Shades Of Glory: Age Of Magic - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (The Hidden Magic Chronicles Book 3)

by Justin Sloan

  “It’s been many years now, I’d say, since the king lost his queen.”

  “Some sort of sickness, wasn’t it?” Alastar asked.

  “That’s what the streets say, yes. But it’s not the truth. What many don’t know was that the queen was one of a very rare few who could do a special kind of magic only found here in Gulanri, and, at least that we know of, only in the royal family. Shadow magic.”

  Alastar stumbled on the step and caught himself on the wall, then turned back to see that Rhona had come to a stop, her face twice as pale as those behind her. Rhona was the only one they had ever met who could do shadow magic.

  “And…the queen?” she asked, voice shaking. “What really happened to her?”

  “Killed by her sister,” the knight replied. “That same evening, she took the young prince and princess. She went to sea and many ships sailed after her, but none succeeded. A great wind came from the heavens and pushed her boat forward. Many believed she had to have conspired with Storm Raiders to succeed in this way.

  “The prince and princess were never seen again, and the king… The king built his walls and sent off all of his ships to find her, burning one after another as they returned emptyhanded. He slowly declined into a state of…well, what you’ll see today.”

  “And the crew?” Alastar asked. “He burned them as well?”

  Sir Egland shook his head. “They were cast out. Some formed their own clans, some stayed in the south, and some set off to the mainland out of shame.”

  “So he’s…” Rhona held a hand to her mouth.

  Alastar guessed she was going to say ‘insane,’ but knew better than to say that of a king. Especially one who actually had lost his mind.

  Sir Egland also caught on, but he pursed his lips as he tried to come up with an answer. “Yes and no. You’ll see.”

  Finally they reached the hallway at the top of the stairs and the two wide doors that led into the king’s chamber. A pair of guards stood there, not moving even at the knight’s approach.

  “Stand aside,” Sir Egland commanded.

  The guards glanced at him uneasily, but remained at their post. “We have been given orders, sir. No one enters.”

  Sir Egland put a hand on his sword hilt and said, much more menacingly this time, “Step aside immediately. The king will care for nothing more than what I have brought him.”

  The guards shared a look, then one nodded and they stepped aside, but refused to open the door for them. Sir Egland did it himself, and the others followed him into the king’s private chambers.

  Only, he wasn’t alone.

  Alastar’s mind was already racing with the implications of what the knight had just told them, the questions piling up like grains of sand in an hourglass. That glass was about to burst.

  But when he saw the woman from the Fortress of Stirling, tall and majestic in her purple and black robes, the questions took a new turn entirely.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” he asked, taking a step back so that he was shoulder to shoulder with Rhona and Lars, the other two fanning out behind them.

  A broad-shouldered man in his fifties sat in a red velvet chair beside a lavishly decorated bed with the woman before him as if she had been briefing him on something. He slowly turned his eyes on Alastar, picked up the crown from his lap and placed it on his head, and stood to face them.

  “A question I often find myself asking when strangers burst into my chambers.” His eyes landed on Sir Egland. “If not for the trust I have in this man, you would all be dead already. Explain yourself, sir, or you may join them. I left orders.”

  Sir Egland’s eyes darted to the woman, then back to the king. “Perhaps without company would be best?”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed when she recognized Rhona and Alastar. She stepped forward, hands out as if welcoming them.

  “Please, we’re all friends here. More than friends, I would say. Isn’t that right, prince and princess?”

  The king flinched at first, looking almost outraged, and then he leaned forward. He completely lost his composure, and his eyes went wide. It was in that moment, with his long blond hair falling around his shoulders and a look on his face that Alastar had seen many times in the mirror, that he knew this man had to be related and, if the story Sir Egland had told was true, was his father.

  “Son, daughter?” The king turned to Sir Egland, eyes full of hope. “Is this true?”

  Before Sir Egland could say a word, the woman cut in. “Oh, yes. These are the prince and princess, but unfortunately for you all, this won’t be the moment of your family reunion.”

  “What?” he turned on her, glaring.

  “I told you I was a relative. Their cousin, actually—your sister’s daughter. And my mother desires these two. She would be quite put out to find I had an opportunity to bring them right to her and failed, so…” With a wave of her hands she pulled light from the king into herself, and before the others could react she cast a flash of lightning onto the ground that exploded, blinding all of them. A shout was heard, and then as the light faded and they could see again, it became clear that he was gone.

  The woman had taken the king.

  “Guards!” Sir Egland shouted, and the two from outside ran in. Except, they weren’t responding to his call—they were armed and ready to fight. “I knew I didn’t recognize you,” the knight said between clenched teeth, and drew his sword.

  In an instant Alastar and the rest had pulled weapons from their bundles and joined the fight.

  “We have to get to the king!” Sir Egland said. “She has your father!”

  Rhona moved swiftly, using shadow magic to throw back their attackers. When they had all gone sprawling, she turned to the knight and swept over to him in shadow form so that she was an inch away from his face. “Is this true? All of it?”

  He nodded.

  She turned to Alastar. “Your light spirit. It’ll find him.”

