The Sentinel Mage

CHAPTER TWENTY





THE ARROW HAD gouged down Petrus’s side, slicing through muscle and flesh, lodging just above his hip. Innis coaxed the arrowhead out while the others set up for the night—tending the horses, building a fire, hanging the blankets from low branches to dry. Above the trees, dusk gathered in the sky.

The arrowhead removed, she concentrated on repairing the wound. Petrus wasn’t a strong healer, but he’d been able to control the bleeding while they rode down from the pass, going from barren rock to sparse trees to thick forest, from mist and drizzle to sunlight streaming through a canopy of leaves. He was exhausted now. She was aware of how weak he was, aware of the dull edge of his pain as she closed the wound, knitting muscles and flesh, hiding the white gleam of his ribs.

His pain eased as she worked, his tension lessening in tiny increments. When the deeper layers were healed and only the skin remained, he exhaled a sigh. “Thank you, Innis.”

She smiled at him.

Twilight shadowed his face. “Dareus said you killed one of the soldiers.”

Her smile faded. “Yes.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Innis said firmly, and began sealing the edges of skin together. Darkness had fallen by the time she finished. She smoothed her hand down the line of the scar, feeling with her magic. His body felt healthy, whole. “There.” She sat back on her heels. “Finished.”

Petrus pushed himself up on one elbow. He felt his ribs. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She stood and held out her hand to him.

He let her pull him to his feet, but didn’t release her hand. “Innis, that soldier you killed; he would have killed you.”

“I know.”

“You did what you had to do.” His grip tightened on her hand. “You did well.”

Innis had a flash of memory: her sword burying itself in the soldier’s neck, the jolt as it struck bone, the spray of blood as she wrenched the blade free. She pushed the memory aside, swallowing nausea.

“We all did well.” She turned her gaze towards the fire. “The prince is still alive.”

Petrus grunted. He released her hand.

“He came back,” she said, watching as the prince sat down alongside Justen. “Prince Harkeld. Did Dareus tell you?”

“What’s the point of us protecting him if he—”

“He came back to help us.”

“Brave,” Petrus said. “But not smart.”

She stared at Justen, trying to tell if he was Ebril or Gerit. She couldn’t. Her gaze returned to the prince. “Do you think he’s a mage?”

“I hope not. An arrogant mage is a dangerous mage.”

Innis turned her head and stared at Petrus. “You think he’s arrogant?”

“You don’t?”

“He treats Justen like a comrade, not a servant.”

“Well, he treats the rest of us like we’re lepers.” Petrus turned away from her and rummaged in his saddlebag, pulling out trews, underbreeches, a shirt.

Innis looked down at the ground. She dug the toe of her boot into the dirt. Petrus was right. “Things will be better now we’re in Lundegaard,” she said, but her tone didn’t sound as certain as she’d meant it to be.

“They can hardly be worse,” Petrus said, pulling the shirt over his head.





“PURSUIT?” DAREUS ASKED the following morning when the hawks came back from scouting.

Harkeld looked up from tying his bootlaces.

“Twenty men spent the night at the pass,” Ebril said. “They set off into Lundegaard at dawn, leaving their uniforms behind.”

Gerit snorted. “Civilians now, are they?”

“And in Lundegaard?” Dareus asked.

Petrus accepted a bowl of gruel from Cora as he answered: “A lot of activity. I saw half a dozen patrols on the roads, and two in the forest.” He shrugged. “It may be normal.”

“It’s not,” Harkeld said. “That number of patrols means they’re looking for something. Us, at a guess.”

There was a moment’s silence. “We don’t know their intent,” Cora said. “It might not be hostile.”

Harkeld stood. He reached for his sword belt. “I can’t believe King Magnas would seek to hinder us. Not if he knows what we’re doing.”

Gerit grunted.“If he knows what we’re doing.”

“If King Esger told him you were a traitor,” Dareus said. “And asked for his assistance in killing you... Would King Magnas ask why? Would he doubt your father’s word?”

Harkeld buckled the sword belt around his hips. “I think so.” I hope so. “He’s a sensible man, a calm man. I’ve never seen him act in haste or anger.”

“So you think the patrols are there to aid us?” Justen said.

“Yes.”

“Does anyone care to risk it?” Dareus asked.

There was silence.