by Jim Melvin
Table of Contents
Praise for The Death Wizard Chronicles
The Series, Thus Far:
Blinded by Power
Dedicated
Author’s Note
Prologue
Fall of the Fortress
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
The Catacombs
10
11
12
Scattered Forces
13
14
15
16
17
The White City Waits
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
The Cleansing of Tējo
28
29
30
31
The Trials of Rathburt
32
33
Blood on the Plains
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
The Sun God
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
The Haunted Swamp
51
52
Saving the Daasa
53
54
55
The Great Sacrifice
56
57
58
Laylah’s Suffering
59
60
Return to Nissaya
61
62
63
The Druid Queen
64
65
The Fiends
66
67
68
Shroud of Darkness
69
70
71
72
73
Healed by Hope
Glossary
Acknowledgments
About Jim Melvin
Praise for The Death Wizard Chronicles
“Melvin shows his literary mastery as he weaves elements of potential and transformation; his tale dances among literal shape shifters and more subtle powers of mind.”
—Ann Allen, The Charlotte Observer
“Adult Harry Potter and Eragon fans can get their next fix with Jim Melvin’s six-book epic The Death Wizard Chronicles . . . Melvin’s imagination and writing equal that of J.K. Rowling, author of the fantastically popular Harry Potter series, and Christopher Paolini, author of Eragon and Eldest. Some of his descriptions—and creatures—even surpass theirs.”
—The Tampa Tribune
“Jim Melvin’s Death Wizard Chronicles crackle with non-stop action and serious literary ambition. He has succeeded in creating an entire universe of interlocking characters—and creatures—that will undoubtedly captivate fans of the fantasy genre. It’s a hell of a story . . . a hell of a series . . .”
—Bob Andelman, author of Will Eisner: A Spirited Life
“Jim Melvin is a fresh voice in fantasy writing with a bold, inventive vision and seasoned literary style that vaults him immediately into the top tier of his genre. The Death Wizard Chronicles . . . is scary, action-packed and imaginative—a mythic world vividly entwining heroes, villains and sex that leaves the reader with the impression that this breakthrough author has truly arrived.”
—Dave Scheiber, co-author of Covert: My Years Infiltrating the Mob and Surviving the Shadows: A Journey of Hope into Post-Traumatic Stress
“Action-packed and yet profound, The DW Chronicles will take your breath away. This is epic fantasy at its best.”
—Chris Stevenson, author of Planet Janitor: Custodian of the Stars and The Wolfen Strain
“Triken truly comes alive for the reader and is filled with mysteries and places that even the most powerful characters in the book are unaware of. That gives the reader the opportunity to discover and learn with the characters . . . Melvin has added to the texture of the world by integrating Eastern philosophies, giving the magic not only consistency but depth. He has worked out the details of his magical system so readers can understand where it comes from and how it works.”
—Jaime McDougall, the bookstacks.com
The Series, Thus Far:
Novels
Book 1: Forged in Death
Book 2: Chained by Fear
Book 3: Shadowed by Demons
Book 4: Torn by War
Book 5: Blinded by Power
Short Stories
Torg’s First Death
The Black Fortress
Rise of the Sun God
(Coming 2014)
Blinded by Power
by
Jim Melvin
Bell Bridge Books
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or locations is entirely coincidental.
Bell Bridge Books
PO BOX 300921
Memphis, TN 38130
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-61194-484-6
Print ISBN: 978-1-61194-507-2
Bell Bridge Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.
Copyright © 2014 by Jim Melvin
Printed and bound in the United States of America.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.
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Cover design: Debra Dixon
Interior design: Hank Smith
Photo/Art credits:
Background (manipulated) © Leeloomultipass | Dreamstime.com
Battle (manipulated) © Dusan Kostic | Dreamstime.com
:Mpbh:01:
Dedicated
to Robin,
my one
and only sibling.
Sister, you are dear
to my heart.
Map
Author’s Note
In Book 1 of The Death Wizard Chronicles, the sorcerer Invictus imprisons Torg in a pit bored into the frozen heights of Mount Asubha. After his escape, Torg and several new friends make their way toward Kamupadana, commonly known as the Whore City, where Torg hopes to learn more about Invictus’s plans.
Meanwhile, Laylah, the sister of Invictus, appears briefly as a sorceress whom Invictus also has imprisoned. Unlike Torg, she has not yet managed to escape. In fact, she has been her brother’s captive for more than seventy years.
In Book 2, the tale is told of Laylah’s escape. Under the guidance of the demon Vedana, she flees to Kamupadana, where she eventually meets and is healed by Torg. Along with the Asēkhas, Torg and his companions flee into the wilderness, with Mala, a.k.a. the Chain Man, and an army of monsters in hot pursuit.
