Page 38 of The Dark Mage

“H ere’s the plan,” Miguel began, spreading a sketch of an area eight miles south where a main thoroughfare ran east toward the Capital.

“The tax wagons shift onto this smaller road after their last collection in Tuen. This particular caravan has been tormenting villagers—threatening women and children to force out money and sometimes just for fun. I want to stop them and return the stolen money to the people suffering along their route. Three villages have already sent word, hoping for funds to help treat victims with serious injuries.”

Ren’wyn’s stomach churned at the det ails.

“We’ll intercept the caravan here—on this bridge over the Sorvet River. This stretch of forest borders the Tuen Road.”

He traced the route with tan fingers, skillfully indicating the markers on the map. Flipping the page over, he revealed a close-up sketch of the wooded sec tion.

“I was thinking we’d set a cart here with a broken axle and wheel. Lia can pose as a traveler asking for help, and Esrin can play the daft husband,” Miguel expla ined.

Laughter rippled through the group as Esrin pulled a comically annoyed face.

“Dress accordingly—hooded cloaks. The rest of us will be ma sked.”

Miguel’s gaze sharpened. “Esrin, you’ll call water from the river to muddy the road. There’s a dip just before the bridge where water collects after rain. A wagon that heavy will get stuck for sure.”

Ren’wyn glanced at Fael and could tell he was holding back questions and opinions.

She wondered what he was thinking as she swallowed against the knot in her stomach.

A job with strangers. If only she could take Fael aside and talk it through.

Instead, she studied the plans intensely, forcing herself to focus and resist the urge to lace her fingers with his.

“Keep your hoods tight,” Miguel reminded Esrin and Lia.

“We know, Miguel,” Lia replied, exasperated. Her voice was soft but melodic. “No one should see enough of our faces to recogniz e us.”

Miguel continued. “Once the wagon’s stuck, we’ll take out the guards. Esrin can retreat to the trees and use his magic. Lia, pick them off with your bow. I’ll cut down at least one or two when I emerge from under the br idge.”

“You always take all the fun,” Alen grum bled.

Miguel turned with a grin. “Want to swap pl aces?”

The sincerity in his tone surprised Ren’wyn. She wondered how often they shared roles or adapted p lans.

“No,” huffed Alen, “but I expect to be fighting next time. Standing guard is boring unless you all screw up and I have to charge in and save you.”

The four of them chuckled. Ren’wyn felt a pang of envy. Is this what Fael and I have been searching for?

“We’ll throw everything into the river once we grab the gold,” Miguel finished, adding quick, sweeping arrows to the sketch to indicate the escape route. “Then we’ll head east into the forest. We’ll take a long way back—I was thinking we’d pass thr ough…”

His words faltered as his gaze landed on Ren’wyn and Fael. His expression tight ened.

“Perfect, Miguel,” Esrin said smoothly. “I love your p lans.”

Again, laughter shared among the group. They headed to their tents to dress, leaving Ren’wyn and Fael in the center of camp, unsure what to do next.

“We’ll be out overnight,” Esrin told them. “Bring your packs and grab food bags from Leta. Ren’wyn, are you going to be all right sleeping out side?”

Fael laughed—a bitter sound Ren’wyn didn’t like. Esrin’s question was a reminder of how little he knew her any more.

She crossed her arms. “I’ve been living outdoors on and off for the last nine months, Esrin. I’ll be fine.”

Esrin’s eyes widened slig htly.

This was the girl who, at school, had seemed unable to imagine a future for herself—the girl who’d loved expensive dresses, well-prepared meals, and his comfortable bed. Now she stood before him, confident and self-rel iant.

He nodded, though his surprise was p lain.

“We leave in an hour.”

The long trek to Miguel’s ambush point led through brambles and shrubby wetlands, but Ren’wyn didn’t mind. She paused briefly at a patch of small parnassus flowers in the muck, gazing at them affectionately before jogging to catc h up.

Fael turned just in time to drag Ren’wyn away from a cluster of sedges she’d stopped to investigate. His fond smile softened her huff of annoy ance.

The eight-mile journey took five hours, including a short stop for lunch.

When they reached a wide stream, Fael gently lifted her across, his warm hands steady at her waist as she smiled up at him.

His answering grin was twisted—half amusement, half confusion.

Damn the lack of privacy. Damn this whole situation. She could have stomped in frustra tion.

They arrived at the interception point by mid-afternoon.

Sycamores, ash, and elm trees grew thickly along the floodplain of the Sorvet River.

Alen was already waiting with the cart at the bridge.

After handing it off, he led Ren’wyn and Fael to the lookout point—a large, flat rock overhanging the road.

Esrin, Miguel, and Lia dismantled the cart, laying out a broken axle and wheel.

Esrin crouched at the riverbank, calling sheets of water over the edge with just a thought and simple gestures of his hands until the road became a thick, muddy puddle.

Miguel supervised, nodding as the puddle widened into a pond, soaking into the dirt.

When he tested the mud, it sucked his boot off. He shot them a thumbs-up, grin ning.

Lia and Esrin adjusted their hoods and milled around the cart, playing their parts as worried travelers. After Miguel slipped into the woods, they fretted over the “broken” cart for the better part of an hour while the sun sank toward the western hor izon.

Ren’wyn stayed perfectly still beneath her gray cloak, blending into the stone as sweat trickled down her back in the heat of the after noon.

The first shout sounded over the rushing r iver.

Ren’wyn felt Alen stiffen beside her as the caravan appeared—a tax wagon escorted by five imperial guards. They slowed when they spotted Lia near the cart.

Esrin limped toward her, draping an arm over her shoulder. Their stooped posture and high hoods worked well, giving the impression of respectability while hiding their identi ties.

