Author's Note:

Previously published under Trouble in Tindrel: Wellspring Dragons Book 2

Excerpt from Shadows over Tindrel: Wellspring Dragons Book 2, 2nd edition

Available in ebook format at the end of May 2023

Excerpt from Shadows over Tindrel

A soft, insistent tapping on the door woke Shiobe from gentle dreams. Sikode mumbled something unintelligible and pushed himself from the warm mattress. She heard him fumble about for clothing, open the door, listened to a quiet exchange between the two men, and forced herself to look at him as the door clicked shut. He held a piece of paper in his hands and the annoyed expression on his face made her raise an eyebrow.

“What is it?”

“Whatever Iavan did to upset the nobility is haunting him,” he said in Catak. “It appears a discontent has hired a wielder of some skill to cast a spell on the soldiers in the field. They will not wake.”

“Including the lieutenant-general?”

“No, he resides in another location. Our unit, however, is affected.” He gritted his teeth. “I must care for this immediately.”

Shiobe rolled over and propped herself up on her elbows. His eyes roamed over her before he sighed and pulled out his packs to dig through them for an outfit. She tried to rise, but he motioned for her to remain in bed. “There’s nothing you can help me with, Shiobe. You might as well stay here and rest.”

“I don’t think I’ll get much sleep if you’re away battling a wielder.”

“No? Don’t worry. I’ve more experience in combating mystery artists than most.”

She watched him dress, unhappy despite his confidence. Any junior mystery artist could defeat an egotistical senior one whose overconfidence led to miscalculation. Kitta proved her ability to the Iovan court time and again dueling those who wallowed too much in their noble birth to find her any sort of threat.

Sikode grabbed his sword and dagger, pulled on his overcoat, then regarded her with serious aplomb.

“I’m very careful, Shiobe. I take nothing for granted, especially now, since we know Iavan’s enemies will hire unconventional help. I’ll return as soon as I can.” He left with a soft click of the door.

Shiobe dressed in warm clothing and laid back down, determined to close her eyes and sleep, but worry edged through her. Her mind raced through the multiple scenarios that might take Sikode from her, and refused to quiet. So she fretted, paced, wrung her wrists, sat and looked at the manuscript written in Ciqi before jumping to her feet and pacing again. Finally, upset enough to scream, she grabbed her sword, intent on practicing a few moves to distract herself from the miserable ideas swimming about in her head. Her lover, a powerful and skilled shadowartist, would eliminate the threat in a timely manner, make his report, and return in time for dinner. Why believe otherwise?

Ti’torien flared red.

Horror rocked her as the doorknob rattled. A loud thud echoed from the hallway. She drew her weapon with a hiss and stepped into position, waiting. Another kick and the center door panel cracked. She clenched her jaw and squeezed the hilt; would it hold? A third kick knocked the knob from its place and a heavy weight slammed into the wood, forcing the door open.

She jumped and swung before the hulk in the doorway could react. He howled as the blade slashed his chest, drawing a thick, long stream of blood. She reversed her strike and slit his throat. He tried to scream and reached for her, his huge hands grasping, but she danced out of the way as he sprayed the pristine whiteness with brilliant scarlet.

A second attacker leapt over the first, this one smaller, quicker, with a thin sword and a maniacal gleam in his eye. He looked rough, but his stance showed he trained with a good instructor.

 The strange rainbow pin glowing on his breast swirled.

The pretty colors captured her attention, but she broke away, annoyed at her wandering gaze. She had an enemy to fight.

  She took a position between the table and the desk as he frowned and glanced at the pin; had he expected it to distract her long enough for an easy victory? Too bad; relying on knick-knacks proved the end of many a mythological adventurer, and he would be no different.

Shiobe clashed with him, the ring of steel on steel reverberating off the walls. He tried to push her towards the corner, but she stood firm, casting aside his strikes with a speed that caused him to grit his teeth and growl. He snagged the table chair with his blade and heaved it at her; she dodged, but not fast enough to avoid it. The wood erupted in silver flame and flared into ash.

