by R. K. Thorne
“Indeed. Well, you have my arms if you have a sword I can borrow. Otherwise, I’m not bad with my hands.”
Why was she blushing? Why were they still holding onto each other, as though she needed help to walk, even though they’d stopped? Even though she could sit down on the bed and… he could leave. But where would he go? The stewards would likely find somewhere for him, but…
“Who is this Aven, by the way?” he asked.
“The crown prince of Akaria. No, the king. I keep forgetting.”
He stared at her. “You’re joking.”
“No.”
“Well, even more then, I’m sure my sword or my hands can be at his service.”
“I just want them to be at my service… and only mine. Is that too much to ask?”
Smiling, he turned and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. “I think that could be arranged.” He bent to hug her and nuzzle his face against her neck.
Her breath a little ragged, she risked a kiss against the powerful muscles of his neck, then a nip on his earlobe. His arms tightened around her, molding them together as his lips brushed against her collarbone.
“Is that so?” she whispered. “Then… show me.”
Miara and Samul had taken turns overnight, one walking, the other resting as Lukor carried them. She’d led them further into the forest, hoping to lose those damn mages by moving through the night so far afield. With morning came exhaustion, though, and as they neared the end of the forest and headed toward the more open grassy plain, Miara winced at the lack of cover. This was not going to help matters. She kept her senses outstretched, trying to pick up on their potential pursuers, but she felt nothing.
The last trees of the forest were falling away when the soft twang and the whistle of an arrow through the air caught her ear. Entirely too late, of course.
Thunk, thunk-thunk. An arrow stabbed into her left shoulder. Then the right torso and left thigh exploded in pain with simultaneous punctures of their own.
Pain threatened to overwhelm thought. Knowing she had to get to some kind of cover, scarce as it was, she staggered off the trail.
“Miara!”
Samul’s footsteps followed, and then he was pulling her further into the few remaining trees. He must have knelt because he came into focus above her.
“I think they’re trying to kill you.” His face was grave.
“I think—you’d be right,” she coughed. A warm liquid that wasn’t saliva sputtered into her mouth. Great. This was not going to be easy. She struggled to assess the damage, figure out what they were going to do.
“If they kill you, you can’t heal from that, can you?” Samul said, as if he had guessed the answer.
“I think that’s the idea.” She wanted to say more but couldn’t. Those mages must know she could defend Samul fairly well and heal him when necessary. Clearly they weren’t good enough shots to reliably kill from a distance. Thus they were seeking to eliminate her first so she couldn’t save him. But she had no breath for all that. Instead, she said, “I can heal this, but it’s going to give away our location. After I do it, you’ll have to move me. Think you can?”
He nodded. “Go. You’re losing blood.”
“You’ll have to yank out the arrows. Start with the top one, move down. Go.”
She closed her eyes. The left shoulder wound was the worst, but the one in her right side wasn’t much better. On top of impeding movement, it had hit something important. They had to be healed, and it was going to hurt like a thousand daggers raking her insides.
Anara help me, she thought. Nefrana even. All of you.
Samul yanked out the first arrow, and she gritted her teeth through a cry. She sucked in a breath and held it, and with it, she began the spell. Life drained from a nearby elm, a poplar, a juniper bush. Perhaps she could leave them a little alive to recover—she hoped—but even as it began she knew she lacked the conscious control to do so. The agony was too great.
She heard herself scream as though it were someone else. For a moment, she could see her body cradled in Samul’s arms. The greenery around them darkened into black as her mind stole the life of the creatures around them. Stole was a painfully accurate word, a heartbreaking, horrible word. But there was no time for regret yet, only pain, only survival. A pine tree dropped its needles, then shuddered into dust. She strained to avoid Samul himself, and a chipmunk scurried away, but beyond them, her magic had a mind of its own now. It knew she was determined to live. Her body was determined to heal. And it acted accordingly.
She opened her eyes as her body was jostled. Samul carried her in his arms like a child and was charging into what remained of the tree line. What other cover was there to be had? Lukor followed. They needed to mount up, get riding. If the mages were close enough for arrows, they would reach her and Samul soon. But—riding would put them out in the open too. They needed something else, something to buy them time.
And she was barely conscious, let alone able to think.
And yet she was thinking, wasn’t she? Her mind was automatically assessing the situation, looking for ways out. The deep, determined part of her that had controlled her magic. The part of her that was determined to survive.
Samul set her down by another set of evergreen bushes. She squinted down at herself. The blood and holes remained, covering half of her at this point, and her thigh was only partially healed. But the wounds to her torso were repaired, and she had enough energy for more if needed. The trees weren’t so lucky, of course. The thought made her heart ache, but it couldn’t be avoided.
The Masters couldn’t have given these mages orders to do this so quickly. They hunted her on their own initiative. Sorin was a painful reminder that not every mage might be looking for ways around their orders, as these arrows made all too clear.
Her eyes darted around. No cover anywhere. Maybe there was a way to slow or stall them that would help instead.
She reached her senses out, searching for the mages, and all too quickly caught one racing toward them along the road’s path. Gravel Voice. She had to act while she could, he was not far.
