by B. T. Narro
Contents
COPYRIGHT
SERIES ORDER
MAP
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
NEW RELEASES
AUTHOR INFORMATION
THE AKORELL BREAK
BOOK 2 OF THE MORTAL MAGE TRILOGY
Copyright 2017 by B.T. Narro
Cover and Map by Beatriz Garrido: https://www.artstation.com/artist/beatriz_garrido
With Interior Illustrations also by Beatriz Garrido.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is coincidental.
All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written permission of the copyright holder.
THE MORTAL MAGE TRILOGY
1. Awaken
2. The Akorell Break
3. (The final book is not yet finished but will be done by December 2017 or early 2018)
CHAPTER ONE
Desil could no longer see the Marros in the night sky after climbing down the mountain, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. He rushed through the trees and around the edge of the lake, toward his mother’s tavern, the home he’d known for most of his life. If the Marros had seen him, they might come for him. They might find out where he lived. They’d already proven to be vengeful creatures. Usually the night would keep Desil and his party safe from them, but after the destruction to much of the Marros’ home, Desil felt as though their behavior would be different now.
They had far less to lose.
His fear dissipated when he made it back to his lakeside town of Kayvol without incident, light pouring out through open windows on this warm night. He made a beam of light of his own by directing bastial energy onto the letter Leida had given him less than an hour ago. He’d read it atop the mountain just before noticing the Marros, but he couldn’t remember the words clearly enough after his quick descent. With his heart still racing, he read it one more time to ensure he would remember the details. Then he ripped it into tiny pieces and stuffed them in his pocket. She and her father needed his help.
There were a few people of Kayvol still out at this late hour. Strange, Desil thought. Two of them appeared to be men, separating to hide themselves around the edges of different homes and peering out from around the sides. They seemed to be spying. A sense of danger came to Desil as he stopped short of the path to his mother’s tavern. He slowly moved back toward the trees where he could watch without being seen. A third man walked toward the tavern without obvious fear of detection. Perhaps the other two were spying on him.
Desil glanced around to figure out what he could about this situation. He noticed one other man in a dark ally, making the group at least three if the one approaching the tavern was not part of it. Desil needed a better vantage point to see the tavern, which should be closed at this time of night, except his mother still had lamps lit in the dining area. Why isn’t she asleep upstairs?
He circled around behind one of the hiding men and eventually emerged back into town, now concealed behind the wall of another home just like the three of them. He could see only two from here: one of the three spying and the one now entering the tavern. Why didn’t my mother lock the door and blow out the lamps?
Desil watched through the open window of the lit tavern as the man crossed by. He had neatly combed hair of gray and a kind face that almost eased Desil’s worries. Desil looked over to the one in hiding and noticed the man turning toward him. Desil ducked behind the wall, hoping he hadn’t been seen. As he listened for approaching footsteps, he realized he should’ve at least taken a dagger with him before leaving the tavern to climb the Fjallejon Mountains. He had nothing but his fists to fight back against someone most likely armed.
All he could hear was the older man talking to Desil’s mother, though Desil couldn’t make out the words. He ran through the alley behind him and around a home, then snuck a quick look down the dirt road that wrapped around the tavern. There was still one man hiding who didn’t seem to be aware he was being watched.
Through the window of the tavern, Desil caught sight of Beatrix and Kirnich following the older man toward the exit. So it wasn’t his mother answering the door but the two of them. What are the princess and her henchman doing here? Desil had last seen them at the Academy two days ago. Kirnich had been unconscious, heavily medicated. The big warrior had taken two swords through his arms and into his chest in Kanoan before everyone had escaped to the Academy in a portal. Kirnich had jumped in front of Beatrix to save her life from a pyforial mage Desil still knew nothing about. It was a testament to the medical advances of the Academy for Kirnich to be up two days later, even if he was hobbling a bit. Or perhaps it was Leida’s mother, the head healer, who deserved credit.
Desil would’ve celebrated seeing the large warrior on his feet, but he couldn’t ignore his flaring sense of danger. Desil knew he’d better figure out quickly what was about to happen, or it might be too late.
He felt a chill as he realized the silhouette of the hiding man in front of him looked just like the figure Desil had faced with Beatrix in Kanoan, the man who’d turned out to be the pyforial mage trying to kill her.
It was more than likely that Beatrix and Kirnich were targets of a trap. But the princess was a psychic, so surely she could sense if this older man was tricking her. However, that didn’t seem to be the case as she and Kirnich looked to be following him outside the tavern where they would be exposed.
Logic told Desil he shouldn’t get involved, but his heart told him otherwise.
His mind raced through his options. Without a weapon, all he had going for him was the element of surprise. He might be able to get behind at least one of the ambushers in hiding before the attack.
