.”

  I didn't like the direction Lochlen's story was going, but I didn't interrupt him.

  “When the twins came of age, they fought mercilessly over who would one day rule the throne. The king chose the oldest twin. It was, after all, the human custom, but out of anger the younger son attempted to murder his own father. The pendant saved the king, deflecting the blade of a sword meant to end his life, but in the process the golden dragon fell apart, into two pieces. In the chaos that ensued, the oldest twin was able to procure one half of the pendant, and the younger twin stole the other. The kingdom fell apart, one twin securing his own kingdom by the sea, and the other, the kingdom by the forests. By separating the pendant, a desert formed between the two nations.”

  I stared. So the Ardus had been created by magic!

  “And this is the reason you are willing to fight with the rebels now?” I asked.

  Lochlen gestured at the people training and talking around us. “Raemon has forced humans and dragons alike into hiding. There is blood flowing in Medeisia, turning the forests and villages red. Because the twins of the past once owned a piece of the pendant, the halves have been passed on generation to generation. Raemon, like the rulers before him, still wears his half hidden against his chest. But, unlike the rulers before him, he is not happy ruling only Medeisia.”

  What Lochlen didn't say made my blood run cold.

  “He wants the other half of the pendant,” I breathed.

  Lochlen didn't answer. He didn't have to. Raemon was planning to invade Sadeemia. It was suicide. Sadeemia was rich in resources and in warriors. By fighting them, most of Medeisia would be destroyed. All because our king wanted power over it all, wanted a pendant that could throw two kingdoms into the darkness we lived in now.

  “If Raemon succeeds,” Lochlen warned. “The dragons will be forced out of hiding. We will fight.”

  The threat was not an empty one. I had not been alive for the Dracon War, but the casualties had been devastating, the records dismal. If Raemon succeeded in his venture, there would be a second Dracon War, and there was no guarantee our nation would survive it.