by M D Baker
Carefully, Daughter…
The words echoed softly inside my head when my fingers grazed across its surface—lingering remnants of some magic she’d left behind. Not a random spell or incantation, but a message intended for me alone. The shock of hearing her voice so clearly was overwhelming, and both books nearly slipped from my grasp as I fell against the shelves at my back. There were far deeper meanings layered among those two words, and despite my surprise, one thing was perfectly clear: danger lurked within these pages. In them, I would discover the true reason for my mother’s slaughter.
Fumbling with the old text, I shoved it back onto the shelf before stuffing the small journal in my pocket. The first thought that came to mind was to read it from cover to cover right there, but my mother’s warning urged me to be more prudent than that. She’d known or at least suspected that her life was in danger; hiding the journal and leaving her secret message was proof enough of that. Her advice was not only to proceed with caution but also to trust no one with what I’d found.
Although I was alone in the library, that was a circumstance that might change at any moment, and I couldn’t allow myself to be discovered. My chambers were the only place I was assured of the privacy I required, but I needed to calm my badly frayed nerves before climbing back up the stairs. I wasn’t overly concerned about Griff noticing my state of dismay, but I couldn’t risk crossing paths with anyone else. Tayson might not have found his spy, but I wasn’t quite so sure the agent was no longer in place; it may just as well indicate there was some new handler they were sending their reports to. With the secrets of my mother’s journal yet to be revealed, I wasn’t able to rein in my anxiety, but I managed to put on a sufficiently convincing mask of neutrality after a few minutes.
“I fear I need a bit more rest,” I lied, feigning exhaustion as I pretended to struggle with the stairs.
“Should I send for anything?” Griff inquired with a hint of concern.
I replied with a carefully strained smile. “No, I should be fine after a short nap.”
Locking the door the moment it shut behind me, I cast Seal, barring it with magic as well. Drawing on the energy so soon after pushing beyond my limits was a bit unwise, but considering the risk, I felt it was a gamble well worth taking. When no sense of lightheadedness accompanied the casting, I withdrew the journal as I sat at the desk beside my window. The initials on its cover stared back at me while I hesitated, but no further words filtered into my mind when my fingers strayed across the soft leather binding. The short message was all Lady Korrine had left behind; the only thing for me to do was read what she’d written inside.
I began with the first page and read through its entirety without halting. What I discovered was… astounding. This wasn’t some sort of diary or simple journal; it was a spellbook unlike any I’d seen before. My mother had solved the riddle of measuring the energy we held within us, enabling her to determine precisely how much she possessed at any given moment. That knowledge alone would’ve spared me from my earlier discomfort, but it wasn’t the only breakthrough she’d accomplished.
In addition to defining her limits, she’d also learned how to expand them, granting her power far beyond anything that should have been possible. The reserves Lady Korrine had at her disposal were staggering. If she’d been the one fighting atop these ramparts instead of Valda, the Keep would’ve never fallen, no matter how many soldiers Cyndhar had thrown against its walls.
The combination of those two things was more than enough to explain her assassination. Cyndhar could ill-afford to have a nearly invincible sorceress stationed so close to their border. She’d obviously understood this as well and tried to contain the secret of her knowledge, but the spy had most likely become aware that something wasn’t right. Perhaps they hadn’t realized the full measure of her power, but they’d recognized Lady Korrine as a true threat and taken steps to remove her from any potential battlefield.
The final section of the journal was incomplete but hinted at a third revelation. Before her death, my mother had been toying with the concept of weaving together seemingly incompatible magic; an incomprehensible idea that I would’ve completely dismissed were it not for her other breakthroughs. It was the last puzzle she’d left for me to figure out, one that was probably well beyond my capabilities. She clearly understood the ways of spellcraft better than I did, perhaps possessing a keener insight than any sorceress I’d ever heard of. The best I could hope for was to stand on her shoulders and attempt to learn the lessons she’d left for me. So, I began as she instructed by trying to divine my own limits.
