Fate's Stiletto

By CD Brown

For many years, Nina Orleavich, sellsword in the city of Taursi, has been trying to recover her family seal from her Uncle Yegor. Now, Yegor is sowing chaos among the city’s races in a sinister plot to seize control. Can Nina and bumbling mage Misha Vassilov get her name back before Yegor and the Captain of the City Guard seize control of the city of Taursi?

A rollicking sword and sorcery adventure in the style of Fritz Leiber's "Fafhrd and Grey Mouser" stories from the author of Vamp City.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gryphonwood Press
• Release date: May 23, 2019

Book preview

FATE'S STILETTO

Weapons of Fate: Book One

C.D. Brown

Table of Contents

Title Page

Fate's Stiletto (Weapons of Fate, #1)

Works by C.D. Brown

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

About the Author

FATE’S STILETTO

––––––––

For many years, Nina Orleavich, sellsword in the city of Taursi, has been trying to recover her family seal from her Uncle Yegor. Now, Yegor is sowing chaos among the city’s races in a sinister plot to seize control. Can Nina and bumbling mage Misha Vassilov get her name back before Yegor and the Captain of the City Guard seize control of the city of Taursi?

A rollicking sword and sorcery adventure in the style of Fritz Leiber's Fafhrd and Grey Mouser stories from the author of Vamp City.

Fate’s Stiletto by CD Brown

© 2019

Edited by Melissa Bowersock and Sue Baiman

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Worldwide Rights

Created in the United States of America

Published Gryphonwood Press www.gryphonwoodpress.com

Works by C.D. Brown

Fiction

Vamp City

Quarter Moon (prequel)

Vamp City

Weapons of Fate

Fate’s Stiletto

Novellas and Short Fiction

The French Quarter Hustle

Fat City Blues

Quarter Moon

Heart of Power

Humbert and McGee short story series:

Hellhounds On My Tail

Season of the Itch

Movies (as Charlie Brown):

Angels Die Slowly (available on Amazon)

Never a Dull Moment: 20 Years of the Rebirth Brass Band (available on YouTube)

Chapter One

Nobody was outside. All the guards at House Orleavich were in the front foyer as this was changing time. The night guard had lingered inside for five to eight minutes every evening for the last two weeks. Now was the time for her to move.

Antonina Orleavich—Nina to her friends—dashed to the corner of the brick structure and scaled the gutter, the opposite of what she did when she was a teenager. No work had been done to the facade in her twenty-five years, so all the footholds—some natural and some created by her—were still there. The houses, so close here even where rich people lived, made it easy to ascend in the shadows.

In a blink, she sat on the sill of her old window, ready to enter undetected. She thought the gap between the window and the wood would still be there, but it had been filled in, denying her easy access to the metal latch. She could get a fingerhold on the top window, but she dangled over the street while holding on. She could hear the guard, who had an annoying but useful whistling habit, had taken his position, so now stealth and quiet were both required.

This mission could no longer remain subtle. Pulling out a thin three-inch dagger, she dug into the dried putty surrounding the pane. With a few strokes, she notched a runnel. Then, after another minute of studied effort, she exposed the top of the glass. Working quickly along the sides, she freed the pane, reached in, and unlatched the window. Slowly, she raised the bottom window.

Finally, she was able to lower herself into the room. With her arms extended, she used her planted hands to do a very cautious tumble, pushing and rolling only when the toes of her boots were inside.

Standing, she looked around her former room. Every trace of her childhood had been removed: where once fifteen porcelain-headed dolls had rested, empty bookshelves; the armoire filled with silken dresses in every color of the rainbow, now a trim but functional desk; and the portrait of her at nine, her smile wistful even as a child, replaced with an oil painting of a bucolic farm scene. Only the four-posted bed, cream ruffles along the mattress, was hers. But she also knew she’d never lie there until her mission was complete.

Unlike the richer, more well-appointed houses further up the hill, the staircase was not wide, but it did run from the front door up to the second floor. Three other rooms were within hearing distance, so Nina creeped down after making sure her saber's scabbard was lashed close to her leg.

No lights anywhere. She had finally timed it perfectly.

Into the library filled with venerable manuscripts with golden script on the spines. But the chess table now held a map of the city. Nina gave it a passing look, noticing a few squiggles and outlines drawn in, but decided it wasn't worth her attention. Neither was the rosewood desk, filigreed and covered in scroll work, a much more ostentatious work than her father's functional pine one.

Up the rolling ladder to the corner where the crown molding looked like the top of a marble column. She found the hidden latch and pulled the molding forward to reveal a metal-clad storage box. She flipped it open: empty.

