Magic Underground: The Complete Collection (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 4)

by Melinda Kucsera

  “Not being in possession of the facts never stopped anyone from rendering an opinion,” Robin said. “We were on our way back to Here to get Sir Alan and return to the ship. But now you are the warden of There.”

  Sir Albert dismissed that with a wave. “I never intended for that to be permanent. All I wanted was to put an end to the constant squabbling which accomplished nothing. Now that the process is in play, I can restore Nenoo as warden and take my leave.”

  “Before we get underway ... we have exhausted our provisions. Would we be able to—?”

  “Absolutely. While I am still warden, allow me to indulge you.” He called for a citizen to assist and led his cohorts to the tavern they visited on their previous trip where they feasted on food and ale. As the tavern keeper packaged up supplies for the travelers, Sir Albert excused himself to talk with Nenoo.

  “It is done,” he said upon his return. “Nenoo is warden once again. We can depart at any time. There is no portal anyone knows of, but I have commandeered scaffolding and a rope ladder so no one has to climb a tree or scale a wall.”

  “I'll drink to that.” Sir Maxwell hefted his tankard high and took a deep draft.

  Their bellies full but their spirits light, Robin and his knights clambered up the scaffold and down the rope.

  “That made quick work of our travels,” said Sir Maxwell. “Look, there is the siege work we built to gain access the first time.”

  “Here must not be far.”

  Robin had expected to notice the tumult of There long before the settlement came into view and was surprised when that proved not to be the case. The opposite was true of Here. He heard noise emanating from the village before they rounded the bend.

  “Hold up,” Robin said. The din's martial sound, rhythmic and driving, put Robin in mind of war drums. “They could be preparing for an assault.”

  “Sire, should I scout ahead?” Sir Maxwell asked.

  “Yes, but be on guard.”

  The young knight took off for the settlement, crouching as he drew near. He disappeared from view.

  Chapter Five

  The sound of drumming, if that was what it was, was steady, like soldiers on a march then the tempo quickened. The sound became frenetic and disorganized then returned to the even rhythm. Robin's muscles tensed. Dame Deidre paced. Sir Albert leaned forward as though to see farther. Robin gritted his teeth, too anxious about the young knight's welfare to make sense of the noise.

  He breathed a sigh of relief when he spied Sir Maxwell. The knight waved, bidding them come ahead.

  They drew close to the settlement and the sound seemed concentrated in the commons. A throng of Here's citizens sat in tiered circles. The outermost circle was formed of people seated in chairs. In front of them, people perched on short stools and at their feet, people sat on the ground. They held on their laps overturned pots, bowls, and buckets which they struck with sticks or patted with their hands. Some slapped spoons together. Others jingled what sounded like sacks of coins. Every few beats someone would look up. Robin followed the direction of their glances and spotted Sir Alan. Eyes closed, an upside-down bucket between his knees, he struck its bottom, tapping his feet and nodding his head in time with a tune Robin couldn't hear. Sir Alan looked up, caught the eyes of the other players and nodded then changed the beat. The others picked up the new cadence.

  The knight's glance fell on Robin, and he grinned. He murmured to the person nearest him. Setting down his bucket, Sir Alan trotted over to his cohorts. With a bow, he said, “Your Majesty! My fellows!” He flung his arms around the knights. “I was beginning to give up hope of seeing you again. You have been gone so long. Surely you found Perooc.”

  “I didn't,” said Sir Albert.

  “Nor I,” said Sir Maxwell.

  Dame Deidre shook her head.

  “What of you, Sir Alan?” Robin asked, raising his voice over the din. “Have you learned where our port is?”

  The knight hung his head and shook it. “No, Sire.” He lifted his chin. “Not for lack of trying. I am confident these people do not know.”

  “What is going on here?” Sir Maxwell encompassed the noisemakers with a wave of his arm.

