Page 12 of The Dark Mage
T he foreign terrain and suffocating darkness of night filled Ren’wyn with dread as she stumbled through the woods.
The fragile shadows she’d summoned dissolved the moment she tripped, leaving her exposed.
Rocks, half-hidden branches, and trailing brambles clawed at her legs, but she didn’t stop.
Wild roses reached out with dark arms, tearing her sleeves, pants, and skin.
As she faltered up a small rise, a hidden branch caught her right cheek, the sting of it followed by the slow, warm trickle of b lood.
Ren’wyn knew enough to turn north toward the Farro River. The land sloped steadily upward, ending in a steep bank that dropped to the river’s edge. The Farro had a dangerous current—cold and unyielding no matter the season—but hope burned within her. Freedom beckoned from the other s hore.
The mile had never stretched so endlessly in the dark, but rage kept her moving.
The thought of Erst’s hands on her, the certainty of being violated, fed the raw, wounded thing inside her.
Esrin’s abandonment stoked her burning anger to an inferno.
She would not stay trapped. She would make her own freedom—or die tr ying.
Her legs trembled with fatigue, her lungs burned, and her power, weakened by months of neglect, remained feeble and distant. Her desperate plea to the heavens was that Erst and his men would be distracted long enough for her to gain a head s tart.
Three-quarters of a mile in, disaster st ruck.
A dark hole swallowed her ankle, bending it the wrong direction. Tendons and ligaments screamed in protest, and something snapped with a dull, sickening sound. She wrenched her foot free, gasping shallowly, tears burning her eyes.
Somewhere behind her, dogs bayed, their cries ringing across the shadowed fo rest.
Shit.
Her injured leg wobbled as she staggered forward. Every step sent bolts of pain shooting from ankle to knee, and she clamped her mouth shut against the screams clawing their way up her throat. Grim determination and raw desperation drove each agonizing step over the uneven, treacherous soil.
The Farro glistened through dark trunks, moonlight playing on the rippling water, and Ren’wyn felt her willpower revive. Her breath rasped wetly as she pushed her body, desperate for the river’s icy emb race.
But the dogs were closing in. The voices of the guards, harsh and urgent, coaxed the hounds ever closer. Ren’wyn almost wept for joy when she realized she could beat them to the w ater.
The last hundred yards were pure a gony.
Wet coughing, gasping, and sharp jolts of pain blended into a horrible symphony that pulsed through her limbs, lungs, and pounding head. She tasted iron, and her ankle suddenly and completely gave out.
Ren’wyn tumbled down the steep embankment, rolling through damp leaves and brittle branches. The moon and stars flashed drunkenly in her headlong descent, her fall ending as she slammed into an elm along the river’s edge.
She lay sprawled in the mud, lungs paralyzed and vision a blurry haze. The cold river lapped against her feet as precious seconds ticked away. She clawed at the mud, willing her body to move, to breathe. She couldn’t make it into the water if she couldn’t breathe—and gods, how she wanted to live.
On the ridge, dogs sniffed and old leaves crunched beneath heavy boots. The guards were close, loud, and angry, their leader’s barked orders ringing out above the din. They had surely heard her scream, the dogs had her scent, and they were closin g in.
Ren’wyn cursed her useless body, her sluggish lungs, her throbbing head. Tiny sips of muck-scented air invaded her chest as she dragged herself forward through the slippery mud. The smell of wet, rotting leaves filled her nose as she fought for enough momentum to roll into the w ater.
Then, a roar swelled deep in the fabric of her m agic.
The deep thrum surged through her blood, filling her veins, muscles, and bones—the very air around her—as though the unseen world itself was awakening. Time sl owed.
A hand clamped over her mouth as someone rolled her over.
An arm looped around her waist, bracing across her chest and hoisting her upright. With the little air in her lungs, she screamed into the callused palm, pain radiating until shooting stars filled her vision. Dimly, she registered being dragged along the river bank.
The mud squelched and sucked as her captor stumbled, cursing under his breath. Ren’wyn’s limbs hung limp, too weak to fight and too injured to resist. Then, a realization cut through her haze of pain and despair—this stranger wasn’t dragging her back to the gu ards.
He was taking her away.
Her pulse quickened as the fabric of the world seemed to roar, power coursing from her deepest self and seeping into every inch of her awareness.
The Void stirred in response, answering the ancient force rising within her.
