The Complete Enslaved Chronicles

by R. K. Thorne

  He nodded. “May the Balance protect you, my lady. Good luck in Panar.”

  “You as well.” She smiled and turned away, heading for the road as she twisted herself into an eagle and took to the sky. Yes. Good luck. She was going to need it.

  Aven awoke, not remembering when he’d fallen asleep. He simply opened his eyes again. He was not in the same position, flat on his back and staring at the ceiling, though. No, he was curled in a ball like he’d be trying to find something and kept missing it, kept curling in on himself in hopes of finally capturing it.

  Miara.

  The thought was almost too much to bear, and he sucked in a ragged breath. Squeezed his eyes closed again. He couldn’t get out of bed. He’d just make another horrible mistake. More people would just get hurt because of him.

  Unfortunately, Perik had other plans.

  “Sire, the mage Jaena Eliar would like to see you. As soon as possible, she requested. She said it’s about something the two of you are mutually concerned with destroying?”

  The brand. He’d almost forgotten. Well, he could listen to what Jaena had to say. That didn’t require any decisions, most likely. That wasn’t something he could screw up.

  He dressed, but ignored the food Perik brought him. His stomach felt like the roiling sea, and he didn’t need to add throwing up on anyone to his long list of failures.

  Jaena, Ro, and a newcomer awaited him in the library, as usual, and he stopped short as Jaena’s mouth fell open and Ro’s eyes widened.

  “Aven—sire—you look…” Jaena started.

  “That terrible, huh?” Aven said. His voice was rough as gravel. He swallowed and waved her concern off. “Never mind how I feel. What is it you wanted to share?”

  “This is Kae, an old friend of mine from Mage Hall.”

  Aven mustered a weak smile. “I remember freeing you,” he said. Those were simpler days. When it seemed like perhaps he could have solved this whole mess by simply freeing each of them one by one from the inside. He should have known it wouldn’t be so simple.

  The blond man grinned at him. “And I remember being freed. Probably will never forget that. Mighty grateful, sir.”

  “Sire,” Jaena offered quietly.

  Kae nodded quickly. “Sorry. Sire.” He had a good-natured smile and a bit of a sheepish, relaxed disposition. On another, brighter day, Aven might have wanted to get to know him better.

  He was about ready to bark at them to get to the point when Jaena spoke again. “We’ve learned that after you freed Kae, he was tasked with searching the library for books to recreate the brand.”

  “All while he was free,” Ro added.

  “It was too quick, and I hadn’t had a chance to escape,” said Kae. “So I had to act the part. Not my greatest strength, but I did well enough. Thought maybe I could beat them to the book, if such a thing existed.”

  “Did you?” Aven asked.

  Kae smiled slowly and picked up a rather shabby leather-bound book. “Actually, I did.”

  Aven took a step forward, some of the fog clearing in spite of himself. “This describes how to create a new one?”

  “And it also describes how to destroy it,” said Tharomar, “although not in the common tongue.”

  “And thank the gods for that,” Jaena muttered.

  “It’s not that uncommon,” said Kae. “Lots of spells are written in Anovan.”

  “Well, finding out how to destroy it is great news—” Aven started.

  “Sort of,” said Tharomar.

  Aven raised an eyebrow. “Why sort of?”

  “Well, we’ve reviewed the steps,” said Jaena. Her face, her voice—she looked nearly as tired and beaten down as he was. Her tight braids were swooped back into her usual larger braid, but her cheeks looked sunken and tired. “And it’s… Well, you need thirteen mages to complete the process.”

  “Thirteen?” Aven stared up at the ceiling for a moment. Could they never win? Did they even have that many, much less ones they could trust?

  “The worse thing is that in the process,” Tharomar said, “I believe each mage would have to understand the brand and its star magic inside and out. Enough that they’d likely be able to recreate one.”

  “What?” Aven snapped. “Thirteen people with this knowledge, instead of none?”

