The Sorcerer’s Guardian

by Antonia Aquilante

  “We should help,” Loriot said as they drew closer. “They’ll never move that on their own.”

  The tree was huge and old, with a thick trunk, and tall enough to stretch across the road and beyond. “They’ll never move it even with our help if all we’re doing is pushing at it.”

  “We can’t just leave it there.”

  “I didn’t suggest we should. Get them away from the tree, and I’ll move it.”

  Loriot stared at him for a moment and then snapped into action. He rode forward and called out to the milling people in a forceful voice Savarin could imagine him using with his guardsmen. He took control of the situation far more quickly than Savarin could have imagined, his authority resting easily and quite attractively on his shoulders.

  But that was neither here nor there.

  Soon Loriot had the people on both sides of the tree moving aside to give Savarin room. Savarin rode closer and dismounted. As he waited for Loriot to make sure everyone was far enough away, he studied the tree and mapped out what he would do.

  Loriot rode back to his side and dismounted. “Ready?”

  “Of course.” He handed Loriot his horse’s reins and waited until Loriot backed away. He wasn’t worried about harming Loriot or anyone else with the magic, but he didn’t need someone getting scared or one of the horses being spooked and causing an accident.

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he pulled up his Talent from inside himself. With his focus on the tree, he wrapped magic around it and used it to slowly lift the tree into the air and swing it around. When it was in the proper position, he lowered it gently to lay on the side of the road.

  The people gathered on the road were silent staring at him. For a moment, then another, no one moved; no one spoke. Then Loriot stepped up beside him, the reins to both horses still gripped in his fist. “All right?”

  Savarin nodded. “Fine. Ready to go?”

  “When you are.”

  “I am.” The tree no longer barred anyone’s way, and he refused to let it delay them any longer. He took his horse from Loriot and mounted up. Hardly waiting for Loriot to do the same, he began to ride forward at a walk as he moved through the bystanders. A couple voiced their thanks for his help, but they all stared at him, stepping back to clear a path for him and Loriot to ride through. Loriot might be staring at him too, but he didn’t look back to check. He’d enjoyed the last few days of no one but Loriot knowing of his Talent, but the stares were nothing new. He’d had far worse when his Talent first made itself known in its rather explosive way and any number of times since.

  He picked up the pace when he cleared the crowd, only glancing over when Loriot caught up and rode at his side again. Loriot met his eyes briefly. “Savarin, are you sure you’re all right?”

  The concern was oddly comforting, if unneeded. The magic, though impressive looking, hadn’t been particularly draining. “I’m sure.” He paused. “Thank you.”

  They fell back into the routine that had developed on their journey before the storm interrupted. Savarin could almost believe those days hadn’t happened at all, that he and Loriot hadn’t spent most of them tangled together in bed. Almost. And even that was shattered when they stopped at a much smaller inn that night. Loriot shot him a look simmering with heat and told the innkeeper they would only need one bedchamber.

  Savarin was tempted to contradict Loriot and insist on two, but the innkeeper was watching them with far too much interest as it was, and even if Savarin didn’t care what the innkeeper thought of him, they didn’t need to attract undue attention on this journey. Someone was trying to tamper with the protective barriers, and they had no idea who or where those people might be. Even if the culprits were nowhere near, he didn’t want anyone finding out what they were trying to do out here. Calling attention to the protection spells was a bad idea.

  By the time he and Loriot reached their bedchamber, a smaller one than they’d shared the last couple of nights, Savarin was seething.

  Loriot walked across the room and set his bags near the wardrobe. When he turned back to Savarin, surprise flashed across his face. “Something wrong?”

  “You have to ask?” He released his bags, catching them with magic before they hit the floor and carrying them through the air.

  Loriot’s gaze followed them until they settled gently beside his. “Interesting. And yes, I have to ask because I don’t know why you’re irritated.”

  Savarin’s irritation was not soothed by Loriot’s patient tone. “You decided we would share a bedchamber. Did you even think to ask me if I wanted to?”

