“He’s not happy about it either.”
She pillowed her head on her hands. “You’re right, but he’s still happier than he was.”
“You have that effect.” Sir Marcus rubbed Lucky’s ears.
“You’re the first person who ever thought that. Most said I was a pain.”
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”
She laughed and snuggled into her bedroll.
Chapter 18
Marcus lay down in his own bedroll and resisted the urge to pull Brelynn close so he could feel her against him without a wall of metal between them.
Normally he trusted his instincts. Letting them guide him had saved his life more than once.
But they were failing him with Brelynn.
He wanted to protect her, as he was supposed to, but he laughed at her jokes and enjoyed her stories. She infuriated him one moment and made him smile the next.
Years in the eastern provinces had taught him how useful feeling little more than cool detachment was, and he knew better than to lower his guard. Doing so had cost Raymond his life and had taken so many other lives as well.
Marcus closed his eyes as memories of the night Raymond died haunted him.
They’d been pushing for the lich’s castle, knowing that the lich was marshaling all of his forces in a desperate attempt to stop Sir Marcus. The Tamryn army was faltering as more and more people believed Sir Marcus would never make it to the lich.
Marcus had decided to take a small group and make a final push to the lich’s castle. It had been a risky plan, and everyone Marcus had chosen to go with him knew they could refuse. Knew that it bordered on a suicide mission.
But if they killed the lich, the power structure of the eastern provinces would fall apart and the lich’s armies would plunge into chaos.
It had been a risk, a huge risk, but after the horrors they had all seen in the eastern provinces, it was one they were willing to take.
Marcus had chosen Raymond to be among those to go with him. While Raymond hadn’t been a Knight of Valor, he had been a devout paladin dedicated to Dracor, and he’d been a valuable ally in many battles.
But Marcus hadn't understood how enamored Raymond had become with Gmina. How much he’d been telling her. How clouded his judgement had become.
Raymond had fallen in love with the sorceress and turned his back on Dracor in his quest for honor and glory to impress her.
And Gmina had used that to extract information from him and feed it to the lich.
The night Sir Marcus and his small band had left the main Tamarian army, Gmina and the lich’s men had been waiting.
Sir Marcus’s group had been outnumbered by at least twenty to one, and Marcus had expected to die that night. Had come close several times.
He would never forget the shock on Gmina’s face as he slew the last of her men and ran his sword through her chest. As he watched the holy light of Dracor consume her.
The next morning, Marcus had buried most of the team he’d asked to go with him. Including Raymond.
Even now, he could still smell the blood, hear the screams, feel the blood-slicked ground beneath his feet.
A hiccup shook his chest.
Gmina had taught him to avoid all such entanglements.
And even if he couldn’t avoid the foolishness possessing him, he was still Brelynn’s protector. He could not, would not abuse his position.
But he wouldn’t lie, not even to himself.
He was attracted to her.
Marcus rolled on his back and stared up at the ceiling as he listened to the rain thrum against the church’s roof. What was wrong with him? Had she cast a spell on him?
He shook his head.
Even if she had, it wouldn’t affect him.
So what was this? The influence of Rashalee, goddess of lust and greed, sneaking through his devotion to Dracor?
Possible, but it seemed unlikely.
He considered all the beautiful ladies his aunt had introduced him to, but he’d never wondered what it would be like to kiss them. He wished he could say the same about Brelynn.
Lucky barked, and it took Marcus a guilty moment to realize it wasn’t at him.
Brelynn’s eyes snapped open. “What’s wrong, boy?”
Sir Marcus was on his feet, armor equipped, sword and shield in hand when two men kicked open the door to the church. They stood in the doorway, weapons drawn.
“Hand over the sorceress,” the first one said.
“Leave now, and I’ll forget you were ever here,” Marcus said.
“Not leaving without her.” A third man sauntered through the door. “We’ll take Brelynn and let you leave alive, Knight. That’s a better deal than I’d give most.”
