Sorcerous Rivalry (The Mage-Born Chronicles Book 1)

by Kayleigh Nicol

  Sorcerous Rivalry

  Book One of the Mage-Born Chronicles

  Kayleigh Nicol

  To Eamon,

  My first fan

  And to Andy

  My forever fan

  Sorcerous Rivalry Copyright © 2018 by Kayleigh Nicol. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by Cakamura Design Studio

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: April 2018

  Blue Feather Publishing

  ISBN-13 978-1-7321317-0-5

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Appendix I – Mage-Born Bounty Information

  Chapter 1

  Everything about him was perfect. From his wind-tossed hair to his mud-splattered boots, from his broad shoulders to his low-slung sword belt, he was pure perfection. He must have been a soldier once, judging by his steady, solid gait and the way his eyes swept the room, as if evaluating it as a potential battlefield. His face held no expression at all, even as he approached the bar and gestured to the innkeeper. He looked perfectly balanced, perfectly aware and perfectly prepared for anything.

  He was my favorite kind of mark.

  “What can I get for you, handsome?”

  I watched from the shadows of the unlit common room as Wix bounced up to the possible patron. “Bounce” was the perfect word for Wix. As she approached the counter, her bosom rose and fell with each step. Her eyes sparkled and her curly hair, tied in pigtails, bobbed about her shoulders. Her smile was out-and-out devilish, tucked beneath a pert nose and a dusting of freckles on rosy cheeks.

  “The innkeeper up the road suggested this inn might have a room at half the normal cost.” The stranger’s voice was soft, but it carried. He met Wix’s eyes evenly. “Do you have such a room?”

  “Matter of fact, I do.” Wix smiled, perfect teeth glowing against scarlet lips. “How many nights will you need it for, honeysuckle?”

  “Three nights, perhaps more. May I ask why the room is half price?”

  “Ah, well.” Wix set her elbows on the bar and propped her chin in her hands. She took a deep breath, bosom heaving with the effort. “A storm blew through about a while back and took the shutters clean off the window. I haven’t had the carpenters around to fix it yet. Don’t feel right charging full price for it, since the window won’t close, you see? I figure I can at least make something out of it if I charge half. Fair’s fair, right, sky-eyes?”

  He kept his eyes on hers for a long moment. Any normal person would have been put off, but Wix just kept right on smiling. Finally, he nodded. “I’ll take the room. Is your stable around back?”

  “Yep, just take ‘im around and set ‘im up yourself. Don’t have any of those stable-hands or nothing, it’s just me here.” Wix bounced back from the bar. “Supper starts around sunset, if’n you’re feeling hungry. I’m making lamb with sweetberry sauce and vegetables from the garden tonight.”

  “Thank you.” The stranger nodded before stepping away from the bar. His eyes swept the room again and found me for the first time. Not many noticed me when I didn’t want to be noticed; a little thrill danced along my spine when his piercing blue eyes met mine. A lazy smile spread across my face and I offered him a sloppy toast from my dented ale mug. His eyes snapped away and he strode out of the tavern.

  “Seems I got you one, eh, Reshi?” Wix asked, flouncing up to my table.

  “Yeah, great job, Wix.” I smiled up at the tavern keeper. “He’s perfect.”

  Wix pouted prettily. “Seems a bit off, don’t you think? A little…peculiar?”

  “You only think that because he didn’t look down your dress.” Using my ale cup, I nudged her breasts to make them bounce. “Not all us guys are into that, you know.”

  “Hm.” Wix put her hands on her hips and looked down into her cleavage. “You don’t think I need a lower-cut top, or maybe a corset? Really show ‘em off?”

  I laughed. “If you showed them off any more, Denson would have to cite you for unseemly behavior. Maybe he was just being respectful.”

  “A respectful guy would have given them an appreciative glance,” Wix huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. She had a point; they were truly magnificent specimens. “But you can use him, right, starflower?”

  I grinned, looking towards the door. “Yep. He’s . . . perfect.”

  I watched him through the broken window, the night sky behind me keeping my cover. He had not left the room for dinner after returning from the stable. He had asked Wix for a tub of bathwater and paid her a handful of coins, good for at least three nights in a half-price room at the Broken Wing. Afterwards, he had kept to himself. I’d had to wait until full dark to clamber up on the roof to peek through his window, which meant I had unfortunately missed seeing him bathe. The wooden tub still sat in the middle of his room, the water murky from soap and filth. He sat in the room’s only chair, rubbing down his sword with a cloth. He seemed to be deep in thought as he cleaned his blade. Finally, his hand stilled, resting on the blade near the hilt, his bright blue eyes distant and downcast.

  With a slight shake of his head, he set the blade down on the clothes chest, which had been moved so it sat near the bed. He didn’t bother sheathing the blade but left it gleaming in the candlelight. He ran a hand through his hair, then drew his arm across his chest in a stretch, tilting his neck to the opposite side. I would have smiled if I could; people were so interesting to watch when they thought they were alone. He walked around the small room once, marking the distance from the bed to the window and again from the bed to the door. When he sat on the edge of the bed, the sword was within arm’s reach. He was cautious. Too bad it wouldn’t help.

