A Way with Magic (The Draakonor Chronicles Book 1)

by David E. Barber

  A sword crashed down onto the orc’s shoulder, tearing flesh and breaking bone. The foul creature howled and went to its knees, blood washing over its pain stricken face. Then Sir Eris was there, looking down at him. The knight’s face was streaked with blood and sweat, and his eyes were wide and full of concern. Cedric gasped and fell back again.

  “My lord!” Sir Eris fell to his knees beside the baron. “Lay still. Do not move.”

  “My darling girl...” Cedric said. “So like her mother.”

  There were others around him, soldiers, knights, faces he did not recognize. Men were shouting to each other and the smell of burning wood permeated the air. Portia was there, and so was Finn. The boy looked older than Cedric remembered. He was small and dark, like the shadow of a man, but still a man. When had he gotten so old? Cedric’s thoughts wandered and the world around him became gray noise and pain.

  * * *

  The warband retreated, fleeing Southside and disappearing into the woods from whence they came. Loth shot a retreating orc in the back, watching the creature fall, and then he leapt down from the wall onto the road. He walked along the street, his bow held ready. He crossed the bridge and came to the spot where the fighting had been the worst. There was a great commotion off to his left and he turned to see a group of armored men surrounding one of their fallen comrades. Several of the houses were on fire and the ground was littered with corpses. To his right Loth caught sight of a tall figure moving slowly toward him. The man was battered, bruised, and bleeding from several wounds.

  “You look terrible,” Loth said as Ander drew near.

  “It was a troll.” Ander grimaced. “A damn big one. Where were you, anyway?”

  “Over there,” Loth pointed back toward the gates. “I took down at least twenty. That’s more than you can say.”

  “Believe me. I had my hands full with just the one. By the way, have you seen the two young lordlings anywhere?”

  “They’re here?” Loth’s eyes grew wide.

  “They were with me when the fun started.”

  “Why in the name of Issondenarion—”

  “Later.” Ander started past his friend. He marched toward the group of soldiers gathered at the side of the road and Loth followed. There, on the ground, lay Baron Cedric with the broken end of a spear protruding from beneath his ribs. His face was pale and his armor was covered in blood. Finn and Portia were there beside him as were Sir Eris and Sir Ducar, and others whom Loth did not know. Finn had his arm around his sister and she appeared to be rather unsteady on her feet.

  “She saved my life,” Ander said. “Set the bloody troll on fire. Baron Cedric may not care for magic, but his daughter certainly doesn’t have a problem with it.”

  They moved closer, but did not intervene. Loth wanted to help, but the baron was a proud man. Better to let his own retainers and family care for him in whatever manner they saw fit.

  “I can help him.” Portia reached for her father. Her voice was drunken, her words thick.

  “No.” Cedric gritted his teeth in pain. “No magic.” Portia recoiled as if struck a blow. Her brother gripped her shoulders more tightly.

  “Get me to the castle,” Cedric said.

  “We’ll bring a healer.” Sir Eris signaled to his men and half a dozen soldiers lifted the baron carefully and bore him away. Portia and Finn followed at a distance, their arms around each other, their heads bowed. To Loth the group looked like a funeral procession, and he couldn’t help but think that was what was coming for Nachtwald’s lord. Without magic he would likely die, and soon.

  “Why is it that humans are such stubborn creatures,” he asked Ander.

  The big Northman shrugged his broad shoulders. “We’re complicated.”

  “Some men are.” Loth looked at his friend from beneath his brows. “Certainly not all.”

  Ander grinned. “Who are you to be throwing stones? Men have nothing over the elves when it comes to stubbornness and thick-headed nonsense.”

  “You make a fair point. But we can talk about politics another time. What do you make of all this?” Loth made a sweeping gesture to encompass the death and destruction that surrounded them.

  “A feint. A ruse to see what strength Nachtwald could bring to fend off an attack. This is far from over. They’ll be back and when they come, they’ll come in force. This war’s just begun.”