“Ducard’s a mercenary Mokkar Calmont employed from time to time,” Brelynn whispered. “Usually for difficult jobs.”
“Glad to see you remember me.” A wicked grin twisted Ducard’s face. “I definitely remember you.”
Brelynn’s eyes narrowed, and she moved a step closer to Marcus. A sign of trust. If he weren’t facing three Oskelesian mercenaries, he would have been elated.
“No idea why Mokkar Calmont will pay so much for you alive, unharmed, and untouched, but I’ll go through a Knight of Valor for it. What’s it gonna be, Knight?”
“You already know my answer,” Sir Marcus said.
Thunder rolled and lightening cracked, illuminating the church as the three mercenaries approached. They acted as a coordinated team, but they still kept their distance, watching and waiting for an opening.
There was little chance of them making a foolish mistake.
So be it. He’d beaten tougher opponents, but he’d never had to do it while protecting a civilian. He wouldn’t fail. Especially not if it meant losing Brelynn.
Years of training took over, and Marcus fell back into a fighting stance.
Ducard was a mercenary, one of the best, and Brelynn wasn’t sure how much experience Marcus had against living enemies. As much as she didn’t want Ducard to force her back to Oskelez, she also didn’t want anything to happen to Sir Marcus.
Brelynn drew on her magic, and it surged forward, thrumming through her and filling her with a brilliant power. Never had so much magic answered her call, and the intensity of it was heady. The magic strained against her control, snapping and howling as it looked for a way to serve her.
The mercenary on the opposite side of the church drew his bow and aimed at the Knight of Valor. Her fear for Sir Marcus amplified the magic, feeding it and giving it direction. Fire, hot and white, swallowed the archer’s bow. He screamed as the flames exploded and engulfed him, then he collapsed to the floor, silent and still.
Ducard and the other mercenary stared for a moment.
The other mercenary snarled as he glanced from Ducard to Brelynn.
“She can’t do it again.” Ducard charged, but Sir Marcus stepped between him and Brelynn, and Ducard’s sword clattered off Marcus’s shield.
The second mercenary attempted to sneak behind Sir Marcus, but the Knight gave ground and moved closer to Brelynn. The mercenary pressed his attack, Sir Marcus parried, and the sound of steel clashing against steel echoed through the church.
Ducard closed in on Brelynn and grinned when she didn’t send a bolt of fire at him.
Sir Marcus blocked another blow from the second mercenary, pushed him back with his shield, and spun away, again stepping between Brelynn and Ducard.
Ducard growled and swung at Sir Marcus, his blow bouncing off Marcus’s shield. Sir Marcus attacked, and Ducard’s sword met his in a deadly dance of steel.
The second mercenary stood and charged Sir Marcus.
The Knight of Valor blocked another blow from Ducard, then turned to the side, dodging the second mercenary’s attack. Sir Marcus followed back around, his sword glowing white as he ran it through the second mercenary’s chest.
The second mercenary fell to the floor, and Ducard launched himself at Sir Marcus.
Marcus had his shield up in time, but Ducard’s momentum knocked them both to the floor and left Sir Marcus’s sword buried in the other mercenary.
Lying on the floor, Ducard thrust his sword.
Sir Marcus rolled away, the sword slicing the air where the Knight of Valor had just been.
Blood slicked the floor as both Sir Marcus and Ducard leapt back to their feet, its coppery scent mixing with the energy of the storm. Marcus had only his shield, but he wouldn’t let Ducard any closer to Brelynn even as the mercenary circled them.
Brelynn balled her fists at her side.
Anger mixed with fear and determination. She would not let Sir Marcus die for her, and she would not go back to Oskelez.
She summoned her magic, and it rushed to obey.
Instead of the tattered fragments she expected, a tidal wave amplified by the intensity of her emotion flooded her.
It was stronger than before, and she could do nothing to stop it as it rushed forth to do her bidding in an uncontrolled frenzy of power.
Ramming full force into Ducard.
