Mage Strike (The Enslaved Chronicles Book 2)

by R. K. Thorne

  “You’re not responsible for the evil acts that they commit.”

  She pressed her lips together, as if she weren’t so sure. “I still brought them on your trail.”

  “How did you become a slave?” He kept his voice soft.

  She glanced down at the horse. “Knights attacked my family on one of those treaty voyages. Kidnapped my sister and I. She’s—she’s dead.” Her voice broke on the words. The passing must have been recent.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. But then it is those knights who put themselves on my trail. Not you. You were on a diplomatic voyage with your parents.”

  She blinked rapidly again, then rubbed her eyes. Were those… tears?

  “And it’s my mission to stop them, remember?” he said gently. “I chose this path.”

  “Why? Why did you choose it?” Yes, definitely tears, from the roughness of her voice.

  He hesitated. He didn’t like thinking about Sasha, let alone talking about her. But… “An old friend, from when I lived on the streets. She wouldn’t come to the orphanage with me.”

  “Not the religious type?”

  “No. And she had a boy. An older one, one she loved, who said he would protect her.”

  “Gods, let me guess. He didn’t?”

  “Turned her in for a bounty. I don’t know how he figured out she was a mage. They slit her throat and left her body in the streets of Evrical.”

  Jaena sucked in a sharp breath. “Not… they didn’t enslave her?”

  He gritted his teeth. “Some Devoted only kill the mages they capture. Not all of them work with Mage Hall, especially those not in Kavanar. I guess no one in Evrical cared enough about an alley rat to capture her. She wasn’t the only friend I saw killed, mage or no, just the one I cared for the most. Kavanar’s colors must come from the blood that runs so red and thick in Evrical’s streets.”

  “Oh, Tharomar.” She twisted and met his eyes, concerned. He blinked. How often had she said his name? It sent a thrill through him. How often had he found himself, his lips just inches from hers, and resisted the temptation to kiss her? More than he would have expected in their short acquaintance. His eyes flicked to her mouth—no, damn it. Did he have no self-control left?

  She seemed to notice something in his gaze, but he had no idea what. She leaned her head against him and nestled it into his shoulder again, this time not to rest, but as a sort of hug, since she couldn’t turn as they rode the horse.

  He took one hand from the reins and risked one soft caress of her back, the cloak rough beneath his fingers. Nothing more than a kind gesture of comfort, he told himself. Nothing more.

  She straightened, and they rode farther toward Anonil in silence, his neck cold.

  13

  Into the Deep

  “Aven! Aven!”

  His mother’s voice. Still, he felt tired. So tired. He needed to sleep.

  “Aven, damn it, wake up!”

  A rush of energy flooded into him, and he snapped his eyes open. He sucked in a painful breath, as if it had been a long time coming. She was crouched over him, cheeks wet as she cradled his head in his hands.

  “Don’t you ever do that to me again!” she shouted. “You’re going to kill yourself. You stopped breathing. You’re going too far, damn it.”

  He sat up—or tried to. She’d infused him with energy but hadn’t healed anything yet. The agony of his left side was plenty strong. He let himself fall back to the wet, muddy earth with a squish.

  “What happened?” he coughed. Even wheezing that out felt like hell. What was that in his mouth? Blood?

  “We fought them off. Dyon and several other warriors took out the archers. Siliana and I kept them away from the carriage, just barely, until they lit it on fire. Then we had to drag you out—”

  “Father?”

  She looked away, up at the ridgetop, wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Did you—did you take the storm?”

  He nodded.

  “Damn, Aven. You left a crater,” Dyon said. “Those mages are either dead or thoroughly run off by now.”

  “Father—I saw him—” Aven insisted.

  His mother’s face twisted. Did he really need her to answer? He knew as well as she did. Something had happened. The question was what, and how serious.