  One final stretch and then the shirt was cast off. For a brief moment I was treated to the sight of lightly tanned skin and perfectly toned muscles before he extinguished the candle. A rustle of cloth told me he’d settled into the bed. When my eyes adjusted to the dim light from torches along the street, his form was still.

  I slipped through the open window with the ease of a shadow. On velvet feet, I circled the room, touching his few personal items—a travel sack that smelled of overripe fruit, recently cleaned boots that smelled of soap, a naked blade which smelled of steel. The sword had seen hard use, judging by the worn leather grip and notched cross guards. The blade was in excellent condition, however. Typical of a soldier. Although . . . I wandered back over to the boots and tipped one over to its side. The bottom of the boot was so worn it couldn’t possibly provide any protection from mud and water. A soldier would have replaced these boots long ago. Come to think of it, since when did a soldier need a half-price room in the first place?

  I looked towards the bed. He had been still for a long time, but his breathing had only just begun to even out. He wasn’t quite asleep yet.

  A shame, really. I didn’t even know his name and I was about to cr
awl into bed with him.

  Once his breath became deep and even, I slipped lightly onto the bed. Sudden moves could kill me here, I knew that. That sword was too close, and he had the look of a trained killer. But it had been weeks since Wix had set me up with a traveler like this and I couldn’t waste the opportunity, not even for prey as dangerous as this.

  Or as good looking as this.

  With slow, cautious steps, I moved until I was poised above him, watching his face as he slept. He was beautiful. For a moment, I was captivated. His hair was a rich chestnut, and despite its recent wash, it still looked wind-tossed. Long lashes brushed his tanned cheek, his eyelids twitching in a dream that most likely had some sort of violence. Breath moved steadily through his partially open mouth, but no sound escaped—how nice that he didn’t snore.

  I found myself helpless to baser instincts in that moment, staring down at him. For someone who could look so deadly while awake, I couldn’t help but want to see him startled, maybe hear him cry out. It wasn’t necessary for what I needed, no, but . . . I had to see it just the same.

  I crouched low, leaned in over his face and, gently, licked his lower lip.

  He didn’t startle the way I wanted him to; he didn’t jump, and he certainly didn’t shout in alarm. His eyes snapped open and caught mine like a snare. I froze under that stare, even my breath stopped. Who knew eyes could be that perfectly blue?

  “Hello,” he said. “Did you sneak in from outside or are you a mouser here?”

  I responded with a deep, throaty purr. The strange traveler shifted beneath the blanket, turning so I slipped from his chest onto the bed beside him. One hand appeared over the blankets to rub my ears. His touch was unexpectedly gentle.

  “I suppose you can stay the night. I can’t exactly keep you out.” He glanced over his shoulder at the open window. “But I have nothing to feed you.”

  I sat beside him and licked a paw to wash my face. I heard a soft chuckle and looked up. For the second time that night, the breath stopped in my chest. It was the first expression I had seen on his face and it was beautiful: a shy smile and soft eyes. I completely forgot what I was doing, my paw hovering halfway between my tongue and my ears. All I could do was stare.

  Another ear rub broke the spell. I arched my neck into his fingers and reveled in the thrill of them running down my spine. I turned a circle and rolled on my side, tail twitching as I batted playfully at his hand. Another chuckle, then he withdrew his hand and tucked it back under the covers.

  “You’re a friendly beast. Stars help you if you brought fleas in with you.”

  I flicked an ear at him in irritation; I did not have fleas. He rolled beneath the blankets, turning his back to me. I moved until I was pressed right up against him, sharing his warmth. I purred loudly, using the sound and the vibration of my body to lull him back to sleep.

  I felt it when he dropped off into the depths of sleep, not just in the relaxation of his body nor by the rhythm of his ribs rising and falling, but as a current of energy, like the flow of a river. His life force pooled invisibly around him, creating an aura I could feel as tangibly as his body heat, allowing me to draw magical energy from him as if drawing water from a well. It had been so long since the Broken Wing’s last poor traveler that I wanted to draw deeper and deeper, but I forced myself to sip at it as if through a reed. He had paid for several nights here; I could afford to drink slowly and refill my wellspring of magic without alerting him. Tomorrow, he would awake feeling as if he lost a few hours of sleep but those were the only lasting effects of my theft. Once he left town and slept deeply, he would return to full vitality, as all my other victims did. Even so, I could tell I was drawing from dangerous prey tonight. If my well had been close to full, I would have let this opportunity slip by untried.

  Or would I?

  I opened one eye. All I could see was the back of his head, his dark hair splayed across the pillow haphazardly. His shoulders were strong and broad, I could tell that from the pull of the blanket. His fingers had been calloused and warm when they’d touched me. And his eyes . . . the sky should be jealous of that blueness.

  I might have tried him on anyway, I told myself, shutting my eyes again. I drew on him for another few hours, gently, enjoying the meal by stretching it out. By the time midnight passed, I was slinking out the window again.