His eyes widened and his mouth opened in a silent scream as the fire incinerated him then crashed outward and reverberated back toward her.
Sir Marcus launched himself at Brelynn, knocking her to the floor as he threw himself over top of her to protect her from her own spell.
It blew past her, singing her hair and cloak, but he’d protected her, taking the full brunt of her spell.
“Marcus!” She scraped her fingers against his armor as her throat tightened. “By the gods, I was trying to help. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Marcus!”
Chapter 19
“You’ll have to try harder than that if you want to kill me.” Sir Marcus sat up and gave Brelynn a boyish grin.
Her eyes widened as she touched Marcus’s arm, his chest, and his cheek. She hugged him, burying her face against his armor as a sob wracked her chest. “You’re okay!”
Sir Marcus wrapped his arms around her and gave her time to catch her breath. He stroked her back, reassuring her as the scent of a fresh autumn day and charred wool teased her nose.
Brelynn tightened her arms around him and laid her head against his chest.
Marcus dissolved his armor back into clothes, and she let herself enjoy his closeness. He was alive and unharmed. The gods had answered her prayers.
“I thought I’d-”
He touched his cheek to her hair. “That was quite the spell, and it surprised Ducard.”
“Surprised me, too. The spell was bigger than everything I used to cast in a fortnight.” She shivered and pressed closer to him. “What’s happening to my magic?”
“You said emotion amplified it. Fear and anger particularly.”
He was right. They did. But Brelynn had been afraid for a long time. First in Oskelez when she’d learned her master’s plans for her, then every day since. But her magic hadn’t changed.
The only thing different was him.
Brelynn sucked in a deep breath. By the gods, she loved him surrounding her. Loved the scent of him. Loved his warmth.
She felt safe with him, protected, and something more. Something she shouldn’t feel for a Knight of Valor.
Perhaps that forbidden emotion fueled her magic. She hoped it was something else. Anything else. The curse of the Twin Goddesses of Love had no cure, and it created a path of destruction similar to a necromancer’s death cloud.
Lightening flashed and thunder boomed outside the small church. Brelynn’s magic flared, and Sir Marcus tightened his arms around her.
It quieted as she sucked in a breath and pressed closer to the Knight of Valor.
She couldn’t be sure why, but her magic burned brighter, stronger and more powerful than it had ever had in Oskelez. It both exhilarated and terrified her.
Even as tired and weak as she was after casting the two spells, the magic was already returning, and it was stronger than before she’d cast the spells.
She held Marcus tighter.
He stroked her hair. “Are you all right? Seems like your magic wants to protect you again.”
“It does, but I can’t imagine how I have anything left. I’ve never been able to cast anything like that until tonight. You saw how unremarkable my spells were in Eskara.”
“I know little about magic other than what I learned from Arch-Mage Ndrek, and he’s a wizard. Do sorcerers get stronger the more you use your power?”
She shook her head. “Arch-Grimveldt Korvar forced me to use my magic a lot in Oskelez, and it never grew.”
“You once lamented that Prince Dylon didn’t have a vampire to drain his magic. Is it possible that Calmont purposely drained more than normal when he-” Sir Marcus stopped and held her closer. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”
“It’s a valid question, but I never thought about it. There was never a time when Mokkar Calmont didn’t feed on me.”
Sir Marcus rubbed her arms. “You may have a lot more magic than you think.”
She considered his words, and maybe he was right. But if that was true, why would Arch-Grimveldt Korvar have allowed her master to keep her so drained of magic?
Brelynn’s stomach knotted as she considered the possibilities.
“Are you going to be okay, at least for now?” Sir Marcus asked.
Brelynn nodded as Lucky sat down next to her.
Marcus squeezed her shoulder then walked across the sanctuary and removed the bodies. Even over the patter of rain, she heard him say a quiet prayer for each of their souls as he carried the dead mercenaries outside the church.
Emotion tightened her chest, and her magic swelled.
