Mage Strike (The Enslaved Chronicles Book 2)

by R. K. Thorne

  Indeed.

  Well, this calculated risk had gotten a lot more risky than he’d originally calculated.

  He sat down at his desk and began looking for his quill. The curve of Marielle’s hip caught his eye, sensuous underneath the red linen of the bed. They had discussed their options for dealing with the king’s mistress at length.

  But it seemed the queen’s problem was less about seeking the king’s affections and more about seeking any affections at all.

  Well, he shouldn’t paint Marielle as indiscriminate. Impossible to say if he in particular was attractive to her or if he’d simply presented her with the opportunity. He hadn’t even intended to plant the idea in her head. Such a thing was a little more risky than his usual style. But… she had large, endearing eyes and a reserved laugh that lit her face pink when she was pleased. She was a beautiful woman. It was possible he wasn’t the only man to have taken advantage of the situation. He would have to question her on the matter. If this was a hobby of hers, everything became more dangerous indeed.

  If, perhaps, she were actually taken with him… that would be much safer. And much more preferable.

  Gods, was he growing soft? Was that the slightest hope kindling that this was personal, that she fancied him and not just revenge on that retch of a king? He was a right idiot, letting himself think like that. Such attachments were a sure road to disaster.

  Another possibility was that he was one of the few men in a strong enough situation to be worth this risk. A man with some forces to his name that would definitely obey him and not necessarily the king. If King Demikin found out about this dalliance, he could certainly try to have Daes hanged, or some other, more colorful end. But Daes also had a few ways to prevent that from happening.

  And now it was time to ensure he had a few more. He finally located his quill and began to write.

  There were alliances to be made. A plot was coalescing in his mind, and if he could reach Evana, she would play a part in it. With those mages working on a brand, he would have a replacement soon. Or he’d slit their throats and try three more. It would work out. His forces in Akaria had to be making an impact by now, and more would be headed there soon. Even the creature mage had delivered the address he’d requested of her, although it had come attached to a falcon that had dived at him and nearly torn off part of a forearm. He didn’t expect that the address was the truth, although the building was the primary Akarian palace in Panar and a logical choice for such a meeting. More likely, it gave him one place not to look. But he had been more interested in whether she’d respond to threats, and it seemed she might be persuaded to, with the right ax hanging over the right person’s head.

  In general, things were good.

  He glanced back at Marielle’s softly sleeping form. Hmm, companionship of this type did have a way of making people feel more optimistic than usual. But he was certainly being objective. This was merely turning out better than the pessimist in him could have hoped.

  He tore his eyes away from the luscious curves of her body. If he could finish these letters, he could return and join her.

  This was treason, of course, but he had no regrets. Why was it perfectly acceptable for the king to cheat with a mistress, but he’d try to have them both hanged for doing the same exact thing? Well. No way Daes was letting that happen.

  He hadn’t intended to take on King Demikin directly—Daes’s activities against his lord had stuck more to verbal criticism than anything that would actually undermine the king’s sovereign power and authority. But Daes was probably being unrealistic. Conflict with Demikin had likely been inevitable. Destabilizing the kingdom through a war the king was ill-equipped to lead would make it all that much easier and play right into Daes’s hands.

  Was it possible to topple King Demikin? Or at least, set him off-balance? That could certainly only be good for Kavanar in general—and Daes and Marielle in particular.

  Damn. He was a damned idiot.

  He continued to write.

  14

  Dreams & Nightmares

  Aven took a sip of ale in his room and studied his notes. No news of any mages reaching Anonil had been waiting, so he could do nothing on that front. Instead, he’d made a careful list of the Assembly members and was trying to think through what their reactions might be to the news.

  His father wasn’t dead. He hoped. But… what if he was? What were they going to say when Aven told them?

  Their chance to demand that Samul change his heir had been stolen. Aven was now the de facto king. Scary as that was to think.

  He had never been frightened of being king. But he hated to think that they would feel their voices were being ignored, that their chance to choose him as their king had been brushed aside. He had always hoped and planned to win their support. Realistically, he still needed to, but this wouldn’t help clarify anything.

  At the same time, it really didn’t matter. Aven was not going to abdicate. Both of his brothers were mages anyway, no one else made any sense, and being a mage was not a good reason to give up the throne in a time like this, if at all.

  But. He had hoped to let them have their say and convince them.

  Dyon wouldn’t regret the meaninglessness of the vote. He’d probably never wanted it to happen anyway, and this was all a giant inconvenience. Asten might feel the same way. She’d never been a rebellious one; she valued the chain of command, and the throne was part of that. But he still felt unsure of her vote; Shansaren’s loyalty rested above all that. Generals could be bribed or hate mages just as easily as anyone, and she represented them quite faithfully. He hoped he had Beneral’s support as a fellow mage, but he hadn’t had time to broach the subject with him. There could be obstacles Beneral hadn’t mentioned—or wouldn’t. Just as Toyl had refused to give her final say on the matter. Aven had no idea how the two of them would react to losing their chance to deny him rule of the kingdom. They might not care. Or they might care a lot.

