The Forlorn Dagger Trilogy Box Set

by Jaxon Reed

  “I’m Bellasondra.”

  She held her hand out. Plinny grasped it in a dainty gesture for such a big person, and stooped to kiss it as if he were a nobleman.

  Bellasondra said, “And if you don’t recall how close I came to carving you up, I’d be delighted to try again sometime.”

  Plinny dropped her hand with a look of shock on his face at the threat of violence.

  Veeroy chuckled. “That’s a live one ye got there, Steck! I’m Veeroy by th’ way, milady. Don’t mind ol’ Plinny, he’s good to have at yer side in a fight.”

  Stin said, “What are you boys doing here?”

  “Wull, that’s a funny tale,” Plinny said. “Bartender! A round for me friends and us as we recollect and re-meet!”

  “You’re out of money,” the innkeeper said with a frown. Then he smiled at Stin and Bellasondra. “But I’ll buy a round on the house for old partners at arms.”

  The four retired to Plinny and Veeroy’s table as the innkeeper fetched mugs of ale.

  Plinny said, “I used me blowhard spell to escape the Coral marines.”

  Stin nodded and said, “I saw you speeding away. I was on a piece of the Wavecrest floating in the water after we were rammed, along with Quent.”

  Veeroy said, “Did he make it?”

  Stin said, “As far as I know. I think so. They hanged most everybody else who survived the fighting, though.”

  Plinny and Veeroy cast their eyes down at the table, the guilt of survival overwhelming them for a moment.

  “Aye, we thought as much,” Plinny said. “Thank th’ Creator for me blowhard spell!”

  Stin said, “So what happened? Where did you two end up?”

  “I blew us all th’ way back to th’ mainland!” Plinny said, his face brightening. “Two days and one night. I had t’ sleep some or we’d’a made it sooner! But I got us there. We landed in the wilderness some miles outside Coral City. I slept good that night! Then most everybody in the boat split up.

  “But Veeroy and me, we stayed together. Wandered hither and yon. Then we sees this magical gateway near the Hidden Woods with pixies lit up everywhere. We wanders through it and we finds this town, lo and behold! Purt near deserted. But th’ innkeeper let’s us stay.”

  Plinny’s voice lowered to a whisper, which for him meant a low rumble that tumbled and bounced across the room.

  “He says there’s a wizard what lives here. In that fine house across the street! We ain’t seen him yet, but you know what they say . . . ‘Where’s there’s a wizard, there’s gold!’”

  Bellasondra and Stin looked at one another. He smiled. She furrowed her eyebrows.

  She said, “I thought the saying went, ‘He who can make his own gold doesn’t need to be paid in money.’”

  “Aye,” Plinny said, a conspiratorial grin spreading across his face. “It be the makin’ gold part that interests us.”

  Stin said, with a twinkle in his eye, “Have you made any plans for how you’re going to break into the wizard’s house and rob his gold?”

  Plinny leaned back with a dejected look and said, “Nay. We’ve just been discussin’ it, Veeroy and me.”

  “Well, there is the problem of his magical defenses, plus the powerful spells he can use against intruders.”

  “Aye, aye.”

  Both Veeroy and Plinny looked rather downcast when faced with these reasonable considerations.

  Then Veeroy’s face brightened. He said, “But now that yer here, maybe we can figure out a way in.”

  “That’s right!” Plinny’s voice boomed. “They don’t call him ‘Lord Fortune’ for naught, ain’t that right, Veeroy?”

  Both seemed considerably happier at these thoughts. The innkeeper arrived with mugs of ale, and the pirates quaffed theirs in one long gulp.

  “Bwa-ha-ha! Another one, good fellow, Go’ be wi’ ye!”

  The innkeeper smiled at Bellasondra and Stin. He said, “These two are worth five customers apiece. If only they could pay for what they eat and drink.”

  “Let me know the balance they owe,” Stin said, pulling out his purse. “I’ll make it right.”

