A Wizard of Sorts: Misfits of Gambria, #4

By pdmac

Murder, intrigue, suspense, and romance - all set in a medieval rivalry of two kingdoms at war.

 

With Diad shipwrecked on a deserted island and Alric on the run somewhere in the north, Bradwr solidifies his claim to the throne. That means eliminating all threats. The first to go is Guina. Though no longer a viable threat, she can't remain in Mull and the former queen is forced to live on the handouts of friends far away from the capital.

The second to go is Alric. Though he is now Bradwr's son-in-law, Alric has more claim to the throne and despite the promise to Pavia of his safe return, Bradwr orders that his son-in-law have an unfortunate accident – a permanent one.

Amidst the turmoil, Alexis manages to transgress Gambrian custom and finds herself at odds with the new King. Unwilling to obey, she escapes to the south, taking the nation's Tarrac with her.

But Bradwr has a blind spot and overlooked another's ambition, someone who desperately wants to rule Gambria – alone. And she might just pull it off. All she'll need to do is get rid of her husband and her father…

Yet the one person they have dismissed as dead, the Ghost in the desert, is about to give them the surprise of their lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trimble Hollow Press
• Release date: Apr 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9781946495488

pdmac

pdmac is a diverse author, writer, and editor. He has a MA in Creative Writing, a Ph.D. in Theology, and is a member of the Steampunk Writers and Artists Guild, and the Georgia Writers Association.  He has also sung back-up for Broadway plays, provided voice for radio plays, and acted and directed theater stage productions.  In his off time, he and his wife race mountain bikes, kayak, and occasionally backpack sections of the Appalachian Trail.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Gair stood by the wagon, a contented smile settled comfortably.  At least now, this stranger was someone else’s problem, and besides, he was getting expensive.  Una had done him a favor, but it’d been almost five days.  Vaddon showing up didn’t help matters.  Ever since Duncan mentioned the play, the two of them had been inseparable – and expensive.  Thank goodness they were finally moving on.

Gair watched the group assemble and pack their belongings in the two wagons.  Duncan stood off to the side in the shade, watching them pack, trading easy banter as though he had long been part of the group.  Strange, he thought, he knew no more about Duncan today than he did on the ride here.  Instead of solving the man’s past, he found himself answering more questions than asking.  Still, despite all, it was with a sense of relief that he could shuffle off this stranger to someone else, and Fichte could settle back down to routine.

He watched as Glynnis found excuses to come outside and interact, with Duncan mostly.  Her preoccupation with him this past week was obvious to anyone with eyes.  Yet another reason he was glad this distraction was leaving.

So where to, Vaddon? Gair asked.

I think we’ll work our way north to Matherat.  I heard they’ve a taste for good theater there, he grinned, tossing up a bed-roll to Braith.

Not many towns along the way, especially if you take the wilderness road, though it is fastest.

True.  But then, Vaddon stood back, hands on his hips, surveying the packing progress, "we’re not in a rush.

––––––––

Pacing the floor, Cattwg rubbed his hands together in anxious agitation.  If only he had got to Cledwyn before this happened.  What was he saying?  He wanted Tomos dead!  He didn’t need Bradwr looking to appoint someone else.  He cursed the fact that he, or someone, should have known the law about high priests and kings.  Safti curse them all.  He was supposed to be visiting the other prelates by now.  Instead, he was fighting for his job.  No wonder Vix never left Mull.  He abruptly stopped when the door opened.  Well?

Darroch shook his head, his eyes commiserating with his superior.

It’s been ten days, Cattwg snarled in frustration.  We ought to have heard something by now.

Any day now Eminence, he soothed encouragement.  It takes time to get there and back.

Don’t you think I know that? he snapped.  Twirling around, he continued pacing.  Something’s not right, he muttered.  Something’s not right.  I should know by now if he’s dead.  He turned to frown at his Steward.  What did Mostyn say, again?

He said his mission was successful, your Grace.  Two of your three objectives have been accomplished, he solicitously added.

So, what do I tell his majesty?  His voice dripped sarcasm.

Eminence, he calmly replied.  Tell his majesty the truth.  Father Tomos left to go assist Brother Thestor and neglected to tell you his future plans.  We await word from Brother Thestor as to his whereabouts.  By then, we should know that your third objective has been successful.

Pursing his lips, Cattwg stopped pacing.  Yes... that will buy us a little time.  Spinning around, he headed for the door.

Your Grace?  Darroch stood in front of the door.

He sputtered to a halt.  What?

Do you wish for me to send someone to tell the king?  It would be, ah, unseemly for you to go.  Though he may be king, you are the High Priest.  He can’t expect to just snap his fingers and you come at his whim.  Send another, someone with authority, in your place.  You are too busy, your Grace.

Cattwg approvingly regarded his Steward.  The man was invaluable.  Who do you suggest?

Eminence, send someone whose ambition needs close attention, someone whose pride will not allow him to complain.  Let him bear the brunt of our majesty’s wrath.

Who?

Send Mostyn.

A wicked smile flitted quickly across his lips.  That is an excellent idea.  Please inform him of our request.

With pleasure, your Grace, he smiled benevolently.  May I suggest a hot relaxing bath while I have dinner prepared for you?

Brightening at the idea, Cattwg visibly relaxed.  It would all work out just fine.  He was going to be High Priest, and Darroch was just the man to help him achieve his desire.  This man was his right arm.  He would see to it that he was more than amply rewarded.  There were more than enough of the Temple’s assets to go around.  Smiling at his Steward, he headed to the bathroom.

Opening the main doors, Darroch directed one of the acolytes to assist the High Priest.  Closing the doors behind him, he paused in the brightly lit hallway.  Timing was everything.  Mostyn’s report that Cledwyn had been dispatched on the road going towards Navan meant Tomos was still alive.  Now all he needed was for Tomos to remain ignorant of Bradwr’s desire to elevate him long enough to allow the tension to grow between Bradwr and Cattwg.  He didn’t need Tomos causing more havoc.  At the right moment, he would sequester Tomos back into the city before Cattwg knew what had happened.

Sighing contentedly, he walked off to tell Mostyn his task.  With luck, all this would change in another ten or so days, and he would serve a man worthy of being the high priest.  He wasn’t Duncan, mind you... but then, no one was.

––––––––

Tucked in the far corner of the house, away from the brilliant sun, Athdar cradled him in his arms, carefully ladling mashed food and water into the King’s mouth, watching as the frail man expended what little strength he had in the simple motions of chewing and swallowing.  Diad’s body had the pasty hue of a body too long submerged in water.  His filmy eyes were open, yet they saw little.  Every now and then a hand or arm would convulse in feeble effort.

How is he? Cathmor stood over them both, the breeze coming off the sea refreshingly cool.

I don’t see much difference, Athdar said, brushing away a matted strand of hair from the King’s forehead.  At least he’s not getting worse.  If I can keep him eating, I think he might make it.

Do you need anything?  His deep voice resonated concern.

Anything soft so that he can rest comfortably.  Perhaps we can lessen his night torments.

Cathmor noticed that Athdar had provided his own bedding to help make the King more comfortable.  I fear I have misjudged you.  It seems the King has received far greater help from you than the rest of us could provide.

Shrugging lamely, he gingerly put a small portion of food in Diad’s mouth.  Briefly watching him chew, he looked back up.  How’s the digging going?

About the same.  We dig down, the sea puts back.  Unfortunately, our progress is too slow.  By the time we get down far enough, we’ll all be grandfathers.

Athdar grimly chuckled.  If we could lower the level of water in the bay, we could get at the bottom better.  What about trying to block the entrance with stones and trees and anything else we can find?

It’s too wide, Cathmor slowly answered. However, he thought aloud, we can accomplish the same idea closer to the ship.  An excellent idea, Athdar.  Again, you have proved invaluable.  Gazing at the supine King, he solemnly intoned, I will ensure he knows your faithfulness,

Smiling in humble appreciation, he watched the big warrior go out onto the beach and then disappear around the side of the house.  This was getting even better.  Not only was Cathmor his biggest fan, once the King found out, he could have the pick of what he wanted in the kingdom.

Eat, your Majesty, he quietly said.  You and I have a lot to look forward to.

––––––––

Bending down, Brenna grabbed the conharra by the scruff of the neck and unhooked the lasso.  In quick motion, she snapped its neck, letting the death spasms settle before slitting its throat to let the blood drain.  It was a medium sized one, about the size of a small rakka.  It would be enough for a few meals, but she would have to cook it all in one sitting.  The fur was surprisingly soft and clean, with few burrs.  After skinning it, she would scrape it clean and save it, adding it to the four she already had.  This one had a brown tint to the tips of the silver fur.  Smiling, she mused that if she stayed away long enough, she might have enough pelts to make a fur coat.

