Soul of Magic: Book 1 of the Chronomancer Series Read online

  The Soul of Magic

  The Chronomancer Book 1

  Mark August

  https://readmarkaugust.com

  Copyright © 2021 by Mark August

  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 written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For Cris, who never faltered when I doubted everything.

  And for Casey for challenging me to Camp NaNoWriMo in 2016.

  Contents

  1. Kincaid - Betrayal

  2. Kincaid - Fight

  3. Kincaid - A sister's talk

  4. Kincaid - A Master's Perspective

  5. Vedette - Magic of the House

  6. Vedette - Lessons

  7. Kincaid - Friends

  8. Kincaid - Nighttime Encounter

  9. Vedette - Family Gathering

  10. Kincaid - Taking Lumps

  11. Kincaid - Request

  12. Kincaid - Swordsman

  13. Vedette - Prisoner

  14. Kincaid - Training

  15. Attius - Planning

  16. Kincaid - Practice

  17. Vedette - Mother Talk

  18. Attius - City Council

  19. Vedette - Cormac

  20. Kincaid - An Evening Out

  21. Kincaid - Prison

  22. Attius - Report

  23. Vedette - Challenge

  24. Kincaid - Sentence

  25. Vedette - Other Houses

  26. Kincaid - Doubting Magic

  27. Attius - Moving the Plan

  28. Kincaid - Test

  29. Attius - Family Point of View

  30. Kincaid - Prison Talk

  31. Kincaid - Reunion

  32. Attius - A Sister's Plight

  33. Attius - City Council

  34. Kincaid - A sister's prison

  35. Kincaid - Power

  36. Vedette - Errands

  37. Kincaid - Arcane Prisoner

  38. Vedette - Prison Plan

  39. Kincaid - Confession

  40. Vedette - Mother's Advice

  41. Kincaid - A talk

  42. Vedette - A family talk

  43. Kincaid - Magic's Soul

  44. Vedette - Rumors

  45. Kincaid - A lesson in chains

  46. Attius - Change of Leadership

  47. Kincaid - Magic of the World

  48. Kincaid - Tables Turned

  49. Kincaid - New Plans

  50. Vedette - Rage

  51. Kincaid - Sorceratti

  52. Kincaid - Wizard's Secret

  53. Vedette - Inn

  54. Kincaid - The Price of a Soul

  55. Attius - A New Council

  56. Kincaid - Escape

  57. Vedette - Fire

  58. Kincaid - Atros

  59. Kincaid - Sholeh

  60. Vedette - Family Plans

  61. Attius - Council Wars

  62. Kincaid - Debtors Prison

  63. Kincaid - Trap Of The Sorceratti

  64. Kincaid - Prisoner Lost

  65. Kincaid - Prison Escape

  66. Vedette - War Plans

  67. Vedette - Promises

  68. Kincaid - Revenge or Justice

  69. Kincaid - Nights of Terror

  70. Attius - Weakness

  71. Kincaid - Second Night

  72. Kincaid - Respite

  73. Vedette - News

  74. Kincaid - Betrayed

  75. Kincaid - House Atros

  76. Kincaid - Confrontation

  77. Kincaid - Magi

  78. Kincaid - Savior

  79. Attius - All is Not Lost

  80. Kincaid - Ships

  Thank you

  Schools of Magic

  1. Kincaid - Consequences

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Mark August

  One

  Kincaid - Betrayal

  Kincaid’s fingers traced the outline of his carpentry tools. Mallets, hammers, wood chisels, hand planes, carving gouges, and drills all hung in their place. The tools that would change his destiny. He would never worry about his next meal, a bed, or a roof over his head again. Kincaid would own his future as a master.

  Right there. The young man’s heart rate slowed as he focused on his task. His heart, mind, and soul became one. The excitement of his work flooded his senses and pounded through his being with each heartbeat.

  Kincaid’s fingertips danced along the grain of the wood. His mind pushed beneath the surface to draw out the art within. The design formed in his mind, and his heart rate surged with the discovery. Master Barnet wouldn’t allow the other journeymen to handle this wood. The master imported rosewood from across the Inner Sea, and few had the skills to work the temperamental stock. Kincaid’s work was part of a table for the House of Atros, the city's ruling family, and the journeyman let his mind guide his abilities to shape art. No, a masterpiece.

  The Guild would make him a master by year’s end. He’d be the youngest master in a hundred years. Kincaid was sure of it.

  Selecting his wooden mallet from his belt, Kincaid focused on the image he would expose in the wood. He tapped a measured beat, and the chisel pulled away wasted slivers from the hardwood block. The gouges would be next to create the artwork.

  The world blurred. His mind, tools, and wood were in harmony.

  Without looking down, his hands secured his mallet and chisel while reaching into his belt for his gouge. The artwork buried within the wood burned the image in Kincaid’s mind, and the honed edge of the fine blade scraped to reveal the design.

