Page 30 of The Dark Mage
She kept her wrist still in his long, strong fingers.“They were cursed for cowardice by a dark mage after betraying her in battle.They’ve been trapped here ever since.I promised to release them in return for their service to me.”
Fael ran a hand over his short hair, exhaling slowly as he processed her words.Blood vows were sacred—and unbreakable.
“I didn’t know berserkers could create shields,” Ren’wyn added.“It kept the dead from touching me, kept the Void from taking me.I felt it pulling… insisting that I die.Without the shield, I mighthave.”
A self-conscious smile curved Fael’s lips.“I’ve only seen it done once—by a Master shielding his student in battle.I remembered the form and acted on instinct.”His grin deepened.“Now I know what I’m capable of.”
The cool evergreen breeze stirred Ren’wyn’s hair.A strange jolt of energy coursed between them, electric and sharp.Something fundamental had shifted.An intimate bond of trust, forged in fire and death, now bound them.Fael’s thumb brushed absently across her forearm before he reached for hispack.
“I have more linen strips in here,” he said.“I’ll wrap your arm.Any herbs I shouldadd?”
She shook her head, wishing she had shinleaf to speed the healing.The cut stung, but Fael’s concentration and tenderness soothed the burn.With the injury covered, they sat close, quietly eating their apples, as if their proximity assured them they were still alive.
Fael decided to rest for the morning.They walked to the spring they’d crossed the day before, washed their faces, and dipped their limbs into the cold water.Ren’wyn drifted off among the wild garlic on the bank and eventually woke to the familiar sound of Fael exercising.
With sleepy eyes, she watched him move through a new pattern.His graceful fluidity reminded her of the weeping willow behind her dorm at Spyre—bending but never breaking, even in the fiercest storms.
Since her time with Peria and Esrin, she hadn’t let anyone see so much of her power.Fael had seen everything—her strength, her weakness, and the darkness she commanded—and still, he’d defended her at the risk of his ownlife.
Perhaps sensing her watching, Fael turned.Their eyes met, and they shared an unguarded smile.They were alive, and they were victorious.
Fael climbed down to the spring and splashed his face with cold water.Then, lightning fast, he flung a handful at her, hitting her square in theface.
She gasped in shock, then burst out laughing.
Fael’s grin was bright as the sun.He held out his hand to help her up.
“Ready?”he asked.
Ren’wyn took his hand, her fingers lacing through his.“Ready.”
They gathered their belongings, still smiling, and turned to face the glade again.
9
Hand in hand, Ren’wyn and Fael returned to the edge of the pines.She could feel his nerves—and honestly, she shared them.That glade had demanded so much from them, and the dregs of her spirit were all that wasleft.
But this time, she would be the strong one; if not with magic, with courage.She led the way, heartened by the light air, birdsong, and the absence of the Void’s whispers.Her fingers tightened briefly around Fael’s.His power unfurled like tongues of fire, searching the space for danger.
The grove of pines lay still in the afternoon light.She released Fael’s hand to step into the clearing.Memories from the previous day rushed back in, stealing her breath.Thankfully, nothing brushed against her senses today.Where had the shades gone?Were they a part of her now?Or were they waiting in death?
Ren’wyn stood quietly as the breeze coaxed wisps of hair free around her ears.The stillness reassured her, sand he gave Fael an encouraging smile.She didn’t pull him into the glade; this moment was his—taking the first step for himself in a solitary victory.
Turning away to give him privacy, she bent and touched the luminescent plants scattered across the forest floor.The ghost pipes were as delicate and pale as wisps of moonlight.Knowing their value, she dredged her memory for how to collect them.First, the lesson Master Lori had emphasized: never take from the first patch you find.Blowing a kiss to the tiny blooms, Ren’wyn passed the first group.
At the second group, she knelt and removed the small, bloodstained knife from her hip and drove it into the soil to clean it, shuddering at the memory of her vow.Then, she carefully sliced the stems of four flowers at the ground.Traveling through the clearing, she gathered a handful of fragile stems and flowers, marveling at their eerie beauty.She finally laid out a handkerchief embroidered with blue forget-me-nots—her mother’s handiwork—and gently wrapped the stems.Ghost pipes needed drying before they could be powdered, and she could start the process near the fire that evening.
Ren’wyn smoothed the soil over the cut stems and whispered a soft thank-you, breathing gently over the remaining flowers as though giving them back a fragment of life.When she rose, Fael was standing behind her, watching closely.
“Tell me about them,” he said, his voice full of interest.
“Ghost pipes,” she replied.“They’re rare.They parasitize tree roots and need no sunlight to grow.When powdered, they can neutralize many poisons.A jarful sells for ten gold marks at most apothecaries, and I have to try to preparethem.”
Fael’s expression held genuine respect.“I’m impressed.You might be quite the force to be reckonedwith.”
“Might be?”she teased, a playful lilt in her words.
Fael laughed and winked, giving her arm a quick, reassuring squeeze.
