Read Guardians of Magessa (The Birthright Chronicles Book 1) Online
Authors: Peter Last
Guardians of Magessa (The Birthright Chronicles Book 1)
Guardians
of Magessa
Peter Last
© Copyright 2014
Bluewater Publications
Protected
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may
be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or
mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage
and retrieval system, without prior written permission from the Publisher.
Published by:
Bluewater Publications
Credits
Ø
Robert Rausch artist with Gas
Studio of Tuscumbia, AL for his extraordinary work on the book's cover.
Ø
Scott Campbell created
illustration on the front cover
Ø
David Walker graphic artist that
designed the map
Ø
Sheri Dee Developmental Editor
I
would like to express my sincere gratitude to everyone who helped make this
book a reality. I would specifically like to thank the following individuals
who made this book possible through their constant help, suggestions, and snide
comments.
v
My mom and dad for bearing through eleven years of
this. A special thanks to my father for his impossibly thorough proofreading
eye. When he was grading my papers in school, it was the "evil eye."
Now it's just plain useful.
v
My sister Rachel for her constant advice on revisions.
Even the seven hundred and fifty thousandth time, when I bet she just wanted to
strangle me with my own keyboard cord!
v
My family for the trial runs, suggestions, and
critiques of my book. They also offered many encouraging comments like,
"This actually isn't too bad!"
v
Ben for his suggested improvements to the story. Also
for struggling through college alongside me while I wrote this. Your help with
the book and in the classroom was invaluable.
v
The other Ben, for believing my work was good enough to
publish, even before he read it. If you're seeing this, it means you're finally
starting to read the book!
v
My girlfriend for sticking with me, even when I had to
spend more time on the book than I had for her.
v
Robert Womack for his first sketch of the illustration
on the front cover. His ability to capture my vision was impressive.
v
Tyler Yasaka for his work building my website. He also
filmed and edited promotional pieces.
v
Ben Broyles for promotional filming and marketing
assistance.
v
John Givens for allowing me access to his incredible
medieval attire and battle accoutrements collection.
v
Sheri Dee for her fantastic editorial and proofreading
skills; also, for all the marketing guidance.
v
Finally, and most importantly, God for giving me the
ability and opportunity to do this. This book is all for you.
Jothnial brushed his shoulder-length
, jet-black hair out of his eyes
as he peered around
the corner. At least the hair used to be jet-black; there
were now strands
of silver showing. He looked
to be in his late forties
or early
fifties, but he
had actually just turned forty-one.
He still held his six-foot frame erect, but other signs of the stress of his
job were evident in
his looks
and bearing.
Even his elfish blood wasn't able to stave off the effects of the stress.
The hallway was clear, so he stepped into
it and dashed to the next corner. He looked both ways before consulting a map
from his pocket. In his mind, he could still clearly hear his commander laying
out the plan.
“Jothnial, you will swim across the moat
and enter the courtyard by means of the sewer grate. Our compatriot has removed
it completely and replaced it with a weaker version; you should be able to
break through it easily enough. You can’t teleport in, due to a detection spell
that has been woven over the castle. That also means that if you use magic
while inside, you'll be lit up like a beacon. You'll have to do this old
school, at least until you're ready to leave.
"Once inside the courtyard, you'll
have to figure out a way to get into the castle. Our contact has suggested that
you might try the eastern gate since the guards there are lax compared to the
others. Given your abilities, you might also try scaling the walls. Once you
get inside, make your way to the third floor. The entire south side is a
laboratory for your target, Molkekk’s head magician. Getting inside the
laboratory will be difficult since it is guarded inside and out by fifty of
Molkekk’s best soldiers. Our contact has no advice for this part of the mission
since no one is allowed near the laboratory except for a select few. Use
whatever means necessary to get inside that laboratory and eliminate the
magician.
"Once the job is completed, you will
have a few options for ex-filtration. If you have managed to remain undetected,
it may be possible for you to leave quietly the way that you entered. This
would be the optimal approach. If things heat up and you require our assistance
to extract you, the roof of the castle is the best option. It provides a flat
landing area for the dragons, as well as giving us a height advantage over the
castle guards. Other than that, I can't offer much advice. You'll have to play
this by ear and hope for the best.”
Jothnial thought that he had detected
something in the commander’s briefing, not in the words themselves, but in the
tone that he used and the edge in his voice. It was almost as if this was
personal for him. He didn’t think that before a mission was the time to bring
it up, but he wondered about it just the same. What connection could the elf
that led the squad of magicians have to the wizard Molkekk?
