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

by Justin Sloan

  The remaining paladins, seeing Alastar on one side and Stone, Gerin and the others on the other side, finally bent the knee; all but Taland, whom they soon learned had stayed at Laird Summers’ manor with his new goddess, Lady Mowain.

  Kia watched as the other groups led by Laird Summers routed the soldiers. Soon none of the enemy soldiers were fighting back, instead dropping their weapons and falling to their knees in surrender.

  “We’ve done it. We really have!” Kia exclaimed.

  The others smiled, appreciating the moment. There was still the supposed goddess to deal with, but the immediate danger was over.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The clans and the king of Gulanri marched to the one spot they knew the enemy to still be—Laird Summers’ manor. They had taken the ships, pushed to haste by Andreas, and then cut across the land. Even with the magic, it had taken the whole day to reach this point. The paladins who had surrendered now stood with Alastar, having sworn new oaths to him.

  He trusted these men despite their past actions, because he knew their oaths had bound them. Now they knew the truth; he had explained it on the journey up here.

  The warriors and mages were quite the sight, arrayed as they were outside the manor. Men in fluttering robes, paladins and the Ghostland clan in their white tatters, the latter the most intimidating of all because few knew of them and many had heard various stories of terror.

  And then there was the king, standing with his Royal Guard in gold and blue, his crown glimmering in the moonlight as he stepped to the front of the group.

  “Attention, inhabitants of the Summers Manor,” the king called, a wind mage amplifying his voice and carrying it to the building. “This is the end. You may join us or die at our hands. There are no other options.”

  No response came until finally the downstairs door burst open and out came one man. He had a disheveled head of blond hair, armor that might have once been white but was now dirtied, and a cloak so torn that it barely hung in shreds.

  Alastar stepped forward, confused at the sight. “Taland?”

  It was indeed Taland, though he had never looked worse. A crazed hatred occupied his eyes, and he drew his sword as he staggered toward Alastar.

  “You! You did this!” He pointed the sword at Alastar. “We were part of something grand, and you betrayed your order for them! For demons! Evil, putrid, nasty little things, these witches and warlocks.”

  “Don’t speak of my friends so,” Alastar demanded, stepping from the crowd so that it was just the two of them. “The ones you have aligned yourself with, are they any better?”

  “It’s all clear now,” Taland replied, staring at the ground as if there were an image he could see there. “My goddess, all of it was for Her. She is so much more than Rodrick, so much more than anything we ever believed. Sir Gildon knew it all along, and now I alone stand to pass this message to you. She may have left for now, but it’s only to regroup, to pull together larger forces than you could ever comprehend. She might have misjudged you all, but not again. When you next meet, She will crush you beneath Her heel.”

  “And yet she’s demoted you to a common messenger boy?” Alastar shook his head. “You can still be done with this, friend. Join us and fight for justice. For honor.”

  Taland spat on the ground, narrowed eyes rising to meet Alastar’s. “I choose glory in the knowledge that you won’t live to see tomorrow.”

  He strode forward, sword raised. A mage began to move his hands, but Alastar shouted, “No, this is between him and me.” He turned to the king and waited for his nod of approval, then drew his sword and stepped forward.

  The sword burst into white flame that coursed across the metal like waves of pulsating energy. The Sword of Light had come to life to fight against the darkness, and whether it drew on his magic or some power of its own, Alastar felt at one with the sword. He knew it wouldn’t let him down.

  Taland charged, and Alastar met him in the middle of the courtyard. The Sword of Light moved to meet Taland’s great broadsword, but instead the Sword of Light cut through the other blade, cleaving its steel in two. The top fell to the ground, steel still burning bright. It was as if Taland hadn’t truly expected anything better; Alastar knew this new goddess of his hadn’t been exactly kind. He was a broken man, so when Taland turned with the glowing hot hilt of his sword and lunged, Alastar simply stepped back twice so he was out of range.

  “Last chance, brother,” Alastar offered. “We forgive you. We accept you.”

  “Take your forgiveness and shove it up your arse,” Taland shouted, spittle flying. He threw the sword hilt and thrust out a hand so that a blinding light surprised Alastar.

  As much as he wanted to be done with this in a less violent way, Alastar wasn’t about to let this son of a bitch score any points against him and his friends, so he turned, calling on his healing powers as he did so, and brought his sword up and around. His eyes had healed enough to see the silhouette of Taland head down and charging him. With a heavy heart, Alastar continued the attack and brought the sword down after a sidestep, the blade severing the traitor’s neck.

  Taland’s head went rolling as his body flopped to the ground beside Alastar. He held the sword out with a heavy heart, then stuck it into the ground beside his former brother-in-arms’ corpse as he dropped to his knees and bent his head.

  Boots crunched on dirt and he looked up to see Bale at his side. The paladin removed his gold cloak and wrapped the head in it, then Stone and Gerin were there lifting the body.

  “We’ll bury him in the hills,” Stone said, nodding to the darkness.

  A glance at Laird Summers and a nod from him, and Alastar agreed. He stood and said, “I would like to dig the grave myself.”