He gaped, then glanced at her chest. She did not bother to look down; she had worn Sikode’s amulet and the Imp’s gift since she received them, and if they distracted him so she could stick him, great times two!

He smashed his lips together and slashed, jabbed. She cast aside every attack—and there!—shoved her sword past his defense and into his lower left side. He coughed and stumbled back, blank with shock, and clutched the wound. Blood poured from between his fingers as the rainbow pin flared and danced with color.

No second chances. She sliced his throat, and he collapsed, gargling.

She whipped her sword about and whirled, but Lekedi, not a third enemy, hustled to the door, flanked by two grim-faced guards in black and blue sindari uniforms. He looked at the carnage, his tummy shaking, his face blazing a deep crimson in fury. She lowered her weapon and commanded her heart to calm down.

“Hired help,” he snarled, jerking his chin at the dead men.

“What do you mean?”

“A few are still alive,” he said. “Said somethin’ ‘bout insults and Condi siojhetioxh.”

“Condi siojhetioxh?” Shiobe stared, flabbergasted. How much trouble was Lieutenant-general Iavan in? Condi siojhetioxh excelled in the lightarts, and even strong shadowartists tread warily with them. In general, they did not bother with much south of the Sea of Condioh, unless their school put a hit out on a shadowartist or conjurer, or they had a diplomatic mission.

Then again, lightartists had a long and sordid history of hiring out to nobles who showered them with gold. Many traveled great distances to complete difficult contracts for outrageous pay and the prestige their successes brought.

What might they charge to take out a royal?

But why target the inn, then? Had the siojhetioxh heard Sikode arrived in Tindrel and decided on a surprise attack, hoping to take out a powerful enemy before they concentrated on their true target? How had they known he planned to stay at the Fitiri Inn? Did they realize how kin protected kin in Rakan culture, and he would construe such an attack as a terrible insult? Since Sikode acknowledged the kinship ties with Lekedi, she knew he would seek fast and fierce retribution.

Her mind whirling, she stooped over her second opponent and removed the rainbow pin from his shirt.

“Some a’ them downstairs have the same pins,” Lekedi said with a grimace.

Shiobe nodded. “What does it look like to you?” She held it up, the color spinning faster as Lekedi focused on it.

He shrugged. “Plain metal pin,” he said. It did not enthrall him, so either he was immune, or the one wearing it needed to trigger the magick to make it work. Luck times a hundred, he was dead.

“It’s spelled. It tried to enchant me but couldn’t.”

“A few a’ the men said the same thing.” He frowned, fingers drumming on his belt in agitation. “Said it caught your attention, you couldn’t look away. Doesn’t seem active, now.”

“This never would have worked on Sikode,” she said, lowering her hand. “He didn’t say anything to you before he left, did he?”

“No,” he grumbled. “Know the trouble’s ‘bout the sleep spell on the soldiers, but that’s it.”

She sucked in a breath; mistake. She coughed on the stench of dead men. Refocusing her thoughts, she eyed the pristine hallway wall. If she were Sikode, she would head to the grassy field first, searching for magickal clues. She looked at the pin and decided to take it with her. If Kitta could find the power signatures of distant mystery artists, so could her lover. Hopefully the object retained enough residue to locate their enemy.

“Please, I need my horse saddled,” she said. Her chest twinged at the thought of leaving the inn, but giving the fighter important information outweighed the fear. Now that she possessed his wielded protections, why tremble? His shields would do to an attacker what they did to the chair—if she did not down them first.

Lekedi nodded, pivoted, and marched down the stairs, the guards a step behind.

****

Shadows over Tindrel: The Wellspring Dragons Book 2, 2nd Edition, will be available May 2023

Dawn of Shiobe: The Wellspring Dragons Book 1 (Chapter 28 of Book 1)

Shadows over Tindrel: The Wellspring Dragons Book 2

The Glass Volcano: The Wellspring Dragons Book 3 (Chapter 10 of Book 3)

Also visit The Wellspring Dragons World