GRAND REDEMPTION
JESSAMYN KINGLEY
Copyright © 2015 Jessamyn Kingley
All Rights Reserved
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Cover Design: © L.J. Anderson, Mayhem Cover Creations
Editor: BubbleCow
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Table of Contents
Prologue
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
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
About the Author
Prologue
1367, Castle Mallent
The wind howled and moaned outside the large castle as Latarian made her way down the curved stone staircase. The castle was not new, and the stones beneath her feet were well worn. They were also cold; she felt the chill even through the protection of the soft shoes she wore upon her feet. She braced a hand against the wall and made her way carefully down the stairs. Though she was not fond of entering this part of the castle, her grandfather had insisted she make the journey. Latarian never ignored the requests of her beloved grandfather.
Finally making her way to the bottom of the steps, she held her candle aloft as she tread lightly through the darkened hall. At the end of the hall she found a large wooden door, it took the weight of her entire body to open it. Latarian was grateful that she had managed the task without setting her dress aflame. She stepped into the nearly dark room and felt her spirits rise as her eye immediately caught the welcome visage of the man who was the center of her world.
“Grandfather, I was so happy to receive your summons. I was not expecting you to return for many months,” Latarian exclaimed.
“You know I always long to see you, my dear. But I am afraid it is bad tidings I have brought you,” Carvallius told her, as he took her cold hands and bussed her cheek. A powerful and, therefore, busy man, Latarian was always appreciative of his infrequent visits.
“Bad tidings? What is amiss?” she asked, as he released her and she watched as he began pacing the barely lit room. Latarian wondered, as she often did, why he preferred this room over all others at the castle. It lacked warmth, and the furnishings were austere and dark.
“It is the cwylld elven. They are demanding tribute from the Grand Warlock. Should he not give them the land and gold that they seek, no doubt it shall come to war.” Latarian could do naught else but gasp at the news. The cwylld elven were a savage race that would surely destroy the Coven of Warlocks if given the chance, she could only hope that her grandfather could do something to prevent such an atrocity.
“You will go to Grand Warlock T’Eirick? Surely you can make him see that a war with the cwylld elven would not favor the warlocks?” Her grandfather always lamented in his letters that the Grand Warlock rarely listened to reason, but surely this time would be different. The cwylld elven were well known to have a way of absorbing the power of others and therefore having an advantage magically that was unmatched. It did not matter that no race had more magic than that of warlocks; the cwylld elven would use that power against them and add them to the ever-growing list of races they gleefully destroyed.
“I am headed to his castle directly. I hope to arrive before he leaves to take this dire news to that of the Council of Sorcery. The council leaders should not be burdened by the failure of our leader to protect his people,” Carvallius said with a sneer. He had no fondness for the Council of Sorcery, despite the fact that it had been their leader who had united willing magical races with the hope of bettering all of them. It was the eventual goal of the council to provide laws to govern all of them and to provide a united front to the world. Thus far, the leaders that had joined the council seemed unwilling to cede any of their power. They had not even managed to provide any treaty to protect council races, should any of them feel threatened. Grand Warlock T’Eirick was the only leader willing to concede his power to the council, and Carvallius believed T’Eirick’s trust in the council only showed weakness.
“The cwylld elven have never found any fault with the warlocks before, why are they making demands of us now?” Ayden, Latarian’s familiar, asked as he entered the shadowy room.
“Your familiar is impertinent, Latarian. A lash or two from the whip will teach him not to ask questions of his betters,” Carvallius admonished, the contempt in his voice for her familiar was unmistakable.
“Ayden, you know better than to question Grandfather without first gaining his permission. You are well aware of what an important warlock he is; he cannot be troubled with the likes of you. You know nothing of the cwylld elven nor about anything else,” Latarian scolded, as she dragged her familiar by the arm so that he stood behind her. Bowing his head he muttered an apology to them both and lowered his dark green eyes to the stones beneath their feet.
“Will you stay here and have a night of rest before your journey, Grandfather?”
“There is no time, child. It is only my concern for your safety that forces me to delay my journey to T’Eirick. I fear for the fate of our people should he not listen to my counsel. I must know that you are at least safe. There is a small cottage, you remember it. I once took you there as a child, after the unfortunate passing of your father and mother.”
“I do remember a cottage during those tragic days after you brought me news of their deaths. It was quite small, but the garden was quite vast.” Latarian frowned. She had not enjoyed her days at the tiny place, but her grandfather had insisted it was the best place for her in her time of grief.
“You must go there again. It is small enough that servants will not be needed; they cannot be trusted in this time of peril. I have enchanted it, making it impossible for the world to see; you will be protected there and remain undetected. I will send word when it is time for you to return to the castle,” her grandfather’s words rang with urgency and he once again grasped her hands as he spoke.
