Spirit of Magik
Book 1 of The Dothranan Chronicles
By Richard Cluff
Copyright 2015 Richard Cluff
Published by Richard Cluff at Amazon KDP
For my son.
Table of Contents
January 3rd, Prologue: Murder
April 30th, The Great City
May 1st, Revelation
May 2nd, The Attack
May 3rd, The Banquet
May 4th, Lessons
May 5th, Retaliation
May 6th, Surrender
May 7th, Brush with death
May 8th, Questions and a Warning
May 10th, Turbulent Emotions
May 11th, The Execution
May 12th, Slave Market
May 13th, Love and Madness
May 15th, Observation
May 16th, Contract
May 17th, Truth Hurts
May 18th, The Bloody Table
May 19th, Lamenting
May 20th, Discoveries
May 21st, Promises
May 22nd, The Future
May 24th, Groundbreaking Day
May 25th, Maturity and Stones
May 26th, Preparations
May 27th, Mortal Terminus
Epilogue
Appendix
About the Author
Editor’s Preface
When Richard first asked me if I wanted to read his story, I approached the offer with the casual interest that one extends specifically to colleagues that share the same profession. However, my deeper involvement was quickly secured by a captivating cast of characters and an enthralling storyline.
I began to spur him on to write more, as he had awoken in me a thirst for fiction that I had long thought quenched by my reckless adolescent plunge into the abyss of writing aimed at a young adult audience. His prowess at writing far surpassed my expectations, and the story’s ability to engage me withstood the test of multiple revisions.
I bugged him to finish the subsequent chapter as soon as he had given me the previous one to read, knowing that I would be desperate to know what would happen next. Richard obliged by providing a rich tapestry of events interwoven with a mixture of eccentric personages with diverse motives. I became enamored by the unpredictability of the plot.
When I agreed to edit the story, I did not realize that I would be revising it eight times, but even on the last review the novel retained its freshness. I am looking forward to reading his future works.
Megan Bissonette, May 25th, 2015
Preface
I began this writing this book in October of 2013, but the initial concept of the world of Lanaria was created in 2009. I would occasionally examine the notes, and fix them up. But nothing happened with it. I didn't have a grand idea of writing a novel and getting it published. It was just an idea for a world and a story that I enjoyed toying with.
Then I met Ari in my mind, and she changed my life. Her story is so grotesque and surreal; she fascinated me. She was the element that had been missing for the four years this story lay dormant on my computer.
I wrote the prologue, thinking this story was going to be one book: boy was I wrong about that.
I had notes from the world I had previously written, and Thorel and Nigel have remained true to those concepts.
When I wrote the prologue, I just made things up as I went along. When I finished, I was looking at what I had done and asked myself: “How and why does all of this work?” And I continued writing the story, bit by bit.
But the bulk of the work in writing this story has not been scripting scenes. It has been figuring out how and why things work in the world of Lanaria: legally, physically, metaphysically, and emotionally for the characters.
I started getting all of these things figured out, and kept pushing forward; I saw all the other stories the characters had. I began taking notes furiously to keep from losing any of them.
Now just for the initial series of The Dothranan Chronicles I have the obligation to write three or four books.
And all of this work is because Ari has commanded me to tell her story.
All I can say to her is “Yes, Mistress.”
Richard Cluff, December 19th, 2014
Acknowledgements
Special thanks goes to: (in alphabetical order)
Catherine Fisher: Sociological assistance, and test reading
Christian Griffin: Architectural, sociological assistance and test reading
Joel Bowman: Test reading
Joyce Pfleeger: Test reading
Ida Jannson: Cover artwork
Karla Finch Cluff: Test reading
Kevin McKeever: First draft editor and test reading
Megan Bissonette: Final draft editor and test reading
Polly Cluff: Test reading
Tiffany Billings: Map artwork
Xandra Quarm: Sounding board for the original concept
I would like to say how much I appreciate the support and encouragement of everyone on this list. The words do not exist to convey the gratitude I feel for helping me make this possible.
Thursday January 3rd 1624th year of the First Great City
Prologue: Murder
Ari watched the life drain out of Arayan Dothranan's surprised blue eyes. She released her grip and stepped away from his reeking breath, scented with strong liquor. He fell heavily on the polished wooden floor of the study. Ari watched the body of her father spasm, and then his muscles relaxed.
IT WORKED PERFECTLY!!! The thought shrieked through Ari's mind. The two years of work, the study, all of her sacrifices, and punishments… it had all been worth it.
Placing her hand on her face she looked through her fingers at his corpse and thought: Now, bitch, one of us is going to die. It doesn't matter who, but this ends today. A shiver of excitement and apprehension ran through her body.
Schooling her ecstatic grin with great effort, Ari channeled the spirit of the young girl she used to be long ago and screamed a terrified wail. She dropped to her knees at her father's head and wailed, “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” channeling a thread of Magikal power in a mock attempt to revive him. Not too much, power was expensive, and she wasn't going to waste all she had just taken from him.
