The Fire Mages' Daughter

  THE FIRE MAGES’ DAUGHTER

  A sequel to The Fire Mages

  An epic fantasy

  Part of the Brightmoon Annals

  by Pauline M Ross

  Published by Sutors Publishing

  Copyright © 2016 Pauline M Ross

  ISBN:

  978-0-9928819-5-5 (paperback)

  All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction.

  Cover design: Streetlight Graphics

  Proofreading: Coinlea Services

  A girl fighting her destiny. A living god. A war with the Blood Clans.

  Seventeen-year-old Drina just wants to hide away with her books, but as the daughter of two powerful mages and heir to the ruler of Bennamore, her wishes are rarely considered. Summoned to the capital, she is plunged into a maelstrom of politics and power struggles. The only compensation is Arran, the handsome bodyguard she grows to love.

  In her new role as a diplomat, she visits Bennamore's mysterious neighbours, the Blood Clans. There she discovers there are other, darker forms of magic in the world than the familiar spells of the mages. Driven onward by a living god, the Blood Clans' magic drags both their countries to the brink of war. Surrounded by enemies, Drina must find a way to tame the power of a god before everything she loves is destroyed.

  Can be read as a stand-alone, but The Fire Mages’ Daughter is best enjoyed after reading The Fire Mages.

  Brief glossary of terms:

  Drashona, the ruler of Bennamore

  Drashonor, the primary heir

  Bai-Drashonor, the secondary heir

  Durshalon, Kellon, regional and local rulers

  Drusse, a short-term consort

  Books in the Brightmoon Annals:

  The Plains of Kallanash, published Sep 2014

  The Fire Mages, published Jan 2015

  The Mages of Bennamore, published May 2015

  The Magic Mines of Asharim, published Sep 2015

  The Fire Mages’ Daughter, published Jan 2016

  The Dragon’s Egg, to be published mid-2016

  The Second God, to be published late-2016

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  Table of Contents

  1: A Letter

  2: Books

  3: The Icthari Delegation

  4: A Setback

  5: The Byan Shar

  6: Blood

  7: Seduction

  8: A Visitor

  9: The Inn

  10: Diplomacy

  11: The Imperial City

  12: Drusse

  13: The Eagle

  14: A Discovery

  15: The Castle

  16: The Villa

  17: Connections

  18: Kissing

  19: Flight

  20: Lovers

  21: A Proposal

  22: A Feast

  23: The Traitor's Spawn

  24: Poison

  25: An Apology

  26: Fathers

  27: The Summoning

  28: The Nobles' Council

  29: Questions

  30: Firewood

  31: Smoke

  32: War Leader

  33: The Black-Bark Forest

  34: Attack

  35: The Return

  36: The Keep

  37: Siege

  38: Rats

  39: Magical Defences

  40: Searching

  41: The Island

  42: Prisoner

  43: The Kingswell Road

  44: Leadership

  Thanks for reading!

  About the Brightmoon Annals

  About the author

  Acknowledgements

  1: A Letter

  As soon as I saw the messenger, I knew there would be trouble. Most letters came with Brant, ambling about on his elderly pony, his working clothes so faded from the sun it was impossible to guess the original colour. Anything more important came from the Kellona’s Hall, conveyed by a high-stepping horse, the rider clad in blue and orange.

  This rider wore gold. Her trousers and jacket were trimmed with it, her smart hat bore a gold feather, and the clasp on her cloak shone like the sun. She could only have come from Kingswell, from the Drashona herself.

  I was lying in the garden, my face to the sun, my hands restlessly poking holes through the grass to the soil beneath. I loved the feel of earth on my fingers, dry, crumbling, full of energy, just waiting to grow into flowers or apple trees or those strange plants that curl up when you touch them. I’d woken from my afternoon nap, and hadn’t yet summoned the energy to pick up my book.

  Voices at the gate alerted me, then the gate creaking as the guards opened it, and a horse clip-clopping, and not disappearing to the kitchen yard, either, but getting louder, riding straight up to the front door. A knocking, some low voices, a long silence, more voices – my mother’s one of them – and a clunk as the door closed again. Then clip-clopping back to the gate.

  A message that could only be handed over directly to my mother. This was very bad news. Rolling over, I watched the rider as she left.

  I slipped into the house by the orchard door. My feet were bare, so I tiptoed soundlessly through the hall to the open study door, stopping just out of sight.

  “She can’t go.” That was my mother, her voice firm, the way she spoke to the servants when they argued with her. “She’s not well enough. It’s too long a journey for her.”

  Me? They were talking about me?

  “That’s why she sends for her now, before the bad weather sets in.” That was Cal, who was not my father, was nothing like my father.

  “Even so…”

  “She has the right to claim her. We’re lucky she’s waited so long.”

  “But Kingswell! How will she manage in a place like that, among strangers? How can she—?”

  They were sending me to Kingswell?

  A cluck of irritation, then my mother’s head appeared round the door. She’d realised I was there. She always did, I don’t know how. “Don’t lurk, Drina! But you needn’t run away. This concerns you.”

