Shards

by James Duvall

  Chapter 36

  Faralon's Treasure

  Faralon's Vault, The Island of Glory, Glory Shard

  So much has happened, so many lives lost... I thought they would let us peaceably be, but they feared Evelyn's power and lured her to her death with a hostage. Amber was inconsolable and I could not coax her onto the boat until we had gone back for Evelyn's body. When we arrived we found they had burned her and laid the ashes out in a peculiar symbol which I had no time to study. Amber, myself, and three others are all that survive. No doubt the others will see that we have gone soon and will work out what I have done. By then the arclorus core shall be far, far from their reach...

  From the Journal of Isaac Faralon

  “I need these,” the luminarian called Sapphire said, having set out a selection of the coins. There were about a dozen of them that she had plucked from the chest. Timothy rubbed his chin and looked to Aebyn, whom simply shrugged.

  “I don't know what they are either,” Aebyn said.

  “Neither do I, but I will be taking these ones,” Sapphire said. She looked up at Timothy as though daring him to object. He did not, and she very quickly stuffed them into her satchel.

  “How is the situation outside?” Timothy asked. Aebyn shook his head grimly.

  “Soldiers, lots of them. They've allied themselves with Donovan's men and have surrounded the door. They think he's still alive.”

  Donovan Skalde's body lay motionless in the corner where Timothy had propped him. He had a broken nose but it was the large gash in his throat that had ended him. Twice Timothy had checked for a pulse and was relieved to find none.

  Eventually the soldiers would tire of waiting for them to come out and would enter the vault to rescue or kill Donovan Skalde, depending on whether Detective Kanes had survived to tell his story. It mattered very little in the long run. They would not hesitate to gun down Timothy, Aebyn, and the luminarians if they were unfortunate enough to get caught between law and outlaw.

  Sapphire seemed to come to a similar conclusion and set to work shoving over a heavy bookcase to block the doorway. It wouldn't hold the soldiers off indefinitely but it would provide all those inside with a few more minutes once the soldiers did invade. Timothy and Aebyn helped with the bookcases and soon the door was blocked beneath a pile of dusty books and broken shelves.

  The incorporeal Dawn seemed perplexed by the silver-eyed dragon. He asked Sapphire questions in Falfarren and received answers in the same tongue. The silver-eyed dragoness seemed to grow tired of being prodded at and snapped at them both. She flew up out of their immediate reach and hunkered down by a skylight.

  “What's that?” Dawn asked. This time his words came in the common Pendrian tongue.

  Following Dawn's gaze to the broken skylight, Timothy saw the reddish hue of the sky outside. At first he mistook it to be the coming sunset, but the time was all wrong for that.

  “Shardwall,” Sapphire said, announcing the conclusion everyone else was slowly coming to. She flew up to it and perched on the ledge. She made a fist and rapped against it twice. “Yes. Let's go.”

  “Through shardwall?” Timothy asked, incredulous. Sapphire peered down at him with skepticism.

  “Aren't you a bridger?” she asked. Dawn chattered something at her in falfarren.

  “They're faking?” Sapphire yelped, her turn to be incredulous.

  Timothy shrugged, refusing to be embarrassed by a dragon's assessment of him. “Sorry, its not an option.”

  “Of course it is,” Aebyn said. He shoved at another bookcase. “We just have to be able to reach it.”

  Sapphire heaved a sigh and with some reluctance returned to the ground and the three of them were able to tilt a bookcase against the wall that would support Timothy as he climbed up to the broken skylight.

  “Like this...” Sapphire said. She stepped up to the shardwall where Dawn's image already waited. He held a hand out to her and she gripped it as though it were solid as shardwall. Dawn bowed through the wall unhindered. Sapphire followed, vanishing through as though she had simply stepped into a thick curtain of roiling mist. The wall became solid and smooth as polished stone after they were gone.

  “It takes two to bridge,” Aebyn said. “It's always taken two. One to anchor as the other takes the step of faith, then the one can pull the other through, anchoring on the other side. It was this cooperative nature that Nicholas Darenvar first discovered. This is one of the reasons why Bridgers keep gryphon companions. We have enough magic to function as the leap of faith. Come, Timothy, it is time to go.”

