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Work-In-Progress Wednesdays #12

This week, I’ve got a little snippet from In Darkness Lost. I’ve been doing a ton of editing and revision work on this to get the revised edition of the Kindle ready and a paperback out for the first time. In this particular scene, one of the two main characters, a mage known as Crypt, is doing his best to help save as many of his countrymen’s lives on the battlefield as he can, but he’s conflicted because he hasn’t been on the up-and-up in prior chapters and feels he’s taking quite a large risk in helping them.

~~~

HE stood on the wall, watched the forces below as they prepared and kept a wary eye on each other in unease. Then the first of the battles began with a crash as the first wave of soldiers began their attack on Argent’s lines. He grimaced as their line buckled and swayed, struggled to hold the tide of green uniformed soldiers back. Still, their silver uniformed soldiers fought fiercely, and gradually the two armies came to a standstill. Their line did not break, but neither did it advance. 

Cyril’s line backed off a few feet to regroup. 

A few minutes later, their cavalry charged Argent’s line, the horses ramming their unprepared soldiers. Most military forces contained only a small cavalry unit since horses were in short supply and easily injured or killed in battle. But Cyril had the money for it, and they were determined to use it. The line broke in a few places, and he held back the groan. He had known what would happen when their forces clashed with Cyril’s of course, but he hadn’t expected to feel as awful as he did. 

But inside the grief and guilt, a fire burned within him. He wanted to help their lines. He needed to help his countrymen to hold back the overwhelming tide of invaders. Then he shook his head imperceptibly. No. He couldn’t do that. If he did, Cyril would think something was wrong. Or would they? If he just gave a little help here and there, he could help without being noticed. Couldn’t he? After all, Dairdra did have their other mages helping to form barriers and keep the rush of invaders from completely overwhelming the weakest points. In some places, the invaders even hit force-fields that kept them from reaching Argent’s soldiers. 

He could help. He could. 

He smiled slightly, felt reckless and dauntless. It was crazy to help when he should be doing everything he could to help Cyril win so his sister and Dairdra would live, but at this point, he didn’t care. Even if he only saved a few lives, it would be a few deaths he didn’t have on his conscience. A little bit of atonement for his heinous actions.

A surge of anger flowed through his veins as he watched their lines continuing to buckle as Cyril forced them inexorably back. Gritting his teeth, he began spinning the fields around the weakest points, strengthening the existing forcefields as much as possible while still disguising his own magic so that no one would know it was him helping. He might be feeling particularly powerful and unbeatable, but he wasn’t that stupid. He wouldn’t risk being caught. 

This was completely irrational, he knew. What did he think he was doing? The chances of being caught were high even if he disguised his magic. And if he got caught, that was the end of his sister, at the very least. But he refused to let anyone else die when he could prevent it. So he’d do whatever he could, even if it meant taking a risk. Besides, it was a battle field. It would be difficult to trace him through his magic with so many other mages on the field too.

Still, he kept his smile hidden so that no one on the parapet—more importantly and specifically, Dairdra—would know what he was up to. He didn’t want anyone to know he was helping in case there was a spy among them. He had no real reason to believe there was, but one never knew, and Cyril seemed to know a lot more than what he was telling them.

Who knew what they did to get their information. Magic opened up more sources than he could possibly check. No sense in doing anything stupider than what he was already doing now. But inside, he was laughing at Cyril because he’d finally found a way to snub them without getting caught. Even if it was too late for his country, he still felt better knowing that he was doing something, anything, to help his countrymen and avoid as much slaughter as possible. He turned away from his thoughts, focused everything he had on the magic he was using and disguising the fact that it was his. If he was going to get Dairdra out of this alive along with his sister, he needed to focus with everything he had. And focus he would. Everything depended on that now.

~~~

That’s it for this week, everyone! You all know the drill. Leave snippets of your own work or feedback on any of the WIP pieces in the comments below!

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