Star Mage (The Enslaved Chronicles Book 3)

by R. K. Thorne

  “I thought perhaps we should head there together?” Kae frowned slightly.

  “We could. I was planning to make straight for Panar, but…”

  “If we don’t want to be captured again, maybe we should skip Anonil,” said Niat as calmly as he’d ever heard her. Thel pursed his lips. Maybe he should have tried courtly displays to mollify her.

  “Hmm, but that’s where my instructions from Miara said to go.” Kae scratched his scruffy beard.

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure where Miara is, honestly,” said Thel. “But my brother and everyone else has moved to Panar. I think they were going to stay there.” Actually, now that he thought about it, he didn’t know that for sure. What if they had moved to Anonil? Or Dramsren? Or somewhere else?

  “Well, let’s see.” Casually, Kae made a circle with his fingers and spread it out. As if he were ripping a hole in space, a window of light opened in his lap. Farsight. Niat gaped in wonder and got on her knees, creeping closer. Thel had to forcibly keep himself from glaring at the two of them. Air magic was showy, all right, but which magic had freed her from a dungeon, a near-death rubble experience, certain imprisonment, and indefinite servitude? His earth magic that “couldn’t do much.”

  So what if he couldn’t make a window in the sky?

  Suddenly he realized the window was pointing at Anonil.

  “Looks like it’s right at the bottom of this range, here,” said Kae. “Which way is Panar?”

  “South. That way?” Thel pointed over the window’s light.

  “Well, then, Anonil is on the way to Panar. So we can do both.”

  Thel rocked back. The fortress at Anonil sat east of the city. That meant… he must have gone north instead of south quite a ways when they’d first run. The important thing had been getting away, and they had done that, so he didn’t really mind, and running the wrong way might have even helped them not be found… But he resolved to check the sun more proactively next time. “All right then, Anonil it is. Then Panar, if we don’t find anyone.”

  “So you say Jaena is in Panar too?”

  Thel nodded. “You should be able to find her there. Or my brother Aven. How do you know Jaena?”

  “We were training partners in Mage Hall. Young warrior mages are paired with older ones to get started.”

  “You don’t seem any older than she is.”

  “I’m not, but they enslaved her later. Most of us are found as kids and brought in, all alone or in families.” Thel glanced at Niat as Kae spoke, wondering if those words affected her at all. She was staring into the fire, her expression unreadable. “She and her sister were brought in late. She’s only known she is a mage for about five years. I’ve been studying for twenty.”

  “Wait, sister? She didn’t bring a sister. Or mention one.”

  For the first time, Kae’s face darkened. “She’s dead. Killed herself, some say, although that’s supposed to be against the binding of the brand. It’s not supposed to be possible. But we all thought for sure she had found a way.”

  “That’s terrible. Why?”

  “We don’t know. Never will. Maybe she just hated being a slave. Maybe whatever the Dark Master made her do, she couldn’t live with it.”

  Thel glanced at Niat again, more pointedly. She was staring at the snow just outside their ring of warmth. Perhaps lost in thought. Perhaps not listening. “Sorry to hear all that,” Thel muttered, feeling like he should have said something and missed his cue.

  “Sorry to tell you it,” said Kae, smiling slightly again. “Now, here’s something you might prefer to hear. About those manacles…”

  Thel glanced down at them. “What about them?”

  “Where does iron come from, you think?” Kae smiled more broadly.

  “Mines,” said Thel slowly. Then it hit him. “By the gods, you’re joking.”

  Kae shook his head. “Not joking.” He made a gesture like he held both sides of one manacle and cracked it in two.

  Niat was frowning and looking back and forth between them.

  Grumbling to himself, Thel grabbed the book from his jerkin and started viciously flipping through the pages. There, in the very last chapter—how to manipulate metal. What kind of fool didn’t put a basic summary of what earth mages could control at the beginning of the book? By all the gods’ dreams. If he ever made it back to Estun, he’d have to write his own damn book.

  Kae cleared his throat. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to hunt for a bit of food around here. Hungry?”

