The Forlorn Dagger Trilogy Box Set

by Jaxon Reed

Margwen smiled, and did not disagree with her nanny. Secretly, she felt herself falling in love with the prince, and could not imagine marrying anyone else. She wished deeply in her heart that she could indeed be allowed to marry him, and said a little prayer asking the Creator for that very thing every night before falling asleep.

  The door to the dining hall opened, and Trant walked in, followed by Greystone.

  “Good morning, Princess! Good morning, ladies!”

  Two servants ran into the hall carrying more bowls of strawberries and cream. A third ran in with a tray of cups and a pot of coffee. The men settled at the table, and the five humans resumed conversation as various facsimile servants bustled about, tending to their needs.

  They were interrupted by a polite knock at the door, and the facsimile of a butler stuck his head in.

  “Begging your pardon, Wizard Greystone. The inn’s serving wench is outside demanding to see you. She’s in a frightful state, and insists a strange man is near the village’s Hidden Woods entrance eating all the coneys from her traps.”

  Greystone and Trant exchanged glances. The wizard stood up, pushing his chair away from the table.

  “I suppose I should investigate this coney thief, then.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Trant said.

  Stin sat with his back against a tree, watching the road where it disappeared. The sun crept higher in the sky, but he was well shaded and it did not bother him. On occasion he swatted at a fly buzzing too close.

  “Any day now, Kirt.”

  Two men popped into view, walking down the road. One was tall and finely dressed. He looked to be high nobility, perhaps even royalty. The other wore bland and colorless wizard’s robes, his long blond hair and beard streaked with gray.

  The first one saw him, pointed him out to the wizard, and they both headed in his direction. Stin stood up, brushing twigs and grass off his pants as they approached. He held himself erect, and sucked his belly in.

  “Hello. I am Stin.”

  “I am Greystone. Why don’t you come into the village, Stin?”

  Stin looked pointedly back at the abruptly ending road, then gave Greystone a lopsided grin.

  “What village?”

  On reflex, both Greystone and Trant looked back in the direction they had come. Then they looked at Stin again.

  Trant said, “Do you not see the entrance to our village over there?”

  “Nope.”

  “What about the pixies around us?” Greystone said.

  He opened his hand, palm up, and one flew over to float above his fingers.

  Stin looked at the wizard’s open hand and shook his head.

  “Empty air.”

  Greystone and Trant exchanged glances.

  Trant said, “Do you think it’s possible he has no magic at all? But even children can see this place.”

  Stin snorted. “I’ve got magic same as everybody, believe me. Or at least I did until recently.”

  “I don’t know,” Greystone said. “It is curious, though. Stin, would you mind if I used some of my wizard’s magic on you, and perhaps we can dig to the bottom of this?”

  Stin shrugged. “Feel free.”

  Smoke spiraled up in a small column above Greystone’s outstretched hand. It stopped about a pace high, slowly swirling, then it formed into a cloudy hand and reached out toward Stin’s chest.

  Just before the smoke reached him, it poofed out of existence. Greystone and Trant jumped back in surprise.

  “What happened?” Trant said.

  “I’m not sure. I’ve never seen that before.”

  “Never seen that? You’re a wizard, you’re supposed to understand these things.”

  Greystone tried again. The smoke dissipated again. He tried other spells. Nothing worked.

  Finally, Stin crossed his arms and frowned at the wizard.

  “Well?”

  Greystone tugged his beard in thought.

  “I don’t think it’s me. I think it’s you. Tell me, Stin. Have you picked up any strange objects or artifacts lately? Are you carrying anything different on your person you weren’t carrying earlier?”

  Stin raised his eyebrows.

  “Well, I have been carrying this . . .”

  He reached into his jacket and pulled out the ornate knife he had stolen from the duchess’s library.

  Trant stared at the weapon closely. It looked to be about a pace long, with intricate designs carved into the metal. It glowed faintly in the morning light.

