The time for change.
The time to take the fight to the enemy.
The time for the reckoning.
The End
# # #
Thanks for Reading!
Hi again, and I hope you enjoyed reading A Warrant of Wyverns.
Warrant allowed me to write some special lore for a rarely used creature: the wyvern. Their dragon cousins tend to steal the spotlight in fantasy novels and artwork. So I’m glad that Queen Nagura decided to step forward and give us a different insight on their species.
I ended up kicking around a bunch of ideas when it came to having King Fitzwilliam and Alanzo Esteban ‘bond’. The only problem was that it threatened to turn a large chunk of the book into the ‘Alanzo and Fritz Show’. So I went with the classic ‘let’s compare our scars’ scene that was made famous in the movie Jaws.
Finally, I can sleep a little easier now that I’ve laid down a couple cards I’d held close to my vest since Book Two. The first being the origin of the Codex of the Bellus Draconum. The second would be the reveal of the Hakseeka as the ‘Scriveners’ and builders of Fitzwilliam’s palace. We’ll see how this information impacts the story in Book Nine, The Conspiracy of Unicorns.
By the way, did you like this book? If so, I’d truly appreciate a review on Amazon. Even if you’ve left a good review for an earlier story, please consider writing a second one. These make all the difference, especially in a longer series.
If you wish, you can also drop me a line at [email protected].
Would you’d like to know when I have new books out? Or even be notified when one’s on sale, free, or there’s an offer for a give-away? If so, please click the link below to join the Michael Angel Newsletter.
Click here to sign up for Michael Angel’s ‘Fantasy & Forensics’ Newsletter.
Thank you for reading A Warrant of Wyverns and for spending time with Dayna and the Queen Mother of the Hakseeka!
Michael Angel
And now, a sneak preview of
the ninth fantasy novel in the
‘Fantasy & Forensics’ series,
The Conspiracy of Unicorns,
also by Michael Angel.
C.S. Lewis meets CSI…when Amazon Bestselling author Michael Angel presents the ninth installment in the ‘Fantasy & Forensics’ series.
Dame Chrissie’s got to unravel a conspiracy to commit murder among the mages. When Dayna investigates the senior members of the Wizard’s Guild, she finds that they’re hiding both their location and their identities. With her friends’ help, it’s up to her to find out whether the mages are in the service of the Light…or the Darkness!
And she’s got to cover her own tracks at the LAPD. Now that Crossbow Consulting’s under suspicion for multiple crimes, the officers of the Los Angeles Police Department are under a brutal Internal Affairs microscope. Dayna’s got to play it cool…while Chief Robert McClatchy moves to destroy her plans once and for all.
Dayna’s got no margin for error as she threads the path between a murder investigation in one world and a catastrophically explosive threat in the other!
A Warrant of Wyverns
My mother used to joke that there was only one fruitcake in the entire world, and people just kept sending it to each other. Since the slice I’d tried tasted like mummified gumdrops rolled in mealy flour, I could see why. And I couldn’t help but think of fruitcake as we approached the building that held both the Wizard and Archivist Guild.
Chestnut brown walls and high, steep-sloped roofs made up the main structure. While the walls were stone, the roof was made of equal parts wooden beams and panels of stained glass. The glass itself looked pretty at first glance. Yet the colors here were either the radioactive red or garish green of badly candied fruit.
I put that vision out of my mind as Galen, Liam, Shaw and I went through the small grassy courtyard and up a series of wide marble steps. The Wizard led us through the entryway and along a wide corridor punctuated by open doors. Many were packed with books. Others were filled with equipment that looked tantalizingly similar to items I’d played with in high school.
Racks of cleaned, glistening test tubes. A round flask filled with an unidentifiable substance, left bubbling softly over a small flame. Rows of bronze astronomical globes, slide-rules, and a set of forceps longer than my forearm. Everything looked as if it had been placed and kept in good order.
