Page 47 of War Mage

“Here,” she says, producing a cup. “Drink it slowly.”

Adara helps me sit up somewhat, though my ribs groan in agony at the movement, and brings the water cup to my lips. I force myself to drink it in sips, even though my body is desperate for water.

When I’ve finished the cup, I lay back in her lap again. Being near her, surrounded by her cinnamon smoke scent is soothing to me. It has been a long time since I have been in this much pain. Probably not since those beatings I took as an orcling begging on the streets.

Then a thought strikes me. “If they were only bringing rations for you, where did you get that water?”

The mage shrugs. “I’ve been saving my water ration each day, in case you woke up. If you hadn’t woken by the next time they brought rations, I would drink my water and then have them refill it.”

I feel humbled by what she is telling me. She sacrificed what meager comfort she had for me, took care of me while I was knocked out. For three full days.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I am your partner. I should be taking care of you, not the other way around.”

Adara waves off my words. “There’s no need to apologize. Though this wouldn’t have happened if you’d just given the magistrate what he wanted. How hard is it to give a whimper or scream?”

“I cannot control what my body does while I’m in my sanctuary,” I tell her. “And if I do not go into my sanctuary, then you’ll be able to feel my pain and distress through the bond. I can’t do that to you.”

Adara rolls her eyes at that. “I’m not so weak that I can’t handle feeling a ghost of your pain through the bond. And going forward you should give Zadicus what he wants, or he might kill you with his next escalation. If you don’t want to end up a dead blood slave, play the part.”

I smile faintly at that. “Mere weeks ago you would have been happy to see me killed.”

“Funny how things can change in such a short space of time,” remarks Adara. “But I suppose you’ve shown that you aren’t a complete asshole.”

“Glowing praise,” I return wryly, before coughing and agony races across my senses. My torso spasms and my ribs definitely feel broken. The magistrate must have kicked me hard indeed to break orc bones.

Adara strokes her hands across my shoulders, soothing away my pain.

“You probably shouldn’t speak for a while,” she says. “You don’t want to trigger another coughing fit while your ribs are healing. Might want to see if you can sleep for a bit. Now that you’re awake you’ll probably be expected to feed the magistrate again and you’ll need your strength.”

Her words are wise, but I’m loath to sleep again after being unconscious for days on end.

“Don’t worry,” she says as if sensing my reluctance. “I’ll keep watch.”

Her hands keep stroking soothingly over my shoulders, her touch doing wonders to calm the pain that I’m feeling. Finally, I nod, realizing that I’m sleepier than I thought. I’m probably still weak after taking the second brand. I close my eyes and Adara starts humming again, the haunting tune I heard when I woke. Then I fall into slumber, my dreams full of the mage that is slowly stealing my heart.

Chapter 20

Adara

The next two days pass in a predictable way. We travel during the night and Urim is taken to the magistrate’s tent during the day. Urim has taken my advice, no longer retreating to his sanctuary during the feedings. The camp echoes with his pained groans and the bond reverberates with agony and distress. I don’t experience the pain as if I’m the one being fed on, but it’s like an ache coming from far away, deep within. It makes my bones hurt, like the anti-mage chamber, and makes my body tense. Still, I know that it is merely a fraction of what Urim is experiencing, so I try not to show that it affects me at all when Urim is brought back to the wagon. He’s in worse shape each time that he returns, black and dark green bruises mottling his body, and covered in vicious bites. He never complains, however, and by the time he’s chained back next to me the bond is smooth and calm once more, even though I know that he must be in excruciating pain.

The morning of the day before we get to Evernight, as they are rechaining Urim next to me after the latest feeding, a clanging bell suddenly rings through the camp.

“We’re under attack!” A call is raised and the sound of steel against steel rings through the clearing we are camped in.

The guard that is locking up Urim jerks backward, going to draw his sword when an arrow lodges itself in his eye. He falls backward by our feet, dead, with blue blood pouring from his eye socket. I didn’t even know that vampires bled blue.

“Don’t shoot at the wagons!” I hear an authoritative voice yell. “You might hit a blood slave!”

“We need to get out of here,” I say to Urim. “Anyone raiding a magistrate’s caravan will not have good intentions for the blood slaves. They’re probably attacking to steal us.”

“Indeed,” Urim agrees, digging on the guard’s belt for the keys. “And I doubt that they will be taking us to Grazrath if they do. We need to escape and regroup.”

He undoes the lock that keeps us in the wagon and unthreads the chain from our ankle shackles.

“Get low,” he orders. “We need to avoid taking an arrow.”

I nod tensely. The iron shackle on my ankle is still inhibiting my magic, but I can take it off later with my wires. Right now we need to avoid being captured by this unknown raiding party.

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