A Mage's Power

by Casey Wolfe

  Rowan laughed again, kissing Shaw to shut him up. “Come on,” Rowan said. “Let’s get out of here.” As they made their way out with the others, he asked, “Caleb?”

  “Getting the other block. He’s fine,” Shaw was quick to assure him.

  Rowan was looking around at the prisoners and frowned. “Goddess, this place is a hellhole. The things I saw in a few hours? What Zaeed told me?”

  “Zaeed?”

  “My cellmate.” His thumb jabbed back to where said man was slowly making a go of it. “Apparently, you’re missing a master healer and alchemist back in Calagon.” Rowan growled under his breath. “They were trying to unlock some kind of mana coding in the mages, trying to steal their powers.”

  “That would be useful,” Shaw said, disgust in every word.

  They found a squad of soldiers was already inside, posted around the main room, alert and ready to act if the need arose. They were trying to gather everyone together, encouraging them to have a seat. Shaw gave Rowan’s hand a squeeze, moving toward a trio of them. There was no way to tell anyone’s rank when they all wore nondescript urban tactical clothing and riot gear, complete with balaclavas.

  “Captain Shaw?” one asked, stepping forward.

  Shaw nodded. “You in charge?”

  The man lowered the cloth over his nose and mouth. “Captain Lawrion, Osterian Special Tactics and Reconnaissance.”

  “We’ve got forty-two prisoners.” Shaw paused, frowning as he recalled the dead mage. “Forty-one,” he corrected. “Five are in the science wing. They’ll need help getting out. There’s also five members of the science team bound and gagged in room three, including Borek. He was behind all the experiments.”

  Shaw jabbed his thumb toward the housing wing as he continued, “We’re secured everywhere but there—personnel housing. I have it on lockdown. Expect upward of a dozen knights. They shouldn’t have anything more than sidearms, but it’s likely they've noticed your arrival.”

  “Understood,” Lawrion said. “We’ve got a second squad outside with one of yours. Medical’s inbound.” He nodded toward the housing wing. “We can’t leave them in there to stew too long. Might get smart and barricade themselves. Can’t go in with civilians in the line of fire. We’ll need to get them outside.”

  “Agreed.”

  “I’ll call in my second squad to give them a hand,” Lawrion said.

  Shaw’s attention was drawn to the other cell block where Caleb was emerging with another person in tow. “That everyone?” Shaw called out. At the sound of his voice, the larger man leaning heavily on Caleb snapped his head up to look at Shaw. “Marcus?” Shaw stood there with his mouth hanging open. He managed to snap out of it, rushing over and practically knocking the pair over as he crashed into Marcus. He drew Marcus into his arms, tears stinging his eyes. “I can’t belie—Damn it, Marcus!” Shaw fisted his hands into the back of the grimy shirt Marcus wore.

  It took a moment before Marcus responded, clearly as shocked by the reunion as Shaw. He let out a broken laugh that twisted into a sob. “Shaw,” he breathed. With seemingly great effort, Marcus removed his arm from around Caleb, putting all his weight on Shaw as his arm wrapped around him instead.

  The sudden shift of weight set them off-kilter, and they ended up stumbling to their knees in a rather ungraceful move. Even so, Shaw caught them before they tipped over and ate concrete. Both of them knelt on the floor, their holds tightening on each other.

  “Shaw,” Marcus repeated softly, over and over. His words caught on unshed tears, face turning to nestle into Shaw’s neck.

  Rowan had joined them and asked, “What’s wrong?”

  Shaw wasn’t sure who he was talking to. It was Caleb who answered, “We need to get him out of here. He needs a healer.”

  “Shaw.” Rowan’s hand was on his shoulder, giving it an urgent squeeze.

  When Shaw pulled back, however, he didn’t acknowledge Rowan outside a quick “Yeah.” Instead, he took Marcus’s face in his hands, feeling an overwhelming amount of relief. “Let’s get you home, yeah?” Shaw’s gaze wandered over Marcus, in wonder at first with him being alive, but then with increasing concern. Marcus was thin, and despite being a vampire, he had never been pale. His skin was practically ashen now, his cheeks sunken. Ebony hair that would scarce be out of place was tangled and greasy. His normally bright, aqua eyes were dull, laced with pain. Shadows danced there, the nightmare Marcus had been living reflected in them.

