Bounty for the Taking: Book Two

By K.W. Jackson

A witch-cursed earring has seized the mind of a legendary sea captain. An uprising of bandits has seen a warchest attract freelances and mercenaries to the fief of Anatol and Cavis begins to doubt if they are truly bandits that the lords are warring against. Staifcairn tries to fulfill his pact with the shade of a demiurge and complete his search for a Professor-Regent of the college of archmages. Kragor continues deeper on his path towards greatness and darkness. Join the brothers Skarsayer, and Kragor the Conqueror, on their trials and adventures across the strongly realised magical world of Khara Thel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: K.W. Jackson
• Release date: Dec 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301867868

K.W. Jackson

K.W. Jackson is a IT professional from Melbourne, Australia. He is married with one son and lives in the eastern suburbs under the shadow of a long extinct volcano. Guitar, drawing, RPGs, computer games, vegetable gardening, organic food, cooking and of course reading are his many hobbies in between writing and drinking italian coffee. K.W. Jackson struggled for over 17 years to complete his first book but that opened the gates for all the rest. For anyone reading this know that: "Do not ever, ever, give up on achieving your dreams. Life is too short."

Book preview

BOUNTY FOR THE TAKING

BOOK 2

Tales of Khara Thel

By K.W. Jackson

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Copyright 2012, K.W. Jackson. All rights reserved.

http://kharathel.com

Dedicated to:

Renae - whose confidence gives me faith, support and inspiration.

And to Jon - for setting the bar.

Cam - for Cavis.

Ed - for Kragor.

INTRODUCTION

The voice was distant, powerful, and held deep inhuman menace.

Do you swear to serve me?

He thought of who it might be that was asking this and knew it was someone he had only just met. It was something old with a dire potency.

Do you swear to serve me? It asked again.

Around him it was dark. So dark and cold. Everything about him was hard and discomforting. All he wanted was to rest but there was something he had not done. Something important.

Do you swear to serve me, or do you choose to die now? The voice asked.

There was a sense of finality in that question. Repetitions that made it three times asked. Magic was about and Kragor did not like magic. This voice, though, was not like the other users of the mana. It was different. More powerful, older, greatly cunning and desirous of war. It was more like Kragor and less like the weaselly scribes who he had found to command the potencies of magic - so weak and unworthy. It was the shadow dragon that had sent him. The shadow dragon that was the reason he had fallen to the stunted miners; those often called Dwarves, and Kragor hated them so very much.

I swear, Kragor answered the voice.

You will be my conqueror, Kragor. Rise and take vengeance.

Kragor blinked open his eyes and realised he was lying on his back. Heavy plated feet were running towards him. Kragor rolled to his feet and stood hefting his battle axe. Something warm and wet ran down his belly and legs. There were cries of disbelief and anger from the Dwarves. Kragor saw the spreading blood all about the floor and on his armour. His red-black blood. He was dripping it from a dozen wounds. A crossbow twanged and the bolt hit his breastplate. It snapped into shards against the heavy black alloyed steel.

Bellowing Kragor charged the nearest dwarf. His target was suited in fine plate armour and Kragor swung his axe in a wide flat arc. the dwarf tried to deflect the blow with his shield but the axe tore through the steel smashing the arm that held it.

Kragor snarled. The axe swung again and chopped the legs out from under the dwarf in screech of sheared metal and bone. Consciousness was lost in the sudden drop in arterial pressure and the dwarf lay silent already growing pale.

Who's next? Kragor bellowed.

Crossbow bolts flew and one punctured Kragor's arm but the others careened of his armour. Roaring in anticipated victory Kragor raced towards the crossbow wielding dwarf and chopped down. The dwarf frantically blocked with the steel crossbow. Kragor's axe smashed the weapon in two then carried on to bisect the dwarf's skulldown to the neck in a spray of gore.

At the sound of clanking armour, far closer than it should have been, Kragor spun to face the sound. In the carnage about him, amidst a sheen of blood, two of the felled dwarves were rising. Their wounds obvious as dark red gaping holes with white bone and grey-pink innards within.

Kragor sneered, What is this necromancy?

In his mind he heard the voice of the shadow dragon.

