IN A REALM WHERE MAGIC IS OUTLAWED, ONLY THE OUTLAWS WIELD MAGIC.
This is the premise for my new Fantasy series Lionstone. The following excerpts are from the first book in the series, The Jewel Folk.
In the highlands of Valasar lay the ruins of an ancient fortress that had long been a bastion of hope for its Elven keepers. Perched on a high hill overlooking a deep river valley, Dun Raven had stood firm for centuries against countless attacks, and it was said that as long as the stronghold’s walls were properly manned by its Elven defenders, it would stand forever.
In the end, however, the Raven fell to a horde of raging demons one summer morning long ages ago.
Still bound by the memory of how they had died in that battle, a ghostly host of long-dead Elven children now gathered in the ruins of the highland fortress. Blinking like owls in bright sunlight, the little Elven ghosts stood there in the Raven’s central courtyard, huddled around a lone, ancient oak tree crowned with a spread of brilliant scarlet leaves.
On the lower branch of this tree, two young boys tottered pre-cariously, fighting hard to keep their balance, their wrists bound behind them, the nooses around their necks drawn tight. Below them, a company of white-cloaked riders formed a ring around the tree, their stern gazes locked on the boys.
Sadly watching the tragedy unfolding before them, the entire host of small ethereal beings nodded in admiration as one of these boys quietly encouraged his companion.
“No tears,” Jace Storm said, his shaggy black hair plastered to his head in sweaty tangles, his small, slender frame racked by tremors of fear.
“No tears,” Kyrel Redleaf agreed, though tears glistened in his emerald eyes and trailed down into the silken strands of his blond hair, glittering like crystal beads in the morning sunlight.
Thus starts Book One of the Lionstone series. The following is an excerpt from a later part of the book:
Part One
Jace sat there on the back veranda, reading from the book Kerrin had given him shortly after their evening meal. He had been diligently studying great portions of the text for the past two hours, and badly needed to rest his eyes, as well as his mind.
Jace gazed out at the fireflies drifting listlessly through the dark woods surrounding Lady Kerrin’s manor house. He watched for several moments as the flittering specks flashed in shades of green, red, and purple, creating quite a display.
Mindful of the book in his lap, he sighed.
Kerrin was a hard taskmaster and most thorough in her teaching. She would not allow one day to go by without testing Jace on facts he was supposed to have gleaned from the scores of books of her small library. Kerrin, however, gave Jace an incentive to motivate him in his studies there at Briarwood Manor.
Jace could study hard and pay close attention to the books she assigned to him, and if he could correctly answer her series of questions about each book, she would reward him by allowing him to train with the company she kept in her employ.
The Ghost Company were mercenaries who had earned their living fighting in one war or another. They were tough, hardened warriors who patrolled her grounds and kept Briarwood safe, and Jace was eager to learn weapon-craft from these Ghosts.
That is, when he studied hard to enough to earn time with them.
Jace looked over to find the youngest member of the Ghosts staring at him through tangles of auburn hair. Baxus then curiously asked, “Can you cast a spell yet, Jace? The way you’ve been reading, you ought to be able to cast a spell by now I should think.”
Jace glanced back, following the trail of orange light spilling out of the open door behind, and made sure Kerrin was still busy washing up the evening dishes.
Seeing that she appeared to be preoccupied, Jace quietly closed the book. “It is so boring, Baxus,” he whispered. “If casting spells is anything like reading these books then I am likely to doze off in the middle of casting and send the spell spinning out of control!”
“I heard that,” Kerrin said from her place in the nearby kitchen.
Jace rocked forward in his chair and stretched, then yawned before saying, “I read for two whole hours, Kerrin. I’m awful tired and we would like nothing more than you to share one of your tales with us before you shoo us off to bed tonight.”
Kerrin moved to the open doorway, her slender frame blocking out the light thrown from the three lamps in the kitchen. Her finely- chiseled Elven features and her short-cropped white-blond hair caused her to appear like a young girl. She looked frail, almost dainty, but Jace had learned long ago that with Lady Kerrin Skye, looks could be deceiving. She was not only a skilled master of Taran-war, a form of lethal hand-to-hand combat techniques. But Kerrin was a Blade Mistress who had studied under Elven Blade Masters since she was a very young girl.