  “My thought as well.” Loth frowned. “Come on, I believe I can heal you of those wounds, but I’d rather not do it in plain view of the baron’s men or his subjects.”

  “Ow.” Ander put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Did I mention I had to fight a troll?”

  “You did. And you also told me you had to be rescued by a young woman of 16. I’m not likely to forget that part of the story anytime soon.”

  Ander’s smile widened. “And I’d let her rescue me again.”

  “I have a feeling,” Loth said, “that the opportunity will come soon enough.”

  Chapter 13

  Finn stood near the window, looking west at a line of dark trees and hills on the far side of the Koblar River. The afternoon was wearing on toward evening and the first stars appeared in the sky. Finn liked the dark, but this evening was different. After the events of the afternoon, the coming night felt oppressive to him. He felt as if the castle walls were closing in around him and would crush him beneath their weight.

  Finn found himself thinking of Lusive and wondering if the old thief and the rest of the Gutter Rats had made good their escape. A man did not live as long as Lusive had without knowing how to read the signs and move quickly when needed. By now they would be well on their way to Elathia or Quince, or to some other city where scores of rich merchants were waiting to be plucked. He wondered if he had made a mistake by not going with them.

  Finn turned his head to gaze at Portia. She sat in a chair near the door, thumbing through the pages of an old book she had been carrying around in her satchel. She looked tired and was still clad in her blood-stained clothes. Her hair was nearly as disheveled as his and her beautiful face was streaked with tears and dirt. Yet, despite all that, she seemed more luminous than ever, as if the day’s events had woken something in her. Finn had always known about Portia’s magic, the same magical talent their mother had possessed, but he had always viewed her spells and incantations as mere tricks, amusing, sometimes useful, but relatively innocuous. For the first time in his life he realized that Portia possessed real power. Did she honestly need him looking out for her?

  The company was gathered in the library of the baron’s tower on the northwest corner of the castle, Sir Eris, Sir Ardunn, and half a dozen other men-at-arms who comprised Baron Cedric’s chief advisors. Ander and Loth were there, and so were the Briar Knights, whose white tabards and woolen cloaks were now spattered with crimson. At least Sir Ducar’s were. The foolish man had leapt off his horse and tried to protect him and Portia. Father Moram had come too, even though he was not invited and, as always, had his young ward, Ren, at his side. The Priest of Aedon insisted that it was his obligation to watch out for the people of Nachtwald and to be their voice in matters of state and war.

  His father, Baron Cedric, was in his bed dreaming drug-induced dreams and moving restlessly in his sleep. Removing the spear from his belly and binding the wound had been a bloody business, and the prognosis for his recovery was not good. Wounds of this nature were nearly always fatal. There was nothing they could do now but wait. The thought of losing his father did not greatly affect him, at least not yet, but it did seem like a rather useless death. Portia, or Loth, or even Father Moram could have helped him. Baron Cedric’s moratorium against magic would be the death of him.

  In the center of the room, a large map, intricately drawn and beautifully illustrated, was laid out on a table. It showed the city and the surrounding countryside from Anhalth in the west to the Dragontooth Mountains in the east, from Midderan in the north to Birr in the south, with a dozen or more villages clearly marked, as wel
l as Arrom’s Rock, the ancient fortress of Aedon Arturas, standing close to Nachtwald.

  “I think it safe to say,” Sir Ardunn leaned over the map, his hands on the edge of the table, “that there are more on the way. Today’s action appeared to be little more than a ruse to draw us out and see what our forces were. Why else would they so brazenly attack our gates and then withdraw just as quickly?”

  “They came down the valley from the northeast.” Sir Eris tapped the map with one of his thick fingers. “I think we can assume they are using The Rock as a rallying point, if not occupying it.”

  “But the land bridge was destroyed long ago,” Sir Ardunn said.

  “They may have rebuilt it.”

