“The wizard, though,” the queen said, “poses too much of a threat. He must be dealt with.”
“Once he’s found, your majesty, send an emissary,” Ashley said. “If the wizard yields to your will, use him. If not, proceed with your plans. Why waste a weapon before seeing if you can wield it?”
Duke Macias nodded.
The queen narrowed her eyes. “I shall consider the matter.”
Not a “yes” but better than a “no.” Ashley barely managed not let her relief show. She was still alive, having won the battle, but the war was far from over. A single misstep could lead to her doom.
And Xan’s.
38.
Dylan checked and double checked the ropes.
Both Myles and his son slept, and the drug would keep them that way until at least late afternoon of the following day. Still, one could never be too careful.
The binds securing each man’s hands were tied tight. Good.
The afternoon sun faded fast. In an hour, there’d not be enough light to see, and traveling in such hilly country in the dark wasn’t safe. No help for it but to get a fresh start the next morning.
Not that Dylan knew where to go. He’d been out cold while he was carried deep into the woods and had no idea where he was. If Mari couldn’t find the road, they were sunk.
“How much do you remember of the journey here?” he said.
“We followed winding game trails for hours,” she said, “but we headed mostly due north.”
Perfect. If they traveled straight south, they’d find the road. Good thing she’d paid attention. He was lucky to have her.
“What is it?” she said. “You grinned like you’d just sold a wagon of dye for ten times what you paid.”
Dylan laughed. She knew him so well.
“I was just thinking how amazing you are,” he said.
She tilted her head.
“I’m serious,” he said. “Being kidnapped by those two was an unimaginably stressful situation, but you kept your wits about you. You saved us weeks of hard travel because you were so observant. And you were so brave standing up to Myles like that. You exceed my expectations in every way.”
She blushed. “Dylan …”
Heat rose to his face as well. Had he really said all that? Out loud? “I mean …”
“What?”
No. He would not chicken out. “I mean exactly what I said. You are amazing.”
“Come here,” she said.
“Why?”
“Just come here.”
“Okay.”
She pulled his face to hers. Their lips met, caressing each other. The kiss stretched into minutes, and his hand drifted lower and lower down her back. She’d object when he’d gone too far.
Lower. Lower.
She’d pull away at any second.
Lower.
His hand reached its destination.
Still no objection. Instead, she snuggled tighter to him. The kiss grew more urgent.
She wasn’t going to stop him. At all.
His eyes darted around the clearing. Their captives were still out cold, and other than those two, he and Mari were completely alone.
With night fast approaching.
He pulled away. “We’re, um, going to have to stay here tonight.”
She smiled. “You’re probably right.”
Nothing about her response indicated any concern.
“Your, uh, brothers will never find us here, either.”
“True.”
“We’re, uh, not exactly properly chaperoned at the moment.”
“Is my virtue in danger tonight?” She stared at him with her wide, innocent eyes.
He gulped. “Absolutely not, my lady. I would never …”
Would he? Kissing, definitely. A bit of cuddling probably. Cuddling in a shared bedroll perhaps. Wearing night clothes.
What would Mari wear to bed?
Bad thought. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea.
But so easy to lay their bedrolls side by side. She was willing. He wanted it. And they were to be married.
Once they’d received permission from her father. Permission that would be in doubt when he found out Dylan was a mage.
And how much less likely would that permission be in coming if they followed through with what they both wanted?
No. He would not do anything more to jeopardize their marriage. No way. No how.
“I should, uh, get firewood. Uh, now.” Before she could notice the front of his pants, he dashed into the trees.
After dinner, he waited until Mari had laid out her bedroll before laying out his several yards away, and he stared at her wistfully throughout the first half of the night as he kept watch over the mage hunters. When it was time for her to take her turn, the temptation to do more than chastely kiss her nearly killed him, but he resisted. Barely.
“What should we do with them?” Mari said the next morning.
Dylan stared at the two bound men. “I don’t know. Even if we leave them tied and take their horses, there’s no guarantee they won’t trouble us again, and they might just try to kill me outright next time.”
“You’re not thinking about … you know …” She ran a finger across her neck.
“Goodness no! I’m not Brant or Xan to go around killing people.” He sighed. “We’ll just have to bring them with us.”
Packing up didn’t take long, and they soon had the horses saddled and ready.
Mari gestured at the two unconscious forms. “How do we get them on—”
Myles flew into the air and landed across his saddle. His son followed, doing the same on his own horse.
“Oh,” Mari said.
Upon reaching the road a few hours later, Dylan looked left and right. No sign of the rest of their party, of course.
“These guys won’t sleep forever,” Dylan said. “I’d feel better if we could find Sergeant Pruitt. Do we backtrack? Wait here? Continue on?”
“We didn’t go far along the road yesterday,” Mari said. “They probably passed us.”
“Okay, let’s make that assumption. Since they didn’t find us last night, they’ll surely figure out that they somehow got ahead of us.”
Mari nodded.
“If I were the sergeant in those circumstances,” Dylan said, “I’d travel slowly hoping that we caught up to them, meaning we should head toward Eagleton as fast as we can manage.”
