Fate of Wizardoms Boxed Set

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  “The guards will come,” Adyn said.

  Narine realized she had little time. “When they see my father dead, they will capture or kill all of us. My brother has sway with Burrock and his men.” Her breath came in gasps as panic arose. “We must go!”

  Adyn took Narine’s arm and began helping her across the theatre floor. The world tilted and twisted with each step, and Narine’s nausea returned in full force.

  “Aren’t you a wizardess?” Jace asked as he caught up to them. “Can’t you just use your magic to destroy them?”

  “My head hurts badly, and I am dizzy.” She began climbing the stairs, moving carefully on the wet marble. “Magic requires mental fortitude and is difficult with a clear head. In this condition, I fear it won’t work.”

  He grunted. “I won’t pretend to know anything of magic, but if we can’t use it, we had better hurry.”

  They reached the top of the stairs and were about to enter the garden when three men stepped onto the path and drew their swords.

  “Not so fast, Princess,” said Captain Burrock.

  Narine froze.

  “Let us past, Burrock,” Adyn said. “We’ve no quarrel with you.”

  “Perhaps you should have considered that before you murdered Lord Taladain.”

  “We did not murder my father,” Narine said. “The performers did.”

  “And who hired them?” Burrock asked. “It was you, Narine.”

  “I had nothing to do with their hiring. I only just met them.”

  A malicious grin crossed his face. “I have plenty of witnesses who will attest to you hiring them. It was all a convenient plan. You sent your brother off on a fool’s errand so you could murder your father. Your recent return from Tiadd will make the entire tale appear plausible, easy to believe. You will die, and Eldalain will ascend to the throne.”

  “I suppose you will ascend with him,” Adyn growled.

  Burrock shrugged. “Only seems fair since I was the one who captured you all.” His tone became grim. “I suggest you surrender. I have sealed the palace. Even if you get past me, all exits are barred and guarded.”

  Narine tried to draw in magic while forming an energy construct. The magic was pitiful, the pattern falling apart before it could form.

  “My magic won’t work,” she whispered to Adyn.

  “Then I will fight,” Adyn said. She released her grip on Narine’s arm. The old musician in yellow jumped in, catching Narine as she stumbled. Adyn drew her sword, gripping it in one hand while holding her dagger in the other.

  She stopped three paces from Burrock. “Let’s see if you’ve still got it, old man.”

  He snorted. “You might get the better of my guards, but you won’t best me. Besides, you’re outnumbered.”

  “No, she isn’t,” Rhoa said. “I just killed your wizard lord. I can kill a couple guards, as well.” She then said, “Rawk! Slingshot!”

  When Rhoa launched herself toward the short man in purple and green, Adyn attacked Burrock. Her sword met his while her dagger parried the blade of the guard on her right. Rawk caught Rhoa by the hand and spun in a circle with the girl’s feet three feet off the ground. He released his grip and she twisted through the air, toward the third guard. Blades appeared in her hands, the first knocking the man’s sword aside, the second driving through the man’s shield and deep into his arm. The guard cried out in pain and pulled away. She dove beneath his swinging blade and thrust hers into his knee. The man’s leg buckled, and she leapt over him as he fell, driving her other blade right through his helmet. He was dead by the time he hit the ground.

  At the same time, Adyn did her best to dodge, duck, and block the strikes from Burrock and the other guard. One slice left a nasty gash across her right thigh, another on her left shoulder. The guard to her right suddenly stiffened, his eyes bulging. He fell to his knees and toppled over, revealing Jace standing behind him, bloody dagger in his hand.

  Now facing only Burrock, bleeding heavily from her leg and the opposite shoulder, Adyn pressed harder, the man blocking her slashing attacks while countering with his own. She fell, her leg suddenly giving way. Burrock raised his blade for the kill but had underestimated Adyn’s reflexes. She lunged forward, twisting out of the path of his sword while thrusting up, beneath his shield. When her sword slid into his stomach, the man’s eyes appeared as if they might pop out. He stumbled backward, holding his wound with his shield hand. Adyn rose to her feet and spun, her sword leveled at his neck. He raised his blade to block hers, but it left his right side open to her trailing dagger. It buried deep into his ribs.