Your army, Kragor, and your destiny.

CHAPTER ONE

Cavis rode the horse into the gale-driven dust. His cloak was wrapped tight about his face and his eyes narrowed on the febrile trail ahead. Summer had been harsher than the previous three decades. Or so the scrivener at the Toolmaker’s Tavern had been want to say when Cavis had shared time and ale with that old clerk. Inwardly Cavis laughed at his own thoughts straying to the scrivener’s ink-stained fingers and lips.

Sucking his quill, he said; maybe to the horse.

It was not as funny or as ironic as what Cavis was doing now and that was riding over the heat-baked coast road. From the great city of Ferris to the small town of Jilyu on his way to Kliom Nagar; his place of schooling and study of the blade arts that led him into the secret guild of assassins. He intended to find out why he was so ineffective against the armoured ogre which had felled his brother – and fix it. It had been Cavis’ belief that he was a capable fighter but in a battle for his own and his brother’s life the lithe assassin had found his skills were sorely lacking. From that lack his younger brother had nearly died. If it weren’t for the eldest of the Skarsayer brothers, Staifcairn, and his magical knowledge Atriaxe would have been a lifeless hunk of meat next to Cavis’ own still carcass.

A carcass like his parents, the thought came unbidden, and morosely Cavis drew the conclusion again that he was running away - running away from his brothers who’d never done the same thing to him. They had never run out on Cavis. In all the years since their mother’s magic had swept them away from the carnage of demons attacking their home, no, his brothers had never run out on him. Now he repaid them with flight. Veldon awaited them. Their legacy, their estate, their future was all in that place but so was their past. And that’s how Cavis thought of it: their legacy, not his.

On the western horizon clouds like charcoal dust rubbed into a bruise swelled over the Deepspire Mountains. A storm was coming to break this heat. It was like the storm that was raging when Cavis and his brothers regained their memories of how they had left Veldon. Of the demons’ attack and the battle between their father, Lord Kael Skarsayer former high-exorcist of Araytor, and the Corruptor. The battle that cost the brothers both their parents’ lives and the life of their tutor and mentor Nickelodeus – and that was just the people dearest to them.

The wind abruptly fell away and Cavis’ cloak ceased flapping his horses flanks. A crow cawed from withered trees to the right. Except it was no crow. Cavis’ sharp ears heard the voice of man in that sound and knew these were people driven to banditry because of the heat wave killing crops. It was going to be trouble. Why did trouble always find him when he least wanted it?

That’s why it’s called trouble, Cavis explained; maybe to the horse, or perhaps to the bandit making crow calls. Actually, he did feel like he wanted trouble. His hands dropped the reins and reached inside his cloak to grasp thin throwing blades. Knees dug sharply into the horse and it leaped forward into a gallop. Two blades streaked through the air catching into flesh and bodies staggered. The horse bared its teeth and dashed open skulls with its front hooves before thundering through the bewildered people. Arrows were launched and wobbled helplessly past Cavis to fall without striking him or the horse. In the wake of the hammering hooves the bandits gathered about the bodies of their fallen.

Get’em off the road! bellowed a man with a beard that sported small bone fetishes.

People scattered to lift the two men. Each was unconscious and blood leaked from them like they were punctured waterskins.

Cavis reined his horse in and turned it back towards the bandits. He drew his falchion and kicked his heels into the animal. It gathered speed and broke into a full gallop. The thick bladed falchion glinted in the sun.

He’s coming back! squealed one of the younger women.

CHAPTER TWO

Staifcairn and Atriaxe stood at the door to the harbor master’s office in Nihles and it was particularly pungent today. The recent heat had baked the pitch makers’ yards and the smell hung about so thick it felt the air might burst alight if it touched naked flames.

I don’t want to go in, Atriaxe said and crossed his thick arms over his broad chest.

Whatever for? We’ve been to many harbor master’s offices over the years, Staifcairn tried to reason with his youngest brother who stood fully head and shoulders above him.