Getting inside the castle had been easier
than Jothnial had expected, but the halls were so
confusing
that
he was having trouble just finding the stairs to the third floor.
“Why they couldn’t have
one staircase going from the bottom
to the top is
beyond me,”
he thought
.
“It's almost like it was designed to confuse people
who don't belong here
."
On second thought, that was
probably not far from the truth. Wizards were notoriously suspicious and this
was likely a precaution, one that was paying dividends right now.
Absent-mindedly Jothnial fiddled with a pendant that hung from his neck. The
silver bauble was circular in shape. Four, curved axe heads were equally spaced
on a plain wreath, forming a sort of cross shape. Each axe head was emblazoned
with an etching of a triangular, knotted rope. In the center of the pendant, a
stylized dragon curled around itself so that it held its tail in its own mouth.
The dragon’s visible eye, a tiny ruby chip, glimmered with unnerving depth
against the dull silver.
Jothnial tried once again to locate his
position on the map but for naught. It appeared as though the scrap that he
held had no real resemblance to the system of halls that confronted him. By
turning the map ninety degrees, he was able to locate an area that looked
somewhat like his current position, but it wasn't a perfect match. It looked
like this diagram was of a different building entirely; the hall that he was
currently standing in didn't actually exist according to it. He shook his head
in confusion and glared at the map one last time before folding and placing it
back into his pocket. If he was correct in his assumption that the confusion
here was one of the wizard's defenses, it was probable that many, if not all,
of the walls were magical in nature and probably rearranged periodically.
Whatever the case, the map was useless to him. Jothnial flexed his left hand
and rubbed the leather of his half-finger glove against the wall
. He carefully sniffed each hall before choosing the one to
the left.
After a quick look to make sure that the
hall was clear, he dashed to the next corner and glanced around it. A group of
twenty soldiers was coming straight toward him so noisily that he wondered how
he could have possibly not heard them before. He ran back the way he had come,
but came face to face with a group of soldiers as soon as he rounded the
corner. For a moment they stared at each other, neither making a move. The elf
recovered first and sprinted back down the hall.
Jothnial rushed around the corner and
headed for one of the many doors that lined the hall. He dove inside and pulled
the door closed after him, keeping it open a crack so as to be able to see
through it. The soldiers who were chasing him rounded the corner, and he closed
the door all the way to escape detection. The interior of the room was dark, and
he bumped into things as he tried to find a suitable place to hide. A large
unlit fireplace occupied most of one wall, and Jothnial lost no time in sliding
into it and up the chimney. In this face down position, the blood rushed to his
head, but he could keep an eye on the room this way. He pressed his thighs into
the sides of the flue, shifting his weight to his legs.
Almost immediately the room's door opened
and one of the groups of soldiers entered. Most of them stood by the door,
while five of them continued toward the back wall, a torch lighting their way.
At the back of the room, the small circle of light cast by the torch exposed a
cradle containing a small baby girl. The baby was dressed in a simple white
dress which the soldiers wasted no time in replacing with one of
blood-red. O
ne of them picked the baby up, and the
soldiers left the room.
Jothnial waited for a few moments after
they were gone before sliding out of the chimney and running to the door. The
soldiers with the baby were just rounding a corner in the hall, but the other
group was nowhere to be seen. After a careful check in both directions,
Jothnial sprinted down the hall just catching the last soldier before he
disappeared around the corner. He had to stop himself from using magic to dispatch
the man, opting for a more conventional method. He covered the man's mouth with
his left hand and stabbed a long, sharp dagger into his heart with the other.
The soldier thrashed around frantically for a short time, trying to warn his
comrades, but Jothnial's grip was too strong. He dragged the dispatched soldier
into a nearby room, removed the dagger, and quickly cleaned it. Though it would
have been a fantastic disguise, he didn't have time to strip the soldier and
put on his armor; however, all of the castle guards wore large, billowy capes.
Jothnial wasted no time in taking the oversized piece of cloth from the dead
man and fastening it to his own shoulders. He also took the soldier's helmet
and placed it on his own head. The fit wasn't perfect, but it would be good
enough to disguise him from the back.
With the cape and helmet secured, Jothnial
silently slipped back into the hall and sprinted back to the corner that he had
caught the soldier going around. The hall branched several times to either side
along its length, and Jothnial's sharp eyes saw the cloak of a soldier
disappear around the corner of one of these branches. He sprinted down the
hall, careful to keep his steps light and thankful for the soft leather boots
on his feet. He hurried to the back of the procession and fell in step with the
other soldiers; he didn’t know where they were going, but hoped they would lead
him somewhere useful.
