Beyond the Boundary Stones (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 3)

by Holder, Angela

  But he would come back. He silently vowed it before the Mother. He cared about Kevessa too much to never see her again.

  He gave a final wave as the three Ramunnan wizards and their familiars headed toward the tent, and trailed Elkan and Tobi over the plank onto the ship. Sar set his hooves carefully as he followed. They moved to a concealed spot behind the structure that held the kitchen. Elkan touched Tobi and put a hand out. A window bloomed above it.

  Within, Ozor stood by the well, conversing with one of the women who was staying behind, seeming oblivious to the troop of soldiers marching down the road toward the village. Eventually he looked up, the surprise on his face as convincing as Josiah could have wished.

  He walked down the road past the tent to meet them and greeted the troop’s commander. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I hope there’s no trouble.”

  The commander eyed him hostilely. “The Matriarch has discovered that the Tevenaran wizards are working for our Marvannan enemies. She demands to know if you were aware of this.”

  Ozor’s eyes widened in shock. “No! What happened?”

  The commander made a curt gesture. “That’s not important.” He put his hand on his sword. “She’s been informed that you remain loyal to her. Is it true?”

  “Of course I remain loyal to her majesty. She knows the wizards are my enemies, too. We fled Tevenar to escape them. If they allied with Marvanna, it was after we left.”

  The commander’s hand dropped from his sword, and he nodded. “That accords with her information. Nevertheless, I must search your village. The wizards escaped, and they may have taken refuge here. Without your knowledge.” The commander’s raised eyebrows revealed his skepticism, but Ozor ignored them.

  He made a sweeping gesture that included the whole village. “You’re welcome to search as much as you like. But I must beg your indulgence. I’m about to depart on a voyage to Giroda. I plan to bring more healers to serve the people of Ramunna. If the wizards are no longer available, the need will be doubly urgent.” He gave an ingratiating smile. “And the opportunity for profit, of course.”

  “Of course.” The commander eyed him with disgust.

  “My crew is ready to cast off, and the tide will be turning shortly.” Ozor waved toward the ocean. “So if you wish to search the ship, I ask that you do so quickly.”

  “We will.” The commander signaled to his men. They broke into several contingents. The commander led one toward the ship.

  Josiah stared at Elkan. “They’ll find us!”

  Before Elkan could reply, Tereid appeared around the corner of the kitchen. “Come with me,” he ordered. “There’s a place below for you to hide.”

  Josiah eyed Tereid nervously. He wouldn’t put it past the thief to turn them over to the guards, or lure them into some dark corner and attack them. “But Sar can’t—”

  Tereid sneered. “This is a blasted Tevenaran ship. They built it to accommodate your creatures. Are you going to trust me, or are you going to let them catch you?”

  Elkan put a hand on Josiah’s shoulder. “Lead us to the hiding place.”

  Sure enough, a ramp led from a hatch down into the hold of the ship. It was steep and awkward, but with Josiah backing down ahead and keeping a hand on Sar’s neck, the donkey was able to use the Mother’s power to steady himself. Once they reached the bottom, Tereid led them to the back of the ship, where the curving hull met the straight stern. He reached into the corner and worked a hidden catch. A section of what appeared to be the stern swung forward, revealing a narrow space between it and the real stern a few feet back.

  Tereid gestured them inside. “I suggest you keep your lights doused. Ozor had us build this to conceal smuggled goods from inspectors, not to hide fugitive wizards.”

  Josiah wanted to protest, but Elkan said, “Thank you,” and went inside, Tobi at his heels. Josiah reluctantly followed, and Sar pressed in behind. Tereid swung the false wall closed and darkness closed in. Josiah put his arms around Sar’s neck.

