SylverMoon Chronicles: SylverMoon Chronicles, #8

By Confederacy of the Quill

Time travel proves unreliable... an assassin faces a new and unexpected assignment... in the wild west, sometimes the things in the night are even wilder... a challenge born from vengence takes a potentially-deadly turn... the neighborhood bar holds its share of secrets...

The international writers cooperative, the Confederacy of the Quill, brings you the latest installment of their annual short story anthology. This series includes stories in the genres of Science Fiction, Fantasy, Horror, and Adventure. New worlds await you!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sylver Quill Press
• Release date: Feb 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393783091

Book preview

Foreword

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Ascension – To take life beyond the point where you received it. That is, after all, the drive of humanity.

Things are no different in the Confederacy of the Quill, taking the word, thought, and occasional dream to the forge where our tales are hammered out. Like fine steel, they are folded over and over again until it is a formidable thing.

Welcome to Volume Eight of the SylverMoon Chronicles. The Four Horsemen await you around the bend of the next page. Happy Reading!

And remember, we would love to hear from you!

You can find us at Confederacy of the Quill Online

Continuations

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Pages turn... and wonders burn

Through the light of the SylverMoon,

Setting fire to the passion of imagination.

Old friends and unexpected ends

Battling through fates foul and fair

Reporting yet again to this station.

Students and Masters

Continuation of Hero of Junn-Gladeer (Vol. I),

The Bane of The WarloKs (Vol. II),

In the Wake of Shadows (Vol. III),

Cometh the WarloK King (Vol. IV),

Champion of Destiny (Vol. V),

Just a Touch of the DragoN (Vol. VI),

Boon and Dragonbane (Vol. VII), &

A Dance of Blade and Woe (Vol. VII)

(Fantasy Serial)

by Reiter

The wind dipped low underneath the scattered clouds, tickling the trees, causing their colored leaves to giggle. Some of the gusts made it to the forest floor, kicking up dust, dead leaves, and broken twigs. The orchestra of sound was capped by the song of the birds coming as a vote of appreciation for their bountiful breakfast and the signal that they were about to return to their duties of nesting. But other than the sounds of flora and fauna, only the whisper of slow, soft strides could be heard, and then only by the sharpest of senses.

Breaking the near-silence was a sigh of exasperation followed by a voice rife with anger and frustration. I do not see the point of this.

"So many responses to choose from, Jharsen thought, allowing a smirk to register on his face. But alas, I am not here to trade subtle points of humor with this child. I cannot allow her to- Jharsen’s eyes squinted at the young female holding the short sword in her hand, the light of the DoaH Star shining off the steel. No, this can be used to my advantage!

Inasmuch as you are a student, I do not expect you to see the reasoning behind each and every lesson. The Master SorceroR lunged forward, swinging down with his cane.

Surprised by his speed, Varzanthi did not know how to respond. She jumped at the sight, sound, and sensation of Jharsen’s cane knocking her sword down from her guard.

"Move!" she thought, opting to step back. She blinked at the speed of her mentor’s movement and the harshness of his action. She backpedaled, but Jharsen’s forward lunge did not stop with the first stride. He took another step, planting his foot and delivering a turning back-kick to her chest. Suddenly her back was moving faster than her retreating stride. The grass and leaves made for poor padding, and Varzanthi huffed as the air was forced from her lungs. She started to get up, but was prevented by a sharp pain in her chest. She had lifted her chest up into the point of Jharsen’s Ekano, a blade she had not even seen him draw from inside his cane.

No, he said softly, staring into her eyes. "I don’t expect you to see the bounty of our lessons before we begin them, but I would like to believe you come to see their worth as you’re learning them... assuming, of course, that you are indeed learning.

Yield, student, he hissed in a grumbling voice. "For once again, you have been bested!

"And there it is, Jharsen thought, seeing the ire rise up in Varzanthi’s eyes. Let us now see what it is I am teaching... and whether I am of the mettle to call myself her mentor!"

Your edge should be parallel with my shoulders, Terran! Varzanthi growled, smacking the flat of his blade with her bare hand just before sweeping her leg just above the ground.

