Stealing Sorcery

Stealing Sorcery

By Andrew Rowe

This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this book are fictional.

Copyright © 2015 Andrew Rowe

All rights reserved.

Cover artwork by Daniel Kamarudin (
http://thedurrrrian.deviantart.com/
)

Cover Design by James,
GoOnWrite.com

ISBN: 1519383967 

ISBN-13: 978-1519383969

DEDICATION

For my brother, Aaron Rowe, for always being a fantastic role model.

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Prologue – Heartlance

Chapter I – Just a Small Favor

Chapter II – A Taste of Poison

Chapter III – Cutting In

Chapter IV – A Little Well-Deserved Vacation

Chapter V – Murder Is Such a Strong Word

Chapter VI – Suboptimal Moves

Chapter VII – Excessive Damage

Chapter VIII – Probable Suicide

Chapter IX – Old Friends

Chapter X – The Subtleties of Conversation

Chapter XI – Hints of a Broader Game

Chapter XII – There Are Always More Assassins

Chapter XIII – Silk

Chapter XIV – Winning is Winning

Interlude I - Shiver

Chapter XV – An Immortal’s Judgment

Chapter XVI – Stealth

Chapter XVII – Consequence Management

Chapter XVIII – Thourougly Trapped

Chapter XIX – Festering Wound

Chapter XX – Mirrors

Chapter XXI – War

Chapter XXII – Trust

Chapter XXIII – Sterling

Interlude II – Oracle

Chapter XXIV – Questionable Pursuits

Chapter XXV – The Edges of Friendship

Chapter XXVI – Allies

Chapter XXVII – Duel

Chapter XXVIII – The Bonds of Family

Special Thanks

Appendix I – Deep Dominions

Appendix II – Notable Personages

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

The earliest of my development of the setting for these books came from gaming in the IFGS, as well as Dungeons and Dragons campaigns. I’d like to thank both the founders of the IFGS and the creators of Dungeons and Dragons for helping me bring my fantasy worlds to life.

I’d also like to thank the gamers who put up with me while I carved out this world, such as Kai Connick, Joshua Noel, Rachel Noel, Anthony Scopatz, Mallory Reaves, Carly Thomas, and Andrew Warren.

When I moved from Dungeons and Dragons into running my own game system, I had lots of help from other Game Masters. Thanks to Andrew Bice, Kari Brewer, Danielle Collins, Edward Fox, Rachel Noel, Ian Sorrensen, Eric Maloof, Mallory Reaves, and Andrew Warren, for assisting with running events.

Thank you to my beta readers, including Chris Avellone, Danielle Collins, Jessica Richards, and Christine L. Rowe.

Thanks to the community on /r/fantasy for providing me with awesome feedback and discussion about my first book.

The evening chill was Jonan’s only company as he traversed the unfamiliar streets of Velthryn. The map burned into his memories had proven accurate thus far, but uncertainty always weighed heavily on his shoulders during clandestine operations.

He had arrived in the city only hours before, but his orders had insisted upon haste. Upon reaching the gates, he had briefly considered delaying his report until after he had slept for a few hours – but Symphony would have discovered his lapse. She always did.

Upon catching sight of his destination, the sorcerer retreated into a nearby alley, pressing two fingers from his left hand to his forehead in the Valerian sign for “safety”. Among the Thornguard and their allies, it was used as a signal meaning “I am safe” or “I can be trusted”.

To an outsider, he would have immediately vanished from sight, although he retained the ability to perceive his own body. The gesture was a nervous habit - he had long ago learned to hide his image without strictly needing to resort to gestures or words.

His vision was already poor, so he barely noticed when the spell extracted its cost. Sight sorcery was among the least obtrusive forms of sorcery – vision was a small price to pay for the freedom that his skills provided.

With his spell in effect, Jonan moved toward the building, a towering three-story housing complex with the dubious distinction of standing next to the local Perfect Stranger Tavern. Such establishments were frequently used as fronts for the Thieves’ Guild of Valeria, an organization with deep ties to his own. Arranging for a room there would have been easy, given his connections, but he disliked the idea of finding housing so close to his rendezvous point. His contact could most likely discover where he stayed regardless of the location, but he liked to have at least some pretense of security.

