Soul Forge Saga Box Set

by Richard Stephens

  The Grimward nodded its acknowledgement.

  The tension in the cavern was palpable given the Grimward’s adversity to the wellspring and the presence of the Kraidic warriors. The sensible thing to do would be to kill the two men right then, but he couldn’t bring himself to murder them. He had shouted at Melody to commit that very act earlier, but reflecting upon it now, he would’ve been disappointed if she had. Even appreciating the Kraidic reputation for treachery, as these two had quite plainly demonstrated, killing them now didn’t sit well with him.

  “I fear my actions have compromised this sacred place,” Silurian mumbled, the memory threatening to overwhelm him with guilt.

  The Grimward rasped. “We are all responsible for the deaths of the well’s guardians. Fear not, I will bring in another from the sea in good time.”

  Silurian shook his head. “You don’t understand. I felt Helleden’s presence. He is aware of the earth blood fount. That knowledge cannot end well.”

  A throaty growl escaped the Grimward. Its eye flames crackled at the mention of Helleden. “I must go,” it said, and turned about.

  Without further explanation, the scraggly remains of the Grimward wavered toward the exit tunnel. It dipped between the passage’s rough ceiling and the rising water and was gone.

  Silurian stared at the last spot the Grimward had occupied. He felt the eyes of Tygra and Keen upon him. Stepping away from the ledge he looked each man in the eye and pointed up the ledge with his sword. “Move it.”

  To Madrigail Bay

  Two days out of The Forke, a small band of seven crested the first major foothill leading into the Spine. They paused to take one last look at the blackened land they were leaving behind.

  While they had battled in the Chamber of the Wise, the entire region around the Chamber’s city had been torn asunder, scorched to the earth by another of Helleden’s firestorms. Luckily for those cowering beneath the ground, they were not affected, but reports filtered in over the next several days that the land south of the Undying Wall had not escaped this time.

  By the time Alhena and Rook decided it was time to leave for Madrigail Bay to gather the coastal forces, they still hadn’t heard from Apexceal—the southern port city governed by the late Vice Chambermaster Solomon Io’s brother. They feared the worst.

  With the deaths of Chambermaster Uzziah and the Enervator, Jibrael Fox, the surviving members of the Chamber of the Wise had come out from whatever spell they had been under.

  Alhena suspected Barong had been at the root of their uncharacteristic behaviour. Thinking back, he recalled a similar misgiving that first day he and Silurian had set foot onto Redfire Path together, deep within the Nordic Wood, many weeks ago. He remembered feeling something untoward in the air, but had attributed it to Silurian’s rumoured ability to channel magic without the aid of his sword. As Wizard of the North for the last century and a half, Alhena had been privy to knowledge no other living being possessed—at least no one calling Zephyr home.

  The latest scouting reports had Helleden’s demonic army and the Kraidic host pulling up stakes in Carillon and preparing to march. It hadn’t taken much convincing to get the people of Gritian to agree that they needed to flee southward. They were led by Vice Chambermistress Arzachel Gruss, who, with the deaths of Abraham and Solomon, had assumed the role of chambermaster. She was contrite about the role she had unwittingly played in the debacle.

  Alhena had asked everyone to call him by his adopted name. He claimed Phazarus was a name from a different lifetime and preferred it stay there. He leaned on his staff now, subtly shaking his head at the tragedy that had befallen the once great kingdom. That had befallen such a peaceful people. That had taken such a beautiful person as King Malcolm Alexander Svelte from them.

  The group of seven had made a quick stop in Songsbirth to inform the elders about the current state of affairs. Not even Songsbirth had been spared the wrath of the recent firestorm, but with most of the people living beneath the mountain, their lives had been spared.

  Alhena beseeched Master Pul to evacuate his people, but the stubborn curmudgeon respectfully refused. Pul did, however, agree to send a contingent of troops south as soon as their council came to an agreement on how many they were willing to part with.

