by R. K. Thorne
“I don’t know now,” he whispered. That much was indeed true. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Get those torches ready.” She leaned forward, pressing her foot down and slowly closing the airway. This was it, he thought. He gasped for a breath to buy him time, but he had no hope. She was going to crush his windpipe and leave him here to die.
It was worth it if the Akarians could destroy the brand. It was worth it if Jaena got free. He’d done what he could. More than he could have hoped or imagined on that day he’d first sworn allegiance to his order.
He’d never expected to live forever.
Her eyes caught on something, and she stopped. Then she removed her foot entirely. He gasped for breath, more desperate for it than he would have liked to admit. She squinted at his neck and squatted down beside him.
“This necklace—I’ve seen it before. What does it mean?” she demanded.
He blinked at her, then shut his gasping mouth. He likely couldn’t even speak. If he could, he certainly would not tell her anything about it.
She grasped it and yanked it from his neck, dangling it in front of her eyes. She scowled at the pendant, then at him, then handed it to one of the other Devoted. “Hold. No flames today. Put that in my bags for later. We’ll have to torture this out of him, I suppose.”
Torture what out of him?
Did that mean he was going to live, for the moment?
Another cluster of Devoted arrived, most carrying flaming branches and torches, but one carried one of their strange lanterns holding a purple-orange stone. As the squire strode away with his pendant, the rock suddenly flared to life, shining brightly enough to fill the whole of the stable as though it were the midday sun.
What the…
A dark smile curled across the woman’s mouth. “Well, well. Is that what that’s for?”
Tharomar frowned as he struggled to right himself and back away from her. What was going on? There was no one here but these Devoted and the horses.
And him.
“Looks like we won’t have to torture him after all. Don’t look so disappointed. Shackle him. We’ll take him back to Kavanar. Once we capture that renegade and the brand, we’ll get what we need out of this mage easily. Take him.”
His mouth fell open for a moment, then he shut it again hastily. Revealing his surprise would not help him. But inside, his mind was reeling. Did they— Could they—
Nefrana’s blooms, were they right? Could he be a mage, just like Jaena?
Before he could wonder, or think anything, really, the hilt of a sword collided again with his temple, and everything faded to black.
As Jaena raced south, she struggled not to look back behind her. He’s not coming, girl. Not for a while, at the very least. But a part of her was afraid that deep down, she knew the truth. Those Devoted weren’t going to let him follow if they found him. Although what exactly they would do, she didn’t know. Slavery seemed like a terrible thing to hope for, but at least he’d still be alive.
And she still had the brand. It prodded her back and shoulders, a constant reminder of its presence. Damn, it’d feel good to get rid of that thing. Maybe she could even destroy it. If she could figure out how. If not, perhaps she could toss it into the deepest sea.
She wasn’t entirely sure where she thought she was going. Her damn ankle ached with every hoofbeat. She’d tried riding with it out of the stirrup, but that wasn’t much better. She had to hope the man’s word that they’d left only an hour before was correct, because she wasn’t entirely sure she could get on and off this horse alone. Maybe with the other foot, or with some serious pain. She’d figure it out. Or she’d ride the whole way to Panar, or as far as Yada was willing to go.
It wasn’t like she had any money to pay for a room or food anyway.
More than an hour had passed, then two, but before the sun crossed the zenith in the sky, a large procession came into view on the road up ahead. She studied it at a distance. Three or four dozen horses carried men and women laden with armor, weapons, and supplies. One woman riding toward the front wore a dress of emerald green that made Jaena long for such things, irrational as that might be at the moment. There had been a day once…
Those days were over now, though.
Another woman was dressed in a tidy crimson shirt and breeches. Did that mean Kavanarians? Nearly everyone else in the group wore armor of some kind, and fine armor at that. She squinted, trying to make out the symbol on any shield or breastplate. A bear, roaring mightily into the night.
Ah, they were Akarians, at least. Thank the gods. Neither of these women had Miara’s red hair, but perhaps someone among them knew her or could help Jaena find her.
She quickened her weary horse’s pace, whispering, “Just a little farther, I swear.”
As she neared them, the rear soldiers—for she realized now they must be soldiers—turned and faced her.
“Who goes there?” one voice called out, stopping. Several other horses turned and joined them.
Well, that seemed like a lot of soldiers to face one woman on a horse. She would not be cowed, though. She needed to find Miara and fast.
“Jaena Eliar, mage of Kavanar.” She was pleased her voice carried with a strong echo, even after all the day’s exertions.
At the mention of mage, however, the women and men shifted uneasily, horses stamping. Another horse carrying an armored man with shaggy, blond-brown hair rounded and trotted toward her. The rest of the procession had stopped.
“I have news and information. I was freed with the request to share it. I’m looking for another mage from Kavanar—Miara Floren.”
The riders exchanged glances. They knew Miara. They weren’t sure how to react to Jaena’s arrival, though. The grayish eyes of the blond-brown-haired man cut into her with a keen stare.
“Who did you say you were?” he said.
“Jaena, mage of Kavanar. Slave, until just recently. Miara told me to meet her in Anonil, but we were ambushed, and I had to flee.”
