Fugitive by Magic: a Baine Chronicles novel (The Baine Chronicles: Fenris's Story Book 1)

by Jasmine Walt

  Not that I particularly want that, I thought as I licked the blood from my fangs. No, I would prefer that we all peacefully coexisted. The Northia Federation was huge—there should be enough room for all of us to live and do as we pleased, so long as we did not harm others. What did it matter what god we worshipped or what level of skill and intelligence we possessed? Did I not have as much right to live my life as the farmers who peacefully toiled the land here or the Chief Mages who governed from their lofty chambers?

  The wolf side of me huffed at my thoughts, and I smiled inwardly. He considered my ruminations a waste of mental energy. What point was there in wishing for had-beens or could-bes? There was only the now, and what one did with it. As far as my wolfish half was concerned, hunting down and consuming a fat hare was far more useful than wishing for things that one could not have.

  I was headed back to the farm when the sound of hooves crunching on dirt made my ears twitch. A frisson of energy crackled down my spine as I froze, listening intently. There was a small creek running through the forest valley, and it almost masked the sound—but just below it, I heard the hooves again. At least two horses, maybe three.

  Time to investigate.

  I crept through the undergrowth, careful not to make a sound, until I reached the creek. Peering from between two bushes, I saw three sturdy horses laden with saddlebags trot by. I frowned at the riders astride them—they wore black and had covered their faces with bandannas. Were these burglars? Highway robbers passing through? My hackles rose, and I debated whether I should attack. I could probably take them, unless they carried hidden arms, but killing or maiming seemed like overkill for simply riding through the forest with hidden faces. Better to simply spook the horses and send these men running off, away from the woods so close to my new property.

  “This almost feels like old times,” one of the men said, and I froze. That voice was unmistakable—it was Marris, my new neighbor! “Makes me wish we could go back.”

  “Those times are gone,” another man said in a gruff baritone. “Don’t think they’re ever coming back, either.”

  “I’m just thankful we’ve found this opportunity,” the third man said. “We ought to hurry up, though, before someone notices we’re missing.”

  I stood still for a few moments, watching them trot off into the distance. When it became apparent they were headed toward Abbsville, I followed to make sure that they weren’t getting into any trouble. I stayed downwind and back far enough that the horses wouldn’t notice they had an extra member in their party.

  As I trailed them, ears cocked, I hoped one of the trio would say something to give away what they were up to. But their journey home was silent. The saddlebags looked very heavy, but I was too far away to sniff out the contents. Had they just come back from looting someone’s farm? But what could they have taken? They carried no livestock or fresh kills—I would have smelled that much—and none of the local farmers would have that many valuables.

  Besides, Marris hadn’t struck me as the sort of man who would rob his own neighbors. It would be stupid, considering how small the population was. Yet, clearly, he and these other two were up to something, in secret. The men with him must be the “particular friends” he had referred to when he’d come to my house earlier, but what was so particular about them?

  After a good ten minutes, the three men bid each other goodnight, then split off in different directions—likely homeward bound. After a moment’s hesitation, I decided to follow their example and head to my own farm. I could attempt to retrace the horses’ steps, but that could wait for daylight.

  In the comfort and safety of my house, I sat back on the floral couch and mused over this latest discovery. From the way Marris was talking, it was quite possible he and his companions were former Resistance soldiers and had returned after the movement’s collapse. That would certainly explain the “old times” he was referring to and why he was so familiar with shifters. If they were former Resistance, I doubted they knew anything about the leadership’s plan to turn on their shifter compatriots—his liking for shifters had been genuine. Most of the foot soldiers had been kept in the dark and sent only to do very specific tasks. Even many officers had no idea of the corruption in their ranks—like Rylan, Sunaya’s cousin, who had been a captain. Just because they were former members of the Resistance did not automatically make Marris and his friends bad people.

