They returned to Warmund’s hovel, where he released a soft sigh of relief. It was only the one room. No temptations here.
Warmund went right back to his bed, pulling his blankets over his head once more. Avas yawned and Hendric had him lie down and put his head on his father’s knee so he could rest. Both were breathing the deep, even breaths of sleep soon. Sylvia yawned as she leaned against the wall beside him and lifted her hand, where her ring glowed with blue magic.
“What happens if we toss them into the fire?”
Hendric hummed. “The magic would protect them. For this bond to be broken, we’ll have to have a mage unravel the spell.”
“So, we’re actually married? We don’t need to sign contracts or anything? Could people be married if a mage cast the marriage spell on them without them wanting it?”
“No. The spell requires both parties to consent.”
Sylvia frowned for a moment before she nodded, satisfied with that answer. “I can just imagine my family’s faces if I showed up at home saying I got married. With magic no less. They’d all have heart attacks. Especially my oldest sister. She’s gotten really judgmental since she married.”
Hendric turned to her, absently stroking Avas’s hair. “You have a sister?”
“Three of them. And five brothers.”
Nine children? Hendric gaped at her. “Your poor mother. Don’t you humans have methods to prevent pregnancies?”
“Yes,” Sylvia said slowly. “But the religious culture that my family lives in… it celebrates huge families. I don’t want to get into the politics of it all, but their emphasis that all women must be mothers and that’s their highest calling is a huge reason why I left that church. I want to be a mom,” she said quickly. “And I think that motherhood is a beautiful thing. But it’s also super hard and it’s not for everyone. That’s okay. Not all women are natural nurturers and to have a culture where there is a huge emphasis on gender roles saying that women are natural nurturers, it does a huge number on the women who aren’t. Not to mention that I firmly believe that people who don’t want children shouldn't be pressured into having kids. It’s not fair to the children.”
Hendric nodded seriously. “I agree with you. I—”
The door crashed open. Avas jerked awake with a cry as four men with naked blades charged into the room. Warmund and Hendric were both on their feet in seconds. Sylvia grabbed Avas and pulled him to the opposite side of the hovel as Hendric planted himself on the ground. One of the men charged him, but the other three all went for Warmund.
The man coming at him swiped at his face, but Hendric easily blocked the blow with his own sword. The man grunted, swinging back to try another angle. Hendric parried the blow, calling up his fires hot in his belly. Scales spread over his skin, making it diamond-hard. When the man swung at him again, he blocked the blow with his arm. His scales dented and a few scattered in the air, but the blade didn’t cut. Hendric slashed with his sword, the tip swiping across the man’s throat. Blood spurted in the air and Hendric took the sword as his enemy fell.
“Avas,” he cried, tossing his own, lighter weapon to his son.
Avas caught the blade and held it in front of himself, ready to defend if it became necessary.
Four more men poured into the hovel. Hendric whirled, pulling in a deep breath to breathe fire over the newcomers. Scales sprang over their skin as they shielded their eyes. Hendric spared one moment to curse before he skewered one of the men attacking Warmund. The prince’s eyes blazed. His dark skin was smooth, jaw open but no fire in his mouth. He danced and spun around the attackers. His movement was fluid and graceful as he parried and blocked three strikes at once and followed it up by a slice across one man’s stomach that had him crying out and falling on his own sword.
Hendric threw himself to the left to block one of the men from going after Avas and Sylvia. Another put himself between Hendric and Warmund. The rest focused on the prince, slowly backing him into a corner.
A thrill of fear smashed through Hendric’s stomach, cooling his fires. This wasn’t some random attack—this was an assassination attempt.
Warmund stumbled, slow to block a blow at his heart. He deflected the sword, but the sharp blade cut through the muscle on his ribs. Hendric let out a shout as he clanged through the two men holding him back and beheaded two of the attackers with a single quickly blow. Fiery pain shot through his shoulder and he twisted. The sword pierced through his flesh, nicking bone.
