Page 64 of The Dark Mage
Fael scooped the empath child from the cage with a tenderness Ren’wyn had never seen, supporting him as though he might break.
Miguel approached, his hands outstretched in silent offering.
Slowly, Fael passed the boy into Miguel’s arms, his jaw tight.
Miguel’s wide eyes flicked to the boy’s broken form as Leta pulled off her cloak, draping it over them with quiet care.
Ren’wyn turned to Fael, and her heart twisted at the sight of him holding the berserker child.
He cradled the boy with infinite gentleness, his face etched with anguish.
In that moment, Fael appeared to have cracked straight down the middle, his very being split open by the sight of the injured chil dren.
Behind them, Irik retched into the bushes, unable to stomach the smell and sight of the devasta tion.
“What now?” Leta asked, her voice rough and thick with t ears.
Fael immediately took charge. He sent Irik to calm the horses and hitch two carts. Ren’wyn and Leta cleared the carts to make space for the boys. Ren’wyn pulled barrels out of one, piling blankets and sacks of grain into a makeshift bed while keeping an open area where she could sit.
Behind her, Fael transferred the berserker boy’s weight to one arm, using his free hand to unclasp his cloak and sweep it over the small, frail body.
As the tremors of his anger rumbled through the glade, a part of her regretted that the soldiers were already dead—there was nothing left for him to unleash his rag e on.
Leta returned with blankets and fresh clothing from the other cart, setting them near Ren’wyn, who tucked them toward the front.
She added baskets of apples and mangoes, her hands working mechanically as Fael carefully laid the tiny body onto the makeshift bed.
He added two barrels of salt pork before tucking Luremalan bows and arrows at the head of the grain sacks, covering them with extra sets of clothing to disguise their pres ence.
Anything bearing the imperial crest was discarded without hesitation. As Leta walked past a corpse, she kicked it savagely—only to stumble back in shock when her foot went straight through its collapsed form.
“They’re ash,” she whispered, her wide eyes turning to Ren’wyn. “They’re all ash.”
For the first time, Leta truly saw her. Not just as a gentle, sweet girl with healing hands, but as something darker—someone capable of unleashing d eath.
Ren’wyn no longer focused on supplies or soldiers. She knelt beside the berserker boy, his breathing shallow and fast, each rasping inhale rattling in his small chest. He was gravely ill. Left to rot in the elements, his leg was festering, the infection creeping dangerously through his body.
“Fael,” she called softly, her voice tremb ling.
He strode over quickly, meeting her at the back of the cart to shield the boy from their conversa tion.
“I don’t know if I can save him,” she whispered, tremors coursing through her body. “The infection is bad. He won’t keep the leg, but I don’t think he has the strength to survive an amputation. I don’t know how—or where—we’re going to do this.”
Fael took her hands tightly in his own, lending her stre ngth.
“First, we need to get somewhere safe,” he said with quiet determination. “Then, we’ll figure out how to help these two. For now, just make him as comfortable as you can.”
Ren’wyn nodded. She could try.
She grabbed a waterskin and wet a spare shirt, slowly and gently cleaning the boy’s frail body.
She wiped away the layers of dirt, dried blood, and filth from his uninjured skin, her movements as tender as possible.
Once clean, she dressed him in oversized, fresh clothes that hung loosely on his small f rame.
Meanwhile, the second cart was prepared. Miguel carefully lifted the empath boy and placed him inside. Ren’wyn repeated the process, cleaning and re-dressing him with the same care. Leta volunteered to ride with the empath, while Ren’wyn chose to stay with the berse rker.
Irik left to get the other horses, and Fael and Miguel took the reins, steering them all away from the ash-covered camp.
A harsh wind swept through the clearing behind them, carrying away the remains of the dead soldiers—their forms dissolving into nothingness.
Ren’wyn knew Miguel had left charges in the other carts and the barred iron cage.
In about thirty minutes, those would ignite, reducing the site to smoldering r uins.