  Even so, it was better to find out what they were up to sooner rather than later. If it was something harmless, I would hold my peace, but if anything illegal or revolutionary was going on in my immediate vicinity, it could draw the attention of the Watawis Mages Guild. The last thing I needed was for the local Chief Mage’s officials to stumble upon my retreat, especially so soon after I’d bought the farm. The papers I’d gotten for my new identity would pass a federal inspection, but my presence here was extremely unusual, and it would no doubt invite poking around from the authorities.

  I’ll try to learn more at the poker game on Tuesday, I decided as I turned out the lights and headed to bed. Hopefully the pub was a decent establishment—I was not looking forward to being stuck in a room full of rowdy drunks and clouds of foul-smelling tobacco. But that was a small price to pay for keeping my identity secret.

  4

  Mina

  The sound of a creaky steamtruck pulling up outside my house alerted me to the arrival of my ride. Startled, I glanced up from my desk to the clock on my wall, seeing it was half past five.

  Crap!

  “Give me a minute,” I shouted as Barrla banged on the front door. “I’m not ready yet!”

  “Oh, for the Ur-God’s sake, Mina!” The front door slammed open, and I winced—I must have forgotten to lock it again. “You’re still back there working, aren’t you?”

  Grimacing, I put my ledger away, then poked my head out of the surgery door to see Barrla standing in my living room with her hands planted on her curvy hips. She wore a cherry-red dress with frilly white material hemming the bell sleeves and knee-length skirt. The neckline dipped impressively low for an otherwise modest dress, showcasing her ample bosom.

  “Hoping to run into a certain shifter tonight?” I teased.

  “Don’t try to change the subject,” Barrla warned, narrowing her pretty blues at me. “Come out so I can see what you’re wearing.”

  Sheepishly, I stepped into the living room, revealing the plain top, jeans, and boots that were my normal work attire. Barrla shook her head. “I knew it. You completely forgot about the party, didn’t you?”

  I gestured helplessly at the surgery behind me. “I had paperwork to do.”

  “Paperwork, shmaperwork.” Barrla grabbed me by the elbow and began hauling me toward my bedroom. “You’re lucky you’re a natural beauty, you know, and that it doesn’t take much to get you ready.”

  I don’t know about that, I thought as I stripped down to my underwear. I dutifully sat down in the chair in front of my small vanity and let Barrla attack my hair with a brush and the bobby pins I kept in my closet. I had wavy blonde hair that came down to mid-back, and it didn’t require much maintenance beyond washing it occasionally and running a brush through it. My skin was decent, but my bone structure was too sharp—cheekbones too prominent, and there was a tiny dent in my chin I fervently wished I could cover up with magic. Trained mages could use spells to cover blemishes and even change their appearance entirely. I would have felt much more secure if I’d been able to do that when I ran away from home. But I was largely untrained, and the only spellbooks available in this state were locked up tight in the Mages Guild’s library in Willowdale.

  And that was one place in Watawis I could never go, not without risking exposure.

  “There.” Barrla stuck one last bobby pin in my hair, and I looked up. She’d fashioned my hair into some kind of updo, with loose curls piled at the top and two wavy strands hanging down by my face. I tried to tuck one behind my ear, but she smacked my hand away. “Uh-uh. Now let’s see wha
t you’ve got in the closet.”

  In the end, we settled on a pale blue dress with lavender flowers stitched into the A-line skirt and matching blue flats. It was one of three good dresses I owned, and my favorite, as I felt the pale blue went well with my blonde hair. Barrla smudged some silvery-blue eyeshadow onto my lids to accentuate my silver-gray irises, swiped some pale pink gloss on my lips, and tossed my coat to me.

  “Look at you. Dressed to kill in under fifteen minutes.” She shook her head, but a grin was tugging at her lips. “You could look like this every day if you took the time.”

  “I’m sure the horses will really appreciate my eye shadow,” I said as I followed her out.

  Barrla laughed. “You always have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

  Terad, Barrla’s brother, was sitting in the cab of the steamtruck outside. Realizing I’d kept him waiting, I apologized as we got in, but he waved it off.

