Sorcerer's Trial Read online

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  WANT MORE?

  Prologue

  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

  WANT MORE?

  Author Notes

  Acknowledgements

  Author Bio

  Sorcerer's Trial

  Chronicles of the Seventh Realm

  Ren's Tale Book 3

  By NAK Baldron

  Sorcerer's Trial by NAK Baldron

  Published by

  Aconite Cafe

  P.O. Box 63

  Marble Falls, TX 78654

  www.AconiteCafe.com

  www.NAKBaldron.com

  © 2019 NAK Baldron

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact:

  [email protected]

  Cover by Aconite Cafe.

  WANT MORE?

  REN'S TALE CONTINUES WITH BOOK 4, and Chronicles of the Seventh Realm is only getting started. There are several stories yet to come, and Nations left to explore.

  If you enjoyed the story and want to learn about new books as they come out, join my email group. You'll also get access to book deals, free book giveaways, and exclusive insights into my life.

  Click the image above to join my email group. To find out more about me visit my website, NAKBaldron.com.

  PROLOGUE

  A COOL BREEZE DANCED THROUGH the tall grass of the great plains, encouraging the young children to play. The only game of note in their minds was tag. A game simple enough the three-year-olds could learn, while complex enough to keep the oldest engaged for hours. The source-light overhead baked the field like an oven bakes warm bread while the winds from the northern mountains sent a chill down the children's spines.

  Adaku and Abaze sat apart from the other children, upon a blood red carpet with a geometric fractal pattern spreading from the core, to the corners. A symbol of their wealth and power. In six months, they'd choose public names to mark their transition into adulthood. Carefree days spent frolicking in the fields wouldn't be tolerated. Their father had already scolded them for such adolescent behavior, but his love for their mother kept his anger in check. They were the heirs of a mighty kingdom, and expectations were set.

  "Abaze!" Mitaire called out for him to join their game.

  "Let's go play," he begged his sister.

  "Father said—" Adaku began.

  "He won't know. Besides mother said—"

  "Fine," exasperation clear in her voice.

  Abaze popped up and held out a hand for his sister, and after a quick jerk of his shoulder, Adaku was on her feet. Without a second thought, he turned to run after Mitaire. He was still too young to understand the attraction they felt toward each other, or the ramifications of their relationship as he ran through the waist high grass. Though they were the same age, their mother had seen to it that Adaku matured. "You'll have to protect your brother from himself," their mother had warned.

  Mitaire was stunning in the bright glow of the source-light, as her rich chestnut skin shimmered. She'd pulled her oiled hair into a bun atop her head, bound together with a crimson ribbon which brought out the amber in her eyes. Abaze had found his first love. Without the wisdom to understand it, he discounted his racing heart as a result of playing tag.

  Adaku walked with a grace befitting her position toward the other children—her hands held out to glide through the grass—and watched her brother make a fool of himself. The son of a prince shouldn't run about playing tag with children, but her brother was stubborn and uninhibited. It's what she admired about him. As the eldest, their father expected her to carry herself with grace and dignity befitting a noble's daughter. The fact they were only 10 minutes apart in age, didn't sway his expectations.

  Mitaire hugged Abaze, "You're it!"

  With the speed of the wind she ran off.

  Abaze gave chase, but slow enough to keep her at arm reach. At any moment he could have caught any of the children if he wanted, but instead he preferred to chase Mitaire.

  Soon, the other children began a second game of tag, while Abaze and Mitaire chased each other. They drifted away from the crowd, toward the ancient oak their father called Maduenu, a secret name only the priests and nobles spoke of. Adaku continued to follow at her slow pace, allowing them space, but obeying father and keeping an eye on him. The sounds of the other children grew distant and the source-light began its descent. It was time to return home, but Abaze and Mitaire were enjoying themselves—perhaps too much. She shivered as a gust of air caught inside her dress. Once the source-light sat for the night, the fields would become too cold to play in. Often in the morning they'd find ice upon the grass.

  Their father galloped across the field and caught Abaze in the act before he could pull himself away from Mitaire.

  "Mitaire," Mobo, prince of Zaria, commanded from atop his warhorse. "Return to your mother's house. Tell her what you've done. My vizier will speak to your father tomorrow."

  She stood there stunned, trying to brush away Abaze's kiss which lingered on her lips. Abaze stood between her and his father's men. Mobo clapped his hands above his head—a signal for his guards to draw their yatagans, ceremonial swords sharp enough to cut off an insolent head.

  NO! Abaze screamed inside his mind, as he fought back tears.

  Adaku heard her brother's plea. Don't resist. She transmitted. Father means it.

  Sister? Abaze glanced away from Mitaire to his sister.

  Yes. Abaze, step aside!

  Abaze turned his back on his father, "You have to go."

  Tears poured down Mitaire's face. Her beautiful amber eyes appeared dulled, and she reached for his hand.

  She'll die! Adaku transmitted.

  Abaze pushed her hand away with enough conviction to show he meant it. Mitaire ran off towards the northeast gate of the city. Her wails of pain echoed across the grass plains.

