Chained Adept

  ABOUT THIS BOOK

  The Chained Adept — Book 1 of The Chained Adept

  A STRONG WIZARD WITH UNANSWERED QUESTIONS AND A CHAIN AROUND HER NECK

  Penrys’s past is unknown, but she’s got a better grip on her future: find out where she came from, discover what happened to her, and figure out how the unremovable chain around her neck makes her different from other wizards.

  What any of this has to do with the renewal of an ugly war between neighboring countries, half a world away, is just something she’ll have to sort out, along with the rumors of wizards where they don’t belong.

  Assuming, of course, that no one removes her as a threat before she can find her footing.

  All she wants is a firm foundation for the rest of her life, with a side helping of retribution, and if she has to fix things along the way, well, so be it.

  The Chained Adept

  The Chained Adept: 1

  Perkunas Press

  2635 Baughman Cemetery Road

  Tyrone, Pennsylvania 16686

  USA

  PerkunasPress.com

  Author contact: KarenMyers@HollowLands.com

  Cover and Illustrations © 2014, Jake Bullock, http://ohbullocks.com

  The Kigali, Zannib, Rasesni, and Ellech languages © 2015, Damátir Ando, http://damatir-ando.tripod.com/conlangs.html

  © 2016 by Karen Myers

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Published 2016. First Edition.

  eISBN-13: 978-1-62962-030-5

  eISBN-10: 1629620300

  ALSO BY KAREN MYERS

  The Hounds of Annwn

  To Carry the Horn

  The Ways of Winter

  King of the May

  Bound into the Blood

  Story Collections

  Tales of Annwn

  Short Stories

  The Call

  Under the Bough

  Night Hunt

  Cariad

  The Empty Hills

  The Chained Adept

  The Chained Adept

  Mistress of Animals

  Broken Devices

  SHORT TABLE OF CONTENTS

  FULL TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  GUIDE TO NAMES AND PRONUNCIATIONS

  IF YOU LIKE THIS BOOK…

  ALSO BY KAREN MYERS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER 1

  Penrys was crouched on one knee, slamming the rysefeol’s recalcitrant wooden joint with the back of her hand by way of a delicate adjustment, when the sudden transition hit.

  “Oh, thennur holi,” she said, under her breath, but the oath that started in her well-lit workroom finished in swaying light and strong shadow. Already off balance, she tumbled on her backside. The soft surface took the sting out of it, and her hands, spread wide to break the fall, told her of carpet and, below that, uneven ground. A gust of wind blew smoke in from outside and the walls fluttered.

  A tent, she realized, and a very large one.

  She saw the people, then, and froze, stifling a sneeze, but they didn’t seem to have noticed her. No, that’s not it. They aren’t moving at all.

  Perhaps no one’s moving but someone’s talking. She tilted her head and pinpointed the voice—it came from something like a mirror suspended from a metal stand in front of the nearest tent wall. She was too close alongside the same wall herself to see anything but the edge of the frame.

  The flickering light from the glass-enclosed lanterns on the tables and chests in the tent cast moving shadows on the faces of the people. It gave the illusion of life, distracting her for a moment, and then the words from the voice in the mirror penetrated.

  “…a field test like this is always useful for a new weapon. I look forward to greeting you in person, when you arrive for a permanent visit.”

  She wrinkled her nose at the lazy baritone drawl. That can’t be good. What’s happened to them?

  Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted a red lacquered chest along the tent wall and scooted back a couple of feet to set her back against it, taking care to stay out of the line of sight of the mirror. She crossed her legs and made herself comfortable on the rug, licking her dry lips as she tried to focus.

  She steadied her breathing, then, and reached out with her mind to the people in the tent with her. She could only see a few of them from her position on the ground, but her mind told her there were seven. All the minds projected fury and fear, but one shone more clearly, aware of her, and able to respond silently when she focused on him.

  *Who are you? No, never mind. Can you help us?*

  That gave her pause.

  What have we got here? Something from the mirror, smothering them all like a thick fog. But not me—probably doesn’t know I’m here. At least, not yet.

  She braced herself, and then raised a mind-shield around the one who’d asked for help. Immediately she felt the force shift and bear down upon her, but she diverted it around them both and let it flow away.

  *Much better. What about the others?*

  She judged the force that beat at her. *Maybe one or two more.*

  *The Commander, then.*

  Penrys couldn’t drop her concentration long enough to look for him. *Show me.*

  He gave her the flavor of the other man’s personality and indicated a direction. That matched up with one particular mind, and she extended her shield to him.

  The lights dimmed for her as she took on the load. She closed her eyes to remove the distraction and listened to the muttered conversation in the tent.

  “What…?”

  “Not now, Commander-chi. Temporary defense. Pick one more man.”

  Silence for a moment.

  “Make it Kep, then.”

  *This one, please.* Her first contact pictured another personality and direction for her, and she extended the shield one more time, hoping it would hold.

  She gritted her teeth and focused on the task. At least the load was steady—she could bear the pressure for a little while, if it didn’t change. Why so few? I should be able to support more of them. But it doesn’t feel like that would work just now.

