Mage Strike (The Enslaved Chronicles Book 2)

by R. K. Thorne

  Jaena nodded, thoughtful. That wouldn’t really help her; few likely knew the nature of the mission. Dekana had never wanted to share the details, and Jaena hadn’t been sure she’d been allowed to. Those who did know the details of Miara’s mission, like the Masters, would not want to tell her.

  “Let me know what you find out,” Menaha said with a smile. Then she rose. “Good to hear about your studies, Kae. Keep up the hard work.” And then she turned and headed out.

  Jaena almost called after her, longing to think of one more question to help them unearth the truth. But barely after she’d left, two guards strolled down the aisle beside them, surveying the mages as they ate.

  Odd. The guards did not normally stalk around the eating areas like this. They were usually dozing outside. Perhaps their approach was what had moved Menaha to action.

  She studied the guards more closely. “New daggers—do you see?” She pointed at the nearest guard as he ambled by. Kae glanced up, trying to look casual and failing. He nodded, subtle as an excited puppy. “Something is going on,” she whispered.

  “Yeah. But how do we get in on it?”

  Miara and Wunik waited outside. The stone foyer encased them in intricate, delicate geometric carvings as the halls spread out in three directions from where they stood. Elegant archways soared up to ceiling seals that held all manner of orderly, symmetrical patterns and designs. Wunik just fidgeted and watched the door.

  Aven finally appeared around a corner, striding toward them alone. She heaved a sigh of relief. Had she been holding her breath?

  He trotted up to them and took her by the hand, smiling and raising it to his lips with a kiss.

  “Aven—” she started, glancing at Wunik.

  “It’s all right, he knows,” Aven said.

  “What? How?” she said.

  “My mother consulted him about a way to free you.”

  “I wasn’t very helpful,” Wunik added. The old man grinned.

  “Your mother—when?”

  “You were still knocked out at the nomad camp,” said Aven.

  Gods, she had thought he was a fool for not running, but she’d had no idea how far his foolery—devotion?—went. His mother probably hated her. She’d tried to free her son, but instead, he’d gone off on some noble mission to free a woman who could do him nothing but harm. A miracle the queen had even been civil.

  He grunted in irritation and relinquished her hand with a squeeze. “This way.” Aven led them up the stairs, Wunik trailing.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “The balcony.” Where it all had started. Where they’d first met. “I should like to see you there without a dagger involved.” He gave her a grin.

  She snorted. “I thought maybe it was the dagger you were attracted to.”

  “Hmm. We should test both ways and find out. We also need starlight, if we’re going to free anyone.”

  “Now? Already?”

  “Why wait?” Aven said. “Night’s fallen.”

  “You don’t want to rest first?”

  Aven waved off the idea. “I know you are worried about them.”

  She ducked her chin, feeling like he’d seen right through her. She hadn’t said as much, but it was true.

  “We’ll start with your family, of course, if we can find them,” Wunik added. She looked from Aven to Wunik and back again. They were both deadly serious about this. Well, just as well. They were the air mages. She was just along to point directions. “Let me get my tools. Is it just up this way? All right, I’ll meet you two there. And perhaps some heavy cloaks?”

  Something about his tone of voice said that he didn’t really need the tools. From the expression on Aven’s face, he both wanted to keep Wunik with them and send the man away.

  A spiral stair greeted them, and after circling up many flights, Aven strode down a dark hall lined with torches until they reached a heavy wooden door.

  “I hadn’t realized this door was wood. Would have been easier to get inside than I had expected,” she said as he heaved up the crossbar.

  “Well, it is a heavy crossbar. But that’s a good point. Any creature mage could get to this balcony easily. This door should at the very least be guarded, if not made of iron and better locked. Wait—your plan was to come inside?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t say it was a good plan. I had no other ideas. Estun is pretty impenetrable, and you were my first kidnapping, after all. “

  “And your last, I hope,” he said, the glint in his eye casting a double meaning to the words. “I’ve seen the effect you have on your captives. Driving people to risk their lives, fits of madness and devotion.”