But many of the rooms were choked with dust. The kind of fluffy gray dust that settles only after months or years of disuse. For some reason that didn’t sit well with me.
The sound of droning speech rose from other rooms, broken only by the loud clacks made on the stone floor by Galen and Liam’s hooves. As we went by, I picked up quick glimpses of elderly men or women lecturing from podiums. They each wore heavy red robes adorned with silvery or golden wizard’s symbols along the cuffs.
The instructors were in turn surrounded by blue-robed students of various ages. The students sat at wooden benches, or in some cases reclined upon them with their eyes closed. Snores rattled up from more than a few. Apparently, classroom discipline was laxer in this world than mine. Then again, I’d had the odd college class that deserved sleep more than attention.
The hallway suddenly opened into a wide space centered upon a bustling wooden counter. Light poured in from above, casting ruby or emerald-colored pools of color on the floor. My nose twitched as the air filled with the dusty scent of parchment and drying mucilage.
Clerks scurried about, filling out forms or placing books onto carts for re-shelving. Beyond the counter lay a quadrangle of tables where people wearing colored robes sat poring over dusty tomes. If I had any doubt that this was the reading area, someone had placed a sign next to the entry gate.
TALK MUST BIDE
QUIET HERE RESIDES
ABSOLUTELY NO FRUMENTUM
OR PIPE WEED BEYOND THIS POINT!
The man at the counter had a pale, clammy looking skin of a corpse and an expression that wouldn’t have been out of place on one. I had to hand it to him, though. Seeing a centaur accompanied by a woman, a griffin, and a fabled magical stag didn’t faze him a bit.
“Greetings, Court Wizard,” he intoned, sparing only the briefest of glances for the rest of us. “If I recall correctly, you are now sixty-eight days overdue in returning Bigby’s Hands-On Guide to Cantrips. Have you come to pay your fine?”
“Ah, not precisely,” Galen said, a trifle flummoxed. “Rather, I am here by request of Dame Chrissie, who is on a most urgent mission for the crown.”
“Really?” Now I got the full head-to-toe examination. I tried smiling warmly. It didn’t work. I’d had warmer inspections from the security inspectors at the airport. “I fail to see the urgency.”
“Nevertheless, urgency is at issue. We wish to speak to Lead Archivist Fydella at once!”
A paper-thin wisp of eyebrow raised in disapproval. “She won’t be pleased at this disturbance.”
“Pleased or not, I wish to speak with her!” Galen insisted. “I would think that one Archivist could impose on another with a certain level of…professional courtesy.”
The man gave a shrug that all but said, ‘it’s your funeral, I guess’. Then he turned and headed for one of the nearby doorways. A low murmur came from the clerks behind the desks as people started to notice us. Galen ignored the sound and dabbed at his forehead with the cuff of his sleeve.
“‘Tis an interesting sort of company you keep,” Shaw observed.
“Agreed,” Liam said. “I could feel the frost forming on my antlers.”
“The two guilds I belong to aren’t known for…well, what Dayna calls ‘customer service’,” Galen admitted. “Yet I’m hoping that they will assist us. The Lead Archivist is a formidable figure, one who likely has the knowledge we seek.”
“Well, your Archivist friend certainly has an impressive collection back there,” I said, as I craned my neck to see. The roof continued to slope up away from us, and I mad
e out a second floor of shelving jammed with scrolls and yet more books. “This is the library the Archivists and Wizards make use of, right?”
“Indeed.” Galen stretched out one muscular arm and pointed to the left and then the right. “You can see why both guilds utilize it, given its convenient location.”
Two short hallways stretched away on both sides. Each was lined with marble statues depicting life-size renditions of robed mages. The statues were limestone-white, but they were spangled with spots of color cast by the sunlight as it fell through the stained glass above.
“The Archivists perform preservation and restorative work in the rooms down the corridor to the left,” Galen continued. “The Wizard’s Guide makes use of the classrooms behind us, and the Deliberation of Wizards, the council of the most senior spellcasters, takes place down the hall to the right.”