  “This is a drum circle,” Sir Alan replied. He danced a little jig. “When I returned to Here, I badgered Oneon about Hewnstone relentlessly. Finally, he refused to talk to me at all. I sat in the commons quite dejected about my failure as you can imagine and worried about what had become of you four. To take my mind off my worries, I grabbed a bucket and a couple of sticks and started noodling a tune. I attracted attention and people wanted to know what I was doing. I couldn't explain it. I decided it would be better for them to experience it for themselves. So I encouraged them to find a bucket or bowl, anything with a cavity that would resonate when struck.”

  He gazed at the circles of people pounding out a rumbling chorus. “It proved contagious. More people joined in. The more that got involved, the louder it got. The louder it got, the more people came to investigate. And look, they get it!”

  “Get what?” Sir Albert asked.

  “That music isn't frivolous, impractical, useless. See how united they are? You can't be part of this and remain aloof. You have to pay attention, listen to the others then determine how best you can contribute to support the harmony. Each person in tune with himself, but also with all the others. Individual yet united.” Sir Alan nodded. “They see how this can strengthen the community.”

  “So are you now the sentinel of Here?” Sir Maxwell asked.

  “Me? Sentinel?” Sir Alan laughed. “No, that's Oneon's job. I never intended to take it from him. I can leave now if you are ready.”

  “What about the ...” Sir Maxwell frowned. “... musicians? What will they do without you?”

  “They don't need me. A drum circle doesn't need a leader, just someone to strike the first note. After that, it takes on a life of its own. Wherever the drummers want to take it. Anyone can initiate a new rhythm.”

  “Good. Because we are going back to the beach and to the ship.”

  Sir Alan patted the young knight on the back. “In that case, my job here is done.” He smiled and nodded at the drum circle which continued to rumble and rattle. “Lead on.”

  They struck off toward where they left the ship's boat. Robin noticed the knights stepped in rhythm with the drumming until the sound faded behind them.

  They found James sitting on the ground, his back propped up by the mound of foliage that concealed the boat. He spotted their approach and rose to his feet, brushing sand from his bottom.

  “Your Majesty,” he said with a bow.

  “Our apologies, James. Our information-gathering mission took us farther than we would have imagined. You must be starving.”

  “Not at all,” he said. “I have found things to eat in meaner circumstances than this. My surveys yielded sufficient nourishment.”

  “Our detour afforded you more opportunities to investigate unmapped territory than you anticipated.”

  “It did. I am eager to return to Seagate when we have unloaded the cargo.” He smiled. “Left alone with my thoughts, I found myself envisioning all the unexpected delights offered by an ordinary day at home. My wanderlust has been well sated. Did you find what you sought, Sire?”

  “If you mean did we find Perooc, no we did not,” Sir Albert replied.

  “We encountered people who had heard of the place but no one who has been there,” said Dame Deidre. “It seems the wizard Ofan was chasing a fantasy.”

  “Well, I at least had plenty of time to explore. This land is unlike any other to which I have traveled. I have made copious notes—” James produced a slate filled with chalked scribbles—“and gathered soil samples and plants for my collection. If I may be permitted to bring them aboard,” he said to Robin.

  “We see no reason why not. So you still don't know where we are with respect to Hewnstone.”

  “I do not. I'm sorry, Your Majesty.”

  “We m
ade observations one clear night about the stars overhead.” Robin described the constellations.

  “I too observed those.” James tapped his chin, leaving a streak of chalk dust. “I brought some star charts onto the ship. When we get back to the Fancy, we can compare what we witnessed with those documents. That may help to establish our current location.”

  Assuming those stars were not altogether otherworldly, Robin thought, recalling his night of ranging across the endless expanse of the universe. “Then let us leave this place and return to the ship. The seas are calm and the wind will be at our back.”

  “Fair winds and following seas?” Sir Maxwell asked.

  “We'll make a sailor of you yet, Sir Maxwell,” said Robin.

  The knights cleared the camouflage from the boat and dragged it to the water. King, cat, and crew aboard, they pushed off and paddled toward the Fancy, a lone dark shape against the horizon.

  Robin inhaled the salty air and lowered his shoulders. He wasn't eager to be out on the water but was grateful to leave the odd land and its peculiar inhabitants behind. Meanwhile, the knights and James regaled each other with tales of what they had experienced. They bemoaned that not one of them had found Perooc or gained the magical powers fantasied during the game of Reveal or Risk.

