Water Spell (Guardians of the Realm Book 1)

by Lizzy Ford

  “I don’t understand. All this over a water mage?” She motioned to the battle.

  He gave her a long look over his shoulder. “How do you not know?”

  “How do I not know what?”

  “The water mage line is the strongest and the rarest, the original line of mages. All other mage lines stem from yours. Did your mother never tell you?”

  “I never knew her. She died during my birth.”

  “Ah. Priests and mages keep their secrets too well.” He shook his head and faced the battle again. “All mages are cousins of sorts, connected by the magic you all share, but that magic stems from the water mage. Whichever king controls you, controls the next generation of mages. It’s how peace was forced upon us all by the High King, whose blood runs in your veins. He traded mages to other kingdoms for favors and the use of their armies. The mage lines have dwindled, and no mage but you has been born in over twenty-five seasons. The kings are scared.”

  “I am the source of future mages? I knew the water mage line was in my blood but all the mages stemming from my line?” She stared at him and shook her head. “Why has no one ever shared this with me?”

  “No one knew. It was a secret smuggled out of Vurdu shortly before the High King’s death. It may not even be true, but no king is going to risk losing a war, and or give up taking the High King’s throne, when you are stranded alone in the Inlands, without your family’s armies to protect you.”

  She fell silent and watched the raging battles.

  “Should you not be protecting your mage?” she asked suddenly, aware the wind mage was nowhere around.

  “He’ll survive,” the warrior replied, unconcerned.

  “Karav would never have let me out of his sight,” she said.

  At her pointed look, Citon smiled. “He’s the most powerful wind mage in our kingdom. He is rarely in a situation where he needs me. Besides,” he looked her over, “the other mages can take care of themselves well enough.”

  “I can defend myself.” She lifted the dagger.

  “With water, maybe.”

  Anger made her bite her tongue to keep from retorting. Karav had never thought her weak. If anything, he told her the opposite. Of course, they were rarely trapped in a place with so little water. She was powerful – everywhere but here in the cursed Inlands.

  They both watched the war in the village. It was impossible to tell who won. When she thought the Biu men in green cloaks were starting to overcome the others, more men in red or purple emerged from the shadows to challenge them.

  “This is madness,” she said. “There must be … two hundred men?”

  “More will come,” Citon said grimly. “It was the gods’ will we stumbled upon you. Every kingdom has sent a small army to find you. You have no idea what you are worth on the mercenary market alone.”

  What would Tieran do once he found out her value? Sell her for a flock of sheep?

  The sucking sounds of boots in mud came from behind them. Sela whirled. Dark figures raced down the alley towards her. Citon waved for her to follow and darted out of the alley into the street.

  Hands grabbed her. Sela yelped, and Citon whirled. She struggled, slipped and tumbled to the ground. Her dagger slipped, and she fell. Something hot pierced her side, but she had no time to reflect on her pain. Two men stood over her. A dagger flashed before her eyes, and she raised her hands instinctively then batted away hands groping for her in the darkness. She rolled away. One of the men careened towards her, and she kicked at him.

  He landed on top her. Sela froze, waiting for him to attack, but he was still. He was on his back, staring up at the sky, lifeless. She wriggled out from under him. Citon was chopping down the second man when she stood.

  “Perhaps if you dressed in the way of a mage, they would not be trying to murder you,” he said with a smile. He beckoned for her to follow. “No king wants you harmed.”

  She stuck close to him this time. Pain radiated from her side, and she touched the thick rivulet of blood sliding down her hip.

  As Karav used to say, if she was on her feet, she was not hurt bad.

  More fighters flooded the village. Twice, Citon stopped to face men in their path. Sela hung back, not at all certain where they were going, when the entire town seemed to be a battlefield. She knew nothing of the dark surroundings or where to hide. Men flung by wind mages sailed over her head. Some rocketed straight up only to drop to their deaths while others smashed into stone dwellings.