  “Is he dead?” Aven said quickly. Gods, let him not be. The heated words of the evening before flashed through his mind. This attack only proved his point, but would he have said the same things if he knew they were the last words he’d ever say to his father? His voice sounded strange, hoarse. He tried not to groan, but the ache grew. Yep, that was definitely blood in his mouth.

  “Is that—I need to heal you, damn it.” She ignored him, shutting her eyes and placing her hands on his chest. Siliana rushed to her side. Behind her, a fir tree abruptly faded from green to brown to black and crumpled into dust on the forest floor.

  Gods. She was taking the tree’s energy, for him.

  So much death.

  “Is he dead?” he shouted now.

  “We don’t know,” Dyon finally said. “Thel and the others are looking for him. The king fell into a ravine they opened up. When we went to try to find him, the horse was there, legs broken. But Samul wasn’t. The canyon those mages opened stretched all the way to the river, and water had just reached us, so we couldn’t quite tell.”

  “If he’s dead in the bottom of that thing—” He cut himself off. He didn’t want to finish. Heat built in his side, in his neck, at the base of his skull.

  “I don’t think he died,” said Siliana. “I didn’t feel his light go out, I tried to watch. I helped the horse let go cleanly, it didn’t deserve to drown. I think the king was swept out into the river. Of course, that doesn’t mean he’s alive now.”

  “Now,” his mother barked. Siliana bowed her head, and Aven discovered quickly why.

  If he’d thought breaking the rib was painful, or falling from the horse, this was a dozen times more so. He could not contain the scream of agony as muscle, bone, and nerve rearranged themselves.

  He must have passed out again because again someone was rousing him. Gentle slaps to his face and a muffled, “Aven, Aven, wake up.”

  He forced his eyes open a second time. Probably shock, not any kind of magical expenditure. The mind could only take so much pain before it shut off.

  So this is what that boy had gone through. It was good to be alive, but… what a cost. Beyond worth it, but “agony” did not seem like a strong enough term.

  He tried to sit up now, and succeeded, although his head spun. He looked around for his mother but didn’t see her.

  “Where is she?”

  “Siliana is feeding her some energy down by the forest’s edge. They’re okay. There are others to heal, so—”

  He swore. “She should have healed them first.”

  “Beg your pardon, my king, but I believe she did the right thing. She knew exactly what she was doing.”

  He snapped his gaze to Dyon. Had he heard right, or was he just that dizzy?

  Dyon lowered his head, acknowledging Aven’s questioning gaze without words.

  “He could still be alive,” Aven said quickly.

  “He could also be dead.”

  Aven swallowed.

  “Until we know for certain, you are our king,” Dyon said. As his mother was not Lanuken blood, the power to rule passed directly from father to son.

  Aven sucked in a breath, mind racing. “What does this mean for the Assembly vote?”

  Dyon shrugged. “Did that damn vote ever mean anything? Even if we vote against you, Samul always had the right to ignore the Assembly.”

  “He wouldn’t have. Doing so could destroy everything.”

  “I’m not so sure. So could putting the wrong son on the throne, no offense to your brothers. But either way—it is up to you now. You could let us vote, perhaps abdicate if you feel you do not have our support. You could tell us our Assembly gathering is no longer valid, as you are no longer the
heir, but the king. Which is probably what I would do.”

  Aven stared at his boots. When had they gotten so muddy? His whole body was nearly covered in mud.

  “You could go in and slaughter us all, even.”

  Aven looked to Dyon with wide eyes.

  “What?” Dyon shrugged. “I prefer to live, but lesser kings have done such things. And for good reason. If you let us vote, and more than half the Assembly votes against you, we could be looking at civil war. The death of a few nobles might be a lot more merciful than letting them pressure the poor into throwing their lives away for those nobles’ own power. Think of the fighting that would ensue.”

  He did not want to think about it. He would make sure it didn’t happen. Although Dyon did have a point. From the perspective of protecting his people, perhaps it was an option he should consider. He had no intention of seriously doing anything about it, though.