  “Don’t worry, not everyone is as crazy as you.”

  He heaved the door open, and she sauntered out. She hardly remembered the tiny balcony, she’d been so focused on him at the time. It was barely beyond sunset, but already some stars were visible.

  He left the door open behind them. Although he hadn’t explicitly stated it, she had the impression that they weren’t really supposed to be alone together. That made a certain sense, since all sorts of allegations could be made when it was just one voice against another.

  And yet—now they were alone. He stood farther from her than usual. Because he was supposed to, or because of all his talk with attractive and elegant suitors? Perhaps he was seeing the error of his ways already.

  “How’s that Code of yours doing?” she said. Maybe she could invite him to explain why he was standing farther from her than he had since… possibly before she had kidnapped him.

  He smiled sheepishly. “Rigid and uncompromising as always.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Rigid, eh?”

  He snorted and shifted his weight. Well, this wasn’t how she’d expected to spend actual alone time here with him.

  “Did you find much entertainment in your dinner companion?” Did her words have an edge to them, or did she imagine it?

  He blinked. “What?”

  She didn’t want to repeat that. Now it seemed petty, maybe a little weak. “You’re—we—” Where was she going with this? “I wish I could have sat by you at dinner.” There, he liked the straightforward route, and so did she, although it could be tough to spit out.

  Understanding came over his face, and he strode to her now finally, pulling her into his arms. “Oh, Miara, it’s just for now. Don’t let it—” But he stopped. His frown said he disliked it too.

  “It’s fine. I understand. Really, I do.”

  “No, I’m so sorry about all this. My father can be slow to trust people. It’s bullheaded.”

  “Not a bad trait in a king, really.”

  “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about from Renala. It won’t be long, and you’ll be sitting right with me, I promise.” Relief did wash over her at that. He glanced at the doorway.

  “Are we not supposed to be out here like this? Are you not supposed to be alone with women?”

  “Part of the Code.” He shrugged. “It seemed foolish to abide by it on the road after all we’d been through. But here, people care about it. For a royal heir, being alone with women can create tough situations, ones that can be used against you. I mean, obviously that changes when you marry them, of course.”

  Them. She supposed it would have been odd to be discussing marriage between them in particular at a moment like this, but… the topic hung in the air. And the lovely, golden-haired dvora hung in her mind.

  “But I want to marry you,” he said, suddenly seeming to realize that that might be unclear. “So, it’s—I don’t know—”

  She glanced at the doorway. No sound from the stairs yet. Pushing herself up on tiptoe, she pressed a soft kiss against his lips, and he rumbled deep in his throat as he leaned into it. Into her.

  Sure, he wanted her. At least he thought he did, for the moment, and the caress of his tongue against hers was convincing. He claimed he didn’t want to hide their love, but wasn’t this arrangement far more convenient for him
as well? No awkward questions, no extra pressure on top of an already dire situation. What if, on some level, he sensed all she lacked as a potential monarch, and that was the true reason he’d agreed to all this? A terrible thought, but she could not deny the possibility. Perhaps he had regrets, or he knew deep down she was a poor choice and hoped this month would test her, would show her true mettle. Would allow him to distance himself if she failed, as she inevitably would.

  And all this could be simple infatuation, a temporary obsession forged by the intensity of their journey together. When he started to notice each way she came up short, all he required that she did not have, would kisses such as these fade slowly into moonlit memory?

  She could only hope he wouldn’t. And kiss him while she could, damn it.

  In spite of the open door, Wunik knocked moments later. She quickly wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and caught herself straightening her tunic. Wunik marched in, arms full of tools and cloaks, his eyes wisely trained up at the sky and pretending like he had no idea what had been going on. Had he had a wife who’d passed? He did not seem unaware of the ways of lovers.

