The Fount of Magic: Songbird River Chronicles, #3

By Brigid Collins

Three heroes, three conflicts.

                                       The fate of Songbird River City hangs in the balance.

Katherina, the Greatest Fencer in the Realm, faces false charges of murdering Klessia's Master Magician. Serille, the amateur Magician, struggles for a chance to retaliate against those who attacked the Guild of her heart.

And Singer, beloved leader of Songbird River City, returns to her homeland after defeating a rogue dragon to find her city in smoldering ruins. Her greatest fear has come true: her sword, the energy source for her city, has fallen into the hands of the evil Sorcerers in Chirlinia, and with it, the ability to control her enormous robotic Search-and-Rescue machines.

And as the three friends journey to different corners of the Two Continents, the Sorcerers' attempts the sow dissonance between them may yet work…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frosty Owl Publishing
• Release date: Oct 29, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386963349

Brigid Collins

Brigid Collins is a fantasy and science fiction writer living in Michigan. Her short stories have appeared in Fiction River, The Young Explorer's Adventure Guide, and Chronicle Worlds: Feyland. Books 1 through 3 of her fantasy series, Songbird River Chronicles, are available in print and electronic versions on Amazon and Kobo. You can sign up for her newsletter at tinyletter.com/HarmonicStories or follow her on twitter @purellian.

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The Fount of Magic

Cover Design © 2020 Deranged Doctor Designs

All rights reserved

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All incidents, dialog, and characters are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

Frosty Owl Publishing

www.frostyowlpublishing.com

About The Fount of Magic

Three heroes, three conflicts.

The fate of Songbird River City hangs in the balance.

Katherina, the Greatest Fencer in the Realm, faces false charges of murdering Klessia’s Master Magician. Serille, the amateur Magician, struggles for a chance to retaliate against those who attacked the Guild of her heart.

And Singer, beloved leader of Songbird River City, returns to her homeland after defeating a rogue dragon to find her city in smoldering ruins. Her greatest fear has come true: her sword, the energy source for her city, has fallen into the hands of the evil Sorcerers in Chirlinia, and with it, the ability to control her enormous robotic Search-and-Rescue machines.

And as the three friends journey to different corners of the Two Continents, the Sorcerers’ attempts the sow dissonance between them may yet work…

PROLOGUE

Lucrania envisioned herself as a boulder to maintain her stillness. One untimely twitch, and the delicate spell would dissipate, undoing hours of work.

Redoing work made her want to disembowel the nearest living creature.

The entire room was a self-contained universe. Thick stone walls kept the room silent and the air stagnant, and two candles burned from a table stand. This was a vault, deep within Chirlin Castle, a windowless workroom in which the hour was unknowable.

A sunken firepit in the floor cupped a bundle of purple flames that flicked at the pewter bottom of a large cauldron like snakes’ tongues. The fumes from the cauldron rose to exactly the level of Lucrania’s head, wrapping around her and filling her eyes and nose with an acridity that she relished.

Anyone other than a Sorcerer would suffocate within seconds from the pure malice of this Dark fume.

She prodded the contents of the cauldron with her mind, willing them to give off the right kind of fumes. Slowly, she shaped the cloud before her into a denizen of the Dark Ways, forming it into a servant who would obey her every whim.

The creature took shape, still writhing as its gaseous body struggled to solidify. It turned to liquid first, dripping its excess matter back into the cauldron in great hissing black drops.

Lucrania nudged the denizen once more, commanding it to solidify. Almost...

Behind her, the heavy wooden door slammed open, letting in torchlight and the harsh breathing of a man taken by his anger.

The denizen screeched and returned to a gaseous state, then dissipated.

You promised me my son would be safe out there, the intruding man shouted. His voice filled the small workroom. You promised, and now he’s dead! What do you have to say for yourself, Sorceress?

Lucrania continued to hold herself stiff. She could not afford to rip this man’s lungs out for his intrusion. They still needed him.

My liege, she whispered, turning to face him. Why must you devalue Bayrent’s sacrifice like this? He was proud to die for our noble cause, and his work beyond the White Circle bought us many advantages against our enemies.

King Borton glared at her, his face red with anger and anguish. Lucrania sneered at his display of weakness.

I am left heirless by your war against the Magicians, Borton said. Both my sons have perished. What am I supposed to do now?

