The Shattered Shards

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by Stephen J Wolf




  Red Jade:

  Book 2

  The Shattered Shards

  Stephen J. Wolf

  Copyright © 2016 Stephen J. Wolf

  All rights reserved.

  Print Edition

  ISBN: 978-0-9969846-1-4

  ISBN-13: 978-0996984614

  E-book Edition

  ISBN: 0-9969846-2-3

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9969846-2-1

  To Jared, for his music.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue: Recalling the Start

  Chapter 1: The Four Companions

  Chapter 2: Vestular

  Chapter 3: Dinner with Mother

  Chapter 4: En Route to Randler’s Hideout

  Chapter 5: The Cave

  Chapter 6: Hunting Heria

  Chapter 7: Dariak and Randler

  Chapter 8: Heria’s Mercy

  Chapter 9: Early Homecoming

  Chapter 10: Savvron

  Chapter 11: Champion of Savvron

  Chapter 12: Reconnection

  Chapter 13: Into Hathreneir

  Chapter 14: Traveling Through Hathreneir

  Chapter 15: The Thief Unmasked

  Chapter 16: Crystal Chamber

  Chapter 17: Dariak in Magehaven

  Chapter 18: Trials Continued

  Chapter 19: The Mage Council

  Chapter 20: Healing Gabrion

  Chapter 21: After the Trial

  Chapter 22: Within Magehaven

  Chapter 23: Randler’s Advice

  Chapter 24: Subterfuge

  Chapter 25: The Castle Town of Hathreneir

  Chapter 26: The Imprisoned Mage

  Chapter 27: Reminiscence

  Chapter 28: Ervinor of the Kallisorian Army

  Chapter 29: The Metal Jade

  Chapter 30: The Beasts Within

  Chapter 31: Gabrion’s Audience with the Hathren King

  Chapter 32: Deeper into Magehaven

  Chapter 33: Rush of Honor

  Chapter 34: Dariak in Hiding

  Chapter 35: Gabrion’s New Quest

  Chapter 36: Ervinor’s Sacrifice

  Chapter 37: Leaving Magehaven

  Chapter 38: Recovery

  Chapter 39: Healing Forces

  Chapter 40: Wounded Struggles

  Chapter 41: A Plan Develops

  Epilogue: A Boy Reflects

  Acknowledgements

  Websites of Note

  About the Author

  Works by Stephen J. Wolf

  Prologue

  Recalling the Start

  Meriad sat on a soft, cushioned chair in her grandson’s bedroom. The young boy was sitting excitedly at the head of the bed, while Meriad was on the side, close to the foot. In front of her, Meriad had propped up a large, dusty-looking book. It seemed too large for someone of her age to carry, but she hefted it without any complaint.

  Beside her was a tray of food, still steaming and ready for her to eat. She had only just arrived for her visit with the boy and he had, as usual, whisked her away to his room, keeping her all to himself. It didn’t matter, for she wasn’t here to visit with anyone else and her presence was merely tolerated because she was family and she had been given a task to do. As usual, guards awaited outside the room, listening to her words, ensuring she did not stray from her task, though her grandson was unaware of their presence.

  “You remember the War of the Colossus?” she asked, reaching for a small loaf of bread.

  “Yes. It’s the war when the Kallisorians almost took over Hathreneir.”

  She sighed. “You still say that with disdain. Do I have to remind you every time I see you that the Kallisorians are not our enemies?”

  He protested. “They did bad things to us.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “But we also did bad things to them. That sort of makes us even. Now, tell me what else you remember.”

  He pushed himself more firmly into the pillows to get comfortable. He knew this tale well; it was one of his favorites. “Well, there was a lot of war between our two kingdoms and then the kings decided to put an end to the fighting once and for all. They chose to battle to the death and whoever won would take control over both kingdoms. The Kallisorians tried to win by poisoning the Hathr—”

  Meriad cleared her throat, obviously disappointed.

  “Without the king’s permission,” he edited, “some of the Kallisorians acted on their own and poisoned the Hathren troops.”

  “That’s better,” Meriad accepted, selecting among a collection of finger sandwiches. “Go on.”

  “Well, it’s called the War of the Colossus because a mage named Delminor used this piece of magic called the Red Jade to summon a huge monster, which killed a lot of people. He was defeated and the Red Jade broke into a bunch of pieces and then people from both sides took the shards.”

  Meriad nodded. “That much of the story you’ve known for a while. What happened after that?”

  He bit his lip, then dove in. “Well, twenty years later, there’s Gabrion, a warrior from the Kallisor town called Savvron. His girlfriend, Mira, was kidnapped during a raid on his village, and he wants to try to save her, but he doesn’t think he’s strong enough yet. Dariak’s the son of Delminor and a Hathren mage who’s trying to collect the jades, and he and Gabrion teamed up eventually, even though they started off as enemies. Then there’s Kitalla, who is a thief with a special dance skill. She can do a form of magic that no one else can do. She wants Dariak to help her become stronger. They all traveled together and made their way to Pindington far to the east of Kallisor. A whole lot of stuff happened there and they got separated for a few months. After that, they joined with Randler, a bard, and then… then the big tower in Pindington fell.”

