Second Mage Questing

By Barbara Lund

(Previously published as Crowns Peak #2 - Ava's Quest)

The city of Crowns Peak seethes with scandalous politics, seditious plots, and magical power.

On a good day.

Ava worries about passing her classes and flirting a little with her best guy friend until she uncovers a secret that threatens everything she loves—

An unstable king, a treasonous duke, and a lonely dragon who have only one thing in common: a magically cursed knife.
The dragon made it.
The duke commissioned it.
The king will do anything to keep it.

To save her nation and those she holds dear, Ava will steal it...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barbara Lund
• Release date: Mar 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9781944127367

Barbara Lund

Award-winning speculative fiction author Barbara Lund has several indie-published novels, dozens of short stories, and has been traditionally published in Daily Science Fiction and L. Ron Hubbard Presents Writers of the Future, Volume 37 (November 2021).She won the Writers of the Future Golden Pen (2021), along with a First Place, three Silver Honorable Mentions, and two Honorable Mentions. She won the 24th Annual Critters Best Magical Realism Short Story.She's always working on new novels and short stories.Add a husband, two kids, and a martial arts obsession, and she keeps pretty busy.

Book preview

1

TRAITOR

Guards hustled the prisoners into the throne room, lit by the late afternoon sun and oil lanterns burning in their sconces. Ava and her friends shuffled forward, ironwood boards creaking under their weight, until the guards yanked the chains attached to the magic-stealing shackles on their wrists. Ava stiffened trembling knees and fought back tears. Eight days of hard riding on relay horses, each day plagued with a runny nose, watering eyes, and frequent sneezes, as well as magic spilling from her body with every step thanks to the shackles, had taken their toll. She just wanted this day to be over. Perhaps being hanged and then beheaded as a traitor and oathbreaker would hurt less.

But sixteen was too young to die.

The door behind the empty throne opened and more of the black-clad guards filed into the throne room, as quiet as a knife leaving the sheath.

Their liege, King Alistair the Just, followed the guards in. His steps faltered and wove as he passed his throne and made his way to the prisoners. His white and gold robes hung from bony shoulders, his blond hair had gone ashen, and a greedy madness filled his once-kind face.

Duke Severn followed two steps behind.

Ava fought to keep the snarl off her face as Guard Banris smugly greeted Duke Severn. I told you, Father, that I would bring the traitors home.

The guards yanked the shackles and kicked the prisoners. Their knees buckled and smashed into the floor. The chains gouged the ironwood boards. Ava felt faintly sorry for the servant who would be tasked with sanding and polishing out the marks of their captivity.

The king pushed his guards aside to stoop over her. Ava. He spat the name, and flecks of spittle hit her face. "Where is my knife?"

Ava fought to keep her eyes away from her companions. Despite herself, she sneaked a quick glance at the disowned prince, who glared at his father. She had talked them into surrendering. If their plan didn’t work…

Guard Banris thrust the puzzle box into her shackled hands. Here, he snapped. Open it for your king.

Ava slid the pieces of wood in their correct order. She held out the bit of emerald silk, careful not to touch the item inside, and offered it up to her poor, cursed liege.

Prince Braedon shouted, Ava, don’t!

Ava heard flesh strike flesh, then more chains clanking against ironwood, and knew the prince had been beaten to his knees. Ava bit her lip and tasted blood. Please, Majesty, she whimpered. Please don’t unwrap it.

Duke Severn stepped forward and placed a cautionary hand on his son’s arm. Three moons’ search for the traitors had obviously not dampened his appetite: the buttons on his doublet strained and his skin shined from an excess of greasy food. My king. The duke smiled obsequiously. Allow me.

No. King Alistair bent over his prize like a death bird, plucking at the cloth.

Please, Father. Braedon struggled to turn his head under the guard’s knee. Don’t.

The king ignored everyone, madness obvious on his face, as he separated the cloth. His expression changed to confusion when he uncovered the iridescent white stone.

Duke Severn’s mouth hung open. Banris stilled. Dust motes hung in the air. Ava held her breath.

King Alistair’s face darkened. What is this? he demanded, shoving the white stone under her nose.

Her eyes crossed until she looked past the stone to the king. That’s the knife, Majesty, she said. We each sacrificed—

"No! King Alistair screamed, fingers tightening. I want my knife, not some gods-bedamned rock."

He drew back his fist. His knuckles whitened. Ava braced herself as best she could.

Traitor! King Alistair smashed his fist into Ava’s face.

Her nose shattered. A starburst of pain jolted down her spine all the way to her knees. Even worse than the physical pain was the betrayal.

