Andoran's Legacy

by M. Gregg Roe

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Books in the Series

  Dedication

  Ode to Andoran

  Map of the known world

  1 - ‡ Havenbrook ‡

  2 - ‡ Ice ‡

  3 - ‡ Periwinkle ‡

  4 - ‡ Adventure ‡

  5 - ‡ Ambush ‡

  6 - ‡ Reunion ‡

  7 - ‡ Troglodytes ‡

  8 - ‡ Deities ‡

  9 - ‡ Twins ‡

  10 - ‡ Alessandra ‡

  11 - ‡ Conrad ‡

  12 - ‡ Marryn ‡

  13 - ‡ Gathering ‡

  14 - ‡ Fern ‡

  15 - ‡ Thieves ‡

  16 - ‡ Inheritance ‡

  17 - ‡ Resolve ‡

  18 - ‡ Mentors ‡

  19 - ‡ Selling ‡

  20 - ‡ Couples ‡

  21 - ‡ Conviction ‡

  22 - ‡ Heat ‡

  23 - ‡ Hamsa ‡

  24 - ‡ Xlee ‡

  25 - ‡ Albert ‡

  26 - ‡ Carnage ‡

  27 - ‡ Lancia ‡

  28 - ‡ Sailing ‡

  29 - ‡ Desires ‡

  30 - ‡ Normalcy ‡

  31 - ‡ Spirits ‡

  32 - ‡ Hope ‡

  33 - ‡ Fog ‡

  34 - ‡ Crystal ‡

  35 - ‡ Coercion ‡

  36 - ‡ Teleportation ‡

  37 - ‡ Reunited ‡

  38 - ‡ Communication ‡

  39 - ‡ Guardian ‡

  40 - ‡ Zig ‡

  41 - ‡ Zag ‡

  42 - ‡ Fate ‡

  Acknowledgements

  Index of Names

  About the Author

  Andoran’s Legacy

  ‡ BOOK FOUR OF ANDORAN'S REALM ‡

  M. Gregg Roe

  Andoran's Legacy

  Copyright © 2019 M. Gregg Roe

  All rights reserved.

  First Edition — January 2019

  ‡ ANDORAN'S REALM ‡

  Book One: Audrey of Farmerton

  Book Two: The Witch’s City

  Book Three: The Guild War

  Book Four: Andoran’s Legacy

  — For James G. McKinney —

  Ode to Andoran

  There was once a wizard of incredible might

  Good deeds he performed throughout the land

  He was a force for justice, a force for right

  Wielding power with a just and even hand

  Time changed Andoran, as it changes us all

  His heart turned to darkness, his soul to dust

  Destruction he wrought, a forbidding pall

  The survivors fled, as indeed they must

  His victory complete, a home he now sought

  A place of wonderment, a land to overwhelm

  With powerful magic was the Gray Forest wrought

  And so was created Andoran’s Realm

  — Siljan av Sabrina, Self-Appointed Royal Poet

  1

  ‡ Havenbrook ‡

  Siljan’s sword was in her right hand before she even consciously registered that something was wrong. Even lost in thought, she had reacted automatically to the sound of Ariel drawing her two weapons. Standing three yards behind where her friend had come to a stop, Siljan slowly rotated until she was facing back the way they had come. With the snow now melted, she could see the boot prints the two of them had left as they followed a faint trail through the thick woods. She scanned her surroundings but saw nothing dangerous.

  “Do you smell it?” Ariel hissed from behind her.

  Siljan breathed in deeply through her somewhat congested nose, then really wished that she hadn’t. The malodor was a knife stabbing into her sinuses. “Troglodytes,” she said, wincing from the pain. It wasn’t the kind of smell that you ever forgot. Or ever wanted to experience again. On the other hand, it did seem to be helping with the congestion.

  “I don’t think there are any close,” said Ariel, “or it’d smell even worse. I see a body with two arrows in it.”

