The catcher bowed his assent and gathered his men. Before turning back toward the inn, Justav glowered briefly at Xan.
“I appreciate your interceding for Lewis,” Williamson said, “but don’t you have pressing issues to attend to at your shop?”
Xan thrust his satchel at the rotund man. “Actually, I was on my way to see you.” After an expectant look, he added a belated, “Your Honor.”
Williamson thumbed through the papers “Is this Rae’s new proposal?”
“No sir, it’s mine.” Xan stared at the ground.
“Hm. I see.”
As Williamson studied the plans, Xan waited in silence, but, after several minutes, dizziness overcame him. He swayed on his feet, stumbled, and grabbed Williamson’s arm for support.
“Son, are you okay?”
Unable to find words, Xan shrugged.
“Get some sleep. I’ll tell Rae what happened with the guardsman.”
Grateful both for the reprieve and the chance to rest, Xan took his leave. While walking home, he barely kept his eyes open as even the cool mountain air failed to clear his head. All he wanted was bed.
Xan fingered his aching jaw. A night spent with Ashley would soothe his wounds.
7.
Xan staggered upstairs to his room in the Diwens’ house and collapsed onto the bed, not even sparing effort to kick off his boots. He fell asleep instantly.
When he arrived in the meadow, vague recollections of regular dreams clouded his mind, but he shook them off. Ashley filled his vision.
He wasn’t going to make a fool of himself again. What kind of doofus kneels and kisses a girl’s hand?
Slow and thoughtful. Consider each action and word.
Still, things had turned out pretty well the previous night. He’d put his arm around her. She’d laid her head on his shoulder.
His heart hammered. Would she want to take up where they left off? He wanted to run to her to find out, but he’d probably trip and fall. Instead, he paused after each disorienting step. Better to play it cool anyway.
What if she wanted him to kiss her?
Blood rushed to his cheeks at the thought, and he slowed more to give the blush time to fade. When he finally reached her, he met her eyes. “My fair maiden Ashley.”
“My fair prince Xan.” She smiled and extended her hand.
He bowed, arm at his waist and left leg extended behind him just like books he’d read, and lightly brushed the back of her fingers with his lips.
So far, so good.
“Sit with me?” Ashley glided to a nearby oak and gracefully floated to the ground.
She’d practically bolted to the tree. Was she as eager to resume their snuggling as he was? No. Her haste had to have some explanation that fell within the realm of possibility.
Ashley glanced at him, her face tilted.
What? Blast. He was just standing there staring at her like an idiot. What must she think of him?
Xan scurried after her. Time and distance warped. He lurched across the space separating them. His foot connected with her leg, and he stumbled face first into the grass. She cried out.
He’d kicked her. Caused her actual pain. Tripped. Fallen to the ground in a heap.
Better that the tumble had caused his death. Better to die ingloriously than to suffer such embarrassment.
He scrambled to his feet. “Are you hurt?”
Ashley flexed her leg. “I don’t think so. You just startled me, I guess.”
Such a blasted clumsy oaf! How could such calamity have befallen him? All prospects of kissing her, or even cuddling, vanished. Surely, she’d never speak to him again, much less continue with their—association? courtship?—relationship.
“I am so, so sorry,” he said.
She shrugged as if it were of no matter but offered no invitation to sit with her. He plopped down with his back against a nearby tree and drew his knees to his chest.
Every time he looked up, she glanced away as if fascinated by the grass.
Xan finally sighed. “Ashley, I’m not the most graceful of suitors, but …”
Where exactly had he been going with that heart-felt declaration? Probably somewhere along the horrifying lines of using the L-word way too early. There had to be some way to salvage the situation.
Think. What would Brant say? Praise her. Tell her how beautiful and smart and graceful she was.
He opened his mouth—
A vicious yank tugged at him. A rope strung to a team of horses at full gallop would have had less impact on his midsection.
The world swirled around him. Colors blurred into blackness.
When he came to, nausea roiled his stomach, and his head pounded. His eyes darted open to stare at the harsh glare of an oil lantern. He squinted to make out the person holding the light.
Justav stepped into his line of sight and grinned. “By order of the Three Kingdoms, I place you under arrest for violation of the Prohibition of Magic Decree.”
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About the Author
Brian W. Foster is a speculative fiction writer whose works include the epic fantasy Rise of the Mages series and the superhero genre series, Repulsive.
Brian lives in California with his wonderful wife and two adorable kids. He is a season ticket holder for the New Orleans Saints, plays in two dynasty fantasy football leagues, enjoys strategy board games, and is a registered professional engineer (mechanical) in the state of Louisiana. He also has a tendency to write segments like this one in the third person but feels strange about doing so.
You can contact him:
Via email at [email protected]
On the internet at www.authorbrianwfoster.com
On Facebook www.facebook.com/authorbrianwfoster
Edition Notes and Acknowledgments
Way back in 2012, the good folks who run Mythic Scribes asked me to submit a story for the their new e-zine, Myths Inscribed.
That submission became the novelette, Abuse of Power, and I’m happy to say that it was accepted, broken into two parts, and included in the first two editions of that publication. My writing career was off to a fine start indeed. The first thing I ever wrote was published!
Still, I wasn’t entirely happy with the piece. In 2013, I paid for a developmental editor, sent the novelette for more beta reading, and offered the second edition of the story for free download for anyone signing up for my fledgling email newsletter list.
The overwhelming response to the story was … meh.
I grew a lot as a writer in the last couple of years, and it bothered me greatly that Abuse of Power was sitting out there as an inferior example as my work. I had a little downtime in my schedule while Rise of the Mages was with the copy editor, so I rewrote the novelette, adding new chapters in Alaina’s viewpoint and expanding it to novella length.
I’m quite happy with the 3rd Edition of Abuse of Power and hope that you enjoyed it as well. I did not, however, get it to the point where it is now without a lot of help. There are a lot of people I need to thank:
First and foremost, my wife, Amanda, both for encouraging (read “ordering”) me to start writing in the first place and for putting up with all the late nights.
Second is my sister, Tanya, who is, by far, my biggest cheerleader. She’s read every version of everything I’ve written, and her help has been a tremendous asset.
Next come my beta readers. Kassan, Ed, Scott, Nimue, and Trick all helped elevate the writing and story to its current level, and I cannot thank them enough for their selfless hard work.
It’s hard to believe that the inspiration for my writing the story in the first place doesn’t come until fourth on the list, but a huge shout out and thank you to all the folks over at Mythic Scribes.
If you’re an aspiring fantasy author looking for the company of like-minded and kind writers, check them out.
Finally, the source that started me on the path to becoming the writer I am today (just so you know who to blame) is the OC SciFi and Fantasy Writer’s Meetup Group. Ree, Peter, and Mark all provided me with so much help and encouragement over the years. I couldn’t have done it without them.
Abuse of Power (Rise of the Mages 1) Page 11