Desil shook his head. No, Beatrix and Kirnich had to be warned. It was their best chance of surviving, though it put Desil in the most danger. He ignored the thought as he readied himself. He ran out into the open just as the psychic and warrior exited the tavern behind the older man.
“Get back inside—it’s a trick!” Desil called as he rushed toward them.
“No, Desil—” Beatrix began.
Kirnich grabbed her arm and pulled her inside. “Listen to the boy!”
Sprinting, Desil made it into the tavern right after Kirnich.
It was a shock when the older man rushed into the tavern after Desil and shut the door before Desil could get his hands on the handle. The older man spun around with fear on his face.
“There’s no trick I know of,” he said in a voice that sounded to be genuine. “What did you see to make you think tha
t?” he asked Desil.
Looking toward Beatrix, Desil expected her to attack the liar, but she showed no aggression toward the older man as she helped Kirnich shut and latch the wooden windows along the tavern walls. Desil’s mother came down the stairs and into the dining area.
“You said you would be quiet if I let you stay the night,” Effie complained to Beatrix. “Who is this now?”
“Mother, get your wand,” Desil told her.
Her face hardened into a look he hadn’t seen except in rare moments of danger during their past adventures. She looked younger, fiercer, and capable of destruction.
“What’s happening?” There was no fear in her voice, the opposite of the older man.
“I’m Jimmin Rofters, an advisor to Beatrix’s father,” he said. “I don’t see how there could be a trap—”
“I saw three others out there,” Desil interrupted. “They were hiding and clearly preparing for something.” He gave Beatrix a serious look. “I think I recognized Micklin.”
It was Kirnich who drew his blade first, his longsword singing as it caught the light of the lamp on the center table.
Beatrix grabbed the hilt of her dagger but did not pull, her eyes set on Jimmin. “You know nothing about this?”
“Nothing!” He came toward her from the door with his hands up.
“Mother, your wand,” Desil urged her again.
She nodded, then turned and grabbed the bottom of her sleeping gown to jump up the stairs two at a time.
“How certain are you?” Kirnich asked Desil.
“If it wasn’t Micklin, the people I saw at least mean to do harm.”
“I do sense three close by,” Beatrix whispered. She pointed at two windows a few yards apart on the same wall, then at another window on the opposite side.
“Everything in here is made of damn sartious energy!” Kirnich complained. “We’ll have no cover if one of them is a mage. Desil, is there any real furniture in the other rooms?”
“Yes, upstairs. Chairs and small desks.”
“They will be of no use. There’s nothing else large and close?”
“Our two beds. Upstairs as well.”
“There’s no time to haul a bed down here,” Kirnich said. “Help me position the tables to make a barrier as best we can. Let us hope none of our enemies have control over sartious energy, or they could turn every piece of sartious furniture into dust with a wave of their wand.”
“They won’t be able to shatter anything while I’m here,” Effie said as she returned. Desil felt a spark of pride in being able to stand beside his mother against whoever threatened them, but he hated that whatever was about to happen had to be here in her beloved tavern.
Everyone but Jimmin turned the tables and put them together to form a low wall in front of the windows on the northern side of the tavern, where Beatrix sensed two people lurking. Kirnich decided they should wait for any attack in the kitchen, where a real wall separated them from the rest of the dining area. With the wall of tables in front of the only entrance to the kitchen, there was only one window in which the third attacker could catch them from behind. Unfortunately, it was over the stove, preventing Kirnich from standing right next to it, though he still got as close as he could, his sword at the ready.
Desil didn’t trust the king’s adviser, even if Beatrix hadn’t sensed anything from his psyche. Something wasn’t right with Jimmin, but Desil wasn’t sure if he could figure it out before one of the windows burst open. The latches were weak; the tavern was not designed as a fortress.
“Come here,” Desil told Jimmin, who was the only one on the other side of the makeshift barrier.
The man had his hands up as he glanced around, looking unsure what to do. He rubbed his fingers against his palm as he bit his lip. Finally, he climbed over the tables and crouched on the other side with everyone else.
“Are you sure he’s honest?” Desil asked Beatrix as he fished in the man’s pockets and around his belt for weapons.
“You’re the one not to be trusted here!” Jimmin pushed Desil away. “Get your hands off me. I’m the head councilman to the king, not some ruffian!”
“I read nothing from his energy,” Beatrix said. She sounded curious about this, not that Desil understood why.
Desil refused to stop his search. Even if the princess’ psyche hadn’t picked up anything, he believed Jimmin was part of this trap.
“Shouldn’t you at least feel fear from him?” Desil asked.
She could certainly feel it from Desil’s energy if she tried.
“I’m not afraid because I don’t believe there are people here who mean to do harm,” Jimmin insisted.
