Sorcerous Rivalry (The Mage-Born Chronicles Book 1)

by Kayleigh Nicol

  My turn.

  I shifted human, slashing outward with my blades, taking two soldiers in the throat before they even saw me. Others reached for their swords, but I was faster, striking forward, darting backwards, carving out that hole Kestral had asked for. I lost myself in the rhythm of the fight, diverting strikes into near misses, sliding through blood as I dodged. I wasn’t one for practice drills, but give me a good life-or-death battle any day.

  “Reshi!” I turned as Kestral shouted my name.

  He tossed me the bracers of throwing knives before turning back to ram his sword through a soldier’s gut. He and Kila fought back-to-back, getting closer to where I fought. Velyn and Eagan were just behind them, protecting them from being surrounded.

  I caught the bracers and shouted, “Kila, I need a distraction!”

  I couldn’t see her move, but the ground rippled, rising to ankle height and tripping the soldiers around me. I took the moment to strap the bracers around my wrists before throwing three blades simultaneously. Three soldiers never stood again. I pushed forward, dancing lightly through mud, blood and bodies. I had to be nearing the last ranks, right?

  A large man appeared in front of me, swinging a long battleaxe. I leapt backwards to avoid it, but slipped in viscera, dropping to one knee. I watched the blade descend in horror, paralyzed like a stag before an archer.

  Lightning flashed down like fire from the stars, catching the axe before searing the soldier. I stood shakily, looking back over my shoulder.

  Velyn sneered at me before turning back to his own fight. He wasn’t saving me, only prolonging my life until he could kill me himself.

  Once my heart climbed out of my throat, I pushed forward again, silver daggers sliding through flesh or scraping armor. Two soldiers came at me from the side and went down with knives through their faces. Was that light filtering between the soldiers? Had I reached the end of the ranks?

  I spun, ducking sword blows as I did. From a crouched position, I reversed my daggers and sliced through ankles, knees and hips as I rose again. Hot blood hit my face; I swiped it away with one arm as the other turned a sword aside. As I buried my dagger in the soldier’s armpit, I saw Kestral behind me. For some reason, he smiled as he met my eyes. I grinned back; something about the thrill of battle could really make a man feel alive.

  As I scanned the battle for Kila and my brothers, I saw Kestral’s smile drop. He struggled to get clear of his opponents and was driven back by a spear haft. He shouted my name, but I was already turning to see it for myself.

  I had breached the last line of the infantry and faced a line of archers. A throwing knife fell into my hand, but even I knew it was futile. Each arrow was already nocked and drawn. I had seconds to live.

  As I drew what was certain to be my last breath, every bow in the line suddenly went up in flames. With smoke searing my lungs, I turned. Eagan stood amid a pile of grotesquely burned bodies. He shot me a wink. I flipped the knife in my hand, grinning as his eyes widened. I threw the blade, narrowly missing my brother, but catching the soldier behind him full in the throat. After he understood what I’d done, Eagan flipped his hand in a kind of salute. I smirked at him before turning back to my own fight.

  I threw all my remaining knives, keeping the archers from recovering and reaching for their swords. Kestral finally burst free of the final line, charging the line of archers so that they scattered. I ran to his side, taking a moment to catch my breath.

  “Where’s Kila?” I asked between breaths. My limbs shook with battle-energy but I knew the longer I stood still, the quicker that energy would turn to exhaustion.

  “Took off,” Kestral said shortly. He pointed at a distant officer, struggling with a horse that was trying to bolt. “Can you get that horse to come here?”

  “I can try. Watch my back.” I reached for the horse’s mind. It was used to coming at the call of its master’s whistle, just like Shan. The most difficult part was convincing it that it was with the wrong master. When it pranced uncomfortably, I told Kestral to whistle.

  After knocking aside the blade of a recovered soldier, Kestral let loose a sharp whistle. The distant horse reared, freeing its reins from the grounded officer, then charged at us, sliding to a stop in front of Kestral. He had its reins before it came to a full stop, vaulting easily into the saddle and turning the horse in a spin, warning the soldiers back.

