“How did you -” Wilfred tried to ask yet again, but James squeezed the words out of him.
“Some things are better left unsaid,” he whispered in Wilfred’s ear. “Margaret…” He patted Wilfred on the back and stumbled toward the old farmhouse.
“What in all the worlds…” Margaret’s gaze ran over him, taking in the dirt all over his body and face, in his eyes and mouth. Then it fell to the dormant rune James didn’t realize was still in his hand. “What are ye doing with that thing?” Fear and venom warred in her tone.
James rolled the rune around in his hand. It had gone cold and silent. “It’s done,” he whispered. His throat still burned with the ionized sand and the screaming. “I said I wouldna go with him.”
“Get rid of it.” Margaret wiped her hands on her faded apron and stepped aside to let James pass. Then she caught sight of all the lights and commotion in the field. “What happened?”
For a brief moment, James thought to placate his wife so she wouldn’t worry. But her finding out was inevitable, and, he admitted, he needed her. The weight of all his mistakes brought James to his knees there on the front porch.
“I have failed ye,” James whimpered. Still clutching the rune in one hand, he wrapped the other around the hem of Margaret’s dingy cleaning dress. “I have failed us all.”
“No,” Margaret pulled her husband to his feet and held him firmly, straightening his back to stand tall and proud, though he felt no such thing. “Ye couldna fail. Yer a good man James. I’m sure it’s not as bad as -”
James pulled Margaret into an embrace. “They saw. They all saw.” The rune hung limp between them, suspended by its last remnants of power.
“What happened?” Margaret asked again, her voice kind now.
“It came for me.” James started his tale and they both walked into the house. “It came for me and took Wilfred instead. I couldna let him die, not in my stead. So I…”
Margaret closed the door behind them, shutting out the noise and faint smell of crackling fire in the air.
Chapter Seven
“Come,” Margaret said, leading James by one hand and their lad, Jim, by the other. Together they tucked the child into his bed and read him two stories. On this night, he and Jim both were too exhausted to ask for a third.
Margaret roused James from the child’s bedside and helped him to their own room. They lay together, unmoving, as the night’s events played over in James’s mind.
After a long while, Margaret rolled toward James and asked, “Are ye sure ‘tis done with?”
He knew then that she also felt the static crackling in the air. The smell of green fire wasn’t in his mind.
James took his wife’s hand and kissed her fingers gently. “He saved Wilfred of his own accord. I am here with ye now, woman. Take solace.” He placed another kiss on her forehead.
“Ye need a doctor. The looks of ye.” Margaret’s eyes watered. It must be bad.
“Are, Dr. Parnacky saw to me as best he could.” James rubbed his sore ribs. The things he’d coughed up since the pit would haunt his dreams for weeks to come.
“Figures,” Margaret stifled a laugh. “Yer stubborn as a mule.” Then, when she could help it no longer, Margarete snorted in the adorable way she had when amusing her own self.
“Aye, buy ye love that about me.” James ran a finger through Margaret’s long red curls and across the lovely birthmark on her cheek.
“And the rune?” Margaret moved as if to go check on the medallion again, or maybe to see to the lad once more.
James pulled her back toward him. “Locked away tight. Now relax. Get some sleep. Ye ken the lad will wake with the robins.” But, instead of closing his own eyes, James rested his hand on Margaret’s familiar round hip.
Margaret chuckled. “After all ye went through today. I swear, James.”
“Reminded me what’s important.” James kissed her again.
Sometime during the night, James felt himself being pulled from the comforting darkness of deep sleep. He fought it, shoving against the bright lights and voices filling the room.
His eyes opened.
Blinding gold light sliced through the cracks in his bedroom door. Screams and cries of battle raged beyond the walls. Margaret’s terrified voice sounded over them all.
James felt his wife’s side of the bed, hoping he still dreamed these things. It was empty. Panic set in, jolting him fully awake.
Now, as he sprang from the bed and flung open the door, he heard what put the fear in Margaret.
Little Jim, with his pale blonde hair and small wiry frame, stood in the middle of the living room with the emblazoned rune lifted above his head. His face was awash in the yellow glow. His eyes blank and black as night.
And all the voices of Valonde spoke through him, chanting, “The Prince of Terror cannot be slain until the Venomous Serpent rests upon the tomb.”
James stood, frozen in fear, until Margaret shook him. “Save him!” she screamed over the chanting.
James lunged for the rune, trying to knock it from Jim’s hands. Instead, his own clamped onto the scorching hot metal. Before he could fight it, his own voice rang out in time with his son’s and those of his Valondian brethren. “The Prince of Terror cannot be slain until the Venomous Serpent rests upon the tomb.”
As his own eyes glazed over, the world around him blurred to nothing. The familial portraits on the walls of Margaret holding a newborn Jim turned to galloping horses and clashing swords. Before him stood King Ase, weeping over a charred soldier.
High above their heads, a dragon soared, turning the blue sky to shadow. Green fire rained down upon the battlefield.
An ugly menacing face appeared in the rune’s vision. It blocked James’s view of the carnage and for that he was thankful, until the man spoke. “Surrender, all who oppose me, or Sabadtein’s flames shall destroy you!”
