do.”
He grasped her arms and kissed her savagely, breathing her in, her scent sweet, her lips delicate, their contact savory as he absorbed her energy through every pore of his body until Sunathri fell lifeless to the floor.
He gasped and stared at her lying against the hard stone.
What had he done?
The crunch of a footstep came from behind.
Garrick whirled.
Two mages strode forward, fire blazing in their hands.
Garrick woke with a start. He was in his tent. It was still the middle of the night, dark, and quiet. The pure blackness of his hunger swirled within him, feeding off his dream like a buzzard on carrion.
A light footstep came from outside, twin to the one that first brought him awake. The fabric of his tent rustled. Someone working the ties.
A shadow lined the tent wall. A sharp burst of adrenaline spiked his veins and his hunger became rough against the back of his throat. He rose unsteadily from the cot and peered into the darkness.
Could Sunathri be returning?
Darien?
The figure finished untying the flaps.
A soft whisper came through the night, then the faint, but unmistakable odor of blood-laced Koradictine magic.
Garrick’s throat tightened.
The assassin entered his tent, and Garrick reached for his link to the plane of magic. The flow of magestuff was tepid, and he had no inner force left to bring it with any greater speed. He whispered a word of sorcery and concentrated as hard as he possibly could.
The Koradictine’s arm rose and Garrick saw the dull flash of a dagger.
He grunted, and cast a simple spell of power that caught the mage across the shoulder just as he stabbed. The blade scored Garrick’s ribs with acidic pain, but did not make a serious wound.
Garrick’s hunger struck like a snake.
The Koradictine gave a stifled scream as Garrick devoured his life force in one glorious breath. The mage’s eyes reflected purple magelight as he faded. More footsteps fell heavy outside, running away.
Garrick rose from his cot, already feeling the strength of new life force. His blood pounded as he stepped to the tent’s opening.
It was another Koradictine running away through the brush.
The Dorfort guard was rousing, but Garrick didn’t wait for them. He chased the mage into the woods, contorting his hand and marshaling his new life force to blast energy into the brush. The mage crashed through the thicket, racing for his life and casting magic wildly behind him.
Garrick’s pace brought him even, and he grabbed the Koradictine by the shoulder so that they tumbled over the grassy ground. Garrick rolled over him, digging his fingertips into the man’s flesh and feasting on his energy in a surge of power that made him shudder. When it was done, Garrick stood, panting, and looked down at the dark husk that was all that remained of the mage.
Footsteps came from behind him.
“Lord Garrick?” a guard called.
“Stay back,” he barked.
The guard stayed where he was, but another joined.
He felt Sunathri come forward, then Darien. He wanted to reach to them. The hunger inside had been loosed, and it tasted their life force. He wanted to feast, but he held himself back
Perhaps Sunathri was right about him learning to control Braxidane’s magic.
“Garrick?” Darien called.
“Are you all right?” Sunathri added as she came closer.
Darien stopped her, though, and they all waited there to see what Garrick would do.
Full control came slowly, but once he had a sense of stability about himself he collected himself and came out of the darkness.
“What happened?” Sunathri said.
“Koradictine scouts broke into camp,” Garrick explained.
“I’m sorry,” Darien said. “I’ll speak to our sentries.” But the glance he shared with Sunathri gave him away.
“This was no accident, was it?” Garrick said.
“What do you mean?”
Garrick’s vision was sharp now despite the darkness. He saw how Darien’s eyes grew hooded, and he felt the truth to his accusation. “You left
Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley