Dark Magick Rising (Draegan Lords Book 5) by M.L. Rhodes
Copyright 2019 by M.L. Rhodes, All Rights Reserved
If you’re just joining in, click here to start at the beginning of the book, Chapter 1
CHAPTER 15
PART TWO
Title???? (If anyone has any suggestions for what I should call this second part of the book, let me know in the comments! As a reminder, Part One is called “Darkness Rising.” Also, there will be three parts total in the book, and I’m open to suggestions for names for the final part as well. đ )

âYou can take off the ropes and blindfold.â
âNo.â
âI told you before. Iâll go willingly with you, wherever it is youâre taking me.â
âStill no.â
âButââ
âOh my gods, shut up!â Allend snapped.
âIâm only sayââ
âEnough, Caleb!â Wesleyâs tone was sharper than heâd intended, but, bloody hel, it wasnât the first time Caleb had mentioned his restrained and blind state, and clearly Allend was as weary as Wesley of listening to it.
Wesley had to admit, though, that Calebâs pestering about his current circumstances aside, the man had actually been surprisingly cooperative since theyâd found him a few days ago. He could have fought them or tried to run or caused any number of other problems, but he hadnât. Nor did Wesley read any emotions from him that would indicate he intended Wesley and Allend harm.
That didnât mean, however, that Caleb was being honest about anything heâd told them.
Caleb wore his tightly guarded nature like a full-body shield, one Wesley hadnât been able to easily breach. Though, breach it he had eventually, with focused concentration. And when heâd delved more deeply, heâd picked up shadowy areas within Caleb that he couldnât decipher. Heâd never experienced anything like that with anyone else heâd tried to read. Though, to be honest, up until recently he hadnât had any real reason to dig beyond the surface with anyone. He wasnât sure why he thought it, but he got the distinct impression those pockets of shadow were the result of Caleb keeping his true emotions buried for a long time, hiding them away, so they could never see the light of day. Like another layer of self-protection.
That was speculation, of course. They could also be purposely placed shadows, ones created by magick, to hide Calebâs true intentions.
In spite of not fully believing, or trusting, the man, something about Caleb still rang genuine with Wesley, though. He just couldnât put his finger on what or why.
In either case, Caleb was clearly hiding something. So even if he didnât intend to harm Wesley and Allend, Wesley wasnât going to take any risks. His and Alâs mission was to bring Caleb back to Iann at Kellesborne, and thatâs exactly what he planned to do. So, Caleb would stay tied up until then, whether he liked it or not.
Every day they drew closer to the White Mountains where, according to Allend, the ancient draegan stronghold of Kellesborne lay hidden. Though the Daneson brothers had never lived at Kellesborneâapparently no draegan had for decadesâthey had hunted in the mountains around it while they were growing up.
He and Al hadnât shared their destination, or who they worked for, with Caleb. But Wesley suspected Caleb had a pretty good idea they were part of the rebellion. Which was why every time Caleb said he would go with them willingly, it was a bit unsettling. Was he, indeed, a spy for the sorcerer and they were leading him right into the heart of the draegan stronghold? Wesley hoped not, and, again, his senses didnât detect anything nefarious about Caleb. But if the sorcerer had Caleb under his control, it was possible Wesleyâs abilities wouldnât be able to see past a dark magick spell.
At the moment, and as it had been for the past few days, Allend was in the lead, winding his way through the dense forest. He was the only one of them who knew where Kellesborne was hidden, so it made sense for him to go first. Caleb walked behind him, and Wesley brought up the rear with a hand on Calebâs back, guiding him.
âIâm just saying,â Caleb said, after a couple of minutes of silence, and sounding genuinely frustrated for the first time, âwe could move faster and more efficiently if I could at least see where Iâm going. Thatâs all. For the sake of expediency.â
âWe probably could. But itâs not going to happen,â Wesley told him.
âWesley, you know me. In all the years we lived in the settlement, did I ever do anything to make you distrust me? I worked with you and your mother and the others to build the huts we lived in. I hunted for everyone when I was there. I always helped however I could. And I was a victim of the sorcerer just like the rest of you when the previous village where we all lived was destroyed.â
Wesley sighed. Theyâd had this conversation before, too.
âYouâd show up for a week or two at the settlement, and then youâd be gone for months. None of us had any idea where you were or what you were doing while you were gone. As for me, I barely ever spent time with you even when you were there. Which is why youâll stay tied up and blindfolded until we get where weâre going. And if you keep complaining about it, Iâll gag you again.â His voice took on an edge of unwavering authority that surprised him a little.