Two guards dismounted. One harassed Lia and Esrin while the other rifled through the cart, tossing food and clothes into his pack.

Ren’wyn’s stomach twisted as the first guard shoved Lia to the ground. Esrin knelt protectively over her, but the guard raised his fist while the second guard laughed and drew his s word.

The tax wagon started forward again, the horses straining against their harnesses. But without any momentum, the wheels stuck fast in the mud.

Two more guards climbed down, the tax collector screaming at the driver and calling the two by the cart back to help push. The four guards lined up behind the wagon, throwing their weight against it as Esrin and Lia slipped silently into the bu shes.

The tax collector stomped and shouted, running in circles like an enraged fool.

Ren’wyn watched the plan unfold effortle ssly.

An arrow pierced the chest of the first guard, knocking him back. The others flailed as the mud crept up their legs. Startled, they let go of the wagon and tried to free themselves, but the muck had reached their thighs. Esrin’s magic pulled harder, dragging them down.

Miguel burst from beneath the bridge, vaulting onto the wagon. He slit the driver’s throat before the man could reach his s word.

Lia loosed another arrow—this time, straight into the tax collector’s throat. Ren’wyn felt his life flicker out as his body crum pled.

Miguel leapt from the wagon, slicing the throat of another guard. Esrin’s mud swallowed the last two, and Ren’wyn felt them drown, their souls slipping into the Void.

The three of them crawled from the lookout. Below, Miguel and Esrin were already dragging a soldier’s body toward the river. Fael and Alen grabbed another, while Ren’wyn and Lia hauled the tax collector. He was heavyset and richly dressed, clearly used to lu xury.

He must be good at his job, Ren’wyn thought bitterly, torturing villagers until they handed over every coin.

They shoved the collector’s body into the river and watched it disappear into the cur rent.

Alen crouched by the collection box, a small leather pouch of tools in his hand. With two slender picks, he worked the lock until it popped open. Esrin tossed each of them a bag.

“Not too full,” he warned. “Only take what you can carry comfortably for the next day’s tr avel.”

They worked quickly, scattering the extra coins into the ditch. Esrin used his power to nudge the cart free, rolling it over the riverbank. The ground rumbled beneath them as the wagon tumbled into the river with a sp lash.

Ren’wyn stumbled, caught off-guard by the tremor. Fael’s arm shot out, steadying her.

Alen took the horses—each branded with the imperial crest—and rode them toward the main road. He would release them for someone else to find.

As they set off into the woods, Ren’wyn hesitated. Retracing their path felt unwise, but they crossed the road instead, heading away from camp into the widening fo rest.

“Where are we going?” Ren’wyn hissed to Fael.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “My guess is a false trail to cover our tr acks.”

He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t press him. The pace was brutal—branches snagging her cloak and hair, which she yanked free with reckless intensity. She kept silent like the rest of the group, deciding not to ask if this was typical. I’m here to observe, she reminded her self.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Esrin halted. They were deep in the woods now. He dropped his pack and pulled out a bag of travel food, sitting without ceremony. The rest of the group followed his lead.

“We’ll camp here,” he said, glancing at Fael and Ren’wyn.

“After a job, we camp either deep in the forest or in small groups near the road, varying our patterns. Since we could be tracked from the road, we’re staying in the woods tonight.

No fires. No formal camp. We place our bedrolls among the undergrowth and make ourselves invis ible. ”

Alen added, “We’ve done plenty of jobs where we split up afterward—change clothes, stay a day or two in a town far from camp. Leta and Miguel like the rough camping, but Esrin loves a soft bed in an inn.”

The group laughed, and Ren’wyn’s mouth tugged into a small smile despite herself. She remembered Esrin’s love of good food and a soft feather bed.

“If I remember right,” Esrin said with a smirk, “you hated outdoor living, too, Ren’wyn. Something about ‘bugs, heat, and s weat’?”

He wasn’t wrong. She’d always packed extra blankets in the cold, searched for shade in the heat, and made sure their group returned to a hot meal after hiking. She’d loved dressing neatly and staying c lean.

“It’s amazing what changes when it has to,” she replied coldly. “I’ve come to appreciate the outdoors after three seasons in the wild with Fael.”

Esrin’s eyes darkened at her tone, flicking briefly to Fael. A familiar heat pressed against her senses. When she turned, Fael was watching her, his expression soft.

“These are smart,” Fael said, holding up his pack of travel food. His comment was addressed to no one in particular, but Alen and Lia sm iled.

“They were Alen’s idea,” Lia said. Her melodic voice cut through the tension. “Simple, compact meals for quick energy and endurance: nuts or dried meat, hard tack, and dried fruit. Sometimes fresh fruit, if it travels well. Easy to pack and light to c arry.”

Fael nodded as he sorted through his small canvas bag. Ren’wyn could tell he was already adding the idea to his mental arsenal. When he glanced her way, she offered a broad smile to ease the tension between them.

But it hurt to see the wariness in his eyes.

She wanted to pull him close, to kiss him all over until that wariness disappeared. She wanted to return to Amoya, to his bed.

Frustrated and aching, Ren’wyn yanked out her bedroll with more force than necessary and found a spot beneath a tall patch of ostrich ferns, away from the others. She returned to the group for as long as felt polite, then curled up on the soft earth, wishing Fael’s solid warmth was beside her.

Every so often, his warm and steady aura brushed her senses—and Esrin’s, breezy and rest less.

She could tell when Fael went off to exercise, expelling his pent-up energy with one of his vigorous short sword routines. The familiar sounds of sharp, rhythmic movement settled her nerves as the sky dark ened.

Eventually, the night birds began their song, and Ren’wyn drifted gratefully into unconscious ness.