Fortune Favors

By Kerry Share

Diviners are a rare and coveted type. Their gift of Future Sight is valuable to anyone who yearns to know their fate. Although some would say they are simply scam artists and opportunists, in the King’s land, the Court Diviner is held in the highest regard.

Nell Tyran is enjoying her summer holiday, away from the pressures of royal life, when a letter arrives from her father, Xavian Tyran, the King’s personal Court Diviner. She is to return home at once, escorted by the two guards hired to protect her on the journey — someone, or something, is killing Diviners, and all those with the Sight are being called to the Citadel for sanctuary.

Tragedy and terror strike the trio during their travels, forcing Nell to change direction and put all of her trust into her guard Laken — even with her gift of Sight, she is unsure how to interpret her visions and suspicious of his true intentions.

Follow this unlikely pair on their arduous journey through enchanted lands, where mythic magic and cursed beasts of legend will challenge and change them. In a realm full of sorcery and monsters, the truest magic will always be love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Shorts
• Release date: Nov 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9781094427881

Kerry Share

N/A

Book preview

Chapter One

The sun was beating down relentlessly, scorching the ground below so thoroughly that Nell Tyran could feel the heat even through the soles of her shoes. Sweat was trickling down the back of her neck and her skin was flushed and warm, but she did her best to ignore it all and keep her head bent to her task.

Gathering nightberries wasn’t an especially arduous job, but it lay at the unfortunate cross section of horribly tedious and absolutely vital for the citizens of Lower Dorna — one of the few regions the fruit grew. Though unsafe to eat straight off the vine, nightberries, when steeped in a broth of water, ginger, and essence of linwood, made for an exceptionally powerful medicinal tonic, said to cure insomnia, stomach flu, and even certain kinds of skin rashes, amongst other ailments. Suffice it to say, the nightberries were the only reason the village of Greater Dorna was even on the map, yet Nell found that the citizens were all too happy to fob it off onto whomever was foolish or desperate enough to seek such employment.

Nell was neither a fool nor wanting for coin — yet here she was, risking sunburn and heat exhaustion for a handful of berries, just as she had every summer for the past five years.

A Diviner is foremost a servant of the people, her father, Court Diviner Xavian Tyran, had told her on the eve of her inaugural pilgrimage to the southern reaches of the continent — her eighteenth birthday. And if he is to serve them, he must first understand them. A Diviner’s wisdom is useless if he cannot comprehend his own message.

An ominous parable, to be sure, and not the first that made Nell feel utterly unqualified for her destiny.

Diviners were rare and exceedingly valuable individuals blessed — or cursed, depending on one’s viewpoint — with the gift of Future Sight. One touch, skin to skin, was all it took for a Diviner to read a man’s fortunes. Or so the stories went. As it happened, the truth was a bit more complicated.

Nell once asked her father what the visions were like. She was about twelve and finally coming to understand that she, too, would one day wield such a power.

Xavian had held nothing back. They are… confused, he said, his eyes going far away and misty. Rapid. Disorienting. And how could they not be? You are Seeing glimpses of a person’s life without any of its color or context. And then you are asked to tell him his fortune based on a few images that you could not possibly understand.

That sounds horrible, Nell remembered saying. She was young and had yet to learn not to tempt her father’s ire so.

Yet Xavian’s smile was almost kind. It is, but it isn’t. It is up to you to make the most of it.

Nell had thought that was the end of the conversation and made to leave, but Xavian had one last piece of wisdom for her.

Nell, he said, in a voice absent of warmth or fatherly affection, "don’t disappoint me."

She wondered often how Xavian thought she might invite his displeasure that such a command would be necessary. After all, she would not become a Diviner until his death — the flame of her power only igniting once his was extinguished. He would never know if her skill at plying the Sight was substandard to his own.

Perhaps it was said simply to frighten her into obedience and rigorous study. In that regard, it worked.

Nellie!

She perked up at the sound of her name, grateful for a distraction from such dour thoughts, and smiled warmly when she spotted the caller.

Micah Hammerford was a young man a year or two her junior whom she had met on her very first pilgrimage five years ago. He was the only son and primary caregiver of his parents, who were both quite ill and often bedridden, as well as the apprentice to the local apothecary. He was kind, nearly to a fault, and utterly without guile. The perfect sort for a lone young woman traveler like Nell to befriend; and it was with Micah and his parents that she stayed when she passed through Dorna.

Micah, she said with a smile, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand as she returned to her full height. Good timing, I’m just about finished.