Jace had never seen anyone move so fast as Kerrin when she executed her lightning-swift katas. He often wondered why she kept the mercs around, when she could defend herself so well. He then discovered one day that the nine warriors actually served her, asking for only one payment: That she teach them the Ways of the Blade.
Baxus sat up in his chair. Jace followed his gaze. The fireflies had suddenly vanished out there in the black woods. Something was moving through those trees and the fireflies had scattered in a myriad of directions. Then, he saw what appeared to be small green specks of light, that swiftly grew to become as large as acorns, and they appeared to be moving through the woods, floating in pairs. “Eyes!” he gasped. “Those are the green eyes of–”
“The White Wolves of Masgar,” Kerrin said as she stepped out onto the veranda.
“Shouldn’t we get inside?” Baxus asked. “I mean, look at the size of those brutes!”
“Silly boy,” Kerrin chuckled. “These are friends, not foes. And they travel in the company of Creed Blackstag.”
“Blackstag?” Baxus asked. “The Elven Bard Chieftain from the Book of Three Roses? Creed . . . the wielder of Silverflame, slayer of Gor the Trake and Kannavar the Fyre-wyrm of Loch Sheehan? The same who served King Briar during the Lion War?”
Jace watched as ten snow-white wolves passed between the black trees, looking like ethereal beings shimmering through the deeper shadows. “I thought that Blackstag was some Elven hero long fallen in some battle. You did not tell us he was still alive.”
Kerrin smiled. “Well, this night you shall meet him.”
Part Two
The moment Blackstag rode his horse through the stone gate way at the edge of Kerrin’s backyard, a black-clad figure stepped out of the shadows on one side of the gate posts. Behind Blackstag, white wolves fanned out on either side of him, casting baleful glares at the white-haired Elf blocking their path.
“Pacolis?” Kerrin called from her place on the porch. “Let him pass. That is the Bard Chieftain, Creed of the House Blackstag.”
Pacolis Evergreen reached out taking hold of the bridle of Black-stag’s steed. The black stallion gave an indignant snort and tried to bite the Elf’s fingers. But Pacolis gently forced the horse to lower his head. “Baxus?” the white-haired mercenary captain said. “Please take his steed to the barn.”
As Baxus left the porch, Jace could see that Blackstag did not ride alone. An Elven lad sat his horse behind him. Jace saw the pale features of the young boy who clung to Blackstag’s waist. It was a fine-featured face framed by golden tangles, and yet the boy’s emerald eyes were filled with alarm as he glanced back to the dark woods behind them.
Pacolis handed the steed’s reins to young, shaggy-haired Baxus as the slender boy darted up and softly spoke into the stallion’s right ear. The horse gave a surprised snort, and the boy laughed. “Your horse has bad manners, sir.”
Kerrin said, “I am not surprised, knowing the company he keeps.”
At this, Creed let out a soft laugh. It was a rich sound, and Jace appraised this tall black-haired Elf with close scrutiny. He noted that he was actually smirking at Kerrin as she approached him there near the back gateway. “Besides you and your bad-mannered horse, Creed, who else have you brought to my home?”
Creed helped the boy seated behind him to dismount. The fair-haired boy nimbly stepped back as Creed landed beside him, saying, “Prince Kyrel Redleaf, grandson of the Elven King.”
Kerrin looked to the large company of white-cloaked riders appearing at the edge of the tree line in the distance.”Is that why that company of Wardens comes riding so boldly to my back door?”
The pack of white wolves turned to peer warily at the riders at the edge of the forest, low growls rumbling deep in their chests.
“Shush,” Creed said. “Prince Kyrel seeks Sanctuary here at Briarwood, and if the Wardens disagree they can take it up with Lady Skye. Captain Pacolis? Now might be a good time to prepare your company for a nasty confrontation.”
Jace who had always known Pacolis Evergreen as a silent, stern leader of the Ghost company, was surprised that the Elven merc looked up in awe, asking, “You know who we are, my lord?”
“Yes,” Creed said, “the remnants of the finest mercenary company to ever sell their swords for service. It has long been known here in the realm of Valasar that the Ghosts were the last to leave the walls of Dun Brystyn when the gates were breached. Yes, Captain Pacolis, your reputation proceeds you.”
“Damn right it does!” Baxus. “Kegman? Haldrik? Did you hear that? Our fame is legendary!”
