The Magical Stones of Pharr

By J.T. Marie

The Eight Lands of Pharr are in trouble, and the only ones who can help are a young princess and the sister she believes lost. They hold two of the four Magical Stones, created long ago by an Ancient Mystic to channel the magic of his bloodline.

But when an evil witch named Patadora Coggs seeks to control the Stones, the two girls must join forces to save their unsuspecting world.

With them is a motley crew gathered as they travel to retrieve the remaining two Stones. Airk Ranon, cynical Weapons Master. The Baret Wray and First Commander Dungan Weir, who command King Randel's army. Elke, a centurion who has never been away from home. Skotak, an Emini Plainsman who provides steeds for the travelers. Dreux, a young prince seeking adventure, and his lover, Estelle. And Kitt, a young orphan held enslaved by pirates.

Chased by Patadora's Maelnords and her own shapeshifting daughter, and by the infamous Weapons Master's outlaw reputation, the young friends travel land and sea in their quest to find the last two Stones. Once they have the Magical Stones of Pharr in their possession, they must travel to the witch's lair and end her evil reign of terror.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Independent Publishers Group
• Release date: Dec 23, 2012
• ISBN: 9781611523294

J.T. Marie

J.T. Marie is a pseudonym for author J.M. Snyder, who publishes gay erotic and romantic fiction under her full name. For those curious, the initials stand for “Jeanette Thomas” and Marie is her middle name. She also writes gay young adult romance under the pseudonym J. Tomas.A graduate of George Mason University, Jeanette worked as Fantasy Editor of the school’s sci-fi and fantasy journal, The Fractal, for two years. After college, she created and maintained an online webzine, Disenchanted, to further a love of fantasy fiction. For more information on her non-gay fiction, nonfiction, and poetry, please visit her website.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Sconced torches threw dingy light ahead of Jaelin and her handmaiden, the lady Robyne, as they hurried to the King’s Library. Their soft-soled boots whispered across the ancient stone floor. The inadequate lighting exacerbated the Princess’s black mood, causing her to gnaw her lower lip.

Jaelin dreaded the impromptu meeting. Meetings with the King often led to confrontation, but he’d commanded their presence, and when King Randel summoned, people obeyed.

When they reached the library, lady Robyne grasped the door’s heavy knocker and rapped twice. The creak of rusty hinges echoed faintly through the hall as the door opened. On the other side stood Jon Bohe, the King’s manservant. He ushered them in, leading them past walls lined to the ceiling with books.

The King collected books, all types—thick, thin, short, long, histories, novels, poems, prophecies which came true, ramblings of madmen whose prophecies had failed. The King’s Library at the Varingsway Palace in Andersi was renowned throughout the Eight Lands of Pharr as the only collection of written works from before the Last Wars, with the exception of the Library of the Ancient Mystics. The only way into the library from the castle was through the corridor entrance. Opposite the door, twin glass casements led to a balcony.

The handmaiden stopped a respectable distance from the balcony. If my lady will allow, I’ll wait here for your return.

The Princess nodded, distracted, and followed Jon Bohe onto the balcony. Her Majesty, the Princess Jaelin, the manservant announced. Then he bowed with a flourish and exited, leaving Jaelin alone with her father.

The Princess studied the King as he stood with his back to his room. His posture was tall and stately, and early sunlight reflected off the royal crown of Andersi. His hair, turning gray and ending just below his high collar, ruffled in the mid-morning breeze. He’d donned the royal robes of office, the emerald green bright in the morning sun.

King Randel did not turn, but Jaelin knew her father was aware of her presence. She walked across the balcony to stand beside him.

From this aerie, almost the entire province of Andersi could be seen, and the view was breathtaking. She was impressed anew by the view of her father’s realm in the morning light. The breeze picked at her loose auburn hair as she waited for him to speak.

From her vantage point, she could look down into the festivities of Market Day within the sturdy city walls of Varingsway. She wished she could be there instead of with her father. Jaelin sighed. She and her handmaiden had decided to skip her morning studies and go out for some shopping, but obviously her father had different plans. She hoped he’d be quick about whatever it was he wanted to argue over this time.

Still looking out across his land, King Randel took a deep breath. Jaelin, how old will you be next month?

Sixteen, Father, she replied. What does this have to do with anything?

I was greatly disappointed when Doctor Harrings told me my firstborn was female. The King seemed to be changing the subject. "Not that I love you less because you are a girl, but all kings need a son to carry on after them. I guess we’ll have to be different, as I’m plagued with daughters. I’m not as young as I used to be and, some day, you’ll reign Andersi as my successor. You’re strong-willed, but I think, with the help of your studies, you’ll be a fine ruler.

But the dynasty must continue. Ever since the Period of Reconciliation, many years after the Last Wars, the Anders have governed this province.

