Page 32 of The Dark Mage

Ren’wyn gasped as he cleaved through four soldiers in a move she recognized from the Passage.

He swept the sword up, kicked an incoming soldier’s chest, and landed a killing blow before the man hit the ground.

Twisting, he struck the head from the soldier on his right, then swiped down, opening the one on his left from shoulder to hip.

Fire crawled down the broadsword as Fael bared his teeth at the rest of the soldiers—promising death, his powerful body sprayed with b lood.

He didn’t slip. He didn’t fa lter.

Fael leapt forward and drew his short sword from his hip, sweeping it across the necks of the two closest soldiers after knocking their swords aside with his broadsword. Blood sprayed, bodies fell—and he grinned with fury.

Ten corpses littered the ground as the last six soldiers backed away.

Fael’s eyes guaranteed execution to anyone who dared come within r each.

He sheathed his broadsword on his back—his arms and abs tightening with the motion. Flames rolled over his torso, lighting the short sword in his hand. Steam rose as the rain struck his skin and floated away in lazy spi rals.

Fael moved again—swift as lightning, sure as s tone.

He stabbed one soldier in the gut, danced out of range of the second, and pulled the sword from the first’s belly to take the third’s head clean off.

Roaring with rage, Fael spun and crouched, dragging his blade across the backs of the fourth soldier’s knees before arcing upward and stabbing the fifth through the neck.

The sixth soldier ran.

Like a cresting wave, Fael dropped his sword, pulled his bow from his shoulder, and nocked an arrow in one fluid motion. The first arrow pierced the running soldier’s shoulder—the second struck his s pine.

The final soldier stood his ground, sword at the r eady.

Fael replaced the bow and stabbed the kneeling, wounded soldier through the c hest.

Snarling, Fael locked eyes with the last man—wanting the challenge, relishing the f ight.

Ren’wyn gasped as the soldier feinted right. Fael met the blow with his greave-covered arm. The clash of steel sent a sharp clang into the stormy air.

Fael screamed—but not in pain. His body twisted with precision, and he gutted the soldier while the man’s arms were still ra ised.

So many, all trained to fight magic—all dead.

All except one.

“Who did you bring with you, whore?” a man’s voice whispered behind her.

An arm wrapped around her chest, and the cold press of a dagger slid against her th roat.

The first soldier—somehow still a live.

But Ren’wyn wasn’t afraid any more.

As Fael turned, vengeance written across his face, Ren’wyn felt the Void open wide in the wake of so many deaths. She flicked a finger, eyes locked on Fael as she drew from his p ower.

Shadows rushed up from the ground, creeping over the soldier’s form.

Fael’s gaze consumed her—he didn’t need to inter vene.

The soldier’s dagger clattered to the gravelly road as dark ropes of shadow encircled his legs. He thrashed and screamed as his flesh was pierced by talons of smoke. His agony bloomed in Ren’wyn’s chest as he begged for m ercy.

She clenched her fist, drawing the shadows tight—just as she had by the Farro River—tearing his spirit from his co rpse.

Only when he stilled did Ren’wyn finally stand on shaky legs.

Bodies littered the road, soaked in blood, mud, and rain. A few soldiers still gasped their final bre aths.

Ren’wyn walked straight to Fael. She ignored the fallen men and gripped the hilt of his short s word.

It was slick with blood and rain, and it sang a muffled note as she let it fall.

Her hands found Fael’s hair, twining and tangling in damp c urls.

He threw his arms around her, and she pulled his head down, crushing her mouth to his.

Blood covered their faces, and his skin burned with p ower.

The rain pattered, steam hissing from Fael’s shoulders as their lips parted—his tongue swept desperately against hers. She met his fire with her own, fingers tightening against the back of his neck as they devoured every second of their shared de sire.

His hands roamed over her back and shoulders, holding her close as though he might lose her a gain.

Breathless, they finally broke apart—gasping in the wake of the furious kiss and the adrenaline of the f ight.

Fael’s skin no longer steamed, and they were soaked through from the rain.

Ren’wyn traced the sharp planes of his face until he tucked her tight against his c hest.

His breath came hard and fast, his heart pounding against her cheek where her head rested in the crook of his neck. One of his hands settled between her shoulder blades as he shuddered. They held each other as rain washed the blood from their skin.

Ren’wyn shivered—her dress ripped up the back. She reached around to hold it closed, and Fael growled at the motion, low and posses sive.

“Did. They. Hurt. You.” Each word was a threat, a promise, and a desperate question, his fingers digging into her shoulders as he looked into her eyes.

“No,” she whispered. “Oh gods, yes.” He stiffened, so she quickly added, “They kicked me. I’ll be bruised in ten different places, and his knife cut my th roat.”

She pointed to where the second soldier lay, then touched the spot above her collar bone.

“You saved me,” she said, the words trembling with relief. Everything came rushing back, stealing her breath. “They dragged me here and told me to be quiet. They pushed me down. I couldn’t find my power—I couldn’t stop them…”

He pulled her to him, so close she felt his strength seep into her skin and b ones.

