The Complete Enslaved Chronicles

by R. K. Thorne

  The air filled with more of a roar than a crackle, and Aven knew before he could see it that this meant fire. He was not afraid; he could do the same thing and catch it.

  He snatched the fireball and sent it back like on a sling.

  And Derk returned the favor.

  They exchanged volleys like this three or four times before Derk gave him a grin.

  “What?” Aven grunted.

  “You got it. Now you know how to spar.”

  “You knew I didn’t know, and you still wanted to?”

  “You’ve got to learn somehow. Wunik waits forever. You don’t have forever.”

  “You could have just told me.”

  “Nah, this was much more fun. Besides, you’ll remember this better. It’s how Wunik taught me.”

  Probably because he was a snide little bastard and Wunik longed to pummel him with a shovel. But perhaps he was right. No practice was as effective as when you truly believed your life was at stake.

  “He’s so damn delighted to be here, I don’t think he’s been of much mind to go shocking anyone or knocking them on their asses, least of all princely members of his ruling family. But like I said, you don’t have time. Aren’t you going to thank me?”

  “No,” Aven said. His pounding headache had returned, which made it hard to be terribly grateful. Plus, Aven was fairly sure Derk was more interested in having fun at Aven’s expense than actually helping.

  Derk rolled his eyes and sent a flame that spiraled unpredictably toward Aven’s torso. Aven managed to catch and absorb it, but just barely. He glared at the other mage. “I have other duties to attend to.”

  “But we’ve only just gotten started!” Derk shot out two spiraling bolts, and one almost slipped by Aven’s notice, but he caught it at the last moment.

  Aven’s glare deepened to a scowl. “We’re done here.”

  He sensed Derk readying a shot anyway. Aven caught the arc of lightning and made his first attempt at multiple shots, three bolts at once directed at Derk’s knees.

  One made it through, and Derk cackled and swore in surprise.

  Derk gave him an annoyed look. “Fine. You’re no fun. You win.” He straightened and brushed himself off, striding toward Aven and holding out his hand to shake.

  Aven felt like this was some kind of trick, but he wouldn’t be seen snubbing a handshake, especially not with impressionable wardens practicing nearby. They shook hands.

  Derk wiped his brow, smirking. “My knees are burnt thanks to you. I guess I better go spend some time with our healer friend. Do you think she’ll mind if I take off my shirt?”

  Aven knew he shouldn’t, but he scowled and stepped closer. “Find your own damn healer.”

  Derk sidled forward too, inches from Aven’s face. “Why should I?”

  “Stay away from her,” Aven said.

  “She isn’t yours.”

  Aven opened his mouth but stopped himself barely in time.

  “Is she.” Derk stated it like a fact, but his eyes pierced Aven in question. He suspected something.

  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

  “You really going to make a mage your queen? A commoner?” Derk hissed, his voice hushed.

  Aven almost said, “That’s the plan,” but he held back. He glared harder at Derk, willing him to back down.

  “Are you going after her or not?” Derk pressed.

  “What does it matter?” said Aven.

  “If you aren’t, I am.”

  Aven lowered his voice and said, deathly quiet, “I said, stay away from her.”

  Aven turned and started to stalk away, but Derk’s hand thudded on his shoulder, stopping him.

  Aven slowly turned back, barely concealed rage smoldering beneath the surface. Derk’s eyes were hard as glass. “She deserves better than to be kept a secret on the side while you swive some noble wife.” Derk jutted at Renala with his chin.

  Hmm. Looked like this sparring hadn’t decreased Aven’s desire to punch Derk in the jaw. Or maybe the gut would be better. Not many had the gall to take that tone of voice with him, let alone a newcomer he didn’t trust, let alone tell him how to live his life, and on top of it all insult his integrity. The only thing that stopped him from launching into an outright brawl was that, well, Derk was right. The man’s intentions seemed almost noble, clad in the sarcasm of a cad. Was he a decent man disguising himself behind the veneer of a scoundrel, or the other way around? Derk, of course, had no way of knowing if Aven was an honorable man. And the mage must have been picking up on something between Aven and Miara, and yet he’d also noticed they were hiding something. And what possible reason could they have for hiding it?

