Magician (Riftware Sage Book 1)

Dropping to his knees, he picked up a wedge of cheese and stuffed it in his mouth. A half-spilled bottle of wine lay nearby, and he washed the cheese down with it. The rich cheese and piquant white wine revived him, and he felt his mind clearing. He ripped a large piece of bread from a loaf and chewed on it while trying to put his thoughts in order. As Pug recalled events, one thing stood out. Somehow he had managed to cast a magic spell. What’s more, he had done so without the aid of a book, scroll, or device. He was not sure, but that seemed somehow strange. His thoughts turned hazy again. More than anything he wanted to lie down nd sleep, but as he chewed his food, a thought pushed through the crazy quilt of his impressions. The Princess!

 

He jumped to his feet, and his head swam. Steadying himself, he grabbed up some bread and the wine and set off in the direction he had last seen her running. He pushed himself along, his feet scuffing as he tried to walk. After a few minutes he found his thinking improving and the exhaustion lifting. He started to call the Princess’s name, then heard muted sobbing coming from a clump of bushes. Pushing his way through, he found Carline huddled behind the shrubs, her balled fists pulled up into her stomach. Her eyes were wide with terror, and her gown was soiled and torn. Startled when Pug stepped into view, she jumped to her feet and flew into his arms, burying her head in his chest. Great racking sobs shook her body as she clutched the fabric of his shirt. Standing with his arms still outstretched, wine and bread occupying his hands, Pug was totally confused over what to do. He awkwardly placed his arm around the terrified girl and said, “It’s all right. They’re gone. You’re safe.”

 

She hung on to him for a moment, then, when her tears subsided, she stepped away. With a sniffle she said, “I thought they had killed you and were coming back for me.”

 

Pug found this situation more perplexing than any he had ever known Just when he had come through the most harrowing experience of his young life, he was faced with one that sent his mind reeling with a different sort of confusion. Without thinking, he held the Princess in his arms, and now he was suddenly aware of the contact, and her soft, warm appeal. A protective, masculine feeling welled up inside him, and he started to step toward her.

 

As if sensing his mood change, Carline retreated. For all her courtly ways and education, she was still a girl of fifteen and was disturbed by the rush of emotions she had experienced when he had held her. She took refuge in the one thing she knew well, her role as Princess of the castle. Trying to sound commanding, she said, “I am glad to see you are unhurt, boy.” Pug winced visibly at that. She struggled to regain her aristocratic bearing, but her red nose and tearstained face undermined her attempt. “Find my horse, and we shall return to the keep.”

 

Pug felt as if his nerves were raw. Keeping tight control over his voice, he said, “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but the horses have run off. I’m afraid we’ll have to walk.”

 

Carline felt abused and mistreated. It was not Pug’s fault any of the afternoon’s events had taken place, but her often-indulged temper seized on the handiest available object. “Walk! I can’t walk all the way to the keep,” she snapped, looking at Pug as if he were supposed to do something about this matter at once and without question.

 

Pug felt all the anger, confusion, hurt, and frustration of the day surge up within him. “Then you can bloody well sit here until they notice you’re missing and send someone to fetch you.” He was now shouting. “I figure that will be about two hours after sunset.”

 

Carline stepped back, her face ashen, looking as if she’d been slapped. Her lower Up trembled, and she seemed on the verge of tears again. “I will not be spoken to in that manner, boy!”

 

Pug’s eyes grew large, and he stepped toward her, gesturing with the wine bottle. “I nearly got myself killed trying to keep you alive,” he shouted. “Do I hear one word of thanks? No! All I hear is a whining complaint that you can’t walk back to the castle. We of the keep may be lowborn, but at least we have enough manners to thank someone when it’s deserved.” As he spoke, he could feel the anger flooding out of him. “You can stay here if you like, but I’m going . . . ” He suddenly realized that he was standing with the bottle raised high overhead, in a ridiculous pose. The Princess’s eyes were on the loaf of bread, and he realized that he was holding it at his belt, thumb hooked in a loop, which only added to the awkward appearance. He sputtered for a moment, then felt his anger evaporate and lowered the bottle. The Princess looked at him, her large eyes peeking over her fists, which she held before her face Pug started to say something, thinking she was afraid of him, when he saw she was laughing. It was a musical sound, warm and unmocking. “I’m sorry, Pug,” she said, “but you look so silly standing there like that. You look like one of those awful statues they erect in Krondor, with bottle held high instead of a sword.”

 

Pug shook his head. “I’m the one who’s sorry, Your Highness I had no right to yell at you that way Please forgive me.”