Forgery of the Phoenix
Page 26
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Thank you for reading Forgery of the Phoenix and for spending time with me and the indomitable Dame Chrissie!
Michael Angel
And now, a sneak preview of
the sixth fantasy novel in the
‘Fantasy & Forensics’ series,
Assault in the Wizard Degree,
also by Michael Angel.
C.S. Lewis continues to meet CSI…as bestselling author Michael Angel presents the sixth installment in his series, ‘Fantasy & Forensics.’
Dame Chrissie’s life isn’t getting any easier. Dayna’s still on the hook for Order of the Weasel’s debts. King Fitzwilliam’s pressuring her to select a knight to represent her at the Spring Tournament. And to make matters worse, the Master Seer of the Soothsayer’s Guild prophesizes imminent doom and disaster for everyone!
A plea for help comes from the Centaur Kingdom. Just as these dark omens are brought to light, a request for help arrives from King Angbor of the Centaurs. One of his best warriors stands accused of sacrilege, and only Dayna’s talents can decide guilt or innocence.
Dark events begin to spiral out of control. Strange ‘spirit lights’ are seen in the centaur Hinter Lands. Whispers of ancient demons arise in the farthest wastes. And Dayna’s investigation into Grayson Archer runs into a snag that’s right out of her worst nightmares!
Dayna Chrissie must weather the storm as the Creatures of the Dark finally push Andeluvia into open war!
Assault in the Wizard Degree
To my mind, a medieval royal court was supposed to be a stern, orderly place. A council of sober-minded lords, ladies and knights that conducted themselves with austere dignity. Maybe a cross between a friendly town hall and King Arthur’s Camelot.
In reality, it resembled a class of catty high-school girls with a dash of boy’s locker-room humor. Spiced up with a dash of brawling, back-stabbing, and the odd dragon attack.
Come to think of it, the fact that anything got done was nothing short of miraculous.
King Fitzwilliam did his level best to ride herd on the chaos, and usually succeeded. He raised his hand to quiet the lords who were already upset. Whether their anger came from their depiction on the Broderer’s tapestry or Behnaz’s latest temper tantrum was hard to say.
“The next order of business is, alas, quite familiar,” Fitzwilliam said wryly. “Especially to those who prefer court gossip to properly running their estates.”
He cast a meaningful glance towards Lady Behnaz, who sat primly next to her husband. As usual, the woman wore a black outfit, this time topped by a headdress made up of ebony plumes and mounted bird wings. To my eyes, it looked like she’d glued a freshly road-killed crow to her head.
“Dame Chrissie,” the King continued, “the lords and knights of the royal court have at long last forced me to look more deeply into the rules regarding the Spring Tournament. Simply put, your page, ‘Sir Percival’ is too young to serve as your champion.”
A general chorus of ‘hear, hear!’ followed the King’s comment.
Laughter broke out as someone asked, “Can the boy even shave?”
“Actually, he can’t,” I remarked, then added slyly, “That surprised me. That boy’s a lot more man than half the knights and lords here.”
This got an even louder, rowdier burst of laughter, mixed in with a handful of glares.
“Nevertheless,” Fitzwilliam continued, “I refuse to subject this court to any more ridiculous duels between my knights. So I give you one week to decide on your champion and be done with it!”
That sudden demand surprised me a little. I couldn’t blame Fitzwilliam on this one. This ridiculous issue had blown up to the point that everyone was probably getting sick of hearing about it. But I wanted to know all of my options before I conceded.
“Your Majesty, since I made a mistake with my selection of my page, might I get a copy of the ‘rules’ on how a champion is selected?”
A new round of grumbling ensued, but Fitzwilliam cut it off with a curt movement of his hand. “I will send the Wizard around to your tower this afternoon with what you need. Be aware that choosing later than sooner might try my patience.”
“Sire, that shall be foremost in my mind.”
The King raised an eyebrow at me, as if to say, ‘Oh really?’. But he decided to let it go as he continued on.
“Finally, there is a request to speak before the royal court. This request comes from Master Seer Zenos of the Soothsayer’s Guild.”
A chorus of groans echoed from the rafters.
Fitzwilliam stared around in astonishment. “Obviously, I am missing something.”
Galen, who’d been standing in his usual place at the King’s side, coughed into his hand.
“His Majesty may not be aware of Zenos’ past history with the court. He has a habit of making predictions that are not to everyone’s liking.”
“I see…” Fitzwilliam said dubiously. “That is what soothsayers are supposed to do, correct? Make predictions?”
“Of course, your Majesty. It’s just that the predictions are singularly…gloomy.”
“And ridiculous!” Behnaz piped up. “He boasts that he is never wrong, but for forty years, he kept predicting that Lord Illagan would die!”
“I don’t ever remember seeing Lord Illagan on this court,” I pointed out. “Unless he’s hiding in the dungeon and swiping his bread and ale from the guards, I’d say that he’s really dead.”
“But…forty years late?”
I gave him a look. “It doesn’t sound like you have a problem with his accuracy. Just with timing. It happens a lot when men reach a certain age.”
More laughs from the court. Lady Behnaz let out a titter, which earned her a sour glare from her husband. Fitzwilliam make a ‘come ahead’ gesture to his pages.
“That’s enough for now. See Master Zenos in.”
The doors to the throne room opened, admitting a grandfatherly figure with a long white beard and wild hair. Zenos moved at a pace that belied his advanced age as he used his staff to quickly make his way before the assembled court. He wore a freshly laundered tan-and-white jacket over his familiar blue tunic. That tunic had the texture of a shag rug and the dark blue of a cheap bathrobe, but I supposed it sufficed for his trademark look.
