The Last Enchanter
Read The Last Enchanter Online
Authors: Laurisa White Reyes
Published by Tanglewood Publishing, Inc., October 2013
Text © Laurisa White Reyes 2013
All rights reserved. Neither this book nor any part may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, microfilming, and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Cover art by Tristan Elwell & interior art by Kathleen Everts
Design by Amy Alick Perich
Tanglewood Publishing, Inc.
4400 Hulman Street
Terre Haute, IN 47803
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
ISBN-13 978-1-933718-97-2
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Reyes, Laurisa White.
The last enchanter / Laurisa White Reyes.
pages cm. -- (The Celestine chronicles ; book 2)
Summary: With the help of his old friends Clovis and Bryn, joined by new friend Lael, a feisty girl in search of her mother, Marcus uncovers a powerful secret that will change the course of his life forever.
[1. Magic--Fiction. 2. Fantasy.] I. Title.
PZ7.R3303Las 2013
[Fic]--dc23
2013022263
For my daughters
Carissa & Brennah
Contents
Fredric, ruler of Dokur, stared out his window toward the sea. The sounds of the cutting and hammering of wood and of men shouting came to him on a crisp salty breeze. Below in the bay, Dokur's navy was busy rebuilding its ships. Eight months earlier, Fredric's own son had led their enemies to these very shores, and Dokur had nearly fallen by their swords. But soon these ships would set sail for the mainland and take revenge on the Hestorians.
Fredric heard the door open behind him. The gentle clinking of crystal against silver was the only introduction the visitor needed.
“Is it time already?” Fredric asked without turning. “I would like a little wine to soothe my nerves before bed.”
Arnot filled a goblet and handed it to his king with a slight bow. Fredric downed the contents and returned the empty goblet.
“I fear I have grown too old for battle,” said Fredric, crossing the room to his bed. “These eyes have witnessed too much bloodshed, too much suffering.”
Fredric held out his arms while the attendant removed his royal robe and replaced it with a linen nightshirt. Once Fredric was dressed, Arnot went to the bed and pulled back the covers. “Your bed is prepared, Your Majesty.”
Fredric rested his hands on the edge of the mattress. “My stomach,” he said. “It bothers me so.”
“Perhaps you should rest, Sire,” replied Arnot.
Fredric rubbed his stomach and then raised his hand to his forehead, where beads of sweat had formed. “I am not well tonight,” he continued, sighing. “But such is to be expected at my age.”
Suddenly, Fredric clenched his teeth, and his hands balled into fists against the mattress. He groaned as his entire body began to shake. Fredric grabbed the quilt in both fists and pulled with such force, the fabric tore. A moment later he dropped to his knees, gasping for air.
“I am in pain,” he cried. “Fetch my doctor!”
Arnot remained where he stood and stared at Fredric with cold eyes.
“Arnot,” called Fredric, reaching for the attendant with both hands. “Please help me!”
A faint smile appeared on Arnot's lipsâso faint Fredric wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him. When the attendant finally crossed the room to the door, Fredric felt relieved that help would be found. He lay down on the floor, too weak now to lift himself into the bed.
“Tell my doctor to hurry,” he whispered. “Tell him I am very ill.”
Arnot looked back at Fredric. The smile on his lips was now unmistakable, and there was a look of pleasure in his face.
“You are not ill,” he said coolly. “You have been poisoned.”
Then Arnot slipped through the door, shutting it quietly and securely behind him.
T
he air was unusually cold when Marcus stepped out of his cottage near the village of Quendel. He cupped his hands around his mouth to warm them, and wisps of white escaped through his fingers. At the well, he lowered his bucket, listening for the crunch of wood breaking through the thin sheet of ice below.
After filling the animal trough with water, Marcus dropped the bucket into the well once more and left it on the hearth inside the cottage. Back outside, he untied Agnes's tether and led her toward the fields to graze. Agnes, his master's goat, bleated in protest. Marcus tugged at her lead.
“C'mon, you lazy animal, don't make me drag you,” he said. “I've got better things to do than babysit a
scrawny old maid like you. You aren't fit to be a goat, have I told you that lately?”
They trudged across the field until they reached a patch of grass. The morning frost was just beginning to thaw on the small, green shoots, but Agnes was impatient. She snatched the first crispy bunch between her teeth and yanked it clear out of the ground, roots and all.
“Take it easy there, girl,” said Marcus, letting go of Agnes's lead. “Leave some for the other goats, why don't you?”
It had been eight months since Marcus had returned from his quest. He and five other boys from the village had gone in search of the Rock of Ivanore, a medallion made of Celestine crystal that had once belonged to Lady Ivanore, daughter of Fredric, ruler of Dokur. Years ago she broke the seal into two pieces and gave one to her husband Jayson (whom she also called her
rock
), when her father exiled him. The other half was divided into two smaller pieces, one for each of their two sons, Marcus and Kelvin.