  Usually I liked to pretend I didn’t really care about whatever I was caught listening to, but this was all too serious for pretending. I couldn’t possibly go to Kingswell, surely they understood that?

  “Sit down, Drina,” Cal said, patting the sofa next to him. That was bad, too. I generally had to stand when I was summoned to the study to be told off or given instructions.

  I didn’t want to sit beside him, so I took the opposite sofa.

  Mother sat next to Cal. They always looked odd, side by side, Cal tall and bone-thin, Mother short and plump. Even the mage marks on their foreheads were different, Cal’s sweeping and flamboyant, Mother’s neat and small. Their expressions were identical now, though – troubled. This was serious.

  “We’ve had word from Kingswell,” Mother said. “The Drashona is claiming her rights over you. She wants to see if you’d make a suitable heir.”

  Ah, that. Well, I’d always known she might try. “Can’t you explain?” I said. “It’s out of the question. I can’t possibly leave here.”

  “We’ve told her all about your illness, Drina,” Cal said. “She understands it as well as we do, which isn’t a lot. You’re a mystery to us all, petal. But she promises to take great care of you.”

  “I don’t want to go! I can’t go!” I jumped up and threw myself down next to Mother, grabbing her hand and lifting it to my face. “You can’t send me away! Please!”

  Gently, she slid her hand out of mine. “We don’t want you to go, but we have no choice. The Drashona is your custodian, and she has the right to claim you at any time before you reach adulthood. That’s the law.”

  “Wel
l, it’s a stupid law! She’s no blood kin at all to me. Just because my father was once married to her… but he’s dead, and you’re my mother. I should stay with you.”

  Mother sighed. We’d talked about it before, of course, about the contract she’d signed when she’d been drusse to my father, giving him the rights to me. And when he died, his wife had acquired the same rights and now she was reaching out her hand to snatch me away from my family.

  It was too cruel for words. But Mother had that set look about her face, and Cal’s eyes were sad like a dog’s, so there wasn’t much point arguing. I would just have to convince the Drashona that I’d make a terrible heir so she’d send me home again.

  ~~~~~

  Evening board was a solemn affair. Everyone was talking about practical things, like boxes and clothes and journey times. The Drashona was to send a carriage, and one of her waiting women to look after me, and a mage, in case I felt ill on the way. Cal offered to go with me, but I didn’t want him.

  “Why can’t you come with me?” I asked Mother, but she sighed and shook her head.

  “I’m needed here, Drina. Besides…” She looked at me oddly. “You belong to the Drashona now. You might as well get used to that.”

  “You lucky thing!” Lathran said. “You’ll be able to live in the Keep, and have proper bodyguards.” He swished an imaginary sword about. Lathran was the mage guards’ son, and a great irritant to me.

  “You’ll be so grand, Drina,” Markell said. “You’ll have jewels and everything.”

  I ignored him. He was only eight, and never said anything worth replying to. Sallorna gazed at me with her blue eyes. She was easier to put up with, because she hardly said anything at all. Even silent, she was still irritating. They all were, my brother and sister, and Cal. They were all so slender, so pale. I was the odd one out, my father’s daughter, a sturdy oak amongst delicate silver birches.

  It wasn’t that I minded being different, exactly. After all, my father was a great hero, a not very important man who had married one of the heirs to the realm, and led the army to a great victory in the south. He had brought us a peaceful settlement, and negotiated a fine treaty. And he was a Fire Mage, like Mother. That was a heritage to be proud of, and I always glowed when I thought of him. I was proud to have inherited his looks. But sometimes I felt very alone.

  “I can go with her,” Tisha said. I perked up at that. Tisha was good fun, so a journey with her wouldn’t be so bad. “I could even stay at Kingswell for a while. Help Drina to settle in.”

  “Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Cal said. “Maybe you and Millan could both go. We can manage without you for a while.”

  That was a kind way to put it. Tisha and Millan were mage guards, protecting Mother and Cal from any threats, but Tisha hadn’t worked much since the last pregnancy went wrong, and Millan’s bad leg had been getting worse for years. Well, this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

  Then Mother had to spoil it all. “How about you, Lathran? Would you like to go too? It would be good for Drina to have a friend with her.”

  I rolled my eyes. “He’s not my friend.”

  “Nonsense,” Mother said in that brisk, don’t-argue way of hers. “You’re almost the same age, the two of you. You ought to be friends. You can explore Kingswell together.”

  Ought to be, perhaps. That would be logical – the daughter of the mage, and the son of the mage guards, growing up together in the same house.

  But Lathran was one of those disgustingly energetic boys, always running about and climbing trees and covering himself with dirt. I got tired just watching him. If you gave him a book to read, he fidgeted and squirmed and told you exactly how many pages – how many words! – he’d read until someone got cross with him and took the book away. And it was usually me who got cross with him. He was my curse, and it seemed he was destined to curse me all the way to Kingswell.

  ~~~~~

  Cal took me off into the garden for a little fatherly chat after evening board. He liked to play the father, and that was fine for Markell and Sallorna, since he really was their father. But he wasn’t mine, and it was always uncomfortable for both of us when he chose to do it.