“Papa!” Avas shouted as Sylvia screamed.
Hendric whirled, striking a sword aside and piercing through his attacker’s chest. He ducked and called his fires forward again, once more coating himself with scales as he batted away the second attacker’s weapon. One of the men behind him struck out, his sword cutting a shallow line over his arm. Warmund let out a soft grunt of pain.
And then a blast of white-hot light blinded him. Something slammed into his chest, picking him up and tossing him into the wall. Sylvia screamed again, this time sounding more surprised than frightened.
What the hell had just happened?
As he blinked the stars from his eyes, he saw Warmund staggering to his feet. Avas rushed over, grabbed Hendric by the arm and started pulling.
“Get up, Papa! Get up!”
Hendric got to his feet. His lungs burned, and his chest felt like he’d had a full-grown giant punch him, but he leaned on his sword. Sylvia raced over and looped herself under Warmund’s arm and dragged him to the entrance of the hovel. Hendric staggered after them, his mind whirling as the taste of buttercup blossoms burned on his tongue. Sylvia’s buttercup scent wound its way into his nose, making him sneeze.
“Hurry!” Once outside, Sylvia released Warmund, making him stumble and rushed back to Hendric and Avas. She all but dragged him out.
By that time, the assassins had managed to regain their feet. A few of them leaned against the walls, pale in the face, while others looked bewildered and frightened.
One of them pointed at Sylvia, raising his sword with his free hand. Her glasses slipped down her nose, and she shoved them back onto her face. Hendric’s sword whipped up as he leapt forward. Before he could put himself between Sylvia and the assassins, though, another burst of light came forward. This time, he saw it come from Sylvia, emitting from her chest with curls of gold in the white light. It slammed into the assassins again, throwing them back to the floor.
“How?” she gasped, reeling backward.
Hendric grabbed her arm with one hand, sheathed his sword and grabbed Avas with the other. “Come on,” he shouted over his shoulder at Warmund as he pulled them away. “Now!”
Warmund stared at the assassins in the hovel for a split second longer before he turned on his heel and followed after them.
***
“I should have killed them,” Warmund spat.
Hendric glared at him while Sylvia looked appalled. She shook her head. “They were unconscious and—”
“And they’re just going to come after me again and again until they’re dead.” Warmund finished cleaning his blade and laid it next to the sheath, which he had rinsed out in a stream not long ago.
The four of them sat in a small grove of trees, shivering as the cold night deepened. The moon, huge and bright in the sky, lit the area well enough. They weren’t risking a fire, not yet. Hendric shifted his position, keeping one arm around Avas to comfort as well as warm him. Pride welled in his heart as he considered that his boy hadn’t complained once during the two hours they had trekked in the darkness, getting away from the town.
There was no way of getting word back to Indulf about this. The messenger hawk he’d brought with him was currently en route to the palace, bearing the last update Hendric had sent in.
Which meant it was on him to get them out of here safely. If the night was darker, they would be able to fly as dragons, but they would not be able to do so with assassins after them. Their dragon forms would be far too easily spotted, and with the moo
n so bright, they would be easily attacked from below before they even knew what hit them.
So they were going to have to hoof it. With assassins after them and no help on the way.
“At least we have a mage on our side,” Hendric murmured, bringing attention to himself. He gazed at Sylvia, a smirk tugging on his lips. “It appears that magic does exist in your world after all. At least, you have magic in your bones.”
“This is the first time I’ve known about it.” Sylvia looked at her hands and shivered. “What the hell happened? Magic doesn’t exist in my world, it even stops you guys from shifting if you’re there too long. So why…?”
“We’ll figure it out,” Hendric promised. He took her hand and looked into her wide, frightened eyes. “We will figure it out.”
Chapter Seven
Sylvia
Two days passed without incident. They wound deeper into the forest until Sylvia felt completely and utterly lost. Hendric and Warmund seemed to know exactly where they were, though. The ground was hard, and the air was cold, but when the four of them huddled together with Hendric and Warmund on the outsides and her and Avas in the middle, she wasn’t too cold to sleep.
