Rise of the Mages (Rise of the Mages 2) (6 page)

As soon as her papa turned his back, Lainey threw her hands in the air and mouthed, “Why tonight?” She dropped them and plastered on a calm expression before he completed his lap of the living room. “I’m worried about Xan, too, but losing sleep isn’t going to help anything.”

“Go on to your bed,” her papa said. “I won’t be long.”

Oh good grief. She sighed. “I’m not leaving you down here alone.”

Her papa finally, reluctantly saw reason, and they said their goodnights. Upstairs in her room, Lainey rustled her clothes and opened and closed her armoire a few times before cracking her door and climbing into bed.

Uncomfortable and hot wearing her day clothes under the covers, she waited. She still couldn’t believe her two idiot friends, Brant and Dylan, had asked her to pack Xan’s clothes and didn’t even have a good excuse prepared. It wouldn’t have mattered because she’d have wheedled the truth out of them anyway, but really?

Then they’d had the nerve to try to forbid her from joining them. She’d put that notion to rest quickly enough!

Lainey chuckled quietly. They looked so relieved when she insisted she’d meet them at the stable. Though she worried they’d have trouble getting Xan out of his cell without her help, someone had to prepare the horses.

Time dragged. Usually it took her father only a few minutes to pass out. She understood why he was so restless, but the wait was killing her.

Eventually, a gentle snore rose from his room, and careful to make little noise, Lainey donned her belt knife and slid her boots and three packed saddlebags from beneath the bed.

She padded down the stairs and winced at each scrape of metal as she unbolted the front door latch. After slipping out, she pulled on the boots.

The moon cast an eerie glow through the scattered clouds, bathing her isolated house and the woods in muted light. Wind raced down the mountain slope and rustled a dense canopy of trees. Between gusts, the night plunged into silence.

Lainey pulled her cloak tight about her and shivered.

She looked at a path leading into the forest and at the road in front of her house. Her plan had been to avoid any possible notice by cutting through the woods. But she was running really late. No help for it.

Lainey passed rows of dark houses until reaching the last cluster. Lamp light poured from the front window of one dwelling. She shook her head. Great. Mrs. Becam.

The old hag, her scowl visible in the moonlight, rocked in a chair on her porch. She reeked of alcohol. Ugh. Lainey hated even looking at that gnarled, wrinkled face. Pitiful for someone only slightly over thirty. If there were ever an argument for temperance, it was Mrs. Becam. Condemnation emanated from her as she glared through bloodshot eyes—blame for not even getting sick when so many died, for surviving when her own children died.

Lainey shivered and trudged past the house. Her skin crawled under the hatred directed at her, but she didn’t yield. She sighed when she was out of sight.

What if Mrs. Becam alerted the town guard? Any attention would ruin everything.

Lainey quickened her pace, and fifteen minutes of fast walking brought her to the stable. She lit a lamp and, just knowing the man-door would be locked, tugged on it. For a wonder, it opened. Brant had sworn it would be unlocked, but follow-through wasn’t exactly one of his strong points.

Lainey stepped inside and inhaled deeply. Nothing better than the sweet smell of hay. She’d never been in the stable at night, however. Especially not alone. The lantern cast deep shadows that moved with her, and the quiet magnified every creak of a board and swish of a horse’s tail.

Enough worrying about bumps in the night. She had stuff to do. After hanging the light on a nail, she grabbed a saddle.

“What are you doing?”

Lainey jumped and spun to find a guardsman. A tiny squeal escaped before she gathered herself. “You startled me.”

“Why are you here?” The huge man dwarfed her.

“I couldn’t sleep and decided to take Cuppy for a ride.” Her voice trembled.

“No one is taking a horse tonight.”

Who did he think he was? “Says who? Captain Reed gave me permission.”

“Says me. Now run along.”

Without horses, there would be no escape. They couldn’t travel fast enough or carry enough supplies without them, and their provisions were hidden in the hay. But what could she do about it? The guy didn’t seem the type to be swayed by sweet talk, and it wasn’t like she was going to overpower him. Lainey turned to leave.

“Girl, wait.”

She turned back. “Yes?” Maybe he’d changed his mind. Even if she could only get one of the horses prepared in advance, it would save time.

“Aren’t you the sister of that boy in the lockup?” He snarled as he fingered a brass horn hanging from his belt.

Lainey backed away.

“Get back here!” He released the bugle and stepped toward her.

Lainey’s legs froze. She clenched her fists at her sides, and her right arm brushed against her sheathed knife.

The guardsman came closer. He loomed a good head and a half taller than her. His arms reached out.

Her knife found its way into her hand. She slashed. Sticky warmth coated her shirt and hands.

He sank to his knees with a stunned look, and his hands desperately tried to stem the flow of life from his neck. His lips moved, but only gurgling emerged. Horrific red bubbles sprung from the open gash.

Horses whinnied and bucked as they scented the blood.

His eyes pleaded with her. Help me. Save me. Please. Why did you kill me?

