by J. K. Barber
Chronicles
of Aronshae
by J. K. Barber
ISBN-13: 978-1495276873
ISBN-10: 1495276872
Copyright © 2014 by Jay and Katherine Barber
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.
Cover Art
An original digital painting by
Christopher West
Cover Design
Christopher West
cwestart.blogspot.com
The Complete
Chronicles of Aronshae
Compilation Edition
First Edition: February 25, 2014
Spellbound (2009)
Icebound (2010)
Oathbound (2012)
For Our Fans
Find Your Path
Spellbound
Book One
For Maya
Prologue
“I don’t care if you understand or not. You were not put on this world to understand, you simpering idiot.”
“Yes, Empress, I didn’t mean to...”
“Silence fool! Keep your tongue still behind your chattering teeth, and you might learn something before your brief life is over. The rabble is starting to turn restless, while they wait for the word to attack to be given. It is your task to quiet the fighting between the rival chieftains, while we wait for the Shadow Walkers to return from their missions. I want to know if their kidnappings and word from their hired thugs can provide us with any useful information for the battle to come. I want to know how the town is laid out and the strength of the sorcerers.
“I will not have this chance at victory stolen from my grasp by a bunch of beasts, who cannot restrain themselves from attacking one another for five minutes over meat or their base desires for fornication. You tell the tribal leaders that the first of their people who so much as touches someone from another clan without my permission will die a slow death. His heart will freeze within my grasp, as he watches with dying eyes, as his lifeless corpse becomes my servant for all time.”
“After you have impressed upon the chiefs the importance of their cooperation, maybe they will cease their insipid squabbling and return to the business at hand. Tharnok is to gather his forces and move into position to support my troops. Tell him to meet with Captain Ra’thet in three days’ time at the entrance to the southern pass. Once the Shadow Walkers have reported to me, I will send word to commence the attack on Snowhaven. Also, remind Chief Tharnok of two things the dumb beast should know already: Ra’thet is in command. He speaks with my voice. To disobey the Captain is to disobey me. Secondly, only Captain Ra’thet and his men are to enter the Sorcerer’s Tower.
“Is any of this in any way unclear, servant?”
“Your word is law, Empress. I hear and obey. What is to be done with the prisoner?”
“You need not think on that which does not concern you, slave. The prisoner will be dealt with by your betters. Now, go and perform your tasks. If I have need of you again, I will send a summons.”
Chapter 1
Keeping her blue velvet robe tucked neatly under her at its edge, Katya dipped her thin fingers into the hot spring. The tips of her unbound black hair brushed the water’s surface, as she leaned over it and talked with her sister. The spiraling steam coming off the spring was almost as hot as the water itself. Katya removed her hand from the pool. The water on her fingers began to turn to ice, tiny crystals clinging to her skin. Shivering, she wiped them off on her knee, and pulled her white velvet cloak tighter around her slim arms.
“Why couldn’t I have been born an ice dragon of legend or... a snow leopard? Any kind of warrior creature would have done. Why do I have to be a sorceress?” Katya frowned at the water, the slowly bubbling surface revealing a blurred, minimal reflection of her pale face. She looked up again, admiring her sister’s lean, toned arms resting on the rocky edge of the pool next to her. Behind her long lashes, Sasha’s eyes were closed in peaceful serenity, soaking up the warmth of the hot spring not only into her sore muscles but to relax her mind as well. “You are so lucky Sasha. Why must I remain so thin, fasting every full moon, while you grow strong and glow with the radiance of power?”
Sasha opened her green eyes, concern upon her brow.
“Sister, you are powerful, perhaps even more so than me. My power lies in physical strength. Yours lies in a mental potency and wisdom that I could never dream of understanding. All you do is raise a hand, say some words, and the world shapes to your will. Besides,” Sasha’s tan fingers subconsciously went to a jagged rent across her left cheek, "…at least you do not have to wear the scars of your trade.”
Katya placed gentle fingers on Sasha’s injury from a bear she encountered on a recent patrol.