  He handed her a cloak. Funny, the cold hadn’t been bothering her until Aven had hastily stepped away. Things had been quite warm a moment ago.

  Wunik sat on a bench and took a wooden bowl from the bag he’d brought with him. So he did indeed have tools. He also took out a skin of water and filled the bowl. “Watch carefully, Aven. You’ll try this next,” he said, beckoning them toward where he sat.

  “Water, Wunik? That’s different. My colleagues just used their arms or the open air to frame the spell.”

  “Just a little something I do, not a normal Akarian practice. Most of the admittedly few mages I know who can do this use the air too. But I find something about the physical conduit seems to require less energy.”

  Interesting. Aven joined Wunik on the bench. Miara felt too anxious to sit. And the air froze her to the bone, in spite of the heavy, black, fur-lined cloak. She pulled it tighter around her and paced back and forth instead as Wunik described the farseeing spell.

  “The learning will take time and much practice. You won’t get it right away, but don’t worry about that. Useful, intense spells such as these don’t come without practice.” Wunik plucked a red rose petal from a nearby bush and dropped it into the water.

  “Do you need that?” Miara asked.

  “What? Oh, the petal, no. Just an offering to Anara. Nothing magical about that part.”

  More interesting bits all the time from this clever mage. A pious mage? The only religious mages she had ever known were the self-hating sheep of Brother Lithan’s circle. Even Brother Sefim focused more on the Balance and walking the Way than he did on the deities themselves. He was of course still a priest of Nefrana, but he never spoke about the goddess. If she and Aven could free him, what changes might he make? She had never met any priests of Anara or Mastikos—did they denounce mages too?

  Wunik differed from the mages she had known. Was this what a freemage was like? Excited for adventure, bored but still happy, someone who had known love? She had thought that all mages were by necessity depressed, stifled, exploited. But every time Wunik opened his mouth, he showed her another side of who her people could be.

  Who she could be.

  Interesting. Perhaps there was still time for her father to grow into an old man like this elder, instead of… something less.

  His use of water also intrigued her. No mage type held power over water, a proven oddity of nature. Given that mages could influence earth, sky, and living creatures, it followed that some mages should be able to sway the seas, oceans, rivers. But no one had yet witnessed such a thing. Even magic could be mysterious at times, she supposed.

  Wunik started and stopped a few times, demonstrating how the light pooled between his hands. Of all the air spells she had seen, farsight was still the most awe-inspiring. Creating a window into another place in the world… Strange and powerful, indeed.

  Still, she wished Wunik would hurry up. It had been two days, almost three now, since she’d kissed her father and Luha goodbye. How had the Masters responded to her escape? Were they safe?

  The Dark Master’s intense eyes flashed through her mind. The other Masters would accomplish nothing without him, and they hardly mattered. But the Dark Master would not let them get away with this without a fight. And as long as her father and Luha were his slaves, that gave him a great deal of power.

  “All right, Miara, point the way for us,” Wunik said. “This won’t be the easiest by twilight, but it’s not getting any brighter out.”

  She guided him along the path she had taken with Aven. “There is probably a straighter route over the mountains, but I don’t know it. I haven’t walked that way.”

  “Well, fortunately this takes less energy than walking,” he said with a grin.

  The forest and hills slid past. They found the border to Kavanar and crossed it. Soon they saw the golden plains, the wheat and barley fields.

  Finally, Mage Hall loomed before them. Seeing it for the first time since they’d escaped, her heartbeat quickened a little. What had she expected to feel? Tension knotted her shoulders.

  “There—that building.” The dormitories were full of people at this hour. But the windows to her family’s rooms were dark.

  Wunik veered closer. “Shuttered.”

  “Can you check around the side of the building? The door?”

  He nodded, and the image slid to the other side of the building.

  “Guards?” Aven said.