I told you, you don’t have to do this, her friend replied with a small shake of his head, but he was close enough now that she could see a fond smile tugging at his lips. You’re not even getting paid.

Sure I am, Nell said brightly, bending at the waist to pluck another ripe berry from a vine seeking shelter beneath a bush. Room and board. I’m earning my keep!

Micah rolled his eyes. Nell, you’ve earned enough room and board to last you a lifetime already. Now will you get into some shade? I would hate to have to write the Court Diviner back and tell him his daughter died of heat exhaustion.

Nell’s mouth was open with a readied quip when she stumbled upon a keyword in Micah’s plea. "Wait, back? she said in confusion, shaking her sweat-dampened, cherry colored curls out of her eyes. He’s written?"

Yes, the letter arrived a short while ago. Micah gestured back toward the village, his intent plain, and Nell declined to make further argument, taking up her nightberry-laden basket and falling into step beside him.

They walked in companionable silence — Nell in particular ruminating on the unexpected communication from her father. She and Xavian were not what one might describe as close. To the contrary, Xavian’s role as Court Diviner to King Therrod himself often meant that availability to his patrons came at the cost of filial duty. It wasn’t until Nell entered adolescence that he paid her any mind at all, and even then it was only due to the fact that, as his only child, she would be the sole heir to his gift. She needed the training and focused study that could only come at the knee of an established Diviner.

A Diviner’s duty must not be interfered with by something so mundane as familial concern, he told her once, apropos of nothing. Nell was fifteen and hadn’t asked. She still wondered if he was trying to teach her something about the role of Diviners in society or just making excuses for his own behavior.

Which is what made the arrival of his letter so perplexing. Xavian hadn’t even sent her a message to let her know when her mother had fallen gravely ill while Nell was on pilgrimage two years ago. What could possibly necessitate a missive now if that occasion did not?

Did you hear? Micah said presently, coaxing Nell from her reverie. There was another jyk attack, not too far from here.

Nell felt a chill roll down her spine at the news. There was a time when the word jyk would frighten naught but small children and superstitious old women.

Legend said that the Sorcerers of old tamed a pack of wolves and bred them with dark magic to create for themselves fearsome familiars and protectors. They called their abominations the jyk, and it was apparently a great surprise to them when the monsters turned on their masters and hunted the Sorcerers to extinction. Then, with no more magic to feed on, the jyk too faded into the annals of myth.

Or so the stories went, tales as old as the history books. These days, no one believed the Sorcerers even truly existed, to say nothing of their magic consuming monsters.

Until lone travelers and remote farmsteaders starting turning up dead six months past, mauled to death by great black beasts with eerily intelligent eyes and an insatiable thirst for blood. By the time Nell and Micah reached the outskirts of the village proper, Nell was starting to see the wisdom of retreating indoors. It was sure to be one of the hottest days of the summer, the sun was positively scorching. No longer distracted by her task, she could fully appreciate just how dry and suffocating the air felt, how parched her throat was, and how much her back ached. Frankly, she wanted nothing more than to sink into an ice bath — though few in Dorna could afford such a luxury, no matter how many nightberries they picked.

I’ve got to get back to the shop. Laszlo was in a terrible mood when I left him, Micah said, referring to the cranky, old apothecary to whom he was apprenticed. I left your letter in your room. Shall I see you at home for supper?

There was a hopeful lilt in his voice that was hard to miss. Nell sighed internally. She had been pointedly ignoring her friend’s growing affection for her for five summers now, hoping he would age out of his feelings — to no avail. She knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid the subject forever and she suspected a declaration of intention would likely be made sooner rather than later. She tried to imagine Xavian’s reaction to such an offer. Distaste at best, outright hostility at worst.

Such thoughts served her ill at present, however, and she decided a smile would do her no additional harm. Of course, she said, and he beamed at her before hastening down the main road to the apothecary.

Nell watched him go for a long moment, her heart twinging wistfully. She would have to disabuse him of any forward intentions before he had a chance to give them voice. It would be uncomfortable but easy to pin the blame elsewhere. Though Diviners had as much freedom of marriage as the next person in theory, in reality betrothal to a Diviner was almost as precious a political tool as their gift. No matter what Nell felt for Micah, or anyone else for that matter, her hand was not hers to give.

She walked on for several more minutes, brooding upon this unhappy topic, until she at last arrived at the Hammerford home. It was a modest, three-room cottage, clustered with several others of its ilk in the southwest part of Dorna. It was quiet when she walked in, but that was none too unusual. There was little else for the poorly Mr. and Mrs. Hammerford but to sleep these days, aided by the concoctions Micah brought home from his potion