It must have surprised Caleb also because he said, with a hint of grudging respect in his tone, âI have to say, whatever it is youâve been doing since I last saw you, youâve come a long way from the inexperienced kid I once knew.â
Yes, he had. Wesley almost couldnât remember his old selfâthe one before the draegans had arrived in his life, before his training. Before Wen.
âFor what itâs worth, you wear the maturity well,â Caleb added. âIt suits you.â Again, a tone of genuine respect.
But if he expected a response, Wesley didnât have one for him. Right now he just wanted to keep moving. Because every step took him closer to being done with this mission and back together with Wen.
Gods he missed Wen. The loneliness of being apart from him was a constant, painful ache inside him.
It had been three long weeks since theyâd left the draegan camp, and every part of Wesley felt worn and testy and stretched thin.
Their journey hadnât exactly been smooth. The first day had been quiet, but things had gone downhill from there. On their second day out, a blizzard had blown in, forcing them to take cover for almost two days in an ancient, ramshackle hut theyâd had the good luckâor so theyâd thoughtâto stumble across. Unfortunately, the huge, silver sabeen that had already taken up refuge there had other ideas, and after it had lunged out at them, fangs bared and razor-sharp claws extended, and come damn close to tearing Allend apart, Wesleyâd had to kill it. Heâd put an arrow between its eyes, and the beautiful, fierce cat had gone down in a heap at their feet.
Allend had been beside himself with awe at both Wesleyâs quick-acting skill with the bow, and at the fact heâd killed an actual sabeenâone of the most savage wild creatures in Velensperia. But even as he praised Wesley, he wasted no time pulling out his knife, dropping to his knees next to the dead creature, and slicing open its belly.
âWhat are you doing?â Wesley had asked, aghast.
Allend looked up at him, surprised. âItâs not the best eatingâmost wildcats tend to be tough with not a lot of meat, and Iâd imagine a sabeen isnât much differentâbut we shouldnât let it go to waste.â
Wesley tried to remember that Allend and his brothers had grown up during hard times, living off the land like most draegans, and they were, at the core, practical people who had survived by using what they had available. And it wasnât that Wesley hadnât survived hard times himself. Heâd eaten wild game most of his life. But this⌠This beautiful, majestic cat that heâd killed, with its blood pouring out onto the frozen ground, and the exposed, oozing fleshâŚ
The sight and scent of it caused a sudden, disturbing urge to claw its way up out of Wesley. And, for a moment, it was all he could do not to shove Allend out of the way and brutally⌠Oh godsâŚ
Feed.
As soon as he recognized the urge, self-loathing flooded through him. No, no, no! This wasnât happening again.
âYou need to keep the pelt,â Allend said as he worked. âSabeen fur is really valuable. You could sell it or trade it, or use it for something amazing, like make a new cloak with it.â
Bile rose in Wesleyâs throat. He had to take several hard swallows to fight it back. âI donât want it. You can have it.â
Allend glanced up at him with another startled look. âOf course I canât. It was your kill, and a damned impressive one at that. Itâd be bad luck for me to take it. I can flesh it and tan it for you, but youâll definitely want to keep the fur for yourself.â
âI need to go find firewood,â Wesley choked out, desperate to escape both the conversation and the situation.
He couldnât get out of the hut fast enough, nearly tripping through the doorway as he returned to the storm. As the snow and wind battered him, they were nothing compared to the brutal memories pounding through him of his recent, night-long rampage, killing animals, ripping out their throats, and feeding on their blood. He relived it all in horrifying, detailed glory, and it left him sick, trembling, and utterly repulsed by what heâd done. By how much heâd craved it, enjoyed it.
In contrast, heâd taken no enjoyment in slaying the sabeen, yet the moment its blood had spilled, the desire to feed from it had come out of nowhere, blindsiding him. The lure had gone now, thank the gods. But the possibility the dark magick still held some kind of power over him scared the hel out of him. He couldnâtâŚwouldnâtâŚgive in to it. Just the thought of it made him ill all over again.
It was a while before he could go back into the hut. He delayed as long as possible, not wanting to see Allend stripping the beast of its skin, and certainly not wanting to smell the scent of death that hung heavily in the air.
When he did return, he busied himself building and tending the fire and avoiding looking at what Al was doing. Later, he hadnât been able to eat any of the meat Allend cooked, though heâd pretended to try.
