Magic, Myth & Majesty: 7 Fantasy Novels

by David Dalglish

  “Damn it!” Kaelyn said. She pulled Rune out of the alley and onto the wide, cobbled road.

  A dozen of Cadport’s people walked here. Their faces were pale; they were still shaken after the morning’s beheading.

  Two men stood outside a butcher shop, clad in black robes and hoods. Rune had never seen such men, and shivers ran down his back.

  He could not see their faces; within the shadows of their hoods, they wore iron masks. Around their waists, they wore ropes heavy with knives, needles, and pincers—the tools of torturers. Strangest of all, neither man had a left hand. Their arms ended with axeheads strapped to stumps.

  They serve the Axehand Order, Rune realized with a shudder.

  He had heard of the Axehand, a religious order of fanatics who worshiped Frey Cadigus as their god. They were assassins, enforcers, and torturers—Frey’s personal thugs. Every man of the Axehand Order, they said, completed his training by lifting an axe and severing his hand; the same axe was then strapped to the stub, a reminder of their loyalty to Cadigus. Rune had never seen their kind in Cadport before; many had whispered that the Axehand Order was only a myth.

  “Keep walking calmly,” Kaelyn whispered, and for the first time, softness filled her voice. “Come on, Rune. This way.”

  They walked down the road, heading away from the two axehands. Even after they’d left the robed priests behind, the chill lingered along Rune’s spine.

  Shops and houses rose at their sides, three stories tall, frowning down upon them. Whoever passed them by did not spare them a glance; the people stared at their shoes. As they moved down the street, Rune glanced over at Kaelyn. Her lips were pursed, her eyes darting, and her skin pale.

  The whole thing is ridiculous, Rune thought. If the soldiers were after me, why did they sit in the common room calling for ale? Why didn’t they storm upstairs or burn the tavern down?

  He sighed. Kaelyn heard the sigh, glared at him, and pushed her dagger close.

  “Keep walking,” she whispered.

  They moved through Cadport, street by street. They passed by the old amphitheater, a great ring of stone where singers and actors would once perform, and where the Cadigus family now executed the city’s criminals. They walked around the granite statue of Emperor Cadigus, twenty feet tall, his fist upon his chest and his hard eyes watching the city. They walked down narrow streets filled with more townsfolk and soldiers, then across the square where Pery had been killed.

  Finally they approached the city walls and the northern gates. Five guards stood here, each one bearing a sword, a shield, and a crackling punisher.

  “This will be the tricky part,” Kaelyn whispered as they walked. “Just act natural. If the guards ask, you and I are simply going into the forest to collect firewood. Do you understand?”

  As Rune walked, he thought that he did understand… and it chilled him.

  Stars, oh stars, he thought. How didn’t I see this? Kaelyn isn’t just some common thief. She’s… she’s one of them. A member of the Resistance. He swallowed. Of course.

  The Resistance lived out in the forests, they said. They hid in trees and holes and secret tunnels, and they fought the Cadigus family, and they hated order and law and life. They stole from good folk to fill their coffers, and they weren’t afraid to slaughter the innocent. Rune had heard all about their deeds.

  He thought back to that day two years ago, the day they had buried Tilla’s brother. Hundreds had come to the funeral. Soldiers whispered that Tilla’s brother had fought nobly, slaying many resistors before they swarmed him. They said Valien Eleison himself, cruel leader of the Resistance, was the one who’d landed the killing blow. All joy had left Tilla that day; Rune had not heard her laugh since.

  Every year, Cadport’s soldiers—hard men trained in northern forts—caught a few resistors in the forest. They chained them outside the city courthouse, disemboweled them alive, and left them to die. If they caught Rune with a resistor now, he realized, they’d do the same to him.

  His heart pounded and cold sweat trickled down his back, but he managed to nod.

  “I understand,” he whispered in reply.

  “Good,” Kaelyn said. “Beyond those gates is safety. Follow my lead, and we’ll soon be in the forest. There is haven at my camp. Just be calm and silent.”

  As they walked toward the guarded gates, Rune’s heart pounded.

