by R. K. Thorne
“Hold,” his mother’s voice rang out, strong and clear, the voice of a queen. But it was a silvery, echoing version of her voice—was he hearing it with his mind or his ears? Her golden hair was pure white light, her gown the faintest blue. The image swam strangely, as though she were underwater.
Mara’s blade was still drawn. She did not move, nor make any sign that she would run, either. She said nothing.
“Who are you?” his mother demanded.
Mara said nothing, dark eyes darting, measuring, calculating.
“I am Queen Elise of Akaria. You have my son as your captive. By all five mountains, I demand you tell me your name and release him immediately.”
Mara was breathing quickly. He saw her jaw tighten, then release, then tighten again, as she considered how to respond.
She called back simply, “I cannot.”
His mother’s lips pressed together as she frowned. “Don’t be stupid. This can be settled peacefully.”
“No,” Mara said, her voice a mixture of strange emotions. “It cannot.”
His mother shook her head. “I will give you one last chance. Do not force my hand. I have come to you to negotiate. Are you turning me away? We will have no choice but to pursue and destroy you if you will not cooperate.”
He saw Mara’s form tense as if poised for immediate attack. But nothing else changed.
“I wish there were some deal that could be reached,” Mara replied. Odd thing for a kidnapper to say. “But there is nothing I can ask you for. You have nothing I need. It cannot be. My—” She tried to say something else but winced and cut herself short. Her hand moved briefly to rub her shoulder, then back to steady herself against the log.
“So be it, then,” his mother said. “You choose to bring the wrath of Akaria upon you. A fool’s choice—you will die before I let you hurt him.” With another blast of the wind, the figures in light were gone.
Aven blinked at the ferocity of her words. In a hall full of warriors, his mother often seemed to be a beacon of refinement. It was easy to lose sight of the powerful warrior queen she really was.
Mara stayed frozen for a moment, listening, the vanishing image putting her by no means at ease.
“Come.” She grabbed him by the shirt and rushing back toward the horses. “There are some ruins on the crest of the hill—let’s go. This isn’t over.”
Kres was happy to break into a gallop for once, and Miara was happy to oblige him. They dismounted when they reached what appeared to be the remains of a temple—elegant, tall, and tragically indefensible. She had dared to hope for some kind of fortification, but no such luck. They ventured inside on foot, bringing the horses with them. Ancient stone columns rose up, holding high stone halls and roofs intact, leaving a darkened shell with shafts of sunlight streaming in. Writing she didn’t recognize was etched into a white stone wall to their left.
“Tell me what it says,” she said.
“This is a temple of ancestors,” Aven replied, voice echoing. “A place to commune with generations before.”
Just her luck—she did not think past generations were cheering her on, certainly not on her mother’s side. Ah, well, it was better than an open plain. Perhaps there would be quarters for the priests and priestesses that would be more defensible than this shooting gallery.
A pebble tumbled across a rock somewhere behind them.
Someone, or some thing, was following them.
She held a finger to her lips to indicate silence. Of course, she couldn’t trust him, but she also needed every bit of energy for a potential fight. He seemed to want to learn magic more than he wanted to escape. Perhaps it was a ploy, but it was a chance she was willing to take.
She dropped the horses’ reins to leave them in place. She muffled the sound of her and Aven’s footsteps against the stone and drew him against the wall. She paused and scanned for any motion. Nothing. They slid along the wall toward the main altar of the temple.
Another sound of stone crumbling, tumbling against the rock.
She felt her heart start to pound now in spite of herself. Would it be mages? Warriors? How many? Something else? The queen herself was unlikely—or she wouldn’t have visited them via the light. She could have visited in person and attacked immediately. No, the queen was not that close. But she would not have approached if she hadn’t planned to make a move.
Visiting via the light meant the queen could be an air mage. But if she were, she would have also have attacked right away. Perhaps she was untrained or waiting for a certain moment, but most likely she wasn’t an air mage. Another air mage probably cast the light visit spell. That meant the queen was either a creature or an earth mage, and since the ground wasn’t shaking, Mara had a fairly good guess as to which.
What if it wasn’t anything, just a stray cat, and she was wasting energy on nothing? She could reach out and find out, but using her magic to search the area would reveal their presence to any pursuers. Was the sparrow nearby? Kres knew how to keep out of a creature mage’s view, but what about Cora? With the sparrow following them and their altercation with the queen so close behind, Akarian eyes had almost certainly followed them and knew their general location, if not their exact one. So perhaps location wasn’t much of a secret to be kept.
If she could simply get close or edge up alongside them, maybe she could sense their presence without alerting them to her own. If she found nothing there, knowing for sure would save her a lot of energy. If she discovered a mage, well, their pursuers were likely close enough to find her and Aven anyway.
She reached out slowly, cautiously, to feel for any sign of life.
The plan of attempting to remain hidden failed miserably. Her mind became aware of them at the exact instant they became aware of her. Wolves. And they were hunting her.
She didn’t need to hear their feet on the stone to know they were coming. She abandoned Aven and sprinted in the opposite direction, trying to buy herself at least a little time to call for help. To continue her mission, she’d have to survive this first.
