The Forlorn Dagger Trilogy Box Set

by Jaxon Reed

  Intellectually, Endrick could see the wizard’s reasoning. He would not be escaping with the dagger. The door had been locked with a metal lock; a mystical one would be useless against the knife’s magic-sapping abilities.

  In his mind, Endrick dismissed notions like, “prisoner,” replacing them with justifications he readily settled on. The Shadow Council had no way of trusting him, after all. They did not want the dagger, so difficult to find and seemingly more difficult to keep once found, from wandering away before this crucial opportunity to strike a blow at their mutual enemies passed.

  So Endrick said nothing, whiling away the time snoozing, reminiscing about happier days while on the Emerald throne, and day-dreaming about what he would do once back in power.

  For the last hour he had been pacing the room in the dark, restless, in need of exercise and hungering for something to break the monotony. So it was with profound joy he noticed dim light filtering through the door’s bottom crack, and he happily waited the turn of a key opening the lock.

  He said, “Is it time?”

  Quartzstone shook his head. He placed a bundle on the floor, along with a basket of bread with boiled mutton and some fresh water in an old wine bottle.

  Instinctively, Endrick moved toward the food. The light from Quartstone’s staff dimmed as he neared.

  “Stay back. You can retrieve all this once I’m gone.”

  Endrick nodded and backed up. The dagger had never left him. It still hung from a leather strap over his back. He had almost forgotten it was there until its effects on the wizard reminded him.

  Quartzstone said, “Here are fresh clothes that will make you appear to be a noble wedding guest. There’s also a razor in there and a mirror. In the morning you are to clean up best you can and don the clothes. We will have a carriage out front to take you to the wedding.”

  “And once there? What’s the plan?”

  “You kill Greystone with the dagger. We’ll take care of the rest.”

  When Quartzstone left, Endrick pulled open the bundle. Inside, a glowstone cast welcome light. He set it aside and reached in deeper, taking out fine leather breeches and a green silk tunic, then soft leather kneeboots that looked like they would fit him. A straightedge razor and a small hand mirror rounded out the contents.

  Endrick looked in the mirror and a gaunt, bewhiskered face stared back at him. He smiled. Cut off from the outside world, he had no idea of the time. But now he knew it was night. Time to sleep. Tomorrow he would do his part to get his kingdom back.

  Chapter 10

  Highpoint Chapel was built about 200 years ago by a group of priests soon after they arrived in Refugio from the Holy Lands. Intent on the ascetic life, they promptly bought supplies in town then retired to the hills, and rarely visited Refugio again. Over the following years they built a simple but elegant chapel, its white stonework showing care and craftsmanship unrivaled elsewhere in the islands.

  They built it facing east, and a traveling fenstermeister crafted exceptional stained glass windows for them. The windows captured the rising sun and flooded the interior with rich golden light every day at dawn. As the sun crept higher each day, the dominant shade of light in the chapel gradually shifted to blue late in the morning, to a rich purple around afternoon, then back to normal ambient light after the sun began setting behind the building.

  The priests happily married local couples and allowed the use of their chapel for a modest fee. In time, the priests found wives of their own, and raised families. Their descendants stayed in the area. Some moved to Refugio. Some traveled back to Hightower for an education, then returned to the Ageless Isles as priests themselves.

  Over the years a dedicated few maintained the chapel, keeping it in shape and gradually expanding the facilities. New priests joined them from time to time, especially those seeking solitude and time alone with the Creator.

  Over time, Highpoint Chapel became a popular place to get married, and continued earning an income for the priests in rental fees. Brides, bridesmaids, and those aspiring to become brides all marveled at the beauty of the place. Local tradition held that couples married there were blessed with abundant progeny, and several large families certainly seemed to support this legend.

  So it was that before dawn Bartimo found himself facing a crowd while dressed in a fine white silken suit, standing on the dais inside Highpoint Chapel. He stood, feeling quite nervous, beside Finero while one of the attending priests walked around the chapel’s interior with a candlesnuffer. With each light that went out, the rising sun’s rays brightened the interior with more golden-hued light. As always, those in attendance looked around at the soft lustrous glow with a hint of wonder.

  When the sun fully crested the horizon, the interior shone brightly. The priest set aside the snuffer, mounted the dais with the men, and turned his attention to the crowd. He began singing and everyone followed his lead a cappella.

  “Come now bride and meet your man

  He’s here to see you ver’ly

  Take from him your wedding band

  Your vows receive so mer’ly . . .”

  The doors to the chapel opened and Phanissa stepped through, wearing a snug white silk wedding dress, her face covered in a veil with only her eyes showing. She carried a bouquet of flowers. Her mother, her nanny, and three close girlfriends followed. The crowd continued singing to her as the women walked down the aisle.

  “Creator bless this pair now

  Unto You we beseech Thee

  Bless them as they take their vow

  Now and for eternity.”

  The song was not entirely accurate, Bartimo thought. Everyone knew Scripture stated there is no marriage in the afterlife. But the song’s anonymous author had succumbed to the need of rhyme, and the verses had long ago established themselves as a tradition at weddings, regardless of any Scriptural inaccuracy.

