Page 63 of The Dark Mage
For an hour, Ren’wyn remained hidden in the shrubs of the stunted, brushy woodland south of the campsite, unsure where the rest of the group had stationed themselves.
She wanted desperately to find them, but wandering aimlessly through the trees would only make noise and risk detection.
Instead, she focused on weaving shadows into a broad net, anchoring it beside her.
Once the time came, she would stretch it across the camp like a fog.
Through the dense leaves, she watched the soldiers roll out bedding and then settle into sleep.
Her sharp eyes found the large, barred cart in the center of the camp, its metal grates enclosing two prone figures.
In the fading light, she couldn’t make out their sex or age, but her second sight revealed faint blue and red auras.
Her sorrow over their captivity grew unbear able.
Miguel’s charges would obliterate this camp, leaving no chance for the two prisoners in the cart.
The thought filled her with urgency. Pressing her fists into the earth, she used her will to spread the shadow net across the camp, its threads unfurling like mist over the sleeping regiment.
She dragged a hand over the ground, summoning shades from the edges of the net.
Their forms rose like dark specters, their presence a silent promise of protec tion.
A nightingale’s call echoed in the distance: Irik.
The response came: Fael. Ren’wyn felt the approach of her companions through her second sight, only for them to stop as they reached the wall of shades.
The shades, loyal to her will, would not allow them to pass.
What must they feel—confusion, frustration?
She forced those worries from her mind and stood, pushing back the shrubs to step into the open.
In the Dark Forest, the curse of the dark mage had made her long to sleep, to surrender to death’s embrace.
If she could mimic that magic here, she could immobilize the soldiers.
Reaching deep into her spirit, Ren’wyn searched for the knowledge, her instincts guiding her hands.
Sweeping her fingers across the strands of her shadow net, she twisted them together and rubbed her left hand over her right.
Black ash drifted from the threads, falling like snow over the camp.
The sentries’ heads dipped, their bodies slackening as the ash settled over them.
Ren’wyn stepped into the clearing, shadows twisting around her ankles while the dark, haunted figures of the shades prowled the edges of the camp.
The net parted for her, recognizing its master.
Ash swirled harmlessly away from her boots with each step, but anxiety gnawed at her.
The magic wouldn’t harm her, but she couldn’t be certain of its effect on her friends.
Pouring her tension into strengthening the shades, she fortified their silent vigil around the camp.
As she moved through the silent clearing, she plucked a set of keys from a sleeping sentry. A fine coating of ash covered him, and she unhooked the keys gingerly, her fingertips leaving faint prints in the res idue.
Ren’wyn approached the barred cart, a sour wave of decay and burned flesh assaulting her nose.
She gagged, turning her head against the cloying, putrid scent.
Even with her focus on the cart, she could sense Irik, Leta, and Miguel lingering at the northern border of the camp, held back by the shades.
Their fear vibrated through her senses, and she understood it.
The shades flickered and shifted, a dark, impenetrable wall that separated her companions from the camp.
Fael appeared at the western edge, his figure stark against the restless sha dows.
None of their plans had accounted for this.
The raid was meant to be swift, clean, and simple—just robbing and retreating.
Saving the captives would require something far more dangerous.
Ren’wyn needed time to examine the prisoners, to understand what she was dealing with.
Letting the others into the camp too soon could disrupt everything, and the chaos could cost them all their l ives.
At the edge of the clearing, Fael pushed against the wall of shades.
His voice rose in frustration, but the ash blanketing the camp muffled all sound.
Only through her second sight could Ren’wyn feel his yelling.
His sword was drawn, glowing faintly in the darkness as heat and waves of red light radiated from him.
His angry power crashed against the shades like a battering ram—oppressive and hot.
Her spine stiffened under the force of his fury. The heat of his berserker power burned against the shadows of the dead, and her magic trembled in response, buckling under the onsla ught.
“Let me in, Ren’wyn!” he screamed, his voice raw with panic. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Don’t keep me out!”
Ren’wyn gritted her teeth and reinforced the barrier of shades, holding firm against the onslaught of his magic. Her power trickled away with each passing moment, but she held fast.