Vines erupted from the earth, snagging at his bow, his arms, his ankles. They coiled about him and dragged him down face-first into the rough road.
The earth shook beneath them. Please, she thought. That earth mage simply had no idea where they were. What a sad attempt at a threat.
She groped around for the others. There. Following, but not so quickly. Not so ardently. The nervous one hung back a little. The creature mage was the problem. She could undo Miara’s spells when the others couldn’t. She must have succeeded with Miara’s shackles, which meant she was thoughtful, creative, observant. Miara would not trick her with cleverness.
Well, perhaps where cleverness failed, brute force would have to do.
Her vines erupted again, but around the creature mage, she raised a dozen-fold more than her usual effort and added thorns for good measure. Anything that might slow the enemy down a bit more. Again the vines caught the bow, then the mage, and tightened her into the earth. A faint cry caught on the wind. That was probably the thorns. But then another screech sounded, that of a falcon. By the gods, could it be? Had the same falcon returned?
Vines continued to coil around the creature mage, another layer and another, but another avian shriek rang out. Amazing. Her falcon had indeed come looking for her near Panar. She spared an expensive glance back at the fierce creature arrowing in a steep dive toward the road, likely at one of the two mages.
Probably hoping for a duck leg this time. Or maybe something bigger. He’d get it too, if she ever got the chance.
She found the nervous mage staggering back, uncertain. Run, she shouted at him. Or I’ll do the same to you. If she could scare him off, that might leave them with only two pursuers. A vine snatched the bow from his hand, and she felt his energy bolt in the opposite direction, beyond where she could feel him.
“Let’s go,” Miara said quickly. “I’ve
tried to slow them down, but it won’t last. On the horse, both of us.”
Samul swung himself up. “Get in front,” he grunted. He relinquished the stirrup so she could mount.
“No, you’re the king—”
“And you’re the only one who can heal me.”
“But—”
“You can’t heal me if you’re dead. Now get on.” When she hesitated, he added. “That’s an order, mage.”
She nodded briskly and hiked herself up. Riding in such close physical proximity to Aven’s father was definitely something she’d hoped to avoid. But survival would be nice too.
She urged Lukor as fast as he could manage. Not long now, friend. They were almost to Panar. If they could just make it the last few miles… Miles of unfortunately open, grassy fields upon which they were easily visible and even more easily targeted.
Chapter 17
Impact
All eyes rested on Aven, on the king of Akaria, and they waited for his last few words before their voting began.
Members of the Assembly circled the tan stone table, wide and pitted with age in the center of the tower room. Well, all the members except Lord Sven, who had still refused to appear and had sent his daughter, the priestess Niat, instead.
On all four sides, graceful arches framed dramatic views of the city, bitterly bright in the morning sun. Advisors, arms masters, and Alikar’s precious archivists and chroniclers hovered near the walls; his mage friends Jaena, Tharomar, Wunik, and the others were among them. The mages didn’t necessarily need to be here, but he preferred having them close by, particularly with Jaena carrying the brand. This situation had the potential to devolve into chaos, and if that happened, it would happen fast.
When Aven had first joined them, striding in from the vicious brightness, he’d arrived without his father and wearing the simple crown of platinum and sapphire on his brow. The room had fallen silent, still. He’d hardly needed to explain. The faces of those who hadn’t yet heard wore grim recognition, sorrow, a touch of fear.
Troops from Ranok had swarmed the place, searching for potential assassins and other betrayals. Aven didn’t have much hope that they’d find anything, even if threats awaited them, but the soldiers that staffed Ranok were some of their best, specifically chosen from their own Elaren Territory for their loyalty to the king. With the king living in Estun, they’d so rarely seen combat on his behalf, but Aven was glad to have them with him. Daes likely now had his hands full with the aftermath of last night’s chaos, but any attack he made on this meeting had likely begun days ago. It would shock Aven if Daes didn’t try something.
The room secure, the Assembly of Akaria had been called to order.
They’d taken his news as well as he could have asked, listening tensely as he explained their journey, the king’s disappearance. Dyon and Asten’s eyes had locked as they discussed the news received from the watch towers—siege troops were approaching the city and would reach them soon. Surely Asten and Dyon wanted to be elsewhere, preparing for battle. So did Aven. But they had business to attend to first.
He’d hardly slept three hours, let alone had time to think about what he was going to say. And yet, he knew what he needed to say. He’d known from the day he’d stepped foot in Estun, and his only regret was that he hadn’t been more determined to say it sooner.
He took a deep breath and began.
“Before you begin your vote, I have one more matter. Many of you know I returned from Kavanar with a companion, Miara. We’ve received word she has disappeared from Estun. We are not sure of her location or if she is even alive.”
A quiet stillness settled further on the room.
“You’ve heard about her role in my rescue. She has provided valuable intelligence to us on Kavanar’s mage troop preparations, as well as what we can expect from mages in the coming war. But there is more to our story. Miara is not only a talented mage, but she is also one of the strongest women I have ever known. In slavery, her moral fiber has been tested to a level most of us have never experienced, and I trust her as much as any member of my family. While on the course of our journey together, I fell in love with her, and I have asked her to marry me.”
