Shadow Magic Read online

  ALSO BY SARAH CHAPMAN

  The Magekiller

  The Mixed Duology:

  The Lord of the Plains

  The Broken Kingdom

  Shadow Magic

  Copyright © 2019 by Sarah Chapman

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever including Internet usage, without written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, or events used in this book are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, alive or deceased, events or locales is completely coincidental.

  E-book design by Maureen Cutajar

  www.gopublished.com

  Contents

  Map

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  Chapter 95

  Chapter 96

  Chapter 97

  Chapter 98

  Chapter 99

  Chapter 100

  Chapter 101

  Chapter 102

  Chapter 103

  Chapter 104

  Chapter 105

  Chapter 106

  Chapter 107

  Chapter 108

  Chapter 109

  Chapter 110

  Chapter 111

  Chapter 112

  Chapter 113

  Chapter 114

  Chapter 115

  Chapter 116

  Chapter 117

  Chapter 118

  Chapter 119

  Chapter 120

  Chapter 121

  PROLOGUE

  18 Dagfir, 1352

  ‘Come on back now, Muresh.’

  Waves of calm and warmth accompanied the words. Muresh heard them, or rather, he was aware of them being thought. He had left his ears behind, with his body. He registered those words and turned them over curiously, before they faded away as tides of emotions and thoughts that weren’t his washed over him.

  we’ve lost another one, only seven, that’s too young...

  seven, ten, only three years

  they don’t live long enough! The Manunian mages live twice as long!

  but they aren’t trained, like ours

  how can we use them, they don’t understand

  ours are

  The words did not mean anything, and slipped away quickly, the anger, frustration and fear lingered a while longer. But it wasn’t his, and it wasn’t nice either. Then he felt something respond...

  ‘Come on back now, it’s time to return.’ The words came again, still calm and pleasant. Muresh could not see why that should be so, he did not feel any great rush. He ignored them as he recognized something like him. He noticed the other for a timeless moment, and it noticed him in turn also. He felt a moment of sadness. Goodbye...

  I’m not going anywhere, are you not staying?

  ‘Muresh, your body awaits you. It’s time for you to come home, dear. I will be lonely if you do not come back.’

  Muresh crashed back into his body. Dizzy and confused, he opened his eyes. They did not feel like his own eyes, and shapes and colours moved without meaning above him. What had happened? Then he understood he had not stayed, but that thought was devoid of context and he did not know where he had been or where he was now.

  A wrinkly oval appeared above him. ‘Muresh.’ A hole opened in the pointy-ended oval, opening and closing and making noises. ‘Thank you for coming back, dear.’

  Then suddenly the world was spinning and he became aware of his arms. Someone was holding his arm and he was sitting on something, yes, he had legs as well as arms.

  The oval reappeared, suddenly recognizable as a face, and he saw it belonged to a body and the set of arms that were holding him up. ‘Come, dear, we must walk, you must refamiliarize yourself with your body.’

  The sounds didn’t mean anything to him, but the arms that belonged to the wrinkly face picked him up with only a small grunt, and he was placed upon his legs. His legs wobbled and did not want to hold him up. He looked down at those thin, smooth, dark brown things. The wrinkly face stopped him from falling and dragged him along.

  ‘Come along, dear.’ She said, ‘you must walk. Let us go out into the sun. Tomorrow is your birthday, do you remember?’

  Something stirred in his memory.

  ‘You’ll be eleven. Aren’t you excited? You’ll be the oldest!’

  ‘Y-yes, Gramma. Yes, of course.’ His words became firmer, surer as he remembered how to speak. ‘Am I not the oldest now?’

  ‘Not yet, dear, it does not count until you pass your birthday, and then you will be the oldest boy we’ve had here!’

  ‘Lamisa will not be able to come, but she made me a present.’

  ‘If you tell me where she put it, I can wrap it and give it to you tomorrow.’

  He did not answer her and before too long they emerged into a bright courtyard. The boy’s eyes widened in awe as desert stretched away in either direction from his place high above it all. He turned and spun and saw he had come from a blazing, white palace. He ran to the railing and leant out far, his legs hooked around the bars as he leant out precariously. Below a sheer cliff of rock stretched all the way down to the grey, rocky desert floor hundreds of meters below. Above, the sun burned brightly in the brilliant blue sky un
marred by a single cloud. He held out his hand, revelling in the warmth which seemed to bring everything back all at once. Was not the sun so lovely? How nice the heat was that soaked into his skin! As he gaped and stared, his eyes sparkling and his mouth drawn in a happy, wondrous grin, he did not notice the shadows that clung to him.

