Welcome To The Age of Magic

by C M Raymond et al.

  Dahlia looked out over the water and smiled; she had a plan, she just needed to execute it.

  And execution was what she did best.

  END OF BOOK 1

  Like book one? Find the entire series here:

  Here are series links to make things easy on you:

  Restriction: Click Here

  Storm Raiders: Click Here

  Shades of Light: Click Here

  The Arcadian Druid: Click Here

  Dawn of Destiny: Click Here

  Knight’s Creed: Click Here

  Author Notes - PT Hylton

  Written June 10, 2017

  I know I’m weird, but I’ve always loved watching storms.

  I come by it naturally—when I was young, we lived at the bottom of a large hill, and when the storm clouds started to gather, my Dad and I would ride our bicycles to the top. We’d wait for the first drop of rain, then we’d race down the hill, trying to beat the storm to our driveway. We made it home dry more often than not, and—safety issues aside—it was a hell of a lot of fun.

  Then my Dad would set up lawn chairs in the garage, and we’d watch the lighting flash through the open door.

  But storms can be destructive, too. Deadly even.

  They’re dangerous. They’re exciting. A bit like Abbey, I guess.

  Thank you so much for reading Storm Raiders.

  When Michael offered me the opportunity to write in the Age of Magic, I was thrilled. The Kurtherian Universe is such a rich world, and it’s freaking astounding how Michael and his co-authors have taken it in so many interesting directions.

  There’s something about the Age of Magic that is especially—sorry, I can’t help myself—magical (Edit - he SHOULD have helped himself…Michael). Because in the Age of Magic, we know something the characters don’t. Us TKG veterans know what’s going on under the proverbial hood of the magic in this world. We know about the etheric.

  Chris Raymond and Lee Barbant play with this idea brilliantly in their Rise of Magic series. If you haven’t read it, go, now, do so! Not only will you get a kick butt story, but you’ll learn a LOT more about Arcadia.

  Justin Sloan took the idea to another land with Shades of Light (again, you should read that book).

  I jumped at the opportunity to tell a tale of how magic had shaped the Nordic lands in the distant future. I knew that it would have Viking influences, but I also knew it would be very different than traditional Viking culture. For one, the ships would be different. If they were harnessing the wind with magic, they’d likely develop something more advanced than a traditional Viking ship.

  The idea spiraled out from there, and after getting lots of great input from Michael, Chris, and Lee, my dreams were soon filled with Storm Callers, Barskall Warriors, and an outsider blacksmith’s daughter with a thirst for adventure and a need for justice.

  If you’re a veteran of The Kurtherian Gambit universe, welcome back! And thanks for giving a new TKG writer a chance.

  If this if your first Kurtherian book, wow, you’re in for a treat. Besides the books listed above, I suggest you jump in right at the beginning. Book 01 is called Death Becomes Her, and it’s a GREAT ride.

  I’m hard at work on book two of the Storms of Magic series, and, holy crap, it’s going to be fun. Let’s just say Dahlia’s not going down without a fight, and Abbey’s more than ready to give her one. Also, Benjamin’s about to learn his past may not be done with him yet.

  Finally, Michael and I would love it if you took a minute to leave a review for this book. It doesn’t have to be anything long or eloquent. Just a sentence or two about your thoughts on the book would be plenty. It helps us and our future readers.

  Until next time!

  Best,

  P.T.

  PS:

  If you dug this book, you might want to check out my other stuff.

  The Savage Earth

  It's been over a century since humans lost the war with the vampires. The few thousand survivors live on a massive airship that circles the Earth, moving with the rotation of the planet so it's always in sunlight. But if humans want to take Earth back, they'll need to learn to survive the night.

  Zane Halloway

  The fate of a kingdom rests in the hands of an assassin. Welcome to a world of magic, mystery, and political intrigue.

  The Deadlock Trilogy

  Frank returns to Rook Mountain, Tennessee, to find his hometown beset by deadly creatures. Mysterious Zed is the only one who can control them — but is he a local hero or the source of the trouble?

  Sign up to make sure you don’t miss my new releases and giveaways!

  Author Notes - Michael Anderle

  Written June 10, 2017

  Thank you! Not only for reading this book, but also making it all the way through these author notes, as well :-)

  PT Hylton is another author who, for whatever reason, has written intriguing stories, but his ability to crack the marketing side of the business has been… challenging for him.

  Now, those who know Justin Sloan, know that he is a collaboration fanatic. I actually asked him about that one time, and the short-short answer is he worked in a company where the collaboration was part of the job. He loves doing it, and so he continues doing it to this day.

  So, fast forward to when Justin learns that we are opening up The Age of Magic to a few new authors, and he suggests we need to take a look at one of his collaborators. Now, I’ve never read anything by PT Hylton.

  Before PT, I kinda knew everyone who had been writing in the Universe. Now, I’m getting pitched with someone I don’t know.

  At all.

  So, I did what any self-respecting publishing mogul (HA! I crack myself up) would do, and I go work on something else and don’t do a damned thing on the request.

  Because, busy and all.

  Then, Justin comes around to ask once more and I agree that I’ll ‘go do it real soon.’ But, lawn fairies and releasing a book happens…

  You get the picture, right?