  He looked back at the wizard. Greystone appeared stunned.

  “What is it? What’s the matter? Do you know this knife, Greystone?”

  The wizard shook his head like a dog shaking off water, snapping out of it. He took a cautious step backwards.

  “This, Highness, is the Forlorn Dagger.”

  Chapter 10

  Mita stood in the library, admiring the portrait of Theena. Oldstone suggested they not bother with training this morning. Something about an emergency council meeting. She spent the free time exploring the library, with its many books and artifacts.

  Oldstone stood in the library, too. He spent several minutes preparing a spell. A large hazy globe appeared in the center of the room, near the table, six or seven paces in circumference. He looked up at her, watching him, and he explained what he was doing.

  “No one can get into the castle without permission. This is a gateway for others on the council, allowing them to come through.”

  She nodded, and turned back to the portrait of Theena. The dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty seemed to be staring back, studying her.

  Moments later she heard a pop! of displaced air, and another wizard apparated into the room. He wore a plain, drab cloak, and his long blonde hair was streaked with gray. He carried a staff topped by a dull, colorless stone.

  “I call dibs on this place when you die, old man!”

  Oldstone smiled, and clasped his friend’s shoulder.

  “I have yet to make out my last will and testament, Greystone. But if you’re nice to me, I’ll consider it. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  He nodded toward Mita. She smiled at Greystone.

  “Oh! Oh my, a battlemaiden! And how do you do, Lady . . . ?”

  “This is Princess Mita of the Crystal Kingdom, Greystone. I recently commenced her training.”

  Greystone made a respectful half bow.

  “My apologies, Highness.”

  “It’s quite alright. I haven’t been addressed as ‘Highness’ since I got here.”

  “I see you’re standing next to the great Theena. You know, that’s a Fulton portrait. His magic always made the paintings seem alive.”

  Mita turned and looked back at the picture. She knew of Fulton, of course. He was considered the greatest artist ever.

  “I didn’t realize that’s who painted it.”

  “Sadly, I think it must have been his last one. He didn’t survive the Battle of Hest.”

  “Neither did Theena,” Oldstone murmured quietly.

  Greystone snapped his head back toward the elder wizard.

  “Sorry, old friend. Painful memories. Unfortunately, the Battle of Hest is related to why I’ve called for an emergency meeting. I have found the Forlorn Dagger. Or rather, it has found me.”

  He proceeded to tell the story of meeting Stin, and how the man was unable to see or enter the village until he relinquished the dagger.

  “So where is it now? You obviously couldn’t bring it into the village.”

  “We buried it, five paces down. That seems to be the depth required to negate its power. I marked it carefully, both in memory and on a map in case we want to find it again.”

  Oldstone nodded, deep in thought and memories.

  “So, it’s near the entrance to your village?”

  “Yes. Nobody wanted to carry it very far. It’s resting safely among the trees right now.”

  “That’s as good a place as any. Not many people know how to get to your village.
”

  “If it’s dangerous, why can’t we hide it up here in the castle?”

  Both men looked at Mita, surprised at her suggestion.

  “Do you not know about the Forlorn Dagger, Highness?”

  She shook her head.

  “I’m afraid not, Wizard Greystone. It absorbs magic?”

  “Correct. Not only that, but magic cannot be used against it, nor by whoever wields it.”

  “We can’t bring the dagger up here, Mita,” Oldstone added. “How would we get it here? We can’t transport it by magic. Second, we don’t know what effect its power might have. I’m afraid if it were here, it might cause the castle to lose levitation, making it plummet to the ground. No, we cannot store the dagger here. Buried in the Hidden Forest is as good a place as any, for now.”

  “But where did it come from? You said it played a role in the Battle of Hest, Wizard Greystone. What happened?”

  Greystone looked at Oldstone and raised his eyebrows. Oldstone nodded in consent.

