A Dagger of the Mind (The Imperial Metals) Read online

  The Imperial Metals, Book Two

  A Dagger of the Mind

  by Daniel Antoniazzi

  Copyright 2013

  Cover art by Pheobe Boynton, copyright 2013.

  All characters in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. And in no way libelous.

  All events described in this book actually happened. Just not on our world.

  This story contains strong language. Reader discretion is advised.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Disclaimer

  Special Thanks

  Very Special Thanks

  Dedication

  Map

  Quote

  Prologue: The Tower At Goldmere

  Book 1: Sins Remembered

  Chapter 1: Six Years...

  Chapter 2: Things to Talk About When Sparring With the Countess

  Chapter 3: The Turin-Guarde

  Chapter 4: The Sun and the Moon

  Chapter 5: The Old Regent

  Chapter 6: Enemies

  Chapter 7: The Silent Gods

  Chapter 8: Prisoner Number Four

  Chapter 9: Summer Vacation

  Chapter 10: Alarms

  Chapter 11: The Life of Countess Vye

  Book 2: Pasts Haunted

  Chapter 12: Points of Light

  Chapter 13: Loss

  Chapter 14: Johann Frost

  Chapter 15: Domestic Threats

  Chapter 16: Confessions

  Chapter 17: Things to Talk About When Dining With the Count

  Chapter 18: Dreamscape

  Chapter 19: Sandora and Landora

  Chapter 20: The Lady Vivian

  Chapter 21: The Source

  Chapter 22: The Prison

  Book 3: Redemption Sought

  Chapter 23: Kraken D'l Grimsor

  Chapter 24: The Laughter of Children

  Chapter 25: The Right Tools For The Job

  Chapter 26: The Peace Festival

  Chapter 27: The Army of Grimsor

  Chapter 28: The Kiss

  Chapter 29: The Letter

  Chapter 30: The Path of Dreams

  Book 4: Truths Revealed

  Chapter 31: Life Is But a Dreamscape

  Chapter 32: The Vanishing People

  Chapter 33: The Tundra

  Chapter 34: The Dreams of the Dead

  Chapter 35: The Hunt

  Chapter 36: The Return of Count Deliem

  Chapter 37: The Cage of Grimsor

  Chapter 38: Absolution

  Book 5: Wars Designed

  Chapter 39: Escape From Goldmere

  Chapter 40: The Bliss of the Dead

  Chapter 41: Jareld and Emily

  Chapter 42: A Memory of Fire

  Chapter 43: Things to Talk About When Dining With the Queen

  Chapter 44: The Apology

  Chapter 45: A War Made of Lies and Murder

  Chapter 46: Sibling Rivalry

  Book 6: Storms Weathered

  Chapter 47: The Nightmare of the Turinheld

  Chapter 48: The Council of Jareld

  Chapter 49: Counteroffensive

  Chapter 50: The Lonely Souls

  Chapter 51: The Turin Initiative

  Chapter 52: The Secrets of the Dead

  Chapter 53: Out of the Volcano, Into the Tidal Wave

  Chapter 54: The Spring Festival

  Chapter 55: The Goddess of Storms

  Book 7: Awake

  Chapter 56: The Battle of Anuen

  Chapter 57: No Rest For the Weary

  Chapter 58: A Dagger of the Heart

  Chapter 59: The Memory of a Clown

  Chapter 60: The Great Dream

  Chapter 61: A Lesson in Fear

  Chapter 62: The Last King

  Chapter 63: The Banished

  Epilogue: What The Rain Brings

  Coming Soon

  Footnotes

  Special Thanks to...

  My Mom, Dad, and favorite sister (Irene) for continuing to supply me with encouragement, thoughts, notes, websites, business cards, and the courage to put my words out there in the world.

  Irene, again (again,) for finding the title.

  Pheobe Boynton for the cover art. Find more of her art (and costume design) at her website.

  And a Very Special Thanks to...

  Paul Loester, Jon Lum, Evan Piccarillo, Kevin Sheldon, Sloane Yavarkovsky...

  Not to mention...

  Noam Bonkowski, Josh Garfinkel, Josh Hendler, Brian Lang, Dan O’Connell, AJ Schabhuttl, Dave Steinberg, and Jeff Withers...

  For sharing your imagination with me and for being inspiring characters.

  Dedicated to my favorite sister (still Irene,) who could win a Shakespeare Trivia Contest against the Bard himself.

  Is this a dagger which I see before me,

  The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.

  I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.

  Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible

  To feeling as to sight? or art thou but

  A dagger of the mind, a false creation,

  Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?

  I see thee yet, in form as palpable

  As this which now I draw.

  Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going;

  And such an instrument I was to use.

  Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,

  Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still,

  And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,

  Which was not so before. There's no such thing:

  It is the bloody business which informs

  Thus to mine eyes.

  Macbeth

  William Shakespeare

  Prologue : The Tower at Goldmere

  There is a small tower outside the city of Goldmere, about fifteen kilometers inland from the southern shore of Avonshire.