Cutting off the head and small feet, she flung them into the woods for the scavengers.  Carefully slicing the skin along the backbone, she peeled it back on both sides until it separated from the raw meat.  Setting the skin aside, she slit the belly, pulling out the entrails and tossed them in the same direction as the head and feet.  Jamming the carcass on a pointed stick, she retrieved the pelt and made her way back to the campsite.

The fire burned low, with little smoke.  Positioning the meal over the fire, she scanned the forest for any tell-tale signs.  It was still early morning, and she listened to the sounds of the woods.  The morning’s thin mist had dissipated, and the day was unfolding into brightness.  She had been out now for almost six days.  It was surprising how easy it was to lose the Bradwr’s informants.  She had lost them on the second day.  Chuckling, she imagined them attempting to explain their ineptitude to him.  Yet it did give her pause, as well as time to think.  If Bradwr already knew Da was in Malhac, then he would have spies all along the way expecting her to head north.

Deciding the opposite direction was best, she had headed south knowing that she would eventually turn west, for the great Starn Sea blocked the east, and the wastelands swallowed up the far south.  There was nothing else beyond the sea and wastelands.  She had heard the tales, of sailors supposedly reaching the sea’s limits where the marshes eventually emptied out into the ever-growing wasteland.  Few people chose to live there, at the edge, where the sands never stopped moving.

She had curved around and was now headed northwesterly, towards what she guessed was Gefnyn’s commanderie.  Another day or two, and she would poke her head out into civilization, give Bradwr’s folks a chance to discover where she was, then disappear again before they had a chance to find her.

This time alone had been beneficial.  In addition to honing her survival skills, it had given her a chance to think.  Her relationship with Alexis had become one of frustration.  Yet an even greater disappointment was Lord Ronell.  How could he just up and leave, after all this time, all her efforts?  Was this all just a game he was playing, something to keep himself entertained?  What about all the righteous platitudes of restoring the kingdom?  She was such a fool for believing him.

Shaking her head in disgust, she thought of the scene when she would tell him that she was through, that he could find some other fool to do his dirty work.  Oh, she could keep a secret, he need not fear that.  But she was through with him and that finger drumming he always did when deep in thought.

Suddenly she remembered where she had seen that habit before, and the very idea stunned her.  She sat back on the ground, rapidly working out the possibilities, her mouth open in disbelief.

Impossible, she muttered.  It can’t be.

––––––––

You are so lucky, Siani enviously stated.  Your father dies and now you’re rich.  You get to do whatever you want.

That was insensitive, Meinwen chastised, reaching for a slice of cold roan artfully layered on a burnished brass platter, surrounded by other small delicacies on smaller platters.  All were carefully arranged on the low table to her front.

What?

Don’t you think she’d rather have her father still with her?  She settled back into the overstuffed chair.  On the couch to her right, Heledd nibbled on a piece of pickled eel.  Siani sat to her right.

Siani’s eyes widened in innocent remorse.  I didn’t mean it that way.

I know, Heledd replied, seemingly both unoffended and unaffected.

Selecting a piece of cheese, Siani furrowed her brows while taking tiny bites.  Looking at Meinwen then Heledd, she wondered, Would you rather have your father back?

Blinking as she thought about the possibilities, Heledd hesitated.  I’m... I’m not sure.  If I say ‘no,’ it makes me seem like a terrible daughter.  But I like being rich on my own.  She looked at the others for support.

You are so lucky, Siani said again, chewing as she spoke.  I wish my father was dead, she added without thinking.

That’s terrible! Meinwen stared at her with a mixture of amusement and feigned shock.

I didn’t mean it like that, she quickly explained.  "I meant so that I could be rich like Heledd.

So, you want your father dead? she laughed.

Well, not like that.  I mean, Uncle Rhun just died.  It wasn’t like he was murdered or killed or anything. It was all just natural.

So, you want your father to die naturally, just sooner rather than later, Meinwen snickered.

Yes, something like that, Sinai agreed, missing the jest.

So you can be rich like Heledd?

Well, wouldn’t you? she asked. Heledd can do whatever she wants, not like the rest of us who have to marry someone we might not like.  Well, except for Pavia maybe.  Sitting in another overstuffed chair, Pavia was content to listen to her cousins, paying only partial attention, her mind elsewhere.

You’ve been awfully quiet, Meinwen observed.

Just listening.  She leaned forward to select a piece of pickled eel.  Although Siani does have a point.  Except for Heledd, our choices are made for us.

Listen to you, Meinwen raised an eyebrow.  You’re going to be queen one day.  You’ll get to do whatever you want when Alric’s king.

"If he becomes king," she mumbled.

What?

I said it’s an amazing thing that we can still influence our fathers’ choices.  By all rights each of you should’ve been long married by now.

I’m not in a rush, Siani replied, though Daddy says I better hurry up and make up my mind before I’m too old to find anyone.

Your father – Meinwen stopped as Pavia stood up.  Where are you going?

I just remembered I have some business to attend to, she smiled graciously, selecting one more pickled eel to nibble on as she sashayed out, a wiggle of her fingers in a hand wave in response to Heledd’s ‘You didn’t eat much.’

What’s wrong with her? Siani wondered.  She seems distracted lately.

You would be too if your father was trying to kill your future husband, Heledd confided.

Who told you that?  Meinwen’s eyes widened.

I heard it in the spa just the other day.  I was getting a massage, with that new girl they just hired.  She’s very good, though a little hard on the shoulders.  My muscles are still a little sore.

What happened? Meinwen impatiently asked.

Well, like I said, I was getting a massage, when Onora and Eideann came in.  Either they didn’t see me, which I don’t know how because I was just about the only one in there, or they didn’t think I could hear them.

What did they say?

"Well, Onora was going on about how Uncle Bradwr was going to make Uncle Slaven the head of the Army, and Eideann says that he would have to kill Alric first, and Onora says he has to find Alric first.  Then they giggled, can you believe it, like it was some big joke."

How do you know it wasn’t a joke? Siani innocently asked.

I thought it might have been at first, but when I rolled over, they saw me and suddenly changed topics, asking me how I liked being rich.

See? Siani said.  Even they’re jealous of you.  You are so lucky.

Hush Siani, Meinwen fussed.  Why would Uncle Bradwr want Alric dead?  He’s supposed to marry Pavia.

I thought the same thing, Heledd said.  So I asked my steward what he thought, and he said that it would be a long time before Alric ever became king because he already tried to be king once and Uncle Bradwr wouldn’t be able to trust him, or something like that.

The room grew quiet, the only sound coming from the servants cleaning plates or pouring wine.  Finally, Meinwen said, Poor Pavia.  Looks like she might not be queen after all.

Think Uncle Bradwr will make her marry someone else?  Siani asked, her mood lightening.  Suppose Uncle Bradwr marries again and has a son. Her mouth dropped at her own revelation.  She would never be queen then.

Looks like our girl has finally lost, Meinwen replied, with more than a hint of satisfaction.

––––––––

That should be enough, Alric commented, looking at Boid holding four gutted conharras, each lassoed to a single line.  No trading this time.  We want coin.  Turning to another younger man with a birthmark on his cheek, he asked, How are we doing?

Our prospects are improving daily, Sire, he grinned in response, holding up a small leather bag by the palm of his hand.  We’ve twelve silver and twenty-four copper.

Give it to Folan for the time being.  I want you to go with him.  And Kelyn, he stared pointedly at him, no pubs.  Sell them and be done with it.  Come back a different route.

Kelyn handed the bag to an older man of constant serious disposition to his right.  Guard this with your life, he said with mock gravity.

As Folan sequestered the group’s holdings within his own meager belongings, Alric watched the other two casually make their way away from camp and disappear into the thick forest.  While his fiscal prospects may have been improving, his own were slowly dwindling.  Of the twenty men who left Mull with him, only eight remained.  A few had pleaded family responsibilities, the rest simply vanished.

At first he had been angry, but as he sifted the likelihood of success, their desertion seemed less an irrational act.  Since the chance meeting with Menec almost two weeks ago, he had strictly avoided contact with any save his companions, choosing to stay in the woods, slowly making their way west.  They lived well enough off the bounty within the woods, trapping fat furry conharras or spearing fish in the meandering rivers.  Occasionally they would sell their catch in a local town, exchanging pelts or meat for coin or ale.

All in all, it hadn’t been that particularly hard an existence.  Even the weather was cooperating, though he knew that wouldn’t last much longer.  It was almost hard to think of this other than a game of hide and find.  Yet he knew his fate should he be found.

Still, the fact that so few remained grated on him.  Even more frustrating was his hurried departure from Mull, slinking away in secret like some criminal.  Unable to get word to other commanders, he was hesitant to now try.  Knowing Bradwr, they were already under surveillance.  And those who had already slipped away from his little group?  It was simply a matter of time before they talked.  Time was critical.  He had to get west as quickly as possible.  Once within the borders of Gefnyn or Harun’s commanderie, he would be safe.  And then... and then he could take back what was rightfully his.