  Thel nodded vigorously, still paging through the book. “Our escape wasn’t exactly something we could plan.”

  “All right then, let’s see what I can rustle up. I can’t promise it’ll taste good, but it will keep you alive. For one more day, at least.” He wandered off into the woods, whistling. The fire continued to burn, the smoke from it pouring out to one side instead of up and then dissipating over the wide forest floor.

  Niat came and sat next to him again. He didn’t look at her, just stared into the fire. All the discussion of Mage Hall had reminded him of the danger in hatred like hers, a danger that was very, very real.

  She cleared her throat and straightened.

  Automatically, he straightened as well and then grudgingly met her gaze. She was holding out her hand.

  “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” she said. Her cheeks were flushed again, ridiculous, round, rosy spots on cheeks like the palest birchwood. “Niat. Just Niat.”

  He snorted but then took her hand and shook it. “Prince Thel Lanuken of Akaria, at your service, my lady.”

  Her cheeks colored even more darkly, when he’d thought that impossible. “You needn’t be at my service.”

  “That’s just the standard greeting.” They were still shaking hands, not having unclasped them.

  “Oh, so you’re at everyone’s service, then?”

  “Pretty much, yes. It’s not insincere.”

  “Oh.” She raised her eyebrows. “Well, uh, nice to meet you, Thel.”

  He caught his breath and then smiled to hide it. “Nice to meet you too.” He wasn’t sure if that was her starting over again, or just her response to realizing she had no idea what his name was but Kae did. Either way, it was good.

  LATER, Jaena rested her head on Ro’s shoulder and sighed. They lay side by side, falling in and out of sleep. The sun had shifted to the opposite side of the room, slanting in the sharp angles of winter’s early sunset. How long had she slept?

  She stared up at the stone above them and took a deep breath of the cold castle air. Out in the streets, the sounds of the market had died down, but the voices of passersby in the streets occasionally sprinkled the room with delighted laughter or indignant calls.

  Shutting her eyes, she was about to doze off again when Ro whispered, “You awake?”

  She blinked up at him and rubbed one eye. “Sort of.”

  “I’ve been thinking… You know, we could probably find a smithy here I could work in. With time, and with the war’s end—if it ends—we could buy a house, even. Get my own smithy someday. Or a little shop front for you. Would you consider such a thing? I must say I prefer this White City to the red streets of Evrical.”

  Was he… saying what she thought he was saying? And did she dare to go with him on this dream and risk seeing it crumble before her? The war was far from won. The White City could utterly fall between now and then, and who knew if they’d even survive. But how often would she have a chance to taste such a dream? “A house with a garden perhaps?” she ventured.

  “Certainly, if they have them here.”

  “I saw more than a few on my ride with Miara. I could finally sell some of your creations.”

  He laughed. “I’ll be waiting on the interest from those, by the way.”

  “Selfish bastard.” She grinned and kissed him in reply. “There, that should do it.”

  “Ah, no, not quite enough. I need another.”

  When they drifted apart
again, they lay in silence for a while.

  “Have you ever thought about children for that garden?” he said softly.

  She blinked. “I suppose if we were truly affluent, we could hire some neighborhood urchins to tend it,” she said, smiling. Of course, that was not what he meant.

  “Ah, I see,” he said, a note of sadness to his voice.

  He thought he had her answer. In truth, she hadn’t thought about it. She hadn’t allowed herself to. When she’d only desired freedom, and that freedom had been impossible, such concerns had seemed very distant. Mages in Mage Hall so rarely had children. It wasn’t even until the last few days that she’d employed the use of the seeds that temporarily delayed such an eventuality.

  “I’d hoped to avoid marriage, when I was young. My father would have married off my sister for some allegiance or connection, but we were comfortable enough that I might have been able to avoid it and start a shop. A husband would have kept me from that in our circles in Hepan.”

  “Finally I’m getting some details about Hepan out of you,” he murmured, his breath tickling her neck, her ear. She giggled, and they settled into silence for a moment. “I would never keep you from that, you know.”