  “He’s used to it,” Barrla teased, and my cheeks colored. As Terad put the truck in gear, I couldn’t help reflecting on how wrong Barrla was. I didn’t have an answer for everything. I only had various coping mechanisms to keep anybody from getting too close and finding out the truth about me.

  I knew quite well I could become one of the prettiest girls in town if I made an effort. The trouble was, I didn’t want to attract male attention. As a mage who would likely live for hundreds of years, marrying a human would be folly. Marrying one in a small town would be worse, because even if I tried to keep the secret within the marriage, his family was bound to find out. We all lived far too close to one another. Only the fact that I knew so little magic in the first place, and never used it in the presence of others, saved me from too much scrutiny. If I started dressing like an eligible woman looking for a husband, my privacy would go right out the window.

  It was for this very reason that I’d been on the fence about going to Mrs. Boccol’s sixtieth birthday party, where we were headed now. Everybody would be there, and dressing down was not an option. But Mrs. Boccol would take it as a personal insult if I did not come. I had saved her prized sow after the animal had accidentally swallowed rat poison last year, and the woman practically considered me a family friend.

  “Besides,” Barrla had said, “there will be food, music, and dancing. How can you say no to that?”

  It had been impossible to refuse her.

  “So, do you think Mr. Shelton will be there tonight?” Barrla asked eagerly, turning around to face me. “He’s probably not acquainted with the Boccol family, but everybody knows he’s a shifter now, and surely the Boccols will have invited him out of sheer curiosity?”

  “No doubt they will have sent an invitation,” I said, amused at Barrla’s excitement. “The question is whether he’ll have accepted. The man did just move here—he likely has his hands full setting everything up around the farm.”

  “I hear he’s hiring people to help out with renovations,” Terad piped up. “People to do roofing and other repair work. Was thinking about applying myself.”

  “Oh, you should,” Barrla exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Maybe you can use the opportunity to find out more about him.”

  Terad snorted. “If I go to his house, it’ll be to work for him, not you, Barrla. I’m not your personal spy.”

  As the two of them bickered in the front, I leaned back against the patched upholstery and let my thoughts drift. I did like music and dancing. Most of the time, I managed to rebuff any unwanted advances from my dance partners. But there was one man I sincerely hoped would not attend—or, at the very least, would be too far into his cups to dance by the time he saw me.

  “What are you grimacing about?” Barrla asked, noticing my expression through the rearview mirror.

  “Just thinking about Ilain Roor.”

  “Ugh. That lout.” Barrla’s pretty face twisted into a similar expression of distaste. “If he gives you any trouble, just holler for me, Mina. I’ll smack him upside the head with my shoe.”

  My lips twitched. “I’m not sure that will have any effect, considering how hard his head is.”

  “Seriously though, Mina,” Terad said, his deep voice growing serious. “Let us know if he gives you any trouble. There’s no need to deal with him by yourself, not with nearly the entire town gathered there. He can be a real ass when he’s had too much booze.”

  That was true enough, I thought as we passed through the gates of Boccol Farm. The cab bounced as the wheels rolled over the cattle guard, making every single rusty joint creak and whine in protest. Terad’s shoulders stiffened. I knew he was self-conscious about driving the rickety vehicle onto Boccol Farm—the Boccols were one of the richest families in Abbsville, and Terad had a sweet spot for their middle daughter Celara.

  A large variety of vehicles, including horse-drawn carriages with the animals unhitched, were already parked outside the stables. One of the Boccols’ hired men was guarding them. Terad parked in a free spot, and the guard gestured us toward the whitewashed ranch house. Colorful lampions marked the way and added to the festive atmosphere.

  “If Mr. Shelton is here, he’ll probably have come with Marris,” Barrla said as we climbed out of the cab. She was practically vibrating with excitement as we turned toward the house. “Do you see the Dolans’ tractor anywhere?”

  “I do hope he shows,” I said, remembering my resolution to be extra-welcoming to the only shifter in town. “I’m very curious to meet him.”

  “You’ll probably get along famously, since he’s half-animal,” Terad said, laughing. “I’ve never seen you meet an animal that didn’t fall into the palm of your hand.”

