Syline could barely keep ahead of the enraged guardian. It was only his armour weighing him down that saved her. She was only just staying out the reach of his sword. Wand in hand, she threw little arcane darts back at him, voicing a constant stream of incantations. Though they struck true, they barely seemed to bother him. He only roared in fury and charged through them. She could wear him down, but she wasn’t much of a runner herself. She was quickly losing her breath. Getting unsteady. Slowing. She’d thrown a few volleys already and Syline wasn’t used to combat magic. She felt her reserves draining rapidly.
The man with the knives, now disarmed, sprinted past her, roughly shouldering her as he passed. She lost her footing, stumbled to the ground. The guardian was over her in a second, his arming sword raised.
Syline was in danger. That damned quickfoot knocked her over. He could wait a moment, because if he didn’t step in, Syline was done for.
The man swung his blade down at her. Thelonious caught it on his own and slammed his forehead into the man’s face. He stumbled back a step, giving Syline the moment she needed to crawl out from between them. Thelonious had only a split second to see her stand up before his focus was wholly consumed by the warrior before him. The two traded blows in rapid succession, both of nearly equal skill. Their blades connected and were thrown away again and again. He’d step in and the man’s shield would receive him. The man would go for a blow and Thelonious would parry it on his longer blade. He’d have to abuse his reach if he wanted to end this fight.
The man was good, Thelonious had to give him that. This was more the kind of fight he was used to. It was almost fun. Almost.
Thelonious saved her. She had a little room, now. Syline opened the grand archmage’s spell-book. She’d been biting into her reserves already but was certain she could manage this. She searched further, deep within its higher destructive incantations and closer to the devastating teleportation spell than she ever had before. It wouldn’t matter what state she was in afterwards, she needed to end this.
That’ll do nicely, Syline thought, finding just the spell. She read the incantation as fast she dared. She saw the archer drawing his bow. She’d have to deal with him first, but this spell should take out both of them. She chanted every syllable as best she could and hoped it would be enough. The last word left her lips and she felt the magic take form. She held out her hand and blue and white searing flames burst forth, surging through the air in a crackling line. The archer had a moment to look surprised before the spear of flame scorched his bow and licked at his features. He let out a frightened squeal as he stepped back out of its path only for the flames to sputter out completely.
Syline didn’t understand; her incantation had been perfect! She’d completed the spell! She’d never had one fail like this. She’d never felt a single spell make her legs so weak, make her chest hurt so bad. It was like she’d been practising for hours in just that moment. Now, at this moment, when it mattered most, Syline could barely even mourn her failure, as the ground came to meet her. Her body gave out under the stresses of the spell and darkness overcame her.
The archer’s screams drew the guardian’s attention away and saved Thelonious. The guardian’s blade was high in the air, while Thelonious’ laid on the ground, knocked away from his bloody grip. The archer was holding his cheek, blistered red raw. Syline had collapsed, quivering on the ground. Thelonious didn’t know what had happened, but he had to finish this immediately. He couldn’t keep her safe from both.
The swordsman looked back at Thelonious; the momentary distraction ended. However, the swordsman found Thelonious bringing his head in viciously. It wasn’t their foreheads that connected, though, but Thelonious’ horn with his eye. The guardian roared and kicked the hellblooded back, but the roar turned to a scream as he did. His eye was ruined. Thelonious’ horn had pierced deep and come out messily. Anger overcame the man’s previous discipline, and he hacked madly at Thelonious, arm swinging high and wide each time. Thelonious was almost disappointed; he had been such a good foe until now, such a capable warrior. On one wide swing, Thelonious slapped his arm aside. With his arm out wide, Thelonious followed through with a brutal uppercut to the man’s jaw that had him staggering back and his grip going slack on his sword. A last punch to his temple and the man went limp, falling like a puppet with its strings cut to the floor.
In his time dealing with the man, the quickfoot archer regained his bearings and had closed the distance with Syline, now only a few paces away with an arrow in his hand. Thelonious locked eyes with him and hefted his sword.
‘We aren’t worth dying for. Just leave,’ he said, his voice soft, but insistent. For a few moments, the archer stared, eyes darting to Syline as if trying to work out if he could reach her before Thelonious reached him. Thelonious didn’t hesitate. In that moment of judgement, he rushed the man and shouldered him back, sending him stumbling. Thelonious grabbed his arrow as he went and snapped it in his hand.
He glared at the man. ‘Just. Leave.’
Wiping blood and dirt from his cheek, the man nodded softly and rose before slowly walking backwards, in time fading into the dark of the woods. Once he was out of sight, Thelonious listened a few moments longer, until he heard the man’s feet pounding away in the dark, taking flight. Thelonious felt no need to finish them; they wouldn’t be chasing them anytime soon. He sighed and wiped his blade clean before putting it back in its sheath. He used one of the quickfoot’s knives to shred the court mage’s robes to make himself a bandage for his hand. He tore off a few more strips and, out of respect for the man’s honour and skill in battle, bandaged up the warrior’s head, staunching the bleeding as best he could. He wouldn’t be pretty when he woke up, but with that, his odds were improved. He did the same for the mage’s face; she’d be fine apart from an ugly scar, thanks to Syline’s kind heart.
