Star Mage (The Enslaved Chronicles Book 3)

by R. K. Thorne

  The man sat down in a clearing near the base of a large, wide pine. A few minutes passed in silence, until the snow around him began to turn gray. It was melting.

  Mages! By the gods, a stroke of luck. Finally. The man was warming the earth to keep them from freezing. That sure sounded good right about now.

  “Ho, there!” Kae called out, still in his hiding place.

  The man opened his eyes, suddenly tensing. “Who’s there?” He glanced around. “Who are you?”

  “Might you know a mutual friend?” Kae called back. “One Miara Floren?” If they didn’t know her, he was heading the other direction fast.

  The man’s eyes lit with recognition. The woman showed none. “I know her,” he said cautiously. “She’s marrying my brother.”

  Kae’s eyebrows rose at that. “And you’re mages, too?”

  “I am,” said the man. He heard no response from the woman.

  “Escaped, slave, or freemages?” Not that Kae could necessarily trust their answer. It was possible that mage slaves might have orders to lie in order to capture runaways like him. Or could newly freemages be out looking for stray escapees like him?

  The man was rising and striding toward Kae’s voice. Time was running out for Kae to decide if he trusted them.

  “I’m a freemage,” the man said, “as all mages in Akaria are.”

  Kae caught his breath. “Are we in Akaria then? You’re an Akarian?”

  “Yes.” The footsteps in the snow crunched closer. “We’re close to the border. Kavanar has invaded these lands, but it won’t be long before we drive them back out.”

  Kae decided to chance it and stepped out, raising his hand in greeting. “Kae Teneen,” he said. “I was freed by a friend of Miara’s. I have been trying to make my way to Anonil on her orders.”

  “Ah, that friend would be my brother, I think. I’m Prince Thel Lanuken of Akaria.” The young man kept his voice oddly low, as if he didn’t want the woman to hear.

  Kae managed a hasty bow. He wasn’t too familiar with royal protocol but that seemed appropriate. “An honor,” he said. “Forgive me, but I was a farmer before they dragged me off. I don’t know all the ins and outs of polite manners.”

  “That’s all right,” Thel said swiftly. “We’re not big on that sort of thing anyway. At least, I’m not.”

  The woman was eying Kae warily now. She’d entered the circle Thel had started to heat but kept to the very edge of it. “Earth mage?” said Kae, nodding at the circle. “Let’s get back over there. That sure looks better right about now.”

  The prince snorted and headed back, Kae following behind him. The heat immediately bathed him as he stepped into the melting snow, and he grinned, taking a deep breath of the now-moist air rising from the earth. “Ah, you earth mages can’t do much, but what you can do! Heaven, on a day like today.”

  Thel raised an eyebrow, sitting back on the earth again, probably to continue his work. “Can’t do much?”

  Kae cocked his head to the side. The fact that earth mages were the most relatively useless of the bunch had been ground into the mage slaves in their training at Mage Hall. Didn’t all mages share the same impression?

  “I’m still learning. Just found out I had the… gift a week ago. Or was it… Well, no matter. I’m still learning. But the only earth mage I know is a woman I’d not trifle with.” Thel gave him a friendly smile, leaning back so his hands were embracing the dirt behind him. His fingers were wheedling under the pine needles, trying to get better contact. The prince either was learning fast or had good instincts; that was not a skill taught to young earth mages.

  “Wait,” Kae said slowly. “What was her name?”

  “Jaena… something. Damn, I can’t believe I forgot her last name. It’s been—”

  “You know Jaena too!” Kae couldn’t help but grin. “She’s all right? Made it to Akaria?”

  “Sure did. She’s in Panar with Miara, my brother, and the others.”

  “Menaha?” Kae asked quickly.

  Thel frowned, and Kae’s heart immediately sank.

  “Sefim? No?”

  The young prince shook his head.

  “Well, at least Jaena is free. Praise Nefrana.” He muttered a quiet prayer to himself as he glanced at the forest around them. The woman eyed him even harder at that, but he ignored her. Yes, the clearing seemed big enough by his estimation. “Now, you needn’t do all the work. Perhaps a fire is in order?” The thought made Kae feel downright cheerful.