  Laird Summers sent two of his men to find shovels, and soon it was over. Alastar had buried the man. Larick and Volney searched the manor with their minds, and the king sent soldiers out to check the grounds just to be certain, but there was no sign of any enemy nearby.

  It seemed Taland had spoken truly about Lady Mowain returning north to regroup. Hubris likely wouldn’t lead her to defeat twice, so in the big battle to come Alastar and the others would have to be certain to overwhelm her forces with skill and strategy.

  They gathered in the great hall and Laird Summers let loose the cellars with stores of wine and mutton—what remained that Lady Mowain’s army hadn’t consumed. The celebration of their victories was combined with their planning for the battle to come.

  Lars, along with Kim and Andreas, agreed they would set out in the morning, taking the small ship to return home. They needed to warn the Kaldfell Peninsula in case this goddess or the Dark Society made a move on them. On the way home they would stop by Leila’s clan and warn them, and ask them to join in the march north. Leila would then, they hoped, spread word to the other clans so that they would all be ready to join the final battle.

  “How will we find my sister-in-law?” the king asked. He was sitting at the high table beside Laird Summers. “This supposed goddess.”

  “Perhaps she’ll be waiting for us,” Laird Summers replied. “It might not be hard at all. Then again, it’s possible she’ll want us to pursue her so that she can catch us unawares.”

  “Then we must find a way to bring the battle to her on our terms.”

  “I believe I have an answer for that,” Alastar said. His eyes shone gold and he lifted a hand, waving it to call his light fairy. She appeared and danced over their heads; all eyes in the room followed her and silence filled the room. “You see, we’ve recently learned that this so-called goddess, Lady Mowain, is a relative. She’s my aunt as well as the woman who killed her sister—my mother, the king’s wife…the queen of Gulanri.”

  A long pause followed, during which the men and women in the great hall muttered in awe at this news and the king nodded to confirm it.

  “I’m…sorry for your loss,” Laird Summers stated. “But how does that help us find her?”

  “My bro
ther’s magic forms connections with those he has relationships with, and it’s especially strong with relatives,” Rhona answered.

  Alastar stood and focused on this aunt of his, and immediately the fairy went for the northern window, flying around it as if beckoning him to follow. “In the morning, friend,” he said to the fairy, knowing she wasn’t a real being but enjoying the sense of her nonetheless.

  “When do we go?” Kia asked from her place beside Donnon.

  The room filled with laughter, which lasted until the king raised his hands for silence. “Many in this room know of the courage of this girl. From what I hear, she was a large reason for our victory.”

  Everyone turned to her with new levels of respect in their gaze.

  She just smiled and said, “Hey, all I want is to see my enemies burn. Is that so odd for a girl to ask?”

  “It would be for another girl,” Donnon said, standing next to her and resting a hand on her shoulder, “but not you. No one here will ever underestimate you again. As much as I worry about you, I saw today that you will be one of our greatest resources in this battle to come.” He stared at her, beaming with pride, and then turned to the room. “Let me repeat my daughter’s question. When do we go?”

  “Rest tonight,” the king answered. “In the morning, the united land of Gulanri and Roneland ride out to remove this plague. They want a war to end all wars? Let’s give it to them!”

  Cheers erupted, and Alastar found excitement rising in him, bursting through his cheers as he pounded the table. He watched Rhona as she stood with Donnon and Kia, forming a family of sorts, and it was beautiful. Estair was at his side and took his hand, squeezing it with a smile of encouragement.

  But for now, he just wanted to get reacquainted with his father. He was pleased when the others started to trickle out, and the King motioned to Alastar and Rhona, and the two excused themselves, joining him out on the balcony.

  It was a beautiful night, moonlight gleaming on the tree leaves and surrounding hills. A gentle breeze brought with it the scent of the country, as if nothing wrong had ever come to this place.

  “Lady Mowain,” the King said, shaking his head. “That’s what she goes by nowadays?” He turned stern eyes to his children. “She’s dangerous, and I couldn’t stand to lose either of you, not again.”

  “Your highness—” Alastar started, still not fully used to the idea of family like this yet, but the King held up a hand.

  “Father, please. Even Dad.”

  Alastar smiled. “Dad,” he tried it out, loving how it sounded, “The last two people you need to worry about are us.”

  “That’s convenient for me, then,” he replied with a chuckle. “But I mean it. I know you have to put yourselves in harm’s way, but if it comes down to it, there’s no shame in pulling back and waiting for reinforcements.”

  Alastar nodded, ignoring Rhona’s roll of her eyes.

  “You have something you’d rather discuss?” their father asked her.

  For a moment Rhona just stared at him, then folded her arms, then unfolded them and asked, “What was she like?”

  “Your mother?” The King set his drink aside, careful so that it wouldn’t fall over the railing. “The most kind, loving, smart, and beautiful woman I’d ever met and ever will meet. And damn stubborn too, I mean it. When anyone got in her way, she wouldn’t take it. Hell, if she were alive today, this war would already be over.”

  “We’ll take care of that part,” Rhona said with a distant smile.

  Alastar nodded in agreement.

  “Is this what you wanted us out here for?”