  “What if they find us?” he whispered, fighting unsuccessfully to keep his fear out of his voice. “What if they find the others? What if Ozor or Tereid turns us over? All they’d have to do is tell the soldiers how to open this, and we’d never know they’d done it.” Despite his best efforts his voice crept louder and higher pitched. “What if this is all a trick—”

  “Shh,” Elkan said softly. “I doubt they’ll reveal their hidden compartment. But even if they intend to betray us, we can’t do anything about it now. All we can do is stay quiet.”

  Resentfully Josiah conceded that he couldn’t argue. He slid down the wall until he was sitting, leaning back against the rough wood. He kept one hand on Sar’s leg for comfort and closed his eyes.

  He must have dozed, because suddenly he woke to the sound of muffled voices beyond the wall. Ozor said, “Ramunnan hay is in high demand in Giroda. Racing is a popular sport there, and apparently horses run better when fed a diet of our hay instead of the local stuff. And good aged beef from Ramunnan cattle can fetch exorbitant prices. The beasts there are sadly scrawny.”

  The commander made impatient noises. Josiah heard the clatter of many footsteps and a great deal of thudding and scraping. The soldiers must be making a thorough search of the hold. He clutched Sar. They’re going to find us.

  No they won’t. Ozor’s keeping his side of the bargain.

  Josiah realized that was true. The commander had apparently accepted his explanations of Sar and Tobi’s supplies. But it wasn’t much comfort when soldiers were banging on the wall right in front of his face. He kept waiting for excited shouts of discovery.

  They never came. Finally the sounds receded. He heard Ozor say, “If you’re satisfied, we’ll cast off as soon as you go ashore.”

  “Very well.” The commander sounded weary but calm. “It looks like the Matriarch’s information was correct.”

  “I hope you catch those wizards, wherever they’ve gone. And I look forward to news of the Armada’s victory.” The voices faded; Josiah pictured Ozor and the commander ascending from the hold. His racing heart slowed.

  After what seemed a long time, but was probably no more than a quarter of an hour, the ship lurched and its motion changed from constrained bobbing to the smoother roll that accompanied wind in the sails. Shortly thereafter the wall swung open and Tereid beckoned them out. “Come on, lazies. Ozor doesn’t tolerate idlers on his ship.”

  Even hard labor seemed preferable to hiding in the dark. Josiah eagerly followed Sar as he backed out of the narrow space and headed up the ramp.

  Ozor met them on deck. Elkan inclined his head. “Thank you for helping us escape.”

  “A deal is a deal.” Ozor put his hands on his hips. “I think I’ll teach you how to man the tiller, and the boy can learn to climb the rigging and set the sails.”

  “We’ll do whatever you need. But on the voyage here, Captain Yosiv had us use the Mother’s power to generate wind. I hope you’ll let us do so for you, as well. It’s vitally important we reach Tevenar as quickly as possible.”

  Josiah could tell from Ozor’s expression the idea pleased him. “The sooner I can get back and start supervising the sale of insulin myself, the better. Get to work.”

  Josiah would have preferred to climb the rigging, but he didn’t complain as Elkan led them to the stern. All that mattered was beating the Armada to Tevenar. If that meant spending all day, every day for the next two months on wind duty, so be it.

  He looked back. Already the shore of Ramunna was a gray smudge on the horizon. With a quick prayer to the Mother for the safety of the fledgeling Wizards’ Guild, he turned forward. He put his hand on Sar’s back and the donkey sent a diffuse sparkling cloud of the Mother’s power to gather air and send it streaming into the taut canvas of the sail. Beside him Elkan did the same.

  The ship sped forward, racing toward Tevenar and war.

  * * *

  The Matriarch strode into the sitting room where she’d commanded Nirel
to wait. “You were correct. Ozor and the rest of your company remain loyal to me. They haven’t seen the wizards.”

  Nirel inclined her head, hiding the pounding of her heart. She hadn’t been sure. “I’m glad to hear it, your majesty. I knew he’d never help them.”

  “I suppose the envoys from Marvanna must have reached Tevenar after you left.” Nirel peered up to find the Matriarch eyeing her warily.

