Sorcerybound (World's First Wizard Book 2) by Aaron Schneider (ready player one ebook .TXT) 📕

“We needed a map,” Milo replied simply, eliciting a distracted snort of amusement from Ambrose. Milo’s gaze slid back down to the maps once again.

“Obviously,” Lokkemand replied in flat disgust. “Perhaps I should have been more specific. Where do you plan to go that would require you to acquire a map?”

“Just about done,” Ambrose muttered, his gaze sliding between his map and the one on the table. “

“Volkohne?” Lokkemand demanded, his voice dropping to a low growl.

“Tsminda Sameba, sir,” Milo said as he met Lokkemand’s glare. “Took us a bit, but we found it. Seems it’s an old church on the slopes of Mount Kazbek.”

“Kazbek,” Lokkemand repeated, and Milo could practically hear the files being shuffled behind Lokkemand’s gray eyes. “That’s in the Khevi province, nearly two days travel from here.”

“I think I’ve got it down to a day and a half if we use the Rollsy and these routes are cleared out,” Ambrose said as he straightened, his map held out at arm’s length for a final inspection.

“Is this where the guerrilla force is going to be?” Lokkemand asked, his tone hopeful despite the incredulous scowl on his face. “I heard from some mutterings that you’ve been engaging in your own methods of reconnaissance.”

Milo and Ambrose shared an uneasy look. They’d always assumed their efforts were wilfully ignored by the soldiers in Shatili, and even more so when they attempted secrecy. The fact that their investigations, however vaguely observed, were known to the men was a shock.

Both men lapsed into silence, alternating between looking at each other and the captain.

“You didn’t seriously think I wouldn’t keep tabs on you?” Lokkemand barked with a sharp, mocking laugh.

The magus’ and the bodyguard’s silence offered a clear answer, but it was not appreciated by the captain. His eyes blazed with outrage as both hands tightened into fists.

Milo struggled to meet the man’s gaze as he loomed huge, trembling with righteous indignation.

“I know both of you don’t think highly of me, but I am an intelligence officer, for God’s sake! Give me a little credit!”

Again, neither spoke. Milo stole a glance at Ambrose, who, as usual when dealing with Lokkemand, wore an expression of boredom. Milo was certain this did nothing to improve the captain’s mood.

“So, this has nothing to do with your actual mission?” Lokkemand spat the question out like it offended his tongue. “Even with food in your belly and time to get your head on straight, you are still chasing miracle cures. Now I find out that you are going to run across the country because you broke into my office.”

“Dieter let us in,” Milo began, and Lokkemand’s fist came down on the table like a mallet.

“Dieter be damned!” the captain bellowed, taking one long step to loom over Milo. “You think you can do whatever you want, do you? This is the Army, Volkohne, not some back-alley gang, and discipline will be observed! I have orders, you have orders, and by the Kaiser and Almighty God, you are going to start acting like it!”

Milo met the captain’s glower, his unease giving way to growing defiance, warmed by an indignant fire in his belly

“If the fey dies, you are going to be a soldier and take it in stride. Do you understand?” Lokkemand hissed as he bent so he and Milo were nose to nose. “I’m through indulging in your petulant romanticism. If you hadn’t noticed, there is a war going on, and it’s a lot bigger than whatever you’re hoping to get out of that faerie tart.”

The corner of Milo’s mouth curled up to form a disdainful snarl. So far, he had not wanted to engage out of some unfamiliar sense of guilt, but at the callous mention of Rihyani’s death, that guilt evaporated.

“You idiot,” Milo snarled. “You petty, jealous moron!”

Lokkemand reared back at the venom of the words. Even Ambrose’s eyes widened in surprise at the sudden vitriolic retort.

“What did you j—” Lokkemand shouted, but Milo thrust his face upward as he set in like a dog with a bone.

“You don’t even see it, do you? Bitter and blind, you don’t see that it isn’t just about Rihyani, though God knows that should be enough. You claim to be an intelligence officer, but you need me to put the pieces together for you.”

“You arrogant little—”

“I’m not finished!” Milo roared. a bass note of magical potency underpinning the declaration. “I need information, expertise, and knowledge to fight the kind of fight we are going to face. Rihyani represents that, but it isn’t just her or even other fey, but the Shepherds who are going to be our best bet for taking on the Guardians and the Reich. That being the case, it seems a piss-poor decision to let their friendliest agent die when we could save her, doesn’t it?”

Lokkemand’s jaw worked as he ground angry retorts into furious silence.

“I’m going to that mountain, and I’m not coming back until I’ve got something to save her,” Milo pronounced before turning to Ambrose and jerking a thumb toward the exit. “Come on. I’ve got to bleed one more time, and you’ve got to prepare for a trip.”

Ambrose, his face flushing under the burden of bewildered respect, nodded and tucked the map under his arm as they moved toward the door.

Milo felt Lokkemand tense at his back, his body coiling to spring. The magus was more relieved than he cared to admit that in the end, Lokkemand decided against it. That was a fight no one would have won.

“The enemy is expected in three days' time,” Lokkemand said, his voice as hard and sharp as a chisel’s edge. “You are putting everything at risk. Everything.”

“I can live with that,” Milo spat as he yanked the door open, sending Dieter scrambling to get out of the way. “I guess you’ll have to also.”

“I’m within my rights to stop you,” Lokkemand warned, his voice sullen and dangerous. “I could have both of you shot right here right now and that fey dumped into