The Crown of Stones: Magic-Borne

by C. L. Schneider

  I grunted in surprised. “Never thought I’d see the day when Malaq Roarke focused on the wellbeing of a single man and not the entire realm. I’m flattered.”

  His expression fell flat. “You’re an ass.”

  I laughed. “Even so, how do you think it looks when the only Shinree left addicted to magic is standing by the King’s side?” I didn’t give him time to reply. “I’m fodder for those that would oppose you, Malaq. You’re better off with me gone. You know it. You just don’t want to admit it.”

  His nod was distant and resigned. “What about Sienn?”

  My gaze drifted as I thought of our last hours together, wishing I could imprint the feel of her on my memory the way the eldring did. “Sienn understands. She knows my condition puts our people’s future in jeopardy. Maybe someday I can come back. But now…” I shook my head and admitted the simple truth. “I need to get away. From the villages and the people, what I’ve done to them, what it cost to save them. I need distance and time from all of it.”

  “Fair enough,” he conceded. “When do you leave?”

  “In the morning. My tardy crew will be here by then.”

  Malaq moved to the bow. Tabin was below us, on the dock, conversing with a man whose weathered skin and windblown hair spoke of fisherman. Malaq called out. “Bring my horse as well, Tabin. I’ll be staying the night.”

  “You don’t have to,” I said. “Krillos will send out a search party if you aren’t back soon.”

  “The excitement is good for him. Besides, when was the last time you and I drank together until neither of us could stand?”

  “Never.”

  “Then it’s high time we start.”

  I saw right through him. “What do you want, Malaq?”

  “In truth? A night to remember. So, when I’m old and gray and cursing you for leaving, I have one hell of a fond memory to look back on.”

  “Okay. We drink. But no more talk of staying. My mind is made.”

  “Deal. Now, if Tabin did his job thoroughly, there’s a case of my favorite Kaelish wine in the hold that needs attention. It comes from this little vineyard nestled in the foothills, just off The Shallows. The soil is perfect for grapes.”

  “So now you’re an expert in winemaking?”

  “I’ve picked up a few things over the years.”

  “While you were exiled?”

  “Exactly.” Malaq slapped me on the back. “The vineyard’s owner is a friendly old man. He and his wife wanted sons to work the fields. They ended up with eight daughters.”

  “Eight?” My brows went up. “All beautiful, I’m guessing.”

  “And extremely gifted in the fine art of grape stomping. This one, Lu—she was number four, I believe. Quite energetic. Legs like a vice. That woman about stole my heart.”

  “A grape stomper stole your heart?”

  “Lu had the voice of a songbird and hummed the most exquisite tunes as she worked the grapes. She was extraordinarily dexterous as well. She did this amazing thing with her—”

  Tabin ran up the boarding plank, mercifully interrupting. “Your Grace?” Leading Malaq’s horse behind him, he crossed the deck. “My apologies, but the gray mare won’t budge. She just stands there like a mule, almost like she wants to stay.”

  “Hmmm,” Malaq mused. “I always thought Kya was the smart one.”

  Eyeing him, I gave a whistle. A few seconds later, Kya trotted onto the boat. She sauntered over to me, tail swishing like she had no idea what the fuss was about. Gripping her bridle with a firm hand, I gazed into her wild eyes. “Go with the nice man. I’ll bring you an apple later.” I ran my hand over her mane. Kya snorted and tossed her head, but she didn’t protest when I handed the reins to Tabin. “She’s mostly bark. Just watch her back right leg.”

  “You haven’t mentioned a destination,” Malaq said, as Tabin led our horses away. “Do you have one? Or are you planning on sailing about the rest of your days, leaving a trail of fish bones floating in your wake? If you aren’t careful you’re going to put a painful dent in the market around here.”

  I frowned at him. “Don’t worry. My fish trail will be a ways northwest of here. The runes spoke of some early Shinree who sailed out of Mirra’kelan in search of new lands. They sent letters back through doors for a while, detailing their journey. I thought I’d try retracing it. See if another Shinree settlement is out there somewhere.”

  He nodded approvingly. “You actually remember what all those runes said?”

  “Not all of them. Sienn filled in the gaps. And after a little liquid persuasion Krillos helped me with the maps. Their first stop was a grouping of islands northwest of Doratae called the Wandering Isles. Apparently, back then, those native to the Isles were known for producing the highest quality wares. Some claimed it was the best ever traded on Mirra’kelan.”

  “Impressive. What did they deal in?”

  “Spirits. Liquor, wine…”

  Malaq’s laugh was loud and abrupt. “Since the moment you asked me for this boat, I’ve been trying to wrap my head around you leaving.”

  “I told you why I was leaving.”

  “No, Ian Troy wouldn’t simply abandon his friends and the land he fought to liberate. But…Ian Troy, chasing the finest bottle of wine ever made...? That makes perfect sense.” Smiling wide, Malaq threw an enthusiastic arm around my shoulder. “When you get there,” he led me away from the rail toward the entrance to the lower deck, “the first thing you do is find yourself a grape stomper. I’m telling you my friend. If she can skin a grape in her mouth with no hands…she’s a keeper.”