  At the very least, he would wait to see how they voted. What was the sense in killing them all if some of them willingly gave him their support?

  Gods be damned, what was wrong with him? He hadn’t even been wearing the crown for a full minute before plotting the deaths of his enemies. These were people, damn it. People he’d grown up with, like Asten and Dyon. Even damn Alikar had a family to return to. Which reminded him.

  “Where’s Alikar?”

  Dyon gave him a look that said he’d followed Aven’s line of thinking. Damn, he hadn’t meant to be so transparent. He’d gone straight from Dyon talking about murdering a bunch of nobles to asking for the location of his primary dissident. Smooth, Aven, very smooth. Fortunately, Dyon seemed to have no problem with this line of questioning. His nod said, that’s exactly what I was wondering too. That’s what you should be worried about.

  “I’m not sure, sire. Let me look. Can I help you to your feet first?”

  With Dyon’s help, Aven straightened and brushed himself off. Then the lord circled the edges of the group, asking for Alikar’s whereabouts. His mother and Siliana strode back from the forest’s edge, looking full of life and ready.

  Aven staggered to the gash in the earth left by their enemies. He stared down at the water lapping over the poor horse’s dead form.

  Rest in a better place, in Mustaik’s fields, my brother. At least he’d fallen in battle. But the noble horse deserved a better end than this—long years in a green pasture, not a tragic, sudden death in this place.

  And so did his father.

  Gods, let him be alive.

  Aven sat, head propped in his hands, under the temporary pavilion they’d erected against the rain while they searched. Footsteps approached, and he raised his head. Thel stopped just outside the canvas enclosure. His brother’s blond hair, which usually hung to his chin, was tousled in all directions, and his normally pale blue eyes were dark, heavy. Thel shook his head, grim as the overcast sky.

  No sign of their father. Aven sunk his head back into his hands as Thel strode away.

  Moments later, Dyon strode up with Alikar at his side. Was he pulling the younger man by the fur on his cloak?

  “You wanted to see me, my lord?” Alikar said, voice dripping with disdain.

  “You’ve been helping our enemies. Tell me what you’ve told them.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “All right, if you won’t simply tell the truth, we’ll go bit by bit. How did they know when we’d be on the road and exactly which road we’d take?”

  “They could have watched all the roads.”

  “Please. All of them?” That was possible with the crows overhead, but Aven wouldn’t admit that just now. He wanted information, not to educate his enemy on the finer points of magic.

  “They’d already attacked Estun. Clearly they were in the area,” Alikar said.

  “They knew when we left. You’re a traitor.”

  “That’s certainly one way to deal with your opposition, but you won’t shut me up that way.”

  “The letters you’ve been receiving from Kavanar. Just who are those letters from, might I ask?”

  “It’s none of your business—”

  “Yes, it is, as a matter of fact. If you’re feeding Kavanar’s lies to our Assembly, I have every damn right to know whom you’re getting your information from. And possibly whom you might be sending information to. Sounds like treason to me.”

  Alikar sniffed. “I won’t tell you. Nefrana protects me and guides my hand.” His words were sarcastic, proudly flaunting how little he meant them.

  Aven would have liked to run the man through with his sword just then. Aven wouldn’t, but he wanted to. “You can pray to Nefrana all you want, but Daes can’t protect you here.” Aven’s bet paid off as Alikar’s eyebrow twitched with recognition and surprise that Aven knew the Dark Master’s name. The lord strove to hide it and keep his face blank, but Aven had seen enough. “I know you’re working with Mage Hall. I think you delivered his scroll to Miara. I think you brought those assassins with you, at Daes’s request.” At that, Alikar paled, although his expression did not change. He hadn’t known they were assassins, had he? He could have thought they were only spies. “I think you told them about the demonstration so they knew where and when to attack. And I think you told them when we left and which road we took.”

  “Those are tall accusations for a mage to make.”

