“No,” she smiled and kissed his cheek. “It’s not so bad.”
TWENTY-FIVE
A Few Things
“Someday, our infinities will meet again.” - The Diaries of Nyset Camfield
Scab rattled at the gate and shouted between the bars of his cell. “Let me out! Someone help! Help!” He raised his grizzled chin to loose a desperate scream at the ceiling. It responded with a crack, issuing a cold stream of salt water over his face. “Damn you! Damn it all!” He pawed at his face, salt burning in his eyes.
He closed his hand in his hair and tugged on his scalp, then thrust it all back in a mix of grease, dust, and wet. The earth rumbled beneath his feet. He frowned at the floor, watching as dislodged cobbles vibrated in the glow of torchlight. The rumble became roaring thunder, growing ever closer.
Shadows shifted beyond his cell at the end of the long hallway. He ran to the bars, gripping them tight. “Hey! You there! Help…” His cry fell away when he saw the shadows glimmering with violet light. “Oh. Oh, no,” he whispered, eyes going wide as he staggered backwards. “They failed.”
Hundreds of Shadow snakes poured into the hallway, their slithers bouncing from the walls in a crushing echo. Hundreds became thousands, a roiling mass of darkness that filled the entirety of the cavity.
“No, no, no!” Scab screamed and wept hot tears, back pressed against the rearmost wall. His long fingernails clawed against the stones, one snapping. “Gods be damned! How did you fail, Arch Wizard? How!” he shrieked. “Make me anything but a fucking Shadow snake.”
I’ve longed for your return, a voice like burning leaves said in his head.
“What?” Scab stammered. “Get out!” He winced, pressing his palms against his eyes and waiting for the end. He remembered that voice. An icy wave crawled along his chest.
The debt must be paid. The flames await, Prodal whispered.
A bright light loomed at the corners of his vision. He opened his eyes to find a portal of shimmering flames hovering in his cell. “Well… shit.”
Brenna traced her hand through Salma’s dark hair, her nose pressed under the crook of Brenna’s neck. Salma gave a pleased moan, pressing herself against her lover, their legs intertwining. Brenna drew the bedsheets up a bit higher to ward off the morning chill. A spear of dawn light rose in their cottage window.
“I’m glad you’re here now,” Brenna whispered, regarding the new day with a smile. Upon her desk lay her clawed gauntlets, coated in a thin layer of dust that would invariably thicken.
“Me too,” Salma breathed against her neck. “I had no idea the Shadow Realm could be so beautiful.”
Brenna grinned and placed a kiss on Salma’s cheek.
Zekes sat on the floor in the center of Prodal’s vast chamber between two pillars ornamented with emerald sheets. Flickers of light flashed in the Master’s baubles. One showed a nude woman stabbing a fountain of blood with a blade of light, but Zekes paid no heed to these sorts of things. The Master did. He wasn’t here right now. When he thought about it, he remembered that Master hadn’t been back for a long time. He didn’t like thinking.
He was transfixed by the Ice Spirit glaring at him behind her prison of glass. She was all that mattered. The Ice Spirit clutched her knees to her chest, unmoving. Everything about her was shades of shimmering blues and whites. She possessed a humanoid form with big white eyes bearing pinhole pupils. Her lips were pressed into an angry line, luxurious layers of cream colored hair falling around her naked shoulders. Sometimes she pushed her hair back to hook over cute little ears. Zekes liked her ears.
Zekes felt a sudden itch, his canid leg rising up to scratch behind his ear. When his skin was bleeding, and his itch satiated, he shook the jar to make her glow again. He liked it when she glowed, especially when it was her brightest blue.
The Ice Spirit was hurled up against the cork, her pale body flaring in tandem with her agitation. She wailed as she bounced off the glass floor. She rose to her feet and clutched her tiny fists, tears streaking her eyes, wings fluttering at her back. Zekes liked it when she made noises. He shook the jar again, harder this time and the cork popped off when she struck it. It landed on its side and rolled across the chamber.
The Ice Spirit gasped, and without hesitation, leaped from the jar, her wings beating the air.
“Zekes!” Zekes quaked, fuzzy eyebrows lifting. His eyes flickered from the empty jar, to the Ice Spirit, to the cork, and around the three items once more.
She grinned and flapped her quartet of wings so hard they buzzed. She flitted about the chamber’s ceiling, dashing like an arrow of light. She made a path for the cavernous exit on one side of the room, leading to the bowels of the Dread Temple. When she reached that stretch of darkness, she hovered to regard her captor one last time.
Zekes gave her a limp wave, tears sliding down his eyes and spilling onto his enormous breasts. The Ice Spirit sighed and let head slumped to her chest. She raised one of her four fingers in contemplation, rising a bit higher in the air. A series of expressions passed over her face from a scowl to tired resignation and back to a scowl again. She finally settled on a slight smile.
“Zekes?” he said in a questioning tone. She zoomed across the air, and Zekes followed her path. “Zekes,” he crooned in wonderment. The Ice Spirit hovered before his eyes and pointed at the cork and shook her head. Zekes nodded in understanding, twisted mouth forming into a grin. “Zekes!” He laughed.
She gave him a glare of warning, and slowly lowered herself back into his jar. Zekes vigorously nodded and hugged the jar to his chest, pressing it between his breasts and weeping tears of joy. He never shook her jar again, and it remained uncorked.
There were many ways for one to be free.
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Acknowledgments
First of all, I would like to thank you for reading this book and helping me realize my dream of becoming an author. Without you I wouldn’t be doing what I love. Thank you! I appreciate you more than you know.
I would like to also thank my proofreader, Martin O’Hearn, incredible editor Lynette Patterson, as well as my map creator, Promit. Thank you for all of your help.
The stunning cover design was illustrated by Sebastian Horoszko. https://www.artstation.com/artist/sebastianhoroszko
About the Author
Everet Martins writes stories of the fantastic. His first foray into the published realm is Stormcaller. It has the type of visceral action and fun he had always dreamed fantasy could be.
Living in New Hampshire, Everet finds inspiration for his books within his exciting life. He has always loved getting lost in role-playing games and novels. In his youth, he was notorious for being found with his face lost behind the cover of a book. Fascinated by the written word and always wanting to try putting pen to page, he started writing short stories, and eventually a novel.
As a young boy he was exposed to the rigors of martial arts and continued to practice them throughout his adult life, dabbling in various styles. The love for physical fitness morphed into other bodily challenges such as strength training and long distance running.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters , places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 Everet Martins.
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
DRM
Dedication
Zoria Map
Newsletter
1. Salvaged
2. Alone
3. The Purists
4. Bezog
5. Keeping Watch
6. On the Transcendence of Blessings
7. Smithing
8. Plans
9. Villains
10. The Champions
11. Pawns
12. The Fall
13. Preparations
14. Live Again
15. Reinforcements
16. New Arrivals
17. A Black Line
18. Wretched Arrows
19. Obliteration
20. Ramparts
21. Endless
22. Termination
23. A New Place
24. Drinking
25. A Few Things
Newsletter
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
The Shadow Age (The Age of Dawn Book 7) Page 43