  CHAPTER 1

  1 Fevror, 1353

  ‘That’s her, there.’

  Jacques squinted in the smoky, close air of the tavern. The woman in question sat at a table in the middle of the room, laughing and surrounded by a group of men. The tavern was crowded, warm and poorly ventilated. Smoke from the roaring fire was having trouble making its way up the chimney, and many of the travellers smoked in between shovelling meat into their mouths and drowning themselves in ale.

  ‘She’s Chelleskan...’ Pierre said slowly, as Jacques leant close to hear him above the din of the tavern.

  ‘Yes, well, we knew that-‘

  ‘But how are we supposed to tell?’

  He stared at Pierre, then back at the woman, whose ebony skin marked her out in this room far more than her striking features and ringing laugh. ‘Well,’ he said hesitantly, ‘we aren’t very close, and the light isn’t very good in here.’

  As he spoke a large, hairy man in leather armour pulled a chair from their table as he made to sit down, his other hand occupied in holding up a plate nearly overflowing with meat and gravy.

  ‘No.’ Jacques said firmly. ‘This is a private table.’

  ‘It doesn’t look private!’

  Swallowing back quick, indignant anger, he smiled and said, ‘look, take the chair and go and I’ll buy you a drink.’

  The man paused, an eyebrow raised suspiciously. But then he shrugged and grinned. ‘It’d better be a big one, short man!’

  Jacques frowned and waved over a serving boy to organize the drink. As soon as they were alone again Jacques and his companion turned their attention back to the Chelleskan.

  ‘Tomorrow morning, perhaps, now that we’ve found her…’ Pierre began doubtfully. Then he snorted, ‘working on a Solis evening!’

  Jacques, more concerned with work than the traditional day of rest said, ‘when was the last time Solis meant anything to us?’

  ‘Oh? I thought all you city boys took Solis off!’

  ‘The only people who honour Solis as a day of rest are the priests.’ Jacques replied firmly, his eyes fixed on the laughing Chelleskan woman.

  Pierre’s lips quirked up in a smile, not in the least surprised by his companion’s response.

  ‘You’re worried about nothing. Chelleskan’s must be able to be distinguished from shadow mages-’ Jacques said, bringing the conversation firmly back on track, ignoring Pierre’s grin.

  ‘Yes, but, her hair is black too.’ Pierre sighed, now that he was brought back to the matter at hand.

  ‘There’s not enough light in here to see the shadows. We’ll keep watch and make sure we catch her tomorrow morning.’

  ‘It would certainly be a good scheme, she could charge an arm and a leg for guarding some sorry caravan.’ Pierre said. ‘I mean, if you can’t tell and you go around telling everyone you were… it’s not as if there are many who could check.’

  ‘Perhaps, but it’s not a scheme. Look, she’s not drinking. That’s a good sign.’ Just then he noticed one of the Chelleskan’s companions watching them. It was a young lady with big eyes, which were currently fixed on them. He knew who she was, he knew who they all were. The file was quite complete; at least on the Chelleskan’s companions at any rate.

  He smiled and raised his mug in her direction.

  With an expression somewhere between surprise and indignation she turned back to her companions, her back quite straight and her head high.

  Julietta turned back to her companions, quite offended at the audacity of those men. How forward! And how inappropriate, they looked as old as her father! She did not say anything, though usually she might have complained about it at least so she would have something to say. With Asmara and all her admirers sitting so close, at a round table pushed next to their own, trying to speak was more effort than it was worth. With their loud talking and the way they crowded around her it was impossible to converse with her companions. Just then a large, smelly man bumped into her, and with a growl that probably wasn’t an apology he shoved his chair into the crowd and squeezed closer to Asmara.

  Julietta looked across the round table at Dorian. The red-haired, freckly sorcerer was looking more gloomy than usual.

  It’s so insulting. How can she be so monstrously unfair? Asmara seemed intent on having relations with every man who came across her path. When she’d flirted with everyone in sight she turned her magnetic charm on poor Dorian (who resisted, as was only right, Julietta could not have respected him otherwise). But then they came to a new tavern with new men and this! Asmara, who stood out with her dark skin, strong, symmetric features, big dark eyes and perfect white teeth, seemed to have no standards whatsoever. How insulting, to even compare this smelly fellow who had so rudely growled at her to Dorian, who despite being quite prickly, was, Julietta thought, an attractive young man. If Asmara’s striking features weren’t enough, Julietta thought glumly, Asmara had known Dorian for some years now. She’s known him much longer than I have... not that I care! It’s just so unfair for poor Dorian!

