by H. D. Gordon
Born of Magic
Heiress of Magic Trilogy: Book 1
H. D. Gordon
***Please note: This book was previously published under the title Shooting Stars (The Surah Stormsong Trilogy). The material has been re-written and edited, but is essentially the same story. If you think you purchased this book before under the other title, simply return for a refund. Thank you.***
Copyright © 2018 H. D. Gordon
Published by H. D. Gordon Books
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, are coincidental.
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
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Contents
Born of Magic
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
The End…For Now.
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Born of Magic
The Black Stone has gone missing.
Its magic is dark and dangerous, and as the last living heir to the Sorcerer throne, Surah Stormsong has been tasked with finding it.
The trouble is, the main suspect is a handsome male Sorcerer from her past, and Surah seems to be the only one not certain that he is guilty.
When Highborn women start turning up dead, the hunt to find the true culprit and solve the mystery is on.
But something dark is gathering on the horizon, something that will shake Surah’s magical world to its core.
Born of Magic is the first book in the Heiress of Magic Trilogy.
For the lovers and the fighters
Prologue
Surah
The entire city of Zadira stretched out before her, the people filling the streets.
This was the third and final day of winter celebrations, and no expense had been spared. Magic was on full display; fire dancers floated along the avenues, multicolored flames encasing their toned bodies. Sorcerers in capes glided over the gathered, flicking their hands this way and that, sending purple flower petals down in a constant rain until the cobblestones were violet.
Vendors selling savory meats on sticks and fried and powdered dough lined the sidewalks, and various bands plucked out sweet melodies so the people could dance while the children ate goodies and chased each other around the streets, which created a grid among the old stone buildings.
A light snow had just begun to fall, drifting down in lazy white puffs that caught in the hair of the smiling people as their breath plumed out in clouds in front of them.
Overlooking it all was the castle where the princess and her family lived. With spiraling turrets and imposing stature, the castle was set upon a hill on the eastern side of Zadira. The young Sorceress sat in a bedroom window atop one of the highest turrets as the festivities continued below.
Her Great Tiger, Samson, sat beside her, watching the sun sink behind the buildings and resting his massive black and blue head upon her lap.
“A pence for your thoughts, princess?” the tiger asked, speaking into her mind in the telepathic manner they shared.
Surah Stormsong sighed, stroking the fur between his ears absentmindedly. “I fear something is coming,” she admitted. “That war is nearer our doorstep than my father is letting on.”
Samson lifted his head, drawing her attention away from the celebrating city below. He licked her cheek with his rough tongue, making her giggle and swipe at her face with the sleeve of her expensive dress.
“I will protect you,” Sam told her, his voice a deep rumble in her head. “Always.”
Surah’s violet eyes were already fixed back on the people below. “I don’t think I’m the one who will need protecting,” she replied.
Samson did not bother denying this.
As princess, Surah would be protected at all costs should the war reach their doorstep. As for everyone else…
Samson stood, his massive body towering over her as he found his paws. “Come,” he said. “Let’s save tomorrow’s troubles for tomorrow.”
Though she would much rather spend the day in her room reading, Surah knew she would be expected to attend the final celebrations.
Fixing her lavender gown around her legs, she stood and followed Samson through the cold halls of the castle until they reached the lower levels.
They were passing through the main chambers when voices caught her attention.
Surah paused, and her tiger paused beside her, his tail flicking slowly back and forth.
“We’ll take your right hand for what you did, boy,” said a familiar voice.
Surah and Sam exchanged glances. On the high ceiling above them was a magnificent mural of a stormy sky, a tribute to the family’s name. The candles hanging along the stone walls made the painting dance with the flickering light.
“Piss off, you Highborn prick,” said a voice that she did not recognize.
There was a grunt of pain and curses from the second voice.
Surah rounded the corner of the hall, and Samson followed along behind her.
Standing at a door that Surah knew led down to the dungeons was Theodine Gray.
As one of the youngest Hunters at eighteen years old, Theo was five years her senior, and already he was as large as a house. With light gray eyes that reminded her of foul weather, and a cruel but handsome face, he was being groomed for a high position in their court someday. Perhaps even Head Hunter.
He was certainly the favorite of the current Head Hunter and her father, the King.
