Page 20 of War Mage (The War Brides of Adrik #4)
Adara
T he next two days pass in a predictable way. We travel during the night and Urim is taken to the magistrate’s tent during the day. Urim has taken my advice, no longer retreating to his sanctuary during the feedings. The camp echoes with his pained groans and the bond reverberates with agony and distress. I don’t experience the pain as if I’m the one being fed on, but it’s like an ache coming from far away, deep within. It makes my bones hurt, like the anti-mage chamber, and makes my body tense. Still, I know that it is merely a fraction of what Urim is experiencing, so I try not to show that it affects me at all when Urim is brought back to the wagon. He’s in worse shape each time that he returns, black and dark green bruises mottling his body, and covered in vicious bites. He never complains, however, and by the time he’s chained back next to me the bond is smooth and calm once more, even though I know that he must be in excruciating pain.
The morning of the day before we get to Evernight, as they are rechaining Urim next to me after the latest feeding, a clanging bell suddenly rings through the camp.
“We’re under attack!” A call is raised and the sound of steel against steel rings through the clearing we are camped in.
The guard that is locking up Urim jerks backward, going to draw his sword when an arrow lodges itself in his eye. He falls backward by our feet, dead, with blue blood pouring from his eye socket. I didn’t even know that vampires bled blue.
“Don’t shoot at the wagons!” I hear an authoritative voice yell. “You might hit a blood slave!”
“We need to get out of here,” I say to Urim. “Anyone raiding a magistrate’s caravan will not have good intentions for the blood slaves. They’re probably attacking to steal us.”
“Indeed,” Urim agrees, digging on the guard’s belt for the keys. “And I doubt that they will be taking us to Grazrath if they do. We need to escape and regroup.”
He undoes the lock that keeps us in the wagon and unthreads the chain from our ankle shackles.
“Get low,” he orders. “We need to avoid taking an arrow.”
I nod tensely. The iron shackle on my ankle is still inhibiting my magic, but I can take it off later with my wires. Right now we need to avoid being captured by this unknown raiding party.
We jump down from the wagon, me on shaky legs. I haven’t been able to stand up and walk for almost a week, so I feel as unsteady as a new foal. But there’s no time to waste being weak, so I force myself to go low and creep along the edge of the wagon. Dead guards wearing the symbol of Grazrath litter the ground and as I peek around the wagon wheel, I see a few fighting pairs. It’s surprising though, it seems as if there are fewer raiders than caravan guards, but they have killed the caravan guards easily. At the edge of the clearing, a masked man rides astride a horse, a longbow in his hands. His mask glints in the early morning light, the texture of scales showing clearly on the carved surface. The masked figure looses arrow after arrow, moving so quickly that his hands are a blur, felling guard after guard. “Find the mage!” the masked male barks out, startling me. “Do not let them escape with her!”
“The Onyx Serpent . . .” Urim says behind me.
“What?” I ask, still a little distracted by the fact that the raiders seem to be looking for me.
“I told you that we had received information about the slave shipments from an underground resistance in Barakrin. That's how we intercepted Vargan. But the messages we received through my contact, Tevin, were always signed the Onyx Serpent.”
“Then these raiders . . .” I say.
“. . . must be the resistance,” confirms Urim. “I don’t know why they are targeting this caravan or you, specifically, but I think we should make contact with them, instead of escaping. They may be able to help us.”
“How sure are you of this?” I ask. “If you’re wrong and they are just looking for me because I'm a valuable slave, we’ll be walking right into their hands.”
“My intuition says that they are allies,” Urim replies. “We should make contact.”
“You are basing this on a gut instinct?” I ask incredulously. “That seems like a risky move for a logical orc like you.”
“Trust me,’ he says. “I would not risk you if I was not confident in my instincts.”
I bite my lower lip, not knowing what to do. On one hand, Urim is my partner and is more experienced than I am at accomplishing missions. On the other hand, he hasn’t had the best track record on this particular mission. But, I suppose at the end of the day, it all boils down to trust. Do I trust him? Now, at this particular moment?
“Alright,” I say. “We’ll do this your way. I pray to the gods you are right.”
The fighting has died down all around us, a few of the guards having thrown down their weapons and surrendered, but the raiders have no mercy. They quickly dispatch all the remaining guards, even those pleading to be spared. These are those who Urim wants to trust? This really is going to be a test of faith for me. But even so, I find myself wanting to trust Urim.
“Spread out!” the masked male says, riding his horse into the clearing. “Free the slaves and find the mage! We don’t have a moment to spare!”
The raiders start spreading out, but I step out from behind the wagon wheel I was crouched behind, my hands above my head.
“I am the mage,” I announce loudly. “I don’t know what you want with me, but I am turning myself into you. I need to speak to your leader.”
“I am the Onyx Serpent,” the masked male says. “Leader of the Barakrini Resistance. We will speak later, but for now, we must get you and the other blood slaves somewhere safe. The magistrate and his personal guard fled and escaped and they may return with reinforcements from town.”
Right, talk later then.
“He’s not a blood slave!” a shrill voice declares, breaking into the silence. A thin, female blood slave in rags is brought forward, her chains having been removed by the other resistance fighters, her finger pointing accusingly at Urim behind me.
“What is that, female?” asks the Onyx Serpent.
“He’s not a blood slave! Not like we are. I saw him speak at Stormfury Landing. He’s Vargan the Honorless, personal slaver to Grazrath! It is because of him and his ilk that we were brought here in the first place. He doesn’t deserve a rescue!”
Ah, fuck it all to the Nether. If Urim actually was Vargan the woman would be right, but he’s not and this has just made things a thousand times more complicated.
“Kill him,” the masked male says. “We’ll leave his body with the others for them to find, then. But make haste.”
“Wait!” I shout out, but no one is listening to me. Two of the resistance fighters stride past me, swords raised. “Listen to me! You’ve got this all wrong!”
But the fighters don’t listen, they just attack. I whirl around just in time to see Urim disarm one and headbutt the other. Now he has a weapon and is holding his own, but I can feel in our bond that he is flagging. He’s still wounded from all the magistrate’s feedings and his ribs are still healing. He’ll start slowing in a moment and then they’ll easily kill him. From my peripheral vision, I see the Onyx Serpent lazily pulling out his longbow again and know that it’ll be all over if he fires an arrow.
Without even thinking, I pull out the wires hidden in my braid and crouch down. In seconds, I have the iron cuff off of my ankle and kick it away. In one fluid motion, I stand up, whirl into the path of the arrow, and throw up a shield of hardened flame. My magic is eager to obey me after being locked away so long and I block the arrow just in time. Then I spin around again, this time conjuring a whip of hardened flame that flashes out, wrapping around the blade of the fighter attacking Urim and I yank it out of his hands. Turning to face the Onyx Serpent, I stay between him and Urim, tilting my chin up challengingly.
“Are you going to listen now?”
The masked male cocks his head. “Your powers are not what was advertised, are they, ‘air mage?’”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you. Neither of us are what we are advertised to be. I am Adara Flameborn of the Mage’s Tower and this is Urim ka Churnok, Shield to the King of Orik. We are on a mission to assassinate Grazrath and your little stunt today has ruined it.”
The Onyx Serpent regards me for a moment, as if considering my words, then sighs. “You are right. We do need to talk.”