Shadows twined around her legs and torso, challenging the stranger’s own energy.
Black clashed with red, shadows tangling with fiery sparks behind her eyes.
Her lungs cleared in a single, desperate in hale.
“Holy hell,” the stranger whispered, his breath warm against her neck.
His magic met hers head-on, bright and wild against her darkness. Though he released her mouth, his firm grip at her waist kept her upright as she sagged against the muscled plain of his chest, her body s pent.
Above them, the guards’ torches flickered against the black night sky. The dogs bayed and snarled, pacing furiously along the ridge. The soldiers could see nothing of the shadows that cloaked Ren’wyn and the stranger, nor hear the roaring power that rippled through the unseen w orld.
“We know you’re down there, whore!” one guard shouted, his voice brimming with malice. “Erst told us to have some fun with you before we brought you back. Hold still, and we’ll make it q uick.”
Dark laughter rippled through the group, vile and s harp.
The stranger hissed in disgust, his hold on her tightening protecti vely.
Ren’wyn was no longer liste ning.
Her lungs filled with air and the scent of mud, leaves, and death. She reached for the Void, and it surged to meet her. The darkness fed hungrily on the stranger’s fiery strength, growing until it consumed the n ight.
Shades crawled from the ground, mist-like figures forming at the water’s edge. Tendrils of shadow snaked from her hands, hissing with raw power. Ren’wyn’s pupils dilated as her second sight illuminated the ridge above, the soldiers’ lives burning like fragile bea cons.
The dogs sensed the danger first, yelping and fleeing into the fo rest.
The guards’ shouts shifted from bravado to confusion as the shades advanced, their half-formed bodies creeping from the shadows of the fo rest.
Ren’wyn raised a shaking arm, her finger pointing toward them.
The guards’ fear became tangible, thick in the air like smoke.
The first soldier screamed as darkness clasped his ankles, the cold tendrils of shadow pulling him down.
The other two turned to flee, but it was too late.
Black, clawed hands reached from the branches and gaps between the trees, coiling around their legs like living ch ains.
Ren’wyn felt their struggle and closed her outstretched fist.
The Void swallowed them whole, snuffing out their lives in bursts of crimson light. Their empty corpses crumpled to the ground, gray and rotting, as the shadows slithered back into the n ight.
“Holy hell,” the stranger repeated, his voice almost reve rent.
He spun her around, his fiery eyes blazing as they searched her face. “What in the nam e of—”
His words faltered as their gazes locked. Recognition flickered between them, a moment of shared understanding snapping into place like a puzzle p iece.
Ren’wyn’s heart gave a wild, erratic thump as his heat chased the shadows back into the fo rest.
Then the world tilted viole ntly.
Her stomach twisted, and she vomited onto the muddy riverbank before collapsing into unconscious ness.
The warmth of a small fire and the smell of horse, dust, and sweat invaded her senses. A rough blanket covered her, the coarse fabric scratching her skin. Her head ached fiercely, and her mouth tasted dry and sour.
Slowly, she opened her eyes, finding herself staring at the dull stone ceiling of a cave. Tilting her head, she caught a glimpse of the star-flecked river through the entrance, but the motion sent her vision spin ning.
Safe. Somehow, I’m safe.
The stranger sat across the fire, his presence as unmistakable as before. Power radiated from him, warm and fiery, rippling through her bones and spirit. With her eyes open, his energy licked across her skin like the summer sun.
Behind closed eyes, it became intimate—a teasing interplay between his magic and her shadows. The thought sent a wave of nausea crashing over her, and she groaned, reopening her eyes to banish the sensa tion.
He watched her like she was a caged, dangerous animal, though he masked his wariness by cleaning a short sword laid across his knees.
His dark gray cloak and brown tunic and pants were practical, suited for covert travel.
The tilt of his head made his distrust clear, even as his hood cast his face in sh adow.
Ren’wyn pushed herself onto her elbows, nausea hitting her in waves.
She breathed deeply, willing her stomach to settle and her spinning head to clear.
Her focus shifted to the man across the fire.
From their brief interaction, she could tell he was a fighter—his callused hands, strong arms, and ready stance betrayed as much.
And the sword. A finely crafted blade, well-cared-for despite the grime of the forest. She almost chuckled. High-born, she thought. Or at least someone who had been well-off until rece ntly.