“Ambushed, eh?” His voice was weary. “That seems to be happening a lot these days.”
“I need to see Miara as soon as possible.”
“Welcome, Jaena,” he said with a slight nod. “I’m the mage who freed you.” Her mouth dropped open as relief washed over her. Miara hadn’t mentioned anything about her “friend’s” identity, but at least she’d found someone she could—hopefully—trust. The armored mage looked to the other men. “Let’s take a pause, rest the horses. I am sure Jaena has much to tell us and could use a rest herself.”
The escaped mage slave—Jaena, was it?—followed Aven off the road with the others. Thank the gods they’d run into her. In all the tumult, he’d completely lost any thought or hope of connecting with her, at least not until much later.
Near a stand of trees, Aven dismounted and tied off his horse. Jaena hesitated for a moment, then dismounted herself. A hiss of pain reached his ears. She was wincing. Must be injured.
He caught his mother’s eye. She’d heard it too, and she looked to Siliana, mumbling something Aven couldn’t hear. The journeyman dismounted and stalked straight toward them.
Jaena turned, favoring one leg as she did. “Is there somewhere we could speak privately?”
Aven glanced around. “Not really.”
The mage frowned, then her eyes caught on Siliana approaching her.
“Your ankle—may I?”
Jaena’s eyes pierced the other woman with a tough stare. What was the escaped slave estimating? Then she heaved a sigh of relief and nodded, shutting her eyes. Siliana squatted down to look at the mage’s leg. Gods, it was idiocy not to have mages on their side, if only for their healing abilities. Jaena’s eyes opened, accompanied by a relieved sigh.
“Thank the gods for creature mages,” she said, smiling.
Siliana straightened. “Siliana,” she said with a bow.
Jaena bowed in return. “Well—you heard my name. Jaena.”
“I believe Miara said you were an earth mage?” Aven said, joining them by Jaena’s mount.
She nodded.
“We’re in dire need of earth mages. We’ve got a number of them with no training. And yet, enemy earth mages are wreaking havoc left and right. I’m glad you’re here.”
Jaena looked a little stunned at that but smiled again. “I have something to show you… but I’d really rather not everyone see it at this point.”
She had no idea who she could trust. And that was fair. He wasn’t entirely sure who they could trust either, and Alikar still rode with them. Although… glancing around, he didn’t see the bastard’s horse anywhere. He scratched his chin. At the same time, how could he entirely trust her?
“We can go off a bit from the others. We don’t have time to set up tents. Our plan was to reach the next inn before we stopped.”
Jaena pressed her lips together, apprehensive, but then nodded. What other option did they have?
“May I join you?” Siliana asked. Aven looked to Jaena, who looked uncomfortable.
“Can you fetch my mother and then join us in a few minutes, please?” Aven said instead. That would give them at least a little time. “This way. Can you walk?”
“I can now.” She beamed a warm smile at Siliana as the creature mage headed for the queen. “You said she’s not here. Is Miara all right?”
Aven swallowed the lump in his throat, wishing he could smack the emotion down at the moment. “We… don’t know.” Damn it, his voice had faltered.
“I see,” she said softly. “What is she to you? She said you were her… friend.” The lilt to her voice said she understood more was at work.
He glanced at her, unsure how to deal with the direct question. Was he still beholden to keep their secret? Should he keep it now more than ever? He stole a few moments to think, picking up several nearby fallen logs and twigs and arranging them for a fire. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, visualizing the heat. He opened them and smiled as the logs sputtered into flame. At least he could do that now, although it summoned up a memory of another time, another fire…
He settled on the ground by the fire and patted the earth for her to join him as he chose his answer. He couldn’t continue along his father’s path. He was king now, and he had to make decisions without looking over his shoulder. His father had taught him as much and would have wanted that. Er, would be glad Aven had done so when they found his father alive. That said, Aven hardly knew Jaena. He chose his words carefully. “She’s one of the finest women I’ve ever known. She and I escaped from Mage Hall together, after I figured out how to break the spell.”
Jaena’s brow furrowed, as if she was putting the pieces together. “You were in Mage Hall?”
“Your former masters sent Miara to kidnap me. And she succeeded, I might add.”
“Former. I like the sound of that.”
“Definitely former. Hopefully no one’s masters by the end of this.”
“Menaha mentioned something seemed to have changed after her last mission. That she thought she saw Miara’s scar healing.”
“Yes. That would be me.”
Jaena was still frowning. “Why you?”
He tilted his head, questioning.
“Why was she sent to kidnap you in particular?”
Oh. She didn’t know anything about him, other than that he’d learned to break the spell. That was surprisingly pleasing. How interesting to have someone know him for an actual accomplishment as a mage and not know him as royalty. He rather hoped he could keep it that way a few moments longer. “I can fill you in on our journey till this point, but we may not have much time separate from the others. What did you want to tell me privately?” He glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the procession to emphasize his point.