  “Up,” Kestral commanded, holding a hand down to me. I considered shifting but found my magical wellspring barely above a trickle. I gripped Kestral’s wrist, letting him yank me up behind him. Before I was fully seated, the horse charged off at a full gallop, carrying us away from the battle.

  I let my forehead fall against Kestral’s back, breath finally catching up with me. The muscles in my arms and legs felt like softened butter. My bones popped like fresh kindling in a fire. I might have another shift or two left in me, but that was it. I had to force my eyes open to keep from falling asleep.

  Kestral drew the horse up just outside the city walls of Kila’s village. I hoped she had gotten back safely, if she had gotten free of the army at all. Kestral climbed down from the saddle then reached up to help me down. His eyes burned as they met mine and for a moment I thought he was angry with me, but suddenly his lips were on mine, a hand on the back of my head pulling me closer.

  A muffled yelp of surprise caught in my throat, unable to free itself from the hungry kiss. I clutched at his battle-worn chainmail, pulling him closer still. He broke the kiss for a breath, blue eyes searing into my soul, before he leaned in for a softer, longer kiss. I wrapped one arm around his waist while my other hand fumbled at the side of his armor, trying to undo the binding links that kept it on.

  Kestral finally pulled back, breathing hard. He pushed my hand away but kept a grip on the back of my neck. My knees trembled as he shook his head. “Not here.” His voice was deeper, his eyes a darker blue than I had seen before.

  “Tell me where,” I begged. Stars, don’t let this be all! I needed so much more after that kiss.

  Kestral laughed softly, gently untangling his hand from my hair. “We need to find Kila.”

  I groaned, stumbling back a step. Logically, I knew Kestral was right, but the blood surging through my body protested. It took a minute for my body to listen to my mind again. Kestral waited silently for me to catch up before leading the way through the unmanned gate into the village.

  Torches were lit along the main boulevard. I was surprised to note that it was night. Had we really been fighting for that long? Ahead of us, Kila stood, talking to a group of soldiers, her expression dark. Kestral pushed me behind him protectively as he stepped forward to hear what was said.

  “. . . can’t stay here anymore,” one of the soldiers said, staring down at his boots apologetically.

  “But I’m the best fighter you have against Viaparaiso!” Kila protested loudly. She didn’t appear injured at all, despite the new blood spatters on her armor and boots. Her hair was half pulled down from its braid, as if someone had grabbed it during the fight. Blood was smeared across one side of her face, but I couldn’t tell if it was hers or not.

  “It’s not the commander’s decision,” a different soldier explained, a pained expression on his face. “We’re supposed to arrest you on sight.”

  “Try it.” Kila’s face grew dark as she reached back for her sword. The group of soldiers drew back, holding their hands up defensively.

  “No, we wouldn’t. Not for anything, Kila.” The soldier shook his head firmly. “The commander took a patrol to a fort north of here, claiming he received a report that’s where you were. He’s giving you time.”

  “Time?” Kila repeated, her hand still on the hilt of her massive sword.

  “Time to run.” Kestral stepped up beside her, meeting each of the soldiers’ eyes. “Is that right?”

  Each man dropped his eyes and nodded solemnly.

  “We’re sorry, Kila.”

  Kila spat at their feet before spinning
on her heel, striding towards the last inn we had stayed in.

  “The commander won’t be back until late tomorrow,” a soldier explained to Kestral, watching Kila’s back regretfully. “He wanted to give her time to heal, if she needed it.”

  Kestral nodded. “I’ll see that she makes use of that time. Thank you, soldier.”

  The group of soldiers started to salute then stopped, realizing Kestral wasn’t actually an officer. As one, they skulked off, shooting glances back at Kila as she disappeared inside the inn. Kestral glanced back at me before moving to follow Kila.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, eyes sweeping up from my boots to my face.

  “Not badly.” I had already taken inventory of my injuries: several cuts and bruises, possibly a pulled muscle in my back, a deep ache in one knee. Overall, though, I thought I would make it. “Are you?”

