Page 49 of The Dark Mage
Avonlee continued speaking softly, and her tiny hand pressed into the middle of Ren’wyn’s back.
Ren’wyn sobbed then, releasing her grip on the cot and leaning into her feet. She finally felt the air entering her lungs. Muscle by muscle, her body relaxed as Avonlee stayed by her side in silent solida rity.
When Ren’wyn’s breathing steadied, Avonlee rose quietly and left. Ren’wyn lay back down, grateful for the kindness of this quiet woman, and drifted back into broken s leep.
The next day, she found herself distracted and easily frustrated.
Relya was the same, wandering aimlessly and forgetting the tasks Esrin assigned.
Leta and Miguel sparred listlessly, their movements unfocused.
Even Esrin seemed scattered. Meals were quiet, concern hanging over the group.
Plates were left half-full; no one had much of an appe tite.
On the third morning, the sun rose bright and clear, but Relya admitted to Ren’wyn that they had only experienced such an absence once before. That time, the missing pair had been exposed and executed during their jou rney.
Ren’wyn couldn’t speak. She left the circle, retreating behind the tents to vomit. Then she returned to her tent and curled up on her cot under her cloak. When she looked at the silver ghost pipes on the clasp, the sight broke something inside her, and a flood of grief overtook her.
She wept until she was gasping, clutching the clasp tightly, the metallic flowers cool against her palm. The wave of tears finally subsided, leaving only hollowness and exhaustion behind, but the sound of packing outside had her up and leaving the tent.
Esrin stood saddling his horse with fierce determination. His movements betrayed his furious energy, as did the strange vibration of the soil around his feet.
“Have you heard something?” Ren’wyn asked, hope and horror warring in her th roat.
He turned to look at her, taking in her red-rimmed eyes and the way her fingers tugged anxiously at the neckline of her d ress.
“No,” he replied tersely. Then, stepping forward, he embraced her. He smelled of salt water and green, growing things—a comfort within the chaos of her spiraling thou ghts.
“I’m going to find them,” he said firmly. “I won’t keep waiting without some idea of what’s goin g on.”
He released her and began leading the horse toward the woods. Ren’wyn watched him go, and she wondered if she had ever loved him more than she did at that moment—seeing him prepare to search for his people. And she wondered if her heart could break further, knowing he might not re turn.
“Wait!” she called. “Wait, Esrin, wait.”
He paused and looked back as she snatched her pack from the table. Her resolve solidified. She wouldn’t sit idly by—not for Fael.
“Take me with you,” she dema nded.
“No,” Esrin said, his tone final. “I have no idea what I’m walking into or who might be out there. I won’t take you into unknown da nger.”
“Take me with you, Esrin,” she pressed, her body tensing with conviction. “I want to go. I want to help.”
“No!” he shouted, his voice shattering the quiet of the forest. “You’ll only be a liability. You’re too soft.”
His words struck her like a blow. She froze, gripping the leather strap of her pack. It took less than an instant to make up her mind. She breathed deeply, closing her eyes and reaching for her magic, a familiar cold filling her v eins.
The horse stopped first, whinnying nervously and pawing at the ground. Esrin grabbed the reins, confusion clouding his face. Then, his grip faltered, and he dropped the reins enti rely.
A black fog rolled down the path, and the forms of the dead materialized within it—silent, watchful figures that blocked his way.
Shadows twisted and churned, growing unnaturally, and the undergrowth rustled.
Icy wind whipped against Esrin’s ankles, frost clinging to his pants as the air grew colder, emp tier.
He turned toward Ren’wyn—and star tled.
Her arm was outstretched, her eyes black as night. A gale roared around her, lifting her blonde hair like an ashen halo. Her dove-gray dress billowed in the wind, rimed with frost along the sle eves.
“You will stop, Esrin,” she commanded, her voice ringing unyielding through the clea ring.
The others emerged from their tents, wide-eyed, as the wind intensified. Esrin shivered, the Void gripping him with its unnatural chill. When Ren’wyn curved her fingers, fear rooted him in p lace.
The shades surged forward, their empty sockets absorbing what little light remained. Silent, gaping mouths twisted in agony, and skeletal hands reached for him. Bands of shadow held his feet fast to the ground, and he broke into a sweat as he struggled in vain.
“I am not soft and weak,” Ren’wyn whispered, the shades a ghostly chorus echoing her words on the icy wind. “Take me with you, E srin.”
One last rush of frigid wind—shadows caressing the undergrowth, ghosts rippling along their dark mar gins.
And then, Ren’wyn stood where she had been moments before, her shoulders relaxed.
She was herself again, her dove-gray gown settling quietly, her blonde hair resting against her shoulders.
Her stony gray eyes met Esrin’s, calm and resolute.
She slipped her pack over one shoulder and waited in silence for his invita tion.
Esrin’s hands trembled as he reached for the reins, his breath shaky. He ran his fingers over the horse’s neck, seeking comfort in its wa rmth.
Finally, voice shaking, he made his decision. “Let’s get going,” he said.