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

by Jasmine Walt

  “Huh.” I mulled that thought in my head for a moment. “If there is another shifter nearby, or a mage who can use mindspeak, will he hear us talking?”

  “Not if you don’t want him to,” Fenris explained. “Mindspeak can be directed toward a specific person, like a telephone call on a single channel, or it can be broadcast, like a radio signal. It all depends on your intent. So long as you are not broadcasting your thoughts, only I should be able to hear them.”

  “I must be careful in that regard, then.” By the Lady, there were so many rules!

  “You’ll catch up,” Fenris said gently, once again reading me perfectly. “Do not be discouraged, Mina. One of my closest friends did not start mastering her magic until her mid-twenties, but she caught up quickly under the guidance of a good teacher.”

  My eyebrows rose. “You know someone else like me?” I’d never considered that there might be other mages out there who had made it to adulthood without magical tutelage…but the Federation was a vast country. Among all those millions, it stood to reason there might be a few others with a similar experience to mine.

  “Her situation was…unique, even compared to yours,” Fenris said, sounding a little strained. “But yes, the basic issue was the same—she was far ‘behind’ in her studies compared to other mages her age and did not even know the rudiments of Loranian when she began her apprenticeship. But she did not let that hold her back, and neither should you, Mina.” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “I will help you as much as I can. Once you are of age, you will find a master who can properly apprentice you and who will treat you well.”

  Fenris and I arranged to meet again at tea time tomorrow afternoon for my first magical lesson, and when I left the house to retrieve my mare, there was a distinct bounce in my step. I felt impossibly light compared to the panic that had driven me to seek help at Fenris’s house, though perhaps my new optimism was foolish. I was far from out of the woods yet.

  But the promise of real control over my magic eroded my fears of discovery, pushed out even the thought of my horrid relatives getting their clutches on me. And as I rode home at a much steadier pace than I had arrived at, I hoped that my time with Fenris would be enough that, should I ever have to face my aunt and uncle again, they would not find it so easy to push me around anymore.

  14

  Mina

  Two days later, I was humming in my surgery, in a good mood after treating my latest patient—an elderly cat with arthritis in her hind legs. The magical lessons were going well enough that I had been able to ease her pain without too much difficulty—though as far as the owner knew, I had simply prescribed a tonic that had worked wonders—and I was using my magic right now to run a sponge over the table, cleaning it without having to lift a finger.

  I was prepping the surgery for my next appointment at eleven when I heard a sharp knock at the front door. Frowning, I released the spell on the sponge and checked my watch. It was only 10:15, too early for my next patient.

  It’s probably Barrla, come to sneak away from the shop on her break, I thought as I went to answer the door.

  “Good morning,” a tall, wiry man in a set of green robes said in a cool voice, and my heart nearly stopped. The morning sunlight shone off the brown hair flowing around his shoulders. He had regular features—not particularly handsome, but not ugly either.

  But none of those details registered beyond a split second, because the only thing my mind was screaming was Run, Run, Run.

  “Good morning,” I managed, forcing my legs to stay ramrod straight even as they started to quiver like jelly. “How can I help you?”

  “My name is Haltinas ar’Contir, and I am a representative from the Watawis Mages Guild’s legal department,” he said, eyeing me curiously. I was certain he was taking in the bits of cat hair that clung to my black top—my patient this morning had luxurious white fur that was impossible to get off. “You are Mina Hollin, the local veterinarian?”

  “I am,” I admitted, gripping the doorframe a little tighter than I should have. The mage seemed to notice that, too, and I forced myself to relax. “I did not expect someone to come all this way—I only just received the summons.”

  The mage nodded. “We normally give a week, but I happened to be passing through the area and told the Secretary I would stop by to save you the trouble of driving up. May I come in?”

  The last sentence wasn’t a request, not really, and I swallowed hard at his implacable gaze. Silently, I bowed my head and stepped back, allowing one of my worst nightmares to enter my home. His eagle eyes quickly swept over my surroundings, as if looking for any sign of magic, and I thanked the Lady that I had not been using any spells in my private quarters. I’d heard that mages could use a spell that would enable them to see if magic had been recently used, and the last thing I needed was for him to detect it.

  You are an idiot, I told myself as I shut the door behind me. Idiot, idiot, idiot.

  “Thank you,” the mage told me as I handed him a cup of coffee, still fresh from the pot, and set a plate of cookies on the table. I’d already had two cups this morning and didn’t dare pour myself a third with my nerves so shaky, but I did snatch a cookie off the plate, mainly to have something to do with my hands instead of nervous fidgeting.

  He stared at me intently. “I’d like to hear your account of the incident with Mr. Roor.”

  I pretended to nibble at my cookie, though my mouth was too dry to swallow even crumbs. “There isn’t much to tell,” I said after a second or two, pleased at the composure in my voice. “Mr. Roor and I were at a party, like most of the neighborhood, and he was making unwanted advances. A friend of mine stepped in to tell him to back off, and Mr. Roor threatened to attack him. The excitement, coupled with the many drinks he’d imbibed, was obviously too much for Roor, and he fainted.”