Pacolis shot the boy a warning look. “See to his horse.”
As Baxus led Blackstag’s steed away, the huge, black-maned Rock Troll next to the gate post nudged the gold-bearded Dwarf beside him. “What say you, Haldrik? Let’s give these wardens a steel greeting with some bite to it!”
Pacolis said, “Lady Kerrin should first try a diplomatic approach. If we can avoid bloodshed, it won’t bring the wrath of the Wardens of Kallador broiling to the steps of Kerrin’s manor. Kegman? Haldrik? We are merely observers. If things come to the point that we are no longer needed to observe, then impress these Wardens with the mark of the Ghosts. Understood?”
“Yes, Pacs,” Kegman rumbled. Haldrik scratched at his gold beard and asked, “Fifty Wardens come here for just one boy?”
“That,” Creed said, smirking, “and the fact that I left seven members of their scouting party dead in the woods back there.”
“Oh, Creed,” Kerrin groaned, her eyes now locked on the white-cloaked riders moving at a gallop toward her back gateway.
“I had no choice,” Creed said. “They contested the road. I contested their rights to contest it. In the end, I won the argument.”
The raven-haired Elf looked at Kyrel. “Best take a place up there on Kerrin’s porch, lad. Allow her to talk to these Wardens.”
As Kyrel darted to the porch, Baxus came running from the barn, a twin short swords gripped in either hand.
Pacolis shouted, “Vynsint?”
At once, a blue-garbed young man appeared beside the gate, stepping out of a shimmering, mist. “Perimeter secured, Captain,” he said, a smile creasing the goatee shadowing his chin. “Field of force is in place all along the border of Kerrin’s manor grounds. If they don’t slow their horses soon, there are going to be a lot of riders bouncing out of their saddles, Captain.”
The man wore a loose-fitting blue shirt and trousers and a bright blue head scarf commonly worn by the Gypsy-born. He had dark, olive skin which contrasted sharply with the twin hoops he wore in his ear lobes. And a mischievous sparkle came to his dark eyes as he said, “I left a small opening in the center. Perhaps, the Warden leader will pass through it in order for Kerrin to sue for a peaceful solution to this delicate dilemma.”
Pacolis said, “Nice work Vynsint.”
“But,” Baxus said, “if the rest of those Wardens can’t even get through the warding field, how are we going to fight them?”
To which Pacolis and Vynsint simply rolled their eyes.
Lord Commander Balan Dane rode his mount through the narrow opening in the warding Vynsint had conjured.
The rest of his Wardens ran their horses directly into the invisible force preventing them from riding onto Kerrin’s grounds. Horses and riders alike were thrown back with con-siderable force, and while none of the horses were seriously injured a few of the white-cloaked Wardens bloodied their noses by crashing face-first into the invisible fence.
Only one other rider managed to follow Dane through the opening. As he did, Vynsint stepped up behind his horse and sealed off the warding, cutting off both Dane and the young boy from the rest of the fifty riders.
Kegman used the flat of hisblade to sweep the burly Dane from his saddle, and Haldrik used a dagger to slice through the saddle straps of the boy’s mount, dumping him at the feet of Pacolis.
The sudden crash to the ground knocked the wind out of the tall, slender boy, and he huffed and puffed, blowing strands of silky blond hair away from his reddening face as he fought to catch his breath.
Dane, however, swiftly rose and drew his sword.
“Pacolis Evergreen,” Creed said, “meet Sir Balan Dane, Lord Commander of the White Wardens of Kallador!”
Dane then lunged at Pacolis, who simply swayed to one side, causing Dane to stumble directly into the mountainous form of Kegman behind the merc captain. The huge Troll placed Dane in a wrist lock, shaking his sword free of his grasp. “Stand down!” Kegman commanded.
Dane shot an enraged look at the giant Kegman hovering over him and snarled, “Who are you that you dare interfere in the busi-ness of the King of Kallador?”
Pacolis calmly said, “Sir Dane, I have a field of force in place to keep your men at bay. Lady Kerrin?”
From her place on the porch, Kerrin gestured at Kyrel behind her. “Sir Dane, this boy claims Sanctuary here at my manor. Despite any laws he has violated in your city, he is the grandson of King Dayan of Mint, and has no business being imprisoned there.”
