Rise of the Mages (Rise of the Mages 2) (37 page)

Tasia crept from the castle.

Hopefully, no one had seen her enter. Why had she gone to Xan? Lucan could have taught her. Or Brant. Anyone but Xan.

She sighed. Best to put it out of her mind. Get back to the hospital. Check the patients one last time before dinner and bed.

“Tasia!”

Oh no. She shut her eyes for a moment before turning around. “Ashley. How are you?”

Ashley narrowed her eyes. “You look odd. What’s wrong?”

It wasn’t like Tasia had done anything wrong. She hadn’t really kissed Xan. But Ashley wouldn’t see it that way. Worse, she’d blame him just as much. Would she cancel the wedding?

If only Tasia had chosen someone else to train her.

Ashley grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into a deserted sideyard. “Have you been crying?”

Tasia stuttered a few times before she said, “Emry died.”

“Who?”

“A soldier. Someone I knew.”

Ashley huffed. “That’s what they’re paid to do.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

Ashley turned away. “It’s easier to think of them that way. It’s a lot better than, ‘Hey, Father and I sent over a hundred good men to their deaths today.’”

“I wish I could …” Tasia paused. “I try. I really do. It was seeing someone I know.” A tear streaked down her cheek.

“Hey! None of that. Our army carried the day,” Ashley said. “No raping and pillaging for the enemy.”

Tasia tried to smile, but she could only put half her heart into it. At least Ashley hadn’t asked her about Xan.

“You still look like you did that time you absolutely ruined my favorite ribbon by using it as a bandage.” Ashley said. “What did you do?”

Tasia exhaled hard. Why was she so bad at concealing anything? The right thing was to confess. Wasn’t it? That was what Tender Morris would tell her to do.

But to condemn Xan for something she did?

“You’ve been using magic, haven’t you?” Ashley said.

Tasia blinked. “Y-yes.”

Ashley put her hands on her hips. “Let me guess—someone suffering just broke your heart, and you had to do something about it.”

Tasia nodded.

“Did anyone see you?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

Tasia nodded again.

“Listen to me,” Ashley said. “You absolutely must not use any more magic.”

“Lucan did.”

“He was circumspect, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Ashley said. “Besides, he won’t be allowed to do that anymore. Or to counter the enemy death mages.”

“That’s stupid! Why—”

“Tasia! Father’s duchy is more important than the lives of a few soldiers.”

“Is the situation that dire? I thought we were winning. And if it’s that bad, don’t we need Lucan more than ever?”

“We are winning. That’s the problem.”

Huh?

“There has been no visible evidence of Truna using mages,” Ashley said. “If you or Lucan or Xan or anyone else on our side is witnessed, Father could be executed!”

Tasia grimaced. She hadn’t thought of that.

“Promise me,” Ashley said, “that you won’t do anything stupid.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” Ashley smiled. “Now, go and sin no more.”

Tasia offered a weak smile in return.

How could she ever face all those patients knowing she had the power to help them but wasn’t allowed to?

Justav clung to the shadows.

Why hadn’t the boy visited the hospital yet? The blond girl was there. The old man was there.

Only three days until Duke Asher’s reinforcements arrived. That left only tomorrow to kill his mages in preparation of Duke Irdrin’s attack.

Justav snarled. Too bad it was too conspicuous to have his men wait with him or he’d have been able to take out the traitor. The boy, at least, didn’t have guards.

The sun waned. Might as well leave. With almost everyone gone, the boy wasn’t likely to show.

A figure moving behind a window caught Justav’s eye. The old man. Maybe the visit wouldn’t be a total waste. Yes.

The old man had been behind delaying Justav back in Eagleton. Had helped the boy escape. Justav opened himself to the magic. No other lives nearby. No witnesses.

The old man was near the end anyway. Life force trickled into him. So easy to drain it.

Energy fled from the old man’s body. He lurched forward, clutching at his chest and wheezing until finally collapsing onto the floor, lifeless.

Justav smiled. Time to be proactive instead of waiting for the boy to venture from the castle. Time to set a trap. Humming, he walked away from the setting sun.

Sweat dampened Xan’s clothes despite the cool temperature.

