Wayward Magic (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 2)

by Melinda Kucsera

  The blade fell from her grasp. What have I become? she wondered. She’d never used magic out of pure anger before.

  “Ann?” Ed ran over to her and gripped her shoulders. “What happened?” He glanced down. “You’re leaving? Damn it, Ann, you can’t walk into—” he stopped as she covered her face with her hands.

  “I’m so tired of running. I’m sick of feeling powerless,” she cried, and tears dripped down her cheeks. “I need to do something. I can’t let Orla get away with what she did.”

  “Killing Orla won’t bring your parents back.”

  “How can I stand back and do nothing?”

  “You’ll never get close to her. Even if you did, we both know someone much more powerful was helping her.”

  “Then what do you expect me to do?” she demanded. “I could take her down if I had to. Whatever magic my father used before he died brought Xander back from death and it did the same with me. If I can’t die now, then I can finally put an end to her.”

  Ed shook his head. “You don’t know that. We don’t know anything about the spell your father used. It could only be temporary. I won’t let you put yourself at risk like that.”

  “You can’t expect me to do nothing.”

  “We will find a way to stop Orla but it’s going to take time. Let’s stay here.” Ed wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “We can do some good here.”

  “I can’t give up my quest to stop Orla. She’s destroying my people.”

  “You don’t have to. We can’t stop Orla and whoever she is working for by ourselves. We need allies.”

  She snorted. “You really think a bunch of outcasts can do that?”

  “We won’t know unless we give them the chance.”

  After years on the run together, Ann and Ed are torn apart when an old friend-turned-enemy resurfaces. Now a prisoner of the demon queen, Orla, Ed must find a way back to Ann before it’s too late. Get Forgotten Magic to find out if he does.

  About the Author

  Tiffany Shand is the author of urban and epic fantasy short stories and books. She spends most of her time defending her desk from her two feline demons—cats—and battling with her dragon who writes books for her. In the real world, she works as a copy editor and copywriter, helping other authors to get their books ready for publication. When she’s not busy working on books, she enjoys spending time with her family and indulging her love of photography.

  Check out her books at tiffanyshand.com. Don't forget to grab your copy of Forgotten Magic for more adventures.

  Pretty Poison

  Raven Oak

  In the Boahim Trilogy, magic is wild and new for most of the Little Dozen Kingdoms. It’s been hidden and forgotten, and in some areas of the world, forbidden. To find magic that devours the way it does in this story would scare anyone, and it should! I really wanted to explore this idea of magic gone wayward or gone rogue. Toss in a character who’s not too sure if she’s on the side of good, and you have a recipe for my kind of story!

  Raven Oak

  After burning the City of Tovias to the ground, Shendra, now Shara of the Order of Amaska, has trained hard as a journeyman. “Pretty Poison” finds us ten years in her future, tracking rumors of a murderer in the new city of Tovias, now called Lachail. What she discovers is magic powerful enough to burn through wood, metal, and people. Can she stop the poisonous spread of such magics before the town is destroyed? Or is she cursed, her trip to Lachail causing it to burn?

  “Lachail? What do they expect us to find down there?” asked Shara as she dragged the whetstone across her dagger.

  Their last ten years of working together left neither of them any younger as her brother’s finger brushed across a healing scar above his brow. “An Amaskan passing through here reported our mark’s there in town. The man’s Tribor.”

  While Shara was newer to the Order than her brother, everyone in the Little Dozen Kingdoms knew that word…and all that came with it—particularly death and destruction. “Why not send the Sadain Army after him? Tribor ain’t nothin’ more than cutthroats for hire.”

  Bredych sighed. “They did. The men didn’t return.”

  “That’s giving the Tribor a lot of credit if this one Tribor took down Royal Army members.” Shara sheathed the now sharpened dagger in her boot and removed the other from her waist. When she ran a long finger across it, it scratched the outer skin layer but otherwise made no mark. “Is it my imagination or do we seem to find ourselves cleanin’ up more and more messes for His Majesty?”