  Her heart pounded in her chest. Of course, she did know that. But she hadn’t dared to assume anything permanent might come of this. And yet he had already made some rather permanent decisions on her behalf, nearly from the beginning.

  “Have you longed for children for that garden?” He was older than her by a few years. Perhaps that brought such things to the fore of the mind.

  “Yes,” he said simply. Well, at least he was honest. Her heart pounded harder. “But you know, some long for them, yet no children come. Some don’t want them and get too many. It’s best to not set one’s heart too firmly about it when so much of it lies in Nefrana’s hands.”

  And my hands, she thought. She could hardly believe her ears, especially with the pounding of her heart. Did he… Could he really… She bit her lip.

  He had been clear, she had no reason for doubt. Suddenly it did not feel so forward to be a little more frank.

  “I wasn’t saying no, I was just buying time to think.”

  “Oh?”

  “I truly never thought about children. It was always very far away. Not so much now.” She blushed at such a ridiculous statement when they lay so close together, as close as two people could possibly be. “I can’t promise anything, but it’s certainly not off the table. If this war ever ends…”

  He kissed her, harder than she remembered him ever kissing her, and she knew already what her answer would be. Oh, she wouldn’t tell him just yet. It was far too soon for that, and what if she had regrets in the morning light? But a desire kindled in her to grant him such a joy. After several long, deep minutes of being lost in each other, he fell back against the bed at her side, breathing deeply.

  “I know there’s a war raging and all, but… I’m sure we could find a priestess, for… you know,” she said softly. She thought her heart would pound into her throat. Gods. What if she had this all wrong? What if she had misinterpreted what he’d said—

  “Really? You would— I mean, do you think we could? Are you… sure?”

  She snorted at his near babbling and drew him closer, back into her arms. “I hated the thought of you leaving.”

  “As did I.”

  “Is this too soon?”

  He shrugged. “Do you have doubts in your heart?” He ran a finger over her collarbone, down toward her heart, and she shivered with the joy of it.

  “No. My only doubt was whether you would let me come with you. Who’s going to watch out for me while I’m working spells? And I need to be there to watch your back for deceitful priestesses and an extra-sneaky Devoted or two. I want to be with you all of your days, Tharomar, the good ones and the terrible ones to come.”

  “Then it doesn’t seem too soon to me. Hell, I’ve already abandoned my whole life twice at this point.” He grinned. “Don’t see how I’d need to think much harder about swearing my love to you before the goddess. She already knows.”

  She winced. It was hard to think of Nefrana blessing any union of hers, or anything of hers, let alone the union of two mages. Yet, it mattered more to him than it did to her. He tensed, then cursed the Devoted under his breath and bent down to kiss her chest, her shoulder. Thank the gods he understood her reaction. He always seemed to understand her better than she could ever have hoped, better than she understood him.

  “There’s a temple just down the street,” she said instead. “We could go tomorrow.”

  He pressed his lips against hers again. “Or right now.”

  She giggled. “Let me make a few preparations first. Nefrana and I have some… making up to do. I should at least wear something nice.”

  He snorted, then sobered. “You’d marry an urchin like me? You’re sure?”

  “And you’d marry a mage? A penniless slave?”

  “You are far from that.”

  “So are you. But yes, I’d happily marry you. You may be a street rat, but you’re my street rat. And you can read me ancient poetry, too. That’s a rare combination, you know.”

  “I don’t deserve a diplomat’s daughter.”

  “Shh,” she hushed. “Let’s hope some day you can meet my father, and he can tell you that himself. But, personally, I think you do.”

  “Good thing you’re the one that matters.”

  9

  FAREWELL

  Aven was waiting on horseback at the west gate when the group from Estun arrived. The cheery morning sun left him scowling at the horizon. The land flattened here near the coast, and so the woman sent to watch for the procession had sent word far in advance of their arrival, as soon as the train of horses and carriage had come into view. He’d ridden out with Dyon and a complement of guards to greet them.

  Miara had been in the bath, unfortunately. It didn’t matter, he told himself. He’d been sure to verify that claim by calling through the door as to her safety. He’d posted double the usual guards in and around her rooms since the tea situation. Everyone coming from Estun would be here to stay for the time being, so her presence was hardly necessary.