They met Irik at the crossroads, tethering the extra horses to the back of the carts. Fael, ever wary of the possibility of travelers or a backup regiment, urged the group onward through the star-strewn n ight.
The boys groaned and stirred as the carts jostled over uneven ground, and Ren’wyn’s worry grew. They would undoubtedly wake in desperate pain. She had packed plenty of herbs in preparation, including a sedative she could use until she had the chance to administer proper pain re lief.
Fael glanced back from his position in the driver’s seat, his face shadowed but his eyes burning with intensity. “We’ll make it, Ren,” he said firmly, his voice carrying over the rhythmic clatter of the cartwh eels.
Ren’wyn nodded, clutching the edge of the cart as she watched the boys, their small, battered bodies illuminated by faint traces of moonlight. She would do everything in her power to save them.
The night dragged on as they traveled the dark road, the quiet broken by the calls of birds, the rustle of cottonwood leaves, and the rhythmic clatter of the wheels.
Ren’wyn held the small boy’s feverish hand, his skin clammy and hot as waves of shivering overtook him.
A gnawing nervousness took root in her stomach, tightening with every labored breath he took.
She drifted in and out of sleep, her rest interrupted by the need to wet a shirt in the cool night air and press it against his burning fore head.
They passed their former camp, stopping briefly for Miguel to dash in and retrieve their packs.
Ren’wyn groaned, remembering she needed boiling water for the sedative.
She settled for dipping her finger into a jar of powdered willow bark, running it gently along the inside of the boy’s lips before she curled up against him.
The night was at its darkest when Ren’wyn startled awake. Something had shifted in the world around her. Tendrils of smoke caressed her legs, but she wasn’t their focus. The Void had turned its attention to the small boy.
“Stop the cart, Fael,” she called urgently. “Please, hel p me!”
Fael reined in the horses, throwing the reins over the cart brace to keep them st eady.
“Fael, please,” she begged, her voice tremb ling.
He didn’t hesitate. “Head out,” he called to the others. “Traveling separately will help us stay unnoticed. Come looking if we’re not back in three days.”
Miguel nodded grimly, twitching the reins to move his cart for ward.
Fael climbed in beside her, his expression dark as he knelt to examine the boy.
The child’s breathing had changed—each breath wet and labored, rattling deep in his chest. Without a word, Fael settled behind Ren’wyn, spreading his knees wide to tuck her securely between his thighs.
One of her hands clasped the boy’s small, frail fingers while the other wiped his damp face with a cool c loth.
“It’s too late, Ren,” Fael said hoarsely, his voice filled with the weight of what he knew she didn’t want to hear. “There’s nothing more we ca n do.”
“No,” she said, her voice breaking. “It can’t be. I won’t let that ha ppen.”
The Void swelled, reaching out for the boy, its intent unmistakable.
Ren’wyn rebelled, pushing back with every ounce of her will.
Shadows surged, crowding the space around her and Fael, pressing against her magic as the Void demanded its due.
Her power bristled with resistance, and for a moment, death list ened.
But she couldn’t hold it for ever.
A slow, burning sensation began in her chest as she fought fate, the strain threatening to pull her apart. If she waited too long, the Void might take her and Fael along with the boy.
Fael tightened his grip on her waist, then trailed his fingers lightly down her thigh, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “You gave him dignity. You gave him peace. Let him go free, my love.”
She choked on a sob as the truth settled in, knowing he was r ight.
She loosened her grip on her magic, and Fael inhaled sharply as the tension broke.
His gaze followed the shadows as they shifted and softened, his outstretched hand tracing the dark, smoky tendrils.
The Void, freed from her restraint, moved gently.
It caressed the boy’s frail body with a tender, loving touch, its presence more mournful than terrifying.
A frosty breeze stirred the boy’s sweat-damp hair, ruffling it so ftly.
“I don’t even know his name,” Ren’wyn wept. “It’s not fair. He’s too y oung.”