  “You forget yourself,” Aven said, glaring down at Derk’s hand. The mage withdrew it from Aven’s shoulder, backing down slightly, but his frame was still tensed and ready for a fight. “And I assure you, that’s not what’s happening.”

  Aven stalked away, hoping Derk would finally drop it. He heard no steps following him, so he immediately headed straight for Miara’s room.

  This was stupid. Keeping it all secret was impossible and probably just looked worse in the end. He’d had enough.

  “Oh, Aven—there you are.” Miara sat on the bench by the fire, a book in hand, but she rose to greet him. A long, crimson tunic fell to her knees, belted with black leather. “I was worried when you didn’t come by this morning. I talked to Dom about—”

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her fiercely. Her lips wasted no time in returning his affections, her intensity quickly surpassing his. Camil, not three feet from them, dropped her laundry basket.

  “Please keep this to yourself, Camil,” he muttered, and then returned his lips to Miara, pulling her closer as he ran a free hand over those soft, red locks. Camil recovered her basket and bustled into the next room. Well, there went the rumors. He couldn’t bring himself to care anymore.

  Finally he let their lips part, for just a moment, maybe two. He should probably explain this outburst, shouldn’t he? “I’m sorry I didn’t come by this morning. I should have.”

  “Oh, no—it’s fine.” She frowned, mystified, cheeks flushed.

  “And I’m sorry about—this whole—everything.” Her eyes darkened, knowing what he referred to. “I heard a few thoughts more than I think you intended.”

  “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

  “No. You didn’t ask for this.”

  “Neither did you.”

  “I wish I could throw it off so you didn’t have to even ask that question—”

  “No, you can’t. I wouldn’t want you to either. Don’t think that way. This is just… it’s not what I’m good at. I’m good at sneaking in the shadows and not being seen and coming up with good excuses for being places I shouldn’t be, like you said. And also curing horse stomachaches. Civil war? Fancy banquets? I am out of my element.”

  “That doesn’t mean— Ah, damn. I promised myself I wouldn’t try to push you on it. I know! Maybe I’ll lose the vote and we won’t have to worry about any of it.”

  “By the gods, Aven, have you gone insane? Don’t think like that.”

  “I want us both to be happy.” And he had felt her fear so clearly, her gut instinct that she would not be happy. Even if she denied it, he knew what he had felt.

  “I can’t be happy without you either, though.”

  He pulled her into a hug and breathed her in, catching different scents of violet, rose, mint on top of the lavender. He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything.

  “This is a big adjustment,” she said softly into his ear. “I’ve gone from having nothing to potentially having what feels like the whole world. I can’t even take a bath without feeling guilty for those back home.”

  She was right. Maybe all she needed was time.

  “Except that’s not home. I have no home. I want this to be my home. But I’m still very much an outsider here.”

  He pulled away, frowning.<
br />
  “No, no, don’t argue that I’m not. Just give it time, Aven.”

  He sighed. “Patience is not one of my strengths.”

  “You were doing so well up until a few minutes ago, though.” She grinned. He studied her face and decided she did not mean it critically.

  “Well, at least it wasn’t those banquet tables we talked about.”

  She chuckled. “That sounds uncomfortable anyway. But what brought this on? Last night?”

  “Last night combined with my guilt over avoiding you this morning. Colliding with a nice chat I had with Derk.”

  She raised an amused eyebrow. “A nice chat, huh?”

  “It could have gone worse. I didn’t beat him to a pulp.”

  “Wait—is that a victory or a defeat?”

  “A victory of my patience, but apparently I had none left after that. No, but more seriously. He must have picked up on something between us. He talks like an ass, but his intentions seemed good.”

  “Hmm. Sure they were.”

  “Well, he did want to find you and take off his shirt. But he seemed to be just goading me. He may think I’ve taken you for a mistress or am planning to. And he was rightfully offended by the idea.”

