Scalechaser wish wielder.., p.1
Scalechaser (Wish Wielder Bonds), page 1
Wish Wielder Bonds: Book One
A. R. Stonecypher
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Map
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
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Coming Soon
Acknowledgments
Solenvian Terminology
About the Author
Scalechaser
A. R. Stonecypher
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, 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.
Copyright © 2023 A. R. Stonecypher
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Paperback: ISBN: 979-8-9885671-0-3
Ebook: ISBN: 979-8-9885671-1-0
Edited by Enchanted Ink Publishing
Cover art by A. R. Stonecypher
Formatting and Map by A. R. Stonecypher
Photography by SmudGes Photography
For my husband, who has always been my
inspiration and support.
Prologue
Murmurs swarmed around Gage. He couldn’t see where the voices originated, and perhaps he never would. Sightless, he stared straight ahead with eyes that hadn’t worked since he was a child. He had given his wish; now he needed to wait and see if anyone would grant it.
Gage was already on his knees from presenting his plea. Desperately, he dropped his head into a bow. He wasn’t too proud to beg for their favor.
If the volume of murmurs was any indication, the assembly contained at least a few dozen people. Not one of them addressed him. A trickle of sweat formed on his brow. Too much time had passed.
I wasn’t convincing enough. They’re going to force me to leave Bane’s Barrier with nothing to show for it.
Gage’s hand twitched, knowing what would become of him if he failed here. Manacles, cold and chafing, would carve scars into his wrists. Every crack of a whip would make him flinch, whether it was aimed at him or not.
That couldn’t happen.
Gage clenched his fists. This wish would define him. He couldn’t let them deny it.
Straightening his shoulders, he rose to his feet, but the smooth sole of his thin leather shoe caught on the ragged hem of his oversized trousers. He stumbled, regaining his footing, and maintained some dignity by glaring in the direction of the murmurs.
“I know you don’t grant wishes lightly,” he said loudly, firmly. There wasn’t any doubt in his decision. “I accept what it means to be a wish wielder. Grant my request, and when I have magic, you won’t have to wonder if you made the right decision. I swear, I’ll serve you however you see fit.”
The murmuring voices fell silent. Hopefully that meant they were considering him.
Gage kept his back stiff. Wavering wasn’t an option. He meant what he’d said. This was the life he wanted.
No one spoke. His breath was loud in his ears, but the people around him were so quiet he nearly believed they had all disappeared.
And then a voice, feminine and assertive, reverberated around the room.
“I’ll do it.”
Gage’s pulse skipped as his head whipped toward the person who had spoken. Was she serious? He pressed his lips together, holding back a smile. Struggling to maintain his composure, he inhaled a long, slow breath.
The whir of mutters rose again, only this time, it wasn’t directed at him.
The stern voice of an elderly gentleman rose above the others. “Sit down, girl. You are too young to grant a wish.”
Despair tangled around Gage like a weed, shrouding his triumph. He finally had someone willing to help, and she was too young? Maker, give him mercy.
She doesn’t sound all that young.
If he had to guess, he’d say she was around his age—fifteen, maybe a little older—but voices could be tricky to judge.
“If I’m old enough to be here, then I’m old enough to grant a wish,” she said, her tone rising in defiance.
Like most people in the room, she had an accent that curled around each word like a melodic hum. Her voice was deep, almost husky. It was warm and inviting, like the sound of music around a crackling campfire.
“She’s right,” another girl chimed in, and her voice was so similar to the first girl’s, it was difficult to tell them apart. “You can’t deny her this opportunity.”
The elder grumbled loud enough to be heard. “Children, the both of you! You have been listening to petitions for less than a month. You can’t just accept the first person who gives a pretty speech.”
“Oh, please. You might still be listening to petitions after fifty years, but that doesn’t mean we have any desire to wait that long. Go on, sis, grant his wish.”
Shallow breaths escaped Gage’s lungs. He waited and listened for anyone else to object, but all he heard was the fierce pounding of his heart.
Boots tapped gently against the stone tile floor as someone made their way toward him. The footsteps were light and slow, not demanding in any way, but they held him captive nonetheless.
The measured gait stopped directly in front of him. He held his breath, wishing he could gaze upon his savior.
“You said your name was Gage? Gage Aymeris?” The girl spoke so calmly it made him wonder if she could read the anticipation on his face.
He nodded.
“I’m W . . . Whitetail,” she whispered, as if she was too nervous to speak any louder.
Heat from Whitetail’s warm body drifted toward him as she leaned in close. “Are you certain about this, Aymeris?” she continued whispering in his ear. “You do know what we are, right? You know how we’re cursed?”
“It’s Gage,” he said quickly, then nodded again. “But yes, I know.” His heart wouldn’t stop hammering against his chest.