Not this one. We have some history that might be troublesome,

Staifcairn looked carefully at his huge brother. Atriaxe’s red hair held two beads of armouring; enchanted beads that cast a field of force over the man that protected him as if he was wearing a full hauberk of fine steel. They were potent magical items as was the large war axe he wore in a thick leather holster on his hip. Staifcairn had made that axe and imbued it with powerful coldfire magic so that it would flame and freeze at once. Yet with all these empowerments Atriaxe was still concerned about trouble that may occur.

I suppose I don’t want to know what happened between you and the harbor master. Likely it was working with Cavis and his odd little escapades, Staifcairn commented, closely regarding Axe’s reaction, And I suppose it is of little matter if I talk to the harbor master alone.

Aye, Atriaxe leaned back against the wall and looked for all the world like the largest door guard in the city. He seemed so comfortable there leaning against the old stone foundations as if he might be part of the tower's structure.

Staifcairn snorted and pushed open the door to the offices of the harbor master of Nihles. It smelled of dust and old paper with older ink. A faint smell of candle wax hid beneath the overt scents. A winding stair led up to where light streamed in from the high windows of a mezzanine which looked out over the wharves of Nihles. It would be a commanding view. A small counter separated five desks from the area Staifcairn was in. He sighed and looked around. It seemed the offices were empty.

Hello? Staifcairn called out.

Yes? a thin voice responded.

I’d like to speak with someone about ships that are worth booking passage to Ferris with, Staifcairn called back. It sounded like the person was up on the mezzanine.

Oh. I don’t have time right now. Come back in a bell, the voice called down.

I really am in a hurry and if you come down now I’m sure this shilling might be of use to the harbor master’s cause, Staifcairn called back. Besides that, I have an appointment with the principal of Rhastavon College.

Oh really? the voice called back. I suppose you’ve not got your green robes with you and you are really down on your luck, too!

Not at all but if you bothered to look down you’ll see my robes of graduation and you’ll see that they are runed with silver...

A spluttering cough cut Staifcairn off and from above the clatter and splash of a spilled vessel quickly followed.

Right away sir, the voice changed to one of polite servitude, Please be patient while I clean this mess.

Clean it afterwards. The tide is about to turn and I must be leaving at once, Staifcairn suppressed a smirk.

Atriaxe stood almost exactly as Staifcairn had left him: arms crossed, leaning against the wall, one booted foot against the timbers of the harbor master’s office.

The clerk needed some persuading, Staifcairn said as he closed the door behind him. I felt that he was being persuaded to ensure no one booked passage until after the tide turned.

No surprise, Atriaxe grumbled.

So your conflict with the harbor master has something to do with such corruption?

Something like that. Atriaxe pushed off the wall and started walking towards the wharves. So which ships are in that are worth taking passage with? he changed the subject.

Staifcairn smiled briefly then answered, The Meteor’s Tail and the White Capricorn.

Captain Jailkar?

Yes. I think we should get to the White Capricorn as soon as possible, Staifcairn said.

Well. Won’t this be a treat, Atriaxe said inimically, then added, Mainly for you.

Perhaps but I don’t think she has seen you since shortly after we left Veldon.

Atriaxe smiled and nodded, That would be right. I had no idea it has been so long until you mentioned it. By the fey I think she might be the prettiest human woman I’ve ever seen.

I think you could be right, brother, Staifcairn replied.

Together they made their way through throngs of traders, wagons, oxen and hawkers to get to the wharves. Stevedores hauled nets of cargo out of the holds of ships and swung them on to the thick planked decks of the old Nihles wharves. Amongst the masts and sails a sleek barque of pale white wood, stained green at the water line, sat like a pearl amongst sun burned donkey’s ears.

They say that Jailkar was on board when Meyendir Aravalon travelled on the White Unicorn to Khara Hrost, Staifcairn said to Axe, turning his chin over his shoulder as they passed a braying oxen-team.

Meyendir? Atriaxe didn’t recall the name at first then it came back to mind. Oh! The one you read all of his journals and even his grimoire.

Yes. The archmage and scholar who first travelled all the lands of the known world and survived to write about it.

Wasn’t that centuries ago?