  “Hmm.” Barrla’s eyes narrowed at that, as if she wasn’t certain she liked the idea of her shifter beau bonding with me. “Do you think that’s really true?”

  I rolled my eyes, deciding this had gone far enough. “Shifters are people first and foremost,” I said, perhaps more sternly than I needed to. “They have vastly different temperaments and personalities, just like humans. I’ve had occasion to meet a few during my years at veterinary college, and none of them had any inclination to curl up in my lap or at my feet.”

  Barrla giggled. “Well, of course not,” she said, grabbing my hand. “There’s no need to get so defensive, Mina; it was just a question. Let’s enjoy the party!”

  Barrla practically skipped up the steps and through the wide double doors, which had been thrown open to let guests freely come and go. Every light within the house was ablaze, the warm glow spilling from the open doors and windows like welcoming beacons, drawing everybody inside. The sound of a fiddle and harmonica playing a gay tune, mixed with cheerful laughter and conversation, instantly lifted my mood.

  After we greeted the hostess and wished her a happy birthday, I spent the first hour exchanging pleasantries with the other townsfolk, catching up on the latest gossip, and being regaled with endless stories of what their animals were up to. Everybody seemed to think that was what a veterinarian preferred to talk about, and while that wasn’t strictly true, I didn’t see the harm in indulging them. While we made our rounds through the house, Barrla was constantly craning her neck, no doubt on the lookout for her shifter beau. I had to admit I scanned the room once or twice as well, but had yet to catch sight of him.

  “Don’t look so anxious, Barrla,” I murmured, squeezing her arm. “Everybody’s bound to notice, and if you keep winding yourself up like this, you’ll scare the wits out of Mr. Shelton by the time he arrives.”

  Barrla deflated. “You’re right,” she grumbled, pushing a lock of coppery hair away from her face. “It’s just that the dancing has already started, and I was so looking forward to doing my first set with him.”

  “Why not let him come to you?” I suggested, looping my arm through hers. “There’s always a line of men waiting to dance with you, and the woman who’s most in demand is the one men will gravitate toward. Show him that you’re a prize, Barrla, and he’ll be sure to pop out of the woodwork at some poin
t.”

  Barrla’s eyes sparkled. “That is an excellent idea,” she said, straightening up to her full, if diminutive, height. “I knew we were friends for a reason, Mina.”

  I chuckled as I led her to the dance floor. Sure enough, the moment we approached, three men made a beeline for Barrla and asked her to dance. She was swept off within seconds, and as she whirled across the floor with one of them, I felt a pang of envy. Barrla could have any man she wanted in the town—she had no dangerous secrets to hide, no fear they would reject her if they knew the truth about her. The only reason she hadn’t settled down yet was because those silly shifter romances had filled her head with fanciful notions about what true love should be, and as she’d complained more than once, the local young men seemed boring compared to those fictional heroes.

  “Hey, Mina,” a familiar voice said from behind me, and a shiver crawled down my spine. “I was hoping you’d be here.”

  “Mr. Roor.” My tone was cool as I turned to face my unwanted suitor. He’d cleaned up for this shindig. The normal scruff had been shaved off his blocky jaw, and his dirty-blond hair was pulled back into a tail at the nape of his neck. He wore a plaid red-and-white shirt that strained across his broad shoulders and jeans with a giant shiny buckle that had the Roor Farm’s logo stamped across it. He was handsome, in a brutish sort of way, but the leer in his eyes as he gave me a once-over, coupled with the spots of color on his cheeks that came from too much alcohol, was enough to make me step away.

  “You look amazing tonight,” he said, grabbing my wrist before I could melt into the crowd. “Good enough to eat.”

  “Thanks.” I forced a smile, trying to get rid of the mental image his words evoked. “Gotta dress up for a birthday party.”

  “Oh, I know,” he said, his voice deepening as he moved a bit closer. “But we don’t get many opportunities to spit and shine our shoes, so we may as well make the most of it, right? Come dance with me.”