by Lizzy Ford
Gods, how he missed battle! Without the mage to worry him, he unleashed every ounce of pent up anger and sorrow, including the heartfelt emotions she conveyed to him through their bond. When she was far enough away not to be in danger, the magic fled and the harmless water above rained down upon them. Karav chuckled and continued to fight long into the night alongside the chieftain, whose untiring skill with the blade was worthy of Karav’s admiration.
Grudgingly, as the night progressed, Karav admitted that the Inlanders – despite their many flaws – made valiant and worthy allies in battle. Not one of them ran, even the wounded that chose to be chopped down in place instead of retreating. They fought like a people accustomed to fighting and who had nothing to lose.
At long last, the battle became too costly, the loss of life too great, for both parties. The horsemen fell back, and Tieran’s chieftain called the remaining warriors to retreat to the point Tieran had mentioned.
Karav’s horse remained, and he mounted it, riding abreast of the chieftain. The fortress was not far, no more than five leagues from the camp.
The chieftain’s men lowered a drawbridge to the squat, stone fortress with thick walls. Karav rode through and dismounted in the bailey, senses picking up on Sela. His ward was scared but not in danger, simply uncomfortable, angry and cold.
If she was angry, she was safe.
“Come, Karav,” the chieftain ordered. “Tieran will want to speak to you, and then we must feast.”
Karav obeyed, trailing the middle-aged man who fought like someone half his age. The hold was crowded and too warm after the moons Karav spent journeying and sleeping beneath the stars. He found himself glancing up to see the sky despite knowing he was inside.
After several sets of stairs and corridors that all looked alike, the chieftain stopped in front of a wooden door. He knocked loudly then opened it without waiting.
“You left before the battle was won, coward,” he boomed at the younger man within. There was affection in his voice.
“Only giving our enemy a chance to challenge you,” came Tieran’s dry response.
Karav entered behind the chieftain. The mage sat in a corner opposite Tieran, and he knew why the new mage-warrior kept his distance. Tieran was fighting her draw hard. It was in the air, a magic tension that crackled and burned to those capable of feeling it. He had thought Tieran strong enough to last three days. Nay, Tieran would fold in one. The bond would be strong, stronger than any Karav had ever seen.
Unable to feel what only the mage-warriors could, Sela started to rise at the sight of him, her face brightening. Karav looked purposely at her hands, which were tied with rope. She rolled her eyes. It was enough of an admission of guilt to tell him she had earned her place and circumstances in the corner.
Karav approached the two Inlanders. The chieftain was recounting the battles while Tieran placed his wired body with his back to the woman. When there was a lull in the discussion, Karav addressed Tieran.
“She ran.”
“She tried,” Tieran said.
“This little whore?” the chieftain asked, noticing the woman for the first time. “She will serve you well this night.”
“Can you savages not understand? I am not a whore! I am a mage!” she snapped, rising to her feet.
“This is your mage?” The chieftain looked at Tieran, who ignored her. With great effort, Karav assessed.
He chuckled. Nay, Tieran would not last a day. As much as he fought, as strong as he was, their bond would be like none other.
“It’s near dawn,” Tieran said in response to Karav’s amusement.
The chieftain looked between them.
The mage’s anger fled, replaced by fear.
“It’s time for me to leave,” Karav said.
“You would drive out our greatest warrior?” The chieftain raised an eyebrow at Tieran.
“I choose to leave,” Karav said. “I have served my purpose here and now I must go.”
“You are leaving her?”
Karav glanced towards the corner. The chieftain frowned.
“It’s more of a curse, do you not agree?” he asked.
“Aye,” Tieran responded. “She is my curse.”
“Very well. I will give orders to have supplies arranged,” the chieftain said to Karav.
“I’m grateful, but I do not need them,” Karav replied.
The chieftain held his gaze. Understanding crossed his features. He said nothing more but clapped Karav on the arm and left the chamber.
“Karav-” the mage started.
“Do not leave your corner!” Tieran ordered.
“I wish to say farewell.”
Tieran snatched his sword belt.
“Please,” she added in a whisper.
“Accompany us outside,” he snapped.
Sela hurried to Karav. He sliced her hands free. She was gazing at him in disbelief, as if still hoping there was a chance his mind would change, and he would take her with him. Karav stepped into the hall. Sela stayed by his side, her arm against his. Their bond was a comfort to her as much as to him. He did not move away, and neither spoke as they awaited Tieran. She pulled up her hood.
Tieran left his chambers, meeting Karav’s gaze briefly. There was too much anger and tension in his frame for him to speak. He walked down the hallway instead, through the maze of the hold.
Karav had not thought the battle to last as long as it had. When they reached the bailey, dawn was already lighting up the sky. The sun would soon peek over the horizon, and one of his final days would begin.
The chieftain waited with his horse near the gate leading out of the bailey and into the rolling plains. Karav approached and offered a bow of his head.
“The horse is for my mage,” he told him. “She must always have a strong, swift steed.” These words were for Tieran, who was even tenser outside, as if he, too, shared the mage’s fervent desire that Karav would remain or take her with him.
