Disgraced: Ink Sorceress: Book One, page 1
Disgraced
Ink Sorceress: Book One
Author: D. L. Harrison
Copyright 2022. This is a work of fiction. Names, Characters, Places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
Afterword:
About the Author
Other books by D. L. Harrison:
Book Description
Chapter One
The shocked silence in the throne room was oppressive as all the nobles looked between her and the king. Not even a whisper or harsh breath could be heard in the large space. The throne room had beautifully carved relief on the walls and columns, and there was an arched and buttressed ceiling. Other than that, the main decoration was the dais at the far end where her father’s and mother’s thrones stood.
That shocked silence had hardly even impinged on Princess Luna’s awareness yet, as she was in disbelieved shock herself. She stared in incredulity at the glowing device in her hands. That was perhaps forgivable, as when the court wizard handed her the magical device it had not just exploded with light. She’d felt a warm heat in her chest that had quickly grown in power and strength. It was just short of unbearably painful. Only her training to never display weakness kept her from crying out as that wave of heat exploded in her chest and raced through her body. She felt like her skin must be charred, but the evidence of the contrary was right in front of her face as the device bathed the flawless skin of her hands and arms in golden light.
It was her sixteenth birthday, and this was not the result she’d been anticipating. The proof that she held the power of magic within her body, declared for all to see by the flaring magical device. It was the day she stood before her father the king and her place in the succession would’ve been declared and witnessed. That wouldn’t happen now of course, and she wasn’t too upset by that. She’d have been fourth in line anyway, behind her three older brothers, with practically no chance to inherit that stern duty.
It might even be a good thing, she considered dubiously. She hadn’t exactly been looking forward to her coming of age. It was likely her father didn’t need a fourth heir around, and she’d have been gifted as a bride to one of his lesser nobles to bind their loyalty more firmly. Or perhaps a prince of another kingdom in some treaty deal.
The Kingdom of Doryn was mostly independent. It was that mostly part that her father often complained or got angry about. They were a sworn vassal of the Thaenid empire, but they were independent of the empire in all ways except four. They needed to meet a yearly quota of a military draft to the empire run navy and army. She didn’t think that was a bad thing herself. The empire’s forces kept the human empire on this continent safe from raiders off the ocean, and the various threats on land to the east and south from the monstrous races.
Secondly, they needed to tax their people two percent to pay for the drafted men’s uniforms and weapons, not to mention the ships of the ocean, or the vast quantities of food necessary to feed the empire’s soldiers and sailors. Thirdly, they were also forbidden to wage outright war with any of Thaenid’s other vassals.
Lastly, it was forbidden for anyone but the Thaenid Empire’s royalty to be magic wielders. The six vassal kingdoms also part of the empire which surrounded Thaenid had to be ruled by noble and non-magical blood.
Which of course was the crux of the matter before her. It was why the throne room was shocked. It wasn’t unheard of for magic to appear in non-magical lines, but it was rare. She was also hardly the only one in the family to show up with magic. Her uncle had minor magic and had become the leader of the royal guard, and he’d kept her mother and father safe all these years.
She had no idea what that meant for her life in that moment. She was well-trained to defend her person with a weapon or none, but she couldn’t imagine her father putting her in the guard.
Her mind wandered a bit as that phantom pain faded. Not only wouldn’t her father be giving her away as a gift, but she herself would find no suitors of royal or even lesser noble blood. People with magic were married to people of magic as a rule. The commoners were generally frightened of magic and the people that wielded it, and no noble wanted to increase the chance of their children being wielders of magic.
She shook her head, and her head lifted. Her eyes focused on warm and understanding brown ones. The court wizard Hamal was five foot eleven, with brown hair and eyes and a lanky build. He was handsome enough, and he wore the gray robes of his office. She could see the compassion in his eyes, but she failed to respond to it past a subtle nod that was almost imperceptible, but that she was sure he’d pick up. She kept her face closed and relaxed, and her body poised. As if it was just another day in the life of a graceful princess.
Not that anyone would buy her calm body language in that moment, but she wouldn’t show weakness before the court. She was still a princess after all. Just not one that would be included in the succession. It actually helped that she was in shock, because she wasn’t sure what she was even feeling in that moment.
Her eyes scanned the room as she wasn’t quite ready to meet her father’s eyes yet. Her three brothers stood next to the dais with varying reactions on their faces, and she felt smug that she at least wasn’t revealing her inner turmoil to the lesser nobles.
Her oldest brother Alberto was twenty-six, and first in line of the succession. He’d be the next king. He looked a lot like father, with brown hair and blue eyes. He stood at six foot two with a medium build that was athletic. He looked surprised, and a little annoyed. Her older brother had always acted arrogantly with her and given her short thrift, at least away from the eyes of others. On the good side, he’d never been deliberately cruel either, just quite indifferent to in his estimation, a worthless sister who was ten years younger than him.