Dane’s gaze flickered in the direction of the young boy who had followed him through the portal of the warding. “Rannen?” he cried. “No! I will handle this affair! Please just–”
But the boy, Rannen, drew his sword, surged to his feet, and charged directly at Pacolis. The Elven merc captain simply spun away from the enraged boy, narrowly avoiding his wild back swing.
Stumbling off balance, Rannen crashed into the immovable Haldrik, then clumsily careened directly toward young Baxus, standing there, two swords gripped in his hands.
The red-haired Baxus merely toyed with the furious Rannen, holding his own against the tempest of fury hacking at him with his long sword. It was obvious that the young merc was quite skilled with the blades he wielded. Having been trained by the entire company of Ghosts, he was merely 15-summers-old and yet he performed the expert moves of a professional swordsman.
“Rannen!” Dane shouted. “Stop this!”
“Shut up, Dane!” Rannen snapped. “You distract me!”
At this, Pacolis looked at Dane, wondering who this upstart was that he would talk to his Commander with such disrespect. “But Rannen,” Dane cried, “you will force the boy to–”
Baxus then whirled and brought the flats of both of his swords down hard on Rannen’s wrists. Rannen cried out in pain and shock and dropped his sword. Baxus swung his swords up, planting them on either side of Rannen’s neck. “Yield, young pup?” he said, grinning in triumph.
“Nicely done, Baxus,” Pacolis said. “Commander Dane? Would you advise your sword-servant to yield?”
“Sword-servant?” Rannen snarled, his red-hot gaze flickering to Pacolis. “I am not his sword-servant, you stupid, ignorant fool!”
With that, he ripped the long knife from the sheath at his narrow waist. He then set his sights on Baxus. Rannen made one terrific lunge at him, and Baxus dropped and rolled forward catching Rannen in a somersault that sent him flying over the young mercenary’s head.
Rannen sailed directly toward Kegman.
The big Troll simply struck him with one massive fist, his knuckles cracking against the side of Rannen’s head with such terrific force that the boy slammed into the stone gate post with a sickening Crunch!
“Oops!” Kegman muttered, immediately lowering his fist.
Haldrik blew an explosive breath through the long strands of his gold mustache. “Oh boy, Keg! You did it now!”
Vynsint darted over to the prone form of the fallen boy. “Kegman, he was merely a young boy who did not deserve to have his life ended over something so foolish.”
Vynsint kneeled beside the still body of Rannen, placing two fingers on the artery in the boy’s neck.
Pacolis looked at Kegman.
Haldrik scowled at the big Troll.
Baxus kept his eyes on Vynsint.
Balan Dane staggered over to the prone form of Rannen. “Oh, you reckless boy!” he cried. “What have you done?”
Pacolis shifted his gaze to Vynsint. Vynsint said, “I am sorry, Warden, but your sword-servant is dead.”
“Not my servant, you fool!” Dane spat. “This was Rannen, King of Kallador! He was the King of Kallador! His father, the Lion of Rockhaven!”
Pacolis called out, “Jaxynd!”
At once, a tall, broad-shouldered figure with long, red hair step-ped out of the same shimmering mist that Vynsint had appeared from earlier. He was clad in a full suit of blue chain mail, complete with a bright blue surcoat sporting a black raven on its breast.
“Jax?” Pacolis said, “is there anything you can do for this boy? Perhaps talk to that god you serve, ask of him a favor?”
“I will see, Captain, what my god wills,” Jax said, then kneeled down beside the dead boy-king, and began to softly pray.
Dane glanced back directly at Prince Kyrel. “You have found Sanctuary, wizard boy, but you have made yourself a dangerous–”
“Sir Dane,” Pacolis said, “your threats mean little to me and my Ghosts. No more threats. When Vynsint unseals the doorway, you will ride out, rejoin your men, and ride back to Kallador. Understood?”
He raised a hand, gesturing to the trees beyond the Wardens and the field of force. “I have three mercs perched out there in the branches above your men, all armed with twenty-shot cross-bows, designed by our crafty Dwarven comrade, Haldrik here. A modern wonder in the world of warfare. So, Commander, I firmly urge you to ride away from here, before your Wardens become victims of our wondrous weapons of mass destruction. Understood?”
“As if I have any other choice,” Dane gruffly muttered.
