Warlock Apprentice, Black Lake Novel 4

Chapter Forty-One

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I woke with a jolt, stretched across a settee in the formal sittin’ room off the entryway. I rose quickly, extendin’ my hands as the room shimmered and I stumbled. Though Earth still spun in the fashion Papa described when a drunkard overindulged, I already recognized what direction I could find the three wizards. I walked, more stumbled, toward the front of the house before my vision cleared. My hand shook as I drew open the door.

Conversation on the veranda halted.

“Feeling better?” Selene asked.

“Aye. I guess.” Was no longer unconscious. Think that counted as a win.

“So you want me to reach out to the dragons and warn them?” Morgan asked.

“Aye,” Rutland answered.

“Nay,” Selene said.

I closed the door behind me and stepped beside Selene, who seemed too calm.

“I don’t understand,” Rutland said.

But Morgan nodded. The light of the moon glowed off the white half of his dreadlocks dramatically, makin’ ’im appear more apparition than real.

“We can’t wait for war,” Selene said. “We end it before it starts, long before the mercenaries are mustered. We take it to the remaining four wizards.”

“Not a gentlemanly way,” Rutland mumbled.

“So, I would have ungentlemanly killed you today. So be it. I’m glad you recognized the evil of your ways.”

A bolt of shock and anger in Rutland merged into an emotion I couldn’t place. But after a three-count he rocked with a one-note laugh. “I’m glad I did too, you rogue. Do we leave in the morning?”

“We?”

“Aye,” Rutland said. “You’re the only trained wizard between the three of you, and you face four of the most powerful. None of you will survive without my help.”

“Only if they move quickly enough to join forces,” Selene said.

“Then we don’t wait for mornin’,” Morgan said.

“Aye,” Selene answered.

I grimaced. So much for my night in a soft bed. I rubbed my sore behind.

“How soon can you be ready?” Selene asked.

“Thirty minutes.”

“Make it ten,” Morgan said.

Rutland peered at the ogre. But he smiled a moment later. “My lady won’t care to have much conversation anyway, not until I’ve corrected my sin.” He turned and entered the house.

The three of us exchanged glances, but no one seemed to need to say anythin’. Selene led us inside to collect our belongin’s. I trudged from the mudroom where our packs and cloaks were stacked, back to the entry where Morgan grabbed Bacchus with a sigh of relief. Selene and I strapped on our swords, and three minutes later we were in the stable saddlin’ our mares. I blinked at the gloom, unbelievin’ we prepared to push on.

I will die.

I’ve blacked out twice this evenin’ already. Maybe I should suggest I should stay behind with the ladies. Ah. What am I thinkin’?

Rutland joined us as Selene and I knotted our saddlebags in place. Rutland had changed, and wore black clothin’, like Selene, Blake, and his two Northern wizard friends. Must be a wizards-at-war thin’. He wore a sword so long the scabbard jabbed the stable floor from time to time. Rutland’s a tall man. The additional inches of the sword must give him an enormous advantage. Unless he required the longer blade because his skill lacked. But somethin’ told me that prolly wasn’t the case.

Rutland efficiently saddled his own stallion—no geldin’ for this lord—clearly he enjoys a spirited mount—not that I’m a horse expert. Silently we walked out of the stable, under the stars. Rutland rolled closed the twelve-foot-tall door and we all mounted. Morgan led at a jog. The first jolts against the saddle stung, and tears welled in my eyes.

Didn’t bode well.

Thin’s done hidden in the dark are not good thin’s. Think Mama read us a passage that said somethin’ like that.

I may never walk again.

Have they forgotten I’ve passed out twice since we arrived?

Rutland rode in front of Selene and me. Our mares, as stable mates, insisted on remainin’ close. There was no point in fightin’ it. Rutland dug a stirrup into his stallion’s ribs and the horse leapt forward. The mares followed.

The jabbin’ pain brought brighter stars into my eyes.

Will I ever see Nickie again? Maybe, I’d be in a wheeled chair. If I survived this ride.

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