Ann muttered an unlocking spell, “Dighlasail.” Unlock.
Nothing happened.
Whatever spell had been cast around the door seemed stronger than she’d anticipated.
She raised her hands, heating the door with her firepower. Flames rippled against the wooden door as it flashed with purple light. But still, it wouldn’t budge.
Gritting her teeth, Ann raised both her hands and used the full force of her power against the door. The door shattered, sending sparks and shards of wood flying in all directions.
She peered into the hall. Odd, there were no guards around. Yet two guards were always stationed on the floor.
The sound of shouting and something breaking made her jump. It came from her father’s private chamber on the floor below.
Ann ran, her bare feet cold on the hardwood as she shot down the hall and down the steps.
It had to be past midnight, who would her father even have in there with him?
She stopped as she reached the corridor. No guards here either. It made no sense. One of the Black always stayed close to the archdruid.
“No!” a voice bellowed. Her father’s voice.
By the spirits, what’s happening in there? Ann flung the door open and found Urien and Darius grappling with each other over a knife.
Xander lay on the floor, clutching his abdomen as blood seeped through his shirt.
“Xander?” Ann fell to her knees beside him. “What happened? Who did this?” She ripped off a piece of her nightgown and held it over the wound.
“Urien, Ann…” Blood gurgled from his mouth and he slumped back.
Ann felt the pulse at his neck as it started to fade. Thank the spirits. She drew magic, trying to close the wound and to heal it. Nothing happened. No magic couldn’t heal the dead.
“Xander? Xander!” She covered her mouth as she let out a sob.
A few feet away lay their mother, her glassy eyes wide open. Ann looked away. There might not have been much love lost between her and her mother, but she hadn’t wanted Deanna to die.
This couldn’t be happening. How could they both be dead? She looked up to the haze of tears as Urien struck Darius with a lightning bolt.
Another figure moved out of the shadow. A woman with the same dark hair and eyes as Urien: his mother, Orla.
She flew at Ann, knife gleaming.
Ann dodged the blow and kicked Orla’s feet from out from under her. The demon snarled and shot back up.
Ann spun and kicked her in the abdomen, then knocked the knife away. Fire formed in her hand as she sent Orla crashing through the window. It wouldn’t keep Orla away for long but hopefully long enough for her to stop Urien and save their father.
Urien hit Darius with another lightning bolt.
Fire shot across the room as Darius retaliated.
Ann stood there, frozen for a moment. More fire flared between her fingers, hot, pulsing fire.
The house of Valeran will fall… The seer’s words echoed through her mind.
Not if I can help it!
Ann turned and threw a fireball straight at Urien. Urien cried out and stumbled backward. He stared at her, wide-eyed. “What are you doing, Rhiannon?”
“What am I doing? What are you doing?” she demanded.
A knife appeared in his hand. “Guess you’ve made your allegiance clear, sister.” Urien charged at her.
“No!” Before Ann had the chance to react Darius shoved her aside, stepping between her and the blade.
She caught hold of him as the blade went through his chest out and through his back.
Ann wrapped an arm around Darius then eased him to the floor and used the other arm to blast Urien across the room. “No, Papa, stay with me.”
“I…I knew this would come,” Darius said. “You can’t stop the prophecy.”
“You’re not going to die. You can’t,” she insisted. “You strong, you’ve survived worse than this.”
“This my fate. Rhiannon, you have to go. Get away from here. Find Edward, he’ll keep you safe. I gave him all the information he needs to get you to safety.” He reached up and touched her cheek. “There’s so much I wish I could have told you. Promise me you won’t give up. You’ll fight.” He reached up and touched her face. “I…love…you.” His hand fell away as his eyes closed.
“No, Papa. Come back!” She let out an anguished sob.
Urien groaned as he scrambled up. “He’s gone?” he said in disbelief.
Ann wiped her eyes. Inside her heart felt like it had been torn apart. The pain became filled with white-hot anger. “Why would you do this?” she screamed. “Why? Why would you kill them?”
“Because I’m tired of being cast aside. Being the archdruid is my birth right yet he never gave it to me.” Urien’s fists clenched then he smirked. “But demons are swarming through the palace as we speak. His precious realm will be mine. You don’t have to die too, Rhiannon. Truth be told I’ve always been fond of you.” His smile grew wider. “You could join me. Together we could conquer all five realms and become unstoppable.”
“You just killed my parents and my brother; I’ll never join you.”
Energy crackled as light rose from Darius’ body, lightning flashed as a ball of energy shot straight toward Ann. It hit her in the chest, making her scream. The power expanded outwards, hitting Urien and Xander’s body that lay in the doorway.
“No!” Urien screamed. “That power is mine!”
Ann’s head spun, she couldn’t move, couldn’t think as the magic shot through every single nerve ending. No, that wasn’t the archdruid’s power. Papa cast a spell.
Her anger intensified. Urien had taken everything from her, her parents, her beloved little brother. Now she’d make him pay.
Her hand shot out as Urien came at her. “Death isn’t good enough for you, brother.”
Urien thrashed against her but they both knew she had the stronger magic now.