The soldiers wound through the hallways of
the castle following a long and confusing path that Jothnial couldn't have
memorized, even if he had wanted to. They finally stopped in front of two
massive doors and the group's leader provided a password to the two sentries.
The doors swung inward, and the column of soldiers filed through them, entering
a massive
gothic-style
room. The ceiling
extended upward for at least fifty feet and grotesque statues filled the place;
Jothnial’s attention was drawn to the biggest object in the room: a large,
stone altar located at the room's center. The structure was massive, standing
at least twenty-five feet high and had been formed completely out of a solid
block of some sort of black stone. Stairs were cut into all four sides
and every available surface was covered in relief
carvings.
A smaller altar stood on top of the large one, and Jothnial
guessed that it was here that the offerings would be placed
. It was to here that the soldier carrying the baby walked.
Jothnial realized what was happening and
slunk back into the shadows.
He
silently
strung his bow and nocked an arrow. He watched as the soldier scaled the side
of the stone edifice and placed the baby on the smaller altar. The soldier now
retreated back to
his companions while from the
other side of the room, a man dressed in black
and
blood-red robes
swooped up onto the altar. He was sharpening a knife on
a whetstone, as he slowly climbed the many steps. Once on top, he placed the
stone on the edge of the smaller altar and turned his gaze to the baby. He gave
a ghastly, evil-looking smile and raised the knife.
Jothnial's arrow was already drawn and
aimed, and without a moment’s hesitation he let the barbed shaft fly. The arrow
found its mark, burying itself in the throat of the priest. In the shocked
silence that followed, the priest grabbed at his throat as he staggered around
the altar. Jothnial sensed that he was trying to heal himself, but the arrow's
tip had been silver. The priest staggered backwards, tripped over a carved
gargoyle, and fell over the edge, plummeting the two and a half stories to the
stone floor. Before anyone knew what was happening, Jothnial burst out of the
shadows, scaled the altar's steps
, and had the
baby in one of his arms. With his free hand he drew a short sword and held it
in a defensive position. It was clear that he was ready to take on anyone who
approached, but the soldiers were still shaking off the shock of what had just
happened. Jothnial backed off
the altar and headed
for the
end of the room from which the priest had come. Before he had
reached safety, the soldiers were after him. One of them loosed an arrow and
with superhuman reflexes, Jothnial knocked it aside with his sword.
Jothnial came to a pair of doors that were
every bit as big as the ones on the other side of the room and leaned into
them, pushing with all of his strength. They didn't even
budge. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the soldiers were in full
pursuit now. He knew that using magic would light him up like a firefly under
the castle's detection spells, but he didn't have any other options. There were
too many guards for him to fight while holding a baby and the doors were too
heavy. Regretting the action as he performed it,
he pressed his hand up
against one of the doors and extended a tendril of magic. With a groan, the
door
swung outward,
and Jothnial rushed
through. He spun around and shoved another spell at it to close it. The door
slammed shut just as one of the soldiers tried to dive through. The sharp edge
of the door cut completely through the soldier’s body, but Jothnial was already
moving forward. Now that he had tripped the detection spells, if he stopped
moving, he would be dead in minutes. He spun on his heels and froze in his
tracks.
What he saw directly in front of him
was impossible he knew, even for a skilled magic user
.
A marsh lay before him blocking his way for as far as
he could see in either direction. The only way across was a solitary,
rickety-looking bridge. A blood-red moon hung low in the sky and cast a red
light on everything for miles around. Nothing before Jothnial matched with
reality;
he
had
been on the second
floor of the castle, so the door couldn't have taken him outside. Not to
mention that the moon, which had been yellow when he entered the castle, was
now red. The only thing
that coincided with reality
was
that there
had been a marsh outside the
castle
, but it was separated from the actual building by a wall and
moat.
Jothnial knew what he was seeing and yet
his brain told him that a spell of this magnitude would be impossible
; but obviously it was magic that had somehow
been
used to make the inside of the castle bigger than it really was. The only way
that he could think of for this to be possible was if the doors he had just
entered had transported him to a different dimensio
n;
however, he hadn’t noticed any shift in dimensions so he eliminated that option
immediately
. In any case, the marsh stank of magic, and Jothnial knew
that he had a better chance of escaping if he went back through the doors by
which he had gained access to the marsh. He turned and for the second time in
as many minutes was shocked by what he saw. The doors he had passed through to
get to the marsh had been massive, but the doors he saw now were at least a
hundred times taller. In that moment he realized how a marsh could fit inside a
castle and berated himself for not figuring it out earlier. Everything here,
including himself, had been shrunk—everything except for the doors.