“It is healing fine, Sasha. It will not always appear so big,” the sorceress said. Sasha gratefully grasped Katya’s hand in hers, looking up at her.
“If you wish to learn,” Sasha said, going back to the original topic of conversation. “I will teach you the basics of fighting.” Sasha’s thoughts turned inward. “Perhaps not the sword...” her eyes brightened. “Your staff, Katya, I will teach you how to use it not as a magical conduit but as a weapon.”
Katya smiled cheerfully, gripping the long pale piece of rune inscribed wood in her left hand. “I’d be honored, sister.”
“Excellent,” Sasha grinned. “Let’s get home and start at once!” Shifting so that her feet were once again under her, Sasha stepped out of the spring, her body steaming in the chill air. Droplets of water cascaded down her hard body, following along the outstretched wings and down the coiled tail of a blue dragon tattoo that covered the entire right side of her back. Quickly toweling herself off with her undershirt, she pulled on her deerskin pants, shirt, boots, and a white, fitted bear fur coat. The sleeveless coat was beautifully made, the fur turned inwards with the hide on the outside to trap in warmth. It brushed her ankles but was slit all the way up the side to her mid-thigh, allowing for greater movement. A tan belt with silver inlay went over the coat, and from it hung a sheathed sword. Reworking her reddish blond hair into its usual battle braid, Sasha finished getting dressed.
“You had better braid that hair, Katya, or you know Mala will make you clean her house again.”
Katya sighed and stood. “Yeah, I know,” She replied in an annoyed tone, making a quick but perfect plait.
They made their way back down the snowy mountain trail, careful of loose rocks. Katya grumbled to herself, but her brown eyes were ever vigilant of the woods around them. Fresh buds had formed on the trees, and the wild plants had begun to green. An eagle circled above them, screeching as it hunted for small rodents. The sky was empty except for the bird. The air is almost too still, Katya thought. Sasha, following Katya, regarded her stiff-backed sister warily and looked about her. Nothing seemed amiss. With a sly grin, Sasha scooped up a handful of snow, packing it into a tight ball. She curled her arm back to her ear, launched it at the back of her sister’s head, and promptly took off running back towards town, laughing.
“Hag! Get back here,” Katya called, as she chased after her sister, getting tangled in her robes nearly every step of the way.
Sasha, a good distance ahead of her sister, stopped at the top of a hill overlooking their home. The afternoon sun shone brightly on the town of Snowhaven. The fortress town was surrounded by a great stone wall, fifty feet tall and ten feet deep. Stationed archers could be seen through the arrow slits along the upper portions. Swelling wi
th pride at their defenses, Sasha could see the soldiers making repairs to the roof that ran along the top of the wall. Due to the wear of war and weather it had to be replaced entirely every few years. That slate roof had saved many lives by stopping showers of ice orc arrows. The Empire of Ice was no more, but the blue-skinned orcs were a constant threat because of Snowhaven’s proximity to the border between the Illyander Kingdom and the Frozen March, especially in spring when the snow-sealed mountain passes began to melt. Ice orcs were always hungry, and Snowhaven was known to be well-supplied.
Thick towers rose from the four corners of the rectangular wall with tall, steeple-like rooftops. Only sharply-angled, slate-shingled roofs could be seen over the wall and, of course, the Sorcerer Tower, its bleached white stones a shining beacon. A great silver dome capped the tower and from it sprung a massive crystal, which Katya had told her sister grew from the ground itself. It went up through the center of the tower, reaching to the clouds. Sasha remembered her father saying that the white stones of the Sorcerer Tower matched that of the capital city, Aeirsga.
A branch broke behind Sasha, and she whirled around, instinctively drawing her sword in one smooth movement. She relaxed her stance and sheathed the plain weapon.
“It is just me, sister,” Katya said, coming to stand next her sibling. Together they walked down to the great ironbound, wooden gate.