  “Thar’s a good man!” Plinny roared. “Tha’s Lord Fortune talkin’!”

  The innkeeper smiled, nodded, and took the empty mugs back for a refill.

  Late that night, after Bellasondra, Kirt, and Stin helped the innkeeper clean up from their meal and the two pirates dozed at the table, Bellasondra took Kirt upstairs to pick out their beds. Since no one else was here, they would each have a room to themselves.

  Stin and the innkeeper took a seat near the hearth and shared memories of the battle over a final mug. Stin commiserated with the man about the loss of his serving wench in the fighting.

  “I heard she killed several men before they got her,” Stin said.

  The innkeeper nodded and said, “She was ugly as a buzzard, but stout as a mule. I’ve no doubt she killed half a dozen soldiers, at least. No doubt.”

  They discussed the battle at length, going over the thrill of early victories, the fright of losing their protective spell with the loss of sunlight, the horrors of the metal men, and the awesome power of battlemaidens and wizards.

  The innkeeper was a font of knowledge. He had known most of the skirmish participants on their side, and practically all the dead. He kept track of most everyone in town, and not much happened in these parts without his knowledge.

  At last, Stin gently guided the conversation in the direction he wanted it to go.

  He said, “So . . . whatever happened to that magical dagger they used in the fighting?”

  Chapter 2

  “Three tests before you sleep. Three tests your stone to keep.”

  Mita nodded, her magical black armor slowly sliding up her face to form a protective mask, and down around her fingers as gloves. Soon, small openings for her eyes, a small slit for her nostrils and a slightly larger one for her mouth were the only openings in the armor.

  Mist surrounded her, and seemed to cover the entire island. She could not see more than three or four paces in any direction.

  It felt alive, this pervasive vapor. It swirled around her, leaving only a few feet of air nearby untainted.

  In front of her, milky white air seemed to harden slightly, forming a huge face with evil eyes, a nose, a moustache and a grim mouth.

  It seemed to know her. It expected her. It looked eager to defeat her.

  Every candidate for a wizard’s stone made the trek to this island, a place that could not be accessed by transport globes. Most took a boat to the remote location, far to the north of the Ageless Isles. Oldstone had lent her a ride in his flying castle. Now she must face the trials alone and claim the darkstone as her own. To do so, she must face the entity known as Mist.

  Mita took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

  She said, “Fine. Bring it on.”

  The giant face smiled wickedly before fading. Then the fog lifted all around her.

  The magical island, so hidden in thick clouds when Mita arrived, rolled out before her eyes in the dissolving vapors. Vibrant green grass looked like a soft and luxurious natural carpet spreading out in all directions. Large, elegant trees dotted the landscape. In the distance, mountains stretched gracefully up from the valley floor, their summits peaking in the blue sky. A river tumbled down from higher elevations, falling into a deep blue pool before twisting languorously toward the sea. Birds gently sailed through the air, catching currents and updrafts. One swooped down to the river as she watched and flew back up with a fish wiggling in its talons.

  Mita arched an eyebrow under her mask, impressed with the raw natural beauty of the place.

  The malevolent entity that had spoken to her earlier was nowhere to be seen. Despite herself, she relaxed a bit.

  The sound of a hunter’s trump and the barking of dogs snapped her back to attention. Before she had a chance to react, the hounds bounded into view, rounding a grove of fruit trees a hundred paces away, running f
ull tilt and baying as they came straight toward her.

  Mita readied a defensive spell, the blue Globe of Protection instantly popping up and surrounding her.

  But the dogs never noticed her standing there. They turned, baying and barking, and continued on their merry way toward another, more distant grove. A final pair of pups ran after the larger group, yipping and struggling to keep up.

  She heard approaching hoof beats, and soon a hunting party followed in the dogs’ wake, rounding the trees and bursting into sight.

  Unlike the hounds, someone in the party noticed her. He shouted and pointed. Everyone reined to a halt and a dozen men looked her way.

  Mita assumed a fighting stance and mentally ran through a series of spells she could use. No one in the group appeared to have much magic. A single blast of wizard’s fire would likely decimate the entire party.

