Page 1 of Poisoned Kingdom (Secrets of Dagome #1)

Roksana

I ’d drawn the sigil correctly. The diagram looked exactly the same as the textbook, but the shimmering aether I’d been weaving between my fingers fizzled out without warning.

The incomplete spell sent the distillery apparatus ringing, and my frustration emerged as a curse that would make a dwarf’s ears curl.

‘Whoever wrote this drivel, you’ve cost me a month’s wages, you blabbing moron!

’ I slammed the book closed with such force that a few pages fluttered free.

Angry tears stained my cheeks. I was risking so much by casting spells in the dwarven kingdom, but if there was even a slight chance I wouldn’t have to see another patient die, it was worth it.

Fire spells are supposed to be easy, so why won’t any of them work? How can I move on to healing if I can’t even light a fire?

The sigil’s glow fluctuated gently before dimming, my outburst making no difference. My second sight faded as I relaxed, the life-giving aether disappearing into the background while I wished the bitter taste of a failure would vanish just as easily.

Magic was my last resort for saving the injured dwarves, but nothing worked. With each failed spell, the ambition to teach myself how to weave aether became more of a ridiculous joke. Worse, I had no idea what I was doing wrong.

At least no one’s here to witness my crime , I thought, wiping sweat from my brow, hoping Perun, the god of thunder, would bless this evening with rain.

Looking up, I could see that the sun hung low over the horizon.

Its rays penetrated the high, stained glass window, burning my skin.

The crude stone walls of my infirmary’s office warded off most of the heat, but not enough to feel fully comfortable.

Summer was always stifling in the dwarven kingdom, but this year, the blistering heat was relentless, and the drought affected even the tall oaks outside.

I shifted my chair away from the patch of light and rubbed my neck, stretching until the tired muscles eased and the knots in my shoulders loosened.

‘Why don’t you just go home and rest? You can’t help anyone if you work yourself to death.’

Tova’s voice made me jump, and, swallowing an embarrassing yelp, I forced a smile as I turned to greet my friend.

‘I’m fine. It’s hot in here, that’s all,’ I said, ignoring his raised eyebrow. The dwarf studied me closely whilst balancing some haphazardly stacked medical equipment on a metal tray in one hand and holding two tankards in the other.

‘Of course you are. So, should I ignore what the maids have told me about how many hours you’ve been working?

Or that I almost tripped over the tray of food they swore had been left for you first thing this morning?

’ Tova sighed, shaking his head, but didn’t stop scolding me.

‘Sana, for fuck’s sake, you’re human; your body can’t go days without food like a dwarf’s.

’ He placed his hands on his hips, glaring at me through narrowed eyes.

‘They had to call me at work to check on you because I’m the only one who can open this bloody door. ’

I looked down, attempting to appear contrite.

Nature hadn’t gifted Tova Orenson with the features necessary for a serious argument, and I struggled to look chastened as he frowned.

Despite being five years older than me, his pale blue eyes and wavy strawberry-blond hair gave him an innocent and gentle look, no matter what emotion he meant to convey.

His full lips were permanently pursed into a sensual pout that his long, dense beard did nothing to cover up, which didn’t help the cause.

He looked, as his late mother used to say, striking.

I smirked, thinking of another who had also made it his life’s mission to scold and feed me.

If Irsha were here, these two would have a blast berating me together.

The memories of my childhood friend, bittersweet as they were, filled me with homesickness, even though I knew I had burned that bridge when I left Truso five years ago.

‘I’m sorry they bothered you. I just . .

. I acquired some new books and wanted to see if they were useful.

’ I couldn’t tell him about my magic. The fear of being discovered didn’t go away simply because I’d found a safe place to live .

. . Well, it had been safe. Recently, the king had decreed that all magic and mages were to be banished from the kingdom.

I sighed. ‘Why does the king need so much srebrec, Tova? How much magical ore does M?ot need to feel safe?’

The haunted look in my friend’s eyes instantly made me regret my outburst. Both of his parents had perished mining the srebrec ore, and even after several years, his wounded heart was still raw.

