Mage Strike (The Enslaved Chronicles Book 2)

by R. K. Thorne

  “I can change you into a horse. Perhaps that would help, or at least shut you up,” growled the gravelly voiced one.

  “Let’s let him go,” said the pacing man.

  “The Masters would want him,” said the foreign one. “Obviously.”

  “They didn’t order us to take him. We don’t have to do it. It’s our choice.”

  Foreign Woman rolled her eyes. “They’ll kill us if they find out we had him and just let him go. Don’t be a fool.”

  “Let’s kill him then. Don’t have to take him back, don’t have to tell them we let him go, of all things.” Gravel Voice brushed his hands off each other as if washing his hands of the matter.

  “Oh, like that’s easy,” sputtered Nerves, scowling.

  “We can transform him into something else, make it easier to transport him,” Foreign Woman said. “We don’t need to have that debt on our hands. I thought you were concerned with the Balance.”

  “Of course I am,” said Gravel Voice.

  “You think Nefrana doesn’t frown on killing people, but she’s definitely against all things magic?”

  “Don’t oversimplify. You’re just being emotional, after all the losses we’ve experienced.”

  “Eat shit, Harum. How’s that for emotional?” She scowled at him.

  “He’s an enemy of Nefrana, of course. That makes it allowable.”

  Why was Samul not reacting, trying to convince them of anything? She probed cautiously toward his mind, carefully avoiding the others. He seemed alert. His head did not seem injured anymore, but his leg was. Not broken, but something was wrong inside the knee. There, she found it—a spell binding his throat. They’d taken his voice so he couldn’t call for help. Or argue. They had that taken care of.

  Samul. It’s me, Miara.

  To his credit, his face barely reacted. A slight awareness flickered in his eyes, nothing more. He had been ignoring them all, lost in his thoughts, and she had awoken his attention. His thoughts whirled, and she backed away quickly.

  You can’t speak to me. But I can speak to you. Focus on a thought, and I can see it in your head.

  Elise has… a few times. Not a stranger to this. Still, he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea that mages could simply peek into a king’s thoughts whenever they pleased. The one time Miara had done it had already been too many.

  I know. You’re not the only who’s felt that way. It doesn’t help people get comfortable with us. But it’s not without cost—

  What are you doing here?

  Rescuing you, apparently. What the hell happened?

  I could ask the same of you. I thought I left you under guard in Estun.

  Can we deal with the immediate threat first?

  Fine. Mages attacked. Six or eight of them were killed, these three are not sure. I fell into a ravine trying to save Aven.

  Her heart jumped into her throat. If something had happened to him because she hadn’t reached them in time, she would never forgive herself. Or Samul, for ordering her to stay behind. What do you mean, save Aven?

  Lightning struck his horse, threw him off.

  Mage lightning? They were probably aiming for him and missed. The exact arc of the lightning could be difficult to control at a large scale, and there was no reasonable way to practice.

  Oh. I didn’t realize. That makes sense. Well, I don’t think it hit him. The horse knocked him off, went into convulsions.

  I saw the horse. It was dead. But there was no one else there. No human bodies.

  Good. Good. That is good to hear. They all must have lived then.

  They searched for you, I think. What happened after that?

  Dyon dragged Aven back to the carriage. He seemed alive, although in serious pain. They were targeting the carriage—both with fire and rock. I went forward to—I don’t know. I don’t know what I expected to do. To try to help? I had no way to help. But he’s my son. I had to stop them get through to them end them somehow… His thoughts started to unravel for a moment, and she pulled back, both for her sanity and his privacy. The tumult calmed a little. The earth opened beneath me. I fell. Washed down the river. I think I lost consciousness at some point, maybe when I fell. I’m not sure, it’s foggy. Then these bastards found me.

  Are they the remaining mages from the ambush?

  I think so.

  What happened to the others?

  They seem to think Aven killed them.

  Aven?

  I think so. Lightning struck and killed them. Six, eight? Seven? They’re not sure. They didn’t look to find the bodies, just ran.

  Gods. She reeled her mind away from Samul’s for a moment, not sure he needed to feel what she felt at that revelation. Aven had been the one to leave those char marks on the earth.

  She wasn’t sure if it was awe or horror that filled her most. To kill with magic was what all the priests insinuated mages would do, if they could. They’d been accused of much, in the Dark Days. They’d all heard enough stories to fear there might be some truth to them—a vicious killer secretly lurking inside, ready at the first whiff of insanity to fly into a rage and level a city.

  Brother Sefim’s words sprang back to her again. Magic was a tool like anything else. Nobody was outlawing spears or swords or arrows or catapults any time soon. What was the difference between killing with magic and killing with a sword? She would not have been appalled if Aven had run these mages through with a claymore in self-defense. Such deaths were sad, regrettable, but not avoidable. If an equally—or better—equipped opponent was trying to kill you, you could die or fight back, but there wasn’t much room for middle ground.

  Self-defense is different, she forced herself to remember. Just like with Sorin.

  Not that she didn’t feel horror for killing him and splattering blood across Estun’s pristine floors. Aven had been protecting himself, and so had she.

