Fate of Wizardoms Boxed Set

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  Once in the moonlight, he pocketed his light disk and lifted his prize. The band was gold with an odd design etched into it. The stone mounted to the ring was onyx, black as night. Peering inside the band, he spotted the squiggly script of an enchantment.

  This is definitely the ring.

  Eager to be far away, he pocketed it and headed toward the ivy-covered wall.

  8

  Squall

  Brogan’s eyes were slits against the blowing rain, the water running down his face. It was nearly as dark as night, although sunset was hours away. The ship rocked, spray coming over the rails as he stumbled. Lightning flashed across the sky, the crash of thunder following soon afterward. He opened the stairwell hatch and descended, hurriedly closing it behind him, plunging the corridor into darkness.

  His hands pressed against the wall, he swayed through the gloom, feeling the first doorway and passing it, not stopping until he reached the second door. He opened it to the pale blue light of an enchanted lantern and stepped inside.

  “You’re soaked,” Jace noted from one of the two chairs at their small table.

  Brogan unhooked his cloak and pulled it off his shoulders, hanging it from a hook. Water dripped from it at a steady rate, pooling on the cabin floor. “It’s a mess out there. The wind is too strong, the sails are down, and the crew is manning the oars.”

  Jace glanced toward Rawk and Algoron, the two dwarfs both lying awake on bottom bunks. “These two were afraid to leave the cabin before the storm. We’ll never get them out of here now.”

  Sitting with a sigh, Brogan ran his hand over his shorn hair, sweeping away beads of water. “Captain Helgrued says we are near Rykestan. He has shifted course toward a sheltered bay on the north side of the island. We are to moor there for the night and wait out the storm.”

  “What does that do to our schedule?”

  Brogan shrugged. “It’ll add a day, I suppose.”

  “Ugh,” Jace moaned. “Three more days of being stuck in this tiny cabin? It’s as if I have been sentenced to a dungeon cell. Smells like one, too.”

  “Stop your whining,” Brogan growled, clenching his fist on the table. “I don’t like it any more than you do.”

  Jace narrowed his eyes. “You are quick to threaten with violence. Is that the only way you expect others to respect you?”

  “Stuff it, or I’ll show you violence first-hand.”

  “See?” Jace shook his head. “You are easily angered and seem to want to use your fists to solve problems rather than your head or tongue. I don’t recall you being this bad before you left Fastella.”

  Anger stirred, and Brogan realized he was reacting just as Jace described, which irritated him even more. Rather than making things worse, he stood and turned to the door. “I am going next door to inform the ladies of what is happening.”

  “Tell Narine…” Jace frowned before continuing. “Tell her I am thinking about her.”

  Brogan snorted and considered making fun of the thief. Thoughts of Blythe invaded, and he decided it was best to leave it be. He stepped out into the corridor, pulled the door closed, and reached for the doorway across from their own. Knocking, he waited.

  “Come in.”

  He recognized Blythe’s voice, a smile forming on his face as he opened the door and stepped inside.

  The cabin was a mirror image of their own. Two bunks to each side, a small table and two chairs between them. Rhoa and Blythe sat at the table, while Narine lay in a lower bunk, Adyn in the one above her. Sprawled out on the floor, Phantom lay on his side, the dog’s eyes on Brogan, wagging tail thudding against the floor.

  “How is everyone?” Brogan asked.

  “Surviving,” Blythe said.

  “Better than the alternative, I suppose.”

  The ship tilted, and Brogan gripped the doorknob. When it heeled the opposite way, Narine groaned. Moments later, she scrambled for a bucket and began to retch.

  “Well, some of us are surviving,” Adyn said, looking down at Narine from the upper bunk.

  “Other than sitting around watching Narine get sick, what have you been up to?”

  “We have been talking about you men.” Adyn smiled. “It has been quite…interesting.”

  He glanced at Blythe, her green eyes sparkling as she smirked.

  Brogan shook his head. “I don’t think I want to know.”

  Rhoa chuckled. “Good choice.”