“You don’t,” Pacolis told him firmly.
While Jax continued to pray, the others there in Kerrin’s yard stood looking on curiously.
Kegman lowered his own head, saddened by what he had done.
Haldrik exchanged a sympathetic look with the Troll.
Pacolis looked to Dane, surprised to see him praying as well.
Lowering his swords, Baxus slowly trudged back to the porch. As he joined Jace and Kyrel, the Elven Prince quietly said, “Those were some skillful moves you performed with your twin blades.”
“Thank you,” Baxus whispered. “Is he,” he started to say, then corrected himself, “was he really the King of Kallador?”
Kyrel’s eyes remained fixed on the still body of the young king. “The cub of the Lion, who some say has no teeth. But I would beg to differ. For my crimes, I had audience with the pompous ass, and he doubled me over with a surprise shot to my gut, then followed through with a fist to my face. I was then sentenced by yonder King to burn at the stake. So I am not sure how I should feel about this strange turn of events.”
Kyrel added, “You do know that the cub’s father has outlawed magic in the realm of Valasar? The Lords of Night carry out his laws in the Seven Kingdoms, and as such, I was destined to burn if I had not escaped from Kallador. It is good that Lady Kerrin grants me Sanctuary.”
It was silent between the three boys for long moments.
Baxus found Jace staring at him, curiously.
Jace narrowed his eyes. “Where did you learn swordcraft?”
At once, Baxus sat down in the empty chair across from both boys. He fidgeted yet tried to remain calm as Jace said, “In the entire two years the Ghosts have been living at Kerrin’s farmstead, not once have I heard any of them call you anything but Baxus. I assume you have a last name?”
The mercenary boy shrugged and said, “King Rygar Galatorius is a mighty king who sits the throne at Castlelan. Rumor is, he once had a son he rejected because he claimed the boy was a demon. It was said the boy had been slain by assassins hired by his own father, his name never more to be mentioned in that kingdom again.”
Tear welled up in Baxus’s eyes.
“It is all right,” Kyrel softly told him. “I know what it is to be persecuted by one’s own family. King Dayan, my grandfather, sent me to the House of Healing in the Kingdom of Mint, and my own father, Torin Redleaf, escorted me there to be confined until I was exorcized of the demons that supposedly plagued me. I know what is like to be rejected by those you love, because of ingrained magic that is a gift, a blessing and a curse both.”
Baxus softly muttered, “He just doesn’t understand me.”
Jace said, “Well, your secret is safe here at Lady Kerrin’s. After all, her place is one of Sanctuary, and I’ll bet she had no idea when she woke up this morning that by evening she would have another Prince-in-exile show up at her doorstep. Strange thing is, I wonder if it is an omen. For we not only have two princes here at Kerrin’s farm–Prince Kyrel Redleaf and Prince Baxus Galatorius– but also King Rannen. I can’t help but think that has to mean something.”
Part Three
While Rannen lay dead between them, Jax and Balan Dane continued to pray. Surprisingly gentle for a man so big, Dane feathered Rannen’s sweaty tangles away from the red welt on his forehead with one large hand. “My lord, you did not deserve to die so young,” he said softly.
Dane then shifted his gaze, offering Jax of the Ghosts a puzzled frown. “Do you believe the One can hear us? There is no life left in him, so how do you expect my King to come back to us?”
In response, Jax simply said, “Jace?”
Jace rose to his feet on the porch, then walked slowly toward the gateway. Lady Kerrin, trailed by Prince Kyrel and Prince Baxus, followed Jace over to the gate. Pacolis stepped aside as the four of them gathered there behind Jax and Dane kneeling over the prone body of the boy king.
“Jace?” Jaxynd said, quietly, “see if the High One would allow this boy to come back from the Halls of the Dead.”
“But I,” Jace said, hesitantly, “don’t even believe–”
“Simply ask,” Jaxynd said. “You have a connection. Use it, Jace Storm.”
Shaking his head, Jace closed his eyes and prayed.
He then found himself drawn outside of his body, his spirit traveling at such a high rate of speed that he:
Hurtled through a Kaleidoscope of bright images, he passed through a luminous portal in the form of two stone pillars with shimmering sheets of power between them. And then Jace found himself standing beside the blue waters of a small pond nestled between three rolling hills covered in lush green grass.