“I heard you scream from the river,” he said hoarsely, “then saw where you struggled. I had to get my weapons, string my bow. I heard them laughing, and when I came through the bushes…” His voice broke, his body shaking.

“They were holding you down, pressing your face into the mud, and he”—a savage gesture toward the second soldier—“had slit your dress down the back. I shot him f irst.”

Wiping a hand across his eyes, Fael smeared blood like paint on his skin.

“The sight of you, Ren’wyn.” His voice, guttural and feral, simmered with power. “Terrified, restrained, your rushing fear blocking your power…” He fell silent, his fingers clawing at the back of her dress as though needing to anchor himself to her.

After a long moment, she gently pulled away.

Leaning over, she picked up his sword and handed it to him.

She reached out her free hand, using the other to clutch her torn dress closed.

Together, they walked silently to their campsite, where Ren’wyn retrieved her tan dress from her pack before taking Fael’s hand a gain.

By the stream, Fael faced the camp while Ren’wyn undressed and bathed.

A large bruise had already bloomed over the left side of her rib cage, and another was appearing on her stomach.

Fael stilled when she hissed in pain, but she murmured that she was alright, and he returned to cleaning his swords.

She climbed out of the water, pulling on clean undergarments and her d ress.

“Your turn,” she whispered, taking his spot.

Fael’s swords lay clean next to her. She listened to the soft swish of his clothes in the grass, focusing on the birds and the rain dripping through the leaves as he bathed. Once fully dressed, he sat beside her and leaned his head onto her shoulder, one arm creeping around her back.

“We’ve already lingered too long,” he murmured. “We need to move before anyone finds the regi ment.”

“We should move. I won’t be able to sleep here,” Ren’wyn replied. “But trust me for a mo ment.”

Once again, she stood and reached out. Fael sheathed his short sword, then slung his broadsword over his back. He clasped her hand like a lifeline and followed her to the road.

It was a mess of blood and mud and bodies, and without adrenaline to shield her, Ren’wyn blanched. She took Fael’s arm, wrapping it around her chest as he had the night he’d saved her. His solid body anchored her as she let the Void flood through her.

He grounded her to earth and fire while the darkness and cold flowed from her hands.

Rain turned to black smoke. She splayed her fingers and threw her arms out, letting the darkness flood the road in the shape of prowling beasts.

The corpses dissolved into the mud, bones snapping and pulverizing into dust. She summoned a vicious wind that churned the scene of slaughter and erased their footprints. Only the weapons rema ined.

When she released her power, Fael gently let go of her. They entered the road, gathering swords, shields, and bows, which they threw into the shrubs. When they were done, Fael’s callused palm slid against hers, grounding her again as they shouldered their p acks.

Ren’wyn trembled as she pulled on her cloak, but Fael’s hands soothed her shoulders.

Under her fingers, the ghost pipes on her clasp felt cool and reassuring.

Looking up, she found Fael gazing back with sweet affection.

So much death. So much horror and pain and killing. But there was love and loyalty too.

Clean, though cold and wet, Fael and Ren’wyn followed the road. The rain fell steadily all day, but gloriously, a town appeared on the horizon. Bone-weary, they located an inn where Fael booked them one room as a married couple and arranged for wine and food to be brough t up.

In their room, Ren’wyn threw herself face-first onto the bed, her wet clothes clinging to her chilled skin.

“You should change,” Fael said.

Groaning, she complied, changing into her last clean outfit while he watched out the window. He took his turn to dry off and change, and Ren’wyn spent the minutes observing the tidy room with its blue walls and cream li nens.

A soft knock sounded. Fael took the food, passing out a gold mark with a quiet, “Thank you.” He handed Ren’wyn a plate of potatoes, rice, peas, and fried chicken, then uncorked the wine and poured two gla sses.

Their hips touched as they sat silently on the bed, eating. Ren’wyn drained her glass of sweet white wine, passing it back to Fael for more. After her second glass, her head spun. Fael barely touched his own wine, but both devoured the food.

With the dishes in the hallway, Fael returned to Ren’wyn. Wrapping an arm around her back, his hand idly stroked her forearm. She turned toward him, the memory of their kiss burning through her body and chasing away the cold terror of the road and regi ment.

“You are everything to me,” he said baldly. “I would fight to my last breath to save you; die a thousand times if it meant your safety. I’d give all of myself to show you what you’re w orth.”

She opened her mouth but couldn’t speak. How could she convey that she felt the same for him in every way?

“Rest now,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear, so gently she could shatter into a thousand pieces. “Rest here, where you’re safe.”

He pulled her into his arms, leaning back on the bed and tucking her legs up next to him.

Covering them with a blanket, he left the fire burning to chase away the shadows of the morning.

Ren’wyn tucked her head under his chin, smelling stone and smoke, and despite yearning for more, she fell fast as leep.