Mage Evolution (Book 3)

by Virginia G. McMorrow

  When Jackson said nothing, merely held his mentor’s gaze, Derek lost patience. “It is your word against mine,” he snapped at Westin.

  “My lord.” Captain Reedy stepped into the elder’s line of sight to get his attention away from Westin. “Under these dubious circumstances, the queen must be told. If you’d—”

  “Captain,” —the elder shoved the trooper out of his way— “you have no right to harass me or threaten me with the queen’s authority. I am a diplomat, a distinguished and invited guest. You cannot touch me.”

  “That is true. But if I escort you back to Spreebridge, under lock and key and the influence of feyweed poured down your throat,” Kimmer said wryly, emerging from her hiding place, “then the elder council can dispense further justice as they see fit. And before you get yourself into any more trouble with the good people of Port Alain, Derek, bear in mind that it is your word and Westin’s, too,” she informed the other man, “against the evidence that I and my colleagues gathered in Derbarry against you. Not to mention” —her face turned grim— “the notes that my son, Sloane, left for Corey. My poor misguided son died by your command, and, for that crime, I will never forgive you.”

  “Nonsense,” Derek sputtered, though his cheeks flushed at Kimmer’s unexpected appearance. “I had nothing to do with your son’s death. He became involved with the wrong sort of people in Derbarry’s back streets—”

  “Your people. One of my allies sent word they caught the man who murdered my son.” She smiled sadly at Jackson. “Not only has he confessed to the crime, but he has implicated you in that and more. I fear, Derek, your days as Senior Elder are only a fond memory.”

  “You are bluffing.”

  “I never bluff.”

  “It is a trap. This whole conspiracy— The Stoutheart’s captain—”

  “The poor man is a greedy little fool who did not dare interfere in your scheme because you offered him gold. I have his oath, too, Derek, and worse.” Her smile changed to wicked, though levity never reached her eyes. “I am well acquainted with his formidable mother.”

  “I should have had you killed, too,” Derek snarled, lunging for Kimmer and drawing a dagger from the sheath at his waist. As it sailed across the space between them, half of the blade transformed to water and dropped in an awkward plop to the hardwood floor. When I joined Jackson from behind the bar, the Elder was horrified. “You have both lost your magic. You—”

  “I don’t know about you,” I said to Jackson, “but I’m getting a little tired of people underestimating me. As for that little trick,” I drawled, as though we were having a social discussion, “I always wondered which one of us was faster. But since I didn’t use magic just now, and you’re usually better than that, Jackson, I have to assume the mage who transformed the dagger is a little, um, rusty and in need of practice.” When my father stepped out of hiding, scarlet with embarrassment, I smiled. “I’m glad you found another reason to wield your magic.”

  “Apparently,” —he shot Kimmer a lopsided grin— “there are many reasons.”

  “Good to know you can still learn something. Captain Reedy, would you kindly arrest Elder Frontish and escort him to the Stoutheart under Elder Frehan’s authority? The ship leaves on the morning tide.”

  As the captain moved to obey my request, Derek Frontish stepped out of reach. “You have no authority, Mage Protector.”

  “Now, there, I have to disagree with you. As my Mage Protector, she certainly does have the authority,” Elena informed the Elder, coming out from her hiding place with Anders. “But just in case you need convincing and to keep matters neat and tidy between your country and mine, Elder Frontish, I certainly have the appropriate authority. It is my regret to say you are no longer a distinguished and invited guest. The same goes for you, Elder Harlowe. As for your escort,” —she turned to Kimmer and smiled at Jackson— “take care of my future husband, will you? I want him back in Ardenna in time for the wedding. With you, of course.”

  “It would be my pleasure, your majesty.” When Kimmer was sure Derek Frontish and Westin Harlowe were out of hearing range, she laughed. “I must confess, I have not had this much fun in years.”

  I elbowed my father. “Was she always a little crazy?”

  “Always.”

