Moral Stand (Aether’s Revival Book 7)

By the time they left two days later, everyone came with them. Three men had to ride in the wagon, but they made do. Along with those three in the wagon, were Edward Smith, his wife, and their newborn child. Gregory hadn’t put anything back into the wagon, having emptied it so the wounded could get to Icelake, so there was plenty of room.

No bane beasts or anything else slowed them down, so they were on time to make the five-day march without delays. Gregory didn’t push his foresight past a single day out as he normally did; he’d do that tomorrow morning to see the fallout of arriving back in the city, along with how Artok would respond.

Settling in for the night after his check-in with Davis, Gregory began a Magi Square before bed. He’d have to find another advancement for them soon, but he wanted to wait until he saw his wives again so they could all be on the same level together. Finishing up, he got ready for bed— with the cold nights, he’d taken to sleeping in what were known as flannel pajamas, which helped keep him warm. After snuffing the candle in his room, Gregory climbed into bed.

~*~*~

Gregory didn’t know how long he’d slept— he only knew that something had abruptly woken him up. His resonance washed out of him, filling not just his room, but the entire tent. He felt Basal and Rafiq both sleeping in their partitioned alcoves, and neither seemed to be in distress. He was about to let go of resonance when he felt it: the warped hollowness that grew several feet from the bed into the deepest shadows of the room.

Aether sight came to him without thought, so he was able to see the man stepping out of the shadows. Gregory rolled to the far side of the cot he slept on, and as his feet touched the ground, he summoned a barrier from his armband. There was the sound of a small crossbow firing twice in rapid succession just before the flash of the bolts hit the barrier.

“Hmm? A challenge?” The voice was smug. “If you behave, I won’t kill the boy in the other room.”

Gregory’s eyes narrowed; he couldn’t see much in the dark room. All there was was the mere outline that shifted when the man left the shadows. He could, however, clearly see the aether strands that made the bindings the shadow magi planned to snare him with. Leaping toward the bed, his naginata came to his hand from his ring. His thrust bounced off a barrier the magi created from a necklace he was wearing.

“Fine, then. More can die for your selfishness,” the man chuckled darkly.

Gregory rolled over the bed, his naginata stabbing repeatedly into the magi’s barrier in the span of seconds, stressing the strength of the enchantment. He had nothing to say to the assassin; if he kept attacking, the magi shouldn’t have the focus to go after Basal. With an unexpected leap, he avoided the shadows that went for his legs and the shadow blades that sprang up under where he’d been.

“Tricky. They did say foresight would test me.”

Gregory summoned his guandao from his ring, throwing it instantly, followed by his wakizashi, then a couple of daggers. Each hit the barrier and fell to the ground. The magi didn’t seem to understand what he was doing, and Gregory was glad for that.

“Fool! Stay put!”

Aether spun out to let the shadow magi vanish while other strands again tried to ensnare Gregory. Gregory didn’t have a way to stop the magi, as the barrier would prevent him from grabbing the assassin. Instead, he ran for the flap into the main room and jumped over the morass of shadow that once more tried to ensnare him. He burst into the front part of the tent to see Rafiq holding Basal tightly.

“I have Basal,” Rafiq growled. “The magi is yours.” With aether burning around him, Rafiq rushed from the tent.

“Pity. I would have loved to see the look on your face. But a slave with aether? How unusual.”

Gregory flooded the tent with his resonance, letting his foresight fill it, too. He had a magi to kill, and now that his friends were safe he was free to act. The future spun out and he flowed along the path that was best for him.

The shadow magi laughed when he came out into the front room, shadows turning to blades all around the space as thick, black ropes reached out to grab Gregory. The magi ignored the sounds of the camp being woken because of the attack— it wouldn’t matter. No mere guard could stop him. He was a master of the shadows.

The self-assured expression slowly dropped away as Gregory wove through the room like a wraith. His body bent and twisted to avoid some attacks while his weapon broke other shadows apart. The magi produced a katana as Gregory got closer, his aether flaring to kill the lesser magi, but then Gregory vanished from view. Swiping his blade back and forth, the assassin tried to figure out what Gregory had done, all while his shadows failed to hit the elusive adept.