  Adyn pulled herself close to Burrock, her face mere inches from his. “You lose, old man.”

  With a jerk, she twisted the blade. He shook violently. His sword fell to the ground as blood gurgled from his mouth. Adyn then shoved him backward. He crashed to the path, dead.

  Adyn wobbled and fell to her knee.

  “Help her!” Narine cried.

  “I’ve got this,” Jace said as he removed his servant coat and wrapped it around the woman’s bloody thigh, tying it tightly. He then placed Adyn’s good arm over his shoulder and helped her stand. “Now, can we finally leave? You people have got to stop with all the distractions.”

  Narine’s brow furrowed at Rhoa.

  “Get used to it,” the short girl said. “He thinks he’s funny. I admit, sometimes he is. Mostly he’s just annoying.”

  “How are we going to get out?” Narine tried to stand on her own and discovered she didn’t tip sideways. “You heard Burrock. The exits are guarded, the palace sealed.”

  “I can get us out.”

  Everyone turned toward the short, muscular performer with the odd spectacles. It was the first time she had heard him speak.

  “Lead the way, Rawk,” the old man said, putting his hand on the shorter man’s thick shoulder.

  Rather than taking the path, Rawk pushed his way through the garden, trampling flowers and splitting shrubs. The others followed, Jace supporting Adyn on his uninjured side, Salvon helping Narine. The trees grew thicker, then fell away when they reached the outer edge of the garden. Before them was the palace wall, forty feet tall and impossible to climb.

  “What are we doing?” Narine asked. “I spent many hours in this garden as a child. If there were an exit near here, I would know of it.”

  “There will be a new exit.” The short man placed his hands against the wall and closed his eyes.

  Confused, Narine glanced at the others, gauging their reactions. Salvon, Rhoa, and Jace all appeared calm and unconcerned. Adyn’s face was twisted in pain. When Narine turned back toward Rawk, his hands sank into the wall. Grinding, crunching sounds arose as he scooped his hands together and dug out a chunk of stone twice the size of a man’s head. Repeatedly, he dug into the wall, tossing aside the stone he removed while leaving piles of dust and debris at his feet. In no more than a few minutes, he had crafted a tunnel three feet in diameter and entirely through the four-foot-deep wall.

  Narine was astounded. She had never heard of such magic, but it undoubtedly had to be magic. There was no other answer. After climbing out the far end of the tunnel, he beckoned the others to follow.

  “I’ll go first,” said the old man in yellow as he crawled into the hole.

  Narine followed. Who are these people? The things they had accomplished gave her hope that she might escape Eldalain’s wrath.

  40

  Into the Sunset

  With the breaking dawn, Rhoa, her companions, an old horse, and a two-wheeled cart left the stable yard of The Thirsty Goat. Jace was in the lead, followed by Adyn, then Salvon, who drove the cart. Since Narine was easily recognizable, she lay hidden beneath a blanket in the cart, along with a small barrel of water, food Salvon had purchased from Breida, and other supplies.

  Upon reaching The Thirsty Goat the prior evening, Jace had rented a room for the princess and her bodyguard – the gesture surprising Rhoa and leaving her wondering about his motive. T
he entire group appeared spent, ordering meals to take in their rooms before retiring early with the plan to rise before the sun.

  Thankfully, Adyn’s limp had diminished, and Jace was no longer holding his shoulder. By the time the group prepared to leave, Narine had recovered enough to use her magic to heal them both. Rhoa had asked the princess why she didn’t heal herself. Narine explained that it was impossible for anyone but a wizard lord. Magic, its uses and limitations, were beyond Rhoa. She had already seen enough of magic to last her a lifetime.

  In single file, the small caravan exited the alley and entered the street, which remained quiet at the early hour. They all wore cloaks – Salvon’s with a variation of patches, the others dressed in black or grey. Rhoa walked beside Rawk, the two trailing the others by a fair margin while still keeping them in sight.

