Curse of the Arrow: Descendants of Robin Hood, #2

By Maggie K. West

The Sorcerer Gisborne has claimed his throne. The safe house of Lake Cloudia is in danger as the Golden Arrow, the only remaining source of pure magic, has resurfaced. Nations across the world spring into a frantic search to recover it before the Ealdra can use it to rekindle the power of the long-dormant Gold King and end their feud with the Áccyn forever.

 

Dark secrets surface when Connor Avidor, a strange agent, arrives from the hidden third descendants nation of Narruncen to call Jack to join the search. Meanwhile, the Gold King and Gisborne repeatedly urge Jack away from the Narrunceni. They warn of a powerful warrior of legend, a sorcerer to rival Guy of Gisborne who will sweep in a wave of violence across the world.

 

Jack is forced to confront his great-grandfather's past while struggling with the weight of loss, the volatile power he is only beginning to control, and the growing uncertainty of who he can trust. In a race across continents, how far will he run?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jasmine Codex Publishing
• Release date: Feb 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9798989722907

Book preview

Prologue

Watch the stars. Rowan Tyler stood beside his great-grandson on the battlements of Fort Calmier and pointed up at the moon, the silver light shining off the trees below. Every third night after the full moon, watch it pass through the Great Archer. One night, you will stand in the stone courtyard of Fort Calmier, and the whole world will know of Jackson Marcrombie, the Great Guardian of the North.

Which one’s the Great Archer again? Jack asked, climbing up on the battlements to see over the wall. He leaned forward, a little far over the edge above. Rowan gently wrapped his arm around the boy, keeping him safely on the stone, and pointed up into the heavens, tracing out Sagittarius.

How are you going to give me your power from the Great Archer? Jack frowned down at Rowan with glistening, mismatched eyes.

There is magic in the stars, Jack. Magic that comes from the burning core of the worlds above and from deep in the earth. When the stars align with a Rangerian, that magic flows through the earth into your veins. Rowan rested his rough hand on the boy’s arm. Jack hopped down and they walked together along the battlements. "There are Titans among the galaxies, gods that infuse their worlds with their own pure magic. It’s the magic that makes the stars glow, that warms the plants and creatures of the ground, that Rangerians draw our own magic from. We call these Titans Stars because of the light of their magic. Sometimes cracks form in the worlds, where the magic seeps through and gives the creatures extraordinary gifts."

Oh, like Perry?

Rowan laughed, Yes, just like Perry.

Jack turned and waved down into the stables at a baby Peryton only a week old, its wings folded against is deer body, standing with his face right up against the wall in his stall and slowly chewing some hay.

Rowan wasn’t exactly sure how many extraordinary gifts Jack’s Peryton received. But the kid still loved the creature with every bit of his twelve-year-old self.

Have you met the earth Titan? Jack asked, taking his great-grandfather’s hand again.

Rowan laughed. No, I don’t think anyone has. But I’ve heard stories.

Jack stopped and pulled his grandpa down to sit on the stone and crossed his legs, waiting intently for another of Rowan’s grand tales of adventure.

Rowan leaned forward. Once upon a time, there were two Stars—Crius, who ruled the earth, and Hyperion, who ruled the sun. Crius was Hyperion’s right-hand-man, and most trusted soldier. But Crius was arrogant, and wanted Hyperion’s throne and kingdom of the solar system. When Crius tried to take it, Hyperion stripped him of his power and banished him to the depths of the earth. Crius is still here, curled in the molten gold core of his planet, waiting for earthly people like us, who hold a piece of his magic, to gift our power to him and restore his rule.

What happens when he comes back?

Then, Rowan took both of his great-grandson’s hands in his own, this feud with the Ealdra will be over. Crius will bring peace back to our courts. He’ll let us walk the earth, free of our palaces.

