The Swordmage Trilogy Bundle, Volumes 1-3

by Martin Hengst

  A strange sensation overwhelmed her and she thought, with sudden panic, that she might be reacting in some way to the taking of another life. Then she realized that the feeling was coming from inside her robes, a gentle vibration from the pocket where she had slipped the stone. She reached inside and withdrew it, feeling it shake against her hand. It tugged her toward the body and she took a reluctant step forward.

  The nearer she got, the more insistent the stone was, pulling her toward the blood. Finally, Tionne released the stone. It skittered across the ground of its own accord, stopping near the blood pooled near the body. She watched with curious fascination as the stone seemed to absorb all the blood from the body, drawing it out of the orifices and leaving the body a withered husk. She was glad that the man had fallen face down. She wasn't sure she wanted to see what the stone had done to him in any more detail.

  It was pulsing with crimson light, beckoning to her. She felt its pull and Tionne suddenly knew what the stone was. It was a bloodstone. It had its own type of magic, activated by the power of the blood. As she picked it up, she felt it pulling her, guiding her. She took a few steps forward and the stone pulled her this way or that.

  Tionne continued to walk, following the pull of the stone and allowing it to lead her where it willed. She had no doubt that it would take her to Nerillia and the rest of her people.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Tiadaria had never been more glad to see the gates of Dragonfell. Their passage through the last gate in the pass through the Dragonback Mountains meant that the weeklong journey was at an end, but more importantly, that she and Wynn would have some space from each other.

  It wasn't that she didn't understand why he was upset, it was just that she wished he wouldn't linger on it so. She knew she hurt him, and it broke her heart to do it, but she just couldn't abandon her duties to the King and crown without a second thought. If nothing else, the Captain had taught her that her honor was everything.

  A sidelong glance was all she dared as they descended the last gentle slope before they'd be on the valley floor. Wynn was looking the other way, which was probably just as well. It seemed like every time they talked they were snapping at each other. They'd always been able to overcome their differences, but Tia was worried that this time, the chasm would be too wide to bridge.

  “I'll be glad to get into the city,” he said, almost as if he was hearing her thoughts. “I'm tired of traveling.”

  “Me too,” Tia replied, her voice soft and tired. That, at least, was innocuous enough that it wouldn't lead to another fight.

  Wynn must have decided the same, as the conversation ended at that point. The horses continued their gentle, plodding gait. It was almost enough to lull Tia to sleep. Would have been, probably, if she hadn't been so upset. As it was, she kept her eyes on the horizon and the city walls that were growing steadily taller.

  As the hard packed earth gave way to cobbled streets, they passed the first of the city guard posts. They presented their papers, chatted a bit with the duty guard about the condition of the roads and the trip into the capital, and then they went on their way. Not more than five minutes after they had left the outpost, a guard courier on a steel grey charger raced passed them. Nightwind shied to the side, letting the faster beast pass.

  “Run me off the road next time,” she muttered under her breath.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Wynn smile. Then he stopped, as if he had suddenly remembered how angry he was with her. No, angry wasn't the right word. He hadn't been mean about it at all. He was just upset. As upset as she was that he couldn't see her side of it. Though she supposed that was fair. She couldn't really see his side of it either.

  “We're almost to the gate,” he said. Tiadaria nodded.

  Tia wasn't used to Wynn being so quiet. She was accustomed to his dry wit and his penchant for pointing out things during their travels that she might not know, or realize. She had missed the easy peace between them during their ride. For at least the hundredth time in the last week, she wished she could just go back and have that entire conversation over again. She'd take the ring and be happy about it and everything would be okay.

  “Listen,” he said, turning in his saddle so he could face her. It was the first time he'd done so in days. “I sort of understand why it has to be this way, but coming into Dragonfell is going to be hard for me. I already had Faxon making arrangements, so I need to tell him to undo all those arrangements. I'm sorry if I've been, and continue to be, a little short. I'm just disappointed.”

  “I know. I'm sorry.”

  “I know you are.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “We'll figure this out, just like we've done with everything else. I just wanted you to know that, at least this part of it, isn't your fault.”

  Tia bit back a retort. She wanted to tell him that none of it was her fault. She didn't ask him to take her away from her life and her duties. She didn't expect him to rescue her and whisk her off to the life of a wife and, potentially, mother. She just couldn't think of that right now. No matter how much he wanted it. Fortunately, they had just arrived at the massive ironwood city gates, which spared her from having to make any reply at all.

  No sooner had they pulled up to the guard house when Faxon appeared around the corner. Tia stifled a groan. Of course he would show up just now. The stupid grin plastered across his face meant that he had, like Wynn, taken for granted the fact that she'd accept his proposal, no questions asked. She wondered if Faxon would treat her the same way as Wynn had when he found out what had happened.

  “How's the happy couple?” the quintessentialist asked, coming up to take the reins of both horses.

  Wynn made a strangled noise and Tia covered her face with her hands. She wanted to slip off Nightwind's back and just melt into the earth. If there was anything she didn't need, it was Faxon making things even worse. Wynn recovered sufficiently to reply before Tia could.

