The Forlorn Dagger Trilogy Box Set

by Jaxon Reed

  Endrick nodded distractedly, and climbed out. In the distance, already entering through the massive doors of the grand cathedral, he could make out several noblemen and ladies gracefully making their way. He recognized some, even at this distance. A duchess here, an earl there. They would be allowed early entry and the best seats based on their ranking in the social hierarchy.

  The driver helpfully pointed toward a long line where the lower nobles waited. These sundry gentry were not attired quite as finely as the dukes and duchesses, marquees and earls in the other line, but they nonetheless dressed quite respectably for the occasion. Here also were wealthy farmers, second- and third-born sons who had managed nicely, and other parvenus.

  Endrick made his way to the end of the line, which was already moving forward. He blended in nicely, as he had hoped. His clothes were at just the right level of craftsmanship for being in this line. He held back a ways to prevent getting too close to anyone. He did not want anybody noticing their magic disappearing.

  To his relief, the guards were Coralian and did not recognize him. They did not give him a second look as the long line of lesser nobles made their way into the huge double doors of the cathedral and took their seats toward the back.

  Endrick now faced his greatest dilemma: where to sit in the space remaining? At first he wished to be near the main aisle so that he could make his move at the appropriate moment. But that must have been considered prime seating because all those spaces were full by the time he entered the cathedral.

  Finally he settled on the far left corner in the very back, sitting alone. The last pew, parallel to the giant doors, had only one other person on it. Taking the corner next to the wall, Endrick consoled himself that he could use the much narrower side aisle to get down to the front, and perhaps attract less attention while doing so.

  Now all he had to do was wait.

  Moments later, curtains behind the dais rustled and Gustaff, Kathar’s High Priest, stepped out. He was followed closely by Trant, Keel, and Wizard Greystone.

  Endrick’s eyes narrowed as he focused on his target. Suddenly, the distance from the very back of the cathedral to the dais seemed very far indeed. How would he traverse all that way without someone trying to stop him?

  As if in answer, Gustaff stepped forward and called for attention, then led the assembly in song. Everyone enthusiastically stood up and began singing the Wedding March.

  As the first verse ended, on cue the doors to the cathedral opened once more and everyone turned to watch Princess Margwen walk down the aisle followed by her mother Queen Kita, her nanny Anabella, and several ladies from Coral. The crowd sang the lines twice before everyone made it all the way to the front.

  As the last lines of the song died away, Keel came down and met her, offering his arm. He turned and together they stood at the base of the dais looking up at Trant and the priest.

  Gustaff cast an amplification spell and said, “Who gives this maiden to be wed?”

  “I do, her father Keel, King of Coral and the Ageless Isles, and all the duchies therein.”

  Well, it’s now or never, Endrick thought.

  As Margwen climbed the steps to take her place beside Trant, Endrick moved swiftly down the narrow space along the wall.

  No one moved to stop him, all eyes on the bride. He made his way swiftly into the open space between the front pews and the dais, reaching over his shoulder to draw the dagger as he bounded up the steps.

  The priest and the royals turned to look at him in surprise as a collective gasp came from the crowd.

  Endrick had eyes only for the wizard. Greystone shot out a bolt of light that fizzled before it reached him.

  Endrick came in fast and low, the dagger aimed for Greystone’s middle. The old man cast a blue Globe of Protection but the dagger popped through it like a soap bubble.

  He shoved the dark blade deep and hard into the wizard’s stomach. Greystone’s eyes bulged out and he stared at Endrick in shock . . . then disappeared in a poof of black smoke.

  Endrick pulled the dagger away as the blade swiped through empty air. He turned toward Trant and in a fit of rage swung out and stabbed him too, only to watch as Trant likewise disappeared in curls of smoke, then Margwen.

  Confused, Trant swung the blade wide, sending Keel into vapors. He stumbled down the steps and stared back in shock at the lords and ladies on the front rows.

  A duke stood up and pointed. He said, “It’s Endrick!”