She reached out around her for any creature to help her—but there was nothing. She found nothing. How could there be nothing alive anywhere close? Unless… there were creature mages behind this who had also called possible help away. How could it be?
She was nearly to the altar when the first wolf reached her, leaping on her from behind. She felt its claws dig into her shoulders as her body thudded into the stone floor. One claw in particular dug into the brand on her shoulder as the wolf closed his mouth over her neck, then yanked its paw away as if burned.
Please, wait— she started, unsure of how to stop the attack.
Release your prisoner, it insisted, tightening its bite.
I can’t!
Its teeth dug in deeper, breaking the skin slightly.
I can’t! I swear! I, too, am a prisoner.
Now the wolf seemed to hesitate. You are poisoned. You are sick. What is wrong with your shoulder?
Magic. I must do what others say. I am their prisoner. I am a slave. They made me capture him. She didn’t know if the wolf would understand the concept of a slave, but what else could she do but beg?
The man you hold is good. He does not deserve to be harmed. It is not the Balance. The wolf’s voice was stern.
I know, she answered back weakly. I know, she thought. Go ahead and kill me. It is the only way to set him free. Perhaps it would be for the best. She squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself.
Instead, her neck was suddenly cold. The wolf gingerly released her and backed off.
She opened her eyes to see it looking at her. Two others stood behind it, watching, as did another out of the corner of her eye—Aven. No— No, don’t—
The man you hold is good. His mother is justified in protecting her cub. But we cannot kill you. That would be against the Balance, too. We will not bear either debt.
There is no other way to free him.
There is always another way if it is agains
t the Balance. The wolf’s eyes narrowed and glittered yellow as it regarded her for a moment. Then it turned with a huff and a nod and trotted out.
Aven rushed toward her now and crouched down. “What the hell was that? You’re bleeding. Are you okay?”
The fool hadn’t run. He was more concerned about her injuries. Damn it all to hell. The wolves and his mother were right. For the first time in her life, she wished she were dead. Bastard wolves and their moral standards. Damn it all.
She pulled energy from him again, this time to heal her wounds, as she found a rag in her belt pouch.
“Hey! I felt that,” he said, glaring mockingly at her.
“Very good. Getting better. You’re not hopeless, I guess.”
She shut her eyes for a moment, feeding the energy to her neck, her shoulders, her throbbing head, where her wrists had slammed against the stone. She felt him take the rag from her hands and dab at the blood on her neck. He caught his breath as he saw the wounds close.
“You’re not afraid of blood, I see,” she whispered as she opened her eyes.
“You’re not afraid of anything, it seems.”
“That’s not at all true.”
“Akarians are warriors. Warriors bleed. What kind of Akarian would I be if I were afraid of a little blood?”
Still quite a good one, she suspected. She reached up and covered his hand with hers, stopping him from wiping blood from healed skin for a moment. His skin felt rough, strange, electric. “Enough. I’m fine. Don’t be kind to me. I don’t deserve it.”
He gave her the rag but shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong.” He turned and knelt before the altar to pray.
“What are you doing?”
“Praying to my ancestors. For guidance. The Code decrees I must pay homage if I’m near a temple like this. But also—I could use some. If I’m going to survive your training.” He gave her a sideways smile.
She knelt beside him. She didn’t know if any of her ancestors would even be on her side. But guidance didn’t sound like a bad idea.
“How will we know when she’s dead?” Seulka asked him. They’d been simply eating their lunch, and then out of the blue, this. How long had she been thinking of asking? “She’s probably lying dead in a ditch somewhere, and we’re just sitting here waiting like a patient dog for its master to return.”
Daes snorted at that analogy. “How can you be so sure? Perhaps she has him or at least has reached her objective.”
She made a disgusted noise. “Please. We should check. Are we just going to wait for them to declare war? What if she was somehow extra subtle about it? What if we have to do something more to provoke them?”
“When did you get such a thirst for battle? I thought that was my job.” He grinned at her, and she scowled back.
“It’s only been a few days. Give it time. Even if she’s captured him, Akaria will have to determine how to respond. She’s just one mage.” He hadn’t spoken much about it to Seulka, but he’d begun training units of them together. He had big hopes for what he could accomplish with four times the power and a complementary variety of skills assembled. But she worried too much. He would tell her of his units when he had an imminent, easy victory for them.
She was eating angrily, cutting her fowl into viciously tiny pieces.
“Well, there’s no need to be in a huff,” he said. “We can look in on her, if it would make you feel better.” He had been planning to check the mage’s progress today or tomorrow anyway—might as well let Seulka think it was her idea.
She stopped, then gave a curt, but relieved nod. “Summon a farseer, we are in need of their services,” she called to the guards.
He and Seulka ate in silence while they waited, he relieved, she far less vicious.
A guard announced the air mage’s arrival. A slender, blond man approached the dais and bowed.
“You are one of Brother Lithan’s pupils, if I recall,” Daes said.