  “We're fine, but the handfasting is going to have to wait.”

  Faxon's eyebrows went up at the hardness in the young man's tone, but he had enough good sense not to say anything. He turned to Tia, the question plain on his face.

  “I have duties to attend to, Faxon,” she snapped, finally losing the grip she had held on her temper.

  The older quint rocked back on his heels, surprised by the vehemence in her voice. He blinked at her and nodded, as if buying himself time to compose a response.

  “Yes, I had heard that the King requested you come to Dragonfell.”

  “At least she's eager to do it when someone asks,” Wynn groused.

  Tia rolled her eyes skyward. She clenched her hands around the edge of the saddle so hard that the thick leather doubled. She would not get into this argument again. Not for the third time in as many days.

  “I wasn't asked. I was ordered.”

  “Well, better hop to and follow those orders, then.”

  The last of her patience snapped. She slid from the saddle and rounded on him.

  “Fine, Wynn, I will. Just remember one thing, I wasn't the one who surprised you without any warning. I'm not the one who asked you to give up what and who you are to be with you. I'm not the one who wants you to be something you're not. Maybe, just maybe, you were the one who was wrong even asking me in the first place.”

  She stomped away from them, leaving Wynn to deal with both their mounts. Maybe a little extra inconvenience would help him realize what a jackass he was being. Her anger and frustration propelled her deep into Dragonfell before she managed to let go of the worst of her fury. She stopped short and forced herself to take deep breaths, counting to ten as she did so.

  Wynn had called out to her as she left him standing at the gate. She hadn't wanted to return to him then and didn't want to now. She needed some time to herself and the walk through the city to the palace would provide her with ample time to get herself under control before she spoke to the King.

  Now that her head was clearing, it was easier f
or her to get her bearings. She stood in the shadow of the curtain wall that surrounded the city. There was a throng of people gathered around the end of an alley not too far away. Tia couldn't help but be reminded of her first visit to Dragonfell, when a similar mob had been turned against her. She quickened her pace and walked toward the group. If nothing else, it would sate her natural curiosity.

  Weaving her way through the people milling around, she worked her way toward the mouth of the alley. There were a number of city guards clustered around a crumpled form laying amongst the moldering trash. Tia recognized a broad shouldered man crouched over the body. He was armored in a brightly polished breastplate with a black dragon emblazoned on it.

  “Valyn!” she called, raising her hand in greeting. The man's eyes flicked up and he smiled as he saw her. Brushing his hands together, he walked over to the edge of the crowd.

  “Hello Tiadaria. Back in Dragonfell to see the King?”

  “So you've heard too?”

  The corners of her mouth turned down in a frown. Valyn nodded.

  “I hear most of what's on the King's mind sooner or later,” he said with a sigh. Tia wondered what might be so troublesome as to bother the otherwise imperturbable Captain of the City Guard, but he blundered on before she could get a word in edgewise. “I'm glad you happened by here actually. I could use your opinion...in an official capacity.”

  “Of course, Valyn. Anything I can do to help.”

  The knight beckoned for her to follow and lead the way to the corpse in the alleyway. Valyn hesitated as he crouched next to the body as if steeling himself for something unpleasant. It was strange to Tia that a man so accustomed to death on the battlefield should be squeamish about any other sort of body.

  When he rolled the man over, Tia understood why he had hesitated. The man, if that was really what it had been, bore only a vague resemblance to a living human being. The skin had been drawn back tight against the bones, every ridge and curve showing through the pallid skin. There were some rust colored stains around the mouth, nose, ears, and eyes and she realized with a sudden lurch in her stomach that those were bloodstains.

  “What happened to him?” she asked, aghast.

  “I don't know.” Valyn's eyes searched her face. “Have you ever seen anything like this before?”

  Tia got down on one knee and took a closer look at the body. It was nothing like anything she had ever seen. Though she wasn't as widely traveled as Faxon, she had seen many things while traveling on assignment for the quintessentialist or the King. She'd seen people die in some pretty horrific ways, but this was different. Shifting into the Quintessential Sphere, she reached out and tentatively touched the body.

  It was cold and there was a definite magical resonance about it. Tia didn't dare delve any deeper into the Sphere while Valyn was standing there. She could come back later and do some mystical investigation, or better yet, she could convince Faxon to do it. He, at least, didn't need an alibi to use his connection to the Sphere.

  “I've never seen anything like this,” she said withdrawing her hand and returning her attention to the physical realm. “But I'll bet you your weight in crowns that it is magical in nature. I don't know of any natural death that could cause something like this. I suspect you're going to be looking for a rogue mage.”

  Valyn groaned.

  “I really wish you hadn't said that, Tia. You know how the King is.”

  “I do,” she nodded. “He's not overly fond of mages on the best of days. Tell him that there's a rogue mage loose in Dragonfell and he's going to make life miserable for everyone until they are caught.”

  “Exactly,” he sighed.

  “Well, it's your lucky day, then, Valyn. As it turns out, I'm on my way to see the King now. I'll pass along the message first. That way, you're not the one taking the brunt of the initial reaction.”

