Books by John Triptych
Wrath of the Old Gods series (in chronological order)
The Glooming
Pagan Apocalypse
Canticum Tenebris
The Fomorians
A World Darkly
Eye of Balor
Mortuorum Luctum
Expatriate Underworld series
The Opener
The Loader
Dying World series
Lands of Dust
City of Delusions
The Maker of Entropy
The Amoralist series
A Man of Leisure
Savage Wanderings
Lands of Dust
The Dying World Book 1
By John Triptych
Copyright© 2016 by John Triptych
All rights reserved.
J Triptych Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, and/or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover by Deranged Doctor Design (http://www.derangeddoctordesign.com/)
Interior formatting by Polgarus Studios
For Jim Henson and E Gary Gygax.
Author’s note:
Dear reader, I would like to thank you for purchasing this book. As a self-published author, I incur all the costs of producing this novel so your feedback means a lot to me. If you wouldn’t mind, could you please take a few minutes and post a review of this online and let others know what you think of it?
As I’m sure you’re aware, the more reviews I get, the better my future sales would be and therefore my financial incentive to produce more books for your enjoyment increases. I am very happy to read any comments and questions and I am willing to respond to you personally as quickly as I can. My email is [email protected] if you wish to contact me directly. Again, thank you and I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Please join my exclusive mailing list! You will get the latest news on my upcoming works and special discounts. Subscription is FREE and you get lots of FREE books! Just copy and paste this link to your browser: http://eepurl.com/bK-xGn
Table of Contents
Books by John Triptych
Author’s note:
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
Also by J Triptych Publishing
Night-walkers, Magians, priests of Bacchos and priestesses of the wine-vat, mystery-mongers practised among men.
- Heraclitus
All other things have a portion of everything, but Mind is infinite and self-ruled, and is mixed with nothing but is all alone by itself.
- Anaxagoras
Nothing is more active than thought, for it travels over the universe, and nothing is stronger than necessity, for all must submit to it.
-Thales
Chapter 1
Across the night lands, two cloaked figures ran desperately beneath the moonlit sky. Solid dunes of fine dust were all around them, and the reflected luminescence made it look like they were in an ocean of brightly colored ash, with undulating sand drifts resembling static, unmoving waves that crested and dipped across the landscape. The taller one had set a relentless pace across the firm, sandy ground. The shorter of the two was trying hard to keep up, but kept stumbling forward, barely keeping his balance and slowing their progress. The taller one grabbed the other by his elbow and pulled him in an effort to go faster. After what seemed like an eternity, the little one began to tire and had to be dragged forward, his exhaustion finally getting the better of him.
The taller man stopped as he scanned the nearby terrain. He was sure the enemy was close and they would soon be caught. They had been running for five days now, resting while the sun was up and moving during the night. Now their food and water were all gone. The leather map he had in the fur pouch he was carrying had showed him this was the way, but there was nothing but sand all around them- they were utterly lost. He bent down and stared at the small figure kneeling by him. “We must strive on if we are to get to safety. We cannot tarry long here. You must get up.”
With short, labored breaths, the smaller figure looked up at him and the hood of the little cloak fell back, revealing a young boy with short, golden blond hair and pale skin. “I… I cannot go on, Aertos. I am t-too tired.”
The taller man threw off the hood of his own cloak, revealing a bald, smooth head. His nose was sharp and he was beardless, as most men were these days. It seemed that those who could still grow hair on their chins had largely died out many generations ago. “If you cannot run, then you will die. Is that what you want?”
But the boy was too exhausted. His body was spent after fleeing the moment the sun had set. The child let out a soft moan as he fell on his hands and knees. He just wanted to rest, to close his eyes, and sleep on the cold, dusty ground. If he could just have a brief moment to recover, then he could run again. Right now, his feet and legs were hurting, his lungs ached with a burning pain as he still hadn’t gotten his breath back. He needed a drink of water, but he knew they no longer had any.
Just as Aertos tried picking the boy up with both hands, he saw them. Two cloaked figures crested a dune at the edge of the horizon, headed their way. He could see they were armed, one carried a longbow, its white-boned construction was highly visible in the moonlit night. It meant that their pursuers had been tracking them all this time. With a hiss of desperation, Aertos grabbed the child and placed him over his shoulders. Then he turned once more and ran.
The chase continued as Aertos sprinted up and down the dunes. The boy hung desperately over his shoulders. Since Aertos was the one doing all the running, their pace quickened considerably. He had known they would be pursued the moment they made the escape from the citadel. The boy was held in such high value to them, they would be willing to kill any traitor who would dare steal him. If Aertos was to be caught, then they would surely flay him alive for his treason. He dared not think any further about the consequences. Aertos had already made a vow to himself that they would never take him alive. His goal now was to get the boy to safety, his own life no longer mattered.