Bile rose in her throat, and she fought to choke it back. He crumpled face first into the hay. The stallion nearest her stomped and crashed against the side of his stall.

Lainey opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He’d be dead in minutes. Tears leaked from her eyes and flowed down her face.

His dying seemed to stretch into hours as she stood a silent vigil. On a filthy dirt floor strewn with smelly hay and horse dung, his body stilled from its fitful jerking.

Lainey wiped at her tears, and her fingers came away red. She glanced down. His blood coated her shirt. The pungent, putrid mess felt like a ten-ton weight crushing her chest. She clawed at the bottom of her top and rushed to the horse trough. Again and again, she plunged her face into the cold, murky water and rubbed her hands until raw.

Once every drop was off her skin, she forced herself to stop and think. What should she do?

Her eyes went to the corpse. She retched. The stream of vomit splashed pink water onto her undershirt.

She staggered backward and fell. Laying on her back and clenching herself tightly, she shut her eyes.

Xan’s life depended on her getting their mounts saddled and loaded. And she had to calm the animals before the noise attracted attention—if it wasn’t already too late.

A horse reared and kicked its stall. The sound boomed through the building like a huge drum.

Lainey rose. Calm the horses. Saddle them. Load them.

Instead, she found herself beside the dead man.

The thought of touching him revolted her, but she wrapped her hands around his ankles and tugged. He moved barely an inch.

No one could see him. Not Brant and Dylan. Especially not Xan.

Her foot slipped, and she fell. She scrambled up and grabbed hold again, tugging and pulling and falling and using every ounce of her strength to drag the corpse to the back of the stable.

Desperately, she piled load after load of hay on top of him, and relief flooded her as the last small part of the man disappeared.

After taking a moment to don a new shirt, she fed each horse oats and said calming words. By the time she finished, the stable stood quiet.

She saddled and loaded four of the animals.

Xan braced his hands on his knees and wheezed. Running sucked.

Far down the road, the stable door opened, and Brant emerged leading a pair of horses. A few seconds later, a second figure, also leading horses, came out.

Who was that?

The moon didn’t provide enough light. He squinted. The gait looked familiar.

Lainey!

Xan grabbed Dylan’s arm. “You dragged Lainey into this? Are you insane?”

“Lower your voice.”

“They’ll execute anyone caught helping me!”

“Don’t you think I’ve considered that?” Dylan pulled from Xan’s grasp. “If you don’t like her being here, you tell her to go home.”

Xan would do just that. He marched toward the stable. Lainey mounted her horse, her face a mask of grim determination. When she neared, words froze on Xan’s tongue.

Her scowl dared him to try to send her away. “Yes?”

“Nothing. Just good to be free.”

“Smart man,” Dylan muttered.

No help for it but to let her tag along for the moment. His best bet was to just get on a horse and go.

Brant had chosen Honey, one of the few horses Xan recognized, for him. That worked. She wouldn’t win any races, but she also wouldn’t throw him off her back.

Dylan hopped onto his horse and followed as Brant and Lainey galloped away.

Xan struggled into the saddle and nudged Honey forward. He wobbled in the saddle until her gait smoothed. Trees blurred past him as the horse hurtled through the darkness, and still, his friends gained distance.

He opened his mouth to yell at them to slow but slammed it shut again.

Instead, he eased back in the saddle. Finding Ashley while escaping Justav seemed impossible. Where would he even start? Did his saddlebags hold the necessary food, money, or clothes? He needed all the help he could get.

On the other hand, his friends had put their lives in danger to get him out of jail, and every second they spent with him put them more at risk. If they got caught with him, nothing could be done to protect them.

Could he really live with himself if something happened to any of them? Especially his sister?

Dylan, lagging the others, disappeared around a bend.

Xan spotted a trail to the left. He tugged hard on Honey’s reins.

Rider and horse crashed into leafy blackness. The forest canopy blocked all but dim shards of light. Leaves and limbs whipped past, imparting vivid reminders of the danger he faced with each stinging strike.

His friends would be fine. All they had to do was hide until Justav left town. Mayor Williamson and Captain Reed would protect them after that.

* * *

Dylan hunched in his saddle as the road flew by.

He rode enough that he could handle galloping, but did Brant have to ride so blasted fast? Had he even considered that Xan had almost no experience with horses?

Dylan looked back to see how his friend fared. Xan still hadn’t rounded the bend. In fact, Dylan no longer heard hoofbeats behind him. Had something happened to Xan? A thrown horseshoe? Or worse, had a guardsman waylaid him?

Dylan kept glancing back.

Xan had expressed a lot of concern about Lainey being with them. He was worried about all of them being executed if caught helping him. Maybe the fool was trying to be noble. Running away on his own.

Dylan fingered his medallion. Where was the profit? Following after Xan risked everything and gained … what?

But what if he weren’t innocent?

The catcher would never give up. Xan was such an inept horseman and completely unsuited to surviving on his own. He’d be caught and would never stand up to questioning. They’d all end up with prices on their heads.

Dylan ducked his head and urged Clover forward.

