Hexborn
Hexborn
(The Hexborn Chronicles, Book 1)
by A.M. Manay
Cover Design by Eeva Lancaster, thebookkhaleesi.com
Map Illustration by Taran Lopez
Copyright 2018 © A.M. Manay
Pythoness Press
Livermore, California
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
For my father, John J. Huss, Jr.
1946-2017
Table of Contents
Full Color Map of the Kingdom of Bryn and Surrounding Territory
Black & White Map of the Kingdom of Bryn and Surrounding Territory
Cast of Characters
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
A Peek Inside the Next Hexborn Chronicle
Index of Magic
About the Author
A Note from the Author
Book Club Questions for Hexborn
A Peek Inside She Dies at the End
Full Color Map of the Kingdom of Bryn and Surrounding Territory
Click here if you prefer to view this map online.
Black & White Map of the Kingdom of Bryn and Surrounding Territory
Click here if you prefer to view this map online.
Cast of Characters
Click here if you prefer to view this table online.
Alissa
Sister to Rischar. Called “The Usurper.” Fought the Siblings’ War over her claim to the throne.
Ashlee Kramer
Earl of Penfield, Lord of the Flats.
Benn Vale
Duke of Speckley, Lord of the Range.
Bren Jennin
Eldest son of the rebellious Lord of the Wood.
Daved Jennin
Youngest son of the rebellious Lord of the Wood. Shiloh’s friend.
Deniss
Master of Dueling.
Devan
A bishop who supported Alissa during the Siblings’ War.
Edmun Courtborn
Bastard half-brother to Alissa and Rischar. Twin to Markas. Former headmaster of the Royal Academy. Mentor to both Silas and Shiloh.
Esta
Rischar’s eldest daughter.
Fenry Warwick
Duke of Rockmore, Lord of the Gate. Uncle to Penn.
Fern Flatsborn
Master of Charms. Bastard daughter of the Lord of the Flats
Finn Warwick
Duke of Rockmore, Lord of the Gate. Penn’s uncle.
Frank Fingersborn
Royal armorer and wandmaker. Bastard son of the Lord of the Fingers.
Fredoh Beckett
Lord Blufeld’s eldest legitmate son.
Gabri
One of Rischar’s mistresses.
Gare
Steward of Northgate Castle.
Garrett Barclay
Duke of Lockland, Lord of the Claw.
Gendrig Dunlap
Earl of Crestpoint, Lord Admiral.
Gerry
A servant boy at Greenhill Palace.
Gil
A soldier in Silas Hatch’s household guard.
Gordan Courtborn
The Castellan in charge of the Royal Guards. Half-brother to King Rischar.
Gregoh
A student at the Academy. Son of the Estan ambassador.
Hana Eliot
Daughter of the Lord of the Range.
Hank Jennin
Son of the rebellious Lord of the Wood.
Hareld Drake
Earl of Blackmine, Lord of the Teeth.
Jane
Shiloh’s maid and Silas’s spy
Jann Vernon
Daughter of Lord Mosspeak.
Jasin Gray
The young Duke of Kepler, Lord of the Fist.
Jaym Courtborn
Bastard son of King Rischar. Granted the title of Baron Wheatley.
Jakar Jennin
Son of the rebellious Lord of the Wood.
Jazpar Fistborn
Master of Alchemy.
Jeroh
Previous king of Bryn. Father of Rischar, Alyssa, Edmun, Markas, Gordan.
Jonn Gateborn
Master of Healing Magic. Bastard son of the Lord of the Gate.
Karl
A child who grew up with Shiloh in Smoke Valley.
Keegan
High Chief of the Feralfolk.
Keelie Vernon
Wife of the Duke of Mosspeak. Mother of Jann.
Kennet Jennin
Lord Redwood’s brother.
Kiven
Master of Farsight.
Korbin Jennin
Duke of Redwood, Lord of the Wood. Father of Bren, Jakar, Hank, and Daved. Engaged in rebellion.
Lancis Beckett
Duke of Blufeld, Lord of the Vine. Father of Silas Hatch.
Lazloh Beckett
Nephew of the Lord of the Vine.
Lill Conver
Silas Hatch’s sister and housekeeper.
Loor
Rischar’s second daughter.
Markas Courtborn
Headmaster of the Royal Academy. Healer. Twin to Edmun. Half-brother to King Rischar.
Meggan
A child who grew up with Shiloh in Smoke Valley.
Mikel Seaborn
Court Librarian. Bastard son of the Lord Admiral.