Shouts rang in the courtyard below and thunder rumbled in the clouds. Rowan stood up, leaning over the edge. Áccyn scouts stepped through the palace gates into the courtyard, leading a boy only a couple years older than Jack. The boy was dressed in a tattered Ealdra tunic, his black hair a tousled mess, full of twigs and leaves, his face and arms covered in scrapes. He was crying, looking around with wide, fearful, mismatched eyes as sparks of Lightning shot up his arms.

one

She knelt in the light. Her deep green cloak was torn, her hands shackled to the stone. Outside her cell, a mass of torches flickered before a wall of mirrors, flooding her cell with searing light. Her longbow lay broken in the corner of the cell. Useless.

Sheriff Androuet’s screams echoed through the dungeon halls, punctured by the prince’s low, ringing voice. Androuet’s cry was suddenly cut short and a silence fell across the corridors, a silence that somehow sounded even louder.

The shadow of two young guards marched past, shielding their eyes against the light streaming into her cell. A tiny bit of strength seeped into her muscles and she flexed her fingers against her shackles. Nothing. She hadn’t been able to summon even a wisp of Shadow in a week. It was like the power that hugged her for years had retreated from the light, hidden away deep in her chest. And with it went every bit of her energy.

Three sets of footsteps sounded on the stairs and an electric stillness fell on the air.

"How do you know she even has an inkling of an idea where the Arrow is?" A woman’s voice asked.

The Arrow is her only chance to get her brother back, the prince answered. She has information.

If you waste my time… A third voice she hadn’t heard before. A voice that rang a thousand years old.

Wait here, the prince ordered, a dry anger in his voice.

The Dark Archer–or the girl who used to be the Dark Archer–stood up, pushing away the pain in her side. He was moving towards her.

She had heard many stories of this castle in Canada from her own court days, before everything happened. Before her brother ran away. Before she went rogue. Stories of the True Born Ealdra Prince of Lightning who abandoned his own court only a few months after his power manifested.

But the Ealdra prince who stepped into the light was long gone, buried deep into the twisted mind of Prince John’s Sorcerer.

She stayed motionless, her head raised, looking up into those dark, dangerous eyes. The prince’s black hair was smoothed away from his face, hanging down to his shoulders. A black cloak was slung over one shoulder on top of his crisp red Ealdra uniform, his sword hanging at his belt. The prince’s Lightning Tyrest, a dark titanium ring, hung on a chain around his neck, the thin jagged gold stripe of a lightning bolt that ran down the side of it glinting in the light. He would have been handsome… if she had not seen the Darkness behind those eyes. There was absolutely no grief, no remorse in the murder he just committed.

He reached forward, his long fingers stretching out. He touched the lock and a spark flashed. There was a click, and he pulled his hand back, sorcery fog curling around the bars, pulling the cell door open.

She reflexively sat back, away from him, her long, dark braid sliding off her shoulder. He stepped inside her cell.

You almost gave me away. His voice was low. The same tone she heard ringing across the stone among the Sheriff’s screams. I had so much more to do, but you planted the thought in Jackson’s head and left it there to grow. He stopped a couple feet from her. At least you didn’t tell him outright, or you would have been dead long ago, Niskian Fortunati.

He figured it out, didn’t he? Her throat was dry. A cold smile spread across his face. Jackson had figured it out… that his best friend, the traitor prince before her, was the vessel of Prince John’s Sorcerer.

Where is the Golden Arrowhead? he asked calmly.

She stayed perfectly still.

I’m about to show you what happens to those who resist me. He took another step closer, those cold eyes inches from her own. I am the Dark Archer, she thought, I can stand against a single thousand-year-old Sorcerer.

Fog began to drift across her feet.

You know where the Golden Arrowhead is, he whispered. If you want to live, you will tell me.

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Well? the Ealdra Queen asked, waiting in the dark dungeon corridors, her red robes hugged around her frame.

It’s not her.

I know the Arrowhead is on this continent. The Gold King stepped forward, wrapping his dark brown cloak around him, his yellow-green eyes glinting in the torchlight. Who else is there? A tone of anger rang in his voice.

There were only five survivors when the Áccyn and Narrunceni moved the Arrow. General Zakre’s son, who knows nothing; Eduard Karzen, who died in the Azomien’s attack; Arashi, the name ripped across his throat, who disappeared into the sea; myself, and… Rowan Tyler. Perhaps our old North Wind spy saw something.

