Blademage Adept (The Blademage Saga Book 3) (7 page)

Reko and Yusa stood near the helm, studying the darkened horizon. Spotting him, the captain waved him over.

“Three more days, if we can find the wind again,” Yusa declared. “You’re close to finding your answers, boy.”

“Help would not be refused,” Reko whispered from the darkened folds of his cowl.

Obliging, Kevon formed the runes to support and steady Reko’s spell, and tapped into the magic he felt already at work.

The initial contact with the other Mage’s mind was unlike anything Kevon had experienced before. A glimpse of order, focus, and clarity led into the well-controlled working of magic, more precisely done than he’d ever seen Mirsa work. He steadied his own mind, and felt the power he offered pressed into service, a carefully measured acceleration that was undetectable by his other senses.

More than able to sustain the minimal drain, Kevon opened his reserves wider, drawing upon them to insulate his being from the crush of Water power pressing in from his connection to the sea. Prepared, he siphoned energy from the water, holding it at a mental arm’s length, while Reko channeled it away to maintain and increase the potency of his spell.

The sun was nearing its apex when Reko eased out of the spell, the ship listing forward as the magic propelling it dissipated. The wind increased as the ship slowed, and Yusa barked orders to his disconcerted crew.

Kevon slumped, the hours of focused magic revealing their strain in a manner he was unaccustomed to. He leaned on the nearby railing, and looked to Reko.

“I’ll be in my quarters,” the Master Mage whispered, as he turned and strode to his cabin.

I know I’m not the strongest Mage on Ærth,
Kevon thought, watching the other Mage walk, untroubled by the effort of the previous hours.
But using magic usually tires me less than anyone I’ve ever been around. What is-

A glimpse of a Movement rune poked at the edge of Kevon’s awareness before vanishing. He peered at Reko, who was just disappearing into the cabin.

“Get some rest, lad,” Captain Yusa said, stifling a yawn. “You’ve had a rough morning. The crew will handle the rest. He shook his head as if to wake himself further, and shouted at a slow moving crewman.

Kevon took a few deep breaths and managed to make it from the railing to the stairway belowdecks, and stumbled down to his quarters with the renewed rocking of the vessel. He managed to remove his boots, and thought he heard Alanna say something from the bunk above his, but the words made no sense to his reeling mind. He grumbled halfheartedly, and sleep took him.

“Eat this,” a familiar voice said, and he felt the press of wooden spoon and the slosh of scalding liquid against his lips.

“Mmmf…” he sputtered, tasting the rich broth, and startling to semi-wakefulness.

“I could just poke a hole in you and pour it in,” Alanna suggested. “It would be much faster.”

Kevon forced a small smile, and accepted a spoonful of the broth before the darkness reclaimed him.

Quite a lot of strain.

More than his share of watches.

Protecting us all.

Fragments of conversation intruded on the void, swirling into visions of the speakers in an elaborate dance around Kevon.

“Keeping up with his combat training,” Alanna whispered, gliding across his vision in a dress he’d only seen Marelle wear.

“Haven’t even touched yer axe,” Kylgren grumped, sitting at the edge of his sight.

“The water’s growing deeper,” Mirsa paced, Rhysabeth-Dane close at her heels.

“Another day, if the map is right,” Yusa grumbled, wandering away from the others, gesturing to crew members who were not evident in Kevon’s vision.

“Quite the mystery,” Reko murmured, glancing from Kevon to the grimoire that Mirsa and Rhysabeth kept hidden, now clutched in his pale hand. Flat, grey eyes stared at Kevon from the depths of the black cowl. “Who are you?” the Mage hissed, fading and solidifying, growing larger as the other apparitions in Kevon’s mind shrank away.

The world spun, tottered back and forth as Reko’s form swirled apart, sloshing into nothingness. A flurry of motion, shafts of light and darkness spraying through the gritty void, giving way to coarse warmth, gentle lapping, and at long last, creeping oblivion.

The sounds of the sea coaxed Kevon from his slumber, but the bed he rested upon lay steady. Sunlight and a fresh salt breeze pressed against his face, and he drew the rough blanket closer about him.

The low shelter held three more pallets with spread bedrolls, and through the gaps in the walls, Kevon could see another structure nearby. He shifted, and through the open front of the shelter, he could see the ship stationed off shore.

“I’m telling you, with unicorn blood, you could brew a potion that would heal him completely.”