Mirin
First wife of King Rischar. Mother to Esta.
Moroh Gray
Uncle of the Jasin Gray, Lord of the Claw.
Padroh Spencer
Earl of Waterton, Lord of the Fingers.
Penn Warwick
Niece of the Lord of the Gate, Shiloh’s friend. Often called Penny.
Perce Hatch
Nephew of Silas Hatch. Works as Silas’s secretary. Often called Percy.
Riloh
A soldier in Silas Hatch’s household guard.
Rischar
King of Bryn. Stole the throne from his elder sister, Alissa, in the Siblings’ War.
Shiloh Teethborn
Foundling of unknown parentage and great magical ability. Hexborn, with pink hair and a missing
left hand.
Silas Hatch
Chief Minister to the King. Bastard son of the Lord of the Vine. Later named Baron of Northgate.
Sir Petter
Riding instructor.
Sira Woodborn
Matron of the Royal Academy. Bastard daughter of the Lord of the Wood.
Tomah
A priest who served as an officer in Alissa’s army.
Verjell
Court Jester
Veroh Beckett
Eldest legitimate son of the Lord of the Vine.
Victoh
A child who grew up with Shiloh in Smoke Valley.
Vin Hatch
Silas Hatch’s stepfather.
Zavier Vernon
Duke of Mosspeak, Lord of the Southlands. Father of Jann.
Zina
King Rischar’s second wife.
Chapter 1
Our Duty to Kingdom and Crown
The dust betrayed them. At the end of a long, dry summer in the Teeth, the hooves of their horses stirred up a cloud that billowed like smoke as they traversed the pass. Shiloh made out a flash of blue that she reckoned must be Lord Blackmine's crest. The Lord of the Teeth's men flew a banner with a white horse on a blue field.
Not that we see it much, given his lordship’s lack of interest in defending his lands and his folk.
The spots of red up in front she supposed might be Silas Hatch's household livery: a golden hatchet on blood crimson.
At least the man embraces his infamy.
She’d been packed for weeks, waiting. She could have run. That is what Brother Edmun had urged her to do, from his deathbed . . . Edmun, who had put her in mortal peril long before he'd learned to love her like a daughter.
He had let Shiloh read all his letters to the City, the ones in which he’d begged the Hatchet to find a place for her at the Royal Academy. He had extolled Shiloh’s virtue and her gifts at length, hopeful that his favorite old pupil would have mercy on his beloved young one. But at the last, Edmun’s fear for her safety had overcome his hopes for her future, and he'd urged the girl to fly away before Hatch’s men came stomping up their mountains.
She had considered it. As she'd wept into Edmun’s blankets after he'd finally breathed his last, she'd considered it. As she’d watched his wands crumble to dust as they died with him, she’d considered it. As she’d prepared him for burial, as she’d put him in the ground, as she had waited for weeks . . .
And, yet, here she stood, waiting patiently for an infamous, ruthless stranger to spirit her away.
As she watched the cloud of dust move ever closer to her home, she considered her choice one last time. Her options were limited. No other village would ever accept a hexborn stranger, and a bastard foundling at that. Her own had only tolerated her because they’d feared to cross Edmun and her father, and because her skills had made her useful. She was surprised they hadn’t tried to drive her out of town since her men had died.
If not a village, then where? Living as a hermit in the woods lacked appeal, not least because her ill health turned every winter into mortal combat. Besides, the Feralfolk were not exactly fond of her. She would be easily caught if she ventured any further west, closer to the City. She had not the money to go abroad, to Estany.
Thus, she waited, and she hoped that all of her work, and all Edmun’s plotting, had not been in vain. She wondered how the soldiers would react if her village failed to produce her.
Not well, she thought.
It would serve them right.
***
Before Hatch and his men entered the village of Smoke Valley, there they were: a half-dozen charred skulls on pikes at the edge of the road leading down from the pass, a warning to outlaws to steer clear of the settlement. He squinted and held out a gloved hand as if feeling for heat. A muscle in his face twitched.
“Looks like they’re holding their own against the Feralfolk,” Perce observed. The men grunted with approval after they traced superstitious circles on their foreheads.
“She, not they. Magic killed them all,” Hatch countered grimly, before prodding his horse to continue past the macabre display. He heard retching behind him and turned to find Wilar, the young priest sent to replace Edmun, vomiting into the brush.
Hatch shook his head. These high country folk are going to walk all over him. Let’s hope he doesn’t pass out the first time he sees one of them chop the head from a chicken.