  Rhoa’s head was foggy from lack of sleep, but anxiety twisted her innards and left her heart pounding. She was eager to escape the city and wished to never return. Even with Taladain dead, the city was a reminder to all she had lost. The act of killing the wizard lord had cost her, consuming a piece of her soul. She didn’t regret the act, believing it necessary. However, despite years of desiring to see Taladain dead at her own hands, she found herself wishing someone else could have buried a blade into the man’s heart.

  The street emptied into the square near the south gate where a cluster of people and wagons waited. A bell tolled, and the massive portcullis began to rise. Rhoa watched as the guards cranked the wheel, winding the chain connected to the Maker-built gate. Made from solid iron, twenty feet wide and thirty feet tall, she wondered how much it must weigh. Anyone caught beneath the gate, should it fall, would certainly be dead.

  Guards stood to each side of the open gate and began waving people through. The men watched closely, inspecting wagons and forcing people to lower their hoods. They are searching for us. Her worry increased thrice-fold, wondering how Jace expected to get them past. As the thought came to her, he bumped into another traveler and turned toward the man.

  “Thief!” Jace yelled. “He stole my coin purse!”

  “What?” The man stared at him as if he were crazy. Standing a head taller than Jace, he glared down at him in anger. “I’ve done no such thing!”

  “Guards!” Jace shouted, waving while tugging on the arm of the accused. The man yanked his arm free. “Arrest this man. He’s a thief.”

  Three guards came over, leaving the other three to the inspections, slowing the line of people leaving the city to a crawl.

  “What is this about?” one guard asked.

  “This man stole my coin purse,” Jace said, pointing at the man.

  “I did no such thing. I’m a trader, not a thief.”

  “Sounds the same to me,” Jace said.

  The other guard said, “Let’s straighten this out.” He pointed at Jace. “Can you prove your claims against this man?”

  “Yes. I had a coin purse on my person, and he just stole it. Inside is a circular amulet, depicting an eight-pointed star, attached to a necklace, which was from my dear, departed wife. Surrounding the amulet, you’ll find runes and squiggly lines – a message in her native tongue of Hassakani.”

  Rhoa gasped, her hand going to the amulet beneath her tunic. It was still there.

  The guard pointed toward the accused man. “We will need to search you.”

  With a shrug and lifting his arms, the man said, “Suit yourself.”

  One guard patted the man down. He frowned when he patted the man’s coat pocket. A moment later, he withdrew a small purse.

  “What?” the accused man exclaimed. “How’d that get there?”

  The guard eyed him as he loosened the ties on the purse and peered inside. He reached in and pulled out the necklace.

  Rhoa’s brow furrowed. Where did he get that?

  “See!” Jace exclaimed. “Just as I told you.”

  “I don’t know how it got there. I swear,” said the big man.

  The guard pushed the coin purse and necklace toward Jace, who took it eagerly. He then turned to the accused man. “You are under arrest.”

  When the guard reached for the man, a big, meaty fist struck him in the face. The other two guards reached for the accused man, and they began to scuffle just as Salvon’s cart reached the guards conducting the inspections. They abandoned their post and ran over to help their comrades attempting to subdue the trader Jace had accused. The big man picked up one of the guards and threw him toward the others before turning to run back into the city. All six guards gave chase, shouting.

  Jace gave Rhoa a grin, turned, and casually walked through the gate behind Salvon’s cart with the princess hidden in the back. Rhoa shook her head and wondered at the thief’s luck. Everything he did seemed to go his way, and she found herself envious at the ease with which he made it happen.

  Two hours had passed by the time they stopped to rest. During that time, Rhoa had repeatedly glanced backward in fear of pursuit. None came.

  Since only three people could fit on the cart, Rawk, Rhoa, Jace, and Adyn took turns, while Narine rode the entire time. Rhoa wasn’t sure if Narine continued to ride because of her head injury or if the woman simply expected such treatment because she was a princess. Will she demand we build a palanquin and carry her? Rhoa tried to imagine Jace’s response to such a request. The thought brought a grin to her face.

