Blaze of Magic Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Books by J.A. Culican

  About the author

  Contact me

  J.A. Culican

  Copyright © 2018 by J.A. Culican

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without the express written consent from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review. Trademark names appear throughout this book. Rather than trademark name, names are used in an editorial fashion, with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

  The information in this book is distributed on an “as is” basis, without warranty. Although every precaution has been taken in preparation of this work, neither the author nor the publisher shall have any liability to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.

  The characters, locations, and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities or resemblance to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Edited by: Cassidy Taylor

  Cover Art by: Rebecca Frank

  ASIN: ?????

  www.dragonrealmpress.com

  For Kallie.

  Bells was curled up in the cushioned nook of her bedroom window with one arm resting on the Sword of Fire, Shmsharatsh, which lay across her lap. She never went anywhere without the ancient blade these days, protecting it from the many people trying to control it. Plenty of those people would be willing to steal it if she let her guard down, and the consequences would be disastrous.

  In the distance, a light flared. It lasted only a couple of seconds, but immediately after that, a dull roar rolled through the neighborhood. Her window rattled, and across the room, Jaekob half rose from his padded, antique chair.

  She said, "It seems your enemies have succeeded with another bombing. Why must I allow this to go on? I could just roam the planet and put an end to all of this." The fighting in the streets was tragic and wearisome.

  Jaekob scowled. "Don't ask me. I would put an end to this just the way you said."

  She resisted the urge to snap at him. Instead, she said gently, "I was talking to the sword."

  He settled back into his chair, scowling at her. She ignored it and turned to look out the window. The view outside the manor was just about the prettiest thing in that ugly city. She missed her farm but appreciated the generosity shown by Jaekob's father.

  Tapping his fingers on the wooden panel atop the chair arm, he replied, "Be that as it may, it's been over three weeks since we got back to Philadelphia and the fighting hasn't stopped. If you don't do something about that soon, you're going to have to deal with the Dragon Council. They have their eye on you, you know."

  Bells was well aware of that. Sure, they’d put aside their greed in favor of protecting the city and doing what was best for everyone, but it was just a thin veneer over the truth. "They don't believe I'm worthy of the sword, do they?" Actually, that was the most polite version she could think of. It would be no use starting another argument about it.

  Unexpectedly, she felt a sensation of thin tendrils tickling the back of her mind. She cleared her mind, allowing the tendrils to follow the different pathways in her brain and pull her mind down into itself where it was safe to talk, free of any chance that Jaekob might overhear the conversation with his weird mental connection to her.

  As her mind slipped into that other place, Jaekob's reply came as just a murmur. A knock at the door was the last thing she heard from the real world. Whatever it was, it could wait. The sword wanted to talk.

  "Fine," Jaekob said, "ignore me once again." He was angry, but the truth was that it stung his pride. He was worried about Bells, and there was no denying that there was something was different about her lately. He didn't understand it, and she wouldn't explain it. That was a big concern, and with the artifact bonded to her, it was worth worrying about.

  He huffed, a thin smoke tendril rising from his nose, then waved one hand in an intricate pattern. A glyph appeared on the door, faint at first. It quickly grew brighter, glowing red as the lines that made up the symbol untangled themselves, and then the glyph exploded in a shower of sparks that faded before they ever hit the ground. Ordinarily, he found it pretty. Today, he didn't even watch the sparks fall before calling out, "Come in."

  The door opened and Hawking's smiling face appeared. After a quick glance around the room, he stepped in and closed the door behind him. "Good morning, Prince Jaekob."

  "How many times do I have to tell you? Just call me Jaekob." Putting aside his concern for Bells for a moment to deal with this new intrusion, he smiled back. "I get tired of hearing my title. It isn't one I asked for. So, what brings you by this morning? It's good to see you again."

  The slender fae padded across the room and sat on Bells' bed. For a moment, he watched her intently, then turned back to look at Jaekob. "Has she been like this all morning?"

  "Off and on. I swear, she spends more time with that sword than she does with living, breathing people."

  Hawking sighed, his face downcast.

  Jaekob wished he knew whether the man's frustration was for Bells and the sword or because of Jaekob's hesitance about it. After all, Hawking had spent his entire life protecting the secret of that sword and studying its myths and legends before he had helped them recover it.

  Hawking continued, "Don't be too frustrated with it. That blade is the only reason the Crown of Pures still stands, dragons among them. Speaking of dragons, I'm sure you heard the latest rumors about what the Council is up to."

  Jaekob nodded. Of course he had, and that news was as troubling as everything else these days. "Now that Councilor Darren has been reinstated—he's a slippery worm, that one—that pack of talkers has been nothing but trouble. Not that it's any different than before, but now that they're going after Bells and her sword, it has become rather personal. At least, I'm taking it personally."