  Tears began to build at the corners of his eyes, but Abaze summoned the courage to turn and face their father, and caught a boot heal to the head.

  "How dare you!" Mobo climbed down from his war horse. The beast stood with the stirrup eye level to Mobo on the ground. "You are my son, not some street urchin free to fornicate with any common mare who will have you." He slapped his son across the face with the crop held in his left hand.

  "Father, please." Adaku dropped to her knees and used both hands to pull her skirt tight against her legs as she bowed.

  "You bear the guilt too." Their father didn't look at her. "Your mother will deal with you, just as Mitaire's mother will deal with her."

  "My prince," their father's eastern adviser said. "You'll be late to your meeting with the priests."

  "We will speak at home!" Mobo grabbed hold of the leather strap attached to the saddle horn and used it to aid his jump. He slipped his right foot into the stirrup. Then, in a quick motion jumped again, swinging his right leg over the top of the warhorse and landing his left foot into the stirrup. Most princes kept a servant close at hand to help with such activities, but their father rejected the tradition—he felt relying on servants made a prince weak, which was why they didn't have their own servants.

  "Let's go." Mobo spun his gelding back toward the city gate
. "Kelechi will take an extra hour if we're late."

  Clumps of mud and grass were flung into the air as their father and his two advisors rode off towards the south gate of the city.

  "Are you okay?" Adaku reached out a hand to help her brother up, but he slapped it away.

  I wish another prince would challenge him.

  Don't think that. Adaku transmitted.

  What is this? Why can we hear each other?

  "I don't know, but Kelechi will," Adaku said. "We can ask tomorrow. We have to get home before mother hears about this."

  CHAPTER ONE

  TIME BECAME AN ILLUSION. Cold slowly crept into Ren's bones and a dull throbbing began in his lower back from constantly leaning on the stone floor. Food was sparse and his hunger grew into a fear that he may starve to death inside the cell. It was a mistake to think he could come to Shinzo and become a sorcerer. The cards Shaya gifted to him were indeed a life saver, she'd known the hollowing pain the jail brought on. Ren created rituals around playing solitaire to keep his mind intact and not fall victim to the echoing silence.

  Guard boots echoed off the stone stairs, growing louder as they descended toward him. He quickly hid the cards back in the shell box, before hiding the box itself.

  "Wake up!" The guard banged his club against the bars of the cell.

  "I'm awake." Ren said. "What day is it?"

  "Palms against the wall."

  Ren stood at the back of the cell, palms pressed flat against the rough stone wall. He clinched the box between his legs, doing his best to look natural.

  The sound of a metal tray sliding across the stone signaled the arrival of his rations.

  "When is the Amethyst Nation examination?" Ren kept his face toward the stone. It was only the two of them on this floor of the jail, there was no chance the guard wouldn't hear him.

  The guard chuckled to himself. Ren asked every guard the same question. They found his obsession with the examination amusing, and would respond in jest, hoping he would react.

  "Surly a sorcerer worthy of joining the Amethyst Nation could get himself out of a simple jail cell."

  "Please!" It was the first time Ren allowed himself to beg.

  "They're already at the palace preparing with the emperor." The guard clicked his heels. "May his reign last a thousand years. The examinations will begin any day now. Damn land lovers have taken over the city." The last sentence was meant more for himself than Ren.

  The guard began to walk away. Ren turned to find his food was twice as large as normal, with a full bowl of rice, instead of half. "Thank you!" Ren called after the guard.

  "Thank the priests." The guard called over his shoulder. "Sueun's Blessing. They bring charity on accounting day, left by the good citizens of Shinzo."

  The sound of his metal boots shifted from a high-pitched clink to a dull clatter, before finally vanishing beyond Ren's keen hearing. Forced solitude in a stone dungeon, made his ears sensitive to the sounds around him. The smell of salt lingered in the air while he ate—no doubt carried in on the leathers of the guard's uniform.

  After eating, Ren curled up on the stone floor with the meager blanket provided to him. More hole than wool, it was just enough material to create a pillow and leave a slip of cloth to cover his arms.

  When he fell asleep, Ren left the prison and traveled to distant lands. There he witnessed the faces of men, women, and children—all of whom suffered under the rule of a corrupt king. He brought war and famine upon the land, and the people suffered for it. Those who chose to follow him willingly, received wealth and bountiful feasts, while children starved in their homes, but still his followers suffered. For with one word, his subjects were slaughtered for his personal amusement. It pleased him to see those who swore loyalty die for no reason. The chaos fueled his ambitions.

  A woman's voice continued to haunt Ren's dream, "Better to die than face dishonor. . ."

  CHAPTER TWO

  CARVED INTO THE STONE STAIRS of the grotto was a door, well-crafted and near invisible. And unless told where to push on the stone wall, no one could ever find it. Only fourteen people in the world knew the secret—the seven Thief Lords, and their seven First Sworn.

  Shaya sat in the Thief Lord's council room, behind the secret door guarded by six of the First Sworn. A silent battle took place amongst the First Sworn to see who would win the honor of standing closest to the door, before they fanned out into a half circle.