Invisibly opening doors often attracted undue attention, so Jonan chose the more awkward route of making his ascent via a series of stairs on the outside of the building designed to be a fire escape. At the top of the final stairway was a ladder that led the rest of the way to the roof. Gripping the rungs while holding his staff proved difficult, but after a few moments of awkwardness, he approached the roof.

A figured enshrouded in shimmering cloth loomed over him from above, reaching down with a hand. Her body had feminine curves, but any details were washed away by the voluminous sashes that draped her form.

Jonan grit his teeth and accepted the hand. He was pulled to the roof in a disorienting instant, after which he took a breath and steadied himself, planting his staff on the flat stone rooftop.

“Loyalty is like a crystal sword,” came a feminine voice from within the layers of fabric.

“Sharp and beautiful, but easily shattered,” Jonan finished the phrase as he had been instructed. He barely managed to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. Aayara’s methods were effective, but often bordered on the theatrical.

“Not bad,” the enshrouded figure mused. “I can’t see you at all. What do they call you? Stealth, maybe?”

He scratched his head, giving a sheepish grin, only realizing a moment later that she wouldn’t be able to see it. “Scribe, actually.” With a thought, he let his invisibility fade. Maintaining the spell wasn’t particularly taxing, but now that he had reached his destination he didn’t see any point to it. “You’re Silk, I take it?”

“No,” came a deep voice, echoing from behind him. “I am.”

Jonan spun, finding nothing behind him. And then the figure gave an unladylike snort of amusement.

“I’ve always wanted to do that – you should have seen your face.”

Jonan sighed, turning back around. “Sound sorcery? I suppose I should have expected that.”

Silk gave a melodious laugh that echoed much like her false voice had. “Maybe, but it was more fun for me this way. I haven’t had a partner to practice with for months.”

He frowned. “I’m afraid I’m just here for a delivery.”

Silk folded her arms and tilted her head to the side. “A delivery? And no new orders, then?”

Jonan shook his head. “No, but I’ve been told I can make use of you, if I need to.”

“Make use of me?” There was a hint of amusement in her voice. “I suppose there might be some entertainment after all. So, what kind of present did you bring me?”

Jonan extended his hand holding the quarterstaff. There was no longer any sight sorcery concealing the weapon within – instead, an actual branch had been hollowed out, and the metallic core was concealed inside and held in place with an adhesive. Someone holding it might notice the staff’s unusual weight, but the camouflage worked well against a casual glance, at least.

Silk tilted her head to the side dubiously for a moment, then snatched the staff out of his hands. “Oh,” she mumbled, turning the weapon over in her hands. “This...this will do.”

That’s a bit of an understatement.

“What will do you do with it?”

“That,” she replied, “You’ll find out very, very soon.”

Velas Jaldin strode through the halls of the Citadel of Blades with her back straight and her head held high. She had long ago learned to conceal her anxiety behind layers of outward walls; in this case, professionalism was her first line of defense.

“You sure you want to do this?” Landen was walking in pace with her, a couple steps to her right. His incessant worrying over her was endearing at times, irritating at others. This was one of the latter cases, but she wouldn’t let that show. There could be no cracks in her mask when so much was at stake.

She glanced at him, beaming a smile in his direction. “No worries, Lan. It’s just Lydia.”

Her companion twisted his lips. “Right. Just Lydia.”

Velas chuckled as she continued to walk.
Poor Lan, still swooning over sorceresses. He never changes.

The Citadel of Blades was the central structure for the Keldrian Crossing Holy Grounds, a parcel of land that had been owned by the Priesthood of Tae’os for centuries. As the priesthood expanded and developed a military branch – the Paladins of Tae’os – the Holy Grounds had shifted from its initial purpose as a center of worship into a permanent military base.