  “What about you?” Timothy asked, looking to the pale blue luminarian that had stayed behind. Her eyes were fixed on the floor where the green flames had danced around her. Timothy squinted, barely able to see what she was looking at.

  “I am free now,” Aurora answered. “I will not be going with you.”

  From the other room came the shouts of soldiers and men began to beat against the old bookcases. The well-aged wood did not hold up well against the assault and began to crack immediately.

  “Timothy...” Aebyn said quietly, pleading with his eyes.

  Timothy ascended to the ledge and took Aebyn's claw in his hand. Together they pierced the shardwall and emerged into a soft rain falling on the devastation of the Island of Glory. Forrander University's ruin lay all around them, much of the main hall completely buried under rubble. A feasting hall sat exposed to the sun, part of its floor having sank into the large crater where the heart of the island had once stood.

  The luminarians had found their way to the top of a crumbling ruin just inside the shardwall. From their vantage point Dawn looked out over the colorful radiance of the Bright Haven., his mouth open in a broad smile. Sapphire just looked at him, smiling softly.

  Bridger and gryphon found their own vantage point, cresting a small hill and looking down into a valley where giant crystals had erupted here and there. Hundreds of dragons darted from crystal to crystal, playing among dilapidated buildings propped up by ramshackle luminarian construction projects.

  By the evening Timothy and Aebyn had made their way to the beach. Together they bridged through the shardwall a second time and Aebyn flew to report their position to the Stormbreaker. Two hours later the ship returned.

  Chapter 37

  The Next Horizon

  Nothnor Skyport, Pendric Shard

  Christopher's old desk had so many papers spread across it that Timothy wasn't sure where to start. These were the things Christopher was supposed to take care of, always. He had played so many roles but never ship's master. Captain, he could do that.

  But a businessman...?

  Aebyn yawned from his 'sentry' position on the bed. He was still recovering from his violent confrontation with Skalde's dusk tracer. Even so, the lighthound's bright blue eyes flicked open now and then and scanned the unfamiliar new quarters.

  “Trouble sleeping?”

  “I'll sleep later...” came the drowsy answer. Timothy scratched behind Aebyn's ear until the gryphon's eyes drifted shut again.

  A knock at the door opened them again. Aebyn lifted his head, wary eyes on the door.

  “It's me, captain,” Willoughby's friendly voice called.

  “And?” Aebyn shouted back.

  “And not Fletcher Street?” Willoughby offered.

  Timothy rolled his eyes. “Come in, Willoughby.”

  Willoughby came in and, as was his way, pulled up a chair without asking. He cast a curious look at the desk of papers, then shrugged and pulled a parcel from his jacket.

  “This came for you,” Willoughby said. “From Detective Kanes.”

  Aebyn immediately began to sulk, turning his nose up at the little string-bound package.

  “Has he finished questioning you then?” Timothy asked.

  “Think so, captain,” Willoughby said. “Had a lot of questions, and I had a lot of answers about ol' Donovan Skalde. I hear I've got you to thank for puttin' him down.”

  T
imothy nodded. He didn't take pride in the man's death, though so many of the crewmen seemed keen to think he should. To his best reasoning, he had ended the life of an evil man and in so doing, had put an end to whatever dark designs he had for Faralon's treasure.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “The truth, of course. Skalde's thugs got me coming out of the mercantile. Kept me tied up for a long stint, then lost interest after they found out Kanes blew up that lighthouse of theirs. They went good and pale about that. I slipped away after that. They didn't follow me far. I think they knew the gig was up, Nightwarden take 'em.”

  Timothy chuckled. “It's good to have you back, Willoughby.”

  “Thank you, captain.”

  This time, Timothy did not correct him. He had no reason.

  Just then Willoughby seemed to become aware of the room. His eyes searched the corners of the much larger cabin afforded to the ship's master, the former quarters of Christopher Trammel. He removed his hat and held it close to his chest.