The only thing heâd had to be grateful for during the hel-like stay in the hut those two days, as Allend used the poor creatureâs own boiled organs to tan the hide, was the fact he hadnât experienced any further urges to feedâŚon the beast or, gods forbid, on Al. So maybe, maybe, he wasnât still under the dark thrall of the magick that had possessed him before, and the initial craving for the sabeen had been only a leftover reaction.
Thatâs what he hoped, anyway. Though it concerned him that ever since the night of his hunting rampage he hadnât quite felt right. Heâd told Wen the next day that he felt different, and somehow that âdifference,â whatever it was, still lingered. Wesley couldnât put into words what he sensed within himself, but it troubled him.
After the sabeen, he let Allend do all the hunting for food on their journey, and made himself scarce while Al cleaned and cooked whatever game heâd found. Unlike with the sabeen, once the meat was crisply roasted, Wesley was able to eat the more typical game. But he couldnât bring himself to be present when Allend first spilled blood, too afraid of what it might trigger in him.
If avoidance made him some kind of weak coward, so be it.
Allend never questioned it, at least. All it had taken was one compliment from Wesley that Allend was an excellent hunter to make Al eager to prove his worth over and over. Plus, the story theyâd come up with to explain why they were traveling was that they were hunting and trading, so the many furs in Allendâs growing collection, which he hauled in and atop his pack, gave credence to their claims.
Once the blizzard that had waylaid them passed, they pushed hard, traveling as fast as they could, to the Zekklesian, where the burned-out huts in which Wesley, his mother, and the others had lived sat abandoned and frozen over like otherworldly ruins in the snow and ice. The mound where theyâd piled and burned the bodies of the sorcererâs soldiers that day months ago lay buried under the snow as well, and if he and Allend didnât already know it was there, they would never have noticed it.
Wesley hadnât held out any real hope Caleb might have returned to the settlement and be staying there, but he couldnât in good faith not check it. It was also a logical place to start their search.
From the Zekklesian, they moved through the closest towns and settlements, asking questions when they dared to without raising suspicion.
Everywhere they went, they saw signs of the sorcererâs sway spreading across the land. Every village, even the ones that hadnât yet been visited by Byramâs soldiers, was on watch, and Wesley sensed fear and suspicion radiating outward from the residents whenever they drew close to any inhabited places. He, of course, didnât mention this to Allend, not wanting to have to make excuses or explain why he knew. But it was a constant drain on him, trying to hold the bulk of the intense, collective emotions at armâs length, while still allowing enough in to sense whether a village or town was even safe for them to approach.
The weather had been wretched on and off during the whole journey. So, between the cold, the snowstorms, a couple of too-close encounters with Byramâs soldiers, and the first dismal two weeks of not a single lead theyâd had about Calebâs whereabouts panning out, Wesley had wondered if theyâd still be out wandering the land until he and Al froze to death. Or until their luck ran out and Byram himself captured them and tortured them to death. Either way, his hope of getting back to Wen anytime soon had diminished with every passing day.
And then, at last, their luck had turned around.
Another damned snowstorm had hit, and he and Allend had decided that for one night theyâd see if they could find a room so they could get out of the miserable weather. They had a few coins between them, so they entered an inn with an attached tavern in the small village of Inthwaite near the Haldran Vale. Their coins bought them a hot meal and spiced wine, and a couple of Allendâs furs got them a rundown room. Wesley was certain the innkeeper was getting the better deal in that bargain, but the thought of a real bed, inside four walls and out of the snow, obviously meant enough to Allend he was willing to part with some of his bounty.
They stowed their packs in the room, and then went to the warm, fire-lit tavern to eat. The day before, theyâd heard of a redheaded man traveling in this direction, so the plan was to wait out the storm tonight, see if anyone here had information to share, then first thing in the morning, theyâd pick their search back up in the Vale. The other leads theyâd gotten all indicated Caleb was on the move, heading toward the Aurion Mountains. When Caleb used to leave the settlement over the years, heâd say he was going to the mountains to hunt. Wesley couldnât help but wonder if there was a connection between then and now. Wen had told him that, according to Lord Rizik, Byram had an outpost in the Aurion mountains, somewhere near the Charn River Valley. It could just be coincidence Caleb seemed to be headed in that direction, but Wesley believed less and less in coincidence these days.
The one bit of good was that everything indicated Caleb traveled alone, which meant Wesley and Allend had a decent chance of subduing him if need be when they caught up to him.