  The king assessed them, then shook his head. “Actually, no. I’ve missed so much of your lives, I was hoping you could take the time to fill me in on the details. Come, let’s sit. Tell me everything.”

  Alastar laughed, and then said, “If you promise to follow suit.”

  The King’s eyes had a loving, fatherly gleam to them as he said, “It’s a deal.”

  And so they talked, sharing stories amongst the three of them throughout the night. They laughed, told stories, and couldn’t get enough of the moments that followed. Without a doubt, Alastar thought as he looked at first his sister, then his father, and then thought about his other friends and warriors, mages and others within the manor.

  Together, they would see evil destroyed.

  He was certain of it.

  Author Notes - Justin Sloan

  September 16, 2017

  You have now joined me in the fight against the Dark Society and an evil goddess—I hope you stand with me to defeat our enemies in Book four! I’ve enjoyed fighting alongside Rhona, Alastar, and the others, and especially Kia. I don’t know what it is that draws me to younger characters being especially badass, but this book has certainly helped me fulfill this passion of mine.

  In part, maybe it ties back to my youth. My parents divorced when I was ten years old, and I looked to creativity a lot for dealing with that. I would draw quite a lot, and made comics. They were often about heroes going out to fight bad guys, including this one silly story about a group of young characters that goes to space through a portal, but one of them is missing. They find a unicorn, and later learn the missing member of their group was transformed into this unicorn. The point there being that I loved telling these stories of younger protagonists even back then, maybe because I was depressed and wanted to see characters my age out there making magic happen. Killing their enemies, conquering their demons, and having a good ol’ time. Maybe I’ll write a version of that story for you all someday. Wouldn’t that be a fun way of rewarding my younger self for sticking with it? I’ll figure out how to send it back in time and say, “Look at what we’ve done!”

  I really feel that way, too, thanks to you all. I mean it—if I could go back to that younger version of myself and tell him about you all and the love you’ve shown to me and my writing, that little guy would burst into tears of joy. I’m certain of it, and not just because I was an emotional wreck at times. I was also easily inspired. I watched Braveheart and The Princess Bride AT LEAST a hundred times each, and loved them equally every time (and that stays true to this day). It’s the inspiration, motivation, and sense of love, justice, and all that jazz that does it for me.

  The other part of why I get into young heroes I’ve spoken of before. It’s that there are so many amazing stories that do so wonderfully. Harry Potter inspired the whole world, children and adults. Game of Thrones has Arya Stark, who is like nine or eleven in the stories, but becomes a fan favorite early on. Percy Jackson is great. There’s a girl in this book The Scorpio Races… I dare you to read that and not fall in love with her.

  I think many of us love this idea of young people proving that they’re as capable as adults, for reasons like I’ve listed here or for your own reasons. Maybe some of us still feel like children in our hearts, so we can more easily relate to these characters? I know that when I’m at Disneyland with my kids, I certainly feel that way. Thanks to you all, I was able to take the whole family there recently, and it was one of the great moments in my life. Call me cheesy and stupid, commercial, or whatever you want, but I can honestly say I will feel so much more fulfilled on my death bed (hopefully a long way in the future) because of that moment. Being able to see the joy in my children’s eyes as they watched the fireworks, the water show, got to hug the characters from stories they love…it was a dream come true.

  All of this is really to say thank you. If not for Michael Anderle bringing me into this world of the Kurtherian Gambit and the Age of Magic, I wouldn’t have been able to go fulltime, and I wouldn’t have been able to focus on writing to the degree that I have been. These books are my best friends, and you all are my family. We all get to spend time together, and I’m overjoyed. When you send your emails telling me how much you enjoy the stories, it touches me deeply. I’ve gotten to know some of you more than I do people I have met in person and called friends for years. Isn’t that powerful?

 
And I’ve heard some authors don’t reply to you all! That astounds me. I get that some people just want to write stories and hide in their basement dungeons, but that doesn’t really make sense to me. I love connecting with readers and hearing how stories impacted you. It makes all this feel that much more worth it. Worth the sleepless nights and many hours put into writing. Worth the time analyzing our own lives, sorrows and joys, so that we can use them in stories. Worth exposing ourselves to the criticism and negative reviews we might receive.

  I’m going to sit back and sigh, thinking about how blessed I am to live this life and to have found you all. And with that, I’ll say again, thank you readers, thank you Michael Anderle, thank you Chris and Lee, thank you great authors who have inspired me… And thank you to my wife and children for being so supportive and encouraging.

  I love this life, and hope this story has brought you a little bit of that joy. Or a whole lot, as would be preferable. STAY TUNED, because the next one is right around the corner.

  PS: if I sounded emotional in this author note, it’s because I’m being sincere, but also because I was listening to the Les Mis soundtrack as I wrote the end of the book and the author notes. Man, those songs are emotional! Lol. Take care, and thank you for taking the time to read the book and author notes.

  PPS: One more thing… There’s now a Facebook group for fan fiction in the Kurtherian Universe, if you want to join us there. It hasn’t really gotten off the ground yet, but maybe you can help us out with that! https://www.facebook.com/groups/TKGFansWrite/

  Author Notes - Michael Anderle

  September 17, 2017