by Lizzy Ford
Water Spell
Book One, Guardians of the Realm
Lizzy Ford
Contents
Map of the Realm
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Also By Lizzy Ford
About the Author
Water Spell copyright ©2017 by Lizzy Ford
www.LizzyFord.com
Cover Design ©2017 Lizzy Ford
Cover Photography © 2016 Vanya Stoyanova, VLC Photography
Map design © Lizzy Ford
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events; to real people, living or dead; or to real locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.
Map of the Realm
1
“Karav, what are we doing here?” the water mage asked her protector for the second time that night.
Karav sipped his ale, not at all concerned by the distress in the young woman’s voice. If she were in danger or upset to the point he needed to act, he would feel it through the unique bond a mage-warrior shared with his charge. It allowed him to read her emotions and, at times, guess her thoughts. She was annoyed and tired this night, just as he was.
“These people smell worse than the desert dwellers,” she added. “They smell like horses.”
“They do,” he agreed.
“It's because there is no water in this forsaken land to bathe in.”
“It would not be called the Inlands if there were.”
“I’m a water mage. I need water. Why are we here?”
“Quiet,” he ordered.
His ward since she was eight, the moody mage was Karav’s life and heart, a child who grew into a woman while he turned from seasoned to old. At fifty summers, his strikes had begun to slow. At fifty-five summers, he woke up one day to a creaky body and woolly mind. But most concerning to him was the dimming jewel in the hilt of his magic sword that warned him his time had come to step aside and find a stronger guardian to take his place, before his ward’s magic overwhelmed them both and tore her apart.
Gazing around the inne, Karav began to hope he lived forever, despite his tired body. They had crossed the Ruby Channel to this barbaric island in search of someone the priests assured him would not be found in their kingdom. For the past fourteen moons, they had quietly trespassed through two of the four kingdoms located on this island before venturing into the lawless Inlands. Thus far, Karav had failed to find the mage-warrior destined to replace him.
Would they have to cross the Jade Sea to the misty mountains where the Moon King lived on the continent located north of the island kingdoms? Or risk the Topaz Pass to visit the southern continent and journey into the deep deserts, thick forests and wetlands ruled by dragons?
More importantly, could he survive that long?
In those places, as in the island kingdoms, his ward would be admired, if not outright revered.
But in the harsh, land-locked Inlands, where the people acknowledged neither kings nor gods nor priests, and they had no bodies of water large enough to be of value, his ward had no use beyond the pleasure a woman’s body provided one of these savages or the gold she would fetch as a slave.
His time grew short. Karav had found himself wondering if allowing Sela’s magic to sweep them both away was not a better fate than enslaving her to one of the honor-less, bawdy, smelly, leering Inlanders.
“Let’s go,” he said.
The mage was on her feet before he was. If the tavern were not so loud, he knew he would hear her muttering the complaint that had become her mantra.
…dragging me around the countryside, keeping me hidden, forbidding me to speak, let alone go outside alone in a place with no real water …
Karav smiled to himself as they reached the exterior of the run down tavern and exited onto the quiet road.
“… and not even telling me what’s going on!” she finished in a fierce whisper loud enough for him to hear.
There was a part of him far too protective to want to give up his ward, to let any other man feel the connection they had. He adjusted his massive broadsword and slung it to his back once more. Standing two heads taller than any normal man and twice as wide, he made the full-grown woman beside him appear no larger than a child as they moved down the quiet streets of the barbarian town.
The night air smelled of men, bonfire and animals. His mage quieted as they passed a well in the middle of the city. Water made her that way: calm. Their smoothest journeys were those near water sources: lakes, rivers, and ponds. Their worst: the savannahs of the Inland, where there was no water to quell the mage’s restless magic.
She sighed and looked up at him, her hood falling back. Moonlight reflected off her large eyes, two perfect jewels nestled in the pale silk of her face.
“Hood,” he said gruffly.
She obeyed and replaced it.
The priests liked to think a warrior-mage was sworn to the service of a mage. It was an amusing belief to members of the warrior-mage corps themselves, for they knew the opposite to be true. Sworn to protect her well being, Karav nonetheless upheld the long-standing tradition of keeping his mage alive – and in line. Arrogance was a common trait among those mages who understood how powerful they were and who came from noble or royal households.
They passed a few men in the street, and Karav eyed them. Even drunkards wobbled out of the path of the mountain he was. He trusted no one in these Inlands. As long as his ward stayed quiet and hidden, he would have no trouble in a land where size and sword were all that commanded respect.
The mage’s presence left his side, and Karav turned.