  “But it only finds those I have a connection… Oh…” He had realized the truth as he spoke. If this man was his father, if he was indeed the prince and Rhona the princess, of course the light spirit or fairy would find the king. “That’s what she’s expecting though, isn’t it?”

  Rhona nodded. “If she knows our magic, she’ll know that’s how it works. It’s a trap, to be certain.”

  “And yet we have no choice, do we?”

  “None.”

  Alastar nodded, closed his eyes, and summoned the fairy. A moment later the light appeared, flew around the room, and then fluttered before his face for a moment before taking off through the doors.

  “GO!” Sir Egland shouted, and all six of them sprinted through the hall, bounded down the stairs, and then hurled themselves through the welcome hall into the daylight.

  The fairy swept through the streets, disappearing around a corner. They were moving fast and would continue at that pace, so Alastar cast a healing spell upon them all so they moved with extra speed and endurance.

  “Ring the bells!” Sir Egland shouted at a passing guard. “Someone has taken the king!”

  The guard stared after them with wide eyes, but when Alastar glanced back he saw the man running off to do as told.

  On and on they ran, until they reached the outskirts of the city on the northern side where entire city blocks lay in ruin—much more like the cities of Roneland. Alastar saw them waiting. The light fairy came to a stop, because she didn’t need to show him where his father was anymore.

  At the other end of the ruins stood an army of magicians and Barskall. It suddenly made sense that these men and women had been on the ships, confirming it was Alastar and Rhona while their mistress made a move on the king.

  Alastar suddenly missed his armor, which was in the bundle he had dropped back in the king’s chambers. At least he had the Sword of Light.

  And now, knowing who he and his sister truly were and what had happened to their parents, he found himself filled with a new rage. Though maybe rage wasn’t righ
t, as it wasn’t a rage for revenge—though it was partly that. It was more of a burning passion for justice.

  Nobody would commit such crimes in this kingdom, on their lands. These bastards would pay for what they had done.

  He glanced back at the other five with him.

  Sir Egland had a horrified look on his face and took a step back. “There are too many. We’ll never take them.”

  “We will,” Alastar replied.

  “All we have to do is keep them at bay until guards from the city arrive,” Rhona pointed out. “We can definitely do that.”

  Lars laughed, giving an eager war cry at the end of it. “Seems your story is more exciting than I originally gave it credit for. Let’s amp it up another notch or two, shall we?”

  Kim just shook her head and glanced at Andreas, who looked petrified but stepped up beside them too.

  They started to charge.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  To Rhona’s terror and delight, their supposed cousin didn’t run. Instead, she had stood there with her small army, waiting with a wicked grin as Rhona and the others came at them.

  They were close now, close enough to see the glint of the blade as it emerged from the woman’s robes, to see the blood drip from the king’s throat as the woman pulled the knife across, dropping the man that Rhona had just learned was her father to the ground. As he collapsed, his eyes moved to Rhona and Alastar. It was enough—whatever madness had been there vanished, his love for them shining out from him. In that moment she felt it. She didn’t just see his look—she actually felt it. One moment she was in the ruins, about to enter into battle, the next she was with Alastar as children, playing with the king. He bounced her on his knee and Alastar climbed onto his back as the man laughed.

  It was a beautiful laugh. It was a fatherly laugh, one filled with the promise of days of joy ahead.

  And this woman had just yanked that away. Rhona filled with rage and broke out of the memory, sweeping forward in full but controlled shadow mode. She was faintly aware of Alastar’s scream as he too emerged from the memory, as well as a blinding light that filled the battlefield to swirl around the king and lift him out of the way of further harm.

  Now she meant to unleash pure hell.

  The sorcerers stepped up to meet her, but all she could do was laugh at their feeble attempts as she tore through them like a cat in a birdcage. Robes fluttered like bird feathers, dropping to the ground as the sorcerers’ souls became forfeit. There wasn’t time for bloodletting. She simply willed the darkness within each of them to take over, to pull at organs and burst hearts, to tear from the inside out like myriad claws and gnashing teeth so that those who survived her first attack were left screaming for a split-second before they were no more. Unrecognizable.

  There were too many Barskall for her to concentrate on at once, and she had only one target in mind anyway. With intense focus she materialized before the woman—her cousin—and stepped forward.

  “Your name, bitch,” Rhona demanded. “I want to know the name of the woman who did this.”

  “Teisha, daughter of Her, the great goddess once known as Lady Mowain. She is a wonderful mother, I’ll have you know, though I understand she hasn’t been the best of aunts to you. I would say I’m sorry, but it worked out for me.” She smiled and shrugged.

  A glance showed that Alastar had cradled the king in his arms and was working his magic, light flying around them in a tornado of brilliance. The others were battling an overwhelming number of Barskall and other fighters this witch had managed to bring with her.

  Rhona knew that what came next would require whatever energy she had remaining. If she was still standing after she killed this Teisha woman, she’d take care of the rest.

  “How is it,” Rhona wondered allowed, “that you and your mother both know light magic? I thought it was a power only of paladins, related to their magic.”

  Teisha sneered as if she enjoyed hearing ignorance. “It started before them, you must realize. In fact, Gildon learned it from my mom, once upon a time, back when true love actually meant something.”