  “Well, this isn’t what we wanted,” he said with a sigh, sitting himself on the bench round the cherry tree, and patting it invitingly.

  I sat on the grass, picking daisies and pulling the petals off one by one.

  “It will be strange for you at first,” he went on. “I hated it when I first went to my father.”

  I looked up sharply at that. He seldom talked about his childhood, or the time before he was a mage. I’d learned more about him from his brother, who was a saddler here in Zendronia, and from his mother and her family, who lived a sun’s ride down river.

  “How old were you?” I asked.

  “A bit older than you – just about twelve. I knew my mother had been his drusse and that he could claim me at any time, but when year after year goes past, you begin to think you’re safe. And then – bam. Out of nowhere, there’s a summons. So I understand how you feel. But it worked out fine for me. I liked being in town, at the Hall, being the Kellon’s son. He had other children, so I wasn’t alone.”

  That was something I hadn’t considered. The Drashona, too, had other children. “How many does she have? The Drashona?”

  “Five altogether, besides you. The two eldest are eleven, like you, and you all have the same father. A son and a daughter. Then there are three younger.”

  “Do they look like me? The two eldest?” Oh, how badly I wanted that! I was tired of being the oddity, the one who stood out at gatherings amongst the fair hair and the red and the drab brown. No one else had my black curls.

  Cal thought about that. “I would say that you favour your father more than they do.”

  Hmm. That wasn’t quite as positive as I’d hoped. I turned back to my daisies.

  “Drina, I know you don’t want to go, but this is a wonderful opportunity for you. You’ll get the very best education, and you’ll have far more choices than you would have here.”

  “Choices? What kind of choices?”

  “Careers. Husbands. Or drusse, if you don’t want a husband. Zendronia has been good for us, but it’s a very small town.”

  “It’s not even finished!”

  He laughed, although it was an old joke. “Well, the bridge will be finished one sun, and the Kellona’s Hall, but stone work takes time. It’s more finished than it was when we arrived. At least we have a proper mages’ house now. But being the Drashona’s daughter will open doors for you, Drina, even if she doesn’t choose you as her heir.”

  “I don’t want to be chosen!”

  “I didn’t, either. Fortunately, I became a mage, so the question never arose.”

  That was interesting. “Could I become a mage?”

  “Well… possibly. It’s a lot of hard work. Five years of study to become a law scribe. Then, maybe, a mage, if you have the ability to work with magic directly. Do you want to? You’ve never shown any interest before in what your mother and I do.”

  “I might. Because then I couldn’t be the Drashona’s heir, and I’d be able to come back here to Mother, wouldn’t I?”

  “That’s hardly a good reason, Drina. Being a mage is a serious responsibility.”

  It was a promising idea, but there’d be five years of work and no guarantee at the end of it. I could surely think of a quicker way home.

  ~~~~~

  The journey to Kingswell was a nightmare. I was lethargic and spiritless the whole way, and the weather didn’t help. We had barely an hour of sunshine, and a dreary amount of rain. You would hardly know it was summer.

  If I’d felt better, I’d have quite enjoyed the impression we made as we swept through villages and small towns. The Drashona had sent a fine carriage for me, large enough that I could lie down if I wished, which I often did. The waiting woman sat in the carriage with me, and chattered on a great deal, but if I closed my eyes she
said nothing at all, and that was fine.

  She dressed in a very grand style – floaty gowns with frills and flounces everywhere. Kingswell style, I supposed. I had a box full of new clothes in fine wools and soft linens, with delicate embroidery and tiny frills of lace, but all comfortable tunics and trousers. No gowns. Mother never wore a gown, and I wasn’t going to, either.

  Then there was a mage, and her two guards, who rode behind us with Millan and Tisha, and an escort of eight of the Drashona’s own guard, who rode in front in their gold-trimmed uniforms. And most important of all, a driver and his wife, who took Lathran under their wing and – praise all the gods! – let him sit at the front with them, and thereby kept him almost entirely out of my way.

  At last we reached Kingswell. I’d never imagined such a vast place, with buildings reaching to the sky, and great, wide streets full of people and carts and mules and wagons and so much bustle and movement. When we clattered through the archway into the King’s Keep, where I was to live, I felt energised by all the liveliness going on around me, and able to sit up and look about me.

  The King’s Keep was the most famous building in the whole realm. Everyone knew of the eight octagonal towers and the great, red outer wall, which had never been breached by enemies. I’d never imagined anything so vast. Each tower was several times larger than the Kellona’s Hall at Zendronia, and the whole inner wall was dotted with windows, with washing hanging from lines and colourful boxes of flowers in vivid reds and yellows and purples.

  The inside of the Keep was just as busy as the town outside. Around the inner wall squatted stalls and low buildings – bakeries, stables, shops, board houses, craft workshops, taverns and other places I couldn’t identify. I caught glimpses of gardens in the centre of the Keep, with flowers in straight lines, shrubs trimmed into balls and even the trees in neat rows. That was promising. I would have to explore when I was settled, and feel the earth on my fingers.