Darkrise by M. L. Spencer

Author:M. L. Spencer [Spencer, M. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy
Publisher: Stoneguard Publications
Published: 2018-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

He was surprised that he woke at all.

Darien opened his eyes to find a familiar face staring down at him.

“Well, here we are again,” said an equally familiar voice.

“And where is that?” he whispered hoarsely.

He was groggy, to the point that he couldn’t make heads or tails of his surroundings. The woman leaning over him had dark brown skin and sleek ebony hair. She was elegant in an unusual way, beautiful without meaning to be.

He blinked a couple times, fumbling through hazy bleariness to remember her name. The woman placed a hand on his chest, closing her eyes. He could feel a faint stirring of power deep inside. She was another mage, and she was probing him, he realized.

“You are in my tent,” she explained, smiling at him with her eyes. “I had your men bring you here so I could watch you while you recovered.” Her smile slipped a bit. “You seem to have a hard time keeping yourself alive.”

Her name finally came to him: Myria Anassis. He was surprised to see her there. He’d thought she was in Bryn Calazar with Renquist. With effort, he squirmed into a sitting position. “What happened?”

“As you can imagine, not all of Malikar’s soldiers think highly of you. One man in particular decided that vengeance was more important than his own life. He lost his entire family at Orien’s Finger. All five of his brothers. Do you understand the concept of blood feud?”

He did. Darien realized that he’d been a fool; he should have expected such an attack. “Thank you for saving me,” he murmured.

Myria scoffed, trailing a hand down her waist-length hair. “You saved yourself. You burned the spear to ash and cauterized the wound. You were lucky; we couldn’t have gotten to you in time.”

He reached up, rubbing the place where the shaft had penetrated. There wasn’t even a scar left. Myria had done a masterful job with the healing. He gazed at her in speculation, remembering the time she had healed him in Bryn Calazar, right after his arrival in the Black Lands. Then, she had propositioned him for sex. He’d rejected her at the time. The look in her eyes made him regret that decision.

She stood up. “Do you feel up to walking? Warden Connel would like a word with you. Well, more than a word. Frankly, I think he’s quite pissed.”

He still felt groggy, but figured he was up for a walk if he had to be. Darien pushed himself up off the pallet, rising stiffly. He looked down at his body, realizing he wasn’t wearing much.

“Here’s your trousers,” Myria said, and tossed them to him. Her eyes lingered on his chest.

He caught the trousers and drew them on, lacing them up the front. Then he donned the tunic she handed him.

“And here’s this.” Myria offered him a chain hauberk. “Orders. You’re not to go anywhere without at least a mail shirt. And I’m told you’re to be fitted for a set of field plate.”

Darien stared at the ring mail before accepting it with a shrug.

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