  The words had been uttered under her breath, yet her brother glanced around their campsite at the town’s edge. Shara nudged their campfire with her booted toe, making Bredych flinch, and a laugh erupted from her. “What’s got ya so jumpy?” she asked.

  “You’ve never encountered them, have you?”

  “They’ll kill for a penny. Ain’t exactly the most talented bunch. Are ya really afraid of them?”

  Her brother untucked his shirt from his breeches and pulled it up to expose his abdomen and ribs. A gnarly, purple scar wrapped its way across his flesh from hip bone to arm pit. As thick as her wrist, delicate white lines splayed across the purple scar like spider webs across tree bark. “For all that they aren’t as organized and trained as we are, never discount their desperation. The Tribor count on that when they recruit. Find folks desperate enough for a little coin, and it’s amazing what they’re able to do. One snuck up on me in the woods outside of the capital city.”

  “What’d he use on ya? A scimitar?”

  “Something like that. Point is, I never heard him approach. One moment I was walking, and the next, I was flat in the mud with my innards trying to escape. Only reason I didn’t die was because Grand Master Elish was meeting me in those woods.”

  Shara tilted her head, and when her brother didn’t elaborate, she tucked the information away for later. Odd that the Grand Master would leave the Order. Odder still that he’d be meetin’ my brother considering their abhorrence for each other. Ever since the man had beaten her brother in the race for Grand Master, they’d had a rocky relationship at best.

  The ledge Bredych and Shara camped on lay out in the open, but it gave them a clear view of the town below. As she watched it, she asked, “So what’s this Tribor done that he’s our mark?”

  “He murdered a duke.”

  Her eyes grew wide as she sharpened her second dagger. “The King’s brother-by-marriage?”

  “The very same.”

  A million questions ran slipshod through her head: How’d he gain access to the King’s brother? Is he really that good an assassin or did he just get lucky? Where’d the murder take place, and dammit, why didn’t Elish give me all the details on the mark? Further questions set her on edge, though she tried to shove those darker thoughts aside.

  Bredych’s hand rested on her shoulder, and despite her willing her body to relax, her shoulder muscles stiffened.

  “Now who’s on edge?” he asked with a smirk.

  She remained silent as the sun dipped below the horizon, sending splashes of oranges and reds across the sky. It wasn't until the crickets filled the air with music that Shara turned to face her brother. “Being an Amaskan…it means somethin’, right?”

  “Of course. Serving Justice plays a critical role in the Little Dozen Kingdoms. Why are you asking this now? I thought you long past your doubts in serving the Order.”

  “I thought I was too.” Shara pursed her lips together. “It’s been ten years since I pledged m’self to the Order and Anur, may His Justice pave the way, but I’m never alone. Every job’s with someone else. Not that I mind yer old face, brother, but why are my jobs mostly with you? Why doesn’t Grand Master Elish give the job details to me? Is there a reason I find out the details a moment before we set out to do ’em?”

  Lines gathered across her brother’s face as he listed to the flood that poured forth, and when the questions stopped, he wore a frown that aged him a decade. “I-I thought you enjoyed
working with me.”

  “I do, but there are other Amaskans in the Order. How can I learn to work with other specialties if I never work with others? Besides, ya know as well as I do that there are plenty of solo tasks an Amaskan can take. Why haven’t I been sent on one of those?”

  Bredych pointed at the town below, where tiny torchlights flickered along streets as day shifted to night. “If you were going after this Tribor alone, how would you approach it?”

  “Well, for one, I’d have all the information gathered by the Order, so I’d be able to make a plan. Seein’ as I know naught but he killed a Duke, I’d have to go into town to see if I could gather some gossip on the man. I’d find out where he is, study his routines, and use that to kill him. But ya didn’t answer any of my questions.”

  He sighed, and when his stony gaze met hers, fear gathered along the edges of his eyes. “There is a…shift happening within the Order. Some feel Elish’s devotion to Anur is not what it should be, and that he focuses too equally on the Thirteen.”