He died over a year ago, the Ealdra Queen snapped.

But his great-grandson… the Sorcerer smiled, My queen, Jackson Marcrombie can retrace his dear grandpa’s steps. He was tied to that man. The Ealdra Queen looked to the King, and he nodded.

If this is a dead end, it will be your head that falls, the Ealdra Queen told the Sorcerer. He bowed, and swept away down the corridor.

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The screams of the Shadow Rangerian still rang in his ears, the Sorcerer’s footsteps fading away. He sat in the corner of his dark cell, his arms on his knees, his head bowed, his eyes closed, listening, listening. The scars that ran across his bare chest and down his arms glowed faintly. His Tyrest, the gold chain that normally hung around his neck, rested on a small outcropping of stone. The Shadow Rangerian shouldn’t struggle. He didn’t when he was caught.

And that’s the only reason he still had the thin Golden Arrowhead in the lining of his boot.

two

The unfamiliar light behind Nick’s eyes. His laugh ringing across the pools of Lake Cloudia. The memory of searing pain stabbing into my injuries, conjured with only a look from Nick. Fog streaming off his shoulders. The flicker of green light behind his eyes.

His voice. But not his words. Oh, Jack, Nick’s been gone for years.

The Terror on Daetho’s face.

"The Sorcerer, Jackson." The smile that twisted Nick’s face.

Someone sat down next to me. I blinked my eyes open, uncurling my arms from around my legs and swiped my hand across my damp face. Natanian settled down on the smooth stone.

You’re thinking about him, aren’t you? He looked down into the crystal blue pool.

I didn’t answer, the ache in my chest overwhelming. It had been four days since Sorcerer Gisborne revealed himself. Years, he said. He’d possessed the body of my best friend for years. Had I ever even known the real Nick?

I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. Natanian’s eyes stared cold into the water, his blond hair tangled, one arm crossed over his chest.

Yeah. My voice was dry.

His head shot up. Is there anything you should be telling me? He shifted. "Any dark secret you’re hiding?"

I laughed dryly. He raised his eyebrows. I fell quiet, watching the sad, blank expression on Natanian’s face. I shook my head. Promise.

He looked away. "If Nick can fall to the Ealdra’s Sorcerer..." His hand clenched over the dry leaves, his knuckles white.

He has to still be in there. We need to get the Sorcerer out.

He laughed. "I don’t know how you expect to expel the thousand-year-old Guy of Gisborne from a sixteen-year-old kid."

We’ve managed this much, haven’t we?

His laughter dropped. Yeah. Sure.

Jackson. I looked around. Master Daetho leapt off the stone ledge above and stepped up to me, his tail swishing. We need to speak.

Oh, I don’t like that, I sighed, and pushed myself to my feet. My leg, cut during the fight at Fort Calmier, and my shoulder bruised by the Dark Archer still both ached, stiff if I sat for too long.

This is private, Daetho clarified as Natanian stood up.

No it’s not, Natanian snapped. I’m not waiting in the dark. Let’s go.

Stay, Daetho ordered. Natanian ripped off a twig caught on his pants and walked past us up the slope, waiting. "Natanian," Daetho’s whiskers twitched in annoyance. A slight smile tugged at Natanian’s face.

It’s okay, I told Daetho. We moved on up the path winding between the tiered pools. Natanian fell in behind us.

What’s going on? I asked quietly.

What do you know about the Golden Arrow?

It’s how Rangerians first began to get our power. It’s the origin of the curse.

"I mean, what do you know about the Golden Arrow recently?"

I... don’t know. A chill ran up my spine, remembering the Dark Archer’s frantic, dangerous demands. Should I know?

What stories did Rowan Tyler tell you about it?

Why are you bringing Grandpa into this? I stopped.

Rowan Tyler was one of the last ones to see it.

I don’t know what you Azomien know about our world, but it’s just a relic. It’s just a piece of metal. I don’t even know if it’s around anymore, that was so long ago.

What do you need it for? Natanian demanded. Daetho twitched his nose at him.

Answer the question! I pushed.

Daetho’s eyes locked on me. That is not for you to know.

My fists clenched. "Then