Amelia's Tale: The Wizard and the Warrior

By Vivienne Lee Fraser

As the daughter of the Duke of Hand Amalie's life is perfect, until she discovers she had the ability to see the future. In most of Aria magic is accepted, but on the Isle of Hand it is outlawed. 

Publicly disowned by her family, Amalie becomes Amelia and begins a new life. Just as she is settling in and making new friends, magic again intrudes and threatens her new home.

Will Amelia be forced to once again give up everything she holds dear?

Amelia is a much loved character in The Wizard and The Warrior Series One, and this is her story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vivienne Lee Fraser
• Release date: Mar 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9780648218197

Vivienne Lee Fraser

After many years as a closet writer my family circumstances allowed me to follow my dream of actually writing books and seeing them through to publication. I write stories I enjoy and that I think my family can identify with. I love reading Fantasy Books because you can immerse yourself in a world with no preconceptions. I love writing fantasy stories for the same reason. I live in Sydney with my husband, son, our dog Trouble and an over-active kitten called Lola. We get to travel a lot because our family lives around the world. To fund my writing I sell children's books online and at local markets. You can always find me at The Bookbubble. When I am not writing I love reading, walking the dog, craft activities and good movies. One day I am sure I will grow up, but hopefully not too soon. And when I do I would like to be exactly what I am now, and what I have always dreamed I would be, a writer.

Book preview

Contents

AMELIA’S TALE

Contents

Dedication

Map of Aria

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Beginnings

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

About the author

Acknowledgements

Dedication

For Sandy—I could not do this without your support, inspiration and grammar!

Map of Aria

Chapter One

Farewell

‘Please just come and look at it, Amalie,’ her younger brother begged. ‘You might love it and change your mind.’

‘Me ? On a farm? I cannot see it, Damon.’

Amalie carried on sorting through her wardrobe. After throwing the beautiful court gowns to one side, she selected only the most serviceable of her clothes. Even without a final destination, the finery women wore at the ducal court was not going to be of any use in her new life.

‘There is an orchard, a garden, and plenty of berry bushes in the surrounding forest.’ Her brother plonked himself on her bed, dislodging garments already folded in preparation for packing.

‘Damon!’ She allowed her exasperation to cut through her voice as tears came to her eyes.

Her decision to leave had not been her own—well, not totally—and it was difficult enough without her brother's attempts to change her mind.

‘Come on, Amalie, you know I feel responsible for this. After all, if I had not told Father about your foreseeing my accident this would never have happened.’

Sighing, Amalie paused before delivering a carefully worded response. ‘You did not make the rule that said no one could remain on the Isle of Hand who is able to use magic.’

‘But you used it to help me, to warn me. I did not have to tell Father.’ Damon pressed.

‘You were younger then, and scared. At the time you believed you were doing the right thing. In the end my foresight saved your life, so it all turned out for the best.’ Thinking the subject closed, Amalie continued sorting through her belongings.

‘But ...’

Holding up her hand to silence the boy, Amalie turned and faced him. ‘I knew my options when I turned eighteen. I decided I did not want anyone to take my magic away. Not only because I was concerned I would never be the same again, but because it is a part of me, part of who I am whether I like it or not.’

‘I understand, but...’

‘No, please let me finish, Damon. Again, it was my decision not to stay in the Southern Duchy. By remaining here I would still be able to see you all, but I would have to promise not to use or pass on the taint of magic. Someone might still want to take me in to their family under those conditions, but I fear few men want a wife who will not bear children. You have nothing to atone for. So quit worrying.’

‘Will you find someone to train you how to use your gift?’ Damon changed the subject.

This was something Amalie had not made up her mind about. On Hand, her gift was shunned, but she was not sure how people outside of her home island felt about women with magic. As the daughter of the Duke of the Southern Realm, her life had been quite sheltered, and besides—no one ever discussed magic on the Island of Hand.

‘I am not leaving because I want to learn how to use my magic. I am leaving because I want a life as me.’

‘You can do all that and remain close by, in the Southern Duchy.’ Damon pressed his point.

Amelia rubbed her hand across her forehead, attempting to relieve the growing tension. ‘If I remain close by people might recognise me, and they will know why I have been banished from Hand. If I go further away I can forget who I was—forget I even have magic altogether.’

‘Perhaps you can do that, but look at what you have to give up to take that chance. Look at it this way, Ami—you have no plans, so why not just come and look? This is the best of both worlds. You can build a life of your own, but still be close enough for me to visit. After you have seen it, if you really do not like the idea, if you really feel you cannot build a life there, I promise I will not say another word. I will escort you to the ship for Bannock myself.’

Worn down by the nagging, she sighed. ‘All right. You win.’

EARLY MORNING DEW HUNG heavy on the trees as they left the gates of Port Marden, heading towards the Tangled Woods. Having taken the boat over from the Isle of Hand at sunrise, they were met at the docks by a groom holding the reins of two horses. As she mounted, Amalie marvelled at Damon’s confidence. Everything they needed was waiting for them when they disembarked, even though she had only agreed to go with him the afternoon before—leaving him no time to organise anything,

Once away from the confines of the city streets, Damon spurred his horse ahead, almost as though daring her to keep up. Still feeling drained from her farewells earlier that morning, Amalie was not interested in meeting the challenge.

Slowing his horse, her brother dropped back to walk beside her. ‘You Father declaring he has no daughter and turning his back on you it nothing more than tradition. Neither he nor mother really meant it.’

Surprised he had accurately guessed the source of her sadness, Amalie attempted a smile. ‘Knowing it and feeling it are too very different things.’

‘True. I believe father said his real farewell last night.’