  Despite clan Kaito's lowly status, Akio took the lead amongst his peers, while the others spread out enough to give each person room to swing their swords if the occasion called for it. There was nothing special about the inside of the council room, a perfect cube cut from the stone under the stairs. By eliminating all creature comforts the Thief Lords who oversaw the construction insured they and their descendants would use this room to settle only the direst of arguments, or hide the themselves in the case of an all-out siege by the emperor. This room was the true purpose for the grotto's construction whereas the Thieves' Market was a clever misdirect—though be it a highly profitable one.

  Amethyst lanterns hung in the corners, and a set of three dangled from the center casting a warm yellow glow on the seven stone chairs which created a perfect circle minus one spot where an eighth may have stood.

  Shaya raised her hands and stepped into the center of the circle. Every side conversation died, including the whispered insults of the First Sworn amongst themselves.

  "Thank you for answering my summons. Someone has betrayed us." Shaya let the last sentence hang in the room. The only sound was that of breathing.

  Tradition called for her to acknowledge each Lord and their title and offer each the floor before she spoke. No time for traditions, this must be handled now!

  "By, whom?" Gourden-Tanken Hiroshi wheezed. An ornate cushioned stool placed next to his stone chair—doubling his seating surface—helped accommodated his large girth, but his ass still hung off the sides.

  She didn't look at him. They well knew he and Nori worked together and never attacked each other during the time of daggers.

  "I thought it obvious," she let the mystery linger for a moment, making eye contact with each Thief Lord. "Nori," she spat at the ground.

  The room erupted in bickering and accusations. A sudden commotion at the door caught Shaya's attention, as the First Sworn wrestled with their honor. Guard the door as ordered, or protect their lords as sworn? All but Akio jostled between the door and the circle, not willing to be the first to break rank. Akio kept his back toward the circle, utterly focused on the door. Nori was one of the seven Thief Lords, and with his honor destroyed would he keep the room a secret? Yet another reason for Shaya to summon the council.

  In the midst of the bickering, Sora-Tanken Miku used her cane to stand. Shaya bowed her head as she took her seat, forfeiting the floor—and right to speak—to Miku. She capped the bottom of the cane with a thin sheet of tin. When tapped against the stone floor—even by a woman as old as Miku—it chirped like a songbird and brought the bickering to an end.

  "Clan Sora would hear what clan Kaito has to say." Miku's voice was strong and firm, as if she were scolding her own numerous grandchildren back home. "We all know the rumors which have hung around clan Gin for generations."

  As she made her way back to her chair, Mokusei-Tanken Kyo stood to help her back into her seat before taking his own. It spoke volumes of the respect owed to clan Sora due to the actions of Miku over the years. No other Thief Lord would have dared admit weakness by accepting aid from an outside clan, but Miku's personal frailty from age could never be mistaken as an actual weakness of her clan.

  "I don't have the proof required to convict clan Gin," Shaya held up her hand to stop the protests. "But I can say this. Eriko is a soul-walker." Again, she waited for quiet. "I saw the black marks upon her chin myself. I suspect Nori of becoming a soul-walker himself."

  This information was too much for the council. For more than twenty minutes they debated amongst
themselves if Shaya was trustworthy, and after it was settled—she was—what it meant for their ways of life to have a traitor. The more conservative lords preferred to question her honor than admit the second most powerful clan could have achieved their success through an alliance with the emperor. Amongst themselves, one thing has always trumped their game of clans, their utter contempt for the emperor. Anything short of the desire to see the emperor and his family returned to salt was a betrayal of what it meant to be a Thief Lord, and the title of Tanken.

  Akio broke tradition and marched to the center of the circle and stood stiff as a statue, which silenced the room. After locking eyes with each Thief Lord, Akio returned to his post, and the other First Sworn didn't resist as he claimed his lead post. Debate resumed, but clan Kaito's honor was not vocally brought into question again.

  While the other lords debated, Hiroshi kept silent. Shaya watched as he reacted to the accusations around the room. The investigation would uncover whether he was duplicitous along with Nori.

  "Can we agree there is enough doubt to warrant an investigation?" Shaya asked.

  All hands went up, even Hiroshi's.

  Shio-Tanken Jun—a woman blessed by Sueun with perfect beauty—stood but didn't take the center. "We've agreed to investigate, but we still don't know how you came by this information. What's at stake for you?"

  She and Akio expected this to come up but had been unable to plan a response. Instead she trusted to luck, gifted by Sueun. "He betrayed clan Kaito and one of my protected to the emperor's men. My man sits in a cell as we speak. When clan Gin is turned back to salt, then I shall demand recompense from the emperor himself." She spat at her feet.

  Jun bowed and took her seat. Clan Kaito's weakened state had been publicly admitted and it satisfied Jun to leave it alone. A small humiliation to Shaya, and a solidification of Clan Kaito's bottom position. However, each Thief Lord knew if Shaya and Akio could bring Nori to justice, clan Kaito would gain prestige and possibly protection for the time of daggers. Shaya's holdings both on Shinzo and off island were at risk. Without wealth and prestige, a clan was nothing more than a name, and clan Kaito was already near death.