Angst Box Set 1

by David Pedersen

  “I spent several years helping negotiate the import and export of anything black market,” Hector said. “Mostly goods, some people.”

  Tarness nodded at this. Dallow gaped in surprise.

  “Negotiate? You make it sound official.” Victoria tsked. “How did you not get arrested?”

  “Well, your mom was probably the biggest importer of contraband in Unsel,” Hector said lightly.

  “What?” Victoria screeched in an Isabelle-like squawk.

  “It’s good for the economy, and safer when the crown is in control.” Hector placed both hands on his hips. “It’s something I always admired about the queen. She knew it was going to happen anyway and took the lead. She minimized crime, cornered some of the markets, and was able to put an invisible tax on illegal goods. When it’s time, I’ll tell you how she did it.”

  Victoria’s eyes went saucer-wide and her face blanched. It must’ve been bad enough talking about her mother in the past tense, but to find out that she was hip deep in something illegal?

  Tori reeled, and Angst gripped her arm. “Too much,” he warned Hector.

  Hector lifted both hands in surrender, rolling his eyes.

  “Look, we all handle grief in our own way.” Angst stared his old friend.

  He looked at Tori, who seemed on the verge of breaking. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she attempted to keep her composure. Angst stared at Hector, dropping the bags he held.

  “I’ll get them,” Tarness offered.

  “Thanks, Tarness,” Angst said. “I’ll meet you guys there.”

  “No.” Victoria picked up her bag before Tarness could. “Your friend is an ass,” she said to Angst, sniffing loudly.

  “Often,” Angst agreed.

  “Just being honest,” Hector said defensively.

  “Wrap that present in some tact next time,” she said sharply. “It’ll be easier to accept.”

  Hector ignored her and made eye contact with Angst, nodding once before taking the lead. Angst and Tori stayed behind as their friends walked away. She set her pack down and grabbed a kerchief to blow her nose. She wiped her eyes and sniffed deeply in the most un-princess-like fashion. He picked up her bag and waited.

  “How long does this take?” she asked in frustration.

  “What’s that?” Angst asked.

  “Grieving.” Her wide eyes and puffy cheeks made her seem lost and worried.

  “Oh, I’m sure it takes many,” he said.

  “Many what?” she asked.

  “Many days and many casks of ale and port.” He smiled.

  “Ale and port sound really, really good,” she agreed, retrieving her satchel. “Ale and mead and port and a bath and a warm bed.”

  “That sounds perfect,” Angst said. “You still look worried. Is there something else?”

  She took a deep breath. “I’m afraid something’s going to happen, something terrible.”

  Her hand shook, and he held it with both of his. “What do you think it is?”

  “I saw something, once. One of the paths...” She stopped, her expression instantly changing to one of wonder. She pulled her hand back and patted his arm. “Look!”

  Far ahead, far beyond their friends, the ground sparkled as if someone had taken a cup full of starlight and tipped it over the beach. He couldn’t understand where the stars had come from since it was still dusk. Angst and Victoria looked at each other and smiled. Hand in hand, they rushed toward the others.

  “Dallow, what is it?” Victoria called out.

  “I believe it’s a geode,” Dallow answered. “A geode massive enough to hold a city.”

  “From here it looks like stars!” Victoria said excitedly.

  “There’s a pirate city in those stars,” Hector said with a knowing smile. “A pretty good hiding place, especially at night.”

  “Pirates?” Victoria said.

  Angst couldn’t tell if it was a question or comment. They caught up with their friends. Hector held up a warning hand, and Tarness set down his three satchels.

  “Yes, pirates,” said an angry voice.

  Two men and one woman stood in the shadows, barely seen except for the glint from their weapons.

  The woman who’d spoken pointed her cutlass at them. “Put your weapons down.”

  15

  Unsel

  “She said to gather a team of magic-wielders who could become soldiers!” Rook stormed along a path between tables and a wall at The Wizard’s Revenge. “You were there!”

  Janda nodded stiffly, red curls bobbing along her pale cheeks. She held up two fingers to signal to Graloon that they would need more ale. “It doesn’t make any sense,” she said. “She either lied to us, or something changed.”