Lucrania shrugged. "Creethal and I had nothing to do with Baylesh’s death. He got himself killed in his foolish treasure hunting three years ago, while we were still searching for cracks in the White Circle. Go get yourself a new wife and put a new heir in her, if that’s all you’re worried about."

Borton growled. Bring him back.

Impossible, Lucrania responded, ignoring the insolence of his commanding tone.

You said Bayrent brought his brother back as a shade. Are you a lesser Sorcerer than he was?

Lucrania leaned over the cauldron and dismissed the contents with a wave, laughing. Bayrent did no such thing. He merely put a glamour on that fool boy who tags along with Lady Katherina. Baylesh is still swimming in the Sea of the Dead as he has since he dived in headfirst, and as he will remain. No Sorcerer in the past thousand years has had a strong enough control over the Dark Ways to bring back a shade.

That will change with me, she thought. So long as everything continues to go as planned.

King Borton’s rage deserted him, and he slumped against the stone of the doorway. Then there’s no hope for my line. Your war with the Magicians—

It is your war, too, my liege, said a new voice from the corridor.

The king jumped as the newcomer stepped through the doorway. The man was tall and wore a dull brown travel cloak over his black robes. He carried something slung over his back, wrapped in a rough-woven gray cloth.

Despite the plainness of his appearance, an aura of power rolled off of him in the casual way he held himself and the tendency of his features to fall into a smirk.

Do not forget how the White Circle affects you and your people as well as us Sorcerers, my liege, he said with a mocking bow as he passed the king.

Borton scowled. It traps us all in here with you two.

So it does. Hate us all you like, my liege, but do remember that we have common cause against the Magicians.

Creethal, you slug. You should have returned hours ago, Lucrania said, her lips curling upwards for the first time all day.

Creethal slipped around the firepit, sniffing appreciatively as he passed the cauldron. You were calling a denizen, my sweet? Changed your mind, though, I see.

I was interrupted, Lucrania said, narrowing her eyes in Borton’s direction.

Ah, how unfortunate for you. I’m sorry to have left you alone with our liege’s grievances for so long, but it was well worth it, I promise you.

Creethal stepped to the work table along the far wall and swept Lucrania’s notes aside. Papers fluttered and rattled against each other, some falling to the floor.

Lucrania suppressed a sigh at her partner’s usual disregard for her workspace.

The other Sorcerer deposited his large package on the cleared space. My liege, you want further proof of the usefulness of sending Bayrent out? Just look at this.

He tugged on the ties of the package, and the gray cloth fell away to reveal his prize.

Lucrania drew in a breath. Her heart pounded at the sight of it. Did you get the—

Yes, yes, I got all of them, Creethal interrupted her. Had to use some tricky spells to bring them all here, but I did it. And so long as we hold this, we have absolute control over them.

King Borton leaned in, his eyes wide. Lucrania watched the flickering reflection of the candlelight in his pupils with satisfaction.

A victory like this would keep him quietly obedient for at least another season.

I could never have achieved this without Bayrent’s work out there, Creethal murmured, sidling up to the king. "Someone had to bring the White Circle down, as well as get the energy sprite out of her precious city. Of the three of us, he was the most logical choice to send. I am sorry for your loss, my liege."

Out of sight of the king, Lucrania smiled fully.

Yes, everything was going as planned.

CHAPTER 1

They were going home.

Iryssa could scarcely believe how remarkably good it felt to say that, to know that nothing stood in the way of her return to Songbird River City.

The cloudless day provided no shade from the afternoon sun, but a brisk breeze kept Iryssa and her companions cool as they rode on the Flyer high above the rolling landscape.

The large metal dragon, composed of an indestructible alloy known as Calthenite, had dried out after its extended soak in a pool deep in the Liquid Caves, and now flew with strong wing strokes. Its three eyes glowed a steady blue with no trace of the flickering that had precluded its loss of energy and subsequent plummet into the Caves.

Sitting astride it at the front, Iryssa hummed to herself. The flow of her energy in the notes came so easily now, whipping between herself and the Flyer. During her trek south to deal with the unnatural jungle and the huge dragon that held sway there, she had almost forgotten how wonderful just having her own energy could be.

Squashed between Iryssa and the Historian Shan Eyfish, the young Guide and amateur Magician Serille dug her fingers into Iryssa’s waist. This is not natural, she moaned over the wind.