He rubbed sleep from his eyes, but visions from his dream still intruded on reality. The memory of Tasia’s lips on his was entirely too vivid and the sight of her body entirely too real.

Tasia? He shouldn’t be thinking of her that way.

Ashley, on the other hand … His face heated. It wouldn’t be long until their wedding night.

Of course, there were still obstacles to overcome, but things were going better than he could have imagined. The military situation would be resolved in a couple of days, and he’d been able to keep his corps’ magic use a complete secret. Asher’s only logical course was to maintain, even increase, his mages while quietly lobbying the queen for official sanction.

Xan exhaled sharply. Should he have taught Tasia? Surely, she wouldn’t openly use magic.

No. If he had to worry, it was about Brant.

Xan just needed to keep things together for two more days, and he’d be on his way to marrying his dream girl. He lay back on his bed and closed his eyes.

A soft but urgent series of knocks urged him from bed to open the door. “Lainey? What are you doing here?” Hadn’t she left with Dylan days ago? And why were her eyes red and teary? “What’s wrong?”

She charged past him and collapsed onto his chair.

“What is it?” His heart pounded.

“I have to be the one to tell you, but I don’t want to.” Her raw voice barely rose above a whisper.

Despite being only five when his dad died, Xan had never forgotten the look on Master Diwen’s face when he broke the news. “Who?”

She met his eyes for a moment before dropping her gaze to the floor. “Master Rae.”

All strength fled him, and he slumped onto his bed. “I just saw him. He was fine.”

“Tasia said it looked like a heart attack.”

“Are they sure? Sometimes he sleeps really hard. I remember one time when I was trying to wake him and …”

“I’m so sorry.” Gasping sobs interspersed her words.

Xan clutched his arms tight to his chest in a fruitless attempt to hold himself together, and she attacked him with a smothering hug. He tried to shove her away but could muster no strength. She clung harder against his feeble thrusts. A yell came out as a moan.

There was still so much left to do, so many dangers still ahead. Who was going to advise him? Keep him from making stupid mistakes? Give him that little hint to put him on the right path?

He slumped into her, and a dam broke inside him. The tears flowed.

As soon as he was able—and he had no idea how long he cried—he ended the humiliating show of emotion and disentangled himself. “I have to see.”

She offered to go with him, but he begged her off. It took another fifteen minutes to push her from the room, though he didn’t begrudge the time lost. Until he saw, there could be some doubt of the truth.

He changed into the first wrinkled, dirty trousers and tunic his hands found and trudged to the hospital.

Tasia met him at the door. “Xan, I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you myself but Lainey thought—”

He hugged her, and hot tears slid down his face. “I …” His voice choked. They embraced for a moment before he released. “C-can I see him?”

“I had them wait for you. Do you want me to go with you?”

He shook his head.

Tasia led him to a corridor off the main room and set him off in the right direction. As he descended to the first step, she grabbed his hand. “Are you sure you want to do this alone?”

He nodded.

At the bottom of the stairs, each footfall dragged longer and covered less distance than the last, but the inevitable could not be staved off forever. When he finally reached the door, he felt an absurd impulse to knock.

Master Rae’s body lay with his hands crossed over his chest. He looked natural, like he simply slept, like a shout would wake him.

More tears welled in Xan’s eyes as he lumbered to the bed and knelt. “I never thanked you for the money and the instructions for using magic. For teaching me potions. I wouldn’t be half the man I am without you.”

A fresh wave of sadness threatened to overtake him, and he turned his head to gather himself. Minutes passed before he again faced Master Rae.

“I’m in the middle of a war with allies I can’t trust and a strong enemy in front of me. I need you.” The tears wouldn’t be held back. “Please don’t leave me alone.”

Xan remained bent over his mentor until his knees throbbed in protest. How long had he knelt weeping like a child? What would Master Rae say about him lolling about when there was work to be done?

Do something productive. Stop wasting time. Xan could almost hear his mentor’s voice. The ends of his mouth upturned slightly at the thought.

Xan got directions to the workshop and found a stack of requests for potions. Hours passed as he lost himself in the work, chopping and measuring and mixing. It felt good, helping people while honoring his master.

Was it the last time he’d ever prepare potions?

A doctor entered and asked what he was doing. Xan gestured at a paper on the table in front of him.