  When she reached the dais, the singing stopped. Finero stepped down while Bartimo looked on. Finero smiled at his daughter, and though her could not see her smiling back behind the veil, her eyes beamed at him with happiness.

  He turned toward the dais and held out his arm. She took it and together they faced the front.

  The priest smiled at Phanissa then looked out upon the crowd. He cleared his throat and said, “Citizens of Refugio, loyal subjects of His Majesty, King Keel, guests and visitors all . . . welcome. We are gathered here today to bind in holy matrimony Phanissa of House Finero, and Bartimo, a commercial man from Refugio.

  “Who is giving this woman to be married to her chosen man?”

  “I am. Her father, Finero.”

  The priest nodded at Finero, then looked at Phanissa.

  He said, “Please step up here, my dear.”

  Phanissa took the priest’s hand and carefully ascended two steps to the dais. She beamed at Bartimo, who gave her a silly grin that refused to leave his face. Slowly, they turned toward the priest while Finero, Ermina, Hassetta and the others all moved to the front pew and took their seats with the other guests.

  The priest smiled at the crowd and cleared his throat again.

  “The Creator says in Scripture that marriage is a holy thing. To be holy means to be set apart. You, Bartimo, will be set apart for Phanissa. And you, Phanissa, are to be set apart for Bartimo. Together, you will remain set apart for one another and to the Creator, all your days. Your children will be holy, because they shall be born within the bonds of holy matrimony . . .”

  -+-

  Over the years it became increasingly apparent that weddings would be the primary source of the priests’ income. The ceremonies proved rather lucrative. So they slowly added structures supporting marriage ceremonies. Several decades ago, some itinerant stonesmiths donated their skills to design and build a large domed pavilion from the same materials used for the chapel.

  It so happened about that time a merchant returned from a trip to Pert, and gifted the prime architectural facet for this great open-air pavilion: a giant crysta
l the size of a wagon wheel.

  The builders placed it at the very center of the pavilion’s dome, part outside and part in. Every day when the sun reached noon, its rays would shine directly into the crystal and refract inside into the primary colors in the dome below. It became customary for the bride and groom to stand and wait for the noon hour under the dome, then be bathed in rainbow colors before all their friends and family.

  Thus, tradition held that weddings occur in the morning, and receptions at lunch to maximize the couple’s time in the light.

  After the crowd streamed out of the chapel and most had given their congratulations to the couple, Phanissa grinned at Bartimo.

  “I’ve got to go back and change,” she said. “I don’t want to eat in this dress! They’ve got a little house behind the chapel called the ‘Bride’s Quarters.’ I’m just going to duck in and put on something more comfortable.”

  Bartimo smiled at her while the wedding party moved en masse to the pavilion, leaving them alone.

  He said, “I’ll go with you.”

  “I don’t want you inside the changing room!”

  He laughed and said, “I’ll wait outside the door, milady.”

  She giggled and grabbed his hand, leading him to the little house. Bartimo took a seat on a leather couch as she disappeared in the back. He clasped the back of his head with both hands and sighed contentedly.

  Several minutes later, Phanissa stepped out, this time wearing a simple sundress. Bartimo stood up with an expression of affection and strong desire.

  “That looks . . . even better.”

  He scooped her up in his arms and kissed her with passion, in their first unchaperoned moment together.

  When they finally broke apart she said, “Can’t you wait until tonight, husband?”

  “This won’t take long.”

  -+-

  Finero hopped up onto the round dais under the pavilion’s dome and looked out at the crowd. The priests had arranged dozens and dozens of tables and chairs, and some locals they usually hired for these feasts were acting as servers, bringing in rack after rack of lamb to all the tables.

  The guests were in high spirits, and already eating. He scanned the crowd, looking for Baritmo and Phanissa.

  He said, “Has anybody seen the bride and groom?”

  Those close enough to hear the question chuckled. But, his daughter and her new husband were nowhere to be seen.

  “Don’t worry, dear,” Ermina said from the nearest table. “They’ll be along shortly. I think Phanissa wanted to change into her sundress before eating. She can barely move in that wedding gown.”

  “They’re going to miss the rainbow. It’s going to show any minute right over there.”

  He pointed to the carpet the priests had placed for the couple to stand on when the refracted light appeared. This was an important tradition, and to miss it was quite unlike Phanissa, he thought.

  The sun crept higher in the sky and the first hint of colored light filtered in from the crystal above.

  “She’s going to miss it!”

  “Well!” Ermina stood up and stepped up onto the dais with Finero. “I guess we’ll have to stand in for them.”

  She grasped his hand and pulled him over to the carpeted spot as the multi-colored hues intensified. She put her arm in his and smiled out at the crowd as everyone noticed the change in ambiance and directed their attention to the center of the pavilion.

  “Where is that girl?” Finero said. “What can they be doing that is keeping them from this? It’s quite unlike her, I must say.”

  “Oh, hush, dear. You’ll have to let go. She’s not a little girl anymore.”

  Ermina smiled as the colored light intensified. She said, “Do you remember when we first stood here? It wasn’t so long ago was it? We didn’t have two coppers to rub together.”

