Soul of Magic: Book 1 of the Chronomancer Series

by Mark August

  His mind already knew the practical answer. They’d been in this situation before when they left the Northern States. Liane’s body was shutting down from lack of food and water, and Kincaid had no way to calculate the last time she had a drink or a meal.

  “I’ll get you something.” But where?

  Kincaid leaped the two steps to face Magi Cormac. He didn’t open his eyes.

  “Cormac, please.”

  “The guards won't give her food or water.” Cormac’s voice was quiet and raspy.

  “She’ll die.”

  “She’s sentenced to die. This is one way to execute a prisoner. And to tear your soul apart.”

  Kincaid ignored him. “Guards!”

  The clink of armor and weapons rattled through the stone expanse of the prison. The steel bars didn’t muffle the approaching sounds of the alert guards. As they advanced, one lowered a spear. The other stepped to the side for a clear shot with a ready crossbow.

  “Don’t make this hard on yourself, prisoner.”

  “Please feed my sister.”

  The first guard glanced back, and Kincaid caught the head shake from the partner.

  “We have been ordered to not feed her.”

  “Then give her my food. The house won’t know. The rations are the same either way.”

  “We can’t.”

  “You mean, you won’t.”

  “Your time is short, prisoner. I think hers is shorter.” The pair backed away from the cell block.

  This couldn’t be. His sister couldn’t die in these cells. They’d sacrificed everything to get to this city and start this new life, and he couldn’t let this end here. Not this way.

  The clank of locks and thud of wood echoed in the prison. Guards scrambled to the entrance. This procession didn’t include nobility, and they ignored the prisoners in the larger cell.

  Liane.

  “Please, no. Leave her.”

  The guards didn’t respect his plea. Liane’s feet made uncertain movements as they dragged her from her cell. Tears rolled down Kincaid’s face as he watched the guards take her from the prison. The young apprentice spun toward his fellow prisoner, desperate for help.

  “Magi—”

  “I told you.”

  “You did. But what do I do now?”

  “You need to make some decisions before she starves to death. You have a few days.”

  Thirty-Five

  Kincaid - Power

  Kincaid paced the width of his cage after the guards took Liane away. He needed to do something.

  “Your story was much better than the one you gave me.” Cormac’s tone lost its air of accusation, and Kincaid stopped at the bars across from the chained wizard.

  “The woman with the Duke. Who is she?”

  “Why?”

  “You know her. Every time she walks into this prison, she looks your way. When the Duke questions magic, she watches for your approval.”

  Cormack closed his eyes and became silent. Kincaid guessed the man grappled with his own inner turmoil. The cell block was calm and quiet, waiting for the response.

  Kincaid’s voice echoed in the cell as his patience expired. “Be honest with me. We’re in prison, and I’m sentenced to die. They condemned my sister to die. I’m out of options, and I’ll take your secrets to the grave.”

  The chained prisoner opened his eyes.

  “She’s the youngest daughter of the Atros family. The ruling houses of the city train their youngest child to be wizards.”

  “Is that why her eyes glow with blue?”

  Cormac nodded, and the chains rattled with his motion. His words increased in pace and energy. “The Duke doesn’t trust or understand magic, and you are unknown to him. The daughter is here for the time you use magic. She will protect her father and the house. That’s what the Duke believes.”

  “You speak with authority on the Duke. How do you know?”

  Cormac’s gaze fixed on Kincaid’s eyes, and the man’s face set with determination. “I’ve been a tutor for this family for years. I’ve worked with all of their children.”

  Heart racing, Kincaid wanted to launch a barrage of questions. His fellow prisoner had all the answers he needed. He could even save his sister.

  “A tutor for a noble family. Your ideas must be dangerous to chain you to the floor and secure you in prison.”

  “A sword may kill a single man. An idea can change the world. Imagine what someone can do with magic.”

  “Spoken like a true scholar and teacher.”

  “Guilty as charged.” Cormac bowed from his waist in a mock salute. A wry grin crept across his mouth as the conversation continued.

  “With all of your knowledge, we should be able to get out of here and keep my sister alive.”

  “Ah, so we are now listening to suggestions?”

  “Things have changed. It’s not just my life now. It’s ours.”

  Cormac nodded. He twisted his body and glanced toward the guards’ office area. The chains made only the slightest rattle. The guards didn’t stir.

  “Do what they want, Kincaid. You and your sister can get out of here alive.”

  Kincaid banged on the bars in frustration. The palms of his hands were tender after the blow, but frustration ruled his emotions. “I can’t. I don’t know how.” Spinning on his heel, Kincaid took two paces toward his makeshift bed and lowered his weight to the floor. He missed his old life.

  Cormac didn’t move. His breathing didn’t change, and his patience was beyond Kincaid’s understanding. Years of training noble brats must demand a level of endurance beyond reasonable human bounds. The prisoner wouldn’t make another sound until Kincaid decided.

  He let himself drift back to those moments of terror during his fight on the top floor. The pounding in his chest slowed even as he recalled the fire in his veins. The vibrations of the flagstones crushing and pulling lurched his memories. His mind grasped for the power, but doubts clouded his mind. A wizard. Impossible.

