Rise of the Mages (Rise of the Mages 2) (29 page)

Xan passed under a huge archway into a large room. Maybe fifty people of every class and description milled about and whispered in small groups.

“We should wait here for the others,” Tasia said.

She seemed out of breath.

Of course, she was. She had to take three steps to Xan’s one, and he hadn’t exactly been walking slowly. Ashley, obviously, hadn’t bothered to try to keep up.

Should he apologize? How would he word that? Sorry I’m so tall, and you’re so short? That wouldn’t go over well.

Instead, he scanned the crowd with magic. A black glow surrounded a man with long, blond hair and wearing a dark cloak.

Was it an attack?

The magic didn’t appear to be doing anything. It wasn’t even strong enough for Xan to detect a surge. Did the guy simply want to call attention to the fact that he was a death mage? Why?

Xan pointed at him discretely. “Do you see that guy?”

“Yes?” Tasia said. “And?”

Did she understand his meaning? He didn’t want to talk about magic in public. “See him, see him. Does he concern you?”

She frowned. “I see him just fine. Should he concern me?”

Okay, then. If a death mage standing around waiting to see Asher didn’t bother her …

All in all, maybe it was a good sign there were so many mages about. Asher surely wouldn’t execute Xan and his friends when he harbored so many in his court. He probably had some kind of force—cadre? corps?—that he controlled.

All Xan had to do was show he was worthy of joining.

Ashley, with his friends in tow, finally showed. Without even a glance at him, she marched toward two guards blocking a door on the other side of the room. The sentries had their pikes crossed to bar access, and they barely removed them in time to prevent her from smacking into them.

She disappeared through the door, leaving Xan and his friends to face the sentries.

“Uh, we’re with her,” Xan said. “May we enter?” So much for showing strength.

They crossed the pikes once again.

Xan clenched his fists. There was so much riding on his meeting with Asher, and he couldn’t even get inside the audience chamber.

A small, soft hand gripped his.

“It will be okay,” Tasia said. “I can’t begin to know what your troubles are, but my uncle is a good man. He’ll help you.”

Wow, there was one woman in the world that didn’t hate him on sight. Xan sighed. It was too good to last, though. He’d probably do something soon to make her despise him.

The door opened, and an elderly man dressed in the duke’s livery directed that all but Pruitt leave his weapons with the sentries. Once Xan, Brant, and Dylan complied with the order, the group was allowed inside and walked down a wide central aisle between rows of empty heavy oak chairs.

Atop a stone dais at the front of the chamber, Ashley stood with two men. Xan presumed the huge one to be Asher, but he didn’t know who the uniformed, thin one was. Probably a general or some such.

Xan swallowed. Time to shine.

His heat sense detected three archers behind bolt holes. Keeping close attention on those threats, he lit the cuffs of his shirt. Flames burst upward and engulfed his protected hands.

Tasia gasped and stepped back. Fearing wasn’t the same as despising, was it?

“Tell your men to stand down.” Xan sent lances of fire several feet in the direction of each of the three archers. “I can burn them before they loose.”

“Xan!” Ashley shouted. “What are you doing?”

Asher’s hand went to his sword. The general and a slew of soldiers stepped forward.

“I told you to stand down!” Xan yelled. “I don’t want to hurt any of you.”

Asher’s face clouded. “You’ve got a funny way of showing that, son.”

“I’m simply demonstrating that I’ve got the necessary power and control over my ability to join your force of mages.”

“What?” Asher said.

“Oh, come off it,” Xan said. “If you want to keep your force a secret, they probably shouldn’t be so open about using magic.”

Asher still looked confused. How long was he going to keep up the charade?

“Ashley’s dreaming proves she’s a mage. I saw Tasia openly heal a little boy in the hospital this morning. Seriously, you’re denying she’s a death mage?”

Tasia gasped again. Weird.

“And,” Xan said, “there’s another death mage waiting in the antechamber, and no one is even looking twice at him.”

“Son, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I assure you that I do not employ any mages.” Asher seemed so earnest and genuinely confused at the accusation, especially considering all the evidence against him.

Xan sucked at determining if people were lying. “Dylan, is he telling the truth?”

“Looks sincere to me.”

Xan let the flames on his arms die. How could he have been so wrong? But if that were the case ... “Very well, then. As my reward for rescuing your daughter from certain death, I seek pardon for using magic.”

Asher gave him a strange look. “You burst in here and …” He paused, his eyes bouncing to Ashley. “Look, son. Even if I were so inclined, I’m bound by treaty to turn over mages to the catchers.”

Xan sneered at the man. “I doubt the same rules will be applied to your daughter and your niece, will they?”

Asher didn’t respond.

What a blasted hypocrite! “Thought not. The rope is good for the common man but not for the precious nobles. Asshole.”

“What are your intentions, son? Is it to be a battle right here?”