Hendric didn’t ask Warmund why people were trying to kill him, nor did he volunteer any information as to how they knew each other.
One day, while they were stopped to rest and Hendric was off hunting, Sylvia sat near a small fire, watching to make sure the carved-out log that they used to boil water wasn’t going to burn as she dropped hot stones into it. Avas and Warmund stood in a small cleared area, sparring. Avas’s face twisted in concentration with everything Warmund told him, and he soon was able to hold his own against Warmund’s more gentle attacks.
“You have your father’s skill,” Warmund said as he stepped back. Though a scowl was still on his face, it seemed lighter than usual.
Avas puffed out his chest, a wide grin on his face. “Thank you. It means a lot coming from you.”
Warmund cocked an eyebrow.
“All of us trainees know how mighty a warrior you are, Prince Warmund. Papa told me that your skills are better than even the king’s.”
Warmund’s expression darkened, but what Avas said finally registered in Sylvia’s brow. She yelped as she jumped to her feet. “Prince? You mean you’re Indulf’s brother?”
Both Avas and Warmund gave her startled looks. Warmund wiped his blade and glowered at her. “I’m his son.”
Sylvia’s jaw dropped. “No way! What, were you born when he was twelve?”
“He was very young,” Warmund growled. “And who are you to call the king by his name alone?”
“I’m… well, I’m his wife’s friend.” Sylvia swallowed. “I mean… he got married…”
“To Anna, I know.” Warmund’s voice became a growl. “And it's true that he has another son? A replacement for his former children?”
“Children?” Indulf had more kids?
Avas cleared his throat, his young face anxious. “I—”
“Stay here, both of you,” Warmund growled out. “I’m going hunting.”
Sylvia watched him wide-eyed as he left them. Indulf had a grown son who didn’t look that much younger than him. And this son was out here in the Exiled Lands why? Did Anna know about this?
Of course, she did. Indulf and Anna’s relationship was perhaps the most perfect one she’d ever seen. Indulf wouldn’t keep such a huge secret from her. There was obviously more to the story than Sylvia knew.
“Did I do something wrong?” Avas sheathed his short sword and sat next to her, his young face lined with worry.
“No. It’s probably just him worrying.” Sylvia patted Avas’s arm, then smiled. There was no point in sitting around wondering about Warmund. She pulled her cellphone from her pocket and turned it on. She didn’t have any reception here, obviously, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t use it. She put the camera to selfie mode and held it up. “Want to take a picture?”
Avas stared at the phone. “What is that?”
“It’s called a cellphone. In my world, I can use it to talk to people all over the world, or write them letters that are sent instantly, or play games, or use the camera to take pictures. See? It’s like a mirror that you can freeze and keep the image.”
She took a picture quickly, then handed the phone to Avas and explained how to use the camera. He hesitantly snapped a few pictures, then a grin spread over his face.
“The magic in your world is so weird,” he said happily, taking another picture. “But it’s cool, too.”
The whistle of a chickadee made them both look up. It was the signal they had agreed on to indicate when someone was returning to the camp. It prevented them from accidentally attacking each other. Moments later, Hendric came through the trees with a young woman in tow. Sylvia got to her feet, frowning. Who was that and why was Hendric bringing her here?
When Hendric reached the camp, his eyes swept the clearing, and he frowned. “Where is Warmund?”
“He went hunting.”
Hendric scowled. “He was supposed to say here and protect you.”
“And you were supposed to be hunting.” Sylvia edged toward Avas, though she knew that Hendric would never put him in danger, and if they were attacked, then it's more likely that he would be defending her. She frowned at the woman behind him. “Who is...” She gasped when the woman looked at her, and she got a full view of her face. Those eyes, that smirk, the shape of her face. It was all very familiar. “Myleesa?”
The woman nodded, looking at her with an eager expression. “Hendric told me about you. Never thought I’d end up meeting one of my own descendants! And you’re a mage, too?”
