Wars of Magic: Book 6 in the Chronomancer Series, page 1
WARS OF MAGIC
BOOK 6 OF THE CHRONOMANCER SERIES
MARK AUGUST
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Copyright © 2022 by Mark August
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For my Parents. The gift of reading became the love of the craft.
CONTENTS
1. Kincaid - Tempest
2. Kincaid - Return to Pilaetium
3. Sigurd - Arrival
4. Kincaid - Inner City
5. Adelaise - Underworld
6. Kincaid - Theurgia
7. Sigurd - Bad Deals
8. Kincaid - Damis
9. Adelaise - Spies and Lies
10. Sholeh - Arcane Temptation
11. Kincaid - Disappointment
12. Adelaise - Showdown
13. Sholeh - Sacrifices
14. Adelaise - Last Chance
15. Sholeh - Homecoming
16. Kincaid - Promises
17. Kincaid - Stories
18. Adelaise - Neurau
19. Kincaid - Special Investigator
20. Adelaise - Reconsidering
21. Kincaid - What's in a Name?
22. Kincaid - Churches
23. Kincaid - Bishops
24. Kincaid - Race to Battle
25. Adelaise - Battlefields
26. Adelaise - Reunion
27. Sholeh - A Blade's Tale
28. Kincaid - Battle of Bresnian Ford
29. Adelaise - Last Stand
30. Kincaid - Negotiations
31. Sigurd - Nobles
32. Kincaid - Wrong Way
33. Kincaid - Another School
34. Kincaid - Lesson in Magic
35. Adelaise - Royal Court
36. Kincaid - Summons
37. Kincaid - Threats
38. Adelaise - Marquess
39. Kincaid - Azahara
40. Kincaid - Red Magic
41. Adelaise - Peace
42. Sigurd - Crossroads
43. Kincaid - Crater Lake
44. Kincaid - Sacrifice
45. Kincaid - Prison
46. Sholeh - Lakeside
47. Kincaid - Graveyard
48. Adelaise - Schwede
49. Sholeh - Tannery
50. Kincaid - Archmagi's Purpose
51. Kincaid - Grondahl
52. Kincaid - Trolmandr
53. Kincaid - Revelations
54. Kincaid - Sacrifice
55. Kincaid - Legend of the Valley
56. Kincaid - Wurmr
57. Kincaid - Weapons
58. Kincaid - Chronomancer
59. Sholeh - Valley
60. Kincaid - Proposal
61. Adelaise - Starting Over
62. Epilogue
Author Notes
Arcane Mercenaries: Captain
Battlefield
About the Author
Also by Mark August
1
KINCAID - TEMPEST
Kincaid grasped the ship’s bulwark on the quarterdeck as the bow surged toward the heavens. The blue-green swell topped with white froth clutched the sailing vessel in its grasp and prepared to hurl it into the valley between the waves. The oak planks protested the abuse but held as the ship crashed back into the water and soaked its decks with a salty wash.
The crew tried to outrun the storm for the better part of a day, but the captain surrendered to the inevitable and sent the sailors into the masts to reef the sails. Kincaid wanted to warm his soul with power and reinforce the canvas against the raging tempest. The ship flew with these storm winds at her back, and the thought of using this gale to propel them faster across the Inner Sea to Pilaetium crossed Kincaid’s mind.
These new terms about ship parts and sail names deterred him from trying the impossible. If he reinforced the sails, the lines would snap. Anything he did to secure the sails and ropes could crack the masts and leave them adrift in the current. The commitment to reinforce the entire ship would tear his soul to pieces long before the squall died out.
His power, for all its strength, was never enough. Kincaid’s best decisions and decisive action never evolved into his goals. He’d commit himself and his friends to another hopeless action against impossible odds and come up short. His story never ended well.
Kincaid glanced up to spy Sigurd moving along the spars with ease despite the heaving decks. The young northerner worked the ship like he was born on the sea, and by the stories he often told during their evening meals together, that wasn’t too far from the truth. Kincaid hadn’t seen Sigurd this happy in a long time.
The first splatter of wind-driven rain smacked Kincaid’s face and streaked along his skin. Blue-gray clouds surged overhead and chased the three-masted vessel relentlessly across the ocean. Kincaid learned early on this trip to ask permission to be on the quarterdeck, but the captain was too busy saving her vessel to argue with Kincaid. The captain, navigator, and helmsman conferred around their compasses and argued for the best course of action.
Captain Bilotta sought diverse opinions from her crew, but she held a firm line once she decided on a course of action. Kincaid didn’t grasp the jargon thrown out between the pair, and Sigurd was too busy with his work to translate the conversation. Given the volume between the voices, their situation was worse than he feared.
“Take her into port, ma’am. It’s our best option to save the ship and her cargo,” the navigator said. He clutched a chart in his hand and pointed to a penciled circle. “We can make it before the worst of the storm.”