The man looked around, recognizing me, Galen, and several of the assembled lords. He bowed to the King, leaning upon his slender Staff of Stunning for support. Then he cleared his throat before his raucous voice echoed off the stone walls.
“Your Majesty!” he boomed, “I come to you bearing tidings of doom!”
Another chorus of groans came from around the room, this time mixed with a few catcalls.
“Aren’t we doomed thrice over now?”
“Is it the fire, the flood, or the locusts this time?”
“Should I tell my children or grandchildren to worry?”
“Doomed? I’ve already been married, you old sot!”
Zenos blinked, startled at the response to his announcement. Now that I thought of it, I’d seen the soothsayer give his ‘end of the world is nigh’ routine when outside the palace, where passers-by could ignore it. But in the palace, I’d only seen him treated with grudging respect and a few mutters of discontent. The ugly mood of the court genuinely surprised the old man.
“I dreamt a dream of utmost import,” he continued, “that if not heeded, shall mean the downfall of this kingdom and the ruin of all Andeluvia!”
Silence reigned for a second.
Fitzwilliam frowned, but gestured for the man to continue.
But then the catcalls started up again.
“Tell it to someone who believes you!”
“Go poun
d sand, you ale-sotted windbag!”
“We’ve had it up to here with the doomsday predictions!”
My face reddened right along with Zenos’ as I realized that I had caused part of the man’s problems. The person storming into the throne room and claiming that ‘doom is upon us!’ lately wasn’t Zenos. It was me.
Though I’d been justified, the lords at court were growing frustrated. They’d turned over ever more men and money to Fitzwilliam for less in return. The attack by the Noctua might still be fresh in the minds of the knights who’d fought to keep their lords alive. But those same lords were already letting the memories fade away.
“That’s enough!” Fitzwilliam said sharply. “Are we children playing at jacks and hoops here?”
“Sire,” I added, “we must listen to Zenos, even if what he says stings the ear. His counsel’s never led me astray.”
The abuse heaped on the soothsayer just got worse, and I got a portion of the venom directed at me as well.
“Stings the ear? Stings the ass, more like!”
“Take the Dame with you on your doomsday tour, faker!”
“Here’s what you want, old man!”
Someone threw a handful of silver and copper pieces at Zenos’ feet. The coins made a pathetic-sounding clink as they bounced off the marble floor. His eyes burned as he looked up at the men and women seated around him.
“You wish no more talk of doom? So be it!” he thundered. “I shall speak instead of salvation, for those who insult the Soothsayers are damned! Dismiss my guild’s words at your peril, or embrace them and cheat the terrible fate you each rightly deserve!”
To my surprise, Zenos swiveled to face me. He raised an arm to point a bony finger in my direction. His words rolled off his tongue like hot lumps of tar.
“Salvation shall come to Dame Chrissie only when she stands in the shadow of all that she has achieved.”
Then he turned to Galen, finger still raised like an ash-white arrow tip.
“Salvation shall come to one the Court Wizard loves, and it shall come from a mere kernel of the truth.”
The soothsayer shifted his gaze and finger to the left.
“Salvation shall come to Lord Behnaz from the cast-off and unwanted.”
Then a shift to the right.
“Salvation shall come to Lord Ivor from a kiss given out of mercy, not love.”
Finally, Zenos turned his attention to the King. Fitzwilliam grasped the arms of his throne as if expecting a blow.
“And the King’s salvation shall come from agreeing to what he would never do on his own.”
With that, Zenos turned on his heel and stormed back out, leaving the court in stunned silence.
(…continued...)
The full story for
Assault in the Wizard Degree
will be found at all major
eBook retailers
in Late October or
Early November 2016.
Also by Michael Angel
The ‘Fantasy and Forensics’ Series
Centaur of the Crime
The Deer Prince’s Murder
Grand Theft Griffin
A Perjury of Owls
Forgery of the Phoenix
Assault in the Wizard Degree (Coming Late Oct. / Early Nov. 2016)
Standalone Fantasy and Sci-Fi Novels
The Detective & The Unicorn
The Wizard, The Warlord, and The Hidden Woman
The Adventures of Amanda Love
Treasure of the Silver Star
The ‘Apocalypse with a Side of Spam’ Series
Episode One
Episode Two
Episode Three
Episode Four
Entire ‘Season One’ Compilation
The ‘Fringe Space’ Series
A Shovelful of Stars
Pay To Pray
Dogfight
A Planet Torn
The Complete Collection: Fringe Space Tales
Meet Michael Angel
Michael Angel’s worlds of fantasy and science fiction range from the unicorn-ruled realm of the Morning Land to the gritty ‘Fringe Space’ of the western Galactic Frontier. He’s the author of the bestselling Centaur of the Crime, where C.S. Lewis meets CSI. His many books populate shelves in languages from Russian to Portuguese.
He currently resides in Southern California. Alas, despite keeping a keen eye out for griffins, unicorns, or galactic marshals, none have yet put in an appearance on Hollywood Boulevard.
Find out more about his latest works at:
www.MichaelAngelWriter.com
Editing/Proofing services provided
by Cassandra Campbell at
Campbell’s Book Soup
and
Leiah Cooper from
SoIReadThisBookToday.com.
Cover art by Annah Wootten-Pinéles,
whose art can also be found at
www.annahlouise.com.