Thieves of Islar: Book One of The Heirs of Bormeer

by James Shade

  “Good morning,” he called.

  Neither pilgrim answered, but the male rose and walked over to meet him. Jaeron dropped his reins and nearly stumbled when the man pulled back his hood.

  “You didn’t really think you were leaving without us, did you?” his brother asked.

  Jaeron was speechless. The longer he stood there without talking, the wider Chazd’s smile became.

  Then he looked over Chazd’s shoulder. “The girl?”

  From her perch on the piled field stones, the second pilgrim pulled back her hood too. Avrilla’s grin was as wide as Chazd’s but less mischievous.

  A strong hand clapped Jaeron on the shoulder.

  “The Church of Teichmar contributed a set of robes for you, as well, my friend,” Matteo’s voice sounded vibrant and happier than it had in a long time.

  By then Jaeron had deduced the identity of the rest of the pilgrims, so his friend’s greeting did not come as much of a surprise. Still as he turned around, he could not help the tears that suddenly streaked his face. He could not talk, but pulled Matteo into a rough embrace. Matteo’s hug was strong in return and clapped Jaeron on the back a few times, allowing him to bring his emotions under control.

  “Danine and Karl,” Jaeron nodded his head in greeting to the other two guildmates. “Good morning to you.”

  They waved back at him. Then Jaeron was being grasped again and turned back around. Avrilla stood before him, looking up into his face. She was still smiling, but her eyes were holding as serious a look as Jaeron had ever seen in her.

  “We are in this together, Jaeron deAlto.” She gestured to the group around them.

  “We know you have a plan. A route picked. A schedule. But we have some ideas of our own. So don’t think you are going to lead this little expedition without some advice and guidance.”

  Matteo dropped a robe into Jaeron’s hands as Avrilla continued.

  “For example, we’re likely to find more friendly faces wearing these.”

  Then Danine appeared, the reins of her horse in hand. “Remount deAlto. We’ve some leagues to put behind us today.”

  ~

  The sun was starting to set behind the peaks of the Guradilup Mountains when Jaeron finally saw the first sign of the hamlet of Kanet. The group had made better progress than Jaeron had expected for his first day of travel. From his understanding of the maps he had studied at the Teichmar Cathedral, they were only three days from the pass that would take them through the western mountains to the Bormeeran border.

  He reined in his horse and turned it around to look out over the land he was leaving. Islar was no longer visible. Somewhere behind them there were answers to the questions raised by the letter, the toys, and the music now resting in his backpack. And though the information that he had collected was by no means concrete and he was acting on a gut feeling that he knew no one else shared, Jaeron felt more sure it was true. He had a new sense of purpose.

  “It’s not too late to turn back, Jaeron,” his brother’s voice was close. He had stopped his horse as well.

  He looked over at Chazd. Jaeron heard the sarcastic tone, so familiar. Then he understood that his brother had come to accept it too. Jaeron grinned back at him, not bothering to bicker back at a challenge made in jest.

  “If we want a warm meal and a decent bed we should keep moving, boys,” Avrilla commented as she rode past.

  There was a laugh in her voice and Jaeron suddenly realized he had not known that was missing. For all of them, it was like starting over. It felt right. It felt better than their decision to build a guild and seek justice for Henri’s murder.

  Jaeron turned his horse around. A warm meal and a decent bed sounded good. He let his five companions ride ahead, pulling their cloaks tighter about them against the mountain air, and then prompted his horse to follow. He knew his role now - to worry about them, his family, no matter what he learned about his past.

  The secrets about their past were out there. But they could wait until morning.

  Epilogue

  From the sitting room in her new Islar apartment, Larsetta had a wonderful view down Feldspar Avenue, over the rooftops of the Merchant’s Ward, and the harbor beyond. She stood just inside the small, stone balcony and breathed in the air of what was going to be her city.

  Mennat is a fool to disregard the potential influence of this northern city. He treated it only as a source of income, simply another way to get the resources needed to contribute to his war. That he maintained his focus on Rosunland was going to be his mistake.

  But Islar was so much more than that. From here Larsetta could remain out of Mennat's influence long enough to establish herself. To achieve her place as the satyra she believed to be her destiny.

  The figure lying on the floor behind her finally broke its silence and moaned in pain. Larsetta smiled and turned around.

  So, it has some connection to its former self. Imagination flared and her womb tingled with the possibilities of what that meant. Larsetta stepped over the twitching body and walked over to the low cherry and marble table set in front of the fireplace.

  A wrought iron stand sat on the table, silver inlays wound in the metal reflected the flickering of the dying firelight. The iron had been pulled into eight elegant loops, so fine and delicate that it appeared to be a confectioner’s product more than a blacksmith’s. Resting in the loops were eight blown glass bottles, triangular at the base and twisted up into nine-sided globes. On close inspection, miniscule bubbles could be seen in the thick blue-tinged walls. The shape of the glass and the angles of the walls were made to exacting specifications. As were the locations of the small gemstone and iron inclusions in the glass’ surface. The artisan Larsetta hired had outdone himself, creating an octet of identical pieces of art so nearly perfect that she almost felt sorry she had killed the man.