  Leaving Songsbirth and the Muse behind, the group followed the Millsford Road west. At the blasted bridge crossing the Madrigail, Sadyra had elicited the first real smiles from the beleaguered group as she related the account of a naked Olmar carrying an embarrassed Alhena across the river on his shoulders. She hyped up and exaggerated the retelling so much that Alhena wanted to give her a blast from his staff.

  With heavy hearts, they turned their backs on the land and started along the mountain track, the final leg to Madrigail Bay. Olmar followed Rook who had retrieved Avarick’s black crossbow from the lifeless hands of Solomon Io. Alhena and Larina also walked up ahead. Olmar looked sadly down at the orange furred Yarstaff, held in his loving embrace.

  Larina stopped to wait for him. “Are you planning to breastfeed him?”

  Olmar ignored her and tromped down the hill after the others.

  To the best of their knowledge, Yarstaff had been placed under the same spell Alhena had suffered, but it had affected him much more deeply than the wizard. A Gritian healer, obviously not versed on Voil, had done her best to clear him of any physical damage Barong’s spell may have caused, but she couldn’t offer much guidance to any psychological trauma Yarstaff may have suffered. The healer assured them he would live, but further than that, she could only shrug.

  Sadyra remained upon the hilltop as the others walked away, not quite ready to say good-bye to the heartland she had grown up in. A single tear tried to force its way from her sad eyes. She rolled her trembling bottom lip between her teeth. She had to be tougher than this.

  The sun shone at her back, on the verge of losing its grip on the land as it settled behind the Spine.

  A hand clamped lovingly upon her shoulder. Looking up, she was grateful for the stoic face of her good friend Pollard. The giant smiled and followed her gaze toward where The Forke used to stand.

  A chill wind swept up the path at their backs. Sadyra shivered, but it wasn’t caused by the breeze.

  Pollard must have felt it because he pulled her in close, ignoring the jabbing of the weapons strapped across her back. A crossbow, bow, and the corresponding quivers appeared much too heavy for someone her size to carry.

  “Come on, Sadie. There’s nothing left for us here.”

  Sadyra sniffed, despite her resolution to be brave. “Do you think they’ll be okay?”

  Pollard didn’t respond at first. When he did, his voice was full of hope. “Songsbirth? Aye. Master Pul will keep them safe until we can return.”

  Pollard gently turned her around. The others were disappearing around a bend far below, the path following the mighty Madrigail River as it cut its way westward.

  Sadyra didn’t trust her voice wouldn’t crack if she spoke. She pursed her lips and looked up, grateful for her dear friend as they tromped down the far side of the hill. If she wasn’t mistaken, a tear rolled off the big man’s cheek as well. She hugged him closer as they walked, leaning her head into his ribs.

  The Grimward drifted back across the channel. He had carried the four mortals from the shore on Serpent’s Nest across the water so that they might continue their trek southwestward in search of Helleden Misenthorpe.

  He didn’t trust the motivations of the Kraidic warriors, but when the daughter of Mase Mintaka insisted that they not be harmed, what was a simple spirit to do?

  Returning to Serpent’s Nest Island, Thunor spun the remains of his broken frame around and watched until they disappeared over a far hill. He shook his skull. Mortals!

  He had almost laughed in their face when Melody explained that she had thought they were safe to enter Serpent’s Nest because of the tides. Pfft! Wyrms weren’t fish. Sure, they preferred being underwater, but they were fully cap
able of surviving out of it. The tides hadn’t stopped them from entering and exiting their nest—hadn’t the mortals seen them climb? The tides simply allowed them to herd their meals into the tunnel leading to the earth blood fount.

  The fire in his eyes sputtered, threatening to extinguish itself for good. The second wyrm had effectively killed him as far as his existence in this world was concerned. Being creatures of the earth blood, his fight with the wyrm had instigated the beginning of his end. It was just a matter of time now.