  She smirked. “Well, that is sweet in a way. But I’m sure he’d be a lot less offended if he found me more hideous.”

  Aven laughed. “Maybe so. Either way, at least I didn’t eviscerate him.”

  “What happened to your hand?”

  “Oh. That. Well, we did exchange a few magic-related blows.” He gasped as he felt the skin itch, heat, pucker—and then his hand was back to normal again. “Warning next time, maybe?”

  “We’ll see. We should go find Camil. She may have a few… questions.”

  “Wunik, can you get closer to the tower? Look at that. Are they—” Miara pointed into the window of light. She, Aven, Wunik, and Derk had gathered on the starlit balcony to make another attempt at freeing a mage slave.

  “Shackled? The mages are shackled to the towers? By the gods,” Aven breathed.

  A rush of excitement ran through Miara’s veins. Perhaps, just perhaps, the Masters were afraid of something. And that something was her and Aven.

  “The Masters must know Jaena got free somehow,” Miara said, “although that doesn’t prove she actually made it out. Or if any of those we freed did. The Masters could have discovered Menaha and Kae too, I guess.”

  Derk nodded. “The Masters need mages to guard them against external attacks—air and earth attacks, in particular. But those would be the easiest positions for a freed mage to escape from. They cracked down.”

  Again, the night was eerily still and silent. No one was about. “Gods,” Aven grumbled. “We are never going to free anyone this way, let alone even a few.”

  Miara sighed, although she wanted to groan outright. She didn’t want to let her discouragement with the situation show, though. “Over there, Wunik. Can you get closer to the temple? Maybe someone is near there. The columns are high and there are no shutters on some of those windows.”

  Wunik moved the window of light slowly toward the building Miara indicated. The high, pale columns of the temple came into view. “Try that garden over there,” she said. Could Menaha have reached Sefim with her message? Was this simply wishful thinking? She was dreaming, wasn’t she? The guards had ensured that no one was outside. “Argh, try the next one.”

  “I think no one’s out. Their curfew is still in place,” said Wunik.

  “Gods, I hope they let them eat,” she said. “Menaha said they hadn’t let them out for dinner yesterday, even.”

  Aven folded his arms across his chest. “By Anara, I hope they’re not suffering more without any of them even escaping. Damn it. Where else do you want to try—”

  “Wait—there!” Miara pointed.

  Three statues sat on a bench with wall fountains burbling behind them. The stone had been carved in the forms of monks, legs crossed in meditation.

  “What about it?” said Wunik.

  “There are usually two statues. Can you go closer?”

  They drifted closer, and indeed, the middle statue was a bit stouter than expected.

  Sefim?

  The statue’s eyes snapped open, startling Derk, who took a step back. Wunik let out a soft chuckle.

  Miara?

  Thank the gods. I’m glad you… figured out a way. There’s still a curfew?

  “Working on it,” came Aven’s voice. Sefim’s eyes closed again.

  Yes. But apparently the guards are rather inattentive to religious statues. Now I just have to sit here the rest of the night.

  Well, at least you’ll be free while you do it.

  Truly?

  We’re working on it. What news?

  Over a dozen new mages arrived today, but none have been branded yet. They’re being kept in the dungeons, which are now full to the brim. Maybe they haven’t branded them because there are so many. There have been more than usual each day, but this was high by even normal standards. They are actively trying to increase our numbers, I think. Also rumor has it at least one mage has escaped. Some rumors say two. I think those count your escape.

  Jaena, Menaha, Kae?

  Kae—no. Menaha told me to tell you he was summoned by the Dark Master this morning for some kind of mission.

  Miara caught her breath. What terrible luck. The knots would not work on him with the bond broken. Would he have to act the part? Would it even be possible to fool them? Kae hadn’t seemed like he had much ability at deception. Do you know any more about the mission?

  No. But I think it must have been Jaena who escaped. Menaha was unable to find her anywhere, although she didn’t dare ask specifically in case that aroused any suspicion by association.

  Good thinking.