  The mage arched a brow. “I visited the Roor family before I came over here,” he said, setting his mug down. “Mr. Roor is a large, strapping man. I am having some difficulty imagining that merely lurching toward someone would be enough to make him faint, not unless he drank an entire barrel full of ale.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he had. He’s never been very good at controlling himself.”

  “Even so,” the mage said, “I must insist that you allow me to gauge you for magic potential. If you are innocent,” he said as a protest sprang to my lips, “then there should be nothing for you to fear. Protesting will only make you look guilty.”

  Panic began to claw at my mind, freezing my thoughts, making me want to crumble. But as the mage looked at me, I caught just a hint of smugness behind that bland expression. So, the bastard already thought he had this in the bag, did he? That he could make a quick arrest and toss me into prison without a single thought for the life he was ruining?

  The very idea filled me with outrage, and the next thing I knew, I’d shot to my feet, a half-cocked idea forming in my mind. “You want magic,” I hissed, swiping a finger over the ring on my right hand, “I’ll show you magic!”

  The illusion of my grandmother quickly took the place of my own form, and the mage jerked back, his eyes widening in shock. “How dare a young whippersnapper like you presume to test me,” I cried, using my magic to change my voice into that of an older woman. “I was already a mage long before you were a gleam in your father’s eyes!”

  “I—” the mage sputtered as he jumped to his feet. “What in Recca is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his face coloring. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Tuala Harmon,” I said imperiously, “and I insist that you leave my home at once.”

  “I will do no such thing,” the mage snapped, going from astonished to angry. “I have never heard your name in my life, and it was certainly not in the registry, which I checked only the other day. Why are you living in this hovel, disguised as a human girl?”

  As he spoke, I heard the back door softly open and close. I tensed, wondering if it was a neighbor, but no o
ne stepped forth.

  “It’s just me,” Fenris’s voice whispered in my mind, so quietly I would have thought I’d imagined it if I hadn’t been introduced to mindspeak.

  I relaxed, focusing all my attention back on the mage before he’d realized my momentary lapse. “I am living in this hovel, as you say, because I bet a friend I could live amongst humans for three entire years without being discovered. I’ve already done two, and was doing a rather good job, before you came in and ruined everything.” I glared at him, focusing all my earlier terror into perfectly genuine anger. “Thanks to you and that meddlesome Mrs. Roor, I’ve lost the bet. Why could you not leave well enough alone?”

  “Your bet is none of my concern,” the mage said stiffly. Skepticism still lurked in his eyes, but I stared down my nose at him until he finally averted his gaze. “Your yearly allowance as a mage should be more than enough to cover it, unless you bet a truly outrageous sum. Besides, I can’t see how any bet could be worth putting up with these tiresome humans for such an extended period.”

  “Three years is but the blink of an eye compared to my lifespan,” I said archly. “You must be young indeed if you think that is such a long time.” His face flushed at that, and I hid a grin. “Besides, I was getting bored, and I wanted a challenge in my life. Without occasional change, we tend to become stodgy and rigid.”

  “Is that why you chose to assume such a youthful appearance?” he asked, still sounding incredulous. “Because you wanted a ‘change’ in your life?”

  I looked away at that, allowing my own cheeks to color faintly, as if in embarrassment. “I happen to be fond of young, handsome men,” I told him. “Taking on a more youthful appearance makes it much easier to indulge.”

  A brief look of disgust flashed across the mage’s face, but he masked it quickly. “And was Mr. Roor one of the men you found acceptable?”

  I shrugged. “He is not worth keeping around, far too volatile. I admit, I slapped a sleeping spell on him when he was about to start a fight at a birthday party, and I’m not sorry either.”

  “Very well,” he said, finally composing himself. “While your activities are certainly unusual, if you are in fact a trained mage, you have done nothing illegal aside from not signing the register. I must insist that you come to the Mages Guild at the first opportunity to do so.”

  “I suppose there is no reason not to,” I said in a bored voice, “since you have already broken my cover.”

  “I’m certain you will find yourself much happier once you start engaging in magical pursuits again,” the mage said. “Speaking of which…” Haltinas switched to Loranian and asked who my master had been, and from which state I originally hailed. So he was still doubtful, double-checking my story.

  I was going to reply in Northian, since my Loranian was no longer all that fluent, but before I could open my mouth, Fenris whispered the correct Loranian phrases right into my mind. I merely had to echo them out loud, claiming I had grown up in Osero and my master had been the late Maggals ar’Trud.

  “Indeed?” Haltinas looked impressed. “I have read his book on offensive magic.”

  “No!” Fenris hissed in my mind. “He wrote only one book, on weather spells.”

  I corrected Haltinas with an ironic smile. “Really, your memory must be very poor for such a young man. Maggals was a specialist on weather magic. That is the only subject he wrote about.”

  The mage shrugged, unapologetic. “Sorry, ma’am, but I had to be sure.”

  “If you’re done with your inquisition, I do have other things to attend to,” I said impatiently, flicking a hand toward the door.

  To my surprise, a hard blast of air rippled toward the mage, tinged with red. I caught the flicker of runes along the edges of the magical shield as the mage stumbled toward the front door, which flew open of its own accord. “Good day, Mr. ar’Contir.”