Nina, Nina, Nina. Did you think I wouldn't move it? Her uncle's voice, thick and rich as aged honey, nevertheless sent her spine shivering. Turning, she looked down upon Yegor Orleavich, his sagging face supporting his beard—thin, silky, and stretching to the middle of his sternum—while a crimson robe of heavy wool encased the rest of his body. His nightcap clung to his forehead, the peak dropping to the middle of his back.

You usually trust your muscle to keep your place safe. Nina turned to face him but did not descend. So, yes, I relied on your overconfidence. How did you know I was here?

I know and that is all I will say. He struck a match and lit a candle on the map table. You have once again put me in a tricky position. And so, yet again, I shall beg you to drop your grudge and return to your family or I will be forced to have you arrested.

Then give me the medallion. It's my birthright.

Nina. The old man sighed. Ninotchka ...

You lost the right to call me that when you disowned me. Nina felt the flush of anger but knew she had to keep steady to make it out of this room unshackled.

The medallion belongs to the head of the household. Yegor seemed straighter in his anger. And that is me for the foreseeable future. I know you think I do not deserve my title, but your claims have been dismissed. I'm too tired to continue with your obstinacy. Guards!

Two men appeared in the doorway, both clad in protective leather and metal helms with sabers in their hands. Yegor slipped between them. Make sure she ends up with the Guard.

As Yegor trudged up the steps, the guards closed in by inches. Nina waited for them to get within three feet then pushed off the wall, sending the ladder towards the desk. As she passed the guard on her left, she leapt from ladder to desk, landing in a defensive position with sword drawn. The left guard swung at her knees, but she cleared it with a quick jump. The one who attacked blocked his partner from reaching Nina, so as she landed, she kicked out, hitting the forehead section of the man's helmet. He tipped back and stumbled into his partner. Nina jumped down and ran from the office.

She paused at the front door, wondering if she could defeat these two and find her treasure, but these guards were quite professional: they had recovered and charged her in that slip of a thought. She obliged them by opening the door and watching the two trip in the transom, booting the second one in the backside to eject him from the house.

Another street fight, she thought. I've become such a riffraff.

Knowing she didn't have time to find the medallion without destroying the house, she slipped outside and faced down her uncle's muscle.

I've dispatched better men than you from my usurper's service. She tipped her blade, feinting back and forth so they couldn't guess where she would attack.

As one adjusted his canted helmet, the other smiled. We know. That's why the City Guard is on their way.

Nina cocked her ear, hearing the flat hooting of the Guard's alarm. She expected three to five men to round the corner soon. Well, you boys have complicated things. Let's get to business then.

They were content to block her thrusts, settling into defensive strategies while cutting off any means of escape. Standing on the steps of her former home, she knew a few ways to escape, but these men kept the sharp and pointy ends near her chest. She saw only one place to go: up.

It's time for Uncle Yegor to die! Her outburst, appropriately melodramatic, widened the eyes of the guards as she had never attacked their master before, even when she had the opening. When she turned to re-enter the house, they bolted to stop her.

Having no intention of completing her threat, Nina put one foot on the base of the column nearest her and pushed herself up. Right hand fingers digging into the square at the top, she lifted her now swinging legs and the guards barreled under her, crashing into the door. She dropped back to the porch and with two quick swipes of her blade split the guards' pants. They turned to grab her but were caught in their drooping breeches. They fell and flopped, looking like seals trying to walk on a beach.

She wanted to head east on this narrow lane—all lanes back here were narrow because no one wanted the clacking sounds of horses and carriages to upset their tender sleep—and get back to Avenue of the State where she could mix with the milling crowds of drunken sailors and the women who desired their coin, then slink back to her own apartment. But the City Guard four-man squad came from that direction.

Spot on for the numbers, she thought, then ran west where more houses of the city's highest-ranking citizens formed a maze, until she reached Alchemy Quarter, the series of specialty shops for the collegiate crowd. She knew these streets well, but one wrong turn could get her captured. And the years since she last roamed the narrows had been too many.

Halt! shouted one of the Guard, but he did so without screaming. Even he was loath to wake one of the inhabitants, lest his job be sacrificed for her capture.

But the Guard were much better soldiers than the hired goons paid by the highborns. She dashed from shadow to shadow, alley to alley, each thin stream between brick homes, yet the guard always tailed near. She decided the open courtyard at Alchemy Square, the center of the quarter where scribes, psychics, and jugglers collected during the day, might be best for fighting.

As she entered the Square, the quiet field left her open. Nevertheless, she turned to face the men with her saber out and ready.

You would make us fight you, girl? As of now, you have only a minor infraction. The one who spoke had three parallel stripes on his left sleeve. A sergeant and leader of this patrol, no doubt.

I never do anything small, sir. She cut her blade under his, lifting the sergeant's sword until the point was skyward, then she slashed at his hilt. The soldier dropped his weapon and held his hand where Nina's blade had cut its back. And don't call me girl.