The mage stood still, head cocked and eyes closed. It was the stance she took when trying to find them a pond or stream. He respected her instincts enough to give her the space and time to interpret them.
“Is it the well?” he asked.
“No,” she answered thoughtfully. “There is something here, Karav. I cannot pinpoint what, but it has gotten stronger as we have traveled north.”
“An underground lake?”
She shook her head. “It’s not possible, but sometimes, it feels like the ocean. And then it is gone.”
“Perhaps if we continue traveling north, you will find it,” he suggested.
She nodded glumly, and they began walking again.
He did not risk staying in the city, not with its diseases, criminals and the stubborn girl at his side who did not understand her place in a world much different than their own. They walked beneath the moonlight, out of the village and over a hill. Their horses and saddlebags waited for them off the dirt road snaking through grassy hills.
His ward reached out to trace her fingers through the waist-high grasses.
“They move like waves,” she marveled as the breeze rustled by them. “But they’re not.” She added in a hard tone.
“Karav –”
“Soon.”
“You’ve been –”
“I know.”
“Please, I –”
“Soon.”
He felt the yearning in the air around her. She needed a lake or stream to appease her mage blood. Without it, she grew weak and complained too much. He understood, but he had a purpose for being in the Inlands that far outweighed her discomfort. If he did not find her new guardian here, he did not think either of them would survive long enough to find him at all.
Their horses were dozing on their feet when they arrived to the tiny little camp. The mage pushed her hood off and snatched her water bladder out of the saddlebag before handing Karav his. The long braid down her back rippled with her jerky, agitated movements.
“Maybe it’ll rain tonight,” he teased as he did every night.
“It’s not going to rain here, ever!” she retorted. “Even the rain knows to avoid this forsaken place!”
Karav snorted. He stripped off his broadsword and axe with methodical movements, gaze on their surroundings. He slept with daggers and kept the rest of his weapons within arms reach. His eyes went towards the town, which was hidden behind hills.
The priests bade him over a season ago to leave their kingdom to the island to the south, where he would find the mage-warrior meant to take on the water mage. He had obeyed and journeyed all the way until the island’s end, through the kingdoms of Biu and Iliu, then started north again through the Inlands, the only lands among the four island kingdoms no king would touch because of the wildness of those who lived there. Wherever they went, the water mage pulled water to her, creating springs and oases in the desert at the tip of Biu that earned her the respect of the people. Some had gone so far as to claim her as their water goddess.
The nomadic, primitive people of the desert did not have the same kind of regard for women that the Inlanders did. The nomadic leaders were always women, and they had welcomed Sela as both a woman and a mage. Karav had been pleased at first with the thought of finding her a desert protector, one who understood how to survive in the most unforgiving of places and who would treat her gently.
But Karav had not found anyone. Worse, his mage began to think she would be welcomed anywhere and had nearly marched into the first Inland town with her hood down before he ordered her to watch herself. He had a feeling he would find the mage-warrior soon. He only hoped his replacement was a good sort of Inlander, if such a man existed.
“A fire this night?” Sela asked hopefully. She had wrapped the cloak around her. The nights were cold while the days were too warm. Even the Inlander weather was disagreeable.
“Not this night,” he replied.
“Where do we go next?”
“From what I understand, there’s another village a day away.”
Karav spread out one large cloak on the ground then sat. He motioned her to him, as he did every night. His mage came to him and settled against him for warmth and comfort. She had first curled up at his side when she was eight. Vulnerable and sweet in sleep, he had not had the heart to tell her mage-warriors did not cuddle with their wards. Since that first night, she had slept at his side. It became improper when she bloomed into womanhood. Even then, he had not had the heart to tell the teenage mage she could not lay with her back to his. No noblewoman behaved this way.
As the only water mage in existence, she was almost always alone. She had no one but him, and he had no one but her. At one and twenty seasons, she was too old and stubborn to listen to him even if he asked her to sleep elsewhere. And in truth, he had no desire to send the girl who had become his daughter away. When she was close, she was safe.
“Are there really spirits in the grass?” she whispered. She settled beside him on her stomach, hands folded beneath her head.
“So they say,” he said, lying on his back. He gazed up at the clear sky and the bright moon. “They lie in wait for stubborn mages and eat them.”
“I’m not a child anymore, Karav.”
“I am aware.”
“We’ve traveled through fourteen full moons,” she said, rolling onto her back to gaze at the sky. “And still you will not tell me where we go or why.”
“A fool’s journey, I am beginning to believe.”
“What is this fool’s journey? To bring fresh water to the Inlands as we did the deserts and the salty eastern marshes?”
“Nay.”