This is ancient history, Jaelin thought. Nothing she hadn’t already learned in her studies.

Then he surprised her. Did you know you aren’t the firstborn of the House of Anders?

Jaelin started. I have an older sister? Her usually strong voice lowered with emotion. Now this was something out of the ordinary. Where is she? Why didn’t I know?

The King sighed, and Jaelin thought she’d never seen him look older than he did at that moment. When he spoke, his voice caught and his breath shook slightly. Jaelin was startled—her father rarely showed emotion. "Three years before your birth, your mother brought our first child into this world. She was a joy, with deep blue eyes and a thick patch of auburn hair. She had the most hair at birth out of all of our daughters.

Eighteen months later, there was a breach in the Palace Home Guard, and we woke to find the baby gone. Whoever abducted her took little else, leading us to believe her kidnapping was the sole purpose of the break-in.

Jaelin gasped. Ye Fates! And you’ve never heard of her again? You have no way of knowing if she’s alive? You never told me? She stood thunderstruck. An older sister! She could begin to understand her father’s over-protectiveness.

Her father wiped away a tear with a weary sigh. I don’t know whether she lives here or in the heavens, but I hope to see her again before I die.

Then he pulled himself together and Jaelin saw the stoic father she knew. I’ve told you this because you should know about your older sister. It’s a subject that pains me greatly, her kidnapping. I wanted you to know.

Thank you, she murmured.

Without her here, he continued, the crown is your destiny. I think it’s time you began to think of marriage.

What? she asked, incredulous. Father, I hardly think…

King Randel’s voice hardened. Why do you always talk back? I must’ve chosen the wrong daughter to take the royal studies. Elisai is quieter, and Maie more respectful. Either would make a better queen than lady at court yet you, the most stubborn of the lot, were raised as my successor.

As if you had much choice, Jaelin replied moodily. The law says the eldest shall become heir.

But you aren’t my eldest!

Then why worry about my marriage if I’m not the rightful heir? she cried, exasperated. You want me to lose my sister and my freedom all in one day?

He turned back to his kingdom, silent for several minutes. Jaelin wondered whether she could leave when he spoke. I’ve arranged a conference this afternoon where you’ll meet five eligible young men, sons of the highest officials in my province, all suitable husbands for a future queen. I’ll let you choose…

"How kind, Father! I’m happy I might have some say in who’ll share my life!"

Jaelin was infuriated. Who did her father think he was? Times had changed since the Last Wars, thousands upon thousands of years had gone by, and still her father was seriously going to try to choose her future husband!

Anguished, she held the railing of the balcony, trembling with anger. Why did he insist on ruining her life? She had to get out of the library, out of her father’s sight, before she said something she’d regret.

You don’t have to love the man you choose, he told her. I don’t expect you to love any of them, not at first. But you’ll grow to respect one another. That’s what matters in marriage—respect, not love. I hate to do this…

Then stay out of my life! Just leave me alone, you…you tyrant! Jaelin stormed away.

The King yelled after her. "I have other problems, you know! Maelnords have been seen lately and there’s even talk of that outlaw, Airk Ranon. Some people even claim to see Ancient Mystics running about! Why can’t you just listen for once?"

Jaelin ignored him as she passed the startled servants and stormed out of the library.

Jon Bohe and Robyne turned uneasily towards the King, silhouetted against the morning sun. Wearily King Randel took off his crown and, using the hem of his royal emerald robe, began polishing it.

With a sigh, he rubbed his eyes and forced a laugh. I guess that didn’t go over so well, did it?

* * * *

Robyne led the Princess out of her chambers and into the hallway. Jaelin, incensed about her unreasonable, old-fashioned father, ranted in tones just under a shout. "I can’t believe he said that! Can you imagine, me, marrying someone he chooses? I’ll have the most boring husband this side of the Baer’s! Why can’t he trust me, just for once, and let me marry whom I wish? Why?"

Robyne shook her head. "If I may be so bold, my lady, he does have a say in such matters. He’s your father, who happens to be king."

Jaelin wheeled on her handmaiden. "I can’t believe you! She continued walking at a fast pace. In fact, I’ll forget you ever uttered such nonsense."

They passed the rooms of Jaelin’s younger sisters, then took the stairs down to the gathering hall. Despite the Princess’s peasant clothing, noblemen and ladies recognized her and paid their respects with low bows and curtsies.

Jaelin, muttering darkly, acknowledged the greetings with no more than a smile. When pompous Master Simieon, the court magician, gave her a knowing grin, Jaelin began to rant again. "Who does he think he is? Did you see the way he smiled at me? The nerve of that man—of all of them!"

There, there, my lady, Robyne cooed, leading her away.

Jaelin sighed as she toyed with the brilliant green stone hanging around her neck by a fine gold chain. I wish this rock would do something useful.

What would you have it do? Robyne asked.