A tall, bony-faced woman emerged from the back room with the cadaver-skinned clerk in tow. She had a cropped head of silver hair and the pinched face of someone eating gone-off lemons. What’s more, she sported a dark purple robe, so loose and oversized that it looked like the clothing was trying to swallow her whole.
“Greetings, Fydella,” Galen said, with a slight incline of his head. “My friends and I have come–”
“Mister Ghormley says that you are sixty-eight days overdue on one of our texts,” Fydella said, in a steely voice that all pissed-off librarians seemed to keep on tap. “This is in error. You are sixty-nine days overdue.”
I didn’t think it was possible for Ghormley to get any paler, but he did. “I…I must have forgotten to account for…”
“Yes, you did. Report to our administrative punishments wing. Come back when you’ve been properly flogged.”
Ghormley let out a sob and fled the room as fast as his feet could take him. Liam and Shaw watched his progress in stunned silence. Frankly, I was amazed. Amazed that anyone dared borrow the books from this place at all.
Galen began again, though he cleared his throat uncomfortably as he did so.
“Lead Archivist,” he said politely, “My friends seek information. Specifically, as to the identity of three wizards who may have studied here.”
The woman’s lower lip twitched. “Ah. I suppose I shall forgive you for interrupting my morning studies. I like a challenge. It makes for a pleasant change. I have gone over the lists of our attendees and graduates time and again, and know them the way a farmer knows the furrows of his fields.”
“Archivist Fydella has perfect recall of all she reads,” Galen informed me. He then began to introduce us. “This is Dame Chrissie. Also with us are Grimshaw of the–”
“Spare me,” Fydella said, with a wave of her hand. “You all belong to the most infamous of knightly orders. The less I know of your doings, the better. Speak to me of your request, or begone.”
Galen thought for a moment, and then stepped to one side. He motioned for me to step up. I did, though I had to force my voice to remain steady under Fydella’s hard gaze.
“Okay,” I began. “The first two wizards I’m looking for…”
I let my voice trail off. Apparently, Dayna Chrissie wasn’t thinking things all the way through today.
“Yes?” Fydella asked ominously.
“Well, I don’t know their names,” I admitted. “But they’re a woman and man. They looked like they were each in their mid-twenties or early thirties. Or they will be very soon.”
“How do you mean?”
“This was…well, in a vision. A near-dream about a future that may become true within the next couple of months. Or years. Look, I know it sounds insane. Or addled, as you might put it.”
“Addled?” The Archivist made a dismissive snort. “Do not flatter yourself. We handle visions from the Soothsayer’s Guild all the time.”
“Ah, yeah. Okay, the point is that they should look pretty much like they do now. If they’re here, that is. The man’s the most distinctive. He’s dark-skinned. As in oil-slick black. Tall, over six feet easy, and well-muscled.”
“Your answer is an easy one,” Fydella said crisply. “There is no current student or graduate of the Wizard’s Guild who looks like that. We have had Summer Islanders from the south and east of the Weatherglass Sea who are the deep bronze of unpolished copper, but none in the last half-decade.”
That set me back a bit. The woman was slightly more coppery-looking, but nothing had really stood out about her. I hadn’t even heard their voices clearly.
“What else happened in this dream?” Fydella pressed. “What makes you think they were wizards in the first place?”
“Because they were dueling with magic,” I explained. “The woman was casting a spell. I saw her arm movement, the movement of her lips in an incantation. Then a bright spark of lightning shot at the man. He made a gesture and it glanced off him.”
“Then the answer remains simple. It is impossible for either of these people to have attended this place.”
“What? Why?”
Fydella’s expression went even more prim and proper. “Because we haven’t taught spells to cast, manipulate, or divert energy at this Guild for twenty years.”
I looked at Galen, amazed. “But you know how to–”
“Again, I am a centaur,” he reminded me. “We do not learn through the guild system.”
