Dying with Angst Read online

  Dying with Angst

  David J. Pedersen

  Prelude

  18 years ago

  Angst ran fingers through his thick, dark hair in a final attempt to tame it. He should’ve made time earlier in the week for a haircut. Not that it would’ve helped; his hair grew like weeds in spring and probably would’ve grown back overnight. He longed for thinner hair that would be easier to manage, but that was as likely as gaining weight.

  “Are you done primping yet, pretty boy?” Hector asked in his gravelly voice. “Just remember, the only one you have to impress tonight is me. And so far, I’m not impressed.”

  “I’ll be impressed if my pants stay on,” Angst said, pulling them up for the hundredth time. “I thought your training would bulk me up. At this point, I’ll never gain weight.”

  “The way you flirt,” Dallow said with a cautious smile, “I’m surprised you bother wearing any.”

  “Heh,” Hector replied, coolly.

  Angst flashed Dallow a broad grin, even as his friend retreated from the conversation. While grateful that both men had agreed to accompany him, he was wary about the evening since they didn’t exactly get along. They couldn’t have been more different. Dallow was a tall, lanky bookworm, who practically lived for his job at the library. His long blond hair, tanned skin, and intelligent gaze caught the eye of many women, but he ignored them all as he was already married. Between his job and wife, Dallow seemed happily stuck in his life like a bug in amber. Angst wouldn’t have described him as boring, exactly. At least not to his face.

  Hector was a soldier-for-hire, and widely recognized as one of the best. His efficiently cropped dark hair and piercing blue-gray eyes were practically wolf-like as they took in everything, always. A wincingly fresh scar stretched along his jaw from ear to chin. His friend was the definition of intense, and knew it.

  “Still happy you came to the capital?” Hector asked.

  “Best decision I’ve made yet,” Angst said.

  The largest city in Unsel was always alive, except for maybe a brisk nap between 3 am and 5. Twenty-two was the perfect age to live here, and his first two weeks had already been an adventure. The food was amazing, the booze even better, and there were so many beautiful women that it always felt like his birthday. Thanks to his friends, Angst had landed a job filing papers at the castle. It was entry level, but an opportunity for greater things. Yeah, Unsel was the best, and it could only get better. Starting tonight.

  “Whatever you do, please don’t embarrass me, Angst,” Hector said. “The king and queen will be here, along with Commander Tyrell. You should save drinking for after the party…”

  Hector continued talking about something, and Angst politely nodded after every pause as he took in the crowd. His ears were buzzing, but not from his mentor droning on about expectations. The king and queen had thrown this party in honor of the castle staff, and he was overwhelmed by the extravagance. So many important people had shown up, from dukes to knights to everyone in charge. Not only was this his chance to make an impression on royalty, but maybe even meet young Queen Isabelle. He grabbed another goblet of mead from a passing tray, earning a frown from both the servant and Hector.

  “Good advice,” Dallow said, interrupting his thoughts. “I’d like to keep my library job. I’ve only had it for a short while, and it’s everything I’ve ever wanted. Have I told you how many books they have on—”

  “No,” Hector said, holding up a hand. “And I don’t care.”

  “Did you ask Tyrell if he would duel me in a training match?” Angst asked, quickly taking a sip before Hector could snatch the drink away. “I hear he’s the best.”

  “I’m the best,” Hector corrected, his thick brows furrowed. “He said he’ll consider it. Tyrell only trains with commissioned soldiers, but I asked, as a favor.”

  “Did you tell him I plan to be a knight?” Angst asked.

  “I may have mentioned that,” Hector said with a thin-lipped smile.

  “A knighthood’s unlikely,” Dallow said. Pressing his hands together, he tapped two fingers to his chin. “It’s been a long time since wielders have been knighted, and longer since we’ve been allowed to wield openly. I’m sorry, but the chance of that happening—”

  “Is great,” Angst said. “Once I pick up that beautiful sword.”

  Hector and Dallow’s mocking laughter didn’t dissuade his hope or his hunger.

  “Angst,” Hector said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You realize it’s a hazing ritual, right? That thing’s a statue, not a real sword.”