Tieran’s arms were crossed. He nodded to confirm he heard.
Karav unfastened his cloak and slung it across the saddle then stripped off his weapons. He placed the daggers, short sword and throwing dirks in a saddlebag then pulled the bag free and handed it to the chieftain.
“You may sell these,” he said. “The daggers will fetch a good price. This will pay for my mage’s food and boarding for as long as she must remain among your kinsmen.”
Sela watched him, devastated. She said nothing. She did not move.
Karav unstrapped the broadsword at his back and hefted it across both hands. He presented it to Tieran. For a moment, the Inlander did not move, and Karav knew he fought himself. When Tieran reached out to claim it, the blue gem in the hilt flared to life.
“I’ve never seen a Moonburrian blade,” he said, fascinated.
“You know the tale? About how the Moonburrian blade is the only sword that can kill a dragon?” Karav asked.
“Dragons!” Tieran’s uncle laughed. “I have heard it all.”
Tieran smiled, but his thoughtful gaze was on Karav.
“They exist in the land of Draco,” Karav said grimly. “The sword in your hand can never be defeated by man, beast or magic. The gem is blue, for the water mage. This is the first blade ever forged by the first Moon King, and blessed by the Moon God.”
“More gods and kings,” Tieran said and shook his head.
“The sword is forged from a single piece of metal. It will never break and will never need sharpening or polish. As long as you hold it, you will have the magic of the ancient mages and the Moon God to guide your strikes.”
Tieran’s gaze went to the sword. He hesitated then pulled it free from its plain scabbard, hefting it to check its weight and balance. His expression turned pleased then impressed by the lightness of the magic sword. He sheathed it.
“It’s the most decent blade I’ve seen,” Tieran said. “I don’t know if I believe in your gods and kings, but this sword might convince me the Moonburrians know ho
w to make a sound weapon.”
“The price of such a blade, and my horse, is that they must be used to safeguard a mage,” Karav said.
“A woman mage,” the chieftain said in a voice that left no second thought as to what he thought.
“The price is high,” Tieran agreed and eyed the gem in the hilt. He shook his head and slung the broadsword in place at his back, as Karav had carried it. “We will walk you through the gate.”
Tieran’s face was flushed and his eyes were fevered, as if he needed air. When Karav was far enough away, he would laugh.
His mage walked beside him. He felt the emotions, many too intense for him to identify. She was struggling, too.
Through the gates and across the drawbridge, they walked together one final time. The journey seemed longer than the fourteen moons they’d traveled through the kingdoms of Biu and Iliu.
Karav stopped not far down the dirt road leading away from the fortress, aware Sela would go as far as he allowed. The chieftain and Tieran paused behind them, speaking quietly.
Karav faced his mage. She stood before him, silent. He pushed her hood down to see her face. She was ashen, her blue eyes flat and unblinking. Her appearance was one of someone who knew the man she loved as a father was walking to his death.
“I know you well enough to know you will test him,” he said, a small smile on his face. “Do so carefully. He does not have my patience or my wisdom.”
Her lower lip quivered.
“You are all I leave behind here,” he added. “Be strong. If you are asked to fight for someone you do not respect or trust, then it is better for you to disobey. Our king and his priests may not always be just, and their orders need not always be followed, if they go against your heart and what you feel to be just. You must think for yourself now. I cannot advise you on how to act. Trust your mind and heart to guide you. Do you understand?”
Her eyes watered. Still, she said nothing, and he felt her struggling to control the overwhelming emotions within her. Karav turned away. The road led up a hill and then disappeared over the crest. He began walking, at peace with himself, even if not fully convinced his ward would be safe.
He had walked halfway up the hill when Sela finally called out.
“Karav, wait!” Her footfalls came quickly as she ran after him.
He stopped, and she circled him, breathing uneven. Sela stood toe-to-toe with him then wrapped her arms around him tightly. Karav groaned as her pain became his when they touched. He returned the hug and nuzzled her hair, breathing in her familiar scent one last time.
“Please don’t go,” she whispered.
“I must.”
“Then please take me with you.”
“I cannot.”
“Please, Karav,” she begged in a hushed voice. “Please!”
“Make me proud,” he replied in a whisper.
“I love you.”
“I love you, daughter.” He released her, his chest aching. The memories in his mind were of the first time they met, when she was but a child. “Now, go to your new master.”
She refused to move. The panic in her gaze warned him she was likely to make her new warrior’s life hell for a few days, if not longer.
“Tieran,” he called out over his shoulder. “Come claim your mage.”
Tieran closed the distance at once and gripped her arm. The mage did not resist as he pulled her out of Karav’s path. Karav walked forward, over the hill, leaving the mage and world behind him. Only once did Sela cry out, and then her suffering was felt, not heard.
Farewell, Sela.
4
Sela shook the warrior off. At least, she tried to. He did not seem to like for her to resist him, even when he was always between her and where she wanted to go.
She could not think about what right he thought he had to interfere with her will. Not when she watched Karav – her only friend – reach the top of the hill. Once he stepped over, he was gone forever. She started forward, unwilling to let him go. Tieran held her back. He was wired yet calm in action, his grip tight without being painful.