  Alikar and Sven were likely past winning over anyway. But what exactly did that mean? Would it come to war exactly, and if so, when? Would Alikar try to withdraw his territory from the kingdom? Aven had thought that if the men had voted and voiced their objections, Samul would then have likely ignored them or chastised them, and eventually they would have either gotten used to the situation or the increasing conflict with Kavanar would have changed their minds. Well, maybe Alikar’s mind. Sven was a depraved fool, but he was busy with his wine and women and therefore rather harmless. He was also the farthest from Kavanar with the smallest territory. He could easily spend all day with his head in the sand—er, more likely the wine barrel.

  But Alikar would be on the frontlines of any battle with Kavanar. Unless he had already chosen a side—the other one. Unless he already planned to fight against Aven and the others. Then Toyl and Dramsren would be at the brink of the conflict.

  Unease shifted through him at the thought, but he wasn’t sure exactly why.

  How could Alikar be taking this position? Did he really hope to gain power from it? Could he perhaps have more mundane motivations than power or religion? Could he simply have been bought, the way he had bought his seat? And if he had—what did that mean? Would he aid Kavanar in a war, as Samul had suspected? If he’d been paid, Aven hoped he’d been paid well for that kind of treachery.

  He sat within Alikar’s territory even now. He glanced at the door, listened, but heard nothing. Thankfully, there were plenty of forces with them from Estun, and he didn’t need to rely on any kind of local protections. Aven would breathe easier when they reached the White City, though.

  If Alikar had been bought, then he could turn his own men inward. He could promptly attack Toyl in Dramsren. Unless… Toyl had been bought off too.

  Now Aven knew where that uneasy feeling came from. He stared at his map, although he didn’t need it to understand the implications. If both were bought, the treachery would slice deep into the heart of Akaria. Nearly every territory shared a border wi
th Dramsren. Northern and southern forces would be fairly divided, except for a stretch of extremely rugged forest terrain in Shansaren in the far east.

  Gods, let it not be so. Aven wished Toyl hadn’t gone on ahead of them, that he could go and talk to her now and convince himself he had nothing to worry about.

  But, of course, he was a king now. He would always have things to worry about.

  Like the fact that Alikar already knew Samul could be dead. If he truly was a traitor, could he have sent the word into Kavanar already? Maybe even now Daes was lifting a goblet of wine to celebrate the news. Maybe even now they moved to act again.

  Yes. He had no proof, but he knew it must be true. Even if it wasn’t Alikar, there had to be some spies, especially in Anonil. If any of the mage slaves forced into the attack had survived, they would likely report back the results of their attack. He winced. He hoped some of them had survived, as none of them had chosen that path, just like Miara. He shouldn’t even have killed the one that he had, although it had hardly felt like he’d had a choice.

  He refocused his thoughts on Kavanar. On Daes, the Dark Master. If he were Daes, what would he do?

  If a more serious attack were an option, if he had control over the forces or could convince the king, this would be a good time. They wanted to draw Akaria into Kavanar, but as yet, Akaria hadn’t taken the bait. Perhaps he was eager to get things started. Things wouldn’t get any more unstable than this.

  Instability that one could easily argue had all been caused by Kavanar, exactly according to Daes’s plan.

  He turned his gaze to the map of Akaria. Where? Where did it make sense to come into Akaria?

  Anonil, this very city, made the most sense to Aven. If Alikar had been bought, he was probably offering little resistance. Kavanar could likely wipe out the Assembly and Aven with the right attack while they traveled. Luckily, they hadn’t been traveling that long, and Kavanar didn’t have the most mobile military.

  Then he thought of the scroll Miara had received, requesting the details of the meeting place for the vote. If Kavanar knew the meeting was happening, they would attempt to target the event somehow. The White City was not as small as Anonil and was better defended, but it was no fortress. The seaside merchant city had walls and gates and guards, but it was a hub of commerce. Many came and went everyday as a matter of routine.

  If he were Daes…

  So far, Daes had favored the clandestine route and the use of mage slaves in all of his attempts. He’d expressed disdain for such tactics, but perhaps King Demikin still stayed his hand. Or perhaps he acknowledged it was the smart way to fight the early battles in a war with a superior force. Either way, Kavanar’s traditional army remained at rest. The cave-in, the assassination attempts, the ambush—although it’d been the most straightforward, even the scroll left in Miara’s room. He felt uneasy at the thought of that yet again but pushed it away. If Daes remained consistent, he would send some kind of ambush or assassin to the meeting place. If he could figure out where exactly the meeting took place. He still needed to think of a way to save Miara’s family, but he grudgingly set the thought aside for now. One problem at a time.

  And even with the false information Aven and Miara had sent, Alikar could be—and probably was—still in Daes’s pocket. Any number of people could betray the meeting point, although of course Dyon hadn’t chosen it yet.

  Aven sighed. Getting them all together was inherently risky. This was partly why his father had ordered Dom to remain in Estun. Someone had to, Miara not included, in case of extreme disaster. Perhaps Aven should have more seriously considered using magic to be present, as his mother had with the light images Beneral had helped her create in order to visit him during their journey. Apparently he had done it from a great distance, while traveling to Estun at her request. He, Miara, and Beneral may have even passed each other on the road. How the spell worked, though, Aven did not yet understand.