  It was then Shaw noticed what the others already knew. The long-sleeve shirt Marcus wore was threadbare and far too large. But that didn’t account for why the right sleeve hung limply without anything appearing to be underneath. “Mar…cus…” Shaw’s voice drifted off as he grasped for a limb that was no longer there.

  “We need to get him out of here,” Rowan repeated, squeezing Shaw’s shoulder again.

  “What? Yeah…yeah.” Shaw was already scrambling to his feet, reaching to help Marcus.

  Except, Caleb beat him to it. He swooped in, bending to slide his arm around Marcus’s waist. “Come on,” Caleb encouraged, holding the arm that once more fell across his shoulders. “I’ve got you. Put your weight on me.”

  Once Marcus was upright, Caleb’s arm locked firmly around him, holding onto his pants in an effort to keep Marcus standing. He pressed their sides together, insisting Marcus lean on him more. “I can handle it,” Caleb promised. “I’ll protect you.”

  Marcus’s lips twitched upward, for a brief moment a flash of his former self. Marcus let his head drop onto Caleb’s shoulder, murmuring what sounded like “Thank you” as he allowed himself to be supported. Caleb was left to practically manhandle him into motion.

  When Shaw—who had been taken aback by Marcus’s strange behavior—went to help, he was startled by a snarl. Caleb bared his teeth at Shaw and growled, “I’ve got ’im!”

  Shaw took a step back in shock, bumping into Rowan. “It’s okay,” Rowan said softly. Shaw had no idea what brought that on, but he trusted Rowan to know Caleb better than he did. “Go on ahead and make sure everyone gets out safely.”

  Already, most of the magicae had been ushered outside to the awaiting teams. “I’ll have healers on standby,” Shaw assured them. With an objective, Shaw slipped back into the soldier mindset, jogging to catch up with the escaping prisoners who needed him.

  “HERE,” ROWAN OFFERED Marcus, “this might help a little.” He placed a hand on Marcus’s right shoulder as they slowly made their way toward the exit. Now that he was far enough away from the cells where the magic-dampeners were located, he was able to at least take the edge of pain away. He watched as Marcus’s body released more tension.

  “Thanks, Ro,” Caleb murmured sincerely, accepting the added weight.

  “Anything for your mate.”

  Caleb huffed air from his nose, shaking his head. “Figures you’d know.”

  “You are rather easy to read.”

  Caleb didn’t answer, instead adjusting the weight at his side. “Almost there, Marcus.”

  The light was shockingly bright after being kept in darkness. Rowan flinched, walking blindly a few steps. He was hit with a powerful wind, hearing helicopter blades before opening his eyes to see them.

  “Sir, this way,” a soldier urged, holding onto Rowan’s arm to steady him. “Are there any more behind you?”

  “I think we’re the last out,” Rowan yelled above the noise, the other stragglers passing them by.

  The soldier turned to his men, signaling them to move into the prison, while others remained behind, creating a perimeter. The medics and healers were spreading out through the groups of prisoners, evaluating them.

  Shaw jogged over, a lithe battlemage in tow. “Here,” she said, flicking out a tarp, “lay him down here. You said his name’s Marcus?”

  “Yeah,” Shaw answered, helping them get him settled.

  “Marcus,” she said, trying to get his attention, “my name’s Primrose. Can you hear me?” Her hand g
lowed above him in a gentle, healing light blue.

  “Primrose?” he asked, voice still a bit rough. “Your parents must have really hated you.”

  Shaw huffed, hanging his head. “He’s fine,” he grumbled, moving aside to let Primrose work.

  To her credit, Primrose chuckled. “Better than my sister.” In answer to Marcus’s challenging brow, she said, “Fauna.”

  Even Rowan had to cringe a bit and he wasn’t exactly one to talk. However, Marcus was almost smiling, and a bit more conscious than he was before, which certainly counted for something. Caleb remained next to him, holding Marcus’s hand as he was examined. Rowan moved to stand next to Shaw, who was gazing at his long-missing friend with a mixture of emotions.

  “They’re mates,” Rowan mentioned.

  Shaw’s attention snapped up to him. “What?”

  “Marcus and Caleb.”