  For their part, several of the men carried bows strapped over their backs, but no one prepared to face her yet. No one made any threatening moves at all.

  One in the middle appeared to be the leader. Physically, he appeared larger than the others, a very stout and fit young man. After conferring with the men, he led the party forward at a measured pace.

  Mita relaxed a little, but she remained on guard. Mentally she scanned the area around her and behind her, to see if this was merely a ruse so that someone could sneak up on her. Distractions, she knew, were the bane of wizards in combat. She had been trained on this fact relentlessly, and she was determined not to allow it happen now. But she did not see or sense anyone else.

  As the men approached, their features grew clearer. They all appeared suave and handsome. Mita was at the age where looks and the male physique held importance deep within her subconscious. After spending months with wrinkly old wizards and their impossibly gorgeous artificial servants, these robust young men seemed quite fine to Mita’s eye.

  And the leader, as they neared, appeared to be the finest of them all.

  Mita had a preference for certain types of men. She favored the darker shades, matching her own brown skin. These were the males she admired growing up. Lighter skinned people visited Pert and other parts of the Crystal Kingdom, and she had met men of all shades of skin. But the rich browns of her homeland attracted her the most. The men of the Ageless Isles, with their olive skin that tanned so well, ran a close second in her personal estimation. Something about the look of a physically fit and brown-skinned man excited her.

  As a younger princess, she had avoided the arranged matrimonies her older sisters endured. She knew such marriages had benefits, and few complained about the partners chosen for them. But one of the reasons she had asked her parents’ permission to pursue the role of a battlemaiden was to avoid her sisters’ fates.

  The princes from foreign lands, the ones available for marriage and near her age, she had not found attractive. And, if their actions at various balls the last couple of years had been any indication, not one of those princes found her particularly appealing, either.

  She was, for all intents and purposes, a “late bloomer.”

  It was certainly true she was widely considered the least attractive of Aldwald and Etta’s children, although everyone remarked over her visit home for Winterfest that she had grown quite alluring during her long absence. Regardless, she still held the self-perception of her own looks to be average at best.

  As the leader and his party drew near, the image of the perfect man, at least as far as Mita was concerned, grabbed her full attention.

  He stood straight in the saddle, a splendid male specimen, with a broad chest and glowing brown skin. His thick hair flew back in a slight breeze, dark and lustrous. His face revealed sharp angles and cheekbones. He had a smooth flawless nose and dark, seductive eyes.

  No beard. She didn’t like beards. She preferred soft skin and supple lips with nothing that would interfere with kissing . . .

  She shook herself, trying to snap out of thoughts about kissing as the party pulled to a halt. The leader dismounted and walked toward her. Unconsciously, at the outward display of peace she mentally retracted her mask, showing her face and letting her hair down. The black leather silently slid down to her neck, maintaining its protection there as a final bulwark against a surprise attack.

  Her heart raced when he smiled at her. He acted as if he genuinely enjoyed looking at her, and he seemed to stare longingly into her eyes. His pupils dilated and he took in a sharp breath, as if amazed to find such a beautiful woman behind the mask.

  “I am Ruford, crown prince of this land. And who do I have the honor of addressing?”

  “I am Mita, fifth born of King Aldwald and Queen Etta of Crystal.”

  She glanced uncertainly at the riders on their horses, then the stunning green landscape behind them with majestic mountains rising in the distance.

  She said, “Where are we?”

  He smiled, displaying perfectly straight and white teeth.

  “This is home. I think it could be your home, too. I am in need of a princess to take as wife. When my time comes to ascend the throne, I hope to do so as a married man. And, I must confess, you are by far the most beautiful woman on this island. I have never seen any maiden as stunning as you are, fair Mita.”

  She blushed at the compliment. No male, certainly no prince, had ever showered her with illustrious praise concerning her looks. That such a handsome young man as this would bestow remarks ordinarily reserved for truly beautiful women felt . . . unexpected.