“What of Ayden?” Surely Latarian could not be expected to part with her familiar; she had only had him a few short weeks, but the boon to her power was finding itself to be quite addicting.
“Of course your familiar will travel with you. Did I not find him especially for you when you cried that you had not power enough to summon a familiar as other warlocks do?” he asked her, sounding rather impatient.
“Yes and you, of course, have my thanks. Although he would be more worthy of all the new power bestowed on me with your gift if he were not so small,” Latarian lamented quietly, a familiar after all was a reflection of a warlock’s power and Ayden wa
s shorter than even Latarian herself. It was not her only complaint, but he continued to provide her with increasing power each day. These last few weeks since his arrival in her life had been quite a change for a warlock who had once barely had the power to stir the wind.
“Be grateful child, it was not easy to find one such as him. Would you rather I had found a giant of a man with far less power to give you?” Carvallius asked with a knowing smile.
“Indeed not. I suppose the power I sought is worth the embarrassment of having such a tiny creature at my disposal,” she said with a sigh. The power granted to her because of her new familiar was all that she had craved and more but Ayden was small so the world could not immediately see her potential.
“No more of your silly questions. I must journey on, and you must make your way to the cottage. You and your familiar must stay safe. I have need of you both.” Latarian threw her arms around her grandfather and clung to him as he patted her back. She had no wish to see him go but knew her race was doomed without him.
“You will write?” Latarian asked, as she let him go and gave free reign to the tears that had been threatening since she learned that she would have to bide her time at that horrid little cottage.
He raised the hood of his cloak over his head; clearly he was anxious to be on his way. His words were rushed, “I will send word as often as I can. I will have your promise that you will not leave the cottage until I give you leave to do so.”
“I promise Grandfather,” whispering the words, Latarian watched as her grandfather faded away to nothing.
Left with naught but the promise she had made to journey to a cottage she hated. Her only hope was that their stay would last but a few days and that she would soon be reunited with her beloved grandfather. “We must pack what we can carry. Make haste Ayden, we must not disappoint Grandfather,” she told her familiar and hurriedly followed him up the stairs to the top, and gratefully warm, part of the castle.
Chapter 1
Present Day
The hood of Ayden’s dark cloak was whipped from his head as he used his magic to kick up the wind as he left the small cottage he shared with Latarian. The steady breeze tousled the red waves of his hair as he made his way towards a small cluster of rocks he and Latarian had carefully placed centuries ago. After it had become clear that their stay would surpass the few short days Latarian had hoped for, they had created a makeshift memorial for her fallen mate, Eoghan. He had died when he was still hardly more than a boy, a powerful warlock like Latarian herself, his power had not saved him from death. It had not been sorcery that had befallen him, but a throw from a particularly nasty horse. Over a century before they were sent to the cottage Eoghan’s head had connected with a stout rock on the forest floor, and he was gone before his eighteenth year.
It had been a horrific tragedy for Latarian to lose her mate; they had not even had the chance to seal their mating since he had left this world so young. Too young to even summon his familiar who died with him. It was his familiar that Ayden made the point of visiting each day, for he was Ayden’s fallen mate. Warlock to warlock. Familiar to familiar. That was how mating worked for their race and on one fateful day a wretched horse had robbed Ayden of ever knowing true love. It left Ayden with a sense of loneliness that never seemed to abide. It did not help that they had spent nearly six and a half centuries stuck in a tiny enchanted cottage hidden away from the world.
Almost six hundred and fifty years and they still waited for word from her grandfather. Missives had arrived at the cottage after they had gone into hiding. Two to be exact and those shortly after they had begun their imprisonment. Those letters had offered no clue as to what events were taking place amongst their people and whether or not the cwylld elven had made good on their threats. No hint was given as to how long they would have to remain hidden and their days eventually fell into a routine. Latarian had conjured a few seeds, and they had learned to grow food to sustain them. Actually it was Ayden who cooked their food and tended the garden to make sure there was food on the table each night. His warlock was, however, more than willing to tell him how horrid each meal tasted. Magic could have provided everything they needed, but Latarian seemed to prefer they not rely upon it.
Between meals, they cleaned their tiny home. As with the other household chores it was Ayden who found himself doing the cleaning while Latarian offered suggestions on how to improve his efforts. It left them with a fresh smelling home, and no dust dared enter their domain. Each day began with Ayden’s walk over the grounds to where he now found himself at Eoghan’s rocks. Summoning a bouquet of dark blue roses, he knelt on the grass and placed them near the memorial. It was an unusual color for flowers, but it was Ayden’s favorite hue so he could only reason that his mate would also enjoy them.
