by R. K. Thorne
She poured more mead and returned to her seat. Now she surveyed the home again for places to hide. If the Devoted came back before he returned, or in some unforeseen circumstance, she would need options. Sadly, she could not think up many options and only concluded that she could definitely hide somewhat under the bed, unless someone looked directly under it at her. Otherwise, the home was sparse enough that there wasn’t much else. The cupboards were stocked full, and the table provided no opportunities to hide.
She continued to drink the mead and began noticing more spells the longer she sat. The hearth that had burned so steadily, so low, and reignited so easily—it was no coincidence. The slabs of stone were imbued with energy, not exactly spelled but simply charged with a mage’s powers. Why? How? And who was the mage creating them all?
Could Tharomar be the mage? And if so, how could no one have noticed it?
It must be him. She had never known she’d had powers before they’d captured her. He must simply not know. How unfortunate that he be so pious then. Unless he had a wife or partner. Someone had to be casting these spells. And if he did have a spouse, he really should not bring home young women and leave them alone in his cottage like this.
She reached out toward the smithy. The swirling mass of energy thrummed with power. The spells were not intent on doing any specific things, but instead, the mage owned the metal, the stone, the hearth more fully. The rock and iron around the smithy sang with joyful power, his in more ways than one.
Another mage who didn’t like mages. And didn’t know he was one.
Great. Just great.
Eventually, she heard footsteps returning. Indeed, it was no wife. Tharomar again. Clean and thrumming with fresh, strange energy. Where had he acquired that from?
He had also brought her a pie.
“What the—” she started.
“You need to eat, don’t you?”
She nodded and accepted the dish. She discovered with delight a meat pie drowning in a steaming stew of soft carrots, turnips, and gravy.
“By the gods. Where did you get this?”
“Morigna, on the other side of the smithy. I brought you a change of clothes too. Thought you might want to get out of that muddy mess.”
She slowed in her chewing, and only partly because he’d acknowledged she must look like she’d just rolled out of a pigsty. How was she going to repay him for all this? Oh, and who cared what he thought of what she looked like anyway.
“We barter for everything around here. Don’t worry about it.” He met her gaze levelly as if trying to reinforce his sincerity. He had read her too easily. It was unnerving. Up until now, the fact that he hadn’t read her well had only worked in her favor. She didn’t particularly want that to change. “Want me to step out while you change? This place isn’t designed much for privacy.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “Water there—to wash with, if you like.”
She nodded, and he stepped out again wordlessly. She washed as quickly as she could and slipped into the new clothes he’d found. Thank Anara, not a dress. The tired grayish-brown trousers and tawny tunic were worn. Patches of cheerful red and orange covered a knee, an elbow, and a handful of other spots. Well, all the better. She didn’t need the guilt of leaving no coin and disappearing with an outfit the farmers had worked hard to get. Unless… these things were still not the worst they had. No matter, nothing she could do about that now. She would keep a mental tally of all she’d received from them and try to send payment once she was safe in Akaria. If she ever made it safe to Akaria.
She coaxed the mud out of her previous clothes gently, leaving a dusting on the floor that she hoped he wouldn’t notice. Folding the now clean clothes, she tucked the tidy pile behind the knapsack. Untying it wasn’t worth the risk of exposing the brand. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice the clothes were now clean and that she hadn’t really needed a change of clothes after all.
“Tharomar?” she called. His name felt strange and awkward on her tongue.
He returned with a smile, and she returned to her chair, glad she didn’t have to limp over and get him. As she ate the rest of the pie, he busied himself around the cottage. She studied her mead and the flames. She tried not to think. It helped, and the ankle did feel better. She felt… less terrified that her whole plan had gone off the rails and she had completely lost control of the situation. Perhaps it was just the mead. She unwound her braid of braids and let them fall around her face. She relaxed, her eyelids drooped. She listened to the crackle of the fire. The sound of him crushing something in a pestle behind her perked her anxieties once again. What was he up to? After some time, he stopped his machinations in his nearby cupboard and jutted a chin at the bed.
“You can sleep there, if you like. Or Morigna can make room by her fire, but she does have a young babe. I can sleep on these rugs. I fall asleep there half the time anyway.” He smiled.
“I… I do think I could use the rest,” she said sleepily. Well, that wasn’t much of an answer.
He seemed to understand without additional clarity on her part. Again he took her arm over his shoulder and helped her hobble-hop over to the bed. Did he release her with hesitation, or was that her imagination? His warmth left her side, leaving her cold. She eased herself down on the far side of the straw mattress, nearest the wall, as he covered her with a scratchy, gray wool blanket. He moved away again, back to his cupboard, then to the table, then the cupboard. She relaxed a bit more. She wound the scarf she’d found in the new set of clothes around her hair, both for warmth and to protect the braids.
How could she possibly be so relaxed when she had the stolen brand to make a mage a slave in a bag five feet from her bed, and all the Devoted and guards of Mage Hall looking for her?
What had been in that salve? Or was it the mead? Or the meat pie? Or those dashing brown eyes? Or maybe those spells today had just been more tiring than she’d thought.
