6. Chapter 6 #2
Milo let out a long, drawn out, dramatic groan.
“I wish mages would actually explain shit to their clients. I’m not saying sigils last forever—you need to wipe them clean and renew them every three years or so—but renewing the paint on them keeps the signal strong.
The paint itself has a spell placed on it, but if you leave the spelled paint behind, the client can at least renew the sigils until it’s time for an overhaul.
It’s like…uh, hold on. I’m thinking of a good metaphor here.
It’s like… Ah. Got it. It’s rather like a handle on a bag.
If the handle’s seam is coming undone, it still works to hold up the bag, right?
But you know it’s going to fail at some point.
Which would you rather do, re-sew that seam or make a whole new bag? ”
Put like that, it made perfect sense. Following through on his logic… “Then you’ll have to redo the sigils? Because they weren’t maintained?”
“How did I get so lucky to get a boyfriend with both beauty and brains?” Milo shot him a mischievous grin, making Rowan’s heart flip-flop in his chest. “That’s it precisely. Which will take longer, but it’ll be worth it, as the sigils will work as they should.”
“I’m all for that. I’ll guard and guide you to each watchtower.”
“You’d better.” Milo shot him a wink and resumed eating.
Ruben seemed satisfied with this answer and didn’t ask anything more.
They finished up lunch, stretched, and then loaded back up for the last push of the day.
The steep mountain road was rough in some places and, as Rowan had predicted, washed out by the recent rain, so it wasn’t a smooth journey.
That was really the main reason why it took so long.
They had to slow down and sometimes patch the road before they could continue up it.
Milo’s magic came in handy during those moments as he was able to create dirt or gravel to patch the holes with nothing more than a spoken word and wave of his wand.
It wasn’t grand or flashy magic, but the confident, casual way Milo cast highlighted his skills.
Watching him work, Rowan felt a spark of pride, which was ridiculous, granted, but he was still very proud.
Rowan kept an eye on him, though. Milo was quite strong as a Second Circle Mage, but his power wasn’t limitless. Rowan didn’t want his boyfriend to overdo it.
The day waned. The sun was fading overhead, made all the dimmer by the trees around them, which meant they’d need to make camp fairly soon. Rowan nudged Stan closer to the cart to speak more easily. “Milo, there’s a spot up ahead we normally camp at—”
He heard them first, the rustle of brush being shoved aside by quick movements.
Rowan’s sword practically leapt into his hand as he twisted sharply in the saddle, instinct putting him on guard.
Not a moment too soon, either, as several bandits rushed out of the woods, weapons raised and greed on their haggard faces.
Bastards.
Milo was just as quick to move, standing on the bench and whipping his wand out of the waist pocket he kept it in. “Assandra’s Shield!”
Two translucent barriers slammed into being, one over their cart, the other over Ruben’s, his donkeys braying in alarm. Thank the gods for Milo’s quick thinking. Rowan had almost reminded him to do that, but Milo had clearly remembered. Having a barrier over the carts made this fight much easier.
Reassured Milo would be fine, it was time for Rowan to get his head in the fight. He turned, trusting his back to Milo, and focused on the men leaping out of the shadows. His adrenaline had already kicked in, bloodlust surging, but his mind stayed clear and focused.
Rowan had fought alongside their late mage many times in his formative years and knew this barrier well, so he didn’t hesitate.
He threw himself off Stan, as there was no room to maneuver the stallion on this narrow mountain road, and quickly darted outside of the shimmering barrier and engaged with the nearest bandit.
He could hear Ruben doing the same, a war cry on his brother’s lips, but Rowan wasn’t worried. Ruben was a strong fighter.
And at his back, he heard Milo casting offensive spell after offensive spell. Just how many offensive spells did he know, anyway…?
Rowan shoved the thought aside and focused on the fight. It wasn’t much of one. Bandits normally resorted to this life because they weren’t good at anything else. Not good enough to be soldiers, at least. He dispatched one in two moves, whirled, and aimed for the next one.
“Flame Arrow!”
A fiery arc of light shot past him, and he sensed a bandit on his right side go down, gurgling around the charred hole in his throat. He could smell burning flesh from all around him, which wasn’t exactly pleasant, but it seemed Milo had great aim.
