Water Spell (Guardians of the Realm Book 1)

by Lizzy Ford

  At her voice, Tieran tensed. His eyes did not leave Karav’s, and Karav sensed the depth he had earlier. Whatever it was, Tieran’s secret was buried too deep for him to read in the Inlander’s tanned face. Tieran was not expecting his ward to be a woman, nor did he welcome the news she was.

  Karav suspected Tieran swore his oath because it amused him to do so, to control a mage that belonged to another king, god, and priests. Maybe Tieran believed a mage could be trained to fight and would hamper his independence only as much as a squire did a warrior’s. Or perhaps, vengeance was his desire.

  A woman, however, would hamper any man in a world where survival depended upon physical prowess.

  Even so, a woman would not normally cause an honor-less mercenary to tense the way Tieran had, for Tieran had the strength and soon, the magic sword, to combat anyone who came close to either of them.

  He lost a woman in his life, Karav assessed.

  “You let your women address the nephew of a chieftain?” Tieran asked him, not acknowledging Sela.

  “To be a chieftain, he must have a tribe. Karav says you have none,” the mage replied.

  “In the Inlands, an unmated woman listens to her master and speaks only when he permits it,” Tieran said, still addressing Karav.

  “You are not my master. But I will become yours.”

  Tieran’s jaw clenched. “You had better be ugly, mage, or I will teach you a lesson you will not forget about how slave women behave in the Inlands!”

  Karav knew the words were meant for him, to gauge his reaction, to find a weakness, like a predator did any threat. A warrior like Tieran was not accustomed to being caught off guard. Karav saw the flicker of emotions before Tieran quashed them. He was trying to find his balance, if not a way to reverse what had already been decided and send the woman back with Karav.

  “Like a horned goat,” she snapped.

  Karav smiled coldly at Tieran. He revealed nothing.

  Tieran moved towards her. He set down the wine. Karav watched, but was not alarmed as Tieran strode boldly towards his mage. Tieran’s body shifted back from coiled snake to intrigued predator – but he was the master of himself. Assertive and calm in action while sharp in word, a combination Karav grudgingly approved of.

  The mage stepped back as Tieran neared without slowing. Tieran snatched her neck, eliciting a gasp that assured Karav she could still breathe. The warrior pushed her hood back and stared down at her.

  The mage was both defiant and scared, her blue eyes in turmoil. She was wise enough to know the predator playing with her could snap at any moment. She kept her tongue and did not provoke him by reaching for her dagger. She stood perfectly still. Tieran circled her, keeping his hand around her neck. He pushed aside the cloak to look over her body with appreciation he did not bother to hide.

  Even that display was for Karav, as if some part of Tieran wanted to anger Karav enough for him to take the mage away.

  When he finished, Tieran dropped his hand and faced Karav. The hardness was back in his face, and anger rendered him flushed.

  “No,” he said.

  “You have been chosen. You have sworn an oath,” Karav said calmly.

  “What is the oath of a mercenary?” both the mage and Tieran said simultaneously.

  Karav smiled another cold smile.

  “He said no, Karav. Let us go,” the mage said. She started towards Karav, but Tieran’s hand snaked out again, gripping her by the back of the neck.

  “This is between us, mage,” Tieran warned her. “Stay where you are.”

  “It is not easy to resist, is it?” It was Karav’s turn to tease.

  Sela’s look at him was pleading. After many seasons of Karav’s gentle guidance, she would find Tieran’s blatant intimidation threatening. But Karav saw what she did not. Tieran did not hurt her. He did not leer at her after realizing he would not get a rise out of Karav. He did not do more than he had to in order to control her. He was not acting like an Inlander mercenary brute but like a disciplined warrior.

  For the first time since starting this ill-fated trip, Karav began to think maybe the gods had a hand in the selection of Tieran after all.

