A Man of Flame and Sword

By J. C. Unitt

Tresden Morvic is a renowned mercenary from the magical caste known as the 'sutedors'. But when he takes on a job for an old friend, he is drawn into a dangerous game that forces him to confront the ghosts of his past and navigate the intrigues of the present. He will need every ounce of strength, guile, and courage he has to survive his greatest trial yet...

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. C. Unitt
• Release date: Dec 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798224892259

Book preview

A Man of Flame and Sword

J. C. Unitt

Published by J. C. Unitt, 2023.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

A MAN OF FLAME AND SWORD

First edition. December 20, 2023.

Copyright © 2023 J. C. Unitt.

ISBN: 979-8224892259

Written by J. C. Unitt.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

A Man of Flame and Sword

Tresden took a sip of his wine. It was strong but extremely sweet, almost excessively so. Though that was hardly a surprise. It came from the fabled Venissian vineyards, famous for growing a rare variety of sweet, mahogany-coloured grapes that put most others to shame. Where Tresden had taken a small sip, Borcha took a great swig, downing almost a third of his cup. He motioned to the bottle of Venissian Red that stood on the table between them.

Lovely stuff, isn’t it? he said lazily.

Absolutely, Tresden concurred. You get it from Dermion?

Yup.

Tresden and Borcha were sitting in the latter’s extensive garden, gradually emptying the bottle of wine and enjoying the cool spring air. Though similarly attired in blue waistcoats and black trousers, they could hardly be mistaken for relatives. Tresden was tall and muscular, broad-shouldered and red-headed, with a fierce red beard and blood-red eyes to match. Borcha on the other hand was short, stout, and bespectacled, with receding black hair and pale grey eyes.

The stout merchant took another swig of wine, set down the cup, and sighed. Look, I’ll not beat about the bush any longer. I need your help, Tresden.

Tresden did not immediately reply. I had suspected as much.

Borcha raised his hands. I was reluctant to involve you in this, old friend, but I don’t have a choice. Anyone but a man of your talents would have been either completely useless or dangerously unreliable.

A man of my talents?

Dammit Tresden, you know exactly what I’m on about. I need a sutedor, and you happen to be the only one I know well enough to ask this favour of.

I also happen to be an amateur lutist, wine connoisseur, and a patron of the Tarmirad Theatre, yet people are only ever interested in the sutedor—the fire-wielding, sword-swinging warrior who will make all their problems go away. Tresden took another sip of wine. Alright, so what’s this favour you need? Why am I, against my better judgement, going to risk life and limb for you this time?

Borcha rolled his eyes. Gods, you’re worse than my daughter. A few days back my son Jak was out with his mates in the Dertham Forest when they were set upon by brigands from the hills. Most of ‘em managed to get away, but Jak was captured and taken prisoner by Fargen Tuller, the so-called King of the Hills.

I know who Fargen Tuller is.

Good. Then you’ll realise why I need your help.

Have you tried ransoming your boy? I’m sure you’d be able to afford it.

Oh, easily. But that’s not the issue. Tuller is. He might call himself a king, but he’s nought but a knave and an upjumped bandit claiming a dead man’s castle. He’ll see me on a street corner dressed as a tart before he gets a single copper out of me. Borcha drank the rest of his wine and sat in silence. Tresden scoffed, shaking his head.

You’re a stubborn old bastard, you know that?

Maybe so, but I’m a stubborn bastard with a large purse and a problem that needs solving. So will you do this thing for me, Tresden?

When the sutedor did finally speak, it was in a quiet, serious tone. This is quite an ask, my friend. Fargen Tuller may indeed be an upjumped bandit, but he’s one with hundreds of men and a strong keep in a highly defensible location. What’s more, I hear he has a wizard by his side, one Dachrair of Corvos.

Since when have wizards frightened a sutedor? I seem to remember you saying that you killed one in Isuno. Yevred, was it?

"Yes, Yevred. But that was no easy task. Those spells and elixirs of his made him damn near unbeatable in combat. We had to take the bastard by surprise at night and cut him from neck to knave before he could so much as blink. Nasty business. And Dachrair, well