Jaelin shrugged. I don’t know. Change Master Simieon into a toad, maybe. Anything other than making plants grow faster.

Struggling not to smile, Robyne shook her head. Be careful what you wish for, my lady. It may come true.

What’s wrong with that? the Princess asked, bewildered.

They descended the great stairway to the courtyard. At the foot of the stairs, Jaelin stopped and grabbed Robyne’s arm. There he is.

"There who is?" Robyne looked at the people milling around the courtyard and through the open castle gates. The place was crowded, it being Market Day. The only person of rank was the Baret Wray, the palace’s castellan, reprimanding some of his insubordinate soldiers.

Shhh! Jaelin cautioned. He might hear you.

Someone did. One of the soldiers pointed towards the girls, causing the Baret to turn. Yelling at his men to return to their posts, he spun, green cape swirling dramatically about his mailed legs, and made his way through the crowd to where the Princess anxiously watched at the bottom of the steps.

Here he comes, Jaelin whispered. Her heart fluttered, her anger evaporated, and she straightened her posture as the Baret stopped before her.

He stood slightly taller than the Princess, but his presence commanded attention. Bowing low, hands fisted at his chest and back, the Baret said, Good morning, Princess. Out for a morning stroll?

"It is Market Day, my dear Lord Baret. I’ve already missed my morning studies, and must get out now if I don’t want to miss those this afternoon."

Ah, yes. Shall I have one of my men accompany you?

Though his words were friendly, the Baret’s tone was distant and perfunctory. Jaelin was disappointed. No, that’s quite all right. We’ll suffice by ourselves, thank you.

The Baret bowed low once more. As your Majesty wishes.

She blushed. Er…Lord Baret? Have you heard of the conference my father is holding this afternoon for my future spouse? Her face brightened, and a ray of hope filled her voice. Perhaps you’ve been informed?

The Baret smiled, the first time Jaelin could remember him doing so since childhood. Of course, Princess. Her heart leaped, then plummeted as he replied, The King wants more than a Palace Home Guardsman there, so I’ll attend, with my First Commander guarding the door.

On that note, he turned and walked away. Robyne turned to Jaelin, eyes wide. My lady, I didn’t know.

Trying to look confused and not succeeding, Jaelin replied, Know what?

Robyne grinned. Of your infatuation with your father’s Baret. Do you really think the King would allow it?

I don’t care what my father has to say, since I’m not going to inform him. Her resolve crumbled, and she leaned on Robyne’s shoulder. Besides, the Baret Wray doesn’t even know I exist.

Of course he does! How can you say that when you just finished talking with him?

The Princess sighed. I don’t know. I just don’t.

* * * *

The sky was deep, cloudless, and a crisp, sharp breeze tinged with sea salt blew from the north. Within the Great Walls of Varingsway rose a noisy din from the crowd gathered around the tents and stalls at the base of the Royal Palace. Market Day was well under way by the time Jaelin and Robyne joined in the weekly shopping.

Jaelin inhaled deeply. The winds blew from the Land’s End Mountains, the home of the legendary Ancient Mystics, and a taste of magic was in the air. Faintly she smelled the distant Sea of Maringsworth and, more clearly, odors from the surrounding markets. The excitement from the crowd, the heavenly fragrances, and the feeling of freedom from her father’s constant care made her spirits rise. The unpleasant scene with her father an hour ago and the recent episode with the Baret Wray slipped from her mind. She smiled, happy for the first time in days, and pulled her cloak tight as the breeze picked up.

She and Robyne made their way through the people toward the nearest tent. Jewelry hung from overhead hooks or lay stretched across the table between an elderly vendor and her customers. Jaelin paused to study a collection of costume rings.

As she leaned over, her necklace slipped from her tunic and hung suspended around her neck. The pendant was an orb, about two inches in diameter, held by soldering to a thin gold rope. The stone was dark green, one her father’s books called an Emerald, and appeared to be a solid gemstone.

The vendor drew in her breath sharply, and Jaelin looked up. The woman’s eyes were wide, her gaze fixed on the necklace, and Jaelin’s hand went around it protectively. Is there something wrong, elder?

My child, where did you get that necklace? Her voice was high and startled, her thick accent giving away her Vrahni origins.

It was a gift from my mother. It’s all I have left to remember her by.

Please, come with me. The vendor motioned with one bony hand for Jaelin to follow.

Jaelin glanced at Robyne, who shrugged. Intrigued by the woman’s unconventional manner, the two rounded the table and followed her through the canvas flaps of the tent. Inside was cool and dark, and it took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust to the dimness. They distinguished the old lady from the shadows as she settled into a tall-backed chair. Motioning for them to sit in other chairs facing her, she spoke. Forgive me for my rude behavior outside, but I don’t want anyone else to hear what I have to say. If I’m not mistaken, you’re Princess Jaelin, heir to the Throne of Andersi, aren’t you?