She nodded brusquely, although the crease between her brows said she hadn’t missed his dodge. She pulled the pack off her back. As she opened the strings at the top, his nose caught the scent of charred fabric, and in a moment, he understood why. She pulled out a long rod of iron with a simple handle, at the end of which squirmed another twisted circle of metal. No, the metal itself didn’t move, but with his mind’s eye, he could feel the enchantment. What looked like an ordinary piece of iron to his eyes was a disgusting, squirming mess to his mind, as if it craved new flesh to enslave.
The brand.
Reflexively he skittered back a few feet before he stopped himself. Her eyes flicked from it to him. “You know what this is. Don’t you.”
He slowly nodded. “How did you… Menaha said you disappeared a day early. And the place was locked down. Was this why?”
“I got lucky. After you freed me, I was determined to go about business as usual. Sometimes my business as usual includes assisting the mage smiths with their craft. They brought in a new mage to enslave, but he escaped. I was nearby and knocked down, and there it was on the floor beside me. I couldn’t pass it up. Even if it meant no one else escaped, it seemed worth it.”
“That was quite an opportunity. I’d have done the same myself.” He was quick to reassure her. “This means they can’t make any other slaves?”
“Well, they can still chain people up. But not as they have done with this. We must destroy it.”
He stared at her. Gods, after everything that had happened, things had only gotten worse and worse. And now, a victory he could have never hoped for had fallen into his lap. “We’ll need help from the others. Other Akarian mages, I mean. There’s not many of us, and we’re not as well trained as you.”
She shrugged. “I was enslaved two years ago. Most mage slaves have years of training on me.”
“And yet—you seem to be effective enough.” He grinned. “Can we show the others? I can’t destroy it by myself. Besides, we’re already Kavanar’s prime target. Having that brand won’t make us any more so.”
“I’d still prefer to make it as hard as possible for them to find it again.”
Hmm, true. If mages assaulted them again, it would be ideal if their attackers were unaware of the brand’s presence. If fewer Akarians knew about it, their enemies couldn’t discover its location and go hunting for it so easily. Maybe it would be safer if she went on without them and met them in Panar, or if they broke the party in two so the brand traveled separately from him. But then if either group was attacked… The Masters may also have connected Jaena to the brand’s disappearance, so they might be looking for her specifically. In that case, Aven should give it to anyone other than her, such as a non-mage that no one would expect to have such a thing. But he doubted he could convince her of that just now. He rubbed his chin, thinking.
“Wait—why are you already Kavanar’s prime target anyway?”
Aven grinned at her. “Because, in addition to being able to free mages like you, I am also—for the time being—the king.” He tried not to laugh at her wide eyes.
“For the time being?”
“I was the crown prince until we were ambushed by mages earlier in this trip. My father fell into a canyon roused by one of your fellow earth mages—”
“I’d rather not be associated with them.”
“—and we lost him. I still hope he will be found.”
“But he could be dead. Or you wouldn’t be calling yourself king.”
Aven winced. He couldn’t manage an immediate reply.
“I’m sorry. Was Miara with you? Was she also lost in the attack?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “She stayed behind in Estun, for reasons too long to explain now. But she’s disappeared from there. I hope she’s snuck away unseen, but two were found dead in her room.”
“Dead? By the gods.”
“Yes, dead. As far as I can tell, she’s nowhere near those mages who attacked us. And that’s all the better.”
After a short break, the procession rode on, Jaena joining them. They camped out along the side of the road in a meadow, too eager to reach Panar to take the time to find an inn large enough to hold t
hem all. In the morning, they made it far enough to see the fair towers of the capital rising on the horizon.
The White City. Aven had visited it a few times, especially when he’d been very young, but each time he saw Panar from afar, he caught his breath as if it were the first time. Pale towers spiraled toward the horizon, all waving flags of pearl and the pale blue of the sea that lay beyond the city in the distance. The walls and ramparts, all the color of bone, rose the height of four or five men, and three gatehouses guarded impressive entrances on the north, east, and west sides of the city. Homes and small hovels crowded around the city as if for comfort or shelter, their dark thatched or tarred roofs peppering the grassy, flat landscape. Fields of crops and pastures of small herds dotted the countryside.
Thank the gods, they’d made it. He hated to arrive without his father, but arriving at all felt like an accomplishment after all they’d been through.
The king’s Panaran stronghold had sprung to life as word had reached it of the Assembly meeting. For the first time, the head steward of Ranok took him not to the rooms he’d visited as a child and young man, but to the king’s suite. The castle boasted a meeting room, an extensive collection of maps, a private library, and many other things useful at a moment like this. But Aven couldn’t bring himself to take advantage of any of them. Everywhere he looked, when he tried to think of what they were going to do, of what awaited him in the Assembly’s vote—all he saw was his father. And his absence.
So he was relieved when a knock on the door sounded to announce Jaena. Good. Someone who thought of him as a mage, valuable for things he’d actually done, like freeing her. The servants of Ranok treated him with a reverence beyond any in Estun would have, and it was driving him crazy.
“Your Majesty, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I was hoping I could ask for a small favor.” Jaena poked her head in the king’s door, her heart pounding. Gods, was it ridiculous to bother a king about this? But what other choice did she have? She knew no one else here to ask.