“I guess so.”
Myleesa viewed her for a long moment before nodding. “I’ve never really taught anybody how to control their magic before, but no better time to start than the present, right?”
A smile started to spread over Sylvia’s face. While it was still a little hard to believe that she was talking with her own ancestor, it was finally something that she could use to keep tracing back her genealogy. Not to mention that there was someone who would be able to teach her magic, something she had only ever dreamed of knowing.
“We’re going to have to figure out all this,” she said slowly while still grinning like a fool. “I mean, you lived over a thousand years in my time. I have pictures of you. I have diary entries!”
“Diary?” Myleesa laughed. “Well… I don’t really know how to take this, either… Did you ever meet me?”
***
They talked for a couple hours of what Sylvia knew about the Myleesa who was her ancestor. She pulled up the picture on her phone and they compared. Myleesa told her that she had always wanted to go for adventures, ever since her parents had both died in a landslide that buried their house. Avas and Hendric sat nearby, watching and interjecting occasionally.
Eventually, Myleesa said that they’d better start with some basic magic techniques. “The key to control is the breath,” she told Sylvia. “So, you’re going to want to meditate every chance you get. I would like to see how much control you have, though. Can you try to levitate this branch?”
“I can try.” Sylvia frowned and stared at the branch. “I don’t know the first thing about magic, though. Is it like the Force? Connecting everything? Like, can I reach out with my mind and feel the fibers connecting me to the branch and then….”
She narrowed her eyes, concentrating on the branch. She lifted her hand and imagined lifting the branch. A bolt of blue shot from her fingers, and the branch burst into flame. She jumped back, yelping. Avas burst into laughter and Myleesa waved her hand, chanting. Hendric was half out of his seat before settling back again.
“Wow!” Myleesa grabbed her hand and jumped up and down, squealing. “Without even a spell! That’s amazing! I always hoped that I’d one day have powerful children. You’ve got enough raw energy to be palace-trained. This is fantastic!”
“I’m glad you’re so
excited.” Sylvia put a hand on her chest as the fire died away, turning into nothing but charred wood. She shivered as she stepped away from Myleesa. “That’s just scary to me. What if I had done that to you?”
Myleesa’s smile faded. “Didn’t think about that… I’ll have to think about some spells that you can work on. At the very least, I can sense when your magic is building, and I might be able to help you contain it.”
“Right.” Sylvia wandered to the fire and sat opposite Hendric and Avas. “Sorry, I just need a minute here. How did you end up in the Exiled Lands, Myleesa?”
“I was kidnapped. After my parents died, I didn’t really have anywhere to go. We didn’t own our land and I didn’t want to end up working my life away in debt to the lord who did. So, I left, and I went around trying to learn more magic. I was stupid and traveled alone… Some slavers found me, bought me and brought me out here. I was lucky in that I was bought by a nunnery and made free. I’ve been working there for, oh, ten years now. Boring, but I’d rather not risk ending up a slave again. But now that I’ve met you all, I can finally get a proper adventure.”
Sylvia smiled, half to herself. “I’ve always longed for adventure, too. My family loves me, but they’ve never really understood and I… well. I longed for a different life. I wanted to have a life that was… not what other people expected of me.”
Thinking of her family made her stomach cramp. Yeah, she missed them, and she wished she could just call them and tell them that she was okay. They might not even realize that she was missing yet. She only really talked to her younger brother and even that was sporadic. What would they think if she decided she wanted to live here?
Kidnapping aside, Byrelmore was the most amazing place she’d ever been. The colors, the clothes, the culture. It was all amazing to her. And she had magic? God, she wanted to explore this world more. Every nook and cranny. She wanted to know its religions, its regional dialects, whether the monarchy was seen as good or bad, how people made butter and what women did when they were on their periods. She just wanted to know everything.
The Dragon Beast's Virgin: A Paranormal Romance (Separated by Time Book 3) Page 4