  Shaw let out a little laugh of disbelief. Rowan smiled at him and took his hand.

  After a moment, Shaw looked toward the prison. “Once they’ve secured the facility, they’ll bring in the investigators. We should have the survivors airlifted out as soon as everyone’s been stabilized.”

  Rowan nodded. He was distracted by observing Primrose work and watching Caleb as he combed fingers through Marcus’s hair.

  Something moved into Rowan’s vision—a necklace with a small glass vial of blood inset into an aqua aura point. Looking over, he saw Shaw’s lips twisting into the start of a smile. “I believe this is yours,” Shaw said. A glance at Shaw’s chest showed the mer scale necklace shielding a blood vial of his own.

  Smiling softly, Rowan took the necklace, sliding the chain over his neck. As it settled into place, he felt the charm warm against his skin. “Thank you,” he whispered, taking a deep, steadying breath.

  Reaching out, he snagged Shaw’s arm and drew him in. He needed his bonded close, needed to feel that hum of energy between them. There was a spark of emotion from Shaw as his hands curled into Rowan’s prison-issued shirt. Relief was mixed with anger, tinged with sorrow and regret. Rowan had no doubt in his mind that their bonding had allowed him to recognize them so easily.

  Shaw sighed heavily, and with it, a wave of determination followed. “I love you, Rowan.” Shaw squeezed him around the middle.

  “Mon l’sangé,” he murmured into Shaw’s ear, managing a smile. “My bonded blood, I adore you.”

  Shaw kissed him with a flood of emotion as hard as the kiss itself. That time, Rowan only sensed overwhelming love. He smiled against Shaw’s lips before nipping at them. Shaw chuckled, the pair of them standing there, lost in the moment as they looked into each other’s eyes.

  A grunt of pain and a curse brought them hurtling back to reality. “Shaw!” Marcus yelled.

  “Sh, I’m here. What do you need?” Shaw knelt beside Caleb, grabbing Marcus’s hand.

  “Don’t leave me,” Marcus pleaded.

  Primrose seemed to have other ideas, flagging down one of the assistants. “He needs to go out with the first group,” she ordered. “Get me a stretcher.”

  “I’m going with him,” Caleb said. When she tried to argue for room, Caleb growled, “He’s my mate.” Primrose nodded in agreement. To Shaw, she said, “We need space for the criticals.”

  Marcus squeezed Shaw’s hand tighter. “Don’t you fucking leave me,” he repeated.

  “Hey now, hush…” Shaw leaned over him, obviously trying not to look at the bandages seeping through with fresh blood, covering the stump of Marcus’s arm. “You know the procedure: evacuate the wounded, cover their escape, then pull out.”

  Marcus shook his head, body starting to tremble.

  “Caleb’s gonna be with you the whole time, you hear me?” Shaw was brushing the hair from Marcus’s face. “Your mate’s gonna be with you.”

  Marcus’s eyes slid over to Caleb. “I’m here,” Caleb assured him, bending to press their foreheads together.

  “I’ll be right behind you,” Shaw said.

  As a pair of soldiers with a stretcher appeared, Shaw gave Marcus’s hand a final squeeze before having to visibly force himself to back away. Rowan wrapped him in his arms for support, Shaw’s back to his chest. There were no words to make the situation better, so instead, Rowan offered his presence, chin resting on Shaw’s shoulder.

  “Your friend’s strong,” Primrose offered. “He’ll pull through.” She nodded to them before going to lend aid elsewhere.

  They stayed put, watching in silence while more patients were loaded onto the medevac as the blades spun up to speed. The first helicopter took off, their best friends on board, and all they could do was watch as it headed toward Everstrand without them.

  As the helicopter faded farther away, Rowan took a moment to observe the activity around them for the first time. A sea of soldiers and healers moved among the frightened former prisoners. Some were crying, clinging to the closest person. Others gazed off into space, apparently numbed to it all. Somehow they had all managed to survive.

  Victims were carried out from the prison, piled quickly onto another helicopter—more critical patients to be rushed off. At the end of the group, a body bag was placed gently to the side to be taken care of later. Shaw turned his face into Rowan’s neck, and he didn’t ask.

