Page 33 of Path of the Dark
11
A Lone Wolf
GAEL GROUND HIS jaw and resisted the urge to grab the man before him by the scruff and slam his face into the ground.
Teaching was harder than he’d expected.
He stood at one end of the lichen-encrusted courtyard, surrounded by blank-faced enchanters.
And yet their eyes weren’t as empty as their expressions. Many of their gazes were sharp, watchful, and one or two gleamed with malicious pleasure. This show of willful stupidity was for his benefit. The enchanters of Veldoras didn’t want him here—and this was how they’d chosen to defy him.
Drawing in a deep breath, Gael dredged up the last of his patience. Despite that the day was cool and the sky overhead dull grey, he was sweating heavily. He could feel heat creeping up his neck.
Flustered. This insubordinate bunch had actually gotten under his skin.
“Let’s try that again, shall we?” he asked Marik, the enchanter before him. Middle aged with greying dark hair cut short, the man had a deep groove etched between his eyebrows.
“I don’t want to do it,” Marik replied with a sneer. “Make someone else.”
Again the urge to respond with violence surged through Gael. But he couldn’t lose his temper now. Not during his first session with the enchanters.
Gael had always been a lone wolf. He’d never gotten on with the other enchanters at Mirrar Rock’s House of Light and Darkness, and when he’d allied himself with The Shade Brotherhood, he’d deliberately kept to himself. He was at ease in his own company and had never needed anyone else—until now.
He had to get these enchanters to cooperate with him.
“Just try,” Gael ordered between gritted teeth. He spread the fingers of his right hand, and the shadows in the recesses of the surrounding portico started to whisper. “This time … gather the Dark and attack me.”
This caused some of the surrounding enchanters to share surprised looks.
Marik didn’t answer for a moment. At this point, Gael started wishing that the enchanter would defy him again. The Dark be damned, he’d enjoy using his fists on Marik.
But then Marik smiled, his thick lips twisting. “Alright then.” He stepped forward and began to gather the Dark with his right hand.
“You’re not testing bathwater,” Gael snapped. “Gather the Dark with purpose, man. Like you mean it!”
Marik swore under his breath, his gaze narrowing. A moment later a great wave of shadows roared out from under the portico. It rushed toward Gael, gathering momentum as it swept across the courtyard.
Watching it approach, Gael smiled. Finally, he had something to work with.
Gathering his own enchantment with a flick of the wrist, Gael raised a shield from the shadows behind him. The wave shunted off it and deflected straight into Marik. An instant later the man was lying on his back upon the pavers, groaning.
Around them, the watching enchanters shuffled back, their gazes wary.
Gael surveyed them. “Marik’s the best of you, is he?” When no one answered, he continued, gesturing to where the man had sat up. His face was milk white as he cradled the back of his skull. “Sloppy, undisciplined … lazy.” Gael was enjoying himself now. Mysandra had done a better job with this group than he’d expected—but Gael wasn’t about to let any of them know that. “No wonder the people of this city spit at you.”
One or two of the surrounding faces tightened. They were a prideful lot and tough. They’d had to be strong to survive their isolation in this city. Few folk in Veldoras sought out the healing skills of the Light these days, and fewer still visited the House to request a charm from those of the Dark—yet these resilient few persisted. They traveled around the city in groups these days, for safety, still looking to help those who didn’t revile them.
“From now on, you’ll get up at dawn and meet me here for training,” he instructed.
“What’s the point of this?” A woman named Tena spoke up. She was around Gael’s age, tall and thin with wild brown hair and slightly bulbous eyes. Out of all the Veldoras enchanters, she’d been the most hostile. “None of us are apprentices … we don’t need training.”
Gael favored her with a cold smile. “You do … if you’re to stand beside the enchanters of Mirrar Rock in battle.”
Tena’s lip curled. “And who says we will?”
Gael let himself into his chamber and went straight to the wine decanter. He then poured himself a tall goblet and drained it in one go.
The wine was rough and vinegary, but he welcomed its punch.
