Fate of Wizardoms Boxed Set

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  “War?” Narine asked. “There is no war in Ghealdor.”

  “Oh, you don’t know?” the old man replied. “Despaldi and his men captured us on the border. They were not alone. The Thundercorps were camped there, thousands strong.”

  “Worse,” Rhoa added, “they had wizards in their ranks.”

  “Wizards?” Jace asked with his hand on the doorknob, looking over his shoulder.

  “From what I heard, they forced every wizard from Marquithe to join the fight. They planned to attack Starmuth, then move on to Fastella.”

  “War,” Narine repeated the word as if to convince herself the truth of it. “There hasn’t been war between the southern wizardoms in a millennium. There is little to gain from it since the cities are tied to the Devotion of their wizard lord.”

  “I must apologize,” Algoron said. “There is now much to gain.”

  “Yes.” Salvon nodded. “Malvorian has developed a means to claim the Towers of Devotion from another wizardom, turning them toward his own gain.”

  Narine gasped. “He would gain the prayers of each city he captured. The man’s power would be unequaled.”

  “In that case, I suggest we head far away from Ghealdor,” Jace said. “What about Orenth?”

  “Hmm… With winter approaching, wouldn’t they assume we would head north?” Narine noted.

  “True,” Jace agreed. “What if we made for Pallanar despite the coming winter?”

  “Yes, Pallanar,” Salvon nodded. “I have contacts there who might be of some use. In fact, I suggest we visit Illustan and warn Lord Raskor of what Malvorian plans.”

  “Unless Raskor is in league with Malvorian,” Jace said.

  Narine shook her head. “I doubt it. No wizard lord would allow another to gain an advantage. It will be in his best interest to stop Malvorian before it’s too late.”

  “From the sounds of it, the man already has Starmuth in his grasp,” Salvon noted. “Fastella is a far larger city. If it falls, Ghealdor will be his by mid-winter.”

  The thought of one man possessing the power of two wizardoms frightened Rhoa. Wizard lords already greatly surpassed other wizards. Doubling such magic and backed by ambition, Malvorian might become unstoppable.

  Jace opened the door. “Let’s go. Be careful. The railing is broken and there is a missing stair.”

  “Yes. I told them already,” Narine said.

  He flashed her a smile. “You are so thoughtful.”

  Adyn rolled her eyes and leaned toward Rhoa, whispering, “I liked the banter better.”

  Rhoa nodded in agreement.

  Jace led them down the stairs, through the alley, and down the street. To the east, the sky grew lighter, dawn fast approaching. The group was silent and wary as they crossed the sleeping city, circling to remain far from the palace. Enchanted lanterns at intersections lit the main streets, but the alleys remained dark, screaming of danger that Jace appeared to ignore.

  They crossed over a street that led to the middle of the city…and the palace.

  Rhoa stared toward the palace, then stopped, brows furrowed. “Isn’t the tower supposed to be lit blue?”

  Everyone else stopped and turned toward the tower. After a moment, Salvon gave a low grunt. “It appears Lord Malvorian is dead.”

  Jace looked at the others. “What happened?”

  Rhoa replied, “Don’t you remember?” When he furrowed his brows, she continued. “He used a spell to freeze everyone. I played along, hoping he would think himself safe, while you snuck up and hit him from behind.”

  Salvon put his hand on her shoulder. “That was good thinking, Rhoa.”

  She felt warmed by the pride in his voice.

  Jace shook his head. “No, no, no. I only knocked him out.”

  “People sometimes die from a blow to the head,” Salvon replied.

  A blanket of silence covered them as they stared at each other. Things had gone from bad to worse.

  They are certain to search anyone leaving, Rhoa thought as her worry increased.

  “In that case, let’s hurry.” Jace continued down the road, moving at a quicker pace.

  He turned and led them uphill, the road curving as it ran past the Enchanter’s Tower. Rhoa looked up at it, a monolith looming hundreds of feet above. Six weeks had passed since she had broken into the tower. During that time, much had changed in the world. For her, everything had changed.

  Where is my life now headed? She felt as if she had lost control, fate now guiding her toward some unknown destiny.

