* * *
When Evariste woke,he knew they had moved locationsagain.
The black mages that had captured him kept him unconscious most of the time. In fact, he was awake only when they were using his magic to bestow a foulcurse.
They used me to call out Emerys.Evariste barely held in a groan at the torturousmemory.
They had used his close relationship with the Elf King to place a curse on all elves—withhismagic. And he had been powerless to stopit.
Evariste reached for his magic, but as it had been ever since the black mages captured him, he felt nothing. There was a bone-deep numbness in his chest and nothing where his magic shouldbe.
Even so, I might be able to get free if I can startle them and throw off whatever spell they put onme.
With that hope ever in his mind, he kept his eyes closed andlistened.
Murmuring voices created a soft backdrop, disrupted by the occasional crackle of a fire. The icy cold stone floor was hard and unforgiving beneath his cheek, and the air was chilly in its pureness and a little wet, but it lacked any real scent, which meant it was likely they were indoors—a new experience, as the mages had been dragging him through the wilds of thecontinent.
Feet shifted near him—a guard, most likely. And faintly, in the distance, Evariste thought he heard the cackle of agoblin.
What is a goblin doing indoors?The sound echoed faintly through theroom.
The murmuring voices grew louder, and Evariste could hear the faint tap of footsteps. More black mages were approaching. If he was going to attempt an escape, now was thetime.
He cracked his eyesopen.
There was only one mage standing guard—a male with a white, puckered scar that slashed diagonally across his face. He was one of the two mages to place the sealing spell onhim.
The black mage wasn’t even watching Evariste. He was staring at the back of the room and rubbed his hands together, his eyes squinted inlonging.
Evariste couldn’t look that direction without craning his neck, but he didn’t hear any other shuffles or exhales, so it seemed likely this mage was the onlyguard.
Perfect.
Evariste kicked his feet out, nailing the robed mage in the back of theknee.
The man shouted in surprise and staggered to right himself, but Evariste caught the loose cuff of his robe and yanked, pulling himover.
“He’s awake!” the black mageyelled.
Evariste lunged to his feet and kicked the man in the gut, silencinghim.
The mage made a gasping noise as he tried to recover from the blow, and Evariste jumped overhim.
Every muscle in his body protested—he was stiff and sore, and the lighting was dim. There was just a single fire to light the cavernousroom.
Weapon. Find aweapon.
Evariste turned around and almost walked into a razor-sharp dagger forged out of blackmetal.
“Well, well, well, even the goody-two-shoes mages have some savagery in them after all.” A young man sauntered across the room—which Evariste could now see was not a room but a chamber in acave.
As the man drew closer, he held his hand out. Shadows streaked from his fingertips, solidifying into the shape of a broadsword. When the man grabbed the shadow by the hilt, the darkness condensed into a sword of a similar make to the dagger pressing against Evariste’s throat, held there by the man’smagic.
A war mage. A powerful one. His looks are too exotic for him to be marginally talented inmagic.
The war mage appeared to be approximately Evariste’s age—perhaps a few years younger. Though if he was strong in magic, his appearance could bedeceiving.
His black hair was carefully tousled and smoothed away from his forehead, and he was dressed like an enchanter, in trousers and a shirt of black with gold trim and embroidery. His goldenrod cloak fell over one shoulder, and if it weren’t for his startling red eyes, he could have been mistaken for a prince or high-rankednobleman.