She reached out and tried to pull his soul from his body.
“No, you won’t have my son!” Orla screamed as she burst back through the doorway.
Edward came in after her, knocked the demon aside and in one swift move, thrust his sword through Urien’s chest. Urien screeched as Ann ripped his soul from his body and it exploded in the first of blue light.
Urien’s body slumped to the ground, lifeless.
Ann sank to her knees beside her father, all her strength gone.
Ann didn’t remember much as the Black swarmed in. The palace had been overrun with Orla’s forces, so the Black had taken Ann and the bodies of the other Valeran’s away.
Ed held her whilst she wept. She didn’t say or do anything on the ride away from the palace.
To her amazement, Xander woke up. Ann had no idea how such a thing was possible and guessed her father must’ve done something. It didn’t matter as long as she had Xander with her.
She’d broken down when Ed had taken her in his arms and forced her to let go of her father’s hand. There they buried Darius and Deanna’s bodies in a secret tomb.
Urien was gone too but he wasn’t dead. She’d taken his soul from his body but one day he would find his way back. That much she did know.
Ann watched as the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon.
“Ann, we have to go.” Ed squeezed her hand.
“Go where?” she asked.
“To Trin. Your grandmother is there waiting for us.”
“Orla has control of Caselhelm, doesn’t she?” The nightmare didn’t seem real.
Ed nodded. “Most of the Black are probably gone too.”
She looked up at Reevus. “My father knew this would happen.”
Reevus seemed to have aged overnight. “You are the archdruid now, Lady Rhiannon. You…”
She shook her head. “No, Rhiannon is dead now too. I’m not the druid’s daughter anymore. But that doesn’t make me the archdruid. I don’t know what I am,” Ann said. “I do know one thing. Whatever happens, I’ll m
ake sure Orla and the power behind her is stopped. One way or another.”
Ann and Ed barely escaped from the demon queen, Orla, with their lives. Now Orla sits on the archdruid’s throne, and she will stop to find them and take what she wants most—the power of the archdruid for herself. Get Wayward Magic to find out what happens next.
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 Wayward Magic for more adventures.
The Amethyst Window
Leah W. Van Dinther
This story is about an elderly woman who can talk with the spirits of the dead, particularly those anchored in/on old objects. She will encounter a "villain" who is not quite villainous, and learn about old magic that she has never encountered before. I wrote this story as a tribute to my Mother, may she rest in peace, who is represented by the main character. Her stories deserve to be told and enjoyed.
Leah W. Van Dinther
Carol had always "known" things... Secret things... Hidden things... Things about old objects, so it was only natural that she should become an antique-dealer. But one day, she encounters a man who makes the souls around her shudder in fear…
The Amethyst Window
In the center of Philadelphia is an area of well-to-do shops, condominiums, and art conservancies known as Rittenhouse Square, named after the little-known, but brilliant physicist, surveyor, and watchmaker, David Rittenhouse. It was here where Carol Conley often found some of the most unique, antique pieces of jewelry.
O’Katy’s was twenty floors up in one of the old, gothic-styled high-rises at 20th and Locust. Carol looked up as she approached the building; up the smooth, granite sides; up to the carved, gargoyled rain-spouts. She smiled. When she was just a child, she had waved to those figures, and had imagined their grotesque grins were just for her. She walked up to the doorman.
“Hello, Mrs. Conley,” he said and dipped his black-hatted head as he opened the polished, glass door for her.
“Hello, George. Would you tell Katherine I’m here?”
“Of course, Mrs. Conley. She’s expecting you. Go right on up.”
Carol smiled.
“Thanks, George. Is she busy today?”
“No, Ma’am.”
Carol stepped into the small elevator and pressed the button for the 20th floor. The ride was smooth, but slow. These old buildings had converted to modernism fairly well, but elevator space was minimal, and the mechanics were tricky to fit, so they were all small and slow. Carol didn’t mind. She waited patiently, examining her reflection in the polished brass, and fixing her greying hair until the doors opened right into the shop, and she walked into O’Katy’s.
It was a simple, square room with glass counters, display cases along the walls, wooden curio cabinets on the counters, and a small, black safe set into the back wall behind the register. There was also an open doorway in the back wall, leading into a small, white-walled office. Katherine O’Katy (Katie O’Katy, as her customers often liked to joke), was a woman of medium build, with medium brown hair of medium length, and eyes of a nondescript brown that looked out from behind medium-sized, cat’s-eye glasses. She beamed a smile, which turned her otherwise unremarkable face into a work of glory to rival any DaVinci or Vermeer.
“Mrs. Conley! It’s so good to see you, how have you been? I have some lovely pieces for you to see today. Now, I have another customer coming in just a little while, I hope you don’t mind?” Katie smoothed the front of her black dress.
“No worry, my dear,” Carol replied. “I’ll just poke around while you two talk.”
Usually, this was against store policy. O’Katy’s had a rule about only allowing one customer into the store at a time. Something about proprietary-rights to some of the pieces they occasionally offered. Carol didn’t mind though, as she was just here to “poke around,” as she had said.