Theyâd only just finished their meal when the innâs door opened and blew in another traveler seeking shelter from the storm. The moment the traveler pulled off his cloak and sat at a table, Wesleyâs pulse began to race. The manâs back was to them, so Wesley couldnât see his face. But there was something about the way he moved and held himself. His hair was the right color, although a bit longer than the last time Wesley had seen him, which had been months ago. And his voice, when he spoke to the innkeeper, presumably ordering drink or food, held a familiar timbre, though Wesley couldnât make out what he said.
He nudged Allend with a boot under the table.
âWhat?â Allend said, looking annoyed since heâd been half-dozing off, with his chin propped on his hand.
Wesley tipped his head in the direction of the new arrival. âIâm not certain yet, but I think that might be him,â he whispered.
Allendâs fair brows shot up underneath his unruly hair hanging nearly over his eyes. His gaze slid to the man in question.
âDonât be obvious,â Wesley said.
Al slowly looked back at Wesley, but his eyes, no longer sleepy, were alight with excitement. âAre you sure?â
âNo. I just said Iâm not sure. But I think it could be. His build and coloring are right. I need to see his face.â
âWell, letâs go over there. And if itâs him, we can grab him.â Allend started to rise.
Wesley snagged his arm and quickly pulled him back onto the bench. âNo, Al!â he said in a gritty whisper. âYou want to go over there and âgrab himâ and do what? Drag him out into the blizzard and hope he doesnât put up a fight? Not to mention, look around you? Any of these people in here could be working for the sorcerer. If we cause a scene and draw attention to ourselves, how long do you think itâd be before weâd have to brawl our way out?â
âSo!â Al said with bravado. âYou and Wen fought more than a dozen of Byramââ
âShhh!â Wesley hissed.
ââhis soldiers, and you guys demolished them,â Allend finished, but thankfully kept his voice lowered.
âIt wasnât more than a dozen, and it was completely different circumstances. And WenâŚâ He caught himself before he almost blurted out that Wen had almost died during that encounter.
Thankfully Allend thought he was going to say something else. âYeah, I know,â he said grudgingly, âWenâs a better fighter than I am.â
âI wasnât going to say that.â But Al wasnât wrong. Wen was a stronger, more experienced fighter, and even with Wen at his back, Wesley wouldnât have been eager to take on the dozen or so rough-looking patrons in this tavern. âSo, listen, we have to approach this with more subtlety.â
âSubtleâs not exactly my strong point, Wesley,â Al said, looking anxious. âIâm not sure how to do that.â
Wesley bit back a smile. âJust follow my lead, okay? First, I need to see if itâs really him. And if it is, I have an idea⌠But whatever I say, just agree with it. And whatever you do, do not mention anything about the draegan lord or the rebellion.â
Allend sighed. âIâll do my best.â
Wesley clapped him on the shoulder. âI know you will. The first thing Iâm going to do is try to get a good look at him. And see if he recognizes me.â
âWill he recognize you? Because you definitely look different from what you did a few months ago. The beard makes you look older.â
Finally! Someone had finally acknowledged that fact, and Wesley was quite pleased how well and fully his beard had grown in over the past few weeks. âWeâll see. But if he does remember me, just go along with whatever I say and do, all right?â
âOkay, youâre the boss.â
âStay here for now. Iâm going to get us some more to drink.â
Wesley scooped up his and Allendâs wooden mugs and rose. He wended his way around several tables to reach the bar. He set the mugs on the bar top, and when the barkeep asked, âRefill?â Wesley nodded, then casually leaned on his elbow and glanced out of the corner of his eye at the broad-shouldered redhead eating stew at the nearby table. The man had several daysâ worth of ginger scruff on his face, and a new scar across his cheek that hadnât been there before, but there was no mistaking his identity.
A buzz of excitement raced through Wesley the moment he realized the man was, indeed, Caleb. He didnât know what gods were watching over them this night and had decided to give them this gift, but he wasnât going to complain or ask for explanations. He was gladly going to take this win with gratitude.
Wesley kept his perusal casual and indirect. But he felt it the moment Caleb noticed him. As soon as he did, Wesley let his own gaze flit away, and directed his attention back to the innkeeper. He didnât need to be looking at Caleb to feel his emotions, and he sensed that at first Caleb wasnât certain he knew Wesley, but as he continued to watch himâwhich Wesley also felt somehow, even though his back was turnedâhe knew exactly when Caleb decided it was him.
Still pretending like he hadnât noticed Caleb at all, Wesley thanked the barkeep, slid a coin across the counter, then picked up the mugs and returned to the table where Allend waited.