The air mage nodded with another somber bow. So this one was not the rebellious type. Brother Lithan was in line to be the head priest of Nefrana in the region, and only his never-ending quarrels with Brother Sefim had held him back so far. Lithan was also one of the most dogmatic, self-hating zealots Daes had ever met, and his students tended to admire these qualities. While Daes knew he ought to prefer the logic of obedience, he found himself disliking the air mage a little. Perhaps the creature mage was stupid to resist her fate—but she was strong. By contrast, she made this air mage look a little pathetic to bow so willingly, to embrace the dogma of hating the self so readily.
Was he going mad? How had she gotten into his head so? All resistance was foolish, and no one was going to convince him otherwise.
“Your name,” Daes demanded.
“Sorin, sir,” the mage replied.
“Sorin, I am glad you take Lithan’s words to heart. Many do not want to believe that evil can come from within their own heart, but wishing does not make it untrue.” Daes used his name this time as a compliment. It was not the typical way they addressed mage slaves. He said the usual spiel, but the words felt hollow. Truthfully, deep down, Daes did not care if magic was evil or not, only that this power was his to wield.
“Well said, sir,” he replied.
“Mage, we wish to see another mage,” said Seulka.
“Who, Mistress?”
“The creature mage Miara. She is in Akaria, or should be, on our command.”
There was a subtle change in his expression, but Daes could not quite decipher it. This mage knew Miara and had some sort of connection to her. But what? Did he disapprove of her? Or was it in fact the opposite? Men sought to hide many things, but infatuation was among the most difficult conceal.
“I reviewed her maps before she left, Mistress, so it should be quick if she’s on the routes she planned to take.”
The mage spread his arms and bent at the elbows, palms up, as though circling some invisible tree trunk. He closed his eyes. The empty air between his arms shifted into to a shimmering, pale light. A river solidified into view, then a bridge. They were following a road. They traced it all the way to some high mountains and then into the woods. Leaves flew by for quite some time until, suddenly, the mage appeared.
Seulka gasped. “She’s done it!”
His rebellious mage, his best spy. It frightened him a little, the excitement that he felt when he saw her. She’d done it, just as he had thought she could. But of course he would be rooting for her. The nobles had doubted her as much as they had him, but he and the mage slave were showing the fools that talent mattered far more than lineage.
The mage rode on a horse, the prince on another by her side. Her captive didn’t appear to be restrained in any way, but he also wasn’t fleeing. She must have something holding him, if only trickery. Daes didn’t care how she got the job done as long as she succeeded. They appeared to be two unremarkable travelers, riding along through the forest in silence.
It was a work of mastery.
“That was quick,” Daes said, smirking at Seulka. “I told you she could do it.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Listen to your bad manners. I told you so, I told you so.” She glared, but then softened. “Remarkable. A lone woman holding a man captive. It seems hardly possible. How?” she breathed. Was that a hint of jealousy in her voice?
“One piece of iron holds hundreds of mages captive,” said Daes. “Clearly, neither is impossible.”
Seulka simply frowned down at the circle of light, still marveling at what she saw.
Then something occurred to him, a way to test this mage and see what exactly that glimmer in his eyes had meant. “But now that she’s captured him, you have me thinking. One lone woman—why not stack the cards in our favor? Perhaps we should send this mage to help her.”
Seulka’s eyes brightened, as did the mage’s. So he was excited to accompany her? Infatuation, indeed. Daes immediately regretted the suggestion—this air mage was far too excited for this t
ask. If he had his own agenda, he could endanger the real purpose. Although, if that had been to send the mage to her death and cause a diplomatic incident, everything was already going well awry—to the minds of his colleagues, at least.
“No, it’s unnecessary,” he said hastily. “She is already farther along than we thought she’d be. We should let it be.”
“Don’t be silly, that’s a brilliant idea. What’s the harm in it? I told her I’d give her a turning of the moon, but more assistance can’t hurt, can it?”
“I suppose not, but—”
“Nonsense, Daes. You should really learn to follow your intuition. Mage, come over here.” For once, she was quick to act. The air mage dropped the circle and stepped forward, and the image of Miara and the Akarian faded.
Without hesitation or warning, she seized his shoulder over the brand. Sorin gasped and scowled in pain but did not shrink from her. Perhaps not as weak as Daes had first assumed, or he was deeply passionate about his commitment to their service. He hoped for the former.
“Go, mage,” she whispered. “Go to Akaria, and find this mage and Prince Aven Lanuken of Akaria. Aid her in his kidnapping and bring him back to your Masters as quietly and speedily as you can. Let no one know a mage was involved.”
When she let go, he wilted, recovering from the pain. Then after a few moments, he straightened and met Seulka’s gaze.
“I request my leave, then, so that I may begin your task,” he said. “They are already a long way away.”
Seulka smiled, pleased. “Go, then. Prepare, pack, and be on your way.”
The mage nodded and left the room at a trot. Daes scowled after him into the empty hallway.
Chapter 7
Confessions
Miara and Aven reached the next town well after nightfall. “Ready?” she asked.
He nodded, jaw clenched. He looked regal in the dim light from the moon and windows from the village. She delayed for just a moment at the stateliness of his expression, the line of his jaw. She transformed him, but the image stuck in her mind.