  “The Thirteen are our creators. Should we not serve them all?”

  “Yes, but as Amaskans, Anur comes first. He is Justice, and Elish would have us diverge from the path the Order has followed since before the split of Boahim into the Little Dozen Kingdoms. Many Amaskans aren’t willing to make such changes.”

  As her brother spoke, the muscles beneath his eyes twitched—a tell going back to childhood when he’d tell her parents half-truths about where he was going. Shara ran her hands across her bald head. What was he hiding? To him, she asked, “And what’s yer role in all this dissension? Don’t tell me ya ain’t involved, ’cause I know ya are.”

  He met her gaze again and this time, a fire burned in his eyes. A familiar fire, and a dangerous one. “I’ve not kept it a secret from you that I want to be Grand Master. If the Order decides they aren’t happy with Elish’s leadership, this can only be a good thing as far as my future’s concerned—”

  Shara gasped. “You’d see him removed to suit yer own needs? How’s that serve Justice?”

  “I’m not doing anything, not directly, that would add to the issue, but if someone asks my thoughts on Elish’s leadership, I’ll not lie to the Order, Shara. Neither should you.”

  “What do I have to do with this plan to upset the Order?”

  “It’s obvious our Grand Master doesn’t trust you. Like you said, you aren’t sent on any jobs without your older brother to watch over you. If Elish can’t trust his own family, who can he trust?”

  The way Bredych laid it out, it all made perfect sense. Too much sense if she thought about it long enough. What better way to overthrow the competition and take Elish’s place than a vote of no confidence?

  “As to why he doesn’t trust you, I don’t know, Shara. Maybe it’s all that business with the City of Tovias.”

  “That was ten years ago.”

  “Some people never forget.” Bredych shrugged and dug through his saddlebag for a blanket. “We should get some sleep. It’s been a long day traveling and we’ve a long day ahead of us on the morrow.”

  Shara stared at the town of Lachail while her brother stretched out across his blanket. She didn’t move when his eyes shut but waited to move until his gentle snores joined in with the crickets’ song.

  His saddlebag lay beside him, and she unbuckled the clasps on it with slow-moving fingers. While she watched him breathe, her fingers traveled across the bag’s contents until they touched the parchment’s rough edges near the side, and inch-by-inch, she pulled it from the bag’s grasp.

  A single circle marked the parchment, which she unfolded before the fire. There wasn’t much to the note—no details on the mark’s background or anything that would be helpful to anyone, should they find the scrap—but two lines gave Shara all the information she needed.

  Name—Eli.

  Staying at the Katalhum Inn.

  No physical description, but she’d get that from others at the inn. She folded the parchment and returned it to her brother’s saddlebag.

  Above her, a sliver of waning moon cast the barest light to the shadows. By the time her brother woke, there would be one less Tribor in the world.

  If some people won’t forget, I’ll have to make them forget.

  Eyes to the ground, Shara walked silently out of camp and towards the town below…

  Lachail was less a town and more a collection of buildings circling a clearing near one of Sadai’s few forests. The fact that it had an inn, let alone two, surprised Shara as she stood in the town’s center. Most of the evening’s action took place in the second inn, a large stone building to her right that towered over the other buildings. Beside it was a butcher, a baker, and a blacksmith, all of which were closed up tight in the evening hours.

  At first, Shara missed Katalhum Inn. So small a building, it was wedged between one non-descript building and another, but as she walked past, a burly man (likely the blacksmith) exited, spilling light across the pathway in front of her. She caught the door with her booted toe and pulled her cloak tighter about her face.

  Half-a-dozen people huddled into the room, more tavern than inn, and all but one glanced up from drink and conversation as she entered. A puffy-faced man stood behind the counter, a frown tugging his generous lips down toward his beard. “Can I help you?” he asked in a voice that offered little help.

  “Need a room.”

  His frown deepened. “Try the Ebitai. Plenty of rooms there.”

  “I need a room somewhere quiet. Somewhere not the Ebitai.”