  The mage tried to move, but Tieran’s hand was firm. He did not let her go, and he would not, Karav knew, because he shared the same need every warrior did when he ran across the ward predestined to be his. The need to possess and protect, more primal than a husband bedding his wife for the first time after their mating ceremony. It was an instinct too powerful for even a fiercely independent mercenary Inlander to resist.

  The mage was his. Tieran knew it. Karav knew it. The only one foolish enough to hope it was not true was the mage herself.

  “That is settled,” Karav said.

  “No, Karav,” his mage objected.

  “How long will you stay?” Tieran asked in a tone that warned Karav he was asking him to leave, not inviting him to remain.

  “I’ll leave at dawn,” Karav answered.

  “No, Karav,” Sela whispered.

  “We will speak.” This time, Tieran uttered the words, and Karav knew he was ready to listen. “Stay here, mage.”

  Karav nodded and led them out of the tent. The mage’s sorrow had become pain. He wanted nothing more than to comfort her. This time, he could not. Tieran walked a short distance, until they were far enough not to be heard by anyone in the camp.

  “It’s like giving a starving thief a jewel then telling him he cannot sell it,” he started.

  “It is,” Karav agreed. “But you feel what you should, or you would have let her walk away from you.”

  “She’s mine.”

  Karav smiled faintly. Tieran frowned fiercely. He did not wish it to be true any more than his ward did.

  “You will have to bind her to you,” Karav said again.

  Tieran’s eyes were on him as he spoke.

  “It is simple and necessary. She will run from you, if you do not. That madness you feel now will consume you, if she leaves your side, and you will both die.”

  Tieran shook his head. “If I bind her, I cannot rid myself of her.”

  “It’s too late for that. You know this,” Karav replied. “The priests also sent a message for me to convey to you. They wish you to return her to her king and prepare for a journey across the Jade Sea.”

  “I do not obey your priests, and I have never heard of this sea.”

  For which I am grateful, Karav said silently. “Good. I would advise you never to take her there or to any sea.”

  “You disobey your own priests?” Tieran raised an eyebrow.

  “When it comes to my mage’s safety, I will defy my king, if doing so will protect her.”

  Tieran considered him. “This danger that follows … her. What is it?”

  “Men like you, with neither honor nor tribe, who wish to use her magic for their own. Mages, warriors and priests from the other three kingdoms, and maybe even men from the known and unknown continents across the sea, who wish to force her to serve them. And if you refuse the priests of my kingdom, priests from our homeland who wish to use her magic and her bloodline will pursue you.”

  “Is that all?” Tieran had not blinked at the challenge. If anything, he appeared far more comfortable with the prospect of a lifetime of fighting than he was dealing with the mage.

  “If you choose not to serve her king, you will have to fight four kingdoms or avoid them all. The Inlands are not large enough for you to hide forever.”

  “I can give her to another mage-warrior,” Tieran mused. “For I do not plan on leaving the Inlands.”

  “If you can part with her, you are a stronger man than I. In as few as three days, the need to claim her as yours will consume you. Even if she runs. Or you do. The ancient mages cursed their warriors in many ways. You accept your fate – or you die.”

  Tieran turned, arms crossed to reveal the thick ropes of muscles in his forearms. Karav looked over the bare-chested man in approval. He was lean enough to be agile and
thick enough to deliver a deathblow with a single stroke. A full head shorter than Karav, Tieran was noticeably larger than a normal man, though not built like the mountain Karav was.

  “The priests of my gods and kingdom will provide refuge, should you need it. The mage knows where to go,” Karav added.

  “I will not need your priests,” Tieran replied scornfully. “Of what use is a water mage to an Inlander?”

  “She can pull water from the desert and find the nearest drinking source days out. She feels water the way you feel the breeze on your skin. If threatened, she can wield it like a weapon, drain a lake in a breath and drown your enemies.”

  “She knows how to do all this?”

  “Of course,” Karav replied. “I have taught her to defend herself when she has no water. But be forewarned – she can sweep her warrior away with a small stream of water and give herself time to escape, too.”

