A Clash of Magics Read online

  Book Five – Last of the Series

  By

  Guy Antibes

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Author’s Note

  Map of Boxster’s World

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Desolation Boxster Characters

  Excerpt from Chapter One of The Mud Elf

  A Bit About Guy

  Books by Guy Antibes

  Copyright Page

  A Clash of Magics Copyright ©2021 Guy Antibes. All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without the permission of the author.

  ~

  This is a work of fiction. There are no real locations used in the book; the people, settings, and specific places are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblances to actual persons, locations, or places are purely coincidental.

  Published by CasiePress LLC in Salt Lake City, UT, March 2021.

  www.casiepress.com

  Cover Design: www.ebooklaunch.com

  Book Design: Kenneth Cassell

  Editing: Amy Hoffman

  Principal Reader: Bev Cassell

  ~

  Author’s Note

  ~

  The end of a series is always a bittersweet event. I say goodbye to characters that have lived with me for a year or so, but I get to greet a new set having a different set of adventures. Desolation Boxster was a bit of a departure for me. I tried some things that worked and some that didn’t. The world was an interesting one in this series and I am sad it is disappearing into my archives after this volume. Enjoy the climax of the Desolation Boxster series.

  — Guy Antibes

  Map of Boxster’s World

  Chapter One

  ~

  D es Boxster walked into the bank where he had encountered Lord Summer, the late regent of Listenwell, one of the notable domains in Brachia.

  “You have finished the accounting?” Jacob Stoolage, the original regent of Listenwell, said to a bank clerk as Des looked on, looking purposefully stern.

  The man gave Jacob an answer and Des had to keep from making a sound. Summer was a rich man, who had left no heirs, and since the account was in the name of the domain, the money was Des’s. His father, King Henry of Presidon, often had not much more sitting in the royal treasury.

  “Is any of this money rightfully King Worto’s?” Des asked.

  Jacob looked shocked as he turned to Des. “A good portion of it is.”

  “Then send what is rightfully King Worto’s taxes—and not one bit more—along with a note disclosing what happened in Listenwell. If you were party to this theft, blame it all on Summer commanding you. Am I clear?” Des said.

  “I am. Not quite half will be sent to Bassington.”

  “Document it,” Des said.

  “It will be,” the banker said, his face shining from perspiration.

  “I will send Brother Yvan to retrieve a small portion to fund our travels.”

  “Travels?” the banker asked.

  “I have unfinished business in Ginster and will be leaving very soon,” Des said, turning on his heel and walking out of the bank.

  Jacob had to hustle to catch up to him. “Why pay the money to King Worto? Everyone keeps back something.”

  Des stopped, breathing heavily. “I had no idea Summer stole so much from the domain,” Des said. “It was all I could do to keep from gasping when I heard the amount. There are other banks that received portions of the funds that were stolen from me in Bassington. Those will stay where they are; I don’t have the time to search them out. I want to show King Worto that I am not an enemy.” Des said it, but he knew he spoke falsely. Worto was an enemy, and he had sent assassins to kill Desolation Boxster, but Des wanted to maintain Listenwell for himself, so he had to respect King Worto as the ruler of Brachia regardless of the man’s ambitions.

  They walked over to the ruin of the Lucky Duck inn. Des found the owner and his wife rummaging through the wreckage.

  “I will pay you to rebuild your inn,” Des said. “It was only because of me that it burned down.”

  Both of them bowed to Des. “You needn’t do that.”

  “But need and want are different. I want to help. I only ask that you put up any friends of mine for free. Will that work for both of us?” Des said.

  “We will be partners, then,” the owner said. “Half for you and half for us. We will do more business if we are approved by the new duke.”

  “Then fifty-fifty,” Des said. He turned to Jacob. “Can you have our solicitor draw up a contract?”

  Jacob nodded.

  They strolled to the ducal residence with Des stopping to chat for a moment or two with random citizens that he encountered. He recalled reading in his scouting journal about sizing up a town that the army might invade or use as a billeting site. A good scout talked to the common people so a workable strategy could be developed by the officers. Des knew he was doing the same thing in Parkintown. If he had the time, he would have toured the domain, but that wasn’t going to happen until the Dryden’s messenger business was over.

  Once inside, Des wandered around the residence, observing servants cleaning the neglected personal apartment of the duke, which comprised the opposite wing from where Summer had lived. His meanderings ended when a servant found him.

  “Time for dinner,” the woman said.

  “If you would show me the way,” Des said. If he were truthful with the woman, he would have admitted he was lost, but he had fun looking around all by himself.

  He walked into the large dining room, fit for three times the people that he had invited. Keith and Cora were talking to Mara and Mark, Mara’s husband. Brother Yvan and Reena were in deep conversation with Jacob Stoolage and his daughter. Lissa was bending the ear of the local Dryden bishop.