  FINALLY, I get another poke from Justin and I go immediately to review one of PT’s books (by now, I’m feeling like an ass for not having done it earlier) only to find out I should have done this shit a long time ago.

  It took only like three pages to figure out..this author knows his story.

  So, we act all cool and stuff (being the aforementioned publishing mogul…Hahahahaha… (wipes tears of laughter from his eyes) Sorry! I can’t keep typing that without losing it.) For the record, I think what I did was immediately get ahold of Justin and ask how do I connect w/ PT to see if he wants to join?

  Now, there was actually another group involved, which is CM Raymond and LE Barbant (the beard) because they are the caretakers of the Age of Magic. So, they had to agree as well. I remember one conversation in Slack where CM Raymond was effusive towards Justin for pushing so hard for PT. So, getting their agreement wasn’t a picnic, either.

  Needless to say, all of us owe Justin a beer in the future for sticking to his guns, and making sure we gave PT a shot.

  So, raising a Coke to Justin (because I don’t drink beer) for pushing us so hard and another to PT Hylton for writing such fun characters that fit so well into the Age of Magic.

  I’m off to publish this book, and continue writing Forever Defend as we travel from Roma to Venice tomorrow.

  Ciao!

  Michael Anderle

  P.S. PT Hylton’s website for all things “PT” is - http://www.pthylton.com

  Other Books by PT Hylton

  Click to see PT’s Amazon Author Page

  STORMS OF MAGIC (Age of Magic - Kurtherian Gambit Universe)

  Storm Raiders

  Storm Callers

  Storm Breakers

  Storm Warrior

  The Deadlock Trilogy (Supernatural Suspense)

  Regulation 19

  A Place Without Shadows

  The Broken Clock

  Zane Halloway: Assassin for Hire (Sword and Sorcery Fantasy)
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br />   The Savage Earth (Dystopian Vampires)

  The Deadlock Trilogy (Supernatural Suspense)

  Regulation 19

  A Place Without Shadows

  The Broken Clock

  Shades Of Light

  Prologue

  Larick reached the top of the hill before his fellow mystic, Volney, and therefore felt like the beauty of the view was his and his alone. They had traveled over land and sea to reach this spot, and as the wind whipped at Larick’s heavy robes, casting them about like thrashing waves, he felt as one with nature.

  Spread out before him was Roneland, the top portion of an island divided since the Age of Madness. Remnants of a city, old ruins of buildings that once reached into the heavens from the days of technology toppled and largely covered in vines and earth in spots, some completely overgrown so that they appeared to be new hills.

  The ghosts howled, though Larick knew it to be simply the wind blowing through those old ruins, as he had heard those same ghosts many times before. He stood with the sea behind him, the green, rolling hills flowing in every direction, with the highlands just visible, rising up in the distance.

  Heavy breathing came from his right, pulling him from the moment. He turned to see Volney, a shorter man with a shaved head like Larick’s, but with piercing blue eyes. Though the man was less physically intimidating, when those eyes turned white the man was a force to be reckoned with.

  “If only I could learn to simply levitate,” Volney said between breaths, holding his chest, “this would be so much simpler.”

  “You know, brother,” Larick replied with a taunting smile, “you could also spend more time on the physical.”

  “And lose time from my mental studies? Hardly.”

  For the first time, Volney looked up at Roneland and all exhaustion melted from his expression, replaced with awe.

  “This is the place?” he asked. “Where are all the people?”

  “My records indicate we’ll not find them in, or even around, the cities. Here, from what I’m told, the people scattered, avoiding the cities and turmoil, holding their own in the mountains on the one hand, or creating great fortresses in the lowlands.”

  “There,” Volney said, eyes glazing over for a moment as he mentally reached out, sensing life. He pointed to a cluster of trees on a far hill. “Not more than a couple dozen, though.”

  “The clans are like that here.” Larick pulled out his parchment, checking his notes. “Yes, small groups, though we’ll probably find some larger ones as well, and it seems they’ve come together in the lowlands.”

  “And magic?”

  “Rudimentary at best, I’d imagine. No one was able to give me more than that, but since they’ve had no one to teach them until now, I can only assume it’s a wild practice. Boys and girls discovering hints of magic, but unable to control it.”

  “Or even if they can control it, such powers may be unlike anything we’ve ever seen.”

  “Again, rudimentary at most.”

  Volney motioned to their right. The wind at the edge of a cliff was looking up at them, oddly enough. It shifted, then danced as it materialized further into the form of a small, translucent woman. She moved with the wind, circling them, and then came to a stop a foot from Larick’s face, tilting her head to look at him.

  “I see we’re not alone,” Larick said.

  “Do you want me to…?”

  “No, allow me.” Larick put away his parchment and closed his eyes, focusing his inner eye, searching for the source of this spell. Oddly, he found only one presence nearby, that of a child. With a gentle soothing, he opened his eyes to see the wind spirit return to the air, flowing halfway down the hill. There, waiting, was a pair of wide, surprised eyes. A small girl, wearing nothing but brown rags.

