Phate

by Jason Alan

  Phate: The Cosmic Fairytale © 2017 by Jason Alan. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Jason Alan, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. XVIII

  Printed in USA Third Edition First Printing

  ISBN-10: 1977978185

  ISBN-13: 978-1977978189

  Cover and interior art © 2016 by Chris Andruskiewicz

  Author photograph © Jason Alan

  Digital book(s) (epub and mobi) produced by Booknook.biz.

  For being a light when all else was dark, for remaining steadfast in the belief that I was truly creating something extraordinary, for the undying support throughout all these years, this story is lovingly dedicated to my Mother,

  Florene M. Welebny,

  The real Morning’s Hope.

  Thanks Mom, for everything.

  CONTENTS

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  PROLOGUE: ALIEN ARRIVAL

  1 THE THREAT OF DARKNESS RETURNS

  2 SPIRIT AND STRENGTH

  3 AN ANGEL’S EMBRACE

  4 BLACK HOES

  5 ENEMIES REVEALED

  6 THE SON AND SAVIOR OF THE STARS

  7 THE WALL RESURRECTED

  8 UPON THE FACE OF PHATE

  9 EXAMINING EVIL

  10 ALL THINGS CONSIDERED

  11 DISTANT VOICES CRY

  12 WARLOOVE UNLEASHED

  13 MORNING’S HOPE

  14 A COSMIC ARRIVAL

  15 SPECTERS OF A FORGOTTEN SKY

  16 MARCH OF A MILLION DEAD

  17 THE MYRIAD FEATURES OF PHATE

  18 THE DARK EYES OF THE ENEMY

  19 OCEANS OF ECHOING DARKNESS

  20 THE CENTURION AND THE STARS

  21 BATTLEGROUND OF BONES

  22 FORWARD WITH FATE

  23 AGAINST THE FALL OF NIGHT

  24 THE BLOOD OF ANOTHER DIMENSION

  25 ONE LIFE, ONE SWORD ONE SOUL

  26 FACE THE SUN

  27 SLOWLY, PURPOSEFULLY FORWARD

  28 BEFORE THE END

  29 THE DOOM OF PHATE

  EPILOGUE: ALIEN AWAITING

  GLOSSARY

  Ever since I was very young, I’ve been completely enchanted by the whole range of science fiction and fantasy entertainment. I love everything about imagined universes: the landscapes and distant worlds, the creatures, magics and technologies. I love the stories, the triumphs and tragedies that are indisputably human, no matter how outlandish the setting or races involved.

  Losing oneself in a created universe can be a wonderful distraction from the everyday grind. For someone like me, these stories are a gift as much as they’re an escape. The fantasy genre has afforded me a place to dream and peruse what might be, what could be, and perhaps what one day will be. It’s given me a place to stretch my imagination and craft my own stories. It reminds me of simpler times, when inspiration was deeply intertwined with hope, and nothing seemed impossible. I’ve always believed that the universe is best beheld through the awestruck eyes of a child, and a part of my heart will ever belong to the stars...

  What you hold is a pure expression, a youthful indulgence in creativity. I set out not to follow in any footsteps, but to blaze a trail of my own. I learned as many rules as I could, but my heart followed few of them. Phate wasn’t written so much as it was transcribed, for it has long existed in my mind’s eye.

  Sincerely, it all but wrote itself.

  They say an author should strive to write the book they’d want to read. Well, I did that, but I also transcribed the movie I’d want to see. As much as I’ve been influenced by countless books, I’ve been enthralled by fantastic cinema. As much as I hope you enjoy reading Phate, I hope you see it, as I do in my dreams.

  It’s about time we visited Phate’s universe, wouldn’t you say? Ah, allow me to indulge in one more thing before we go, and give thanks where credit is due…

  I’d like to give a big thank you to the very talented Chris Andruskiewicz of Sparrow Graphics in Fort Myers, Florida. Chris is responsible for all the artistic embellishments within. She created a book design that far exceeded my expectations, and perfectly captured the spirit of the story.

  And I can’t express enough gratitude to Jason R. Jones, author of The Last Pantheon series. His determination and talent re-inspired me just when I felt my loneliest as a writer, and our collaborations have been a joy.

