The Mage Wars

Ruins of Old

Kings of Vanora. Wonderful. What else are you going to tell me about the Kings of Vanora? Question. What don't I know about the Kings? Time to find out.

King Haemir, saviour of Vespera. Fended off several syrpants, local to the area, by himself. Age 475. The king was on his way back to Vanora after visiting Lady Keora in Evanath.

Who knew King Haemir travelled alone...oh wait. Never mind, he had guards with him. Ah, they all died. Wolves and syrpants. Not the best way to go.

"What's this say?" Jaen asks.

"King Haemir travelled with three guards from Vanora to Evanath. On their way back, they were attacked by several syrpants. It says he defeated them on his own,"

"He did what?"

"He defeated several syrpants on his own," I shrug my shoulders. Jaen shudders. I wonder what her deal is with syrpants.

Sure, they are giant rocks that turn into giant snakes. And are a pain to deal with. And they can knock you unconscious with the slick goo that slides off them if you aren't careful.

"Syrpants are a pain in the ass," Jaen sneers. I guess she has had a run-in with one too many. "A few years back, a syrpant ate my brother. He was one of the unlucky ones who got their slime on his skin,"

That makes more sense.

"Eve, take a look at this!" Altair yells.

Over where Altair, Kaelen and Galen are standing is a large metal plaque. I can't quite read the words from here. It looks relatively new. Interesting.

Out of nowhere, a male grabs me. He yanks my arm. I go flying into him. The same happens with the others. One or two of them grab each of my companions.

"GALE!"

"EVE!" Galen reaches for me. I reach for him too, but the grip is too tight. I can't escape. Not without using my powers.

I try, but something keeps me from blasting his ass to another kingdom. I glance at the others. On our captor's wrists is a bracelet. It has a rune engraved in it. Great. A magic blocker. Strong enough for my magic to mean nothing.

I guess I have to become creative.

"Look at you, Jaen. You found yourself some friends," The man holding me purrs.

"Leave them alone, Corre!"

"Now, why should I? This one smells pretty. Looks pretty, too," Corre pulls me closer. To the point where I can smell the wet dog on him. Why does he smell like a wet dog? He's a shifter like Jaen.

"Enough Corre! I told you to hold her, not get down and dirty," A larger male walks out. Holy spirits. He oozes dominance and smells like respect. Or at least demands it. My nose can't quite tell which. "Jaen, darling. It's been months. Where have you been?"

"Go to hell, Lochlan!" Jaen struggles in the two shifter's grips. "I rejected you ages ago. The bond you talk about is gone."

"On the contrary, my dear. You can't reject the bond unless your heart truly means it. I think you know deep down you did not mean those words. Mate," Lochlan growls. His mate. Holy spirits. We are in deep shit. One does not simply withhold a mate. It could mean the death of us.

Lochlan strokes the side of Jaen's face. His expression turns sour.

"Is this his shirt?" Lochlan points at Galen. What is he going to do? The bigger male glares at Galen. Our general looks to be having a hard time holding Lochlan's gaze. I never thought I'd see the day when General Galen looks small.