The sights around James swirled as if King Raynor spun the rune over the battle scene, proving once and for all, he would rule the Kingdoms of Valonde.
“No!” James felt himself scream, though he heard only the dragon’s roar.
One moment’s resistance was all it took. James found himself back in his living room. Jim stood beside him, both still holding the rune. Its grip on the lad hadn’t released. Voices flowed from his trembling lips.
James managed a glance at Margaret. He wanted to reassure her he would take care of everything. He would fix this.
But he could do no such thing. He could only chant alongside his son.
The world shook, knocking Margaret to her knees. She cried out, not in pain, but something far worse.
James followed her gaze to a thin strip of green and white lightning opening up in midair. It grew and grew, eating everything in its wake. The veil between their two worlds ripped open. Darkness spewed from the gaping hole and everything James held dear was pulled toward the portal in its place. All the air in their home sucked into the blinding light until it became large enough for a man to fit through.
However, it wasn’t a man than James saw.
While he struggled, helpless against the rune’s power, James could only watch as a massive dragon’s claw swiped at Margaret and pulled her into Valonde.
The portal snapped shut and the rune fell to the floor, spent and smoking. All color had drained from their world, leaving nothing but silence and cold.
James did the only thing he could think and held his crying son.
Up next in “Portals of Valonde,” James is left with no choice but to rescue his dear wife, Margaret, from the clutches of the evil King Raynor and his magical beast. But Valonde is the last place his son should be. How will he save one without sacrificing the other? Find out in Wayward Magic.
About the Author
Toasha Jiordano has been writing most of her life, as far back as she can remember. She still has many of her childhood notebooks filled to bursting with magical tales and daring escapades. She loves the smell of old books and the
comfort of old furniture. That’s why most of her novels are written at an antique roll-top desk, which may or may not have a quill and ink set waiting for its next adventure.
For more information about the author, please visit: www.toasha-jiordano.com
Don't forget to grab your copy of next anthology, Wayward Magic!
The Druid’s Heir
Tiffany Shand
“The Druid's Heir” is a short prequel to my Rogues of Magic series. It takes place five years before the events in the first novel showing how my characters, Ann and Edward, were forced to become outlaws. After a seer prophesizes that Ann's father will be killed, Ann and Ed must sort through the hidden magic and find out who is plotting against her father before it's too late. (This story is written in international English.)
Tiffany Shand
Sometimes a prophecy can be a curse.
After a mysterious seer warns her that her family is doomed to die, Rhiannon Valeran must do everything in her power to save them.
As the daughter and heir of the ruling archdruid and leader of the five lands, there is no shortage of enemies who want her father dead.
With the help of her best friend, Edward, the race is on for Ann to find out who is plotting to destroy her family and stop them before it’s too late. Will she stop the unknown killer in time? Or will she be forced to give up her throne and lose everything she holds dear?
Chapter One
Rhiannon Valeran’s long blond hair whipped behind her and her mares’ hooves thudded against the hard ground. She left the healing house behind after saying goodbye to her mother. Trees blurred past, but it would only take a couple of hours to get back to the palace in Larenth.
“Hey, wait for me!” Ed called.
She turned to see Edward Rohn, her best friend and appointed bodyguard, on his black stallion, trotting toward her. With his short brown hair, brown eyes and black armour, he looked rugged and handsome.
Ann grinned. “Not my fault you can’t keep up.”
“I can keep up. I just can’t keep you safe if I can’t see you.” Ed glanced around uneasily, as if he expected something to jump out of them.
Ann couldn’t understand why he seemed so on edge. They were on the old road surrounded by dozens of trees, the air thick with the heady scent of grass and wet leaves.
She rolled her eyes. “Since when have I needed you to keep me safe?” Her father insisted one of the Black stay with her at all times for protection. Ann usually made sure it was Ed. At least that gave them the chance to spend more time together.
His lips curved into a smile. “I could list all the times, but we’d probably be here a couple of days.”
Ann snorted. “I protect myself just fine, thank you. I’m the druid’s heir. Spirits, if I hear that name one more time, I’ll scream!” Yes, her father might be the archdruid, the most powerful man in the five realms, and she his heir, but she didn’t have to like it.
Ed brought his horse to a halt beside hers. “We shouldn’t linger.” His eyes scanned in every direction, still wary.
“This old road to the city is hardly used by anyone anymore. What are you so nervous about?” Ann smirked and reached over to prod him in the shoulder. “Not frightened of being attacked by bandits, are you?”
“There’s worse things than bandits along here. We should move.” He glanced around, on edge. “Your father’s peace treaty to unite three of the realms may not go over well with some people.”
“You’d think after the realm wars tore the lands apart, they’d be glad of it.” But Ann knew not everyone liked the level of power her father wielded. A sudden chill ran over her, a warning on the air, and she stopped her mare, Miri, who no doubt sensed it too. The white horse snorted, her hooves scraping at the ground.
Ed pulled out his sword from the sheath on his back. “Ann, get moving.”