  Through all the ups and downs of life, one thing has remained constant—the loyalty and integrity of my friends. I’ve been incredibly fortunate to be surrounded by so many wonderful people. In a fashion, every one of you is in this book. And if this tale brings any amount of enjoyment, escape, inspiration, or comfort to a single one of you, then my life has been a meaningful one.

  May the light of hope shine upon you all, may you take a few extra moments to look with wonder at the stars, and may dragons and starships ever fly in your dreams…

  He fell from the stars, a streak of brilliant white fire blasting through the atmosphere and crashing into Corpsewood, my forest dwelling at the bottom of a long-dead volcano. The thundering impact detonated the ground, the explosion blackening trees whose bark was already grey with decay. I was infuriated. No one dares enter my domain unbidden! I swept up to him, my apparitional form swirling like a cyclone, my glowing yellow eyes piercing through it, brightening with disdain. Despite my delight in torturing, I was in no mood to toy with this interloper. Sorcerous songs slipped from my lips, igniting my claws with black fire that was eager to incinerate yet another victim.

  But when I came upon him, my fury faded, for he was barely alive.

  His skin was burned and smoking like the wreckage of the metal dragon that was strewn in twisted ruin about him. I stayed my sorcery, extinguished my fire. My curiosity was aroused. He was unlike any being I had ever seen, and he bore wounds that are difficult to describe. He was…slivered. Entire sections of his limbs were missing. One of his hands had no wrist affixing it to the forearm, but nevertheless, the palm held in place, the fingers clenching with pain I can only imagine would have been excruciating had he been conscious.

  And then I saw the tantalizing glimmer of shining green fluid trickle from his lacerated skin…

  Blood!

  Alien blood, I realized. I had never tasted the blood of an alien and, oh, I was so thirsty! I extended my fangs with euphoric anticipation and knelt over his helpless little grey form to drink.

  But before my thirst was sated, I was suddenly compelled to turn away. For even in his seemingly helpless state, the alien exuded a strange aura that stirred a long dormant fear within me. I held my place, though, resisted the urge to flee. I had not felt fear in hundreds of years, and I was transfixed, mesmerized, much in the same way I mesmerize my own victims, I would guess.

  I wondered—what was this being?

  From what sort of world had he come?

  As fascinated as I was frightened, I swirled into solidity, pushed my fear aside and picked him up, reminding myself that this was, after all, my domain.

  I carried him into Castle Krypt, my home amongst the dead trees. There, in its deepest dungeon, I laid him on a slab of stone, my gaze a slave to the blood that stained him. It was so enticing; I knew I could not resist tasting it! Trembling like a mischievous child, I flicked my forked tongue across his wounds until every drop was gone. It was delectable, savagely sweet…

  I could have let him die, you know, could have drunk his body dry, but I did not. Despite my insatiable thirst, I abstained. I felt a warning inside, an instinct to let him live. It was strange; it was as if some part of me was more afraid of what would happen to me if he died. So, I used what little skill I have in healing to keep him alive.

 
Ah, what can I say! I am impulsive, prone to whimsy, wherever it leads, and on that night, I fancied leaving him alive.

  The alien remained unconscious for weeks, months, perhaps; I do not remember, it was so long ago. But, oh, I remember the night he awoke! Indeed, I will never forget the first time I looked into his eyes. Those eyes. They were soulless, empty of emotion, and yet deep within them flowed visions that henceforth haunted my every slumber. In his eyes I saw my own demise, my form consumed in flames; I could actually hear my screams echoing through the night as I flailed and fell into an exploding star… Oh, the visions I saw in his eyes!

  Never before had I looked into a soul more wicked than mine.

  For a time, he remained silent, just staring at me through the misty veil of sorcerous vapors wafting through the chamber. I sensed he could have killed me then, with only his mind had he wished. Instead I was merely startled as his otherworldly words sounded in my head. Though it was a language I had never heard, I somehow understood it. Thus, he had displayed yet another facet of his power, and I knew my decision to mend his wounds had been wise. Thereafter I learned of his story…which, as I realized, had already merged into mine.