Xan shouldn’t have made that promise to Ashley. “Arrest me if you must. I won’t cause any trouble.”

Asher opened his mouth.

“Wait!” Xan said. “You really have no mages working for you? You swear it?”

“I swear it.”

“Don’t arrest me. Give me a squad of soldiers, as many as you can spare. I’ll take Tasia and Ashley out of the city and keep them safe.”

“You’ll do what?” Asher said.

“Look, in the unlikely event you’re still alive in a week, I’ll return and give myself up. I’ll promise anything you want. Go gladly to the hangman’s noose. Anything. Just let me get the girls and my friends to safety.”

“Son, they’re safest right here in the castle.”

A great big belly laugh bubbled up from Xan’s stomach, and it took him a moment to get himself under control. Everyone probably thought he was crazy. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be disrespectful or anything, but you’re a complete fool.”

The thin, uniformed man stepped forward. “Asherton has never been conquered, and I guarantee it won’t be this time, either.”

Xan rolled his eyes and looked to Ashley.

“General Flynn,” she said.

“Look,” Xan said. “I’m sure you’re really competent at what you do. In fact, I’m sure you know that this new duke, Irdrin, has to be backed by Dastanar, right?”

Flynn nodded.

“But you’re still not worried because it’s not like Dastanar can move full force against you without drawing Bermau and Kaicia into a war against them, and you can handle whatever augmented force Truna is putting on the field, right?”

Flynn nodded again, but he looked a little more doubtful.

“But being presumably a smart man, you’ve probably wondered what, then, is the whole point of this siege. Surely, Irdrin is as able to crunch the numbers as you are. What does he gain by this farce?”

Flynn’s nod came slowly.

“What you don’t know,” Xan said, “is that the Dastanarian catcher that’s been pursuing me is a mage.”

Xan let his words sink in for a moment. “It’s true. Brant, tell them.”

He stepped hesitantly forward. “Uh, my lord, that is true. We, uh, caused a cave-in that trapped the guardsmen inside. Tons and tons and tons of … Anyway, it should have taken them weeks, if ever, to dig out. Instead, they caught up with us. I just don’t see how it would have been possible without using magic.”

A sentry burst through the outer door, but Asher’s upraised hand forestalled whatever message the man had.

“That … might change things,” Flynn said.

“My lord!” the sentry said.

Asher exhaled sharply. “What is it?”

“A commotion in the outer room,” the sentry said. “A catcher claiming someone is a mage and trying to make an arrest.”

Xan ran his hand through his hair. Should he follow Asher out of the audience chamber?

A catcher threatening to arrest someone? That had to be Justav. Someone tugged at Xan’s elbow. He spun to find Tasia, her face a mask of rage.

Great. He’d known it would happen. Why couldn’t the fates allow one girl in the whole of the world not to hate him?

What had he said? Or done? He replayed his conversation with Asher and came up empty. A tear streaked down her cheek. Not anger then. Worse, he’d upset her.

“Am I really what you said? A d-death mage?” she said.

He was a complete moron. That was the only explanation. “I’m so sorry for ratting you out. I assumed you had the duke’s blessing.”

“But I swear I’ve never used magic!”

He grimaced. Really? “How else would you have healed that boy?”

“The Holy One working through me?”

She probably hadn’t meant for that to come out sounding like a question.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She buried her face in her hands. “A death mage!”

Was there anything worse than a crying girl? How could he make her feel better? “That’s a misnomer, you know. You control the flow of life, a power as useful to heal as it is to kill. So, really, it’s like you’re a life mage.”

Tasia looked up. Her eyes glistened. Okay, that hadn’t worked. Should he hug her or something?

“I have to surrender to a catcher,” she said.

“Don’t be an idiot!”

“It’s the law, Xan.” Her voice trembled.

“Trust me,” he said. “The duke isn’t going to let his niece and his daughter hang.”

She buried her face again.

“You’d throw your life away?”

No response. Words weren’t working.

Idiot. She needed comfort, not arguments.

He enveloped her slight frame in his long arms. She drew herself close and buried her face in his chest. His body warmed as she pressed against him.

It felt … nice.

He almost laughed. His life hung in the balance, and all he could think about was a tiny slip of a girl he’d just met. Someone cleared a throat. He looked up.

Ashley.

“Come with me, please.” She walked toward one of several alcoves set in the east wall.

Great. She was probably furious at him again for something. Maybe he should find Justav. Hanging would be better than facing another of her tongue lashings.

“Are you okay?” he asked Tasia.

“I’m fine. Go.”

Was that “fine” as in she really was fine or “fine” as in she’d hate him for leaving?

“Really,” she said. “Go.”

“Okay.” He released her and moved to follow Ashley.

Tasia looked up at him. “You’re welcome.”

For what?

Her tone strove for light and funny, but she just looked sad. The poor girl. He wished he could make her feel better. Surely, she’d be safe, but only if he could figure a way to get her out of town.