Iryssa laughed. You’ve never had a problem with heights before, my friend.

"You’ve never been so okay with heights, Serille grumped. The Guide peered over the Flyer’s side at the ground far below them, her eyes wide with a morbid curiosity. People were not meant to fly."

You can trust the Flyer, Iryssa said, leaning into the wind until it whipped tears from her eyes. It won’t let us fall.

Riding one of Singer’s mechanical creatures does take some getting used to, Shan spoke up from the back. But you can trust them. Why, I remember when we first rode on those mechanical horses of yours, Singer. You took to it like you’d been doing it for millennia. I suppose you truly had been, of course, but that’s not the point.

Cavorting through the air around them, the wind elemental Wex chattered and chirped his happiness. He looped over and under the Flyer’s metal wings and made daring swoops and dives around his head.

The Flyer, stoic as always, ignored their conversation and the elemental’s antics and flew on.

Iryssa saw the dip of the land that indicated they were nearing the wasteland of Songbird River Valley. The late-autumn oranges and reds of the forest below them thinned out and were replaced with the fields of dust within the valley. The dust shone with a slight pink hue, reflecting the light of the sun.

It wouldn’t remain a wasteland for much longer, now that Iryssa knew the dust was her own energy, dormant, lying in wait for her to reclaim and regulate it. Taleth, the energy sprite she’d met in the southern peninsula, had inadvertently taught her that with his attempts to steal her energy from her.

I’ve never been in this section of the continent, Serille said as they crossed over the boundary between the forest and the waste. I’m excited to see your city.

You’ll love it, my dear, Shan said. It is a simply marvelous site, full of such wonderful history and artifacts. We can learn so much from the ruins, as well as from Singer’s restoration efforts.

Iryssa looked back at Serille, and the two of them shared a smirk as the Historian continued to ramble on about the glories of an excavation he had been working on before coming south with Iryssa.

The wind shifted, and a harsh odor stung at Iryssa’s nose. She grimaced at it.

Ugh, what is that smell? Serille asked, removing one hand from Iryssa’s waist to cover her nose.

Shan frowned. Something is burning, but it doesn’t smell like normal fire-smoke. Maybe something’s going on at the city?

Wex came in to land on his shoulder, burying his little green and purple face in the Historian’s neck with a squawk. Shan stroked the elemental’s wings to soothe him.

Iryssa laid her palms flat on the smooth metal of the Flyer’s neck, its unmarred surface drawing warmth out of her hands. Go faster, she urged it, adding a note of worry to her request.

The Flyer leapt forward with an undulating wave, and Serille squeaked in surprise as the motion threw her against Shan’s chest.

Iryssa’s stomach dropped uncomfortably at the rocking, and she fought to maintain her composure.

Songbird River City came into view, the sunlight glinting off its tallest spires. The western half was drenched in light, and long black shadows spilled to the east.

A plume of gray-blue smoke billowed from the city center.

Iryssa forgot about the flopping of her stomach, and she gasped.

Go! Land in the center, she commanded with audible lyrics.

The Flyer swooped in. Through the growing haze, Iryssa saw the people of the city looking up at them.

She also saw the people lying in the streets, and the crumpled piles of metal that were her machines.

She choked out a moan at the sight of the City Council building, its tall spire toppled to the plaza and the double doors at the base blasted open and wrenched off their hinges.

The Flyer let out a metallic roar, echoing Iryssa’s anger at the destruction of its customary perch.

They skimmed lower, and the cries of the injured floated up to meet them. The sooty flavor of the air coated Iryssa’s tongue as she swallowed the scream of agony growing in her throat. Numbness covered her body, and a hollow space yawned within her.

Bodies littered the plaza, both human and machine. Iryssa blinked at them through the smoke and her tears. Were some of them still moving? Had that Historian there just twitched an arm? Did she see a flicker of blue from that broken builder machine?

The Flyer landed before the ruined doors, and Iryssa slid off its neck. She didn’t wait to help Serille down, but instead rushed to the doors, where a machine awaited her. She recognized it as a Librarian, and it was propped against the broken door, lacking the energy to stand on its own.

What happened? she cried, clambering over the wreckage.