  Endrick charged him in rage but the man disappeared in black tendrils of smoke when the blade struck home.

  He stopped now, confused. One by one everyone in the crowd dissolved, turning into wisps of black smoke that slowly curled up to the ceiling.

  Up above he heard a woman’s voice.

  She said, “That’s right. None of them are real. You’ll be killing no one today, Endrick. Except maybe yourself.”

  He looked up for the source and found the battlemaiden floating up near the rafters, her black leather armor seeming to pulse with an odd dark light.

  “You! Who are you? What’s going on?”

  She said, “It’s over, Endrick. Put the knife down and give yourself up.”

  He smiled and shook his head.

  “I’m not going anywhere. And there’s nothing you can do to me! I’m invulnerable to your magic. I’m invulnerable to all magic!”

  “Maybe so,” she said, and her mouth twisted up under her mask. “But you’re trapped. You’re not going anywhere.”

  He glanced nervously toward the doors. They were shut tight.

  Gripping the knife in one hand he marched down the aisle of the now empty cathedral, but when he reached the doors and grasped one of the handles, they would not budge.

  Enraged, he turned and looked for a window to break. But the elaborate stained glass windows on either side of the cathedral were too high up for him to reach.

  Was there a back door? He stomped to the dais again, determined to find out.

  “We secured the place as soon as you entered, Endrick. There’s no way out. I’ll wait up here patiently until you give yourself up.”

  He turned and snarled at her.

  “Meet me down here like a worthy opponent! I can take you or anyone else.”

  She lowered slowly toward the floor and floated closer to him, smiling behind the black leather mask covering her face. She was amused. He could hear it in her voice.

  “The only way I’m coming down, Endrick, is if that dagger you’re holding touches me. And we both know that’s not going to happen.”

  Her mocking tone enraged him. She drew slightly nearer, taunting him. He gripped the dagger tightly. Then he was struck by a thought. With a laugh of triumph he pulled his arm back and threw the knife at her, hard as he could.

  The look of shock and surprise on her face gave him a flash of triumph. Then she, too, disappeared in a puff of black smoke as the knife sailed through her and clattered to the floor on the far side of the cathedral

  The doors opened and a stream of Coralian guards in red-orange leather armor ran in. The first one bent down in the center aisle and picked up the Forlorn Dagger. The others cleared a path for him as he headed out.

  From behind the stage another group of guards rushed in, swords ready. Four of them quickly surrounded Endrick in a circle, the points of their weapons covering him from all directions.

  Another guard approached, bearing a captain’s sash and the air of authority.

  One of the men motioned at Endrick with his sword and said, “We have him, Captain Tomlin.”

  Tomlin nodded and said, “Very good. Bind him and escort him to the dungeon.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  The soldier behind Endrick sheathed his weapon and pulled the former monarch’s arms back, then wrapped a cord around his wrists.

  Stunned and still speechless, Endrick stumbled as the guard pushed him forward. He regained his footing in time to step down from the dais without falling on his face. In shock, he contin
ued down the aisle, surrounded now by several men clad in orange-red leather armor.

  Darkstone, Greystone, and Trant entered through the back door and walked out onto the dais. They joined Tomlin and watched as Endrick was led through the cathedral’s front doors by the guards.

  “That went well,” Greystone said.

  Trant nodded. He said, “Thank you, Tomlin. And thank you, especially, Wizard Darkstone. Your subterfuge worked remarkably well.”

  Darkstone turned, her face showing a serious expression.

  She looked Trant in the eye and said, “I suggest you execute that one immediately.”

  Trant nodded again, agreeing. He said, “Let me get married, first.”

  “Very good!” Greystone said. “Let’s have the real wedding now!”

  -+-

  Deep within the bowels of the dungeon, where he had sent so many others, Endrick heard a distant door open. Faintly, even down here he could make out the bells pealing from Kathar Cathedral. No doubt they were ringing in joy, celebrating the union of Trant and his bride.

