Page 27 of War Mage

Abruptly, he stands and starts pouring things into a small cauldron. A bottle of what appears to be wine and spices. He says, “I’m sorry I have nothing to offer you to eat after your ordeal. I’m not used to entertaining warmbloods like humans and orcs. But I could offer you some mulled wine, to ward away the chill?”

He’s changing the subject. Why? What does he want? I can’t get a read on this vampire, though I am certain that his intentions aren’t as friendly as he is trying to appear. I scent the air surreptitiously, but get nothing. That’s not surprising. Vampire scents are even fainter than an orc’s. All I get is the slight whiff of old blood.

“That would be most welcome,” I say, sounding amiable, but eyeing his actions warily. Is he going to try to drug me? Poison me? Why would he do that though? It doesn’t make sense, as we have just met and I have done nothing offensive to him. He adds more spices and some berries, but nothing smells out of the ordinary. I continue, “I didn’t know that vampires partook of mulled wine, though.”

The vampire carries the cauldron to the fire, stepping over the unconscious Adara and hangs the metal pot on the hook over the fire.

“Vampires subsist on blood, but we can enjoy other liquids as well. For taste and pleasure. We like alcohol as much as the next sentient,” he replies, stirring the concoction over the heat. “Just nothing solid, like warmbloods tend to consume.” He shudders a little. “Forgive me. The idea is a little disgusting to me.”

“No forgiveness is necessary. The idea of consuming blood is much the same to me.” I answer.

“Just so,” he nods, still stirring the cauldron.

We stay in silence for a while after that, until the room is filled with the fruity scent of simmering wine and spice. Something about the scent is off to me, though I say nothing. After a time, Dristan removes the cauldron and pours it into a pewter pitcher through some cheese cloth to catch the berries and spice. He then pours two matching pewter goblets of steaming wine, bringing one over to me. I take it with a murmured thanks. It’s almost uncomfortable to hold the goblet, it is so warm, but I keep it in my hand. I pretend to take a sip, all while watching Dristan, who sips his as well.

As I hold the goblet close to my face, I finally catch it: the subtle scent of nightberries. A common fruit in the wild, they are almost indistinguishable in both sight and scent from wild strawberries, but are deadly to most species, even in low doses, though vampires are immune to most poisons, so it’s probably safe for Dristan to drink.A clever attempt at murder.Most would not have caught the scent, even orcs with their sensitive noses. However, being spymaster of Orik, I trained extensively in poisons and can catch the subtle differences in scent, even when it is disguised with the smell of the wine and spices. I’ve also developed immunity to most poisons through careful consumption of small doses, including nightberries, so this plot will not work like he thinks it will. Though I can’t fathom why he’s trying to kill me, that doesn’t matter. He’s an enemy and Adara and I aren’t safe.

Dristan has almost emptied his cup, looking at me with a practiced air of disinterest, though I can see him watching to see me drink. Deciding to play his game to see what he’s up to, I take a healthy swallow of the warmed liquid. It fills me deliciously, the heat sticking to my chilled ribs, though the nightberries leave a muted bitterness on the back of my tongue. I only have a moment to enjoy the warmth before my head gets a little clouded and my belly cramps lightly as the poison begins to act, but I’m not worried. A slight reaction is to be expected as my body filters the toxin and I have experienced this feeling before during my training. It will not kill me and I’ll be able to see what his next move is.

Still, I let out a false pained groan, letting the half-full goblet fall from my hand, the wine splashing across the floor as the pewter clatters against the boards.

“What is happening?” I gasp out, playing up my supposed reaction to the nightberries. I shake and slump, pushing some foam out of my mouth and rolling my eyes to the back of my head, before falling backwards against the wall. I might be overacting a bit, but I want him to truly believe that his attempt has worked.

“Farewell, slavemaster,” he says, the words sounding gleeful. “May your journey to the Nether be swift.”

I keep my eyes rolled up and collapse, going still and holding my breath. Vampires have acute hearing and he’ll be able to tell if I keep breathing, but orcs have a high lung capacity and I’ll be able to stall my breathing for a while before needing another breath.

Now I wait and see.

Chapter 11

Adara

Iwaken to someone roughly shaking my shoulder.

“Wake up, girl,” an unfamiliar gruff voice orders, tone cruel. “I don’t have all night! Wake up!”

I groan, my limbs feeling numb and leadened, my head pounding. Slowly, my thoughts gather, remembering what happened before. The ship. The storm. Stupid Urim. The wave. Going into the void. Underestimating how far we needed to go to arrive on land. Hitting my head. I’m lucky to be alive, honestly.

I open my eyes with difficulty. Everything hurts, down to my bones, just like when I was in the anti-mage chamber. My vision is blurry and there is an incessant pounding behind my eyes. Hovering over my face is a male that I don’t recognize, with pale skin and a grim frown. Gasping, I scramble backwards, only to realize that I’m naked except for a blanket, which I jerk back up over my breasts. My silver manacles jingle at my wrists. Why am I naked and chained?

“Wha . . . ?” I croak out of a dry throat. “Who . . . ?”

“Be quiet,” the male orders. While he talks I see a flash of fang in his mouth.Vampire. We must have made it to Barakrin after all. “You speak to your new owner, human.”

Owner?What in the Nether? My eyes slide past the vampire and see Urim in his Honorless disguise, bandana around his forehead, slumped down a wall, his mouth open and foaming slightly. His eyes are rolled into the back of his head, white and bloodshot, and is totally still. Is he dead? Alarm courses through me. How did he die and why am I alone with this vampire, who is calling himself my owner?

“Come on, girl,” the vampire says, sounding callous. “Get up and let me have a look at my new property. Your old master is dead and you are mine now.”

My old master?What is this person saying? My sluggish brain struggles to understand what he’s saying. Then, suddenly it clicks.

“You . . . killed him . . .” I say slowly, looking the vampire in the eyes. He’s a little fuzzy around the edges, my mental faculties still slow to catch up after the blow to my head.

“Yes, stupid human. He brought you here after your ship sank, but I had no need for him. Orc blood is bitter and I have no taste for it. Nightberries were a good enough fate for him. But you . . . magic blood sweet enough to be intended exclusively for Grazrath? That I must experience for myself.”

What am I going to do? I can’t do this mission by myself. Who will sell me to Grazrath so that I can get in front of the demon to hit him with my soulfire? But that idiot orc went and got himself poisoned and now I’m alone with a madman who views me as property.

But I am no one’s property. I need to kill him and figure out what to do from there.

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