  “We were being pursued. I don’t think we should draw attention where we are.”

  “With the smoke?”

  Thel nodded.

  Kae waved him off. “I can handle the smoke.” He began whisking up branches with the wind and rolling them toward the center clearing.

  The woman jumped back as a log rolled past her feet. She muttered her own prayer, of protection. What was this? How did some mage hater end up running around with a sapling earth mage?

  Kae approached her, pausing his work on the fire, and gave her his best courtly bow, feeling only slightly guilty that it was half mocking. “Kae Teneen, fine lady,” he said, “Former mage slave, former farmer, right now absolutely nothing. Except free.” He straightened and smiled brightly at her. Her eyes were a nice blue, for all her wary-eyed staring.

  She said nothing for a long moment.

  Thel sighed. “This is—”

  She hastily waved to silence him. “Niat. Just call me Niat.”

  “Just Niat? Is that what you are now?” Thel frowned at that.

  She said nothing, only glared at him.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Niat.” Kae caught up her hand and kissed it in what he guessed was more of a mockery of fine court manners than anything else. Anything to break the tension between those two. And with that he turned away to sweep up his twigs and build them a fine fire.

  MIARA TRUDGED down to the stables. Siliana should be looking for her with an update on Opia and the others, but at that moment, the last thing she wanted to think about was the loyalty of her attendants, whether well-meaning or homicidal. The pounding in her head had started to return, but now she was determined to weather it. Scanning her system told her the effects of it had mostly faded, however; the substance must simply be more drug than poison and have extremely addictive qualities. How considerate of Opia. She sighed.

  She was used to her life not mattering to the Masters or risking it doing something nefarious. But someone trying to hurt her for being herself? For simply being alive, and in love, and trying to do the right thing? That was new, and surprisingly frustrating. She could only hope that Kalan and Etral had had no part in it.

  She stalked down to the stables, using all her skill to get there without being heard or seen. She slipped into Ata’s stall and whiled away an hour, brushing her soft, chestnut hair, muttering sweet nothings, and resting her forehead against Ata’s quiet, reassuring warmth. Ata didn’t have to argue over complex human things, like whether evil things done in the service of good motives were still good. Horses didn’t have argue those points with those they loved dearly.

  Miara tensed at the sound of footsteps. The stable boy rounded the corner and gaped at her, fumbling and dropping his bale of hay.

  “Did you want to go for a ride, my lady?” muttered the boy, clearly uncertain as to any other reason why she’d be in the stables. She supposed it was an unusual place for one to find peace of mind, but it wasn’t unusual for her.

  Ata huffed and stomped a foot at the words in slight excitement, though, and Miara pursed her lips.

  “Yes,” she told him, stepping back.

  “I’ll prepare your horse, my lady.” And he tossed the hay out of the way and hurried to get the saddle.

  She looked down at her dress in dismay—she hadn’t considered that part of the picture. But perhaps it was best she gave it a shot, dress and all, to see how truly bad it could be.

  Truth be told, it wasn’t quite as terrible as she hoped, and th
ough having bare thighs pressed against the saddle was a little uncomfortable, the stable boy knew more than she did about accommodating her skirt, which he deftly, if nervously, spread out gracefully around Ata’s flanks and rump in a way that looked a bit like a covered wagon but also very elegant. She wasn’t going to be galloping or jumping any logs, but it would do.

  The brisk air and city sights were a welcome distraction. The stable hand must have alerted someone of what she was doing, because the same four guards that had accompanied her last time appeared out of nowhere to ride in their four-pillar formation. This meant she drew more stares, and suddenly she realized this was a very public appearance and she hadn’t given one whit of thought about what she was doing, how she looked, why she was here. She resolved not to care.

  He’s worried about protecting all this, she told herself. About keeping these people safe, about freeing the mages still enslaved. About fighting off Daes. They were both trying to do the right thing. Weren’t they?

