Dawn and Devilry

by S. Usher Evans

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Part 1 - dawn

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Part 2 - devilry

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Sneak Peek from Book 4

  Free Anxiety Dragon Book

  Also By

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  The Lexie Carrigan Chronicles

  S. Usher Evans

  Pensacola, FL

  Copyright © 2018 S. Usher Evans

  ISBN: 9780463018934

  All rights reserved. No portion of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Line Editing by Danielle Fine, By Definition Editing

  Sun's Golden Ray Publishing

  Pensacola, FL

  www.sgr-pub.com

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  www.sgr-pub.com/orders

  Dedication

  To anyone who's ever made a mistake

  Part 1

  dawn

  One

  "Gavon, good man. Look sharp."

  Cyrus was taunting me, but that was nothing new. My superior in magical power, technique, and confidence, he was taking great pride in showcasing all three during our morning sparring match in the empty arena. Our daily training sessions were supposed to prepare us for the day the New Salem Warrior's Guild would re-enter the world from which we'd been banished generations before. But more often than not, they were an excuse for Cyrus to show off how much better he was at sparring than me. After all, he was the Chosen One, the Warrior who would bring great victory to our Guild, long suffering in this land of darkness and magic. I, on the other hand, was simply the spare.

  Another of his gray fireballs landed hard against my shoulder, taking advantage of my disinterest. I'd bested him only once in the past three years. It was a mistake I wouldn't make again. For a man who'd been handed everything, his ego was rather fragile.

  Still, I had to make it look like I was trying, so I flung a few deep purple attack spells in his direction. He blocked them with ease, as I predicted, then released several of his own. I deflected two, but let the last one hit, knocking the air from my lungs and sending me to the ground. Three more came behind it, each landing like a bag of stones against my defenseless body.

  "Cyrus, that's enough."

  Cyrus turned toward Alexandra, awaiting the praise that was most assuredly coming. Our mistress, a fierce woman in her mid-forties with graying hair and a black wool dress, betrayed no emotion as she approached the center of the arena. Her sharp brown eyes landed on me for a moment before turning to my partner.

  "Cyrus, you're too cocky," she said. "Confidence serves you, but too much will be your downfall. Return to the Manor and begin your chores."

  From the look on his face, Cyrus had only heard the praise, whatever little there was to be heard. Or perhaps he'd noted that he'd been dismissed, and I had not.

  "My lady." He bowed and disappeared in a puff of dark gray smoke, but not before I saw his smirk.

  I braced myself for the criticism, but instead, she said softly, "Walk with me, son."

  Son, that was a first. Alexandra had given birth to me eighteen years ago, but as customary for Warriors, she'd handed me to her master, another Warrior named George Jones. He was already in his late sixties when I'd arrived on his doorstep, and I'd been more nursemaid than apprentice. He'd died three years ago, and with no other Warriors in the village, I'd returned to my mother's home to continue training with Cyrus.

  I snuck a glance at Alexandra, seeing much of myself in her face. But that was where the similarities ended. She was Guildmaster; she held the respect and deference of the entire village. She could dispatch both Cyrus and myself without a second thought.

  "Your performance leaves a lot to be desired," Alexandra said, after we'd walked for some time.

  "Cyrus is my superior—"

  "He's not. He's your equal in power but your inferior in intellect," she said. "His ego will be the end of him."

  "I thought you liked his confidence," I said.

  "Why aren't you trying against him?"

  I thought about my words, running through them in my mind to make sure they wouldn't come back to haunt me. "Because he will be Guildmaster."

  "That's not set in stone. You're both Warriors and will be inducted in a few months. When I grow old, the Guildmastership will be available to whomever is the best for it."

  My jaw fell. "A few months?"

  "Oh, look at you, so concerned now," she said with a short laugh.

  "I'm not interested in the Guildmastership, but I would very much like to be inducted," I said, hoping my cheeks wouldn't betray my anger. In generations past, eighteen was the age a Warrior was inducted, but eighteen had come and gone some months ago. "I think it's past time, don't you?"

  "It will be time when you show some interest in becoming more than you are, Gavon."

  And that was all she said, walking the rest of the way into the village in silence.

  My mother's words sat unhappily in my mind for the afternoon, even as I chased the thoughts away with chores and studies. After we engaged in a rigorous morning of sparring, Alexandra liked Cyrus and me to scrub the Manor, the home of the Guildmaster since James Riley had arrived in this prison created for him and the rest of the Separatists. Although our magic could've completed the task in a matter of moments, it built our tolerance and humility to scrub the wooden floors on our hands and knees.

  "You missed a spot," Cyrus said, lounging on a chair as a feather duster swept across the tops of the books in the library.