“You worked for him?” the doctor said not unkindly.

Xan nodded as he bunched a pile of lockweed and cut it into small ovals.

“The hospital can’t accept work performed by a journeyman without the master directly supervising. You’re wasting valuable ingredients.”

“I have my letter.” Xan distributed the herb into five vials.

The doctor eyed him from head to foot. “You seem young.”

Xan capped the bottles. “Nonetheless.” He held each over a candle for a moment before giving it a shake. “There. You’ll find these perfect.”

He flipped the order and looked at the next request. Before he could start mixing it, however, he felt a flow of magic to the east, too close to be outside the city. The only thing in that direction was Asherton’s slums. Why would anyone be using magic there?

Why would anyone be using magic at all?

Probably that idiot, Brant. With his concussion, he’d been ordered off the wall for the day. Must have decided to slip off to practice. Didn’t he understand how important Asher’s command was? He was going to get them all killed.

With a sigh, Xan put aside the orders.

Brant’s head pounded.

He stepped from the shadow cast by the castle wall. His opponent squinted against the sun. Brant grinned and feinted left.

What did the stupid doctors know anyway? Keeping him from the wall because of a stupid headache!

The blue-and-gold-liveried soldier took the bait, swinging his waster hard. Brant danced to the right and struck. His practice sword thwacked the man’s kidney.

The man collapsed to the grass. As he crawled from the ring to join his buddies, a smattering of applause came from numerous onlookers.

Brant bowed briefly before catching the eye of a pretty brunette servant girl. She smiled and dipped toward him in a mini curtsy. Her low cut blouse swung down revealing a vast expanse of cleavage.

No, she didn’t exist solely for his pleasure. She’d have fun, too.

She bounced to him and handed him a cup of water. “Well done, my lord.”

Brant subtly flexed his bicep as he took a sip. “The hardest part was watching my opponent instead of looking at you.” He tilted his head for the sun to catch his eye.

The girl sighed. “I heard tell you were one of the Lady Ashley’s suitors.”

Brant gritted his teeth. “Not anymore.” He wasn’t conceding to the asshole until the tender said the final words, but the servant girl didn’t need to know that.

“Perhaps, then, you might want someone to show you around the castle.” She traced his arm with her fingers. “Or perhaps, you might need someone to ease the knots from your shoulders.”

He grinned. “That’s the best offer I’ve had today. What’s your name, and where’s your room?”

“Gracie, my lord,” she said before giving him directions.

Someone cleared a throat, and he glanced back to find Dylan.

Brant watched as she walked away, her hips swaying suggestively. “I thought you left days ago.”

Dylan shrugged. “She wouldn’t leave.” He nodded toward Mari, waiting in the shade. “Listen, do you know of any places that are … uh, private to, uh, be alone with a girl? Like somewhere public but, you know … private.”

“You dog! Good for you.”

“Not to do that! Just, you know, to be alone.” Dylan’s face reddened. “So? Do you?”

“Hmmm.” Brant grinned. “There’s a nice garden just around the corner. Not many people go there what with the battles and all. The south corner behind the rose bushes is a great spot.”

“Thanks, man.” Dylan slunk away.

“Have fun!” Brant yelled. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Dylan turned and glared before departing with Mari.

Brant laughed. Maybe he should follow his friend’s example and go find Gracie. But he needed more sword practice. Two weeks on the road had made him rusty.

The three soldiers he’d already beat all looked too hurt to go again. Luckily, Lucan and a pair of guards walked out of a chapel fifty yards away.

Brant waved at him. “Is that sword you wear for show, or do you know how use it?”

Lucan approached, his expression as close to a smile as Brant had seen on him. “I’ve been known to spar occasionally.” He settled his rapier on the ground.

Brant tossed a waster. Lucan snagged it and swung it a few times.

“Want padding?” Brant said.

Lucan eyed Brant up and down. “It won’t be necessary.”

Brant grinned wide and entered the circle of stone marking the sparring ring. Once in position, they saluted each other and tapped blades. The sound clacked through the courtyard.

Before the last echo disappeared, Brant whirred the tip of his weapon toward Lucan’s thigh. Instead of making contact with soft flesh, his blade met a defending waster. Brant’s arm vibrated at the impact.