  And yet, Robin realized they had those capabilities all along. Sir Alan wanted a magic wand with which to enthrall people. He had done that with a drum stick. Sir Albert aspired to be a peacemaker and had created accord in There without striking a blow. Dame Deidre yearned to be a legendary hero. She became one to the women of Near doing nothing other than being herself. Sir Maxwell wanted hidden splendors to reveal themselves, yet he saw things no one else saw, like the gryphon he claimed watched over Meeyoo. And James wished to encounter the as-yet-undiscovered only to conclude that every new day afforded him the opportunity.

  Robin had been to Perooc and knew not what to make of it, peopled by individuals so committed to experiencing the true nature of existence that they barely existed themselves. His firstborn, Prince Conrad—now Father Thaddeus—was so devoted to a supernal lord he spurned his birthright and his legacy. His brother, Prince Zachary, driven to pursue a truth not apparent to anyone outside himself, reinvented himself as Princess Dale.

  If that was the price for the treasure of Perooc, Robin did not want to pay it.

  In Perooc, No-one told Robin to open his heart, open his mind to the universe in all its forms. Could that include the gryphon Sir Maxwell insisted he saw, a mythical creature that had betrothed itself to Meeyoo? How was a gryphon any stranger than porcupines or hedgehogs—rodents covered with needles? Or snakes that shed their skins and grew entirely new ones? Or flies whose bellies glowed in the dark? Or for that matter, dragons, beasts that breathed fire without burning themselves? That Meeyoo had mated with a gryphon would explain the strange cat she had borne. A big as a dog, with the paws of a bear, the talons of an eagle, and seemingly capable of flight, Meeyowyow was unlike any feline Robin had ever seen.

  Since all that was true, perhaps the gryphon did exist, not as a magical being but a rare and unusual animal. Robin strained to make out the details of the speck in the sky. It flew away from the Fancy, looped back to circle over the deck then took off in a direction opposite from the land they had left behind.

  Always in the same direction. Where was it going?

  Toward land. It had to be a land animal. Yes, it was part eagle but eagles were not seabirds. Robin had seen eagles pluck fish from the water, but they didn't alight and float on its surface as did ducks and swans. The gryphon sought a dry place to perch. If they steered the Fancy in that direction, they would find land.

  The Fancy came in sight. Sir Alan and Sir Albert hollered, “Ahoy” and sailors soon appeared at the rail.

  “Let down the ladder for the king,” Sir Maxwell yelled.

  The knights brought the boat close to the ship's side and held the ladder steady for Robin. Once aboard, the knights scattered to stow their weapons and supplies. Robin went straight to his cabin and dropped his rucksack on the bed, releasing Meeyoo. She dashed out immediately. He then hurried to the wheel to review the new course with Tychor.

  The helmsman glanced up at the sky. “Follow that bird, you say, Your Majesty?” Tychor whipped out his spyglass. “It's so far off I can't tell what it is. It is large, I'll say that.

  “Yes, it's a land bird.”

  “I will keep it in sight and let it guide us, Your Majesty. The winds are good, and we will set sail forthwith.” He and Robin directed the sailors to ready the vessel.

  Overtaken by sudden fatigue, Robin trudged back to his cabin. Meeyoo's food and water bowls would need to be topped up, he noted. He stripped off his travel-worn clothes and swabbed the dust and dirt from his skin and hair. In a clean tunic and leggings, he found his chair on the aftcastle and sank into it. Stretching out his legs he tipped his chin up into the sea breeze. The ship's movement and the sound of sails reassured him. They would make land soon. He let his muscles go limp but his mind would not relax. Scenes from the settlements they visited paraded before his closed eyes like pictures in a gallery. Here on the Fancy's deck, he couldn't believe any of it had been real.

  He no sooner became aware of a cool, moist breeze wafting over his face then came a murmur.

  “Sire?”

  Robin mentally swatted it away as though it were a fly. Who dared to disturb the king, he wondered.