  “I was told that dinner was ready,” Des said to everyone.

  It felt odd to sit at the head of the table, but Des managed to endure the minor discomfort. He started the dinner by having Jacob relate how they spent the afternoon out in the city. Everyone gasped when Jacob said how much Summer had sequestered at the bank.

  “And that is only part of it,” Brother Yvan said.

  Des formally thanked Mara for her vital assistance.

  “I knew the singer that you killed. He was the best at the institute and Summer had him summoned the moment he knew you were back,” Mara said.

  “No surprises, after all,” Des said. “All the more reason to thank you.”

  “You more than paid me back,” Mara said, taking Mark’s hand and kissing it.

  Des smiled, finally casting off the awkward feeling he had harbored when he first deli
vered Mara to the village. The rest of dinner was a recounting of Des’s adventures in Jarkan up to the point that he met Reena in Derwizul.

  After dinner, Des cornered Keith. “I am going to make you regent of Listenwell, if you are willing to move from the village. It isn’t Underville, but I want everything to be legal. Jacob has agreed to be an assistant. He did a wonderful job for me in the past few days.”

  “Are you sure? I know you hinted about having a job for me, but I betrayed you. I don’t deserve to be regent.”

  Des waved away the comment. “A forced betrayal. Just promise it won’t happen again. Warn me first.”

  Keith laughed at Des’s comment.

  “Live in Summer’s side of the residence,” Des said. “I don’t know how long until I return, but keep an eye open for a suitable house that I can buy for you.”

  “You trust me that much?” Keith asked.

  “You know how I deal with regents who don’t work in my best interests?”

  Keith grinned and nodded. “Indeed I do.”

  “Jacob knows the details of the domain, but you were trained to run a duchy. Stoolage can help you remember what you forgot,” Des said.

  “I won’t disappoint you.”

  Des clapped him on his shoulder. “I don’t expect you will.”

  ~

  Des Boxster stared at the mirror in the recently cleaned bedroom in the ducal residence in Parkintown. He shook his head and shut his eyes tightly before opening them. It was the second day after he had taken over from Summer’s regency.

  “You are no longer Desolation Boxster or Des Boxster,” he said to the image in front of him. “You are Trevor Arcwin, no longer a prince of Presidon, but Trevor Arcwin, Duke of Listenwell. Of all things, you are now a Brachian!”

  He laughed at himself and put on his court clothes. He needed a few more dressy things large enough to hide his ancient cuirass, but that was something to do when he returned. He’d wear his oversized tunics for now.

  Trevor walked downstairs and had to have a servant show him to the small dining room. His residence was larger than the royal family quarters in Tarviston castle. Trevor was glad as he looked around him that Summer had had the good sense to use the other wing of the residence reserved for visiting nobles. He knew Keith would use only one of the apartments.

  “Late as usual,” Brother Yvan said, “but you aren’t the only one.”

  “You are early, and I’m not always the last one down,” Trevor said. He didn’t expect to get any respect for his new office from his mentor. Trevor had never treated Brother Yvan like a seer but more like a young uncle.

  Trevor was about ready to dive into his breakfast when Keith Garman exploded through the door.

  “Trouble at the constabulary,” Keith said. “The constables are barricading the doors and demanding to speak with you.”

  “I fired them all yesterday,” Trevor said.

  “But they don’t act like they accepted the firing. You need to come.”

  Trevor looked down at his breakfast and sighed before stuffing as much as he could in his mouth.

  “I’ll be right along. I don’t like looking like a chipmunk in public,” Brother Yvan said, shooing Trevor out the door with Keith.

  The constabulary was only a city block away from the residence, and by the time Trevor arrived, a crowd had gathered. Jacob Stoolage was holding up his hands, trying to bring calm to the situation.

  “I think you’ll have to cool the citizens down a bit,” Jacob said as Trevor joined him. “If you don’t, the constables can cause a lot more damage than Summer did when everyone was pummeling him to death.”

  Trevor had hoped he could spend a few hours in his residence before starting his journey to Ginster to find out more about the messenger thing the head seer had talked about.

  Trevor parted the crowd and stood to the side of the doors. He had his sword in his hand and waved it overhead. “If there is any violence, I’ll be the one to deal with it,” Trevor said, succeeding in getting the crowd to take a few steps back.

  After raising his sword, Trevor pounded on the door with the pommel. “This is your duke. Open up, and let’s talk.”

  “We won’t talk or leave until you give up your title,” a frightened voice came from within the constabulary.

  “And who would become duke? Summer is dead after you failed to protect him,” Trevor said with a smile. That failure had to have hurt them a little.

  “The chief constable,” the same voice said. “He should be the duke.”

  “The one who put so many of the people in stocks for complaining about the regent?” Trevor asked.

  There was a pause inside.

  “You are a bunch of cowards. If you don’t want to talk, I’ll let the people burn the constabulary down,” Trevor said.

