The Sorcery Code (The Sorcery Code #1)(10)
Warm-up? Augusta grinned, realizing that her lover was probably trying to impress her.
The four big men approached Barson gingerly. Were they actually scared to go four against one? Augusta knew the Captain of the Sorcerer Guard was good at what he did, but she had never actually seen him in action.
The four soldiers took their positions, surrounding their leader. What happened next was so amazing, Augusta couldn’t help but gasp.
Barson started moving slowly, in a strange pattern, somehow keeping all four men in his sight at all times. Then he lashed out with lightning speed, apparently spotting an opening, and Augusta saw a droplet of red welling up from a scratch on one of the soldiers’ wrists.
First blood, she thought, mesmerized by what was happening.
The blood seemed to serve as some kind of a signal, and all four guards attacked at once. To Augusta’s untrained eye, there was only a flurry of movement. Barson’s blade seemed to be everywhere, blocking every move his opponents made with a skill and speed that seemed superhuman. There was something hypnotic in the way Barson moved. Every gesture, every move, was perfectly calibrated. He dodged thrusts, while using the same turn to deliver an attack. His deadly proficiency was breathtaking.
“More,” he shouted after a few minutes. “I need more.”
Four more fighters joined in. Augusta directed her chaise to fly closer, because all she could see now was a row of bodies surrounding Barson’s powerful figure.
Suddenly, there was a scream.
Augusta’s heart skipped a beat, but then she saw that one of the other soldiers—not Barson—was on the ground, clutching his thigh. The others stopped fighting, forming a circle around the wounded man.
Landing her chaise, Augusta quickly jumped off and ran toward them. Barson was kneeling beside the man, a look of dismay on his face. The soldiers stepped aside, letting her through, and her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the gushing wound in the man’s leg. To her astonishment, Augusta saw that the man was very young—barely more than a boy.
Barson ripped a strip of cloth from his shirt and tied it around the soldier’s thigh. “This should help the bleeding. I am sorry, Kiam,” he said somberly.
“These things happen in practice,” said Kiam, clearly trying to keep the pain out of his voice.
“No, it’s my fault,” Barson said. “I shouldn’t have taken on so many of you. Like a rookie, I couldn’t control where I aimed my thrust.”
At that point, he seemed to notice Augusta’s presence, and she knew what Barson was going to ask before he even said it.
“Can you help him?” he said, looking up at her.
Augusta nodded and walked back to the chaise, where she’d left her bag. Strictly speaking, using sorcery on non-sorcerers was frowned upon. However, these were special circumstances. Now that she wasn’t so panicked, Augusta recognized the boy. Kiam was the son of Moriner, a Council member from the north. She remembered the Councilor saying that his youngest son didn’t seem to have any aptitude for magic, only for fighting. But even if Kiam had been a nobody, she would’ve still helped him as a favor to Barson.
Grabbing her Interpreter Stone, Augusta carefully chose the cards she needed. The boy was lucky that she and Blaise had come up with this invention. If she’d had to rely on the old oral spells, Kiam would’ve likely bled to death while she planned and chanted something of this complexity. Even Moriner, who was considered the foremost expert on verbal spell casting, would’ve been unable to help his son in time.
Written sorcery was much quicker, especially since Augusta already had some of the components of the spell in her bag. All she had to do now was tailor those components to Kiam’s body weight, height, and the specifics of his injury. When she was ready, she walked back and set the Stone next to Kiam, loading the paper cards into it on the way.
The flow of blood from Kiam’s thigh slowed to a trickle, then stopped. Within a minute, no trace of the injury remained, and Kiam’s face lost its pallor, looking healthy again. The young man got up, as though nothing had happened, and Augusta could see the looks of awe and admiration on the soldiers’ faces. She smiled, glowing with pride at her accomplishment.
Without saying a word, Barson squeezed her shoulder with rough affection, and she grinned at him, looking forward to the night to come.
Practice was over for the day.
Chapter 6: Barson
Barson watched Augusta as she walked away, her hips swaying with the seductive grace that was as much a part of her as her golden brown eyes. She was a beautiful woman, and he was glad she’d chosen him to be her lover. She still pined for that exiled sorcerer, he knew, but not when she was in Barson’s bed. He’d made certain of that.
“That was not particularly smooth, I have to say,” a voice drawled next to him, interrupting his musings.
Turning his head, Barson saw his right-hand man and soon-to-be brother-in-law. “Shut up, Larn,” he said without much heat. “Kiam will be fine, and he’ll know better than to jump under my sword the next time.”
Larn shook his head. “I don’t know, Barson. That kid is a hothead; I’ve warned you about him before—”
“Yeah, yeah, look who’s talking. You think I don’t remember all the trouble you got into when you were his age?”
Larn snorted. “Oh please, you’re a fine one to talk. How many times did Dara have to plead your case? If it weren’t for your sister, you’d still be grounded to this day.”