  Citon led her to another alley just as the earth rumbled again. She hugged the wall of one dwelling.

  “That is not my mage’s doing,” he said, sharp gaze on some point in the distance.

  She leaned forward. The unusual swath being cut through the battle appeared to be the work of a wind mage. Green cloaks, red cloaks, purple cloaks and mercenaries hired by the kingdoms all fell away as if flattened by an invisible wave.

  Citon laughed suddenly. “That is your warrior. I told you the madness would take him.”

  Cold fear trickled into her depths. If what he said were true, Tieran’s inhuman fighting skill would be intensified by madness. With Karav’s Moonsword, Tieran was unstoppable. Without this level of madness, he had slaughtered two mages and their warriors. What could he do if all restraint was lost?

  6

  Sela took a step back from the mouth of the alley and turned, ready to run.

  Citon grabbed her arm. “My mage fled me for one moon. Enemy or no, I will prevent any warrior from being mistreated by his mage. Besides, an Inlander’s loyalty can be bought. You may end up in my kingdom after all.”

  “Let me go!”

  “Don’t make him chase you. You won’t survive it. You won’t survive this battle alone,” he added. “Go now. Beg him to spare you, if you must. If you don’t, he will be consumed and die a most dishonorable death, and you will not long outlast him.”

  She swallowed hard, horrified by the picture he painted. Her eyes went to the warrior she did not yet see, the one chopping down skilled warriors as if they were saplings. She did not want anyone to die because of her. She did not want that on her soul.

  She did not want to be bound again either. Could her soul journey to the watery underworld, and find Karav, if she were stranded far away from water?

  “You will die, too, the next time you encounter a puddle,” Citon pressed. “How will you cross a sea to your home? Or ever leave the Inlands?”

  Sela hated the reminder of how weak she was without her water.

  Karav would say it was her fate to be bound. Tieran was her fate, no matter what she wanted. As much as she loved her former warrior, she did not want to be trapped forever with an Inland savage.

  Citon gave her no time to debate what to do. He pulled her with him out of the alley and skirted the battle, heading towards the one-man maelstrom headed towards them.

  “What’s the savage’s name?” Citon asked.

  “Tieran.”

  “Stay here.”

  She stepped back.

  “If you flee, I will strike you down where you stand. I don’t care how much my king will pay me to return you to him,” he growled and drew his sword again.

  Sela ducked her head and remained where she was.

  Citon charged into the melee. She watched him in apprehension, not at all looking forward to what came. He disappeared among the masses.

  Sela reached back for the binding dirk. The movement made her grimace in pain, and she patted her side again. There was a tear in her dress over the source of pain. She stuck her fingers into the slit to feel the warm blood. Unable to see in the night, she could not determine how bad it was. It did not seem bad, but she was rarely hurt.

  Karav would never allow her to be stabbed. He had been gone less than two days, and she had been dragged into battle and stabbed.

  “Mage!”

  Citon’s waved his sword over his head to signal her. Afraid of leaving the relative calm of the area in front of the alley, she hesitat
ed before stepping in his direction. The battle was largely in front of her, not in the direction of Citon.

  “Stay,” he shouted.

  Citon reached her and continued past her. She was feet from those battling, within striking distance of the nearest warriors. She turned to run.

  The wind mage’s loyal warrior stood in the mouth of the alley, blocking her path, ensuring she did not have the chance to flee her fate. She faced the battle, flinching each time a strike came within a horse’s length of her.

  And then she saw why Citon had told her to stand where she did.

  The invisible wave cutting down warriors led directly to her.

  Hacking down two men, Tieran came into view. His eyes glowed, and his sword was a blur of movement. She watched, awestruck by his speed and the ease with which he tore through those in his path. It was as if those around him stood still, and he was the only one moving. Karav’s massive sword almost sang, it moved so quickly through the air, and the hilt radiated more light than the nearest torch.

