1. Benjin #2
Haldric cupped Benjin’s cheek, forcing his head up to meet his eyes. Benjin’s breath caught at the warmth and compassion he saw in those verdant depths. He couldn’t resist sweeping a hand through Haldric’s flowing hair.
“I worked hard to learn my magic,” Haldric said gently. “And so did you. I might be good at memorizing spells out of dusty old tomes, but you—you were born with the spark within you. Control can be taught, but that connection, that raw power…that is all entirely you.”
Benjin kissed him again, softer this time, straining to project the depth of his feeling through their sealed lips. You are my everything. And I hope that, someday, I can make you as happy as you’ve made me.
A rough knock sounded on the door.
Benjin jerked back as Haldric spun toward the sound, his brow furrowing. “Goddess’ mercy, who could that be this early?”
Benjin’s eyes narrowed. “If it’s that Void-cursed merchant again, I swear to the Goddess, I’m going to—”
“Open up!” an unfamiliar voice shouted from the other side of the door. “By order of King Roland!”
Benjin glanced at Haldric and saw his own confusion echoed in his husband’s wide-eyed gaze. “Did you commit some terrible crime I’m not aware of?”
Haldric slowly shook his head. “Gerald’s Spring is over a week’s travel from the capital. What business could the king possibly have with us?”
The pounding at the door intensified. The old wood creaked, starting to crack and buckle beneath the sustained assault. At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before whoever was on the other side broke it down.
Benjin squared his shoulders, fierce determination flooding him. It would take more than evoking the name of some distant monarch he’d never met to cow him in his own home. He started toward the door, but Haldric intercepted him, holding up a hand.
“Hal!” Benjin hissed. “What are you doing?”
Haldric gave him a shaky smile. “You look ready to start hurling fireballs and wait to ask questions of the ashes. Let me handle this.”
Before Benjin could protest further, Haldric had stepped past him and thrown open the door, pasting on his best, most diplomatic smile. “Blessings of the Goddess upon you, gentlemen. What can I do for—”
Haldric cut off abruptly as gauntleted hands grabbed him and hauled him through the doorway.
“Hal!” Runeflame crackled across Benjin’s palms as he rushed forward. King’s orders or not, if they thought they could lay so much as a finger on Haldric against his will, they were gravely mistaken.
“Goddess have mercy,” someone outside exclaimed. “It is him!”
“The prince!” another voice cried. “We’ve found him! At last, Prince Haldric is safe!”
That brought Benjin up short. Prince? What in the name of the Goddess were they talking about?
An image flickered before his eyes, some memory buried in the dark recesses of his mind, and he groaned, clutching his head.
A stone room paneled with intricate wooden carvings. A simple chair resting beside a small side table. And perched on the chair, his back ramrod straight as his foot jittered in that way he had when he was nervous, one hand in his lap and the other worrying knots in his silken black hair, sat…
Armored figures burst through the open doorway into the cottage, jarring Benjin out of the… Dream? Memory?
Whatever it had been, he’d worry about it later.
The soldiers wore green tabards over their steel breastplates.
Golden edging and insignia marked them as belonging to the king’s personal regiment.
Their hostile faces scowled at him from beneath their gleaming metal helms. Many already had their swords and shields drawn.
“There he is!” one of them shouted, brandishing his sword at Benjin. “The dark sorcerer!”
With a burst of shock, Benjin realized it was the very merchant who’d been harassing him and Haldric this past week, though he looked little enough like a peddler now. Had he been a spy, scouting them out before this ambush?
Benjin felt frozen to the spot, his mind struggling to make sense of how abruptly the outside world had invaded their perfect little paradise. Only a handful of minutes ago, he and Haldric had been enjoying a quiet breakfast together, as they had countless times before.
What was he supposed to do? Did he try to fight these men? Did he retreat? But Haldric was still out there. Haldric needed him, and he—
From somewhere outside past the advancing soldiers, Haldric screamed, “Benjin! Run!”
The shout jarred Benjin from his stupor. Reacting on instinct, he feigned darting forward, then leaped to the side. Sword strokes sliced the air where he’d been. He took advantage of the soldiers being off balance to shove their feet with a blast of force.
He expected them to topple over, but they barely even stumbled, easily recovering. Brief flares of light from their shields drew his eye, and his gaze flicked to the etched runes he hadn’t noticed before. His gut twisted.