  Rook ignored the heads turning to follow him as though they were watching a joust. He walked past the angry and worried faces of patrons who remained silent; no words were really needed. They’d been through this before, while he’d just taken freedom for granted. Still, they listened, clinging to his words, hoping to grasp something positive from his rant.

  “It was a blatant lie right to my face,” he said, jerking a thumb toward himself. Blood rushed to his head, pounding with every angry word, as if he’d just finished a battle. “How do you go from, ‘Let’s put together an army of wielders’ to ‘Magic is illegal’ in a matter of days?”

  “I don’t know, Butter.” She shook her head. “But I’m sure we can figure this out.”

  Rook grabbed a mug of ale out of the air, ignoring the second that floated by to land gently before Janda. She sipped foam off the top while Rook gulped his down. When finished, he let go of the mug and watched in surprise as it fell to the floor. It shattered, small bits of glass skidding under tables. He grunted as he knelt to pick up the pieces.

  “No worries, son,” said Graloon in his gruff voice. He patted the soldier comfortingly.

  “I’m sorry, Graloon. I thought that, you know, that thing that happens with the mugs,” Rook twirled a finger in the air, “would carry it back.”

  “Some magic happens on its own, but most requires effort and concentration, like anything else in life.” Graloon said, his sagging cheeks lifting with a friendly smile. “This isn’t the first mug broken in my bar, and it better not be the last.”

  The glassy remains of the mug gathered together in a pile and floated to a nearby bin, handily dropping into it. A fresh mug of frothy mead hovered before Rook, and he accepted it delicately.

  “Thanks,” Rook said with a tight smile. It was such an efficient way of doing things, but, in spite of his time spent with wielders, it still made him skittish.

  “So, just how illegal is magic now?” Graloon asked, tightening the greasy old apron that covered most of his vast belly.

  “This ale landing in my hand is enough to see us both in irons. So...very.” Rook grunted. “I’m not sure how they’ll enforce it. It’s like five men trying to catch a giant lochabar shark with a net. There may be more men, but the shark has more power, and now it has lunch.”

  “Except these folks aren’t trained soldiers,” Graloon said, nodding at the onlookers.

  “They defended Unsel against those steel-beaked birds,” Rook said defensively, and several nodded in agreement.

  “They did, but it was still Angst who took them out,” Graloon said. “Their magic has been partly illegal for so long, only a few feel ready to fight.”

  “But I thought they wanted to defend Unsel,” Rook said in frustration.

  Janda daintily took the empty mug from his hand before it ended up in pieces on the floor. Graloon nodded to her appreciatively.

  “Of course they do... Well, they did, for Unsel, and maybe Queen Isabelle—she seemed to be coming around.” Graloon shook his head. “But not for this new queen.”

  “Then for who?” Janda asked.

  “She’s not queen yet,” Rook interrupted Janda.

  “What?” Graloon asked, looking as if he’d been smacked.

  “Alloria�
�s not the queen. She may be leader, even second in line, but she isn’t queen,” Rook said. “Princess Victoria is still in line to be queen of Unsel.”

  The people at nearby tables nodded, and Graloon smiled then slapped the table as if Rook had announced a battle won. “Then there’s hope.”

  “How do you figure?” Rook asked.

  “Victoria and Angst are close, and it doesn’t seem to bother her at all that he can wield.” Graloon patted Rook on the shoulder roughly. “There’s hope.”

  “If she makes it back. Those holes are only weeks away, and they’re already planning the queen’s funeral,” Rook said worriedly.

  “Don’t borrow trouble,” Graloon said dismissively. “Angst seems to have a way of—”

  There was a noisy pounding at the entrance. Graloon took a step forward, but Rook held his shoulder as the pounding became a steady boom, growing louder by the second.

  “Everyone down!” Rook stepped in front of Janda and hovered over her, his armored back facing the door.

  It smashed inward, landing hard with a crash. Chips of wood flew toward them but stopped in mid-air before striking anyone and fell to the ground. Eight soldiers with swords at the ready rushed around a battering ram to spread out along the back wall. Vars entered the room with a look of disgust on his face. He rolled open a scroll and cleared his throat.

