Hello,
"Cloudswept" is book three of the Wyvern Trilogy. This is the first draft of the first chapter. Please keep in mind that it will be edited numerous times before being published. That said, I'm actually very happy with it. It's somewhat exciting, introduces the main character like it needs to, and it has the playfulness that I lacked in my previous book.
I hope this preview keeps you excited for the coming of the book.
I'm including an updated map of Nulanea, a northern continent in the world of Ryallon.
Year 1393, Fifth Age
Being seven months after the events of
Liquid.
The complex lock was taking longer to pick than Pelya liked. Sweat-soaked strands of hair cascading around
her face blocked her vision. She refused
to cut it or put it in a braid as she had done in the past. It was irrelevant, as was the flickering
light of enchanted torchlight from the hallway behind. She needed the sense of touch, not sight in
this instance. Pelya steadied her breathing
to calm anxiety that threatened to scatter her focus.
Four enchanted picks pressed against tumblers through the
keyhole. She needed a fifth, but there
was no room for it. Their magic kept
them steady when Pelya’s gloved hand twitched from concentrated effort. The uppermost pick had three prongs on
it. It should work if she could just
manage to press . . . The lock finally
gave a satisfying click of success.
Pelya took the oft-used picks out to put them back in their worn
leather pouch. After rolling it up, she
put it back into the secret pocket inside her form-fitting black tunic. Mystic silver thread covered both the tunic
and her dark-blue pants, providing powerful protections against physical and
magical threats. They would probably be
needed considering she was breaking into a treasure room below a wizard’s
tower.
A quick scan showed the hallway behind her to be empty other
than the pit trap in the center of the floor.
Pelya stretched her legs, shook her feet, and adjusted the
chain-reinforced leather sword belt around her waist. Pouches hung from it with items to help her
in her mission. She was a master with
the pair of enchanted swords that rested in sheaths at her hips. Hopefully, those wouldn’t be necessary since
her contract required she not kill
the wizard whose tower she was breaking into.
Even though she was the one picking locks and evading traps,
Pelya wasn’t a thief. The wizard had
stolen a shipment of powerful wizards’ staffs headed from Dralin to Juragdat in
the Kingdom of Inizor. The Cloudswept
Bank provided insurance to the merchant shipping them. If the staffs weren’t recovered, the bank
would have to pay out a large sum in compensation. They already owed a portion of money for the
delivery being late.
That was where Pelya and agents like her came in. For a fee, they recovered stolen goods,
saving the bank a great deal of money.
An agent like Pelya cost a great deal though. She was one of the best and her fee would
negate any profit the bank might have made off the insurance. Paying her was better than covering the
entire cost of the shipment though. It
was in everyone’s best interest if the shipment arrived as it was supposed to.
What worried Pelya was that the lone survivor of the theft had
mentioned the wizard controlled a golem made of stone. Of course, the golem wasn’t the only thing that worried Pelya. She peered into the bottom of the spiked pit
where the remains of the previous agent of the bank rested uncomfortably. Judging by the wounds, it had taken him a
while to die. She wondered if the wizard
had stripped his gear before or after the man had succumbed to the end.
A small pile of dust at her feet was all that was left of
the runeball that had enabled her to see it and the two traps on the door she
had disarmed before picking it. That had
been her last trap-finding runeball.
Ebudae, her best friend growing up in Dralin, had made it along with a
number of others Pelya had at her disposal.
Pelya had a request with the bank to either replace them or find her a
new device that would do the same job.
Her expenses were part of the fee she charged.
The blood flowed normally through her legs again. She couldn’t waste any more time. After drawing her secondary sword, she hunched
low, cracked the door open, and looked into the room.
No lights shone from inside.
The crack allowed light from the hall to enter, which wasn’t enough to
see anything, but would allow anything inside to see her.
This was when her job was most dangerous. Every option available to her had risks that
could get her killed. At least she was
alone and wouldn’t be the cause of anyone else’s death.