  “Yes, well…” He kneaded his hands together, uncomfortable by the direction of the conversation. “I just spoke with the captain. He has altered course, and we should be in a protected bay within the hour. Things will settle once we get there.”

  “Thank the gods,” Narine moaned, appearing weary as she sat back on her bunk. “With my nausea, I couldn’t sleep last night. By morning, my stomach had finally settled, so I ate lunch. Then this storm hit, and it started all over again.”

  “I hope you feel better soon, Narine.” He paused at the door. “Jace wanted you to know he is thinking about you.”

  Adyn snorted. Blythe chuckled. Rhoa simply arched a brow.

  With a weak smile, Narine replied, “Thank you, Brogan.”

  He hurried back into the corridor to avoid further discussion. Pausing in the dark, things he wished he could say to Blythe ran through his mind, a common occurrence. He still didn’t understand why she had followed him this far, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything that might chase her away. Why are you so selfish, Brogan? His inability to keep her out of danger was just another of his failures.

  With a sigh, he moved down the corridor and knocked on the door to the room Salvon shared with Xionne and Hadnoddon.

  Narine climbed the stairs, the door at the top standing open, the sky above pale blue. She stepped onto the deck and wrapped her cloak about herself, the wind tossing her golden hair about. Her gaze swept the horizon, following a thin strip of land that extended many miles to the north and south.

  When she turned, her gaze settled on Jace standing at the rail, speaking with Brogan. The two men made an interesting pair. Jace short and fit, Brogan a towering mountain. The thief’s head barely reached the warrior’s shoulder, and he likely carried half the weight. Narine didn’t care. The sight of him gave her a warm feeling inside.

  Walking toward them, Narine glanced up at the sails, full and stretched tight, the ship tilted from the force of the wind. A sailor clinging to the main mast rigging pointed toward the strip of land and called down to the captain. Although she couldn’t hear what the man said, she felt a sense of relief. The end of their voyage was approaching, the sturdy comfort of land not far away.

  For someone who becomes sick on the sea, I seem to spend a lot of time on ships.

  As she neared the rail, she was able to hear Jace’s voice over the rush of the surf.

  “…the wagon driver and guards passed through the gate, watching for bandits, completely unaware that the silver beneath the tarp had been replaced by worthless rocks.”

  Brogan chuckled and patted Jace on the shoulder. “I bet they were surprised when they arrived in Marquithe.”

  “Yeah. I wish I could have seen their faces.” Jace shook his head, grinning. “Honestly, the reaction I get from those I have bamboozled often holds more value than whatever it is I have stolen.”

  With a grin across his face, Brogan nodded. “I can imagine the satisfaction you might feel from something like that.” Noticing Narine, he gave her a nod. “Greetings, princess. I pray you are feeling well today.”

  Narine nodded to Brogan, but her eyes were on Jace as he turned toward her. “Quite well, thank you. I made it through an entire day, a night, and thus far today without a bout of nausea. It’s a pleasant change to have eaten a meal without my stomach sending it back.”

  “I’m glad you feel better,” Jace said.

  “As am I. Were you telling Brogan of your silver heist in Souton?”

  He smiled. “I am flattered you remember the story. I only told it once and was u
nsure of how well you were listening.”

  “It was just you, me, and Adyn in a carriage for two full days. There was little to distract me from listening.” She smiled back at him. “Besides, I enjoy your stories, despite your depraved nature.”

  Brogan laughed and punched Jace in the shoulder. “Ha! She knows you too well.”

  Jace rubbed his shoulder and looked at Narine. “Yet she hasn’t run away.”

  She arched a brow. “Perhaps I am waiting for the chance.”

  He took her hand, his palm warm compared to her cold fingers. “If you did run, I would find you. I have some skill in that area.”

  “I have no doubt.”

  She turned and gazed across the deck.

  Rhoa and Blythe stood near the stern, the two women having a quiet discussion. Four of the soldiers in their escort clustered on the quarterdeck. Seeing them made Narine think of Adyn, who currently rested in her bunk after a morning sparring with one of the Gleam Guard soldiers. She had not seen their other companions for days.