2

TREASON

Three moons earlier…

Ava lay on the rooftop and gripped the wooden shakers, a cap pulled low over her head to hide her betraying copper-colored hair. Despite what his wedlock-born children said, her hair and her gifts were her only legacy from her father, Duke Peter Westfall, after Ava was born to his commoner lover and he was killed spying for the king. Her gifts had bought her a place at the mage school and her hair brought her nothing but trouble.

The Broken Arms Pub, down near the docks on the Sweetwater River, had several windows, shutters thrown wide open to the late autumn breeze that swept out the rancid reek of unwashed bodies and brought in other stenches of the slums: human excrement, chemicals from the tanneries and metal workers, and the ever-present underlying scents of rot. Between the ale, the windows, and Ava’s gift of overhearing conversations, it made a perfect place to eavesdrop on dockhands and sailors.

She closed her eyes to concentrate better and turned her attention to the chatter below. She listened for one speaker in particular, and half smiled when she heard Puni’s voice in her head. She had been following him for a moon now, waiting for some solid information to pass on to her mentor. Perhaps tonight was finally the night.

He’s got a plan, he has, to take the crown, Puni said, his voice lowered to a rough whisper.

Nah, muttered another man. "He gonna off the king an’ his heir an’ his littles an’ his brother an’ his littles?"

By trickery, Puni said. Are ye with us?

Dunno. Depends, I guess. What do ye mean, trickery?

Can’t tell ye here. Puni snorted. Too many kingsmen, even if they be in their cups.

Ava imagined one sailor giving the other a squinty-eyed glare.

Let’s go meet him then, Puni. Yer boss, I mean, not the highborn hisself.

Seconds later, the front door of the pub crashed open and two burly men stepped out. The taller, Puni, had a dark beard while the other, an Islander by his sun-dark skin and the fish tattoo, was clean shaven. Ava ghosted along behind and above them, roof-walking to keep them just in sight. To her surprise, they walked up out of the slums, leaving behind the stench of the tannery for the softer smell of cloth dyes, into a lantern-lit merchant neighborhood where the middle-class shops had closed for the night and the streets were mostly empty.

The sailors walked silently, eyes darting to the starlit shadows, ears listening for any suspicious noise, hands on the hilts of their scimitars. They slid into the darkness at the sound of boots on cobblestones, ducking into an alley and flattening themselves against the wall. A king’s guard marched onto the street and Ava thought about asking for help.

No. I don’t recognize him and with me dressed like a sneak-thief it would take too long to explain. I’ll do this alone.

The guard disappeared around a corner and the sailors moved on. Ava followed, placing her feet delicately on the roof tiles to avoid waking the littles sleeping in the attics. Finally, the sailors stopped at a tiny, two-story house tucked into the shadows between clothing shops. The taller man approached and knocked at the door; the shorter waited by the gates.

The door opened a crack, allowing a slice of light to fall on the sailor’s face. Puni?

Feller wanted to meet you, Lord Banris. Puni jerked his thumb toward his companion.

Ava heard a grunt and then saw a ring-bedecked hand beckon the men inside. As the door closed, she stepped from the clothing shop onto the roof of the house.

Her foot slipped.

She flung out her hands and scrabbled at the baked tiles as her knees slid over the edge. Her belly scraped. She caught the edge and dangled.

Move, move, move, dammit! Ava hauled herself up onto the roof and lay panting, her forehead, fingertips, and toes digging into the tile. God and Goddess bless, I haven’t make a mistake like that in moons.

The door opened and Puni thrust a lantern outside. You hear that? He took a couple of steps and peered around, scimitar in his other hand. Nothing there, he said after a few moments, and retreated back inside.

Thank the God and Goddess he never looked up. Ava concentrated on slowing her breathing so she could use her gift again. She needed to know more.

Puni had spoken about a plot against the king. To take the throne by trickery. And the Islander had asked to meet Puni’s boss, but not the highborn hisself, so some noble was up to his titled neck in a treasonous plot to take the crown.

Finally, Ava’s breathing slowed and she could concentrate enough to extend her gift, listening for Puni, Lord Banris, and the Islander.

—the duke, she heard.

You really think this mad plan of his is gonna work? The Islander, she thought.

I do, Banris said. Ava could hear the smile in his voice.

Right. The Islander cleared his throat. I’m in. You can tell the duke that me an’ mine will stand with him when the time comes.

A few seconds later the door opened and shut. Puni and the Islander strutted down the street. Ava waited on the rooftop. Which duke? Gods dammit, what plan?