  The yawning hole below the stone archway beckoned to him. If Helleden Misenthorpe were to harness the earth blood, nothing would stand in his way. As the original Wizard of the North, it was incumbent upon Thunor not to allow that to happen.

  His tattered shell of broken bones slipped into the tunnel, the passage slowly filling with the evening tide.

  The Grimward didn’t hesitate as he entered the cavern—to do so would be to die without accomplishing his ultimate goal. Five centuries of existence, both physical and spiritual, had left him jaded against the machinations of mankind.

  As he rose above the wyrms’ carcasses he felt a sense of remorse. The poor creatures hadn’t asked for this.

  The well spring came into view, the viscous liquid bubbling and sputtering violently, attuned to his presence. Fast as an arrow flight, Thunor Carmichael directed what remained of himself into the fount.

  The island shook in protest. Large waves raced away from Serpent’s Nest Island to crash into the far shore, as the eastern end of the island fell in upon itself and disappeared beneath the waves.

  Silurian made sure the two Kraidic warriors walked several paces ahead of them. They weren’t really prisoners, but he didn’t trust them. If he and Melody didn’t devise a plan, and soon, the Kraidics’ presence would become a problem when it came time to bed down for the night. There was nothing to be done about it, as far as his sister was concerned. Yes, they had attacked her in the serpent’s nest, but in the end, they had brought her around and equipped her with her staff.

  There was something odd about the red-bearded man. Something more to him than just a simple warrior, but Silurian couldn’t put a name to his concern. Not yet.

  They had been walking for a while, following the sun westward toward northern Zephyr, leaving the Lake of the Lost far behind.

  The Grimward had met them outside the serpent’s tunnel in the middle of the night, after the tide had withdrawn. The spectre had kept watch for them as they retired for the remainder of the night around Silurian and Melody’s previous campfire atop the hill.

  Thunor Carmichael had even caught rabbits for them to eat in the morning. Silurian smiled. For a ghoul, the Grimward wasn’t such a bad sort.

  “What’s so funny?” Melody’s voice startled him.

  “Huh? Oh, nothing.” He realized he’d been smiling.

  “Just happy, are you? Traipsing across southern Kraidic, or the northern Forbidden Swamp, or the western Wilds, or wherever the heck we are.”

  “Ya, pretty much.”

  His sister frowned at him, her staff clumping along rhythmically with every second step.

  “What?” He laughed.

  Tygra and Keen looked over their shoulder to see what was so funny, but Silurian replaced his smile with a hard glare. They looked away.

  Grinning again, he shoved Melody in the shoulder, sending her scrambling sideways, her staff flailing about.

  “What did you go and do that for?” she asked, indignant.

  “No reason, really. Just because I can.”

  “You’re in a good mood.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m alive. You’re alive. What else could I want? My sword has been rejuvenated, and we’re on our way to pay Helleden a visit. Life is great.”

  At the mention of the sorcerer’s name, the Kraidics cast a glance backward again.

  “What are you looking at? Haven’t you ever seen anyone happy before?” Silurian snapped.

  Tygra and Keen shook their heads and turned away.

  Silurian reached out. Melody flinched, but his hand was quicker. He grabbed a fold of her black cloak and pulled her into a two-armed hug even as they walked, causing her to stumble. She forced her hands in between them and pushed herself away.

  “You’ve lost it.”

  “Nah,” he said and drew her in close again, this time with only one arm around her shoulder. “My soul is glad, is all. Thank you for finding it for me, oh wonderful and mighty Wizard of the North.”

  The End

  Into the Madness

  Into the Madness by Richard H. Stephens

  https://www.richardhstephens.com/

  © 2019 Richard H. Stephens

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact: richardhstephens1@gmail.com

  Cover Art by Marco Pennacchietti

  Interior Art by Ian Bristow

  ASIN: B07L8JWQTK

  Acknowledgements

  Of the three books in the Soul Forge Saga, Into the Madness was the easiest to write but it came full of surprises as the characters took the storyline to places I never dreamed of. Even half way through, I was shocked by a certain development that significantly impacted how the story ended. I will leave it at that. Enjoy.