  “Where are Rawk and Algoron? What of Salvon?”

  Jace snorted. “You won’t see Rawk or Algoron on deck until we dock. They have barely left the cabin. Something about all the open water has them shaking in their boots.”

  “And Salvon is likely with Xionne and Hadnoddon.” Brogan scratched at the stubble on his cheeks, his goatee now turning into a full beard. “I have seen the old man a few times, but the seer and her bodyguard have been elusive. I only see them when I stop by their room to give updates on our voyage.”

  Even with her cloak wrapped about her, Narine was cold, the biting wind finding all sorts of cracks to sneak through. She hugged herself tightly and asked Brogan, “How long until we reach land?”

  “The captain says we should dock at Growler’s Rock mid-day.”

  Narine turned and gazed eastward, toward the dark strip of land on the horizon. In the sky, the sun was adjacent to the moon, the edge of the two heavenly bodies overlapping slightly. The Darkening would come to Illustan soon. The thought left her wondering who would assume the mantle of wizard lord. Pallanese tradition had kept the throne in the Ueordlin family for five centuries, but with Raskor dead and no male member of the immediate family remaining, the door was open for another wizard to claim the title. She hoped whoever rose to the throne would rule with a fair hand, as did Lord Raskor.

  Led by Targan and two of his soldiers, Rhoa and her companions rode at an easy walk, the other three warriors in their escort trailing behind. At Blythe’s command, Phantom shadowed them at a distance. Surrounded by dark rocks and patches of yellowed, dormant grass, the horses trudged uphill at a deliberate pace, turning as they reached another switchback.

  The wind was brutal, bursts of biting air buffeting them during the ascent. Rhoa was thankful for the furs that had been given to her party, everyone bundled with heads covered, hands mitted, and fur coats beneath their winter cloaks.

  A thousand feet below, the village of Growler’s Rock hugged the shore of a secluded bay. Twenty-some buildings were visible, trails of black smoke rising from chimneys upon the peaked rooftops. Upon reaching the village, Rhoa had been disappointed to learn they would not be spending the night. With Xionne insisting the party forge ahead, Rhoa’s hopes for a soft bed and shelter from the weather were dashed.

  A series of docks, most no more than a hundred feet in length, lined the shoreline, used to moor local fishing boats. At the south end, a much longer dock jutted out into the bay. Still docked there, Sea Lord appeared far smaller than it was in reality, the distance making the sailors on deck appear like ants scurrying about. From the activity on the ship, it was clear Captain Helgrued prepared to depart.

  There is no going back now. As the thought crossed her mind, the trail began to level and her horse crested the high bluff.

  The view opened, and she realized their climb was anything but finished. Rather than switchbacks running along a steep hillside, the path straightened to a gradual slope stretching into the distance, the land covered by long, dead grass and outcroppings of black rock. She squinted, focusing on a dark strip at the horizon. Far off to the south, many miles away, the strip turned white, and she wondered if it might be snow.

  With nothing to impede it, the south wind blew even harder, carrying a chill unlike anything Rhoa had ever experienced. It made her want to wrap her cloak around her face as a shield. Inside her mitts, she clenched her fingers into a fist to keep them warm.

  The soldiers in the lead stopped and waited as the others caught up, the party of fifteen riders and three pack horses clustering together.

  Xionne spoke with a firm voice. “Three or four hours of daylight remain, and the forest is twenty miles away. If we press on, we can reach the forest’s edge. There, we will have the trees to block the wind while we camp for the night.”

  Four hours, Rhoa thought. Thank the gods we were able to get a hot meal in Growler’s Rock.

  Jace shifted in the saddle. “If you are set on riding, let’s ride.”

  Rather than reply, Xionne and Hadnoddon both turned their horses and rode east at a trot. The others kicked their mounts into motion and followed the narrow, uphill trail. Phantom ran parallel to Blythe’s horse, the dog remaining twenty feet from the trail and running through the grass. Rhoa sighed and urged her horse into motion, wondering if she had made the right decision when she agreed to Xionne’s expedition.