  “About four hundred years ago, the Magic Council faced one of its greatest tests. The dwarf wizard Lok attacked the human kingdoms of Coral and Emerald. He brought up horrible monsters from the depths of their mines. Dwarven mines go deeper than ours, and they sometimes disturb mighty creatures living far below. Lok also raised up vast armies of trolls and orcs and rogue dwarves, all far superior to men in battle.

  “We defended ourselves with armies from both kingdoms, and thousands of soldiers volunteering from other provinces. The council stood against him, and that counted for a lot with twelve wizards fighting in unison. And of course we had the mighty Theena on our side who was able to kill the monsters in droves.

  “Unfortunately, Lok infiltrated our ranks through trickery. We found out later he had offered the wizards serving under the names Sandstone and Loadstone at the time incredible bribes to turn on us and fight for him. Those two killed thousands of our men and three other wizards before they were finally taken down.”

  Greystone stopped, and looked at his friend again. The older wizard seemed very sad, and recounting the story seemed to depress him more. But he nodded again, bidding Greystone continue.

  “As for the Forlorn Dagger, here is how it came to be. Some years before the battle, a star fell in the village of Hest, plowing a long furrow in a farmer’s field. The entire village came out to see it. They found a rock from the sky, about three paces in width. It lay partly buried in a hole at the end of the furrow, hot and smouldering.

  “The local smithy was a man of considerable repute. Like many in the region, his magic involved the creation of blades, and he was very good at his craft. Several swords of fame were produced in his shop as well as others in the area, and a Hestian blade is still highly regarded to this day.

  “He paid the farmer two gold pieces for the star rock, for he had deduced it held metal, although what kind he could not tell. But he felt willing to take a chance on the rock, and bought it from the farmer before anyone else made an offer. Once it cooled, he used a team of oxen to pull it up out of the ground and truck it to his shop.

  “There, he refined the star rock in fire, burning out impurities until only the metal remained. It was a metal unlike any he or anyone else had ever seen. It glowed, and seemed magical somehow. There was enough to fashion a small blade, so he made it into a dagger.

  “It was not his best work. He found that his magic was useless in fashioning the blade, so he resorted to using only his human skill. Nonetheless, it was still a fine blade, and he decorated it well. Even without magic, it came out beautiful and ornate.

  “In due course, as you might suspect, he realized that the metal from the star absorbed all the magic of anyone wielding it. The dagger would allow no one touching it to use their Creator-given supernatural abilities.

  “The smith could never sell the dagger, and he passed on shortly after making it. He died suddenly, without apparent cause. He went to sleep one night and never woke up. Of course, the villagers blamed it on the dagger. It gained a reputation as being cursed. About that time, someone said it was ‘forlorn,’ and the name stayed with it.

  “When Lok gathered his forces against us at Hest, he had someone find the dagger and take it. Cunning as he was, Lok realized that the blade would not only sap the magic of its bearer, it could be used against someone else as well, negating their magical defenses no matter how strong.”

  “So, let me understand. It saps the magic of whoever holds it and whoever it touches?”

  “Precisely, Highness. All magic is useless, with it or against it. Whoever holds it cannot use magic. But if they use the dagger against another, that person’s magic can provide no assistance. Lok realized it can be used to cut through any person’s defenses. Even magical armor.”

  Greystone looked at Oldstone, who was staring at the floor, listening. The younger wizard’s eyes held compassion for his friend.

  “Captain Lancet. That was the name of the traitor. Lok singled him out because of his proximity to our command group. We don’t know what he promised Lancet in return for his treachery, but he gave the captain the dagger and told him to await his opportunity.

  “We were winning the battle, with the help of Theena of course. She swooped down on the opposing troops, wreaking death and destruction on the monsters and dwarven warriors. But when she returned to the command post, Lancet saw his opportunity. The dagger sapped his magic, but it was also able to pierce her protective globe and her armor. He stabbed Theena in the back, when she wasn’t looking.”

  Oldstone wiped away a tear. Greystone clasped him on the shoulder, comforting the older man for a moment before continuing.

