Felicity: A Time for Retribution

By Dale West

There has been a murder! A wizard of high status is brutally murdered in his crystal home. A number of his precious magical possessions were stolen. His teenage daughter, Felicity, with some of her school mates and her father’s magical friends, set out to find who did it, take her revenge, and recover her inheritance. The chase is on! Magic fights magic to a deadly conclusion!

• Language: English
• Publisher: John R. Mabry
• Release date: Dec 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9781958061633

Book preview

1

The horsemen raced through the cold, wet night—gray phantoms on an unholy quest. Intense rain obscured the riders’ features until they appeared to be gruesome ghosts haunting the darkness, speeding toward an unknown destiny. They spurred their steeds mercilessly forward, as if the next mile would be their last.

Mute in their misery, each of them was determined not to be the first to complain. After all, the King rode at their lead, they would follow him even if it led unto death itself.

Icy rain fell hard; the strong winds caught it and blasted it at them from every direction, forcing it right through their cloaks and gloves, the bitter cold numbing their flesh.

They snuggled deeper into their wet cloaks, fought their shivering, and rode on. Weariness ate at their bodies and souls. Their eyes were dull with fatigue; hunger ate deeply into their bellies. They grumbled dark oaths silently under their breath for having drawn such an ugly assignment, but they were careful that their curses never reached the ears of the man they followed.

The horses, not as inclined to obedience as their riders, snorted their outrage, rolled their eyes wildly, and gasped for each labored breath. Clouds of steam billowed from their flared nostrils, swirling in a windblown fog in their wake. Yet they too fought courageously through the wind and rain, every step a new ordeal that tested the very fiber of their existence.

One of the riders urged his horse faster. He spurred the exhausted animal forward until he rode side by side with the leader. Sire, he barked, his voice raspy with fatigue. Our horses need rest.

The King glanced wearily at his Captain. His eyes glared savage determination to continue onward. From the depths of his heart, he fought his compassion for these weary men and their noble steeds. His body also rebelled against the punishment he was enduring with them. His hands ached beyond pain, grasping the reins desperately, afraid that if he were to lose his hold, he could not regain it. His legs hugged his horse so tightly they were cramping, but he was afraid that should he relax for only a moment, he would falter and fall to the ground, unable to rise again.

It’s my daughter, Captain! he barked. Evangeline is near! His voice was straining with desperation.

I fear for the horses. the captain answered.

As do I. We are near! The King rued the need for such a decision. We will go on for half an hour. If we have not reached Evangeline’s gate by then, we will stop and take shelter.

The captain nodded his agreement. We will find her, my king! He slowed his horse to rejoin his men.

2

Headmaster Adamant paced nervously back and forth, his left hand gripping his right wrist behind his back, forcing him to bend forward at the waist unnaturally. As was his habit when worried, he mumbled unintelligible curses to himself as he paced. For some strange reason, his eye was attracted to a smudge on his shoe. Unable to abide any kind of smudge, he scrubbed the toe of his shoe on his pants, transferring the stain to the back side of his leg. Out of sight, out of mind, he reasoned. His pace quickened as resumed fretting over his predicament.

I can’t believe it. he repeated over and over, his voice sounding frail and foreign. His anguish twisted into a knot centered between his eyes.

Lord save me. Lord save us all. How does one explain to a king that we have lost his only daughter?

He stopped pacing to study the coals in the fireplace. He’ll take my position! Maybe throw me in his dungeon! His mind raced over the alternatives. He envisioned himself being drawn, quartered, and laid out for public viewing. He shuttered at the thought.

No! He spat the words past the hard lump stuck in his throat. This just can’t be happening. Elisabeth Ann must be found. The sound of his own voice was not convincing, even to himself. He had done everything possible to find the girl and her three friends who had also gone missing. The school had been thoroughly searched, but neither hide nor hair of any one of them had shown up.

Adamant nearly jumped out of his shoes when someone knocked softly at his door.

Go away! The headmaster barked harshly.

Sir, I thought you’d want to know. Adamant recognized the voice of his manservant, Horus. There are horsemen on the roadway.

He’s here? Adamant shouted at the closed door. His thoughts scattered like seed in the wind; panic ripped apart what little resolve he had left. He’s not supposed to be here until tomorrow! He cried.

Don’t know about that, sir. The voice answered. But someone has arrived. And there’s a great many of them.

Adamant took better hold of his raging emotions, ran to the windows, and flung back the curtains.

