Leximandra Reports, and other tales

Leximandra Reports (and other tales)

By

Charlotte E.
English

Copyright 2011 by
Charlotte E. English

Cover art
copyright 2012 by Eva Strikkers

All rights
reserved.

Smashwords
Edition.

This ebook is
licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be
re-sold.

This book
includes four short stories featuring characters from the Draykon
Series. An excerpt from the first full-length novel, Draykon, can
be found at the end of the book. All of the stories are set shortly
before the first novel begins.

Table of
Contents

Mr Warvel's Red
Cloak

Leximandra
Reports

Rikbeek Earns His
Keep

Sigwide and the Bokren
Birds

Preview of
Draykon

About the
Author

Mr Warvel’s Red
Cloak

‘
Great game! I should never have given up glowball.’ Pitren
Warvel, the picture of youthful health and exuberance, slapped his
quieter friend on the back.

Edwae Geslin’s
answering smile was weak. ‘You’re only saying that because we
won.’

‘
That
doesn’t hurt,’ Tren agreed with untouched cheer. ‘That’s your
doing, of course. You were always the best at the
Academy.’

‘
Not
at all,’ Ed demurred. Tren shook his head, smiling, but he didn’t
argue. Ed was shorter then he was, his frame slight and not at all
robust. Self-effacing by nature, he was inclined to interpret these
physical characteristics as grave flaws; but glowball favoured
those with agility, dexterity and strong sorcerous talent as much
as those with brute strength, and in these areas Edwae
excelled.

‘
Come
on,’ said Tren. ‘I’ve just got time to catch a bit of the next
game, if we hurry.’

‘
Oh?
Someplace else to be?’ Ed followed as Tren made for the door,
weaving his way through the untidy rows of glowball players still
changing out of their games attire.

‘
I’m
on Cloak duty tonight,’ Tren said over his shoulder.

‘
Oh?
I thought it was Mern’s night?’

‘
Had
to go to the infirmary. I’m standing in for her.’ Stepping out into
the air, Tren breathed deep. It was one of those crisp, fresh
nights, invigoratingly clear. The moon, half full, hung low on the
horizon. Tren took careful note of its position.

‘
Nothing serious, I hope?’ Ed caught up again as Tren turned
back towards the games fields. The sounds of the game carried far
in the still air: a roar from the crowd followed by a burst of
applause. Tren quickened his step.

‘
She
didn’t say,’ he replied with a shrug. ‘Didn’t seem troubled
though.’

‘
I’d
have thought you would know.’ Ed cast him a meaningful
glance.

‘
Me?
Why?’ Tren climbed up the back of the seating that ringed the
field, perching himself at the top. Ed fell silent as he climbed up
behind him, didn’t speak again until both were seated side-by-side,
watching the game over the heads of the crowd.

‘
You
spend a lot of time together,’ Ed said at last, in a neutral
voice.

‘
Mern’s not interested in me,’ Tren said with some surprise.
How had Ed got that idea?

‘
Course she is, you great oaf.’

‘
Rubbish. Oh, that’s Karan Reed,’ he added, his eye settling
on a tall dark-haired girl standing out on the edges of the pitch.
The two teams on the field were both of mixed gender; he recognised
one as the current official team of Glour City’s Sorcery Academy,
though he didn’t know the other.

‘
She’s got the measure of the ball,’ Ed said. ‘Look at her
go.’

Glowball was a
sorcerer’s game. Somewhere out on the pitch was a single tiny
light-globe, powered by sorcery. Its light came and went
intermittently; when unlit, it was essentially invisible on the
darkened field. The players had to use senses other than their eyes
in order to predict the erratic path of the ball - and intercept
it.

For a few
seconds there had been that hush that fell when the unlit glowball
evaded the efforts of both teams to locate it. The players came to
a temporary halt, all thoughts and senses bent on discovering the
ball. Then Karan Reed had begun to run; she leaped, just as the
glowball flared into blazing life. Her fingers closed around it and
she was away, sprinting for the scoring line at the end of the
field. The other players charged after her, her own teammates
defending her from the opposition’s attempts to tackle.

Tren held his
breath as he watched her flying down the field. Three times she was
nearly brought down; three times she twisted away with glorious
agility and ran on. She made it; the crowd roared as she crossed
the line, the glowball still blazing with light in her hands. Green
light flashed over the pitch, signalling a point gained for the
Academy Team.

Tren applauded
with the rest of the spectators, whistling his appreciation. Karan
Reed must be close to graduating; she’d be a fearsome sorceress
once she finished her training. Probably she was already on the
Chief Sorcerer’s recruitment list.

‘
Crap,’ he said suddenly. ‘Time to go.’ The moon had slipped
closer to the horizon, too close. He had less than half an hour to
get to the Night Cloak Chamber. ‘You staying?’