  “I’m not sure what you hoped to accomplish, Menbyede, but I think you may have misjudged our strength. Kep-chi, see to the men and prepare for attack.” She recognized the voice of the second man.

  “At once, sir.”

  The air shifted as someone left the tent.

  The voice in the mirror was quiet, but the force increased against her shield, probing and shifting. She strengthened the shield further, clenching it solid, until the sounds outside dropped away.

  A finger tapped Penrys’s shoulder and the familiar mental voice that marked a wizard followed. *You can stop now.*

  Cautiously, she loosened the shield enough to look, and found the pressure gone. Her whole body ached as she released the shield completely, and she slumped to loosen her muscles, her dark shoulder-length hair falling into her face as she rotated her head and felt the neck joints crack.

  “You didn’t hear me speak to you,” the man said, his deep, resonant voice low and private against the bustle behind him in the tent. He crouched next to her on the balls of his feet.

  Sandalwood? She sniffed again and lifted her head. The honeyed voice belonged to a smooth-shaven Zan traveler, his hair concealed under a small maroon turban. His dusky robes of an overall small-figured fabric had been shortened for ease of movement, and his loose breeches were bloused over decorated but well-worn leather boots. He regarded her soberly, and then his dark eyes widened. He reached out and pushed back her hair on one side to confirm his glimpse, exposing her ear—her shaggy, mobile, fox-like ear.

  She jerked her head back and staggered upright. Glaring down at him, she shook her hair loose again to cover her
ears.

  He rose more gracefully and made her a sketchy half-bow. “Your pardon, bikrajti. I was just… surprised.”

  Penrys looked beyond him and realized the tent was large and multi-part, four square bays surrounding a central square, the ties at the corner seams marking its origin as five separate structures. It was dark in the corners but full of activity. Uniforms. So, I was right—this is a military camp. But where? Her companion seemed to be the only Zan—none of the rest, bare-headed or not, showed the loose curly hair she would have expected. To a man they had short, straight, black hair, and several cultivated wispy beards. A glance out of one doorway confirmed that it was still nighttime.

  A courier had arrived and was reporting to Commander Chang, easily identified by both his voice and his location—anchoring a wide camp chair, fronted by a large, portable table, little of which was bare of papers, and commanding a view of the tent entrance, where an armed man stood ready on either side. A quick glance confirmed that the mirror was gone from the stand by the tent wall.

  The dark Zannib wizard followed her gaze. “Locked away it is, where it can do no more harm.” He paused. “We think it can do no more harm.”

  “I’m called Zandaril,” he said. “We must talk, soon as he’s free.” He cocked his head over at Chang.

  He drew her over to the Commander’s table and they waited for the courier to complete his report. The smoky cressets outside the tent flap still held the night at bay, but the clamor of a roused camp belied the darkness. Voices called back and forth, and hoofbeats pounded by. As Chang leaned forward in his chair for emphasis, it creaked and his black leather jerkin reflected the candle light dully.

  Once Chang had dismissed the courier, he turned his full attention to Penrys. His lined face was impassive, the eyes narrow.

  “Who are you? What just happened? And how, exactly, did you happen to turn up, in such a… timely way?”

  It was clear from his face and the tone of his voice that he didn’t believe in coincidence.

  “It’s complicated, sir.” She cleared her throat. “There was an accident…”

  At the sound of her northern Ellech accent, Chang’s eyes met Zandaril’s. The Commander and the rest of the men in the tent, with the exception of Zandaril, had the look of the eastern Kigali folk, their eyes tightened against the ancestral wind and their beards sparse.

  She forged ahead. “M’name’s Penrys, and I was in Tavnastok a little while ago. But not now, I think.”

  “No.” Zandaril blinked. “Indeed not. It’s far from the Collegium you are, way up in the valley of the Mother of Rivers.” At her blank look, he added, “Near the western border of Kigali.”

  Penrys closed her eyes briefly and shook her head. Thousands of miles if it’s a step, as much south as west. What have I done? How will I get back, with nothing but the clothes I stand in? How can I tell them at the Collegium where I am?

  She studied the two faces before her, one stern, one curious. Well, that may not be my most urgent problem. They think I had something to do with this attack.

  She straightened up. First order of business—stay alive and out of prison.

  CHAPTER 2

  Penrys waited in Zandaril’s company while the Commander made certain that the threatened attack was not about to materialize, based on the reports of his returning scouts as they continued to come in.

  She glanced at her oh-so-polite custodian. It’s not like I can go anywhere, from the middle of an armed camp. That they know of, anyway. Guess they don’t see it that way. In spite of herself, she yawned and belatedly covered her mouth.

  At Zandaril’s raised eyebrow, she protested, “I’ve come west a great distance, so my night just got a lot longer.”

  She left it at that, not wanting to admit that the shielding had also had its cost. And just why did I have to stop at holding three under my mind-shield? Where did that limit come from?

  “Who was in the mirror?” she asked him, quietly.

  “Menbyede of the Rasesni.”

  “I’ve read about them—they’re your neighbors to the west, aren’t they? Who’s this Menbyede fellow?”