The middle brother Cesare was just twenty-two. He was six foot one with gray eyes and brown hair. Cesare was arrogant too, and as they say the spare heir and second in line. He was as arrogant as the eldest son, but he was also a bully and often went out of his way to taunt his younger siblings. Usually only in private, but at the moment, there was a small twisted smirk on his face.
Her youngest brother was still three years older than her at nineteen. Siro had black hair, taking after their mother that way, as she did herself. He was also five foot eleven with blue eyes, and the same medium and athletically toned build as her other brothers. Siro had always been her defender. They were close enough in age to get along most of the time. Although they did argue like any other siblings, and he could be a pain at times, but he never let anyone else pick on his younger sister.
Next to her brothers stood her uncle. Prince Dalen had been found to have magic as well, over thirty years ago now. He’d eventually become the head of the royal guards, and he guarded his brother and sister-in-law quite diligently. His magic was relatively weak, so he’d been trained in the arts of the monk. His magic merely strengthening and speeding his body slightly, giving him an edge over others in a martial contest of arms. Other things too, but those were the main staples of a monk, they were undeniably the best swordsman and martial artists across the empire.
While they didn’t cast spells, the monk’s various mediations and mental gymnastics to direct the magic in their bodies wasn’t all that different, not to her mind, than a mage casting a spell with words and gestures.
She liked her uncle a lot, since he usually had a smile on his face when he wasn’t on duty, and always a kind word or encouragement for his nephews and niece.
On the dais itself was her mother and father, and her eyes sought out the former first. She was the mirror image of her mother, save their age and Luna was a mite taller. Queen Phoebe was forty-six, and five foot five. She had wavy jet-black hair and vivid blue eyes. The queen was also lissome and athletic.
Princess Luna wasn’t much different, save being two inches taller at five foot seven, with the blush of youth still on her. Even their faces were quite similar, and her father had more than once told her she looked exactly as her mother did thirty years ago when he’d married her. Her relationship with her mother was strained at times. Her mother was private and aloof most of the time, even behind closed doors, if not coldly so. She was reminded of that sharply in the moment, as her mother looked like she hadn’t a care in the world in that moment.
She wondered if she was displaying similar uncaring aplomb to her audience, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that given her negative reaction to her mother’s unshakeable poise.
Her eyes finally met her father’s. It hadn’t been that long, only a few moments had passed since Hamal had handed her the magical device to prove she didn’t have magic. Which of course, had proven the opposite and released her magic in a painful wave. She did have magic.
Her father was fifty-one, and six foot one. He had dark brown hair and stormy gray eyes. He had a medium build like her brother’s, but his had a small paunch around the middle given his age. He was mercurial of moods even at the best of times, but she knew that was about the stress of being a king more than anything else. At the moment, her father’s eyes were tight with emotion, but otherwise his face looked implacable.
He announced in his royal voice, “Princess Luna will not be added to the roles of succession. This is unexpected, and we will give her future some thought. Hamal, take care of her, and brief us on the details after doing so.”
Hamal bowed toward the throne, then turned to her and held out his arm.
She curtsied toward the throne, then turned and took Hamal’s arm. Somehow, she managed to escape the throne room without tripping over her own feet. She felt shaken now that she was actually moving. Her body actually trembled for a moment, and it was only by virtue of the surge of anger and pride that rose up in her that made her body settle down after two more steps.
Hamal gently took the device from her clenched hands, and she blushed as she finally released it.
“We’ll get you straightened out.”
She asked, “What kind of magic?”
There were five kinds of magic users. Wizards, mages, monks, ink sorcerers, and clerics. Within each of those classes were subclasses of magic sphere, except maybe for wizards. Wizards were the most powerful and rarest of the magic users, and they could access and cast from all magic spheres, save those of clerics who wielded the borrowed power of the gods alone. Wizards could also build devices with precast spells, which was something none of the other classes could do at all.
It was why wizards were feared above the rest. Mages could also directly control magic with words and gestures by casting spells, but they couldn’t make devices, nor did they have access to every sphere. A mage usually only had access to two or perhaps three spheres.
Casting spells took time though, while enchanted devices were immediate. That made mages rather vulnerable in a fight unless they were expecting it and pre-cast a number of protection spells ahead of time. Clerics got their magic through prayer to the gods, and they were different as a result. Monks used magic directly to change and enhance their bodies in specific ways.
The spheres themselves were fire, earth, air, water, psionic, nature, void, and summoning.
She really didn’t know much about it, outside of very basic facts that everyone knew.
Hamal replied, “That’s what we’re going to find out. This device merely finds the presence of magic and unlocks it. You did very well.”