“We search for something,” she said, able to read him as well as he did her after all their time together.
“As you know.”
“Does not seem right that you can read my mind, but I cannot read yours. I’m the mage and you’re…” The haughty tone was back.
“What?” he growled.
“My sweet warrior,” she said in an innocent voice.
Karav began to think he had never been strict enough with her tongue. He assumed he would be replaced by a man like him: trained by the priests in how to deal with mages. Mages were anxious creatures by nature. Their warriors were calm and patient. But here he was, in the Inlands, seeking out a man who might know nothing of mages and probably viewed women as little more than livestock. The daughter of a prince who spoiled her too much, Sela had never had a reason to curb her honesty and temper.
For the first time in his life, Karav felt something akin to guilt. He had not prepared Sela for the chance she had a guardian who would not understand her or respect her gifts.
He rose quickly, disturbed by his shortsightedness.
“What is it?” his mage asked, alarmed by his movement.
“Stay here.”
He snatched his sword and strode away, around the nearest small hill. She knew the difference between his command and his suggestion and remained where she was.
Karav knelt when he was out of her sight and hearing. He jammed the magic-protected sword, point first, into the ground before him then rocked back on his heels. Only a tiny glow remained in the gem at the center of the wide hilt. When he had first taken over guardianship of Sela, the gem radiated with light so intense, he had to cover it in order to sleep at night. It had faded slowly at first and then quickly, to the point the light representing his life force was impossible to see in daylight.
He bowed his head, acknowledging both his looming death and the last task he had to fulfill before he was released from his duty. He breathed the earthy scents of rustling grass and dirt and focused the tiny bit of magic warriors possessed on the stone in the hilt of his sword. It glimmered blue for his mage’s water magic.
“Have you found him?” a voice that sounded both distant and clear asked. The priests of the warrior order, who managed the mage-warrior corps, were located in the Seat of Vurdu, the island kingdom Karav and Sela were from, across the Ruby Channel.
“No, priest, I have not,” he responded. “I seek your counsel.”
“He will find you soon.”
“I do not have much time,” Karav said in a quieter voice. “The stone grows dim.”
There was a pause. He imagined the priest consulting either another priest or the Runes of Prophecy for advice. At times, he wondered if the Runes were as real as the mage’s code, a set of rules revered by everyone but mage-warriors, who understood the truth. Mages created random rules, usually when they did not want to obey an order, or when they felt threatened. The rules did not exist, but only mages and their warriors knew this secret.
According to the Runes, Karav was never supposed to have been Sela’s guardian at all. He had long since lost some faith in the mystic talk of the priests.
“The Runes claim he is nomadic. Perhaps this is why you have not found him yet. Head north. You will cross his path tomorrow.”
“Is he…” Karav hesitated. “Is he an Inlander, priest?”
“He is the first Inlander to be born a mage-warrior. He has received his Gift of Knowing already and will be compelled to accept his duty.”
Karav breathed a sigh of relief. Each mage-warrior received the Gif
t of Knowing within the season before he took on his first ward. It was secret that bloomed into their minds one night, telling them what they really were and the duty they were fated to perform. It was also laced with an ancient spell no man could oppose. It did not substitute for training, but it would give this Inlander the knowledge that this mage was not a normal woman to be treated as only an Inlander would.
After spending the past moon with the Inlanders, Karav was not entirely certain the knowledge would mean as much to one of them as it would to someone else. But it was better for the Inlander to have the Gift of Knowing than not.
“Very well,” he said reluctantly.
“He must come quickly, for there are always those who would seize her and use her for our enemies. They track you now.”
“I am cautious, priest. We have been followed since we left Vurdu. No one has caught us.”
“You are becoming weak, and they grow bolder. They will not allow you to reach the edge of the Inlands.”
“I am more concerned for this warrior who has not yet appeared. My stone grows dim. My time is nearly gone.”
“You will find him. Since he is not one of ours, you must convey his purpose, and ensure he understands his duty fully. We have allowed you great leniency these fourteen moons, because we knew the importance of finding her guardian. But no successor has stepped forward to claim the High King’s place and unite the kingdoms. The war among the four kings will begin soon, and the mage must be brought home to fight for her king. Ensure the Inlander knows who he serves.”
Karav did not care for the reminder he would miss the first war among the island kingdoms in several generations. His life had been peaceful, and the idea he was close to battle, yet never meant to see it, filled him with sorrow. Worse was knowing his untested mage and her untested warrior would soon be in the middle of a war that had been brewing among the four kingdoms for quite some time.
“You must relay his first command from us: he must be prepared to cross the Jade Sea with her. We have allies awaiting us there.”