Surah did not share those sentiments.
Theodine and two other young Hunters were gripping the arm of a much smaller young Sorcerer, who was perhaps the same age as Surah. This young male had the greenest eyes she’d ever seen, and dark blond hair that was thick and unkempt.
Surah did not have to ask to know that the boy was likely an orphan, and had been picked up by Theo and the other Hunters for one crime or another.
But Theo snapped to attention as soon as she came around the corner with her tiger. In fact, all three of the Hunters, in their all-black uniforms with Surah’s family insignia on their shoulders stood straight and bowed their heads.
“Good evening, princess,” Theodine Gray said with a bow, offering a smile she’d only ever seen him adopt in her presence.
“What�
��s this?” Surah asked, gesturing a silk-gloved hand toward the boy.
Theo’s lips twisted as he looked at his captive. “He was caught stealing in the square, my lady,” the Hunter said.
Surah looked at the green-eyed boy, and he stared back at her defiantly, refusing to even bow his head.
Surah could see that Theo was about to swat the boy for his insolence, and she held up a hand to keep him from doing so.
She approached the boy. He was taller than her, and handsome, if dirty and scrawny for his age, but there was a fire in his emerald eyes that Surah respected.
“What were you stealing?” she asked him.
The boy only narrowed that green gaze.
“The princess asked you a question,” Theo snapped.
The look Surah gave the Hunter silenced him.
Surah met the eyes of the boy again, raising her brows.
“Food,” the boy said between clenched teeth. “I was stealing food.”
“Right,” Theo said, yanking on the cuffs around the boy’s wrists. “So we’ll just take him down to the cells until he can be seen by the committee.”
“You will do no such thing, Hunter Gray,” Surah said. “I’ll take him from here.”
For a second, Theo couldn’t seem to form words. “With all due respect, princess, he broke the law. I’m just trying to do my job.”
Surah lifted her chin a fraction, the challenge clear on her lovely face. “And while I appreciate your diligence, Hunter Gray, I am relieving you of your duty. Take the cuffs off him, and then you boys can run along.”
Now Theo looked utterly shocked. “Princess—”
Samson took one step forward. Just one, his enormous black and blue striped body moving with the grace of a feline predator. The Hunter snapped his mouth shut.
Theodine Gray removed the cuffs from the boy’s wrists with a few flicks of his fingers, anger simmering in his steely eyes.
“You may go now,” the princess repeated when the three Hunters only stood looking at her.
After a moment, they sauntered off down the hall, and Surah was alone with the boy and her tiger.
“What’s your name?” Surah asked.
The boy stared at her long enough that she didn’t think he’d answer. But, then, he said, “Charlie… Charlie Redmine.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Charlie,” she said. “I’m Surah.”
“I know who you are,” he replied, that green gaze still narrowed. “What I don’t know is why you helped me.”
Surah sighed, though she could feel Charlie studying her. She couldn’t blame him for hating her, not when she had so much and he clearly had so little. She had never had to steal to eat, so how could she judge him for his actions?
Of course, that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t be reprimanded later, when Theo told her father about what she’d done.
She decided Charlie deserved an honest answer. “My family are the rulers of this kingdom,” she said, meeting his stare once more. “If young people are starving in the streets, that is a result of our shortcomings, not theirs.”
Slowly, as if the words had to sink in, Charlie’s face softened, and Surah decided he was all the more handsome when he wasn’t scowling.
Surah sighed again as Charlie only blinked at her. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go to the kitchens and send you on your way before Hunter Gray gets a chance to go over my head.”
Charlie looked at Samson distrustfully, and the giant tiger stared back with golden, unblinking eyes, his tail still flicking lazily to and fro.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “He doesn’t bite unless I tell him to.”
In her head, Samson grumbled, “Don’t lie to the boy, love.”
Surah smiled.
As promised, she took Charlie to the kitchens, filled his satchel and pockets with breads, cheeses, fruits, and dried meat, and walked him through the secret tunnels that led out of the castle and into the city of Zadira.
Surah flicked her fingers, and violet magic swirled around her hand. In the dark tunnel before them, the stone wall shifted and revealed a quiet cobblestone street.
She nodded her head at Charlie, encouraging him to go.