Hanging his head he desperately wished his life was different. Ayden yearned for a mate he would never know and dreamed of a day when he could see something else besides their little home. For centuries, he had tried his best to convince Latarian that surely it was safe enough to return home. But she had remained steadfast and stubbornly refused to allow them to leave without her grandfather’s consent. Slowly rising back to his feet, Ayden thought that as much as he enjoyed the company of Latarian, had he not been her familiar and born of her magic which bound his life to hers, he would have escaped this place a very long time ago.
He took the walk back to the cottage unhurriedly and ignored his constantly aching back while he tried to shake off his despondent mood. Sighing heavily as he pushed open the worn wooden door of their home, Ayden shrugged off his cloak and made his way into the cottage. Much of their time was spent in the one room that served not only as a place to consume their meals, but also was where they took their leisure. As he entered it, he noticed Latarian seated on the floor, and she seemed to be staring off into nothing.
“Is aught amiss?” Ayden asked with concern, as he took a seat next to her on the wooden floor.
“Bored. I am bored and quite sick to death of this horrid little cottage,” she whined as she slid down to her back on the floor.
“It has been near to seven hundred years, what danger could there be for us now?” he queried with caution; this argument was an old one and had left him more than once on the wrong side of a stinging whip.
“If it were safe Grandfather would have sent word,” the words were clipped and Latarian was once more sitting upright upon the rough wood floor.
“What if his life were forfeit and he lay dead these many years?” Ayden whispered the question and then raised his hand to his now stinging cheek courtesy of the sharp slap of Latarian’s hand.
“He is not dead. You know of his importance and the demands of his schedule. He has the ear of the Grand Warlock himself, not that T’Eirick always heeds his warnings. I believe T’Eirick to be quite jealous of Grandfather,” she boasted as she rose to her feet. Her lavender gown billowed around her as she began to pace the small confines of the room. It was a habit she had inherited from her grandfather.
“What if we were to use your mirror and scry upon it? We could ask for guidance of a sort or perhaps attempt to contact your grandfather and ask him for his counsel.” Surely the man could have taken a moment to send them word in the last nearly seven centuries, Ayden thought in disgust.
“It could not hurt, could it? We must not try to contact Grandfather, but perhaps Fate will provide us with a clue as to what we should do.” Latarian hurried down the short hallway to her bedchamber to locate her ornate mirror, and Ayden nearly shouted with his merriment. He did allow himself a quick dance across the expanse of the tiny room and hoped with all the yearning of his soul that the mirror offered them a way out of here.
Minutes later Ayden and Latarian kneeled across from one another on the worn wooden slats that made up their floor. The mirror lay between their bent knees and green eyes met green eyes of nearly the same color as they stared at each other in stunned silence. The mirror had offered them the clue they had s
o hoped for, but neither one of them knew what to make of the tidings. An enormous abode with lots of large glass windows and made up entirely of wood had been made known to them and with it a word: D’Vairedraconis.
“What do you think it could mean?” Ayden finally asked.
“I know not,” Latarian replied and continued to stare unblinkingly. Ayden was himself not overly concerned with the why of it; he just knew it could mean putting their time in the cottage behind them. It was not an opportunity he planned to pass up.
“I think we are meant to go to this place. Your grandfather must be there. Maybe this D’Vairedraconis is an ally of his.”
“It is a possibility,” she spoke quietly.
It would take him no time at all to pack his meager belongings, and he found he was not above begging to do just that. “Latarian, no deceit exists in the mirror. We must go,” Ayden said determinedly.
“I find myself frightened of what awaits us outside our cottage. We have spent a great many years here.” Many long and miserably lonely centuries, Ayden thought morosely at Latarian’s words. The loneliness may not abide, but at least he was finally being offered a chance at laying his eyes on something different.
“We can easily return should there be any peril found at this strange wood and glass castle,” he assured her and bravely offered a pat or two upon her back.
“This D’Vairedraconis must be very rich to have so much glass in his castle. It is very peculiar looking, is it not?”
“I must confess I am very curious as to what might be inside such a strange place,” Ayden admitted barely above a whisper.
“It is settled. We shall go to this D’Vairedraconis, and he will lead us to Grandfather.” Her declaration made, Latarian left her knees and went to her bedchamber to gather her belongings.
It was decided that a single chest would hold all their belongings, and they had donned their best attire for their trip to the D’Vairedraconis castle. Ayden wore his dark blue cloak over his equally dark tunic and hose, while Latarian wore another gown in her favorite shade of lavender. Latarian had weaved her substantial magic, and they now stood outside the castle that the mirror had showed them. The wavy picture they had seen in the mirror had indeed been impressive, but its likeness had poorly prepared them for reality.
Grand Redemption (D'Vaire Book 1) Page 1