Mark of the Mage: Scribes of Medeisia Book I

by R.K. Ryals

  Chapter 23

  “This is a ridiculous idea!” Lochlen said.

  The rebels had returned from the forest to find me with short hair and Kye showing me how to walk, talk, and stand like a boy. Nikalia was not with them.

  Kye crossed his arms, his eyes on the dragon. “Then you talk her out of it,” Kye muttered. “She makes a good point, Lochlen. We bring her here, regale her with stories of her mother, with a document we believe proves she's a bearer of peace, and then we leave her here to sit out the rebellion in a camp.”

  I looked at Lochlen expectantly. I knew what he was going to say, and I was prepared.

  “Maybe you and my father believe she is the phoenix, but I'm not convinced. This is ridiculous,” Lochlen argued.

  I fought not to scratch my chest where I'd used a length of cloth to tie down my breasts. Sadly, it hadn't taken much cloth. I had more hips than I did breasts.

  “Maybe I'm not the One,” I broke in. “But I deserve to be as much a part of this fight as anyone. I've lost family, and my father is being used to help the king.”

  Lochlen approached me.

  “Do you really believe your father is being forced to do it, Stone. Because I can guarantee he isn't.”

  My cheeks heated.

  “What are you suggesting, dragon? That my father wants to help the king?”

  Lochlen shrugged. “The possibility remains.”

  I could feel my body tense, a headache forming as my heart beat faster. Lochlen was trying to rile me. I knew it, and yet I was still falling for it.

  “Okay, say my father is helping the king,” I said. “Then I have even more reason to fight.”

  Lochlen frowned. “And what help is a phoenix of peace if you die?”

  I heard Ari's wings before I saw her as she flew down from the trees to land on a post nearby.

  “Then she becomes a martyr. Let the girl fight, dragon,” the falcon said.

  Lochlen turned on her.

  “You say that with such ease, bird. Do you not know what losing her would do to the forest? You'd lose all human connection.”

  “Wonderful,” Kye murmured. “And now the war goes to the birds.”

  I grinned because I knew Kye was frustrated by his ignorance. Only Lochlen and I could understand the forest.

  “We didn't have human connection before,” Ari stated, ignoring Kye. “I know the girl. I've been with her since I was barely a hatchling. She may appear meek, but she's as stubborn as a mule.”

  Lochlen sulked, but he didn't argue. He turned to me instead. “You want to pass as a boy?” he asked, laughing. “A young boy at that.”

  I nodded. “Let Raemon take me prisoner. I can prove I am invaluable to him.”

  Maeve had been sitting quietly at the edge of the group, a sword in her hand, and she stood suddenly.

  “What can you do the rest of us mages can't?” she asked.

  I looked away from her because I didn't want to see the hurt my words would cause in her eyes.

  “I can read, I can heal, I can write. And I can also read, write, and speak the same language as the Sadeemians. Even my father is unable to do all three.”

  Maeve was quiet a moment. I knew from the tent earlier she was illiterate. “But the king has imprisoned the scribes. Any of them can do what you can,” she argued.

  I shook my head. “No, they can't. Only Master Aedan could read and write the Sadeemian language. He was the master of our Archives, but he wasn't a mage. I am both mage and scribe.”

  Kye leaned against a nearby tree. “The king will find her . . . er, him, interesting. Drastona is right. He will find someone with both skills invaluable. He will attempt to use her. Whether he'll allow her in the inner circle is arguable. But he won't kill her. He'll use her skills first.”

  “And you know this?” Maeve asked.

  Kye looked at her, his eyes shadowed. “I've been fighting in the king's army for two years. I know this.” Maeve looked away.

  Two years? Kye had been in the king's army for two years? Spying or actually fighting for the king?

  “And what about you, Kye?” Maeve asked. “Will you go with her? Can you?”

  She indicated the part of his tunic covering his bandage. Maeve had a point. Kye had turned on his men to try to rescue marked children. It was traitorous, but I knew what he was going to say next. We'd planned it well.