“No,” Fael murmured thickly. “It’s not fair.” He tightened his arms around her, holding her close in the cradle his body cre ated.
“Ground me,” she commanded, dashing tears from her ch eeks.
Fael let his own magic flare, a raw current of anger and grief channeling his strength into her.
Ren’wyn touched two fingers to her lips, then extended them over the boy.
Shadows unfurled from her hand, cloaking his small body in darkness.
The desperate rasp of his breathing stopped, his chest stilling as his aura blinked out.
The air felt unbearably thin, raw and biting with loss, but Ren’wyn restrained her emotions. Her work wasn’t done.
Drawing her hand upward, she summoned his shade. It appeared beside his lifeless form, a small, flickering pres ence.
She pointed gently at him. “Speak,” she cro aked.
“Mama?” His small voice was scared, his shade confused. “ Papa?”
“Yes,” Ren’wyn rasped, leaning into Fael’s strong arms. “Yes, it’s us, sweetie. Won’t you rest now, little one? Do you want to lie down and sleep? It’s very late, and Papa and I love you so much.”
Fael sucked in a sharp breath, his body tensing at her tender, motherly tone. The little boy stretched out a shadowed hand, and Ren’wyn let him touch her.
The moment his hand brushed hers, she jerked violently, overwhelmed by the flood of his torment.
Every moment of horror and cruelty he had endured slammed into her, fusing into her mind and body like shards of glass.
She gasped as the boy’s agony became her own.
Fael’s arms wrapped tighter around her, holding her together as she bor e it.
“Won’t you rest, my little one?” she managed, her voice a shaky whisper as the vision passed. “Won’t you close your eyes and find p eace?”
The boy nodded, his shade tilting its head as though thinking. “I would like that, Mama,” he said softly. “Will you tuck m e in?”
His form curled up beside his physical body, and Ren’wyn reached out with trembling hands. She touched the tendrils of the Void, feeling its cool, misty texture—like fragile silk slipping through her fingers. Gently, she shaped the shadows into a bla nket.
She moved as though she truly were his mother, tucking him in with care. Her hands brushed over his small figure, and she leaned down to press a featherlight kiss to his fore head.
“Be at peace, little one,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she smoothed the shadow-blanket over him.
Suddenly, light pierced through the boy’s chest, where his heart would have been.
It shone brightly, pure and clean, like a white star with a burning red core.
The light spread outward, illuminating the dark night around them.
Tiny wisps of red energy flickered and floated, brushing against Ren’wyn’s unbound hair before curling over Fael’s arms. The strands of energy fused with Fael’s aura—strange and beautiful—as if leaving a parting gift of warmth and love.
The light grew brighter, too intense to look at directly.
Ren’wyn pressed her face into Fael’s shoulder, her sobs breaking free at last. Fael clutched her tightly, shielding her with his arms and shutting his eyes against the radiance, holding her close enough to share his breath and feel his heart beat.
When the light faded, they were left alone in the still, quiet n ight.
They held each other, weeping until their tears were spent.
Fael was the first to compose himself, his hand stroking her hair with gentle care.
He waited until her sobs subsided, then eased her back and reached behind her for a waterskin.
They drank in silence, their shared grief heavy between them.
There was nothing they could use to bury the boy, and they couldn’t travel with his body. Wrapping him in a soft blanket, Fael carried him to a small clearing just off the road, laying him softly on a small patch of bare earth. Above, the stars shone brightly, their soft light a quiet bles sing.
The first morning birds began to sing, a bittersweet melody for the boy. Fael stepped forward, his hand still resting protectively on Ren’wyn’s waist. Flame flickered across his free hand, flowing like molten water. With a solemn gesture, he reached out and touched the boy’s shrouded form.
The fire took quickly, rising to engulf the small body. Ren’wyn stood at Fael’s side, her hand clasped tightly in his, as they watched the flames carry the boy’s spirit into the s tars.
When it was over, Fael took her hand, squeezing it gently. Together, they turned back to the cart, carrying their sorrow into the quiet dawn.