Pelya flung open the door and darted inside to the
left. Her first thought was gratitude
that the floor didn’t open into another pit trap.
Torches in brackets on the walls of the circular treasure
room sprang to life, sputtering with enchanted flame. Long crates made to hold staffs were stacked
on the right side of the room. There
should be eighteen of them. Other crates
lined the walls along with a full bookshelf, numerous bags and assorted items
on shelves.
Pelya’s next thought was consternation at the golem standing
in the middle of the treasure room. To
her dismay, it noticed her.
A voice like rolling boulders emitted from it. “Password.”
Crystalline black gems glowed with enchantment from a head made up of
rock pieces molded together.
Pelya hated passwords.
She guessed. “Carnivorous fairy.”
“Not password.
Intruder die.” It came after her.
Pelya drew her primary sword as she dashed to the side. “Intruder die is a terrible password.”
Its body consisted of two large stones for the torso and two
for each limb. Rocks for the hands and
feet mimicked a human’s shape. Joints
glowed with red light when it moved. Each
thudding step the golem took shook dust from the mortar. It moved faster than Pelya anticipated. It also showed intelligence in the course it
took to intercept.
She reversed direction just before it reached her. “Shall we dance?”
The golem skidded to a halt and swung its fist where she had
been. Had it connected, it likely would
have crushed Pelya’s skull.
Pelya slashed at its arm with her primary sword. It took a chunk out of the rock with a clang,
but did no real damage. That was a
worrisome outcome considering the level of enchantment in the blade. Runes flashed on the golem’s arm, proving
mystical protection in addition to the fact that it was made out of stone.
It attempted to backhand her with the arm.
Pelya rolled backward, jumped to her feet, and dashed to the
other side of the circular room. “You
don’t laugh at my jokes, you don’t want to dance. You’re a very rude host.” She shoved home her primary sword and grabbed
a statuette from a shelf. With a twirl,
she tossed it in an attempt to distract the golem before dashing the other way.
The golem altered his chase to snatch the statuette out of
the air. It put it back on the shelf
with gentleness belying its size and make.
It was a better distraction than Pelya had hoped for. She pulled a runeball out of one of her
pouches. There was only one more of its
type after this, another one she needed to replace.
The golem stomped toward her.
Pelya tossed the runeball at it and said the activation
word. Then she said, “Catch!”
The golem snatched the runeball out of the air. It skidded to a halt and opened its hand to
look at it.
The runeball had already begun its magic. Pelya watched with the fascination she always
felt while observing one work.
It disintegrated into liquid that melted the golem’s
hand. From there, it traveled up the
arm. The runes carved into the stone
popped and sizzled as it streamed through the shoulder to the upper stone of
its torso. The effects slowed
significantly. Drops of melted stone
splatted to the floor.
The golem stared at its melting body. The effects were beyond its instructions on
how to react.
Pelya slid her secondary sword into its sheath. “You’re falling to pieces, golem boy.”
It looked at her.
Slurred words emitted from it.
“Passwerrll . . . intrugg.” The
enchantments holding it together gave out.
The remaining stones fell with a racket.
The runeball continued to liquidate them at a slower and slower pace.
“Tsk. I’d hate to be
the one who has to mop up that mess.”
Pelya raked her hair back and dashed to the door. She was alone. The pit was an issue though. She had to carry out eighteen crates. “Maybe being alone wasn’t such a good
idea.” There was still the issue of the
wizard. Most constructs like the golem
had a focus that would alert its maker.
If that was the case, then she wouldn’t be alone for long.
Carefully avoiding the puddled golem, Pelya went to the
crates and counted. There were eighteen,
just as reported. Pelya took a scroll
out of a protective pouch. On it was a
list of the stamps on each end of the crates.
Different wizards had made each staff to sell. A broker had arranged the sale to a merchant
in Juragdat. Pelya took the time to make
certain each mark matched. A wizard’s
staff was a valuable device only the wealthy could afford and only an archmage
could afford one. Her fee for the
recovery wouldn’t cover the cost of one.