  “I suppose,” Nirel agreed, keeping her head meekly lowered. “Although perhaps they came earlier, and the wizards kept it a secret. None of us were in Elathir, so we wouldn’t have known.”

  “True.” She was quiet for a moment.

  Nirel looked up to find the Matriarch studying her. “What is it, your majesty?”

  “How can I reward you for the very great service you’ve done me by exposing the wizards’ lies? Are you sure you won’t stay here with me? I can excuse you from the requirement to live in the Dualist’s Quarter. I could appoint you as one of my ladies-in-waiting.”

  Nirel swallowed and ducked her head. “I’m sorry, but I must decline. My place is with the Faithful. As long as they’re confined to the Quarter, so am I.”

  “Hmmph.” The Matriarch shook her head. Nirel thought there was grudging respect in the gesture. “If you insist.”

  She put her hand on Nirel’s shoulder. “I hope my daughter, when she comes, is as strong and principled as you are.”

  Nirel fought to keep her expression pleased at the compliment. But her heart felt cold and her stomach hollow. If all went according to Elder Davon’s plan, the Matriarch would die without an heir, and Ramunna would be swallowed up by Marvanna.

  But the Faithful would be free.

  “Thank you, your majesty,” she said.

  The Matriarch squeezed her shoulder and released it. She paced to the window and gazed out. “It’s too bad I can’t accompany the Armada and witness their victory. It’s not the same hearing about it afterward. Just once I’d like to stand on the deck and hear the roar of the weapons, smell the smoke, see our enemies shatter before us…” Her voice was thick with longing.

  Nirel’s stomach lurched. Cautiously she asked, “Weapons, your majesty?”

  The Matriarch turned to smile at her. “We’ve kept them a secret, my mother and I, ever since she had them created. They can kill dozens at a time, sink ships with a single blast, destroy buildings far inland. Marvanna has often suffered their destruction, but they’ve never duplicated them. Now it’s Tevenar’s turn.” She looked back out the window, satisfaction strong in her voice. “Little will be left of the traitors’ home when my Armada is through with them.”

  Nirel swallowed. What the Matriarch described was far more terrible than anything she’d imagined befalling Tevenar. If she’d known…

  But it was too late for second thoughts. The Armada was on its way across the sea.

  Tevenar was doomed.

  * * * * *

  Pre-order The Wizard’s War here or keep reading to see the first chapter.

  Visit my website at www.angelaholder.com and join my mailing list to receive news of future releases and your free download.

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  Acknowledgements

  Thanks again to Michelle, my terrific beta reader, whose enthusiasm for these stories never stops her from telling me how to make them better.

  Thanks to Lou, who made the beautiful cover.

  Thanks to Louis Rosenfeld, the author of this article: http://www.clinchem.org/content/48/12/2270.long, a detailed, fascinating account of the discovery of insulin in our world. It was a much longer and messier process than I was able to incorporate into my story.

  All the medical conditions the wizards deal with are based on real diseases, described as accurately as I could manage. Observant readers may have noticed descriptions of sickle-cell anemia and cystic fibrosis, among others. The type of malnutrition that affects the children of the Beggars’ Quarter is called marasmus, and is caused by a lack of protein. The Matriarch's difficulties with pregnancy are due to her Rh negative blood. The fact that this pregnancy was unaffected suggests that Lord Renarre is Rh negative also, or at least carries a recessive gene for the trait. His infertility was caused by a condition called varicocele.

  Thanks to my family, who support my writing career even when supper is late and I can’t write words as fast as they want to read them.

  And thanks to everyone who has bought or borrowed these books. I hope you're having as much fun reading them as I did writing them!