The first of the horsemen was already coming into the courtyard below. They were hooded, in dark cloaks that hung on their bodies like a wet grave shroud. He could not see their faces, but he knew them to be stern, grim, ominous, unholy men; they looked like ghosts that prowled the dark places.

And one of them would be the King!

Good lord man! Get a hold on yourself. He scolded himself. You sound just like one of those superstitious northerners. Ghosts indeed!

As the horsemen made their way into the courtyard below his window, they formed quickly into a circle of protection around a single figure. That person sat unmoving on a majestic gray stallion. There could be no mistake: there before God and man sat King Charles.

Adamant took a deep breath to steady his nerves and mentally cinch up his sagging courage, then ran from the room. Very soon, the king would be at the door, demanding entry. As Headmaster it was his sworn duty to greet him.

3

As the headmaster swung open the front doors of the school, he heard the raspy voice of the King barking orders to his men. His voice was worn with fatigue, sounding harsh and disjointed. His words were bitten off in short bursts that sounded more like animal grunts than it did God’s English. Adamant knew these men have ridden all the way from Spectrum, in one day, without stopping. A grueling ordeal at best.

Finished with his men, the King spotted the headmaster and stalked toward him. His face was concealed in the shadows of his hood, but the headmaster had no trouble reading his eyes. They were angry and demanding. The King’s hands were balled into fists, his knuckles bloodless from the strain. Stiff from the ride, the king forced himself forward on shacky knees too weak to carry his weight. Even though his spine had lost its strength, he forced himself to stand erect as if ready to strike down a foe.

Your Majesty. Adamant bowed deeply, trying to show his respect and admiration.

The King paid the gesture no mind. What accommodations have you made for my men? He demanded.

The rooms over the stables have been prepared, Sire. There is fresh bedding, a fire has been lit, and water is being heated for bathing.

We are hungry. The king bellowed.

There is soup, tea, and fresh bread. My kitchen staff is making it as we speak.

King Charles turned to his captain. "Did you hear?

The captain nodded he had.

See to your men. Change out of your wet clothing, eat what is served, then report to me inside.

The captain grunted his understanding, spun on his heal, and marched away.

With the captain gone, the King brushed past the headmaster, and without a sideways glance stormed into the school. He marched straight to the main hall.

Adamant followed closely in his wake pensive, with head bowed in shame.

King Charles went straight to the fireplace, held out his hands to the welcome heat. Rain that had collected on his cloak ran off in rivulets, forming puddles on the wooden floor.

Headmaster Adamant feared there would be stains left on his beautiful oak wood floors. He hated stains. But he dared not voice his abhorrence; the stains would have to wait.

Weary, King Charles pulled off his cloak and tossed it aside. He stared into the coals lost in worry. His face was drawn with fatigue, dirty and unshaven, his eyes hard and red rimmed. He was a huge man, both in height and girth, his arms, encased in chainmail, were like tree trunks. Despite his size, he moved with grace, as agile as a cat, with a sense of unwavering persistence.

He turned and glared at the headmaster. Now, He demanded. What have you done with my daughter?

Adamant could not bear to look the King in his eyes. His head bowed forward in shame, whimpering, he said, She’s gone, Sire. She and three of her friends went to their beds at lights out, then simply vanished.

Vanished? King Charles shouted back, his voice harsh and unforgiving. Nobody vanishes!

They were here when we called light’s out; they were gone with the morning sun. We’ve looked everywhere, Sire. Not one room in this school has gone unsearched. We even looked in the vaults below the foundations. There was no trace of them. His voice was shaking with contrition.

Then my daughter is not alone? This comes as no surprise. My daughter is never alone. Who is she with?

Her three best friends, Sire. All of them missing.

Good lord, man! The blood veins in the King’s forehead bulged with rage. What kind of school are you running here? King Charles collapsed into a chair; it sagged under his weight. I trusted you, Adamant! His eyes narrowed with rage. I trusted you with my daughter’s safety! Now she is gone? He shook his head in disbelief. "I was assured by people I trust that this is one of the finest schools in the land. They claimed you had a perfect record for the upbringing and safety of your students.

I confess my daughter is a wild one. She has been hard to handle since her mother passed, always up to one kind of mischief or another. She became more than I could handle. That’s why we enrolled her here. To keep her out of trouble and always know where she was. Your reputation was spotless. We trusted you, Adamant.

After a moment of awkward silence, the King said, Start from the beginning, Adamant. He growled, tell me everything you do know. But I warn you, if you value your position here, do not dare to leave out the smallest trifle.

The headmaster nervously wiped at the sweat on his brow. It was last week, Tuesday, they did not come down for breakfast. I sent a teacher to bring them down, but their rooms were empty.