Glancing briefly behind him, Aertos let out a short sigh of despair. His pursuers had slowly closed the gap. The two men were now only a hundred yards away and getting closer. He needed to do something or they would catch him within the hour. His lungs were now searing in pain and his arms felt leaden from lugging the boy. The only thing fueling Aertos’s relentless pace now was his own desperation. If the two men got to within thirty yards, they might decide to use their weapons, but that would mean they would have to pause as the taller of the two would have to ready the bow.
Aertos made another glance behind him as he crested another low lying dune. He could clearly see his two pursuers now. Urien was the shorter one, and Estragon had the bone bow. They had known each other ever since all three had been assigned to the citadel. So it was his own friends who had been tasked to pursue and kill him. How ironic it all was. Aertos kept on running as he spotted a low lying wadi up ahead, the small, dried riverbed looked largely untouched by men for the past se
veral hundred cycles. An idea came into his mind, it would be a desperate gamble, but it was his one chance to shake them off, albeit temporarily. Gathering his thoughts, Aertos used his remaining reserves of energy to run directly towards the edge of the wadi.
Just as he got to the lip of the trench, Aertos immediately used his mindforce to push his body forward, his sudden jump powered him over the twenty foot gap and across to the other side. He ran for another twenty yards, then turned and waited while catching his breath. Just as the two men pursuing him used their own mindforce to propel themselves above the edges of the wadi, Aertos held out his hand and used his remaining Vis to mentally throw up a column of loose sand at their faces, temporarily blinding them. The two men were immediately inundated by a barrage of dust as they momentarily lost their concentration. Urien cursed aloud as he fell sideways, but managed to hold onto the top edge of the sand wall, while the much bigger Estragon completely lost his footing and fell head first into the sandy gorge, his longbow still in his hands.
Aertos turned around and started running once more. Up ahead, he could no longer see the horizon. Everything in front of him seemed opaque, not even the light from the moon above could illuminate the inky, swirling blackness in front of him. Not seeing any other choice, he dashed forward anyway. Whatever lay ahead out there had to be better than the things they would do to him if he was brought back to the citadel.
His pacing soon began to slacken as the hard sand on his feet began to loosen up. Every time he put his foot forward, his boots would get sucked in and needed a lot of extra effort to pull them back out. During his cycles as an apprentice, Aertos was taught by his teachers that the wastes had many variations of sand; some were hard as packed stone, while the loose patches were to be avoided. He had heard tales of men being sucked underneath the pools of moving dust that acted like water, their cries of terror forever silenced as they drowned not in any liquid, but were swallowed up by grains of fine particles. It was a kind of death that instilled fear among his peers.
Aertos grimaced as he kept on going, the pain in his aching legs was pure agony. The only thing that kept him moving was his sheer force of will and the hope that the flatlands ahead of him would be packed more tightly. The boy whimpered slightly as Aertos continued to carry him, but his gait was awkward due to the extra weight on his right shoulder. Just as he pulled his left foot out from the loose floor, his fatigue and unbalanced stance made him slip, and both fell forward onto the soft ground.
The boy rolled forward onto the fine dirt but he quickly got up. Aertos pulled himself up while both his hands dug into the loose earth until he was on all fours. As he glanced over his shoulder, Aertos noticed Urien and Estragon had gotten out of the wadi and were now trudging their way slowly towards him. It was apparent that his pursuers were as exhausted as he was since they didn’t use their Vis for another jump. The boy noticed the two men and took off running on the harder packed soil. With a hiss of desperation, Aertos changed direction as he started following the lad.
By the time he had gotten to the area with the compact sand, the boy was about ten yards ahead of him. Aertos could see a vast wall of dust in front of them, rising hundreds of feet high. The boy stopped and just stared at the monstrous waves of ash swirling in the air. So that was why the horizon suddenly became opaque, there was a large storm just ahead of them. The boy turned, giving him a look of despair as he just stood there while the wind began to pick up around them. If they kept moving, then they would surely be lost within the raging tempest ahead.
Just as Aertos pulled himself up onto the hard packed earth, a bone arrow embedded itself on the back of his lower leg. He screamed and fell forward onto the ground. As he glanced behind him, he saw that Estragon had his bow out and was notching another arrow with it. He cursed at himself for not being more alert.
“Aertos!” the boy cried as he ran back and started pulling him up. Urien drew his dagger as he slowly got closer, only the loose soil was keeping him from getting there quickly. Estragon aimed with the bow and fired off another arrow, but Aertos held out his hand and used his mindforce to deflect the projectile off into the night.
Grabbing the boy by his collar, Aertos drew him close to whisper in the child’s ear. “You must go. I will hold them off as long as I can. Lose them in the storm!”
The boy started to cry as the salt tears ran down his dusty cheeks. “No, no. I will not leave you.”