Her methods were deceptively simple yet equally maddening. According to what she’d explained, the information required was already within me. All I needed to do was figure out how to access it. While my body intuitively understood its limits, I had to translate its subtle messages into a form that my mind could recognize. Although I understood the process, turning her theories into my reality proved to be a frustrating endeavor.
After a few hours of fruitless effort, I finally gave up, tucking the journal into my pocket again as I made my way towards the hallway. Over the years, I’d learned when to take a break; seldom had wisdom come to me when I’d pushed myself too hard. After twenty-three years of waiting, my mother’s secrets could hold off a little longer while I got something to eat.
Griff had left sometime during my studies, but the old goat was entitled to a bit of rest himself, and with the hour well past suppertime, I ventured down to the kitchens to see what I could scrounge up. Before she could turn around, I recognized the familiar hunched shoulders of the woman stirring a pot over the stove, though her hair had a few more streaks of gray than I recalled. While I was somewhat surprised to find her working there, I probably shouldn’t have been.
“Do you have a crust of bread I can pilfer, Bria?” I offered in greeting as she turned to face me.
“O-of course, my Lady,” she stammered, taken aback by my informal manner.
“You don’t remember me?” I wondered as she stiffly ladled a bowl of stew. “The scrawny girl who used to scrub pots beside you?”
Bria ventured a cautious comment as she placed a second roll on my plate. “You’re still much too thin.”
It suddenly occurred to me that she could very well be the spy I was looking for. Bria’s position in the kitchen allowed her to overhear a great deal of gossip and more than enough opportunity to slip a few drops of poison into a particular dish. Casting Purify to inspect what she’d placed before me revealed no traces of toxin, so I didn’t hesitate to enjoy the savory meal. I hadn’t quite cleared her of all suspicion—the search for my mother’s killer had only just begun.
“Does your new Lord treat you well?” I probed between bites.
“He does.” Bria averted her gaze as she made the confession, doubtlessly hoping not to offend me.
“And the others?” I pushed again, already fairly certain of the answer but seeking confirmation.
“I’ve heard no complaints,” she replied, still carefully guarding her words. “Aside from what you’d expect.”
Even under Lord Aldon’s rule, there’d always been a bit of grumbling about who was assigned certain chores or baseless accusations of favoritism. Servants, guards, and nobles alike shared the common trait of moaning over imagined slights—Bria had only told me things were just as they should be. The fact that people were comfortable enough to voice their minor grievances so openly actually spoke well of Tayson’s temperament. A ruler who’d punish such trivialities wasn’t worth their title.
Although I tried to strike up a real conversation, Bria’s replies remained terse and uncomfortable. Despite our former friendship, she was clearly no longer at ease with me. My elevation created a rift between us, one she was obviously reluctant to bridge, and I eventually gave up the effort. Bria hurried to clear the table once I’d finished, and I thanked her as I left, taking notice of the subtle hint. The darkened halls were nearly vacant, and my footstep
s echoed in the emptiness as I climbed the stairs. After the events of the day, I was eager to sleep. My body certainly needed the rest, yet even as I lay still among the soft bedding, my mind refused to cooperate.
I’d found my mother.
The distance that separated us for a lifetime was gone, erased within the span of a few hours. It was more that than just finding her gravesite or even the small journal—I’d heard her voice and felt the love she’d left behind for me. There was so much more than just bits of knowledge written on those pages; it was my legacy, a gift passed down from one generation to the next. Valda had done her part to prepare me for this day, and now it was up to me to claim my true birthright.
With the journal tucked away beneath my pillow, magic beyond anything that had been seen before was literally at my fingertips. Nothing would prevent me from seizing hold of it. My quest to regain Blackwood Keep was almost meaningless in comparison. Tayson was more than welcome to preside over its cold stone walls for now.
Once I mastered the secrets of my mother’s journal, I’d be free to sprinkle his ashes across the Stillwater.
