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    Knives and Needles
    Knives and Needles
    Knives and Needles
    Ebook141 pages1 hour

    Knives and Needles

    By Jordan Baugher

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    About this ebook

    In the sixth book of the Vicious Magick series, Zanther finds himself stranded far from home in an unfamiliar land where he meets two girls--identical twins--and decides to help them, putting himself at odds with a powerful new enemy.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJordan Baugher
    Release dateFeb 15, 2012
    ISBN9781466072756
    Knives and Needles
    Author

    Jordan Baugher

    Jordan Baugher is a science-fiction and fantasy author currently based in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He is a graduate of the University of Pittsburgh.

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      Book preview

      Knives and Needles - Jordan Baugher

      Knives and Needles

      written by Jordan Baugher

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2012 Jordan Baugher

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Chapter 1: Spetzel Village

      The shadow of the balloon passes over endless expanses of sand stretching as far as the eye can see in every direction, over bubbling swamps shrouded in toxic haze, over frostbitten plains chilled by phantasmal winds. The shadow gets smaller as the ground dips closer to sea level, and the shadow gets larger as it passes over the tops of mountains thrusting their way through the center of the continent.

      Over time, the dragon flatuses keeping the balloon aloft begin to escape from the balloon through tiny pores in the material, bringing the coffin-like box closer and closer to the ground as it descends until finally, after three days of floating, the balloon smashes into the open embrace of a tall, barren tree, the gaseous bag exploding upon impact. The box, now attached to nothing, drops to the earth, smashing through branches as it falls.

      The ground rushes up to meet the box, shattering it into a pile of splintered planks and depositing its human cargo onto the dewy grass.

      Laid out on his back, the man blinks a few times before attempting to rise. With great difficulty, he pulls himself to his feet, only to find himself face-to-face with a skinny man in a long robe holding a leash attached to a blue sheep.

      You’re...not from around hereabouts, the man observes.

      Zanther brushes himself off and stretches his arms. What was your first clue?

      Hereabouts, we bury people in the ground, not in the sky. Also, when we bury them, they tend to stay dead.

      Where exactly is ‘hereabouts’?

      We’re just outside Spetzel village.

      Never heard of it, Zanther says, say, shepherd, what’s the closest big city?

      Shep...herd? What’s that? I’m a sheephold. Can you not see this leash? I hold it so this sheep doesn’t get away.

      Fascinating. And the nearest big city?

      I suppose that would be Jhelbet.

      Zanther squints at the horizon, noting the unusual placement of Rhea and Demeter. He looks to the tree and notes the shape of its leaves.

      This...isn’t Upper Kleighton, is it? Zanther asks.

      This is Lower Kleighton. There’s no such thing as an ‘Upper Kleighton,’ man. That’s just madness.

      The fabled continent of Lower Kleighton, Zanther says to himself, stroking his three-day chinstubble, I’d heard rumors of it, of course, but to actually be here and see it with my own eyes...

      You must’ve hit your head in that fall, the sheephold says, I’d better take you back to the village so you can see a leecher.

      I’d rather see a pub. Does your village have one of those?

      What’s a ‘pub’?

      Zanther drops to his knees. Nooooo!

      The sheephold puts a hand on Zanther’s shoulder. You seem upset. Maybe we should go to the drinkhouse and get you a beer.

      I’d like that. Say, what’s your name?

      Paul. Paul Maloo.

      I’m Zanther. Pleased to meet you, Zanther says as he shakes the man’s free hand, I hate to be a burden having just met you and all, but I doubt they’re going to take any of my money here. You mind buying me a round?

      The girls’ feet barely contact the surface of the road as they sprint past a group of disinterested bubblebellied bloathogs. In front of them, the road forks in two as it penetrates a grove of trees.

      The girls take a few dozen strides down the left fork before diving off the road into a patch of tall grass. A few moments later, a dark-haired man riding a maroon-colored stallion with a shaggy white mane charges viciously down the road.

