CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1

With a swift kick of a pommel blow to the bandit's chest and a knee to the groin, I turned and focused my attention on the last of the straggling holdouts. He had, rather stupidly, refused to follow common sense and abandon the plan to attempt to take on the innocent Mages at their campfire. With a focused energy-force power, I raised the last one high and executed a Magika body-slam into the ground, ensuring he would not be returning to try and kill me again.

The one behind me took his opportunity whilst I was distracted and slashed me across my side; luckily, I had turned just quickly enough for him not to perforate my lungs with his sword. Unfortunately for him, he was still rather reeling from the blow to his chest and was not able to react quickly enough to avoid my own blade, which sliced right through him.

The bandit fell to the ground only a moment before I did. Clutching my side as I lay on the grass, I winced greatly and gasped desperately from the awful deep, sharp burning sensation of pain that roped throughout my being, exploding my brain and making it difficult to breathe. It wasn't the first time I had been hurt, and if these attacks continued, it would not be the last. But they did not get any easier with practice, and this one was pretty bad.

Blood seeped through my fingers. Warm and sticky, it streamed steadily, slowly taking away my ability to breathe. I kept trying to press down my hand to it, but I found my grip weakening. In that moment, it was difficult to fathom all this was over a supposedly quick and easy slaying to steal money and trinkets. This was no battle or war; it was simply bandits preying on weak victims for extra gold.

For some reason, loot-hungry bandits had somehow got it into their heads that Mages were easy pray – I imagined it was because some Mages were only Healers and refused to fight in any capacity. They had attacked us this night as we lay around a campfire outside the Coven, and I assumed they had hoped to slay us easily and quietly and loot our things. Those of them who still lived had ran; those not so fortunate in their sense now lay dead. I had no feeling about that. It was their choice to try to kill me – I had every right not to be murdered in my sleep.

I heard a noise behind me. I grasped my blades again and went to turn, but then I heard a welcome voice that made me put them back down and sigh in relief.

"Ana!"

L'eiito, my closest friend, biggest critic, and exceptional fighting partner, sharply spun and slit the throat of one last straggler heading straight for me, expressionless in his cold and efficient execution of the act. The fool bandit hadn't even seen it coming; L'eiito had snuck up and dispatched him with chilling fluidity, saving me from whatever fate might have befallen me.

The body was flung unceremoniously to the ground as he hurried to my side, his hand held out to me. Grasping my arm, he pulled me to my feet and carefully wound his arm around me to help carry me back to the Coven. I slung my arm around his neck and hobbled along with his help, pressing my other hand down on the relentlessly bleeding wound.

"Can you explain how it is that I always find myself having to carry your unfortunate self back home on each occasion these people attack?" L'eiito remarked dryly. "It seems to be a most unfortunate habit that you have."

His eyes held concern, but he most assuredly otherwise wouldn't show it. Either solemn and serious, or sarcastic and broody, L'eiito Ara'laan did not generally show emotion openly. Carefully spoken and always guarded, he at all times had himself under extremely complete control. From his tone of voice, his choice of words, his emotions, his fighting technique in swordsmanship and Magika, and even his own physique – everything was carefully crafted, precise, and exact, making him appear so strong, solid, aloof, imposing, enigmatic, dangerous, and cold.

However, over the past three and a half years I had known him, I had long ago learned his tones, expressions and behaviour, and by now I had a fairly good idea what he really meant underneath his gruff exterior. I knew that he was secretly worried... and with what I could feel under my fingers, it appeared to be more than warranted this time.

"Is it of any wonder, when you abandon me so readily to go and fight someone over on the other side of the camp?" I rebuked grumpily. "It's not like I invited them in and lay down, so they could swipe me in the side."

L'eiito shook his head and sighed. "You must become far more adept at using your Magika again. At least that way you may keep them far enough away, so they cannot do this again. If you continue in this way, Saebastiia'an will refuse to heal you unless you pay him."

I rolled my eyes. That sounded just like something that the sweetly-charming, consistently teasing Saebastiia'an Dae'Carrisson would do. A very powerful Mage and perfect Healer, Saebastiia'an had the ability to break hearts as easily as he healed them up. Luckily, he was exceptionally good at healing them – well, physically, at least.

The man was charismatic and charming, confident, rather egotistical and easy going, as well utterly sunning to look at, an incorrigible flirt, and an infamous womaniser. I thought him adorable and enjoyed his teasing and light flirting. I had been naive when I first came to the Coven, uncomfortable with the level of flirtatious attention I received from him. It had taken some time for me to realise it was nothing but harmless fun for him to do so. Now he was closer to me than a brother and loved me as much as any brother could. Hence, I could easily believe he would try a ploy of bribery and make me pay him if I kept this up.

