Mage Resolution (Book 2)

by Virginia G. McMorrow

  “Are they all right?” Jules grabbed my brother’s shoulders and squeezed tight. “Are they all there?”

  Gwynn’s head bobbed up and down in excitement, looking no older than Carey or Hunter. “They were sleeping. Lady Khrista—” Gwynn hesitated and looked at me for guidance. When I nodded, he took a deep breath and faced Jules. “I think she is ill, my lord. Her hair was damp as though she were sweating. And she was lying down, her face flushed. She may have a fever. I am sorry. I could not tell for certain.”

  Jules still gripped my brother’s arms. “The boys? Gwynn, what about my children?”

  “One was sleeping. The other—” Gwynn beamed from ear to ear. “He was surprised when I poked my head over the ledge, but I waved him to silence, and he nodded.”

  “Hunter?” I asked Jules.

  “Probably. Carey would’ve been shrieking.”

  “He was very serious, my lord,” Gwynn added, hoping that detail would help. “I wish I could have stayed to reassure him, but I had to leave. From the spot where I watched, hanging by the ledge, I saw the renegade coming back. So I left. I am sorry. It was hard to leave them behind.”

  “At least you saw them. They’re alive, and they know help is near. That was most certainly Hunter, if he was serious.” Jules’s green eyes showed the first spark of life in days. “If you’d been caught helping them escape,” he reassured my brother, “you would’ve been defenseless against her. We’ll take care of the rest. You’ve done quite enough.”

  “We need a diversion.” I stifled a yawn, punching Gwynn in the shoulder to let him know I was proud of him. “I’ll take Gwynn and half the guards back toward the river bank.” Another yawn escaped. “Pardon me. Anders, you go with Jules and the rest of the troops to free Khrista and the twins.”

  Anders wrapped his arms around my shivering shoulders as we sat entangled on the bedrolls. “You go with Jules. I’ll go with Gwynn.”

  I craned my neck around. “Why?”

  “Because we can’t risk you—” His words faded at my arched eyebrow.

  “Behaving like a fool, and falling to pieces?” I pushed him away with feigned confidence. “I’ll be all right. It was just unexpected.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Yes. Absolutely.”

  “And I must be with Alex because it is partly Glynnswood’s responsibility that the renegade is mad.” Gwynn’s brown eyes were solemn, so like Sernyn Keltie, that I couldn’t resist toppling him over on his side.

  “You must be with me because I want you where I can see you.” With renewed energy, I worked myself free of the tangled bedrolls and helped Anders pack our gear. Within moments, the camp was ready to move. I led Gwynn and our half of the troops toward the Jendlan River. We didn’t have long to wait.

  Instinctively, knowing she was near, I gestured for silence. Port Alain and Ardenna guards obeyed without question as I strained to hear, catching the sound of low, eerie laughter that sent involuntary shivers running down the length of my spine. Laughter, and something more. Shutting out the sounds of the river flowing past, I felt raw energy edge nearer. And keening, a wild cry of mourning.

  I caught the captain’s eye and signaled him. In silence, he fanned his troops around to outflank the renegade’s position. Cool warmth ran through me as I held my talent in check, not daring to provoke the mage until Jules and Anders had time enough to make their rescue. With caution, the renegade appeared at the forest edge, framed against the close-knit pines, facing the river.

  And facing me.

  Reaching out with both hands, she shut her eyes tight against the brilliant sunlight streaming through the branches overhead and groaned. “Fire burns,” she muttered. “Ice cuts. Help me.” Flames singed the ground at my feet as she switched to an unintelligible language once again.

  I didn’t move, though I wanted nothing more than to flee. “Quiet your mind,” I urged. “The pain will stop.”

  “No.” She moaned, clutching her sides.

  Flames caught the rotten log near Gwynn’s boot. Without effort or thought, I changed the flames to a pool of water. “Quiet your mind.” My voice droned on in soothing tones. “Don’t use your mage talent. Don’t—”

  One arm, dressed in rags, draped over a low hanging branch as she leaned back against the trunk for support.

  “Rest.”