  Back to the matter at hand. The Akarians had lost their king in this horrid attack. Fortunately, that loss was only temporary, although Aven and Elise would not know that yet. They had to be distraught. Sitting around feeling guilty about her and Aven defending themselves from people who were trying to kill them was really helping no one at this point.

  She ought to be able to rescue Samul from here—somehow. These mages didn’t seem like much opposition. If she could escape Estun, kidnap Aven, and then rescue him from said kidnapping—she should be able to make this work.

  Just a little clever thinking and creativity…

  She waited, but no ideas showed up.

  Abruptly she realized that Samul could be trying to talk to her, but she was no longer listening. She dragged her mind back to him.

  They dragged me up here and healed the gash on my head. But… your arrival is well timed. Which reminds me, are my guards dead?

  What?

  Did you kill Devol and my guards to escape?

  Are you serious?

  Am I laughing?

  She struggled for a moment to formulate a response that wasn’t dripping with vitriol. That he thought she would casually kill innocent guards and the honorable and sweet master of arms simply to gain her freedom infuriated her. How could even think such a thing? Devol and the guards are fine. Devol is my friend and has been far kinder to me than you have been. To think that I would hurt him is pure absurdity.

  I have not been unkind to you.

  I guess that’s a matter of opinion. This is not the time to discuss that anyway. I have work to do.

  Are you going to kill them?

  She was so annoyed at this new accusation that she couldn’t even bring herself to answer. Instead, she turned her attention to the mages. She picked at that bit of their souls she could reach with her magic and began to spin her chains around each of their wrists, one by one. When she had enough chain to work with, she hooked it around a nearby tree and bound it back on itself, once, then again. None of them were going anywhere, although they didn’t know it yet.

  Now what?

&n
bsp; She could simply step out of the forest, help Samul to his feet, and stroll away. But they did all still have command of their magic. The woman seemed to be a creature mage, so it was possible she might find some transformation that could twist her out of the chain or even figure her way out of it with a bit of time. One of them was likely an earth mage—she was betting on Gravel Voice—and if he could open one ravine, he could likely open another.

  It would still be best if she and Samul could sneak away. But what could they do? Should she distract the enemy somehow? Could she transform Samul to somehow get away?

  They continued to argue Samul’s fate, although she’d lost track of their conversation during the king’s recounting of events.

  She glanced back down at the river. It wasn’t far away. It could be an excellent and unexpected place to hide, if they could make it that far.

  She felt around until she found Lukor, still patiently waiting and munching on a willow leaf, a selection he regretted. Downstream, she told him. I’ll meet you down there.

  Another mental chuff of acknowledgment, and he trotted off.

  As she drifted back to her fox body, she groped around in the surrounding woods, looking for something to work with. Rabbits, owls, foxes, ants, snails, potato bugs, butterflies—no, no, no.

  And then she found him. A stag.

  No time for musical overtones and gentle greetings, she spoke quickly and prayed she wouldn’t spook him. I need your help. Some humans nearby have kidnapped a man and mean to kill him. Can you help me free him?

  How do I know they won’t kill me? Or you won’t?

  I swear by—by— What deity did a stag pray to? I swear by the Balance I will not. I will do my best to protect you and heal you if injured.

  The stag chuffed for a moment, considering. And then, he said, Fine.

  I simply want you to cause a distraction. Show up in the clearing over here for a few moments, then flee. I’m going to make you—much larger. Then I’ll shrink you back down.

  The buck liked the sound of that, at least the first part.

  She pulled energy from the lively forest around them, a little here, a little there, and poured it back into the stag, his antlers broad enough already to interfere with the tree branches. He grew, ducking his head and dodging the entangling limbs. His hooves stomped in their direction, close enough for her to hear already.

  And now for her part. Just behind Samul, she concentrated carefully. A fox would have to do for him too. Would the armor be too much burden? Would it matter in the transformation or act simply like clothes, which would come along for the ride if she worked carefully enough?

  She was going to find out, apparently.

  I’m going to transform you. I’m disguised as a fox behind you. When I transform you, turn around, leave the circle, and follow me.

  Got it.

  She waited for a moment, then another, only the sounds of their arguing over the late fall forest sounds—a few birds singing, winds shaking the last brown leaves from the trees. The stag’s approach grew louder, hooves rustling the fallen leaves and thudding against the ground.

  The mages finally heard it a few moments later. First Nerves heard it and tried to stagger back, but the chain caught him after only a step. He squinted at his wrists, confused. Then the blond turned toward its approach. Her hands caught on the taught chain now too, and she frowned down slightly at them, not yet understanding.

  This was the time if ever there was one.

  She spun the transformation quickly, and perhaps a little more carelessly than she would have liked. Some of the armor came along, but the breastplate clanked loudly to the ground. Nerves stared down in stunned, frozen shock, but not for long.

  The stag had grown so tall his antlers spread as wide as two horses; he was larger than an elk now. Any larger, and he might have had points reaching beyond the tops of the closest trees.

  He stomped viciously at the earth, huffing and snorting at them in genuine irritation. Then he slowly turned, as best he could through the trees at his enormous size, and leapt gracefully away.