Her fingers finally brushed the cold iron bars of the cart, and her stomach turned violently as she peered in side.
Two children. No older than seven or e ight.
She doubled over, emptying her stomach into the ash, grief and disgust squeezing her or gans.
The two boys were curled tightly together, their small bodies battered and burned.
A long gash marred the berserker child’s thigh, angry and oozing with infection.
The sickly-sweet stench of decay and charred flesh hit her like a wave, making her gag again.
Both boys were shirtless, stripped down to their undershorts in the cool night air, their frail forms bearing evidence of cruel beat ings.
The soldiers had drugged them— children —with magic in their veins. Drugged and brutalized them because they were diffe rent.
She clenched her fists around the strands of shadow she still held, keeping the soldiers as leep.
Ash fell faster under her tight grip, already half an inch deep on the sleeping forms. The shades at the edge howled as the net rippled with her emotion. Fael slammed his sword against the shades, his desperation cresting like waves along the bar rier.
“What the hell? Ren’wyn! Let me in! Don’t do this alone! Fuck, stop . Stop now!”
The cart’s lock clunked as Ren’wyn slid in the key. She swung the door wide, the silence of the campsite compressing her soul. Gentle as a mother, she reached in to sweep back dirty hair and check the pulses of the two little boys.
Then, Ren’wyn b roke .
The wall of shades dissolved as horror consumed her, giving way to an all-encompassing rage.
She barely registered Fael’s roar as the barrier fell. Fire erupted across his arms and legs, licking up the blade of his sword as he poured the full force of his power into reaching her.
He fell into the ash as the shadows twisted up his limbs, extinguishing his flames. Ren’wyn turned to him, her chest heaving, her hands clutching the strands of her shadow net so tightly that ash fell faster from the threads, coating the ground in a thick, dark l ayer.
Fael crawled toward her, his face glistening with sweat, his expression a mixture of fury and desperation. She pointed at him, and his power rose in resp onse.
Fael leaned back, pressing his magic out, tongues of flame bursting up through her shadow net.
His rage and bloodlust touched her, and she consumed it.
The dormant beast inside her woke, hissing and coiling as fire erupted along the threads of the net.
The shadows blazed with searing blue flames, a manifestation of her rage.
The soldiers stirred, coughing and sputtering as the ash clogged their throats and burned their skin. Ren’wyn roared, pressing her hands into the ground, forcing the fiery net down with all her m ight.
Flames consumed the regiment, their clothes igniting and their bodies writhing in agony. They begged for mercy—screamed for it—but she had none to give.
Her gaze remained fixed on the boys in the cart, her vision blurred by tears of fury and g rief.
One by one, the soldiers fell, their screams fading into silence as fiery shadows devoured them.
When the last body stilled, the camp fell silent, save for the crackling of flames and the distant hum of night creat ures.
Ren’wyn let go of the net, and it unraveled into the Void, dissipating into nothing ness.
Fael’s power retreated, and he gasped for air, dragging himself to her. He gripped her hips roughly, shaking her as his voice b roke.
“Don’t you ever do that again!” he roared. “Don’t you ever do something so reckless and foolhardy! You could have died. Don’t ever shut me out like that a gain.”
His anger wasn’t anger at all—it was terror. She could see it in his eyes, feel it in the trembling of his hands as they gentled against her. He pulled her down into his arms, his head falling to her shoulder as a harsh sob tore from his c hest.
“I had to save them,” Ren’wyn whispered, her voice cracking. “I didn’t know what would wake the soldiers or how this would work. I’m sorry. I ruined everything. I didn’t follow the plan. I’m s orry.”
He pulled her tighter, his desperation and fear alive in the shivers wracking his body.
When his breathing steadied, he finally noticed the faint auras of the boys in the cart and stiffened. Standing, he offered Ren’wyn his hand and led her toward them.
The others entered the camp hesitantly, their expressions frozen in horror as they took in the scene—the ash-covered ground, the smoldering bodies, and the two small figures in the cart.