  “What kind of body?” asked Siljan, turning back around. Even from behind and wearing a heavy cloak, Ariel’s tension was obvious.

  “Troglodyte. Stay here.”

  Siljan watched as Ariel made her way ahead and to the right, her leather boots making surprisingly little sound. Curious, Siljan crept forward until she spotted the green-skinned body in the distance, sprawled at the base of a denuded elm tree. Even partly covered by a black cloak, she had no doubt of what it was. It was a human-sized biped, but with clawed hands and a lizard-like head that included bulbous black eyes. The creature’s large mouth hung open, revealing the jagged teeth of a carnivore.

  After sheathing her shortsword, Siljan placed her gloved left hand over her nose and mouth. The smell of the treated leather helped, but it still didn’t fully mask the stench. She was also well aware that even completely blocking her nose wouldn’t really help. Simply breathing it into her lungs was making her feel queasy. The stench from live troglodytes was even worse. It was an innate defense and an effective one, inducing nausea in any creature that wasn’t a troglodyte or something similar.

  The two of them were on the way to the village of Havenbrook, located west of Fog Lake in the Devilwood. Most of their journey had been along the western boundary of the Hills of Andoran, but now it was all flat woods. Thankfully, there were both game trails and human-made ones if you knew where to look. And Ariel was adept at that kind of thing.

  Ariel still looked wary when she returned, but both her scimitar and dagger were back in their sheaths. “It’s been dead about a day. There was another one that was wounded. It ran off northwest. Do you think the villagers killed this one?”

  “Probably. How far are we from Havenbrook?”

  “Maybe two miles.” Ariel puckered her lips slightly. “I think this trail leads there.”

  Siljan paused a moment to think. Havenbrook had been unfriendly before, refusing to let Isadora and Bianca even enter the village. Now that they were battling troglodytes, they might just shoot arrows at anyone approaching. Caution was clearly called for.

  After motioning for Ariel to continue, Siljan talked to her from behind as they walked. “We head straight to the village like we’re invited guests. Smile. Make eye contact. And make sure they can see that your hands are empty.”

  Ariel hesitated briefly in front of an old oak before heading around it to the right. “What if they attack us?”

  “Run for cover. I’ll explode a fireball above the village.” In her experience that kind of thing tended to impress primitive types.

  “I’m not leaving you,” Ariel declared, sounding both childish and serious. “I’m your protector.”

  Siljan couldn’t fault Ariel for taking her new responsibilities seriously. No longer just a temple guard, her friend was now a full-fledged Warrior of Kyran. In defense of the temple, or of one of its priestesses, Ariel’s already considerable fighting ability was enhanced by divine power. It was an honor that Siljan had never expected her friend to receive, given her mental issues. But it would certainly be handy if the villagers did attack them.

  “Fine. We stay together. And if necessary, we flee together. All right?”

  Apparently satisfied, Ariel didn’t reply.

  Siljan returned to thinking about how to handle the somewhat delicate situation that they faced. Even though she was a full-fledged priestess, tact and diplomacy weren’t really her strengths. But she would muddle through somehow. She always did.

  It was late afternoon, and rapidly cooling off, when they finally spied the village ahead of them. The possibility that the two of them might actually be sleepi
ng inside tonight cheered Siljan. Their journey hadn’t been that difficult—more cold than anything else—but she was tired. A roof and hot food sounded heavenly.

  Siljan decided that it was time. After a quick prayer to Kyran, she focused her will and said, “Enthrall,” in a low voice. She felt the spell take hold as she walked out of the woods with Ariel to her right. It was still over fifty yards to the eastern edge of the village. The clearing was peppered with decaying tree stumps, a sign that Havenbrook had been there for some time. She forced herself to smile, noting her friend’s unforced look of innocent delight. Spotting a narrow bridge across the trench that surrounded the village, she adjusted their course slightly to the left.