‘
Someone needs to stay and cheer on Reed,’ Ed replied. ‘On
your behalf, naturally.’ He said it lightly, but something in his
voice and manner sounded off. Tren paused. He’d frequently had the
sense lately that Ed wasn’t quite himself, but his enquiries were
typically brushed off.

He tried again
anyway. ‘You okay, mate?’

Ed smiled
briefly at him, but he didn’t quite meet his friend’s eye. ‘Course.
Get along, will you? I don’t want the game ruined because you’re a
lazy ass.’

‘
Good
point.’ Tren vaulted off his perch, landing with practiced
ease.

He had to pass
one of the city’s largest bulletin boards on his way out of the
gaming fields. The thing was enormous, displaying its rotating
schedule of images and articles at such size that one couldn’t help
but be caught by it. Tren tried to avert his eyes as he approached,
determined that this time he wouldn’t make an idiot of himself by
looking for one particular face to flash up on the
board.

Fate betrayed
him. There she was already, almost as large as life. Lady Evastany
Glostrum, pictured at some high society event. Her hair - the rare,
true-white hue only occasionally seen among Glour’s citizens - was
elaborately arranged and decked with jewels; her dress was velvet
or something, dark red like blood. Tren stopped, all thought of the
Night Cloak emptying out of his head.

He had never met
Lady Glostrum in person. He was a powerful sorcerer and naturally
therefore he had a good job, so he wasn’t poor by any means; but
that didn’t come close to putting him on a level with the realm’s
aristocrats. Maybe that was why she fascinated him. She was a
popular figure, and chief of the realm’s Summoner organisation
along with it; her image regularly appeared in the city’s bulletin
news, and even more regularly in the gossip papers. He’d never seen
her looking anything but perfectly composed, perfectly arranged and
perfectly beautiful. Could she possibly be so glorious in
person?

Doubtful, he
told himself sternly. He allocated half a minute to absorbing this
new image of her ladyship - he didn’t have time to read the article
- and then he turned his head away and continued on. The Night
Cloak wouldn’t wait any longer.

***

The Chamber was
guarded, of course, but he’d been on this job for more than a year;
they all knew him by now.

‘
Mr
Warvel,’ said Rhan Garrit with a nod. ‘Cutting it a bit fine today.
Met someone?’

Tren responded
to the teasing with a grin. ‘There’s a game in progress. Reed’s
playing. You know how that goes.’

Garrit whistled
as he unlocked the door. ‘Right enough. Go on through.’

‘
Thanks,’ Tren said. He made his way through the building to
the centre where the Chamber itself was situated. The room was a
large, oval shape with a high, domed ceiling. It was not lit,
except by the gentle glow of the realm map that was traced through
the air near the floor. Tren stepped up to it, casting his eye over
the familiar contours of the realm of Glour’s borders. He glanced
up. The dome and most of the walls were clear, allowing him an
unimpeded view of the night skies. The moon hovered close to the
horizon, and the sky was turning paler.

Time,
then.

Pausing to
collect his thoughts, he took a few deep, slow breaths. When he
felt properly centred and in control of himself, he began. He
walked around the perimeter of the insubstantial map, his steps
unerring though his eyes were closed: he saw the construct in his
mind’s eye. He conjured shadows, dismissing all hints of light.
Working fast and skilfully, he wove the darkness into a shroud,
pulling it into place over the map. He felt the pull of energy as
the wider enchantments mimicked his localised efforts, building a
vast Night Cloak over the realm. It might be one of the most
complex workings ever designed, but it was the work of a mere few
minutes to put it into place.

He paused,
gasping for breath, as the Night Cloak crept over Glour, blocking
out all hint of light from moon and sun alike. He waited, willing
it to move faster. It was imperative that the Cloak was in place
before the sun rose; Glour was a Darklands province whose society
and economy relied on the nocturnal plants and beasts imported from
the ever-shadowed Lower Realms. An influx of strong sunlight would
burn all that away - not to mention blinding the eyes of its
night-loving citizens.

Serves me
right for being distracted
, he thought ruefully as the Cloak
continued its agonisingly slow descent. He watched anxiously as the
skies continued to lighten outside. It was Karan Reed that was the
trouble; she was too absorbing to watch.

A small internal
voice interrupted that train of thought. Was it fair to blame it
all on the game? Had he not stopped again on his way out of the
sports field, arrested by a mere bulletin board image?

That red gown...
it was the red that had attracted his eye, definitely. A strong
colour, difficult to overlook. Not really his fault. He laughed
silently at his own attempts to excuse himself, relief flooding him
as the Cloak’s activation sequence concluded and full darkness
covered the realm.

Then he frowned,
suffering a twinge of alarm. The darkness wasn’t as complete as it
should have been; something pulsed oddly in his mind’s eye, some
anomaly in the Cloak’s weave. He withdrew from his mind’s view,
opening his eyes.

The Chamber was
red. Dark red light stained the walls and floor, stained the white
hands he raised in panic.

Looking up, he
saw a dark red sky. Not the red of cherries or even of lip paint,
but the sinister dark red of blood.