  A high-pitched keening destroyed the stillness of the forest, soon followed by a shout of joy. “Alex!” Carey, safe at last, bolted unexpectedly from Jules’s arms and crashed through the undergrowth, heading straight for me, too near the pain-maddened renegade mage.

  Too late.

  Eyes wide in fury and betrayal, the mage stretched both arms in my direction. “No! Mine.” Turning around to find more betrayal, Khrista and Hunter free, she muttered, fire erupting in all directions, raw talent reckless and wild.

  Anders, running behind Jules, shoved Khrista into the arms of a Port Alain guard and worked his way toward the renegade, keeping out of her sight.

  Watching his every move with my peripheral vision, while keeping my eyes locked on the mage, I shoved Carey to safety behind my back into Gwynn’s waiting arms. “Get him away,” I hissed. “Now.”

  Gwynn moved to get Carey out of sight.

  The renegade screamed defiance and darted after my brother as I sent a wall of flame to bar her passage. Enraged, she turned her fury on me. “Mine!” Turning the dry log at my feet to blazing flame, the mad woman laughed as fire caught the hem of my wool cloak.

  Without thinking, I changed the flames to water and scrambled after the renegade as she flew toward the bridge.

  The flameblasted bridge.

  “Anders!” Running as fast as I dared, I shouted in panic and terror as I approached the bridge. Lords of the sea, I’d no choice but to cross.

  “It’s all right,” Anders called out. “It’s all right, Alex. It’s safe. I promise.”

  And it was. I looked out over the span in relief to see that he had changed the rickety wooden supports and span to firm stone, though my fear still nearly paralyzed me. The mage screamed again in rage and pain as she leapt at the Port Alain guard who scurried across the bridge with Hunter clutched in his arms. Flames engulfed the poor guard, who fainted from the intense pain as I changed the flames to water. As the wounded guard fell, Hunter tumbled within reach of the deranged renegade, who snatched the boy from the ground. I shot behind her position when Hunter’s soft cry of fright distracted her attention.

  “Anders!” I watched in horror as the renegade lunged toward the edge of the bridge, Hunter in her arms, Anders moving in her direction, inch by inch.

  “No closer,” the mage warned, clutching her side again as fire and ice ripped uncontrolled through her body.

  I crept closer to her, holding my breath and shoving aside the paralyzing terror of the bridge beneath my shaking feet.

  “I need them,” she whispered, making no sense to me.

  Anders was closer, seagray eyes fixed on Hunter, who watched with implicit trust as the mad renegade carried him closer to the edge, the rushing waters loud below. I held my breath as she grunted, swinging Hunter until he was positioned precariously on the narrow ledge, just out of my reach. Gwynn moved onto the bridge from the further bank, Carey clutched in his arms. Anders stared calmly at my brother for a brief second, some message passing between them. Without warning, Gwynn set Carey down and flew to the renegade’s side as Anders leaped forward to snatch Hunter from her grip. In moments, Gwynn shoved the mage toward the ledge where she tried to maintain her balance, hands gripping Gwynn’s cloak with desperation. In anger and disgust, my brother cursed and shoved the mage backward and over the edge.

  Losing the battle for balance, the mage pulled Gwynn over the edge with her, clinging to his cloak with a death grip. Jules crossed the short distance to them moments before me. He caught Gwynn’s vanishing cloak as the mage’s weight bore him down. The heavy material started to rip and escape through Jules’s straining hands.
I reached his side and tugged on Gwynn’s cloak, stretching to reach his skinny leg, painfully aware of the deep waters below and the ease with which I could be carried over the edge with him.

  In the eerie silence, Jules’s heavy breathing was deafening as he pried the renegade’s hands from my brother. Her screams were full of bitter curses as she fell into the depths of the rushing Jendlan River below. As we yanked Gwynn to safety on the bridge, the twins lunged into my arms, sobbing. Forcing myself to stay calm, I tucked the boys against my chest and walked slowly, infinitely slowly, off the bridge, step by frightening step, until we were safe on solid ground. As Jules snatched both boys from my aching arms, Anders swept me up in a fierce hug, dragging Gwynn into our embrace.