Jharsen back-flipped, landing in a defense-ready one foot-one knee stance. Varzanthi’s leg sweep passed harmlessly under him. She rolled with the momentum the attack had generated. The Master SorceroR thought, "Another vote of gratitude I give to you, Efam, my brother." He set himself for another defensive measure, noting the flaring of Varzanthi’s threshold.

You are not fit to touch me! Varzanthi declared, coming up out of her roll. She threw her hands toward Jharsen, her summoned MannA taking the form of Combashida. The surge of physical force burst into this realm, sending leaves and dust in all directions before an invisible pulse shot out for Jharsen.

By the gods! Jharsen whispered, crossing his arms in front of his face as he too took to the SpellCasteR combat form. He knew that trying to counter her thrust with one of his own would have only led to backlash and a pounding attack landing against his body. He instead sent his force to form a shield in front of him, one that came to a point directly in front of his face. His body shuddered as her thrust met his construct, and he breathed easier as cunning and technique won out over brute force.

Raahhh! Jharsen yelled, keeping with Combashida and making a gesture with his hands like he had taken hold of her head and shoved it downward.

Winded from her initial effort and confused as to why it had not toppled her mentor, Varzanthi had no measure of defense, and her face was driven into the forest floor.

Well, Jharsen sighed, taking a moment to recover, "if not my Terran hands, perhaps the mud will suffice you. Isn’t that where all worms make their homes?"

The training area had long since been cleared of any stones, leaving only grass and fallen leaves. Three TenStar ago, the ground had been fairly soft. It had been made soupy with all of the activity, and there was a slight splash of mud from the impact of Varzanthi’s face.

Fiarna closed her eyes, sympathetically wincing in pain. The Guardian had been witness to the lesson... to all of the lessons. She knew exactly why Jharsen now pressed the young woman that was the charge of the concerned WarrioR. Ever since their rather rushed departure from Sh’Kar, it seemed that Varzanthi was regressing in her level of skill and composure instead of improving. "Oh, Master, I know you are trying to make her mad, but I believe you might have drawn your bowstring too far back on that volley."

An uninvited perspective, Fiarna, Jharsen said, pointing to an enchanted lantern, reminding Fiarna that there was more than one lesson, more than one student, Jharsen was currently teaching. "And the moment the arrow flies at the behest of the target, we are talking about something other than archery.

"And I would like to consider myself to be among the better archers in this regard!" Jharsen thought as Varzanthi lifted her head from the mud. The face that greeted his eyes was not that of a young woman coming into the Age of Mahn or her choice of Kaa-Trah. It was the glare of an exalted presence that had come to the end of their patience for the attending underlings. Steam rolled off the mud as she snarled at the man.

It might not have been the wisest course of action. In fact, Jharsen knew he was in the wrong even before he started laughing. Perhaps it was the spirit of Efam that had taken hold of the man’s normally calming demeanor, but an unhinged cackle burst from Jharsen’s mouth as the hand holding his cane slapped against his thigh.

Hot-blooded and cold mudded! he cried. No wonder there’s steam!

You dare to laugh at me?! Varzanthi growled, slowly getting up to her hands and knees.

Varzanthi! Fiarna called, not at all liking what she was seeing.

Mind your place, Terran! Varzanthi hissed, flicking her free hand toward her Guardian. A wave of invisible force flew from her fingertips, lifting Fiarna from the ground, hurling her nearly thirty meters before returning her to the ground. The woman gave a short scream of pain upon impact, a cry that managed to escape her lips before she resumed mastery over her mind and body.

Feel the pain later, Fiarna, the woman whispered to herself, reaching up for the side of a tree. Get up and to her before she loses too much of herself.

Perhaps we should suspend your training for the moment, Jharsen suggested, taking a step back, easing his hand slowly for his shoulder bag.