“Helm?” Captain Bilotta asked.
“Depends on the days in this storm. This one could pass right across us. We’ve made good time with the push, and this could be one to tighten down for a day or two and move on. Not so sure we should race for the shore,” the helm said. He pulled up the collar of his greatcoat to shield against the increasing rain.
“They better decide soon, or we’ll be in the worst of all worlds,” Adelaise said as she stared upwards into the heavens. A bolt of lightning leaped between the clouds. The former mercenary didn’t bother with her weapons while standing on the quarterdeck. The storm wouldn’t acknowledge her skills or her blows.
“I don’t know enough to offer an opinion. Not that they would listen anyway,” Kincaid said. “How’s Nakira?”
“She must have found her sea legs, so she’s not terrible. But you couldn’t pay her enough to approach the decks during this storm.” Adelaise let the rain splatter her face and soak her hair. “I can’t say I blame her. If we were on land, I’d stop a caravan or delay a battle for a storm like this.”
Captain Bilotta paced the length of the quarterdeck and paused at the ship’s compass on each pass. She reached into her jacket pocket and withdrew her personal device to check their heading. Pale blue eyes looked at the storm and then at the swinging numbers suspended in their clear fluid. She snapped the brass cover shut and examined the fluid in the ship’s barometer. If they held a secret, Kincaid couldn’t figure it out.
“All comes down to how long.” The wind tore the words away from her mouth, and the other officers gave her the space to think and didn’t respond to her comments. She’d taken their input, and the decision was hers alone.
Kincaid sympathized with her predicament—she had incomplete information. The lives of her crew and passengers hung in the balance, and the best she could do was fall back on her experience and decide with her gut. If she were wrong, they’d all feel the consequences of the storm’s mounting fury.
Kincaid fought to hold his balance and maintained firm contact with the bulwark. He closed his eyes and opened his soul to the channels of magic. If they needed information, he could at least try to give the captain something in return for the risks they took.
Strength flooded his veins, and awareness of himself, deck, ship, sea state, and storm flooded his soul. With a hint of chronomancer ability, Kincaid anticipated the movement in the waves. With one problem solved, he harnessed another river of energy and thrust his being into the clouds.
His body suddenly seemed a distant memory as his mind raced through the canopy of billowing energy. Lightning sizzled and crackled around him, protesting his invasion. Thunder cracked across the cloudy mists, trying to throw him back to the ship below. Winds tore at his clothing, threatening to slam him into the water below. Kincaid was a stranger in this storm’s might, and it pulsed with a life of its own.
He tried to use its strength to fuel his power, but the foreign energy refused to answer his beckons. Nature was an uncaring force, and it didn’t seek him as an ally. He wasn’t sure why he gave the weather human characteristics, but it seemed somehow appropriate to personalize his efforts to decipher this storm.
Kincaid flung his awareness deeper into the storm, and the weather worsened. Lightning slammed into the ocean's surface, blasting the waves with untold energy. Winds howled and delighted as they chased the tops and whipped them into white tops. The storm’s energy intensified and joined the powers of the ocean.
Power raged around him, unaware of the human vessel fleeing from its unrelenting path. The storm and heaving seas personified nature’s fury.
Warmth flowed into his hands somewhere on the ship below. A firm touch clenched his fingers and drove away his uncertainty in the face of this storm. A second presence hovered nearby, warm and fulfilling, but the storm ignored the others. It’s hatred focused on Kincaid’s intrusion.
Regaining his purpose, Kincaid probed the depths of the storm and found the peaceful seas behind the surging waves and billowing clouds. His mind analyzed the range between his far-flung spirit and his anchoring body somewhere in the distance, and he had his answer.
A blink later, his mind rejoined with his body. A sheet of rain approached the ship and threatened to soak the sailors aloft in the rigging. Kincaid wasn’t an expert, but they had to get them down before losing crew members.
“Three days, captain. The storm will last three days,” Kincaid said, without a hint of doubt in his voice.
Captain Bilotta looked up from the ship’s compass and raised an eyebrow. She sized up the passenger with a healthy dose of skepticism, but she nodded. Kincaid proved his worth on the trip, and the captain had already learned not to ask questions. She didn’t want the answers.
Orders bellowed from the quarterdeck to secure the ship to ride out the storm. The navigator had his moment and responded with vigor. They were in for this ride, and each crew member had work to do to last the three days in the pounding weather.
“How do you know, my friend?” Sholeh asked, her fingers still gripping his hand. Kincaid didn’t fool himself with her words; she knew precisely how he determined the length of the storm.
“There wasn’t another way, and we had to be helpful,” Kincaid said.