  A lion’s head appeared from the rosewood block. The wooden mane ruffled in an imaginary wind, and a silent roar revealed the predator’s fangs. He placed the crafted fourth leg next to its brothers on his worktable. Each lion was unique but showed the marks of the same artist.

  “Working late again, Kincaid?”

  Kincaid jumped out of his wonder and stumbled to his feet.

  “Master Barnet, I just started.”

  The master’s eyes wrinkled with crow’s feet, and his lips turned up the corners of his mouth. “Just started? I’ve stopped by three times today as you worked this leg.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

  Master Barnet held up his hand to cut off the excuse. He shook his head and continued, “I know better than to interrupt the work of a master. You started and finished this lion’s head today.”

  Kincaid didn’t know what to say. He glanced around the shop floor designed for a dozen apprentices and journeyman carpenters and noted the shop was tidy. Standard tools hung in their proper place, and not a single instrument was missing from its peg. The floor was swept, and the sawdust binned. The shop was closed for the night.

  Master Barnet turned the rosewood artwork under a discerning stare. Kincaid held his breath as his work sustained the scrutiny.

  Master Barnet returned the legs to the wooden pride of lions and laid a hand on Kincaid’s shoulder. “Nice work, Kincaid.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  As the master turned toward the front door of the shop, Kincaid’s chest puffed. His eyes glowed with pride as he examined the work. Not one word of correction or improvement. Nice work.

  Kincaid’s energy made his cleanup effortless. For four years, he worked for Master Barnet and knew how to meet his standards. Working alone with his broom, he swept up the carvings of rosewood from the floor and dropped them in a small can.


  Those shreds may be the most expensive tinder in the city. Kincaid smiled.

  He racked his tools. His tools. Kincaid’s fingers glided over each one, and he calculated his investment in his craft. A year’s wages, for sure.

  Satisfied with the organization of his equipment, Kincaid secured the front door to the shop. The Lamplighter Guild made rounds through the island's streets, and oil lights flickered to hold back the encroaching night. Kincaid shuttered and locked the shop windows.

  Canals were the pathways of travel and trade through the collection of islands that formed the city. The streets at the front of most stores were wide enough for a few people on foot to travel shoulder to shoulder. The canals carried the burden of trade and shipped finished goods to the docks. Most shops had a loading dock facing the waterways.

  Kincaid slipped through the workspace to the carpentry’s shop storage area. The last person working secured the cargo door. Most days, Kincaid was the last to finish.

  As he approached the dividing curtain between the workshop and storeroom, Kincaid caught the tone of voices and stopped in his tracks. He should be alone on the shop floor. He cocked his head and slipped up to the dense black fabric. Yes, whispered voices.

  He leaned closer and made out two voices. The whispers were too low to distinguish the speakers. Kincaid stood near the tool wall, and he grabbed a mallet in his right hand. He hefted the weight and tugged aside the curtain.

  In the rear near the stack of pine lumber, Kincaid caught the shadows of two people.

  Who?

  The only light trickling into the storage area was a single oil lamp near the work area's stairs leading to the upper floors. A faint, orange glow couldn’t penetrate the darkness of the storeroom. The couple chatted by the yellow glow of a candle. Not the work of thieves. At least not good ones. Kincaid slipped inside the storeroom and kept his back along the wall.

  As his eyes adjusted to the concealing darkness, he remained motionless. They didn’t notice the curtain swaying from his passage. The voices rose and fell with their conversation. Not thieves. Kincaid listened to one voice.

  Liane?

  Arms circled the smaller figure’s waist and held her. His sister. Kincaid identified her short curly hair, and her slender frame was unmistakable in the candlelight. The taller figure was broad-shouldered. Kincaid didn’t need to identify more, but he was definitely Hiram. He was the tallest man in their shop.

  Their faces tilted as they approached each other. Kincaid dropped the wooden mallet to the floor. He turned and swept aside the curtain with the rattle of rings on the brass rail. He ignored the sounds of confusion from the stockpiles of lumber. They could lock the cargo door to the canal. He’d deal with them tomorrow.

  Two

  Kincaid - Fight

  Kincaid ignored the voices pleading for him to stop. Fists covered his face as adrenaline powered his deep breaths and filled his lungs with sawdust.

  His vision narrowed on Hiram, a fellow carpentry apprentice. Kincaid feinted a jab, and voices shouted encouragement.

  Hiram still wore his work smock, and the dust of a full day of labor covered him from head to waist. Hiram’s arms were up, but his palms faced Kincaid. Wide eyes darted from Kincaid to the gathered crowd.

  Liane. Kincaid ground his teeth until his jaw ached.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Hiram asked.

  Kincaid unclenched his teeth. “I thought we’re friends.”

  “We are.”