  Valyn looked at her for such a long time that it wasn't hard for her to figure out what was going through his head. On one hand, he really didn't want to be the one to tell Greymalkin that there was a rogue mage loose in Dragonfell. On the other, he knew it was his duty to be the one to give such a report.

  “I don't know, Tia...”

  “Look, I'm on my way to the King now. I'll tell him you asked me to pass along the message because we met and you couldn't make it back until the body was removed to somewhere more appropriate. All of that is true. Then you can follow up with him as soon as you get back to the palace. Hopefully, he'll have adjusted to the news by then.”

  “Are you sure you don't mind?”

  “It's fine,” she replied, with a little wave. “I've been yelled at enough over the last couple of days that one more isn't going to kill me.”

  “Yelled at?” Valyn pounced on her words. “For what? Why?”

  “Nothing,” she sighed. “It's fine. I shouldn't have brought it up.”

  “Something to do with the handfasting?” he asked, laying his hand on her shoulder.

  “Ugh. How did you know about that?”

  “I was invited. Wynn sent a message a couple fortnights ago. I'm happy for you.”

  “I probably would be too, if I had as much warning as everyone else had.”

  Tia knew it wasn't Valyn's fault Wynn had invited him to a wedding that wasn't going to happen and she knew that she would likely have this conversation again with some other well-meaning resident of the capital, but knowing it didn't improve her mood any.

  “Well, I've no doubt you'll work it out,” Valyn said, apparently deciding to abandon the entire conversation. “I need to get this body out of here before it attracts any more attention. I'll see you in the palace later?”

  “Unless I somehow earn a reprieve for this week.”

  The Captain of the Guard gave her a half smile and pushed her gently toward the end of the alley. He was right, Tia thought as she wound her way back through the onlookers. The crowd was growing every minute. More than one type of scavenger was drawn to a body in the street.

  The rest of her walk to the palace was uneventful. As she approached the towering alabaster statues that stood guard over the palace cavern, she craned her neck to look up at them. The sun was sinking in the western sky and kissed them with orange, giving them a golden glow. The beauty of it caught and held her. She stood that way for a long time, until she felt eyes upon her. She whirled, about to call the intruder to task, and found herself instead face to face with the One True King.

  “Your Grace!” she cried, sinking to her knees.

  “Get up, get up,” he snapped, undisguised irritation in his voice. “The last thing I need lately is the common folk seeing me with some pretty young woman on her knees. Things are bad enough as it is.”

  “I'm afraid they're worse than you think, Majesty.”

  The King lifted his cane from the cobbles and brandished it at her.

  “I don't need you making more trouble, young lady.”

  “No, Your Grace. Sir Valyn found a body out near the curtain wall. You're not going to like hearing this, but it appears there might be a rogue mage involved.”

  Greymalkin dropped his cane back to the street and leaned on it with his entire weight.

  “And why, pray tell, isn't Sir Valyn imparting this particularly disturbing morsel of information?”

  “He's still securing the body and dealing with the crowd. Since I passed by on my way here, I offered to pass on his message when I got here.”

  “And spare him my terrible wrath, no doubt.” The King peered at her with hooded eyes. “What did this mage do?”

  “Killed a man, Your Grace.”

  “What else?”

  Tiadaria shook her head. “I don't know. I was only there for a moment. Sir Valyn asked my opinion, but I'd never seen anything like it.”

  “I suppose I'll have Faxon or some other finger-waggler on my doorstep tonight telling me how this never happens and that they'll take care of it and so on and so forth.”

  “Very likely, Your Grace.”
<
br />   “Alright. Then let's get on with why I summoned you here. Walk with me.”

  The King turned away from the cavern and Tiadaria hesitated for a moment before she took two quick steps to catch up. The King's physical infirmity made it easy to match his pace, but she was still confused by the direction they were going.

  “Aren't we going the wrong way, Your Grace?”

  “We are not, young Tiadaria. We're not going to the palace. At least not just yet.”

  Greymalkin didn't seem inclined to carry on any more conversation so they walked in silence for a long time. They turned a corner and descended a gentle slope and Tiadaria knew with gut-wrenching certainty where they were going. She stopped, rooted in place by fear and uncertainty.

  “Your Grace?”

  The King stopped and leaned on his cane, his head bowed. He stood that way for so long that Tiadaria thought he might have fallen asleep on his feet. In fact, she wished he had. Then she could turn around and go find Wynn, or Faxon, or anyone or anything that wasn't right here, right now.

  “Yes. You know where we're going.”

  “But I don't want to.”

  Tiadaria had avoided returning to the place where the Captain had been interred. All that was left there was a body, an empty shell. The last time she had stood in front of his tomb, she had said goodbye. Standing there in front of the Captain's closest friends, she had spoken of her love for him, the love that she had lost, and broken down there, weeping as they moved the heavy capstone onto the sarcophagus. She never wanted to go back there. There was no reason to go back.

  “I know,” the King said quietly. “But you need to see what I have to show you.”

  Dread coiled around Tiadaria's spine, a cold black viper ready and waiting to strike. As the King began walking, Tiadaria didn't move. She couldn't. No matter how many steps there were between her and the Captain's tomb, there weren't enough.