Ember: Echoes of Ashes - Book 1

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Ember: Echoes of Ashes - Book 1 Page 1

by Jessica Schmidt




  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Copyright 2018 J. E. Schmidt

  Echoes of Ashes: Ember – Book One

  By J. E. Schmidt

  ISBN-13: 978-0692985434

  ISBN-10: 0692985433

  LCCN: 2017917896

  All Rights Reserved

  Published by Owl Griffin Press

  Illustrator: Holly Hillman

  Cover Artist: Jennifer Munswami

  Rogena Mitchell-Jones, Literary Editor

  RMJ Manuscript Service LLC

  www.rogenamitchell.com

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author or publisher constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use the material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, are coincidental.

  For My Mom

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Coming Soon

  Leave a Review

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Shields may break, crossbows snap, swords rust in their sheath.

  Fear not, young pup, if this doth pass, you’ll always have your teeth.

  —Stanza from a canid lullaby

  Look at him! Look at his ears! Such demonic features; tempting our women, soiling our society with vicious mockery! No longer! He shall taint us no longer! For it is the will of the Goddess that we must eliminate this evil from the eyes of our children and our elders!

  —Naviar Soloth, priest of Lisia,

  Crucifixion of the Elves, 524 P.A.

  Fear is not something that holds us back. I dare say it is the greatest motivator of them all.

  —King Hadvark, Rokswing, 1015 P.A.

  Prologue

  Lightning forked across the sky, electric tendrils grasping at clouds and spreading like embers over a fire. Its flash in the night illuminated the forest below… if only for a moment, casting stark shadows on the faces of the bloodhungry canidae stalking through the woods. They had been hunting for days, relentless in the pursuit of their prey. Their leader, a gray canid called Karkos, lifted his nose and inhaled deeply, nostrils fanning and absorbing the scents in the air.

  Canidae are the anthropomorphic wolf people of the Far Land, coming in all varieties of colors and breeds. These canidae, however, were quite unusual. They were bloodhungry, having consumed the flesh of another sentient creature, and thus were corrupted, preferring the blood of that race of creature to all else. This made them excellent bounty hunters and often cold-blooded killers. And, though bloodhungry hardly ever worked together, these canidae were for a specific purpose. A mission—one they must not fail.

  The rain was delaying their progress, muting the scents around them. It was making it even more difficult to track the elf girl, and Karkos’s small pack was getting frustrated. He could hear them muttering and whispering behind him as they walked, clearly disgruntled with hunting this late at night and in the rain. Their pelts were dripping, their armor soaked, and they smelled vividly of wet dog.

  “Quiet,” Karkos growled, baring his teeth slightly and angling his head to look at them. They fell silent as he eyed them. His ruby irises glinted as lightning flashed once more. “We are too close to give up now. It could be another month before we find her again, like last time. I don’t think any of us want that.” His gaze never wavered, settling on them each in turn. After a moment, he turned forward again, gesturing. “Fan out. I thought I smelled her directly ahead.”

  They spread out in a wide formation, combing through the woods with their noses in the air. Thunder cracked right above them, the earth under their feet vibrating from the sound. Several canidae had already drawn their swords, as they were more fearful than the others were. On high alert, their ears perked up and swiveled to capture the quietest of sounds, even through the pounding rain. These nervous canidae were the oldest recruits, having tracked the elf girl from the very beginning. They had seen what she could do, and they would not be caught off guard.

  Their search dragged on through the night as the girl’s scent fluctuated from strong to weak every few minutes. They appeared to be making little progress. It seemed hopeless once again, and they began to worry they would have to start from scratch to find her. The rain was relentless, each droplet that struck them lowering their morale.

  Suddenly, a glimmer of hope. “Here!” howled one of the canidae far to the left. The others howled in response, blood pumping through their veins in anticipation of the hunt to come. They turned to close in on their comrade’s location, sprinting through the mud. Lightning flashed again, and thunder, like cannon fire, sounded soon after.

  Without warning, right in front of them, a new light flashed. Several of the experienced bloodhungry stopped in their tracks, whining in fear, for they already knew what had happened.

  “You cowards!” snarled Karkos, in the lead, continuing his pursuit. He came to a small clearing, though it was not natural. The trees blasted away by something powerful, their trunks smoking and cracked. Those closest to the center of the blast were nearly disintegrated—and lying on the forest floor at the apex of the blast site was a canid.

  Karkos came to a stop when he reached the scene, feeling grim. The other canidae came out of the woods, in turn, each coming to a halt when they realized what had happened. After a moment, Karkos approached the body of his pack member, kneeling beside him and pulling his eyes shut with his clawed fingers. One of the bloodhungry behind him howled as the others soon joined into a mournful chorus. The eerie sound could be heard for miles, and even the clap of thunder could not silence them.