His thoughts turned to Pavia.  Each night he had drifted to sleep with her vision the last he remembered.  He had received two notes from her these past two weeks, both tucked within his shirt, close to his heart.  They said little, other than her hopes for his safe return.  It was what they implied that thrilled him.  She was devotedly his, longed for his return, the consummation of their passion with marriage.  Smiling to himself, he clucked his tongue.  God, what a woman... All he had to do now was get to Gefnyn, and he would send for her.  Together, they would reclaim what was his.  With her at his side, he was all but guaranteed victory.

The afternoon sun slipped languid rays through the thick-leafed branches overhead.  Mixed with the day’s warmth and soothing breeze, it seemed a day more suited to a nap in a hammock stretched between two trees.  Even the two guards set outside the camp’s perimeter struggled to remain alert.

It’s been two weeks Sire, Folan commented.  We’ve heard nary a peep since.

I know, Alric cautiously answered.  It seems too good to be true.  No doubt he’s realized by now we’re not near Kylar’s.  He’s probably split his forces, sending half towards Gefnyn and Harun, the rest fanning out northwards.  It’s just a matter of time.

It’ll be better when we get to Lord Gefnyn’, he said.  We’ll be able to get some rest then.

Not enjoying the time away? Alric grinned.

Be nice to sleep in a bed soon.  I’m getting too old for this.  Folan sat on his haunches near the dying embers of the fire, poking absently at them with a small stick.

Not much longer, Alric smiled paternally.  We should be there in another week or two.  Until then, let’s do a sweep and see what’s around.

Which way this time, Sire?

Take Parry with you and sweep to the south and west.  Take your time.

Yes Sire.  Collecting a small stiletto from his belongings, he walked over and shook Parry who startled awake.  Time to scout.

Blinking his eyes in the sunlight, Parry rapidly assessed the surroundings.  Seeing no threat, he calmly pushed himself to standing and stretched.  Wordlessly sequestering a small blade, he nodded to Folan to proceed.

Silently leaving the encampment, they headed towards the outer perimeter guard, giving a short wave as a means of checking as they passed on into the forest.  A few minutes later, they were working their way in an arc west and south of the encampment, eventually coming back in at the opposite side.

While Folan and Parry quietly crept their way through the woods, Kelyn was happily engaged with a merchant in the town’s market center.

You’re new to this vil, the merchant, a stoop-shouldered man of middle age, said.

Quite right friend merchant.  My friend, he tilted his head indicating Boid who was at another stall examining fresh vegetables, and I are out on a two-week spree.  Get away from the wives.  Know what I mean? He leaned in and winked knowingly.

All too well, the merchant barked a laugh.  Wish I could do the same.  So where do you hail from?

Down around the sea, little town called Koleshill as your heading north from Mull towards Glanon.  Know it?  He smiled hopefully, raising his brows.

Can’t say that I do, the merchant shook his head.  Seems a far way from here.

I know, he grinned mischievously, raising his eyebrows several times.

Barking another laugh, the merchant shook his head in good humor.  How much you want for them?

Friend, Kelyn said as he flopped the conharras on the countertop, you look the honest man to me.  I know you’ll trade me fair.  The meat’s fresh, and the fur is thick, so you’ll get back twice what you buy them from me.  You tell me.

The merchant looked carefully at each one, did a quick appraisal and placed both hands on the counter.  I’ll give you five copper a piece for them.

More than fair.  I knew you’d be honest with me, he grinned appreciatively as he accepted the coins.

You’ll pardon my asking, but that mark on your face, he paused.

Ah, you noticed.  Had it from the day I was born.  Mum says it was a kiss from the angels.  Dad said it was because they missed catching me and I landed on the floor, and in the hubbub, someone drop kicked me into the wash basin and I almost drowned before anyone noticed.  While Mum’s sounds nicer, does sort of explain my fear of water.  He winked again.

The merchant’s laughter was unsuppressed, and he wiped an eye.  A pleasure doing business with you.  Come back any time.

Kelyn looked over to find where Boid had wandered.  Finding him, he said to the merchant, I suppose I ought to join him.  We’re at the point of needing to find something for the wives.  Can’t go back empty-handed.  Need to find something that says ‘Thanks-for-letting-me-go-I-missed-you-but-not-as-much-as-you-think’... or something to that effect.

Head towards the end of the market, the merchant said, still giggling.  There are some odds and ends and jewelry there.

Many thanks, my friend, he waved as he caught up to his companion who acknowledged him as he approached.

Where are we from this time? Boid asked in a quiet voice.

Koleshill towards Glanon.

"Can’t say I’ve