Sorcerous Rivalry (The Mage-Born Chronicles Book 1)

by Kayleigh Nicol

  “Let’s go outside,” I offered. He nodded and led the way to the open-air work area.

  “Who is he?” the cute apprentice asked.

  Ugh, why could I not remember this kid’s name? He had been flirting with me for several months now, you would think I could at least recall his name.

  “His name is Kestral. He’s staying at the Broken Wing for a few nights.” I shrugged. “That’s all I know about him.”

  “Master Nealan noticed him at the bar last night.” The apprentice shifted from foot to foot. “He thinks the stranger must be an army deserter or something.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “Well, who knows. He should be leaving tomorrow, and he hasn’t caused any trouble so . . .” I trailed off and the smith nodded his understanding. People in this village were pretty laidback. It was one of the big reasons I had stayed for so long. That, and Wix’s protection.

  My stomach rumbled and the young smith laughed. “Have you not eaten? We have some fresh bread if you’d like.”

  “I’d love some!”

  The master smith’s wife happened to be the village baker and her bread was like fluffy clouds baked inside a hearty crust. This morning’s rolls had swirls of cinnamon baked into them, making them just a little sweet. I ate well more than my share, complete with honey and butter, before Kestral finished his work and asked me to take him to the general store.

  We barely walked through the door before a cheerful blonde girl attached herself to my arm, asking what we were shopping for. Kestral recited a list, which was mostly rations for the road, as well as soap, oilcloth and a stretch of canvas tarp. The girl chatted constantly as she tugged me along to gather the supplies about the store. Just before she could wrap everything, I remembered to ask her about oats. She slung a sack of oats onto the counter and calculated a total. I pretended to swoon.

  “How much? Sweetling, how will our little village continue to attract visitors at such prices?”

  “Aw, Reshi, you know how it is.” The girl pouted prettily. “But seeing as how it’s you . . .” She hummed to herself for a moment before quoting a new price. A quick glance at Kestral showed me it was still too high. I leaned across the counter on my elbows, so I could look up at the shop girl.

  “You know what I think?”

  “What, Reshi?”

  “I think you could go even lower.” I reached out and tugged playfully on her apron, pulling her a step closer. “Can’t you go lower?”

  She giggled and blushed. “I don’t want to get in any trouble.”

  “But getting in trouble is half the fun.” I winked. “For me? Please?”

  “Oh, Reshi . . . All right.” The girl cut her second price nearly in half.

  Kestral counted out a palmful of coins and gathered his groceries, shoving the sack of oats at me. I frowned at him as I hefted the bag—he hadn’t said anything about me having to carry anything. I bid the girl farewell and caught up with Kestral on the street. Kestral shot me a look as I drew even with him.

  “What?”

  “You have an unusual method of bartering.”

  I grinned. “Can’t argue with results, though.”

  “Hm.” I waited for more but that seemed to be his entire response. We dropped most of Kestral’s supplies in the barn near Shan’s stall—the horse still hated me for some reason—and Kestral took a few minutes to care for the beast. I pulled myself up onto the stacked hay bales and watched him.

  For the most part, Kestral ignored me. He checked Shan’s hooves, teeth, and eyes before giving the monster a thorough brushing, even untangling his mane and tail. Afterwards, he tied Shan to a post and cleaned the stall before setting out fresh hay. Bored, I stretched out on top of the hay stack, rolling on my back and letting my head loll over the edge. After putting Shan back in his stall, Kestral stared up at me.

  “What?”

  “What is it that you actually do?” Kestral asked. He seemed puzzled, even though his expression and tone didn’t change from their usual neutrality.

  Shrugging while upside down was a difficult maneuver; as such, I nearly shrugged myself off the hay bale. “You’re looking at it.”

  “You simply freeload off the villagers and Miss Chesawick?”

  I rolled over to my stomach, grimacing as the blood rushed out of my head. “What’s wrong with that? No one here seems to mind.”

  “Even when you’re flirting with all the young people in the village?” He cocked an eyebrow at me.

  “Especially not then.” I smirked. “You may not have noticed, but I’m very pretty.”