  Seven of the vials were empty. Larsetta picked up the eighth vial and rolled it gently in her hands. The crystal stopper was sealed, dipped in molten lead and then a scarlet wax. Inside the bottle a mist swirled, pulsed with soft light. It pushed at the stopper in vain, searching for a way out of the prison.

  Larsetta could not stifle the sudden laugh. It had worked. Her long years of planning and sacrifice had come to fruition. It felt glorious.

  ~

  The spiritual essence that had once been Coatie Shaels peered out through the thick, blue glass at the distorted face of the woman who captured him. The initial horror at what he had become was finally passing. When he found he had locomotion, despite a lack of physical form, he swept the chamber. Every curved corner and surface to find a way to escape. It was exhausting, and it turned out, pointless.

  Now he could only listen and watch as the woman named Larsetta turned around and gave commands to his body. He could not understand her words. They came through the glass as only a dull rumble. Then his body made its way to its knees, lurching forward to caress the woman’s curves through her sheer dress. Pressing its face into her loins. She played with its hair, but kept her eyes on the vial. She was laughing at him.

  She spoke again and the figure rose and turned to leave the room. As it turned away, Coatie saw his eyes. No, no longer my eyes. They appeared cold and dull, but a flicker of amethyst ice shimmered in its pupils. Being purely soul energy, the fear that made him feel nearly consumed him.

  Appendix A: City Wards of Islar

   Dockside Ward – generally just called Dockside, this area of the city contains the city docks and wharfs, the bay side warehouses and fishing industry, and some cheaper businesses and residential buildings.

   Governor’s Ward – also called First Ward, this ward contains the governmental offices, the city court buildings, the Guard Watch, and the prison.

   Highpoint Ward – almost always called The Hill, this is the smallest ward and comprises the larger, established homes of the rich and powerful; the Governor’s mansion is located here.

   Market Ward – generally just called the Mar
ket, this ward contains some residential homes and apartments and a lot of space dedicated to small business and market areas for outlying farmers to display and sell their produce.

   Ninth Ward – literally the last or lowest ward of Islar, this area of the city falls between Dockside, the Tinkers Ward, and the Market Ward; it is the poorest section of the city and is generally considered the home of thieves, beggars, and the poor.

   Northgate Ward – usually referred to as Northgate or the North, this area spreads out from the north side of Talica Bridge and is predominantly higher-end residential home and townhouses.

   Pineal Ward – also called the Craftsman’s Ward and sometimes, disparagingly Tinker’s Ward or Tinker’s Row; this ward holds a number of inexpensive crafting business, such as the tannery and a number of leather-workers and cobblers, picklers, smokehouses, and blacksmiths.

   Ranchers Ward – originally settled by the successful horse and sheep breeders, this ward has kept its name but is mostly comprised of mid-priced residential homes and businesses few of which are now owned by rancher families.

   Temple Ward – dominated by the Cathedral of Teichmar and its grounds, this ward also contains some mid-level residential neighborhoods.

  Appendix B: Thieves’ Guilds of Islar

  First Rung

   Winter’s Hate - Calius deSwan

  Second Rung

   The Spoiled Vassals – Victor Ortelli

   The Black Fangs – Gerlido Krosch

   The Grey Ravens

   Ought Knives

   The Bad Priests

   The Gravy

   Three Mill Legion – Jotar Vengh

   Damaged Goods

   Tanner’s Toughs

   Belle’s Whistles

   Henri’s Hands – Jaeron deAlto

  Third Rung

   Ruggio’s Dockpads

  Assassin’s Guild of Bormeer

   Crimson Wolves

  Glossary

  boektral (bĕk-trĭl) – a cereal or grain plant with a large edible seed, similar to barley but the size of peas.

  Bormeer (bōr-mîr) – the northernmost kingdom along the coast of the North Lumeahotic Ocean.

  daison (dī-sǝn) horn – a long, eight to ten foot, horn usually carved out of softwood originally used for communication in the mountains.

  dozec (dō-zĕk) – the basic currency of Bormeer, the dozec is a round coin 7/10” in diameter made of a 0.920 silver alloy; four zecca have the same value as a dozec.

  Feral – a chess-like game played on a complex board of octagons and smaller squares; Feral pieces usually model nocturnal animals and the mythical demon woman, satyra.

  faramel (fâr-ǝ-mĕl) – a sweet grain, similar to oats.

  full krovat (krō-văt) – the highest currency of Bormeer, the full krovat is a five-sided coin with rounded corners nearly an inch in width made of a 0.915 gold alloy; the value of the full krovat is eight krovats.

  gindi (jĭ-dē) – an addictive, illegal drug, usually a yellowish tan powder, sniffed or added to tobacco; effects include exhilaration and extreme confidence.

  gomjom (gŏm-jŏm) – a popular athletic game played between two teams with a round, leather ball.