  It wasn’t truly hitting him yet—the sheer scope of what had been going on here. Rowan was certain it was a form of shock, though nothing like what the others were going through. Still, he felt lucky to be alive.

  “We’ll catch a ride on one of the copters here soon,” Shaw said, loosening his hold on Rowan. “Let them get out any more criticals first.”

  “Don’t you need to stick around?”

  Shaw shook his head. After a minute, he said, “I’m not even supposed to be here, remember?”

  It was ridiculous, but Rowan barked out a quick laugh. Shaw’s lips managed to curl into a smile. “Still,” Rowan reasoned, “won’t that captain be expecting your help?”

  “He has his own troops, his own operation. My part’s done.” Shaw looked up at him. “Right now? I take care of my men.”

  Rowan nodded. “We’ll do it together.”

  That brought a true smile back to Shaw’s face. He looked around, noticing there was a large group of prisoners being led to one of the small helicopters. They were walking under their own power, despite how banged up they looked. Another group was gathering as well, a little worse for wear, but far more stable than others they’d seen.

  “Oi,” Shaw called to one of the soldiers, motioning him over. “You with Captain Lawrion’s squad?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Let him know Captain Shaw flew out with the prisoners.”

  “Can do, sir.”

  Shaw pulled Rowan along toward the closest helicopter, having to raise his voice to speak above the noise. “Any of these heading to Everstrand?”

  “No, they’re going to other hospitals,” the battlemage yelled back. “That one’s going to Duneshore Base.” He pointed out the helicopter in question. “They had room for more after we sent them some of those criticals.”

  “Thanks!” To Rowan, Shaw said, “We’ll be able to get a ride out to Everstrand from there.”

  “It’s only about an hour by car,” Rowan agreed, following after Shaw.

  “Car? Try another helicopter.”

  “You have that much pull?” Rowan asked skeptically.

  “I have to call Rhys once we get there to give him the short version anyway.”

  Shaw managed to get them a couple of spots at the door, the blades whirring to life. Rowan’s grip on the frame tightened when the helicopter started to hover, his other hand grabbing at Shaw, who was sitting on the floor next to him, legs dangling over the side. Shaw laughed at him, but the sound was caught by the wind.

  Rowan poked his head around the doorframe, watching the ground grow farther away. The snow-covered facility was still crawling with activity, and the soldiers were nothing more than dots of black against the backdrop.r />
  A hand passed into his view and Rowan looked from it over to Shaw. He was smiling softly, waggling his fingers in invitation. It took convincing from Rowan’s brain to let go of his death grip. Fingers twined with his, and Rowan sank against the edge of the doorway, gratefully, with the reassurance and love Shaw sent him.

  The wind whipped at their hair and clothes, the land and water passing below them in a blur. Despite hanging on the edge of death, Rowan felt content. He gave Shaw’s hand a squeeze, leaning sideways to press a kiss to his jaw.

  Shaw smiled, stealing a proper kiss of his own.

  Rowan could barely believe what they’d just pulled off. They had rescued countless magicae and exposed the Inquisition for what they truly were. Marcus had been alive after all and, unbelievably, was Caleb’s mate, as though fate herself had intervened. The fight wasn’t over, not by a long shot. In fact, it was only the beginning. This was a new start to his life, as well—a new bonded, with a new circle of friends—and for once, Rowan didn’t fear what was to come.

  Appendix

  Schools of Magic

  CONJURATION:

  Summoning

  Creatures

  Weapons

  Shields

  Necromancy

  ENCHANTMENT:

  Wards

  Charms (affect people)

  Enchanting (affect objects)

  ALTERATION:

  Transmutation/Alchemy

  Shapechanging

  Glamours

  Light/Shadow

  Sound

  Sonar

  Throw voice

  Detect Life/Nightvision

  Quantum (a new, experimental form of magic that works side-by-side with non-mage scientists working on Quantum Theory)

  PRIMAL:

  Earth

  Water/Ice

  Fire/Electricity

  Wind

  SPIRIT/INCARNUM (former name):

  Blood Magic

  Healing

  Hexes/Curses

  Mana Draining

  Spirit Walking/Dream Walking

  Spirit Tracking

  UNOFFICIAL FORMS OF MAGIC (anyone can learn to do these, but they can be enhanced by magic and are often offered as courses by a guild):