  Kestral shook his head and looked away. Dust. I had been hoping to make him laugh with that comment.

  “So, what do you do?” If it was fair for him to ask me, it must be okay for me to ask. “You were pretty mysterious this morning about your journey being your own. Where are you going? Where did you come from?”

  “Beramin.”

  “Beramin?” I hadn’t really expected an answer. It took me a moment to remember which direction that city was in. “You didn’t just ride here from Beramin. That would have taken you—”

  “It’s been a long time since I was in Beramin.” Kestral stared off into the distance, as if envisioning the journey. “I’ve been traveling the kingdom since I left.”

  Beramin was one of the military capitals of the kingdom. “Were you with the army there?”

  He fingered the pommel of his sword unconsciously. “Yes.”

  Wow, such elaborate and telling answers! I couldn’t be too upset, though; he didn’t have to answer at all. “Are you traveling on army business now?”

  “No.”

  “So where are you going?”

  Those bright blue eyes snapped to mine so suddenly my breath caught. “Here.”

  “Wha—whoa!” I had tried to stand, lost my balance and tumbled backwards off the hay bale, pulling it on top of me in the process. Not my most graceful move ever. Kestral lifted the hay bale off me as I coughed and brushed hay from my clothes, trying to recover my dignity.

  “I’m going hunting,” Kestral said after restacking the hay bale. “Do you want to come?”

  “No,” I wheezed, still coughing up hay dust. “I just injured myself in a barn. What do you think I would do to myself around actual weapons?”

  Kestral laughed. It wasn’t the long, loud laugh he had yesterday, but it was an honest laugh. And the barn was made of what Wix considered “respectable wood”, so I had just earned my next few days of food. Suddenly, my little tumble was worth it.

  “All right. Instead of hunting, can you show me to the nearest stream? I may as well wash out my clothes before I head out again.”

  “Oh, that’s actually a good idea.”

  Kestral raised an eyebrow at me.

  “I have washing I’ve been putting off, too. I’ll see if Wi—Chesawick will let us use her soap.”

  We walked back to the inn, Kestral heading upstairs to gather his clothes and me to the kitchen to find Wix. She made a face at me as I sauntered in, feeling more than a little cocky.

  “Did you hear that I made him laugh?”

  “Yes, you made him laugh.” Wix pouted. “But you haven’t made him sleepy. Isn’t that the root of our agreement?”

  “I drew pretty deeply last night. He should be falling over his own feet by now.” I shrugged. “I found out he used to be a soldier. Maybe he just knows how to hide fatigue.”

  Wix puffed up her cheeks and balled her fists, clearly unsatisfied with my explanation. “You had better make him sleepy tomorrow.”

  I waved a hand dismissively. “Tomorrow, he’ll feel like he hasn’t slept in three nights. Believe me, he’ll be tired. Oh, I need soap. For my clothes. I don’t want to keep upsetting oak.”

  Wix tilted her head to the side. “Just for you?”

  “I’m borrowing it for me and for Kestral.”

  “You’re not borrowing it, you’re using it,” Wix clarified. “I suppose I could trade out one of the l
aughter-meals for soap.”

  “A whole meal for some soap?” I rolled my eyes. “Unfair, Wix. Soap should only be worth the cost of a buttered roll.”

  “For one person, maybe.” Wix held up a finger to stop me from protesting. “If you’re paying his cost too, then it’s a half meal: meat and vegetables only.”

  I huffed at her. “With seasonings.”

  Wix nodded. “With seasonings.” She handed me a small pouch of powdered soap. I took it with a shake of my head. Arguing with Wix was like reasoning with a chicken. After quickly gathering my clothes and stuffing them into a sack, I met up with Kestral in the bar.

  “There’s a stream I like to use not far from here,” I told him, leading the way back outside. “There is a washer well in town, but I hate paying to use it.”

  Kestral nodded as he followed, his own sack of clothes slung over one shoulder. He still wore his sword at his belt and I now noticed a small crossbow hooked on the opposite hip. Perhaps he intended to catch another waterbird for lunch today.