  Finero turned and looked down at his wife. He said, “We have come a long way, haven’t we?”

  She nodded, smiling. He bent down and kissed her as the multi-hued light came into its full glory. The crowd applauded for them and cheered.

  A black owl poofed into existence above them. It stretched its wings, bringing a collective gasp from the crowd.

  Finero and Ermina looked up in time to see it poof away again.

  Ermina said, “What was that?”

  “Looked like a chronosignet. They mark the timing of a spell . . .”

  The light dimmed as a thick black cloud spewed from the crystal. Rapidly forming, it dropped down toward the couple standing on the dais.

  “Finero, what—”

  Ermina broke off, choking. Finero grasped at his neck, as unseen pressure constricted his throat. He slapped and grabbed and clawed, but the pressure tightened, squeezing off his airways.

  He fell down to his knees, struggling to breathe, surrounded by black fog. He could neither fill his lungs nor empty them. Stars appeared before his eyes, bursting painfully in his field of vision. He passed out and slumped to the floor, face down beside his wife.

  -+-

  Bartimo held the door open and Phanissa stepped from the cottage, adjusting her dress.

  She said, “We’re going to miss the rainbow if we don’t hurry up.”

  Bartimo shrugged.

  He said, “If we did, it was worth it.”

  A scream pierced the air, followed by a horrified clamor from the crowd at the pavilion.

  Phanissa said, “What’s happening?”

  Together they hurried, running around the front of the chapel and turning toward the pavilion. In the distance, a black cloud over the center dais slowly lifted, revealing two bodies on the floor.

  Chapter 11

  Somebody woke Endrick early in the morning. He did not see who shook him; they turned and left the room quickly.

  He rose and shaved in the light of the glowstone, then used the water to clean up as best he could. He donned fresh clothes over the dagger in its sheath still strapped to his back, then found a comb someone left and made himself look as presentable as possible.

  Briefly, staring into the reflection, he worried that he might be recognized. Then he shrugged. Such elements were beyond his control. Besides, the Forlorn Dagger would protect him from anyone trying to stop him, at least by magical means.

  He dug in a food bag, pulled out the last apple and broke his fast.

  Tossing the core aside, he turned and tried the handle on the door, finding it open for once. He left the dimly lit room and walked down a dark hall where light seeped under the crack of a door on the far end.

  He stepped out into the great room where the meeting with the Shadow Council had taken place in utter darkness. A solitary oil lamp flickered on the wall near the front door. The room seemed open, empty, and utterly drab. Furniture and anything else of value had long ago been removed, leaving only filth and dust behind. The place reeked of neglect and mildew.

  A movement in the corner caught his eye, and he spied a mouse scurrying along the wall.

  The front door opened and a man dressed in a driver’s livery poked his head in.

  The driver said, “There you are. Right this way, if you please.”

  He opened the door wide, and Endrick blinked as morning light filled the room.

  Out on the street he recognized the dreary neighborhood. It looked worse in daylight, with nothing to hide the piles of garbage, broken windows, and widespread neglect.

  A fine white carriage waited for him, hitched to two matching white mares. It all looked completely out of place in this quarter of the city, Endrick thought. But it would fit in nicely with those heading to the wedding.

  He nodded at the driver who opened the carriage door for him. When he grasped the side of the doorway to climb inside, he realized the entire frame was just bleached pine that had been sanded down to a lustrous patina. It was not nearly as costly as it looked, he decided. Although, he thought, from a distance it would be indistinguishable from truly expensive rides.

  He noted there
would be no attendants riding on the back. The Shadow Council certainly appeared to be stingy, he thought. Nonetheless, this marked the best and nicest mode of transportation Endrick had enjoyed since leaving the castle.

  He sat back on the cushioned bench as the driver climbed up into the top seat and the carriage moved forward with a slight jerk.

  No, it was not a royal conveyance by any means, but it stood head and tales above farm carts and caravan wagons, Endrick thought with a smile.

  The driver urged his horses to pick up the pace, and they quickly headed out of the decrepit neighborhood. Soon Endrick noted they were in the poor part of town. A few blocks later, they came into the merchant’s quarter. Soon they closed in on the city center.

  When the carriage took a sharp turn to the left, he could see the castle. His castle, he thought. At least, soon to be his again.

  The day had been declared a holiday in two kingdoms, and as they neared the city’s giant cathedral less than a quarter mile from the palace, their progress slowed as the streets filled with traffic and vendors hawking their wares despite the early hour.

  Everyone seemed in a festive mood, which darkened Endrick’s spirits. This was supposed to be his marriage to Margwen. This was supposed to be his day, a day that would lead to the union of two realms under one king. He was supposed to be that king.

  Everything had changed when Darkstone was magically sucked away, never to be seen again. Not long after, Trant came marching into town with Darkstone’s army of metal men controlled by a different wizard. And the soldiers on the wall did not even try and stop him. They let Trant march right through the gates without loosing a single arrow.

  Endrick forced himself to pull out of these troubling thoughts as the driver finally reined his horses to a stop. He set the brake and climbed down, then opened the door.

  “Sorry, milord. The guards indicate you’ll have to go on foot the rest of the way.”