  Larick mentally projected himself forward, so that he appeared in front of her, though in fact he hadn’t moved at all, and he said, “There’s nothing to be afraid of, child. Not from us.”

  With a giggle, the young girl ran off, soon disappearing into a clump of trees below.

  “Rudimentary?” Volney laughed. “I have a feeling we’ll learn as much as we will teach, brother.”

  Larick nodded in agreement. He had to admit, he hadn’t been expecting this.

  They were in for one hell of an adventure.

  1

  Flames burst forth from the farmhouse, the same one Rhona’s brother had entered just moments before. Alastar, ever the hero, had drawn his sword and gone charging in mere seconds before, leaving her to hide far away from trouble.

  Clearly, that wasn’t an option. Not when he could be in danger.

  She worked her way around the farmhouse, searching for a way in. A scream sounded, then the grunt of a man, and she decided it wasn’t time to be timid. She ran for the open doors Alastar had rushed through, in spite of the black smoke that billowed forth.

  The sight froze her in her tracks—her brother in his white and gold armor, his white cloak smoldering at the edges, circling a man in the black and green plaid of Clan Buchan, the fire users.

  A warlock.

  She had studied the various clans and what magic they used, at least to the extent that the paladins had been able to chronicle it in their war against the evils of magic.

  Her first thought was to jump in and help her brother, but the warlock spun, hands pushing out, and a wall of flame came at Alastar that caused him to leap back and call upon the blessings of Saint Rodrick for protection.

  Watching the shield of light that formed between her brother and the wall of flames, she knew this wasn’t her fight. But when a figure caught her eye, a cowering woman in the corner, she knew she could at least help her. She darted through the smoke, staying low in a crouched run, and knelt beside the woman. Her eyes were barely open, her breathing short.

  “Sera,” Rhona said, recognizing the woman from days in the market, where she and her father sold goat’s milk and cheese. “Sera, I need you to stay with me.”

  Sera moaned, and her eyes rolled toward Rhona, but she managed a nod.

  “Good, I’m getting you out of here.” Rhona placed Sera’s arm over her shoulders, while wrapping her own arm around Sera’s waist before heaving her up.

  Her brother’s battle cry startled her and immediately turned her focus to see that his sword had been knocked from his hands. He had reached the Warlock and was engaged in hand-to-hand combat. The two were exchanging blows without magic or blessings, but their circling and maneuvering put them closer to the burning walls and directly beneath a rafter that looked like it was about to collapse.

  Rhona knew she needed to hurry, so she pulled Sera with her, pushing for the back door. The woman nearly collapsed, but Rhona grunted and pushed on, supporting nearly all of her weight. Sunlight met them as they emerged from the smoke and fire, and fresh air filled her lungs.

  Then, she saw Sera’s father, lying next to the tree line. She pulled Sera over to his side, then helped her to sit next to her father on the grass before turning to check his pulse. He was still alive, though unconscious.

  Another shout came from inside and this time flames blew out from every window and the doorway, followed by a cry that was unmistakably Alastar.

  Her own safety meant nothing if she didn’t have him.

  Throwing caution to the wind, she sprinted for the doorway. As the flames pulled back, she leaped in, dress pulled up to her face to block out the smoke.

  Flames were all around her brother, pushing in on him and the circle of light that was protecting him but fading by the second.

  Desperately looking around, Rhona spotted her brother’s sword on the ground. She ran for it and heaved it up with both hands, but hadn’t counted on it feeling so heavy. She had trained with it many times, but this time wasn’t the same. Every muscle in her body strained as she tried to lift it, hoping to charge the warlock and impale him on its holy blade. It was hopeless, though, because even as she dragged it toward him, his eyes darted toward her.


  A look of confusion crossed his face, fading to determination as he lifted a hand and the nearby flames moved toward her like the river after the breaking of a dam.

  In that moment, nothing else mattered—only her life, and that of her brother. The sword fell from her hands, and they seemed to lift on their own, aimed at the man, and everything darkened. She wasn’t sure what was happening, except that the flames pulled back, and the warlock collapsed to his knees, eyes turning black. A long scream came from his mouth as dark tendrils of mist or shadow, she wasn’t sure what, wrapped around his limbs and throat.

  And then he was falling, collapsing to the ground.

  What followed was a blur. She would have sworn it was a dream, if everything in her wasn’t tearing at her, pushing pain throughout her body. Her instinct pulled her to her brother, and he to her.

  They fell into each other’s arms, both on the edge of collapse.

  “Wh—what happened?” he asked, eyes darting from her to the fallen warlock and back.

  She stared at him, unable to answer. How could she, when she herself didn’t know what had happened?

  The flames roared and then seemed to be spinning around them. Could the warlock be up and doing this? She tried to turn, to fight again, and then collapsed.

  When she came to, her eyes opened to reveal dusk had settled upon the land. She was lying on a cow-drawn cart, Sera at her side, her brother leading the cows. Staggering along behind them, bound and tied to the wagon, was the warlock.

  Sera saw that she was awake and brushed the hair from Rhona’s face with a gentle smile. “We made it, Rhona. Thanks to the bravery of your brother and the blessings of Saint Rodrick, we all made it.”