In Book 3, Torg, Laylah, and their companions work their way west toward Duccarita, known as the City of Thieves. There they destroy an evil being that uses the power of it
s mind to control thousands of slave creatures called the Daasa. Once freed of the evil being’s sway, the Daasa, which number more than 10,000, join with Torg and the others as they continue their journey toward the safety of the White City. Meanwhile, the Asēkhas are ordered by Torg to travel eastward to join in the defense of the fortress Nissaya.
As Book 3 develops, three great wars begin to take shape: Mala and his army advance toward Nissaya, the druids of Dhutanga prepare to invade the White City, and an army of zombies marches into the desert Tējo, where they encounter the few Tugars who have remained there to defend their own land.
In Book 4, the zombie army is defeated in Tējo, though at great loss of life to the desert dwellers. The druids also are destroyed, but the Jivitan army that inhabits the White City pays a terrible price. Meanwhile, Mala’s army—led by the bloodthirsty golden soldiers—manages to achieve the unthinkable, surmounting the three great bulwarks that have protected the Nissaya for millennia before going on a killing rampage that only a few, including Torg, manage to escape.
In Book 5, the final war—between Mala’s army and what remains of the Jivitan army of white horsemen—takes place on the Green Plains. At stake? Torg’s life and Laylah’s freedom.
Prologue
“Torgon, answer me this:
What do warriors accomplish by killing their enemies?
Would not all have died in the future, regardless?
Would not warriors benefit more by slaying the worst enemies of all:
the delusions that are the cause of our suffering?”
—Sister Tathagata in a lecture to The Torgon, two hundred years before her enlightenment.
VEDANA COULDN’T believe that Rathburt was sobbing again. It was as if the pathetic Death-Knower had a split personality, either crying like a baby or yelling so loudly he frightened her. Both disgusted the demon.
But Vedana still was in need of the slump-shouldered wizard, so she was forced to tolerate his erratic behavior. Rathburt was at the crux of her plan to defeat Invictus. Without him, failure was assured.
It had been Peta, of course, who had foreseen Rathburt’s role. Unlike the demon, the ghost-child seemed to enjoy Rathburt’s company. Ah, well. Both were goody-goodies, and those types tended to stick together.
Three days had passed since she had left Tathagata standing alone on the border of Anna. Since then, Vedana had been too busy to pay any attention to what had occurred in the Tent City after her departure. Part of her duties had included entering the Realm of the Undead to deal with a potential uprising among her children. Destroying Uraga had had the desired effect, frightening them all back into timidity, but it had left Vedana feeling uneasy. In the old days, the mere hint of her presence would have sent them scurrying to the darkest corners—so to speak—of her realm; yet now she was forced to resort to extreme measures to get their attention. This was further proof that her plan to unseat her grandson must not fail.
Once she gained full control over a new Sun God, she would rule all. And she would spend the early days of her reign taking revenge on everyone and everything that had ever offended her. Which meant that just about all of them would get their comeuppance. Afterward she would create new subjects in her own image—and do a much better job of it than Invictus had done with his pitiful golden soldiers.
Speaking of pitiful . . . the once-mighty Bhayatupa fit that description even better than the two-faced newborns. Vedana knew from the start that the arrogant dragon would never willingly accept the erasure of his precious memories, and she also had known that Invictus would not be deceived so easily.
All right, so Peta had told her this in advance. So what? Vedana would have figured it out on her own. Why else had she chosen to tell the dragon such a distorted version of her plan? That way, if Bhayatupa were to succumb and tell Invictus everything he thought he knew, it mattered little. In the meantime, the “Mightiest of All” was serving as a sort of glorified chauffeur. Talk about Adho Satta! A lady had to love it—though a part of her, she hated to admit, felt a bit sorry for the grumpy old lizard.
On the other hand, Vedana didn’t feel the least bit sorry for the druid queen. Since the defeat of her precious army, Kattham Bhunjaka had quivered in her dark hiding place, terrified that she would be the next to fall. Fewer than ten thousand druids remained in Dhutanga to protect her, and they too were frightened, knowing they now were no match for the white horsemen, especially since the dragon jewel no longer existed to strengthen them. And it got even better. The despicable vampire—who had joined sides early with Invictus and never given Vedana the respect she deserved—had perished in a spectacularly painful fashion.
How sweet! Bye-bye, Urbana.
