The Autumn Empire

By Thomas K. Carpenter and Rachel J. Carpenter

War comes to Gneiss Glen.

The Howling Wind is crossing the narrow sea, bringing old enemies who have grown formidable with time. To stop them, Terran and his friends must race to collect powerful artifacts and level up the settlement before they run out of time when only the clash of steel and magic will determine who rules Kingmakers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thomas Carpenter
• Release date: Aug 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005580469

Thomas K. Carpenter

Thomas K. Carpenter resides in Colorado with his wife Rachel. When he’s not busy writing his next book, he's out hiking or skiing or getting beat by his wife at cards. Visit him online at www.thomaskcarpenter.com, or sign up for his newsletter at https://www.subscribepage.com/trialsofmagic.

Book preview

Chapter One

The unruly sea battered the skiff, throwing spray into Arabast's face as he powered through the shifting waves. Gray clouds threatened rain. Arabast glared upward as if he could ward them away, as another breaker pounded the bowsprit.

"Come on, Vanessa, you've never failed me before," he said, hand on the tiller, directing the enchanted rudder to cut across the five-meter waves.

Arabast reached into his jerkin for another elixir. It'd been three days since he'd left Salt Luck. The first half of the journey he'd been able to steal a nap during the night when the ocean was like a gentle swing of a hammock, but a storm had moved in as he neared the city of Däethspegll on the eastern coast of Moranne, forcing him to constant attention.

The old dwarf hummed a tune under his breath. The words of the pirate shanty were lost to time, but the faint memory made him grin as the waves slapped another round of spray in his face.

"Remember when we snuck into that armada under the cover of night, stole their ill-gotten gold. Damn if that sailor up from below takin' a piss didn't make it a close one when he spied us climbing down the ratlines. You flew faster than their fastest galley, Vanessa, quicker than the wind. Saved both our butts, said Arabast, wiping away the crusty salt on his beard. Gonna have to ask you to do it again. Don't know how this'll work out, but I couldn't just sit on my ass and wait for the cursed Howling Wind to show up. No, Vanessa, I might be a cultured head of state now, but we both know the truth of how we got to where we are."

The enchanted skiff, which Arabast lovingly called Vanessa, had been hidden in a cave near Salt Luck, covered with a Forget-Me spell that would keep prying eyes from remembering that they'd seen it. While he'd given up the pirate life and thought he'd never use the old boat again, he couldn't part with it, not in case there was ever a moment when she might shine again.

He knew that Offworlder, Terran the Tenacious, wouldn’t approve of the journey. Too risky. If they captured him, he could spoil a lot of plans, expose the defenses. While Arabast didn't know everything, he'd spoken to a few former Salt Luckers about progress in the Glen. The Offworlder might look fresh faced and have the arrogance of the fate blessed, but he had a keen eye for strategy.

"Aye, Vanessa, no matter what happens, we can't be caught, even if that means I gotta take the long drink," he grunted, squinting away the rain, which had picked up, pelting him with cold, hard droplets.

He'd been cutting through the troughs of the waves as much as possible to avoid getting spotted by a patrol boat, but he was sure he was nearing Däethspegll, since he'd seen a few coastal birds flying overhead, so he risked a ride on the crest, hoping that if any ships were in range they wouldn't notice his sailless enchanted skiff.

Arabast spit rain when he crested the wave. Däethspegll bay was packed with ships, hundreds. An armada he'd never seen the likes of.

It not gonna be enough, said Arabast, grinding his teeth. Not even if we had all of Dagrath and every last Shade by our side. Gods above and below. They're gonna murder us.

The old dwarf was quick with a warhammer, but he was even faster with figures, calculating the numbers that could be carried across the unruly sea by an armada of that size. The Howling Wind would field an army ten to twenty times the size of the force in Gneiss Glen, and that was assuming that every warrior was equal. The cavalry of the Wind was legendary for its ferocity in battle.

Arabast was so focused on the ships in the bay he didn't see the war galleys coming up fast on his port. Three of them. He'd been so flabbergasted by the numbers that he'd forgotten to dive back into the troughs. A sailor on the front of the first galley was leaning over the bowsprit, pointing at his skiff, shouting back to the helmsman.

"Blast! We've been spotted, Vanessa, he said as he yanked hard on the tiller. The boat dove into the trough, skipping across rain-beaten foam. Give it yur all!"

The boat responded to his wish. Arabast poured his energy into Vanessa through the tiller. It'd already been a long, arduous journey, and he was nearly out of elixirs, but there was no time for caution.