  “I dunno,” Angst said, approaching the monument. “It looks real to me.”

  The centerpiece of the courtyard featured a gigantic broadsword resting horizontally on a low marble stand. The blade of the sword was five feet long and two feet wide. It was thick in the center, featuring a riser instead of a fuller. The handle was so thin compared to the bulk of the thing, it looked like it could snap off.

  It was rumored that whoever actually lifted the sword would be knighted. Wouldn’t it be nice if something in life was that easy? He reached for the monument, his ears still buzzing with…something. Anticipation? Magic? Before his hand touched the sword, Dallow grasped his sleeve and drew it back.

  “You can’t pick up a statue,” Dallow said, rolling his eyes. “And even if you could, do you really think they would award you a knighthood for wielding a giant sword?”

  “They’d better,” Angst said, his tone serious. “You forget, I can move the earth when I try hard enough. If I focus, maybe I can use magic to pick that thing up.”

  “We can’t wield magic here,” Dallow whispered, looking about nervously.

  “And you can’t control it,” Hector said, his words clipped. “Do you want to create another earthquake, here, with royalty present? The guards will line up to take turns gutting you.”

  “Hey, hey, hey,” Angst said soothingly, holding out both hands until they calmed. “I’ve got this.”

  Their shoulders dropped, and his friends looked at each other in despair. A pretty waitress with dark skin and a beautiful smile swayed up with a tray of goblets.

  “Hi, Angst,” she said airily. “Sweet wine?”

  “Right now, you’re my favorite person,” he said with a smile, placing his empty goblet on the tray and taking a fresh one. “Thanks, Nally.”

  “Just one more,” Hector said, sternly.

  He winked at the young woman before taking a deep draw, warmth and relaxation spreading through his body. “Another one more would be better.”

  Nally giggled.

  “If it means you won’t do anything,” Hector waggled his fingers to indicate magic, “she can bring you five.”

  “That’s a good start,” Angst said.

  “Let me know if you need anything else,” Nally said, her voice sultry as she sauntered off.

  “Oh, I will,” Angst said under his breath.

  Hector coughed, interrupting his leering gaze. “Here comes the royal party. Be sure to bow when they pass.”

  “I know what to do,” Angst said. “You’re worse than my dad.”

  King Riann, Queen Isabelle, and their new baby, Princess Victoria, passed by with all the flair and pomp you’d expect from royalty—expensive, shiny clothes, long, flowing robes, and an indifferent nonchalance that made Angst cringe to his bones. They walked slowly, making his bow last longer than his patience, so he glanced up. Queen Isabelle was hawked closely by Commander Tyrell, but Angst still caught her gaze. She blushed. Did he see the barest of smiles in her eyes? It was hard to tell with all that makeup, but she looked familiar. Tyrell gently pulled her along.

  “Really?” Hector asked, his whisper practically a growl.

  “It fe
els like we’ve met,” Angst said, not quite able to place her.

  “Probably,” Hector said. “You’ve spoken to every woman in Unsel.”

  “I have not,” Angst said, mocking offense. “At least, not yet.”

  “We should sit,” Dallow said anxiously. “They’ll be serving dinner soon.”

  “Hey, my buddy Wilfred’s waving us over,” Angst said, already moving through the crowd.

  “That know-it-all?” Hector asked with a grunt. “He makes up half the crap he says.”

  “He’s not that bad,” Angst said dismissively. “I’d trust what he makes up over other people’s truths any day.”

  They joined Wilfred at a nearby table. His chubby friend looked at the three analytically, sizing them up, even as he licked appetizers from his fingers. Wilfred was so intelligent he was someone to know, even when he knew it all.

  Angst’s meager lunch had consisted of a bacon sandwich that still tasted like burnt grease hours later. This dinner came in courses, each with generous helpings of delicious food he’d never experienced. Sweetmeats, boiled vegetables, and delicate cakes that were too small. Even better was the sweet wine, which Nally delivered with her own flirting. Her winks and smiles only made his warm buzz that much better.