After the men were safely away and the sounds faded from inside the house, Ava eased her way to the front corner of the roof. She pulled a charcoal stick out of a pocket she had sewn into her rags and reached over the tiles and up under the eaves. Muscles straining, she marked the house with a straight line a hand’s width long, then gathered her energy and cast a tiny spell on the mark. Call out to me, Ava told the charcoal mark. Hide from anyone else.

She would have to make her way back to this house in the daylight to identify it to her mentor, Guard Jon. The mark would help her find it. Then Jon could investigate this Lord Banris and find out to whom he owed allegiance. Only eight dukes in Aerios. How hard could it be to figure out which one is planning to take the kingdom through trickery?

Ava tucked her bit of charcoal away and rolled onto her back. It was going to be a long night trying to get information on a rebellious duke. That Puni had dared recruit the Islander from the Broken Arms Pub, a place frequented by the king’s sailors and guards alike, showed daring she wouldn’t have thought he had. Perhaps he would try again at the same place.

If she hurried, she might catch him at it again. It would be easier to follow him a second time if she already knew where he was going. And next time, her foot wouldn’t slip. She would hear more of this plan.

False dawn dogged Ava’s footsteps as she hurried to the palace. She hadn’t meant to stay out so late, and now she had another errand to complete before she slept.

Sneak into the king’s bedchamber.

Ava dragged herself up and over the white stone wall that surrounded the palace complex: stables, weapons hall, healer hall, guard school, and the palace itself, complete with throne room, dancing halls, royal suites and guest suites. And kitchens.

Ava winced away from the light streaming out the kitchen windows. Of course the royal cooks had risen before dawn to start breakfast for all who would dine today. Unlucky for Ava. She had gone from ravenous to nauseated as the night wore on and her anxiety bested her. Now the scent of bread dough rising pushed her past the windows, ducking beneath the ledges as fast as she could skitter.

Ava scampered up a giant rowan tree and out onto a reaching branch. She stepped from the swaying limb onto the decorative brickwork that made the palace walls so easy to climb. And up she went.

On the top floor, she worked loose a bit of oiled parchment no different than any of the other window coverings and slipped inside the dressing room attached to the royal suite.

Fingers of dawn light wormed their way inside until Ava replaced the parchment covering the window. She closed her eyes and softened the shields around her mind, allowing her primary gift to work.

The king slept alone in his room, restless with bad dreams.

She frowned a little and concentrated. A guard… no, two stood outside the king’s bedchamber door. Both were tired and bored. Beeswax and flowers scented the air, another reminder that she was as far from the slums as possible. Even the air tasted different in this room: richer, as if the God and Goddess knew who slept here. She moved to the bed and drew back the heavy curtains surrounding it.

King Alistair muttered in his sleep and turned over.

Ava sighed with relief. He was fine. Of course he was, protected night and day by his guards, and no slouch of a fighter himself. But she’d needed to be sure.

The king murmured and shifted, and then Ava found a knife blade at her throat and King Alistair wide awake.

Ava, he growled. Some day you are going to get yourself killed by mistake.

Sorry, Majesty, she said with a grin.

You’re not. The king slid his knife back into the jeweled sheath and tucked it beneath his pillow.

Ava watched him carefully. Since when do you sleep with a knife under your pillow, my king?

Since my favorite spy started showing up in my bedroom. The king propped himself up on one elbow. And showed me exactly how simple it is to breach my defenses.

Ava perched on a nearby chair, running her hands over the soft gold velvet. "It’s not that easy, she said. Why not just put a guard inside the door?"

I value my privacy. King Alistair snuck one hand under his pillow and touched the knife. This way, my favorite spy can still visit me.

Ava chuckled softly then sobered. I was worried about you. She plucked at a thread on the knee of her rags. I hadn’t seen you for a moon and…

King Alistair lay back on his pillows and cradled his hands beneath his head. I missed you too, Trainee Ava. How are you doing in school?

Ava propped her chin on her hand and sighed. Failing mathematics, she admitted. Ry tutors me every other evening, but I still can’t do much beyond basic sums.

The king smiled widely. As long as you are my guard, and my spy, you shouldn’t need more than sums.

It’s also my first class in the morning. Ava covered a yawn with her hand. I skip it far too often after a night of spying.

Shall I tell Guard Jon?

No! Ava glanced toward the door, but it remained closed. The guards hadn’t heard her yelp. Please, Majesty, she whispered, I’ll do better. I promise.