Crossbow bolts sang past his ear when the waves brought him level briefly. Arabast twisted his upper body, giving the sailor the fig, before refocusing on the skiff. The three war galleys tacked hard, but they were restrained by the wind, while Vanessa could head as the crow flies, or at least a speedy dolphin.

The old dwarf thought he'd easily outpace the war galleys and the threat of crossbows, but an explosion ripped through the air above his head, sending fire down upon him, singeing his beard. Only the thorough soaking of the skiff prevented it from catching flame.

Got a spirited mage, do ya? laughed Arabast as he fell into the next trough, cutting hard starboard in case they were trying to time his ascent. He was rewarded for his caution when a second blast of flame hit at the peak of the wave where he would have been had he maintained course. The only problem with this tactic was it allowed the war galleys a chance to close the distance.

"Come on, Vanessa, I need every bit of speed you've got," he said, grunting with effort.

A crack of lightning left spots across his eyes. He wiped away the rain with his forearm. Arabast risked a glance backwards, regretting it instantly. He'd expected a sailor with a crossbow and a fire mage, but he saw neither. A blonde woman in powder blue robes stood at the rail, seemingly untouched by the storm. Behind her was a massive warrior wearing a bird helm of the Howling Wind, but Arabast's eyes were only for the woman.

...turn around, we only want to speak with you...

The seductive voice whispered in his head. Hearing it was like sliding into a bed of silken sheets.

No, I need, must turn, muttered Arabast, only half aware of himself, the rest entranced by the woman on the war galley. The skiff was heading at a diagonal away from the ships, but no longer at the previous speeds. The war galleys were catching up rapidly.

...we mean you no harm, turn around...

Arabast gritted his teeth as a storm raged in his head. I...can't.

...we'll treat you kindly...

Without his will driving the skiff, it slowed, allowing the war galleys to catch up. The blonde woman at the rail let her lips curl up at the corners, and Arabast felt like she was going to swallow him whole.

The enchanted skiff, while slower now, was still moving at a decent pace, but the lead war galley came aside, and a sailor leaned over, wielding a long pole with a hook on the end.

Must...not...stop.

Arabast fought the hold that the woman had on him, but she was too strong. She'd placed her hooks in his mind, just like the sailor was about to do to his boat. He risked a glance up. He knew without a doubt that she was an Offworlder by the arrogance in her gaze. He'd seen the same in Terran, but at least he'd proved to be a good soul. This woman, allying with the Howling Wind, there could be nothing good about her.

The hook caught the edge of his skiff, searching for purchase. The woman seemed to be blocking him from escaping, but he found he could make other motions. Arabast grabbed the hilt of his dagger, the smooth metal slick with rain. Before she could stop him, Arabast shoved the dagger into the meat of his thigh.

Aughh!

The pain slammed through his brain like a tidal wave, washing away the hold the woman had on him. He managed to force his eyes open in time to see the hook catch the underbar of the gunwale.

Got him!

Arabast punched the wooden hook, snapping the pole at the connection between metal and wood, then poured his rage into the skiff.

"Fly, Vanessa, fly!"

The skiff's sudden surge surprised the crew. He made it a dozen meters before crossbow bolts hit the hull, one right next to his leg.

Ha! You're not gonna do worse than I've already done myself, he said, gritting his teeth from the pain of his self-inflicted wound.

...stop fleeing, you must turn, now, turn, now...

The old dwarf shook his head. Her silky words wormed their way into his mind, so he leaned on the dagger, twisting the blade in his thigh, sending shoots of red pain through his vision, erasing her hold on him.

Arabast had enough sense to make evasive turns as bolts and shots of flame burst overhead, but in the attempt to capture him, the war galley had slowed, giving him a chance to outpace the larger ship. Within a few minutes of constant speed, skipping across the rolling waves dangerously, he was out of range of their crossbows, and the last ball of flame from the mage exploded harmlessly behind him. The woman kept trying to weasel into his mind and retake control, but the bouncing of the skiff and the dagger, still firmly planted in his leg, kept her from taking hold. But it wasn't for another hour that he dared to glance behind, or even think about taking the blade from his thigh. Luckily for him, he had a healing draught, which he threw down the hatch once he felt safe enough to remove the dagger.

After that, he set his jaw, pointed Vanessa east, and flew as fast as his will would allow. He might be three-quarters dead when he returned to Salt Luck, but he'd bring the news of the Howling Wind's armada, and their Offworlder allies, back to Gneiss Glen.