If they were wrong about being passed, there’d be no chance of meeting up with the others. Either way was a gamble, though.
Dylan set an aggressive pace for the day, but by late afternoon, they hadn’t encountered anyone else. Myles and his son had, however, woken. And wasn’t that a joy.
“Let me go, mage, or I swear I’ll kill you much slower than a hanging. Your trollop, too.” That and more. For hours.
Dylan finally had to gag him.
The closer they got to Eagleton, the more excited Mari became. She asked him for stories about his childhood, his friends, the town, and especially his parents, mentioning multiple times how excited she was to meet them.
In contrast, Dylan grew more anxious with every mile that passed. Besides the worry and disappointment the announcement that he was a mage would cause his parents, he dreaded what they’d think about him wedding a simple farm girl, no matter how wealthy. They’d never told him his marriage had to further their business interests, but family tradition of doing just that stretched back for generations. And Dylan had always been a dutiful son. His choice of Mari would be a complete surprise to them.
All his correspondence had involved setting up their new house in Asherton. In retrospect, he should have mentioned he was dating someone.
And what would Mari think of his parents? They weren’t exactly warm and huggy like her family. She’d probably find them stuffy.
He’d promised Mari a proposal after the proper permissions were granted, but what if those permissions never came? His parents might disinherit him for his lack of consider
ation for the family’s interests. Her dad could decide that Dylan—a mage for the Holy One’s sake—wasn’t a good choice for his daughter.
His doubts and fears increased over the next two days. By the time they reached the mountain pass that brought far distant Eagleton into sight, he was a wreck. They’d not run across Sergeant Pruitt, leaving dealing with the ordeal of keeping prisoners to the two of them. Feeding. Calls of nature. Guarding at night. All while knowing that the slightest slip up could lead to disaster.
After getting little sleep over the course of three nights, his mind swam in a muddled haze. The town had been in view for hours before he finally noticed a change. A major change.
“A wall?” he said. “They’re building wall?”
He couldn’t imagine what would prompt Mayor Williamson to dig into the coffers for such. In fact, there was no way Eagleton had enough money to pay for a twenty-foot high palisade ringing the town, and workers were busy adding rocks and mortar outside the logs.
Dylan groaned. The only way Eagleton could afford that new construction was to raise taxes. By a lot. Taking money straight from Dylan’s pocket.
The road wound through the mountains and, for a half mile or so, canyon walls hid the town. When Dylan and his group topped a rise, it popped back into view, and he got another surprise. In front of an unfinished gate stood a half-dozen ragged armed men.
Mercenaries.
Not only had the mayor built a wall, but with the militia still in Asherton, he’d hired guards. Why the blast would he do such a thing? Had something dire happened? And more importantly, how much did all that cost?
Dylan and his group drew near the gate under watchful eyes.
One of the men, huge with an unkempt beard, stepped forward. “Halt!”
Dylan introduced himself as the son of a prominent trading family.
The man eyed Myles and his son, still tied and draped over saddles. “Ain’t no slave merchants in this here town.”
“They attacked us,” Dylan said. “I’m delivering them to the authorities.”
“You and this slip of a girl took out two bandits?” The man paused. “Don’t seem right.”
Dylan sighed. What was the three kingdoms coming to when a man had to resort to a bribe to get into his own hometown? He reached for his coin purse.
Oh well. Better money than fighting and violence and magic, at least.
“Help me!” a voice yelled.
Dylan spun in his saddle. Myles had worked his gag off.
“Ignore him,” Dylan said.
“They kidnapped me! Help!”
“Sir,” Dylan said, “this man is a liar. You can’t—”
“They robbed me!” Myles said. “Took my fine clothes. My money. I’m Dylan d’Adreci, not this man. Please help! I’ll give you a reward. Anything you want.”
Five of the mercenaries had been lounging against the wall, barely paying any attention to the goings on. At the shouting, they all drew swords.
“I swear to you,” Dylan said. “This man is a liar.”
“They’re bandits and imposters!” Myles said. “Save me, and I’ll make you rich!”
Dylan rolled his eyes. Surely, the mercenaries wouldn’t fall for—
But they did.
The six moved to surround Dylan and Mari. More appeared on top of the wall with bows.
“Hold off,” Dylan said. “Get the mayor. He knows me.”
Myles moaned. “He wants to kill the mayor! That’s his plan!”
Oh, for the love of the Holy One!
Dylan exhaled sharply. These men were interfering with him, a prominent son of Eagleton. Threatening his life. Endangering Mari. And he was getting blasted tired of it. “Listen—”
“Off the horse,” the lead mercenary said.
“Fine.” Dylan dismounted. “Just calm down. Send one of your men to retrieve anyone in authority from the town. Literally everyone knows me. Don’t do something we’ll both regret.”
Galloping hooves echoed off canyon walls from over the hill behind them. Close to a half-dozen horses by the sound of things.
Dylan glanced back to see five figures top the hill at full speed. Pruitt, the soldiers, and Mari’s brothers.
Great. Just great.