Ann rolled her eyes again. “I’m not leaving you.” She hated it when he became overprotective. She knew he was only doing his job, but when they were alone they acted more like partners.
Ed might be one of the Black Guard, an elite warrior trained in magic and weapons, but he’d been her best friend for over a decade. She wouldn’t leave him to face a potential threat alone. “It’s safer if we stick together.”
Ed’s jaw tightened.
Someone bounded through the trees. Three giant, hulking men dressed in bedraggled clothing appeared, each carrying a different weapon.
Wonderful, it had to be ogres. They were just as big as their giant cousins only much more stupid. One came trotting toward her.
Ann raised her hand, heat flared between her fingers as a fireball formed. “I’d back off if I were you,” she warned but the ogre kept on coming and almost crashed into Miri.
Ann urged the mare forward and dodged it.
Another ogre lunged at Ed, who thrashed at it.
Ogres, like giants, were damn strong and had a tolerance for magic which made it harder to kill them. She encountered a few of them on her travels with her father over the past few years. Why were they attacking her now? Despite flying no banner, she didn’t look like an unsuspecting woman. Not in her riding leathers. Only Ed stood out in his black armour, the cover to the long black leather coat that his kind were known for wearing.
Ann sighed. She only had one Black with her and she wasn’t flying a Valeran banner. How could they even know who she was?
Or maybe they don’t know, and just think we are unsuspecting travelers.
She hurled the fireball at the first ogre, who ducked and growled as he avoided it. The tree behind him exploded.
I hope that peace treaty involved the dryads. Or that may cause some problems. She pulled out one of her knives as a third overcame at her.
He slammed into Miri before Ann had the chance to throw the knife. Miri screamed as she and Ann were knocked over.
Ann hit the ground, hard, the air knocked from her lungs. She rolled and stopped a few feet away from Miri.
The ogre grappled with the struggling horse.
More heat flared between her fingers. With one hand she sent the first ogre crashing to the ground, with the other she flung her blade at the second one. It embedded in his neck. He grunted and yanked it free, tossing the blade away.
Ann glanced over Ed, who fended off the two others. But she felt something else at the edge of her mind. Eyes watching her, watching them. A chill ran down her spine as her senses prickled. Who would be watching them?
The ogres are just a diversion, she realized.
Another fireball knocked the ogre back as she hurried over to Edward, sighed, and gripped her own knife. “Enough of this!” she snarled, fire flickering between her fingers. “What do you want?”
Someone clapped as a man with greasy black hair, dark eyes and pale skin, moved out of the trees. He wore a tattered cloak over a black tunic and muddied trousers. “Bravo, guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re gaining quite a reputation for yourself, daughter of the archdruid.”
“Sorcerer,” Edward spat. “I can practically smell the reek of tainted magic on you.”
Ann scanned the newcomer with her mind, sensing he was indeed a sorcerer. Strange, not many of them resided in Caselhelm nowadays. Most of them had retreated to the realm of Asral due to her father’s laws restricting the use of sorcery.
“What do you want?” Ann demanded, putting her hands on her hips. “For an attempted kidnapping you haven’t executed your plan very well.”
The man sneered. “Oh, I’m not foolish enough to kidnap you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Then what do you want?” She pulled out another one of her knives, ready in case he tried to catch her off-guard. Orbs of fire flickered between the fingers of her other hand. Her magic felt ready, bubbling just below the surface. One good thing she had learned from Ed over the years was to always be prepared for anything.
“This today was just a warning. We won’t have that peace treaty controlling all the realms. You have no idea what it will do
to all of Magickind.” The man’s dark eyes narrowed as he glared at her. “If you don’t stop the treaty, we will.”
“What are you talking about?” Ann demanded. “The peace treaty is designed to bring peace to all the realms—something we haven’t had in centuries.”
“You have no idea, do you?” He laughed.
“No idea about what?” More fire flared in between her fingers. Ed moved to her side, sword still drawn.
Ann, let’s just get out of here, Ed said. Please, I don’t like this.
“That treaty will give them too much control over us,” the sorcerer hissed. “Are you willing to let that happen? You have no idea who the real enemy is, do you?”
Ann took a step forward and opened her mouth to ask more questions. Movement caught her eye when she spotted a woman with black eyes that looked like buttons pinned onto her face, lurking between the trees. She stared at them, a faint grin on her face. Her pale skin shimmered like moonlight and her long black dress curled around her like wisps of smoke.
Power crackled in the air around the woman. Her long black hair billowed around her as she hovered over the ground.
“Who—?” Ann asked, wondering what in the name of the spirits the woman was. She’d never seen any Magickind who looked like that before.
The sorcerer scurried away, but Ann barely noticed him as she frowned at the woman. “Who are you?”
The woman laughed and vanished in a swirl of smoke. “Hey, come back!” Ann ran over to where the woman had been hovering.
“Ann, what are you doing?” Ed hurried after her. He touched her shoulder, concern etched on his face.
“Didn’t you see her?” She stared at the ground, half expecting to find some trace there but found nothing. No lingering traces of magic. No disturbances within the earth. The woman might as well have not been there at all.
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