There before him, seated on a log, was young, blond Rannen. He sat there fishing, the line on his cane pole drawn tight as a rainbow-colored fish fought to get away from the hook and single thread that connected him to the boy and his badly bending pole.
“Rannen?” Jace called out to the fiercely concentrating boy. “Come back with me! Hurry now! There is little time! The gateway to Valasar is swiftly closing behind us!”
And even as he said this, Jace gestured at a massive wrought-iron gate situated in the forest behind them. It was tucked away between the giant boles of twin white birch trees and both Jace and Rannen could see that the gate was beginning to slowly close.
“No!” Rannen stubbornly said. “You do not command me, boy! I am King and my word is the law! This that you offer me, is tainted with magic! My father and I have outlawed such throughout the entire realm of Valasar! I will not condone such a thing!”
With that, he tossed his fishing pole aside and sprinted to a nearby silver stallion and sprang upon its bare back. Then with a wild whoop, he kicked the horse into a run.
Glancing back in concern at the slowly closing gate between the white trees behind him, Jace muttered in frustration and suddenly, he, too, was mounted on a silvery steed and chasing after the fleeing boy king.
They rode out onto a wide, open plain, the luminous steeds beneath them running at full speed.
“No!” Jace shouted, the word torn from his lips by the wind whipping past him as his horse galloped onward. “You risk being trapped here forever, Rannen! Come back, if you wish to join the living! Come back now, before the gate slams closed!”
But Rannen continued to ride onward, wild whoops of delight exploding from his lips even as his steed flew over the ground.
“Noooo!” Jace shouted as he rode hard to catch up.
And just when it seemed that Rannen was about to pass beyond the borders of the wide meadow, a pale rider suddenly appeared before him. Rannen gasped in alarm and his horse veered away at the last possible moment as Kyrel Redleaf appeared there in their path mounted on yet a third silver steed.
It was then that Jace caught up to Rannen’s faltering horse, and together he and Kyrel used their mounts to herd Rannen’s steed back across the meadow and toward the forest at its edge.
With angry shouts of protest exploding from his lips, Rannen’s horse, hemmed in on either side by Jace and Kyrel, had nowhere else to run but forward. It did so then, carrying Rannen in through the closing gate between the ghostly white trees.
Seconds before the gate closed, Jace and Kyrel passed through it, both exchanging relieved looks as their silver steeds sprang into the shimmering mists beyond.
Part Four
Jaxynd helped a dazed and disoriented Rannen to his feet. “He will be dazed and weak for a time, Dane. The One only knows what he witnessed when he stepped from the Road of Life into the Halls of the Dead. You best escort him back to your city, tuck him into a warm bed, and see that he is not left alone for a time. I imagine he saw what none of us have ever seen, and it could be, it will have a profound impact on a boy his age.”
Pacolis said, “Keg? Hal? Fetch their horses. Vyns? Unseal the warding to allow Dane to ride back through. The sooner he gets his King back to Kallador, the better it will be for all concerned.”
Kegman snatched up the reins of both mounts and led them over before the gate. Haldrik picked up Dane’s sword and walked over and handed it to him, hilt first. Seeing that Vynsint still held onto Rannen, Dane took the sword, hesitating only for a moment before sliding it back into the sheath at his belt.
He then turned to help Vynsint place Rannen in the saddle of his own horse. As he mounted up behind the disoriented boy, he wrapped his arms around him, holding him in place. He then looked down at Vynsint and once more asked, “Why did the boy laugh when he raised Rannen from the dead?”
Vynsint offered Dane a sad grin. He then used one hand to dispel the warding. With that, Pacolis swatted the rumps of both horses and the steeds ran toward the forest beyond.
Back on the porch Kyrel and Baxus peered off across the grounds to Jace who walked away into the shadows. “What,” Kyrel asked, “was that all about? Granted, we just performed a miracle, if indeed King Rannen was actually dead. So why does Jace laugh like a loon in light of what just happened?”
Baxus said, “More than likely he laughs in amazement.”
“Amazement?” Kyrel asked, his brow furrowed in puzzlement.
“Yes,” Baxus told them, “amazement that the One would act and bring the boy back from the dead. Amazement that simply because Jace asked, He performed this miracle.”
He then added, “Amazement because he doesn’t even believe in the god he serves.”