Such skill required hours and hours of work. Why would a mage make that kind of effort?

Brant swung again.

Instead of countering, Lucan spun and dropped his waster. Brant almost whacked him upside the head. What the blast?

Lucan dove for his rapier, and for an instant, Brant thought he was in for a real fight. Sounds behind him drew his attention, and he glanced back. Ten armed men rushed into the courtyard. Though they wore brown trousers and plainly made tunics to make them look like civilians, Brant recognized them as guardsmen, included the thin guy Xan thought was a mage.

“Attack!” Brant yelled.

He ran for his sword and spun toward the enemy. Thin Guy and a blue-shirted guardsman advanced toward him.

Another two engaged Lucan. The other six swarmed the duke’s five soldiers.

Brant blocked a thrust from Thin Guy. Blue Shirt swung at the same time. Sharp metal sliced air as Brant arched, barely, out of the way.

Man, they were good.

He thrust, nicking Blue Shirt in the leg. But not good enough.

Thin Guy caught him on the elbow. The nasty gash spouted blood.

Blast!

Several yards away, Lucan fended off vicious attacks. Three slices on his shirt turned red.

One of the duke’s soldiers went down with a gut wound. Losing even one when outnumbered wasn’t good. So wasn’t good. But backups were surely on the way. All Brant had to do was hold on for a few minutes. Ten at the most.

He parried a blow from Thin Guy. Blue Shirt sliced Brant’s thigh.

Ten minutes was out. One would be stretching it. Brant didn’t have a choice. He tried to access the source.

Nothing happened. Man! He thought he’d conquered that issue. What a time to mess up.

He tried again. Still nothing.

Lucan stumbled, narrowly avoiding being impaled. Why hadn’t he used magic? Why didn’t Justav’s mages?

Another of the duke’s men fell. The rest wouldn’t hold off for much longer. They were all done for.

Thin Guy flew upward. Dylan sprinted into view. Alright!

Brant feinted left. Blue Shirt took the bait. Grinning, Brant stabbed. His sword ended up half inside the man’s chest. Perfect.

Above him, Thin Guy darted toward the ground and back up again.

Huh? Why didn’t Dylan just finish him off? Once more, Thin Guy bobbed down and up.

Oh. Another kineticist. He was countering Dylan’s attempts.

Brant accessed the magic. Finally. He made Thin Guy’s clothes heavier than lead weights. Dylan propelled him toward the ground.

Thin Guy bumped a few feet upward before plummeting again. He screamed.

Frantically tearing at his shirt, he crashed into the grass with a crunch. Blood pooled beneath him.

Brant smiled, and pain flared on his cheek. His hand darted to the spot and came away bloody. When had he gotten nicked?

Two guardsmen still attacked Lucan. Brant focused on the clothes of the one on the right. The man collapsed, his body crushed by the weight.

The one on the left flew upward. He flailed about, screaming, before slamming into the ground with a thud.

“That was … awesome!” Brant said.

The remaining six guardsmen tried to flee, but Brant took them out one by one until the last two surrendered. While Dylan looked stunned, Lucan glared.

“What?” Brant said.

“You didn’t have to kill those men,” Lucan said.

“They’re soldiers,” Brant said. “We’re at war. And they could have given up … You know what? Screw that. I saved your butt. I don’t owe you anything.”

“For that, at least, you have my thanks.”

“I don’t understand why you fought with blades instead of magic?” Brant said.

Lucan exhaled sharply. “I couldn’t—”

“The duke’s orders,” Dylan said. “We broke them. And look at all the witnesses.”

Shit. He was right. How badly had they screwed up?

Lucan held his shirt against a bleeding cut on his arm and turned to Dylan. “It was lucky you were around.”

He shrugged.

“You’re much better than I thought and worked together so well,” Lucan said. “How did you coordinate your attacks so easily?”

Brant clapped Dylan on the back. “We’ve been friends since we were toddlers. I couldn’t count the number of hours we’ve spent hunting together.”

“It saved our lives today. Neither they nor I expected such—” Lucan turned to face the east.

After a second, Dylan did the same. What the blast?

Oh. They probably sensed magic use. How did everyone but him scan for it constantly?

“Unless I miss my guess,” Lucan said, “your friend, Xan, is in trouble.”