  Jace stopped beside a ten-foot-tall brick wall across from the tower and turned toward Rawk. “Can you two get us through this wall? Without making too much noise?”

  Rawk glanced at Algoron. “Are you ready, Uncle?”

  The other Maker put a palm against the wall and snorted. “This will be easy.”

  “How big would you like the opening?” Rawk asked.

  “Make it as tall as you can and about three strides wide.”

  The two stone-shapers began, each placing a hand high above their heads. Even then, the dwarfs barely reached over six feet up. Bricks cracked and split as they ran their hands along the wall, chunks of brick and stone showered down. They then ran their hands down until reaching the street, using their magic to form a jagged crack in the wall. Once finished, they both placed their palms on the wall and pushed. A section fell forward with a massive crash and a cloud of dust.

  “That works great,” Jace said, waving away the dust, “but you ignored my request about it not making too much noise.

  “Sorry.” Algoron shrugged.

  Jace climbed over the rubble and into the dark opening as the dust settled. “Narine, can you give us a little light?”

  The princess held her hand out, and a globe of pale blue light appeared in her palm, revealing the interior of a large stable.

  Jace said, “Everyone grab a saddle and find a horse. I’ll bar the door.”

  “Where are we?” Adyn asked.

  “This is the Forca Estate,” Rhoa replied, recalling her last visit quite well.

  “How did you know this was on the other side of the wall?” Narine asked, looking at Jace.

  He chuckled while dropping a thick board into the brackets inside the barn doors. “Do you really want to know?”

  The princess sighed. “I suppose not.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Rawk stared at the horses and shook his head. “I don’t know what to do. I had never ridden until we were captured.”

  “I’ll help you,” Algoron said. “I learned to ride a few years ago. It’s not so bad.”

  They each selected a horse, Salvon helping Rhoa to secure the saddle and set the bridle. The barn doors rattled as someone tried to open them. Voices came from outside, calling for help.

  “I suspected our entrance was too noisy,” Jace said as he strapped the packs to one horse before grabbing the lead of another. “Let’s go.”

  They led the horses through the opening, the mounts having to dip their necks to make it through. Once outside, they each mounted their steed. Except Narine, who just stared at her horse.

  “What’s wrong?” Jace asked.

  “I’m wearing skirts.”

  “So?”

  She gave him a withering look. “How thoughtful of you.”

  “Listen, I know it’s not ideal, but we need to get away, and we need to hurry.”

  With a groan, she climbed onto the horse and clumsily swung a leg over. Her skirts rode up, exposing her lower legs and the bracelet she had acquired.

  “Nice legs.” Jace smiled.

  Narine narrowed her eyes at him.

  “And I’m proud of you,” he added.

  “For what?”

  “For not complaining. I would have if it were I.”

  “I have no doubt.”

  “I’m afraid they will have guards at the gates by now,” Jace said, still addressing Narine. “Can you mask us the way you did back at Starmu
th?”

  “I could not handle so many before.” She gestured toward the gold band encircling her ankle. “Now I can manage it with ease.”

  “Brilliant,” he said with a smile. “Adyn, hand me Despaldi’s sword. I have an idea.”

  “Nobody leaves the city without a thorough inspection,” Sergeant Quiam shouted to his guards, twenty strong, all lined up just inside the north gate. “You have a list of names and descriptions of the murderers. I expect you to have memorized it. Anyone suspicious is to be detained until Captain Despaldi has cleared them. Also, watch for the stolen amulet and bracelet.” He stared into their eyes, barely visible in the pale light of predawn. “Understood?”

  “Yes, sir!” the guards replied with one voice and a fist to their breastplates.

  A small crowd had gathered in the square inside the city gate, some warily eyeing the line of guards blocking the exit. Quiam knew others had noticed that the Tower of Devotion had gone dark. It had been over a century since Malvorian had risen to the throne. Without a wizard lord, a sense of uncertainty hung in the air. The Immolation of Darkening was less than a week away. Quiam thought it couldn’t come soon enough.

  With a glance toward the lightening sky, he called out, “Open the gate!”