After that, he made Syline comfortable on his horse and let Corax roost on his shoulder. They’d have to keep riding. Gods, he needed sleep. He grabbed the mage’s pack. Wizards always had nice stuff, often potions. With them, the precious vials weren’t going to get smashed like they might on a warrior’s belt. He was disappointed when all he found was a wooden box with some kind of herbs in the pack, but he could at least use it to store some meat he sliced off the deer. It was good meat; it’d be enough for both of them to eat well on the road. He picked up the court mage’s staff as he walked and retrieved Syline’s axe. It was a nice staff, and hopefully, Syline could use it. He didn’t really know how magic worked.
Finally, he sighed and yanked the damned knife from his horn and threw it into the woods. Syline stirred a moment as he roared from the pain. With the constant throbbing turned to a dull ache, he mounted the horse behind Syline and set the poor, tired mare off again. They’d just go to another island. Somewhere closer to the border. They’ll get some sleep there and figure this all out in the morning.
‘Thelonious,’ Syline mumbled. She seemed to barely be holding onto consciousness. He kept her tight against his chest to stop her tumbling off the horse. ‘We need to go somewhere safe. Someplace where she can’t pay people off.’
‘I know, Syline, I’ll figure something out.’
Chapter 9
When Syline woke the following morning, she found herself lying against the side of Thelonious’ horse. Thelonious was fast asleep on the opposite side of the horse, half upright against its back. The horse still dozed as well, soft whinnies leaving it on occasion in its slumber. The animal made for a surprisingly comfortable pillow. Considering the still falling snow, Syline was also rather warm, all things considered, though she quickly realised that was because Thelonious had put his coat over her before he had fallen asleep.
She sat up, stretching with a little yawn. She had probably slept nearly twelve hours over the course of last night, almost all of it spent on horseback. She wasn’t sure what that said about her abilities as an adventurer, but likely nothing good. At least it was better than not being able to sleep anywhere but a plush, feather-filled bed. She had no real desire to wake Thelonious up. The hellblooded had been working very hard for her, as had his horse. So, while Corax flew off from within her scarf, likely to find himself something to drink, Syline moved away from the man and his steed so as not to disturb them and got out her journal. She hadn’t thought to write in it these last few days. Maybe writing it all down would help.
When Thelonious woke up, it was to the sound of Syline crying softly. He opened one eye and saw the young wizard’s shoulders shuddering as she wrote into some little book, her raven crooning sadly as he butted his head to her cheek. He pretended to be asleep for a little while longer. Let her sort through that on her own. He didn’t know what to say, never really knew how to comfort people. He only rose when his horse decided it was about time she got up as well and, with no care for the man using her as a pillow, got to her hooves. Thelonious’ head slumped to the dirt and he finally conceded and sat up with a soft laugh, rubbing his sore horn. Syline shut her journal immediately. He didn’t inquire. Instead, he got up and stretched himself out.
‘You were real good last night, Syline.’
‘You think?’
Thelonious nodded. ‘You didn’t panic, you didn’t try to run. Hell, you even knocked that lady out instead of killing her. The only mistake was going for that big, flashy spell.’
She couldn’t help but blush at him complimenting and at the same time berating her so. Thelonious’ horse butted him from the back, and the hellblooded chuckled, hugging the horse’s head.
‘Here, I figure staffs are more powerful than wands, right?’ He pulled the beautiful white wood staff, tipped with a ruby held in a lattice of worked silver, off the horse’s saddle. It was the first time Syline had gotten a real proper look at it.
‘Is it really okay to have it?’ she asked, her voice quiet. ‘Isn’t that stealing?’
‘Well… yeah. They attack us. We win. We get their stuff. Fair’s fair. Hell, ’cept for that one nutter, we left them all alive too, so they should count themselves grateful. That’s what this life is like. They knew.’
Syline nodded softly, trying to process his words as she took the staff and looked it over. It was inscribed with runes she recognised as ones that would empower any elemental spell cast through it, increasing their potency. A true battlemage’s staff. It must’ve been worth a fortune. She was terribly lucky she’d dodged that opening lightning bolt.
‘That is how it goes in all the books. It’s definitely more powerful than my apprentice wand. Probably a bit harder to handle, though.’
‘Aaah, I’m sure you can manage it,’ Thelonious said, clapping her on the shoulder. He turned, tightening the straps of the saddle, missing the way Syline flinched at his touch, but she managed a little smile a few moments later.
‘You know,’ he mused, ‘why the axe? Aren’t your family all known for bein’ beautiful duellists?’
‘I don’t fit that role very well. I trained with the sword, but I was never very good with it and, I don’t know, the one time I had to defend myself with the sword was the first time I killed someone. I know it’s hypocritical, but… he looked so scared as he died. Holding the sword just makes me think of those eyes.’
‘Well, I don’t know.’ Thelonious mounted the horse, turning to grin at her as he offered a hand to pull her up. ‘You fit the beautiful part,’ he teased, giving her a grin.
Despite herself, Syline blushed bright red, even her ears turned crimson as a giggle escaped her. She stepped back from his hand. She was growing fond of Thelonious, but there was still some part of her that did not want to be touched, not yet.