  Hawking chuckled. "That's understandable. You and she spent an awful lot of time together in the wilderness, fighting for your lives. That tends to draw people closer. It has even been known to create a kind of intimacy between two people..." He let his voice trail off.

  Jaekob felt his cheeks flush. He had been accused of having less than professional feelings toward Bells before. She was beautiful, like most fae, but she had a grace about her that put the people around her at ease. There was something else, too, an indescribable quality he found overpowering, and he often felt like his common sense flew out the window when she was around—and he liked it.

  Or rather, she had that grace before she got her hands on the sword. Now, whenever she held the sword—as she so often did—there was some subtle shift in her that he didn't like. It was worrisome. "What have you heard about the Council?" he asked, changing the subject.

  If Hawking noticed
Jaekob's embarrassment, he had the good grace to keep his eyes roaming the bookshelf in the back corner, pretending not to. "Both the Crown of Pures and the Dragon Council don't have a lot of trust for some upstart fae farm girl with a legendary artifact. There are a lot of whispers going on that someone else might be better suited to carry the blade. Maybe I'm biased, but I suspect a big part of it is just because she's a fae instead of a dragon or elf."

  "I've had the same thought. Not that it changes anything, but I think it makes it harder for her to impress them. Saving their lives isn't enough for some of them to think any differently about her. She'll always be 'just a fae' to them, I fear."

  Hawking shook his head, slowly. "She could impress them better by ending the violence, putting an end to the people attacking us. The war isn't over, and they all thought the sword would do that. So, not only is she just a fae, they also want to put the sword into the hands of someone who will actually use it."

  Jaekob grinned. He had heard the same whispers but had a different idea about why. "I think they argue about why Bells shouldn't have it at least as much as they do about who actually should get it if not her. I think they're going to have a hard time getting that sword out of her hands, though."

  "Many feel she'd give it to you if ordered to." Hawking watched him intently, making him feel rather uncomfortable.

  "As far as I'm concerned, it picked her, not me. After all, I did lose the blade in the first place. I don't think that would've happened if the sword had chosen me."

  Hawking's eyes went wide, and there was an awkward silence for a moment before he said, "You think the blade chooses people..."

  Jaekob couldn't tell if it was a statement or a question. Maybe both. He was curious to know what the Sword of Fire's loremaster thought. "Part of me does. But what do you think, does the sword pick its owner?"

  Hawking got a faraway look and didn't answer for a moment. When he did finally reply, Jaekob had to strain to hear him half-whispering, "The sword is intelligent but it isn't alive. It's an artificial thing, a created intelligence. It operates on rules." He shook his head as though snapping out of a memory and shifted his gaze back to Jaekob. "Come on, now. You don't honestly expect me to believe you think she should have the sword, do you?"

  Jaekob stared at him, wishing he could read Hawking's aura the way Bells did, but that was a fae talent. "No, maybe I don't think she should. I am not sure what I think, but if she shouldn't, it's not for the reason you think. I don't like the effect it's having on her. Or maybe I don't trust it. None of us know its motives, not even you."

  "Well," Hawking chuckled, "we certainly know the motives of the Dragon Council members trying to get their hands on it."

  The fae's grin was infectious. Too bad the topic was so grim. Jaekob replied, "Sure, half of them want the sword to go to me, while the other half just want it."

  Hawking rose from the bed and began to pace back and forth on the carpet in the middle of the room, his hands behind his back. "The sword is power. Powerful people usually want more power in my experience." He paused to look at Jaekob. "You, my boy, seem to be an exception. You're the second most powerful person on the planet, and yet, at one point you wanted to be a blacksmith. I think you'd be happy walking away from the whole thing if you could."

  Jaekob didn't answer. That was uncomfortably close to the truth. He cleared his throat and asked, "Do you think I have good reason not to trust that thing? Should I be concerned about Bells?"

  Hawking began to pace again, taking slow, even steps. He watched the floor in front of him rather than Jaekob. "Well, it is true that there was another attack on the city. We've held on, but your Council thinks it's only a matter of time. That's their excuse for wanting to get the sword from her, after all, whether they want to give it to you or keep it for themselves. Frankly, I think even if one of them got their hands on it, it wouldn't do what they wanted. It has a mind of its own, as I said."

  That was another thing Jaekob didn't like or understand. "Yes, you said it has an artificial intelligence. Something created. I admit, it seems to have a mind of its own."

  "It was created with magic. Magic is just a technology we don't understand, right? It operates on principles, just like a human automobile engine does. Whoever cast the spell that created it had a reason to sacrifice so much of their own power, and the sword can only work toward that reason."