  What had she been thinking when she fled? That a man under the influence of an ancient spell would not come for her? Nothing stopped someone who fought without regards to honor, tribe or self. Her desperate hope seemed suddenly childish, and yet, she could not fully release it.

  What of her desire to be free? To not be chained for eternity to the savage coming for her?

  Abruptly, she realized there was no one else left standing between them. Tieran’s shoulders were heaving with his breaths, his eyes pinned to hers. What had been fevered before was feral now. She was reminded again of the great cats at her father’s court, and how, sometimes, one escaped. More than once she had witnessed some poor priest in the same position where she was, hoping to lure the wild animal into its cage without becoming its next meal.

  Tieran looked ready to kill her. He took the broadsword and drove it into the ground with little effort. It pierced the earth - and buried itself to the hilt. Sela swallowed hard, not wanting to dwell on the amount of pure physical power the action took. She glanced over her shoulder to see her escape route still blocked by Citon.

  Would yielding and binding appease Tieran’s madness?

  Did she have a choice?

  Too afraid to be frustrated, Sela removed the binding dirk from her hair and raised her hand to the feral warrior slowly, the only offering she had. Like the poor priest tasked to lure in a cat with a scrap of meat … she had only ever seen one priest survive the foolish attempt. The rest had been mauled. Which would she be?

  Shaking from more than cold, she held his gaze and her ground. Tieran moved at last, striding towards her so quickly, she thought he meant to run her over. He snatched the dirk and her wrist then yanked her arm, whirling her into his body. He wrapped one arm around her to keep her against him. His breathing was hard at her back, and she could not see his face. She did not resist, too afraid of what happened if she did.

  Silent, he flicked off the dirk’s sheathe and flipped her hand over, the palm towards the sky. She braced herself for pain and prayed he did not take off her entire arm in his fury.

  His cut was shallow despite the fact he barely seemed to be in control. Tieran sliced his own palm before dropping the dirk to catch it with his left hand.

  Sela wanted to sob in despair. Everything she had hoped for was about to be taken from her! Her mind, her freedom, her fate!

  Tieran clasped her hand to his, and their blood mixed. For a long moment, nothing happened. And then she felt it, the heat of his fevered magic moving through the cool water magic in her blood. His fever subsided, absorbed and balanced by her water. Blue flames rose around their clasped hands and then faded.

  The sensations tickled her – but Tieran wavered on his feet behind her. His grip on her loosened then fell away completely. The warmth of his body left her as he slid to his knees.

  Sela turned, not expecting to see him crippled when the impact had been little to her.

  Tieran was still enough she thought him unconscious, kneeling with his eyes closed. Afraid to draw his attention, she stayed where she was. His breathing grew steady, and his shoulders dropped. As before, when he was close to her, he began to relax.

  Except this was not the moment to relax.

  Sela’s eyes darted towards the nearing battle then to the man at her feet. What was happening to him? Had they waited too long to be bound, and he was dying?

  Part of her prayed he fell into sleep and never woke up. They were bound, which meant, he would know her feelings, none of which were good when it came to him.

  He did not move, aside from breathing.

  Perhaps their bond took time for him to absorb. Or maybe, he was struggling with it. Hopefully, she had time for his anger to settle before he began to figure out what exactly it meant to be bound to a mage.

  Swords clashed above her head, and she ducked. The fighting had shifted and coalesced around them. They were trapped in the midst of the battle with the alley escape route blocked. She had no weapon, and the men swinging swords would cut her to the bone before she could kick or hit anyone.

  Her focus dropped to the warrior.

  “Tieran,” she said anxiously, eyes on the sword buried to the hilt. “There is a battle if you are … well.”

  Tieran wiped his face. With no more urgency than if he was facing a child, he rose. He moved between her and the nearest attacker, blocked the first sword strike with a dagger and then smashed his fist into the warrior’s face. A second slash, and the man dropped, dead. The exchange took less than two breaths.