  “Sire?” came the voice again, louder this time.

  Robin opened his eyes to find Sir Maxwell standing before him.

  The knight bowed. “I'm sorry to bother you, Sire. The helmsman said to alert Your Majesty. We have encountered a fog bank.”

  Robin sat taller and looked about. The air was dense. Dread caused his stomach to sour. Fog had heralded the strange experiences that seemed increasingly fanciful by the second. Entire settlements inhabited by people, not one of whom could see clearly. Ridiculous. Not possible. The apparition of a dragon. A demonic wizard who tried to killed Meeyoo. Ghostly people who cast no shadows and whose feet didn't touch the ground. Preposterous. None of it made any sense. Robin did not want to go through that again, or anything like it. He strained to see. Was Ofan out there, with murderous intent?

  Sir Maxwell said, “He will explain further if Your Majesty would come to the wheel.”

  Robin rose and crossed the deck through the murk.

  “Sea smoke, we call it,” said Helmsman Tychor. “It is a temporary disturbance caused by warm air meeting the cooler water. The sea breeze will drive it out of our way. Your Majesty need not be alarmed.”

  Warm air. Heated by a landmass, it had to be. Robin took that for a good sign and breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Tychor. Do we need to lower the sails?”

  “No, Your Majesty. It's a fast-moving phenomenon. See? Already it has worked halfway across the ship. We're almost clear of it.”

  The murk thinned to a fine mist, Robin wended back to the aftcastle and passed his troop grouped around a cask. They bid the drifting fog a speedy departure with shouts and cheers and toasted an anticipated speedy arrival in port with cups of rum. They traded tales of their adventures on their recent long journey from the Chalklands to Sea Gate Fortress and then in Empress Alexandra's realm. Robin joined in but the feeling that they were forgetting something significant nagged him. As momentous as that trek had been, something more extraordinary had happened. For some reason, no one spoke of it. What was it? Vague sensations and nebulous images teased the farthest fringes of his memory. Try as he might, he couldn't bring them into focus.

  A nudge at his ankle made him look down. At his feet, Meeyoo sought to be petted. Robin scratched behind her ears and ran his palm down her back. His fingertips came upon something odd. Looped on her neck was a purple ribbon. A small brass key dangling from it glinted in the sunlight. He had never given her anything like that. It was too tidy to be a found object. How did she come by it?

  “Did one of you give this to
Meeyoo?” he asked. Baffled expressions and shaking heads were all he got in reply.

  “Maybe one of the sailors gave it to her,” Sir Alan suggested.

  “As a reward? She is an ace rat-catcher,” Dame Deidre said.

  “That must be it,” Robin replied. He shrugged and sipped more rum.

  When all you have owned, everyone you have loved and everything you have done are gone, who are you? King Bewilliam awakens one morning not in his castle but in a cow pasture, inexplicably transformed from a beloved and respected ruler and dragon slayer of renown to a homeless and ragged vagabond. He battles his way back to his throne, and every dragon in between in The Lost King, the first story in a series marked by intrigue, struggle, romance, yearning, and self-discovery.

  About the Author

  “What if?” Those two words all too easily send Devorah Fox spinning into flights of fancy. A multi-genre author, she has written a best-selling epic fantasy series, an acclaimed mystery, a popular thriller, and co-authored a contemporary thriller with Jed Donellie. She’s contributed short stories to a variety of anthologies and has several Mystery and Fantasy Short Reads to her name. Born in Brooklyn, New York, she now lives on the Texas Gulf Coast with her writer familiars: two rescued tabby cats and a dragon named Inky.

  For more information about the author, please visit: http://devorahfox.com.

  The Secret of the Red God

  Majanka Verstraete

  All mages of the Seven Kingdoms have been branded with a rune that makes it impossible for them to access their magic. Despite the mark, Saleyna Loxley, a sixteen-year-old girl from a small town, still has access to some of her powers. As an Empath, she can connect with other people and sense their emotions. Sometimes, she can even influence other people’s emotions. However, as the Red Priests are keen to destroy any magic wielder, Saleyna must hide her magic at all costs.