Six days ago? King Charles barked. His face and neck grew flushed, and the blood vanes in his forehead popped out even more, pulsing with anger.

Aye Sire. At first, we thought little of it. Students are allowed to eat in their rooms, especially if they are studying for an important exam. But when they did not appear by nine, I sent a teacher to roust them out. Their rooms were empty, even their beds were un-slept in. They had vanished, leaving no trace. He snapped his fingers to emphasis his point.

The King shook his head sadly. It might not be as bad as he had feared. Elizabeth Ann was a difficult child at the very least, always up to some kind of mischievous prank. But she was not alone. That could rule out an evil deed such as kidnapping. It would be easy to take one young girl hostage. But to take four of them at the same time, without them raising some sort of ruckus was next to impossible. You say you checked thoroughly, their rooms, the grounds, the dungeons?

Thoroughly, Sire. The only thing we could find missing was clothing. They took the time to pack their bags. The kind of things one might take if going on an overnight field trip, warm clothing, hairbrushes, toothbrushes, even a quilt and the pillows from their beds.

Adamant shook his head sadly, trembling, refusing to look directly at the King. Nor did they just walk away. They rode! Four of our horses are missing from the stable.

Don’t you have a stable boy? the King demanded. He must have seen them.

We do have a stable man, Sire. He’s a good man; he’s been with me many years. He sleeps in the tack room, so they would have had to sneak right past his door. He is at a loss as to how they could have gotten four horses out of the stable without his knowing. He is beside himself with fear and worry.

Is he to be believed?

I do believe him, Sire; indeed, I do. He was with me in the south; he came north with me out of loyalty and friendship. I see no reason to mistrust the man.

I have no such trust! King Charles barked. I want to talk with him myself. The King sat quietly for a few moments, thinking. Tell me, Adamant, do you think this could be a lark, a silly schoolgirl prank? Perhaps they grew tired of their studies and decided to take a little field trip to break their monotony?

I think not, Sire! The headmaster answered insistently. I take pride in knowing my students. All four of them are good and trusted upper-class students. I don’t think any of them would deliberately leave school and cause us to worry without due cause.

King Charles jumped to his feet, pacing back and forth. Do you suspect foul play? His voice quivered with rage.

Adamant was taken aback. That is not what I meant. We have no proof either way. But, on the other hand, we would be remiss not to consider it a possibility.

It has entered my head, Adamant. I have many enemies that would stop at nothing to strike at me.

I do understand. Adamant knew of such things. But happy to say, there is not one single clue that points to foul play. Everything seems to point to their leaving simply because they wanted to leave.

Where could they have gone? The King murmured wearily, then sighed. But before we pursue that reasoning further, he continued, Tell me, who are the three other students with her?

Adamant began to pace. There is Claymore Parsons.

The merchant’s son? King Charles hopes brightened. I know the boy personally; I am also good friends with his father. Claymore has been in my presence many times; his family are good citizens; he is a good boy. The King’s voice softened a bit. If Elizabeth Ann is with Claymore, he can and will give her his protection.

Adamant nodded his head in agreement.

I understand that the boy wants to enlist in the Guard when his schooling is completed. The King said, trying to remember what he knew of the boy.

I believe that is his ambition, Sire. He is both a good athlete and a first-rate scholar. We see that combination rarely.

The King nodded for him to go on. "Who else is missing?

Dooley Lavender. Dooley is an orphan raised by the monks at the monastery in Daily Township.

You allow an orphan to study here? There was no bitterness in the question, only mild surprise. He knew that to attend Evangeline, one of the finest schools in the land, was costly at best.

Aye, Sire. The boy showed great promise in the lower classes at the orphanage. The monks there decided to underwrite his education on the hope he would return to them as a teacher when he graduated. I must say the boy has excelled in his studies. He is a bit timid, and certainly no athlete, but he has earned the respect of our staff. In every endeavor we assign him, he has learned with surprising quickness.

He does, however, have one bad quality. Adamant continued. He is very much a coward; he fears getting hurt to the point that he will not join with the other students in their field games. I am more than surprised that he joined the others in this excursion.

Get on with it! King Charles demanded impatiently.

The last is Felicity Simple. Like the others, she is a good student, the same age as Elizabeth Ann. Very quickly they became the very best of friends. You’ll not often find one without the other. Adamant paused to mull over the girl’s history. "A small girl in stature, quite shy when she arrived here. At first, she was moody and solemn, preferring to be apart from the other students. I don’t think she liked being left behind. Her father didn’t even bother to come with her, she was accompanied by a lady who claimed to be her aunt. She was a strange lady to say the very least. She didn’t wear her shoes on her feet, they were dangling over her shoulder, their laces having been tied together. She had hair like wild straw, and she wore many sweaters layered one over the other. I’m sure Felicity felt abandoned. I saw evidence that she was harboring deep resentment toward her father for it.

