“Sleeping for a day and a half, snoring for only the half. Amazing you never once opened your eyes on the trip back home, though we bounced along the roadway,” Anders answered with a grin. “You just kept right on snoring, oblivious.”
“I don't snore,” I said irritably, “you do.” I caught my balance with an awkward lurch moments before falling face forward into the cold wall. “What's all this?” I stared at the crates lined against the cottage wall, shrinking the room even further.
“The first shipment of Marain wine from Elena,” Anders smiled, lifting a glass in salute, “as promised. You look like you could use a hearty taste.”
I shivered as a light cool breeze chilled me. “Can you stir those logs in the fireplace? Please? It's cold in here.”
“Of course.” He poured another glass of the rich wine, handed it to me, and sat opposite the fireplace, feet resting on a pile of embroidered pillows.
“Anders,” I said with mild impatience. “The fire—” And watched in utter confusion as the flames grew higher and burned hotter while Anders sat unconcerned and oblivious in his chair, enjoying the wine.
“How did you do that?” I whispered, eyes wide in shock. “You're a seamage.”
Cool sea-gray eyes held my gaze, the barest, almost imperceptible, hint of mischief in them. The icy draft in the room grew stronger until my hair, disheveled and tangled enough from sleep, was blowing freely.
“You bastard.” I flung the wineglass at his gray-streaked head, but he dodged it. “No wonder you knew so damned much about the Crownmage. You lied to me.”
“I didn't lie, Alex. I just kept the truth from you for a little while. After all, in every one of those hundred thousand questions, you never thought to ask me if I were the Crownmage.”
“Why didn't you tell me?” I demanded, shaking with rage and unexpected betrayal, thinking suddenly of Sernyn Keltie. “I trusted you.”
“Sit, and I'll tell you.”
“Why?”
He sighed as if I were being unreasonable and demanding, though I knew he caught the controlled grief beneath my anger. “My first reason was to wait until I met Elena, and then decide if I should ally myself with her.”
“You met Elena weeks ago.”
“Well, yes. But then you started displaying the most extraordinary, intriguing talent, and, frankly,” he took a deep, lingering sip of wine, “I was afraid you'd use me as an excuse and hold yourself back.”
“I could've been killed at Tucker's Meadow,” I whispered in betrayal. “Carey could've been killed, and Elena would've forfeited her crown. Don't you give a damn for any of us? For me? Or was I just a fleeting source of amusement for you?”
His eyes lost their bemused expression, darkening with apprehension. “Do you think I would've let either of you be hurt, or let Elena lose her crown?” he asked, hand outstretched in a pleading gesture. “If you do, then I've no place here with you. And I want very much to be a part of your life.” I slumped into the chair opposite him. “Do you think I would've let you die?”
“Of course not, you wretched old beast. You'd have lost your most gifted student. But, damnation, Anders, I wish you'd trusted me.”
“Ah, yes. Trust,” he said, rising to pour another glass for me, the playfulness back in his voice. “I trusted you, Alex. Completely.”
I held the glass motionless at my lips, suspicious. “What do you mean?”
He dug into his tunic pocket, searching for something. Pulling a small object free, he tossed it to me. I caught it, and held it before the fire to get a better look. Mother's stolen seamage pendant.
“You bastard.” I hurled the second glass at his head and missed again.
“Your mother had better aim.”
“I'll never trust you again. Rosanna lied to me time and again; Sernyn Keltie betrayed me, and now you—”
He caught my arm as I started to leave the parlor. “You've no reason to trust me again except for the most important reason. Everything I did was for your sake.”
“That doesn't make it right.”
“Alex, listen. Please. I trusted you, far more than you trusted yourself. And you proved yourself beyond my wildest dreams.”
“I proved I can manipulate my talent to almost murder a man and seek vengeance.”
“You proved you can control the talent, and use it when you need to.”
I slipped the pendant over my head and tucked it inside my wrinkled tunic, eye to eye with him. “Anders Perrin, if you ever lie to me again or deceive me, whether or not it's for my benefit, I'll—”
He caught my arms and held me away from him, hands rigid at my side. “You'll do what?” He stretched to kiss me with exaggerated caution.
Flaming hell. I kissed him slowly, deeply, then pulled away to make my point. “Issue Mage Challenge.”
About the Author
Virginia G. McMorrow has worked as an editor/writer for 25 years. Ginny has worked for business publishers as an editor of books, journals, and newsletters in New York City. She has had numerous articles and short stories published. As a playwright, she has also had 15 short one-act plays and one full-length play produced off-off Broadway in a black box theater.
Acknowledgements
Thanks to Cherry Weiner, my agent, and the staff of MuseItUp for all their work
Mage Confusion © 2012 by Virginia G. McMorrow
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
MuseItUp Publishing
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Cover Art © 2012 by Suzannah Safi
Edited by Nancy Bell
Copyedited by Greta Gunselman
Layout and Book Production by Lea Schizas
eBook ISBN: 978-1-927361-78-8
First eBook Edition *February 2012
Production by MuseItUp Publishing
Previously published: Archebooks Publishing 2004
Also Available at MuseItUp Publishing
Rast
A High Fantasy Novel by Christopher Hoare
Imagine the worst possible time, the interregnum while rebelling magic forces slowly kill the reigning Drogar. Prince Egon has to take up the succession as the new sorcerer-king of Rast, and admit the deadly magic into himself in a manner he can control.
Yet Offrangs arrive on the coast, imperialists whose power comes from steam and iron, and who disbelieve in magic. Commander Antar seeks to conquer Rast. Egon has no time for caution, he must act at once.