  “We jumped him. We had to kill him by natural means, as all magic was useless as soon as it touched him. Lancet slew two others that day with the dagger, including Fulton. He was there drawing sketches of the battle, but he helped stop Lancet and was stabbed to death for his efforts.

  “In the heat of battle, in the fog of war, the dagger disappeared. We were so focused on Lancet, we didn’t pay much attention to the weapon he used. It was only afterwards, when reflecting on how he was able to kill our battlemaiden, that we realized he must have used a special dagger. By then it was long gone. We didn’t know what happened to it, and of course all magical efforts to locate it failed. It has remained hidden all these years.

  “Recently, rumors started circulating about its reappearance. The Duke and Duchess of Windthorn in the Ruby Kingdom like to collect valuable artifacts and magical objects. It was said that somehow they came into possession of the Forlorn Dagger. The man I met in the Hidden Woods evidently stole it from them. And now it lies hidden again, safe for now.”

  The other nine wizards apparated into the library a short time later. Oldstone politely suggested to Mita she leave, since she was not part of the council. She grabbed a copy of Edwardeo’s plays and retired to her room for the day.

  Once the wizards were seated, Cutie rushed around the table bringing them all drinks and pastries. After some polite small talk, Oldstone cleared his throat, and everybody turned their attention toward him.

  “We are gathered today because Greystone has located and secured the Forlorn Dagger. This warrants our attention.”

  Eyebrows were raised amidst quiet murmurs of surprise. Oldstone nodded toward Greystone, who repeated the story of finding Stin at the entrance to his village.

  When he finished, Redstone was the first to speak. He was shorter than the others, standing about five paces, with reddish-orange hair and beard befitting his name.

  “So, if ye know where it is, can we assume Darkstone knows where it is also?”

  Greystone and Oldstone exchanged glances. The older wizard replied for both of them.

  “We can assume he will find out soon enough. We know he likely paid for the thief to steal the stone through his surrogates in Ruby City. Since that did not go according to plan, he has been searching for the thief ever since. Broadsheets with the man’s face have been
plastered across the Ruby Kingdom. But the thief has proven remarkably . . . resourceful . . . in escaping, despite the inability to use his magic while possessing the dagger.”

  Greystone nodded in agreement, and added, “The thief is quite remarkable. It appears he apprenticed under Syphon, the master criminal.”

  This caused quite a few eyebrows to rise, and several wizards around the table nodded in recognition of the name.

  “I had to help catch that one,” Brightstone said.

  Everyone turned his way. He was completely bald, the top of his head shiny like the stone topping his staff. He sported a shorter beard than the others. Brown and streaked with gray, it reached down only to the top of his chest.

  “We put him in King Keel’s royal dungeon nineteen or twenty years ago. He’s still there, far as I know.”

  “Our thief was locked up as a child for stealing in Coral, and apparently shared a cell with Syphon for a while.”

  “Interesting. The master criminal cultivated a protégé. How did he steal the dagger from the Duke and Duchess? I understand their collections are well guarded.”

  “I have not yet had a chance to discuss that with him. But as we said, he is remarkably resourceful.”

  Oldstone cleared his throat and drew their attention to him once more.

  “The important thing is, Darkstone will be seeking the dagger. We need to be prepared for a possible confrontation with him, should he seek to retrieve it.”

  Loadstone slapped his hand down on the table, and everybody turned to look at him. Tall and thin with dark almond skin, a circle of white hair wrapped around his head and a thin white beard flowed down to his waist.

  “I, for one, welcome a confrontation with Darkstone. We need to place his stone in better hands. This council should be restored to the full twelve once more.”

  There were murmurs of consent from around the table. Oldstone raised his hand for silence.

  “It is true there are twelve wizard stones in the world, and there may only be twelve wizards at a time. But when one goes rogue, as Darkstone has, retrieving the stone is only possible at great cost. How are we to get it back without suffering the loss of many in the process?”