  The shield pushed the mage right out the door, which slammed into his sputtering face before he could get another word in. I forced myself to remain standing, a frozen look of imperious rage on my face, until I heard the mage leave, his footsteps creaking as he descended the porch. I walked to the window as I heard the engine of a steamcar fire up, then let out a long, slow breath as I watched the shiny black vehicle rumble up the street, no doubt headed straight back to the Guild so he could deliver his report.

  Passing through indeed.

  “That was an excellent performance,” Fenris said, coming to stand beside me. He was close enough that I could feel the body heat radiating off him, and as I inhaled, his masculine scent filled my nostrils. His steady presence broke through the wall of ice and steel I’d encased myself in, and I began to shake like a leaf.

  “There now,” he said, taking me into his arms and drawing me away from the window. “You’re safe. It’s all right.”

  Tears—of fear, of relief—coursed down my cheeks as I pressed my face into his broad chest. They quickly soaked through his tunic, but he didn’t seem to mind as he stroked my back, saying absolutely nothing as the pent-up emotion ripped through me. A sob tore from my throat, and the sound, raw and aching, startled me enough that I realized what I was doing.

  “I—I’m sorry,” I said, jerking back and wiping my face with my sleeve. “I didn’t mean to fall apart on you like that.”

  “That’s all right.” Fenris conjured a handkerchief out of thin air and handed it to me to wipe my face. “You are quite the actress,” he said as I dried my tears. “I heard the beginning from outside and came in through the back in case you needed assistance. But you held your own quite well.”

  “At least up until the end,” I agreed, a cold shiver rippling down my spine. “I’m not sure what I would have done if I hadn’t been able to evade his tricky test.”

  Fenris only smiled. “Somehow I think you would have found your way around that pitfall too, even if I were not here. If I had not known any better, you would certainly have fooled me—you sounded just like a grumpy, vain old lady mage.”

  The sincerity in his voice finally eased the knot in my stomach, and I even let out a shaky laugh. “I can’t believe I actually did that,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “It was all so spur-of-the-moment.” I shook my head as Fenris guided me to the couches. “My grandmother was dear to me, so it was easy to slide into her persona. The name I gave to that nosy mage belonged to one of my grandmother’s friends, since my grandmother is deceased.”

  “Smart.” Fenris picked up a cookie and bit down on it thoughtfully. “It might be possible for that inspector to discover your grandmother was not alive, or track your true origins through the family connection, so it was better not to use her name. I suppose we’ll be taking that trip to the capital sooner rather than later, now that you’ve promised to sign the register.”

  “Yes.” My stomach dropped at the thought. “I…I don’t know if I can keep up this charade,” I confessed, my skin growing clammy again. “It is one thing to fool one mage, but there will be mages everywhere at the Guild, and one of them is bound to trip me up at some point, especially if they test me again with trick questions.” I scooped my hands through my hair again as the anxiety began to tighten my chest once more. “And let’s not think about the fact that I’m about to commit another crime by signing the registry with a false name. What is the penalty for that?” I asked, bitterness creeping into my voice.

  “It’ll be all right,” Fenris promised, his deep voice soothing my raw nerves. “I’ll accompany you to the capital in disguise, just in case. That way, I can once again coach you through any difficult situations via mindspeak.”

  “I…” More questions bubbled to my lips at all that his offer implied. There was technically no need for him to go in disguise if he was going to communicate via mindspeak—he could simply come as my shifter companion. That he wanted to keep his identity hidden meant he had reason not to want other mages to see him.

  Maybe he really is involved with the Resistance somehow. The thought of being in cah
oots with a rebel, or even a rebel sympathizer, made me uneasy, especially if I was bringing him into the Mages Guild. But how could he be, when the Resistance hated mages, and Fenris knew nearly as much, if not more, than a master mage? I suspected the average mage would not have been familiar with the writings of a deceased Osero mage. There was much more to Fenris than I had initially assumed.

  It doesn’t matter if he works for the Resistance. I could hardly judge Fenris for his loyalties, not while he was bending over backward to help me when it was obvious that he did not want to go anywhere near the Guild. So I forced my questions down and instead thanked him for his help.

  And then prayed to whoever might be listening that this entire charade did not backfire horribly.

  15

  Fenris

  The next morning arrived far too swiftly, and I groaned as I rolled toward the sun slipping through the blinds. I had not gotten much sleep, my mind occupied with thoughts of Mina and our planned trip to Willowdale.

  I’d been just up the street when I saw that shiny black steamcar roll up in front of her house, and genuine terror for her had seized me when I’d watched a mage get out of the car and knock on her door. My wolf’s instincts had risen, demanding I charge forward and attack, and it had taken a supreme effort to rein in those primal instincts in and instead discreetly go around the back of Mina’s house so I could assess the situation.

  If necessary, I’d been fully prepared to disable the mage, scramble the encounter in his mind, and dump him out in the middle of nowhere to keep Mina safe. And just what did that say about my feelings toward her, if I was willing to put my rural sanctuary at risk so easily and without hesitation? Not to mention the damage I would have done to the mage’s brain?