Aertos grimaced. He could no longer control his right leg as the sharp pain was replaced with an agony of burning fire. Estragon must have had the tips of the bone arrow poisoned. It meant he was dead either way. “Do not argue with me, boy. Run. Run now! Quickly!”
The boy kept trying to pull him up until Aertos finally pushed the child away. There was a pained expression on the boy’s face- a sad mixture of grief and desperation, but the child finally understood as he got up and started running towards the incoming storm. Aertos turned around, just as he noticed Urien had gotten close and was about to stab him with a dagger.
Aertos managed to grasp Urien’s wrists as both men struggled on the ground. Urien was on top of him as he used his mindforce to press the dagger down towards the other man’s throat. Aertos used his own Vis to hold back the weapon, but the poison in his wounded leg had already begun to dull his concentration. A few yards behind them, Estragon couldn’t use his bow for fearing that he might hit his own ally, so he placed the weapon onto the ground while holding his hands in front of him, and he started to use his thoughts to unpack the dirt around Aertos.
With his other leg still functioning properly, Aertos bent his good knee and used it to kick Urien’s left torso. The other man grunted in pain as he fell sideways, but he was able to hold onto his dagger. Estragon concentrated as he tried to push Aertos into the loose sand, but his victim was able to roll away at the last minute, just as a hole opened up from where he had been lying in. Aertos kept rolling until he had some distance in between and then tried to stand up. Urien managed to get up to one knee and he threw the dagger, using his mindforce to propel the bronze blade with enough power to connect with his target before the other man could counter it.
Aertos sensed the blade whistling through the air, heading towards him. He put his hand up to try and deflect it using his mindforce, but his numbed senses were too late to react. The dagger plunged into his throat, tearing into his windpipe and cutting the main arteries before embedding itself into his neck bone. Aertos let out a gurgle as he fell backwards into the sandy ground, blood spurting from his opened throat. As the darkness began to envelop him, a final bright tinge of hope settled into his fading thoughts. He hoped the boy would be safe. Then he died.
Urien stood upright and made his way to the dead man. Estragon was now at the edge of the hard soil as he pulled himself up. Urien bent down and retrieved his dagger from Aertos’s corpse while looking around. He noticed that the boy was about fifty yards ahead of them. “Estragon,” he said. “Get the boy.”
Estragon grunted as he ran ahead of his partner. He was one of the tallest Magi in the citadel compared to the others. His forehead was balding, but the sides above his ears still had long black hair that drooped down his shoulders. Estragon had thought about using his bone bow, but their orders were to bring the boy back alive so he couldn’t risk a shot. As he began to close the distance to the child, the wind suddenly picked up in intensity, and he was soon enveloped in a column of sand. Estragon screamed and he was quickly half-blinded, he could barely notice the outline of the boy ahead. He tried to move further, but he could no longer see anything in front of him.
Just as Urien was about to follow his partner into the dark horizon up ahead, he saw Estragon make his way back towards him. The other man was alone. “Where is the boy?”
Estragon grimaced as he used his arm to wipe the dirt from his eyes. “The child kept going, he ran into the storm!”
Urien cursed. “We were tasked to bring the boy back, we cannot return without him!”
Visibility had suddenly gone away. Both men were quickly engulfed in an ash filled darkness as the moonlight above them disappeared. They tried to push forward, but the air currents became so strong, they were suddenly unable to see one another. Urien tried to use his mindforce to clear a small space of air in front of his face, but he was too exhausted and the winds too powerful.
Estragon stood beside him as he cupped his hand over his mouth in order to be heard. “We need to find shelter, quickly!”
Urien shook his head violently. “We have to find that boy!”
While the two of them kept arguing, something large stirred underneath them. It had been hibernating deep beneath the loose sand, but the sandstorm had awakened it. When it extended its sensory tendrils along the waves of loosening dust, it immediately sensed prey, its long sleep having given it an appetite. Now it was time to feed.
Urien sensed it first. For a brief moment, he thought the shifting sands below his feet were merely being stirred up by the howling zephyrs of air. All of a sudden, the entire ground around the both of them started moving as they both fell onto their backs. As he tried to get up, Urien saw something huge come out from under the sand, it was large enough to grab onto Estragon and pull him back down into the ground. Urien could hear his partner’s hapless screaming even with the intense sandstorm raging around him. He turned and tried to run, but he was soon knee deep in loose ground. Urien cried out in desperation as he tried to grab hold of anything that could pull him back out into the harder packed sand. He used his hands to try to feel his way forward until he touched something long and ropey. Urien immediately grabbed onto it with both hands, thinking it was some sort of line with which to pull himself to safety. Just as he managed to pull his body forward, the rope he was grasping suddenly had a life of its own as it coiled around his arms. Instead of getting himself on harder ground, he was suddenly being dragged deeper into the loose terrain.
Lands of Dust (The Dying World Book 1) Page 1