  Tieran yanked his sword from the ground and sheathed it at his back, unconcerned with the battle now that he had what he came for. To her relief, the madness was gone. With his eyes on their surroundings, he snatched her arm and pulled her with him.

  She expected more, some indication he heard her mind the way Karav had, or anger for the pain she caused him. Tieran’s attention remained everywhere but her as he navigated through the battle.

  They moved away from the center of the village to the edge before he ducked into a vacant tavern. Tieran’s grip was firm as he pulled her through the warm common areas and up a stairwell. He walked past a few doors then opened one. His gear was on the bed – she recognized the saddlebag Karav had left him.

  Tieran tugged her inside and closed the door.

  Sela sighed to be out of danger. She stood in the center of the tiny room while he stripped off his broadsword and cloak. He appeared uninjured, and his movements and the air around him were smooth, no longer agitated.

  Was he satisfied enough with binding her not to be angry with her for running away?

  “We’ll start there,” he said softly.

  She froze. Tieran faced her, and she saw the silent rage in his golden gaze. He was calm, yes, the kind of calm that stemmed from an anger too deep to settle for a hasty vengeance.

  “Start where?” she replied. Karav had always been aware of her emotions but he had not been able to read her thoughts. It was not possible for Tieran to be able to read her mind, was it?

  “You know where.” His voice was low, lethal. “Your thoughts are louder than mine.”

  That’s not possible. Neither was the strange trickle of water magic he gave off that she experienced whenever they were together.

  Sela backpedaled as Tieran took the two strides needed to cross the small room. He planted his hand in her chest and pushed her against the wall then dropped it. He stood before her, waiting.

  Starting to panic, she moved away from the wall. He pushed her back. Sela tried to move again, and he pushed once more, this time not releasing her. He stepped closer until the pressure of his body was against hers.

  “Don’t,” she said, trying uselessly to shove him away.

  “You have one chance to convince me you were not trying to kill me.” He leaned more heavily into her and slapped the wall beside her head with his free hand. “Talk!”

  Trapped, panicking, Sela fought tears. She was not able to e
scape him now, physically or mentally. Tieran gripped her chin and forced her to meet his golden gaze. What she saw there terrified her.

  “I d-didn’t know,” she stammered. “I never meant to hurt you. I swear it! I wanted … I wanted to free us both. I thought if I went far enough, the m…magic wouldn’t pull you to me. I never meant to hurt you.”

  “You chose to leave. The water did not force you. Your thoughts give you away.”

  “I did. But it barely let me go. If not for the wind mage …” she stopped, throat too tight to finish.

  “You almost killed us both.”

  Her breathing was harsh as she recalled her terror when the water dragged her under and refused to release her. Was that what he experienced, too? Power too great to control? She pushed at him again, needing air and to escape. He leaned into her.

  “Stop,” she whispered, near tears.

  “Was there a moment when you were not manipulating or lying to me?”

  Sela stilled, surprised at his words and more surprised he figured out how much she lied to him in the short time they were bound. At the intense look on his face, something broke within her. Any hope she had of hiding herself from him vanished.

  She cried, her resistance melting into fear and anger that Karav had abandoned her with this man forever. His weight and the wall were all that held her up. She leaned into him, sobbing against his chest.

  Unlike her, Tieran was calming. She felt the release in his body as he relaxed. “I can see what you did. Now, tell me why,” he ordered.

  It took her a moment before she was in control enough to comply. Sela wiped her eyes but did not lift her eyes from his chest. His strong frame was warm and solid against hers, supporting her despite her fear of him.

  “I wanted to be free,” she whispered. “I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t know the water would try to claim me.”

  “You traveled several kingdoms to find me. How are you not free?”

  She hesitated. “The mage bond is one way. The ancient mages were dying off when they created their warriors. The warriors demanded the ability to protect them, even from themselves. The bond is slavery. You did not want me as your curse. I did not want you. You have my mind and control of my body, and I …” She did not say the words. He knew. He was able to read her fear.