Free Abuse of Power (Rise of the Mages 1) by Brian W. Foster Page B

as if trying to figure out where he was.
    “Sir?” Auggie moved his finger in a circle trying to signal the man to get a move on. “Our w-wedding?”
    The tender started. A light of recognition flashed in his eyes. “Yes. Where was I? Let us pray.” He bowed his head, as did the others except for Benj and Auggie.
    The catcher’s horses topped a rise just outside of town. Auggie raised his palms in question. Benj shrugged.
    “Sir?” Auggie said.
    The man didn’t respond, so Auggie repeated himself louder. The tender opened his eyes and stared with a blank expression.
    “Just say ‘you’re married,’ and I’ll slip a ring on her finger. That’s all we need.” Auggie reached for his coin purse. “I’m prepared to make a generous donation.”
    The old man stared at Auggie as if seeing him for the first time. “You can’t buy the Holy One’s consent.”
    Auggie flexed his hands and started to speak, but Alaina grabbed his arm.
    “Good tender, has the Holy One given His blessing?” she said.
    The tender gazed dotingly at her and opened his mouth. His countenance changed. Brightness filled his eyes, and he seemed to loom over the couple despite being a foot shorter than Auggie. “Blessed are your union and his rule and your child. Granted is his power to mend that which was rent through avarice. Allowed is her happiness. Grieved is the brevity.” His voice rose to thunderous volume. “So let it be.”
    Power flowed from the old man and forced Auggie to step back, shocked. When he recovered, the tender appeared just as lost and confused as before, and the horsemen had reached the edge of the square.
    Auggie bared his sword. The four-foot length of steel glistened in the sunlight. He pushed Alaina behind him, and Benj matched his stance. The startled tender stumbled toward the mayor.
    Emar and his fourteen men reined to a stop before the wedding arch. “You’re outmanned and outclassed, dukeling. Even the rule of law is on my side. Surrender the girl.”
    A half dozen of his men dismounted.
    Auggie snarled. “She’s a high noble, now. You can’t touch her.”
    Emar smiled. “I don’t see a wedding ring on her finger.” He turned to one of his men. “Pharell, do you see a ring?”
    “No ring, my lord.”
    “Without a ring,” Emar said, “the ceremony isn’t complete.”
    He gestured, and two of the black-liveried men restrained Auggie.
    “And it won’t be.”
    Auggie roared and surged forward. Emar retreated his horse several steps as three of his soldiers interceded with blades drawn. Benj clamped onto Auggie’s back.
    “You are not taking her.” Auggie twisted free. “If you try, I swear I’ll hound you for the rest of my days.”
    “There’s more chance of a rowboat surviving a hurricane than me relinquishing my claim.”
    If they got into a melee, there was too much risk of Alaina getting harmed. Of course—despite Emar’s bluster—the situation had to be just as difficult for him. If he tried to take Alaina by force, he risked injuring Auggie, thereby condemning himself to death by the duke’s justice.
    There was only one solution. But it would only work if Emar had any honor at all.
    “I see no other choice.” Auggie snarled his mouth into a feral grin. “A duel it is.”
    Alaina seized him around the waist. “No! Milord!”
    “Against the son of a duke? My life is forfeit regardless of the outcome.”
    Auggie pulled away and turned to Benj. “On my honor as a soldier, as a man, and as the niskmo of Vierna, I forbid any to punish this man for what happens between us during an honorable contest—contingent, of course, on his acceptance that his loss means his men abandon their claim to Alaina.”
    “No!” she shouted. “Please?”
    “Shut up, witch, or I’ll give you even more cause to hate me after I dispatch your man.” Emar sneered. “Your pathetic stipulation is accepted.” He turned to his men. “You are ordered to disperse in the unlikely event of my death