  Exhausted, I signaled the captain, who came to my side. “We need a healer for the duke’s sister. Send word ahead to Glynnswood, please,” I said, trying to think through the maze of my jumbled thoughts. “And send word, as well, to Port Alain. Tell the duke’s mother and his wife that Lady Khrista and the twins are safe.” As the captain hastened to obey, my brother joined us, looking no worse for his misadventure. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine, Alex, though hanging upside down from a bridge was not something I would wish to do again, even if you and the duke were holding on tight.” His cocky grin made me feel old, but I was glad, terribly glad, that Gwynn was safe.

  “Next time, I might decide to drop you on your head. Listen, I have a favor to ask.” Eying Anders, who hadn’t moved far from my side, I explained, “Can you lead them back to your village? I’ve sent word ahead to notify a healer you’d be coming, and then—”

  “You are not coming to Hartswood?” Dark brown eyes stared at me, sorrow and disappointment crystal clear when I shook my head. “Because of father?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” I ruffled the boy’s hair. “It doesn’t matter. What I do know is that I’m weary and drained and need to go home to Port Alain.”

  Gwynn started to argue, exchanged a glance with Anders, and subsided. He stood straight and tall, cheeks flushing bright. “I will miss you, Alex.”

  I grabbed the boy by the shoulders and hugged him close. “I’ll miss you, too, though you’re a beastly nuisance. Take care of yourself. Next time I see you,” —I released my brother, eying him from head to toe— “I expect you to show me some magic. Understand?”

  “Perfectly.” With a grin, and a quick hug for Anders, Gwynn led the duke’s party back toward his people.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “You’re looking content,” I said to Khrista, some months later, when we’d all banished the horror of the kidnapping from our minds. Or so we thought and told each other.

  “Content? Be honest. I’m looking fat.” Khrista laughed, one hand resting protectively on her swollen belly as she settled down on a low armchair near the parlor window to enjoy the sun’s soothing warmth.

  “You’re looking content,” I repeated, not wanting to be accused of suggesting my friend was as round as a barrel of ale. “As does Kerrie, though ever since he’s married you the poor man’s been a bit dazed and bewildered.”

  “Ah, well.” Khrista turned her head away, one long brown braid swinging down her back. Her movement wasn’t fast enough to hide the peculiar expression that flashed in her eyes, making me wonder, not for the first time, if she was still troubled by her capture. She spoke little about what happened, though Lauryn and I urged her many times after Rosanna had given up. “Poor Kerrie didn’t know any better.”

  “We all warned him about making a terrible mistake, you being Jules’s sister and all.”

  “I’m sure you did.” Her laughter at my good-natured teasing was forced, and stopped the moment she clutched her abdomen. “It’s certainly a boy, Alex. Kicking up a storm the likes of the tempest that hit us when we were out on the bay almost two years ago.” Her face, no longer calm, paled with strain.

  “That’s not ordinary kicking.”

  “I’m fine, Alex.” Guessing my intent, she held up a shaking hand to hold me back. “It’s nothing. I swear it.”“

  “It doesn’t look like nothing from where I’m sitting. I’d feel better sending for the Port Alain healer.” I stood to leave but didn’t get far. Khrista’s hand grabbed the sleeve of my tunic with a strength that surprised me, nearly toppling me over. “Khrista—”

  “I’d like some water.” Clear defiant eyes held mine.

  “Not until you tell me why you stopped me from calling the healer.”

  “Yes, well.” She waved a hand in dismissal, which did nothing at all to ease my concern. “Please get me some water.”

  Unhappy at the manipulation, I kept Khrista in sight as I poured cold water from the ceramic pitcher. “Here. Though I don’t see how it will help you.”

  She laughed as I shoved the glass into her outstretched hand. “I’m all right.”

  “It’s happened before, hasn’t it?”

  Khrista flushed and looked away, setting the glass down on the carved wooden table alongside her armchair. “Yes.”

  “How often?”

  “Only a few times.” Her skin burned hotter.

  “Liar.” I watched Khrista intently, some instinct warning me, though the message was garbled. “Why wouldn’t you let me call the healer?”

  “Because she already knows about my baby’s active kicking.” When I crossed my arms, trying to make sense of this fact, Khrista picked up the glass and twirled it between her hands. “She doesn’t know why it happens.”