The doors burst open, and two of her father's personal guards rushed in: they surveyed the scene and rushed to him.
Using her Magik Ari touched her stepmother's mind directly. “Come quickly, father's heart has stopped!” She knew her stepmother would be here quickly; she didn't want to lose everything she had. Ari knew the law: if he died her stepmother would not remain Great Lady Dothranan. Ari would since she was the blood heir of her House, and would be eighteen in less than a month.
“I'm coming, little whore. If this is a lie, I will have the skin flayed from you!” Came her stepmother's reply. Any other day that promise would have frightened Ari: today it only exalted her.
“He has no pulse,” one of the guards said after holding his fingers to her father's neck.
“I'm calling the medics,” the other said pulling his speaking rod from its sheath on his side.
“No!” Ari cried. “I've called my stepmother; she is coming!”
The Guardsmen nodded appreciatively. They knew well a Master of the Wizard's Council could do much more to help than a simple medic.
“Thank you, young Lady. By the spirits, I hope she can help your father,” the older of the two said.
“I'm sure she can,” Ari said feeling the large flat stone in her pocket with its Magikal runes carved precisely. It was difficult to keep from smiling.
Marylyn Dothranan, a red-h
aired imposing woman of nearly forty years entered with two of her personal guard following closely. She dressed in her gilded black Master's robe, with red runes of power seated in the thick silken weave.
She doesn't have her staff with her! Ari thought with excitement; this was even better than she could have hoped.
She saw the scene and ran to Arayan's still form, pushing one of the guards away. She grabbed Ari by her long blond hair and unceremoniously flung her with Magikally enhanced strength away as well. Ari landed on the floor a few yards away with the breath knocked out of her. This pain was nothing to her: she had been hurt a lot worse many times.
“Stupid little whore! What did you do to him?!?” The Mistress of Great House Dothranan channeled a massive amount of power attempting to revive him.
The body of her father began breathing slowly. Ari looked at the two other men who had entered: one was Cirrus, the Hold's slave master, and the other was a slave whose name she did not know. Most slaves don't really need names, do they? She thought. She had seen him, tending the gardens of the manor before though.
Ari got to her feet and nodded to Cirrus. He dismissed the slave with a gesture. He then quietly closed the doors.
Mistress Dothranan commanded, “Put your hand on my shoulder and pass me his spirit, whore- spawn.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Ari breathed quietly. She walked slowly and pulled the stone out of her pocket with her left hand. But she drew Magikal power into both hands.
Her stepmother's head snapped up with a look of surprise in her eyes.
Goodbye, step-bitch. Ari thought as she tossed the Lightning stone to the ground in front of Marylyn Dothranan. It had taken her nearly a month to design and make that talisman, and all the power she could spare. But it did what it was supposed to do: it fired the most powerful bolt of lightning Ari herself could have mustered at her stepmother.
Her stepmother blocked the brunt of the blast with a hastily erected shield: but some of it spilled through, burning her before it solidified.
Ari only had seconds, and she knew it: with her left hand she threw median bolts of lightning at her mother's guards. That was more than enough power to kill an armored man instantly. With her right, she evoked major flames upon her father's guards: incinerating them where they stood. Fire was her stepmother's affinity, not hers. It took a lot less power for her to produce lethal lightning since that was her Magikal affinity.
The screams of the dying guards filled her ears: the stench of cooked meat filled her nostrils. Her adrenaline soared to heights it had never touched before. She killed my father's guards when they tried to defend him, and I killed hers for the same reason is what she would say.
She saw her stepmother pulling power for a greater attack: Ari almost smiled. The lightning stone would only continue firing for a second, and she used that second.
Ari channeled her power into herself and traversed the space between them instantly. She came out of a twist in the air behind the monstrous woman that was her stepmother and invoked her power into quickening her body. Ari drew her dagger with blinding speed.
The lightning stone quit firing, exhausted. In one swift motion she took her stepmother's hair into her hand, the other stabbed her razor sharp blade deep into her throat. It penetrated the side of her neck, behind the jugular.
Her stepmother reacted instantly with a massive power bubble designed to shield her and fling attackers away. Her father's body, the guards' corpses, and Cirrus were thrown to the walls. Glasses and bottles of wine and other spirits shattered; papers scattered. But Ari stood firm as if bracing herself against a brisk wind.
Gripping her stepmother's hair firmly, she smiled and pushed the blade forward through her jugular. Warm blood gushed from the ghastly wound. Her stepmother began struggling with Magikally enhanced strength, but Ari simply matched it with her own and had the advantage of position.
“Time to die, you insufferable cunt,” Ari said with utter contempt. Her stepmother's mouth moved soundlessly forming words. The blood flow slowed, and the wound started healing quickly.