  Was it?

  If he was, he should be able to get out of the cell with ease. The guards wouldn’t be a challenge to his power, and the Duke wouldn’t have the last word. He’d sever those chains and let Cormac go teach somewhere else. And nothing would stop him from his goal to save his sister.

  He felt nothing. His mind searched, but the quiet cells smothered his hopes. His sister would die unless he did something. Something he didn’t know how to do.

  Fear wouldn’t help. He had to erase his doubts. He relaxed his mind and took another deep breath. He reached out for… Something.

  Nothing.

  Kincaid gave up for a few moments. He looked around his cell as if he could find a tool to unlock his potential. The chamberpot, dirty dishes, and rotting straw pallet hadn’t provided help on any previous day. They made no difference now.

  Two guards in the office. They didn’t come close enough for him to rush the bars. And then what? Slam into the iron wall. Even if he could grab a shirt or arm, the other would cut his arm off. And if the Duke and his daughter were here, he’d face them and two more guards. Force wasn’t an option.

  Relax. Work the grain of the wood and find the art within. He imagined how a wizard would summon magic and cast fireballs into his enemies. They would execute Liane if he couldn’t do this. And then he would die.

  Nothing.

  Kincaid surrendered. Pushing and pulling with his mind and colliding with every image and memory wasn’t making anything easier. The prison walls closed in on him. If they could talk, Kincaid imagined they laughed at his futile attempts. Escape wouldn’t come with a fantastic surge of strength or powerful magic. The only way out of here was through using his mind.

  His mind. He linked his mind to the desires of his heart and opened his soul. He reached again without worrying about the future. The present, his moment. Something reached back to him.

  His soul felt a welcoming touch. Excitement raced in his heart, but he kept his mind focused on that touch. War
mth filled him from within. The images of chains and bars melted from the heat. Hope stirred from a forgotten ember to a productive flame. The walls weren’t boundaries to the power racing into his touch. The welcoming trickle turned to a torrent of power, and his soul rejoiced.

  Yes.

  Something in his mind. The magic? His soul didn’t care, and his mind looked past the strange word echoing in his subconscious. He opened the palm of his hand and felt fire spring to life. The flame created an eerie orange glow flickering off the walls of the prison. Kincaid extinguished the flame before the guards took notice in the murky cells.

  The surge of magic left him as he let the flame go. The burning hope remained.

  Cormac smiled.

  Thirty-Six

  Vedette - Errands

  Another dinner meeting.

  Her father’s bold statements shocked the Council. Clandestine messages stopped after his edict, and the loss of information thrust House Atros into the isolation of inaction. The siblings needed to work through their friendly contacts.

  Smoke drifting from a clogged chimney gave a gray haze to the common room. Voices boomed from too much booze. Smells of overcooked, unnamed meat wrinkled Vedette’s nose. This was the ideal place for nobility to meet. No one cared about anyone else in this bar.

  As Vedette waited, individuals from all walks of life filtered in and out of the crowded room. Ordinary people used their few coins to escape from their grind of daily existence. A separate world than courtyards and gardens. Raw and unfiltered life thrived here. So many wore emotions in the open, and the only calculating these patrons did was how much alcohol they could afford before their money disappeared. Life at the edge.

  A life without magic.

  She peered through the haze and around the bustling bodies. It wasn’t like Montes to be late. If he stood her up, Vedette didn’t know how she’d explain the loss to her father.

  Minutes passed, and her drink sat untouched at the table. She considered their last note and wondered if the instructions were clear on when and where to meet.

  The booth was buried in the back, squeezed against a shabby wall. Unmatched chairs waited for occupants. Her mind was all business, calculating her chances of success.

  Vedette took a sip of her beverage. Warm. Her face contorted with the bitter taste, and she pushed the mug away.

  Thank goodness, he was here.

  Montes could make an impression in any room. He was tall with rugged features. She imagined he had the classic look of a warrior fit to lead nations into battle. His body slipped between the throngs and slid into the booth. He scanned the room, and Vedette followed his gaze to watch if anyone took notice of the couple.

  Just another two people in a dining room, avoiding others and scrutiny. Lovers and dreamers found their way into taverns and inns in every part of the world. Vedette wished for time for romance.

  Information first.

  “Sorceratti of House Atros.” He bent his head in respect.

  “Montes, we’ve been friends since we learned to walk. Do we need the formality?” She tried a warm smile and reached across the table to place her palm on his clutched fists.

  His face was unchanged. “Your father scared the Council today.”

  Vedette’s smile dropped from her face, and she wrapped her hands around the mug. “He didn’t tell me what he planned to do.”

  “My family is scared, Vedette.” He glanced around the room again. Catching the eye of one server, he motioned toward Vedette’s mug with a finger raised. Receiving a nod, he turned back to the sorceratti.

  “I’m scared. I was the one who was attacked, and this prisoner is supposed to use magic. My father won’t share his plans with me.”