  “I know. Not a good trade, if you ask me. It’s like this damn thing doesn’t want to die. Even to kill it, we’d increase the likelihood it being reborn. And I’ve counted; I don’t think we have thirteen mages we can be sure wouldn’t want to recreate it—if we can ever be sure of that. We also may not want to burden them with this knowledge unnecessarily.”

  Aven ran a hand over his face. The temporary rush of energy gone, he felt even more exhausted now. “What do we do?”

  “I don’t think we do anything yet,” Jaena said.

  “Aside from guarding this book with our lives.” Tharomar glared at the thing.

  “As we’ve already been doing,” said Kae rather pleasantly. He shrugged.

  Aven swore. Unless he wanted nearly every mage in Akaria to know just how to enslave people and create the brand, they were stuck. And even if he trusted every one of them, it would still make all of them a target for Daes and the others to hunt down. Then instead of one inconspicuous bar of metal and a book, they’d have a dozen people moving around, trying to live their lives, forever targets. No. At least for now, hiding it was better. Destroying it might never be an option at all.

  Another dead end. Great.

  Tharomar clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry about Miara, Aven. We went to check right away.”

  “Not as sorry as I am,” he muttered and turned to go.

  “I’ve got six new mages recruited,” Jaena said, as if trying to keep him there. “They’re training with Wunik now.”

  “And actually—I should be joining them.” Tharomar started toward the door again. “You stay here with her,” he said sternly to Kae, who nodded.

  “You should be joining them?” Jaena started. “I mean, yes, you should be!”

  “I’ll see you later,” Tharomar said, but his voice was heavy and intense with some other meaning Aven couldn’t detect.

  “I’m counting on it.”

  Aven turned. Jaena was smiling brightly after Ro, and in spite of his own stubborn resistance, it eased him a little, somehow. She caught his gaze.

  “I have some thoughts, my lord. On how we can defend ourselves when outnumbered. I’ve organized the mages into teams around them and given them each jobs. I… hope that was all right.”

  “Some thoughts?” Aven said weakly. “You organized them?”

  “Yes. Was that all right?”

  “Of course. That’s wonderful.”

  “Can I show you?”

  “Wait—that reminds me. I’ve been meaning to grant you permanent Akarian residence, if you so wish it. I kept forgetting. Tharomar too. Stay as one of our own, if you wish.”

  Jaena’s eyebrows rose. “I… hadn’t expected that, my lord.”

  “Of course, you may want to return to Kavanar or Farsa or—”

  “Hepan,” she said quickly.

  Ah, so he could do something wrong even in the most basic, generous act. “Akaria is open to you. You’ve done us a great service. But you’re always welcome as a foreign person too.”

  Jaena blinked. “No, no, my lord, I’d love to stay in Panar. Hopefully things will work out.”

  And hopefully it would still be standing for her to do so.

  “Now, can I show you what I’ve planned?”

  “Yes, yes, of course.” Plans were good. He couldn’t fail at listening to plans. He stepped back and took Tharomar’s seat at the table.

  Leaving the cave was harder than Thel would have expected going in. It’d been their first moments of comfort since being swept away from Alikar’s carriage, and he was really not looking forward to finding another cave or camping under the stars. Especially because as they neared Panar, the h
ills would smooth into plains, and there’d be no caves unless he created one himself.

  But the lure of real safety in the city was strong, and also he wanted to be as far as possible from the Kavanarians as he could get, so they’d set off along the road. Actually, they stayed near the road, but off it when they could, picking through hedges and along deer paths. Thank Dom for teaching him how to follow the things. If there was one way to run into Kavanarians, it’d likely be walking blindly down the road. And thus, except for some bogs or excessively thick brambles, they traveled for a full day in unusually happy and mild spirits. They were lucky to find a large outcropping in the woods to camp under again, and it was a lot warmer combining his magic with her sleeping in his arms.

  The peace that had hit them like a storm’s deluge surprised him more than anything. Niat still seemed frequently on edge, and he caught moments where he could sense suspicion in her. And fear. He pretended not to notice.