  Bloody stars, he thought. A forest camp? The woman was a resistor; now there could be no doubt. Rune held no love for the Cadigus family, but if Kaelyn thought she could involve him in her war, she was dead wrong. He was only a brewer. He wanted no trouble, and Kaelyn was made of the stuff.

  They reached the gates, hoods pulled low. The guards stared at them from behind their visors, and their hands clutched their punishers. Their leather gloves creaked, and the rods’ tips crackled with red lightning.

  “Good morning, my dear men,” Kaelyn said from the shadows of her hood. “My brother and I seek to collect firewood outside the city gates. Would you be so kind as to—”

  Rune had heard enough. His heart thrashed against his ribs. His breath quickened. This was too big for him; outside in the forest, a thousand of these resistors could be lurking, and stars knew what they wanted with him. Rune would not wait to find out.

  If I want to escape, now’s my chance.

  While Kaelyn was looking at the guards, Rune gave her a mighty shove.

  She fell a few steps backward, gasping. Her dagger left his side and gleamed, suddenly exposed.

  “She has a dagger!” Rune shouted to the guards. “I’m not her brother. She’s a thief or a resistor. She—”

  “Oh merciful stars!” Kaelyn shouted. She cursed, sucked in her breath, and shifted.

  Wings burst out from her back. Green scales clanked across her. Rune gasped. He had never seen anyone but soldiers shift in Cadport; if carrying a dagger could land her in the dungeon, shifting was a capital offense. The green dragon soared and blew fire. Rune stumbled backward.

  The guards at the gates cursed. They began to shift too, bodies ballooning and armor morphing into scales. Before they could complete their transformation, Kaelyn reached out her claws toward Rune. He leaped back, trying to dodge them, but she moved too quickly.

  Kaelyn, an emerald dragon wreathed in flame, scooped him up like an eagle grabbing a mouse. She shot up so fast that Rune’s head spun. He shouted, his legs kicked, and the wind whistled around him. The claws were so tight he could barely breathe.

  “You bloody fool!” Kaelyn roared, wings beating. She rose so high the houses looked like toys below.

  The guards began to fly too, metallic dragons roaring flame. Pillars of fire blazed up toward Kaelyn and Rune.

  “Kaelyn, what the Abyss are you doing?” Rune shouted, kicking in her grip.

  She banked sharply. Jets of flame blasted at their side, narrowly missing them. The heat baked Rune. The dragons below kept rising, and more fire blasted their way.

  “It’s the boy!” one of the dragons below shouted. “The brewer’s boy Shari wants. Grab him and kill the girl!”

  More jets of flame soared. Kaelyn banked again, and the fire screamed only feet away. The heat seared Rune and he shouted out.

  What the Abyss was going on? Why did Shari want him? Could Kaelyn have been speaking truth all along?

  Kaelyn rose so high the air thinned and Rune could barely breathe. Clouds streamed around them. With a howl, Kaelyn spun and began to swoop.

  Wind screamed.

  Blackness tugged at Rune and he gagged.

  Five metallic dragons, guards of the city, came soaring toward them.

  Kaelyn rained her fire.

  Flames exploded across the world, and the dragons below howled. Kaelyn crashed between them, and her tail lashed, and her fangs bit, and blood showered. The metallic dragons bit and clawed all around, their fire blasted, and Rune screamed.

  Kaelyn shot past the last dragon. She dived so close to the city that Rune—still held in her
claws—nearly slammed against the rooftops. She began to rise again, the dragons in pursuit. More soldiers across the city saw the battle, shifted, and began taking flight.

  Kaelyn cursed. “You bloody blockhead, Rune! You got us killed!”

  She rose and flew above the city walls. The forest streamed below them. When Rune looked behind, he saw a hundred dragons, soldiers of Cadigus, shooting toward them.

  He also saw something that chilled him far, far more than all the soldiers in the empire.

  At the boardwalk, a building was burning.

  The Old Wheel tavern.

  Rune gasped and his eyes stung. Kaelyn kept streaming forward, cursing and beating her wings, and the dragons kept pursuing, but Rune could see nothing else.

  The rest of the city still stood; only his home blazed.

  They were looking for me, Rune realized. Kaelyn was right.

  A blue dragon took flight from the blazing tavern. The beast screeched and clawed the sky, wings wide and tail flailing.