Charlie paused, looking back over his shoulder at her. “I still hate you all,” he said. “You Highborns are the worst kind of people. Why should you get so much more than the rest of us? What makes you special?”
Samson released a chuff at this, but Surah gave him a look that silenced him.
“I’m not,” she said. “It’s not fair. I know that.”
Charlie scoffed and turned on his heels. “Goodbye, princess,” he said.
Surah watched until he disappeared down the street.
“Goodbye, Charlie,” she said.
Chapter 1
Surah: Ten years later
The Sorceress crossed one leg over the other and folded her hands in her lap. “I appreciate the offer, father, but I don’t want the job.”
Syrian Stormsong looked at his daughter with disapproval, only slightly overshadowed by the grief in his purple eyes. He was silent for a time before speaking, choosing his words slowly, as was his way.
“You are the only one left,” he said. “I have a kingdom to run. I would do it myself if I had the time.”
Surah’s face was impassive, her features relaxed and smooth. She wanted to tell her father that sitting in front of a fireplace in his office all day and mourning the death of his son was not running a kingdom. It was not, in fact, productive at all. He was a man whose only talent was delegating responsibility to others, and she had been doing his bidding her whole life without protest.
But things had changed. Surah couldn’t say exactly what those things were, but she could feel the difference all the same. Her brother was gone, and when she had come to her father, asking him for something for the first time ever, he had denied her any assistance. It didn’t matter that her brother’s murderer had met his end without her father lifting a hand. What mattered was that her father had been unwilling to lift a hand, and she would not allow him the guilt-trip he was attempting.
Surah tilted her chin up a fraction, looking at her father with the calm that had taken her years to master, despite the roiling black ocean raging inside her. A black ocean that was the accumulation of a short life with many losses.
Yes, her brother’s death had changed things. A final straw.
“This is no longer a place for me, father. I’m afraid I can’t accept your proposal.”
Syrian’s purple eyes flashed with anger, just as Surah had known they would. He may not be a particularly productive person, but he was very kingly in the sense that he was not someone who liked to be told no.
“You would leave our people without a Keeper?” he asked, disapproval now bordering disgust dripping from the words. “I thought better of you, Surah.”
Surah’s teeth clenched, but her tone was as sweet and soft as always, her eyes indifferent. “There are others with greater control of the magic than I have,” she said. “More knowledge and capability, even. I am not the only one who meets the requirements.”
The snifter of brandy Syrian had been holding flew into the fireplace and shattered there with a loud crack. The blaze flared, throwing licks of orange on the walls and making shadows dance in the dark room.
Surah didn’t flinch, though she felt the heat flash hot against her skin. Syrian hadn’t thrown it with his hand, but rather, with his magic, and Surah was careful not to raise an eyebrow at what he would have called a “useless display of power.” She loved her father, but that didn’t mean her father was easy to love. Over the years his temper had been a constant headache for her, but she had come to accept it as his nature, something that had to be expected if they were to maintain a relationship.
“I am not asking as your father. I am telling you as your king,” he said, smoothing a hand through his dark, carefully styled hair, regaining his composure, like the flipping of a switch.
“You
will be Keeper, and assist the Hunters in their necessary and noble efforts. You should be ashamed that I have to demand this of you. Your brother fulfilled his duty with pride and without protest.”
Now there was a hypocritical statement if she’d ever heard one, and though she knew her next words would set her father off like a fireworks display, she said them anyway. She was beyond the point of holding her tongue, which was a pretty distant point. Syrian was not the only one who was grieving, and she didn’t need his attitude on top of everything else.
“I should be ashamed?” she asked, her calm delivery fueling the returning anger in her father’s eyes. She knew she should just shut her mouth, but she didn’t. She leaned forward in her chair, her posture straight and perfect, back rigid. “I’m not the one who calls myself a king and yet is too cowardly to seek justice for his son’s death.”
Harsh, she knew this, but also true. And he had started it.
Syrian’s eyes bulged from their sockets and a blue vein pulsed on his pale forehead. His long, manicured fingers dug into the leather armrests of his chair.
“How dare you speak to me like that?” he said, spittle flying from his lips. “You ungrateful child. You think everything is about you. You understand nothing of the world. How is it you have become so selfish?”