  A chair scratched across the wooden floor as it moved, and the sixth figure who’d been tucked into the corner, stood and waved his hand in the innkeeper’s direction. Dressed in gray from head to toe, his easy smile felt wrong as Shara’s skin danced in response. “I’ll vouch for her,” the stranger said as he approached. “Seen her before at the Guild.”

  The innkeeper nodded and dug out a key from his waist pouch. “Last room on the right’s yours ’til the morning. Guild rules apply so no fighting here.”

  Which guild? Certainly not the Merchant’s Guild by the stains and tears in the customers’ clothin’. Shara nodded her thanks. Perhaps the Mercenary’s Guild?

  The stranger gestured for her to join him at his table, and Shara followed him, claiming the chair against the wall. He chuckled at this and turned his chair so it was beside hers. They both had a clear view of the inn, but better yet, the spot gave them the perfect view of the front door.

  Silence spread across the table as the innkeeper approached carrying two mugs of ale, which he set down in front of them before returning to the counter. Once out of earshot, the stranger took a sip of his mug and said, “I’m Eli. What brings you to Lachail?”

  Shara hid her smile in her mug as she followed his example. “Shara. Same as usual—lookin’ for work. And yerself?”

  “The same. Seems harder to find these days. Everyone expects the Royal Guard to help them, not that they’d ever set foot in Lachail.” Eli stared at her face as the candle light flickered, but her hood remained drawn, covering both her bald head and her tattoo.

  When he scratched the fresh stubble at his jaw, she studied him in return and caught the faintest outline of a circular tattoo beneath his hair. His head wasn’t bald, but sometimes Amaskans grew their hair out if working special jobs. Still, something about him made her stomach clench as she glanced about the inn.

  Of course, Bredych isn’t here. He’s sleepin’ on the hilltop where I left him. Dammit.

  “What kind of work can you do?” Eli asked after another sip of ale.

  Keeping the conversation light, she spoke under the assumption that those in the inn were mercs. “Mostly escortin’ merchants. Guardin’ them and their goods and such. Willin’ to fight a skirmish or two if the pay’s good. Anything like that up here?”

  “I’ve been waiting two weeks for something, as have we all,” he said as he gestured to the rest of the room. “Though I think the both of us are b
etter suited to certain kinds of work. Better than guarding merchants, wouldn’t you say?”

  Shara forced herself to swallow. The note said our mark was Eli, but this one’s doin’ his best to shout out that he’s Amaskan. Is Eli our contact or our mark? She forced herself to spit the words out. “I don’t follow.”

  He rubbed his chin a second time, and then reached out to touch her cloak’s hood. His hand made it halfway before she caught it in her own. “See? You had no problems catching my hand. Half the fools in this room couldn’t catch a hammer if you threw them one.”

  “I would expect any mercenary worth their coin to have caught yer hand. Ain’t like ya were movin’ all that fast.”

  Eli’s laughter rang sharp to her ears as he smiled. She reached up to find her hood had fallen back a few inches and sighed. “Fine, let’s quit dancin’ around the room. Anur’s blessin’ this night,” she whispered.

  “I think you mean ‘Asti’s blessing.’”

  The phrase’s correction was a test, one Eli passed, and Shara almost relaxed, but something about the situation left her unsettled. “If you know that, then you know who I am.”

  “Of course. Amaskan. As am I.”

  While some Order members were stationed across Sadai, none were in Lachail. Shara glanced at the floor, where his long, tight breeches were tucked into boots. Without seeing his ankle, she had no proof of his identity. I should’ve listened to my brother. To Eli, she said, “I hadn’t realized Grand Master Bredych had anyone in town besides me.”

  He didn’t blink at the name. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders. “Who am I to question the whims of our Grand Master? I only know what I’m told, which was to wait for another who would give me the plan. I assume that’s you.”

  The inn’s door opened to a tall, hooded figure who ignored the innkeeper and scanned the group, his cold eyes settling on Shara.