  “Captain Binks, I... I'm terribly sorry about what happened to Mr. Trammel,” he said, his tone uncommonly somber. “I know I... I didn't have the greatest of affections for the man. What with him being not a proper airman and all, but he kept this ship together, and I suppose that's worth something when you tally it all up.”

  “Thank you, Willoughby.”

  Timothy felt the depth of the loss still, but shook it off for the here and now. He would bury himself in his work. The ship still had debts and the Crown had claimed a better part of the treasure trove of magical items and books hidden away in the Mistwood Vault.

  “I do wish we managed to grab a few more things from that crazy old mage's office,” Timothy lamented.

  “Ya might want to be opening that package, captain...”

  Timothy had almost forgotten the little package. “Ah, yes. From the detective? Perhaps he wanted to share another cigar.”

  With a light tug the string came loose. Timothy lifted the lid, filling the room with a soft green light.

  “Seven!” Willoughby blurted out.

  The light vanished as Timothy snapped the box shut again. Attached was a note from the detective.

  Mr. Binks,

  I understand that this voyage has cost you and yours in both blood and gold. While it is apparent to me that Samuel Raimes died by your hand, I have come to understand you as a man of some character. Due to Raimes' noble blood, it is not so easy a thing to absolve a man of his death, so I shall report to my captain that the crime could not be solved. This is not justice, but I feel it shall serve. Enclosed is an item that I feel belongs to you, may it serve you well, however you choose to make use of it.

  Sincerely,

  Detective Aaron Kanes, Fletcher Street

  ***

  Greetings!

  Thank you for reading Shards! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I have a lot more in store for Sapphire, Timothy, and Detective Kanes. If you liked the book, please consider leaving a review on the Amazon listing! Reviews really help a lot! Included below is the first two chapters of The War of Embers, another book I have written, albeit in a different setting. Also I love hearing from people, so tweet me @FrostruneDragon and let me know what you thought of Sapphire!

  Thanks,

  James Duvall

  The War of Embers

  Chapter 1

  Ashcrest

  Ashcrest, Colorado

  In the backwoods of Colorado, an old Ford Taurus crawled up a snow-covered road. It made slow, steady progress as its chains bit into the thick fallen snow, leaving behind a pair of long trenches that stretched over thirty miles back to the highway. The road wound lazily through the mountains, hemmed by rocky walls and thick ranks of snow-covered spruce and fir trees. In the driver's seat, Joshua Woods checked the clock. Pale blue numbers glowed 4:32 through a thin film of dust. He was almost home.

  A few minutes later the spruce and fir drew closer to the road, eating up the shoulder as the steep rock walls narrowed, creating a thin corridor for the little strip of snow-covered road. A yellow caution sign draped in ice warned that the upcoming turn was particularly sharp and should be approached very slowly. Just after the sign passed by, a shadow fell across the windshield and disappeared as quickly as though the distant winter sun had blinked. In that instant the ever-present army of frosty ice crystals clinging to the perimeter of the windshield advanced a quarter inch. The old sedan rose sharply and bounced on the suspension as though there had been a speed bump buried in the snow. The air in the cab suddenly tasted of cold, wet ice and raised hundreds of little bumps on Joshua's arms. With a sigh, Joshua pulled forward another twenty yards to the turnaround and executed an arduous three point turn that turned into more of a thirteen point mess in a foot of fresh powder snow. Pointed back west he popped open the ash tray and flipped the toggle switch hidden beneath it into the 'on' position. This time as he rounded the bend he found fresh-fallen snow in the east-bound lane, smooth and untouched as though he had never passed by. By sharp contrast in the rear view mirror he could see deep trenches leading back to the chewed up mess from his arduous turning maneuver. Coming up on the right was a northward turnoff, marked by a hand-made wood-carved sign reading 'Welcome to Ashcrest!' in bold block lettering.