‘I don’t know, Sana. I don’t understand him anymore,’ he said quietly, adding to my guilt.

‘I didn’t mean to . . . It’s just . . . we’re running out of time.

The cave-in was a catastrophe. Add in the aether flux caused by that much unstable metal, and there aren’t enough hours in the day to treat this many injured.

This shit is never-ending; even the bloody weather is affected,’ I answered, walking towards him and taking a tankard from his hand.

‘Mead?’ When he nodded, I tipped it back, emptying it in a few long gulps.

An insistent knock startled me, and Tova answered while I bent over, choking on my drink.

‘My lady, another soul is in the final stages,’ said the woman.

My heart sank, but I couldn’t let whoever it was suffer to spare myself the heartache. I grabbed a vial from my desk and headed for the exit while Tova silently followed. The short distance between my office and the infirmary felt endless, each of my steps a dull thud echoing off the stone walls.

How many times have I walked through this corridor with death in my hands? I thought, promising myself that tomorrow I would try harder, maybe with a different spell. Something had to work. Fate couldn’t be so cruel as to give me the ability to see aether without the means to use it.

The nurse led me to a cot that was surrounded by a privacy screen near the end of the large infirmary.

The dwarf lying there was another victim of M?ot’s obsession with srebrec.

I gently took his hand, uncaring of the pus leaking from his dead, grey skin or the stench that, after these long months, no longer turned my stomach.

‘You know what I’ve come to offer you,’ I said softly when his fingers twitched.

‘Please, my lady. Death is better than rotting alive . . . please end the pain . . .’ His voice was weak, but the dwarf’s eyes were focused intently on my face.

I helped my patient to sit up and put the vial to his lips, wishing I could drag M?ot here. The bastard deserved to see the mangled flesh of his people, to look them in the eyes and tell them it was worth it.

Not that I had any hopes of him feeling a shred of guilt.

As soon as the poison touched the dying dwarf’s lips, the miner sighed, a smile ghosting his features for the first time. His eyes glossed over, affected by the extract of nivale root, while he reached for me, calling me a name I didn’t recognise.

‘His wife. She died a few months back, but we never retrieved the body,’ Tova said from my side, and I let the man feel a touch of happiness before he died in my arms, just like the many before him.

I hummed my mother’s lullaby, easing him past the Veil with a song about a world of talking trees where cruelty and greed had not yet tainted nature.

I felt the heaviness of his body when death took him.

Strange how what’s left behind always weighs more when there is no soul to lighten its steps. Have a peaceful journey, my friend. May Veles welcome you to a better place.

Closing his eyes, I slowly lowered the body on the cot, finally free of suffering.

‘Take care of his remains,’ I said as I walked to a side room to wash my hands and change into clean clothes.

Alone in private, I pressed my head to the cold stone sink and let my tears fall, taking a moment to compose myself.

‘I gave him peace. His death is not my fault,’ I whispered, repeating it over and over again until his face faded into the crowd of those that had died by my hands. Only then was I ready to rejoin Tova.

When we returned to my office, I noticed it’d been cleaned.

The maids had used my absence to neatly stack the books on the shelves, while loose paperwork had been piled up on the desk, ready to be read.

I grabbed the second tankard Tova had brought and finished it without taking my lips from the edge.

‘You don’t have to hide your tears from me,’ Tova said, gently stroking my back. ‘The king wasn’t like this before the war. That is, he was always short-tempered, but he allowed mages to help his men, and the gods as my witnesses, you need that help.’

‘Tova Orenson, you want me to believe there was a time our noble M?ot wasn’t a paranoid twat waffle who believed evil mages weren’t out to get him? How na?ve do you think I am?’ Bitter laughter escaped my lips, but Tova didn’t join in.

‘You don’t know what war’s like, Sana. It changes you,’ he said quietly.

The Battle of the Rift, the bloodiest conflict of the Second Necromancer’s War, was fought five years ago, just as I had left my old life in Truso to settle here.

I’d only ever heard the rumours of the blood and gore that covered the battlefield when a conduit mage had levelled the mountains to kill our immortal enemy. I couldn’t imagine what that was like.