"Master, is that fear I hear in your voice?" Varzanthi growled. Without waiting for a response, she lunged, propelling her body forward as Jharsen’s hand came out of his bag. She streaked over the ground, rushing headlong into a forming cloud of Portal Smoke. Her body disappeared into the dimensional door as Jharsen closed his eyes, maintaining his hold over the enchanted gases. His hands never stopped moving as he turned, opening his eyes to look at the largest of the nearby trees. Stepping toward the stalwart plant, Jharsen slowly exhaled between his lips, thrusting his hands toward the tree. Another portal formed in front of his fingertips and Varzanthi flew out from it, her body coming to a stop against the unyielding tree. Her body fell to the ground, but her sword continued in the path of her flight, landing in the brush.

The Master SorceroR winced in sympathetic pain, witnessing the collision. He started to turn away from his student, to give her time to collect herself. But he felt that something was wrong, and that was before he heard Varzanthi growling.

"Is it possible that the blood of the DragoN conveyed its Flora Guard?" he pondered, taking a grip of his cloak. His collected MannA flowed through the grasp, embracing the fibers of the fabric. His body shuddered from a sudden and powerful impact. Jharsen grunted, falling forward on the ground. He rolled, quickly getting to his feet and turning to face his student. He could see her boots disappearing into a thick grouping of bushes.

Hmmm, it would appear that neither of us fared well in that exchange, Jharsen commented, taking a moment to recover from the two rushed castings. Come, Varzanthi, this wanting Terran awaits you!

Unable to see clearly, the stunned young woman rushed to get to her feet, closing her eyes in an effort to deny her states of body and mind. I, she panted, staggering three steps to her left before regaining her balance. I... am going... to kill you!

Better than you have tried, mud-worm, Jharsen hissed, turning to face Varzanthi. ... and I have a feeling you are not about to challenge your current place in their ranks.

A high-pitched wail shot from Varzanthi’s mouth after she held out her hand, receiving her dropped sword. A flare of light shone from where her hand grasped the pommel and the young woman slowly rose to her feet; a soft breeze began moving against the wind, swirling around Varzanthi’s head and torso.

"Of course, Jharsen thought, readying himself, feeling that he still held a portion of the enchanted herbs that created Portal Smoke, because this is the very moment when her threshold should adopt an elemental component!"

Master! Fiarna cried just before her body flew into Jharsen’s back. She made the tackle as soft as she felt she could afford, and was only slightly relieved that she possessed the strength to move both of them out of the path of the slashing tail belonging to the silver-winged black DragoN. The bladed appendage made a sharp hissing sound as it passed over the tumbling bodies.

Hah! a growling female voice laughed as a soft thud registered the arrival of a second DragoN. The female shimmered in the light of the DoaH Star, her sunstone-line scales flourishing as she linked with her threshold. A very valiant effort, Brother. But when dealing with Casters, I’ve always found it best to strike an area. As MannA flared in the green eyes of the statuesque woman, droplets of water formed around her mouth, becoming a small tunnel of rushing waters.

Jharsen came out of his forced roll with all kinds of questions. Before he could take in the air to give voice to his inquiries, the presence of the DragoNs registered to his senses. Hearing Fiarna moving behind him, Jharsen sent back his arm and gave a sharp whistle from his lips. By fair and foul fates, child, let your grasp on me prove your love of life!

Fiarna leaned forward, wrapping her arms around the offered limb. Where did they-

The yellow DragoN breathed out; a cone of crackling blue flame came shooting through the tunnel of swirling water. Jharsen and Fiarna took to the air, the Master SorceroR calling for all the MajiK his Ashari-kissed blood could deliver.

WOOOOOOH! Fiarna’s cry echoed over the treetops as she looked down to see that the breath-attack crackled centimeters from her feet. Whatever you do, don’t stop!

Jharsen climbed higher into the sky, nearly reaching the clouds before the blue fire gave out. He stopped his ascension, choosing to hover for a moment while reaching again into his bag. We must be away from this place.

We’re leaving?! Fiarna barked.

"My dear, I find it hard enough contending with one Dragyn, let alone four DragoNs. It would appear that things did not go swimmingly well in Sh’Kar."

As if on cue, three DragoNs came up from the forest, flying toward Jharsen’s location. The yellow female led the silver-winged black DragoN and his blue compatriot, whose silver-tipped scaled sparkled with generated MannA.