She yanked. He did not give.
Karav crested the hill and started down the other side, his body disappearing over the rise.
She panicked. “Karav!”
Fighting Tieran was like fighting a rock. Before she could strike at him, he had her wrists, wrapped her arms around her, and held her tight against his muscular body. She could not move, could not follow. Trapped against Tieran’s wide chest, with his thick arms wrapped around her, she could only watch Karav disappear. Straining one last time, she swallowed hard, trapped against the savage Karav left her with.
“Let me go,” she ordered him in a hushed voice.
Tieran neither moved nor spoke. She stared at the hill. Karav did not return, no matter how hard she willed him to. It felt as if days passed while she stood on the road, waiting. He had warned her long ago he would not be with her forever, but she never really believed he would leave her. They were supposed to die in battle together.
A faint tickle of water magic passed to her from Tieran, a sensation she had never felt from Karav. It was gone too fast for her to be certain she felt it. It reminded her of the faint magic that came from the north, but it was less possible for the Inlander savage to possess a piece of the ocean in him than it was for there to be an ocean in the middle of the savannah!
Despair crept through her. The sun rose above the horizon, warming the air.
Sela sighed, helpless. Only when the tension left her body, and she yielded to Tieran’s grip, did he move. He pulled her wrists over her head and draped rope over them in one deft move.
She resisted. “Where would I go?” she tried to sound fierce, but her voice trembled.
He whirled her to face him, handling her like he might his boots - with enough care not to damage them but otherwise unconcerned where they landed on his floor. Ignoring her, he wrapped and tied her hands.
Sela looked up at him, afraid of the large warrior, but not wanting him to know how much. He was always far too close to her for her comfort and usually, with his hand around her neck or arm. Karav would calmly tell her he was using his body to intimidate and control her.
It worked too well. Accustomed to the reverent space granted her by Karav and every other man she had ever met, Sela was confused by Tieran’s touch and by a culture where personal space seemed to hold no value at all. Tieran and his uncle and cousin stood close enough to touch when talking, if they were not outright resting a hand one another. For a people known to slaughter outsiders, they were more affectionate towards each another than any other people she had met on her travels.
She studied her new guardian. His eyes were the warm hue of ale, his dark hair tied tightly against the back of his neck. Though his nose was crooked from fighting, his features were heavy and chiseled, and his brow low enough that his every look promised danger. His skin was tanned from the sun. He was not much older than she was. He had no creases in his forehead or around his eyes. His movements were disciplined and steady. He gave no sign he was as troubled by their new circumstances as she was.
There was wildness in him she sensed in every Inlander whose path she had crossed.
“You do not run. You do not open your mouth. You do not go anywhere unless I give you permission,” Tieran said in a calm voice as he worked on binding her. “You do not leave the hold without your hood up and your cloak on. You do not look at others. You –”
“What do you mean, I cannot even look at others?” she snapped, yanking at her hands.
He pulled them close again. “You are not from here. You do not yet understand that when a servant woman looks at a man, she is showing interest.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
He met her gaze, an eyebrow raised. “Nothing, if you intend to go with him to his bed.”
“Just for looking at a man?” she asked, horrified. “What kind of barbaric –”
“It is our way,” he said.
“It is now your way.”
“I am not a servant!”
“You are not an Inlander and will not be accepted as an Inlander woman’s equal.”
Sela preferred not to have his intense attention on her. His eyes were the same color as those of the great cats the priests kept, the same great cats that occasionally escaped the king’s menagerie and mauled everyone in their paths. She saw this warrior in much the same light, though instead of the priests caging him, he caged himself. Which meant he freed himself at will. He was dangerous in a way Karav had never been.
She frowned up at Tieran. “I cannot even look at you?”
“You are welcome to, and I will welcome you to my bed,” Tieran said with a cold smile. His movement stilled, and he held her gaze, waiting.
Sela had the urge to run again. Too aware of his size and complete lack of regard for her status as a privileged mage of her kingdom, the niece of a king, she looked down. Karav would tell her this was not a battle she was going to win.
But she was smart enough to outwit this Inland brute. Raised in a household where the activities of everyone, even her prince of a father, revolved around the sacred water mage, she had learned to manipulate and deceive young. Karav corrected many of her vices once she was officially under his care, but she still remembered how to use those around her to obtain what she wanted. A man like Tieran would only lower his guard if he no longer felt she was a threat.
Holding her tongue while she plotted to escape would be her greatest challenge. This world was foreign to her, and Karav’s slipping ability to stabilize her magic left her emotions more volatile than usual.
Sela watched Tieran knot the rope, deep in thought as she plotted against the Inland savage. He pulled up her hood then took the short length of rope he had tied to her bonds.
Had she ever felt this lost and alone?
She glanced back at the hill, praying Karav returned. Tieran was nothing like Karav. She and Karav shared everything. Her whole life, since she was eight, she had never slept a night without curling up at his side.
Her gaze returned to the warrior leading her back to the hold filled with savages. He forbade her from even looking at him! He would not share his food or his life with her. They would not be partners and friends as she and Karav had been.