  I sat on my knees, scanning the dark floor for what Cyrus had noticed and finding nothing. I knelt back down and continued scraping the brush across the floor.

  "You were pathetic today, Gav," he said, leaning back on the chair and squinting at the window. A wet rag appeared and slid across the glass, not doing much to dispel the grime. "Mistress Alexandra says I'm nearly ready for induction," he said. "Suppose they'll want us to fight each other."

  "Mm," I said, reminded again of what she'd said to me. It should've pleased her that I didn't want to usurp her precious Cyrus. So why was she delaying my induction? The sooner I was inducted, the sooner she would be rid of me. What could she be waiting for?

  "I know it must not seem like much, this life of a second-class Warrior," Cyrus said, lazily scratching his stomach. "But I promise it won't be so bad. Maybe if you sire a Warrior, I'll keep you off the Council so you can do whatever it is you do."

  "How generous of you."

  Alexandra appeared in
the center of the room in a puff of deep purple magic. "Cyrus, I thought there was to be no magic."

  He pulled himself to stand. "My apologies, Mistress."

  The rag fell to the floor with a loud squelch and Cyrus' impassive face grew angry. I hid a smirk; Alexandra had bound his magic. It was a typical punishment for a young magical, and one Cyrus was well acquainted with.

  "Gavon," she said. "You may use the afternoon as you wish. Cyrus, finish the chores by yourself."

  I stood as quietly as I could, placed the brush in the wooden bucket of soapy water and left quickly without meeting either of their eyes. It was a short reprieve, one Cyrus would punish me for later. But it was something.

  Once I'd left the library, I used magic to transport myself far away, the farthest spot I could travel to in the confines of New Salem. Our world had been created by magic in 1692, when a magical war ended. My ancestors had lost and had been banished. For the Warriors, it was our solemn duty to be ready for the day the magical barrier broke, and we could reclaim the land that was ours.

  This other world had been something of an obsession of mine since I was a little boy. I'd stumbled upon a collection of nonmagical books, very rare in New Salem, that had described more than just magical theory. Mathematics, physics, books on civilizations thousands of years before even the Two Years' War. Plays that talked of great love and wars, faraway lands like England and Greece.

  I wanted to see these lands for myself. For the past few months, I'd been playing around with potions, albeit in secret. Brewing potions was expressly forbidden, except in the case of healing potions for Warriors. And that restriction had only been lifted recently; our lone healer was very ill. Even though I could brew a potion to cure him, there was no arguing with Alexandra. Old prejudices didn't disappear easily.

  I opened my journal to the last page where I'd written notes on the potion I'd tried. It wasn't much of anything—just some spider's web, three legs of a toad, mixed in a solution of vinegar. Today, I would try four legs of a toad, and perhaps two spiderwebs.

  "Hm…" I scratched the growing stubble on my chin. What if four toad legs and one spider web did it?

  I had been on these ingredients for a few weeks now. Each time, it had resulted in something simple—a flash of light. Something was better than nothing, though. The first time it had occurred, I'd used one toad leg, one spiderweb, and a splash of vinegar. Using the scientific method, I'd recreated the potion four times, and it had had the same effect. A flash of light, a ripple, then nothing.

  Ever since, I'd been adding and removing ingredients, carefully documenting the results. It was painstakingly slow, but patience was something I had a lot of. After all, there was nothing else to do in town except drink and play nasty tricks on the lesser magicals in the village.

  It will be time when you show some interest in becoming more than you are, Gavon.

  Alexandra's words came back to my mind. It had been rather jarring to hear her judge me his equal, no less. Perhaps she had left the door to Guildmaster open for me. After all, Cyrus would be a cruel Guildmaster. His loyalty was to himself first, and his power second.

  But did that mean I should take his place? If I did, how would he react? And why now, after all this time, was Alexandra showing an interest in me?

  My potion hissed and I closed the book, careful to keep the scrap of paper to mark my place. With care, I ladled some of the white potion out of the cauldron and poured it in a circle on the ground.

  Nothing. As expected.

  A semi-circle. Nothing, again.

  The last bit of potion I poured in an infinity loop. The air sizzled and popped, and a shimmer appeared for three breaths. Then the world was silent once more.

  I jotted down the results then flipped back a few pages to compare. The infinity loop was the key, I could feel it, but the exact combination still eluded me. Sadly, I'd been away from the house long enough. Until I was free from Alexandra's attention, I couldn't devote more than an hour to this study per day. But one day, hopefully soon, I would be inducted and could spend the rest of my days toiling and brewing until death took me, too.

  Two

  I awoke to yet another day in the drab world. Years of needing to help Master Jones to the privy had trained my body to an early rise, which worked well in Alexandra's house. I dressed quickly and set about doing the morning chores—including rousing my fellow apprentice.

