Page 52 of The Dark Mage

T hey knelt on the damp forest floor as Fael described the brigands’ camp.

There were around twenty of them, with Sorya and Lia kept in separate tents.

Both women were drugged, dragged from tent to tent at the whim of their captors.

Injured and alone, with no way of knowing where the women might be at any given moment, Fael hadn’t dared to attack, even with his magic completely unlea shed.

Fael remained tormented, his restless power radiating heat that prickled Ren’wyn’s skin, feeding off his hunger for bloodshed.

He had planned to lure the men away, killing them one by one and hoping to reach Lia and Sorya before the brigands used them as hostages.

Alone, it had been his only option. Now, in the dirt before them, Fael sketched the layout of the camp—tents, supply areas, paths in and out—ready to devise a plan toge ther.

“Fael, you and I can go in at sunset,” Esrin said decisively. “I’ll call the rain now, and it’ll arrive by then. I’ll blind them with wind and rain while you cut them down in the chaos. Ren’wyn should wait with Patina—we can bring Sorya and Lia to her.”

Fael frowned. Ren’wyn stayed silent, her tongue heavy as she twisted her hands toge ther.

Keep your mouth shut, daughter. You have nothing to offer. The opinions of a poorly educated woman are unnecessary and worth less.

You’re so high-strung, Ren’wyn. Just like your mother. You overthink and overreact to everyt hing.

Don’t embarrass me, girl! Get inside and learn to keep your mouth shut!

Her father’s voice echoed through her mind, hammering her back into insignificance.

She hated retreating. She hated the thought of being caught, violated.

Most of all, she hated the creeping doubt winding through her like poison, whispering that she was useless.

She wasn’t a fighter. She couldn’t wield a sword or a bow.

Fear told her she’d only be a liabi lity.

When she finally looked up, Fael’s gaze was locked on hers. His magic radiated heat across the clearing, melting her fear and doubt. Blood simmered in her veins, burning away hesitation. Dark intent stirred in her chest, and the deadly, quiet creature within her soul hissed its displea sure.

“I’m not a liability,” she sna pped.

Esrin flinched, startled by the force in her voice. Fael, by contrast, smiled wick edly.

“I might be gentle and soft, Esrin,” Ren’wyn continued, “but I can kill.”

She straightened, her pupils dilating as she looked between the two men—flames and earth opposing one another. “I’ll make sure anyone who tries to escape meets my death at the edge of camp,” she vowed, baring her teeth in a cold grimace. “And I will make them su ffer.”

Esrin shuddered, his discomfort evident, but when Ren’wyn glanced at Fael, his hazel eyes shone with approval. Her whole body tuned to the swirling warmth in his gaze, steadying her resolve. Drawing a deep breath, Ren’wyn s tood.

“How far is it, Fael?” she asked. “Esrin should call the rain.”

Fael and Esrin rose with her, following her lead. Esrin started toward the privacy of the trees, but Ren’wyn stopped him with a gentle touch on his arm.

“Stay,” she said, smiling gently. “Your magic doesn’t scare us. Stay, and we’ll protect you.”

Esrin hesitated, then stepped between them. He closed his eyes, his face tense with discomfort. Ren’wyn watched his aura flicker and stretch, like ripples across water and sunlight breaking through leaves. He raised his arms slowly to eye level, tilting his head back.

It was mesmerizing to watch him move, speaking the ancient language of the druids. His power called to the sky and water, stretching even to the moisture in her own body. As he performed his final motion, mimicking falling rain, she understood why the earth sang for him.

Fael watched as well, his magic licking at Esrin’s like insatiable fire meeting the strength of a growing tree.

The Void stirred within Ren’wyn, pulling at her soul. It whispered, asking her to join them. For a fleeting moment, she wondered what might happen if she le t go.

As soon as Esrin completed his summoning, they moved toward the brigands’ camp, leaving Patina tethered in a hidden grove unlikely to be discovered.

Each took their positions: Esrin behind the southern supply cart, Fael in the trees along the eastern path, and Ren’wyn north of the tents.

A stream ran along the camp’s western edge, a potential weapon Esrin could manipulate if ne eded.

Ren’wyn crept into position, fingers brushing the ghost pipes at her cloak’s neck. The rain pattered steadily on her hood, a low, rhythmic sound that sharpened her focus. She drew her dagger, though the power thrumming inside her was far deadlier than the little b lade.

Within minutes, the skies opened. Rain poured down, drenching her even beneath her heavy cloak.

