of Nysa. Would you be kind enough to allow me to ride with you?”
The man leaned back to give her an appraising look. “I’ve no interest in getting involved with some highborn lady out to escape her husband. I’ve enough troubles of my own.”
Kiernan looked down. Although she still wore the stolen cloak, it did not entirely cover the red silk dress she wore underneath. She quickly shook her head. “It’s not like that.”
“Then, tell me why a noble lady would be seeking to leave Nysa in the dead of the night?”
“I just do,” whispered. “Please.”
The man shook his head and started to pull himself up once again.
“Wait! I won’t be any trouble. I promise. Please.”
“Demon’s breath.” The man cast a worried look south at the other wagon pulling further ahead. “All right, get in.”
Kiernan ran to the other side and jumped up to the driver’s bench. The man picked up the reins, slapped them against the horse waiting placidly in its harness and the wagon lurched ahead. “Thank you,” she said loudly over the noise. “I…I don’t have any money, but—”
“I don’t want your money,” he told her. “But, I will have payment.”
Kiernan hissed softly. How dare he? If he thinks for one second to take advantage of—
He held his hand out. “I’ll have my knife back.”
****
Rayan held the wood in his hand and drew the knife along the side to whittle away the bark. The knife slipped for the third time in as many minutes and he shook a droplet of blood onto the ground. His clumsy hands just weren’t made for woodwork and that’s all there was to it. He supposed he could use sorcery to create what he hoped would eventually become a Chero smoking pipe, but he refused to use the magic that now burned within his chest like a living thing. A disgusting, vile sentience that hovered in his mind, on his tongue and at his fingertips just aching to be unleashed. The others might find comfort in their newfound power, but he wished it hadn’t been necessary to ever go to that alternate realm.
But, it had.
In order to defeat their enemies, they had to meet them on a level field.
He threw down the wood and the knife and stood wondering how much longer he would have to wait in this spirit-forsaken cavern. How can they all just sit here? he fumed.
“Relax.”
Zavier said the words softly, but they stole all the warmth from the air causing Rayan to pull his coat tighter around his throat. The sorcerers in the cabal, fourteen strong, claimed not to have a leader, but all knew Zavier filled that role.
Rayan gave the Mage a sidelong glance. That square face and jaw of his could have been made from granite for all the emotion it showed. And, the eyes were worse. Two spiritless black marbles stuck in his skull as though in afterthought. At first glance some might even suspect that Zavier used a bodyshifted form, but Rayan knew better. The old man had worked for his family ever since Rayan was a child, and those eyes had been haunting him for a very long time. Yet, here they were, years later, joined in an unlikely alliance for a common cause.
“Easy for you to say, Zavier, but I’ve better things to do than sit around all night. I have duties to attend to.”
“You will stay, lad, until we get news.”
And, that was that.
Rayan sighed and looked out at the ferocious storm lashing outside. It’s not like I’ll make it home in this weather anyway. He bent to pick up his wood and knife, but dropped them again when one of the Mages stood and shouted, “They’re back!”
Finally.
Those by the cave entrance stepped aside as a man drenched from the rain came into the cavern with a figure draped over his shoulders. The red-haired, freckle-faced young man who went by the name of Perrod set his burden on the ground.
It was one of their own.
Dead.
Rayan couldn’t tell by looking at the Mage how he had died, but the glassy, unseeing eyes clearly said he was dead, and that wasn’t
The man leaned back to give her an appraising look. “I’ve no interest in getting involved with some highborn lady out to escape her husband. I’ve enough troubles of my own.”
Kiernan looked down. Although she still wore the stolen cloak, it did not entirely cover the red silk dress she wore underneath. She quickly shook her head. “It’s not like that.”
“Then, tell me why a noble lady would be seeking to leave Nysa in the dead of the night?”
“I just do,” whispered. “Please.”
The man shook his head and started to pull himself up once again.
“Wait! I won’t be any trouble. I promise. Please.”
“Demon’s breath.” The man cast a worried look south at the other wagon pulling further ahead. “All right, get in.”
Kiernan ran to the other side and jumped up to the driver’s bench. The man picked up the reins, slapped them against the horse waiting placidly in its harness and the wagon lurched ahead. “Thank you,” she said loudly over the noise. “I…I don’t have any money, but—”
“I don’t want your money,” he told her. “But, I will have payment.”
Kiernan hissed softly. How dare he? If he thinks for one second to take advantage of—
He held his hand out. “I’ll have my knife back.”
****
Rayan held the wood in his hand and drew the knife along the side to whittle away the bark. The knife slipped for the third time in as many minutes and he shook a droplet of blood onto the ground. His clumsy hands just weren’t made for woodwork and that’s all there was to it. He supposed he could use sorcery to create what he hoped would eventually become a Chero smoking pipe, but he refused to use the magic that now burned within his chest like a living thing. A disgusting, vile sentience that hovered in his mind, on his tongue and at his fingertips just aching to be unleashed. The others might find comfort in their newfound power, but he wished it hadn’t been necessary to ever go to that alternate realm.
But, it had.
In order to defeat their enemies, they had to meet them on a level field.
He threw down the wood and the knife and stood wondering how much longer he would have to wait in this spirit-forsaken cavern. How can they all just sit here? he fumed.
“Relax.”
Zavier said the words softly, but they stole all the warmth from the air causing Rayan to pull his coat tighter around his throat. The sorcerers in the cabal, fourteen strong, claimed not to have a leader, but all knew Zavier filled that role.
Rayan gave the Mage a sidelong glance. That square face and jaw of his could have been made from granite for all the emotion it showed. And, the eyes were worse. Two spiritless black marbles stuck in his skull as though in afterthought. At first glance some might even suspect that Zavier used a bodyshifted form, but Rayan knew better. The old man had worked for his family ever since Rayan was a child, and those eyes had been haunting him for a very long time. Yet, here they were, years later, joined in an unlikely alliance for a common cause.
“Easy for you to say, Zavier, but I’ve better things to do than sit around all night. I have duties to attend to.”
“You will stay, lad, until we get news.”
And, that was that.
Rayan sighed and looked out at the ferocious storm lashing outside. It’s not like I’ll make it home in this weather anyway. He bent to pick up his wood and knife, but dropped them again when one of the Mages stood and shouted, “They’re back!”
Finally.
Those by the cave entrance stepped aside as a man drenched from the rain came into the cavern with a figure draped over his shoulders. The red-haired, freckle-faced young man who went by the name of Perrod set his burden on the ground.
It was one of their own.
Dead.
Rayan couldn’t tell by looking at the Mage how he had died, but the glassy, unseeing eyes clearly said he was dead, and that wasn’t
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