"Casapiia'an wouldn't let him do it," I retorted with a wince at the pain, mentioning Saebastiia'an's (two minutes – and don't you forget it!) older and much wiser twin brother.

L'eiito smirked darkly and tried getting a better grip on me. I was jolted when his hand slipped on the blood that was still spilling from my wound, feeling it brushing over the severely injured area as he did so. I let out a yelp.

"Will you watch what you're doing!"

"Shall I drop you to the floor?"

I scowled as struggled along next to him, pouting. "No."

"I thought as much. Please desist with your complaining when I am trying to help."

L'eiito carefully carried me back to the Coven. After walking a very short distance, my legs gave way, leaving me unable to walk any further. Blood was still flowing freely from my side and I was barely conscious, struggling to even able to keep breathing from the pain. He scooped me up as if I were nothing and carried me the rest of the way, my head pressed heavily against his, my arms barely able to hold on about his neck as he pressed me tightly against him to stop me from falling.

The comfort of having him care for me and ensure my safety kept my will strong enough to make it to the Coven, where I could be saved. It was also lucky the Coven was close by. It was well-hidden; found through the entrance of a cave in the forest. Stone steps descended from the cave entrance into the Coven itself, which opened into an enormously vast and sprawling underground building where Mages learned to use, perfect, and expand on their powerful Magika gifts. This was my sanctuary and salvation.

It was as true now, as we entered this time, as it had been when I first went in. The Coven was a world of training for all Mages who wished to – or had to – live away from the general population of Earra'al, a Northern District of the Kingdom of Narayya'an that we lived in. It was a place to live, breathe and learn Magika from the High Sorceress and best Mages the kingdom, where we could properly learn to train in our craft and use it for the greater good. We all had different stories, different reasons for being here, different Magika gifts and specialties. But we all had this one thing in common, and it was something the normal, non-Magika humans would never understand. It was also a gift that was now about to save my life.

Saebastiia'an Dae'Carrisson was located where he always was – lying on a long couch in the extensive library. This was so he could continue with his infamous reputation of being the pretty, charming and intelligent assistant to any damsel Mage in distress, whilst trying to also researching for more insight and further knowledge on the Archane Arts of Magika.

An exceptionally skilled and smouldering flirt, the man was unrealistically beautiful with the most incredible eyes and was entirely incorrigible when it came to appropriate the attention of any and every female that took his eye – and using this skill whenever he required something from just about anyone, regardless of gender. So far, as far as I have ascertained, I have apparently been the only female to be immune and amused by it, whereas it seemed to inevitably turn most into blushing and quivering puddles of mush instead, much to my own exasperation with them. It did absolutely nothing to help control that immense ego constantly growing in his head.

The man in question was usually found with a book lying on his chest, fingertips on his head and his eyes closed, as if pondering some great mystery that he had found. All he was really doing was avoiding work and sleeping, although he would without fail jump up and run to the clinic if anyone came in who required healing. Just never expect him to do the paperwork to go along with it.

Without doubt, he was the most powerful Healer at the Coven, and was possibly One of the most powerful in all Narayya'an – even Faeh'rron – Saebastiia'an was a vital part of this Coven, refusing to leave to work in one of the medical healing clinics of Earra'al simply because he knew he would be letting us down. This evening, I was glad this had been his stance. By the time L'eiito carried me to him, the pain was excruciating, and I had lost enough blood to leave me far too close to death to be comforting.

Saebastiia'an looked up as L'eiito strode towards him and immediately sat bolt-upright. Concern immediately etched onto his beautiful face, and he bounced right up and came to help get me to the sofa he had been sat on. They both lay me on my back and I stared at the extensively beautiful fresco on the twenty-foot high ceiling, while Saebastiia'an quickly opened up my belt and pulled up my tunic and bodice to expose my wound, still streaming blood from my side.

"Divinities, Ana... How do you get yourself into these scrapes?" he chastised in a grave whisper. I heard blood spilling to the tiled floor with quick, sharp drips as I tried to keep focusing on that fresco. "This is deep. Extremely deep... Far too deep... and what – five, six inches long? You are lucky to be still conscious, let alone alive."

He placed his hands on my bare side, covering my wound, taking a breath to start the process without even bothering to take me to the clinic first. Immediately, the familiar tingle of his touch travelled across my body, and I slowly started to lose consciousness. Within moments I was in a Healing trance; a stasis where the Healer's power could work in mending what was wrong and return everything back to what it was before. This could last for minutes, hours, or days, and I would not know which until I woke up again. If I woke up again.

That was when it all finally went dark.