  About the Author

  Angela Holder lives in Houston, Texas, with her husband of twenty-four years. She has three children: one in high school, one in college, and one grown, married, and out on her own. She spends a lot of time in Starbucks, drinking vanilla lattes and flat whites and telling stories about her imaginary friends. She enjoys dabbling in many hobbies, including spinning, knitting, weaving, costuming, hot air ballooning, singing in her church choir, and performing in amateur musicals. For news about future releases, visit her website at www.angelaholder.com and join her mailing list, or like her Facebook page at facebook.com/angelaholderauthor.

  Here’s an excerpt from Book 4 of The Chronicles of Tevenar:

  The Wizards’ War: Chapter 1

  Tenorran took a deep breath and opened the door of Captain Noshorre’s office. “You sent for me, sir?”

  The captain didn’t look up from his desk. “Ah, yes, Lieutenant. Come in.”

  Tenorran crushed his fear and ducked his head to enter the tiny room, one of the largest on the ship. After years at sea he was used to the cramped quarters, but at times like this the sense of confinement struck him all over again.

  His pulse pounded in his ears. No matter how much he searched his memory of the last few days, he couldn’t find any transgression for which the captain would need to reprimand him. But he couldn’t think of any other reason for the summons, either.

  They couldn’t have discovered his shameful secret. He’d never let even the tiniest hint slip. The consequences if he ever did were too horrible to contemplate.

  But if he wasn’t about to face the exposure and punishment he dreaded, why was he here? He stood at attention before the captain’s desk, eyes straight forward, carefully not looking at the papers Noshorre was working on.

  After a few moments during which the scratching of the captain’s quill was the only sound, Noshorre set down the pen and leaned back against the wall. “At ease, Lieutenant Fovarre. You’re not in trouble. Quite the opposite.”

  Tenorran forced his muscles to relax. “Sir?”

  Noshorre’s seamed face crinkled into a smile. “Commander Kesolla has been observing you, and he’s satisfied with what he’s seen. He and I have discussed the matter, and I concur with his judgement. He would like to offer you a place in the Secrets Division.”

  Tenorran sucked in his breath as shock overrode his relief. “I—I’m honored, sir.”

  Captain Noshorre looked at him sharply. “What’s the problem, Lieutenant?”

  The offer must be a result of the second factor that set him apart from every other officer in the Armada. This one was no secret, though Tenorran often wished it was. “Sir, I want to advance in my career because of my own merit. Not because—not for reasons that have nothing to do with what best serves the interests of the Armada.”

  “A honorable sentiment, Lieutenant Fovarre. I can assure you that your name and parentage haven’t influenced Kesolla’s decision. In fact, he considered this appointment much longer than he would have for
one of lower birth. But your record over the past three years is impeccable. You display a commitment to hard work that would be admirable in a man of twice your years. And your discretion is unquestionable. That last, of course, is the most important factor.”

  Tenorran nodded. He’d had plenty of practice keeping secrets. Far more than either the captain or the commander knew.

  He’d dreamed, as all young Armada officers did, of someday earning a place in the most prestigious branch of Ramunna’s military, but he’d never expected to be chosen this soon. Most Secrets officers were seasoned veterans. When a young officer was chosen, it was because he was being groomed for a leadership role. Despite Noshorre’s reassurance, Tenorran found it hard to believe that his mother’s influence had nothing to do with this turn of events.

  Captain Noshorre shuffled through the papers on his desk and produced a closely written document. “Read this, son. If you’re willing to be bound by what it requires, sign it. If you don’t feel you’re ready to be trusted with this responsibility, give it back to me unsigned and we won’t speak of this again. I promise, it won’t count against you. Knowing your own limits is a mark of maturity.”

  Tenorran accepted the document and read the small, neat letters as the captain went back to his paperwork. It was pretty much what he’d expected from rumors he’d heard of the Secrets oath, but the sheer ruthlessness startled him. The slightest slip of the tongue was grounds for capital punishment. If even a hint of privileged information escaped, a whole ship’s complement of Secrets officers could be executed. If a Secrets officer betrayed Ramunna and went over to Marvanna or another of their enemies, the Matriarch would order his whole family exterminated.