  Islar (ĭs-lär) – the second largest city of Bormeer with a population nearing one-hundred thousand; its primary economy based on silver mining, farming, fishing, and shipping.

  Krovat – the crown currency of Bormeer, the krovat sets the nation’s economy; the krovat is a round coin just over ½” in diameter made of a 0.915 gold alloy; six dozec have the same value as a krovat.

  Lady Mara – the Bormeeran goddess of health and hearth; only deity of the Bien’Tal pantheon still legally worshiped in Bormeer.

  lecouri (lā-kŏr-ē) – a fragrant oil derived from a fibrous, flowering plant generally found in the hilly regions of Bormeer and Rosunland.

  mizec (mĭ- zĕk) – the smallest currency of Bormeer, the mizec is a round coin just under an inch in diameter made of a 0.986 copper alloy.

  satyra (săt-îr-ǝ) – a mythological creature, said to have the form of a naked female with cloven hooves for feet and the head of a goat.

  Sira(sîr-ǝ) – the smaller, more distant, of the two moons that orbit the world.

  takridde (tăk-rĭd) – a spiced tobacco usually used for smoking in pipes.

  Teichmar (tēk-mär) – the god of Justice, one of the Gods of Man.

  Theela (thē-lǝ) – the larger of the two moons that orbit the world.

  tsipouro (tsĭ-pŏr-ō) – a strong and syrupy alcoholic drink brewed, fermented, and distilled from plant roots and seed pods.

  zecca (zĕk-kǝ) – the second smallest currency of Bormeer, the zecca is a five-sided coin with rounded edges around 7/10” wide and made of a 0.895 silver alloy; twelve mizecs have the same value as a zecca.

  yathri (yă-thrē) – a smooth fabric produced from the silk excretions of a venomous moth.

  Acknowledgements

  The journey to this first novel has been a long one, from a dream established when I was maybe fourteen. Unfortunately, I was good at letting life get in the way and kept most of my writing to myself, until I took that first step and engaged my initial victims a few years ago. So first, I have to thank those early readers who suffered through an incomplete first draft and took the time to let me know how I missed the mark and where I scored an inner ring.

  Rosalee (still Mrs. A to me), Susan and Scott, Howard and Kathleen, Rich, and Sam - thank you for being the first explorers of Islar and not beating me up too badly on its flaws.

  Thanks also to Rachel Weaver, the Louisville Writers Workshop critique group, and the “inner circle” of speculative fiction writers therein. You’ve taught me more about this craft in the past couple of years than I learned anywhere else.

  I want also to extend my thanks to you, my readers, who have taken a chance on a new novel and author in a genre that is teeming with truly fantastic works. I hope you enjoyed the deAltos’ journey and look forward to coming back for more. If so, please take a moment to post a review and tell a friend.

  Finally, thanks to my wife, Valerie. For putting up with late nights, early mornings, grousing and grumpiness. And though you may not always understand that I actually am writing when I’m sitting in the recliner not doing anything, you are always supportive and encouraged me more than anyone to fulfill this dream. My love, always.

  James Shade spent his youth visiting Berwick’s newsstand, looking for heroes on four-color pages. He studied Engineering at Penn State University and went on to help write the software that enables the F119 and the F135, the best metal birds-of-prey, fly. His passions include gaming, disc golf, and cooking on his Big Green Egg. He lives in Colorado with his wife, three children, and a small menagerie of animals. THIEVES OF ISLAR is his first novel.

  For more information, visit www.facebook.com/JamesShadeAuthor.

  Katharina Nikola lives in Hamburg, Germany, and especially enjoys the harbour, the seagulls and the northern climate. She illustrates for several publishers and of course loves to draw and scribble all day, when she's not at her job as a Community Manager. Together with her illustrator boyfriend, Steffen Brand, she has finished a number of projects.

  You can find her art here: http://tokala.deviantart.com

  and Steffen's art here: http://steffenbrand.deviantart.com.

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four
<
br />   Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Forty-Five

  Forty-Six

  Forty-Seven

  Forty-Eight

  Forty-Nine

  Fifty

  Fifty-One

  Fifty-Two

  Fifty-Three

  Fifty-Four

  Fifty-Five

  Fifty-Six

  Fifty-Seven

  Fifty-Eight

  Fifty-Nine

  Sixty

  Sixty-One

  Sixty-Two

  Sixty-Three

  Sixty-Four

  Sixty-Five

  Sixty-Six

  Sixty-Seven

  Sixty-Eight

  Sixty-Nine

  Seventy

  Seventy-One

  Seventy-Two

  Seventy-Three

  Seventy-Four

  Seventy-Five

  Seventy-Six

  Seventy-Seven

  Seventy-Eight

  Seventy-Nine

  Eighty

  Epilogue

  Appendix A: City Wards of Islar

  Appendix B: Thieves’ Guilds of Islar

  Glossary

  Acknowledgements