  He scowled at the thought and listened patiently as steps came down the passageway, closer to his cell.

  Perhaps they would untie him, he thought. No one had bothered to unbind the rope after the guards threw him in here. He had tried rubbing against the wall, but the only thing that had done was scuff up his wrists. He would demand they cut the ropes, he thought, as keys jangled and the lock turned.

  Maybe this would be a friendly face. That pesky woman in the black armor had visited him, but he had trouble remembering the details of his time with her. Surely someone in the castle still favored him. If he could get free, he just might recall the location of the entrance to the secret tunnel leading out of here. First, someone would have to untie him.

  The door swung open and the royal executioner stood there, shirtless, with a worn leather hood over his face showing only two slits for his eyes. Tall, and overweight, his gut spilled over the top of his leather breeches. He carried a giant two-bladed axe, holding it tightly, the handle balanced between both hands.

  “What is the meaning of this? Why are you here? I demand to be set free!”

  A guard squeezed past the executioner, dressed in Coralian leather. He carried a large wooden block, scarred, knotted, and stained all over in dried blood. He set it down on the floor of the cell, finding a flat spot on the straw.

  “What is this? Take that away! I’m the king! What don’t you understand about that? I am King Endrick of Emerald! I demand you set me free!”

  The guard moved behind him and kicked the back of his knees, forcing him down. He delivered a blow to Endrick’s kidneys, knocking the breath from him, then shoved his back so Endrick’s head and neck slapped down flat on the block.

  Another person stepped into the cell. Endrick could see fine leather boots, nothing more. He strained to look up from his awkward angle on the block and could only see the man held a ledger in one hand and an ink quill in the other. A scribe, evidently. Endrick wondered, could it be his old court scribe? When the man spoke, Endrick realized this was indeed the case.

  This scribe said, “Endrick you are accused and found guilty of attempted murder and treason against the throne. You have been sentenced to death by His Majesty, King Trant of Emerald. It is recorded that on this date your execution is carried out. Do you have any final words you wish to be entered into the record?”

  Endrick screamed in fear, frustration and rage. He spat out a long stream of profanity, calling down curses on Trant, wizards, guards, and Emerald in general. The scribe nodded at the executioner and stepped back out of the cell, but remained at the doorway to witness the completion of the sentence.

  The executor moved to stand by Endrick, who still screamed curses. He hefted the axe high and brought it down on the block of wood with a solid Thunk!

  Endrick’s head rolled off into the straw, a final word of profanity on his tongue, blood staining the wooden block with a fresh red coat.

  In the distance, the bells of Kathar Cathedral continued to peal, ringing out their message of joy and hope for the kingdom’s future.

  Chapter 12

  Stin stretched his legs and grimaced as he worked out the kinks. The seat was made from wood, and while not uncomfortable at first, it had seemed to grow less yielding as the minutes marched by.

  A courier found him hours ago in the inn, and handed him a letter with a royal seal on it. He glanced apologetically at Bellasondra while breaking it open. When he finished looking it over, he handed it to her. She read the letter while he explained to Plinny, Veeroy and Kirt that he was being summoned back to the palace and would return as soon as he could. With a final word to Bellasondra telling her to watch out for the others, he took off.

  Upon arriving at the castle, he showed his letter to the guard at the gate. This man called another guard who escorted him to the proper doorway, whereupon a servant took over and guided Stin through a labyrinth of hallways and stairs. At last he was led to a corridor ending in what he could only presume was a door to the king’s council chamber.

  There he was offered a seat in one of several wooden chairs lining the hall, and seated he remained for over an hour.

  Most of his time in or near palaces had been in their dungeons, so reflecting on his lot Stin decided this counted far better than his usual fate. Even though the seats were uncomfortable.

  He amused himself by using the powers of the key to track movements around him through the walls, floor, and ceiling. He noted the chamber behind the door remained empty.