  “I’ll be fine.” Kestral pushed the door of the inn open, light spilling out to reveal the bloodstains down his pant leg I had forgotten about. Eagan had gotten him earlier, and not just with the cut, but with fire, too. And unlike me, he couldn’t just heal overnight. It probably wouldn’t even be good for me to draw on him strongly for a few nights. I sighed; there went my hopes for the evening.

  The inn was warm and loud, but not loud in a good way. Patrons cowered behind the bar as Kila raged around the room, grabbing heavy wooden chairs and hurling them into tables laden with food. She cursed and shouted, terrifying the poor staff who had been trying to calm her. Kestral stepped in front of her, catching the chair she held, but before he could speak, her eyes flashed, and she whipped the chair sideways, knocking him to the floor before dropping the chair on him. I darted in, grabbing her wrists. Not the smartest move, I know, but I couldn’t let her cause further injury to Kestral.

  “Kila, stop. Listen.” I met her eyes, pleading. “I’m sorry. Really, I am. This is my fault. All of it. If I never came here, none of this would have ever happened.”

  “It is your fault!” Kila raged. Her arms shook as I held them, her skin hot to the touch. “If you hadn’t come, I would still have a home here!”

  “I know.” I tried to sound consoling, understanding. “I lost my home, too. I get it, Kila. I do.” Her bright red eyes shimmered; Kila wasn’t going to cry, was she? “But there’s always another battlefield, right, Kila?”

  Kila stared up into my eyes, the trembling in her arms starting to fade. Right. Fast to flare, fast to burn out.

  “Come find that battlefield with me, Kila.” I gave her a small smile. “Or at least, let’s stop terrorizing the villagers, okay?”

  Kila gave a watery chuckle before pulling her arms away from me. She lowered her chin, swiping at her face with her hands. “Do you think they’ll let me stay here tonight?”

  “I think they’d be stupid to tell you otherwise,” I replied. I glanced around, making eye contact with the innkeeper. He nodded and made a shooing motion with his hand towards the stairs. I put an arm around Kila’s shoulders and led her away from the bar, mouthing an apology to the innkeeper. Kestral had shoved the chair off himself and climbed to his feet. He followed behind us, one hand pressed to his side where fresh blood leaked through his fingers. I grimaced. He would probably need stitches again.

  “Are you hurt at all, Kila?” I asked when we stopped in front of her room.

  She shook her head. “I healed already. Battlefield injuries are nothing . . .” She trailed off, noticing Kestral hanging back. “Come in. Let’s see that.” She ducked inside, leaving the door open for us to follow. I glanced back at Kestral. He seemed hesitant, or perhaps just pained, before following Kila inside.

  “Here. Burn ointment.” Kila tossed me a glass jar full of pus-colored cream. “Get his armor off and start with that.” She rummaged through a large satchel as I helped Kestral unfasten his chainmail. It had been ravaged over his left shoulder, almost like a nightblack cat had taken a bite out of it. The shirt over the shoulder had been completely burned away, leaving red, blistered skin behind. Kestral gritted his teeth as I pulled the shirt off. So much for injuries not causing pain any more. I smeared the cream on his shoulder thickly—at least it smelled better than it looked—while Kila finally found her medic kit.

  “Did he get your hip?” Kila asked, setting up small bottles of disinfectant out, along with needles and thread.

  Kestral nodded.

  “Lucky. If he’d had better aim, he could have really opened you up.” Without pretense, Kila gripped the edge of Kestral’s pants and peeled them down. I shouted a protest; Kestral grunted and flinched away. She looked up at both of us, disgust on her face. “Do you want it cleaned and stitched or not?”

  I looked away, trying to hide the flush creeping up my face. It wasn’t the stitching I was objecting to. At least she only had to slide his pants down a few inches to find the sliced flesh, exposing that tan line I always found so tantalizing. I used a wet cloth from the hand basin to clean dried blood and soot from Kestral’s face and neck while Kila disinfected the wound on his hip.

  “Maybe five inches long, not exactly a straight cut,” Kila noted, her voice calm. “He’s not a great swordsman, is he?”