“A little girl from the Teeth, all by her lonesome, killed six grown men?” Perce asked skeptically. “A girl who hasn’t even been to the Academy yet? Isn’t it more likely this Brother Edmun did them in?”
Hatch fixed his sharp eyes upon his companion. “That is possible, but as poor as his health has been these last years, I find it unlikely. The rumors all say the girl killed them. As to the child’s education, Brother Edmun was the finest sorcerer at the Royal Academy for decades before the war started. He was the youngest headmaster ever appointed. She’ll know more walking through the door than many of our most gifted noblemen know when they finish their studies. You underestimate her at your peril.”
Perce held up his hands in surrender. “Yes, Uncle. It’s just . . . it’s a lot to believe. A hexborn kid that he found in the woods grows up and kills grown Feralfolk without even having a wand to use?”
“She might have used one of his. Stranger things have happened,” Hatch replied. “And my source in South Lake has proved reliable in the past. Evidently, the Feralfolk had just killed her father when the . . . incident . . . occurred. That is certainly plausible motivation.
“You’re not old enough to have been in the war. I saw grieving wizards slaughter entire companies of men after losing a beloved companion on the battlefield; some of them were barely older than this foundling. Power comes in unlikely packages, and rage can unlock any box you try to hide it in.”
“Where do you suppose she even came from?” Perce asked.
“There are a number of possibilities. She was born in the last days of the war. Many of the monks and nuns drafted into the fighting broke their vows in those days. Of those who bore children from such illicit unions, some abandoned or killed them in the hopes of hiding their guilt. Some ran off and became Feralfolk along with their offspring,” Silas explained patiently.
“It is fortunate that the girl was found by someone interested in proving his loyalty. Had she been raised a Feral, or spirited out of the country by the king’s enemies, she could have become a significant problem for the realm. A weapon like that, in hostile hands,” Silas concluded, “could be devastating.”
“Do you think she’ll come quietly, Uncle Silas?”
“I think the chances are good. Edmun claims that she is as devout and patriotic a lass as could be found anywhere. Even if that is an exaggeration, if she were not clever, Edmun would not have bothered with her. He never was an easy man to impress. I doubt he gentled with age,” Silas opined.
“And if she seems like a threat, once we have her in hand?” his nephew asked.
Silas turned his intimidating gaze upon Perce once again. “Then we shall fulfill our duty to kingdom and crown. Why do you suppose King Rischar sent me to handle this myself?”
***
For an object of near universal fear and loathing, Shiloh found Silas Hatch to be rather unremarkable in appearance. Average in height and build, he was blessed with unblemished skin of warm bronze and a full head of curly, dark hair. His eyes were his most striking feature; green and sharp, they gave the impression of missing nothing. His clothing, all black as befit a barrister, was well-made and showed no signs of wear. His boots looked fine enough to provoke envy in a lord. The king’s patronage was, evidently, lucrative.
The king’s man was accompanied by about three dozen soldiers, a nervous young priest in robes of brown, and a young man dressed in City clothes. Shiloh
assumed he was another courtier or an assistant of some sort. He had a pampered air about him, and a rather punchable face, she thought.
“My name is Silas Hatch. I am here, in the service of the king, to collect a girl named Shiloh Teethborn,” the king’s man cried, projecting his voice to be heard by the entire crowd.
Shiloh had thought she’d been prepared to hear those words, but her breath still caught anxiously at the sound of them. Hatch’s voice was deep as a mineshaft and promised twice the danger.
The townsfolk gathered in the square said nothing, even surrounded as they were by dozens of armed men. They might have spit and cast signs every time Shiloh walked by, and called her a freak under their breaths on the daily, but she was their freak, and they weren’t going to rat her out to some rich courtier from the City if they could help it.
“The girl will not be harmed,” Hatch assured them, seemingly misreading their spiteful reluctance as actual concern. “She has been offered a place at the Royal Academy of Mages. It is a tremendous honor to be thus invited into royal service.”
Still, they said nothing.
“If we cannot locate her, I will order these men to start burning down houses after they tear them apart looking for her,” Hatch warned, changing tack. “I would rather not be forced to do you harm.”
“That won’t be necessary, my lord. I am ready to go,” Shiloh replied, stepping out of a shadow next to the Temple, her bag on her shoulder. Her neighbors all traced circles on their foreheads. Their relief at her timely appearance on this particular occasion was, nevertheless, obvious.