  Joshua flicked the switch back down and closed the ash tray. The last few minutes passed in silence, interrupted only by the thrum of the old engine and the occasional howling gust of wind that sent dry bits of powder snow blowing across the windshield like grains of salt. After about a mile the Miner's Mart Gas N' Grocery came up on the right. The store advertised gas, coffee, milk, cigarettes, and groceries in red painted letters above the windows. The letters had faded to a milky pink over the years and were chipped and ragged on the edges.

  Directly across from the Miner's Mart stood Chip's Corner Cafe. This time of the year the parking lot was filled with more snowmobiles than anything else. Joshua pulled into a makeshift parking space marked by an orange cone on the packed ice. Inside, Joshua spotted Brian Ketch sitting in a booth at the end of the bar. The man wore a top hat and was reading a newspaper while he stole sips of coffee from a steaming mug.

  “Tell me, Joshua, what of the outside world?” Brian asked. He idly stirred his coffee without looking up from his paper.

  Joshua sat across from him and leaned his head back against the cold glass of the window.

  “Well there's snow, snow, and more snow. Took me almost two hours to drive back from Northwood. I can do it in about half an hour in the spring. Solomon's Watch says I can move there if I end up getting into the university.”

  In response to this, Brian's newspaper lowered slowly, revealing an arched brow. “Oh? Is that so? That's... unusual.”

  “It's been done before,” Joshua said, defensive. “I'm not the first to think of leaving.”

  “Mmm... still, it is uncommon. However...” Brian lowered his voice and peered over Joshua's shoulder. “Care to hear something truly unusual?”

  “What?” Joshua whispered.

  “I was out ehm... working on a prototype... and I happened to find my way out to the power shed.”

  Joshua flinched. “Brian...” he started, his tone scolding. Brian cut him off with a wave.

  “I know, I know, Stacy already read my the riot act. I don't need it from you too. Anyway, everyone was there. I mean everyone. The mayor, Solomon's Watch, everyone on the town council... Seven or eight people all standing around in the snow, just talking.”

  Joshua leaned in. “Any idea why?”

  Brian shrugged. “I wasn't close enough to hear but they didn't look pleased to say the least of it.”

  Joshua leaned back, letting the idea sink in. The power shed and the weather station were the only two off-limits areas as they were vital to the town's security. If so many important people were gathered around the power station then maybe... but no, it had only been a half an hour since he'd accidentally snared himself in the checkpoint on t
he highway. Had someone been caught tampering?

  Who would even do that?

  “So... do you want to see it?” Brian asked, his face bright with gleeful anticipation. His fingers strummed anxiously across the table.

  “...the power shed?”

  “No! The prototype!”

  ***

  The garage door rose with a clatter, casting off snow and thudding heavily as it hit the end of its tracks. Brian stepped in quickly, flipping on the lights and hurrying to the space heater. At the back of the garage, a white sheet stained by oil and paint concealed Brian's prototype. Brian stepped up to it with a flourish, stopping only a brief moment to doff his hat to the hidden creation. The hat then went on a peg over the workbench.

  “The door, if you please,” Brian requested. Joshua obliged, the garage door rumbling its way back down the tracks and shuddering as it came to a sudden rest. Being out of the wind was a big improvement. The space heater quickly began to do its job, the misty puffs of breath coming off the two men fading as Joshua picked his way through narrow walkways between crates of oily gears, springs, and bins of an assorted mishmash of nails and screws. The only area that wasn't crammed with spare parts was Brian's workbench, with its carefully arrayed tools on one end and Brian's latest project on the other.

  With Joshua finally in position, Brian yanked back the sheet, revealing a brass dragon seated upon the workbench like an over-sized cat. Brian switched on another light, bathing the automaton in direct light, giving the brass finish a polished sheen. Wings formed of silvery blades were folded at its side, and its segmented tail ended in another set of sharp blades that could rotate on a set of gears.

  “I can't begin to explain how intricate the gear work is on a project of this... ambition,” Brian said, choosing his words carefully. “The journals say that Marwick is clever, but they do her a disservice. To have created something like this at her young age. I mean, Joshua, look at it. The claws articulate freely on each limb. The tail moves freely, allowing the automaton to protect itself with the blades here at the tip.”