“If I grant you this, there is no turning back,” she warned. “You’ll have your wish, I’ll be permitted to cross Bane’s Barrier, and we will be connected for the rest of our lives. But you can only be granted a single request. There is no changing anything if it turns out the magic you’re allotted isn’t what you hoped. Are you certain your wish is worth it?”
It was the easiest question she could have asked. “Absolutely.”
“All right, then.”
“Hurry up, girl! There is still a line of petitioners here to request a wish,” the elder yelled.
Whitetail took a deep breath, and it came out shaky. “Ready?” she asked.
“Are you?”
She released a strained sigh. “I’m risking everything by putting my fate in the hands of someone I don’t even know. It might be the dumbest thing I’ll ever do.”
“You’re right,” he said earnestly. “You don’t know me, but you can trust me. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise.” He didn’t know how else to tell her he was entirely dedicated to this decision, so he just stared at her—or in the direction of her voice—hoping his gaze conveyed more than his words could.
“I . . . I don’t . . .” She shifted in front of him, then cleared her throat. When she spoke again, her tone was firmer. “Thank you.”
“What do I need to do?” he asked.
She lifted his hand from his side and placed a smooth small object in his palm. It was about half the size of his little finger. “Hold this tight, and don’t drop it, no matter what.”
“What is it?”
Her response was quicker this time. “A rukasai crystal: liquid magic that has turned solid.”
He gripped the crystal tight, and Whitetail cupped her palms around his fist.
“Now listen,” she ordered. She pulled his fist toward her chest and lowered her head until her nose brushed against the backs of his fingers. Words fell out of her mouth in reverent prayer. “Father Jacovan, hear my plea, and I will surrender all rights to my sanity. You heard his wish, now make it so, for to his land I long to go. By your will, we shall be bound, joined with your Siren, no earthly sound.”
Her low rhythmic voice repeated the stanza again and again until the words flowed into a song. Then the words morphed, slowly transforming into something completely unrecognizable. “Jacovan, Kejha, li jhel bin solee. Tim naejhin li zhorin l’dri jaree nizha yavins sol luzhee.”
Her pitch rose and fell, creating the most beautiful sounds Gage had ever heard. Her voice filled his head, blocking out every thought until he mentally sang along with the foreign words. It became a symphony in his mind. Hypnotic. The song entere d his ears, swam around his thoughts, and then stretched straight down to his soul. It made him feel warm and content.
That warmth started in his chest. It flowed out to his fingers and down to his toes. Tiny pricks formed in his hands, then trickled toward his feet as if he were being lightly prodded with a needle. The heat coursing through him grew in intensity, and the crystal in his hand became uncomfortably hot. More than hot.
It burned his skin, making him scream like he had plucked a lump of coal straight out of a flame. He tried to pull away from Whitetail, but she held him tight as she continued to whisper her songlike prayer.
He brought his opposite hand up and tried to push her away, but she remained as still as stone. His legs trembled. The heat from the crystal seemed to be radiating into his entire body. Even his feet ached as if blisters were boiling over them, and they no longer agreed to support his weight. As he fell to the ground, his hand ripped away from Whitetail’s, and her prayer ceased.
Unable to stop himself, he wept at her feet.
“I’m sorry.” Her tone was stiff, but her fingers trembled as she gently touched the back of his head. “I’m sorry. It’s complete.”
Two people came and hauled Gage to his feet. He struggled weakly to keep them away but soon realized the burning sensation had vanished. His thoughts remained muddled, both from his aching body and the hypnotic prayer still ringing in his head.
“S-stop,” he said. Somehow, he thought he heard the rhythm of the prayer mixed in with the word.
Both people holding him spoke, but only Whitetail got through to him. “It’s all right. I can take him.”
She wrapped an arm around his back and placed a hand on his chest to steady him. Soft fur from the pelt of some unknown animal pressed against Gage’s skin as he draped his arm over her shoulders, but his legs stopped shaking, so he was sure he could move without much help.
“I’ll bring you somewhere to rest,” she explained.
Why was that music still playing in his head? It was as if she continued to sing.
She directed him to the left, opposite his initial entrance. His fingers were still clamped tight around the crystal, but with a bit of effort, he forced them open. It was still warm to the touch, but not unbearably so. He twisted the small object, surprised it hadn’t seared through his skin.
“What do I do with this?” he asked.
“Keep it,” she said. She paused, and when she spoke again, her words were clipped. “Don’t lose it, no matter what.”
“Of course,” he said quickly, willing to accept any task she gave him. His voice was shaky, so he cleared his throat in an attempt to calm his nerves. “What’s it do?”
“This crystal is the conduit for our merged souls. It proves our bonding worked.”
“Our souls?” he asked, once again acknowledging its heat. “Our souls are inside this?”