  His smile was fond as Kimmer reached over to kiss his cheek. “Give my love to Anessa. Tell her I will see her soon.” She placed a hand on his arm and squeezed lightly. “And Sernyn, thank you for my son. It seems that Corey” —she smiled at my newest brother, who wore a bewildered look— “has decided to spend his winters in Tuldamoran and summers in Spreebridge, if that meets with your approval? Yes? Excellent. Alex? What do you think?”

  “I always knew the boy had potential.”

  Epilogue

  Jenny Bretan, head of the Ardenna Crown Council of Mages, stared at the silver flask I held outstretched in my hand as though it were poison. From her point of view, based on our history, I suppose I couldn’t blame the woman. But I was disappointed. Sitting across from me at the opposite head of the long table in the semi-formal meeting chamber in the fortress, Elena lifted one black eyebrow. Her look was subject to any number of interpretations, and I wasn’t sure which made the most sense, considering the awkward situation.

  Holding the flask up to the window, I squinted at the sunlight in my eyes. “I don’t see a drop of poison,” I murmured, twirling the silver bottle in the air. With one swift motion, I slammed the flask on the polished tabletop. “Look, Seamage Bretan, I know you might— No, that’s wrong, I know you find it hard to believe I’m offering you an antidote to feyweed, but it’s true. Why would I poison you when I could simply whip up a tempest and hurl you and the rest of the council out the window to the ground below?” Elena winced at my choice of words, but didn’t interfere. “You heard what happened to the head of the Port Alain Mage Council. I could just as easily do the same to you.”

  “Are you threatening us, Mage Keltie?”

  “Only insofar as I wish I could force you to trust me. But you’re right, if I read your expression correctly. Trust has to be earned. On both sides,” I added, giving the woman credit for holding her tongue. “I can assure you without proof, but I have the sworn testimony of witnesses who you will claim to be my allies, that both Jackson and I drank the antidote and had our magic fully restored. I have no proof you would be willing to accept, though maybe this will convince you.” My smile turned predatory as I lowered my voice. “The antidote is not without a price.” When the older mage narrowed her eyes, I had the sudden suspicion she assumed I was finally about to come clean and admit the truth. “I have a deal to offer, if you’re willing to listen.”

  Glancing at her fellow mages seated around the table, Seamage Bretan nodded without offering any commitment.

  “Excellent.” I leaned a hip on the table. “I’m tired of coming to Ardenna to respond to the queen’s summons every time she sneezes. I want her to feel she has a Mage Council she can trust here in the city. A Mage Council, I might add, committed to drawing up a sensible code of behavior for the rest of the kingdom’s mages to follow.”

  “And if we are kept busy solving the queen’s summons,” Jenny Bretan found her voice and challenged, “what will you be doing?”

  “For one thing, I have a schoolroom full of ignorant children to teach in Port Alain. But this pendant, these actually” —I tugged on the twin symbols around my neck— “don’t excuse me from responsibility. They designate me as the queen’s troubleshooter wherever and whenever she needs my help. And that goes for the Crownmage, too.” Not wanting to smear their faces with my title, I tucked the pendants out of sight. “Ever since the appearance of my particular brand of mage talent, and then my husband’s and Jackson Tunney, of course, there’s been a desperate need for some study of bloodlines. I’ve asked my father to start working with the local councils to gather a census of as many mages as possible in each Duchy, those registered with the council and the rogue mages who avoid th
em like the plague.”

  “To control them?”

  Restraining my impatience, I bit back the urge to smack the woman. “To prevent them from going mad as the renegade mages in Spreebridge did some years ago.” Elena’s barely perceptible nod prompted me to add, “On his journey back to Derbarry, under house arrest, and right before he was given feyweed, Elder Frontish admitted he’d met with you in secret.” The seamage was cool I had to grant her that, as her expression gave nothing away. “Believe me, he offered you nothing as honorable as what the queen and I intend to offer you now.”

  “We did not meet—”

  “Seamage Bretan,” I warned, sliding a glance in Elena’s direction, “don’t lie in front of the queen, please. It will only damage her present and future good will. And let me assure you, with her upcoming marriage to Mage Tunney drawing near, she would like to remain in an excellent mood. Oh, and by the way, with their marriage, Mage Tunney will become your liaison to the queen.”