  Havenbrook was roughly circular, perhaps two-hundred yards across. The trench that ringed it was four yards across and partly filled with murky water. Beyond the cleared area, there was a large stand of evergreen trees visible to the west, in contrast to the leafless deciduous trees that dominated the other three directions. And there was indeed a brook running by the southern edge of the village, just outside the trench.

  The village houses varied only in size. They were all round, their walls crafted from vertical logs. The thatch roofs were steeply sloped, with a hole in the center to allow smoke to escape. There was smoke coming out of most of the houses, not surprising given that it was both Winter and fairly late in the day. Siljan caught a whiff of cooking meat that made her stomach rumble. The two of them hadn’t eaten since noon, and that food had been far from appetizing.

  The village was patrolled both inside and outside the trench by guards, some with bows and others with spears. Four of those with spears were moving to bar the entrance to the bridge, while archers inside the village gathered nearby, pointedly notching arrows. But at least they weren’t shooting.

  They came to a stop a few yards short of the guards. Smiling, Siljan held out both her hands, arms spread and palms facing outward. The villagers probably thought it was a gesture of peace, but she was really preparing to multi-cast two instances of Burning Hands if a fight did start. Nothing said “Leave me alone,” quite like shooting blasts of flame from your hands.

  “We mean you no harm,” said Siljan, speaking loudly and smiling so hard that her face hurt. “We just want to speak with your village leader. Can one of you go get them? We’ll just stay right here.” The spell was definitely having an effect; she could see it in the guards’ slightly dazed expressions.

  The guard closest to Siljan, stout and with a weathered face, abruptly moved her spear to a vertical position. The three others followed suit as she motioned at one of the bowmen. He, in turn, called out to another man who took off running toward the center of the village.

  “The Clan-Chief’s not here,” said the woman, turning her attention back to Siljan, who had lowered her arms and was trying to look innocent. “I sent for the Spakona.”

  The word was unfamiliar to Siljan, but most villages had an older person that the villagers went to for advice or medicines. They also served to preserve the village’s history. That was definitely better than dealing with some dimwitted warrior.

  While they waited, Siljan asked the guard questions. Roughly half a month ago, one of the village’s hunting parties had failed to return. The next party they sent out was larger, but only two villagers made it back to describe the creatures that had attacked them. The troglodytes hadn’t attacked the village directly, but Siljan suspected that it was just a matter of time.

  Noticing Ariel pointing, Siljan spotted someone who was presumably the Spakona, but who looked to be no more than thirty-years-old. She had fair skin and shoulder-length light brown hair that was braided. Her clothing was fashioned from narrow strips of leather, some of which had been bleached white. Hanging from her shoulders was a long cape made of dark gray fur. Around her neck was a necklace from which hung what looked like wolf fangs. It was a ceremonial look, completed by the forked staff that she was holding in her right hand. Despite her determined stride, uncertainty showed on her rather plain face.

  The woman walked across the narrow bridge that spanned the trench and gestured sharply. The guards nodded at her and moved aside. She looked back and forth between the two of them several times, apparently unable to decided which of them to address. Siljan took a small step forward, resulting in a look of relief.

  The Spakona raised her staff and shook it twice. “I am Taina, Spakona of Havenbrook,” she intoned loudly. Then she released the staff, but instead of falling, it moved forward and floated upward. “Behold! I have been granted power by Lord Andoran himself. I will allow no harm to this village or its people.”

  Siljan decided that this probably wasn’t the best time to mention that Andoran had been dead for nearly two decades. It was better to just play along.

  “I acknowledge your power,” said Siljan. She held out her right hand toward the floating staff but couldn’t sense any magical emanation, which was interesting. “I’m Siljan, and that’s Ariel. I’m a Priestess of Kyran. Are you a witch?”

  Taina blinked and pulled her head back slightly. “That is an old name for my people.” She held out her left hand, and the staff floated back into it. “Where do you come from?”

  “We live at a temple that’s north of here, near the Valena River.”