  “Lu could do that?”

  “No,” he balked, “her sister, Aras. Now, the oldest, Elle, that woman’s skin was as soft as silk. And slightly purple,” he frowned.

  “If you tell me she stomped her grapes naked…”

  “Oh, my friend,” Malaq chuckled under his breath, “is there any other way?”

  EPILOGUE

  Hands full, I bent and lifted a trembling arm to my forehead. The awkward attempt to wipe the river of sweat off my brow didn’t help much. After a morning on deck, under blue skies and bright sun, my arm was as drenched as the rest of me. I’d abandoned my shirt an hour ago. My hair was soaked and clinging to my bare skin. The day was a warm one. The anchor I was lifting from the seabed was heavy. But it wasn’t that hot, and the anchor wasn’t that heavy. Normally, I would’ve been able to bear down and raise it out of the water with little trouble on my own.

  But this is normal now. Struggling each day to hold out longer and longer; enduring the nausea, the throbbing in my head, the tremors in my limbs—always the first sign I’d gone too long without casting.

  A hard shake ran through my arms. My grip loosened. The rope fell from my grasp, and the slack I’d struggled for slipped back over the side of the rail. I frowned at the disturbance it created, watching the ripples join the waves breaking around the bow.

  Lifting my eyes, scanning farther out, my gaze wandered over the vacant sea. There were no other ships, no sign of land. Soon, I hoped.

  The old Shinree maps had been accurate so far. I was anxious to see if the trend continued. Uncovering what might have happened to the only Shinree ever known to leave Mirra’kelan willingly had given me something new: a focus that didn’t revolve around war or bloodshed. I had to hold onto it as long as possible.

  With a deep breath I picked up the rope. One tug and the blisters on my hands protested. The throbbing in the back of my head sped around to the front.

  What am I doing?

  Glancing at the strips of leather wrapped around my wrists, I selected a few of the stones embedded in the material. The chosen flecks glowed. A quivering breath fled my lungs as their auras sunk into me like a long awaited breath of fresh air.

  I couldn’t do anything for the blisters. I wasn’t an erudite anymore. I
couldn’t heal, or open doors, or manipulate the elements. I couldn’t cast visions. I was a soldier, a Reth, through and through. I wanted a sword in my hand, not a rope. I wanted to bleed and conquer, to ride Kya into battle. Not steer a lonely ship across the open sea. Which is exactly why I have to.

  Busying my mind with charts and maps, learning how not to capsize in a storm, were the only things keeping me from becoming as ruthless as my father.

  Whispering the words for a substantial jolt of strength, I threw a shield spell in too, and expelled the magic. Pleasure swooped in. I leaned against the rail, breathless and sightless, and enjoyed every morsel. The ‘blind’ part of being magic-blind didn’t bother me anymore.

  Relief was all that mattered now.

  The crystal blue water came back into focus. Vigor had replaced the quakes in my arms. My stomach had settled. My head was pain-free and clear. The sore blisters on my hands had become, for the moment, background.

  Feeling better than I had all day, I took firm hold of the rope and hoisted the anchor up out of the water and onto the ship. I was eager to take the wheel and push on. But Krillos was in my head, instructing me to never leave the rope without checking it for fraying or tangles. You never know when you’ll need to act fast. You get too comfortable, you get stupid. Take advantage of the quiet times, Shinree,’cuz they never last. Use ’em to prepare for the inevitable shit-storm that rolls in as fast as the tide.

  I didn’t debate his logic. Life taught me a long time ago. The quiet never lasted.

  As I grabbed the rope to inspect it, I heard the distant groan of weight on boards. Hinges creaked behind me. The hatch that led below slammed open against the deck. Finally, I thought. My crew of one was awake.

  His shadow grew long. It crossed mine and I turned to bid him good morning.

  I never got the words out.

  “Just once can I get a warning before you throw magic at me?” he griped.

  “Sorry.” I watched him rub his eyes and run a hand over his scruff. “Didn’t mean to wake you. Just getting ready to set sail.”

  “Checking the lines, is getting ready to set sail, Ian, not…what did you cast on me?”

  “Shield spell. We don’t know what the day will bring.”

  Jarryd shook his head. “We never do.” He came to stand beside me.

  Coiling the rope at my feet, I tilted my head at the water. “I made breakfast.”

  Jarryd peered over at the fifty or so carcasses of blackened fish floating serenely in the lapping waves. “They’re a little well done for my taste.”

  “Mine, too,” I grinned. “What time did you get back from Kabri?”

  “Late. I had to wake the door-maker. The woman was far from happy.”

  “You’re here. She must have taken your money.”

  “After she hit me with her shoe.” Wincing, Jarryd rubbed his right hip; the apparent target of the shoe.

  “You could have stayed another day.”