Chapter 17
For three days, I spent nearly every waking hour either in the library or cloistered in my chambers, trying to decipher the hidden mysteries I’d discovered. Glimpses of my power came to me at times, but I failed to take a true measure of the forces gathered inside me. The frustration might have been overwhelming, but the years I’d spent rotting away in Oldbridge left me with an abundance of patience. Time was no longer my enemy, she was my ally, and every day we spent waiting for the next bandit attack only worked in my favor. Rianne had continued tending to my needs, and I’d just finished the breakfast she’d brought when a knock came at my door—three quick taps followed by two more. Griff’s signal.
“There was a raid during the night,” he announced before I’d even cracked it halfway open. “We’re to leave at once.”
“I’ll be right down,” I replied, leaving him to wait in the hallway while I rushed to get ready.
Pausing as I reached for one of my riding outfits hanging in the closet, my hand halted in midair as a more appropriate garment came to mind. Prying open one of Valda’s old drawers, I pulled out her dark green battle robes instead. If Tayson wanted some symbolic alliance, it was only fair for me to fly my true colors.
Slipping the robes on over my thin leather armor left the illusion of vulnerability, but I added to my protection by casting Shield once I’d strapped my sword belt in place. The threat of combat would begin the moment we left the confines of the Keep, and I wouldn’t allow myself to be caught unaware. Grabbing my staff on the way out, I met Griff, and we made our way down to the stables outside. The horses were saddled and ready by the time we arrived, and I climbed atop my buckskin mare, offering her a reassuring pat as the column of red-clad soldiers began riding beyond the gates.
“Where to, my Lord?” I spurred my mount closer to Tayson in search of our target.
“The village of Redbriar,” he replied stiffly. “Fires have been seen burning there.”
“Is that all we know?”
“That is enough, Countess,” Tayson responded as he guided his horse away.
“Perhaps not the best choice in clothing,” Griff commented, glancing at my robes as he took Tayson’s place beside me.
“And you think I care?” I replied to his gentle rebuke.
“No.” He smiled, shaking his head slowly. “But we are a bit outnumbered at the moment.”
That won’t matter for much longer. I managed to hold in the prideful boast, offering Griff a knowing smirk instead.
The hours passed at an achingly slow pace as we trotted steadily northwards. The small village lay near the borders of Blackwood Forest, close enough for the raiders to have retreated to the safety of Farren. If they had, our mission was a wasted effort, yet what choice was there? The only thing worse would’ve been not responding at all.
As we drew near, clouds of billowing white smoke appeared through the trees, and our scouts surged forward to investigate while the column came to a halt in the forest. A lone rider quickly returned, bearing a dreadful report.
The entire village had been burned to the ground, and not a single survivor was left behind. What little remained had been put to the torch, echoing the total destruction my father had wrought so many years ago.
“I need to see it with my own eyes,” I declared, only to have Tayson reach out and take hold of my mount’s reins, preventing me from pushing ahead.
“No, you don’t,” he responded, pulling me further back.
“If you want this to be our fight…” I yanked the reins free from his grasp. “Then I must know what I’m up against.”
Tayson opened his mouth to object, but I spurred my horse forward, riding past the line of soldiers and into the village beyond. The blackened bones of several structures littered the scene, bare skeletons of what had once been a thriving community. Scattered among them were a handful of mangled corpses, yet there were far fewer than I’d expected to find.
“They took shelter in the temple.” My mount shied away when Tayson brought his gray stallion beside me. “If you want to see what your enemy is capable of, you should look there, Countess.”
Without waiting for my answer, he led the way, and I followed as Tayson guided me towards the smoking remnants of the holy place. No respite was found within its walls, however. The stout timbers had only served as a funeral pyre for those who’d sought safety within. The stench of scorched flesh clung to the air as I took in the huddled mass of bodies gathered around the altar, the blackened slab marking the sight of their slaughter like a gruesome tombstone.
I’d heard stories of such massacres before, but nothing prepared me for the horror of seeing it for myself. The sights, smells, and even sounds were overwhelming—a deathly stillness crying out in agony at so much pointless suffering.
“This will not go unpunished.” I turned away, unable to look upon the scene any longer when my eyes fell upon the charred fingers of a tiny hand sticking out from the ashes. “This cannot go unpunished.”