  “She will not run,” Tieran said. “She is a woman. She will be taught her place.”

  “She is a mage first. In the desert or Inlands, she is no threat. Near a water source, she cannot be faced or defeated by any creature in any realm. Heed this, if nothing else,” Karav said. “Bind her before you reach such a place, lest she turn on you and destroy you both.”

  Tieran shifted away and faced the waterhole. “And if I do not bind her? Will another warrior take her?”

  “You cannot escape your fate. The Gift of Knowing told you as much,” Karav said with impatience. “The bond between a mage and her warrior is sacred. It is necessary for the survival of both. It is also prophecy.”

  “Prophecy!” Tieran said and snorted derisively. “We do not have prophecy or magic in the Inlands. I find it difficult to believe she cannot be bound to another or that you would not wish her to be. Did I not fail to protect what was mine from those who slaughtered my tribe? Does this not concern you?”

  Karav started to retort and then stopped. Tieran’s gaze was distant, as if he were reliving what happened a season before. Like the mage, the warrior was in denial.

  “Send her away with me,” Karav said and waited.

  Tieran tensed instinctively, coiled to strike, at Karav’s low growl. Karav did not need any other response. Tieran was fighting it, but his instincts would prevail. The warrior in front of Karav would bend to the magic in his own blood, forced to obey the ancient curse. No matter what Tieran wished he could do, he was born trapped by an ancestor he probably did not know and the prophecy surrounding every water mage.

  “I do not doubt you, Tieran,” Karav added. “You are not the kind of man who loses what is his a second time.”

  Tieran blew out his breath, hands on his hips, and finally gave a curt nod. “I am not,” he agreed.

  “Even if you do not want what is yours,” Karav said with a half smile.

  “I do not suppose she can turn water to gold?”

  Karav shook his head. Tieran was coming to terms much faster than Sela would.

  “Damned, worthless mage,” Tieran muttered.

  “That’s what most mage-warriors say upon meeting their wards.”

  The ground beneath them rumbled. The distant hoof beats were too faint to hear, but the earth told Karav from which direction they came. Karav sensed the danger the same moment Tieran did. They both looked west, listening and observing before either moved.

  “You have visitors,” Karav observed. “Allies?”

  “I have none outside my uncle. Your enemies or mine?” Tieran mused, a predatory smile on his face replacing the tension in his features. “Fetch the mage. I’ll warn my kin.”

  3

  Karav loosened the straps on his sword and trotted to the tent where the mage waited. Pushing open the entrance, he signaled her. She read the urgency on his face, pulled up her hood and hurried to him.

  Tieran brushed by them into the tent. Karav waited with the mage a short distance away, observing the activity of the camp. He had thought the men gone but soon saw they were sleeping. The two guards went down each line of tents and pounded on the thick canvas. Mercenaries dressed for battle with mussed hair and sleepy eyes exited the tents.

  With a glance around, Karav realized the warriors were not yet ready to face the enemy barreling over nearby hills towards them.

  “Wait here,” he told Sela.

  Karav broke into a trot then a dead run. He freed his broadsword and a short sword as his long strides swallowed the earth. He ran to the top of the hill to the west, reaching it just as the marauders did. With a battle cry that terrified most men, Karav whirled and chopped, severing the head of the first attacker’s horse clean off. The animal’s body dropped, and its rider stumbled out of the saddle.

  The rider’s head was the next to go. Karav quickly assessed these were not his enemies. They were mounted Inlanders, not mage-warriors or priests bearing the sigils of their kingdoms on their chests and shields.

  Karav chopped down several more horses and men, until there were too many for him to stop. He loped towards camp, slashing through horses’ legs and riders’ bodies as he ran.

  The men of the camp clashed with the invaders. Horses bowled over a few of the first men to oppose them, and Karav took up a position in front of the camp, hacking and slashing. He fell into a rhythm and left the connection between him and the mage open, so he would know if she was in danger. She was scared but calm in the back of camp.