  His was the room next to mine, and I took great joy in pulling back the curtains to let in what dismal light there was. That joy was short-lived, as he wasn't alone in his bed.

  "Be gone with you," he said to the girl, who vanished before I could get a good look at her face. "And you, as well."

  I shrugged and continued the morning ritual, heading down to the kitchen to help the cook with breakfast. Alexandra would be pleased that he was trying his best to create another Warrior. Although I, too, had a duty to the clan to sire another of my specialty, I hadn't gone about the village spreading myself, as it were. Yet another reason Cyrus would be Guildmaster, and I would not.

  After opening all the curtains upstairs, I set to work making the breakfast, assembling the bread and picking the mold off our cheese. Our cupboards were running a little bare, so I would have to find an Enchanter to make more. Our original captors had seen fit to give us livestock, but without a sun to grow crops, our village relied on Enchantment magic to turn dirt into bread, tea leaves, and food for the animals.

  Cyrus arrived in the kitchen just as I was finishing, as usual. He plucked the full tray off the table and walked into the dining room. I followed with the tea and, after pouring into each of the waiting cups, settled down to eat my fill.

  "We will spar this morning," Alexandra said. "Gavon, I hope your performance will improve."

  I nodded. Perhaps I'd try a little harder, just to keep her from criticism.

  "The Council will be watching."

  That got my attention. The Council was the governing body, making decisions for the village and staving off ruin. Traditionally, there were supposed to be five Warriors, but now it was just Alexandra and the four strongest Enchanters and Charmers. Cyrus and I would be added as soon as our formal induction was concluded.

  But I couldn't remember a time there'd been an audience for our sparring matches. Even our introduction match at fourteen had been witnessed by her and Jones alone.

  "If I may ask…" I began, dipping my head. When she didn't cut me off, I continued, "Why?"

  "Because Cyrus is almost eighteen, and I've decided it's time for him to be inducted. And, perhaps, you as well."

  Joy and hope surged through me. Perhaps something had changed since we'd last spoken. "When?"

  "The exact date will be determined after they watch you fight," she said, sipping her tea carefully. "I suggest you both try your hardest to impress them."

  As excited as I was to finally see the end of my apprenticeship, there was still the bare cupboard to contend with. In New Salem, commerce occurred through bartering; the Enchanter made bread for the Charmer, the Charmer gave them milk from their cows. But for the Warriors, we existed merely to… be in charge, I supposed.

  I stepped inside an Enchanter's house where a pretty, young girl with curly brown hair seated at a table. I'd seen her around the village, but never got her name. She released a loud squeak when she saw me, jumping to her feet and toppling over the stool.

  "Good morning, Master Gavon," she said as her cheeks turned rosy. "What can I do for you today?"

  "Good morning," I said. "Just a loaf."

  She stood and sauntered to the large barrel in the back, making sure to sway her hips for my attention. She plucked a single morsel of bread from the barrel and grabbed a handful of dirt from the floor before returning to sit at the table. Her fingertips glowed a light blue color and the small crumb levitated, as did the dirt. She closed her hands around the mixture, then released them. It was now a small loaf, dark brown and crusty. With her hands still glowing, she s
tretched the edges of the bread until it was long and thick.

  "That's enough," I said.

  "Is it?" she said with a coy look as she handed it to me. "Seems big enough for me, too."

  I caught the double-meaning and flushed. "Thank you for the bread. I'll see you next week."

  I hurried out of the shop, praying that John the Charmer wouldn't do a dance for me as well. I supposed I should've been flattered, but I saw right through the attention. Despite my reserved nature, I was still desirable. Any woman who had a child with me might eventually be the mother of a Guildmaster.

  For Alexandra, the act of sex was a duty—something that should be done without much thought for pleasure. Cyrus, judging by what I overheard from his room, was all about pleasure with the duty a distant second. But my mind was addled by the nonmagical books. Romeo and Juliet, two star-crossed lovers defying everything to be together was what I thought love to be.

  I glanced behind me to the Enchanter, who was sadly doodling in the dirt pile left behind. She was pretty, but I wasn't sure we'd have anything to talk about. Still, perhaps a girl like her was all I was meant for. I was just the second.

  Which reminded me: I had a sparring match to attend.

  The ring still bore the skid and burn marks of our match the day before, and my body still ached from the effort. But if this would get me closer to induction, I didn't mind. The council members had already arrived, each wearing a long black cloak. I counted only four of them—Enchanter Perry seemed to be missing.

  "Where've you been?" Cyrus said with a scowl.

  "Since you neglected to pick up bread from the Enchanters yesterday, I had to," I said.

  In the stands, Alexandra rose then appeared in front of us, her hands resting on her hips. "I trust you're ready, Gavon."