The bowl that appeared from nowhere struck him in the chest, and the magi’s eyes went wide when he realized his barrier necklace was empty of charge. That realization came just before Gregory reappeared. He no longer had his naginata in hand; instead, he was barehanded when he lunged forward.

With a feral snarl, the shadow mage used his own shadow to create a spear between them and impale Gregory. Joy that he was going to kill the adept surged. The fight had been more challenging than he’d expected it to be, but the younger magi had made a fatal mistake. His joy vanished into confusion when Gregory’s bare hand shoved the spear aside and the shadows broke apart into nothing. He made a last-ditch effort to shroud himself in shadows, but Gregory’s hand wrapped around the magi’s throat, again forcing the shadows to break apart.

“Threatening my friend was your last mistake!” Gregory hissed, driving the magi to the ground underneath him, the last of his shield armband blocking the shadow magi’s desperate attempt to stop him. Gregory summoned his last dagger to hand, stabbing down into the man’s eye with his full strength. His dagger and arm blazed blue for a moment before the dagger buried itself fully into the man’s skull, cracking his eye socket.

“Protect the magi!” Davis yelled a moment before he rushed into Gregory’s tent.

“Stand down!” Gregory barked. He stood up slowly, the aether flame around his arm snuffing out. Dull pain radiated from his shoulder down the full length of it, even into his fingertips. “The assassin is dead. Get a lantern.” Gregory looked around, but didn’t see any other hints of aether. With a deep sigh, he shuffled over to a chair, taking a seat.

By the time the men were sent back to their tents and a lantern was brought in, Gregory had stopped shaking. Davis and Rafiq stood with him, inspecting the assassin.

“Angry when you stabbed him?” Davis asked softly. He was both impressed and slightly horrified at the sheer strength that had broken the magi’s skull before pinning it firmly to the ground.

“He threatened Basal. Thank you, Rafiq. How did you know?”

“Likely the same way you did. My resonance flared at a terrible feeling. I heard the mutters from your room and felt the magi. I figured it was a spatial or shadow magi for him to get into the tent as he did, and I acted to remove Basal from danger,” Rafiq said.

“Shadow magi,” Gregory grunted. “I’ll give you a report later.” He shifted closer to the dead man, stripping off his jewelry before absorbing the corpse into his ring. “We’ll need to clean the tent before it’s used again. I’ll just absorb it tonight so the blood doesn’t set.”

Davis swallowed as he glanced at Gregory obliquely. “Sir… how… how did you manage to stay alive?”

Gregory looked around with aether sight one more time before he pulled a glove off. “I have some tricks. These can stop some aether from working. I got them on after using another item to become invisible for a few seconds. I knew I’d need the help to deal with his shadows.”

“Did you see his medallion when it was illuminated?” Rafiq asked.

“No. He wasn’t wearing one. Probably kept it off, much as I have been doing. He was at least a full magus, not just in name.”

Rafiq nodded slowly. “I will look forward to the report. Please remember that it will be passed along.”

“It won’t mention the gloves,” Gregory said softly. “Is Basal okay?”

“He was shaken about the attack, but seemed to be fine. He was very worried for you.”

“Chainer?” Davis asked.

“I’ll have to check what the magi had on him, but I expect a letter like the one the mage had: a contract to kill me. I wonder if he was supposed to be with the other group?”

“That would’ve meant more men dying. You would have been terribly pressed to deal with him and the mage,” Rafiq said softly.

“Both might have been enough to kill me…” Gregory murmured. “I’m not sleeping, but I need to change. Davis, try to get a little more sleep. Rafiq, find a place for Basal to doze, please? Get him some clothing, too, since the tent will be going away shortly.”

Both men acknowledged their orders. Gregory let them go as he went back into his room. Icy anger started to burn in his chest as he dressed— threatening Basal had been that step too far for him. Gregory wouldn’t blame Chainer and his magi minion for trying to kill him, but the threat to Basal had taken a straightforward vendetta and made it personal.

Rafiq called out that he had the items before leaving the tent. That helped Gregory push down his anger… he’d get to that later in Coldwood. If Artok refused to help or tried to turn on Gregory, he would pull the anger back out.

When he left the tent, he absorbed it into his ring. Taking a seat at the table he normally used for meals, Gregory summoned some parchment and ink, set out a candle, and began to compose his reports. His aether would refresh him for the day, and he needed to be done by the time the men woke up.