  The regular clop of Ata’s hooves lulled her, and even the people peeking out or standing in their doorways to watch her go by faded into the background, regular little moles popping their heads aboveground, then ducking back inside. Scri soared overhead in hypnotic, lazy circles.

  If she was honest with herself, what was she really so angry about? The thought of Aven wielding the same power as Daes? Daes had held so much power over her for so long. Aven held much more power, although she wasn’t sure how well he knew that. And he’d granted her just as much power in return. But she couldn’t shake the terror, the worry that welled up in her knowing that he could wield the same sort of spell that her former tyrants had. That he would even consider it… An image of Aven holding a hot brand, one lip curled like the Tall Master sometimes did, flashed before her. She thrust it away viciously. Aven was one of the good ones. He fought to help the oppressed, those like her. Aven and Daes were worlds apart.

  Weren’t they? Or was one just lucky to be born with power, the other grasping for it?

  She shook her head. Nothing could excuse the actions of the Masters or any of the Kavanarians who’d enslaved mages. Nothing. They had no right. And Aven was terrifying her by even looking at the same star those fools had used to commit their sins, however indirectly. She didn’t want that stain on his soul, on his legacy, and she didn’t want it to backfire and blow up in his face.

  He was right, though, she wasn’t being entirely fair. If he had followed her logic before he’d met her and burned the map because of the risk it contained, Miara would still be a slave. And likely Aven would be too. And that was not a better world for anyone. He’d certainly made the right choice back then, so why was she so concerned he wouldn’t make the right choice now? Why did the map bother her so?

  She passed a box of roses that had lost their bloom and started to fade. She reached out and embraced the plant, and its buds burst into life again, white pools of beauty in the sun.

  When had her roses stopped being bloodred? She frowned, and then rode on.

  All of the star spells were strange to her. Courage and fear, joy and despair. Revelation. Freedom. They didn’t interact with nature, but with people’s minds. Oh, she supposed minds were parts of nature, but it still felt wrong. Like cheating. Like messing with something they shouldn’t. Yes, that was what bothered her about them. It was one thing to beg a rose to bloom, to ask a falcon to watch your back and reward him for his help.

  It was another thing to control people’s minds. She never forced tomcats or spiders or robins to do her bidding, and she always rewarded them. People—and tomcats—had the right to think for themselves.

  And if there was anyone to whom it would be a dangerous temptation to control minds, it was a king.

  She bit her lip. Would he be tempted to calm crowds who were angry about something righteous? Inspire courage in soldiers who didn’t want to die—and turn them into wild beasts who sought death freely?

  The overwhelming sense of wrongness that filled her was almost nauseating. She took a deep breath, then another, forcing herself to breathe through her nose. Perhaps he might be tempted, but she knew him. Those were not things he wanted to do. Or would even need to do. And she could sway him. If she pointed out the wrongness, how great a debt to the Balance it was, he would listen. Wouldn’t he?

  Her head was pounding harder now, and the slanting sun was starting to hurt her eyes, but her heart had lightened. Some quiet moments, a noble horse, and brisk winter air really could work wonders. That said, it was full-on winter now, and she hadn’t even brought a cloak. She’d been too lost in thought to realize how cold she was, but now she turned back slowly, admiring more of the lovely streets of Panar as she went, the now-lush window boxes she surreptitiously refreshed with a flower or two as she passed.

  She remembered sitting by the fire with Samul, everything he’d said about fearing versus knowing. Fearing that Aven could be like Daes was extremely different than knowing. Aven was nothing like Daes, and deep down, she knew that. It was only fear, torturing her. Very powerful fear she was having difficulty talking herself out of, but simple fear nonetheless. Still, the fear nagged. What if this magic could change him? Make him become like the Dark Master—no, Daes.

  A man stepping toward them out into the street ripped her out of her thoughts, and the guards tensed, hands gripping their hilts. The man had a respectable-looking burgundy tunic and leather vest but a broad-brimmed hat with a huge feather gave it all a whimsical air. Around his belt hung many pouches and flasks. A merchant?