The room’s silence exploded into a flurry of murmurs tinged with excitement, outrage, shock.
“I think her strength and experience will make her an excellent queen, should you all choose to support me.” He stopped again to let it sink in. Beneral’s and Asten’s eyes were wide. Toyl smiled, looking pleased. And if he didn’t know better, Aven would mistake that look on Dyon’s face for pride. Directed at him?
“If I can find her,” Aven added.
Alikar was smirking. “As if one mage wasn’t enough, now we have two.”
Aven ignored the comment. “Begin, and have your vote.”
He hadn’t intended to imbue his voice with any emotion, but the final words came out edged with disgust. That was how he felt, but he hadn’t meant to share it. He took a step back, ceding the meeting to the Assembly with a nod to Dyon.
Dyon nodded in return. “All right then, Lord Alikar. You heard the king, the ballistae approach even now. Let us go with haste.”
Alikar straightened. “You all know why I have called you here. Our finest religious leaders, our priests and priestesses, our clerics and scribes, all agree on this matter. Magic is a perversion of the world, an abomination, a twisted abuse deeply against the Way.”
The first time sunlight had filled him with the power of magic flashed through Aven’s mind. The joyous elation, the way his soul had soared, the way Miara had laughed at his exuberance. His gut twisted.
“Magic is a power humans are not meant to wield. As such, no man who chooses to wield this power should lead our kingdom. Nefrana condemns it, our priests condemn it, and you should condemn it as well. I call on all of you to make the difficult choice in this matter, the choice of light, the choice of heaven, lest we lose the favor of the gods. I called you here to vote on this man’s fitness to be our crown prince, but the situation is now even more dire, as he already holds our throne as king. I now request your vote. Do you find this mage fit to be our king, to support with gold from your treasuries and troops from your lands?”
Warden Asten glared at the last bit— by no means did she control her territory’s treasuries or troops, exactly, although others like Dyon did. Of course, Beneral had glared through the whole thing. Perhaps having Alikar saunter into his own city and piss all over it with his foul words was making Beneral rethink his decision to keep his magic secret. Either that, or he didn’t realize he was scowling.
“I’ll start,” Alikar said. The Gilaren lord almost glowed with even this slight bit of control. Did he really hope to gain any power from this spectacle? “I find any mage unfit to be king of Akaria. Gilaren withdraws financial and military support while Aven Lanuken sits on the throne.”
Aven gritted his teeth. Of course, this was unsurprising, but his father’s disappearance had escalated things. Aven hadn’t expected him to formally withdraw support right away. It had seemed more likely that Alikar would have waited to see the result of the vote and his father’s—now Aven’s—reaction to it.
“Lord Dyon—your vote.”
Dyon’s slightly raised eyebrows indicated he was a little surprised by the severity of that statement too. “Liren supports the throne unequivocally, as we always have. Our king cares more about the Akarian people than all of you combined. That alone will make him an excellent ruler, even if he wasn’t so well qualified militarily and diplomatically. Far more prepared than any of his brothers, cousins, or any of us, I might add. I find him very fit to rule. I would support no other, in fact.” The threat in his words didn’t seem to register with Alikar, but Aven did not miss it. Dyon beckoned civil war if the vote failed.
Alikar waved off Dyon’s words as if he were a doddering old man. “Priestess Niat. Your vote.”
She sat frozen, tense, eyes the size of saucers. Of course, Alikar presumed he knew
her vote would be against Aven, and that was why he’d chosen her to go second, to weaken the impact of Dyon’s words. Lord Sven’s bigotry was also the only vote Aven was certain of beyond Alikar’s as well. But the poor priestess did not understand any of that. She looked discomfited at having been given such a very prominent position in the order of votes.
She raised her chin and recovered her composure. “My father regrets he cannot be with you today,” she said. Her voice rose in volume, as if she was picking up courage as she went. That did not at all sound like something Sven would say, so Aven guessed she was adding that bit on his behalf. “And he thanks you in your understanding for accepting me, his daughter, in his stead.” She unrolled a small piece of parchment, as if that somehow made her word more valid or more directly from Sven. Had she embellished this too? The parchment was unsealed or unstamped in any way, as any kind of official document would be, especially coming from one as grandiose and pompous as Sven. “His vote is no, a mage is unfit to be Akaria’s crown prince and heir.”
Alikar gave her a withering look. “The vote has changed, as you well know. We’re voting on our support for the king. Or haven’t you been paying attention?”
Aven was rather sure that Alikar knew she had been paying attention, that he just wanted to see her squirm. Part of the power trip?
“I can’t—”
“Amend the vote.” Alikar’s eyes hardened into black coals.
When she hesitated, Dyon lowered his chin and folded his arms across his chest. “He sent you in his stead. That’s what he gets. You are his representative, you choose your vote.”
She glared at him, then glanced with concern at Aven. Ah, that was exactly the problem wasn’t it. She had counted on awkwardly relaying her father’s vote. She was even less comfortable with insulting the king to his face, not when he had the power to have her hanged.