Sasha and Katya brought their right fists over their left breasts, and the guards saluted them, while opening the gates. Sasha noted a slight nervousness in the way the guards moved. Something was amiss, and it showed in their rigidity. Sasha glanced at Katya. The young sorceress had picked up on the tension in the air as well, and she nodded to her twin, before inclining her head towards the gates, indicating that they should enter the town. Sasha and Katya knew better than to ask the guards what was going on. They would have orders not to discuss matters with anyone but their superiors. The twins also knew that the place to find the answers to their questions would be Sasha’s teacher, Mala.
The girls walked by rows of stone houses, passing by children playing in the slush and old man Harrow smoking his pipe on his front doorstep. He waved to the girls, and Sasha shouted a “hello.” The town itself was not big. Only about three hundred dared to live here; the winters were harsh and food had to be brought along the Tradeway in bulk before the passes froze. Anyone who was not a local or a student at the Fighter School or the Sorcerer Tower was regarded with extreme suspicion and often harsh words. Only traders were immune to the majority of unfair scrutiny.
During the spring and summer, work would resume in the quarries and mines. Snowhaven was well known for its gems, mined not a mile west of town. Its star sapphires were the most beautiful in the all of the kingdom.
A middle-aged woman with sharp blue eyes, her dark, grey-streaked hair in a warrior’s braid, sat on the porch of the Ice Worm Tavern, sipping on a tall mug of auburn-colored cider. At her waist, a pair of swords rested in black scabbards with a matching belt inlaid with silver.
“Mala!” Sasha called and sat down on the wooden bench next to the older woman, hugging her. Katya folded her robes neatly about her and settled on the edge of a nearby chair.
“Hello girls, getting into trouble again?” Mistress Mala grinned, returned Sasha’s hug, and then continued to stir a stick of cinnamon in her cider.
“Sasha insisted on a soak in the hot springs after her lessons, Mistress Mala,” Katya answered. Mala’s keen eyes settled on Katya, as if she were sniffing in her direction. Katya held her glance for a moment then lowered her gaze obediently.
Mistress Mala turned to Sasha, “It has been some time since I last visited those springs. My back could use a good soak these days.” Sasha smiled warmly.
Before Sasha could inquire about the guards’ heightened alertness, a huge, sweaty man in a leather blacksmith’s apron approached the tavern, running his thick hands through his messy, brown hair.
“Where have you girls been?” he demanded in a gruff voice. “Katya, your mother needs some more of those herbs. Her fever is up. Sasha you can help your sister by heating the water. I can’t run a business and be at Dara’s side. You two seem to forget that your mother is ill. Now get back to the house, you hear me?”
Katya and Sasha stood immediately, Mistress Mala squeezing Sasha’s hand as she got up.
“Yes sir. We’re sorry, father.” Katya responded, and the girls started off toward their house.
Mistress Mala grabbed the blacksmith’s arm as he turned to leave, “Branden, you expect too much of those girls. They have not seen their twentieth winter and already have enough to worry about with their training. You are blessed to have both of your daughters within the eyes of the Masters.”
Branden’s shoulders slumped with a sigh. “Mistress, I do not expect too much of them. Their mother is dying. Their duty to their family must always outweigh personal gains,” he replied curtly.
“I see. So she has gotten worse?” Mistress Mala put a strong arm on Branden’s shoulder, a touch of concern in her voice.
“Yes Mistress. The sickness seems to eat at her from the inside. There is nothing that can be done. Now, please leave my family alone,” Branden said, gently removing the old warrior’s hand and beginning to walk down the side alley after his daughters.
“One last thing, Branden,” Mala added. He turned back to face her but did not come back up the porch steps.
“The scouts spotted ice orcs in the northern pass last night. They march in the dead of night and hide while they sleep during the day,” Mistress Mala frowned. “It does not bode well. Their numbers are larger than normal, and they will be here tomorrow night. Can the Masters depend on your worthy hammer, should it come to blood?”
“Mistress, I will always fight when there is need. My hammer is yours. Good day,” Branden replied.
