The Challenge: Circle of Conspiracy Trilogy (Artesans Series Book 4)
Page 1
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Maps
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Glossary
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Other Books
Published by Albia Publishing 2014
eBook Edition
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume responsibility for author or third party websites or their content.
Copyright ©2014 by Caroline Peace
Editing by Diane Dalton
Cover art by Mikey Brooks, www.insidemikeysworld.com
Author photo by Dave Peace
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Visit Cas Peace at her author website: www.caspeace.com
Praise for Trilogy One, the Artesans of Albia series:
“Cas Peace's Artesans of Albia trilogy immediately sweeps you away: the drama starts with King's Envoy, continues unabated in King's Champion, and climaxes in King's Artesan, yet each volume is complete, satisfying. The Artesan series propels you into a world so deftly written that you see, feel, touch, and even smell each twist and turn. These nesting novels are evocative, hauntingly real. Smart. Powerful. Compelling. The trilogy teems with finely drawn characters, heroes and villains, and societies worth knowing; with stories so organic and yet iconic you know you've found another home—in Albia.”
~Janet Morris: author of The Sacred Band of Stepsons;
the Dream Dancer series; I, the Sun; Outpassage.
+ + + + +
“Cas Peace has a most beguiling method of pulling you into this very well thought out world she has created. You simply fall in love with her characters, and then you cannot put the book down.”
~P C Dodge, Amazon Reviewer.
+ + + + +
“If you enjoy being whisked away to the realm of fantasy, I strongly suggest this unique, special read! Hands down, one of the best fantasy series I have ever read!”
~Ashley L. Knight, author of FALWYN
+ + + + +
“I have just loved this entire series. Cas Peace is a master storyteller, providing a depth and breadth of information about her worlds and their people that is just staggering. Her characters are complex and multi-dimensional, and I have very much enjoyed reading this series. I am also looking forward with great anticipation to her next novel in this series. I heartily recommend this series to anyone who enjoys epic fantasy, strong world-building, and beautiful storytelling. Highly recommended!”
~K Sozaeva, Amazon Vine Voice and Top 1000 Reviewer.
Dedication
To my brother, David Snell, and to David Shepherd (NTN). Many thanks for all your help with the songs associated with these books. Here’s to their success!
Chapter One
Taran Elijah stood in the warmth of the evening sun, contemplating the building before him. High King Elias’s new Artesan College was finally finished. The Adept sighed in contentment as he watched the setting sun gild the soft gray stone of the College walls.
He still found it hard to believe that a mere fifteen months ago he had been a directionless drifter, desperately seeking the unobtainable. Yet here he was, a founding member of what would hopefully become the foremost center of learning for every Albian Artesan. He knew his good fortune was due to one very special person.
As if summoned by his thought, he heard her musical murmur. “Do you still find it as incredible as I do, Taran?”
He had not heard her come up behind him. The feather-light touch on his arm made him smile, although the contact was fleeting. She knew that the slightest brush of her hand could set his senses tingling with reactions he could barely control, and she would never deliberately cause him distress.
He turned to look at her and the sight made his heart leap, as always.
Since wedding her soul mate, Robin Tamsen, nine months ago, Brynne Sullyan had grown in both presence and beauty. Now that she was back to full fitness after her ordeals in Andaryon and with Rykan’s Staff, she exuded a glowing vitality. As usual, her wealth of tawny hair was braided around her head. Her soft, cream-colored shirt was tucked loosely into her combat leathers, and her sword rode at her right hip. Her battle-honors, triple-thunderflash rank insignia, and King’s Envoy shooting star glittered over her left breast, catching the sun’s last rays. The fire opal at the open neck of her shirt spat red sparks in time with her heartbeat.
Taran’s breath caught in his throat and he knew she could sense his desire. She had told him it wouldn’t be easy, working so closely together, and she was right. Yet he would bear the pain of knowing she could never be his and take what she could give him: her friendship, her loyalty, and her training. He could bear much for that.
He smiled down at her—her head only reached the level of his shoulder—and replied, “I could never have dreamed things would turn out like this. I only wish my father had lived to see it. It was his dream too, you know, a recognized training center where Artesans could learn in safety. Had it existed when he was alive, I would have been spared a lot of pain and anguish.”
She flashed him a knowing glance.
“Ah, but Taran, without that pain and anguish we might never have met. Think what we would have missed.”
He grinned.
“True. But I still wish my father had swallowed his pride and told me about his visit here all those years ago. If he had only been able to admit he had asked for help, things might have turned out quite differently.”
