21. Benjin

twenty-one

Benjin

Benjin rose from his crouch in the ditch by the side of the road. His pounding heart slowed as he watched Haldric break free of his captors. Benjin's crude Evocation had worked like a charm, rippling through the ground in a sudden tremor that sowed enough confusion up on the road for the prince to escape.

Haldric turned, his green eyes widening when they locked onto Benjin. Benjin sucked in a breath. It had been bad enough waking up in his quarters at the Galax estate alone. A part of him had expected as much no matter what he and Haldric had whispered beneath the sheets, or how prodigiously they'd mapped each other's bodies and hearts the night before.

But when he'd met Haldric in the halls afterward, the prince had barely been able to look at him, and little had changed since. That's why Benjin had taken the hint and stayed away. If Haldric wanted to avoid him, he wouldn't force the issue. A week of forced bonding followed by one night of misplaced tenderness didn't change the fact that he was a stuck-up noble with a pretentious air and a bride-to-be.

Yet in that moment as their gazes met, all the strained awkwardness of the past few days on the road seemed to seep away. Stay safe, Benjin mouthed, hoping Haldric could make it out, or at least read the plea written on his face.

Shouts rang out nearby. "Another mage! There!"

Reluctantly turning away from Haldric, Benjin spotted a trio of thugs breaking off from the rest of the fighting to move his way. Blue and silver bands of runeflame wound about Benjin's fingers as he channeled fresh runeflame. Pain flared in his side where he'd landed when the wagon overturned during the initial ambush, but he ignored it. A hasty Protection had ensured he suffered nothing worse than a few nasty bruises instead of broken bones. That was good enough for now.

The instant his three foes were close enough, Benjin unleashed his runeflame, battering the nearest man aside with a barrage of force. When another tried to slip in with a sword, Benjin ripped her legs out from under her and sent her sprawling.

The last he hit with a crude Compulsion. He hadn't had time to shape the command beyond an order to stop, and while the thug quickly shook it off, Benjin used the opening to scurry around him toward Haldric.

His stomach fell when he realized he's lost sight of the prince, though he let out a silent cheer when he spied one of the men that had captured Haldric lying motionless by the carriage. Way to go, Haldric!

A crossbow bolt whizzed past Benjin's ear. He managed an Evocation to knock aside a second bolt with a gust of wind an instant before it embedded itself in his skull. Focusing on the crossbow wielder, Benjin recalled the spell the Grand Magus had taught him to heat up the burner in his lab. Within moments, flames crackled over the wooden weapon. The thug discarded the burning crossbow with a yelp.

The nearer enemies regrouped, barring Benjin's way. Frustration squeezed his chest. He didn't have time for this. He had to get to Haldric!

Roaring a wordless battlecry, Benjin unleashed a raw wave of force that hurled the attackers back. The unshaped Evocation was far from a proper spell and wasted a good chunk of his remaining runeflame. But sometimes, the simplest solutions were the best.

Not wanting to give his foes a chance to recover, Benjin rushed past them, clambering up the rest of the incline to the road. His breath caught as he took in the scene. Corpses of men and horses littered the road. Marshal Fendrel and a handful of royal guards remained standing, but they were outnumbered.

Benjin's heart stuttered when he realized there was still no sign of Haldric, nor the soulflame warrior who'd attacked him. They must be on the other side of the carriage. Benjin started toward the carriage, but before he could reach it, fire erupted against his chest.

The force of the blast knocked him to the ground and left his singed robes smoldering. Searing pain ratcheted through him from his charred flesh, and he struggled to think through the haze of agony.

The enemy must have their own mage. It was the only explanation that made sense. And that meant that, if he stayed here in the open like this, he was dead.

With a shaking hand, he tried to work his runeflame into a basic Restoration to relieve his burns, but he struggled with that kind of magic at his best, and he certainly wasn't at his best right now. The spell fizzled without any effect.

Amused laughter echoed nearby. Benjin squinted up through his pain to see an older woman approaching. Her plain dress was at odds with the silken shawl she wore to conceal her face.

"For a moment there, I thought the king had sent along a real mage to protect his precious boy. But you seem barely capable of putting up a fight."

"What do you want?" Benjin hissed through clenched teeth.

As he spoke, he gathered runeflame about his hand where it lay concealed beneath his body, praying the mage didn't notice. Thankfully, she seemed too preoccupied with the sound of her own voice.

She stopped a dozen paces away. Runeflame blanketed her in an azure glow laced with flecks of silver. "We're here for the prince. If he's not dead yet, he will be soon. Without his magic, he's nothing but a pathetic pup playing at being a soldier."

No magic? That explained how Haldric had been so easily overpowered. Had this mage done something to affect Haldric's runeflame?

"Why do you care…about Haldric?" Benjin wheezed. It wasn't difficult to act pained and harmless—not with the agony mounting in his charbroiled chest.

The woman tutted. "Must you ask so many questions? It's not as if you'll have time to consider my answers." A sphere of roiling flame coalesced atop her palm. "We may have come for the prince, but his pet mage will make a nice bonus."

Benjin yanked his hand up and unleashed his gathered runeflame right as she launched her fireball. Their conflicting magic collided in midair, flames hissing and roiling about Benjin as his own spell barely kept it at bay.

Focusing on the clashing spells, Benjin channeled more runeflame in a desperate attempt to force the other mage's runeflame back. As Haldric had so often told him, what he lacked in technique he made up for in raw power.

The enemy mage's eyes widened as her spell began to reverse, the flames roiling toward her. "Impossible!" Her outstretched hand trembled as she fought against Benjin's will. "That wasn't even a proper counterspell!"

"Good enough…to counter you," Benjin retorted through his bared teeth.

He could sense the enemy mage's concentration close to snapping. All he had to do was keep focusing, keep powering his spell and sooner or later, she—

The last of his runeflame ran out, and with it, his control. Destabilized, the clashing magic burst apart in a ring of sparking smoke. Benjin slumped to the dirt, utterly spent.

Relief tinged the enemy mage's nervous laughter. "Looks like someone ran out of juice. If you were a proper mage, you'd know how to conserve your magic." Her eyes flashed with triumph as she conjured more runeflame as if to prove her point. "A pity you'll never get the chance to learn."

She raised her hand, and a steel blade burst from her chest in a spray of blood. Her runeflame winked out as she scrabbled weakly at the sword tip protruding from her chest. Then, her eyes rolled over, and she collapsed.

Panting and covered in blood, his tunic torn in a half-dozen places to expose the thick muscles beneath, Haldric stood over the fallen mage. Behind him was an equally battered Fendrel, along with four royal guards.

Haldric's gaze traveled from the mage to Benjin. Their eyes locked as Haldric's face split in a fierce grin. "Looks like you'll get that chance to learn after all."