  I was to be his servant, you see, for in him I saw my salvation.

  He calls himself Darkis. It is not his real name, but he said for me, for Phate, it would suffice. He was the son of a Supreme Galactic Emperor, a being who ruled over billions of worlds. Yes, billions. His home planet of Tyranticuss housed cities large enough to cover the entire surface of most other worlds, cities whose light illuminated the planet as if it were itself a star.

  He told me of his youth, when he would accompany his father in overseeing his galactic empire. It was then that he learned of the natural wonders and beauties of the universe: cosmic dungeons orbiting black holes the size of galaxies; war-ridden worlds floundering in the wake of his father’s colossal destroyers; godlike beings of ghostly mist swimming in oceans of starlight…

  Oh, how I desperately want to see these things for myself!

  When he matured, my master succeeded his father as Supreme Galactic Emperor and set out on a new campaign to conquer the galaxy’s most fearsome enemy—the Draxiah Meeh. But when Darkis was far from Tyranticuss, traitors loyal to the Draxiah Meeh launched a surprise attack on his home world and destroyed it.

  His father was killed.

  Swearing vengeance, Darkis led a massive armada against his enemies, and the largest battle in the history of the universe commenced. To this day I have difficulty imagining the scale of the confrontations that took place. By the time it ended, thousands of solar systems had been blown into stardust, one hundred trillion beings were dead, and Darkis’ own centurion guards had betrayed and captured him. There was no trial, only a passing of sentence. He was tortured to the brink of death, then cast onto this doomed world of Phate to die.

  That is when I saw him fall from the sky.

  And here we are now, my master and me. He hates it here, oh, how he does hate it! He yearns to return to the stars, to take revenge upon his enemies, to reclaim rule over his galaxy!

  But he is afraid.

  Without his world’s resources, he is weak, vulnerable…mortal. Oftentimes, I catch him stealing fearful glances at the stars, for he knows his enemies are out there, watching, waiting for him. This both chills and excites me, and when I howl to the midnight sky, I wonder if they can hear me….

  I asked Darkis why his enemies do not attack, and he said it is because they do not need to. A great war is coming, a war so terrible, its first moments could annihilate all life on Phate before it goes on to end all time. Indeed, the battle I earlier described would pale in comparison to what lies ahead. Even this fledgling earthling scribe Jason Alan cannot foresee the immensity of the conflict for control over all eternity!

  And there is another concern that disturbs me far more than any war. Our ancient sun burns red, for it is weak, weary, and soon to die. When it perishes, it will spew its searing gases across all the solar system, thus immersing Phate in cosmic fire. I tremble to even ponder this. Being consumed in the fiery death throes of an exploded star is a far worse destiny than I can dream up in my most heinous nightmares!

  Well, that is not exactly true, is it?

  As you know, I have had these nightmares ever since I looked into my master’s eyes.

  Ah, however, things are not as hopeless as they seem.

  Darkis can save us. He can deliver us from this doomed exile, carry us into the far reaches of space, deep into the perpetual night! Remember the metal dragon I spoke about? In actuality, it is not a dragon at all. It is a starship, a marvelous creation constructed from alien sorceries. Darkis repaired it after many long years of working in the bowels of my castle. It is functional, alive … but not quite ready to carry us forth into the void.

  One thing remains.

  Energy.

  It needs immeasurable amounts of energy.

  Space is so vast, Darkis tells me, it is beyond my comprehension to understand the distances we must travel. He says it would take the greatest of dragons one million lifetimes to reach even the closest star.

  The stars are so bright, I have difficulty imagining they are so far away.

  This is where my part in the Cosmic Fairytale begins, for my master has commanded me to retrieve the one thing on Phate that contains the energy we need to propel our starship across the cosmos. It is… Ah, I shall not tell you what it is! It must be kept secret. But be patient, for you will learn of it in the chapters to come. And consider yourself warned, for you will also learn of murder and demonic dragons and wicked necromancers taken from other times. You will bear witness to my sorcerous wrath, and journey into the depths of the darkest suns.

  There is much to tell.