  The second day’s walk was much the same as the first. The trees were starting to thin, which made Thel nervous with less to hide behind, but it did mean they were getting closer. The forest was a little less quiet today, as the day was a bit warmer than the last few, and he could hear an overwintering bird or two and other creatures scrambling around in the trees. The air was cool and crisp with snow, but the walking kept him warm enough. Not long now and they’d be back with a roof and a fire and actual food and books and—

  On the even path, Niat suddenly stumbled, then collapsed forward.

  Rushing to her side, he found her eyes closed but moving behind the lids. As she’d fallen, she’d hit her head on a log off the side of the path and scraped her temple badly, blood starting to trickle toward her ear. He scrambled to open the satchel and rifled through it till he found an old scarf of Alikar’s. Ripping off a portion, he held it over the wound and propped her up in his arms, hoping the bleeding would stop by the time she woke up.

  Must be another vision. Strange timing on this one, though. Would she be sick when she woke? He scanned the forest around them and waited in the quiet, looking for somewhere to shelter. He didn’t see much, but they had passed a sturdy pine over the last hill back…

  The deep, thrumming sound of a horn cut through the air, and he jumped, looking around. He saw no one nearby, but the sound came in the direction of Panar.

  That was no Akarian horn.

  He never had asked her if she’d seen any other city burn. She did seem to drag her feet about going to Panar, but he’d thought that was because she didn’t want to deal with her father or her temple or any of it. Couldn’t blame her for that. But could there have been some reason more? Some reason she wasn’t telling him in case it was too traumatic?

  The horn sounded again. Was it closer this time?

  He struggled to his feet with Niat in his arms. Good thing she was barely a feather, or he wouldn’t have made it far, but as it was he made it back to the pine he’d seen, pushed through the spikey branches, and found something of a hollow inside that hid them well from the outside world.

  Her grip suddenly tightened on his shoulder. Her eyes were open now, her face pale and brow sweaty as usual.

  “Where are we?” she croaked.

  “We’re inside a tree. Are you all right? You hit your head on a rock when you fell.” He held up the bloody rag by way of explanation. In truth, he thought it had already stopped bleeding.

  She struggled to straighten up and kneel in the earth beside him, looking ill. “Vision again.”

  “I gathered.” He sat the rag aside and tentatively put his arm around her, rubbing his hand up and down one arm. Happily, she didn’t tense this time. “What did you see?”

  “Troops,” she whispered. “Kavanarian ones.” She looked out, her eyes almost as if she could seeing something more than the empty forest around them. “They’re not far.”

  “I heard a horn. That’s why I decided to carry you in here. In case they were coming this way.”

  Her eyes locked with his now. “I think I know how to find them. If you want to try and stop them.”

  He scowled. “One man against regiments of Kavanarians?”

  “Three large units,” she said. “I’m not sure how big a regiment is. And yes. You’ve got that little book, don’t you? Look and see what it has to say.”

  He pulled out the book obediently even as he grumbled, “I don’t know what good this’ll do, if they can skewer me three thousand times over.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him, and for a second he thought she was nauseous before it hit him that she was also smiling. “Who’s taking the coward’s path now, Prince Thel Lanuken of Akaria?”

  “Oh, leave it to you to bring that up now.” He snorted, opening the book and flipping through the pages. This was ridiculous. He could have no hope of—

  His eyes caught on a spell he hadn’t paid much mind before, one of the last few listed in the final chapter. Perhaps, maybe…

  Yes, that just might work.

  What do you wear to promise yourself to someone forever? Something special? Something new? Something treasured? The white tunic and leather vest you met him in? Did it even matter?

  In the end, her mind had persistently concluded that it did not matter. But some other part of her had been equally uninterested in the same tunic and vest she’d worn so many days before Ranok had started heaping new piles of comfortable clothing on her like she was some kind of minor noble. That other part of her had whispered that a pale-blue gown wasn’t so bad, or so outlandish.