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt a trace of emotion from your energy,” Beatrix said. “But it’s never been important until now.” Now Desil understood what he was hearing in her voice. It wasn’t curiosity but skepticism. He patted down the man’s legs as Jimmin tried to squirm away.
“Let him search you,” Beatrix demanded.
Jimmin went still, showing an expression of annoyance.
Desil felt a holster on the man’s ankle. As Desil pulled up a pant leg to reveal a small knife in the hidden holster, Jimmin jumped over the tables.
“Leave me alone!” he called as he scampered toward the door, first on his hands and knees and then to his feet halfway there.
Jimmin sounded very much like a victim, which confused and shocked Desil for a moment until he realized that distracting him and the others was this man’s very intention. Desil leapt over the turned tables in front of him and sprinted after Jimmin. He dove for Jimmin’s foot and grabbed his ankle as the gray-haired man reached the door and wrenched it open.
Jimmin fell halfway out the door. He jerked his foot away before Desil could get a better hold, then snapped his foot back into Desil’s forehead. He ignored the inclination to grab his ringing head, reaching out instead and hooking three fingers into the top of the band of the ankle holster. Jimmin kicked at him once more. Desil took the blow with gritted teeth as he pulled out the knife with his other hand. A third kick made Desil release his grip on the band, though he’d at least secured the knife.
Micklin appeared in the doorway. The pyforial mage who’d attempted to kill Beatrix had trimmed his beard, but everything else about him was the same. His blue eyes held equal fury and pain. His short hair was an odd style, looking as if he’d shaven his head down to his scalp recently, yet the back half had grown back quicker than the front. There was an indignant look about his face, as if he felt he was owed something he’d yet to receive. Two swords hovered in front of his upturned hands, their sharp tips pointed into the tavern. As Micklin’s gaze drifted down toward Desil on the ground, so did the tips of his swords.
Desil rolled past the open door and slammed his elbow into it to shut it with force, but a boot kicked it back open from the other side. It was a shock to see one of the Girgis brothers enter. He took one look inside the tavern before charging at Desil with his sword.
Still getting to his feet, Desil ducked beneath Girgis’s slash. The man growled in anger as he missed. “It’s time to pay!”
Desil had gladly forgotten about Girgis, a king’s guard he’d caught stealing and had brought to Kirnich for punishment, but clearly Girgis had not forgotten about Desil. He swiped wildly as if enraged. Desil dodged the attack and managed to get behind the heavyset man.
Desil was about to drive his knife into a fat rump when he noticed Micklin running toward him, his swords still hovering with ominous intent.
One blade darted toward Desil, but something jolted it as Micklin screamed. The pyforial mage collapsed, and Desil saw he had Beatrix to thank for the sword hilt swatting him in the arm rather than the blade impaling his chest. It was only then that he realized he actually could die here.
Girgis spun around and tried to grab Desil, but Desil was already fleeing toward his allies, his mother screaming for him to run back to them. Kirnich had come out from their measly fort as i
f to help but gingerly climbed back into it as Desil jumped over. It was unfortunate to see the warrior move so slowly, obviously still recovering from his injuries.
Micklin lay coiled on the ground, clawing and squirming toward a sartious chair for cover. It wouldn’t help against psyche, though. Girgis was already sweating through his shirt as he looked stupidly at one of the closed windows.
“Shoot him,” Kirnich said to someone, possibly Desil’s mother as she held her wand up.
“Wait. There.” Desil pointed to where Girgis was looking. The latch broke with a crack as the window burst open to reveal a young man with a long face and a hooked nose. He already had his wand up, but Desil’s mother cast first, forcing him to duck as her fireball went through the window, its edges exploding against the wooden wall.
The young mage showed his ugly face again and retaliated with his own fireball. Beatrix and Kirnich ducked, but Desil trusted his mother to block it as she flicked her wrist and a thin shell of green sartious energy appeared. The fireball washed across it, dissolving into nothing, but the young mage wasn’t done. He unleashed a jet of fire that enveloped the upturned tables. Effie extended her sartious shell to shield everyone from the roaring flame. Heat punched Desil’s face as the fire sizzled. He could see nothing but sparks of light between swirls of orange and green.
“You got Micklin?” Desil asked Beatrix.
“I can’t disable him completely without seeing him.”
The jet of fire finally came to an end. Kirnich had nocked an arrow by then. He positioned himself to shoot, his left sleeve falling to reveal a bandaged arm with a heavy bloodstain. He ducked back suddenly with a curse as a sword crashed into the sartious tables in front of him.
A floating sword rose above them. Desil jumped up and tried to grab the weapon out of the air, but he couldn’t close his hands around the handle, which was blocked by something soft that mimicked an encapsulating sponge. He could barely make it out—pyforial energy wrapped around the handle. It looked almost like glass without borders, impossible to tell where it ended.