Page 51 of The Dark Mage
This morning, he seemed more like him self.
They rode on, scanning the roadside and surrounding terrain for signs of a struggle. Hours passed, and Ren’wyn’s legs throbbed with fatigue, the constant strain of gripping the saddle threatening to undo her.
Around mid-morning, they stopped to rest Patina and refill their water.
Ren’wyn found a low log at the roadside and stretched her aching legs.
Whether by chance, fate, or sheer dumb luck, she noticed a dark stain by her feet as she leaned back.
A pulse of her magic confirmed the truth—this was the blood of someone now dead.
“Esrin,” she called, her voice t ight.
He ran to her, his face tense. She pointed to the dark stain, and his sharp intake of breath sent a chill down her spine.
Together, they combed the area. Esrin found more signs of a struggle farther from the road—blood spatter, drag marks, and hoofprints.
Ren’wyn held back a dismayed cry at the realization that their opponents might be nume rous.
The stench of decay hit her just as the Void grew agitated. Ren’wyn recoiled, leaving Esrin to continue into the grassland. He returned moments later, his expression grim.
“Six bodies,” he reported. “Mercena ries.”
Her fingers trembled as Esrin took the reins from her, leading Patina northward. Before them stretched a vast field of bluestem and switchgrass, rippling in the breeze, with a dark line of forest on the hor izon.
“There’s smoke,” Esrin muttered, his voice low. He nodded toward a thin line of gray above the distant ca nopy.
Ren’wyn instinctively took his hand to calm her anxiety. He looked at her in surprise but gripped her tightly as they walked through the soft grass. The breeze carried the coppery tang of blood, and the trampled ground bore more splashes of dark brown. Panic tightened her th roat.
Patina grew restless, the whites of his eyes showing as he hesitated. The air was heavy with the scent of death and decomposition, signaling more bodies ne arby.
As soon as they entered the woods, Esrin sto pped.
“We have to eat something,” he ord ered.
The lingering, cloying stench made eating almost unbearable, but Ren’wyn forced the food and water down. She would need her strength for what lay a head.
Before they set out again, Esrin clasped her arm, turning her to face him.
“I never stopped loving you, Ren’wyn,” he said, his voice rich with emotion.
He held her close enough for her to see the warning in his eyes.
“I don’t know what we’re about to face. I brought you along against my better judgment.
If things go south, you’ll take Patina and run.
Ride out of the forest and back to Lipo. Find Leta and continue the f ight.”
Ren’wyn started to protest, but he cut her off.
“You are precious, Ren’wyn. I won’t lose you here. I will die to give you time to escape, and don’t try to argue wit h me.”
She stared into his eyes—raw with grief and love—and felt her heart twist. She hated how cruelly fate had torn them a part.
“Damn it, I love you, Ren’wyn,” Esrin whisp ered.
But before she could respond, he shoved her roughly away, turning back to the h orse.
“I’m sorry, Esrin,” she replied softly. “I wish I could fix this, but I can’t. You’re important too. Your band needs you. Don’t sell yourself short. I will defend you, and I promise to run if I must.”
He nodded, his back still turned and pulled Patina deeper into the w oods.
Not an hour had passed when Esrin abruptly halted, throwing an arm out to stop Ren’wyn. His eyes narrowed, calculating, as he pressed a finger to his lips.
Ren’wyn heard it too—the soft rustling of leaves, incongruous with the stillness of the fo rest.
Esrin loosened his sword and wordlessly tossed her a da gger.
He reached for her hand, his pulse hammering against her own. The seconds stretched into tense minutes as birdsong filled the heavy air. Droplets of rain fell sporadically from the canopy above, and the forest seemed to close around them under the gloomy, clouded sky.
Another rustle, closer this time, came from their left. Patina’s ears twitched nervously, and Esrin shifted his weight, preparing to strike. Ren’wyn released his hand as he drew his sword, steadying her breathing the way Fael had taught her.