The Librarian lowered its flickering blue eyes. A Sorcerer from Chirlinia came in on a black cloud, Fair Iryssa. We all tried to stop him from entering the Council building, but he swatted us aside with the Dark Ways. Many have perished, Fair Iryssa.

The Librarian’s voice faltered and filled with static, the glow of its eyes faint now. Iryssa sang a sharp note to reenergize it. Where are the Search-and-Rescues? They should have prevented this. The hollow feeling within her stretched wider. Surely the Search-and-Rescues were out in the city, helping the injured and broken.

At her song, the Librarian perked up, as did a number of other machines throughout the plaza. The sounds of their movement clattered behind her.

They tried, Fair Iryssa, said the Librarian. But the Sorcerer came in from the sky, and only the Flyer can protect us from that direction. When the Crawler and the Climber tried to stop him, the Sorcerer darkened their eyes and tore the doors open. He took your sword, Fair Iryssa.

Iryssa swallowed against the rise of panic in her chest. Her sword, a whole half of herself, with its perpetual energy field was gone. Stolen from under her while she was away. The empty, numb space inside her made horrible, violating sense now.

The panic turned to anger. Is he still here?

A moan to her right caught Iryssa’s attention. A man was caught in the rubble there, and Serille knelt beside him, offering him water from her own waterskin.

He’s gone, Iryssa, the man said. I saw what he did to the Search-and-Rescues. Once he had the sword, their eyes turned black. When he left the city, they followed him like obedient dogs.

Iryssa fell to her knees beside the man. She saw from the insignia on his torn jacket that he belonged to the Mason’s Guild. Are you hurt, Mason?

He shook his head, minimizing his pain, but she saw the gash on his back where a falling stone must have caught him. She held her hand above the wound and focused her humming to a single frequency, directing her power into his body and stitching him back together.

I know that energy sprite in the south said a Sorcerer had given him the ability to steal energy from you, Shan said, pacing between the Flyer and his companions. But could they really have done this? They’re supposed to be safely held behind the Magicians’ Circle in Chirlinia.

A rumor came to us with the deliveries last week, said the Mason as he sat up gingerly. The Master Magician has been killed, they say.

Serille gasped and leapt to her feet. No! That can’t be true.

Shan stroked his chin. That is grave news, indeed, if it is true. Losing their Master would strike a horrible blow to the entire Guild of Magicians and work in the Sorcerers’ favor, beyond the obvious of breaking down the White Circle. Was it the Sorcerer Bayrent?

An agent, said the Librarian, the soft voice making Iryssa jump. She’d forgotten the Librarian was there as it hovered quietly the way machines of its model did. We hear the Lady Katherina did this for the Sorcerers.

What?! Iryssa cried. She would never! Katherina isn’t— She cut herself off, unable to further articulate her astonishment.

Nonsense, Shan said. Singer’s right. Lady Katherina would do no such thing.

The Mason shrugged. Apparently, the whole of the Magicians’ Guild knows it was her. Nerallo’s own assistant witnessed the murder.

The price on Lady Katherina’s head is staggering, said the Librarian.

Serille sobbed, coughing as the action caused her to breathe in more of the smoke that still laced through the air.

Iryssa wanted to comfort her amateur Magician friend, but her mind returned to her own more immediate problems. She was glad when Shan stepped up to wrap Serille in his cloak.

My sword is gone, she said, standing, and my people have been attacked in my absence. I cannot let this challenge go unanswered.

What will you do, Singer? Shan asked as he stroked Serille’s hair.

Iryssa looked through the gaping doorway of the City Council Building. She saw the pedestal where her sword usually resided, and she focused on that empty space, drew a kind of power from it.

I will go after the Sorcerers. They must have taken my sword and my Search-and-Rescues to their home in Chirlinia, so I will go there and reclaim them.

Shan frowned. That’s a very dangerous idea, my dear. The Sorcerers are clearly more powerful than any of us had assumed. To go into their den is asking for a painful death.

Nevertheless, I must enter it. They hold half of me, but I won’t let them keep it. Will you come with me? I know it is a lot to ask.

She held out a hand to him, hoping that he would accept. He’d been her constant companion for the last three years, starting with their journey through this very city before she even remembered who she was.

Serille pushed away from Shan, scrubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I’m going to Klessia. If the Sorcerers are free, they’ll wipe out every Magician they can, and they’ll