  “It’s done,” Aven said, voice gentle, almost forlorn. “Is there any chance we’ll find anyone else?”

  “One more moment, and we’ll look around. But I doubt it.”

  There. You’re free, Sefim.

  He took a deep breath, taking in the moment, an even more perfect picture of meditation than the statues at each side. Then she heard softly, Thank you, Miara.

  It’s not me. It’s my… friend.

  Sefim’s eyebrow twitched, made all the more subtly humorous looking by his statue imitation. Your… friend, eh? Should I be telling your father you have a ‘friend’?

  He did not seem at all mystified by what she meant. Which figured. He had always seen right past her barriers and into her soul, and speaking this way doubtlessly did not help. If you see him, certainly. Have you any news of his whereabouts?

  None new. Menaha told me what she told you, and neither of us have seen any change in the situation. But wait—who is this friend?

  The prince I kidnapped.

  Now a smile spread across his otherwise still face. Didn’t I tell you not to worry about your soul? He sobered, probably remembering his disguise. The Masters perpetrate this evil, and the Balance will bring justice back to them.

  I hope you’re right. But this whole bringing justice business personally is new to me.

  You’re going to be a natural. I can tell.

  Sunlight filtered through the dust motes that came through the library windows. Daes had hoped never to open this library. This wasn’t somewhere he had ever wanted to be. It was a place of forbidden magic, the kind of magic that he wanted to destroy.

  But when all your power rests on one thing, it makes a certain sense to have a backup plan.

  Three air mages trailed him, ready for his orders.

  “I suppose you’ll need to clean this place up first. I don’t know how long it’s been since someone’s been in here.” Daes certainly had no desire to touch anything. The dust was a fingernail thick on some of these tomes. “If you think it will slow you too much, I can arrange for more mages to help you, although access to this room will be strictly controlled.”

  “What are we doing here?” the young blond on
e said.

  The comment seemed a little out of turn, but Daes chose to ignore it. “I have a special mission for you,” he said. “Something a little different.”

  He turned left when they reached the far side of the library and headed down to the stacks that were the farthest from the door. An alcove separated a handful of tomes from the rest of the collection. A shaft of wheat hung over the top of the alcove. Whether it was meant to protect or signify something, Daes wasn’t sure, but it seemed a little decorative for his tastes.

  The three mages followed obediently and stopped as he did upon reaching the alcove.

  “What I have to tell you I command you not to repeat. I seek the creation of a second brand to further our mage control efforts.”

  “A second one?” said the mage that had spoken up at first. Again, the comment struck Daes as a little odd. But he couldn’t put his finger on why. This boy had been a talkative one the few other times Daes had had the misfortune to run into him. Perhaps he just didn’t like the boy or that peasant accent he had.

  “Yes, a second one. For traveling.” The Masters had enough rumors flying around; they didn’t need these mages to know that the real brand was missing. No one needed to know that. He would find it. It wouldn’t be long now.

  But just in case he didn’t.

  “As you know, the Devoted Knights are working hard to bring more mages to Mage Hall, and we almost can’t keep up with them. In addition, some mages have to be transported long distances from other kingdoms. It would behoove us to have more options, perhaps to enslave them first or to create a second major control site. And that’s where you come in.”

  Daes spread his hands wide at the shelves of tomes behind him. “I am told that these books contain the knowledge that was originally used to create the brand. As you can imagine, these texts are quite old and fragile. You will use the utmost care and secrecy in dealing with them.”

  He pinned them under his gaze, studying their posture, their faces for some hint of what they thought of this assignment. If he had learned anything from dealing with the rebellious creature mage, it was that perhaps the mages’ temperaments should figure into his plans. At least a little. He could have taken the hint, noticed her temperament as an indicator to watch her more carefully. Seulka had been right about that much, and that much only. Exactly why he’d sent her off on a fool’s errand to keep her out of his hair. But if he’d listened to her and paid the mage’s temperament more mind, been less arrogant, he could have sent other mages on that journey with the creature mage, and that might have prevented all that had transpired. He could have—