Without words, the other three guards charged. Nina could see how aggressive their moves were, so she countered with passivity. Each moved directly toward her, three bodies converging on one place. All three swords thrusted forward, so she rolled under the blades and into the legs of the soldier on her right. She heard the crunching as his nose slammed into the grass. It wouldn't be as good as stone, but surely he would be stunned for a few minutes.

The center one had a quickness she didn't anticipate, so she had to dash left as he sliced down. She parried most of the blow, but he was able to keep her on her knees. With her left hand, Nina pulled out her small dagger and punched it into the guard's kneecap. The leather padding of his breeches deflected the blade, but his instinct made him jump back. Nina stood and fled to a line of wooden benches.

The sergeant rejoined the battle as Nina leaped onto a bench seat, looking to gain some advantage from the height. With the sergeant at her back, she was surrounded, but could still look down on her opponents. As the lower ranking guards swung for her knees, the sergeant swung for her waist since the bench back prevented lower cuts. Antonina parried the high blow but kept being driven back, leaping from bench to bench. In two swings the Guards had driven her back onto the field and away from the benches, finally pushing her to the stone wall that enclosed the Square from the north.

Three blades pointed toward her as her back touched rock. These blades were not as nice as the one she held, but they would do a fine job of slicing her apart. As she prepared to surrender, she saw someone had appeared to her right. A man—about her age in a long brown robe and a weird medallion hanging from his neck—held a confused look on his face as he stared at the sheer wall of the stone building.

Where's the door?

I don't see one. Nina tried to look at both him and the guards, but the steel finally held her gaze.

The man gasped and shouted, तिमे स्लोव्स ग्रेअत्ल्य्. Whatever language it was shocked the guards. A lot. They were so shocked they had stopped moving. As the guards retained their statue-like posture, Nina allowed herself a gaze at her new friend.

What did you do?

Save you from these men? He sounded unsure if this was true. You did need saving, correct?

This time? Yes. Although you may regret your action.

Why?

Nina could see the other guard rising, although he did so very slowly. I'll tell you over a drink. Let's go.

She grabbed the man's arm and pulled him away from the Square, out of the Quarter and down the Avenue of the State where no one who was asked would say they saw them.

––––––––

"So, you're kicking me out?"

Master Wizard Popov stroked his beard as he looked upon his student. Popov's growth wasn't a bird's nest bush like Sarsin, his colleague at the Wizard's Guild, but more like a waterfall: straight, drooping and expressing the gravitas necessary for his position. His put his finger under the young man's bare chin—he was the only male wizard with no facial hair—and tilted his head until they locked eyes.

Misha, you only see the negatives. You are graduating! I'm bestowing you with the full wizard title. This is a day of celebration.

But I haven't even chosen a discipline yet. Mikhail Vassilov's boyish mien slumped into a full pout. Popov gathered his full persuasive powers into an unctuous smile to address the young man known as Misha.

This is a new day here at Taursi College. Never before have we given honors to a generalist. But Misha, you have done what few students have even tried. You've taken classes in all disciplines. You have wide-ranging talents to help you get ahead in the world.

Master, I understand. But this semester's necromancy class—

It's done. We, your professors, have decided. Ten years studying the basics is sufficient for graduation.

Popov stood, his frail body starting to fail him. He leaned on his cane, a gnarly cedar branch he'd found during his youthful travels and wobbled to the intricately carved safe at the back wall of his office.

Misha looked around. He'd been in this office many times over his stay at the college, yet he never could pin down the internal geography. He was sure the office slowly rotated around the campus despite the entrance door always being in the same place. The thick, hidebound tomes lining the bookshelf were worn, well-used as Master Popov privately tutored the best students. Misha had only been called in to talk about feelings, never seeing the runes on those vellum pages.

Popov pressed a series of runes within the carving. Misha could see the radiance of the magic as Popov's arthritic knuckles moved faster than usual. The safe opened with an audible crack and the master pulled back its door. Misha could see the only thing within it was a medallion about the size of his palm attached to a long brass chain. Popov lifted it and turned to Misha, the old man looking proud as he held it out.

Misha nodded. My graduation rune. After all this time, even he himself had doubted he would ever earn one. These were tailored directly to the student, a personal source of power so tuned to their aura that it could only work when worn by its recipient. Misha peered to see what the rune said but was confused.

Master, forgive me. I don't know this one.

Popov chuckled, an attempt at being avuncular but sounding more asthmatic. I've never awarded this one before. It's the Null Set.

Excuse me?

My child, our magic is all about creation. Adding life to where it lacks, increasing power by shifting energies around, drawing from different mystical rivers to make a cocktail of infinite possibilities. We, as users of magic, are always concerned with a something.  But you? Your power lies in finding the negative spaces, the empty corners of our disciplines, and attempting to understand them. I must say, mentoring you through this strength has been a unique experience.