He closed his fingers around it again. It was so small.
“Only a piece of them,” she said.
Their footsteps grew louder, as if they had entered a small hallway. Gage’s legs were still weak, and he stumbled as the floor’s texture changed from smooth tile to rough stone. Whitetail grunted as she helped him right his step.
“Do you feel ill?” she asked, sounding more polite than concerned. “I’ve heard soul bindings can drain your energy.”
“I’m fine,” he assured her, “only a little tired.”
She seemed to take him at his word and moved on to business. “When you’ve recovered, you’ll be given magic and brought to the Father’s Council, where they will give you your first task as a wish wielder.”
Gage’s thoughts were still slightly foggy from the music looping through his head. Even so, something didn’t sound right about her statement. “You say that like you’re not coming with me.”
“Well, I’m . . . not.” Her words were hesitant, like she thought he should have already known the answer. “It’s not required for my people and wish wielders to remain together after the bonding. In fact, most prefer to stay apart.”
How bad could a life of bondage be if I never have to be around my partner?
He scowled at the thought. “I’ve heard stories about Jacovan’s Heirs. Even if they’re bonded to someone, isn’t it still possible for the curse to overcome them?”
Whitetail’s hand clenched, digging into his side. Gage winced, and she quickly relaxed it.
“It might be easier for us to stay safe if we’re in frequent contact with our bondmate,” she admitted, “but it isn’t a necessity. As long as I stay out of danger, I’ll be all right. Don’t worry. My curse is nothing you need to be concerned about.”
Gage rocked to a stop, and his fingers wrapped around the thick leather and fur of her attire as he turned her to face him. “Whitetail, I promised nothing bad would happen to you. Those weren’t just words. You’re giving me my eyes back. Without them, I’m nothing. Don’t worry about being a burden. I said it before: I’ll serve you however you see fit. My life is yours.”
The air was thick, and it wasn’t until she wiggled out of his grip that he realized he’d been squeezing her shoulder.
“Are you always this intense?” she asked. She didn’t sound angry. If anything, she almost sounded calculating.
Gage leaned away from her and scratched the back of his head. “Uh, yeah. Sorry.”
She let those words settle around them, then turned and walked a little farther. A door swayed open with a subtle creak. “You can rest in this room. Someone will be along in a few hours to take you to the Father’s Council.”
“Right,” he said, withdrawn, knowing he had let his emotions get the better of him again.
Whitetail led him inside to a small cot. “I hope you enjoy your new life surrounded by magic, wish wielder.”
As she said it, dread washed over him, and he feared they’d never meet again.
“Hey, Whitetail?” he said before she could leave. He wanted his parting words to convey the depth of his gratitude. He wanted to promise he’d work hard to earn his wish and be the bondmate she needed him to be. He wanted to tell her a lot of things, but in the end, all he said was, “Thank you.”
Her footsteps trailed away, and the hauntingly beautiful song faded with her.
Chapter 1
There isn’t a threat. There isn’t any danger.
That would’ve been much easier to believe if every nerve in Whitetail’s body weren’t screaming at her to either fight or flee.
She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. She opened her eyes and peered over the edge of the small cliff to see a trail of large-padded beast tracks. The prints were pressed so plainly into the snow it was as if the creature wanted her to find them. The perfect path led straight to a vast cave carved into the mountainside.
Whitetail’s hands shook. She didn’t want to do this—part of her didn’t even think she could.
Her sister’s words bounced around her head. Promise me, Whitetail. If it ever comes to the point where the beast has to die, promise me you’ll be the one to put it down.
Whitetail had held off hunting the jacobeast for as long as possible. Now she had no choice. There were already teams of slayers scouring the Aevelli Mountains. Some had even found it, but so far, none had survived the attack.
The beast was still alive, but there were too many slayers around for Whitetail to believe it would survive much longer. If she hadn’t been visiting Hayden at the slayer’s guild in New Solenvale when rumors of the beast arose, she might not have even arrived in time to fulfill her sister’s wish before someone else beat her to it.
“Seis’ka, Willowsong,” she muttered, cursing her sister. “What were you thinking, kedrane?”
She shifted the spear in her hands and thought about her sister’s snow-covered camp. She hadn’t known it belonged to her sister initially—she had simply gone to investigate the site—but when she saw her sister’s belongings scattered around, the truth had been undeniable. The camp had been ravaged. A massive amount of blood coated the scene, but Willowsong’s body was nowhere to be found.
Whitetail clenched her jaw. What was her sister doing so far away from their home? And why now? There were deadly creatures all over the mountains this time of year. Willowsong should never have decided to climb them, especially not alone. If she had waited, or at least gone with a group, Whitetail might not have needed to go on a suicide quest for vengeance. No, vengeance wasn’t the right word—more like responsibility.
