Mage’s Mercy (Pyromancer’s Path #2) Read Online Cassie Cole

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Pyromancer's Path Series by Cassie Cole

Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 91144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)

Alyssa’s finally getting the hang of being an elite Dragon Pyromancer. So why did the Archon have to go and foul it up?

After their victory at the Academy, the Ninety-First Quintelaide returns home as heroes. Alyssa’s name is on everyone’s lips: the girl who killed a Silithik Queen. Their discovery of the hive portals—and the tunnels that made them possible—has allowed the Archenon to stop any other sneak attacks before they start.
And while Arthur heals one of her wounds from battle, the blond Frost Mage suddenly becomes more interested in getting to know Alyssa. It starts with flirty smiles and lingering touches, but soon they can both feel the desire pulsing through the Dragon bond…
Yet their troubles are only beginning. The Silithik are tearing through Archenon territory in the north-west, and the eastern front is rapidly falling apart. When it comes time to receive their marching orders, the Ninety-First is itching to learn where they will be deployed.
Instead, they learn the Archon has other plans for them.
As they struggle to come to terms with their new mission, Alyssa needs to find out what’s tormenting Arthur—because something is clearly eating away at the stoic Frost Mage. Can she learn what it is in time to stop him, or will she and her Quintmates discover the truth too late?




We raced through the thick forest, and the Silithik followed.

“Need to slow them!” Jax shouted somewhere to my left.

“I can’t trace while at a gallop!” I replied, more out of frustration than in response to the big Warrior. Twisted in my saddle with one hand on the runetablet fastened to my belt, it was all I could do to not be thrown from the horse. Focusing on pulling sorcerous energy through the tablet, riding the waves of flame and frost that surged through my veins and threatened to consume me from the inside, was an impossibility while my ass was bouncing in the saddle.

Somehow, Arthur managed. I felt the release of runemagic to my right before seeing the glow: a blue frostspike forming from the tip of the Mage’s outstretched hand like a crystal javelin. His hair tie had come loose, sending his silky blond hair swirling around his head in a halo of yellow as he traced. The frostspike launched away, pulling my eye toward the army of Silithik beetles and wasps close on our collective tail. The runemagic spell hit the ground and shattered, releasing energy in a white ring that burst in all directions like a pebble dropped in a pond. Every beetle caught within the frostspike ring slowed and then froze in mid-slither, a line of statues interspersed between the trees. For a moment, the sight was almost beautiful.

And then the Silithik army behind trampled over them, shattering them like they were made of glass. Arthur’s jaw clenched as he began to trace anew.

I tightened my fingers on the reins. If I slowed my gallop, just for a few moments, I could trace a fireball…

“Don’t,” Jax growled to my left. I whipped my head and found him staring over at me, face hidden behind the steel of his great helm. He was a tremendous sight in his armor, a god wrought in steel, and his command carried weight.

I pretended to be confused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“If you cannot trace at this speed, then you cannot trace,” he said. “If you slow, you’ll be overrun.”

“If we don’t figure something out soon,” Ryon yelled while gesturing with a dagger, “we’re going to be overrun regardless!”

We’d received orders to return to the capitol, both to complete our Quintelaide bonding ceremony and to receive new orders from the Field Marshal. We were half a day from arriving when we received a runemessage alert that the remaining burrowing Silithik armies had surfaced outside the city. We spent the morning pushing the horses at a gallop, afraid we would not reach the city in time. Afraid the Archenon itself would crumble before the might of the Silithik Hivemind with a single blow to its heart.

And then we ran into the rear of one of the Silithik armies, still miles from the city.

I hated fleeing. Even though we had circled around the swarm and were now galloping toward the city so we could assist in its defense, it felt like fleeing. There were enemies behind us, and we weren’t meeting them in battle.

The feeling was exacerbated by my inability to help. Runetracing required precise fingertips moving along the carved runes at the correct pace, like running one’s finger along the rim of a crystal to produce a ringing sound. Anything other than perfection resulted in the runemagic fizzling away. Trace too slow, and not enough energy would accumulate, but trace too fast and it would compress on itself and disappear. And if your finger skipped over the rune, the entire thing fell away like someone had knocked the sorcerous wind out of you. From the first Academy to the fifth, runetracers were taught that it was nearly impossible to successfully trace while panicked—that calmness was the groove into which runemagic flowed.