Yes, perhaps we should be going, Fiarna agreed.

Always a comfort to deal with persons of reason, Jharsen replied, using another application of Portal Smoke, this one augmented by his own MajiK. Jharsen allowed their bodies to fall into the portal and they were soon out of sight.

Varzanthi looked up to see her mentor and Guardian teleport to places unknown, but it was not abandon she felt, only the anger of not having the opportunity to finish what she had started with Jharsen Lokbane. Get back here! she cried, knowing her words could not be heard by the intended recipient. She then grunted in frustration, looking at her sword. She took a step back, lifting the weapon to head height before moving into a kata she had never been taught. Her strides were slow and precise, her swings graceful and increasing in speed. Coming to the end of the kata, she looked at her sword and frowned.

Why didn’t you do that before?!

One does not fly into flying, Relsentia Firetongue warmly conveyed as she approached. Her eyes glanced at what was left of the encampment and smirked.

"Clever Terran, she thought, signaling the horses to depart.

"S’Gorshyn, she projected her thoughts to the blue DragoN, track after the horses and you will find the SorceroR. Take Uniassa. Rain mayhem down on that Terran until he is no more!"

"As you command, my Queen," the DragoN projected before growling and looking at his sunstone-marked sister. Nothing needed to be said when their eyes met, and the blue DragoN turned West, flying away from the DoaH Star with his sister DragoN following behind him, making the most of the light of the early DoaH.

Relsentia approached slowly, her hands up in surrender. She recognized the look on the woman’s face, and it was clear that not only Jharsen was anxious to see the effects of Varzanthi’s emotions.

I know that look, she shared with the Terran female. In truth, I did not think you were capable of it. I apologize for my shortsightedness.

What do you want, Relsentia? Varzanthi said, fanfaring her blade.

I want to save my Sister! she replied, taking another step forward. I was wrong to assume you were limited to Terran means and measures. You have the blood of a Queen DragoN running through your veins! And, as Fate would have it... your mother was also my mother!

I’ll not tolerate your lies! Varzanthi barked, taking a defensive stance.

Then let me prove my claim to you! Relsentia pleaded, drawing even closer to Varzanthi.

How?

Simple, child, she smiled, moving another stride. Trust me at my word. I stand for Dragonkind, and we are in a deep and overwhelming conflict.

What has that got to do with me?

You? You are the means to our salvation!

Varzanthi took a step back, her anger beginning to wane. I find that highly unlikely.

Of course you do, Relsentia smiled. "You’re a simple girl, born in a simple place. And how could Junn-Gladeer hope to affect the entire world twice in the same age?! But it has, Varzanthi; once by the foolishness of the WarloKs... and once by the blood of the DragoN!

You are meant for greater things than that lowly town, my child. The power of the DragoN is yours... including its incomparable knowledge, though your conscious mind is only just beginning to come to grasps with that. Take, for example, what you just did with the sword. It was magnificent!

Thank you, Varzanthi replied, looking again at her sword. She lifted her weapon and spun it about her body with incredible speed and precision, finishing with a quick sheathing of the blade. Realizing what she had done, Varzanthi blew out slowly. Whoa!

And there is so much more for you to learn, Relsentia added, placing her hand on Varzanthi’s shoulder. Like how we are able to extend our mind and focus our will onto another living thing, commanding them without uttering a single word. Sleep well, child!

A soft moan fell from Varzanthi before she fell to the ground unconscious.

That was masterfully done, Tarsayar remarked, walking up to stand beside his betrothed.

You came out of the SorceroR’s Portal Smoke, Relsentia noted. He did not detect your arrival.

That was my intention.

"But the woman did feel you, the DragoN commented, dropping to her knee to drive her fist into Varzanthi’s face. It was a powerful blow; surprising Tarsayar, and sending Varzanthi into an even deeper slumber. Only a DragoN has ever felt or foiled your Smoke MajiKs."