  Being an independently published author, I find myself wearing many different hats—ones that don’t necessarily fit. As such, I am eternally grateful for the incredible, behind the scenes support I receive from my beta readers. Without their selfless commitment to my vision, this series might never have seen the light of day. Thank you doesn’t seem adequate enough to express my sincere appreciation to: Joshua Stephens, Matthew Lane, Paul Stephens, and of course, my rock, Caroline Davidson.

  As always, I thank my editor, Michelle Dunbar, whose professionalism, delivered with a personal touch, is greatly appreciated. http://michelledunbar.co.uk/

  Finally, I cannot give enough credit to my two amazing artists whose talents bring my characters to life. Marco Pennacchietti outdid himself with another amazing cover, while Ian Bristow excelled at enhancing the interior with two incredible illustrations. Someday, I would love to have a picture for every chapter, but for now, that is just a fantasy.

  You can view their websites at:

  M. Pennacchietti: https://www.artstation.com/deimos23390

  I. Bristow: http://iancbristow.com/

  Into the Madness is dedicated to everyone who has enjoyed the Soul Forge Saga so far. If you’re reading this, then you’re the one I’m talking about. Thank you for believing in me. Let’s enjoy the rest of the journey together.

  Contents

  Retribution

  Homecoming

  Solomon’s Brother

  Mase’s Legacy

  Assassins

  Up the Slither

  Into the Cleft

  Wendglow’s Warning

  Denizens of the Dark

  Olmar’s Tale

  Leviathan

  Runology

  The Gimcrack

  The Gulch

  The Bowels of the Beast

  Eccentric Enemies

  Pact with a Lunatic

  Strange Alliance

  Alhena’s Accord

  Up the Chute

  Staggering Revelation

  Kraken’s Surprise

  Haunting

  Flight of a Hero

  The Summoning Stone

  Battle of the Gorge

  Unlikely Allies

  Dangling Angels

  Wizard’s Spike

  Descending into Darkness

  The Ultimate Weapon

  Witch-Wizard

  Collapse

  Superhuman

  Gutted

  Into the Madness

  Inner Demon

  Obsidian Nightmare

  Coming Home

  Fiery Reckoning

  Forgotten Talisman

  Going D
own in Flames

  When the Axe Falls

  Even Heroes Must Die

  Soul Forged

  To view the maps in full colour, visit: www.richardhstephens.com

  Retribution

  Helleden surveyed the damage in the Chamber of the Wise. If not for the body of his beloved beast lying in a pool of blood, he might have been ecstatic.

  The king of Zephyr had been murdered here. That should have been enough to make the sorcerer happy but it didn’t. His troops couldn’t find any trace of Malcolm’s body.

  The disappearance of his demon wraith, Barong, also had him baffled. Barong and the Sentinel had been entrusted to deal with the Wizard of the North. They should have been more than a match for him, but so far, Helleden hadn’t found any indication the meddling wizard was dealt with. Perhaps those answers would make themselves clear once they searched the remainder of the complex.

  What troubled Helleden most was that two Wizards of the North had entered the fray. He knew about the incumbent wizard holed up within his aerie atop Dragon’s Tooth. That was fine as long as he remained there, but he hadn’t. As unsettling as that revelation had proven, the appearance of the second wizard disturbed him greatly. If this was indeed Phazarus, Helleden’s latest firestorm might not suffice in quashing further resistance.

  He cursed himself. How had he not detected Phazarus’ movements? Over a century had passed since the old wizard had retreated to his cave.

  The revelation of the earth blood fount tasted bittersweet as it came on the heels of the re-emergence of Silurian Mintaka. His archnemesis had survived the destruction of Iconoclast Spire and would be coming for him. Fortunately, the fool had unwittingly provided him with the earth blood’s location. If he, the greatest sorcerer to ever live, was able to harness its power, nothing would stand in his way. Not even Silurian.