Page 16 of War Mage

“Hmph,” I grunt, disgusted with his spineless bootlicking, even if it serves me. “If that were true, we would have overtaken Adrik and Orik by now. Your soldiers lack motivation, Malik. Perhaps I should give it to them.”

My words hang in the air like the threat I meant them to be. The vampires here cannot know that they are largely empty. Malik drops to his knees, raising his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “We are doing our best, Great Demon King. We merely need a little more time . . .”

“Bah,” I spit out. “Enough time! If you cannot get the job done, perhaps there is another that could do it for you.”

“My lord?” asks Malik, his voice shaking.

“Send out riders,” I order. “To all the towns and cities. In a fortnight we will have a War Council, attended by all whom I have given power. Perhaps they shall have a better idea than you on how to lead our troops to victory.”

Malik bows, still on his knees. “It will be done, Your Demonic Greatness. I’ll send my fastest riders.”

“Good,” I say. “And send some new blood slaves while you are at it. As I said, I tire of these.”

Malik nods, getting to his feet and bows, slowly backing out of the room. When he is gone, I turn to my torturers, who are still waiting for my command.

“Kill them,” I say, my voice bored. “Kill them all.”

Soon screams rend the air, death and pain filling the room in a gluttonous feast, but I cannot enjoy it. I need my magical slave and I need it soon. If not from Vargan’s wares, then from some other source. Then I will be able to show the mortals of Anar’i the true power of an arch-demon and rule this plane like I was always meant to.

With that thought, I finally smile.

Chapter 8

Adara

One Week Later

The sea breeze washes over me, bringing the scent of brine and water. Nervousness and excitement stir in my veins as I stand on a ship docked in Mountmend, the northernmost port in Adrik. Nervousness because I am on the cusp of a dangerous mission, and excitement because I will soon be out on the open water, my favorite place to be.

The air is cool around me, showing that autumn is almost finished, the first frost close. Looking up in the distance I can see the Forbidden Mountains over the Barakrini border, snow already on their peaks. I shiver a little in my dress and pull my shawl close. I’m used to wearing the robes of the Mage’s Tower, which are spelled to regulate body temperature. The commoner-style dress they have put me in for travel, to help me better blend in, has no such enchantments. Still, it is clean and in good repair, much better than the robes that I wore during my imprisonment that were practically in rags. Luckily, I have my inner fires and I pull them gently closer to the surface, warming me against the chill. It is a relief to be able to command my magic after so long of being cut off from it and, even after a week of being free, I still don’t take it for granted that I am able to reach out and feel it any time I desire. It makes the shackling spell worth it.

As always, hanging behind me, like an unwelcome shadow, is Urim. He spoke to the captain earlier when we first arrived, but now he watches me, a placid, but vigilant, expression on his face. Even if I could not see him, I would know he was there, his tightly controlled emotions a heavy burden in my chest. This mate bond between us is a curious experience. I can feel him there, ever-present, but I don’t understand him any more than I did a week ago when we mated. I thought with the mating we would have moved our relationship into more neutral territory, especially since we worked some of our frustrations with each other out through bedplay. Not friendly necessarily, but maybe with the comradery that comes from sharing a goal. But no, he has retreated back into quiet watchfulness, as emotionless and unfriendly as ever, no sign of any progress in our working relationship. His stoicism echoes in my chest, a placidness foreign to me. It makes me nervous around him, truth be told, though I try to push those feelings down deep so that they do not show in our bond. Have any mates ever been so distrustful of one another, always shielding their true feelings from each other, I wonder?

“We are shoving off,” I hear the captain say to Urim behind me. “A fair wind just blew in, so we won’t have to waste the use of our wind stone. We’ll take you most of the way to Barakrin, but I won’t risk my crew getting close enough to be caught by their navy patrols. You’ll have to go the rest of the way in the dinghy with the lass.”

“I understand, Captain,” Urim replies in that same even tone with which he says everything. “Thank you for risking this. Your country thanks you.”

“Anything for Adrik,” the captain says gruffly. “I won’t let those vampire bastards take everything I care about if there is something that I can do about it.”

I hide a snort. Another patriotic fool. He would be better off taking everyone he cares about and sailing away far from this mess, not risking his ship and crew. But I don’t say any of that aloud. I need him to get us to Barakrin, after all.

The captain walks away, shouting some orders and I watch as the gangplank that connects us to the dock is pulled away. Sailors run this way and that, climbing up the rigging to loosen the sails. I expect us to be sailing soon.

I feel, rather than see, Urim getting closer behind me. My back stiffens as I sense his presence. What does he want now? I search the bond between us but get nothing but placid calm in return. He might as well be a clay golem for all the emotions he has, at least that I can feel with the bond.

“Hopefully you find your sea legs quickly,” Urim comments. “A weak stomach would make the journey to the Bitter Ocean unpleasant.”

His velvet voice rolls over my senses, making me think of that last night in High Citadel. Of how he made me submit to him and the intensity of my climax as that sibilance of his thrummed between us. But I’m careful to push that thought away. I don’t want him to feel a spike of lust in the bond and misunderstand.

“Don’t worry about me,” I retort as I put some distance between us. “My parents were merchants and I spent my young years on a ship. I have sea legs.”

“Your travels on your parents’ ship were a long time ago. You haven’t been on the water since you were, what, six summers?” remarks Urim.

I’m immediately annoyed that he knows about my past, something so deep and personal, when I have told him nothing of my story myself. “Found that out when you made your dossier, did you?” I return bitterly, turning back to look at him and leaning against the railing of the ship. The wind has caught the sail and we are moving with speed away from the port. In the background, sailors run this way and that, shouting to each other as they work to get the ship moving. We’ll be at open sea in no time.

“Of course. My dossiers are always quite thorough,” Urim says, frowning a little. “There is nothing you can hide from me.”

“Really?” I challenge. “What else do you know about me, then, if you are so omniscient?”

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