  Another flash of surprise followed by befuddlement. “I didn’t think I needed to after the last few days. We enjoyed ourselves, didn’t we?”

  “We did, but I can’t be distracted.” And Loriot could quite easily be a distraction. A pleasurable one, but a distraction nonetheless. “My work is important.”

  “I’m aware of the importance of your work,” Loriot said and came toward Savarin in what could only be described as a prowl. “But you can’t work all night.”

  Savarin pushed aside the stirrings of heat in favor of annoyance at the amusement he could hear in Loriot’s words, and stepped backward. “This is serious, Loriot. Treat it as such.”

  “Oh, I am. You need to relax sometimes or you won’t accomplish anything.” With a wicked smile, Loriot kept advancing, crowding Savarin back until he came up against the door. “You’ll be far more clearheaded if you allow yourself a little enjoyable distraction.”

  “I can’t see how that—” He got no further as Loriot’s lips crashed down on his. He pulled back, but Loriot chased him, eating at his lips in one of those kisses that he was beginning to crave. And he was craving them now. His mouth was too occupied to voice the litany of curses filling his mind as he pulled Loriot closer, fighting for control of the kiss, enjoying the press of Loriot’s hard body against his own.

  Loriot broke the kiss and put just enough distance between them so they could look into each other’s eyes. Loriot was much more serious than he had been. “Yes?”

  Of course. Savarin wasn’t so weak that he couldn’t have pushed Loriot away if he wanted to—pushed him across the room and out the window with his Talent if he really wanted to—but Loriot would ask. He put a hand to Loriot’s face, cupping his prickly jaw and running a thumb over Loriot’s already kiss-swollen lower lip. “Yes.”

  With a fierce grin, Loriot swooped back in for another kiss, pushing his way into Savarin’s mouth and exploring with his tongue. Savarin abandoned a half-formed thought of urging Loriot to the bed and instead pulled him up, tight against Savarin, with a firm grip on his backside. He could feel Loriot hard against his hip and pushed closer, a shiver running through him as Loriot groaned into the kiss. He enjoyed ruffling Loriot’s stoicism almost as much as anything else. But that didn’t stop him from pulling Loriot even closer when he felt Loriot trying to put some distance between them. Until he realized Loriot was only fighting to get a hand between them. He let Loriot unfasten their breeches and push them out of the way while he occupied himself with exploring Loriot’s body with his hands. He regretted that Loriot was still wearing clothes, especially since he knew what was under them, but he promptly forgot his disappointment when Loriot took them both in a firm grip.

  Savarin slid one hand behind Loriot’s head and anchored Loriot to him, taking control of the hungry kisses as they thrust against each other. He needed to breathe, but he needed to keep kissing Loriot too, needed to keep moving with him. Loriot’s other hand slapped against the door beside Savarin’s head, and Loriot stiffened. Savarin caught his cry in the kiss and found his release a moment later as Loriot kept stroking them.

  Loriot’s movements gentled, then stopped. Their kisses slowed and turned languid until Loriot broke away and let his head fall to rest on Savarin’s shoulder. For a long while, the only sound in the room was of their breathing, harsh and panting. Savarin thought longingly of the bed but couldn’t brin
g himself to move. Finally Loriot shifted against him but didn’t pull away. “Relaxed?” Loriot mumbled.

  The laugh that burst out of Savarin was unexpected. “Quite.”

  “Good.”

  Chapter 15

  LORIOT LEANED back against a tree after doing a circuit of the area around where Savarin was using his magic. Savarin continued to examine the protective spells at intervals, but Loriot had noticed his frustration growing. Perhaps Savarin was slipping in keeping up his impassive appearance or perhaps Loriot was just getting better at reading him. Savarin hardly said anything about what he did, but Loriot could assume he wasn’t finding as much as he’d hoped.