  “I can’t believe an expectant woman has never been troubled by these kinds of symptoms before,” I said in exasperation, not ever having had my own child. “See another healer then. Go to Ardenna. I’m sure Elena will send you to the best healer in the kingdom.”

  Not that Elena would send me to the best healer. I hadn’t seen my friend in all these months, and couldn’t find the nerve to ask her forgiveness, though it was nothing I caused. Her distance was emotional, and I’d decided to let her find her way back when she was ready.

  Khrista stopped twirling the glass and shook her head. “It’s not necessary. The kicking and all the sensations that accompany the kicks don’t last long. It’s always the same. Burning first, then ice cold. And then it’s gone as though it never happened. It’s—” She squinted at my sudden involuntary move. “What?”

  Lords of the sea, no, please. Fire and ice clutched at my own insides in recognition of her horrible words. My own mother’s dying words.

  Feigning a yawn, I shook my head. “Sorry. Restless night. Anders’s snoring was unusually loud.” I crossed my arms and glared at my friend. “But getting back to you and my future student, promise me that if the feelings get any worse, you’ll go to Ardenna.”

  “I’ll promise if you stop pestering me. Now go and bother Anders.”

  I left Khrista alone, haunted by her choice of words. Shoving my concerns aside for the moment, refusing to think about the implications of those words, I wandered down the stairs to the main hall, not sure where I was headed. And then, guided by some bizarre instinct, thought better of my indecision and returned to confront Jules’s sister. I settled myself on the window seat, overlooking Rosanna’s beloved garden, and traced a design on the frosted glass, a design that echoed the mage pendant I wore around my neck.

  “Khrista—”

  “I’m all right, Alex.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “But?” Her beautiful face looked drawn and fatigued, though she smiled, trying very hard to convince me.

  “But I have to ask you something.” Lords of the sea, give me strength and courage to say the right words. “You’ve known me all my life, so you know,” —I paused, took a deep breath to still the shaking— “well, you know I’m not asking this particular question because I’m curious. It’s important.”

  Her face averted, Khrista managed a casual tone. “Then ask.”

  “Are you certain Kerrie is the father of this child?”

  Utter silence. W
hen I’d expected anger or tears, Khrista instead wrapped her heart in cold silence, shutting me out as though she’d slammed an oak door in my face.

  “It’s important,” I repeated. “I swear to you, Khrista, please, believe me, I’m not prying to be nosy. It’s important.”

  “To whom?” She came alive with an abruptness that caught me off guard, eyes flashing in warning. “Your sense of honor and decency?”

  I struggled to keep my voice even. “That’s unfair and untrue.” When she turned away again, hugging herself tight, her swollen abdomen strained against her gown, and I knew, from her lack of response, that she was carrying a mage child. “Your life and the life of your child depend on your answer.”

  “What’s it to you, then?” she spat at me, tears forming in her green eyes that so rarely gazed on me with anger. “What’s it to you, Alex, now that you force your way in here with no regard for my honor or feelings or—”

  Lords of the sea, I didn’t have a choice. “My mother died in childbirth from the sensations you’ve described.”

  That ugly sentence stopped her cold, as I’d meant it to. “I thought they never knew what happened,” she said, voice tightly controlled, though her knuckles were white as she clutched the arms of the chair.

  “Your mother never told you the whole sordid story?” I kept my own voice steady as Khrista shook her head in denial. Why was I not surprised that Rosanna protected my privacy, knowing I still blamed myself for a death I’d innocently caused? “My mother was a seamage, and my father a Glynnswood mage.”

  “I knew that.”

  “Well, my mother didn’t. Sernyn Keltie was afraid of his talent, terrified by it, and so he never admitted the truth to my mother. Not knowing this, knowing only that he had little tolerance for magic of any sort, my mother promised not to use her own gift when he was nearby. And so” —I took a deep, calming breath— “all through her pregnancy and childbirth, the baby, me, Khrista, tiny unborn me, lashed out with raw talent. My father didn’t understand what was happening until it was too late, and my mother never used her magic to save herself. She didn’t understand either.” I met Khrista’s bright eyes with tears in my own and turned back to the window, seeing nothing beyond the tracing of my finger on the windowpane. “If she had, she might still be alive.”