  Time ticked by slowly, the rhythm of the horses and monotonous terrain lulling Rhoa into a daze. More than once, she nodded off, only to be startled awake, gripping the reins with one hand, the saddle horn with the other. Rocks and dead grass slipped past, the land unchanging, other than the line of darkness ahead, which grew larger as they drew closer. Twice, they stopped for short breaks to rest the horses and stretch their legs, each respite passing far more rapidly than she wished. The cloud-covered sky grew darker until the gloom of dusk surrounded them. Through that murk, she watched the forest edge draw closer, until it eventually stood right before them.

  Xionne slowed her horse to a stop a few hundred feet from the woods, the wall of trees curving westward less than a half-mile south of their position, blocking much of the wind. “We will make camp here and resume in the morning.”

  The guards climbed off their horses and began unstrapping the rolled tents from the pack horses. Without comment or question, they obeyed Xionne’s orders, as everyone else had for the entire trip. Everyone except for Jace.

  The thief moved his horse beside Brogan’s as the big warrior climbed off. “Why is she in charge? Why should we place our well-being into the hands of this little girl?”

  Brogan grunted. “Don’t upset her. It won’t turn out well for you. Besides, she has yet to make a poor decision. As I recall, there was a time you were near her age and thought you knew everything. I allowed you to make a few mistakes, so long as it didn’t hurt me or anyone else. I see no reason to do anything different here.” Brogan grinned as Jace grimaced. “I set your arrogant little arse straight on that trip. If I must, I’ll do the same with her.”

  The big man turned and led his horse to a grassy area near the forest edge where two soldiers used fallen trees to build a makeshift hitching rail.

  Rhoa climbed off her horse and led it past Jace, stopping briefly. “I understand your reluctance to trust Xionne. There is something about her – something off. However, Salvon, Brogan, and Ariella seem to place great faith in her, so I figure I’ll give her a chance until she gives me a reason to do otherwise.”

  Jace narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Fair enough, but I am sleeping with one eye open.”

  Rhoa snorted. “Good luck with that.” She led her horse off to join the others.

  9

  Shrieks in the Night

  Despite the bedroll beneath her and the tent above, Rhoa was cold and unable to sleep. The blowing wind rustling the tent and whistling through the trees didn’t help, nor did Brogan’s snoring from the tent beside her own.

>   The sleeping arrangements remained as they were on the ship – Rhoa clustered in the small tent with Narine, Adyn, Blythe, and Phantom. She wondered if any of the women were awake but didn’t want to ask and disturb anyone.

  From time to time, she heard the crunching of footsteps pass by the tent – soldiers patrolling the camp. She wondered if they circled to remain warm or if it were routine. Perhaps both.

  An inhuman shriek, high-pitched and terrifying, echoed in the night. Rhoa’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening.

  From across the dark tent, Blythe asked, “Did you hear that?”

  “I have heard that sound before,” Narine said in a shaky voice. “It’s a wyvern.”

  A chill ran down Rhoa’s spine. Another wail arose, this time closer. The horses outside began to whinny and stomp about. Phantom growled, the deep rumble causing the hair on Rhoa’s arms to stand on end.

  “We are under attack!” a guard shouted in the distance. “To arms!”

  Her heart racing, Rhoa threw the blanket off and scrambled for her fulgur blades. It took a moment of feeling about blindly before she gripped one familiar hilt, then the other. She tore them from the sheaths and held them ready. Adyn’s silhouette rushed the tent flap, pulling it aside with one hand while gripping her sword with the other.

  “Remember, they are attracted to motion,” Rhoa whispered. “Move slowly.”

  The sounds of blades being drawn and armor clanking came from outside. Men shouted, one screaming as conflict ensued.

  “Too late,” Adyn growled and burst from the tent.

  Rhoa darted outside, trailed by Phantom and Blythe, the archer holding her bow in one hand, quiver in the other.