* * *

The wind whipped through Brant’s hair, and he threw his head back. He lived for shit like running from guardsmen. Danger. Adventure. Speed.

He’d sure showed them up.

The militia had been out all day riding. There were so many fresh tracks even his dad wouldn’t be able to find the right ones. Every man with a decent hunting dog was in the woods.

Hoofbeats closed in on him from behind.

“Brant!”

He turned to find Dylan gaining fast.

“Xan’s not behind us!” Dylan yelled. “I think he’s run off.”

Blasted fool would probably get lost in the woods and end up circling back into town. He tugged hard on Spear’s reins. The animal skidded to a halt and sent a cloud of dust flying. Brant spun him and took off in the opposite direction.

When he caught Xan, he was going to kill him.

* * *

Xan hurtled out of control with not a clue where he went. The trail had disappeared. Honey darted every which way avoiding trees.

A limb snagged his cloak. The fabric ripped.

He hunched against the horse’s neck.

A thin branch caught him across the cheek, and he slapped his hand to the spot. No blood at least. He slowed.

Something sticky draped across his forehead. A web. Xan clawed with both hands. He swayed in the saddle, almost falling, and tightened his legs.

Honey swerved, and he tumbled. He clutched at the horse and caught hold of leather. Safe.

The leather gave way. He fell.

Xan landed back first. Air exploded from his lungs at the same time a wave of pain hit. Paralysis gripped his chest.

He gasped. Nothing happened. Flailing about, he arched his back trying to find any position that would allow him to breathe.

It didn’t work. His body refused to obey his frantic need. Agonizing seconds passed before he tasted sweet air. More time passed before his panic subsided.

He looked around. Honey had vanished. His means of getting to Ashley and away from Justav. His precious saddlebags. His survival. Gone.

Xan had to find the horse but didn’t know which way she had run. He buried his face in his hands. Shameful tears flowed.

“Stop it! Get up, idiot. For Ashley.”

He stood and checked himself. Other than a tender spot on his back to go with the ones on his sides, nothing hurt. No gaping wounds.

A dark shape caught his eye. One of the saddlebags. It must have been the leather he’d grabbed. He moved into a small clearing that allowed enough moonlight through for him to see and opened the bag, hoping for something to help him survive.

“Paper!”

He pulled out fists of unbound pages. His hands roamed the bottom of the case for coins, a hunk of cheese, anything. Nothing.

Xan sank to the ground and angled the first page to catch the pale light. He barely made out words in Master Rae’s handwriting.

“My letter? I’m a master apothecary?”

He had three years left as a journeyman. It wasn’t possible that he was ready. But Master Rae wouldn’t declare it if it weren’t true. Xan’s vision blurred as moisture formed.

With so many foreseeable difficulties in his future, though, he had a hard time comprehending the possibility of settling down somewhere as an apothecary. Did he even want that life anymore? No matter how respected he became or how vital a role he played in a community, any noble could uproot the life of an ordinary citizen on a whim. His imprisonment had taught him that well.

Xan carefully tucked away the letter and examined the rest of the stack. Judging by the frayed edges, most had been torn from book bindings.

He stood to move the top page into brighter moonlight.

Xan shook his head. That irritable, crotchety, wonderful old man. He carefully placed the page on the bottom of the stack and examined the next one.

Behind him, dead leaves crunched. Limbs and bushes rustled. He leapt up. Maybe it was Honey.

The noise grew closer and got louder. And louder. Many leaves crunched. Many limbs and bushes moved. No one horse could produce such a commotion.

Justav!

Xan froze. If he ran, he’d likely trip and hurt himself further. What to do? There was a branch on the ground. Maybe he could use it to fight.

It crumbled in his hands. Couldn’t he even pick out a good stick in a forest full of them? And he thought he’d be able to get away from a catcher and rescue a girl? Idiot!

He discarded another as too small before finding one that might work. If it were Justav, Xan wasn’t going to be taken without a fight.

Instead, Brant broke into view. He looked ticked. Lainey and Dylan followed, their expressions no happier.

“No!” Xan threw the stick at Brant. It missed hitting anything by several feet. “Get away from me!”

“You are not going anywhere without me.” Lainey’s quiet hurt battered at him.

Brant grabbed a rope hanging from his saddle.

Xan wasn’t going to win an argument. His friends were too determined. No amount of pleading or cajoling would work. Not unless he told them the truth.

Magic would give him power and control over his life. It would also bring hate and condemnation. Would his friends run in fear?

That would be for the best. It would keep them safe. But could he bear them feeling that way about him?

He exhaled sharply. “There’s something you need to know.”

Silence stretched as he paused and his friends looked at him expectantly.

Xan swallowed and spit out the words. “I’m not innocent.”

Brant’s mouth dangled open. Dylan sat tense in his saddle, hands gripping the reins ready to bolt. Moisture glistened in Lainey’s eyes. None of them spoke.

“You selfish, rads-infested asshole,” Dylan finally said. “The catcher will never let us live now, not after breaking out an actual mage. Like it or not, we’re in this together.”