The Citadel of Blades itself was now one part temple, one part fortress, and about five parts administrative center. Ringed with dozens of other buildings, the citadel housed the offices of most of the officers of the Paladins of Tae’os – the newly promoted Major Lydia Hastings among them.

It had been eight months since Lydia had discredited Edon, the leader of the supposed “gods” of the city of Orlyn. Eight months since Prince Byron had been crowned king of Orlyn. And eight months since Velas and Landen had been “relieved” from the Queensguard.

Normally, she would have expected to transition directly into being a member of the new Kingsguard, but Byron did not trust that anyone who had served his mother would be loyal to him above her. Frankly, he had probably been right.

It had been Landen’s idea to chase Lydia’s skirt all the way back to her home in Velthryn. She had rolled her eyes at the idea outwardly, but she had agreed – not just to support her friend, but also because she had business of her own to pursue in Velthryn. Business that was long overdue.

They had arrived in Velthryn just under six months ago and immediately met with Lydia to discuss the possibility of joining the Paladins of Tae’os.

She pushed the errant thought from her mind, arriving at Lydia’s door. She didn’t know the paladin particularly well, but they had met a few times in Orlyn and several more since coming to Velthryn. It had, of course, been Landen’s idea to offer to join the Paladins of Tae’os. Velas thought they were hideously overqualified to sign up as fresh recruits, but fortunately, the paladins apparently had plenty of other applicants with prior experience as soldiers, mercenaries, and even members of other military orders.

People like Landen and herself were given the option to participate in an accelerated training program, culminating in a series of proficiency tests to see if they were a match for any of the seven suborders. The training had been tedious, but relatively easy by her standards. The hardest parts were the history lessons – they were boring and completely impractical, as far as she was concerned.

The combat training, on the other hand – now that was fun.

Velas glanced over at Landen, who just shrugged unhelpfully at her, and knocked on Lydia’s door. The exasperated sigh that came from the other side was loud enough that she could have heard it easily, even without her own particular talents.

“Come in.”

Velas turned the knob, giving one last look to her brown-haired companion, who leaned up against a nearby wall. He was trying to look natural. It was half-surprising that he had even accompanied her this far, given his reservations about her plan.

Velas opened the door, stepped in, and closed the door behind her. Afterward, she turned to see Lydia sitting at a desk stacked with an implausible number of papers. The paladin leaned against her left hand, rubbing her temple. Her right hand rested on the table, her fingers blackened with ink and grasped around a quill.

The former Queensguard wasn’t wearing a sword, so she simply raised her right hand to her chest as a salute. Lydia sat up a little straighter, abandoning her quill to mirror the gesture.

“At ease, Velas. What can I help you with?”

Velas relaxed her stance a bit, taking a moment to look Lydia over. Several errant threads of crimson hair had slipped out of Lydia’s traditional bun, and her spectacles served to magnify the bags under her eyes. Nevertheless, her uniform was immaculate.

“Was hoping you could do me a favor. You got a few?”

Lydia nodded sleepily, standing and retrieving a rag from a nearby shelf. She wrapped the rag around her ink-stained hand, and the black liquid seeping into the cloth reminded Velas of binding a wound.

“I could use a break from all this paperwork. Apparently coming home a hero makes you uniquely qualified to be a secretary. Who knew?”

Velas frowned in something she hoped resembled sympathy. “Sorry, Lydia. Anything I can help with?”

She didn’t want to help Lydia with anything, but she was also pretty sure Lydia wouldn’t agree.

“Actually—”

Shit. Platitude gamble failed.

“—I saw something on your application about sorcery resistance. That’s intriguing – what did you mean?”

Oh, that.
“Got a knack for shaking off anything that tries to get into my head. Always had it, far as I can tell. My aunt figured it out when she was trying to teach me something. Had me try it with a bunch of people.”

Lydia finished wiping off her hand, setting the blackened cloth down on a far corner of the table. “I’d like to see that.”

Oh, that’s not so bad.
She never minded a good chance to show off. “Okay, Red. Hit me with whatever you’ve got.”