Protection sigils, meant to weaken and deflect magic targeting the bearer.
High quality wards like that would be difficult and expensive to set up. This wasn’t some random attack. These soldiers had come prepared to deal with mages. He and Haldric had been targeted. But why? And what was this nonsense about a prince?
“Remember, the Grand Magus needs him alive, so no lethal blows.” The orders came from a guard in the back.
By the elaborate insignia marking his collar, Benjin took him to be their leader.
The man glanced at Benjin, and Benjin was surprised to see something resembling bitter hurt lurking beneath his anger.
“Surrender now, traitor, and this will go much easier for you.”
Benjin peered past the guards, gauging how quickly he could make it to the doorway. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
The head guard shrugged, his expression grim. “Suit yourself.”
A gesture from him sent half the soldiers fanning out around the edges of the room to encircle Benjin. The rest remained with their leader to block the door.
Benjin fought down a savage grin. Good—the fewer soldiers between him and Haldric, the better.
He waited until the head guard opened his mouth to speak, then dashed forward, holding his hands out to either side while drawing upon his reserve of runeflame.
Blue and silver energy coursed over his fingers as more waves of force erupted from him.
This time, however, he didn’t direct them at the warded soldiers but at the items scattered about the room.
The scarred table and stools rocketed forward, crashing into the nearest pair of soldiers.
They tumbled to the ground with surprised shouts.
The sagging armchair Haldric used for reading made quick work of the guards on the other side.
Plates and silverware from breakfast joined cups, bowls, books, and whatever other loose items Benjin’s runeflame could find, his Evocation transforming them into zipping missiles.
Within seconds, his and Haldric’s cozy living space had devolved into a whirlwind of chaotic destruction.
The guards’ careful lines disintegrated beneath the telekinetic assault.
Benjin’s heart twinged at the mayhem enveloping their home.
I swear to the Goddess, I’ll make whoever’s responsible for this pay.
Taking advantage of the bedlam, he wove past guards and animated objects toward the door, his sole thought reaching Haldric. He was a mere handful of paces away when a figure loomed before him—the head guard.
“Clever,” the man said.
He kept his shield carefully positioned between them.
Benjin tensed when a sheen of pale white soulflame rose to coat his sword.
So, he was a soulflame warrior—a type of caster who learned to channel their power to enhance their martial prowess.
That made him a more dangerous foe than Benjin had expected. Better to avoid a fight if possible.
“But harnessing that much raw magic can’t have been easy on you,” the leader continued. His assessing gaze weighed Benjin, studying him from head to toe. “I’d wager you’re feeling pretty drained right about now.”
Benjin raised hands crackling with runeflame, pleased to see the head guard tense. “You’re forgetting one crucial detail.”
“Oh?” The guard shuffled a cautious step forward. His eyes flicked behind Benjin—no doubt to where more soldiers were recovering, preparing to close in on him. “And what’s that?”
“How Void-cursed angry I am.”
With a terrible splintering noise, the front door ripped from its hinges.
The head guard barely had time to widen his eyes before the sundered wood slammed into his back, sending him sprawling to the floor.
Benjin threw himself forward, rolling under the door as it sailed past him and crashed into the guards behind.
Ignoring their muffled shouts, he propelled himself to his feet and dashed past the dazed leader out into the garden. The front gate lay in splintered ruin, and boots had trampled Haldric’s flowers and vegetables.
The sight sent an irrational spike of outrage through Benjin.
He shoved it down, desperately scanning the surrounding area for any sign of Haldric.
His stomach fell when he came up empty. No Haldric—just several dozen more royal guards, some mounted and some on foot. They must’ve already taken him away.
A nearby soldier finally noticed Benjin standing there and shouted, pointing.
Benjin cursed under his breath and dashed around the edge of the cottage, making for a nearby copse of trees.
The woods there weren’t large, but the cover should make it harder to pursue him on horseback.
Beyond that, he had little choice but to trust his magic and his greater knowledge of the area to help him evade his pursuers.
As he darted beneath the shadowed boughs, his thoughts returned to Haldric. A grim determination settled over him. He still had no idea what in the Goddess’ name was going on, but he did know one thing: Haldric was in trouble.
And Benjin would do whatever it took to rescue him.