  “Our houses have been allies before we were born. My parents are worried your father is taking this too far. He’s not asking for help.”

  The beer arrived at the table, and Montes waited until the servant moved back into the crowd before he continued. He took a sip from the beer and wrinkled his nose. “They really drink that here?”

  “Wait until it gets warm.”

  Vedette knew her father relied on House Gaelus for the controversial legislation in the games of power. Their families spent time together, and she always found herself in Montes’ company. She enjoyed the time with his sister, but this was better.

  “I need to ask you something, Vedette.”

  Vedette hoped it was personal, but she knew better.

  “You trust me?”

  “Yes. As a friend. That’s why I’m here. We need to get past the politics.”

  “Then ask.”

  “What’s your father going to do with the prisoner?”

  Vedette raised the warm beer to her lips and gazed into Montes’ eyes. His brow was furrowed, and his hands played with the rim of the mug.

  “He’ll execute him. After he learns more about the magic.” That was the best answer she could give.

  Montes relaxed and reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “I wish he would tell my mother the same.”

  “I’ve been with my father every time he’s gone down to talk to the prisoner.”

  “Really?” Thankfully, he didn’t let go of her hand. She needed the strength to continue.

  “Yes. I haven’t seen a glimmer of magic from the man. I see a scared individual who’s locked in a family prison. He knows he’s outside the law. I just want to know about the man who tried to kill me with magic.”

  “What’s your father planning, then?”

  “I don’t know, Montes. I want to get away from all this.”

  They nursed the foamy liquid this inn called beer. Surrounded by the throngs of people and sitting across from a man she liked, she was alone.

  “Vedette, that look on your face. You’ve stared into the abyss.”

  Vedette nodded. Words would’ve brought tears, unbecoming for the House of Atros.

  “You’ve seen more than any of us. Your eyes are different.”

  “Killing a man with magic will do that to you.”

  The gulf grew between them. Vedette felt him pulling away, and she didn’t know how to bring him back.

  “Vedette, what are you going to do?”

  “Question the prisoner. Find out what he knows.”

  Neither could stomach the beer to finish it.

  “Vedette, will you tell me how I can help you?” The warmth was back in his voice. And she wanted more.

  “You already are, but I don’t want you to get in trouble with your family.”

  “I won’t, but I want you to be careful.” The squeeze was firm and short on her hands, and it was a touch of compassion and friendship. But it was also the end of the meeting. He slid out from behind the table and headed into the mass of people. Vedette checked the crowd to see if anyone paid unusual attention to the departing nobleman.

  Nothing.

  Vedette waited for a few moments to ensure he would not come back into the room. She settled the bill from her stash of coins, and then she made her way through the people to the door. No one looked down as she wiped a single tear from the corner of her eye.

  She still had work to do. Instead of turning back to her family house, she moved to the next bar on her list. Her father expected a thorough report about the families and their positions. Another part of the game he played. She hoped the rules weren’t changing on him. They need to bring order back and reclaim the role of magic.

  Her night was just beginning.

  Thirty-Seven

  Kincaid - Arcane Prisoner

  The running footsteps were a regular event. With only two captives in the family prison, Kincaid knew his moment arrived. He was ready.

  He wished his clothes weren’t coming apart. Master Barnet ensured the shop was clean, and his apprentices were well kept. A visitor to the shop would make quick decisions on a contract before negotiations began. Image equaled reputation. Nothing he could do about his clothes now.

  Kincaid got to his feet as
the noble family approached his cell. When the party stopped, Kincaid bowed from the waist and kept his eyes focused on the floor. He expected a command to relax or acknowledge his deference. When none came, he returned to a standing position.

  The Duke brought a different entourage to the cells, and a new member was the perfect younger image of his father. Dark eyes calculated everything, and the noble held himself with the same aura of command. Unlike his father, weapons hung from the man’s belt. Sword and pistol for this one, and his hand wasn’t far from the firearm.

  “My lord.”

  “It appears you’ve decided on cooperation. That’s an agreeable change of heart, Kincaid. I was afraid I would have to make some tough decisions.”

  “My sister.”

  “Is safe. At least for now. Her future depends entirely on you.”

  “Clearly.” The chains rattled, and Kincaid caught Cormac getting to his feet. The chains hung loosely off his arms and legs. What did he know?

  “Would you care to tell us about what happened in that shop?” The son sounded like his father. The baritone fit the command, but the tone was more relaxed.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have more details. I’ve thought about what happened with those thugs.” Cormac shook his head without causing the chains to rattle, and he moved his fingers in a come here motion. The message was meant for him as the sorceratti wasn’t looking in the magi’s direction.

  “That’s… disappointing.”

  Kincaid stepped closer to the bars. He knew the chances of surviving were small. In fact, Kincaid doubted he would live beyond the next few moments. He’d risk it all for the slight chance he had left.

  “I’ll show you.”

  Power beckoned. His soul reached for the warm touch, and his mind felt the flow with a rush to his senses. His soul burned with power. With willpower, he fought down the urge to grin at his opponent. He channeled his energy.