No. It was a little over 70 years ago, Staifcairn replied easily, Meyendir was likely in possession of a spell that would greatly extend his natural lifespan by rejuvenating all the tissues of the heart and lungs. It is possible he was nearly 200 years old when he went missing – which was not long after he returned from an expedition into a Margad underground fortress.

That means Jailkar is probably 80! Atriaxe dismayed.

Probably but you remember her from only eleven years ago, yes?

Atriaxe grinned broadly, Of course.

I suspect that Meyendir may have cast that spell of rejuvenation on Jailkar when he was on the White Capricorn those many years ago, Staifcairn conjectured excitedly.

Which means you’ll want to talk to her a lot, Atriaxe sounded a lot more dejected than he felt. Not that it’s a bother. I’m not overly jealous.

Overly jealous? Just a little, though. That we can deal with, Staifcairn laughed.

They came to the heavy timbered wharf that the White Capricorn was moored to with ropes as thick as Staifcairn’s wrists; which was about the same as three of Atriaxe’s fingers. The pale wood of the ship sparkled with silvery streaks under the intense summer sunlight. On the deck two figures were talking and pointing at the masts then the aft decks. Brilliant sable hair flashed as what must be Jailkar threw back her head in a great boisterous laugh. Staifcairn and Atriaxe were close enough to make out some words.

Of course you’d want me to pay that. It’d make you victorious over Captain Jailkar and likely keep your cups filled for a season in the taverns of this fine city but I’ll not be robbed for your ego, sirrah, not at all.

There are no other stocks of silk yew in the length you require. The cost won’t change, the man replied cool but hinting frustration, Even if you sailed all the way to the Stop in the north and waited ten years for a fresh cut trunk to be seasoned. The price is fair and remains the same.

Oh come now Brannor: we’re old friends and I’m older than your father so tell me what your real price is, ey?

That’s the price, Jailkar. If you’re riding your reputation instead of making good coin to look after this ship it’s not my problem. The price stands. If you weren’t my father’s friend the price would be two hundred crowns, Brannor replied. His tone became sharper and sharper until he was raising his voice.

Jailkar’s muttered response was lost to the brothers as they neared the gangplank.

Captain Jailkar? Staifcairn called out.

Brannor appeared at the top of the gangplank. His white knuckles gripping its rails, broad forearms from long years hewing timber were turning to fat, as he halted suddenly. His face was reddened and he turned back on something that Jailkar said, Until I receive half no work will be done on the White Capricorn. Not a scrape of wood of any kind. If you haven’t got the coin then you can always have it done in pine! He stormed down the gangplank and slowed in Axe’s shadow before scurrying around like a rat avoiding a terrier.

Who goes there? the captain called back. She came to the top of the gangplank and looked down at the brothers. Her face was weathered but perfectly even and symmetrical. Bright brown eyes narrowed under well manicured brows. Her heart-shaped face lightened as a smile broadened to reveal straight white teeth. I recognize you two.

Jailkar waved them up the gangplank, Ferris, right? About five years ago.

Right city but it was eleven years ago, Staifcairn replied as he led the way up the gangplank.

Oh. It can’t be that long?

Aye it was and today we are headed back to Ferris, Staifcairn said as he reached the deck.

That’s perfect because that’s where the White Capricorn is headed at high tide which is only a bell away. Jailkar stomped over to the ships bell which hung near the wheel. She clanged it heavily and rapidly for at least a dozen heartbeats.

Crew better be back here in time. We’re not making anything floating in the water while they spend it all, Jailkar mused. To Ferris for you two, some of my favourite passengers, only two florins each.

Atriaxe smiled and nodded to Staifcairn.

It seems my younger brother finds the price agreeable and we have a contract, Staifcairn offered his hand to seal the deal.

Don’t shake hands with mages, sorry, she said as if it was a minor inconvenience and brushed past him. Staifcairn looked like he’d been stabbed. Jailkar started pulling on lines and a sail unrolled with a rumble that ended with a snapping of ropes pulled taut.

Atriaxe lifted a foot to move towards her and offer his hand.

Or half-giants, she smiled apologetically, No matter how handsome either mage or half-giant happens to be.

Jailkar kept moving about the deck, pulling ropes, tying others off, and rearranging long wooden pegs in racks.