She gave a small shrug. “We could ponder the ‘what if’s’ all night, my friend. Things have turned out well enough and I for one am happy to accept them. Now, will you help me check that the College is ready for the King’s visit next week? The General will have my hide if Elias finds fault with our preparations.”
Taran feigned outrage. “He wouldn’t dare!”
Sullyan laughed, not bothering to ask whether he meant the King or the General.
Taran followed her into the single story College and they began checking the rooms, enjoying the smell of fresh plaster and new paint, taking in the quiet air of contemplation and study they already seemed to exude. Sullyan hoped that more and more pe
ople would get to hear of the College as the King’s endorsement of Artesans became more widely known. Maybe then Albians would begin to send their gifted children to the College for training instead of ignoring or suppressing their talents.
“Check the rest of the study rooms, will you, Taran? I want to test the spellsilver in the healer suite. Let me know if you catch any hint of my psyche while I am there.”
The College infirmary had been specially designed for housing Artesans. While it was rare for Artesans to be injured in the course of their training, in an environment where students of all ages and levels of experience would be thrown together, accidents were bound to happen. With this in mind, Sullyan had specified that spellsilver should be incorporated into the walls of the healer suite. This should ensure that any inadvertent substrate surges would be contained, protecting the other students.
Taran nodded as she left him, and he continued checking the rooms, finally pausing in the one devoted to the understanding of Fire. This was his current area of study. As Artesan Adept he had mastery over Earth and Water, but if he wanted to raise his status to Adept-elite, he had to learn to influence Fire.
A year ago, he had watched Robin pass his test of Fire to become a Master Artesan. Having felt Robin’s strength that day, Taran hadn’t believed he would ever wield that much power himself.
Under Sullyan’s careful teaching and Robin’s guidance, however, he was growing in skill and confidence. He was reaching a point where he felt that mastery over Fire might not actually be beyond him. The technique of creating a Firefield was his next goal.
*****
Leaving Taran to his musing, Sullyan passed the empty study rooms and moved toward the rear of the building. She trod silently, as was her custom, and so the thin young man standing just inside the healer suite didn’t hear her approach. As she stepped through the doorway he seemed to be contemplating the walls, deep in thought.
She frowned. One hand touched the hilt of her sword as she said, “Captain Parren, what are you doing here?”
He spun round. The color drained from his face, making the long scar down his right cheek stand out starkly. Never a handsome man, the scar gave him a rakish air that gained him no favor with the ladies. It was one of many grievances he harbored against Sullyan, and she knew he yearned to exact revenge.
He recovered his composure and replied stiffly. “I was merely indulging my curiosity, Colonel. I was not aware of any restrictions regarding entry.”
He managed to look her in the eye as he spoke, although she could sense his courage wavering under the flatness of her stare. She felt him trying to overcome this fear, but it was too deeply rooted, went back too far. The fact that she knew this inflamed his hatred even more.
She regarded him silently before asking, “And have you satisfied your curiosity, Captain? Do you have any questions?”
He flushed. He had clearly not intended to be discovered, thinking himself safe at this hour. Something sly surfaced in his eyes and her heart leaped, wondering if he was going to attack her. But then it faded and he backed down. “I have no questions, Colonel. I wish you good fortune in this new venture and I hope all goes well with the King’s visit. Now, if you will excuse me, I have duties to attend.”
He gave the obligatory salute and stalked past her, nearly colliding with Taran in the doorway as he left. The Adept stared after him before giving Sullyan a quizzical look. “What did he want?”
Her eyes narrowed. “A good question, my friend. Who can say with that one?” Her gaze fell on him. “He will bear watching. I fear his dissatisfaction and hatred are growing, especially after being passed over for promotion last summer.”
“From what I heard he only has himself to blame for that,” the Adept replied. “But why does he hate you and Robin so much?”
Her eyes flickered. “Parren is ruled by ambition and envy, Taran. His animosity is rooted deep in the past and is not something I wish to discuss. Now, will you go outside and close the door and tell me if you can sense any contact through the spellsilver?”
Summarily dismissed, Taran obeyed, but she knew his curiosity had been piqued.
Chapter Two
Three days later, Sullyan was sitting in her office with Robin and Bull. They were drinking fellan and discussing a training mission in Andaryon, involving a joint exercise with a company of the Hierarch’s forces.
