Page 75 of Path of the Dark
25
News from the North
REOUL OF ANTHOR surveyed the yard. Ten of his men lay scattered across it, either dead or injured. Smoke rose from some of their bodies, while one corpse still burned. The sickly sweet stench of charred flesh drifted through the air.
In the midst of the space that had once been the training yard of The Swallow Guard, was a sallow-faced young man clad in smoke-grey robes. He stood in battle stance, legs akimbo, right hand still holding the bolus of sunlight he’d just wreaked havoc with.
“Well done, Daric,” Gael called out. “That’s it for now.”
The youth nodded, relaxing his stance.
“What do you think, Your Highness?” Gael asked.
Reoul tore his gaze from one of the few men who’d survived the attack. The soldier, one who’d followed him loyally for the past decade, lay on his side whimpering, his face a ruin.
Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, Reoul braced himself to look at Gael. The grey rat sat on the enchanter’s right shoulder, its crimson gaze spearing the king. At the sight of the rodent, Reoul started to sweat. “Impressive,” he finally managed.
Gael grinned. “Magnificent, wasn’t it?”
That was one way to describe what he’d just witnessed. Gael had promised him a demonstration of these powerful new enchanters he was training, but when Reoul had descended from the keep, he hadn’t been expecting much.
He’d instructed ten of his personal guard—his best fighters—to attack the lad Gael had selected for the demonstration. They’d swaggered into the yard, grinning at the chance to beat the weakling into a pulp.
One enchanter wasn’t a match for ten trained killers.
But when the lad had moved, Reoul felt a sinking sensation in his gut.
The young man lost his gaucheness the instant he’d gathered the Light. He’d brought all of them down within moments.
It had been horrific to watch, and Reoul’s heart still pounded against his ribs in the aftermath. That—and the rat’s proximity—was making him feel unwell. However, on the outside he kept a semblance of calm.
Reoul cast a glance over his shoulder at where his consort stood a few feet behind him. Saskia’s face had gone the color of milk. Her gaze was riveted upon the carnage scattered across the yard. Unlike her king, she found it hard to contain her shock.
“It’s a bit messy, I’ll admit,” Gael continued with a shrug, “but you needed a show of power to impress.”
“Aye.” Reoul forced his voice into a drawl. “You’ve certainly done that.”
Gael’s dark gaze gleamed. “Praise indeed from you, sire.”
Reoul nodded, although he found it hard to concentrate. The rat was now preening itself. “How many people know of this?”
“Just us,” the enchanter assured him. Reaching up, Gael stroked the rat’s silky back.
Reoul swallowed, hard. “What about the High Enchanter?”
“I’ve said nothing to her,” Gael replied. “Daric is the only enchanter, besides myself, who has been trialed with the Stynix. I wanted to be sure there were no side-effects.” Gael stepped forward then, narrowing the gap between them. “Does this mean you’ll attack Rithmar now, sire?”
Reoul’s breathing constricted, and his heart started to hammer against his ribs. It took all his will not to drawReaperand throw it at the rat. His aim was good; it wouldn’t survive. However, the creature was Gael’s familiar—he wouldn’t take kindly to having it slain.
“I … might start making plans,” Reoul replied, taking a cautious step back. “Can you make all the Anthor and Thûn enchanters as powerful as the lad?”
Gael inclined his head, smirking. “Aye.”
“Your Highness!” A leather-clad figure strode into the training yard at that moment, interrupting them.
The Anthor soldier had only covered a couple of feet when he halted abruptly, his gaze sweeping over the strewn, charred bodies. The man’s face paled, and his gaze snapped to Reoul.
“What do you want?” Reoul snarled, his temper fraying.