But back to Rathburt’s sobbing. When Vedana incarnated a portion of her essence into the Realm of Life in the form of an elderly grandmother, she discovered Peta stroking the wizard’s shoulder and murmuring comforting words. Not spoken words . . . the blind girl was singing to him. Uggggh! And in a voice that was quite accomplished, dammit! What next? Would she make him a gourmet dinner?
“What’s wrong now?” Vedana said, doing her best to disguise her disgust.
If Peta was startled she didn’t show it, but at least the interruption stopped the irritating singing. “If you think hard enough, even you’ll be able to guess.”
“Aren’t you funny? So . . . he has a few worries. Don’t we all? Tell him to join the club.”
“A few worries? Is that how you describe it?”
“As Mala likes to say . . . whatever.”
“Why doesn’t it surprise me that you’d find it amusing to emulate Mala?”
“Emulate . . . quite a vocabulary for such a little girl.”
By now, Rathburt had roused himself and was sitting up, wiping his eyes. When he looked at Vedana, the demon took a step back. But this time, at least, the Death-Knower seemed to have no desire to throttle her.
“How much longer?” he said to them both.
“Huh?” Vedana said.
“How . . . much . . . longer . . . before it happens?”
“Oh,” Vedana said. Then she turned to Peta. “You tell him. He doesn’t take this kind of news well from me.”
Peta sighed. “I don’t know the exact day.”
“That’s a lie,” Vedana thought.
“Give me your best guess,” Rathburt said.
“A week . . . maybe two.”
“I still might refuse.”
Vedana’s eyes blazed. “You’d better not, you yellow-bellied—”
“Mother!” Peta interrupted. “For your own sake . . . shut up!”
Vedana snarled. Then took a long breath and managed to smile with sickening sweetness, even if her incarnated teeth were gnarled and discolored. “What I meant to say was, please don’t refuse, dear sir. So much depends on your spectacular courage.”
Rathburt spat. “Peta’s right. Shut up.”
“Hmmph! I’ve never met two more ungrateful snots.” Then Vedana glared at the ghost-child. “I’m going to Nissaya now to have a look-see. Are you coming or not? The brave and mighty Rathburt can take care of himself while we’re gone.”
Fall of the Fortress
1
THE DAY AFTER Invictus had bested him again, Bhayatupa was forced to lie motionless on the rooftop of Uccheda, the midafternoon heat as intense as a forest fire. Now his only choice was to behave. The slightest transgression would doom him to unimaginable pain. Truly the great dragon was the sorcerer’s slave.
As dusk approached, Invictus appeared from a hidden portal, looking uncharacteristically distraught. Even his shoulder-length blond hair, usually perfectly combed, was disheveled.
“Come, dragon! We must fly to Nissaya—immediately.”
“As you order, my liege,” Bhayatupa said. “But didn’t you say that you would not intervene?”
Bhayatupa feared the sorcerer might lash out at him for even posing the question, but Invictus appeared too preoccupied to react with anger.
“Your word is my command,” Bhayatupa said, lowering his long, massive neck and inviting Invictus to mount.
“Yes, it is.”
The great dragon soared to the upper heights, where the prevailing winds were blowing conveniently to the southwest, in the direction of the fortress. Even so, it would be close to midnight before they reached Nissaya. Now the quarter moon, ablaze in the starlit firmament, dominated the western sky.
Bhayatupa ventured another question, tossing his words into the wind. “If I may ask without offending you, what is it that you have seen?”
For a disturbingly long time Invictus did not answer. Bhayatupa braced himself, expecting the sorcerer to press his thighs against the chain around his neck, adding a terrible jolt of agony to the steady pain he already endured.
But rather than become angry, Invictus finally responded in a bemused tone. “The king of Nissaya is not quite as pathetic—or stupid—as I had deemed him. Henepola was able to conceal something from me . . . a weapon, of sorts.”
Now it was Bhayatupa’s turn to be bemused. “Surely no weapon exists that could harm you, my liege.”
Invictus chuckled. But his skittish mirth contained a hint of fear. “Maybe ‘weapon’ isn’t the right word.”
“And the king plans to use this thing against Mala in some fashion?”
“The king?” Invictus said. “No, no. If it were just Henepola bearing this thing, I would have remained in Uccheda and watched the proceedings with amusement. Nay, it is not the king . . . but rather a snow giant. Did you not see him when we flew over the fortress?”
“My mind was on other things,” Bhayatupa said, cringing as he recalled the pain Invictus had forced upon him—and remembering also the sight of the despicable Chain Man, which always made the dragon angry.
The sorcerer shook his head and seemed to regain the better part of his confidence. “It’s not a problem that can’t be solved. But just to be cautious, I want to be there—out of sight, of course. When we arrive, you will circle the fortress from high above, where even the Tugars can’t see you.”