      Is he...gone? one asks the other.

      The other girl raises her head from the grass, squinting at the road in the rapidly-dimming twilight. Looks like it. He won’t be fooled for long, though.

      Pinessa, what are we going to do?

      Pinessa puts her hands on her sister’s shoulders. Paloma, listen to me. We’re going to be okay. We just need to find someone strong to protect us.

      "Who can protect us from him?"

      A hero.

      But I’ve never met a hero, and neither have you.

      Doesn’t that mean we’re overdue?

      The two of them walk in silence for awhile, listening to the constant drone of the cicadas. Somewhere in the night, a dog howls, entreating other dogs to join in.

      Its call goes unanswered.

      Tell me again why we’re going to Jhelbet, Paloma says, kicking a stone down the moonlit trail.

      When nowhere’s safe, one place is as good as any other--plus, it’s close, Pinessa says.

      Can’t argue with solid logic like that, sis. So...any idea who this guy is or why he’s after us?

      I saw him at the orphanage a few moonths ago. He came out of Raitha’s office looking pretty flustered, then he left immediately after that.

      That’s odd.

      It was right around the time that rock came out of the sky and hit that wolf that was chasing you across the garden.

      I still can’t believe that, Paloma says, What a stroke of luck. There I was, tilling one tick and running the next. If not for that rock...

      Yeah. Anyway, I think it was a few days after that.

      Strange. Definitely strange. And the way he was right there waiting when the orphanage caught fire.

      Nothing strange about that, Pinessa says, my guess is that he’s the one who burned it down.

      Yes, well, when I woke up, my clothes were gone and I was shackled to two sleeping yafbeests, the chain from my wristshackles going to one, and the chain from my footshackles going to the other. It’s lucky I was scared speechless, because I wanted to scream--which would’ve woken them up and then they’d have torn me in halves.

      So what did you do? Paul asks.

      I was fortunate enough to have a few man-lengths of chain to work with, and also fortunate that despite being highly attuned to noise, your average sleeping yafbeest is basically immune to physical stimuli. After a lot of effort, and more than a few falls due to the shackles, I managed to drag one right next to the other, at which point I wrapped the chains around them side-by-side to combine them into one unit, a kind of dual yafbeest, which I rode to the nearest smithy, who knocked loose my bonds.

      The drinkhouser shakes her head. I’m not sure what a yafbeest is, my friend, but I’m having suspicions about your story.

      Zanther takes a swig of his beer, swishing it around in his mouth to savor the taste. Earlier, you told me I had an honest face.

      She shrugs as she hands a mug to another patron. The purest princesses still pop out heirs.

      They have to, Zanther says, otherwise, they’d explode.

      No, she says, "I meant ‘heirs’ as in children."

      I did, too.

      The double doors fly open and a sinister-looking man with a shaggy mane of dark hair approaches the bar, sitting next to Zanther. He sizes Zanther up, smirks, and turns to the drinkhouser.

      Two shots of everpure.

      The girl selects a tall bottle of blown green glass and pours clear liquid into two small glasses. The sinister-looking man tosses six steel coins onto the bar and slides one of the shots over to Zanther.

      Here, try a real man’s drink.

      Zanther gives a small nod and the two of them down their shots.

      Zanther coughs a little, slamming the shot onto the bar. That’s definitely a man’s drink, I’ll grant you that, but why do you drink it out of such tiny little girl glasses?

      The man chuckles. You’re a man after my own heart. The name’s Loathen--Loathen Mystifer. Yours?

      Zanther Maus, he says, and I’ve got to say, that’s an interesting weapon you’ve got there. A stick?

      This? Just a needle. Most common weapon in Lower Kleighton. You act as if you’ve never seen one.

      Zanther shrugs.

      Loathen twists the stick, exposing a crease and revealing the top fifth of the stick to be a handle for the rest of the weapon--a polished cylinder of metal tapering to a sharp

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