  A bell rang. The guards in the tower beside the gate began cranking the massive wheel, raising the portcullis. The chains clinked and clanked as they wound about the wheel, the gate rising slowly.

  A cluster of travelers entered the city – three men on horseback, a farmer and his wife in a wagon, a trader with a two-wheeled cart, and two women on foot. The guards ignored those people, focusing on those attempting to leave Marquithe.

  The rumble of approaching hooves drew Quiam’s attention. At the fore of a small group of Midnight Guard was his captain. The man slowed as he neared the gate, the riders behind him doing the same.

  “Captain!” Quiam thumped his chest, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Despaldi. “Are you all right? You look a bit off.”

  “Of course I’m not all right,” Despaldi growled. He lifted his sword, the man’s distinctive falchion drawing everyone’s attention as he eyed it and sneered. “I was attacked and nearly died last night. My lord is dead, and the assassins are on the loose!”

  Quiam blinked at the man’s anger. Even his voice sounds off. He must be under duress. “Well, we are prepared to guard the south gate. None shall pass without thorough inspection.”

  “Very good, Sergeant.” Despaldi nodded, his gaze sweeping across the men. “I am going to inspect the outer perimeter to make sure there has been no breach to the wall. It would do little good if we focused on the gates and ignored other possibilities.”

  Quiam’s brow furrowed. “But the walls are eight feet thick and a hundred feet tall. They have stood for millennia and have never been breached.”

  The captain’s glare turned to Quiam. “Have you considered a tunnel? Have you not heard they have dwarfs among them?”

  “I… I heard but figured it was just an oddity in the description. There is no such thing as a dwarf.”

  Two of the Midnight Guard snickered, but Despaldi held up a palm and they quieted. “Don’t doubt they exist just because you have never seen one. Trust me, they are real and possess magic unlike any other. Crafting a tunnel under the wall is nothing to their kind.”

  Quiam nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  The captain lowered his blade and gripped the reins. “Remember, Sergeant. Nobody passes until cleared.”

  “You can count on us, sir!” With a thump to his chest, Quiam stepped back.

  The captain and his six guards rode past, along with a horse loaded with full packs. Quiam frowned at the packs, wondering why the man needed supplies for a short ride around the city. The thought was interrupted by a disturbance near the gate.

  “This is ridiculous,” a man shouted as two guards grabbed him by the arms. “I have done nothing wrong.”

  Quiam walked toward the man and the guards holding him. “What is this about?”

  The man went on to explain he was just a trader, heading to Starmuth. Short with dark hair and dark eyes, he matched the description of one of the assassins. However, Quiam knew Jerrell Landish, and this man was not the thief.

  “This isn’t Landish, and none of the other descriptions are close to matching this man’s appearance.”

  He turned and looked over the others lined up to leave the city. It would be a long day.

  Despaldi’s wounds had been shallow and within Bromilda’s abilities to repair. Healed but still exhausted, he departed from the palace stables with a contingent of Midnight Guard riding behind him. He had procured a longsword from the palace armory, but he missed his old blade. Auger was unique, the falchion a sword unlike any other.

  Dawn was fast approaching, and he hoped they would not be too late. However, when they reached the thief’s apartment, they found it empty, the place gutted as if the man had been burglarized. He suspected Landish had taken everything he might need before fleeing the city.

  The first light of dawn broke over the city when Despaldi and his men reached the south gate. As planned, it was heavily guarded, and Sergeant Adderly appeared to have things well in hand. Nobody would leave the city without being questioned and compared to the descriptions of the perpetrators. While finishing up with Adderly, two of the Midnight Guard rode in to report a disturbance at the Forca Estate.

  Eight horses had been stolen, taken away through an opening in a brick wall a foot thick. Immediately, Despaldi suspected the dwarfs. Rather than visit the Forca stables, he and his men rushed to the north gate. As they passed through the waking city, he considered the situation and what Landish and the others might do next. With the possession of the horses, should they somehow escape the city, they would travel fast. At the same time, the animals would make it more difficult for the conspirators to escape notice.