Heat bloomed low in her stomach as she fought off panic—a growing desire to summon her magic, to kill. The intensity of her yearning startled her, her thoughts flickering to Lia, Sorya, and Fael. She wanted to save them, no matter the cost.
Perhaps the bloodlust helped her realize who was nearby. As Esrin adjusted his stance, the rustling grew louder. Ren’wyn grabbed his sword arm.
He hissed, “What are you doing?” and tried to shake her off.
But Ren’wyn surged forward, using his momentum to propel herself toward the sound. Her dagger fell into the brittle leaves with a dull thud as she stumbled through the undergrowth, heedless of the noise she made.
“Ren’wyn!” Esrin called in an angry whisper, his voice sharp with war ning.
A tangle of grapevine snagged her ankle, and she fell hard, a grunt escaping her lips.
From a thicket of alders to her left, Fael burst f orth.
His face was scratched, his left arm bound in a bloodied bandage, two long gashes visible beneath it. His short sword was missing, but his broadsword remained strapped to his back. When his eyes landed on Ren’wyn, they widened, his expression almost disbelie ving.
For a long moment, he just st ared.
Ren’wyn lay in the leaves, too stunned to make a sound. A bramble had scratched her arm, and her hair was tangled with dried leaves and twigs. Her chest felt tight, like it might burst. She was going to come apart. Her soul was expanding and cracking, and it was him.
He was here.
Fael stumbled toward her and collapsed onto the ground, pulling her into his arms. He moaned her name into her hair, his lips pressing against the top of her head, and she couldn’t decide if she should breathe or sob or l augh.
“Ren’wyn, Ren’wyn,” he murmured hoarsely, his fingers trembling as they ran down her back.
Her skin burned where he touched her, and she clutched his tunic so tightly her fingers ached. The first sound she made was a broken sob. Fael held her closer, the scent of sweat, dirt, and blood filling her senses as her tears soaked into his s hirt.
Esrin cleared his throat and walked toward them, Patina’s reins in hand.
“Fael,” he said with a curt nod. “Glad you’re not dead.”
“Esrin,” Fael replied, his voice steady but his hands still clutching Ren’wyn. His body shook as he rested his forehead against hers, his hands skating over her shoulders and back.
“You came for us,” he whispered, his voice warm.
Ren’wyn smiled despite the tears still streaming down her face.
She loosened her grip on his tunic, placing her hands on his upper arms. “Tell us what happened, Fael. Are Sorya and Lia a live?”
Fael’s face darkened with sorrow as he closed his eyes. “I ran into brigands along the road. They threatened to rob me and leave me for dead. I escaped without my horse, knowing I couldn’t risk using my power with the others ne arby.
“I turned north to meet the group, but the brigands headed the same way. I found them by noon the next day, and we decided to head back to the nearest town using another route. Sorya was exhausted, so we made the mistake of stopping for lunch on the road side.
“Without horses, we moved too slowly, and the brigands overtook us less than an hour later. Lia and Sorya ran into the trees while Alen and I stood our ground. But they had a berserker with them this time.”
Ren’wyn shuddered, understanding the gashes on Fael’s arm.
“They slaughtered Alen,” Fael continued, his voice breaking. “He fought bravely but was overwhelmed and cut down. I managed to kill the berserker who injured me and then fled into the woods after Lia and S orya.”
He buried his face in his hands. “I’ve been watching them for three days. Lia and Sorya have been drugged, bound, and—” His voice cracked. “I couldn’t save them. There’s only one of me. I can’t reach them both and kill their captors a lone.”
Fael’s frustration was palpable. Ren’wyn leaned in, grasping his hands. She rested her head on his shoulder as his face twisted with ang uish.
“We’ll do this together now, Fael,” she said fi rmly.
Her stomach churned with restless hunger—to kill, to destroy the men who had hurt her community. Was it an echo of Fael’s magic, or was the bloodlust her own?
Esrin’s hand settled on her shoulder, his own fury evident in his v oice.
“Yes, we will.”
Ren’wyn shudd ered.
It was time to des troy.