  Shari Cadigus.

  “Bring me the boy!” the blue dragon screeched. “Kill my whore of a sister, and bring me the brewer’s boy! Bring me Rune Brewer!”

  In her claws, Shari held a charred body. With a disgusted howl, she tossed the corpse down, and it crashed onto a nearby roof.

  The body was badly burnt, but Rune saw that it wore a red and green cloak.

  Rune knew that cloak. It was his father’s favorite garment.

  Tears filled his eyes, and Rune screamed out, and the world spun around him.

  Then Kaelyn flew higher, crashing into the cover of clouds, and the city disappeared. The clouds streamed around them. Rune’s eyes stung, his chest tightened, and he couldn’t breathe.

  The Old Wheel. My father. Stars, they’re gone. Shari burned them.

  “Father, no,” he whispered, clutched in Kaelyn’s claws. His voice rose to a howl. “What have you done, Kaelyn? What have you done? I’m a wanted man now, I—”

  “You were wanted from the day you were born!” she snapped. “You just didn’t know it until today. Thank me for pulling you out of your tavern moments before Shari burned it, or you’d be dead too.”

  “Kaelyn, what’s going on?” he demanded, tears in his eyes. “Where are—”

  Fire roared.

  A hundred jets of flame pierced the clouds, shooting all around them. Hundreds of howls sounded behind, and Shari’s voice pealed across the sky.

  “Grab them!” the blue dragon screeched in the distance. “Burn them! Bring me my sister and the boy!”

  Kaelyn howled, tightened her claws around Rune, and kept flying.

  5

  TILLA

  The cart trundled down the road, jostling the recruits against one another. Tilla gasped for breath and clung to the girls around her. They had packed them like cattle, and even in the cold winter day, sweat drenched Tilla and she felt faint.

  “Tilla!” whispered the girl beside her. “Tilla, can you see anything? You’re tall!”

  Tilla frowned down at the girl, the daughter of a baker, her blue eyes wide with fear, her cheeks pink, and her strawberry braid slung across her shoulder. Rune had been infatuated with the girl, Tilla remembered; her bakery stood only a few buildings away from the Old Wheel Tavern. Tilla herself had bought bread there, but could not remember the girl’s name. She was a soft, doll-like thing, pretty but too fragile. Tilla could not imagine this one ever wielding a sword.

  “What could I possibly see?” Tilla said and gestured around her.

  The cart had no windows. It was wide enough to house a dragon… or about a hundred girls cramped so tightly together they couldn’t even lift their arms. The shorter girls gasped for breath. At least Tilla was the tallest among them; her head rose above the mass, allowing her to breathe the hot, fetid air. The forest road was paved with rough cobblestones; the cart bumped and tilted with every turn of its wheels. The girls would have fallen were they not packed so close together.

  “I don’t know!” said the baker’s daughter, and tears filled those large blue eyes. She clung to Tilla’s hip. “Maybe you can see a crack, or a very small window, or…” The girl sniffed, then began to quietly weep. “I just miss Jem. I love him so much.”

  Tilla rolled her eyes. She remembered Jem Chandler, the girl’s love. He was a useless dolt who spent more time drinking at the Old Wheel than crafting his candles.

  They had not seen any of the boys all day, not since leaving Cadport. Outside the city walls, Beras and his soldiers had herded the female recruits into three cramped, rotted carts. The boys had been rustled into their own carts. Beras had driven his punisher into the backs of those too slow to climb in.

  Dragons pulled these carts now, dragging them over bumps, ruts, and slopes that left the recruits bruised and whimpering. It had been a long day: a day of sweat, of gasps for breath, of recruits whispering and praying and—like the baker’s daughter—weeping incessantly about loved ones.

  “What’s your name?” Tilla asked, not unkindly, and touched the girl’s shoulder.

  She sniffed and looked up at Tilla with damp, red-rimmed eyes.

  “Mae,” she said. “Don’t you remember? You bought bread from me once. Mae Baker.”

  “Well, Mae, as I see it, you have a choice now,” Tilla said. “You can cry and weep and mope for your boy. Or you can shut your wobbling lips, stop crying onto my shirt, and maybe act like a soldier. Okay?”