She was a loner who had no friends at all until Elizabeth Ann came along. Your daughter would not leave the strange girl alone. She pestered Felicity until she came around.

My daughter is very stubborn. King Charles agreed. I’ve seen that defiant side of her far too often. It is one of the reasons we sent her here.

Stubborn, yes. Adamant agreed with a nod of his head. But Elizabeth Ann was very good for Felicity. They became fast friends; over time they grew quite fond of each other. With help from Elizabeth Ann, Felicity became more confident, more open to her environment here at Evangeline.

You sound surprised they became friends. Explain yourself. King Charles demanded.

 "As you know, Elizabeth Ann is a refined lady; always on the best of manners, she is clean and well-groomed. She is courteous, participates in her classes without encouragement, and is thoughtful of other’s feelings. It is true she has a tendency to bend the rules on occasion, but her offences are usually minor.

Courteous? Thoughtful of other’s feelings? The king sounded surprised. Are you sure we are talking about the same person? My daughter is often rude and challenging my authority.

Felicity Simple, the other girl missing is less refined. Adamant continued, daring to change the subject. She feels more at home in a barn than in a classroom. She challenges our rules at the drop of a hat, ready to debate with her teacher over any small difference of opinion. You have to be ready to answer her questions because she doesn’t like being ignored. She is excellent at expressing her opinion. She is a small wiry girl with red hair, green eyes, and a temper to match. In spite of this, she is one of our better students.

King Charles didn’t agree with Adamant’s assessments. "You are mistaken about Elizabeth Ann. She dresses the way she does because her nanny insisted; being the daughter of a King has expectations and requirements. In truth Elizabeth Ann is a bit of a tomboy who would rather wear pants than a dress, she prefers to ride a horse rather than ride in a cart. Her governess and I have gone round and round about that.

Where is this other girl from? King Charles asked. "Who is this father who abandoned her in your care?’

The headmaster hesitated a moment before saying, You’re asking me to break a confidence, Sire.

To hell and be damned with your confidences, Adamant! The King shouted. Unless you have forgotten, my daughter is missing, and you, Headmaster, alone are responsible. By damn! I intend to find her by whatever means at my disposal. Now answer my question!

Adamant dared not comply; the penalty would be too great. The name we have on record is Deciduous Simple. I can’t tell you much more than that.

The King’s eyes bulged with anger. Are you refusing to comply with my order?

I wouldn’t presume. I’m trying to tell you that we don’t know anything more about Deciduous Simple. Adamant squirmed under the King’s wrathful stare. We have nothing on our records that tells us how to contact him.

Wasn’t an emergency address given? King Charles asked.

We have none.

The King leaned backwards, dumbfounded. How can it happen that a girl can live here, in your building, under your guidance these long years without you knowing where she comes from? Surely, you must have some sort of record in your files concerning her origins.

Sire, let me explain. Adamant began to pace to and frow, his arms locked behind his back. Seven years ago, we received correspondence from a man calling himself Deciduous Simple. He inquired about the course of studies we offer. We in turn sent him a catalog. Two weeks after our doors were open new to students, the girl arrived by coach accompanied by a woman claiming to be an aunt. The lady introduced herself, but I can’t for the life of me remember it. In her possession she had six letters from former teachers. The girl had been home taught by hired tutors and was well advanced in her studies. The aunt carried letters of introduction, with a list of instructions on how to handle the girl’s affairs. She also handed over a fist full of gold coin. The instruction said to take the first year’s tuition from this money, and to keep the rest in an account to pay the costs of her books and classroom expenses. No sooner had the coin changed hands, than her aunt kissed the girl and beat a hasty retreat. We’ve not seen or heard from her since. Every year we receive a purse of gold coin in the mail to cover her needs. To my knowledge she has never gone home, not even for the holidays. Nor have her father or aunt seen fit to visit her.

King Charles couldn’t believe the story pouring out of Adamant’s mouth. You’re telling me she has not laid eyes on her father in these seven years? He queried, dumbfounded that any man could be so coldly abandon his daughter in this manner.

That’s exactly what I am telling you, Sire. Adamant squirmed. We couldn’t send her off without some instruction on where to send her. As long as the gold coin each year we were obligated to keep her."

"This sounds