Zoltan and Vivian

By Lyndon Hardy

Zoltan the grifter and Vivian the novice alchemist meet on the island Akamai. Could oil and water mix?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lyndon Hardy
• Release date: Aug 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9780999132074

Lyndon Hardy

I am a New York Times best-selling author of the Magic by the Numbers fantasy series. One Last Heist is planned to be published in December 2023 but will be available for preorder in September.I meld my knowledge from a PhD in elementary particle physics with the fantasy of alchemy, sorcery, and wizardry to produce tales in which there are constraints and limitations. Magic is not omnipotent. When the protagonists are in a jam, they are not saved with a simple bibbity, bobbiity, boo.With the exception that book 5, Magic Times Three, involves the same protagonists as book 4, The Archimage's Fourth Daughter, all the books in the series have different leading characters. They can be read in any order.I have some experience with adventures in our universe as well -- orchestrating the classic Rose Bowl Card Stunt in 1962. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Rose_Bowl_HoaxI have yet to come up with a plot in which a stamp collector saves the universe.

Book preview

Laws of Magic

The Laws of Magic

Thaumaturgy

Thaumaturgy Logo

The Principle of Sympathy — like produces like

The Principle of Contagion — once together, always together

Alchemy

Alchemy Logo

The Doctrine of Signatures — the attributes without mirror the powers within

Magic

Magician Logo

The Maxim of Persistence — perfection is eternal

Sorcery

Sorcery Logo

The Rule of Three — thrice spoken, once fulfilled

Wizardry

Wizard Logo

The Law of Ubiquity — flame permeates all

The Law of Dichotomy — dominance or submission

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Arrival

VIVIAN HUDDLED under the small table on the otherwise bare deck of the lighter. The onslaught of bottle darts on the shielding canopies sounded like pouring rain. The island of Akamai was under siege. From the barrier reef that surrounded it, blowgunners fired repeatedly. One of the darts crashed into the canvas near her head and smashed open. A dark shadow of oozing liquid dripped out and blotted some of the sunlight filtering through. Vivian flinched, smelling the acrid odor of the acid eating into the cloth, but there was little space into which to retreat. Six people were crammed into the small shelter, herself, a bosun, and two rowers on both sides, somehow managing to still stoke their oars. The smell of oil of vitriol stung her nose.

Was this what she really wanted? Go to the worst place possible in order to regain her self-worth with one bold action? It would have been so much easier to start slower. Take care of the simple aches and pains of a small village first. Let her reputation grow and then move to bigger and bigger venues. But that would take time, so much more time. Enough had already passed. Now, she wanted to regain a feeling of value, of worthiness, of wholeness—as soon as she could.

The last three years had been a blur. Lying to the Guild that Medwick and Oswald had discovered how to stop the plague had been a small transgression. In light of what she had done, such a little thing no longer mattered. The masters of the Guild were delighted. Besides starting the process that made the infection disappear from the land, they had graciously offered her the robe of a master. Gleaming white of finely woven cotton. No slit in either front or back. Tailored precisely for each wearer. A symbol of status that stood out in any crowd.

But she could not accept. The purity of white was no longer an option that could possibly apply to her. She was not worthy. She had committed the most grievous of sins. She had to redeem herself first, perform so many good deeds of healing that, in her heart, the moral balance shifted from evil back to good. She hungered for redemption.

So, she had embarked on a whirlwind of education, studying the properties of raw substances that might have merit without alchemical manipulation. The formulas of the craft, she did not any longer want to touch. Armed with only a walking staff, she questioned the elders of isolated villages to learn how to set broken bones, about salves to rub on the chests of children unable to sleep because of their coughs, of the bounty of everyday plants to reduce fevers.

She touched the bare nape of her neck. Her once long and beautiful auburn hair was cropped short in the manner of men. It served her as a constant reminder of what she had done. Only occasionally, did she sneak a peek at herself in the small mirror carried in her satchel. Smile lines were deepening into the hints of wrinkles, but that no longer mattered. Few men had shown her any interest before, and now, none at all.

The barrage of darts stopped as the small craft moved out of blowgun range from the enemies stationed on both sides of the opening in the reef. As the lighter had approached it, Vivian had marveled at the array of tapa mats that covered the irregular tangle of coral. Several huts made of palm fronds lashed to shoots of bamboo dotted the carpeting. Lazy tendrils of smoke from a small cooking fire drifted skyward from a platform of flat stones imported from who knew where. The besieged were here for a long stay.

A short while after the bombardment had ceased, the lighter shuddered against the shallow upslope of shore and traveled no farther. You will have to get wet the rest of the way, the bosun said. His large jowls were tight with apprehension. And you must be quick about it. I spotted a stack of palm trunks on either side of the barrier reef entrance. Enough to construct a blockade across the gap. I am worried about making it back out.

The pennon that was hoisted before we rowed through the gap shows my icon, Vivian protested. Two snakes winding around a winged staff. That shows I am a healer, not a fighter.

Evidently, such civilized niceties make no difference to these heathens. The bosun shook his head. This siege of starvation will continue until the ali’i, the child king of Akamai, surrenders unconditionally to his older brother, the ruler of the larger island, Ikaika. Any vessel attempting to cross the gap in the reef will be attacked. And you are a fool for rushing into trouble rather than avoiding it.

A fool? Vivian asked. Were my ministrations to your crew during the entire transit the babblings of a fool?

Nay! The bosun raised his palm and shook his head again. I spoke in haste. Many of the crew swear you are a miracle worker. No bleeding gums or bulging eyes among any of them. Your prescription of the oranges and lemons cured everyone. They drew lots to see who would have the honor of running the gantlet to see you ashore.

Vivian nodded. This was the kind of situation she had been looking for. She smoothed down her beige travel robe and sighed. She had to admit she missed the simplicity of the inverted triangle logos on the master alchemist robe she had so wanted to wear. That design might very well have halted the blowgun barrage. By contrast, the caduceus seemed harder for others to recognize what it stood for.

Quickly! the bosun commanded. Begone with you, so I can reverse course and leave this trap.

Vivian opened her mouth to say more and then thought better of it. Picking up her satchel and placing it over her shoulder, she raised