  “By order of her Royal Majesty, Queen Alloria, The Wizard’s Revenge is to be shut down immediately,” Vars said. He glared at Rook. “Patrons are to leave, and Graloon is under arrest for the support and wielding of magics.”

  “What is this?” Graloon blurted out. “What right do you have, does she have, to order this? Look around, there’s no magic here!”

  Vars studied the room calmly to see that no hands were glowing, nothing floated in the air, and the bar appeared clean of magics. His thin lips pinched into a smile and his eyes slitted. “Bring in the rest.”

  The door-ram had been pulled back and twenty more soldiers shuffled into the room. Graloon closed his eyes in defeat as The Wizard’s Revenge expanded to accommodate the sudden rush of people.

  “Arrest him, and anyone else who works here.” Vars pointed. “Kill anyone who fights back.”

  Rook stormed to Vars and stood nose-to-nose, his fists clenched. Nearby soldiers looked at each other and shrugged, unsure what to do with their comrade.

  “You’re making a mistake, Vars!” Rook shouted. “We need these people to defend against what’s coming!”

  “These are the queen’s orders!” Vars roared. “You need to stand down!”

  “She’s not the queen,” Rook said. “My queen is Victoria!”

  Vars took a step back, swinging fast and wide, his heavily gauntleted fist rushing toward Rook’s face.

  Azaktrha

  Rose felt like she’d been hiding for days, or was it nights? Time seemed mashed together in this dark city that received only the barest tease of daylight. It was almost enough to give her hope. During those brief moments of light, she’d glimpsed the enormity of the city. She was surrounded by varying sizes of rectangular pyramids with steep staircases, archways taller than ancient graymaul trees, and expansive walkways made for heavy traffic. The layout almost reminded her of Gressmore Ruins, but that didn’t make sense. Those ruins were just half-buried marble pillars and broken buildings. This place was alive with its glowing shell-covered walls and smelly fish-men. But still, something about both cities nagged at her thoughts.

  Something tugged at her sleeve, and she rolled her eyes. “What do you want, creeper?” she said sharply, warning him with a finger before he could reply. “Don’t you dare talk in my mind!”

  Creeper shook his head and pointed around the corner. She banged the back of her head against the building in frustration before braving a peek. Twenty or more fish-men approached cautiously, spread out like a gang. Rose and her companion had found safety in alleys and side streets. Hideaways where they could catch their breath or take the briefest of naps. A good hiding place didn’t last long, the fish-men were always on the hunt. She could’ve kicked herself for leaving that pile of weapons in the middle of the road after her dinner. It was only a matter of time before they would have to defend themselves, or she would have to feast.

  “Your friends are relentless!” she hissed. “I’m not sure I could absorb that many, and I don’t want to leave a trail. We need to keep moving!”

  Rose rushed down the alley as quietly as she could. Creeper was pulling at her arm with his long, moist fingers, encouraging her to go back toward the main road.

  Rose jerked her arm out of his hand. “Quit touching me!” she barely whispered. “We’re not going that way, we’d run right into them! Don’t be stupid!”

  Her mouth felt dry and her panting grew loud as she ran faster. Was there nowhere to hide? The little beast kept tugging at her arm. Rose was half-tempted to absorb enough of Creeper’s life to make him fall asleep, again. It was so dark, and he was so distracting, that she almost ran into the dead-end.

  “Dark Vivek curse this place!” Rose said aloud. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  It was hard to tell, but she was sure he was frowning. She didn’t wait to figure it out and ran back toward the street. There were no doors or side alleys, forcing them to brave the open. The horde of fish-men were only fifty yards away. Creeper hopped up and down as she contemplated how hungry she was. Not hungry enough.

  “Run!” she cried, leaping into the street and running away from the creatures.

  There was no battle cry or screams of “Get her!” which would’ve encouraged her to run faster. Instead, she was chased by a gaggle of creepy mutes who wanted to eat her hands. The only sound coming from behind her was the slapping of webbed feet and clinking of weapons as the fish-men tried to gallop on all fours with full hands. She hated running, and already felt her lungs burning.