  “The mage, she refused to move!” Tieran shouted to him as he joined him.

  “I forbade it,” Karav replied.

  “She is not the master she claims to be!”

  Karav said nothing, maneuvering to watch the younger man fight. Tieran moved with grace and agility, his blows as strong as Karav’s. He was ruthless, fearless, and brutal. He fought like an Inlander: disciplined but without any sort of honor or mercy in how he struck down his opponent. He gutted men and left them to die agonizing deaths. Trained for civilized warfare from a young age, Karav would never treat his enemy to anything but a quick, merciful death.

  Still, Tieran fought with skill and speed Karav was unable to match.

  Invaders on horseback flanked the camp.

  “Go to the mage. Take her to the pond,” Karav commanded Tieran.

  “You go to the mage!”

  Karav bit back his response. Tieran had yet to understand his duty was to Sela first, his kin second. After chopping down two more men, Karav retreated through the camp. The camp would be surrounded soon.

  “Come!” he barked as he trotted by the fidgeting mage.

  Sela scrambled after him. The mage remained far enough not to find herself on the wrong end of his sword but close enough for her to dart beneath his swinging sword arm if someone came for her. Karav paused beside the waterhole. It was of moderate size. He did not know if it held enough magic for her to use.

  He motioned to it. Distressed by the largest battle she had ever been involved in, Sela dropped to her knees on the bank and stretched for the water. The first of the horsemen reached them, and Karav turned his back to her to fight. The hilt of his sword grew warm as the stone within it responded to her summons.

  More and more horses poured over the hills, and Karav wondered in passing what Tieran’s chieftain uncle had done to draw these numbers of enemies. Droplets of water splattered onto his head, and he glanced up.

  The murky water of the pond rose and gathered above the camp, swirling and flowing with the graceful ease of smoke.

  “Karav!” his mage cried suddenly.

  He whirled, chopping down the rider headed to her. He snatched her against his body. She didn’t resist and moved with him as he whirled and slashed before releasing her in an area free of attackers. Sela spun away and lifted her gaze to the water.

  Arrows fell around him. Irritated, Karav pointed to the six men on the hilltop picking off men in the valley.

  The mage responded, and tendrils of water snaked from the floating pond overhead towards the bowmen. One by one, they were snatched and dragged into the swir
ling water above, rendered unconscious, and then spit out into the muddy hole beside Karav. When the archers were gone, the water began plucking men off their steeds to incapacitate and deposit in the hole.

  Sela did not kill. It was not in her nature. Karav had also forbidden it in order to protect her from the ugly nature of war.

  “Karav!” Tieran’s shout came from the direction of one of the lines of tents. Horses and men trampled the tents and overran the camp.

  Tieran and his blond cousin broke free of the fight, slashing off the body parts of invaders as they hurried towards Karav.

  Karav turned as the warrior reached him. Tieran’s gaze went to the bodies collecting in the hole. He looked up at the suspended water then uneasily towards the water mage nearby.

  “You wish to fight or stare?” Karav demanded, hacking another attacker in two.

  “My uncle has ordered us to fall back. There is a fortress near here, due east, one of his strongholds. Take –”

  “You take her,” Karav snarled.

  “She will not leave you.”

  “Then you make her.”

  Dread crossed Tieran’s expression. He moved away, towards the mage. A moment later, Sela cried out in protest. Karav did not look. She had to learn.

  “Fall back, Karav!” Tieran shouted.

  Karav gave a stiff nod to show he heard, intent on remaining until the last of the survivors was out of the camp. He did not worry for himself. He never did. He glanced back to see the men gathering behind a perimeter of warriors. The perimeter grew smaller and smaller as their enemies pressed forward.

  Tieran had managed to haul his ward in front of him onto the withers of his horse. She was struggling, but he locked one arm around her while raising his sword to fight off invaders with the other. The water above snatched up those attackers around her and Karav. Karav waited until he saw Tieran’s horse break free of the attackers before he returned his full attention to the battle.