She looked over at him curiously. How could touching something be done well?
He shrugged, “I screamed like a little girl when it happened to me.”
She laughed, “Liar, but thank you. It was quite unexpected.”
It, being the flushing heat of fire building in her chest and exploding through her body. Which she figured was just her magic being released. She couldn’t feel it anymore though, not the magic, nor the phantom burning sensation in her body. She just felt normal again.
Hamal winked.
She’d have thought he was flirting with her if she didn’t know him so well, but he really wasn’t. His wife would kill him if he did, and her father would have him punished for the presumption. He was just kind in the main, as far as she could figure, and didn’t care about appearances or noble bearing. He was also extremely powerful, which was why her father put up with his occasional lax into informality.
She quite enjoyed it though. It got old when there was formality between everyone in her life. Save her brother Siro she’d led quite a solitary existence. She had a few acquaintances that she’d spent time with of course. The daughters among the lesser nobility, but even there it hadn’t been easy. She imagined her life was going to change a bit, but she wasn’t entirely sure how yet.
Hamal left her to her turbulent thoughts as they travelled through the castle to the wizard’s laboratory. The room was twenty by sixty feet in size. There were a lot of shelves and tables, the former filled with magical devices of one sort or another, while the tables were chaotic and disorganized with papers and parts scattered all over. Half built devices and random papers filled with scribbled notes were all over the place.
He gestured, “Take a seat and we’ll figure out what we’re working with.”
She walked over to one of the tables, and then sat in the chair in front of it, cautious not to touch anything. She was careful to not wrinkle her skirts as she smoothed them out with her hands. She watched him curiously as he walked over to one of the shelves and pulled down two devices.
He smiled as he walked back over, and explained as he lifted one higher, “This one will measure your potential in magic and growth, and the other will tell us what class of magic user you are.”
He waited for her to nod in approval before he activated the first device and waved it over her chest. His face looked concerned for a moment, but he didn’t comment as he put that device on the table, and then used the second one on her.
She asked, “What is it?”
He replied, “Your power is above average which I didn’t expect. That’s not a bad thing, nor are you among the most powerful. But at your level and mine, cunning and tactics matters far more than power in most cases. An even exchange of magic should always be avoided.”
She tilted her head.
He grunted lightly as he got the results of the second device.
“You won’t be able to consciously control your magic, like a wizard or mage does. What do you know of ink sorcery?”
She shook her head, “Just what they teach everyone. Ink sorcerers have power but can’t cast spells directly. The magical ink acts as a control and casting interface. They’re fast casters, the ink tattoo spells acting much like a device does, so they’re almost as dangerous in combat as a wizard would be. Also, as a result of needing tattoo spells, they’re generally limited to somewhere between ten to twenty spells.”
Hamal nodded, “It’s more complicated than that, princess. My device casts the exact same spell every time, while an ink spell can be cast at varying strengths. It will still be the same spell, just wildly different in scope. A fire spell for instance. The same ink spell could light a candle or quickly raze a large building to the ground depending on the intentions and focus of the caster.
“The control ink spells read the caster’s intentions, and then they manipulate your magic and feed it to the ink spell which casts the spell. Also, fifteen to twenty ink spells are the limit for an average caster. A weaker one could only take five to ten spells, while you will be able to have thirty once your magic is fully grown. Right now, you can already support four spells. Do you know why? Obviously, a weak caster’s body could fit more than five tattoos.”
She replied, “Not really, no.”
He grunted, “In the end, the ink spells are just a single yet extremely intricate and complicated biological wizard device with an interface that accepts mental commands from the one given it. That’s why it takes a wizard to create the ink and set it upon a person with the potential for magic they can’t directly control themselves. In the long past, such people went through life with their magic unrealized and never used, until a rather clever wizard came up with the concept. The art of ink sorcery has evolved over that time a great deal.
“Regardless, it takes a little focus to activate the ink spells. When you do, you activate all of them at once. We call it the ink array. Consider it a two-stage device. The first step is activating your magic through focus on the control rune. Then once the whole array of spells is filled with a trickle of activation magic, the control spells will draw more power toward one or more of the spells based on your focused thoughts.
“A comparison would be the first stage is like an archer knocking an arrow. Not a great effort, but it does take some energy to do so. The second stage is like pulling the bow and releasing that arrow, which takes a whole lot more energy from the archer. Just in an ink sorcerer’s case, they’d be knocking multiple arrows at the same time, and the secondary focus would be on adding power to a single spell or combination of spells.
“It’s also not hard to do. It takes incredible focus to cast a spell for a mage or wizard. As an ink sorceress it does take some amount of demanding focus to turn on the ink spell array, but once it’s on a simple wishful thought will suffice in filling one of the ink spells with more power which casts the spell.”