Ashley pulled a curtain shut after he stepped into the alcove.

“Look,” he said, “I’m sorry about insulting the duke, but—”

She put her finger over his lip. Her finger. Touching him. Almost intimately.

“Not many men have the guts to stand up to my father.”

Xan’s cheeks heated. Her insults were becoming far too subtle; there had to be one hidden somewhere inside the compliment, but he couldn’t detect it.

Her finger traced his jaw line. “In fact, I found you most … impressive. You showed fire, but you still kept your word to me. My fair—” She paused. “I almost called you ‘my fair prince.’ What an odd thing to say.”

Did she remember? Even a tiny bit? “You called me that in the dream.”

“Yes, you said something about that. And about me being a mage.” Her face clouded.

Xan swallowed hard. “Only mages can dream to each other, and we did for twenty nights.”

Her face further darkened. “So you ‘dreamed’ with me for nearly three weeks but did nothing to rescue me?”

“You don’t understand. I didn’t know you were in trouble. I didn’t even think you were real. How could you possibly have been?”

She glared at him.

“No one as beautiful as you could exist.”

Her expression softened, and she shook her head. “Either you are the best liar I have met or the most guileless man. I know not which prospect is worse.”

“Is that why you’ve been so mad at me? Because it took me so long to rescue you?” But that made no sense. She hadn’t remembered the dream.

Ashley waited a long time before answering, and he grew more anxious with each passing moment. “I have never experienced such an instant, intense dislike for someone.” She paused again. “You rescued me heroically. You did nothing wrong. Yet I can’t shake this irrational hatred toward you.”

Her wordless scream of rage. Oh no.

“You have to understand, I spent each minute expecting Justav to kill me and my friends. Each night, you sought me. So many days with next to no rest. Just hour after hour of riding and worry and …” His voice cracked, and he took a moment to collect himself. “Not that it is in any way an adequate excuse, but I was so tired.”

Hoping he could find the right words, he explained about cutting off her attempt to draw him into the dream. He begged her forgiveness.

No emotion showed on her face. “Tell me about these dreams.”

“Like what?”

“How about something simple? What was I wearing?” She narrowed her eyes. “I wore clothes, did I not?”

So much heat rose to Xan’s face he considered using his magic to remove it. “Of course!”

She laughed. “You are so easy, but I must try to resist.”

“We seemed to choose our own attire. You wore dresses like the one you have on now, though not quite as, um …” Xan felt more heat. “The first time, I wore something like I’d wear to work each day. From the second time on, my outfit more resembled something that, in my mind, matched your clothes.” He scratched his chin. “Neither of us ever wore shoes, though. I’m not sure if that was a choice on each of our parts or a function of the dream state. If I had to guess, I’d say the latter. Perhaps an unconscious desire to connect more fully with the source of magic?”

She rolled her eyes. “You do tend to drone on, don’t you? Stop with the boring stuff. How far did you get?”

Huh?

“How chaste is my dream self?” she said. “Did we make out? Go further than that?”

“Lady Ashley!”

A grin split her face.

“You’re teasing me, again. You said you wouldn’t do that.”

“I said I’d try. Besides, it’s a legitimate question. You have knowledge of me that I don’t have of you.”

There was something to be said for the silent treatment. Even more heat rose to his face, though he wouldn’t have thought that feat possible. “One of our last nights together ...” He looked away. “We sat together, and I put my arm around you.”

“And …”

“On our very last night, we almost kissed.”

She looked at him in exaggerated horror. “In three weeks of unchaperoned, illicit rendezvous, you put your arm around me once and almost kissed me? My dream self is chaste indeed.”

Absolutely no response—appropriate or otherwise—came to his mind.

“Do you always take things that slowly with girls?” she said.

Xan looked away again.

“Oh ho! I begin to understand. You haven’t had any girlfriends.”

“There aren’t a lot of girls my age where I come from.”

She smiled again. “It’s okay, my fair prince Xan. This could be fun.”

What could be fun?

“Normally, I wouldn’t admit this to a boy.” Ashley looked at him almost fondly. “I’ve been unfair with you.” She paused. “My father’s men could not have located that manor, and he could not have given into what was demanded for my return. Nor would I have asked him to. Duke Irdrin would have used me as a way of demoralizing our troops. My end would not have been … pleasant. You truly saved my life.”

Ashley removed a yellow ribbon from her hair and gestured for him to bend over. She tied it around his right bicep. Her touch sent shivers through him.

“At a jousting tournament, it’s traditional for a lady to choose a favorite and give him a token. It’s not within my power to make you a knight as you have none of the requisite training, but in my mind, you’ll always be my shining hero.” She kissed him on the cheek.

His heart raced, and he felt he should make some response. Words would not come, however, and he stood frozen.

A page parted the curtain. “Excuse me, my lady, your lord father has returned.”