Wind whipped the downpour sideways, cold droplets stinging her face as they snuck under her hood.

The camp stirred with activity as brigands scurried about, tying down tents and shouting at the sudden, violent change in wea ther.

Then came the first scream—cut short by a strangled gurgle. Two more cries followed in quick succession as men burst from the tents, scrambling in p anic.

Ren’wyn’s stomach dropped as she saw the numbers pouring out—more than fifteen, more than twenty. Too many for Esrin and Fael to handle a lone.

Her magic pulsed beneath her skin, insistent and eager. She drew in a deep breath, letting the dark power swell before unleashing it. A black tidal wave of death rolled outward, silent and suffoca ting.

The air hushed, the Void spreading its dark wings over the camp. Mist clung heavily to the ground, unyielding even to the driving rain. Ren’wyn felt Sorya’s faint aura flicker weakly from a nearby tent, and her bloodlust ign ited.

As she stepped forward, her power brushed against Fael’s.

His rage throbbed within her mist, and she saw him emerge from the shadows.

Seven brigands lay dead around him, his sword dripping blood.

Steam rose from his glowing skin as he approached the next group, a feral grin twisting his features.

Flames danced through her mist, their tongues intertwining with her sha dows.

An approaching guard froze mid-step as Ren’wyn flicked her fingers, shadows gripping him at the knees. Blue flames consumed him, and his screams tore into the gathering dusk as he clawed at his burning clo thes.

Behind the southern cart, Esrin’s power exploded.

The druid’s magic unfurled like the branches of a mighty tree, wind gusting fiercely through the camp.

The Void surged toward it, mist and shadow clinging to the currents.

Ren’wyn’s eyes widened as the forces intertwined—black, green, and red—connecting her to the brigands’ lives.

She felt their blood pumping, their hearts pounding in terror as they breathed Esrin’s wind.

Fael continued cutting through the brigands with terrifying efficiency.

His sword burned with pale blue fire, shadows dripping from its blade like liquid night.

He thrust the weapon into one man’s stomach before spinning and slicing cleanly through another’s neck. Blood sprayed across the muddy gr ound.

Ren’wyn moved again, her fingers curling as she reached for the lives scattered across the camp. Some raced toward the unguarded stream in a desperate bid for escape, and their frantic breaths coursed within her magic. Closing her hands into fists, she sque ezed.

Esrin and Fael both cried out, falling to their knees as her magic drew on their power.

The camp erupted into chaos. Shadows, flame, wind, and rain fused into a single destructive force.

Brigands screamed as flames devoured them, burning through flesh and bone with relentless hunger.

The fire thrived despite the rain, its fury unquench able.

Ren’wyn’s power coursed through her, electric and all-consuming. She squeezed tighter, drawing out the brigands’ suffering with cruel preci sion.

“Ren’wyn!” Esrin screamed, his voice filled with pain.

She turned, seeing him clutch his chest, reaching for her. Fael knelt nearby, a dark smile on his blood-streaked face.

Her stomach dipped, and she clenched her hands tightly one final time, ending the brigands. With a sweep of her arm, their bodies decomposed, dissolving into ash as the mist seeped back into the ground. The shadows released Esrin’s and Fael’s power, which flowed back into their a uras.

Drained, Ren’wyn’s knees buckled. She collapsed into the wet, muddy ground, coughing violently as a metallic taste coated her tongue. Her vision blurred at the e dges.

Fael staggered toward her, his usual grace replaced by heavy, uneven steps. He dropped to the ground beside her.

“Holy hell, Ren’wyn,” he rasped, his voice raw.

“I know,” she replied weakly, her words interrupted by a deep cough. She looked down at her hand, now speckled with b lood.

“Ren’wyn,” Fael said urgently, his eyes wide with concern. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tightly as her eyes fluttered shut.

The last thing she felt was Fael dragging her from where she lay, his warmth and strength the only anchors against the encroaching dark ness.

Ren’wyn woke to the sound of Esrin and Fael arguing in hushed, tense voices.

They had clearly fared better than she had since exhaustion still pressed her down.

Nearby, Lia and Sorya lay silent, their dirty clothes clinging to sunken frames.

Ren’wyn shivered at the sight of them, her stomach turning.

The tent smelled of unwashed bodies, blood, and horse, made worse by the foul blanket beneath her.

“We can’t risk moving them,” Fael whispered. “I have no idea how to treat Ren’wyn’s condition, and Lia and Sorya are drugged and injured. Until the drugs clear, we won’t know what shape they’r e in.”