  "But the problem is, we don't know what that reason was." Jaekob felt a growing sense of unease.

  "I suspect the creator—a man named Castor, according to the myths—simply saw where society was headed and wanted to put in a fail-safe. Pures society looks a whole lot different than it did in the early days, before the humans started writing history down. I think he just saw where things were headed and didn't like it."

  Jaekob nodded, although he wasn't sure society had really changed all that much in the last five thousand years. Sure, certain social standards had changed, but had people really changed all that much? "To my mind, that's just one more reason not to blindly trust the blade. It's a tool, one we can't afford not to use, but I think we should keep our eyes open."

  Hawking pursed his lips but nodded slowly. "It pains me to say it, but I think you're probably right. Like any tool, its value, its inherent good or evil, all depends on who wields it. Let's just be glad that Bells is the one who controls the thing. At least we know she has a good heart."

  "True." Jaekob nodded, but his mind was troubled. He flashed back to all the times her behavior had struck him as odd in the last few weeks. He just wished she didn't spend so much time inside her own head these days. It was downright creepy.

  Bells felt the tendrils withdrawing from her mind and the first thing she saw was just a faint glow of sunlight coming through her window. As the last of her mental fog fled, that light became a blurry view of her room, which slowly came into focus. She blinked quickly, her eyes red and irritated. Darn it, she had forgotten to close her eyes before communing with the Sword of Fire, and now they were dry and itchy. Again.

  Spotting Jaekob sitting on the bed, she smiled. His handsome face was a much more welcome sight than even the beautiful sunlight streaming through her window. "Hey there. How long was I gone?"

  "There she is. Good to have you back, little fae. Maybe a couple of hours." His aura flared with a bright, sky-blue shade. Not that she had been looking—it just popped into view for a moment.

  She felt like laughing. He hadn't called her little fae in at least a week, and she was surprised at how much she had missed it. Grinning, she stretched, quivering as her muscles all tightened at once. It was a glorious stretch. She hopped off the windowsill and then plopped down on the bed beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. "Sorry about that."

  She snuggled in, rubbing her cheek on his arm. As much time as she spent talking to the sword, moments like this were the highlight of her day, and there had been all too few, lately, because they had both been too busy to spend much time together like this. She wished the sword hadn't called her into it so soon after he arrived to visit, and that the moment could last longer than she knew it would.

  His heart beat faster as she touched him. Sensing that was a nice, new gift from the time she healed him. They had become connected in a way she had never heard of before, adding a physical bond to the more spiritual one they shared from her time riding his dragon form.

  "So, what confusing visions did it give you today?" Jaekob asked.

  That was the last thing she wanted to talk about. The worst part about the sword was that her connection to it made it hard to know who she could trust. It had even instilled some doubts about this new feeling she had toward Jaekob—the sword simply did not trust Jaekob.

  "Never mind that,” she answered. “Usually, they're too confusing to understand right away. I have to let them 'percolate' a bit, and then it makes sense. Sometimes."

  He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her in to lean against him. "Thank Creation we got the swor
d back, right? I think it's just confusing because it doesn't speak our language. You said it talks in pictures mostly, right? Just because we don't understand it doesn't mean we shouldn't trust it."

  Her eyes fluttered open and she raised her head for a moment to look at him. "You think I should trust the sword? No matter what it tries to tell me?"

  At the corners of her eyes, she caught an impression of his aura fluttering with a strange mix of green and purple. Then it smoothed out and she lost sight of it. She hadn't been actively looking, and made it a habit not to do so, but the flash she saw of his jealousy and confusion was troubling.

  He replied, "It did save the world, at least for now. I think it's trying to tell you how to make things right everywhere and keep them right for a long time, not just while you're swinging the sword around. The messages might be confusing, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't trust it. You just have to get better at understanding, but hopefully without spending more time away from me."

  She smiled and put her head back on his shoulder, but inside, her thoughts were troubled. Who should she trust? Not just among all the people out there, most of whom she always had to worry were trying to take the sword from her, but between Jaekob and her sword. She had stronger feelings for him than she had any right to, and he told her to trust it, but then, it told her she couldn't trust him. Which one was right? Did she really want to know? The only thing she was certain of was her feelings for the man she leaned on.

  She said, "I'm sure it'll all work itself out. I'm just glad to have you here with me this morning. Oh, I never did get a chance to ask you why you came by. As much as I love the company, I assume you aren't just here to provide the most comfy pillow ever."

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and she didn't need to read any aura to tell her how tense he was. He said, "There was another attack. The Dragon Council requests your presence, this afternoon."

  Bells didn't reply. That was still hours away. She would let that time deal with itself, but for now, she was content right where she was.