  He did think his way of relaxing Savarin might be working. Loriot certainly felt more relaxed in the two weeks since he and Savarin had first gone to bed than he had earlier in their trip. He missed his son; he worried over what might be happening back in Jumelle despite regular reports from Ruban. He also enjoyed his nights with Savarin and their talks during the day as well, when he could coax Savarin out of his brooding thoughts about the protection spells long enough to have conversations. When he managed it, he was reminded how clever Savarin was and was learning that he had a dry wit as well.

  So far they’d hardly been bothered while out on the road. And really, by bothered he only meant a few overly curious travelers he’d had to subtly nudge on their way. No danger, though. He’d begun to wonder if the princes had been overly cautious in sending him out here with Savarin.

  Still he wouldn’t be less than vigilant. He did another circuit of the area, winding through the woods. They were under the cover of trees, their preference to avoid being seen from the road if at all possible. He didn’t expect to find anything on this circuit, as he hadn’t on any other. But this time he felt a prickling at the back of his neck, as if he were being watched. Had Savarin finished already? Loriot hadn’t heard him move. But no, when he checked, Savarin was still exactly where he’d been. So what was causing the feeling? He stilled, listening, trying to figure out if someone was there or if he was overreacting to a squirrel.

  He turned, expecting to see a flash of red coat as one of the little rodents scampered up a tree and instead caught the flash of light on steel as a blade swung toward him. He dodged to the side, but the sword still sliced into his upper arm. He ignored the quick bite of pain, experienced enough to know the cut was shallow. Ducking away, he drew his own sword and brought it up to block the next blow.

  His assailant pressed forward, trying to get Loriot off balance, but he hadn’t counted on Loriot’s skill and experience. Or Loriot didn’t think he had. He seemed slightly taken aback that he hadn’t managed to take Loriot by surprise and end the fight quickly—or take him without a fight at all. In any case, Loriot was able to dispatch his attacker relatively quickly.

  He almost didn’t see the other man jump out to take his place. A flurry of blows moved Loriot backward before he got his footing under him again and went on the offensive. His new attacker scrambled to defend himself as well, and Loriot had him retreating when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Glancing in that direction almost cost him his advantage, but it was enough to show him another man moving through the trees.

  In Savarin’s direction.

  Savarin’s words filtered back into Loriot’s mind. To go after the sorcerer physically before magic could be used. And Savarin was just sitting there, oblivious to all that was going on around him.

  They’d spoken of how to pull Savarin from his magic—gently, slowly, if possible. Well it wasn’t possible now, not if Savarin wanted to live. He blocked another cleaving blow and shouted, “Savarin!”

  He parried another few blows and lashed out with a vicious kick. “Savarin! Savarin, now!” His attacker came at him again, and he concentrated on fighting him off, this man more skilled or more determined than the other. He couldn’t tell if there were more than the one other he’d seen. “Savarin!”

  “Wha—”

  The reply, so quickly cut off, worried him, but he couldn’t stop fighting to go to Savarin. A strangled cry followed, and Loriot’s blood ran cold, but still he couldn’t shake the swordsman long enough to go to Savarin.

  And then between one blow and the next, the man he was fighting flew up and backward, smashing into the thick trunk of a tree. He hadn’t even had a chance to cry out. Loriot crouched by him and checked for a pulse with the hand not still gripping his sword. Nothing.

  Savarin. Loriot rose quickly and jogged through the trees, sword still out and ready. Though if his attacker had met this fate, he couldn’t imagine that Savarin’s hadn’t met with one similar. He burst into the small clearing where Savarin had chosen to work. A man sprawled on the ground at the edge of the small clearing, his head at an unnatural angle. A few feet away, Savarin climbed to his feet, one hand pressed to his side.

  Savarin’s sharp gaze scoured over Loriot. “You’re bleeding. How bad is it?”

  “Not bad, and I need to ask you the same,” Loriot said as he walked closer to Savarin. He reached for Savarin’s hand, lifting it away from his side even as Savarin resisted. The blood staining Savarin’s clothes was not encouraging. “Let me see.”

  “It’s not that bad. Not too deep.”