Surprised, Jaelin stammered. How did you know? She gestured to her green cloak, brown tunic and leggings, leather peasant boots. Not everyday attire for a princess.

Your thin disguise doesn’t fool me. Did you know that necklace was made by enchantment?

You mean…magic?

Yes.

But that’s impossible, Jaelin said. Only the Ancient Mystics use magic, and they’re nothing but a bunch of myths and legends.

Even now one ventures from Yttralia. Urgent matters call. Lowering her voice, the old woman asked, Have you used the Stone before? Magically?

Jaelin shrugged. Glancing at Robyne, she said, Well, when I was younger, I learned I could control the growth of plants and move small mounds of soil—things like that. I never thought much of it, but one day the court magician caught me making my herb garden grow faster. He tried to steal the necklace, but I wouldn’t let him.

The old woman leaned forward and her voice dropped to a rasping whisper. It’s called the Stone of Draek, and was crafted by the legendary Ancient Mystics. The deep green symbolizes the earth. There are others like it, representing other elements. They can act alone, as yours did when you were younger, but when united, the Stones are capable of vast destruction. That’s why they’re being sought by evil.

A slight sound behind Jaelin made the old woman grab the Princess’s arm and pull her to her feet. Hurry! Leave while you can…

Jaelin turned as a damp chamois cloth pressed roughly against her nose. Reeling, she was grabbed from behind, but her assailant was larger than she was and quickly overpowered her. Her vision clouded and she could barely see Robyne, also struggling.

The old woman screamed, and Jaelin heard a cold, low voice like gravel grate close to her ear. You ruined our trust.

Her voice filled with fear. I’m sorry! Don’t hurt me, please! My allegiance to the King is so strong…forgive me!

You tried to double-cross us. You don’t deserve to live!

Jaelin saw the shiny edge of a knife and screams reverberated through her mind. She heard the distant pounding of boots and fought in vain with her attacker, sure the Palace Home Guard would save her at any moment now.

But she was dragged out the back of the tent, and a reflexive intake of breath drew more of the poison on the saturated cloth into her lungs. She fell against the large body behind her. The hand holding the cloth was unbearable and she passed out of the world she knew and into the dark.

She had just enough time to think of the Baret Wray, and how none of this would’ve happened if she’d allowed him to station a guard with her.

Chapter 2

The sun hadn’t yet risen over the Baer’s Way Mountains in Centuria when Shaela Dayle began her day. She rose from her mattress and stretched in the chilly morning air. When she shook her head, dark auburn hair fell in a russet cascade down her back. Wrapping a cloak around her, she descended the stairs from the loft to the main chamber of the log cabin.

After stoking the fire, Shaela left the cabin and took a short path to the Asphya River. She stepped quickly to avoid cutting her bare feet on sharp pebbles. The trees along the path were stark and naked, but tiny, telltale buds showed warmer weather was on the way.

At the river, she stepped onto a flat bridge spanning the water, slipped off her cloak, and dove in. The water was cold and invigorating, and she swam for several minutes, then headed back to the bridge. After resting a bit, she put the cloak back on and headed home.

As she neared the cabin, she noticed the door was ajar. She knew she’d closed it when she left. Suddenly alert, she stopped to study the house and the surrounding forest.

She absorbed the surrounding woodland—every twittering sparrow, every snapping twig. Her vision sharpened, and she could see the porous wood of the door from where she stood. She smelled the pungent miasma of the nearby stables, the musky aroma of the forest, the spicy odor of her herb garden under the front windows. She felt a faint spring breeze lift the damp hair curling on her brow.

Frowning, she wondered who might’ve opened the door. As far as she knew, she was the only person around for miles. She lived in the heart of the Valley of Wrenne, had all her life. The wildlife had accepted her presence and no longer ran from her approach. In fact, she’d seen many creatures on her walk to and from the river. She’d heard animal sounds only a few minutes ago.

So why were the birds silent?

Shaela wished Ford, her adoptive father, was at home. He would’ve known what to do. But he was away on business to the Open Plains of Andemni. A trapper, he traded with the Plainsmen every year, leaving for the Plains shortly after the Vernal Equinox. She’d always gone with him before, but now she was nineteen, and she wanted to see what it was like to live on her own for a bit. Ford had reluctantly agreed to leave her alone while he made the trip this year. It took a lot of persuasion on her part to make him go on alone.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like going—she loved to travel, especially with Ford—but she was capable enough to live by herself. She’d been taught how to track, hunt, cook, and trap by the best. But she began to wonder if she should’ve gone with him anyway…

Shaela gathered her courage and headed for the cabin. If she gave into irrational fears now, how would she get by on her own later? When Ford returned, he’d find her reduced to a helpless child and all he’d say would be, I told you so. Taking a deep breath, she slowly nudged the