Sword of Mist Read online

  Sword of Mist

  Stones of Amaria

  Tara Brown

  The Sword of Mist

  Stones of Amaria

  Book One

  A Novel by Tara Brown

  Copyright 2019 Tara Brown

  This is a work of fiction.

  All names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text Copyright © 2019 Tara Brown

  This work is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This work may not be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written consent of the publisher.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. No alteration of content is permitted.

  Published by Tara Brown.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Cover Art by Design by Definition

  Edited by Andrea Burns

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN- 9781689164436

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  Contents

  Map

  Preface

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  The End

  Also by Tara Brown

  Foreword

  The Blood

  Other Books by Tara Brown

  About the Author

  For Gus, my Ollie

  Map

  A sacrifice made.

  A soul taken.

  A stone returned.

  A heart broken.

  What was once legend comes again.

  Chapter 1

  Blockley

  The girl’s fingers were dark, stained bluish black at the tips, and even the nails were discolored. The calm expression on her face made it easy to mistake her for sleeping, but the pallor of her skin did not. She was nearly as pale as the white caps on the sea from which she’d come.

  Her naked body was nestled in the frothy waves of the shore enough to sway back and forth as though she were cradled in someone’s arms.

  “Did she drown?” Alek Ailling asked. He was the owner of the shipyard and boatbuilding business, Quays, where the body had washed up on the banks of downtown Blockley.

  “I don't know.” Master Barnes, the local blacksmith, scratched his head. “Had she been making pies before she died? Blueberry or black raspberry perhaps.” His eyes lingered on her ashen fingers with their blackened tips.

  “Must have been,” Alek agreed. “Abnormal thing to do at sea.”

  “Indeed,” Master Barnes agreed.

  “And no news of sunken ships?” Alek asked. The girl was no older than one of his nieces, maybe eighteen, and as far as he could tell, he didn't know her. A stranger, a strange girl, washing ashore was peculiar, yet they lived in a sheltered harbor that oftentimes had odd things wash ashore, and this wasn't the first body. But it was the first naked girl.

  “I haven’t heard of a single sinking, nor a storm. I’ll fetch the magistrate,” Master Barnes said and walked away from the sight he wished he hadn’t seen. She was someone’s daughter. Someone perhaps unaware she had died.

  To the east of downtown Blockley, through a path no bigger than a single cart, sat a farm surrounded by forest. The Ailling farm where the Ailling family had lived for hundreds of years.

  In the middle of a field, as far from the house as one could get on the farm, lay two sisters on a blanket, cloud watching, oblivious to the death landing on their town’s doorstep.

  “That cloud looks like a ship. Isn’t that a good omen, Lenny? Doesn't Father say that’s a sign of a great bounty for all the boats at sea now?” the middle sister, Amaya Ailling, asked softly. Staring up at the clouds had become an early summer tradition for the girls. The grass was lush and soft from the spring rains, though that would change once the warm summer air dried it out.

  “It looks like a shark to me,” Lenny Ailling, the youngest, said with a wide grin, knowing it would provoke her sister to no end.

  “You always see sharks.” Amaya nudged her. “Truly though, isn’t a ship a good sign?”

  “’Tis, but don't worry your pretty head, Sister. No one expects a lady like you to recall the cloud lore of the southern shipyards.” Lenny’s smile softened as she sighed contently, enjoying the feel of the summer sun on her face after such an unusually wet spring.

  “I do, though. I care,” Amaya turned her head, her tone growing serious. She hated the way everyone thought she was nothing more than a pretty face. “I care about Blockley. I love it here.”

  “I’m only teasing.” Lenny turned to her. “You really are too serious.”

  “I’m serious about never leaving Blockley.” Amaya added a little harshness to her words, “Because I love it here.”

  “Amaya, you must remember you’re marrying a gentleman with an estate near the city. He may not want to stay here.” Though it was pointless to tell Amaya anything, Lenny said it anyway. Their mother and eldest sister, Hilde, had been trying to explain to Amaya she would be at her husband’s mercy once married, but she refused to listen. “And he may well have to do what his father says,” she added.

  “No.” Amaya furrowed her fair brow and began the same speech she had repeated for months since their engagement, “Josu wants to stay and run his parents’ market. He likes the sea and the quaintness of life here. We have agreed; we want to raise our family here. And when you and Hilde each get married and have children, they can all play together, as we did.” Her dreams reminded Lenny of the shapes in the clouds, open to the interpretation of the beholder, but Amaya was too stubborn to see it. “However, I suppose Hilde will only visit us, not live here full time like you and me.” Amaya lost some of her fervor at that thought.