  But her absence still made him nervous, rational or not.

  Her attendant Opia had had a suspicious powder in one pocket. The healer Nyor was working on identifying it. Unfortunately, the man who’d spoken to Opia had worn a black hood, probably a Devoted himself. Maybe a squire, since he had referred to a knight, or perhaps just someone trying to hide his identity. The other two attendants had known nothing about the plot, leaving Siliana a little chagrinned and bitter at Aven for making her enter their memories and scare them so.

  He trusted her and was glad to know at least those two were innocent. It had powerful implications for the future, if he let himself think about it. But he didn’t. He was still thinking about Opia. It had all been wrapped up a little too neatly.

  The sight of his youngest brother’s surly face and the heft of Devol’s clap on his shoulder did wonders to improve his mood, especially when followed with a round of hearty embraces and thuds on the back. Renala and Teron stepped out of the carriage, talking quietly together. But Aven’s heart really jumped when Fayton stepped out behind them.

  “By Nefrana. How’s it feel to see sunlight, my friend?” Aven said as he strode up.

  Fayton just wrinkled his nose in amusement and shook his head.

  “Miara’s sure going to be glad to see you.” He clapped a hand over his steward’s shoulder.

  “Is that so, my lord? I wouldn’t have guessed.” Fayton raised his eyebrows.

  “Nothing like a new steward to make you appreciate the old one. Telidar is great, of course, but,” he glanced at the guards nearby, hoping they wouldn’t repeat any of this, “she’ll be glad to have you.” He gave Fayton a wink, hoping the man knew he meant that Aven was glad to have him back too.

  “Any news on Thel? Is he all right?” said Dom, blowi
ng his breath into his hands to warm them as he approached. Their mother had been keeping him informed with regular reports by bird.

  Aven winced and hung his head. “We don’t know. No news. We sent a company after him, and he was alive then, but… Well, let’s discuss it inside. Ranok is much warmer than the middle of the street.”

  The procession made its way back to Ranok, but Aven’s newfound good cheer sank like a stone in the ocean when he saw Wunik and Jenec standing at the gatehouse, waiting for them.

  He didn’t even have to ask; he just met Wunik’s gaze.

  “Anonil,” said Wunik, faltering. For once, he sounded shaky and older than his usual spry, witty self.

  Aven swallowed and frowned down, knowing what was coming. He was surprised it’d taken this long. It’d bought them precious time to prepare, but not enough.

  “What is it?” Dom asked from beside him.

  “It’s fallen, my lords,” said Jenec, his voice barely audible over the wind.

  Aven inhaled sharply, his grip strangling the reins. He didn’t want to fight this war, he didn’t want to leave Miara, he didn’t want to slog through the cold and snow to a stronghold that might be rife with plague or a trap waiting to be sprung. Why did Kavanar have to long for power, abuse mages, enslave innocents?

  He gritted his teeth. It didn’t matter. They’d done it, and he was going to stop them. Because it was the right thing to do. Because it was all he could do. Because really, he had no other choice.

  “We’re headed to the front,” he said coldly, glancing back at Dyon. “Send the word. By midday, we take to the road.”

  THE NEXT MORNING brought clouds peppered across the cool, blue sky. The forest was quiet as a tomb, if tombs had wind, except for the crunching of their boots in snow or snapping twigs from time to time. Thel was just starting to get unnerved by it when Kae started to hum.

  The walking kept them warm, though, and Thel asked Kae questions from time to time, trying to work out some of the kinks in his knowledge. His wrists were still a little raw from the manacles, but at least he’d been able to leave them behind at their campsite. He had formed an outcropping out of the mud and rock for them, and with Kae’s fire and foraging skills, Thel had been more comfortable than he’d been… possibly since he’d been yanked out of Panar. Niat seemed the same, although she stayed unusually quiet. He had a feeling she was probably trying to figure out when either he or Kae was going to stab her in the back—figuratively, if not literally.