“You’d better sit down first.” Lydia pointed to a chair on the side of the desk near the entrance. She had a mischievous glint in her eyes, which Velas had to admit was kind of cute.
Maybe Landen’s taste isn’t complete resh after all.

Velas sat down, folding her arms behind her head. “What’s on the bombardment agenda?”

Lydia sauntered up to her, put a finger on her bicep, and said, “Sleep.”

Velas’ eyes closed. Purple threads appeared in her mind, spreading through the veins at the point of contact in her arm to spread throughout her body. Velas felt a momentary chill as she pulled on the threads with her mind, syphoning them away from her arm and into a central point in her right hand.

Expel
, she silently commanded the threads, envisioning them surging out her fingertips into the empty air.

The chill faded and Velas opened her eyes, grinning.

“Gotta do better than that, Red. Unless your spell was meant to knock me out for about ten seconds.”

Lydia frowned, shaking her head. “I’m afraid you’ve been asleep for several hours, Velas.”

Velas blinked, opening her mouth and then closing it again as words failed to emerge. The faintest hint of a smile crept its way to Lydia’s lips.

The former Queensguard narrowed her eyes at Lydia, and then burst out laughing. “Okay, that was pretty good. You actually had me there for a second, and I’ll tell you, that’s not easy to do.”

“I know – it was a rare opportunity, so I had to take it. Your ability is extraordinary. How did you do that?”

Velas scoffed. “After you pulled that little trick on me? Forget it. You can keep guessing. It’s a trade secret.”

The paladin rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll figure it out one way or another. Now, what brings you to my secluded cavern?”

Oh, that.
“Put my preferred team on my application. Which, given that you just grilled me about my talents, you’ve already seen.”

Lydia nodded, leaning back against her desk, a hint of exhaustion returning to her expression. “Yeah. You want me to make sure you’re placed with your friends, I take it?”

Velas nodded.

“Easy enough. Anything else?”

Really, that’s it?
“Was expecting you to require convincing.”

The paladin shrugged. “It’s hardly a surprising request. Anyone with connections is going to try to utilize them. I’m a Sytiran – pre-planning for your success is something I encourage. Besides that, it’s not like there are many local candidates this year. Putting you with two other heavy melee fighters makes perfect sense. Although I was somewhat tempted to pair you and Landen with Keldyn Andys.”

“That guy? He’s all flash. Granted, he’s got a lot of flash – but you take his trick away and there’s no substance beneath.”

Lydia raised an eyebrow. “I have it on good authority he was an accomplished swordsman even before he earned his gifts. But if you’ve got that strong of an opinion about him, maybe I should put him on your team. You might both learn a few things from each other.”

“You’re kidding. What am I going to learn from him, arrogance and condescension? I’d rather take those lessons from Salaris – at least he can back it up.”

“Fine, fine. But you’re going to have to train with some people outside of your own little circle. The three of you will be slotted into a larger platoon, and I don’t expect you to ignore the rest of the platoon in favor of each other. From what I hear, some of the foreign candidates might even be a match for you or Landen in a duel.”

Velas smirked. “Good. Give me the best of them. Unless we’re fighting the other platoons – in which case, give me some raw material to work with. I could use a challenge.”

“Don’t worry, Velas. We’ll make sure you’re more than adequately challenged.”

If you’re putting me on a team with Lan and Salaris, I sincerely doubt that. Unless these other applicants are legendary heroes and demigods, I’ll wager we’re going to come out on top.

Velas felt the knock before she heard it. She deliberately slowed her reaction – turning too fast could be startling to others.

The door swung open before Lydia even had a chance to respond. A younger paladin was standing at the entrance, his forehead drenched with sweat, his breath ragged. He barely managed to raise his hand into a salute before beginning to speak. “Major Hastings! Please come with me, there’s been an incident.”

An incident? What the resh does that mean?

“What happened?” Lydia stood up straight, adjusting her sword belt.

“House Theas. There’s been an assassination attempt –”

Lydia pushed past Velas and broke into a run.