He was definately part of the reason her magic was stronger.
Brelynn rubbed Lucky’s ears. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t be foolish, but her heart hadn’t listened.
She moved their bed rolls, then leaned back on hers as Marcus finished the unpleasant chore.
Strong muscles corded across his back as he worked, and she swallowed hard as her magic lurched. She should not be feeling such things, not given his task, and definitely not given who he was.
Sir Marcus Valerian.
The Great Lich Slayer.
Hero of Tamryn.
Knight of Valor.
None of those things tolerated an Oskelesian or a sorceress, much less cared about them. And she was both.
Brelynn ignored the quiet ache in her chest and focused on the scruffy dog with his head on her knee. She rubbed Lucky’s ears and reminded herself misfits stuck together.
Sir Marcus was anything but a misfit.
Tamryn would tell stories about him for generations. He might even get his own Knight’s Tale.
Marcus finished removing the bodies, and Brelynn magicked away the blood. He nodded his thanks to her then knelt before Dracor’s altar and said another prayer before sitting beside her on his bedroll.
He glanced over at her. “You still look pretty shaken.”
“Feeling uncertain and more than a little scared. Didn’t think Mokkar Calmont would go to these lengths to get me. Ducard and his crew were some of the best.” She gave him enough truth so it wasn’t a lie.
“And we defeated him. We’re getting you to Aerius.”
“Yeah, maybe we are.” Brelynn moved her bedroll closer to him and glanced into his pale purple eyes. “There is one thing I still can’t figure out. How did you survive that fire spell?”
“It was magic fire. As you may have noticed in the fight against Rebecca, magic doesn’t affect me.”
“Any magic? Not just necromantic spells?”
“No magic whatsoever.”
“Some mystical Knight of Valor secret training? Or your enchanted armor?”
He lifted his shoulders. “It never has. Which is one reason I went after the lich.”
“That makes you even scarier.”
“I’m not scary.”
Brelynn arched a brow. “I thought Knights of Valor didn’t lie.”
“You shouldn’t be afraid of me. I promised to protect you, and I will.”
She scooted closer to him until her shoulder touched his. “I owe you again.”
A magic three glittered above his head.
He smiled. “We’re not keeping score. I promised to get you to Aerius, and I will. Now get some sleep. You still have to get back on your horse tomorrow.”
She groaned but laid back and closed her eyes as she listened to the rain beat against the roof and thunder crash in the distance. The thunder was less frightening with him warm and strong beside her, but her nerves jangled as the fight played through her head over and over again.
The rush of magic.
The metallic taste of raw fear.
The heat from her own spell.
She propped herself up on her elbows. “I can’t sleep.”
“It’s hard after a fight, but it gets easier,” Sir Marcus said.
“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.”
“Me either, but it’s a thing.”
Brelynn stared at the ceiling. “Ducard said Mokkar Calmont wanted me alive, unharmed, and untouched.”
“Probably just words.”
“Maybe not. They make sense if Arch-Grimveldt Korvar needs a virgin sacrifice for his ritual.” Brelynn shuddered. Just saying the necromancer’s name sent tendrils of cold burrowing through her.
“Who’s Arch-Grimveldt Korvar?”
“A very powerful necromancer that controls Mokkar Calmont. Arch-Grimveldt is similar in status to a duke in Tamryn, whereas a mokkar is similar to an earl or count.”
“Why would a necromancer want a virgin sacrifice? I didn’t hear about such things in the lich’s lands and figured they were bards’ tales,” Sir Marcus said.
“They’re real, but they are very uncommon. I never trained as a wizard, so I only know powerful wizards use virgin sacrifices in strong rituals. The kind that take decades to plan.”
“Does this Arch-Grimveldt Korvar need such a spell?”
“I don’t know a lot about him as I wasn’t in his household, thank the gods. But it might explain why I was with Mokkar Calmont even though he preferred young men.”
Knight of Valor: Knights of Valor Page 8
