Magic Astray (The Llandra Saga) Read online

  MAGIC ASTRAY

  GREGORY L. MAHAN

  Copyright © 2013 Gregory L. Mahan

  Cover Illustration by Alexander Nanitchkov

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  This book is dedicated to my mother, Sandra. She always encouraged my love of reading and writing fantastical tales, and taught me to work hard to achieve my dreams.

  Thank you to my wife and children for all of the support they have given me as this book was coming to life. Most of that work happened during nights, weekends, and at other times inconvenient for them.

  Thanks also to Alexander Nanitchkov. Once again, he came through with cover artwork, capturing the drama of the moment wonderfully.

  I would also like to give a special acknowledgement to Kirsti Jespersen and Paulette Watson. Without their generous help, the cover art might never have been completed on time.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Randall stared at the clouds, lying on his back and chewing on a long stem of grass. He rolled over to look at the imp that had become his constant traveling companion. The diminutive brown man was squatting in the tall grass, his long pointed ears perked up like a cat’s as he watched a caterpillar creep along the turf. Poor bug doesn’t know that he’s about to be lunch, Randall thought to himself with a grin, distracting him for a few moments until the nagging feeling returned.

  “Berry, I’m bored,” Randall complained with a sigh.

  “Do a thing,” Berry chided in his chittering native tongue without looking up from his impending meal.

  Randall flopped back over and stared at the sky with another bored sigh. Do something. That’s the problem, now isn’t it? There’s nothing to do out here.

  He had left home with plenty of ambition and had been eager to make his fortune on the open road. That was a little over a year ago. The last time Randall had left home, the fear of King Priess’ secret police, the Rooks, had driven him through a harrowing series of adventures from one side of Tallia to another. But with King Priess dead and his organization of Mage-hunters gone with him, Randall felt no great drive to do much of anything, really.

  He hadn’t gone very far from his home town of Geldorn at all, in fact, though he had whiled away the time pleasantly enough. The countryside between Geldorn and Paranol was mostly grassland, and small game was plentiful. Randall had done little more than wander aimlessly, keeping himself fed and enjoying Berry’s company.

  He had spent so much time around the little sprite that he had started to learn bits and pieces of the creature’s chittering tongue. He was far from fluent, and there was no way he could make his vocal chords wrap themselves around Berry’s convoluted language. Thankfully, the donnan seemed to understand Randall often enough when he spoke that each managed to get their point across.

  ‘Donnan’—that’s what Mages had named Berry’s kind. Berry was one of the fae, a creature from the realm of Llandra. While elves and dwarves were looked upon with a certain measure of distrust, they had immigrated from Llandra hundreds, if not thousands of years ago. They were grudgingly accepted as a fact of life. Creatures like Berry, on the other hand, lived and bred in that other realm and they only made an appearance here when a Mage practiced the forbidden art of Summoning. All such creatures were feared, and rightly so. To hear a trained Mage tell the story, anyone who practiced Summoning and made a deal with such unsavory creatures would eventually be corrupted beyond all redemption.

  Randall watched his friend stalk his meal for a few more minutes before he sat up with a smirk. Berry was not some great evil beast. If he intended to wreak havoc, he wouldn’t be chasing caterpillars with a eighteen year old boy who had lost the ability to do magic. After all, with his power gone, what could Randall do to change the world?

  With that thought, a pang of Randall’s old ambitions gnawed at his insides. He stood up with a sigh. “I suppose you’re right,” he admitted. “It’s time we went and did something. C’mon buddy, let’s get moving.”

  It seemed the donnan grinned at Randall as he plucked the caterpillar from the blade of grass where it had been climbing and popped it into his mouth. It was hard to tell for sure, though, as the imp’s mouth always seemed to be turned up in a perpetual smile. Berry quickly scampered up Randall’s leg to take his accustomed spot on the boy’s shoulder.

  “We go,” the imp chittered excitedly as Randall began breaking camp.

  * * *

  It was nightfall when Randall reached the outskirts of Erliand’s property. The property had remained empty after his old mentor’s death, and had fallen into disrepair. Tall weeds had overtaken the lawn and the tiny plot of land where he had once meticulously cultivated broccoli. Randall looked over the scene with a heavy heart.

  “I don’t know why I never came here sooner,” Randall said, as much to himself as to his companion. “Never was really too far away. Too many memories, I guess.”

  Berry chittered noncommittally but offered no solace.

  Except for negligence, the house appeared intact. It was far enough off the beaten path that it would have made it difficult for the Rooks to find. And they were too busy chasing me at the time, Randall thought bitterly.

  “Well, let’s go in,” Randall said, as he stepped onto the porch and up to the front door.

  It felt odd going through the house. Though Randall had spent the better part of a year studying here under Master Erliand’s tutelage, he never really had a chance to investigate much of the home. Erliand had simply kept him too busy to do much other than study and work. Now that he had run of the place, he felt like an interloper as he explored each room.