  Kye pushed away from the tree.

  “The king may be willing to forgive a soldier with such a valuable prisoner.”

  Maeve gasped. “You! You plan to be the one to take her prisoner!”

  Kye avoided Maeve's gaze. “It's worth the risk. We need to know what the king has planned.”

  “And what if the king doesn't forgive you?” Maeve fumed. “Are you willing to risk your life on chance?”

  The look Kye gave Maeve was dark. “Two years, Maeve. I've watched a lot of people die in two years.” Kye glanced briefly at me. “The girl is willing to risk her life on the idea the king may need her. I'm willing to risk he has the same need for trained soldiers. Especially now in a time of war.”

  Maeve's gaze moved between us, her eyes full of emotion, before she turned and stomped away.

  Lochlen cleared his throat. “So that's that then? You really want to go through with this?”

  Neither Kye nor I answered him. Our silence was answer enough.

  “So be it,” Lochlen muttered.

  He followed in Maeve's wake, but he didn't stomp. He moved silently, each step measured, calculated, as if he was marching in a funeral procession. Ari mumbled something about silly human emotions and temperamental dragons before she took to the air, and I nodded at Oran where he stood partly concealed in the forest. The trees whispered.

  I looked to Kye. I should thank him for backing me, for risking himself by escorting me to the king, but I didn't. I didn't thank him because it felt like he was doing it for absolution. For what, I wasn't sure. Aigneis maybe? Or maybe the lives he'd said he'd seen taken.

  “How long have you been with the rebels?” I asked him.

  Kye ran a hand along the back of his neck. His hair had gotten longer while he'd been away. It made him look wild, unkempt, his scars more dangerous.

  “A little over a year,” he answered finally.

  He'd been double-crossing the king for a long time. I looked over my shoulder, my eyes finding a frantic Ena being consoled by Maeve. The older woman had grown attached to the child, Nikalia. It was one of the reasons I wanted to go into Aireesi. Maybe Nikalia was still alive. Maybe she could be saved.

  Maeve pointed at the cooking pots, helping Ena move toward them. I knew she was trying to find something to keep the older woman busy, distracted.

  “She's in love with you, you know,” I said suddenly.

  I looked at Kye, but he avoided my gaze.

  “I know.”

  It was all he said. I was more curious than I should be and I persisted.

  “You don't care for her?” I asked.

  Kye's eyes did meet mine then, the green irises eerily old for his age.

  “Maeve is in love with a hero, an idea. She sees me leading the rebels against the king,” he watched me closely, “but she hasn't seen me when I work for Raemon. She hasn't seen me turn my back on those in need because doing so gives me more time in the army, more time to spy.”

  I knew what he left unsaid. I'd seen that Kye. I'd seen him watch a woman burned by mage-fire. I'd felt him hold me down while I was branded like a cow. I hated him for it in many ways, and I felt sorry for him in others. But I'd also seen Kye the rebel, and I respected him for what he did for the marked cause. And yet … that night in the forest. I shook my head.

  Kye stepped toward me. “Are you willing to watch people die, innocent people, so you can save a country?” he asked. I knew by the way he searched my eyes he saw the turmoil there. “Because you will, Drastona. You will watch people die, and you won't be able to do anything to stop it.
If you try to, you risk a whole country rather than a few people. We can't save them all.”

  I could see the image his words portrayed in my head.

  “That's callous!” I breathed.

  Kye laughed, the sound harsh. “That's truth.”

  He was in front of me now.

  “If you think you can't do this, now is the time to step away. All you've lost is your hair. Going to Aireesi could mean losing your soul.”

  I stared up at him, our eyes locked. I didn't look away even when the stare became uncomfortable because I read in his eyes what his words didn't say. I was going to die, if not physically then most certainly emotionally.

  “Are you prepared for that, Drastona?” Kye whispered.

  I leaned up, letting the tips of my toes bear my weight. It brought me closer to Kye's face. His eyes were dead in so many ways, alive in others. Tortured.

  “Stone. You can call me Stone.”