  “You wouldn’t dare.” This was the chief constable’s voice.

  “Let me in. I’ll come in alone and talk. We might be able to work something out,” Trevor said, adjusting the cuirass underneath his coat.

  The door opened a sliver. The people made a move to advance. Trevor pointed his sword at them. “I made an honest offer. Let me stay honest, will you?” he said to the crowd.

  Trevor slipped through and looked at a circle of swords pointed at him. He smiled with a confidence he didn’t feel. “Is this any way to start a negotiation?” Trevor asked.

  “You are the one who talked about negotiating. We didn’t agree to anything.”

  Trevor frowned at the chief constable. “Of course you didn’t. That is where negotiations generally start. My starting position is that all of you will die by my hand or by theirs.” Trevor jerked his head out toward the crowd outside. “What is yours?”

  “We can kill you right now.”

  Trevor shrugged. “If you want to commit suicide, I can’t blame you. There are alternatives, though.”

  “What alternatives?” one of the constables asked. A few of the other men nodded their heads, giving Trevor a bit of hope that he hadn’t made a big mistake by not letting the people of Parkintown burn down the building before he walked in.

  “If I fire you from your positions, I’ll give you a severance to help you settle elsewhere. There is always King Worto’s army,” Trevor said. “You can enlist.”

  “Not me,” another constable said, this one older with gray hair.

  “Not what? Severance or military service?”

  The man winced as his sword lowered. “King Worto’s army would be a death sentence for someone my age. They would stick me on the front line with a pike in my hand and let the enemy’s magicians flame me. That is how it is done—the youngest and the oldest.”

  “If you don’t want to die, then it is severance. I’ll give you three months’ pay, but if I do, I want you out of Listenwell.”

  “I’ve got a family here,” one of the other guards said. Another sword lowered.

  “Then it looks like we have a negotiation going on, regardless of what the chief constable said.”

  Two more swords dipped. “I want to stay in Parkintown,” another guard said.

  Trevor thought about what the people would accept. “Four weeks in jail, three months’ severance, and you’ll be prohibited from being rehired as a constable unless approved by the duke or his regent. You will have to sit in a jail cell for a while to satisfy those outside.”

  The constables began to look at one another. Some had hopeful looks, but none seemed as grim as the chief constable.

  “None of this is acceptable for me. I am in a different position than the men. What can you possibly offer me?”

  “Nothing more, but nothing less,” Trevor said. “You have a higher wage, so your severance payment will be higher.”

  The chief constable’s face turned red. “Put me out and then have me assassinated?” The man said with a sneer on his face. His sword remained pointed at Trevor.

  “Then, for you, it will be a challenge, I guess. Defeat me, and you can burn in the building o
r accept my offer. I’m done with the negotiating,” Trevor said.

  The chief constable advanced on Trevor. “Let’s kill him, men.”

  Most of the constables backed away, shaking their heads. “No. I think it’s a fair offer, looking at the alternative outside,” the older constable said.

  The constabulary leader pointed a palm at Trevor and bathed him in flames.

  “That’s not going to work,” the constable with a family said. “He is immune to magic. Give it up.”

  “No! Attack!”

  The same constable pointed his sword at Trevor and then quickly turned and ran the chief constable through. The man looked hopefully at Trevor. “I killed him defending you. Can we reduce the jail time a week?”

  Trevor wanted to laugh, but he maintained a grim visage. “I will. Where is the jail?”

  “In the basement,” one of the other constables said as all the men put down their weapons.

  Trevor looked at the body of the chief constable. He was killed by one of his men, just like the regent was slain by his subjects.

  “I’ll have the people outside take care of the body. Lock yourselves up in the cells. Take some food with you if you can find any. Quickly!”

  The men all saluted Trevor. Trevor poked his head out the door. “Working out some details!” He said to the crowd.

  He followed the men downstairs and let the constables find empty cells, carrying more supplies than Trevor expected. They gave the keys to Trevor, who locked them in.

  “I’ll formalize this with a magistrate,” Trevor said before hopping up the stairs and exiting the building.

  The crowd seemed astonished when Trevor appeared.

  “I honestly didn’t think you would walk out alive,” Jacob said.

  “There was a tense moment or two” Trevor said. “I’ve locked up the constables, but the chief constable resisted and needs a proper funeral.”

  “I’ll take care of that,” Jacob said.

  “And I’ll help.” Keith nodded at Jacob and then at Trevor.

  “I need you to find some people to fill the constable jobs. Go on inside and talk to the former constables. The prisoners need to be monitored and fed. The constables have agreed to step down from their jobs, especially their leader. They expressed a desire to maintain their residence in Parkintown, which I granted along with a suitable severance. They will need some rehabilitation from being under the direction of the two real criminals. The men are under my protection for a while, so treat them kindly.”