  But not showing up in person and only in the form of eerie blue light did not exactly emphasize that he was the same warrior they’d known for his entire life. And it did emphasize his newfound, questionable abilities.

  No, they had to get together in person, and it would be risky no matter what. Aven would do his best to secure the location with their forces, but there was no way around the danger of everyone gathering in one place.

  A knock shook the door. “It’s me.” His mother’s voice sounded ragged.

  He hung his head for a second. He didn’t want to answer. He had to make sure he had figured this all out. He had to make sure he knew what he was doing on all these different fronts. He had to stay one step ahead of these people.

  He could not stop and think—or feel—about what it might mean for his father to be dead, especially with how they’d last left things. But he had a feeling that would be a lot harder staring his mother in the eyes.

  “I have news,” she said, as if she understood his hesitation.

  “Come on in.”

  She opened the door. Another haggard-looking woman accompanied her, hair hanging limply and riding leathers drenched from either sweat or rain or both. Two soldiers escorted her and waited outside the door while the two women came in.

  “The riders you requested will be leaving within the hour to return and search for Samul,” his mother said. “Also, we’ve received news from Kavanar.”

  The wet woman bowed. “I’ve seen troops mobilizing, sire. From the central fort. Soldiers, cavalry, and siege troops, headed south.”

  “Not this way?”

  She shook her head. “No, my lord. Of course, they could have changed direction. But they didn’t take the East-West Road that leads here. They started out on the Tryalt Road toward Evrical, but I do not think that’s where they are going.”

  “Anything else?”

  She shook her head, then hesitated. “Well… some soldiers speculated they were headed toward Evrical, my lord. Others speculated the White City. But they did not seem to really know. They only had orders to start to move south, from the queen.”

  “The queen?” his mother started.

  The spy nodded again. “I thought that odd as well, my lady.”

  “Thank you—what is your name?” Aven asked.

  “Shanse Rego, my lord.”

  “Thank you, Shanse. See to it that you get a hot bath and meal and whatever you need before you head back.”

  “Thank you, my king.” She bowed and left them, but not without the words shaking Aven a bit. He had hoped to hear those words eventually… but not like this.

  His mother shut the door after Shanse. “My bird returned from Estun after relaying the news,” she said. Dark circles hung under her eyes, their color dark like the ocean, without any of their usual sparkle.

  “Did she bring back news as well?”

  Elise nodded and sank into a nearby chair, as if she needed the support but hadn’t quite even made the decision to do so. “I don’t… I have some bad news.”

  His heart thudded against his ribcage.

  “Miara?” he whispered.

  His mother closed her eyes, pain creasing her face. “A dead man was found in her room, stabbed in the side of his neck. Another, a woman, was found dead in the sitting room. At some point, the guards had all been transformed into rats. Someone transformed them back, but it’s unclear who.” She opened her eyes.

  “Did they— What about—”

  “There’s no sign of her specifically. One horse in the stable went missing the afternoon after we left. No one is quite sure what happened.”

  Aven cursed. He should have stayed. He’d been there only hours before that. He pushed his chair away from the table and propped his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees. Was she okay? Had Daes figured out they had no intention of hosting the meeting at the location Miara had provided? How could he, if they weren’t even set on a location yet? Was this simply revenge for her escape from him in the first place?

  By the gods. Not his fat
her and Miara. Not—

  Before panic and despair could overwhelm his thoughts, he forced them still. He didn’t know anything for sure. She’d been planning to escape and had his maps, and one horse had disappeared. She might be fine. And right now, people needed him. A damned war was still about to start, and traitors lurked in their midst.

  And he would have to face it without Miara or his father.

  No. He forced his mind back to the practical matters at hand. He couldn’t process that now. Wouldn’t. Didn’t need to. Didn’t matter.

  “So she could be…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. “She could have escaped from them?”

  His mother nodded. “Yes. Or she could have been captured or killed, and we just haven’t found evidence yet. Dom is organizing a search. But either way, we don’t know where she is at the moment. I thought you would want to know.”

  He nodded. He appreciated her choice of the word “is” there. Of course, she probably knew exactly how he was feeling but on a magnitude he didn’t yet understand. His mother came closer, patted his shoulder for a moment, and then gave him an awkward hug. He leaned into it but couldn’t bring himself out of his slump.

  “Also, one of the riders seeking our elder mages returned. Elder Staven was dead, seemingly of natural causes. The other rider is still out and long overdue to return.” She squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Aven. I’ll be next door if you want to talk.” And with that she left him. He breathed a sigh of relief. It really was easier to pretend his father was nearby when she wasn’t in the room.

  Damn it all to hell. Where could Miara be? And if they’d taken her, where could they have taken her to?

  He knew the answer to that immediately. Mage Hall, of course. They’d enslave her again.

  Wunik was long asleep by now. Would it be worth it to wake him so they could look for Miara in the pool of light? Aven hadn’t yet tried the spell alone, although he’d heard more than a few explanations of how it worked. No way was he asking Derk for help, even if the lout was mostly recovered from the damage from the lightning strike.