The woman calls herself Varzanthi’s Guardian, Tarsayar said, looking around. The SorceroR has proven himself to be painfully resourceful. If he has trained the woman in the Old Age meaning of the word-

Then that woman is also part DragoN, Relsentia said through gritted teeth. We will have to deal with that before we can further our plans.

Oh?

Relsentia stood up and turned to face the powerfully-built WarrioR who maintained his color scheme even in human form. His black Scaled Armour perfectly fit his form, and his silver battle cape shimmered in the low light and flapped at the slightest breeze.

I’ll not make the same mistakes as the WarloKs, my love. And if you are half as eager to sire our children, you would be wise to follow suit.

You are my Queen, Tarsayar vowed, taking hold of her hand and kissing the palm. "I am your servant."

Then carry this child for me. She is to be the bait in what will serve as Jharsen’s final trap!

Falling down through the portal of gray gasses, Fiarna noted a much different sensation than her previous exposures to Portal Smoke. She felt a force working against her body, softly tugging in all directions at once. The soft tugging became a definite pull, quickly making its way up in intensity until it felt like a concerted effort. Fiarna closed her eyes, trying to find the means to improve her grip on her Master’s arm. And then the pulling stopped.

You can open your eyes now, Jharsen said in a soft, low voice, patting her hands that had nearly cut off all circulation in his arm. We’ve landed.

Fiarna opened her eyes to see an expansive balcony tucked against the side of a manor underneath a cascade of stars. She released Jharsen, taken aback by the décor of the elevated porch. She watched as Jharsen walked toward a large stone panel decorated with swirls of pearl and platinum. A simple wave of his hand and the panel parted, transforming into a pair of sliding glass doors.

Welcome home, Master, a warm and soothing voice called to Jharsen as he walked inside what appeared to be an even more impressive bedchamber.

"Thank you, Tovakia. Welcome, Fiarna, to Oral Keep."

Oral Keep, she repeated, looking around the room and all of the accoutrements that Jharsen called home. My first inclination: to be offended that we were not brought here for our training.

But? Jharsen asked, exiting his room into the wide corridor on his path to his laboratory.

I’m reminded of what we just escaped. But destruction is destruction, is it not, Master? The woods will be marked for a time behind the attack of the DragoNs.

Not as much as you might think, Jharsen offered. The fire coming from the yellow wench was a perverted form of MannA. It is designed to make any MannA it touched to lose its harmony, becoming super-charged and unstable. That’s why she also used water in the application. She needed to protect herself from being touched by the blue flame. The yellow slug is probably gifted with elemental control, he grumbled. To say nothing of that smoke-ridden assassin!

You didn’t feel its approach! Fiarna concluded. Her point of pride was quickly overwhelmed with confusion. But how is that?

Anti-detection MajiKs, Jharsen answered.

No, I meant how did I feel them when you missed them?

Their MajiKs were meant to work on Terrans, he said matter-of-factly, or should I say the Binadamu.

I’m walking on two legs just as you are, Master, Fiarna argued.

You are indeed Terran, Fiarna, he said, turning to look at the woman as he continued down the corridor. "But that is not all you are! Or is your time in Sh’Kar so distant a memory?"

Fiarna kept walking, but she looked away from Jharsen, her jaws flexing as she gritted her teeth. No, Master... it is as you said it would be: part of me for the rest of my DoaH.

Regrets?

Only that we weren’t able to make those damn things bleed!

On that occasion, Guardian... only on that occasion. Now, I need for you to put your anger in a place where you are using it and it is not using you. Jharsen turned to walk normally and proceeded into the stairway. There are preparations we must be about in the making!

*     *     *     *     *     *     *

Murinoy walked up to the edge of the stream, rope in mouth, tired and aching. The rope dropped from his mouth, allowing him to take a cool drink of water. He was soon joined by three other horses, one of which was near the point of complete exhaustion and it staggered a few strides before bracing and gulping down water. It was not that Murinoy was indifferent to the suffering of the other mounts. But while they were able to run, he would be about the wishes of his rider. The water was indeed refreshing, but not so much a welcome thing as the scents that reached his nose. Lifting his head from his drinking, the steed looked across the stream to see a recognizable figure emerging from the brush. A simple hand gesture told Murinoy all he needed to know and his head lowered back into the stream to take in more water.