  “Because you don’t trust us?” Though Jenny Bretan’s question was directed to both Elena and me, I decided to let Elena reply.

  “Because we thought you might find it a more comfortable manner of dealing with me, for the moment.” Elena’s voice was cool as she studied the older woman. “Until, that is, you and your colleagues are more at ease with me. As Alex said earlier, trust must be earned all around, and that includes on my end. If we agree to start fresh, here and now, all of us,” —she shrugged, downplaying the generosity of her offer in ignoring their clandestine meeting with the Spreebridge elder— “we’ll see how matters develop.”

  “I honestly hope they’ll prove satisfactory,” I chimed in, turning my attention to Seamage Bretan. While the mage still appeared to be unconvinced, I glimpsed a hint of doubt. “I know you probably mistrusted Elena’s message, warning about the capture of the crates filled with feyweed, along with details of the foreign plot, but I can only say this. I had nothing to do with his plan to incriminate both of us.” I scanned the table and saw the faces with varying degrees of acceptance. “I was the one he’d slated to take the major responsibility. It would have been blamed on my bid for power. And power, though you may not believe me, is something I don’t want. If you knew me well—In fact, if you knew me even a little,” I said softly, heartened by Elena’s smile, “you’d understand that. So,” I challenged, “Will you accept the antidote?”

  The woman shut her eyes for a heartbeat, and I wondered what was going through her thoughts. When she opened them again, her expression was so full of hope I nearly shouted for joy. “Why are you really doing this?” she whispered, holding my gaze with her own.

  “Because I’m tired of being mistrusted. All right.” I pushed off the table and leaned down, both hands on the slick surface. “Maybe this will convince you of my good faith. I’m willing to tell you a secret very few people yet know.” Intrigued, but still cautious, the woman leaned closer, as did her colleagues. “My daughter, Emila, has mage talent that’s a combination of my magic and my husband’s. My child represents a bright new future, and I’m willing to trust you all with that knowledge.”

  “If this is true,” Seamage Bretan said slowly, digesting the information, and very likely looking for the trap, “then why are you willing to trust us?”

  “Because if anything happens to my daughter,” —I grinned fiercely, pushing free of the table— “I’ll know who to blame.”

  Matching my grin, the seamage got to her feet, snatched the flask from the table, and drank.

  About the Author

  Virginia G. McMorrow has worked as an editor/writer for 25 years. Ginny has worked for business publishers as an editor of books, journals, and newsletters in New York City. She has had numerous articles and short stories published. As a playwright, she has also had numerous short one acts and one full-length play produced off-off Broadway in a black box theater.

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  Also by Virginia G. McMorrow

  Firewing’s Journey

  Young Adult Fantasy

  Book One in the Firewing Trilogy

  Growing up is never easy, but a young woman finds happiness, magic, and the reason for family.

  Seventeen-year-old Kathren (Krag), named after a legendary fire-breathing dragon, is torn between the desire to see the world and responsibility of caring for her twelve-year-old sister, Reni. Her knack of going invisible entangles her in a mad rescue adventure to rescue her foster father’s spoiled seventeen-year-old daughter, soon to be crowned queen.

  Excerpt:

  I stared at the mage, caught between the urge to slap the condescending expression from her face and the conviction she was right. “You change my motivation every day.”

  “You change your mood every day. I’m just trying to keep pace with you.” She waved Andry farther from me. “Your turn to watch and listen today. Our young mage here is going to work very hard. We’re trying a new method today. Maybe, if we’re lucky, it’ll catch in that stubborn mind of hers and take hold.” When I remained impassive, Brana smiled a very cool smile, correctly reading the nasty names I called her in my head. “Go invisible first since you do that without thinking. All right, stay out of sight. There. Now do what I tell you.” While I clamped a firm hold on the urge to rip her heart from her chest and feed it to her hawk sister for the evening meal, Brana locked her eyes on mine. “Pay attention. You’re drifting in and out.”