“We didn’t even know unicorns existed for sure until today, and you want to start killing them already?” Mirsa shrieked in frustration. “We don’t know what’s wrong with Kevon yet, Reko. Let’s not risk angering the elves yet.”

“They’ve not shown themselves since we landed, who knows if this is even the right island?”

“He’s awake.”

Kevon glanced at where the quiet third voice had come from, and Rhysabeth-Dane peeked around the edge of the shelter to look into his eyes. She wriggled her fingers at him in greeting, and smiled.

“I’ll return later,” Reko announced. “Tend to your companion.”

Mirsa rushed in, bringing along a waterskin that she held to Kevon’s lips. “Drink now, while you’re awake.”

“I’m fine, let me hold…” Clumsy fingers grasped at the skin, almost knocking it from Mirsa’s grasp. Fatigue at even the small action washed over him in waves.

“You’ve been asleep for four days. Let me do this.” Mirsa tucked Kevon’s arm back to his side, and poured mouthfuls of water into him.

After a few swallows, Kevon shook his head. “We’ve arrived, then?”

“This must be the place,” Mirsa nodded. “Alanna is scouting into the trees, but we’ve been here almost two days, with no sign of an elf.”

“How do you know?”

“Can’t you feel it?” Mirsa whispered, looking past him, toward the back of the shelter, away from the shore. “The Light… is different. Just like in the Hold. Solid, pure, restrained. I’m guessing we’re near the-”

“Awake?” Captain Yusa emerged from the other shelter and made his way over to the group. “Good! Perhaps we can start moving soon, and unload the cargo from my ship!”

“Unlikely,” Mirsa commented, lifting Kevon’s arm and releasing it to flop back down to his side. “He’ll need to regain his strength.”

“And here comes some help with that,” Yusa stopped short of the shelter’s entrance, looking off to the side.

Kevon closed his eyes and breathed while the others remained silent.

“What, is he dead?” Alanna griped.

A smile formed as Kevon opened his eyes and saw the assassin leaning around the corner of the shelter, three fat squirrels strung from her wrist. Colorful tubers poked out from the mouth of a sack in her other hand.

“Here…” Alanna snapped. “Take… care of this.” She shoved the sack and brace at Yusa. “Why don’t the rest of you go… somewhere?”

Mirsa stood and walked past Alanna, handing her the waterskin as she passed by. “It’s all right, Rhysabeth,” she chuckled, reaching back to take the scowling dwarf’s hand. “I’ll get the fire going, and then we can study some more.”

Alanna waited until the others were out of earshot before she approached Kevon. She sat by his side. “We need you at your best, and soon,” she whispered. “Not everyone here is what they appear to be.”

Heavy eyelids drooped, and Kevon’s mind fluttered.

“Here,” Alanna said, pressing something to his lips, a piece of dried leaf. He chewed a few times, and she gave him another mouthful of water from the skin.

“What…”

“Just wait,” she said, pressing her fingers to his lips. “Wait for it.”

Minutes passed. Kevon’s stomach trembled, and his cheeks grew hot. A prickling sensation began in his feet and hands, and the fog clouding his mind started to part.

“Medicine?” Kevon asked, sitting partway up.

“Not quite,” Alanna grimaced. “Mild poison, if taken in larger doses. Interesting at lower ones though.”

Kevon blinked, and shook his head, his mind beginning to race. “What were you saying? Not everyone…”

“The Mage, Reko?” Alanna harrumphed. “I thought he was odd on board the ship. But here?” She lowered her voice even more. “He doesn’t leave any footprints.”

Chapter 12

“What do you mean, you have to help me?” Bertus asked, his gaze moving from the King to his nephew, and back.

“Come!” Bargthar-Stoun shouted, dragging Bertus toward the steps that led up to his throne. “Mmm.” The ruler of the dwarves nodded his head and pointed to the last tapestry on the right hand side of the chamber.

Bertus walked toward the picture, details becoming clearer as he approached it.

An army of orcs populated the bottom third of the panel, twisted forms of many sizes, cruel weapons brandished as they marched upward. The middle third of the tapestry was blasted landscape, rocky terrain scattered with the bodies of orcs and dwarves. The top third was rank upon rank of Dwarven warriors. An impressive shield-wall snaked across the panel. The shield-bearers wielded warhammers, behind them, three lines of pikemen. Beyond that, crossbows and spears filled the hands of the Dwarven host as deep as the embroidered hanging stretched.