  “That would take time. Surely we would have known—”

  “Might I point out,” Father Moram interrupted, “that Finn is Baron Cedric’s only son and heir, which, considering the baron’s current state, makes him Lord of Nachtwald, and that the defense of the city is now his responsibility.”

  The room went silent, Father Moram’s words hanging in the air like a bad odor. They all turned to look at him, his father’s noble councilors. The Briar Knights turned to regard him as if they had forgotten he was in the room and Sir Ducar offered a conciliatory smile. Loth arched an eyebrow and Ander just folded his arms and looked at him, waiting to see what he might do.

  “You can’t be serious.” Sir Eris straightened and gazed at Finn with a disapproving frown. “He’s little more than a boy, an unanointed squire...”

  “Baron Cedric himself was not much older when first he took command of Nachtwald.” Father Moram said.

  “Yes, but...” Sir Eris sputtered, “that was quite different. Baron Cedric was a true knight. He had the faith of King Ar-Guillan...”

  “My lord,” Sir Ardunn said, “we mean no offense. It’s just—”

  “Stop,” Finn raised his hands and moved away from the window, “I have no illusions about my abilities. If my lord father were here, I am the last person he would put in charge of ditch digging, much less defending the walls. For what it’s worth, I bequeath the honor of defending Nachtwald, and the protection of her people, to Sir Ardunn and to Sir Eris. If it helps, I’ll make it a command.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Sir Ardunn looked at Father Moram. “I will do my best to ensure the safety of your city.”

  “As will I,” Sir Eris said.

  The entire room breathed a sigh of relief, including Finn. Father Moram shook his head and frowned, clearly dissatisfied.

  “However,” Finn emphasized the word, “Father Moram will continue to act as the people’s spiritual leader. And I would appreciate it if you invited him to any future council meetings or gatherings where the people’s voice needs to be heard.”

  Sir Ardunn and Sir Eris stared at him. This was the closest Finn had ever come to a royal edict, or of showing any interest in the politics of Nachtwald whatsoever.

  “My lord—” Sir Eris began.

  “As you wish.” Sir Ardunn placed a hand on Sir Eris’ shoulder.

  “One last thing,” Finn said. As long as he was playing the young lord he might as well use it to his advantage. “The Briar Knights are released from service. They no longer have any obligation to protect Portia or myself, and may go, or stay, as they please.”

  Sir Henri scowled at him. “Baron Guthmundus laid that responsibility on us. You have no authority over Anhalth.”

  “I rescind it anyway, for as long as you are in Nachtwald.”

  “Well, that’s that then,” Sir Ducar said. “I’m sorry, my lady, but it looks like we won’t be escorting you to your wedding after all.”

  “That’s fine by me,” Portia said, not bothering to look up from her book. “I wasn’t going anyway.” She made a quick motion in the air with her right hand, extinguishing all the candles in the room, and then with another motion of her fingers caused them all to flare up once more. She smiled and turned the page in her book.

  Sir Henri and Sir Jon exchanged a look, and Sir Henri opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment there was a commotion in the courtyard outside, angry shouts and the clash of arms.

  “Have the devils breached the walls?” Sir Eris moved to the window.

  Ander was already headed for the door and Loth was beside him. Seeing an opportunity to escape, Finn joined them. It wasn’t as if Baron Cedric’s councilors needed him there anyway.

  “You should stay here, my lords,” Finn said. “We’ll see what the commotion is and send word if help is needed.”

  “Not likely.” Sir Jon moved to his side. “At least one knight of the order should be with you.”

  “Didn’t we just talk about this?” Finn said.

  They went out, descending quickly to the inner ward but still could not tell what was going on. A soldier, armed with a pike, ran past and Finn hailed him. “What’s happening? Are we under attack?”

  “I’m not rightly sure, m’lord,” the man said. By Finn’s reckoning the youth was not much older than he was. “I was told to get over to the water gate, that there was some elves trying to break in. Or break out. I didn’t quite get that part.”