  I started to protest, but a swift glance at my flickering legs proved her right.

  “Better. Now tell me how you go invisible.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve always just done it.”

  “No conscious steps?”

  Still invisible, I thought about it. “No. Only that I calm myself so I can focus, and then, I don’t know, I just do it.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Brana leaned forward, tucking her legs beneath her. “Now come back in sight. There.” Her eyes held a challenge, and I felt my entire soul respond. “Do the exact same thing with shielding. No more infantile piles of dragon scales. Imagine the wall in place, protecting you, and transparent.”

  I tried to do what the mage suggested, but too many steps intervened.

  “You’re taking too long.”

  I bit back my angry words.

  “I said, young mage, you’re taking too long.” Brana caught me off guard, shoving me back against the chair I’d been using for support, shattering my focus. “Try it again.”

  I glared at her in growing fury.

  “Just do it, and stop whining like a toothless infant.”

  Straining, I tried by sheer force to think myself shielded. Brana shoved me back again, harder, slamming my injured shoulder against the wood chair. My breathing was heavy, and sweat drenched my short-cropped hair.

  “Stop acting like a brat and just do as you’re told.”

  “Brana…” Andry reached in front of the mage.

  “Don’t interfere,” Brana snapped at Andry. “Our young mage wants to be a heroine and rescue her poor sister, who’s probably dead.”

  “Shut up!” In a heartbeat, carried by rage and grief, I shielded and went invisible without thought or hesitation, driven by the need to unleash my fury and fear. More by instinct than magic, Brana braced her body as I lunged for her throat, holding my invisible arms locked tight against my straining body, away from her neck.

  “Easy, girl.” While I continued to struggle futilely against her hold, weakening from all the attempts I’d made to shield, Brana held me firm. “You didn’t believe in yourself. If I didn’t provoke that fierce temper of yours, you’d go on taking your sweet time, not trusting your abilities. We’ve run ou
t of time to save that sister of yours, don’t you see?” As I released both shielding and magic, she let me go, acknowledging the bitter resentment in my eyes. “I don’t care much that you hate me. I got what I wanted. You’ve done far better than I’d hoped; only needing to believe in yourself.” With a smooth gesture to Andry, she handed me into my friend’s arms. “See that she rests.”

  I slumped in exhaustion against Andry, who said not a word for a long, long time. Then, “You’re a lot like her, you know.”

  Sitting up, I stared at my friend, appalled.

  “I didn’t mean it with ill intent.”

  Laughing, I leaned back against the chair. “I know. It’s just that she said the same thing the night before we came here.”

  “Do you hate her?”

  “No, of course not.” I shook my head, baffled and weary. “I want to strangle her almost every single moment, but no, I don’t hate her. She’s difficult to deal with sometimes. And other times” —I shrugged—”I just don’t understand her.” When Andry’s expression had gone a bit peculiar, I snarled, “Go on. Get it over with.”

  “It’s nothing.” Andry tried to hide a small smile that kept escaping. “Really, Krag, it’s not important. It’s just—” The smile became a broad grin. “It’s just that what you described is precisely how I feel about you sometimes.”

  Firewing’s Shadow

  Book Two in the Firewing Trilogy

  Krag unexpectedly finds courage and ingenuity in a younger sister who’s growing up too fast.

  On the eve of Jaime’s coronation, the dragon crown is missing—leading everyone to believe that Jaime’s reign will be cursed if she goes through with the ceremony. To find the thief, Jaime turns to Krag, who “disappears” and pretends to be guilty of stealing the dragon crown and its legendary diamonds. Meanwhile, fingers are pointing to Chase, Jaime’s father and reluctant regent. With behind-the-scenes sleuthing by Andry, her best friend, and the older mage, Brana, Krag leads the team in their investigation. No matter where they search, someone is tailing the detectives and eavesdropping on them—making them all look over their shoulders time and again but finding no one there. Frustrated with too many questions and too few answers, Krag’s only hope is to shadow the shadow.