When was the last time you paid your crew? Staifcairn asked.

What? Jailkar balked and her jaw worked as she struggled to make words.

I do not think they are coming back because you have not paid them for months, Staifcairn stabbed a finger at her.

Well I never, she whipped out a cutlass and took a dueling stance, You better be ready to pay for that mageling. Those’re fighting words.

Staifcairn stepped forwards and flung his hands out at Jailkar. Blue-pink coldfire leapt from his fingers in strands like chains. The chains hit Jailkar and knocked her back before they wrapped her in a searing chill. Her cutlass clattered on the timbers.

You… bastard! Jailkar railed, her voice catching in her throat with shudders of deep cold, Can’t use magic… in a duel! That’s… cheating.

Staifcairn was about to speak when he noticed Atriaxe turn his head towards the gangplank.

A strong deep voice boomed officiously, I witness the duel was honorable and the defender won.

This new voice belonged to a man, in his late middle age, just arrived at the top of the gangplank. He wore a simple red robe of office with an ornate gold chain that held a large royal seal. His grey eyes took in the scene and his mouth curled in an overly entertained smirk beneath a beak-like nose.

Jailkar wailed, What? No. No! she shook her head from side to side but didn’t fight the coldfire bonds that had already ruined her shirt and singed off a decent amount of hair. This is the worst day of my long miserable life.

The duel was called with no conditions. As lord-mayor of Nihles this duel has been sanctioned. Phippus?

Rapid footsteps came up the gangplank from behind the lord-mayor.

Yes your grace, Phippus bowed as he arrived. He was a boy of perhaps fourteen. Lean like a greyhound and pale of face while his hair was a mousey brown-grey.

Complete a writ of dueling victory and hand it to the man with silver hair.

The lord-mayor walked slowly over to Jailkar and leaned forward. The coldfire chains hissed at his approach and he flinched back in surprise. Jailkar watched from within her bonds like a trapped cat.

I’m not a malicious man. Since you have just lost everything you own I will waive the taxes and tariffs you owe the City of Nihles and the Van Olaf family on one small condition, he said quietly but with clear menace that non-compliance would make things worse.

What would that be? Jailkar fumed and glared in challenge at the Lord-mayor.

You never return to Nihles for the rest of your life.

Jailkar sneered and then her lip curled into a smirk, Agreed you bastard but how in the hells to I get out of here now that I don’t own my ship?

Young man, the Lord-mayor addressed Staifcairn, As a condition of this duel being upheld by myself and the power vested in me by the Duchess Arteena Van Olaf you will take the former Captain Jailkar out of Nihles.

Staifcairn looked at Atriaxe. His brother held the same face of shocked disbelief as Staifcairn.

I can’t believe your luck, Atriaxe whispered to his brother.

Neither can I, Staifcairn replied, Although I don’t think it is all good in this case.

Well? What say you? the lord-mayor sought a response from Staifcairn.

If the paperwork is complete and in my hands before the coming bell I will do as you ask, Staifcairn replied.

A canny man, the lord-mayor smiled. It seems you lost to a most worthy foe, he directed at Jailkar. It will be done.

The lord-mayor turned to Phippus, You heard the man Phippus. Get all the titles completed within the bell. You have my permission to take three extra scribes from the library. Write the letter and I will seal it.

Standing over Jailkar the lord-mayor smirked and looked her up and down. There was an obvious lust in his eyes as he did so and he barked a short laugh. To think that you start a duel with a passenger because they have a thought that you’ve been incompetent at managing your crew – and it’s true of course. Of all the rash and poorly thought out things and a graduate of Rhastavon no less. Jailkar you have verily slipped the leash of reasonable action. If I were not aware of your age I would think that you were cursed. You may have a fresh and delectable physique but I fear your mind is failing you. Think yourself lucky, Jailkar, you could have been killed. Then he added with a flourish, Instantly!

The lord-mayor turned to the scribe. Run along lad. I will remain here with Ozmund until you return.

Phippus looked nervously about and nodded rapidly, Ozmund’s here? Of course your grace, before he almost fled the ship such was the speed he carried himself with.