  “Are you the one the announcements speak of, my lady?” he said. His voice was bold and loud, and it seemed to echo as the street around them went quiet.

  “Who asks?” she returned guardedly, biting off the urge to add an honorific.

  The man swept off his hat and bowed elegantly. “Sestin of Sestin’s Drams. I’m an herbalist and healer of sorts.” He swept an open hand toward the nearby garden in front of a tall building painted white. The nearby herb garden she’d spelled a few days ago had been carefully cut and harvested. “Are you the one who did this, my fine woman? Arms Master Floren, I presume?”

  She narrowed her eyes slightly at that, but nodded. “I am.”

  “Allow me to thank you for your gifts, Arms Master. They’ve added three times the yearly inventory to my shop,” he said, sounding pleased.

  “You’re welcome,” she said plainly, unable to muster much of a regal air after the exhaustions of the day. Nodding was as close to regal as anyone was getting. She raised the reins to be on her way.

  “If I may hold you one more moment, my lady,” he said, hesitating.

  She lowered her reins, looking back at him but saying nothing.

  “Is it true you’re looking for mages?”

  She didn’t miss the slight lift of his chin, the way he flung the words out into the street with a certain boldness that belied the danger in uttering them.

  “Why, yes,” she said quickly. “Yes, we are. The king is in dire need of more mages.” There, that sounded quite like something a royal would say. She raised any eyebrow. “A healer, you said you were?”

  He grinned at her. “Oh, I only ask out of curiosity, my lady.” His expression clearly said otherwise.

  “Well, if you know of any, I can be reached at Ranok.” She picked up the reins and started to move away and then added, “Or you can also ask for Jaena Eliar, my… my lieutenant.” There. That sounded very official, and after realizing earlier they hadn’t even offered residence to Jaena, she resolved to make both official just as soon as she got back.

  “Thank you, my lady,” said Sestin with another dashing bow. “If I know of anyone, I’ll be sure to send them to you. And thank you again for the late harvest.”

  She gave him another nod that felt quite regal this time. Come, girl, she urged Ata. Let’s go back and get you another apple, shall we?

  THEL TORE his gaze away from Niat and Kae, down toward where the snow was melting into the dirt to m
ake mud at his feet. He pretended to be studying the earth for something specific—it was his domain, after all—but he was really just staring. His thoughts were blank, but also in a frenzy over nothing in particular.

  He sighed. This new mage had friendliness in spades, and Niat was, well—not naturally friendly, if he wanted to be charitable. That hadn’t stopped Kae from kissing her hand in a flamboyant courtly display. And that had left Thel frozen, acid pumping through his veins, glaring at the dirt, even as Kae had tromped away through the brush looking for sustenance.

  Why? What did he care if Kae kissed her fingers and Niat’s cheeks flushed crimson? He didn’t, he couldn’t. Impossible. Maybe he was just feeling out-of-his-mind exhausted from all the spells and activity over the last week.

  Niat came and sat down beside him, and he resisted looking at her. He wanted to ask if there was a reason she hadn’t announced she was a priestess, but Kae was not far off, and the forest was dreadfully quiet, as winter often was. It’d have to wait. Some days being a creature mage seemed like it would be terribly convenient.

  But Kae was putting on a pretty good display in favor of air mages. Wind swept in all around them, carrying things for him, and he piled them up with lighthearted amusement and set them aflame. He was smiling most of the time, grinning at the warmth of the earth and fire combined. Thel must have been steeped in Niat’s wry and pessimistic presence too long, for Kae seemed nearly delirious with happiness.

  The two of them just stared at the cheerful air mage like he was some kind of freak.

  Kae did not care in the slightest. He clapped his hands together, rubbing them up and down. “All right, then! My instructions were to head to Anonil—”

  “We’ve heard it will be besieged and fall soon,” said Thel. “Kavanar’s army approaches. If you get there and it’s fallen, you should head on to Panar. The White City.”