  Ander and Loth looked at each other. “Rayzer and Blayde,” they both said together.

  * * *

  When they entered the barbican on the east side of the castle, they found a dozen guardsmen with pikes and swords gathered near the water gate. The gate stood open and, on the parapet above, Rayzer and Blayde crouched with swords drawn. At the base of the stair leading up to the parapet, several more guardsmen lay, or sat, bleeding from small wounds or senseless from falling down the stairs. Rayzer appeared to be holding several men at arm’s length with his twin swords, while Blayde defended the opposite side of the wall walk.

  “I told them they could not enter,” said one of the guardsmen, looking around and trying to determine whom he should address. He was bleeding from a scalp wound and looked a bit shaky.

  “That probably wasn’t the wisest course,” Ander said, clearly amused.

  “Stop this at once!” Finn demanded. “These are Baron Cedric’s guests.”

  “I doubt that your good lord would appreciate it if they were harmed,” Loth added. “And I would most certainly have something to say about it.”

  “M’lord,” said a second guardsmen, “they was trying to sneak goblins into the castle.”

  “We weren’t ‘sneaking’ anyone!” Blayde shouted down from the wall. “They were our prisoners, you useless git!”

  “Why don’t we all just put down our weapons and we can discuss this in a civilized manner.”

  Finn noticed that Loth’s voice had taken on a soothing tone, and that it was having an effect on the men around him. Finn looked down to see that Loth was making small gestures with his hands. Finn had seen Portia do the same thing when doing magic. Loth was casting a spell.

  “You two,” Loth said to Rayzer and Blayde. “You should come down now.”

  Rayzer snarled at the guards on the stair, twirling a sword in each hand. The guards grew calmer. They lowered their weapons and began backing down the steps. Rayzer pursued them, still brandishing his swords. Blayde followed, several steps behind, keeping an eye on the parapet above and the guardsmen who stood there leaning on their spears and looking out at the evening, no longer interested in what she was doing. Not until they were standing on the ground, with Loth and Ander close by, did the two finally lower their weapons.

  “They grabbed our prisoners,” Rayzer said, “and tried to grab us!”

  The twins were bloodied, covered in tiny nicks and superficial cuts, but otherwise appeared unharmed. None of the wounds were fresh, Finn noted. Clearly they had been in some other skirmish before this one.

  “Let’s start there,” Loth suggested. “What prisoners are we talking about? The guard said goblins...”

  “Aye. We captured two goblins,” Blayde gave Rayzer a sideways look, “against our better judgment. They surrendered to us after we killed their friends
.”

  “We were bringing them back here for questioning when these fools jumped us.” Rayzer glared at the nearest guardsmen.

  “You brought two goblins into the castle?” Ander asked.

  “Yes,” Blayde said angrily. “As prisoners! Are all humans completely thick headed? It’s not like they were putting up a fight. In fact, they seemed quite anxious to give themselves up.”

  “Spies,” Sir Jon said. “Likely they only came with you so they could get a look inside the castle and report back what our defenses are.”

  “They’ll have a hard time seeing much from inside Nachtwald’s dungeon.” Blayde eyed the knight as if he were something she had just stepped in.

  “They can tell us what the orcs are up to,” Rayzer said. “If I didn’t think they would be useful, I would have removed their heads straight away.”

  “The dungeon, you said.” Finn looked past them to the prison tower rising above the inner ward.

  “Yes,” Blayde snarled. “Your guardsmen wanted to kill them right off, and that’s what started the fight. They finally came around to the idea of keeping them captive and two men took them while we were stuck on the parapet. I heard one say they were taking them to the dungeon.”

  “Rayzer is right. We need to question them,” Ander said, “find out what they know about this business. Where did you say you found them?”

  “On the river.” Blayde gestured toward the water gate. “A warband came up along the shore and began burning boats in the Fisherman’s Nook. One of those we took is a shaman.”