Chapter Two

Terran woke with a start, thinking he was back in the labyrinth, but finding himself in his hammock with a mess of blonde hair tucked under his chin. Della stirred, making half-awake noises, so he caressed the back of her neck until she returned to light snores. He slipped out of the hammock without disturbing her further. He was pulling his trousers on when she spoke.

I don't mind, you know, said Della, leaning on her side, gazing dreamily at him from the hammock.

He hooked the catch at the front of his pants and grabbed the undershirt he wore under his Whisperweave Tunic.

About?

Her, said Della, the corners of her eyes creasing. Chanterelle.

Terran opened his mouth to ask how she knew, and Della nodded towards his bare midsection, which sported claw marks.

Oh.

Just promise you'll be honest about your feelings, about me, about her, said Della.

He slipped the tunic over his head. I will.

Della raised her eyebrow. What's the rush this morning? Got a big date?

Terran smirked. Lot to do, but I was glad for the distraction. He paused. And if I don't bring the black crystal to Zoras soon, he'll likely climb up here and demand to see it, no matter what kind of state we're in.

I'd love to see his face. Would be worth the time, she said with a wink.

Terran leaned over, cupped her face with his hand, and pressed his lips against hers. When he reached the forest floor, he pulled up his character sheet. He'd meant to level up last night, but Della had found him as soon as he was back, and then he was distracted.

He placed his points into Intelligence and Charisma, which supported the Crystal Bard class, and now with the black crystal, that was even more important. He didn't know the particulars of what happened with the Lady Bard of Belavar, but he didn't want to repeat her mistake and rip a whole continent in half.

Character: Terran [Demigod]

Protector of the Rock Leaf Elves

Level: 26

Class: Earthen Mage

Crystal Bard

Subrace: Rock Leaf Elf

HP: 1,290

Mana: 1,470

Stamina: 4,220

Strength: 12

Intelligence: 29 (39)

Endurance: 28

Cunning: 11

Agility: 12

Charisma: 29 (39)

He was about to open the settlement interface and check on the status when Enoki came running up.

Terran, there you are. I was looking for you.

With thoughts of Chanterelle on his mind, he stammered out a response.

I, uhm, how are you?

Enoki screwed up her face and blinked twice, before glancing into the trees where his Chieftain's Hut was located.

You saw my sister in the Shadow Labyrinth, didn't you?

That was supposed to be a secret, he said. The labyrinth, that is.

You might want to tell your friend Flynn that. Once he came back, he couldn't shut up about it. Enoki looked at her feet. Did she say anything? About me?

That she misses you, lied Terran.

Thanks. Oh, Petram wants to see you. He's in the Conservatory. They got some news from Arabast. I guess it's super urgent, she said.

Terran started to move away, but paused. How are things here?

Like with my big buddy Granite? He's great. We're good. Trust me. After you get to know him, he's not hard to like. Honestly, if all crag trolls were like this, we'd have never had an issue.

The Conservatory was in distress when he entered the main chamber. Zoras and Zara were yelling over each other, while Petram was attempting to calm them down. Flynn and Newt stood at the back of the chamber with their arms crossed, watching the exchange with deep frowns, while Darkness Sighs watched intently from the threshold of the crystal room.

We need to pack up and head east. Maybe we can outrun the Howling Wind, find a little island, replant the Mother Tree, said Zoras, pacing behind his desk, then freezing in place when he saw Terran. His look of anguish turned to anticipation.

What's happened? Terran asked Petram as Zoras continued to stare at him like a lost puppy hoping for a treat.

Mayor Arabast scouted the coast of Moranne, specifically the port city of Däethspegll, said Petram.

What? I never authorized that. Is he insane? If they capture him then they'll know everything that's going on. It's gonna be hard enough as it is, said Terran, throwing his hands in the air.

It's okay, Lord Terran, he survived the journey without being captured. Though he doesn't like to think anyone remembers, I knew him as a pirate decades ago, before he stole enough gold to go legit, said Petram.

Well then, what'd he learn?

When no one else spoke, Flynn said, That we're screwed. They have twenty times our numbers and the ships to get them across the sea.

Zara punched her fist into an open palm. I don't care how many there are, we'll make them pay in flesh for every meter of land.

Terran squinted at his friends. We knew they outnumbered us. That can't be the only reason everyone's so fatalistic.

The redheaded berserker cracked her knuckles, grimacing as she shook her head, barely able to meet his gaze. Arabast scouted more than the vast number of ships.

And? They have a dragon, or kraken at their beck and call?