  For a moment, Aven saw himself punching the bastard in the jaw. But he kept it together. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Alikar, and I don’t think you know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

  “Neither do you.”

  “I am not the one whose choices led to the possible death of the king.”

  “Aren’t you, though? We wouldn’t be on the road if you’d simply abdicated your position.”

  “You forget your place,” Aven thundered at him. The whole clearing fell silent. “If you’re lucky, we’ll find my father. But until then, I am king. You’d do well to remember that.”

  Alikar opened his mouth, but Aven cut him off.

  “And if we don’t find my father, I will hold you personally accountable.”

  “For what? You can’t—”

  Alikar was right. He had no proof. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t find some. Alikar would slip up eventually.

  “I’m watching you, you bastard. Make no mistake.”

  Jaena didn’t recall dozing off, but Ro’s voice in her ear roused her. “Knights—up ahead,” he whispered.

  She blinked, trying to clear her eyes, and she could see them. Lucky that this section of road was fairly straight, but trees had begun to appear. The mountains that waited inside the Akarian border neared; they must be close. “Are we nearly to the border? Are they watching for us?”

  He nodded. “And anyone else your friends might have freed.”

  He turned the horse off the road casually, as if they were stopping to rest it.

  “If we can see them…” she said softly.

  He gave another crisp nod. “They can see us.”

  She took a deep breath, steeling herself for battle. “What do we do? I wish I had my staff.”

  “Well, we could probably go through them.” He squinted over Yada’s back as she happily began searching for something edible in the late fall foliage. “We’ve taken six before. Know how to use a sword or mace?”

  “I hadn’t gotten to sword yet, but I’m probably less likely to injure myself with that than the mace.”

  “Here—put it on just in case.” He handed her the weapon with the strap bunched up in one hand. She pulled it over her head and one shoulder and hoped she wouldn’t need to use it. She was used to the longer range of the staff and hadn’t gotten comfortable with opponents in close quarters. It would come with time, she was sure, but it was not something she’d mastered yet. “Alternatively,” he continued, “we could try to go around.”

  He glanced to the north, and she followed his gaze. Her stomach sank with dread as she saw how the trees thickened. Th
e density would help hide them, but none of the typical oaks or firs of Hepan’s forests grew there. Strange, broad-rooted trees rose out of murky earth below them, roots poking out like fingers into the muddy water.

  “Is that… a puddle?”

  “Yes. Well, more accurately, I think it’s a swamp.”

  “Seven hells,” she swore.

  “What?”

  She waved him off. “Hepani have a different concept of hell than Kavanarians, I believe. Now is not exactly the time.”

  “Just when I thought I’d get something interesting about Hepan out of you.” He grinned. “I’m joking. What do you think we should do?”

  She kept her glance over her shoulder at the Devoted as veiled as she could. Even if there were only six of them, she would rather not risk it. It was not hard to get injured, or worse, as her ankle so delightfully illustrated. Maybe if they had a healer with them, or knew one would be waiting in Anonil. But they really had no idea what awaited them there.

  Funny how easily she’d gone from worrying for herself to worrying about both of them.

  “We might be able to handle them, but we could still be injured in the process. Possibly gravely.”

  “I’d prefer not to kill them either, but we may not have much choice if it comes to that.”

  He was a better man than she, clearly. Not that she longed for such a thing, but they wouldn’t have blinked an eye at killing her. Self-defense was a completely different matter. “That swamp does not look promising, though. Any other ideas?”

  “We could delay and see if they stay all night? Perhaps we could sneak by them in the darkness.”

  “Where’s a creature mage when you need one,” she muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, it doesn’t matter. Just trying to think if there’s a way to involve magic somehow. Let’s sit down like we’re having lunch, and I’ll think about it. Out of sight, if we can.”

  He searched a little farther into the woods while she monitored the Devoted. He checked out a few locations before beckoning her forward. “A lot of wet ground, but I think this will be not too terrible with a bedroll down.”