  “Because?”

  The boy wrung his hands together. “Because magic went bad and it broke the tower and the tower crushed and killed a lot of people.”

  “So magic is evil then?”

  “Well, no,” the boy argued, “not really. I guess it depends on how people use it, but the thing that happened in the Prisoner’s Tower was really an accident, wasn’t it?”

  “In some ways, yes,” Meriad acceded. “Now, you mention that Dariak is questing for the jades. Do you remember which ones he has already?”

  The eleven-year-old paused for a moment before answering. “Well, Gabrion has the glass jade. Kitalla has the metal jade. Randler’s got the shadow jade. And I think Dariak has the earth and water jades.”

  “Don’t forget the lightning jade,” Meriad added.

  “Right, and they have five more to find. But, Gran-mama… Doesn’t Randler want to get rid of all the jades and magic?”

  “It does seem to be his goal.”

  “Then how can he and Dariak love each other?”

  Meriad smiled, a haunted look in her eyes. “Love can be a funny thing.”

  They sat quietly for a moment, then Meriad set aside the last few bites of her meal. “Very well,” she commented. “I think that brings us to where we were before. Shall we continue?”

  The boy beamed and nodded his head vigorously, a big smile lighting his face.

  Chapter 1

  The Four Companions

  Pindington lay in ruins. The easternmost city of Kallisor was the center of trade with countries across the great ocean, but now it was in shambles. The unnaturally tall Prisoner’s Tower had succumbed to a vast explosion of magical forces and the stone structure decimated an entire section of the city. A dusty pall still floated in the air two days after the tower’s collapse, a sad reminder of the many citizens who had perished.

  Magic was barely tolerated in Kallisor, and mostly only in healing sanctuaries. The eruption of magical energies and the subsequent fall of the tower led m
any people to riot in the streets, angrily seeking those responsible. Those who were not lost in mourning gathered together to seek their own form of justice.

  The angry citizens crashed from one home to the next, seeking any evidence of magecraft and, upon finding any, destroying it. The few people in mage robes shed them swiftly and sought refuge wherever they could.

  Many prisoners had also escaped during the catastrophe and every chalk or coal drawing posted among the guard stations and notice boards was taken by the gangs. All unsavory people would be victim of this cleansing.

  The mobs swept through the city, often dragging the official guard force with them for support. They rushed toward the collapsed tower and followed its corpse as it led to the northern district. House upon house was violated by their rage, but they would not stop until the city—their home—had been cleansed and purged.

  A pack of hunters approached a small wooden house not far from the uppermost level of the fallen tower. Their shouts echoed wildly as they forced open the doorway. Peering inside, they recognized Kitalla, Dariak, and Gabrion from their wanted posters and the mob’s excitement escalated. A bard and three other mages accompanied them, and the city’s defenders pressed inside.

  The mages acted quickly, paralyzing the mob, after which they called to their companions and compelled them to flee. Four travelers burst out the back door and sprinted away.

  Nineteen-year-old Gabrion, blond farmer turned warrior, pushed ahead of the others and cleared a path through the growing throng of people. He kept his weapons away, simply using his powerful hands to get through.

  Kitalla followed on his heels, keeping her hands off her daggers so she wouldn’t feel compelled to launch them. The brunette thief had been through too many trials in her twenty-six years, and her most recent experiences in Grenthar’s lair had left her dealing with random outbursts. She kept her eyes trained on Gabrion as she ran.

  The bard, Randler, came next, also with his weapons away and his shoulder-length brown hair flying side to side with each step. Twenty-four years of experience had shown him enough angry mobs and he knew their best chance to escape safely was to stick together and not stop running.

  Lastly, Hathren mage Dariak trailed the group, eyes focused on the warrior as he led them away from the wooden house. Dariak’s mind reeled with the recent explosion of magic in the Prisoner’s Tower and he knew the people of the city had suffered enough. He had to escape with his companions without causing any more harm. Like his father, the twenty-two-year-old’s goal was that of peace, though his methods to reach it weren’t always peaceful.

  There was little time to think with the angry mob chasing them and hollering for reinforcements. The companions refused to attack and cause further damage. Instead, Dariak fumbled through his pockets, reaching for the water jade. He touched its permanently wet surface with one hand and twisted his fingers with the other. “Shassalorian fretha kaie!” he called. The cobblestones behind him cooled until the humidity of the air turned to a fine sheet of ice. The chasing mob slipped and was deterred.

  It didn’t give them much time, but every bit helped. Gabrion led them toward a guard station. Kitalla protested, but the young warrior insisted. He had spent the previous day helping the people to recover some of their losses and he hoped his efforts would pay off for them now.

  The city guard was overwhelmed and the station was barely manned. Gabrion put his hands aside his mouth and shouted, “Ordren!”

  A younger soldier peered around a doorway. “Can I help you?”

  “Is Ordren here? I need a favor.”

  The dark-haired teen shook his head. “The captain is out, I’m afraid. Is there something I can help you with?”