Very well. I would hate to lose my most talented spy. He raised one eyebrow. And your young man? Trainee Dirk? Has he noticed you noticing him yet?

Ava blushed. No.

Shall I —

Gods, no! Ava covered her burning cheeks with cold palms.

The king rolled to his elbow again and slipped his other hand under the pillow to his knife. The gesture seemed unconscious to Ava, and she shrugged off a chill. She was just cold from spying too long tonight in the late autumn air. Luckily winter in Crowns Peak was short, so she’d not likely lose a toe to frostbite this year. She stifled another yawn.

Trainee Ava, said the king. You’d best be off to bed. Despite your mathematics class.

Yes, Majesty. Ava stood slowly. Truly, all is well with you?

King Alistair frowned. My heir needs to find a wife. My dukes need to cease bickering. My guards need better horses than I can afford right now. His eyes pierced Ava. None of these things will be solved by my favorite trainee or spy. Nor, he winked, by mathematics.

It is good to see you, Majesty.

It’s after dawn. How, exactly, are you going to leave me, young lady, without being discovered? You can’t go out the window.

Ava grinned impishly. I have better shields than any of your guards, she said. Call them in and I’ll walk right out.

Ava stepped behind the door and slowed her breathing. She reached down into her center, drew up her energy, and cast her strongest avert spell. She knew it was working when the king’s eyes slipped off her and couldn’t find her again.

Amazing, he murmured. I know you’re there, but I can’t quite… Guards! he called in a peevish voice. Get me my breakfast.

The door opened and two guards stepped inside. Their black uniforms—tabard, tunic, hose, and boots—looked particularly out of place in the golds and reds of the royal bedchamber. One guard approached the bed, eyes habitually scanning the room, while the other bowed. Your usual, Majesty?

While their attention was on the king, Ava slipped around the doorway and out of the bedroom. She dashed out to the hallway and into a supply closet where she dropped a white serving tunic and blue servant’s tabard over her head. And that is how it is done, she said. No one ever looks at servants. She bundled some bedding in her arms and walked briskly down the hallway, just another servant on an errand.

The king seemed off. Perhaps something was bothering him. He was… sharper than usual. More dangerous. Touching that knife all the time. She shrugged off the uneasy feeling. Nah, likely I’m dreaming it after hearing about the duke plotting a coup. He said he was fine. I’m sure he’s fine.

Ava stifled her yawn. Mathematics be damned. If she went to class now, she’d just sleep through it anyway. Better to dream in bed and barter extra tutoring from Ry tomorrow.

3

GRAPPLING WITH DIRK

The next night, Ava slipped around the corner of the five-story granite block building. Her tunic, strategically cut and sewn to resemble rags, melded with the gray of the building under the moonless sky. She slid along the wall and tugged gently at the cap covering her hair, peering into the dark. She had three minutes until the guards would pass here again.

The chorus of a popular musette flowed out of the windows, shutters flung wide open to catch the autumn breeze. Strings, pipes, and drums bridged into a waltz as voices wove through the song in a melody of their own. Ava flattened herself to the stones next to the window, for once pleased with her short stature. She could peer through the bottom corner of the window and probably not be seen.

Shields and an avert spell. Ava stilled her body and imagined her power flowing into her hands like soft caramel, crafting a mental bubble around herself, whispering don’t notice me. Gentle. Delicate. Hopefully undetected by the mage-gifted trainees and teachers just inside the window. Then she peeked.

Faces she knew slid past her, turned, and floated away. Guard and mage trainees danced with each other, highborn and commonborn, rank cast away for the night.

Ava bit her lip. It was true. The trainees were having a party and she hadn’t been invited.

She sagged back against the wall. The palace school, the place she had called home for the last two years, suddenly felt strange to her. She slid to the grass and wrapped her arms around her knees. Someone had left a plate of sweets on the window ledge, and the smell twisted her stomach. I thought they were my friends! She choked back a sob.

Here are your treats, Trainee Dirk said, just inside the window. She’d recognize his voice anywhere.

You think I’m going to share? A coy, flirtatious voice.

Ava glanced up. Sierra, who had been trying to get into Dirk’s pants for moons now. Ava ground her teeth.

Dirk leaned one elbow on the window sill. You’d better.

Ava ducked her head down. God and Goddess bless. The only thing more humiliating than not being invited to the party would be to be caught spying on it! Dirk had no mage gifts, and Sierra was a seer, so Ava should be safe… but she hadn’t lived through a year of spying by relying on should. She stayed still until Dirk turned away from the window, then she crawled through the grass to the corner of the building, swallowing