âWell?â Al asked, eagerness bubbling off him.
âItâs him,â Wesley said quietly. âAnd it took him a bit, but Iâm pretty sure heâs recognized me.â
âSo are we going to go get him now?â
âNo. Weâre going to sit here and drink and ignore him.â
âWhat?â Now Allend was radiating confused frustration.
âHeâll come to us. Trust me.â
âHow do you know?â
âBecause he will.â Wesley felt Calebâs burning curiosity and a fierce desire to take action. âBe patient. Just talk, and laugh, like weâre having a great conversation about something.â
Al gave him a strange look, shook his head, then let out a ridiculously fake-sounding laugh. It was so ridiculous, just the sound of it made Wesley chuckle. And when Allend gave him an annoyed look, it only made Wesley laugh harder. He didnât know why, except maybe everything had just been so tense for so long, it was nervous energy needing to escape. Or maybe it was that Allend was such a damned bad actor how could you do anything but laugh? Finally, Al gave up on annoyance and snickered for real, and they both ended up guffawing until they were hard put to keep it semi-quiet and not draw an undue amount of attention to themselves.
They were just reining it in and wiping their eyes when Wesley felt a presence behind him. His hand immediately slid to his knife on his belt, out of sight of the newcomer.
âWesley Brannock, is that you?â
Wesley turned to face the man. âCaleb?â He did his best to sound astonished, and thought he pulled it off. At least he was a better actor than Allend.
A broad smile split Calebâs face. âI almost didnât recognize you. Damn, itâs good to see you, son!â He dropped a hand onto Wesleyâs shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
âWhat are you doing here?â Wesley asked, trying to sound equal parts surprised and happy to see him.
âI went back to the settlement a few weeks ago, only to find it burned and abandoned. I was worried, and Iâve been looking for you and the others ever since.â
He sounded sincere, but that was when Wesley first felt the shadowy pockets of hidden emotion within him. He sensed no immediate threat from Caleb, but not being able to fully read him kept him cautious.
âHave a seat if youâd like,â Wesley offered, motioning toward the bench across the table from him and Allend. He let his hand slide away from his knife and into his lap. Close enough he could still easily pull it if need be.
âThanks.â Caleb sat down and folded his hands atop the table.
Wesley felt certain Caleb kept his hands above the table on purpose, away from the weapons he wore on his belt, as if to show he was no threat. From his training with Wen, Wesley had learned to pay attention to everything in a potentially dangerous situation. And since Caleb could be working for the sorcerer, Wesley considered this situation dangerous, despite the congenial conversation thus far.
âWhat happened, Wesley? At the settlement? Are your mother and the others all okay?â
âThe sorcererâs soldiers attacked several months ago,â Wesley said, keeping his voice quiet in case, as heâd said to Allend earlier, any of the sorcererâs menâCaleb excludedâmight be here right now. âThey burned everything. We all scattered. Mum and I got away, but Iâm not sure what happened to the others.â
Next to him, he felt Allendâs surprise because, of course, that wasnât what really happened at all.
Caleb appeared genuinely concerned. He leaned closer across the table, pitching his own voice low as well. âWhy would the sorcerer want to bother any of you? How would he or his troops have even known you were there? The settlement was isolated.â
A good question, and exactly one that Wesley would love to know the answer to, and so would Iann and Lord Rizik.
âI donât know. They seemed to be looking for someone, but who?â He shrugged. âWe never found out for sure. We tried to stand and fight, but there were too many of them and they overwhelmed us. Thatâs when we ran. But we got separated, and the soldiers burned down half the forest trying to scare us out.â Again, not the truth. It had actually been Lord Hareldson whoâd burned through the forest to keep any of the sorcererâs soldiers from escaping.
âWhere have you been since then?â
âMum went to stay with some old friends, and wanted me to stay there, too. But there wasnât a lot of room and food was scarce, so I took off on my own so theyâd have one less mouth to feed. Met up with Allend here a while backâhe was on his own, tooâand weâve been traveling together since then, hunting and trading where we can.â
Caleb eyed Al, and Al, thank the gods, just nodded and didnât say anything.
