Rune Mage [Fantasy/Adventure | Book 1 +2 | Complete]

Chapter 48: Insubordinate Subordinate

Rowan had resigned himself to the worst when he arrived at Recca Mirren's office. Smoke trickled from several cracked, blackened gilded windows and military personnel stationed at Iwade swarmed the door, trying to break it down. He'd been there before, as a child, when his father had business with Mage Mirren. He couldn't remember the details, but he recalled the suffocating scent of autumn flowers that weaved the marble staircase and the disregard with which the mage spoke to his father. Rowan might not have been fond of his father, but Mirren's arrogant attitude stuck with him.

And the smoke. It reminded him of the time when his father had brought him to where the soldiers practised. It made him a man, he said. He made Rowan run alongside them. It was the same initiation as every Woodbead in the family, he said. Bolliver did it too when he was ten years old. Bolliver made it to major general. He made Rowan carry similar heavy backpacks and dive amongst artillery.

He also left Rowan in that shed when it went up in flames.

Seeing the thick curtain of demonic smoke sent shudders through his body, but he squared his shoulders. Seiren was in there in the midst of trouble, and Loren wouldn't be around to save her from injuries like last time.

"Move!" he shouted. The soldiers and personnel parted, eyes falling on his rainbow-lined mage's cloak and widening. With a clap of his hand, he threw magic forward. The ground beneath the entrance rumbled before erupting into rubble, shattering the heavy wooden doors. How he wished he had that magic back then. With a split second's hesitation, he swept in, squinting against the billowing thick smoke.

He clapped again and water gushed from his palms, dousing the flames and creating more acrid smoke. Eyes watering, he made towards the two shapes, tensing in case he needed to attack -- and then recognised the dark green uniforms. And then the broad-shouldered, dark-skinned man with the shorn head, in military uniform. He clutched something in his hands.

"Peron!" Rowan said, halting. Loren's aide broke into a toothy grin at the sight of him.

"Mage Woodbead!"

"Oh, thank the runes you're here!" said a female's voice. A smaller figure broke from Peron's side. Felora had soot streaked across her face and in her straw-coloured hair. Bloodied flesh peeked through the uniform sleeves that were slashed to ribbons. She dragged a third figure behind her. Rowan's heart jumped to his throat. Was he too late? First Loren, now her?

"Is that...?" he said in a hoarse voice. Felora shook her head, her expression grim, and lugged the limp figure forward. Messy dark blonde hair strewn over a pinched face. Dried blood crusted at the corner where she'd bit her lip. Halen Ashworth.

Her eyes sank in. If not for the shallow movements in her chest, Rowan would have thought she was dead. The paleness and corpse-like appearance reminded him of Loren like a kick in the gut. But of course the personnel wouldn't recognise it, not having much experience in magic themselves.

"Seiren managed to subdue her somehow." Felora sounded exhausted. "I don't know how."

He had an idea what. It was all he could do not to lose his calm façade in front of Loren's subordinates.

"Ashworth kept us both pretty busy with those knives."

Rowan approached gingerly, raising a hand before him. All at once, the cacophony behind him of the military personnel and soldiers securing the area, dousing the remaining flames, and barking orders faded away. Curled in Peron's arms was Seiren, looking much younger and more vulnerable than her conscious self would ever allow. A small trickle of blood snaked down her cheek from a cut below her left eye. Her blonde hair stuck up in all over like a dandelion flower. Peron had wrapped cloth around her right upper arm; blood seeped through. No. She couldn't possibly have used that magic on Loren. But it must have been her this time round, maybe out of desperation. Rowan withdrew his trembling fingers and tucked them into his armpits.