  “We work together,” Kincaid said.

  Hiram was a full head taller than Kincaid, and Hiram was thicker and stronger. A long fight favored the bigger man, and Kincaid couldn’t win on strength. He’d win because he had a purpose— defending his sister’s honor.

  Kincaid bobbed left, and Hiram responded to the feint by stepping two paces backward. Hiram’s hands curled into fists as he shook his head.

  The shop trembled with Kincaid’s roar as he slammed shoulder-first into his foe. He pulled back and threw a roundhouse right. Hiram’s cheekbone crunched and split open in a splatter of blood. Pain exploded across Kincaid’s knuckles from the impact against solid bone. The crowd of gathered apprentices screamed in both horror and delight.

  No longer passive, Hiram came back swinging. Jab after jab kept Kincaid at range. Blows pounded Kincaid’s raised forearms.

  Kincaid never saw the blow that landed. Hiram’s fist caught him on the forehead, and, without thinking, Kincaid’s hands dropped to fight for his balance. The next punch crushed Kincaid’s mouth. He tasted the iron in his blood. The follow-up blow caught Kincaid below the left eye, and his socket exploded with stars in his vision. He pulled his arms up and tried to back up from the fight.

  “Had enough?”

  When I’m standing over your unconscious body.

  People at the edge of the crowd tried to grab Kincaid’s shoulders and arms from behind. This fight wasn’t over. He’d make Hiram pay. But the hands wouldn’t let go.

  Hiram’s arms dropped back to his sides after wiping away a trickle of blood from his cheek. He smirked and turned away.

  Kincaid’s rage turned cold. His soul sang with surging power. Exhaustion disappeared, and strength pumped with fire in his veins.

  Beads of sweat glistened on the back of Hiram’s neck. The man’s chest rattled with his ragged breath. Tired and weak.

  Somewhere in the base of his mind, Kincaid knew he shouldn’t have been able to see or hear those details. He ignored that part of his consciousness.

  Kincaid shrugged off the human restraints. His soul surged in ecstasy from the power surging in the moment. Time slowed as Kincaid launched himself across the distance.

  Kincaid never considered what would happen if he missed.

  He didn’t.

  A satisfying thud marked his impact. Kincaid’s momentum drove them into the back wall of the shop. Organized tools rattled in protest from their hooks on the wall.

  Hiram was down on his back with his hands up in frightened defense. Kincaid jumped on top of Hiram’s chest and pinned one of Hiram’s arms under his knees. Kincaid cocked back his right fist and let the icy rage consume him. Laughter built inside his mind and struggled for release.

  “Apologize.” The word seemed absurd. A thick fog of his emotions clouded his mind. Hiram was vulnerable.

  Hiram’s eyes flooded with tears. His cracked lips bled as they quivered. His chest groaned in pain.

  “I won’t ask again. Apologize.”

  “Kincaid, no.” Through the chaos of the fight and the sounds of the cheering and shouting, this was one voice he could pick out. Liane.

  “Kincaid, stop it.”

  The cold power in his soul fueled his muscles even as his mind doubted his purpose. He wanted this fight finished. He expected an apology. Kincaid cocked his right arm back, and his rage consumed him.

  Crack.

  Before Kincaid could land his finishing blow, pain shot from his elbow and stunned all the way to his fingers. He couldn’t feel his fist. Rage flushed from his veins.

  Hiram pushed the subdued Kincaid off. As Kincaid fell backward, he glanced at his numb hand. The silent room overwhelmed his hearing.

  The towering figure of Master Barnet loomed over the combatants. He appeared as a dark giant, outlined by the sunlight streaming through the glass storefront. The powerful hands of a master carpenter trained by decades of working on exotic woods rested on his blackwood cane. Kincaid knew the impact came from that exact cane. He wondered where a master carpenter learned combat skills.

  Kincaid’s gaze fell on the figure of his sister standing at the fringe of light from the windows. Her green eyes flashed disapproval toward her younger sibling, and her crossed arms amplified her displeasure. Kincaid knew she wouldn’t speak before the master of the shop did.

  Hiram got to his feet with the help of several apprentices and made his way to the staircase at the back of the shop floor. They would love to see the cocky journeyman get his punishment, but discr
etion prevailed as they filed away to their quarters.

  In a moment, only Kincaid, Liane, and Master Barnet remained. Kincaid dragged his aching body to his feet. Somehow, he felt older after this fight, but he had to face the consequences. Everyone in the shop would know how he took the punishment.

  He glanced at his sister for strength, and the look in her eyes told him everything. He was standing alone against the fury of his master. Kincaid stood at full height but stared at Master Barnet’s feet. Kincaid thought his knees would give out before anyone spoke.

  “Clean up and meet me in my quarters. I don’t want you bleeding on my shop floor.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Three

  Kincaid - A sister's talk