  It is a boring, gray tower. Rough-hewn stone makes it clear it was built for utility, not glamour. The citizens of Goldmere usually dismiss it as a way-station for guards. It wouldn’t really provide meaningful defense against a dedicated attack, and it can’t house enough soldiers to count as a real reserve.

  One night, a carriage rolled up to this tower. It was the dead of night, and there were no prying eyes about. When the guard came out to retrieve the sole passenger of the carriage, he couldn’t help but notice that she was pregnant. About seven months pregnant.

  The guard escorted her silently to the dungeon. It was the only reason the Queen would come to this desolate place. To see the dungeon.

  The Tower of Goldmere was a prison. A very special prison. There were times, while running a country, when you couldn’t kill someone and you couldn’t let them roam free either. At times like these, you needed to be able to make people disappear. There were only five prisoners at the Tower. Five prisoners that the King had, at some point, decided he needed to lock up without causing a fuss. The guards were sworn to secrecy. They served food with wax in their ears, so they couldn’t share words with the condemned.

  Queen Sarah walked down the longest stretch of the dungeon, to the most remote corner, to the last cell.

  Jareld stood as soon as he saw her arrive. Despite all that he was feeling, he couldn’t help but try to straighten his matted hair, or comb out his scraggly beard. This would be the first person he had seen in four months who knew his name. Who could hear his words.

  For a moment, they stared at one another.

  “Aren’t you going to bow?” Sarah asked.

  Jareld shook his head.

  “You should bow,�
� Sarah said, “I am still a Queen.”

  “You committed treason,” Jareld said. “According to the King James Standard, you would be relieved of your title and executed.”

  “Only after a trial. Until that day, I am the Queen.”

  “You’re right. Let’s have a trial.”

  “Jareld, we didn’t plan it this way. It just happened. Please, please, won’t you forgive us?”

  “You don’t need my forgiveness.”

  “I can’t get Michael’s forgiveness, so I’m asking for yours.”

  “I cannot absolve you of your crimes.”

  “Then don’t absolve me. But please, come out of the cage.”

  “You can let me out any time you want.”

  “But not until you agree to stay quiet.”

  Jareld pressed his face against the bars.

  “I can’t!” Jareld said, louder now. In the quiet of night, it sounded thunderous. “I have dedicated my life to finding out the truth. I will not perpetuate a lie.”

  “But we didn’t want this to happen. This wasn’t done out of malice or greed. This was a mistake. I wanted to have kids, with Michael. I wanted to have a life with him. I loved him too, Jareld. But this happened instead, and now we have to make the best of it.”

  “Then I’m afraid you came down here for nothing.”

  Sarah sat on a stool in the corridor of the dungeon. Her ankles always appreciated a rest. She pressed her hand to her belly, feeling the baby kick. A child she would have to raise. In a world that she had helped construct.

  “Jareld,” she said, her voice cracking, “Please. I can’t sleep at nights with you down here. It’s nobody’s fault. Please. Please go home. Emily has been asking about you. She still believes you’re alive.”

  “Tell her I’m dead,” Jareld said. “I don’t want her waiting for me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t know when you’re going to let me out.”

  Sarah grunted as she stood, supporting her hips with both hands.

  “I’m sorry, Jareld. We just can’t. We can’t risk it.”

  Sarah put her hand on Jareld’s scraggly face. She leaned in and kissed him on his scraggly cheek.

  Then, she turned to leave.

  “The King will come back one day,” Jareld said. “We had a false King for a century, but Michael emerged from the ashes. It’ll happen again. The King will come back for us.”

  Sarah stopped in her tracks and considered these words. She wondered if her own reckoning wasn’t in them somewhere. She sighed and looked over her shoulder.

  “I hope you’re right,” she said.

  And then she left.

  Book 1

  Sins Remembered

  Chapter 1: Six Years...

  “I hope you’re right,” Sarah mumbled as she awoke. Her hand wandered to her belly. She was troubled that she hadn’t felt the baby kick. He always kicked in the mornings.

  But then the fog cleared from her head, and in its place, the memories came flooding back. Six years worth of feedings, bathings, changings, sleepless nights, lullabies, first words, first steps, and birthdays. Milestone upon milestone, stumbling forward through the days, the seasons, the years, to produce the six-year-old boy that she loved. William. Her only child. Her son. The Prince of the Kingdom of Rone.

  Her brain was aging all over again. In her dream, she was the 21-year-old version of herself, who was pregnant, who had just lost her husband, who had just survived the Argosian War. And in seconds, she was the 27-year-old version of herself, who was a mother, a Queen, and a traitor. All at once.

  Her hand ran over her exposed belly, enjoying the flatness of it. She didn’t mind being pregnant, but it was so much easier to feel young when it didn’t look like you had just swallowed a bowling ball. Her staff would have frowned at the idea of her sleeping in the nude. They would be worried she would catch a chill. But she had Landos to keep her warm at nights.