“Good day, Branden,” Mala said smoothly. “May the Great Mother bless you and your kin.” The blacksmith nodded to Mistress Mala, then disappeared down the alley. “Branden, you are not the only one that will mourn Dara’s passing,” she whispered to herself, as a tear slid down her cheek. She is the one who sheltered me, when others would have cast me out. She fearlessly accepted me for what I am, and that is a kindness I can never repay, Mistress Mala thought and brushed the tear away. She strode toward the barracks, leaving her forgotten mug of cider on the bench.
The sisters pushed open the heavy wooden door to their small but comfortable home. Without pausing to remove her coat, Sasha went to the kitchen, began gathering clean rags, and fetched the copper kettle off the iron hooks her father had made to hold the pots and pans. Katya quietly passed the dying hearth fire, heading directly to her parents’ room. Pushing aside an embroidered curtain separating the two rooms, Katya blinked in the darkness and waited for her eyes to adjust. The coals in the iron bowl next to the great carved bed had almost all burned out.
Moving to the edge of the low bed and kneeling down with her staff on the floor next to her, Katya felt for the long, slender kindling sticks on the floor next to the bowl. Separating one from the others, she dipped it into the coals. Fire greedily ignited the twig and began working its way down the thin piece of wood. Katya raised it to the wick of the candle on the bedside table and blew softly on the stick to extinguish its flame. Light illuminated the pale face of her mother, Dara’s body barely making a lump under the pile of skins. Katya laid a chilly hand on her mother’s burning forehead. Dara opened her watery eyes and weakly smiled at her daughter.
“Mother, you are awake. This is a good omen that your fever may be breaking.”
“You are good to me, daughter.” She raised a frail hand to Katya’s cheek but did not have the strength to hold it there. Katya took her mother’s hand in her own, kissed it, and tucked it gently back under the skins.
“Rest now. Sleep and I will make you some broth.” Katya brushed her lips against her mother’s forehead in a gentle kiss.
Dara’s pupils sharpened suddenly and he
r jaw tightened. “Child, this sickness has nearly completed its course. I will die. You know that, as well as I do. Do not feel blame. I would not want that.” Her face relaxed, the sad smile returning to her lips. “No broth. I do not think I could keep it down, even if I tried to eat, but thank you.”
Sasha brushed the curtain aside and let it fall behind her. She carried a large wooden bowl, filled with hot water and with clean rags draped over her arm. Katya whispered her thanks, as Sasha sat on the floor next to her and placed the bowl and rags on the table. Katya took an herb from the inner pockets of her robe, crushing it in her hand and letting it drop into the water. She then soaked a rag in the mixture, rung it out, and placed it lightly on her mother’s brow.
“I am so proud of you girls. So very proud...” Dara whispered.
Katya and Sasha put their hands over the covers where one of Dara’s lay, smiling lovingly and choking back tears.
“Take care of your father, bless his hard head,” she attempted to laugh but it came out as a harsh coughing that shook her whole frame. When her body finally stopped its convulsing, a trickle of blood slid from the corner of her mouth. Katya took another rag from the table and wiped the blood away.
“Mother, hush now. Don’t speak like that. Please rest,” Sasha pleaded, her voice hoarse as she fought the welling tears in her eyes.
“Yes, mother, we will now leave you to rest. If you need anything, just call out. We’ll be in the next room.” Katya retrieved her staff from the floor and nodded to Sasha. They rose together, kissing their mother on the cheek in turn and left the room.
Branden sat in his chair next to the dwindling hearth fire, his troubled eyes staring blankly into the embers. Katya leaned her runed staff against the wall and fetched an iron poker from beside the fireplace. She knelt before the fire to stir up the logs. Sasha went to the pile of wood by the door and hauled over a few logs, helping Katya get the fire roaring again. Finished with the chore and replacing the poker to its rightful place, the red-haired sister took a rolled fur from a bundle of mismatched skins, piled against the wall, and laid it out on the floor for her and Katya to sit upon. Katya sat, mouthing a silent “thank you” to her sister, pulled a book from an inner pocket of her robe, and started reading. Sasha pulled her sword into her lap and a whetstone from her belt pouch, beginning long sharpening strokes along the sword’s edge.