Sounds of metal striking metal and Milo casting spells washed over him.
Rowan kept one ear trained on his people, just in case trouble found them, even as he moved to neatly dispatch another bandit.
One of them was trying to find a way around Milo’s barrier.
He hastily threw charms and the odd spell scroll, each creating an arc of sparks as they exploded against the barrier.
Those scrolls were likely from third-rate magicians trying to make a quick coin, only good for one use, and a mediocre use at that.
The fool didn’t have a prayer of getting through a true mage’s defense.
Aggravated still, Rowan advanced on him, and when the bandit turned, sword at the ready, he engaged the young man.
His opponent’s sword was rusty as hell, bits of it chipping away as he fought to fend off Rowan’s greatsword.
He stank of sweat and body odor, and frankly, the smell was more offensive than his sword skills.
Rowan gave no mercy or quarter as he found an opening, slicing the man’s throat open, feeling the weight of the blow in his arms and shoulders, hot blood spraying against his cheek.
Whirling the sword in his hand to adjust the grip, Rowan turned to the bandit charging him on his left, a strangled cry wrenched from his lips.
Fool. Trying to avenge his comrade would only put him in a shared grave.
Killing that one with a sharp cut to his torso, Rowan spun again, ready to tackle the next, only to find no one else standing.
He blinked, looking around, checking body after body, but the bandits were unnaturally still.
Rowan did a quick head count, came up with eighteen dead, and did a mental huh.
Had they really killed them all in a few minutes?
Ruben jogged up to him, looking slightly disheveled with a splash of blood on his tunic, but otherwise unharmed.
His brother’s eyes swept across him, and he only relaxed when he saw Rowan didn’t appear to be injured, though Rowan knew he had some blood on him.
“You’re fine, clearly.” Ruben turned to Milo, who’d jumped down from the cart.
“Damn, Milo, I’ll take you fighting with me any day. ”
Milo laughed heartily. “See? Aren’t I wonderful?”
He really was. Rowan fully turned to see Milo and his breath caught in his throat.
Amid the glow of the barriers, there was a delighted, unholy smile on his lover’s face.
Milo looked purely radiant—a mage who commanded chaos.
Damn, Rowan wanted to kiss him. With his blood still pumping and heart racing, a good fuck sounded perfect.
Shame they had no privacy. If they had, Rowan would have parked Milo right against the cart, bent him over, and enjoyed a good tumble. Ah well.
“Milo, all right?”
Milo twirled, cloak flaring around him. “Not a scratch on me. They couldn’t get through Assandra’s Shield anyway, but I’ve got a personal barrier on me at all times, so they stood no chance.”
“Good. The place where we normally set up camp isn’t much farther. Let’s go there and clean off a bit.”
“Oh, I can take care of the blood. One moment.”
Milo took out his wand again and hit both him and Ruben with a cleaning spell, and Rowan felt better for it, as blood-crusted clothes weren’t exactly pleasant.
“What about the bandits?” Milo pointed to the side of the road and offered, “I can do a quick bury spell for a mass grave. No reason to leave them to rot on the road.”
Truly, Rowan didn’t want to clean up this mess later. If he didn’t have to dig a hole, he was content with the offer. “Do it.”
Rowan and Ruben lugged the bodies into the grave, but Milo handled the “digging” (with a spell) and “covering” (also with a spell). It was quick work, barely fifteen minutes, and then they continued.
The fight had taken enough time for them to lose the light completely.
Milo threw up a few floating mage lights—glowing orbs—to help guide them on the darkened forest road.
Within half an hour, they’d reached the campsite.
Really, it wasn’t more than a bump on the side of the road, barely large enough to handle two carts, horses, donkeys, and a campfire.
They made it work, squeezing everything in, and Milo once again warded the campsite.
Rowan handled cooking, Ruben pitching in with feeding the animals and getting them settled.
Once dinner was eaten and dishes cleaned, they snuggled into bedrolls.
It had been a long day, and Rowan should have been fast asleep before his head hit the pillow, but for some reason, his mind stayed active.
Milo snuggled sweetly against his chest might have something to do with it.
He was this warm weight in Rowan’s arms. Rowan tried to remember the last time he’d dated someone who was so physically affectionate and came up blank. Milo might well be the first.