  Gabrion requested a loan of horses. Kitalla chimed in, adding that their goal was to assist the people in the southern district of the city, and that mounts would make their trek through the streets faster, particularly because of the rioting. The soldier wavered, but he had seen Gabrion and Ordren working together briefly and he acquiesced.

  Gabrion claimed a dark chestnut steed for himself, while his companions chose their own mounts. Kitalla gravitated toward a black mare, against which her leathers blended perfectly. A palomino chose Dariak—who was eying a different horse altogether—by strutting over and resting its nose on the mage’s head, claiming him so thoroughly the other horses all stepped away. Randler strutted toward a steed that was stark white and mounted it easily, patting its neck affectionately.

  The team pressed their horses swiftly through the city, avoiding the throngs of angry people whose shouts permeated the air. A few chased after them, accusing them of treachery, but the horses outpaced them well and facilitated their escape. At last, the troubled walls of Pindington were left behind and the team pushed onward into the wild.

  Randler took the lead, guiding them toward his hometown where his mother held a shard of the Red Jade and wouldn’t likely surrender it without a confrontation. He veered toward the river, angling along its bank and crossing over at a narrow ford. The bright sunshine helped keep the feral creatures at bay, but Randler also used the power of the shadow jade to obscure their passing. They could almost feel hungry eyes scanning for them, eager to take down the intruders, but the attacks did not come.

  The group made camp alongside the river at the edge of a row of trees. They could have either entered the wooded area or remained out on the plain, but Dariak opted for the border of the two. He spent the good part of an hour setting up protective enchantments while the others prepared the campsite itself.

  There wasn’t much game in the woods and Kitalla and Gabrion returned empty-handed from their hunt, but the thief pulled some wrapped tigroar steaks from her travel pack and handed them over for Randler to cook. Of the four, he had the best talents when it came to food, gained from all the places he had visited and the different varieties he had experienced. Gabrion cleared the dishes away, washing them in the river before packing them again.

  “Let’s go, mage,” Kitalla said some time after dinner, grabbing Dariak by the arm. She led him from the campsite, into the woods and toward a clearing she had found earlier.

  So much had happened to them, Dariak had forgotten his promise to teach her how to draw the magical energies through herself. They started by reviewing the steps she already knew, and soon her hands and feet were lit with fireballs that glowed with every dip and turn she took, warding off oncoming attacks. But she wasn’t satisfied. She wanted to be much stronger.

  “Do you feel the energy?” Dariak asked, and when she nodded he continued. “Good. Now, what you need to do is pull in the direction of those energies, draw them through you, and repeat. Mages use spell components and words to help us channel the energies, but you have to draw them differently. The more complicated and powerful the spell, the more the energies must overlap and work cohesively.”

  She reenacted her dance, straining to do as directed, but it was difficult for her. She hadn’t grown up thinking she would use magic of any form, and her dance skill had manifested itself accidentally, though she had learned to develop it over the recent years. Every attempt to pull the fire around her failed, and only her hands and feet took light.

  She dropped to the ground and pounded the dirt. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she muttered. “I feel everything pulling together, but it isn’t doing what I need it to do.”

  Dariak paced back and forth, thinking hard. Fire spells were basic manifestations of energy and were among the easiest to summon. There was no substance to move with a fire spell, only energy. That she could create the fists of fire at all was amazing, but he knew she had other talents within her. The woman’s swinging hips and arms had done everything from confuse fighters, obscure her from view, and implant vivid images into the minds of others. Yet protecting herself was not a skill among them. The only other energy she had drawn was in Grenthar’s domain when she had claimed the metal jade and its power lent itself to her so that she could project the dagger’
s edge outward, seeking its kill.

  Dariak smacked his forehead loudly, drawing Kitalla’s attention. “Take out the jade,” he said, “and a dagger. Now close your eyes and feel that shard in your hand. Sense its energies as it runs back and forth across its surface.”

  “I feel it,” she said. “But I have for a while and it doesn’t come to my call unless my life is in grave danger.” She recalled the exploding blacksmith shop in Pindington and the metallic projectiles that had essentially turned molten when they struck her and left her unscathed.

  “Yes, but now feel the energies of the dagger blade.”

  She looked at him oddly, for there were no energies from the dagger. He waited until she gave it her full attention, but no matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn’t feel them.

  “Next, trace the jade’s energy over the dagger,” he instructed, undaunted that she couldn’t sense the dagger. “Imagine that the other energies are there and following along. Go on.”

  She did so. She let her mind swipe back and forth across the top of the jade and also across the dagger. Nothing happened, but the process required vast repetition. She stood there for a long time, focusing her mind on both the shard and the blade, pulling back and forth, back and forth.

  At last, something inside the jade resonated with the energies and the dagger responded. Its blade elongated slightly with a deep internal vibration that shook Kitalla’s arm. It broke her concentration, but the dagger had changed subtly. She could see that it was visibly longer yet just as sharp. She smiled up at the mage. “That’s great, but—”

  “Shh,” he interrupted her. “It’s only the first step. You’ve channeled the jade through you and into the dagger. Yours is the jade of metal, so it affects the metal. You were able to create a gentle resonance with your mind. Now, do it again with your body. Find that same cadence with your steps. Move yourself in time with that process and do it all over again.”

 

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