You're saying I'm a master of ... nothing?

There you go again, putting a bad attitude on it. Why not see its potential? Why not focus yourself on new research to find where nothing is the most powerful force. As we know, nature abhors a vacuum. In that moment, certainly the skilled can mine great magicks.

If you say so, Master. Misha bowed his head and Popov put the necklace onto his student.

Mikhail Vassilov, I, as grandmaster of Taursi Wizard College, bestow upon you the title of Wizard Full Grade. All rights and privileges of our illustrious Guild are also yours on this day. Popov handed Misha a scroll. This is your letter of introduction to Grand Master Sarsin who will then guide you through the induction.

Misha held his medallion upside down in front of his face as he didn't want to take it off his neck. He could feel the power within the rune, but he still had no idea how to take full advantage. Research. Yes, Misha was good at that. As Popov walked to the back of the room, Misha followed him.

So, Master, as an alumnus, do I have access to the library?

Haven't you been all through those books?

Yes, but you have presented me with a new challenge.

Popov stopped at a door, one which Misha had never seen before. As usual, you cling to the familiar. Part of becoming a great wizard is self-reliance. Yes, we all like libraries and their tomes and grimoires filled with knowledge. But we must also make magic useful. We must use our skills, not just read about them. Popov turned the door's handle. Anyway, Sarsin can answer your questions. Popov pushed open the door.

A chilly wind cut Misha's cheeks. Where exactly did this door lead to?

Master? My things?

See Sarsin. And with unexpected strength, Popov turned Misha and pushed him through the door with his cane. Good luck, my boy, he called out, then sealed the portal until the next student needed to leave. Good luck? That one will need it most of all.

Misha tripped as his feet hit the cobblestones. Stumbling for a few steps, he regained his balance, then looked back to where Popov's office used to be. Where's the door?

I don't see one. He turned to see a young woman by his side, her blade drawn and her body in a defensive stance. What had he been thrust into?

Apparently, a street fight. He turned and stood behind the sword bearer, three blades held by three heavily armored men now threatening both of them. By instinct, he called out the spell to slow time. He had done this many times because he was in the habit of dropping old books. Now, it froze the attackers although they were still technically moving. The woman looked both happy and rueful at the same time.

What did you do?

Save you from these men? He assumed she was being threatened. His action had been so reflexive he hadn't thought she might not appreciate his work. You did need saving, correct?

She agreed with him but said something about how he may come to regret it. Were all city ladies like this one? Probably not, but she hustled him along, telling him to follow her to a safe place. Now he was really confused. Who had saved who exactly? As she was leading him to a tavern, he hoped to get the full explanation there.

Already life outside the college was a mess. But he now knew there was no going back.

Chapter Two

Misha read his introduction letter while Nina went to the bar. They had found a table in the far corner at a wide enough angle to see who might come in the front door, especially if those City Guards wanted to fulfill their duty. The tavern wasn't completely full, but sword-bearing folk sat at the circular wooden tables. A samovar boiled in the corner, but most seemed to want something stronger, as shots of vodka or mugs of beer took up most of the table space. Misha was glad these wooden chairs had leather slings so he could lean back while reading.

He scanned through the plain language, nothing there but his status as graduated and qualifying for Guild membership. Very confusing, as he'd had little in the way of warning about his soon-to-be freedom. Nina returned to the table with a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a plate of pirogies, her nimble fingers balancing it all with little feeling of danger.

Climbing walls gives me an appetite but feel free to eat. She said this with a smile, as if he was supposed to understand anything about who she was and what she was doing. Anyway, I'm taking it you are a wizard. How come no beard?

Everyone always asks that. Misha bit into a pirogi, the rich pork fat filling his mouth with pleasure, but the meat was so hot as to burn that pleasure away, leaving nothing but a scalded tongue. After a sip of wine, he said, I grow it out, but then I don't like the look of it. So I shave it to a goatee or a mustache, but that's never right. Then I wipe the slate clean and start over. Lately, shaving is much easier than deciding how I want to look.

I guess people expect wizards to have beards. Unless they are women. They do have women wizards, right?

Yes. But some of them have beards better than mine.

Nina paused at the thought but moved on. Anyway, this could work out for you. In Taursi, sometimes it's best to hide your true self.

You may be right. That could be the power of nothing. He stroked his bare chin, missing the days when his goatee was long enough to fill his grasp.

I don't understand you.

Well, the feeling is mutual.

The two of them looked at each other, then decided to move on, hopefully having just one conversation at a time. Nina leaned forward, taking a full dumpling into her mouth, then speaking without swallowing.

I may not look it, but I'm from one of the more prominent families.

I wouldn't have guessed,