Bertus walked closer, catching a glimpse, a glint of gold, a splash of brightness in the otherwise dark work. When he’d come close enough to make out the details of the figure near the center of the Dwarven line, he gasped.

A man, nearly as broad as a dwarf, though head and shoulders above them all, stood in front of the defenders. A sword, gleaming with light, decorated with a red ribbon, was raised above his head, as if ready to strike down at the oncoming horde. From the palm of his other outstretched hand, streaks of white and gold radiated in all directions.

The figure’s features were too vague to matter, but Bertus did not need any more details. “Kevon?” he whispered.

“I still think we should notify the prince first,” Martin argued.

“This action is perhaps more urgent, and it would allow the message to be delivered by a trusted commander,” Bertus asserted. “That’ll give me time to seek out Kevon, and get him back here to cement our new relations with the dwarves.”

The third day after their arrival at the Dwarven Hold, Bertus and Martin stood over a map of the continent, still arguing over troop deployments.

“This commander, Carlo?” Martin asked, “Won’t think we’ve overstepped our bounds?”

“A company of battle-ready dwarves to help shore up the defenses on the frontier should ease his mind,” Bertus shrugged. “He’ll have to see things our way.”

“I still don’t see why you can’t come with us.”

“I’m going to be on a ship, hours out to sea, by the time you even speak to Carlo.” Bertus explained. “Kevon wants you safe, and you’ll have Carlo to escort you back to Navlia.” He pointed to the lines radiating out from the Hold on the map before them. “There is only one exit closer to Navlia than the frontier, and Carlo’s not there. It makes a difference.”

Martin nodded, glancing over the map once more. “These breaks in the line to the frontier, are they cause for concern?”

“Not with the troop sledge we’re running,” Britger-Stoun interjected. “It’ll be slower starting, without horses, but safer scraping across the breaks.”

“Has the advance team from Eastport returned?” Bertus asked the king’s nephew.

“I heard the drumming as I was leaving the chamber. They should be reporting soon.”

“Good, I’m anxious to get moving again.” He rested his hand on the hilt of the sword he’d been presented that morning, a replica of the blade he’d carried on his first visit to the Hold. Inches shorter and visibly thinner, the heavier gray metal the dwarves used balanced much the same as the other blade had in his grip.

“Two Stoneguard, four regulars, and the two of us?” Bertus asked Britger.

“Aye. The ship’s crew is being hired out. We’ve no knack fer it.”

“How many can you spare for the frontier?”

“Bargthar-Stoun has committed ten Stoneguard and fifty regulars te accompany yer friends. He’s preparing fer supply runs te follow them every few days, also.”

Bertus nodded. “That should be enough for the short term. If the tapestry in your throne room holds true…”

“More are preparing,” Britger reassured him.

“The others are back from Eastport,” Alma said, poking her head through the doorway. “We’ve all got two changes of lighter clothing for the frontier, too.”

“They’ll have to do aboard the ship for me, then.” Bertus chuckled.

“Not going with us?”

“We’ll see each other again, at the Palace in Navlia. I’ll bring Kevon along, too.”

“Then I’ll see what we can get altered for you before you leave,” Alma ducked back out and was gone.

“If we are to need Kevon and as many troops as the tapestry suggests, neither one of our missions can fail.” Bertus leaned back over the map, his eyes darting east of the port city, along the path Kevon might have taken. “Where are you?”

Chapter 13

Kevon peered across the campfire, watching Reko through the pulsating lens that his perception had become. His skin crawled, another recent side-effect of the poison leaves he’d continued to take to remain awake and alert.

Reko sat in the same spot as he had all evening, on a driftwood log they’d been using as a bench. Mirsa sat on the other end of the log, Rhysabeth-Dane at her side, shuffling pages of parchment and comparing them to other books and notes.

“We’ll begin the trek inland tomorrow, then.” Yusa affirmed, glancing toward Kevon.

“I’m still weak, but well enough to hike.” He responded, his gaze remaining locked on the Mage across from him.

“Sure you wouldn’t like any?” Alanna waved a bowl of the stew toward Reko.

“Certain.” He sniffed. “I have my own rations back aboard the ship. And my own bed.” The Mage stood, and glanced around at the others. “Until the morning.” He raised his staff, and vanished.