The mercenaries acted like they were under attack. Archers let loose. Most of the arrows fell short, but an arrow hit Jeffry in the shoulder, taking him off his horse.
Mari screamed.
Things were happening too fast for Dylan to react.
One of the men grabbed Mari and pulled her from her horse. She got a leg under her to break her momentum, but she stumbled. Her shoulder hit the ground. Hard.
Myles and his son strained at their bonds, nearly free.
“Enough!” Dylan yelled.
39.
Dylan seethed.
The blasted mercenaries had disrespected him. Risked letting dangerous mage hunters escape. Perhaps killed his future brother-in-law. Injured his intended.
They would not get away with it, even if teaching them a lesson meant, once again, using magic. Somehow, everything always came down to him using magic.
Two of the mercenaries on the ground kept their bared blades pointed at him and Mari. The others formed a line, ready to take on Sergeant Pruitt.
Dylan wrapped all six with a fist of kinetic force and slammed them against the wall. He propelled the archers up and over the parapet. They hurtled toward the dirt. At the last instant, Dylan applied a slight upward thrust, breaking their fall. A bit, anyway.
They hit with thuds.
“No one move!” Dylan yelled. “If so much as a muscle twitches, and I’ll launch you a mile high.”
Not that there was much chance of them putting up a fight. They’d all hit the wall or ground hard and weren’t doing much more than groaning. Even Myles and his son had stopped struggling, seemingly cowed by the display of power.
Mari dragged herself up and rushed to where Jeffry lay prone. Jarred already leaned over him, using a wadded shirt to stem the flow of blood from the arrow wound.
Dylan wished he could join them, but he had to keep the mage hunters from escaping. And the mercenaries from trying something. And every other calamity from happening.
At least he had Sergeant Pruitt’s help.
He watched the mercenaries while Garret assisted with Jeffry and Filiberto went to summon the mayor.
As they waited for the proper authorities to arrive, Dylan frowned. Again, he’d been forced to use magic. Though he’d committed to using his power to help the duke, making money was his goal, not being a mage. Yet time after time, he found himself relying on those powers instead of wealth and influence.
He sighed.
That he kept getting forced in one direction should tell him something. He’d always thought money was what he wanted most because money could get him everything he wanted. It hadn’t gotten him Mari, though. In truth, he didn’t know what had convinced her to love him, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t wealth. Her family was, after all, more well off than his.
And she didn’t seem to care one way or the other about him being a mage.
“Fine,” he said under his breath, “if the Holy One wants me to be a blasted mage, I’ll be a blasted mage.”
Mayor Williamson, followed by three militia men who were too old to have made the trip to Asherton, finally arrived.
“Your honor,” Myles said, “I’m a mage hunter and this young man—”
He jerked from his horse and arced skyward a few feet before landing hard on his butt.
“Oof!”
The mayor stepped back, shocked. One of the men with him made the sign of the Holy One.
Satisfied that Myles would give no more trouble for a while, Dylan turned to the mayor. “What that idiot was trying to say is that I’m a kineticist.”
“Son,” Mayor Williamson said, “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m sorry. We must turn you over to—”
“What the mage hunter wasn’
t ever going to tell you, however—” Dylan had never interrupted anyone as important as the mayor. It felt kind of nice. He understood why Xan did it. “—is that there is an amnesty. Dastanar has broken the treaty against magic use and is likely to attack again. For the good of the duchy and the kingdom, Duke Asher sent me here to recruit more mages.”
The mayor looked skeptical.
“I’m Sergeant Pruitt of Vierna’s army, your honor. Dylan’s story is true. Every word.”
“Dire portents,” the mayor said. “Dire portents indeed. And as worrisome as your news is, I fear events here augur even worse.”
40.
Dylan stepped back, worried.
The re-emergence of magic and pardoning of mages changed everything. War was likely coming. If the mayor thought something was more important than those two events, that something must be big indeed.
Even the typically unflappable Sergeant Pruitt was taken aback. “Pardon, your honor, but did you hear what the boy just said?”
“I may be getting older, but I’m not deaf, or daft, yet,” Mayor Williamson said. “But none of this is appropriate to discuss with so many eyes and ears about. We should adjourn to a more private location.”
Dylan frowned. That was a conversation he, as the duke’s representative, needed to be a part of. He glanced over at Mari, bent over her wounded brother. Leaving her didn’t seem right, though.
“What about the injured?” Dylan said.
“I’ve sent for the apothecary.”
With Master Rae’s passing and Xan missing, the town must have recruited a new one. Good that they had, considering.
“Can you hold off leaving for a moment?” Dylan said.
Without waiting for confirmation, he rushed to where Jeffry lay flat on his back. His shirt had been cut off, revealing a nasty cut on his shoulder with an arrow sticking from it. Blood oozed from the wound, soaking cloths packed around it. Though in obvious pain, he was awake and talking to Jarred and Mari.
Dylan pulled her aside. “How is he?”
“I … I don’t know. Jarred thinks he’ll be fine, but we’ve never seen anything like this on the farm.”
Gryphon (Rise of the Mages Book 2) Page 24