He came back to check on her periodically. Once, when she was nearly asleep, he stayed for one moment, two. She could feel him watching her. He pulled the blanket up slightly over her shoulder. Her brand was but inches from his fingers. What would he think of it? Would he be repulsed to see it?
She opened her eyes a little. A small, concerned smile graced his face, nothing more. No hint of malice or even surprise.
“Why are you helping me?” she said, letting fear color her voice.
He blinked. There, now he was a touch surprised? He quickly hid his surprise away, making her uneasy once again. He was hiding something. Whatever it was, it was unlikely to be good. Still, she couldn’t convince herself of any malevolent motives while he stared into her eyes.
“Because,” he said, shrugging, “someone helped me once, and it made a world of difference. Besides, it’s the Way. How you deserve to be treated.” Was he flirting, or was she imagining things? Or was it the mead? “It is how I would want to be treated. And have been, in my time of need. Don’t worry. It’ll come back to me in the end.”
They were both silent for a moment. He patted her forearm reassuringly.
“Tharomar?”
“Yes?”
“You are… different.”
“I have heard that a few times.”
The mead was lulling her toward sleep.
“Tharomar?”
“Yes? I’m still here.” Her eyes were closed.
“Sleep beside me. It’s all right. No point in sleeping on the floor.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” It was a small way to repay his kindness and make her stay less of an imposition on his life.
“Nothing untoward will come of it, I promise you.” She barely heard him nestle into the straw mattress beside her before she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 6
Gatherings
Aven’s balcony had been transformed. Additional benches and chairs dotted the garden, now filling with people. Torches had been hung in sconces he hadn’t realized were there, and three blazing braziers m
ade some attempt to provide warmth and light. Aven still wore his heaviest cloak, though, and had exchanged his leather jerkin for a black gambeson.
Aven scanned those who had gathered. No one had turned down his invitation, unless he counted Beneral, who was not yet ready to reveal his magic so openly. Everyone else had come. How many people outside their group knew that this was happening? He hadn’t asked any of them to keep the event a secret, knowing that might have encouraged gossip. But he didn’t exactly want the whole kingdom to know, let alone Kavanar. There was probably little hope of preventing that, though.
“Thank you for coming, everyone.” He held out his hands wide as the group quieted. “I spoke with most of you personally. But in case you haven’t heard, I’ve been causing a bit of a ruckus.” A ripple of laughter flitted through the crowd. “We as a kingdom pride ourselves on our military strength. But we’ve let ourselves neglect one area: magic. We must be better trained and equipped to defend against whatever mage army Kavanar chooses to throw at us. And I’ve heard a few of you might be able to help with this problem.”
“Are we going to war?” someone asked.
“Possibly. It is as yet unclear.”
“What can we do to help?” said another.
“The king is considering exactly how he wants to handle this,” Aven said. “There are a lot of things we don’t know. The first step I’ve been tasked with is to free more mages, with help from Miara and Wunik. To aid that effort, we need air mages. For those prepared to defend Akaria from the mage troops Kavanar is building, we need to organize ourselves into units that can work with the rest of the army. We need to plan our defense strategies for each city and as units. We can’t wait until the lords are ready, because that might never happen. In particular, earth mages that we can train to defend Estun itself would be a good start.”
“There’s also simple training to defend yourselves,” Miara added. “How many of you have any instruction?” Wunik and his apprentices, as well as his mother, raised their hands. Most others did not. “Those of us with some magic lessons to draw on should begin teaching the others.”
Elise spoke up now. “Miara and I can work with creature mages. Wunik and Aven are air mages—you’ll want to start on star magic first?”
Aven nodded.
“I can show them some other stuff too,” Derk grumbled.
“Do we have any earth mages that are trained?” Elise asked, ignoring him.
Wunik shook his head. “I may be able to help with some basics, but generally no. I’ve found earth magic isn’t very fond of me.”
Miara swore under her breath. “Figures.”
“Well, we’ll just have to figure it out,” said Thel. “Maybe we can find a book to reference.”
“The riders we sent to check on the other elders should be back, or they will be by tomorrow. Elder Staven is an earth mage. If he’s all right, then we may have help. If not, well…” Elise trailed off.
“Also Jaena, the mage we already freed—she is an earth mage, assuming she can escape and make it to Anonil,” said Miara.
“You freed one already?” Teron asked, his eyes alight.
Aven nodded. “And we’ll be freeing another shortly.”
“I asked Jaena to wait until sundown tomorrow to flee,” said Miara. “That way several mages can flee at once and give us more of a chance to free a few before the Masters catch onto what we’re doing.”
“We are targeting warrior mages to gain information on what Kavanar plans to do,” Aven said. “Also sounds like we’ll need to look for earth mages in particular. Is there anything else we should be looking for?”
“Healers,” said Siliana. “Our numbers being much smaller, we’re unlikely to match their combat ability anytime soon, especially against mages with decades of practice. If we have our share of healers, that can only help.”
“Great, yes. Any other ideas?” asked Aven.
“Any mage slave who works directly with the Masters,” said Miara, “could have valuable information on what they’re planning, no matter what type of mage they are.”