  It didn’t really matter. His hand was warm around hers. That was what mattered.

  She gazed up at the temple as they started up the stairs. The high pillar was still toppled, still frowning down at her. Perhaps it hadn’t been judging her. No one at the temple had. Perhaps the temple was frowning because it was broken, out of the indignity. And how would they fix it? It had to be a major undertaking for a nonmage.

  “Wait a moment,” she said softly, pulling him to a stop with her on the bottom of the stairs.

  She reached up with her mind and eased the piece back, melding the fracture that had let it fall, restoring it to its former glory. As she worked, the same crinkle-eyed, kind-faced mage emerged from the temple and followed their gaze up. Then she met Jaena’s eyes, the knowledge in them clear. There was no escaping she’d used magic, perhaps not in the temple, but on it.

  Well, so be it. She was a mage. She was honoring Nefrana. They could accept her, or they could not, and she and Ro would march on to the next temple.

  For now, they marched up the stairs and met the woman at the top.

  “Welcome back,” she said to Jaena alone, her small smile pleased.

  Ro shot her a glance, one eyebrow raised.

  “Thanks,” said Jaena weakly. “Can we go in?”

  “Of course. Everything is quiet today.” The priestess gestured inside, then continued her way down the steps.

  A man was sweeping the floor near the front of the temple. Golden light spilled through the large leaded windows of white and orange and yellow, making the dust motes he blew up shimmer and glow.

  Jaena started back toward him. She passed the wooden statue without looking at it, although it felt like walking past someone staring at her, demanding her attention. He looked up as they reached the archway, but said nothing.

  “I’m looking to get married,” she said. My, this temple put her in a blunt mood.

  The priest tilted his head, glancing at Ro. “We don’t keep husbands in stock here. Candles and meditation beads, maybe.” He smiled very slightly.

  “I have a husband,” she said quickly, gesturing at Ro, and then balked at the sound of those words. The word “husband” as something she might actually have felt strange on her lips, awkward—terrifying. “I mean, my intended and I would like to be married in this temple. Right now. If that’s a thing you do here.”

  The priest nodded sagely. “Let me get High Priestess Gerana.”

  “Wait,” she
said, holding up a hand. He had turned away but now stopped and looked back. “I’m a mage. We’re both mages. Is that going to be a problem?”

  “Are you planning on celebrating by controlling anyone’s minds?”

  Ro snorted. “I should think not.”

  Jaena frowned at the priest. “We can’t do any of that. Nor would we. Of course not.”

  “Then I think you shall be fine as wine.”

  To Jaena’s surprise, the discussion with the High Priestess was a rather simple one. In Takar, a wedding could be a highly elaborate affair, going on for days, every family invited. In Hepan, it was smaller but still rather an extended affair, sometimes going for more than a week. But of course they didn’t have a week. And Jaena and Ro had no family, really. His was all gone—or liars—and what was left of hers might be a continent away. Unless they counted their friends.

  “Akarians tend to consider marriage a very private experience,” the high priestess explained. “Many worship Anara for marriage and venture into the waters, the ocean or the midcountry lakes, alone under moonlight to be wed. So you see, a simple ceremony is quite what we do here. If that is all right with you.”

  “Yes, of course,” Jaena said.

  Ro smiled up at the arches above him in amusement. “In a temple like this, I don’t know if we can call it exactly ‘simple.’ But short and sweet is fine with me.”

  But in truth, the words were simple, and honest, and that made them all the more sweet.

  The priestess put Jaena’s hand in Tharomar’s and wrapped her hands around them as she spoke about love, about life, about family, about pain, about persistence and devotion. About faith to each other and faith to the gods.

  Jaena squeezed his hand, and he squeezed hers back.

  And then, just like that, it was done.

  “By and in Nefrana’s golden light,” said the priestess, “I declare you are married. Go and bring prosperity to her fields, and give glory to her name.”