Who, or what, ever Ozmund was immediately started to worry Atriaxe and Staifcairn. They looked about quickly, too, and Staifcairn began a subtle casting of magic. Atriaxe spied a group of four halberdiers at the foot of the dock, closest the shore, who seemed to be looking on events aboard the White Capricorn with more than a passing interest.

Perhaps they are the rest of the lord-mayor’s retinue, Atriaxe pointed his brother’s attention to the halberdiers.

Staifcairn squinted slightly and nodded.

The lord-mayor laughed and smacked his lips before speaking, I give you my utmost assurance that Ozmund is harmless unless it seems I am endangered. You need not be concerned.

It made sense now to Staifcairn why the lord-mayor of Nihles could travel with so small a retinue: Phippus the scribe and two pairs of halberdiers, his only company whilst on his duties. He had some kind of enchanted guardian. Yet this was Nihles, seat of no less than three magical colleges and just across the reach from five more. The Van Olaf family had a long genealogy of those competent in the magical arts. It should have been no surprise.

Tell me, graduate of Rhastavon, what business you have in Van Olaf, the lord-mayor did not ask, nor did he command, he just stated and expected an answer.

Staifcairn’s spell was almost complete but he cancelled it at the last moment. In combination with the halberdiers he believed the lord-mayor’s intentions were not malicious.

Your grace, Staifcairn nodded, I pass through on my way to Ferris on a legal matter.

A legal matter? the lord-mayor’s bushy white eyebrows shot up alarmingly, Tell me what manner of legal matter.

We seek the status of our parents’ estate, Atriaxe butted in.

You are brothers? the lord-mayor was equal as alarmed. I must say… and as he compared their likenesses awareness rested his features, I must say that I simply did not look close enough, his tone calmed as he said that.

Thank you, your grace, Staifcairn responded genially.

While you compare memoirs, and investigate each others’ deepest hidden secrets, who’s going to let me go? Jailkar squalled.

Well, I never! the lord-mayor huffed.

I will let you go, Staifcairn called back over his shoulder but without actually looking at her, When I see fit to.

The lord-mayor chuckled, Yes. Yes of course. Then loudly to Jailkar he called, Patience woman. I am sure you have had ample time to learn that by now.

They spoke slowly and the lord-mayor probed Staifcairn for the whole time it took Phippus to return with the legal papers. Jailkar bristled in the chains of coldfire and Staifcairn was beginning to wonder how long they would last. He was sure that they would last at least an hour but it had been quite some time since he had tested. Perhaps this would be the time to make the test, Staifcairn thought.

The lord-mayor looked over the papers and then sealed them in the corner wax with his signet.

These are in order and hold sway within the entire Kingdom, he stated boldly.

The brothers nodded respectfully.

Your grace we thank you for your expedience but now we must make ready to keep our part of the bargain. If you’d be so kind, Staifcairn gestured to the gangway.

Oh, of course, of course, now I regret making you leave for I am reminded of an errand I need run. I think you would be perfect to do this for me, the lord-mayor was looking at Stiafcairn when he spoke.

If you renege on the previous order about our departure then we can make arrangements, Staifcairn said mildly.

It is done. You can stay until I have determined if you will do the errand or not, the lord-mayor seemed a little flustered with the situation but he hadn’t lost any sense of his control. What I want is for you courier a message to a former colleague of mine who was once a student at the Rhastavon College.

Staifcairn was intrigued, I think that could be possible. What is this person’s name?

Ceorl Marwulf or more correctly Professor-regent Marwulf.

Staifcairn knew the name and said, I have heard the name although not in the best of tales.

Ah, yes, the old man sighed, It bothers me that Ceorl was somehow connected to that issue. I believe he was wrongly implicated. Ceorl was always such a steadfast supporter of Presiah van Olaf.

Alas, I am not so familiar with relationships of the Masters-regent.

Nor should you be, I expect, as just a graduate. Even though you have the runes of honours one would have to achieve regency to understand the intricacies of the Rhastavon collegiate politics.

As you say, Staifcairn responded but could not help but feel stung.

The lord-mayor huffed and smacked his lips then said, "All you have to do is pass on this simple phrase, ‘Kastus has found him’, and that