“What did you do to the master’s servant?!”
“I gave it a bath.”
Pelya mentally cursed herself for the lapse in awareness. In an instant, she was on her feet with both
swords drawn. The scroll fell to the
ground. “Who knew stone melted when you
washed it?”
There was only one man, a bodyguard by the looks of him. “You’re a thief!”
“I am not. What an appalling accusation.”
A wizard in his night robe burst into the room, shoving the
bodyguard aside. “A thief?! In my vault?”
“I just explained that I’m not a thief.” Pelya held her chin up high. “Weren’t you listening?
The wizard’s face was ruddy with outrage. “Just who are you and how did you get in
here? He gestured at the grey puddle on
the ground. The spell had run its
course. Pieces of stone stuck up from
it, including the top of the head with the crystal black eyes staring up at its
maker as though confused by what had just happened. “And what
did you do to my pet?”
“My name is Jerald, I came in through a hole in the wall and
I gave your pet a bath.” Pelya indicated
the puddle with her sword. “I think it’s
allergic to water. You might want to look
into that.
The wizard’s finger shook in rage as he pointed it at
Pelya. “Kill him!”
The bodyguard frowned.
“I thought she . . . he was a girl, boss.”
The wizard leaned forward and held his arms out in
disbelief. “I don’t care. Girl, boy, just kill whoever it is.”
“Right.” The
bodyguard drew his sword.
Pelya met it with her secondary before he could bring it
into position. With the flat of her
primary, she slapped him in the face. At
the same time, she tripped him.
The bodyguard hit the ground hard, bounced once and fell
unconscious. His sword clattered to the
ground.
Pelya looked down at him.
“Wow. I would think a wizard’s
bodyguard would have more skill.”
The wizard shrieked in outraged, “You killed him!”
“No I didn’t.” Pelya
rested her primary sword over her shoulder and put the other fist on her hip
with the sword still in it, but pointed back.
“You’re making a lot of unfounded accusations. I don’t appreciate it. It’s very rude.”
“Rude?” The wizard
sputtered, his face redder than before.
“Yes, rude.” She
shook her head. “I’m just not feeling
very welcome here.”
“You . . . I . . . Of course you’re not welcome here!”
Pelya slammed her swords into their sheaths. “Oh, well just come right out and say
it. Now I know how you really feel!”
He pointed accusingly at her. “There is something wrong with you . . . you
. . . whatever your name is.”
Pelya crossed her arms.
“Name’s Gilbert. Didn’t your
mother ever tell you not to point?”
“I thought you said your name was Jerald.” The wizard frowned suspiciously.
“Well if you know my name, why did you ask?” Pelya threw a hand up in exasperation. She reached into a pouch with the other.
The wizard noticed her hand going to the pouch. He stepped back to begin casting a spell.
Pelya acted fast. If
he gathered much energy, she could kill them all with backlash by interrupting
the spell. She yanked the runeball out
of the pouch and threw it at him, saying the activation word at the same time.
It hit him in the face and exploded into powder. Fear widened his eyes as he inhaled while
beginning his incantation. The powder
put him to sleep instantly.
Pelya dropped to the floor and curled in a ball.
The energy of the unfinished spell crackled and hissed, but
it hadn’t been formed enough to create an explosion. The wizard fell limply, his head bouncing
once. The sleep spell in the runeball
would keep him asleep for five or six hours.
The concussion might add a few to that along with a headache.
Pelya sprang to her feet.
She checked the bodyguard. He had
a concussion and possibly a broken cheek.
At least he was alive. She
reached into another pouch and pulled out a tiny sachet of sleeping powder. Carefully, she dabbed some on her finger and
placed it on his mustache. The small
amounts he breathed would keep him asleep for about as long as the wizard. She then dragged him away from the door and
made him as comfortable as possible. She
wiped the rest of the dust off her gloved finger onto his pant leg.