  Erliand’s bedroom was much more sparsely furnished than Randall expected it to be. There was a simple cot along one wall, and a chest of drawers that contained enough clothes for perhaps four or five complete outfits. Against the opposite wall was a small mirror, with a washing bowl on a shelf directly underneath. In the corner sat a thankfully empty chamber-pot. Randall had a hard time imagining the old Mage groggily getting up each morning, washing his face, and then performing his morning business. When Randall had lived here, Erliand had seemed so mysterious and enigmatic that it was hard to imagine him as a regular person going about such mundane tasks as deciding what to wear for the day. The realization made the old Mage more human in Randall’s mind, and made his master’s sacrifice weigh that much more heavily on Randall’s heart.

  Randall explored the study next. He had spent countless hours in this room with Master Erliand, but he had never really felt at home here. This was Erliand’s space, and Randall was only welcome when his master was giving a lecture. There were numerous books and parchments lined up on shelves around the room, but Randall had never been permitt
ed to open any of them. Perhaps he might have been allowed later in his studies, but his training had ended long before that day could come.

  Randall pulled a book at random from a shelf near Erliand’s desk. Flipping it open, he saw row after row of Erliand’s neat penmanship scrawled across the pages. As he sat down to read, Berry leapt from Randall’s shoulder and began poking around the knick-knacks and odds and ends that were lying around the study.

  “A treatise on Heig,” Randall read aloud, slowly sounding out the unfamiliar word. Underneath the title was a neatly scribed rune. “Dwarvish, if I had to guess,” he speculated, taking note of the rune’s angular features. Randall flipped idly to another page. “A discussion on the mathematical relationship of the intersecting angles,” he read, with growing incredulity. He flipped to another page which detailed various pen nib sizes and their effect on the potency of the rune.

  “It’s all about the same rune!” he cried in disbelief. “How can you write an entire book about one rune? Bah! Not that it does me any good anyway,” he grumbled as he snapped the book shut in frustration.

  Reading Erliand’s notes was a painful reminder of Randall’s own inability to perform magic. At one time, he had entertained hopes of becoming a powerful Mage. He’d even shown considerable talent at using spoken magic—Edwin of Ninove had called him a “prodigy”. But even though Erliand’s talisman had long-since healed both him and Berry of the wounds left from final their battle with the head of King Priess’ secret police, Aidan, that one scar still remained. Randall could not open himself to Llandra and attempt to draw forth even the tiniest amount of magic without intense, searing pain. Magecraft was forever closed to him, tantalizingly just out of reach.

  Randall glanced around the room. “Berry? Where are you?” he called out when he didn’t spot his friend.

  Berry chittered a response that came from just in front of the desk where Randall sat. Peering over, he saw Berry bent over a large piece of vellum spread out on the floor, his face peering at it intently from only inches away. The imp continued to chitter excitedly as he scanned the surface.

  “What do you have there, Berry?” Randall asked. “Is that a map? It is a map!” Randall exclaimed as he got up to move the document to the study desk.

  Randall had never seen a map of Tallia before, but the document’s purpose was obvious at first glance. It appeared that all the towns and cities of Tallia were represented, including his home town of Geldorn! Waverly and Mons were marked nearby, even though those two barely even qualified as hamlets. Randall traced the map with his finger, from Geldorn to Paranol, and from Paranol to Varna on the Lake. If only he’d had this map when he had been on the run! It would have made his life so much simpler.

  His eye was drawn to a notation drawn within Shaderest forest. Randall recognized Dyffryn as the elven city that Brody had mentioned in the short time that Randall had travelled with the greedy caravan master. He and his two partners were dead now, having been ambushed by bandits shortly after they had kidnapped Randall themselves—which meant that there was nobody left to trade with the elves! Reminded of his earlier ambitions to make his fortune as a caravan driver, Randall quickly began estimating the time it would take to journey from Erliand’s house to the forest.

  “What do you think, Berry? Think we would have any luck selling elven artifacts?” Randall asked excitedly, warming to the idea.

  Berry chittered angrily, far too fast for Randall to follow. He stamped one of his tiny feet on the map and crossed his arms, looking just like a petulant child.

  “You’re talking too fast! I can’t understand you. Now, what’s the matter?” Randall asked, suppressing a grin at his friend’s antics.

  The donnan repeated himself more slowly, though Randall still didn’t grasp the meaning. “No what? I don’t understand that word.”

  “No...tree children,” Berry replied, grasping for another way to get his point across.

  “Oh! You mean elves, right? That was the word for elves?”

  Berry nodded excitedly and then pointed to another section of the map high in the mountains. “See rock children,” he finished, following it with another word Randall didn’t recognize.

  “Rock children? Dwarves?”

  Berry nodded again. “No elves, see dwarves,” he repeated, his arms still folded across his chest.