  “G’morning, golden eyes!” Wix sang as she burst into my room the following morning. She dropped onto my bed, leaning across my chest to smile into my face. “Did you feast? How did he taste?”

  “Ugh.” I tried to roll over, but the blankets twined around my wrists, pinning me in place. I opened one eye to glare darkly at her. “Too early for your sunshine and babble.”

  “Oh? Not too early for your handsome friend.” Wix wiggled atop me. “Did you even get any off him? He looks fresh as a bright-blossom this morning, already out and about.”

  “Isn’t that nice for him?” I tried to twist my hands free of the blanket, but it just dug tighter. “Wix, could you let go, please? Don’t you have to make breakfast or something?”

  “Hm, if you’d fed, you could free yourself.” Wix leaned back and the blankets slid free of my arms. “And breakfast has been finished for an hour, that’s why I thought I’d check on you, nightbird.”

  I sat up and rubbed my eyes. True to what Wix said, bright morning light streamed through my window’s shutters. I wanted to hiss at it and chase it away. Instead, I arched my back in a luxurious stretch and began the process of waking up.

  “So?” Wix asked, still half-lying across my bed, her head propped in one hand.

  “So what?” I asked. My hair had come undone while I’d slept; I searched beneath the pillow and covers for the tie.

  “Why didn’t you feed?”

  “Oh, I did.” I found the tie and smoothed my hair back into a horsetail. “He’s here a few nights, right? I thought I’d just draw a little at a time to keep him from suspecting.”

  “That’s not so fun.” Wix pouted. “I like it when they stumble and curse and buy lots of wake-tea.”

  I smiled. Wix was easy to please. “I’ll draw more on his last night, okay, Wix? Maybe he’ll buy extra provisions from you the morning after.”

  “Well, I hope so. Otherwise, what am I getting out of this relationship?” Wix stood, adjusted her low-cut dress to show a little more bosom, then flounced out of my room.

  “What indeed?” I muttered to myself. My clothes lay puddled about the tiny room and I began the laborious task of figuring out which were too soiled to wear, and which could stand another day out in the light. I almost wished I had drawn more deeply; at least then I could have motivated myself to wash my clothes. Once dressed, I stumbled out into the common room where Wix sat at a table, polishing silver candle holders.

  “Wake-tea?” I asked.

  Wix nodded, and where there had been nothing before, a steaming mug appeared.

  I hesitated before reaching for it. “Is this under our agreement, or is this going to cost me?”

  Wix giggled without looking up from her work. “Always so cautious. I’ll catch you one day, Reshi.”

  “Maybe.” I waited a moment before pointing out, “That wasn’t an answer.”

  Wix sighed. “You’re no fun.” The mug disappeared, a final puff of steam curled once before fading from existence. “You can make your own tea.”

  “And have you catch me for the leaves, right?” I rolled my eyes. “I’m starting to see why the glen kicked you out. You’re too predictable.”

  “Am I?” Wix’s eyes flashed with mischief. “We’ll see. I’ll tell you one thing for free, though.”

  “How free is ‘free’?” I checked my reflection in a polished silver plate over the mantle and smoothed my hair again. Wix watched me, her chin propped on the back of her hand. A coy smile turned the corners of her mouth up.

  “Kestral.”

  “Hm? What’s that?”

  “It’s his name.” Wix’s reflection grinned
wolfishly from the plate. “But if you want to know where he went, it’ll cost you.”

  Kestral. It had a hunter’s ring to it. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end but I forced myself to shrug casually. “It’s a small town. I could find him if I cared to.”

  Wix replied with her own shrug. “I’d be willing to barter food for a fun price. You interested?”

  I tried to look like I didn’t care one way or another but staying out of Wix’s debt was always a tricky matter. And eating was always high on my list of priorities. “I’m interested, if the price is right.”

  Wix kicked one bare foot free of her dress and traced a whorl in the wood of the floor with her toes. “The oak thought it heard laughter last night, soft but warm, like early spring sunlight. If you can make him laugh for me, I’ll consider it as payment for a day’s food.”

  Had he laughed last night? No, it had been little more than a sharp breath, just short of a true chuckle. It had looked unfamiliar to his face, as if laughter were a language he had trouble speaking. I shook my head. “If I can make him laugh, you’ll owe me three days of meals. Full meals, with drinks and butter and everything.”

  Wix tilted her head as she considered the bargain. “I suppose that will be a fair price. But only for true laughter. No chortles or wheezes, Reshi. You understand me?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I set one hand on my hip and rubbed the back of my head with the other. “Out of curiosity, what would it cost to know where he went?”

  “Oh? You’re interested now?” Wix asked with a predatory smile.

  “Well, yeah.” I sighed. “I gotta go make friends with him before I can make him laugh.”

  In the end, Wix’s “fair price” for information was too steep. But it was a small village out in the middle of nowhere, so there were only a few places he could be. I wandered out into the town, earning more than a few disapproving glares from housewives and tradesmen. A reputation as the town layabout didn’t earn one many friends, but that was part of the reason I was here. In fact, if not for Wix, I wouldn’t be here at all.