  Julietta looked then towards Amjerbo, an older warrior who completed their quartet. He sat with patient good humour drinking his ale. Usually he would have been the center of his own circle, being a talkative, friendly man who liked making jokes, whether they were very funny or not. This tavern was, however, particularly small and poorly designed, and so very loud, that Bo did not make the attempt.

  As Julietta watched Bo leant over to Dorian and said something. Dorian raised an eyebrow and pointed at his ear and shook his head.

  Julietta sighed. She turned her gaze to her plate and pushed some wilted greens around and wondered when Dorian would go up. He’ll probably go up after Asmara. She’ll probably go with another man, an ugly, smelly one!

  Julietta sighed. She can be perfectly nice, I suppose, if you are not a man and are willing to put up with her teasing. Really, she is quite thoughtless. Julietta did not like to be charitable towards Asmara, even though she was the reason she was here. She could have been nearly anywhere else, but she did not regret the path she had taken, even if the way Asmara treated Dorian was entirely unfair.

  CHAPTER 2

  3 Jarna, 1352

  The Collegium was quite helpful, even to the less than stellar students; professional advisors advised, student officers organized meetings with alumni and potential employers from all across Mance-Jolune, and professors gave letters of recommendations. As the foremost in her graduating class, Julietta could have taken a comfortable position in the city and set up her own practice, or she could have joined the Royal Mages with a respectable rank that would take normal mages years to achieve. But none of that had been for her. She was a prodigy after all, everyone said so, so she had to do something better, something special.

  Of course, no one at the Mercenaries Association of Mance-Jolune (more often called the Mercenaries Guild) had thought very much of that. They looked at the slender, pale young lady, recently graduated from the Mance Collegium of Magic for Women with disbelief and ridicule. She ignored them, they weren’t prodigies, they were just brutes who knew how to swing a piece of metal around. She walked up to the notice board that covered fully one wall of the room to look at the job offers. Caravans needed protecting, bandits needed killing, mystical ingredients needed collecting…

  The guild hall was a large rectangle, with counters arrayed along the long side of the hall, behind which were many clerks doing who knew what. Though the counters took up the entire far wall, the room was clearly split in two, with the far half being occupied by tables and chairs filled with quietly chatting men and women. It almost looked like a tavern. At this point, Julietta had never seen a tavern before and if
she saw it now she would have thought it far too quiet and peaceful to be a tavern. In her half of the room were the notice boards, covering the shorter wall, and across from the counters were the large double doors which served as the entry to the hall. Unadorned stone pillars stood in the corners of the room and marked the halfway point between the relatively empty left side of the room and the half filled with tables and chairs.

  The notice board seemed the safest place to start. After examining the board and deciding on a likely looking post she walked up to the counter to one of the clerks and declared her intention to take the job. The man, in a very condescending tone, explained that these were dangerous jobs and she should go back to her fancy girl’s school. An argument ensued, with Julietta informing him of her status as a prodigy, far out-classing the foremost graduating sorcerer of the top men’s school in the kingdom, and the most talented sorceress to come out of the Mance Collegium of Magic for Women in years. Everyone said so.

  The conversation grew progressively louder until Asmara, dark and smiling as always wandered over with a laugh and said, ‘well, a prodigy! I’m sure we could use one of those, Bo, Dorian?’

  The others were a little more hesitant. Dorian glowered darkly at her, ‘she is fresh out of school, Asmara, she won’t be any use.’

  ‘Mm, it will be work, Asme, taking on a novice.’ Bo added, looking at Julietta closely.

  ‘Not a novice, Bo, a prodigy.’

  Julietta blushing angrily, opened her mouth to speak-

  ‘And you took me on, remember, Bo? And how much trouble was I?’

  ‘Quite a lot, I’m sure.’ Dorian muttered darkly.

  But Bo laughed and said, ‘I suppose it is only right to return the favour then, Asmara. Girl, what is your name?’

  ‘I am Julietta Calance, foremost of the graduating class of the Mance Collegium of Magic for Women. I may look young, but that is only because I completed my studies early.’

  ‘Ah, the MCW!’ he said. Before he could go on Julietta cut in coolly, ‘It is the most renowned collegium for women in the Kingdom.’

  ‘What about-what is it? MSL? The Mance School of Sorcery for Ladies-’

  ‘The MSS. The Mance School of Sorcery is one school, the ladies school is a sub-section and does not warrant its own name and is certainly not on par with the Collegium.’ She said with a censorious tone.