  “Then why do you sound as if you’ve been running for hours?” He didn’t like the way the blood was spreading, and he didn’t like how winded Savarin sounded. He let Savarin put his hand back over the wound and pressed down on top of it, forcing himself to ignore Savarin’s hiss of pain.

  Savarin glared at him. “I was pulled abruptly out of using my Talent to try to insinuate myself in a complicated spell to find someone trying to kill me and had to use my Talent to stop him and the rest of them. And I’m bleeding on top of it.”

  “Let’s do something to stop the bleeding.”

  “Well, I don’t have a Talent for that, so we’ll have to do it the regular way.” He looked around, making sure they were alone. “I got all of them, I believe.”

  “Let me check first.” At Savarin’s nod, Loriot left him and did a fast circuit through the trees again. He found two other bodies, but no one alive. Either Savarin’s magic had in fact taken care of all of their attackers, or anyone else had run. He quickly searched the men but found nothing to tell him who they were, and he didn’t like leaving Savarin for too long. Yes, Savarin had proven he could take care of himself, but he was injured.

  Savarin was leaning against a tree when Loriot returned to the clearing, hand still clutched on his side, but it looked as if he’d pulled out a handkerchief to place over the wound. Loriot really didn’t like how weak he looked, or how quickly the blood was spreading over that handkerchief.

  “Nothing. Let’s get back to the horses.”

  “I told you I got them all.”

  “Yes, yes, you told me.” He put an arm around Savarin, supporting him as they began to walk. And worried because Savarin didn’t protest that he could walk on his own.

  “I also told you I could take care of myself.”

  He shook his head, filled with a crazy urge to laugh. “Yes, once you noticed someone was there trying to kill you.”

  Amazingly enough Savarin said nothing. If Loriot couldn’t practically feel him glaring, he might have been scared. The horses were where they left them and fine. Loriot left Savarin leaning against another tree and rummaged in one of the bags for bandages. He wanted to get them away from here as quickly as possible, so he only wrapped the wound over Savarin’s clothes. Savarin’s face tightened, but he didn’t make a sound. He quickly wrapped the wound on his arm as well, though the bleeding had slowed to almost nothing already.

  “We need to get you to a healer,” he said, studying Savarin critically. Savarin’s pale skin looked practically white. “Can you ride?”

  “I—I don’t know.” Savarin looked pained to admit even that much weakness.

  “It’s all right. We’ll ride double.”

  “We won’t make it far like that. We’re
too heavy.”

  That morning he’d planned out where they would stop for the night, knowing they would make the next town that would have an inn. But they wouldn’t make it that far now, not with Savarin so weak and them riding double. He’d planned to avoid this visit, but there was little choice now. “I have somewhere for us to go.”

  That Savarin didn’t bother to ask where did nothing to lessen Loriot’s anxiety.

  “WHAT HAVE you brought to us, son?”

  Loriot hissed as his sister by marriage cleaned the cut on his arm. “Sorry,” Beata whispered.

  “It’s all right.” He looked up at Father, who was still waiting for an answer. “What do you mean?”

  “You show up with no warning, wounded, with another wounded man who’s nearly unconscious. I’m wondering what trouble you ran into and if it’s going to follow you here.”

  “Doubtful.” He glanced at Beata again. “How does it look?”

  “Not bad. The boys have gotten worse from roughhousing with each other.” She gave him a small smile. “But we’ll have the healer look at it anyway when he’s done with your friend. Don’t be stubborn, Loriot.”

  He laughed but gave in. “You know me well.”

  “I have sons. I know boys. I’ll cover it for now.” She wrapped a bandage around his arm, her fingers gentle.

  “So what happened?” Father asked, pulling up a chair in front of Loriot’s at the table in the kitchen. “I didn’t even know you were nearby.”

  He hadn’t planned on his family finding out. Not because he didn’t love them or want to see them, but because he was on a mission from the princes with Savarin and visiting family was not something that fit into the purpose of their trip. “We were attacked in the woods near the border.”