  “At least he fed one last time,” lamented Karkos, noting the blood around the dead canid’s muzzle. His bloodhungry instinct tempted him to lick the blood from the dead body, but he resisted, keeping his composure regardless of how intoxicating the elf blood smelled. He turned, instead, to his fearful pack members, who looked to him for inspiration, though fear filled their red eyes.

  “We are closer than ever before!” Karkos barked. “Our fallen comrade was able to weaken our prey before taking his last breath. He tasted her flesh!” The tails of the other canidae began to wag, several of them opening their jaws to pant with anticipation, drool collecting at the corners of the
ir mouths. “Know this: once we catch her, we will be rewarded with more elves than we can possibly eat!” His tone fell dark as he looked each of them in their scarlet eyes in turn. “But we must remember, should we fail, our fates will be worse than death.”

  He turned around toward her scent, which was now much stronger than before. He pointed toward the treeline with his sword. “Now go! Find her!” he howled. The others howled back in return, and they took off into the woods, renewed resolve consuming their every breath.

  Chapter 1

  In a wooded land of old, a bustling river town lay dotted within the trees. This crossroads was the permanent home of few, but the temporary lodging of many. Those permanent residents were nearly all of the race of mortal creatures called felidae, who built the town centuries ago to reap the location’s potential for trade—for this town of Ulandyl was positioned very deliberately at the meeting place of not only two large rivers but two main roads as well.

  The felidae, or cat folk, known to be both clever and quiet, often deal with money and trade, and with their sly tongues, they are often able to secure the most fruitful bargains. A handsome species, they come in many colors and breeds. Their tails vary in length, their ears and muzzles as well, and altogether, simply appearing to be bipedal cats, but with the ability to spin the smoothest of tales and tell the most convincing, wicked lies.

  They are the people of Ulandyl, making their living off the travelers, be it through trade and barter or thievery and deception. Nevertheless, Ulandyl was filled with kind people who always had a story to tell and a job to offer, and this was one of the reasons Laderic often found himself passing through, and even staying perhaps a day or so longer than necessary.

  On one particular day, seated in a small, local tavern, he picked up on some information that would change his life forever.

  Bang! Through the old tavern door burst a pair of worn-out men, whispering amongst themselves. The rain tapped on the wooden roof as the swollen river had risen more than a few feet, thundering on its course without delay. The two men were sopping wet, dripping from their coats, and wetting the dirty, wooden floor. It was several hours past midnight, and they caught Laderic’s attention. He sat alone, his own pint hardly touched. His eyes drifted over to them, but his face remained stoic.

  “I’m telling you, there were at least six of them,” said one of the men to his comrade. The felid barkeep angled his head toward the men, who were speaking as if they didn’t care who was listening. However, with most of the tavern’s residents already asleep at this hour, there were hardly any people around who might overhear.

  “I’m sure you were only seeing things,” scoffed the other, flipping off his hood. His hair was black and shaggy, and a thick mustache crowned his mouth. “Bloodhungry hardly ever travel in groups. Why, they hardly travel in pairs!”

  The other man flipped his hood off, as well. His eyes were wide, fearful, his hair lighter in color with a clean-shaven face. “I am telling you what I saw,” he said, quieter this time. “And these were working together, tracking something.”

  Laderic sat up a bit straighter at his table, lifting his pint and taking a drink. The two men seemed to notice him then, tilting their heads toward him, and pausing for a second. “What were they tracking?” Laderic asked nonchalantly, sounding bored and vaguely skeptical. He inspected his tankard closely as if it were bothering him.

  The man who appeared scared looked at his friend, and then back at Laderic. “I–I couldn’t see in the dark. It was raining, and I couldn’t see anything but someone running in a cloak. That was it,” he said.

  The other man shook his head again. “You’re just tired, Harlan. And it’s raining. It was probably just a couple of regular canidae, chasing a deer or something.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” countered Harlan. He wrung his hands. “I know a bloodhungry when I see one. Besides, canidae aren’t usually this close to Ulandyl unless they have to be.” He turned to look at Laderic. “You believe me, right?”

  An unconscious man at a nearby table snorted, shifting a bit in his drunken state. There was a long silence in the room except for the constant rapping of the rain.

  Laderic stared back at the man, pondering for a while before shaking his head. “Your friend is right,” he said. “It’s dark, raining, and late. You might have just got scared and seen things your mind fabricated in the darkness.”

  “No, I know what I saw!” He slammed his fist down on the table. “Just you wait. I’ll find someone who believes me.” With that, he stood, whirling around toward the stairs. His coat flared out behind him, flinging droplets of water onto the floor. He marched toward the felid barkeep, shoving a few coins into his paw, and heading up the stairs.