  “Those are not normally there,” she said. “It’s not like we can run away—” But she stopped. That was no longer true. They were responding accordingly. “We weren’t usually guarded like that. At the gates, yes, but that was as much against outsiders as to keep us in. Let’s check the gates and see if security’s increased. But—there might be one more thing. There, check that building. That’s the bathhouse, and the food hall is close by. We might see one of them going to or from there.”

  The ground slid beneath them, but they saw no one on the way to the bathhouse. It seemed eerily empty.

  “Is there a curfew?” Aven asked.

  “No… at least there wasn’t when we escaped.” Then her eyes caught on someone leaving the dining hall. “There. I see Menaha, that way.” They followed her gesture around the bathhouse, toward the food hall, but Menaha was gone. “No, wait, that way. Damn, she’s gone inside. Hmm.” She groaned and groped around in the surrounding area with her mind. If she could find a creature nearby, perhaps she could follow Menaha into the building that way. That would be a lucky chance, and very draining, if she could keep her mind connected to the cat at all over such a great distance and no sight inside the building. Still, she found a small gray cat and whispered her greeting. “But maybe—over there, who is that?”

  A silver tabby darted out in front of Jaena as Menaha turned south and headed into her building. Jaena had been hoping to reach Menaha to ask more questions, and she normally ignored strays.

  But there was something unnatural about it. It studied her too intently.

  She stopped. The cat regarded her evenly. Jaena felt a tickling in her shoulder brand and scratched at it absently.

  Reaching out, she felt a presence. Oh. Not just a cat, but a mage too. As an earth mage, Jaena could not feel the size or location of life forms very distinctly, but she could sense the increased energy that meant a mage was close at hand somewhere around the cat. The earth underneath them sang and shook ever so slightly for the joy of it, not that anyone but an earth mage would notice such vibrations.

  Greetings, mage, came a familiar voice.

  Greetings, she replied. Where did she know that voice from? She could not send thoughts like a creature mage could, but she could serve them up clearly on a figurative mental platter. Her brand continued to twitch. Why would it bother her for looking at a cat or hearing a mage’s message, of all things? An icy knot formed in
her shoulder, something she’d never felt before. Now it was getting creative? Stupid, stupid thing. She tried to ignore it.

  Jaena, is that you? It’s Miara.

  By the gods, Miara. We were just talking about you. Did you really— Jaena had not known Miara well, but she had been a spy like Dekana. They had met a few times before.

  Yes. I did.

  Gods.

  I’m looking for news on my father and sister. Are they all right? Do you know? He’s a gardener named Pytor. Luha’s a stable hand.

  Beads of sweat had formed on Jaena’s forehead, and the night suddenly felt far too warm for so late in the harvest. What in all seven hells was wrong with her? The cat had wandered off, but Jaena could still feel Miara’s presence. Menaha mentioned him. She says they haven’t returned to work for two days. They appear to be locked in their rooms, under guard. The guards have new daggers. She wasn’t sure why she included that final detail, but it seemed like it might be helpful.

  How did you know I escaped?

  Rumors. We asked Menaha if she knew anything, and she said she saw your brand healing. That you’d recently come back from a mission, but that she hadn’t seen you for two days. And that your family was locked in their rooms.

  But they are safe? Miara’s voice sounded relieved and worried at the same time.

  Of course that’s what she would want to know, but Jaena could not know for sure. I could try to find out? The strange wave of heat had fallen away, and she felt cold again. Icy, even. She wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. Was she coming down with something? This was no time to get sick. Please—if you can tell me how you got free, if there’s some way I can help you— The sudden intensity of emotion behind her thoughts made them fall to pieces, and she pulled herself together. A lack of clarity in communication was the sign of an amateur, and she’d be damned if she looked like an amateur at a moment like this. Even with only three years of training, even coming to Mage Hall late in life, she was better than that. She would be the best. She had to be. How else could she get back at them for what they had done? She would not mess up her one chance at getting free by acting like she was less skilled than she truly was.