  “What made you leave the army?” I asked, trying to continue our earlier conversation.

  He shrugged, eyes distant.

  “How long have you been a mage hunter? Have you collected any notable bounties?”

  He glanced sidelong at me. “There are only seven bounties in the whole kingdom right now. As far as I know, they’re all still alive.”

  “Oh, so you weren’t part of the Great Mage Hunt, then?”

  “The Great Hunt was over by the time I enlisted. I did help take down a few small-time mages, though.”

  “So, you’re about my age,” I surmised. “Around twenty?”

  “You don’t seem too sure of that.”

  I gave him a one-shouldered shrug. “Orphanage, remember? They didn’t exactly keep great records.”

  He nodded. We had taken a turn out of town and were following a well-worn path down to the creek I liked for washing and sometimes bathing. The grass grew high along the sides of the path, waving rhythmically in the breeze and hiding the stream from view, although I could hear it as we drew closer. The forest that secluded the tiny village from its neighbors and gave us our good hunting grounds rose on the far side of the stream. Not that I did anything as strenuous as hunting, of course. Sometimes I would go fishing upstream where the river widened. There was almost nothing I loved more than fresh fish.

  I led Kestral off the beaten path towards my favorite washing spot along the stream, where a large shale shelf extended out over the water. The grass was tall enough that it reached my thighs, making it difficult to see where my footfalls landed. When Kestral stopped behind me, I looked back to see if he had tripped.

  “Are you okay?” I asked as he peered into the depths of the tall grass.

  Kestral stooped down and plucked something from the ground. He held up a bright orange flower. “We’re walking over shura flowers.”

  “Oh, yeah, those are everywhere near the stream.” I looked down and found a few of the sticky, orange petals stuck to my boots. Ugh, Wix was sure to make me take my boots off before she let me back in the inn. “They don’t make you itch, do they? I should have asked earlier.”

  “No.” Kestral frowned at the tiny flower, then at me. “I thought . . .”

  “Hm?” I looked around. “They’re not that uncommon here. Did Beramin not have shura flowers?”

  Kestral shook his head, dropping the flower back into the depths of the grass. Then he did the most unexpected thing ever: he smiled at me. I grinned back, not quite certain what had just happened. I pointed out the shale overhang just ahead. We each sat down at one end of the shelf and dumped out our clothes sacks. I set the soap powder between us to share and we each set to work.

  Silently.

  I hated silence.

  “What do mage hunters do now that almost all the kingdom’s mages are dead?” I asked as I wrung out a shirt.

  “Mages aren’t the only magical forces in the kingdom,” Kestral replied. “I mostly deal with magical beasts near villages and cities. Centaurs, griffons, elementals, fairies. Killed a slag once.”

  I shuddered. Meeting a slag was not something many people walked away from.

  “We don’t have many of those around here.” I dunked a small handful of clothes in the water and swirled them around. “Occasionally, a krupper will waylay a hunter, but that’s about it.”

  “Hm.”

  I felt him staring at me, but didn’t meet his gaze. I ground some soap into my clothes and gave them another swish in the water.

  “Usually when a small village isn’t being bothered by supernatural forces, it’s because something is keeping them away.” He spoke softly, but the words sent a chill up my spine.

  “Well, we have a lot of really good hunters here,” I replied, trying to keep my tone light. “That’s good enough to keep some monsters away, at least.”

  Kestral wrung out his last shirt, folded it and placed it back in his bag. He leaned back on one arm and turned to face me. “I came to this village because I thought it might have a mage protecting it.”

  I laughed, hoping it didn’t sound too forced. I kept my golden eyes turned down as I finished up washing my clothes. “I’m pretty sure I would have heard about it if we had a mage in town.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kestral smile. “Once I got here I realized I was wrong. I thought—”

  A loud, snarling grunt pealed out from the forest across the stream. Kestral and I both froze, watching as the grass waved wildly before parting to reveal a beast on four legs, narrow in the chest and shoulders, wide in the gut, with pointed ears, a pig-like snout and long tusks.

  Pigoblin.

  And not just one. Behind the first was a herd of at least ten more of the beasts.