  The other man sighed, standing up, and glancing at Laderic. “Sorry about that. He isn’t very fond of the dark. Especially by himself.”

  “Who is?” remarked Laderic. “Especially in these times.”

  The man nodded. “Ay. The name is Yasser. My brother is Harlan. Sorry to have caused you any grief tonight.” That last part he addressed to both Laderic and the barkeep. He smiled grimly. “Enjoy your drink.” He turned, walking toward the stairs as he looked at the bartender. The cat man nodded, gesturing up for him to continue, for Harlan had paid enough for them both.

  Before he made it to the third step, Laderic made his decision. “Yasser,” he called. The man turned his head.

  “Yes?” he asked, hesitantly.

  “Where did your brother say he saw this pack of canidae?” Laderic asked curiously. He raised one of his arms above his head, stretching a bit to shake off his stiffness.

  “Only a few miles south of here, just below the river crossing, in the Weald. He said they were running through the woods when he saw them, just before he crossed the bridge.” He turned completely around, facing Laderic once more. “Why do you ask?”

  Laderic shrugged. “No reason. Just curious about which area I should think about avoiding the next few days.” He locked eyes with Yasser, unblinking. The man stared back, thinking.

  Finally, he shrugged. “I guess… if you put any stock into this story of his.” He turned back around and headed up the stairs. “You have a good night.”

  “You too…” muttered Laderic, too quiet for him to hear. He stared at his cup, turning it between his hands. He had hardly touched the alcohol inside. He wasn’t even quite sure why he had bought it, not being much of a drinker himself. More out of boredom, if anything, he supposed. What else is a mercenary to do on a jobless night?

  But now… it appeared as if he had received a stroke of luck with Harlan’s story. What better to do than rescue a poor soul from a pack of bloodhungry canidae? In exchange, of course, for a reward.

  He shivered at the thought of it, however. Canidae were not his favorite species to… well, take care of. Like felidae, canidae are animalistic-looking folk, with the most basic difference being they take after wolves instead of cats. Aside from that, the two are different in nearly every way. While felids are very tactful and good with their words, canidae prefer to fight first, ask questions later. Those Laderic had had dealings with were kind, yet blunt and loyal as ever. However, they were fierce warriors with nearly unlimited stamina and a pack mentality to their core.

  Combine that with being bloodhungry and… Laderic shuddered once more as he stood from his table. He had dealt with only a few bloodhungry in his day. One was canidae, and it was by far the nastiest to deal with, but even though it had been a canid, it had still traveled alone.

  Bloodhungry is the common term used for any canid or felid that had tasted the blood of one of the sentient creatures of the Far Land. By nature… once tasting the blood of another sentient being, they begin to prefer that blood to all else, going out of their way to murder the innocent to feed their hunger. They remain sentient themselves, though transformed into beasts with an uncontrollable urge to hunt and consume members of their chosen species—be it dwarves, humans, or even other canidae
and felidae.

  However beastly and inhumane their actions, their preference for a certain type of blood makes them excellent bounty hunters—if you don’t mind overlooking the innocent people that would be murdered by them in the process to sate their hunger. Some have no limits on what they would do to fulfill their personal desires, no matter the cost—regardless of who it is they have to hire to get the job done.

  Bloodhungry are outcasts, feared by society, and therefore, work and exist in solitude. Their peers shun even the ones who try to control their urges, the sight of their piercing red eyes being too much for most to bear. Laderic sighed as he reached toward the ground and grabbed his leather bag, slinging it over his shoulders on top of his coat.

  “Rismak,” Laderic said, addressing the barkeep. The russet colored felid swiveled his ears in his direction. “Do you happen to know if Midiga still lives in that same house, up a couple blocks near the market?”

  This task would require more than just himself, and if Laderic could trust anyone to back him up in Ulandyl, it was Midiga.

  Rismak padded over toward the corner of the bar where Laderic stood. “As far as I know, she still does,” he confirmed with a purr. “You aren’t actually going south of the river at this time of night, are you?” he asked, concerned. Rismak had known Laderic for many years, having grown quite fond of both him and his consistent business. “You aren’t a felid. You cannot see in the dark.”

  “Ah, Rismak, that is what torches are for,” said the mercenary with a grin as he started toward the door. “Keep the pay for my room tonight, in case I return alive.” He was joking, but the cat took him seriously.

  “Don’t do anything risky,” warned the felid ominously as Laderic opened the door.

  “It’s me. I’ll be fine,” he assured. He pulled his hood over his head and walked out into the rain.

  Chapter 2

 

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