  Mae’s eyes widened, her jaw unhinged, and for a moment she just stared as if trying to understand if Tilla had truly said those words. Finally fresh tears filled her eyes.

  “But I don’t want to be a soldier!” Mae said. “All I want is my Jem, my sweet Jem who loves me.”

  Tilla glared at her. “Well, you are a soldier now. Or at least you will be when we reach whatever fort they’re taking us to. I don’t want to be a soldier either, but given that we don’t have a choice in the matter, you can either cry yourself to death, or you can toughen up.”

  But the girl seemed not to hear her. She covered her eyes and began mumbling something about how her father was the richest baker in Cadport, and how he would save her from this place, and how handsome Jem Chandler was going to run away with her, and how Tilla would be so sorry she hadn’t joined them.

  Tilla heaved a sigh.

  I’m not going to make any friends here like this, she thought. She had never been friends with any of these girls back in Cadport. She had always thought them moon-eyed, empty-headed peasants. It was no wonder she had never bothered learning their names. Standing here in a cart of them only confirmed her distaste.

  It’s little wonder Rune was my only friend in Cadport, she thought. She missed him. Perhaps not with tears and trembles the way Mae missed Jem, but she missed him nonetheless.

  Where are you now, Rune? she wondered. Are you brewing ale for the soldiers, or walking along the beach, or thinking about me?

  Her eyes began to sting and Tilla growled. She tightened her lips, narrowed her eyes, and clenched her fists. No, she could not think of Rune now. She could not cry, especially not after admonishing Mae.

  I have three choices now, she thought. I can try to escape this cart, run into the forest, and live on the run, and if the Legions ever catch me, I will die. Or I can stay here and weep and yearn like Mae and the others. She raised her chin and ground her teeth. Or I can do this properly, and I can become a real soldier, and I can banish this pain from my chest and these tears from my eyes.

  She mulled over each option. Running seemed the worst of the bunch. Tilla had seen deserters caught before; the Cadigus family made sure every citizen in Cadport came to see them quartered by mules. Tilla rather liked having four limbs, so running was out of the question.

  As for moping, she did not relish that option either. Thinking about Rune wouldn’t get her back to him any sooner. Thinking about home would only weaken her. There was no point missing home now; or at least, she could try to suppress her homesickness. She could push
those thoughts deep down where they couldn’t hurt her. After all, how would weeping and yearning help her survive?

  And so that left only one option.

  I will play the game, she thought. I will become the soldier they want me to be. For now, I will play by their rules. And maybe I can survive the next five years. Maybe I will learn enough to fight and live once they cart us off to fight the Resistance.

  Tilla nodded. Here in this cart, surrounded by the weeping and trembling girls, she vowed that she would live. If she had to fight a war, she would be strong and she would survive it, and in five years she could return home. In five years, maybe she could see her father and Rune again.

  She looked at Mae, who still wept at her side, and iciness clutched Tilla, for she knew: Once their training was complete, and they were sent to fight, Mae would die.

  She would die first.

  Tilla closed her eyes and tried to forget Pery’s head splattering down at her feet.

  The cart kept trundling on and on. Finally whatever sunlight leaked through cracks in the walls faded. Darkness fell over the cart, and even the heat of a hundred bodies pressed together could not warm Tilla. She had not eaten, drunk, or sat down since that morning. Her back, feet, and stomach ached. Wolves howled outside, wind shrieked, and still the cart kept rolling.

  “Tilla,” Mae said, speaking for the first time in hours, “are we going to keep traveling all night?”

  Tilla grumbled at the baker’s daughter. “How should I know? Do I look like Beras?”

  The girl whimpered and bit her lip. “Don’t say his name,” she pleaded. “Don’t say the name of that man. They say he… he…” She sniffed. “It’s horrible, but they said he r-r-… he did something horrible to a little girl. And then he strangled her to death.” She shuddered. “Please don’t say his name.”

  Tilla wondered if the stories were true. Had Beras the Brute truly raped a child, then strangled her and buried her body? Had the Cadigus family, impressed with his cruelty and reputation, hired him based on that merit? Tilla did not know, but after seeing Shari Cadigus behead Pery, she was inclined to believe it.