Since the forging of an alliance between Elias of Albia and Pharikian of Andaryon, traffic had started passing between the two realms, for reasons of both trade and military cooperation. The two forces were getting to know each other well and racial prejudices were fading, gradually turning to respect. The respect might be grudging at times, and there was still outright hostility from one or two factions, but little by little relations were improving.
Bull, lounging comfortably in one of the room’s few easy chairs, had given his opinion on which company would benefit most from the planned exercise. Sullyan watched in silence as Robin, between sips of fellan, argued the various points with his old friend. His handsome features were animated and his indigo eyes flicked frequently to hers. She, as usual, was withholding her judgment, enjoying listening to them pick over the details. Once they finished, she would weigh the points raised and tell them her decision.
Robin started to ask her opinion, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. At Sullyan’s invitation to enter, a young lad appeared. She smiled warmly at the Manor’s youngest Artesan Apprentice and said, “What is it, Tad?”
The tow-headed lad, now fourteen and full of new-found confidence due to his status, snapped a very creditable salute.
“The King sends his compliments, Colonel, and asks that you receive his messenger.”
She stood, drawing the two men with her. “Send her in, Cadet.”
High King Elias Rovannon was known for his radical policies, policies not always fully supported by his counselors and court, and his latest innovation was the formation of a runner network set up to facilitate the speedy delivery of his personal messages. When mooted, the idea was welcomed until Elias revealed that the runners he intended to recruit would primarily be women.
His reasoning, that there were more women available since men filled most of the other posts, and that women were lighter than men, meaning they could ride faster and change horses less frequently, was forced upon his court, and so the messenger ushered in by Tad was a young woman in her twenties.
Sullyan knew that if Elias got his wish there would eventually be a far more efficient and secure messenger network covering the land. He understood how using trusted Artesans could transform the way the country was run, and not simply in the field of communications. His goal was to convince the people to trust Artesans, and his College was the first step toward its achievement. Until he succeeded, his runner system was the only means of guaranteeing speedy communications.
Sullyan greeted the runner respectfully. “Will you take refreshment?”
The woman, who introduced herself as Lyanda, gratefully accepted the mug of steaming fellan Bull held out to her. She sank into a chair, weary from having ridden nonstop from the capital. Once she had taken a few sips, she reached into her jacket and handed a slim package to Sullyan.
Sullyan only briefly glanced at the unbroken seal. Runners were trusted and loyal, and also well trained in the defense of their duty, knowing how to use the light swords they bore. She spread the parchment on the table before her and Robin immediately leaned over her shoulder. Bull also moved around until he could read the King’s script. Lyanda’s face showed mild surprise at such openness, but Sullyan kept no secrets from either her life mate or her oldest friend. All three of them read the King’s words.
My dear Brynne, the letter began, its informality typical of Elias when addressing his friends. I trust this finds you in good health and that the arrangements for the inauguration of the new College are proceeding according to plan.
I had it in mind that when I returned to Port Loxton after
the ceremony I would bring back my new colt, Darius, as you indicated in your last letter that his training is all but complete. However, it has been brought to my attention that our annual fair and horse race, which will be held four days from when you receive this, would be an ideal venue for testing his mettle and quality.
Therefore, I am requesting that you bring him to court in time for the fair. You can return to the Manor with me when I come to conduct the inauguration ceremony at the end of next week.
I have dispatched a second message to Lord Blaine, asking him to release you from your duties, and I will expect you at court within the next few days.
The parchment was signed with Elias’s usual illegible scrawl, but there was also an equally informal postscript.
Be sure you don’t tire Darius on the way, Brynne. I intend to win the cross-country race on him!
Sullyan smiled. Every year during the fair, Elias held a special cross-country horse race in the castle grounds. Every year, he won it.
Bull snorted. “He wouldn’t stand a chance if you entered on Drum.”
Sullyan glanced at him, mischief in her eyes. The colt in question was only three and a half years old and not likely to be a match for her warhorse. At six years old, Drum was in his prime.
Her grin widened. “Now, there is a thought.”
Robin looked scandalized. “You can’t do that, Sullyan. Think how it would look if you beat the King in his own race!”
Sullyan glanced at Lyanda and the two women shared a smile. “King Elias may be passionate about racing, but I have heard he is also a good sport,” the runner said.
“I have heard that too,” said Sullyan, the light of challenge in her eyes. Robin, recognizing the look, shook his head in mock despair. “But that aside, gentlemen,” she continued, “this means I will be unable to join your exercise. You will have to take my place, Bull, to stand for Robin and see that my orders are carried out.”