Blood of the Sea, Chapter Fifty

Chapter 50: Seethe

Vance

It takes the better part of that same day to catch up with the mage who was accompanying Vance and his people on their way from Seyune to Kildangan.

Enya, he had heard her called back at the castle when they packed up the J’korun. Vance thought she would be interesting to talk to. An independent woman with fiery hair. And apparently an equally fiery temper. His jaw clenches, remembering the not so veiled threats she laid out before disappearing up the path. Vance had encouraged his friends to slow their pace, determined to take more time than necessary to get to Kildangan. We are in no rush, and there’s no point in chasing after the mage when she seems so… combustible.

Evening had fallen by the time he caught sight of the campfire pulled off the side of the road. One J’korun, and one fire-haired woman rested in the shadows of the trees, though when he came into view, he felt as though his cloak was going to ignite from the anger pouring off of her.

“We’ll make camp here,” he told his friends and followers. Pride swelled through him like a wave at high tide. They’re here for me. They’re loyal to me. His people dismount, untying their supplies from the J’korun and laying it out on the ground. Conversations begin, drifting through the air like the smoke billowing from the campfire.

Vance sets about unraveling his sleeping fur, laying it out on the ground when he is shoved. Not expecting it, he goes sprawling on the ground, landing hard on his side, turning over to stare up at the woman silhouetted in a warm glow, illuminated against the darkness between the trees. Vance’s yelp draws the attention of some of his friends, and they call out, “Hey. What’s the big deal?”

Enya glowers down at him, “You’re late.”

“We didn’t plan for a certain time…”

“The whole trip was supposed to take two -maybe two and a half days at most, mind you, if your incompetent asses couldn’t get a handle on riding. But you’ve made what should have been a day and a half trip into what may as well be three days at this rate.” Enya’s voice hisses at him, slicing through the night. “I don’t know why the queen thought you were a good choice. You’re nothing but a waste of my time.”

Vance glowers right back at the other mage, picking himself up from the dirt. “Veyda knows I-”

A crack across his face echoes in the quiet of the camp, and Vance staggers, putting a hand to his stinging cheek. Enya’s eyes flare with red light until they’re glowing. “You take her name out of your mouth. She is the queen and you will address her as such.”

“Put your hands on him again, and we’re gonna have a bigger problem than who isn’t using titles around here,” a voice calls from behind Enya.

Vance slowly turns back towards the hostile mage. “You’re protective of her, like a dog.” Enya’s jaw works, and he continues, “Whatever your powers are, I was the one tasked with carrying out the Queen’s mission. So run along, mage. We’re on a level playing field.”

Enya tips her head to the side, “It’s funny. You think you have so much power here. Here, in a forest.” She holds up a hand, interrupting Vance before he can retort. “For all of your boasting about there being water inside of us, let me remind you, you haven’t attempted to wield that water yet. You don’t know the shape of it. The pull of it. How it feels to draw out a life before their eyes and snap it in half.”

Vance grits his teeth, “I don’t have to know the shape of it to know how you’ll sound when you’re drowning.”

Enya

Enya takes a step away from him, but a smile grows on her face, her eyes extinguishing slowly. “I’m tired of hearing you bark.” The base of Vance’s throat begins to glow softly, warming the air around him and he frowns, putting his hand to it. The heat grows, like a glowing ember lodged in his throat, until he is scrabbling at his neck, gasping for air. “Hopefully our Queen doesn’t need you to speak to be useful.” Enya turns and walks away, knocking shoulders with a couple of Vance’s friends as they draw closer.

Behind her, a strangled cry begins and dies in one heartbeat.

Someone asks, “Vance?” and their voice grows with alarm. “Vance, talk to me.”

Enya laughs; though the sound is soft, the soldiers who were drawing closer to her back off, alarm flint-like and sparking in their eyes, spreading like a brushfire through the camp. “Don’t mess with me, water caller. Consider this your last warning.”