  “Of course,” Lenny agreed, rather than arguing the many flaws in this daydream. The largest being that Lenny would never have children or marry. Her dreams were nothing like those of her sisters. She might fancy young men as any other lady did, but she had no desire to be tied to one. In fact, she was determined not to be.

  When she was younger, she wanted to emulate their father, sailing the seas in her own ship, traveling far from Blockley Harbor, fishing and running her boat. Perhaps, she might retire from the sea one day, older and weathered, the way captains always did. Hands bent from gripping the wheel, lips thin from pressing them with worry, and eyes haunted by the waves that had chased them with murderous rage.

&n
bsp; That was until last summer when a man aboard a fancy foreign ship, changed her dreams. She recalled being mesmerized by the glint in his eyes and the twitch of his grin as he told her a story, the likes of which she had never heard before, and had enchanted her. He spoke of far-off places and wondrous sights. Of traveling the world, seeing ancient ruins in the middle of dense jungles and hiking to the tops of mountains with icy peaks, places she had never known.

  Since then, Lenny’s dreams lay out there, in the wild. She would become a trader or an explorer, maybe the first woman to do so.

  One day.

  Until then, she would save all her coin that didn’t go to the dogs. And when she did have enough, she would take her hounds and travel everywhere the wind blew. It was going to be an amazing experience.

  A plan she kept to herself.

  Everyone in Blockley had an idea of what Lenny should do with her life.

  And not one of those ideas matched what she wanted.

  Not even her sisters’. Though they had shared a womb and were born on the same day, the similarities ended there.

  Amaya was the homebody.

  Lenny, the adventurer.

  And Hilde was something different altogether. She was considered the county prize, though Lenny felt sorry for her sister, being known for something as silly as a fine face. Not to mention, her beauty would have been a curse to Lenny as it guaranteed a husband.

  But Hilde didn’t see it like that, she was obedient to a fault. She knew her fate and accepted it. She did not bat so much as one eyelash when she discovered her betrothed was from the city. An important man who would likely be too busy to come here and meet her before the wedding, so their engagement remained a secret. A scandalous notion to Lenny.

  Their mother had refused to offer any details of the marriage agreement. She had made up a story, a lie, and refused to budge.

  “The announcement must not happen before the bride and groom meet. It’s bad luck!” was all she had given them, and it had been delivered in that tone ensuring all three left well enough alone.

  The only detail they had managed to find out by sneaking peeks at correspondence their mother received was that he was from Waterly City. The royal capital and an eight-day ride from Blockley, the reason Amaya wouldn't see her eldest sister often, or at all. But Amaya was convinced the moment Hilde’s mysterious betrothed saw Blockley, he would fall hopelessly in love and wish to stay. A notion Lenny couldn’t disagree with more.

  A noise drew Amaya’s and Lenny’s eyes up from the blanket. Someone was crossing the field toward them. Lenny prepared for it to be someone delivering orders sent from their dreaded aunt who was always at their house, although she had a perfectly fine house of her own and her boys were young men who required constant tending to. Neither of them had married, a sore spot with their mother, who Lenny assumed avoided the house and them as punishment for their refusal to court anyone. Instead, she spent her time at the farm, bossing Lenny around.

  “Sisters,” Hilde Ailling, their eldest sister, called to them, waving as she strolled, her hair lightly billowing in the breeze. She carried a ball of orange fluff in her hands as Lenny’s two giant hounds traipsed behind her, eyes darting from Lenny to the kitten. “Someone was looking for you, Amaya.”

  Hilde sat delicately on the blanket and let the struggling kitten down. He ran straight for Amaya, nestling in her side and chewing his shaking foot as if confused on how to scratch with it. He was the runt but was making up for it quickly.

  “What are you two doing all the way over here?” Hilde asked.

  “Enjoying the sun and the silence,” Lenny warned her. “Mother didn't see you coming this way, did she?”

  “I don't believe so. Why? What have you done now?” Hilde took a tone.

  “Nothing,” Lenny replied, offering the same attitude her sister had. “Aunt Mildred is visiting and I’d prefer not to see her. She really is the worst relative.”

  “Lenny!” Hilde gasped, but there was a smile on her lips when she said it.

  “Don't deny it!” Lenny pointed at her.

  “Surely, I don't know what you mean. Nevertheless, if I were forced to choose one, I would say Uncle Cyril was twice as hideous.” Hilde sniffed.

  “Indeed,” Amaya agreed. “Mildred might be unbearable, but she keeps her hands to herself and stays sober the whole day.”

  “Perhaps that’s the problem,” Lenny chided.