  At long last, a side door to the chamber opened and he recognized the outlines of King Trant and Wizard Greystone through the wall. Another figure followed, this one female. He guessed it was Princess Margwen. Queen Margwen, he corrected himself. The royal couple’s marriage had occurred earlier in the day. Stin and his group stayed at the inn rather than braving the crowds to enjoy a free meal at the nearest pavilion. Then yet another female figure appeared.

  He watched through the wall as three of the outlines took a seat at the table while the wizard came to the door.

  Then a cat appeared somehow. He was quite unsure how it got into the room. One moment there was no cat, the next moment one was there. Most unnerving to Stin was the fact it seemed to be staring back at him, through the wall.

  Poking his head out, Greystone said, “Won’t you please join us, Master Stin?”

  He stood and walked into the room. Greystone pointed to a chair at the table, and Stin sat down. The other woman, he realized, was the battlemaiden, dressed in black leather armor hugging tight against her body up to the neck. She glowed with a dark purple aura, and he could sense new, additional power in her. She looked back at him coolly, and Stin realized she could kill him with a thought. She could kill everyone in the room quite easily, save perhaps Greystone. Even so, she would likely win in a fight with the older wizard.

  She reached down and picked up the cat, placing it on the table. Curiously, the cat seemed blind. It patted around carefully with its paw before lying down.

  The battlemaiden said, “Hello, Deedles.”

  The cat purred while she stroked its back and promptly closed its eyes.

  Greystone said, “Last time you joined us, Master Stin, I believe these two were not present. Over here is Queen Margwen, newly wed to Trant just today, and this is the Wizard Darkstone.”

  Stin nodded at them, pleased with his correct guesses, and made a seated half bow. The fact the battlemaiden was now a wizard explained her new powers. He had everyone identified, but he was unsure as to the proper protocol when dealing with wizards or royalty. Nonetheless, his efforts at politeness seemed to be appreciated by all.

  Greystone continued. “Now to catch you up with recent events. Today we captured Endrick and retrieved the Forlorn Dagger. We were able to accomplish this thanks in part to the information you provided us.”

  Stin nodded, acknowledging the complimentary tone in the wizard’s voice.

>   Greystone added, “Endrick was summarily executed earlier today as well.”

  Stin said, “Did you torture him for more information about the Shadow Council?”

  Darkstone took this question. She said, “There was no need. I scanned his memories for the information we wanted. His only meeting with them occurred in total darkness, evidently as a precaution against just such an occurrence. He recognized none of the other voices, save one. The only person we know for certain on the Shadow Council is Wizard Quartzstone.”

  Stin furrowed his brows in thought. He said, “I’m sorry, I’m not very familiar with all the wizards or their names. I know they each have a different stone . . . That’s about all I know.”

  Greystone waved the comment aside. He said, “No matter. The point is, we still know very little about who we are dealing with. Therefore, we wanted to talk with you and see if we can find out more.”

  The four of them stared at him with intense curiosity. Stin swallowed hard and leaned back in his chair.

  He said, “I’m afraid I can’t tell you much. I was hired originally by a man named Felway the Fence in Ruby City. The dagger was held by Duke Windthorn in his townhome there. Felway heard that I could pass for a noble, and offered me a lot of gold for the blade. Before I was able to deliver it to Felway, he was killed. I took it and made my escape from the city. As you know, I ended up in Greystone Village with the dagger shortly thereafter. Or rather, outside the village.

  “While on the pirate vessel you two destroyed,” he nodded at Trant and Greystone, but his voice carried no malice, “I was captured alive and brought to a meeting of the Thieves’ League in Coral City. Duke Windthorn somehow figured out I was the one responsible for the liberation of his dagger, and convinced the league to recruit me in the task of returning it.

  “And so, I tracked it here.”

  Trant leaned forward in his seat and said, “Will you be attempting to bring the dagger back to the Thieves’ League now that you know we have it?”

  Stin rubbed his chin and stared at the ceiling a moment, carefully considering how to answer.