âYou donât know what happened to Thomas or Lilia or the old woman, Sele, or the others?â
âIt all happened fast and, like I said, we got separated from the others.â
Caleb, again, looked genuinely distressed over the news, but Wesley could read very little of how he was actually feeling. âI hate that I wasnât there to help, that we donât know if any of the others even made it.â He shook his head, and leaned even closer. âSadly, things are getting worse everywhere. The sorcererâs armies are infiltrating every part of the land. Soon there wonât be any place to hide.â
âWeâre just trying to mind our own business,â Wesley said, âand stay out of the soldiersâ way. Weâve been hearing rumors the sorcerer is forcing men to fight in his army. But we donât want trouble, so we avoid any troops we come across.â
Allend nodded in agreement.
âYou lose your family?â Caleb asked Al.
âBeen on my own a while now,â Al said, sounding only a little breathless and nervous, which of course he wasâWesley could feel nervous energy practically thrumming off him. But overall, Allend was doing well.
âWell, you two are smart to try to stay out of the fray. Iâve heard the same rumors you have about the sorcerer. And youâre both too young to get involved with the other side either.â
âInvolved with the other side?â Wesley asked.
âInvolved in the rebellion thatâs brewing. Against Byram.â He eyed them both, as if feeling them out. Whether because he suspected them of being âinvolvedâ already and he was working for the sorcerer to suss out rebels, or because he, himself, was against the sorcerer Wesley couldnât tell.
Wesley met his gaze head-on, steeling himself to give nothing away in his expression or body language, while Allend busied himself with drinking from his mug and acting like he wasnât paying much attention.
âLike I said,â Wesley reiterated, âwe mind our own business. Twice now Iâve survived having my home destroyed by the sorcerer and losing people I care about. Same for Allend. Weâve got no interest in getting âinvolvedâ with any side. We just want to be left in peace.â
Caleb slowly nodded, then sighed. âI canât blame you for that. So, are staying the night here, or just getting some food and drink before you move on?â
âWe traded for a room for the night. The weatherâs awful. Are you staying?â
âWas hoping to, but theyâve already filled the few rooms they have.â
This was going to work out even better than Wesley had hoped. Of course, a part of himâagain with that suspicious edge heâd learned from Wenâwondered if this was part of some plan of Calebâs as well, to get them in close quarters. But he dove in anyway. âYouâre welcome to share our room.â
Allend choked on his wine.
Wesley knew, of course, it was from shock at his bold invitation to Caleb, but he made a show of pounding Al on the back. âBloody hel, learn to swallow it and not try to pour the whole thing down your throat as usual,â he teased, to cover Allendâs gaffe.
Allend coughed, then smiled, red-faced, and said, âYeah, I know, so you always tell me.â
Shaking his head, Wesley returned his attention to Caleb. âAnyway, youâre welcome to share ours if you want to stay out of the storm for the night. Itâs not very big, but Iâm sure we can make do with all three of us.â
Caleb studied them a moment, then nodded. âThatâs mighty nice of you, boys. Iâll gladly take you up on that if you truly donât mind. I wasnât looking forward to heading back out into the snow tonight.â
âNah, sâfine,â Allend said, though Wesley could read his nerves again.
âAll right, Iâm very appreciative. Let me go gather my things, and I need to square up with the innkeeper for my meal.â
âWeâre the second door down the hall,â Wesley told him, standing and dragging Allend up with him. Allend staggered a bit, which was, surprisingly, a nice touch since Wesley knew Al hadnât had very much to drink. Maybe that would make Caleb less concerned about them being a threatâif he were even their enemy.
The moment Caleb turned his back on them, and Allend and Wesley headed the opposite direction toward the room, Al whispered, âIâm assuming you have a plan, but what is it?â
It wasnât a great plan, but it was the best Wesley could do on short notice. âWe wait until heâs asleep, we knock him unconscious, tie him up, then as soon as he wakes up, we get him out of here and head for Kellesborne.â
âYou think he trusts us enough that heâll actually go to sleep?â
âLetâs hope so.â
Because if not, Wesley hated the thought heâd have to square off against an awake Caleb. The man was nearly as broad and strong as Lord Rizik, and Wesley had no doubt Caleb had far more experience in a fight than he did.
Gods, please let him sleep and make this easier for all of us.
OMG! I’m so nervous while reading this….can’t wait to read the next one đ
Oooh, a name for Part 2!!! I need to think on that. Yay for the Caleb capture! Him I don’t trust.
Maybe a bit obvious, but since this overlaps Fires of Belian, ummm…’To Hel And Back?’ .Or just ‘Hel And Back’?
For whichever one, maybe something like: Darkness Becomes, or Becoming Darkness, Hel Unleashed, Darkness into Fire, Darkness Burning. Just some ideas.