Her contract imposed a severe penalty for killing
anyone. The bank wished to acquire a
respectable reputation in its dealings.
It made it easier to gain contracts and to deal with kingdoms that frowned
on murder and vigilantism.
The pit in the hallway needed to be covered so she could move
the staffs out. There didn’t appear to
be anything in the treasure room that could help her. She went to the door only to discover that a
plank was already placed across it. That
solved that problem, though it irritated her that she hadn’t heard them do so.
Pelya went back to the crates to recover her inventory
scroll. On the back of it were
enchantments to open two of the crates.
The makers of the others hadn’t given access to the bank.
It took her a few minutes to get those crates out of the
stack. Carefully performing the
enchantments, she opened each to verify that the staffs were there. To her relief, they were. One was made of entwined wood with gems and
crystals bracketed to store and channel magic.
Even without the enchantments in the staff, it was valuable. The other was a metal shaft with three orbs
of power at the top in semi-circle brackets.
It looked powerful. She closed
and resealed them. It was sufficient
evidence that all the staffs were likely still within the crates barring any obvious
visible physical damage.
Pelya checked over the wizard and bodyguard again. They were both sound asleep. The wizard snored peacefully.
There was no time to waste.
They would wake up
eventually. She wanted to put as much
ground between her and the tower as possible before they did.
She grabbed the first crate and carried it down the hall and
up a set of stairs. Once at the top, she
traveled along another hallway to a door she had come through. Beyond it was a room with a hole of melted
stone in the outside wall, the result of another of the runeballs that had
destroyed the golem.
Pelya took the crate out into the night air to the road
leading to the tower. Both moons were
out, shining brightly between wispy brushes of clouds. Siahray was half-full in its waning cycle
while Piohray was half-full in its waxing.
Together, they cast a lavender glow over the landscape. Pelya put her fingers in her mouth and
whistled loudly. Then she went back to
get another crate.
By the time she got back with the second, she heard and saw
two horses and a cart coming up the road in the moonlight. She put the crate on top of the first and looked
around. The tower was situated on the
side of a hill in the rolling plains of Obda.
The wizard had no neighbors. The
road was little traveled and rough, but wouldn’t be hard to travel in the
night.
Honey, her beautiful chestnut warhorse with blonde mane, glared
at her. Tied to a rope behind her was a
sturdy mare pulling a skinny cart on two wheels.
“Yes, I know you don’t pull carts and that you don’t even
like pulling horses that do.” Pelya put
the crate in the back of the cart.
Honey snorted. She
flicked her tail and hit Pelya as she walked by.
“Hey! Don’t be like
that. You know I love you.” Pelya tried to hug her neck, but Honey turned
her head away and stepped aside.
“Wow. I’m feeling
very unappreciated today.” Pelya pulled
an apple out of a pouch and held it up.
Honey kept her head turned to the side, though she did eye
the apple as if considering.
Pelya set it on the ground.
“Well, if you change your mind, it’ll be right here.” She got the mare a bag of feed to keep her
docile, though Honey seemed to have matters in hand . . . or hoof. “I have to get the rest of those crates.” She patted Honey’s rump.
Honey snorted.
It took two hours to get the wagon loaded and the crates
tied down. In that time, Honey ate the
apple and stopped glaring at Pelya.
Pelya wiped sweat from her forehead with the sleeve of her
arm and then took her gloves off and put them in her swordbelt. She unhooked the mare’s lead from Honey’s
pommel. “There, all done.”
Honey was unimpressed.
Pelya climbed into the wagon’s seat and attached Honey’s
lead to the side of it.
Honey was less impressed.
“I know. You’re a
warhorse and I should be riding you. We
just need to get this wagon to the Cloudswept Bank in Anukarda. They can take it where it goes after
that. She released the brake and flipped
the reins.
The steady mare pulled the cart down the road with no
complaint.
Honey refused to discuss the matter further.