The figure stared from the shrubs, very little of its body coming out from under an immense cloak. It moved tentatively at first, its head turning in all directions before advancing any further. After careful examination, there was a slight sinking of the chest and shoulders, as if a heavy sigh of relief had been given. The next two strides were taken, the third interrupted as the head of the yellow DragoN burst up from the stream, the rest of its body still transformed into water. The head flashed downward and jaws snapped shut, taking in nearly the entire figure, save for the legs just beneath the knees.

Uniassa Starscale howled with delight, swallowing her victim. I have you, SorceroR! I have you! Relsentia might have failed to destroy you, but Uniassa has delivered you to the Grey Realm!

Well done, Uniassa, S’Gorshyn shared as he landed, his body coming in from an unfolding wind. The horses were scattered, but neither of the DragoNs had come to eat them. That was a most ingenious trap.

Made possible by your tracking skills, S’Gorshyn, my Brother, Uniassa quickly replied. How you managed to bring them to this stream and not the lake to the south still mystifies me.

Stryders and the like rely greatly on their sense of smell, he explained. With what I can do to the winds, having them detect this stream and miss the lake was a very simple matter.

Simply genius! Jharsen said, coming out of the brush, waving his hand and cane toward Uniassa who immediately convulsed and curled up in pain. "I will have to note that for the future.

Would it be too much to ask for a simple cessation of aggression? he asked, looking up at the blue DragoN. I’d hate to have to put the sunstone-blessed wonder through any further torment... let alone death.

S’Gorshyn looked at his sister in confusion. He could tell she was in pain, but she made no sound other than that created by her body grinding against the grass and shore of the stream.

Dragonsbane, Jharsen shared, "nearly every SorceroR’s bag can generate it and I’d suspect the same number do not know how to truly use it. Oh sure, it hurts the magnificent creature when applied to its skin, but that is not the most effective application, is it, S’Gorshyn? No, that is a very closely guarded secret... like so many others I uncovered during my visitations to the libraries of Sh’Kar.

I must admit, I was always disappointed in the enchanted herb, Jharsen continued. "For such a powerful name, it did not seem to deliver true power, save for the fear your kind have of it.

And don’t you think I’ve been talking quite a bit? the Master SorceroR inquired, his head tilting over to his right shoulder.

Indeed! S’Gorshyn growled. He opened his mouth as a spark of light and fire soon became a burning sphere.

By the gods! Jharsen exclaimed, taking a step back, thrusting his free hand forward. Water shot from the stream, surrounding his body just as a column of red fire hot from the DragoN’s mouth. The damned beast didn’t even breathe in!

A pair of swords plunged into the belly of the DragoN, just under the right wing, twisting around one another before they were ripped away. The flow of fire was shut off by S’Gorshyn’s closing mouth, and the DragoN found he could not breathe. He too curled into a tight ball, and now he knew the sort of anguish Uniassa was suffering. Falling to his side, he turned his head to see who had stabbed him. His eyes met with those of Fiarna who was fanfaring her blades.

And he won’t be breathing out either, she said, sheathing her swords. She looked to see Jharsen emerge from his steaming dome of water, somewhat pressed from the effort having to make it so quickly. The best way to respond to a trap...

Is with a better trap, Jharsen said softly, making his way over to Uniassa, keeping his hand elevated and maintaining the lock he had on her body and her threshold as he approached. I won’t waste time threatening your life. You’re a DragoN; dying for your cause is something your kind takes great pride in accomplishing. However, your Brother is dying, he pointed out, moving his hand as if he was a puppeteer. Uniassa came out of her tightly curled form, lifting her head to look at S’Gorshyn who laid on side, gasping for air only to cough out blood. ... and I will not move to assist him unless you cooperate with me.

How are you manipulating me?! she growled.

You should know... you’re the one who ate the Dragonsbane. You’re the one who shares a link with S’Gorshyn... Jharsen lowered his head, receiving more information from the bond he now shared with the yellow DragoN. "... not