  The first pigoblin stopped as it saw us watching it from across the stream. It rose up on its hind legs to a height just below my shoulders. Its tiny eyes darted over us, snout snuffling as it checked our scent. After a moment, it dropped back to all fours and continued along the stream away from us.

  “Too bad I didn’t bring my longbow,” Kestral commented, watching them go. “I don’t have time to salt the meat anyway, but—what’s wrong? Are you shaking?”

  I was rooted in place, hands trembling over the forgotten laundry. This was the biggest group of pigoblins I had ever seen, and they were already so close to the village. My sense of self-preservation went to war with my more sentimental side. I knew what the right choice was, but if I made it, everything would change.

  “Hey.”

  I found myself staring into concerned blue eyes.

  “They look scary, but pigoblins are cowards. They won’t go into the village.”

  “They will,” I rasped. My throat had gone dry. I swallowed and tried to find my voice.

  Kestral shook his head. “Except for when they’re defending their young, pigoblins never attack humans.”

  “No.” I took a breath to steel myself. “But they kill fairies.”

  “But you’re not—” Kestral’s eyes widened. “The Broken Wing. Chesawick.”

  I nodded. “Her glen kicked her out. She’s all on her own. She doesn’t cause the villagers any trouble, you have to believe me.”

  Kestral swore quietly under his breath. He turned to look back at the trail of trampled grass behind the troop of pigoblins. They had crossed the stream a-ways up from us. From the waving of the grass, they were headed straight for Wix’s inn. Kestral stood up, leaving his bag of wet clothes on the ground.

  “I can turn the pigoblins back. After that, I’ll deal with the fairy.” He glanced back at me. “Try to beat them to the inn so she knows they’re coming.”

  I nodded, climbing shakily to my feet. Before I could take a breath, Kestral exploded into motion, loosening his sword and racing after the pigoblins. I ran for the trail, hoping Kestral could slow the troop down before they reached the inn. My mind raced faster than my feet as I worried about what might happen to Wix. The pigoblins
would eat her if they got to her, but what would Kestral do to her? Fairies could be terrible to humans, but Wix was a kind soul who enjoyed living among us. Would the villagers who had known her for years protect her, or would they turn on her when they learned the truth? I owed Wix so much more than she could ever know, but I wouldn’t be able to protect her. Not if I wanted to keep my own skin intact.

  Villagers stared at me as I pelted along the main avenue. I didn’t bother trying to explain; it would have taken time and a horde of pigoblins wasn’t normally a threat anyway. Distantly, I could hear the screaming snarls of the beasts. Hoping that Kestral had slowed them down, I leapt up the front steps of the Broken Wing and burst into the bar. Wix stood in the doorway of the kitchen, frozen in the act of drying her hands on a cloth.

  “Reshi, what—”

  “Seal it up, Wix!” I panted, leaning on a table to catch my breath. “Seal it all up. There’s a huge group of pigoblins coming this way.”

  Wix cried out, dropping the cloth. She placed one hand against the doorframe causing the wood to instantly spring to life, sprouting leaves and growing thicker. All around me doors and shutters snapped closed, the wood growing together to form a seal.

  “I had to tell Kestral.” I put a hand on the front door, preventing it from shutting me inside. “I’m sorry. He knows you’re a fairy. He says he’s going to deal with you after.”

  “Reshi . . .” Wix trembled. She looked so tiny, so helpless, in that moment. I shook my head; fairies were most definitely not helpless, no matter how they appeared.

  “Try to run after we kill the pigoblins,” I told her. “I’ll do my best to protect you.”

  Wix nodded, still shaking. I ducked out the door before it could seal itself shut. Kestral and the pigoblins had reached the street just in front of the inn. Most of the beasts were bleeding—a few lay injured or dead. The trouble with pigoblins was that they were faster than they looked. and their skin was tough; an injury that would kill a human often just enraged a pigoblin.

  Kestral moved through the pack of monsters like a scythe through wheat. His sword moved like liquid steel, carving a path of blood and flesh. No move was wasted, each step was sure and solid. He was a perfect warrior, beautiful and terrible all at once.