  “Listen to us. Someone might mistake us for proper fishwives if we were heard.” Hilde sat back, staring up at the sun, speaking with a deep and contented sigh, “It’s warm today. Thankfully. I have grown tired of the rain.” She changed the subject smoothly.

  “Then I suppose it’s lucky it rains much less in the city,” Lenny purposely pried.

  “I suppose it is,” she answered Lenny but sounded as though she wished to avoid the topic.

  “Will you miss the rains once you’re there?” Lenny asked, pushing her, wondering if Mother had told her anything else. Hilde loved having knowledge her sisters didn't; however, keeping secrets in a group of triplets was difficult.

  “You’re not staying there in the city, though,” Amaya said as she danced a piece of string for the orange kitten. He clawed at it as Amaya’s eyes lifted to Hilde. “Mother said you would be married in the city but could choose to live wherever you want. She said his family has homes all over the kingdom. You’ll want to come back to Blockley or visit frequently or live close by, of course.”

  “I hadn’t given it much thought, to be honest,” Hilde lied and frowned at Amaya. “If you’re not careful, that cat’s going to claw you.” Hilde changed the subject again, masterfully, once more using her eldest-sister voice. She was three whole minutes older than Amaya and somehow that translated into years of knowledge and authority. Which made the fifteen minutes she was older than Lenny, decades.

  “That might be her objective, Hilde.” Lenny winked at Amaya. “If she has a clawed-up hand perhaps Mother might let her off without doing any sewing or needlepoint later.”

  “Lenny!” the middle sister sounded affronted. “I would never.”

  Lenny laughed but unfortunately it was the truth. Amaya would never shirk womanly duties, just the yard work. She wasn’t as bad as Hilde at being their mother’s perfect daughter, but she was close enough. The other two sisters were dutiful daughters. “Perfect examples of ladies” was how they were often described, in spite of Amaya being a bit too headstrong.

  “Besides, how could I arrive at my engagement party tomorrow night with a scratched hand? Displaying the ring next to my cuts like a savage?” Amaya sniffed with a hint of mockery.

  “Yes, how indeed,” Hilde agreed, her eyes lingering on the cuts and calluses all over Lenny’s hands. “One might mistake you for a pauper, as Lenny frequently is.” She teased her youngest sister but there was truth in her words. She didn't like that Lenny was often mistaken for a member of the working class, which didn't bother Lenny one lick. Mostly because she was one. Lenny had worked for their uncle for some time and had no intentions of quitting anytime soon.

  She followed Hilde’s judgmental gaze to the hounds, the reason Lenny was a member of the working class. Not that working had changed much. Their huge appetites kept her close to the poor house. But she didn’t care. She loved them.

  When they’d been offered to Lenny as payment, everyone had an opinion on how she should’ve turned down the strange man from the northern kingdoms. But the tiny pups were hers the moment they made eye contact. It was love at first sight.

  “I still can’t believe Father let you keep them,” Hilde said with a heavy sigh. The deal bothered her more than it had their mother. The hounds were only ten months old and already the size of the family donkey.

  “He didn’t let me do anything. I did the work,” Lenny reminded her. “I chose to keep them and all he said was that I had to feed them myself. And they’ve turned out all right, haven’t they? Last week Ollie chased off what looked to be a w
olf that got near the spring lambs and Scar wasn’t far behind him. We don’t have a single dog on the farm that could handle a wolf alone, but that devil ran when he saw Ollie’s scruffy face coming.” Lenny chuckled and scratched the wolfhound’s bearded chin. It was wet with drool, making Hilde and Amaya both shudder. “Didn't he, boy? He was terrified of this damned handsome muzzle.”

  “Don’t cuss, Lenny. You might work as a man, but you aren’t one,” Hilde scolded.

  “And you might sound like my mother, but you aren’t,” she retorted sharply as Ollie leaned into her embrace, his amber eyes closed and his content smile widened. They were expressive dogs, that was for certain. If they were happy, you’d never see a more peaceful-looking animal. But if they became worked up over something, run. Though that wouldn't save you. They could move faster than anything Lenny had ever seen.

  Hilde parted her lips to give her a solid piece of her mind but was interrupted by a man’s voice.

  “Good afternoon, ladies.” Wendell Knightly, Lenny’s dearest friend waved as he crossed the expanse of field to where they had the blanket laid out. “What you doing all the way over here?”

  “Well, Wen, I’d say we followed the sun, but truly Aunt Mildred is visiting Mother so we chose a site well away from the house.” Lenny didn’t bother lying to him.

  “Lenny!” Hilde whispered.