  She rolled over, looking at the still sleeping High Magistrate that lay beside her. It was, of course, treasonous to engage in sexual congress with the Queen if your name wasn’t “King _______,” but after six years of having this particular affair, they had gotten very good at covering their tracks.

  “Landos,” Sarah said, brushing her hand through his goatee. When had he grown a goatee, she wondered? Was it two years ago? Three? She couldn’t remember. His beard felt both familiar and strange. The 21-year-old version of her, who was fading away with the dream, had never seen it before. The 27-year-old version of her would have missed it if it weren’t there. Landos hadn’t been in this dream, but her mind was still recovering from it. From the memory. From how things were six years ago.

  She had been in love with two men, she remembered. And still was, in certain ways. Her husband, Michael, who turned out to be the long lost King. And Landos, his friend, his highest advisor. The first one accidentally made her a Queen. The latter accidentally made her a mother. But, since Michael died during the War, they had to pretend he was the father. To preserve the Royal Bloodline, even with a lie.

  Only three people knew it was a lie. Sarah had known she was pregnant before she ever consummated her relationship with Michael. Landos knew when she told him, after Michael died. And Jareld had figured it out, because he was the kind of smart guy who figured things out. So they locked him up and threw away the key. Made up a story about his death. Hid him away from the world.

  Sarah was only able to visit Jareld that one time. When Landos found out, he was furious. Someone could have followed her, or figured out where she was, or why she was there. He forbade her from ever going to Goldmere again...

  “I know this is hard,” Landos had said. “We’re two honest people caught up in an impossible situation. If Michael had lived, we could have faced whatever punishment we deserved. We could be exiled and lived happily together. But he didn’t, and the Kingdom needs a King more than we need peace of mind.”

  “Jareld didn’t ask to suffer,” Sarah had argued.

  “I know. And I wish we could let him out. But he’ll never agree to stay quiet. And I know it’s hard, but we can’t visit him anymore. We can’t risk being seen going there. Our Kingdom is hanging on by a frayed thread. We must always think of the Kingdom before everything.”

  So Sarah obeyed and never visited Jareld again. But if she had been honest with herself, she probably wouldn’t have seen him again anyway. She couldn’t face him. See him standing for something while she and Landos lived in a castle and ruled the Kingdom based on a lie.

  And she dreamt about him often enough anyway.

  When William was born, she couldn’t spend so much time feeling guilty. She had a child to care for. And until his thirteenth birthday, still seven years off, she and Landos would essentially be running the Kingdom. Once she was in a routine, once she was the figurehead of the country, she remembered why she loved Landos. And they rekindled their forbidden affair.

  Sarah tried desperately to have Landos knighted. With a title, Landos would be eligible to marry her, and the affair wouldn’t be an affair anymore. But only a King can confer nobility on a commoner, and the Council wasn’t sure they could invoke that power with the temporary license they had.

  Still, they had slept in the same bed almost every night for six years.

  “Good morning,” Landos mumbled as he stirred awake.

  “You should get going,” Sarah warned, “Sun’s coming up.”

  “We have some time yet,” Landos said, reaching his hand under the blankets. You couldn’t really blame him. If you were in bed with Sarah, and she was naked, you would be hard-pressed to behave yourself. She had won a lot of people over with her blue eyes and her smile. A thousand ships would have come back to port for her face.

  But Sarah clasped his hand, brought it to her mouth, and kissed it, as though that was the romantic gesture Landos was going for.

  “We have a few minutes, and we need that time to get some clothes on,” she said. She g
rabbed her night robes and went behind a screen.

  “You don’t have to get dressed behind a screen, you know.”

  “It just feels more…proper.”

  “I’ve seen the clothes on their way off. Why does it matter if I see them going back on?”

  “Are you getting dressed?”

  “I’m tired.”

  “They’ll be here to dress me soon.”

  “See, that’s the thing about you Royal types. You have to get dressed so that people can come over and get you dressed.”

  Landos slipped out of the bed and grabbed his trousers and tunic.

  “Us commoners,” Landos said, buckling his belt, “We have one layer of clothes. Modesty, that’s all that’s required. Everything after that is vanity.”

  “Your clothes were stitched by my tailor. And you wear a chain of office.”

  “That’s a legal rank. People need to know they’re addressing the High Magistrate.”

  Landos grabbed that very same chain of office. He polished it with his cuff before draping it over his neck.

  “Well, people should be aware that they’re addressing the Queen, don’t you think?”

  Sarah emerged from behind the screen. She was only wearing a slip under a fine silk robe, but she already looked more regal than most people can look after a full day of dressing.

  “Well, of course your title requires a certain amount of…décor,” Landos conceded, brushing his hand through her hair, “I’m just opposed to you wearing any clothes at all.”

  “You, sir, are addressing a Queen!” Sarah said, though her giggle undercut her attempt to sound menacing.

  “Alright, alright,” Landos smirked, “You can keep your clothes on, but you owe me a kiss.”

  “Well, I hate to leave a debt unsettled.”

  But the kiss never happened, as there was an abrupt knock on the door.