  Entertainers performed between courses; jugglers and singers and dancers and other distractions that made him wait too long. Angst worried that his opportunity to wield the giant sword, his giant sword, was going to be forgotten. Finally, finally, the king stood and raised a goblet. “To the knight fortunate enough to wield the great sword that has decorated our lawn for all history.”

  Until now, Angst thought as he stood, wobbling.

  “Please,” Hector whispered, gripping his sleeve. “No magic.”

  “I couldn’t if I wanted to, probably,” Angst said with a wink.

  Hector didn’t look comforted.

  “Every new employee, and everyone wanting to try again, line up to give it your best,” King Riann encouraged with a reserved grin.

  Angst waved off Hector and Dallow’s further concerns about wielding magic before weaving into the line of hopefuls and dreamers. He was slow enough to be last, which made him nervous. What if someone picked up the sword before he had his chance? What if someone else became a knight when he knew it should be him?

  It took for-ev-er. The line felt like it was getting longer or moving backward. Men and women, both young and old, took time with their lottery attempt. Some were comical, playing to the crowd. One woman spat on her hands, squared her shoulders, and pulled until something popped loud enough to make everyone wince. A burly man took a running start in an attempt to topple it over. His landing looked painful. The result was always the same. Frustrated grunting followed by another round of laughter from the crowd. They’d given up, all of them, except Angst.

  He stood alone, the rest of the contenders gone, and he was very aware of all the eyes on him. Princess Victoria let out a baby yelp that caught his attention. Isabelle coddled the child and, with some assistance from Tyrell, stood to leave. He took that moment to rub his hands together and focus his concentration.

  Angst did his best impersonation of sober and waited for the sword to come back in focus. The weapon was obnoxiously large, but that wasn’t the reason he hesitated. He’d wanted to be a knight, a hero, ever since he could remember. Angst had always wanted to help people, to make it better. Maybe, just maybe, this was his chance. This wasn’t just for him; this was for everyone.

  “Come on,” a nearby soldier grumbled. “Get to it before the queen passes through.”

  “Right,” Angst said. He took a deep breath and drew in the tiniest bit of magic before placing his hands on the hilt. It really wasn’t that much.

  There was an audible click as the sword seemed to wiggle in his hand. He gasped as his senses were bombarded. A flash of heat, a rush of wind, the coolness of water, and the cold strength of stone all coursed through him with an overwhelming sense of power. This wasn’t what he’d expected at all. His hands were frozen to the hilt, and the only way to be free was to pick the sword up. His vision dimmed as though a storm had suddenly appeared over the courtyard. On the verge of lifting the sword, Angst heard a malevolent voice, “And so it begins.”

  Victoria’s crying snapped him out of the moment. Queen Isabelle and Commander Tyrell were standing right beside him. They paused long enough for Isabelle to hold the baby against her shoulder. Victoria burped out a smile as she looked at Angst with beautiful green eyes—eyes that flashed white for the briefest moment.

  Angst stepped back, releasing the sword in surprise. “Uh,” he said, holding up a finger.

  “Mind your own business,” Tyrell whispered, gripping his hand firmly and forcing it down. “Do you understand, Angst?”

  “Yes,” he said, his mouth suddenly dry.

  “Now go sit with your friends,” he said coolly.

  “But, the sword,” Angst said, staring at his hands. They itched and tingled. His heart was pounding in his ears, and he felt dizzy. Whatever had happened was the most frightening experience of his life. Was it magic, or something else? If it was magic, picking the sword up wouldn’t make him a knight, it would make him a prisoner, or a dead man. He didn’t want anything to do with it, which meant he would have to become a knight the hard way. He took a deep breath and braved asking, “So, about that sparring match?”

  “Fine,” Tyrell said with a sigh.

  “Thanks,” Angst said, patting the commander roughly on the shoulder. He waved at the king, who nodded back.

  “And we go another year without a new knight,” the king said to cheers and laughter.

  Angst bowed with a flourish before slowly making his way back to the table. Walking away from the monument felt worse than leaving a puppy behind at a pet store. Despite the temptation, that sword may be more trouble than it was worth. That rush of elements had felt like an oncoming storm…or maybe just too much booze. The moment had passed too quickly and was already like trying to remember a dream. He collapsed in his seat with a deep sigh.