  “Like the two that were here last month. I regret that they were kept out, but it was not my decision.” She gazed intently at Siljan. “Is it true that the Witch’s City still exists? That is what our … guests say.”

  Siljan suspected that the woman had been about to say captives. “Yes, it still exists. Ariel and I both grew up there.”

  “I see,” said Taina. “I would like to hear more about it.”

  Siljan nodded toward the village. “Can we talk where it’s warmer and not sleeting?” It had just started and was really annoying.

  “Of course.” Taina frowned. “I feel odd. Are you using magic on me?”

  Siljan willed the spell to end, surprised that Taina had sensed it. “It was just a spell to make people more cooperative.” That comment simply deepened the woman’s frown.

  Taina glanced left and then right. “Resume your posts. Remain wary.” She looked at the two of them and shook her staff again. “Follow me.”

  With Ariel behind her, Siljan followed the woman across the bridge, finding it sturdier than it looked. Other than guards, there were few people out, which was hardly surprising given the weather.

  Aside from Taina, the villagers all had dark hair, narrow faces, hazel eyes, and swarthy skin. Their clothing was sewn entirely from skins and hides, but was of high quality. To Siljan’s trained eye, the villagers looked healthy. The village as a whole was neat and orderly.

  “You are here about our guests from Farmerton, aren’t you?” asked Taina, turning her head to look back.

  “Yes,” said Siljan, adopting a serious expression. “We would like you to release any of them that want to leave.”

  “Two of the women are paired now. The other wishes to go to Fisherton.”

  “I can arrange that. What about the two girls?”

  Taina shook her head. “They keep going on about how their cousin Audrey and her friends will come to rescue them. They have mentioned both of your names, among others.”

  Siljan heard Ariel giggling and flashed her a smile. “We can take them to Audrey,” she said to Taina, but there was no reply.

  The center of the village was the only area that still had trees. Six tall and majestic pines ringed a clearing that contained a single house measuring five yards across. The area around the house was planted with a dizzying variety of plants although most were currently dormant.

  Taina led them between two of the pines along a narrow but distinct path that led to the house’s entrance. As they neared, the mottled brown-and-white hide that served as the door moved aside and a little girl with a round face and curly brown hair looked out. She turned her head, clearly talking to someone inside. Seconds later, the hide was pulled asid
e even farther, revealing two more girls, slightly taller, dark-haired, and with nearly identical faces.

  “It’s Siljan!” exclaimed one twin. “And Ariel!” added the other.

  “The other one is my daughter, Laila,” said Taina as they continued to walk. “She will one day succeed me as Spakona of Havenbrook.”

  That meant that the girl was also a witch. “We’re going to want to talk privately,” said Siljan, keeping her voice low.

  “I realize that. Ilona and Iris are simply here to play.”

  The inside of the house was both warm and surprisingly cluttered. It reminded Siljan of an alchemist’s laboratory. Baskets containing all kinds of dried plants hung from the walls. Small tables were covered with wooden bowls, jars, and a variety of implements. Siljan could identify some of the aromas inside, but not all. The center of the house was a fire pit that was also clearly used for cooking.

  After brief introductions, Taina told the three girls to go to her brother’s house. They obeyed instantly and without comment, each donning a cloak of gray wolf fur. Siljan nodded at Ariel, and she responded by announcing that she was going with them.

  Then something occurred to her. Siljan smiled brightly at the identical girls. “Romee is alive.”

  “She is?” asked the one on the left, her eyes wide. “Where is she?” asked the one on the right.

  “She's living with Saxloc’s parents, which is where you two will be eventually be living.”

  They looked at each other briefly before turning back and nodding. “When?” “Today?”

  “No.” Siljan hesitated, worrying that she had gotten ahead of herself. “I’ll need to come back with a larger escort to keep you safe.”

  “Audrey?” “Gabriel?” Their eyes were filled with hope.

  It amazed Siljan how the two of them never spoke at the same time. “Yes, I’m sure that they will both come.”