“My scouts are trying to locate their trail, Countess.” Tayson glanced away, allowing me a moment to gather myself.
“I don’t need your scouts,” I spat back. “Tell your men to follow me.”
While the raiders had attempted to conceal their trail, I needed no physical signs to trace their movements. We’d arrived soon enough for me to track the lingering evil left in their wake. Once I’d cast Afterimage, the sickly trail became all too apparent, and I picked my way through the trees as I followed the path to its source.
Focusing solely on my task, I paid no mind to the soldiers surrounding me as I tracked down my quarry. Winding their way among the thick cover, our enemies had likely thought themselves beyond detection. Cyndhar lacked spellcasters, and that shortage was no more apparent than in Blackwood—likely the reason they’d chosen it as their target. But the efforts they’d made to conceal their tracks were useless against my magic, and even the bare ground yielded clear signs of their passage.
As we moved further into the depths of the forest, the traces uncovered by Afterimage intensified until it became apparent that we’d closed the gap with our quarry. Halting for a moment to relay the situation and reinforce my Shield, I searched for Tayson, finding him protectively hovering right by my side with sword drawn.
“Spread the word for your soldiers to prepare themselves.” A quick glance revealed that the precaution was unnecessary—every one of them already had their blades out or an arrow nocked against a bowstring.
“How close?” Griff inquired.
“How many?” Reynold probed more insightfully.
I’d been so focused on tracking the bandit mob that I’d taken no notice of the three men watching over me. While Tayson was no surprise, and Griff even less so, the sergeant’s presence was a bit startling. He’d been my chief antagonist only a few short days ago, yet it seemed that saving Ab
by’s life had provided the man with a change of heart. Either that, or he was waiting to take advantage of the opportunity to slip a knife between my ribs.
One can never be sure until it’s too late.
“Twenty-something,” I replied, shoving aside my suspicions for the moment as I indicated the small rise ahead of us. “Just over that ridge.”
With a sharp gesture, Reynold ordered a scout forward. Dismounting in a single, fluid motion, the woman carefully worked her way through the brush to peer over the edge and into the depression on the other side. Once her review was complete, she scrambled back down the slope to make her report.
“I count twenty-seven, sir. They’ve made camp and seem to be settling in for the night.”
“That’s not all of them,” Tayson lamented the lost opportunity to eliminate the entire band of raiders.
“It’s a start,” I reminded him, pausing to ensure that my weapons were securely in place. “And a chance to learn even more.”
“I want at least one taken alive,” he glared at Reynold, and the sergeant responded with a nod of understanding.
I glanced down at the camp below once we’d clambered to the top of the crest, expecting to find a disorganized hodge-podge of tents scattered about. The rows of canvas lacked any sense of disorder, however, displaying a precision that was almost unique to the military world.
Our first volley of arrows flew out as I took in the meaning behind that revelation, and I ran forward as Tayson’s soldiers closed in for the kill. Outnumbering our foes nearly two to one even before the initial onslaught made the battle a rather easy affair. The enemy had no quit in them, however, refusing to surrender despite the heavy odds stacked against them. Blades flashed, and the clash of steel echoed all around as I cast my first spell, slamming a Bolt into the closest raider I could find.
I showed my opponent no mercy, unleashing the vicious blow without any thought of sparing him. After the brutality I’d witnessed, the task of taking one of these animals alive would have to fall upon someone else’s shoulders. Reynold fought nearby, momentarily outnumbered as a pair of bandits attempted to surround him. A rocky spike of earth shot from the ground at his feet when I cast Shard, impaling one of the sergeant’s foes before they could overwhelm him. Trusting the soldier to handle matters from there, I moved among the battlefield, launching spell after spell into any target I could find. Spikes of both earth and ice pierced through armor and shields in vicious sprays of dirt and frozen mayhem, ending lives with reckless abandon until none were left standing. The final raider fell beneath an unlucky stroke of Griff’s blade, leaving us without the prisoner we’d been trying to capture.