  “One was fine.” He was quiet a moment. His blue eyes studied the horizon. Melancholy settled in and overrode the grogginess of waking. “It’s the last time. I’m not going back.”

  “Why? Did you and Ordree…”

  “We were never anything serious, Ian. I helped Ordree acclimate to life in Mirra’kelan. She helped me regain my confidence. Though I’m not sure I’ll ever be like I was with the bow, thanks to her, I’m better than I thought I would be. But she has Malaq’s peace to protect, and I have you to keep out of trouble.” Smiling slightly, Jarryd gave me his signature, lazy, one-shouldered shrug. “It’s time for us both to move on.”

  “And, Liel, your son? Are you moving on from him, too?”

  “Liel is Malaq’s son now. I gave permission for the boy to take his name.”

  They were simple words. But what Jarryd felt as he said them was much more complicated. “You didn’t have to,” I said. “You didn’t have to leave him in the first place.”

  “Didn’t I?”

  If I answered him it would only lead to an argument. The same argument we’d had nearly a year ago when I told Jarryd I was leaving Mirra’kelan. I wasn’t anxious to repeat the disagreement, or lose it again. “You can still visit. I don’t mind handling the ship alone once in a while. I told you that the first day, after you came riding down that Langorian dock, half asleep, looking like you’d spent the night with your head between Ordree’s—sheets,” I added at his raised brow.

  “Least I spent it with a woman and not a longwinded King and a case of Kaelish wine. I didn’t think Malaq was even going to make it on his horse. And you didn’t look any better.”

  “I wasn’t,” I laughed. “All I’m saying is. You don’t have to stop going home on my account. From what you’ve told me, Malaq has several paid door makers on staff at the castle. I’m sure they’d like the work.”

  “No. Liel’s life is with them now. He’ll be King one day. That’s more than I ever hoped for him.”

  “King Liel Roarke,” I said. “It does have a nice sound to it.”

  “That it does, my friend…that it does.” Jarryd closed his eyes and turned his face into the sun. The breeze ruffled his hair. It was nearly to his shoulders. “Sienn was in Kabri,” he said, opening his eyes. “She misses you. They all do.”

  I miss them too. “Like you said…it’s time to move on.”

  Sighing, Jarryd slipped the flask from his pocket and leaned against the rail. He shook the silver container in my face. “I borrowed this from Malaq’s private stock.”

  I dropped the rope and grabbed the flask. Popping it open with one finger, I took a long pull. The spicy liquid flowed down my throat, instantly warming my insides. It had been months since I’d tasted Langorian coura.

  Not since Darkhorne. Not since Draken.

  There had been many mornings on the water since then; many cravings; many spells.

  I studied the empty scars on my left hand. It all felt like yesterday.

  Jarryd’s stare drifted to the horizon. “What do you think we’ll find out there, a tribe of throwbacks from the ancient past? Or maybe, on their own, they evolved differently. Maybe, we’ll find the future of the Shinree.”

  “I don’t know, Nef’taali. I spent years paying for the past and worrying about the future. I’ve seen both, tried to shape them…to forget them.” Feeling the obsidian shard resting at the hollow of my throat, and the malachite key farther down against my chest, I shook my head. “Like my magic and my scars, the past and future are a part of me. I’ll always carry their weight. But I think it’s time I try living in the present for a while.”

  He nodded. I felt his approval. But something else, too: wariness, I thought. He thinks I can’t do it, I can’t truly let go and move on.

  Maybe he’s right. Maybe Fate’s more a part of me now than I know.

  My wistful contemplation clouding the link, Jarryd gave voice to it. “You’re not used to this, having no burning mission to complete, no responsibility, no enemies hunting you, no one to save.”

  “No one to kill,” I added.

  He nodded, acknowledging my point. “Still, you gave it all up. For this,” Jarryd gestured out at the open sea. “What if, one day you wake up and realize this ‘present’ you’re living in is something you don’t like? You don’t think that’ll lead to a nest of problems?”

  “Maybe,” I shrugged. “But I’m a Shinree soldier.”

  Jarryd laughed at me. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, whatever the problem is, I’ll handle it.”

  “Gods, I’m afraid to ask.” But he did anyway. “Handle it how?”

  “The same way I always have.” I slapped the empty flask back in Jarryd’s hand and smiled. “With a little steel and a whole lot of magic.”

  The End

  Thank you for completing Ian’s journey in T
he Crown of Stones trilogy. There are so many amazing stories out there waiting to be read. I’m honored you chose mine. To find out what’s going on in my world, connect with me on Twitter, Facebook, and Google+. I would love to hear from you! Please visit my website at http://www.clschneiderauthor.com/ and join my mailing list for periodic updates. Over the last few years, I’ve had the pleasure of discovering some wonderful indie authors. We all share the same dream of having others fall in love with the stories and the characters we’ve created. Please take a look at my blog where I’ve reviewed some of their work. You can also search #indiebooksbeseen and #awethors across social media. You might just find your next great read.