Battle Mage 2: Academy for Magical Inmates by Dante King

Author:Dante King
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Published: 2021-12-09T08:00:00+00:00

“Thank you,” I said. “Everyone inside, hurry!”

We scrambled into the pitch-black hollow, thankful for its shelter from the tempest. It smelled musty, and it was full of cobwebs, but thanks to Ajbida’s Nature magic and ability to command minor creatures, we knew there was no longer anything in here that could harm us.

It was so dark that we had trouble seeing our hands in front of our faces, so some light was needed. Although it was tempting to use our magic for some instant light, I wanted to limit its use as far as possible, so I got one of the tinderboxes out and lit a torch.

The space was just large enough for all of us to sit against the walls and stretch our legs out into the gap in the center, where I jammed the bottom of the torch into a crack in the wood so that it could stand upright and burn like a little campfire. A natural chimney

—a hole near the top of the hollow, where a branch had broken off—

ensured that the torch smoke didn’t suffocate us.

“By the gods, that’s one of the worst storms I’ve ever experienced,” Torsten grumbled, his bushy beard sodden and looking like a cat that had fallen into a bathtub. “Winds that blow hard enough to tear your flesh from your bones, ice-cold rain coming down like giants’ piss. I’m bloody glad we found this hollow, bloody glad for some shelter, I am.”

Outside, the storm raged with greater fury, its vengeful wrath making Torsten’s words even more apt.

“We’re lucky to have found this hollow,” Shayna said, sounding shaken. “Torsten is right, I’ve never experienced a storm that bad.

It’s almost like the God of Thunder has turned against us in this evil place. I can’t wait to bond with my monster and finally get out of these cursed Wilderlands.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group. We were all feeling low; soaked and freezing, tired and anxious, not knowing when the next attack would come, or what it was that would be

attacking us. The only thing we knew for certain was that it would happen, and it would be the most ferocious fight yet.

We filled our waterskins by holding them out of the hollow entrance, where the torrential rain filled them up in seconds, and sat in silence for a while, just nibbling on our cookies and sipping on our waterskins, trying to warm ourselves and dry off a little from the meager heat of the torch flame.

The question of the maps and the fading ink had continued to weigh on my mind. After I finished my meal, I decided to take another look at them, just to see if the ink had faded any further.

It almost felt futile at this point, checking the maps. With the fury of the deluge, I was almost certain that many sections of the trail were washed away, or too covered in mud and debris to make out.

As a last resort, we still had our silver arrows,

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