  The north gate came into view, a line of travelers extending through the square, including three wagons, a few riders on horseback, and dozens of others on foot, all waiting to leave the city. Quiam’s guards were busy, inspecting each set of travelers before allowing them through the gate. Despaldi spotted Quiam and rode toward the man, slowing as he drew near.

  “Quiam!” he called to him.

  The sergeant, a short, stocky man with dark hair and a thick mustache, approached with a fist to his breastplate. “Captain, I didn’t expect you back so soon.” He frowned. “Did you abandon your plan to inspect the walls?”

  “What are you talking about, Quiam?” he replied with a scowl.

  “Your search of the perimeter. You can’t have circled the entire city so soon.”

  “Who told you I was searching the perimeter?”

  “You… You did, sir.”

  “When did I tell you this?”

  “Maybe ten minutes ago. Fifteen at the most.”

  Despaldi turned this information over in his head, thinking the man daft at first, then came to another conclusion, one he dreaded. “How many guards were with me when I told you this?”

  The sergeant’s gaze shifted to the guards on horseback. “Less than this. Perhaps six or seven?” His frown deepened. “Where is the pack horse?”

  “There was a pack horse, as well?”

  “Yes. Of course. Don’t you remember?”

  Despaldi sighed. “A wizardess was among the perpetrators. She must have cast an illusion spell.”

  Quiam’s brow furrowed. “An illusion, sir?”

  “Yes!” Despaldi shouted in anger. “Where did they go?”

  “Who, sir?”

  “Me… Well, the other version of me. Where did I go?”

  Quiam pointed toward the gate. “You rode out and turned to circle around the western wall.”

  With a growl, Despaldi kicked his horse forward. Guards and people on foot scrambled out of the way as he rode past and through the gate.

  I hate that damned thief.

  22

  Retribution

&n
bsp; Every wizard in Fastella was gathered in the Guild Hall, even the wizardesses. Parsec sat on the dais at the front with Lang standing beside him, the guard dressed in leather armor with a shield on one arm, his other hand resting on the pommel of his sword. The instructions Parsec had given him were clear – be ready for anything. After all, it had only been hours since Parsec had buried his wife in his own back yard.

  A buzz of conversation filled the hall. Rumors of war and Gilda’s death were the topics of the moment. Parsec doubted the prior, could not forget the latter.

  The door burst open and Klondon strolled in, the bodyguard’s war axe in his hand, his dark glare sweeping the room. When Prince Eldalain entered, Klondon followed him down the aisle. Two Indigo Hounds stepped in next, closing the doors and standing beside them. Parsec wondered whether they were intended to bar entry or exit. Perhaps both.

  Eldalain reached the front of the room and climbed the three-foot-tall dais. Parsec stood and glared at the man. He had never liked Eldalain. The current situation had twisted dislike into disdain.

  “I am sorry to hear about your wife, Parsec. You have my condolences.”

  Despite his wish to shout and launch an attack at the man, he forced a nod and a soft reply. “Thank you.”

  Eldalain turned toward the silent crowd. Raising his voice, he said, “Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I have news, grave and of an urgent nature.”

  What is this? Parsec wondered.

  “A messenger arrived two days ago. It appears that Farrowen seeks to conquer Ghealdor. Starmuth has already fallen, and the army marches north with Fastella in their path.”

  Exclamations of shock, anger, and doubt burst from the crowd. In spite of himself, Parsec shouted, “Stop!” He waited a beat as they turned toward him. “Stop and listen. Let’s hear what the man has to say.”

  Eldalain nodded. “Thank you, Parsec. You saved me the trouble.” The prince then turned toward the wizards of Fastella. “Yes, it has been many centuries since another wizardom has attempted to sway the balance of power. However, Malvorian’s hunger for supremacy has altered the situation. It could not be coincidence that his armies were ready to attack immediately after my father’s demise. I believe he was in league with my sister. Together, they plotted Taladain’s murder. Without a wizard lord to protect Fastella, they seek to take the city by force and place Narine on the throne.” He stepped forward, his voice lowering, his tone darkening. “You all know what occurs when a wizardess possesses the power of a god.”