  “Eagan?” Kestral clarified, smearing more of the burn ointment over his arms. “The impression I got is that he’s a skilled duelist. Not a warrior.”

  Kila nodded as if that made sense. She threaded a needle and pierced the flesh just below the laceration.

  The room tilted around me, and I must have turned pale because suddenly both Kestral and Kila grabbed me by an arm, steadying me on my feet.

  “Reshi, are you okay? Are you injured?” Kila’s voice was filled with concern.

  “You should go back to our room and get cleaned up,” Kestral advised. To Kila, he added, “He doesn’t like stitches.”

  “No, I’m fine,” I protested. “It’s been a long day and . . .” My stomach turned traitorously as I noticed the needle hanging from a thread through Kestral’s skin. It took everything in me not to faint or sick up.

  “Kestral’s right, you should get cleaned up, too.” Kila took my arm and guided me to the door. “Or at least lie down before you fall down.”

  I glanced back at Kestral, considering another protest, but he looked away. I let Kila push me gently from the room and close the door behind me. I stood in the hallway for a moment, feeling sick as well as rejected. Did I really need to remind Kestral that I couldn’t handle very simple medical treatment? He probably thought I was weak. And I was. I felt like I’d spent more time during that battle hiding behind him than fighting.

  Wouldn’t he prefer someone like Kila? Someone strong? A warrior? Not afraid of stitching up a wound he only got because he’d been defending me. I had thought they would make a good match before. It had bothered me a little, but not much. Now it caused a deep ache in my chest, like an open wound slowly leaking lifeblood.

  I made my way back to the room I had shared with Kestral the night before. The maids had been through it, making the bed, lighting candles and refilling the hand basin. No big washbasin, which would have been nice. At least if Kestral stayed with Kila, I wouldn’t have to sleep in an animal form tonight. It was better for him not to come back. If I drew from him it would slow his own healing process, and that wouldn’t be fair after everything he’d done for me today.

  I unlaced my boots, taking care not to look too closely at them, caked as they were with battlefield detritus. I unfastened my cloak, letting it pool on the floor before unlacing my shirt and dropping it as well. The room didn’t have a looking glass, which was just fine. I didn’t want to see what I looked like. Using the hand basin, I cleaned myself of dried blood, sweat and soot. After letting my hair down, I ran the cloth through it, not really cleaning it but at least getting the blood out of it.

  The sudden memory of Kestral’s hand in my hair, his lips pressed against mine, hit me hard enough to make me dizzy. I gripped the edge of the hand basin, swaying as I tried to regain my balance. Stupid, I told myself. Hi
s blood was up after the battle, that was all. He hadn’t been interested in me before. What made me think anything had changed?

  I stared into the rippling water of the hand basin, slowly getting my body under control again. Maybe I really did need to lie down. Before I could, there was a sound at the door. I looked up as Kestral walked in, shirt and mail in hand, fresh stitches gleaming above rolled down leggings.

  “Kestral.” I swallowed and stared back down at the hand basin. “I was just getting ready for bed.”

  I heard him drop his mail on the floor. There was a soft click and then the sound of his sword and belt being set down gently.

  “About earlier.” I swallowed nervously. What could I say about earlier? “Don’t worry about it, all right? I know it was just, you know, the heat of the battle and . . . winning, I guess, if you call it that.”

  His footsteps sounded on the floorboards. I stared into the water, watching it ripple with each step.

  “I just wanted you to know that I’m not expecting anything. Because of that . . .” That kiss. I couldn’t say it. I didn’t even want to think about it too much.

  He stopped right behind me, the heat of his body enveloping me, the caress of his breath fluttering on my neck. He was probably waiting for me to shift. I wanted to explain that I couldn’t draw from him, not while his own wounds had to heal, but the arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me backwards stilled the breath in my chest. He pulled me so that my back rested against his chest, his warm breath on my shoulder sending a thrill down my spine.

  “Reshi.”

  “Yes?”

  “Come to bed.”

  “Yes.”

  Chapter 8

  What the dust do you say to a lover the next morning?