  At last, our time has come.

  At last, after long years of suffering, my master and I will leave this cursed world behind. I cannot wait! When I recall the small, savory sips I stole from Darkis, I feel an intense desire to drink from the throat of an alien species. Do you not see? Phate is nothing to me, nothing but a cold, lifeless rock all but depleted of fresh blood, a world many thousands of years past its prime. For too long have I done nothing but dream of the eternal dark. For too long have the glittering stars of distant galaxies taunted my waking eyes!

  Ah, I am to be forgiven. Sometimes my emotions carry me away. For now, I have only one more thing to say.

  When you turn the page, this scribe, this Jason Alan will try to lead you astray, try to tell you that this is someone else’s story.

  It is a lie.

  This story is mine alone!

  I am the Vampiric Lord of the Dark Elves, the servant of a Supreme Galactic Emperor who commands my loyalty, and a sorcerer of immense power. I am a dreamer, a cosmic adventurer-in-waiting who gazes with new understanding at the stars. I am these things, and so much more.

  I am Warloove.

  And whatever world you live on, in whatever time, you would do well to stay out of the shadows of the night. For when my master and I escape, I will be free in time and in space. Be wary. Those eyes you sometimes see gazing at you from the dark? Those eyes might be mine, and I am very thirsty…

  Loyalty: above all. Be true to those who are true to you, and you will be victorious.

  Drakana

  Lord of the Spirit Dragons

  In the far distant future, in the darkest region of the universe, a forsaken galaxy of dying stars plunged into a massive cluster of black holes. It was a catastrophe the likes of which the galaxy had never seen. Planets and moons were crushed as their suns sank into the black holes like bodies into a bog. Some stars exploded under the strain. Supernovae bloodied the face of space, and the lights of a trillion precious lives dimmed before the apathetic eyes of eternity.

  Oh, and this was only the beginning!

  Beyond the event horizons an even greater tragedy awaited. Alas, as long foretold, as long feared, Nenockra Rool, the Devil King of the Dark Forever, was ret
urning to conquer the universe and enslave all creation within an everlasting age of torment.

  The galaxy lay on the threshold of doom.

  With the coming of Nenockra Rool, more suns were swallowed, more worlds were destroyed, and the black holes swelled as if with joy. The Gods were gone, you see; they had supposedly abandoned the universe to darkness. Thus, the gates to the Seven Glories were closed, and the dead had no angels to welcome them. Souls floundered between the planes of existence. For those still alive, hope was fading with the stars.

  It was a perilous time, indeed.

  But all was not lost.

  Not yet…

  Hidden in the murky fringes of the galaxy’s longest arm was the sorcerously constructed world of Phate. It was a barren, battered world. A thousand years before, war with the Dark Forever had laid everything waste. Entire civilizations had been wiped out, the empires of men reduced to dust. The dwarves, minotaur, and myriad mystical races had all but disappeared. Of the elven nations, only the most decadent retained some measure of prosperity. Although the world still overflowed with sorcery, what fantastical beauty that sorcery had created was virtually gone. It was a terrible shame, really, hundreds of thousands of years of glorious history lost, crumbled and burned beneath the scorching foot of demonic war. Yes, a terrible shame indeed to see those once beautiful and teeming lands crammed with corpses, the once splendid skies haunted and filled with empty kingdoms.

  Now Phate’s splendor existed only in the bygone dreams of its greater dragons.

  Ah, but not all about Phate was so grim and, as I said, all was not lost, for upon this world resided the universe’s brightest hope, the one who was destined to defeat Nenockra Rool and ensure the supremacy of light for all time.

  I speak of the Son and Savior of the Stars.

  In essence, this is his story….

  It all began on Phate’s surface, on the western edge of the Continent Isle of Volcar. There, the Cliffs of Moaning Wishes thrust out of the roiling waters of the Raging Sea in mile high slabs of sparkling obsidian. Massive and mighty were the waves that perpetually pounded these cliffs, but ever had the cliffs endured with indomitability. They were loyal guardians, these obsidian walls; for ages untold they had protected the subterranean dark elf realm of Kroon from the mood swings of the sea.