  “Are you all right?” Hector asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve gone pale. I told you not to drink too much.”

  “You…you guys didn’t feel it?” he asked. “The rush of heat, and cold water?”

  “I felt uncomfortable at you eying the queen again,” Hector said with a grunt.

  “What about that voice?” Angst asked with a shiver. “Just as I was going to lift the sword, it said, ‘And so it begins.’”

  Dallow, Hector, and Wilfred all looked at each other before losing themselves to laughter.

  “I love your jokes,” Wilfred finally said, wiping his eyes.

  “I’ve never seen someone try so hard,” Dallow said, gasping for breath. “You were up there for ten minutes, maybe more. You should be grateful our king is so patient.”

  “Ten minutes?” Angst asked in disbelief.

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out with the sword, Angst,” Hector said, with a knowing smile. “But, like the bookworm said, it takes more than that to be a knight.”

  “I’ve always wondered why that sword is here,” Dallow said, tapping his chin with steepled fingers. “It looks like it has a greater purpose than being a statue.”

  “Until someone picks it up,” Hector said, “I guess we’ll never know its potential.”

  “I wish it had worked for me. Knighthood, lands, gold, and admiration from everyone,” Wilfred said with a sigh. “I wonder if anyone’s ever lifted it?”

  “No way,” Hector said. “What kind of person would give up all that.”

  “An idiot,” Angst said, sinking into his seat. “A complete and total idiot.”

  Chapter 1

  Unsel—now

  Angst was distraught. He had the patience of a tea kettle already boiling over. After months of friends telling him to “move on” or that his idea was “not possible,” he’d decided there was really no other choice.

  The two s
oldiers guarding the dungeon entrance came to attention on his approach. They glanced at each other nervously.

  “You…you shouldn’t be in here,” the first guard said as he shakily drew his sword. “Her Highness, Princess Victoria, said not to let anyone through.”

  “I’m not just anyone, though. Am I, Richard?” Angst asked, taking a step forward.

  “It’s Dick, Mr. Angst,” the guard said, his eyes dancing between the two enormous swords hovering over Angst’s back.

  “Richard,” Angst said, with a gentle smile. “Let’s make this easy. Why don’t you just let me in? I’ll be brief, and nobody will know.”

  “You know who’s down there,” the other soldier said. “She’s dangerous.”

  “So am I, when I have to be,” Angst said, casually brushing a spot on his dusky vambrace. “Why don’t you just run for help?”

  “We swore on our lives to keep everyone away from her,” Richard said.

  “On your lives?” Angst asked. “Gentlemen, my life is already lost. I have no reason to stand down, and there’s no force on Ehrde that will keep me out. Put down the swords before you get hurt.”

  Both guards slowly lowered their swords.

  “Run,” Angst said, drawing in enough power to make his eyes flash red.

  They looked at each other, their faces pale, and they ran.

  Angst sighed with relief. Scaring was so much better than killing, but their speedy departure meant a quick return with more guards. His optimistic goal was to get a few questions answered then leave without having to brawl his way out of the dungeon. Optimism had been poor company of late, and realism made his stomach churn.

  Having never been in the Unsel dungeon, he hadn’t known what to plan for and admonished himself for not borrowing keys from the fleeing guards. Tori wouldn’t be happy when he broke her castle, again. Well, he’d just have to fix it and apologize later. After so many years of being married to Heather, he’d gotten pretty good at apologizing.

  Angst’s ability to wield had always been about controlling minerals. He’d originally thought it was limited to moving and forming rocks, convenient for creating underground bookshelves. Since bonding with his two foci, Chryslaenor and Dulgirgraut, he’d learned so much more. He could now do almost anything imaginable with minerals. Stone, steel, even bones were malleable and movable. But that wasn’t all. Over the last year, the swords had also taught him something about controlling water, air, and even fire. He was reluctant to wield fire after what had happened to his family, after what had happened to Faeoris. Fortunately, this was about minerals.