Worse, said Newt, staring blankly ahead.

Flynn spat on the wood floor, catching a horrified glare from Zoras. Your old friends are back, as part of the Howling Wind, as far as Arabast could tell.

My old friends...Selune? The Trio? asked Terran, his heart sinking.

Yep.

You beat 'em once, said Zara. We can beat 'em again. We're all here now!

Shadows below, said Terran. I thought banishing them to the other continent would make it harder for them, not give them a chance to find allies and come back.

Zoras stood, grim allegiance in his hungry eyes. Nothing matters now, no massive army or petulant Offworlders. You have the item that will bring our salvation.

Everyone turned to Terran, but after that lead-up he felt like a cult leader revealing a holy item when he pulled the black crystal from his backpack. One side of the hunk had rough edges where he'd released it. He'd cleaned up the crystal he'd left in the labyrinth, but hadn't bothered with the one he'd taken, since he'd have more time to shape it.

It doesn't look like much, said Terran, holding the fist-sized piece on the palm of his hand. And I have some work to do.

He felt like he was showing off a baby covered in mud, but no one—especially Zoras—seemed to mind. They stared at the crystal as if it were about to break into song.

Well done, Lord Terran, said Zoras, hand to his mouth. You've saved us.

Terran wasn't so sure the head of the Conservatory wasn't going to break into tears of joy. Even the others in the room were falling into a trance-like stare, which made him appreciate Flynn's outburst for dispelling the hold the black crystal had on everyone.

What's the big deal? It looks like a rock. A pretty, glossy rock, but the crimson crystal looks way cooler. What did you do to that one? Did you use a dull spoon to cut that one free? asked Flynn.

Veins were sticking out on Zoras's forehead. Before he could erupt, Terran waved him off. Flynn's right, you know. We've been going on about how powerful the black crystal is, but I really don't know why it is. The Lady Bard supposedly broke the continent in half with one, but I feel like that's a bit of a story. How do I use it? Crimson is for defense, azure for attacks. The void is chaos power, and rose is for charming. But what's a black crystal? Grimchar was using one to extract an essence from Lord Ostric's body. Is it necromancy?

Zoras cleared his throat. My apologies, Lord Terran, I failed in your education. The black crystal is an amplifier. It will power any spell or song that passes through it, making it hundreds of times more potent.

Terran nodded. That's why the slumber sphere was generating the magic, but passing through the black crystal. I understand. But how will this help against the Howling Wind? I know some individually powerful spells, but I'm not going to knock out an armada with a Vocal Slam, and that's what we need. If I can't take down the fleet before it unloads its troops on our shores, we're screwed. No one met his gaze as he glanced around the room. Zoras? Don't you have a song I can learn that will do the trick?

Zoras looked up hopefully. Maybe the Citadel does.

Even if I thought they had it, there's no time since I can't teleport directly there. It'd take me a week to get in and out, and I think based on Arabast's intel, we haven't got but days, maybe less, he said.

Darkness Sighs took a tiny step forward, her chin rising slightly. Whenever she spoke, Terran had the impression she was holding back immense power.

I know someone who can help. The others had forgotten the Shade was in the room. They turned, lips twitching with questions, but no one spoke as she commanded the space. "In the old part of the Final Tomb, abandoned in the last century, there are souls that roam free, ghosts no longer contained by the high priests. Most are benign, easy to control, but one was far too dangerous, and so no one lives there anymore.

In the old city of the Final Tomb, the one you call the Fermanta, the Lady Bard, the one who destroyed the city of Old Cateria and split the continents in two, roams free, her anguished soul forever awake, forever aware of the destruction she unleashed.

When Darkness Sighs finally said the name, Terran wasn't surprised. It seemed fitting, even if the task would be harrowing.

A dread silence stilled the group, until Flynn spoke to the skull on his hip.

That was either the sexiest thing she's ever uttered, or the most terrifying. Or maybe a whole lot of both. Am I right, Skully?

Zara rolled her eyes. Gross.

You have been offered a quest: Acquire the Song of Power from the ghost of Fermanta.

I'm sure she's pretty chill, having destroyed a whole city and all.

I should head to the Final Tomb right away. Darkness Sighs and Flynn will come with me. The rest of you need to get the settlement ready for invasion.

We've been working on it already, said Petram with a grim nod.

Excellent. Give me a few minutes to check the settlement stats, and then we'll leave, said Terran.

Zara placed a hand on his shoulder. What do you want me to do? Or should I come with you? My Shadow Axe is sure to be handy against a ghost.