Ari shifted herself to avoid the lightning her stepmother fired from her eyes. It penetrated the stone ceiling. She could see the bitch shifting the power as she did it, as anyone with the sight could.
Ari yanked her head back to open the wound further and pressed her lips to hers. Her stepmother's vitae spilled from her wound onto the brown apprentice robe she wore.
Marylyn Dothranan's eyes widened in surprise. The flames in the lamps of her father's study flickered, but it did not explain the darkness in the room. It seemed to emanate from Ari as if she were soaking up all the surrounding light.
Then the light returned as if it had never left. She pulled her lips away from her dead stepmother. Ari slid her blade between her ribs and twisted it viciously. It was always best to make certain with a Wizard. Especially when that Wizard was one of the most feared battlemages in the realm.
Ari pushed the corpse forward, and her stepmother's face hit the blood-soaked floor.
Cirrus sat shaking by the wall. Magik terrified the man, as it did most people without the sight. But this was the most frightening thing he had ever seen or heard of in the darkest stories he knew.
Ari wiped the blood from her hands on her robe. Then she calmly pulled her stepmother's dagger from its sheath on her belt. She walked over to her father's sprawled form and turned him slightly to get a good angle. She slid the blade of her stepmother's dagger into his chest, severing the artery coming from his heart that went to his left leg. She absently tried to recall the name of the artery; it was sure to be on an upcoming test.
Blood pumped from the wound around the dagger's blade. Then the shallow breathing of the newly revived man slowed to a stop.
“You did it, Milady,” Cirrus breathed quietly. It was the only thing he could think to say looking at the blood soaked scene of murder before him. He realized that there was nothing he could do now except to make sure the new Mistress of House Dothranan was very pleased with his service.
“This is only the beginning,” Ari said quietly.
Ari stood tall and turned to him. “Call guards to seal this room. If any attempt to enter without my leave, they are to be killed or flogged within an inch of their lives should they be slaves,” she commanded.
“Yes, Milady,” he breathed, taking in the carnage once more. At least now, she would not be sent to him for lashings or worse when she displeased her stepmother, which was often. I'm a slave master, not a torturer. He thought. He had hated hurting her so much that he had agreed to take part in this. No one should have to endure what this poor girl has.
Ari opened the double doors of her father's study and rang the service bell. “Who was the slave that followed you in?” she queried.
“Torin, Milady. He tends the Manor gardens,” Cirrus finally found the strength to stand and closed his eyes to the grisly scene.
“Does he know letters?” It was a rare thing for a slave to be able to read and write, but she had to be certain.
“No Mistress,” Cirrus said.
“Good. Take the man's tongue. He doesn't need it to tend my gardens,” she said thoughtfully.
Cirrus paled and said shakily, “Yes Mistress.”
The maid who answered Ari's summons screamed at the sight of her, covered in her stepmother's blood.
Ari let her tears well forth. Such a minor application of power, but so useful, and said painfully, “My stepmother has murdered my father!” *sob* “But she has paid with her life.” Looking at the blood on her robes she said, “Help me wash…I must not be in disarray when I contact the Council and tell them of this.” She put her hands on her face and let another lying sob wrack her tall slender frame. She had worked hard on this performance; Kira had coached her for weeks. She was happy to see it was working.
“By all the spirits' girl, I'm so sorry,” the maid's tears were genuine as she pulled Ari into a tight hug. The woman's head only reached her collarbone: Ari wa
s used to being taller than every other woman around her though and many men too. Her height had been a subject of many taunts by other students at the academy.
“He was drunk again, wasn't he? She told him she would spit him like a pig if he continued to disobey her,” Ari felt the woman shaking while she held her. She tried to remember the maid's name. This gray haired woman had been kinder to her than her step-bitch had ever been. Kari… no… Karla. Yes, that was it. Maybe...
She looked over the maid at Cirrus and spoke with cold authority. “Why are you not doing as I told you?”
He jerked as if he'd been awakened suddenly, “Yes, Mistress, right away.” He left the bloody study and yelled loudly, “Guards!!!”
Karla led Ari down the polished stone corridors to the baths. Slaves and servants alike were wide eyed at the bloody, disheveled sight of her and moved to the walls pressing their backs against them.
Karla took a ragged breath and shouted with tears in her eyes, “Show your respect to the Mistress!!”
Eyes widening more, they bowed or curtsied quickly, knowing well this meant the former Master and Mistress had passed to spirit. They began speaking in hushed voices after Ari passed, wondering what happened, and what kind of Mistress this girl of seventeen summers would be.
They turned the corner to the baths. It seemed word was spreading quickly, several of the slaves and servants when they struck the walls to allow her passage showed their respect. Harsh whispers passed to those who did not, and the others followed suit quickly. Ari could hear the jangle of the armor and weapons of House guards running down the hall to her father's – no, her late father's study.
Spirit of Magik (The Dothranan Chronicles Book 1) Page 1