  “You’re twisted, you know that?”

  “Everyone believes they’re the hero of their quest. No one ever truly believes they are evil. Or, rather…most don’t. You might want to spend some long, hard time in front of a mirror reassessing which side of this equation you really fall on.”

  “I’ve seen what your people are capable of. There’s no doubt in my mind.”

  “Then you will die sad and confused, cousin.”

  “I always wondered if I had family out there,” Rhona said, stepping forward and holding out her hands as the surrounding shadows surged around her. “How annoying that on the same day I meet my father and cousin, they might both die.”

  Teisha lunged forward to seize the element of surprise with a burst of light and Rhona finally had the opportunity to prove her brother wrong. Sometimes darkness did quench the light. Her cousin’s attack was engulfed in swirling darkness, and then Rhona thrust her hands forward.

  Tendrils of darkness shot out, slamming into the woman and tearing at her flesh, surrounding her and spinning, lifting her into the air as blood splattered. Yet her eyes glowed golden and light began to shine from her limbs. She was healing nearly as fast as the damage was done.

  Teisha switched to shooting out lighting as before, one burst of light hitting Rhona’s leg and sending searing pain through her nerves, but she pressed her own attack. More lightning came, but the strikes were scattered, misdirected as Teisha lost her focus to the pain, and soon she was surrounded by shadow. Her eyes flashed from lightning to gold, then back—unable to commit. If she had focused less on attack and more on defense or getting the hell out of there, the woman might have had a chance.

  As it was though, there was no way in hell she would survive this.

  Rhona would make sure of that.

  With a final swipe of both hands the shadows dug deep and then exploded outward, leaving only a thin red mist where the woman had been.

  Her own cousin…but that meant nothing to Rhona. Not after what this woman had done to them. She did wonder, however, about this woman’s ability to use light and lighting. It wasn’t completely unheard of, as Estair could apparently use fire and light magic, but it was certainly rare. The chance to ask her about it would never come now. Not unless the droplets of red on the ground could answer for her.

  Next would be Lady Mowain, goddess or not.

  And the thing about gods and goddesses was, lately Rhona’d had a hard time believing in them. After the whole farce with the Order of Rodrick, she certainly wouldn’t believe any walking, talking person or even legends were actual gods. Incredibly powerful mages and sorcerers, sure, but gods? Not a chance.

  Whether there was some greater being, some other presence at work in this world, she would soon find out, she told herself. She would know the answer to that, at least as far as she was concerned, when her father either survived this—or didn’t.

  A clash of steel on steel reminded her that the fight wasn’t over, but when she turned to join in, she saw only a handful of the enemy remaining. Sir Egland, Lars, Kim, and Andreas had quickly dealt with them, while half a dozen others had fled.

  Alastar, meanwhile, continued to hold their father in his arms, head bent over him, lips moving as if in prayer.

  Rhona stepped close, unsure what to do here, and then she collapsed to her knees at his side. Together they held their father, heads bent, hoping or maybe praying—she wasn’t even sure which she was doing—that he would make it.

  A surge of energy went through his body and he opened his eyes again, smiling at them. Once more that magic, if that’s what it was, coursed through her. It was like drinking a warm tea on a cold day, or a cool breeze coming through a window on a warm day. It flowed through her, and an instant later she was with her mother and father, skipping through the palace gardens. Her father bent at their side to show them a particular flower, a purple one w
ith red lines down the center of each petal.

  Rhona had knelt to smell it and been overcome with energy and joy. Her mother began to dance with her while father and son laughed, watching nearby.

  That flower… It had held something magical about it?

  She sprang up, about to run for the palace to fetch it, but her legs buckled and she fell.

  Sir Egland was there a moment later, helping her to sit up. “Rest, princess. Rest.”

  “You don’t understand… A flower, purple, in the garden.”

  He frowned for a moment, then his eyes lit up. “Yes, of course! The king had it replanted in his chambers after your mother… I’ll retrieve it.”

  In spite of how tired he must’ve been, he ran off.

  The others were done and gathered around now while Rhona inspected her father. His throat had mended, but he still looked weak. He had lost a lot of blood, and she knew no healing could make up for that.

  He tried to open his mouth to speak, but only a faint guttural sound emerged. He closed his eyes and a tear emerged, and then he fell back. Rhona’s hand went to her mouth as she stifled her own sob, but then the king’s hands were there, grabbing her arm and Alastar’s, and he pulled himself up to hug them both.

  While she had been sure of it before, at that moment she knew without a doubt that he was their father. He was a fighter, and he wouldn’t die this day. He pointed back the way Sir Egland had run and struggled to his feet. The others had to help them, but soon they were making their way back to the palace. Rhona was filled with joy.

  For now.

  There was still this aunt of theirs out there to be dealt with. There was still the evil wizard, Master Irdin. And all the other bastards who meant to do this land harm.

  They were almost halfway back to the castle when Sir Egland returned with the flower, already mashing it up into a paste in a bowl. A servant in long, brown robes ran beside him telling him how to do it.

  “You’re majesty!” Sir Egland called, and they helped him to sit, then spooned some of the mixture into his mouth.