Looking up in surprise, Amalie caught her brother’s smirk.

‘He and I discussed your finances. I am tasked with seeing everything is set up to run smoothly for you.’

‘It was ... um ... generous.’ Girls banished by their families sometimes received the amount of their dowry, but the sum gifted to Amalie was far in excess of what would be expected even for the daughter of a duke.

Remembering the tears glittering in her father’s eyes as he’d spoken the formal words of banishment, Amalie’s heart broke at how her family was being pulled apart because of a stupid tradition.

‘Damn the stupid laws of Hand. Come on, Damon, race you.’ With the wind in her hair, she rode away her tensions and sadness.

Sometime later, when they had again slowed their horses to a walk, Damon said from nowhere, ‘I will change the laws once I am crowned duke.’

‘Damon, that is your guilt talking. You will no more be able to change the laws than our father was able to. He saw our uncle banished from the family, and now me.’

‘I will. You just wait and see.’

The stubborn set to her brother’s jaw brought a smile to her lips. You just might as well, but it will be far too late for me by then.

‘We are almost there,’ Damon said, again racing ahead.

Amalie kept to her leisurely pace, allowing the ever-present guards who shadowed the heir to the Duke of Hand to keep them in their sights. Damon had requested they stay a little behind to allow him this last ride with his sister, and they had complied. In return, Amalie promised them they would not ride off too far.

The gentle rocking of her horse, combined with the fresh morning air, soon had Amelia almost asleep in her saddle. That was until Damon, who was riding a little ahead, stopped before a slight bend in the tree-lined track.

‘Close your eyes,’ he commanded.

‘Damon, come on. Let us just get on with this.’

‘Please, Amalie. Let me lead your horse. I promise it will be safe.’

Amalie indulged him as this was likely the last time they would be together. Closing her eyes, she held on to the front of her saddle, allowing Damon to escort her round the bend. Once her mount came to a stop, she waited a moment, listening to the birds chirp in the trees, before gazing on the scene her brother presented.

‘Ta-dah.’ He swept his arm out, encouraging her to take it all in.

She gasped with audible surprise. Damon had been right; the cottage was perfect. With its thatched roof and whitewashed walls, the two-storey dwelling was perhaps better described as a house. Nestled in behind was a stable and barn and, was that an orchard?

Her excitement welled as her eyes found a garden plot to the left of the house in which both vegetables and weeds poked through the soil, fighting for space, decorated in droplets of dew the early spring sun turned into sparkling jewels.

‘See? I told you it was amazing.’ Damon’s face glowed with pride.

Amalie agreed. It was a great property. The garden might be expanded for herbs and the like. The gentle buzzing of bees as they flittered from flower to flower told her there must be hives close by. Making a living from this property was a real possibility. Although the idyllic rural scene, while easy to admire, did not immediately sing home to her.

‘Damon, I am not a farmer ...’

‘... and this is not a farm. I mean, it once was, but the man who owns it sold the fields off to his neighbour when he grew too old to till them. He and his wife carried on selling produce from the gardens, orchards, and hives until recently.’

Damon dismounted and led his horse over to the well. Amalie followed and tied her own mount to an iron ring in the stonework.

Damon leaned against the cold stone and continued. ‘A couple of moon turns ago, his wife passed on. The farmer could not bear to live here without her.’

‘That is a sad story, but I still cannot see myself earning a living here.’

‘Our factor assures me continuing on in the same vein as the previous owner will allow for a reasonable standard of living. We negotiated a great price for you, leaving you with some savings from the money Father bestowed. You could have a great life here, and Mother and I will visit ...’ Damon stopped suddenly, his face a mask of concern. ‘Amalie, what is wrong?’

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Amalie smiled a trembling smile. ‘Damon, you may be able to sneak away, but Mother? You forget; she banished me.’

The heir to the Duke of Hand looked down at his sister, a mischievous grin on his face. ‘Amalie, you should have more faith in us. Who do you think brokered the deal for this farm? Certainly not me. Our factor in Port Marden did it ... at Father’s request.

‘They may not be able to openly show their love and support, and Father being Father does not want to influence your decision one way or the other. Surely, though, this shows how much they want you near?’

Amalie searched his eyes for the truth of his words, and found it there. Although part of her wanted to rejoice at her family’s support, her thoughts were still troubled. Almost more than anything else, she wanted to stay near her family, almost ... but at what cost? Was she prepared to give up a full life for that?

Unwilling to disappoint her brother after everyone had gone to so much trouble, she put on a brave face. ‘Come on. There is no point in making a decision until I have seen the entire holding.’ She slipped her arm through his and allowed him to lead her over to the door.

CREAKING OPEN THE DOOR, Damon said, ‘We will need to put a little oil on the hinges for you.’

He stood back and allowed Amalie to enter her potential new home alone.

The external door opened into a single kitchen and living area dominated by a large wooden table. On the left, two doors led to other rooms. In front of her were stairs disappearing into a loft above. To her right was a cooking fire big enough for a large stew pot, with a built-in bread oven. Beside her stood a well-crafted bench with a copper bowl inset below a window, framing a view of the road.

‘Perfect,’ she mumbled under her breath as Damon slipped in beside her.

Moving inside, she opened the first door, which led to a decent-sized pantry room with a cellar opening in the floor near the back. Excellent—there would be a place to store root vegetables from the garden for winter.

‘I am sure we can bring you treats from the palace to keep in here when we come and visit.’ Damon smiled as he herded her towards the next room.

Amalie peeked in to find a sun-filled room dominated by a huge wooden bed. Her eyes were immediately drawn to a delightful handcrafted dresser inlaid with shells. Trailing her fingers