  He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously, without comment

  “No, I don’t know,” she said, answering the unasked question. “Hey, I can name several colleagues from the Collegium who will vouch for me and where I was last night. Um, this night.”

  “And what should we do with you while we wait for messages to go and return, all the long way?” Zandaril said. “Or perhaps you have a better means of communication?”

  His eyes slid to the spot where the mirror had been.

  She swallowed and decided to resume her silence. As if to contradict her resolve, the smell of the hot, bitter bunnas sitting untouched on Chang’s crowded camp table made her stomach growl, audibly. She was always hungry after a prolonged effort, but it was food she wanted, not that foul stuff.

  That’s not actually a bad idea, though—using a mirror to cross distances. How did they attach sound to the vision? How do they focus it? How far can it go? And how do they send an attack through it, like the one I shielded?

  She settled down to ponder ways and means, her fingers itching for something to write on.

  With the camp on high alert until daybreak, but no enemy detected, Chang finally returned his attention to her. Two of his officers stood behind him and waited. She could feel the suspicion radiating off of them.

  “I would like an explanation,” he said. It was little short of a command.

  May as well tell them part of the truth, anyway. Not that they’re likely to believe it.

  “I was at my workshop, at the Collegium. Working on my…” She paused. “You see, I made this bendu, a device, kind of a detector, a ryskymmer, like a bound-circle, only the reverse…”

  They looked at her blankly. These are Kigaliwen, and they don’t have the terms.

  She started over. “Look, if you take a defined space, like a big box, you can cancel out the magic inside the space.” She framed the concept out with her hands.

  She glanced at Zandaril. He was nodding as if he’d heard of the theory.

  “Most people stop there,” she said, “but I thought if you could set it up right, you could use it to find active magic somewhere else.”

  Zandaril stopped nodding, but she pushed on anyway. “And if it’s big enough…” She spread her arms wide to illustrate. “You could maybe go where that magic is.” If you were fool enough to stand on the inside of it.

  There was silence for a moment, broken only by the spitting of the cressets outside.

  “What, seven thousand miles?” Zandaril raised both eyebrows this time.

  “Well, I had it set up to look for the biggest activity it could detect. I didn’t think it would go further than the Collegium. After all, there’s plenty there for it to find. And besides, I wasn’t trying to use it—the full-scale version wasn’t working yet.”

  Didn’t think about what I was doing. Idiot.

  Zandaril said, “So the Rasesni tried out their new weapon, and…”

  “It sucked me in. I was on the inside, tinkering with the framework’s joints, but then I, um, hit it and, wham, here I was.” She could feel her cheeks heating. “Guess it worked.”

  Zandaril and Chang exchanged opaque looks.

  Chang began again. “You sound like a Northener, but you don’t have the look.”

  “No. No, I don’t.” She cleared her throat. “About three years ago, they tell me, there was a disturbance out in the forests of Sky Fang in the Asuthgrata region, enough to bring Vylkar, the local wizard, out to track it down.”

  “You?” Zandaril suggested.

  “Well, I’m what they found.” She raised a hand and fingered the heavy chain resting high around her neck like a collar.

  Waking up at the base of a rough-barked tree, surrounded by torches and strange, armed men. Waiting for them to speak and then tapping them for the language.

  “And where h
ad you come from? How did you get there?”

  “Wish I knew. That’s all there is, nothing further back.”

  “But you knew the language?” Zandaril asked.

  She compressed her lips. “I know all the languages. I get them from the speakers.”

  She looked at them pointedly. “Yours, too, you may have noticed.”

  Chang glanced over at Zandaril for confirmation, and Zandaril shrugged.

  “I’ve never heard of that,” the Zan remarked.

  “Yes, that’s what Vylkar said. It’s true, nonetheless.”

  He let it pass, though his skepticism was plain on his face.

  “So, you ended up at the Collegium.”

  “They figured it was the best place to… examine me. They gave me a name and a bunch of tests.” She half-smiled. “Then they argued a lot.”

  “You’re what, then? An apprentice? A nal-jarghal?” Zandaril asked.

  She snorted. “No, they couldn’t really make me fit properly anywhere in their system. Old Aergon declared they should revive the ancient title of hakkengenni, um, ‘Adept.’ All I wanted was a place to work, and to persuade them there was no harm turning me loose in the library. Help ’em with the catalogue.”

  “And they did? They just took you in and exposed everything to you? The Collegium, with its reputation for stringent qualifications?” Zandaril snorted.

  “And what’s the first thing you did, eh?” Penrys said, and cocked her head at the corner where she’d arrived. “Tried to find out what I was and what I could do, didn’t you? You’re no different then the rest of your wizardly colleagues.”

  She heard her voice rise. “Made m’self available for experiments, I did. That was the exchange. Made some devices, too, not that they’re any too eager to use ’em. Why? You want to come up with some tests yourself?”

  “Enough,” Chang said, and she subsided.

  “Sorry.” Don’t be a fool. Don’t alienate them—they may be your only means of getting back. She took a deep breath, and sneezed from the smoke of the cressets drifting inside.