  “But I don’t know anything about the dwarves. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?” Randall asked, still imagining the vast riches he could earn selling the elven trinkets.

  Berry cocked his head sideways in the expression that Randall had come to understand as the creature’s version of a shrug, and then clambered up onto Randall’s shoulder. “I don’t think there’s anything else useful here, Berry. None of this magic stuff is going to do me any good,” he decided, indicating the study with a sweep of his hand. “Besides, it feels kind of creepy skulking around here. Let’s leave the old man’s memory in peace.”

  * * *

  Randall had originally decided to head straight for the road between Geldorn and Paranol immediately upon leaving Erliand’s home. It seemed to be the easiest route to reach Shaderest forest, and he was pretty sure he could find the path that Brody and his crew used to travel from Paranol to the elven city once he got close enough. But once he set up camp for the evening and pulled out his map, he noticed another notation that caught his eye: There appeared to be a second elven community marked on the map.

  Randall hadn’t noticed the marking before, because it was actually quite some distance from Dyffryn, and he had focused his attention on the names he recognized. But this other city, Llyn, was quite close. It was only a few days’ travel or so from Geldorn.

  “What do you think, Berry?” Randal asked. “It looks like I can save maybe a week’s travel by going to Llyn, and it’ll take me close to home. I should probably drop by and let everyone know that I’m doing all right. Besides, Erliand circled it on the map. That has to mean something!”

  Berry snorted and turned his back. He was still put out by Randall’s decision to visit the elves.

  “C’mon Berry,” Randal wheedled. “I don’t want to fight about it. Tell you what. Let’s go visit the elves first, and then we can go visit the dwarves afterwards. Dyffryn is on the way to the Ironpike Mountains anyway, and we can pick up some elven artifacts there. If I’m going to trek half-way across the country to meet up with the dwarves, it’d be nice to make a little money along the way. That way, we can both get what we want.”

  Berry chittered tentatively, and clambered up into Randall’s lap, nuzzling his head into Randall’s chest. It was clear that the donnan wasn’t completely satisfied with the decision, but the compromise had mollified him somewhat.

  The next day, Randall broke camp with enthusiasm, whistling while he worked. He was taking the first positive step toward his future since he had left his home last spring, and it was a good feeling. Berry assisted, as always, stuffing the smaller items that he could carry into Randall’s travel sack, but his heart didn’t seem to be in it. Randall hoped that his friend would cheer up once they hit the open road.

  According to the map, the easiest way to get to Dyffryn would be to take the road toward Paranol, veering off to the north just before reaching the town. There was no real point in heading into the city itself; the pair of travelers didn’t have any money to pay for a night’s stay or a meal at an inn. The return trip would be a different matter entirely, however. Randall smiled to himself at the thought of a hot bath and the prospect of sleeping under a roof for a change. If he played his cards right, he’d earn enough money for at least that, if not considerably more.

  As the pair of travelers made their way toward the elven city, Randall found himself wondering what state the world was in. He had made it home shortly after the Mage rebellion that had overthrown King Priess. Though the heart of the fighting took place in Ninove, he was certain that there had been resistance elsewhere as well—and that fighting might still be ongoi
ng. Randall knew first-hand that not everyone in Tallia would welcome Mages with open arms, much less accepting Mages as rulers.

  It had only been a little over a year, after all, and it would take considerable time to mobilize an army and move it across the country to stamp out any last vestiges of King Priess’ power.

  Still, Randall wasn’t that concerned, at least on this part of the journey. All the country on this side of the Great Red River was considered inconsequential backwaters. Though the thought stuck in his craw, he had seen enough of the large towns near the capital of Ninove to know it was true. Nobody would be sending any armies this way any time soon, no matter where the people’s loyalties might lie. There would be no guardsmen on the roads, and certainly no army blocking his path. It was far cry from the last time he had made this trip, with Aiden and his Rooks hot on his tail.

  Randall didn’t actually expect he’d see anyone on the road at all, as a matter of fact. Sure, this was considered the busy season for travelers from Geldorn to make the trek to Paranol for barter, but ‘busy’ in this part of the world meant one or two travelers on the road a week, if that. Randall let his mind drift, imagining what it would be like to meet with the elves in Dyffryn, and what the city might be like. He was so lost in thought that he almost didn’t notice the large tree trunk that had been hauled across the road until he was right on top of it.

  Berry clambered down from his spot on Randall’s shoulder, and scampered up to the log, sniffing it enthusiastically, like some kind of bloodhound.

  “I wonder who put this here,” Randall mused, as much to himself as to Berry.

  “I did,” a voice called out from just behind Randall.

  Randall spun to face the voice. The speaker was a young man, not much older than Randall himself. He wore simple clothes: breeches, a slightly worn tunic, and ankle-high boots. If it weren’t for the crossbow he had in his hands, he might’ve been a farmer’s son from Geldorn or any of the surrounding communities.