Katie brought a black, velvet-covered tray out from the backroom (the “Office”, as Katie called it) and set it down before her.
“Now, these are just the pieces I thought you’d really like. These two, in particular.” She gestured to two black, velvet sacks on the tray as she carried it over to a table, and sat down on the far side of it from Carol. Carol walked over and sat down in the chair on her side. She looked at the tray. Besides the velvet sacks, there was a pearl necklace, a delicate, silver-filigree watch, a carved signet ring, and a plain, gold bangle.
Carol picked up the pearls. They were graduated in size, with the largest in the middle being about 10 millimeters across. The box-clasp was interesting, with dark, faceted stones set into it.
“Marcasite?” Carol asked, with one eyebrow raised.
“Black Sapphire....” Katie replied with a sly smile and a wink.
“Hmm...,” Carol mused, “Interesting. I’ll think about these.” She picked up the signet ring next. When she touched it, she felt the familiar hum at the back of her skull. The room... washed out; became translucent in texture and color... and over it she saw a face, male, with closely cropped, dark hair and a square jaw. Not a soft face, but one with a penetrating gaze under lowered brows. A militaristic song was drumming in the background, but it was nothing Carol recognized. He looked right at her and mouthed the words:
“He’s coming!”
Carol came to with a jolt. She looked up at Katherine, who had seen this kind of thing happen with her once, or maybe twice, before.
“Mrs. Conley... are you okay? I thought I’d lost you for a second there.” She had a worried expression on her face.
Carol looked down at the ring. It was plain gold, hollow on the underside, with a large, square, flat hematite set into it, so it was not an actual signet ring, just styled like one. The stone was carved with the profile of Hermes. This one had to go with her. She glanced back up with a smirk.
“Oh, you know me.... This one... this one speaks to me though. Put this one on my bill.”
“Alright.” Katie picked up one of the sacks. “Now, you really should see this....” She opened the sack and pulled out a large, golden cuff, handing it to Carol. It had dual hinges, and the clasp was delicate and tiny. It was about an inch and a half wide, and on the surface was a bas-relief of an ancient, Assyrian hunt-scene.
Carol peered closely. The detail was exquisite: the spokes on the wheels of the chariot were sculpted, the men’s costumes had folds and ripples, and she could even see the beadwork on the horses’ bridles. All was sculpted in gold, all was small enough to fit on the cuff without protruding.
“Do you know anything about this piece, Katie-dear?”
“No, Ma’am. The boss brought it in. He didn’t say where it was from. I know nothing about it.”
“I think I have to have that one... just for fun,” Carol said. The cuff went back into the sack, which was placed to the side next to the hematite ring.
“Now here’s an interesting piece,” Katie said. “It’s an amethyst, but the darkest one I’ve ever seen. This is an estate piece....” She opened the second, black bag, and pulled out another ring. She placed it on the tray.
Carol picked up the ring. Yes... here was one too... a woman, a Lady... she wanted to stay with the ring, Carol could feel it; a longing for “home”, and a simultaneous sense of comfort. This ring was a finer gold than the first ring, and of heavier construction, and therefore weight. Set into the ring was an oblong amethyst of the highest, rounded cabochon Carol had ever seen in a gemstone of this quality: the dome of the top crested like the roof of a cathedral. It was also almost black in color. Carol held the ring up
to the light and saw a deep purple hue as she looked through the gem like a window... with a woman’s worried, almost frantic, face looking through it back at her. There was no one standing there, of course... but this spirit also seemed afraid. Carol wondered what was going on.
At that moment, the elevator-buzzer sounded. Katie stood and went over to the elevator doors.
“That’s the other client I was telling you about. He’s being vetted today, so it’s good that you are here, Mrs. Conley. You are the best example of a satisfied customer we could hope to have!” She beamed her radiant smile.
The elevator arrived, and in walked a man of average height, balding on top but with a slick, short, grey-streaked ponytail in the back. He wore a blue-striped, seersucker suit with a white, button-down shirt, giving him an appearance of lightness, or grace. He had a wide smile and sparkling, jovial eyes. Carol thought those eyes looked very perceptive like he saw everything in the room with one glance.
“Mr. Archegon! I am pleased to meet you. Welcome to O’Katie’s,” Katherine said, “I’d like you to meet Mrs. Carol Conley. She has been a customer of ours for... how long is it now, Mrs. Conley?”
“Oh, it’s been a couple of decades by now, my dear,” Carol replied, glancing down at her aged, wrinkled hands. “I remember your first day here.”
“Is it that long? Really?” Katherine seemed genuinely surprised. “Well then, you can see, Mr. Archegon, that our customers become life-long, satisfied clients.”
Mr. Archegon turned to Carol and extended his hand.
“Mrs... Conley, is it? Pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said with that wide smile. His hand was soft, and Carol noticed that his fingernails were impeccably trimmed. He wore several rings, all silver, and had one small, ornate hoop earring in his left ear, also silver. “Please, call me Freddie; everyone does. So, this is a good place to come to for jewelry? I’m especially interested in... more unique pieces.”
Magic Underground: The Complete Collection (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 4) Page 65