Aven nodded. “We’ll be most constrained by who we can find. They have to be out at night and unguarded, which isn’t common. All right. Let’s break into groups. Air mages over here with me. Creature mages with Miara. Any earth mages?” A few hands raised. “Ah, well—Thel, you take them.”
“Me?” Ah, Thel. Someone should explain to him that younger brothers of crown princes were supposed to be always angling for the throne, not ducking the slightest attention or responsibility.
“Yes, you. Compare experiences and anything you’ve figured out so far. Or go hunting for reference material.” Thel should like any excuse to go back to a library, and indeed he raised an eyebrow, looking intrigued now.
“Once we are organized, Wunik or I should be able to help out,” Miara added in their direction. Thel nodded, a bit relieved, and the groups moved apart, finding new places to gather separately.
What would Dom be up to tonight? Aven had tried to look for him, but hadn’t found him in the few hours he’d had to search. If Dom was a mage, he might as well admit it and join the lot of them. If he wasn’t, that was going to definitely cause trouble. Aven needed to ask Miara if she had thought to check.
As if reading his thoughts, she stepped away from her group and approached.
“Are you going to look now?” For once, he could see the deep sorrow and concern in her eyes. She hid her worry well, didn’t she?
“Soon.” He nodded. He wanted to put an arm around her, to comfort her, but kept it clenched at his side.
“Will you look for them?”
“Of course,” he replied. “After your father and sister, we will look for another mage’s mother too. He’s not sure if she’s there, though.” Aven wasn’t at all optimistic about spotting Teron’s mother. Even if she was enslaved, she was unlikely to be outside. “Hey, you didn’t happen to notice if my other brother Dom had any mage abilities, did you? I haven’t been able to find him to approach him about it.”
“No, I didn’t think to check, but I will if I see him. Because Alikar might want him to be the heir then?”
“Yes, and because he might actually take him up on it, unlike Thel.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Do you and he not get along?”
“Oh, no. We get along as well as any brothers do. But he was always more amiable to the idea of leadership than Thel was. Oh, also—my father wants the demonstration to be in two days, in the morning. We should work out the details.”
“Yes. I talked to Wunik and company about it, and I think we have a good plan. Need to figure out where, though.”
“Great, we can work on it tomorrow. Anyway, we should probably get back to our groups.”
She gave him a smile and a crisp nod. They plodded solemnly back to their separate groups. He should have organized them differently. He wanted her by his side. But no. She and Wunik had the most to teach here. Putting them together made little sense, except to his heart.
Wunik had begun by taking stock of their group. Far more air mages sat in their circle than any other type—the two of them, Beneral’s apprentice, Derk. Five total, if they counted the absent Lord Beneral. Beneral was not yet comfortable revealing his status, but he hadn’t denied he would help eventually either. Unlike the completely novice earth mages, most of the air mages had either independent experimentation or actual instruction under their belts, or both. Hopefully they could use this to their advantage, somehow.
Drawing out the bowl and water, Wunik explained farsight again, and Aven tried to listen carefully, as he’d far from mastered it. He found himself at times studying the group instead, though. Teron sat as close as possible to the elder, as if he feared he’d lose the chance to listen with the next words that passed. Derk stared off into space, having clearly heard this explanation more than a few times before.
Really, this was a rare chance to survey his forces, so perhaps it was okay if he didn’t
master farsight in this exact moment. He needed to understand what he had to work with. The Dark Master had what, five hundred mages? It could be more by the time Akaria actually faced them. Kavanar’s forces would be skilled and unwavering in their determination to complete their mission. At the same time, they were not truly willing. If Miara could find cracks in her compulsions, others likely could too.
Aven watched each mage in turn as they settled into their groups. Nearly all looked nervous, tentative, unsure. Nothing like soldiers. Nothing like powerful mages. Nothing like something to be afraid of, and definitely not like people who were evil conspirators out to corrupt souls.
Many of them had never admitted they were mages publicly, let alone been in a room with so many mages at once. Perhaps they were simply nervous because this would be a great place for someone like Alikar to massacre everyone and end this before it started.
Which was why there were six guards at the door and surrounding hall.
Aven took a deep breath. They were untrained, naïve, green. But they had taken the first steps. It would come to them.
A huge part of getting a force to fight together was throwing them in the same room and lobbing some danger at them. They would figure it out, hopefully before too big a danger landed in their laps and exploded in their faces.
“I always found that earth mages had far better success with garden augmentation.” Elise tapped her chin thoughtfully. She and Siliana were deep into the details of magically aided cultivation. Aven’s mother clearly missed talking about magic. Too bad Miara hadn’t realized this sooner and found a way to make some use of it. But better late than never.
“Oh, well, yes. The soil is important, but so are the creatures in the soil,” said Siliana. “The tiny little creepy crawlers, the worms, even the bits of the dirt that are alive—you can encourage all that. And of course, discouraging the pests is a key concern.”
Miara found herself trying to tune them out. All the talk of gardening formed an ache in her chest that grew and grew. Her father would have had a lot to say in this conversation. A lot more than she did. All Miara had to offer would be tips on horse manure, and she didn’t feel like making that point at the moment. Being associated with excrement wasn’t quite the impression she was going for.