“The captain was already deciding to ride out the storm at sea.” She didn’t lace her words with accusations or frustration. In some ways, her tone was worse; it was disappointment.
“I couldn’t just stand by and let Captain Bilotta flounder. Not when I could help,” Kincaid tried with his best excuse.
“Kincaid, since the day I met you, you have always dreamed big. Did you ever think it would be like this?” The fingers released their grip as Sholeh clutched the railing running along the quarterdeck. Her eyes stared up at the storm bearing down on their position.
“Like what, Sholeh?”
“Power, magic, destiny. I do not know. All of them.”
“Never in my wildest dreams.” Kincaid didn’t hold back from his friend and bared his soul to her.
“Do you think you will ever give them up?”
Kincaid slipped his hands in hers and turned to confront the mounting winds and let the wall of rain slam into his face. He didn’t have an answer.
“How would our world be different if you never stumbled into your magic?” Sholeh asked.
2
KINCAID - RETURN TO PILAETIUM
The Fearless Heron slid through the straights under Captain Bilotta’s expert hand. The passengers and crew lined the bulwarks and stared at the sandy beaches giving way to sheer cliffs looming over the smooth water. Brownstone fortresses bristled with battlements and stone throwers to sink unauthorized vessels.
As the ship passed the silent scrutiny, the crew’s energy changed to excitement at the end of a long voyage. The storm tested their morale and skill, but the ship weathered nature’s test with minor damage. Kincaid’s assessment of the terrifying weather was correct to the hour, and recovery operations didn’t keep the ship paused for long.
A fair breeze kept the sails snapping and the ship moving across the sea between the straights. Other ships decorated with canvas of every imaginable color clung to the wind and plied their trade. Merchants carefully navigated through the local fishing vessels and barges transporting goods. The sea’s surface was alive with humanity that ignored the defensive positions guarding the entrance to the quiet waters.
“How long until we reach the port?” Adelaise asked the quartermaster. After Kincaid’s accurate prediction and daily updates, they were welcome to roam the ship and dined in the captain’s mess.
“A good half-day to the port and then wait for a pilot to take us to our berth.” The man tore himself away from his scan of the Empire’s defenses. “Depending on who’s waiting, it could take a few days to bring her alongside the dock.”
Sholeh wrung the wooden edge of the railing as she considered the words. “That is a long time to be sitting within sight of the blasted city.”
“Only because a ship this size has limited docking. We have to wait our turn to offload our cargo and resupply our ship. In a rush to find a nice tavern?” The quartermaster’s energy matched those of the crew, and Kincaid didn’t doubt he longed for a meal and beverages that didn’t come out of a barrel in the bowels of a ship.
“Trying to find some answers in a timely manner,” Kincaid said. He tried to match a casual tone to the officer’s excitement about the journey’s end. The waiting part was over for Kincaid and his friends, but they had work to do.
“Only so much we can do, and no one wants to draw the attention of the gunners on the hills. We’re a big target,” the quartermaster said.
Sigurd laid a hand on Sholeh’s shoulder and shook his head. Tension released from her grip, and she turned to face the length of the deck. “But we could talk to the captain about using a longship, yes?”
“Of course, Sigurd. The captain would consider bringing you ashore. Just the matter of customs and all.”
Sigurd winced with the suggestion and turned to his friends with a shrug. Adelaise grabbed the pommel of her weapons and clenched her teeth. No one wanted an Imperial bureaucrat digging into their personal lives and potentially recognizing any of them.
“The city is beautiful. It has long been said that civilization doesn’t make art—art makes a civilization. I think this is true.” Nakira ignored the frustrations of their small group and remained riveted to the railing, peering toward the shore.
Golden domes, silver spires, and gem-encrusted towers rose out of the sea and scraped the sky. Unlike approaching the city from the landside and dealing with mounted patrols, the seaside arrival presented a different side of the magnificent capital.
Church spires dotted the skyline and competed for attention in every neighborhood and district of Pilaetium. In the Outer City, squat structures loomed over the neighborhoods, and by the Middle City, world-renowned architects challenged engineers to surge structures ever higher. Then Inner City was the combination of wealth and power presented in the structure of every building. The wonders of the Inner City knew no monetary bounds.
Kincaid wished he could share Nakira’s unbridled optimism and admiration of the city. For the young archmagi, the town was a center of political maneuvering and a sore spot in their history. Each of them had reasons never to return, and Kincaid led them into the heart of their enemies.
The hours passed as Kincaid reflected on their options.
“I heard you want to reach the docks without scrutiny, Kincaid.” Captain Bilotta stood next to Kincaid and watched smaller ships steer clear of the three-masted vessel.
“Can we?” Kincaid asked. His friends closed in to hear the rest of the conversation. It wasn’t unusual to find their eclectic group huddling with the ship’s captain by this point in the journey. No one gave them a second look.