  The hills and trees, creeks and ponds, fields and valleys all slipped past as they journeyed south. An odd, somber quietness hovered over the group the entire day, hardly a word said. Rhoa’s thoughts continued to shift between the confrontation with Taladain and what she might do with her future. The first she faced with a continued sense of disbelief, the latter with frightening uncertainty. In the back of her head, the knowledge she had killed two men lingered. One had been for revenge, the other to enable their escape. Which will haunt me more? She had no answer.

  When the sun approached the horizon, Salvon pulled his cart into a small glade between two clusters of pines so the group could make camp. Rawk and Rhoa gathered wood, then Salvon built a fire. The storyteller pulled out a slab of beef he had purchased from Breida and began preparing a spit for cooking over the flames.

  Rhoa drifted away, found a nearby boulder, and sat. A sliver of sun peeked over the edge of the mountains to the west. She watched it fade away while sifting through her thoughts. Rather than leaving her alone, Jace walked over, climbed onto the boulder, and sat beside her. For a long moment, he also faced west, his gaze distant.

  “I am sorry,” he finally said.

  Rhoa arched a brow. “While I am surprised you know the phrase, why exactly are you apologizing? Your list of offenses is quite long, so I don’t wish to assume I know the reason.”

  Jace chuckled. “Fair point.” He sighed and pulled out his coin purse. From it, he withdrew a necklace Rhoa recognized. She clutched at her chest. Hers was still there.

  She then recalled seeing him with the amulet at the gate in Fastella. “I don’t understand. Where did you get it?”

  “I stole it. From you.”

  She pulled her own amulet from beneath her tunic. It appeared identical. “I still don’t understand.”

  “Yours is a fake,” Jace said.

  Rhoa jerked backward in shock, recalling Taladain’s magic, the lightning, the fire. If she had faced it without the amulet to protect her, she should be dead.

  “It’s not possible.”

  “I know.” Jace shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Magic.” Salvon’s voice came from behind them, the man walking around the boulder until he stood before Rhoa. “Magic is an illusion, but a special kind of illusion. It is among the things I learned while living with the Seers.”

  Jace snorted. “Of course it’s an illusion. I just imagined lightning frying those guards and a fireball that scorched the marble.” His tone was thick with sarcasm.

  Salvon gave Jace a reproving glare. “To those who are susceptible to
such an illusion, it is quite deadly.”

  Jace rolled his eyes. “What are you talking about, old man?”

  “There exists a prophecy, ancient and quite unique. Among many things in this augury is the prediction that the human race will one day see an anomaly – people who exist outside of magic and are blind to the illusion.”

  Rhoa’s brow furrowed. “You are saying I am one of those people who are…blind to magic?”

  Salvon smiled. “I have suspected it for many years. My lute was the first clue.” He pointed toward the weapons strapped to her thighs. “The fulgur blades confirmed my suspicion.”

  She drew one of her blades and frowned at it. “How so?”

  “You weren’t affected when you first touched my lute, which is protected by an enchantment designed to keep others from stealing it. And then your blades do not shock you when you grip them.”

  “Of course.” Rhoa shrugged. “When you gave the knives to me, you told me they were bound to me and would injure anyone else who touched them.”

  “I am sorry, my dear,” Salvon said. “I lied.”

  Of all the things Rhoa knew of Salvon, she had never imagined him hiding the truth from her. “You lied?”

  “Haven’t you wondered why nobody else uses such a blade?”

  She frowned, her brow furrowed. “I assumed they were rare or expensive.”

  “In truth, they are rare.” He nodded, pacing as he spoke. “Expensive? Not so much. You see, the enchanter who made the blades had high hopes for such a weapon. However, he could not touch them without experiencing severe pain…nor could anyone else. So those blades languished in a storage room for years, unwanted, until I happened upon them roughly ten years ago. I had a hunch about you, and those blades were a small price to pay to prove my theory. When you could hold them without repercussions, I knew the truth.”

  Rhoa gripped the amulet, looking down at it. “So this is fake? I didn’t need it to face Taladain?”

  Jace replied, his tone apologetic, “Again, I am sorry I deceived you. I found the real one beneath your mattress and hired a jeweler to craft a copy. I swapped them, leaving the fake amulet with you, and…”