  “Let us speak in private,” he said. “My men will stay behind and give us peace.”

  He waved at the party and gestured in the opposite direction. The men nodded, and walked their horses away, taking the prince’s steed with them.

  Ruford and Mita walked side by side for a while, then he offered his arm as they reached a slight rise.

  She took it and noticed immediately how finely muscled he was. She could feel the hard contours of his upper arm through the silk of his sleeve. Without thinking much about it, she retracted the armor from her hands so she could get a better feel for him.

  The scent of his body drifted to her nose. He smelled musky and manly, and it quickened her pulse to breathe, filling her lungs with the smell of him. He seemed so perfect, and she delighted subconsciously in the pheromones he emitted.

  At the top of the rise he stopped and gazed out on the land below. She turned from his handsome face and looked out to the sea. The view seemed even more glorious in this direction than the other way. The ground rolled along playfully, taking dips and curves and gentling undulating until ending in magnificent cliffs that dropped to the water hundreds of paces below.

  She looked back up at Ruford and his face seemed to reflect all the wonder and beauty of the land back at her.

  He smiled and said, “Mita . . . I want you to share this with me.”

  He bent down and wrapped his thick arms around her, pulling her into his warm, strong embrace. She felt the ripples of muscles in his arms around her sides, and every pronounced line in his chest as he held her tight.

  She did not pause to consider this was her first real kiss from a man, and she reveled in the sensations of his tongue entering her mouth and lovingly caressing her own. He smelled heavenly, and his breath tasted sweet.

  Mita felt alive in a way she never had before, all of her senses practically singing in joy as she sank in his embrace and tried to melt into his body.

  A tiny spark of reason popped up in a far corner of her mind. A question, a concern, a niggling doubt. She considered the spark’s worthiness of attention. It seemed a nuisance, a mild distraction from this most wonderful of moments in her life as she tottered on the precipice of first love.

  Yet, the spark persisted.

  At last the kiss ended, and as their lips parted Ruford gently caressed her cheek with a soft hand. She had never been so tenderly touched by any man, and it seemed to carry with it multiple meanings, mainly love mixed with strong desire. But also the hope of a life
together.

  The spark gnawed at her now, growing brighter, feeding on fuel deeper in her subconscious. It formed a question that demanded an answer.

  She relented to the spark’s demand.

  “Why haven’t I heard of you before?”

  He smiled, a gentle smile that reminded her of a warm summer day, full of the promise of eternal sunshine. Daylight flashed off his perfect teeth like the crystals in her dresses back home.

  He said, “Where have you been all my life?”

  He bent down to kiss her again and the spark sputtered, on the brink of extinguishing.

  Reflexively, and without thinking, she cast Spell of Clarity on herself. The spark strengthened again, and filled her conscious thought with alarm this time.

  She broke apart from his lips and pulled away from his face. He looked at her with a mixture of love and concern in his eyes.

  In a gentle voice he said, “What is it, Mita?”

  “Who are your parents?”

  He blinked and lightly caressed her cheek but said nothing.

  She pushed his hand away.

  “Who are your parents? You’ve told me who you are but you’ve said nothing about your line. Who do you belong to? What family are you from? Who are your ancestors?”

  “My beloved Mita,” he whispered. “What difference does that make? All that matters is we are together.”

  He bent to kiss her again. She pushed away firmly, both hands on his muscular chest, and took a step back. She regarded him carefully now, strengthening the Spell of Clarity and forcing herself to focus. Something was wrong, and she was determined to figure it out.

  “I know all the royal families in all the lands. I know their ancestors, I know their histories. I’ve even studied the dwarves’ royal lineage; one of my tutors insisted on it. I do not know any ‘Ruford.’”

  He smiled, seeking to soothe and cast away all her doubts and troubles.

  He said, “Here, on this isolated island, it is little wonder your teachers never knew of our existence.”

  “No. You have a line. Who are your parents? If you are of royal blood, I will know the family. Who are they?”