He also has to help Jady, Guardian of the Silent Forest, escape from the evil Deepning Pools whose resurgence she has thwarted. Even more troubling, he must send his sweetheart away, for she is not from the magic lineage who can bear him an heir. She goes to meet the Princess destined to supplant her, with anger in her heart.
The oracle given by the Pythian, living beneath the Palace of Rast, predicts the crisis can only be resolved by everyone’s efforts––even the actions of enemies––until the Prince is established securely and able to turn the magic’s fury upon itself.
Conflict between materialists and a magic based society; between love and ambition; between magic forces residing within the world itself and the one man destined to control them. Rast leads fantasy into new dimensions.
Excerpt:
The western clouds grew pink, then purple. Jady watched the guardian Krark slither back into the fastnesses of the mountain, but held herself wary against its return. When she felt it safe, she eased out of the cleft of rock and stretched her muscles. The spells of daylight air lessened and grew drowsy; the spells of night—sharper an
d colder in intent—were yet un-birthed by the singing of the Deepning Pools.
Mists crept down the mountain slopes, smelling of snow, of glacier stream, of icebound rock. She shivered at their touch and retired to the shelter of her cleft. The air stilled—not a spell moved. A silence descended, so palpable, it smothered the hollow amid the rocks. A faint glow in the sky told her the moon was about to show its face above the rocky edge. Deepning would become more active under its influence. She held her breath.
The first silver beam arrowed between the castellated rocks and lit upon the surface. The pool transformed into greater magic life; the swallowing blackness gave way to an inner glow. Jady could not describe the color of that internal light—it had no name, no likeness. It illuminated nothing save itself, it tinted nothing. Under heaven and earth, no thing was of that ghostly hue. Only by outlining a creature’s silhouette would it serve her purpose.
The night spells spilled from the luminous surface and gathered against the darkness of the sky. These silver motes echoed the emerging stars, and swirled around the moon’s pale face in circle dance. They did not hurl themselves against the gossamer net, but hovered above the cleft of rock, in wait for Jady’s protective screen to falter or fall away in sleep. She squeezed her eyes tight three times, to banish such betrayal.
As the moonbeams marched across the land, shadows moved amid the dark boulders of the rocky vale. Silently, a troop of Krachins came creeping down the hollow, their matted, tangled hides carrying the smell of wet corpses. At the edge of pool she heard their whispered, urgent chant, in a language few but the Soulingas learned. The faint moonlight revealed their movements—dancelike steps in rustic rhythm against the bare shore of the pool. The creatures clustered in a group, and then spread apart. Forward and back they bowed and stamped. They raised their arms to the white face of moon. They circled like animated sacks of rannin, and all the while in chant repeated—Dellor i Dast, Dellor i Druth, Hurrudnikkan i Druth i Dast!
In greater urgency they trooped—faster, more insistent. The chant grew louder. One of their number fell down, shaking in a trance. They shortened their circle, stamped their naked feet in unison and boomed out in greater voice.
Hurrudnikkan i Druth i Dast!
They fell in turn upon the quivering male and embraced his trembling limbs, breathing greater agitation into his mouth, his nose, his ears. Then all jumped back and raised their forelimbs to the moon—i Dast! i Dast! The shaking one trembled and twitched upon the strand—the convulsion intensifying, before it gradually calmed.
The troop fell back—in silence. No creature moved on the dark strand, only moonlit Deepning spells flashed around in breathless air. Jady saw the shaking one rise up. She could not see clearly in the darkness, but knew no flesh and bone supported him. Alone, he began to walk. She saw him silhouetted against the Pool’s strange glow and reached for her bow, setting the crystal tipped arrow in the notch.
Over the strand he went. Over the mire, neither mud nor earth. As his first footstep reached the essence of the Pool, he did not sink. The Pool bore him up. He took another faltering step.
Slowly, Jady pulled back the arrow and laid the feather against her cheek.
Three steps; now four—and from beneath the surface of the Pool a tumult of flickering light intensified. Six steps—and the surface erupted. The sacrificial male let out a scream as the essence of the Pool rose up about him. His feet no longer stepped steadily upon the surface, but flinched and danced as if he walked on fire. His limbs slowly submerged into the rising Pool, jerking spasmodically, smothered in a torment of lightning. From above, the moon-spells broke away one by one and plunged down upon him. Each spell fed upon the Krachin, but kept his spirit whole within his tortured flesh. Jady knew living sacrifice was the only answer to the common prayer of creature troop and Pool. This, was the moment she had come for.
She pulled her bow to its greatest extent and took a careful aim. No hatred rested in her heart to send the speeding arrow accurately on its way. In love, and in compassion the arrow flew free. Like a sibilant breath it went—taking the sacrifice deep within his heart.
The Deepning Pool drew back with a lightning crash. Clouds like a fog of pitch covered the feeble light of moon. The interior glow of the Pool blazed up, and in its rage it turned to colors Jady could not bear to look upon. Eruptions of the surface flamed as if filled with boiling lava—almost red, then green like the eyes of demons. A wild flickering—blue, then nameless—red, then nameless—the entire hollow lay transfigured by the blinding light. On the strand, the Krachins fell back in terror. The moon spells drew up upon a height and flashed a silver rage. The liquid essence of the Pool boiled and thrashed. The air filled with the thunderous roar of a hundred angry Krarks. Bellows of rage echoed from canyon to canyon, crag to crag. Jady drew her dagger and clasped it as a child to her breast. She withdrew into her cleft and held even the slightest whisper of her breath.
The myriad spells circled faster, seeking the thief of Deepning’s sacrifice.
* * * *
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Table of Contents
Title page
Back Cover
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
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
EPILOGUE
About the Author
Acknowledgements
Also Available at MuseItUp Publishing
Mage Confusion (Book 1) Page 24