The truth hit me, hard. If either of those two wizards had gone elsewhere to learn their magic, there would be no record of them here. I didn’t like it, but I could accept it. Mostly because I really didn’t have much of a choice.
That left me with a final arrow in my quiver.
“All right,” I said, “there’s one more wizard I’m after. His name is ‘Grayson Archer’.”
“I was hoping for more of a challenge,” Archivist Fydella said ruefully. “There has been no student or graduate of the Wizard’s Guild by that name. Ever.”
I came within an ace of saying, Are you sure about that? That would have gone over as well as the proverbial lead balloon.
“It is likely that ‘Archer’ was an assumed name,” Galen admitted. “Especially if he worried about others from Andeluvia following him into your world.”
I thought for a moment on Grayson Archer’s appearance. He looked middle-aged to me, though in fantastic shape. He had frown lines huddling between his brows and silver-templed dark hair, right out of a Hollywood casting call for a Secretary of Defense.
But even if Fydella had a photographic memory of records, it wouldn’t have done any good. I’d never seen an Andeluvian document with so much as a sketch, let alone a picture of someone. And he could have changed in appearance over twenty or thirty years.
But maybe that time factor could help.
“Perhaps we could narrow down the time that he attended classes here,” I suggested. “If he was only a boy when he arrived at the guild, we could start with that.”
“You assume that we take in students at a prescribed age?” Fydella asked scornfully. “How ridiculous! We take in students based on ability. They might start at six years or sixty. Whenever their ability becomes manifest.”
Well, there went that idea.
“Perchance I may have an insight,” Galen put in. “We know that Archer can cast wards of protection, inscribe wizard’s symbols, and even manipulate the magic of crystals. Surely that should whittle the search.”
“Wards are relatively common fare,” Fydella said, after a moment’s thought. “But the other two items are rare, and telling. Neither subject has ever been taught here.”
“Then how would he know how to do these things?” I asked, frustrated.
“He might have gotten access to specialized texts,” Galen said quickly. “The way I did.”
“Thou art trying our patience, Wizard!” Shaw complained, and his foreclaw made a screech on the stone floor. “Tell us how thy request was granted!”
Galen shot an annoyed look at Shaw. “I went through the Deliberati, impatient drake!”
My mind put everything
together with a click.
“That means we’re talking to the wrong person,” I realized. “We don’t want to look at admissions records of hundreds or thousands of people. Galen had it right. We only want to look at those who learned specific types of magic.”
The Wizard nodded sagely. “And that number would be vanishingly small.”
“Be as it may,” Fydella said severely, “I would think that at least the Court Wizard would know the rules of his guild. Any petition to speak with the Deliberation of Wizards must be filed formally with the Wizard and Archivist Guilds. Once both have approved said petition, the council will schedule you to meet at their earliest convenience.”
“And how long is that going to take?” I asked, acutely aware that I hadn’t learned anything about patience today. Not one bit.
“Ah, but you’re in luck. We’re scheduling next winter’s review of petitions right now. If you proceed promptly, I’m sure that we could add you to the bottom of the list.”
“That’s not luck,” Liam muttered. “At least, not any kind recognized by a fayleene.”
“We can’t wait that long!” I protested. “I want to see this ‘senior wizard council’ immediately. They must know that I’ve been busy trying to save this kingdom. You know, the one you happen to live in?”
Fydella’s voice was firm. “That type of request is forbidden!”
Well, so much for appealing to self-interest.
“Dayna,” Galen cautioned, “We have no other options left to speak with the Deliberati. We don’t know for sure that this line of inquiry will lead anywhere.”
Galen was right, on both counts. There was no firm evidence that any of the three wizards I wanted to track down had any connection here. What did I really have? Circumstantial evidence for Archer’s presence and a dream vision for the other two.
My head agreed with Galen. Pressing the issue here and now would at the very least annoy the leadership of these two guilds. Worse, it could set them actively against us.
A Warrant of Wyverns Page 23