  “I’m getting hungry,” she grunted between gulps of air.

  Creeper covered his head protectively as he ran beside her, trying his best to keep up on two legs. They ran, and ran, and sweat beaded her brow. The smelly air was heavy, crushing, as they rushed into shadows. All she could see was darkness ahead. Her heart raced as black lightning bit and caressed her arms.

  “Wait,” Creeper said in her mind. “Stop!”

  “I said to stay out of my head!” she roared as she smashed into a solid something.

  Chryslaenor thunked loudly, and Rose screamed in pain as she careened off an invisible wall, falling back and tripping over the great blade. She dropped the foci and rolled to her back. Once again, everything hurt. She had to get up; they were coming. She pushed herself over and winced, her wrist either broken or sprained, and she couldn’t open one of her eyes. Orange blood dripped freely from her nose.

  “I’m really ready to go home.” She struggled to her hands and knees.

  The rattle of weapons and slapping of feet had stopped, the chase apparently over. She took a deep breath, drawing in energy for the coming battle. Rose looked up to see twenty of the fish-men pointing at her and Creeper. That wasn’t good. She looked to her left and saw even more fish-men.

  “I hate all of you,” she said, spitting orange blood. All heads turned to her right. She followed their gazes, and her eyebrows rose. “Really?”

  He was tall, and muscular, and mostly naked, his dark skin glistening in the dim light. He had tight, curly hair, and a strong, heroic jaw. Rose felt hers drop as the most beautiful man she’d ever seen twirled a bladed staff with daggers at both end. He stared into her eyes and grimaced. His gaze flitted from her to the fish-men waiting to attack. He leaped toward her, his staff ready to strike.

  “This is a good way to die,” she mused, mesmerized.

  16

  Fulk’han

  It was the worst insult Guldrich could imagine: being led from the war room by two gray men as if he were a thief. And only two men? Both would’ve made easy additions to the kill marks on his arms, but they marched beside him
with hands on their hilts as if fast enough to wield before he dispatched them. He would not, of course. It made no sense to kill them now. Where would he run to? His job was to fulfill Takarn-Ivan’s last wishes—to expand the Fulk’han Empire—and he had failed.

  The fools wanted to throw more bodies at Unsel, as if this were a normal war. Unsel had prepared and was more dangerous than the emperor imagined. They not only had an army, but a militia of wielders, and a champion. The Fulk’han army was formidable, especially now, but there were no wielders that he knew of. Their only hope was to find a champion powerful enough to be worthy of Takarn-Ivan.

  When they reached the remains of the Takarn, both men knelt. Guldrich sighed and lowered his head briefly, hoping his irreverence would go unnoticed. Something tickled his calf, and he turned his head to see the purple woman from the war room. She winked as her tail crept up his leg to his back. He shuddered, unable to ignore her untimely attentions. She wrapped herself around him and bit his ear even as his envoy stood and watched in confusion.

  “Now is not the time, mistress,” one of the soldiers said, obviously uncomfortable with her display of affection.

  His heart beat with desire, but a soldier’s caution made him wary. He turned to face his captors. “In respect to my service, give me this one moment,” he said in a low voice.

  The soldiers looked at each other. One shrugged, the other nodded, and they turned away to face the enormous glowing tree husk. The purple woman purred lustfully and kissed him full on the mouth. He was drawn in by her passion and energy, by the feel of her body undulating against his. As if she were climbing up a cliff, she pushed herself up on his broad shoulders. She lifted her fist and threw a black ball toward the two men. It bounced off the ground before hovering in the air before them. Colors swirled into a whirling mass that sucked in all light, turning until they became a tall, dark oval that hung vertically in the air.

  “What?” a soldier stuttered. “What is this?”

  The woman launched off Guldrich’s shoulders. She landed on one, kicking his back and driving him into the oval. His screams cut off as he was lost to the darkness. The second guard lifted his sword high when she landed on all fours before him like a panther. She pounced, grabbing his forearms and flipping over his head, tossing him into the darkness.