  Thank the gods, it was just enough time. Samul had raced past her, an orange-brown streak flitting down the mountain and through the brush and leaves. She raced after him, catching up quickly, their scampering somewhat hidden by the noise of the great stag striding away in the other direction.

  Cries came quickly, though.

  To the water. Ever fancy finding out what it’s like to be a fish?

  No. I haven’t.

  Today is your lucky day, my lord.

  Perhaps they didn’t need to. It was an extreme measure, a stressful experience to breathe water for a time, even if it came mostly naturally while you were at it. As they reached the shallows of the water, she padded in, and the king followed her. They trotted downstream. Shouts sounded, but from how far away?

  Ker-thunk. An arrow splashed into the water at her side. Oh—damn it. She hadn’t seen any weapons among them, certainly not a bow, but her vision had hardly been good.

  Shunk. Another arrow flew, scraping past her hindquarters and shaving off a chunk of skin.

  Guess there was no avoiding it. She dove further into the water, water that as a fox, she could not swim in. But transforming while on the bank would not end well.

  Come on. This will feel a little weird.

  As if this doesn’t already. To his credit, though, he followed her without question.

  Just a little farther, and she began the twisting transformation, her furry body whirling away to be replaced with slick scales, flapping fins.

  Gills. She forced herself to breathe the water anyway. The instinct that she would drown this way soared, but there was no way around the water rushing in. The river was dark and murky, and the current spun her this way and that, tumbling her downstream and bouncing her off rock and pebble.

  After what seemed like an eternity, she calmed. There were her fins. And the water’s surface. Where was the king? And the stag? If she’d known they had a bow and arrow, she wouldn’t have involved him.

  She groped around in the wet darkness. A few crayfish lurked, insects, frogs. No predators that she could see, thankfully, nor many fish. This would only be a brief swim, to hide them way and get a little farther downstream. But where was Samul?

  He was not upstream. Perhaps he’d been swished farther on, or hadn’t righted himself yet. She moved her mind ahead of her as she began to swim downstream, hopefully toward her waiting steed.

  There—she caught his presence.

  Are you all right?

  This is insane. And yes.

  She caught up with him and saw why he was farther downstream than she. Not only had he righted himself, but he was swimming energetically away from those bastards.

  You make a fine fish, my lord.

  Thank you, my lady.

  I’m no lady.

  You seem to be making this rescue thing a habit. I believe rescuing kings and princes is a good way to earn yourself a title. We should have thought of that sooner.

  She blinked, although with her fishy, translucent eyelid, she wasn’t sure what the heck that was supposed to accomplish. Well, maybe if he hadn’t been so busy distrusting her, he might have thought of it. Would he say the same thing when he was no longer a fish? If we’re making a tally of valiant deeds, your knee should be healed too when we transform out of this mess of a creature.

  She left Samul’s mind and groped back behind them, looking for the stag. He had escaped them but had finally succumbed to a tangle with a great blue conifer and a pine.

  Ah, it’s you. Good. Turns out this great size is not as useful as I thought.

  She stifled a laugh and brought him back to his original size slowly, swiping energy from the algae and plants growing beside them as they swam. As long as you’re safe. Thank you for your help. May the gods smile on you.

  The stag chuffed and sprang away, newly thankful for his more agile, original size.

  As fish, they swam do
wnstream for what felt like an eternity. She groped for Lukor periodically, torn between hoping to get out of this form as soon as possible and hoping to hide from them indefinitely.

  I have a horse, she told him as they swam. He was trotting downstream. As soon as we reach him, we’ll get out of the water.

  You said there was more to explain about your escape. Care to explain why you defied your king’s direct order?

  My king? I’d begun to suspect I would never be more than just some spy from Kavanar to all of you. Except Aven, of course.

  Answer the question.

  A mage tried to murder me.

  What? What about the guards?

  They had been transformed into mice and trapped. Alive, though, thankfully.

  What happened?

  I killed the mage, bound the creature mage who’d transformed the guards, and escaped.

  I understand why you’d kill a mage who attacked you. But why follow us?

  Because I knew Aven would need me. Appears I was right.

  Point… taken.

  I’m not willing to lose him over politics. Or anything else, really. No offense.

  Samul didn’t respond with words, but she saw his thoughts, likely ones he was not intending to share. A realization was spreading through him that she did truly love Aven. Probably not because of her words, but because he could feel, mind to mind, the emotion behind them.

  She should pretend she didn’t notice what he was thinking. She should brush it off, hide it away. What business of his was the depth of her feelings? That was between her and Aven. Although… if the king didn’t trust her enough to allow her to protect Aven when she needed to and vice versa… then it did matter.

  He is the noblest person I have ever known. If it were the right thing to do, he would face down any foe for his people. And for you. And for me. And for that, I would do pretty much anything for him. Fortunately or unfortunately, it turns out that the greatest monstrosity at the moment is not that far from home.

  Are you referring to me? To the Assembly? To Alikar?

  I’m referring to the Masters.

  I see.

  All right. I feel the horse. Let’s get out of here and back into ourselves.