by Joseph Lallo
“Were you there willingly?”
Kasnar shook his head. “No.”
“Prisoner?”
“Aye.”
Maelnar’s face darkened. “Who held you against your will?”
Breslin placed his hand on his father’s shoulder. “He’s already been dealt with.”
The underling ran back into the room and sheepishly handed Maelnar another note. Maelnar looked around.
“Where is she?”
“She’s not coming,” the boy all but whispered.
Baffled, Maelnar opened the note to read his mother’s response.
I am preoccupied. I will be there when I can.
For the first time Maelnar noticed that the entire auditorium was on its feet and was watching intently. He faced the other members of the Council and bowed.
“Fellow elders, I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
“No explanations necessary,” one elder told him, waving him off. “Your family needs you. Go.”
Maelnar nodded appreciatively and hurried to his father’s side. Kasnar gratefully took his son’s arm and left the way they had come.
“Someone want to take this thing?” Athos called out, pointing at the power hammer.
“Grab it for me, will you?” Breslin called back.
“Grab it for me, will you?” Athos mocked, in a falsetto. “He knows I have no Narian blood in me.”
Gritting his teeth, Athos picked the hammer up and struggled to catch up to his brother. Venk was kind enough to take a turn at lugging the heavy hammer along while they all headed towards the second auditorium where the conference of educators was in full swing. Venk and Athos both noticed that the entire Council had abandoned their session and had elected to follow Maelnar and his father. Apparently word of Kasnar’s return was spreading like wildfire.
The procession came to a halt as a woman’s stern voice could be heard.
“I told you that I’d be there just as soon as I could.”
“Mother, I have some news that all of you may want to hear.”
The auditorium went silent.
“Nar has been found.”
Cries of astonishment sounded immediately. A dozen different conversations erupted. His mother, as frail and wrinkled as his father, smiled tenderly at him.
“I know you’ve had an interest in Nar for quite some time,” his mother began.
“Mother, I hate to interrupt you,” Maelnar began, “but…”
“You’ve already interrupted me,” Neika told him, interrupting her own son. “Twice now.”
Maelnar swallowed. “Mother, there’s someone here that’s been waiting a long time to see you again.”
Neika’s wrinkled hand touched a young female underling’s arm to get her attention.
“Do I have any more appointments today?”
“No, my lady,” her personal assistant told her.
“Have I missed any appointments today?”
“No, my lady.”
His mother tilted her head and looked up at her son. “Are you sure? Who?”
“Me.”
Kasnar stepped out from behind his son and approached his wife. To Kasnar, she looked as though she hadn’t aged a day. Neika gasped with shock as she instantly recognized the person standing before her.
“Kasnar! Dear me, Kasnar! Can it be you? This is not a ruse?”
“It is I, my beloved. I’ve waited so long to see you!”
Neika slowly rose to her feet and embraced her husband. All conversations died off as everyone got to their feet and silently filed out of the meeting hall.
“Where have you been?” Neika managed to ask between her sobs.
“Nar.”
The sobs stopped instantly and Neika pulled out of the hug. She looked at her husband and put her hands on her hips.
“Nar? Really? Is that the best story you can come up with?”
Breslin reached over to Athos to reclaim the power hammer. Once he had it, he plunked it down on the table next to his grandparents. Two women, waiting to leave the room, glanced backward once they heard the loud noise. Both of them reacted with surprise as each recognized the significance of the tool.
“It’s a power hammer!” one excitedly told the other.
“I’m sure they know, Trinidra,” the woman’s companion told her. “Let’s leave them be.”
“What’s a power hammer?” Neika asked as she eyed the unremarkable looking hammer.
“It’s what enabled me to rescue grandfather,” Breslin told her.
Satisfied with her grandson’s explanation, Neika returned to her husband’s arms. Deciding his grandparents needed some alone time, Breslin turned towards the door and motioned for the others to follow suit. Maelnar turned to follow them as well.
“I’m surprised they let you keep the hammer,” Athos told him once they made it outside.
“I have to make it available for study should someone want to see it,” Breslin told him, “but otherwise the hammer is mine.”
“Just like your father’s map,” Venk said, remembering the tiny framed map in Maelnar’s study.
“Aye.”
A hand suddenly clasped Venk’s shoulder. He looked over to see Maelnar standing beside him.
“Did you mean what you said on the way over here, lad?”
Venk nodded.
Athos looked at his brother, confusion evident on his face.
“What did you say to him?”
“Then you’d better take your leave,” Maelnar quietly told him. “There’s much to be done, wouldn’t you agree?”
Venk let out the breath he had been holding. He grinned. “I would”.
“What needs to be done?” Athos asked, growing irritated for being ignored.
“Graun’s loss is Borahgg’s gain,” came Maelnar’s cryptic answer. “Welcome to the Kla Guur, lad.”
“What did I miss here?” Athos asked, turning to stare at his brother.
“Master Venk here has become the first apprentice I’ve had in many years,” Maelnar answered. “I make the same offer to you, Master Athos, if you’re willing.”
Athos shook his head. “An apprentice. That’s why he’s so excited. I appreciate the offer, Master Maelnar, but I’m comfortable where I am. You have yourself a fine new apprentice. Just do me a favor and go easy on him. He can be a little slow at times.”
Venk’s smile vanished and he glared at his brother.
“You can go kiss a…”
He trailed off as he noticed his son watching him intently.
“I mean, we’ll miss you, too. Graun isn’t that far from Borahgg. Besides, we’ll always be Chanus, except now we’ll have dual residency!”
“I’ll see you in my workshop in a fortnight, Master Venk. Your training will begin once you and your family are settled.”
Venk bowed low.
“Thank you for everything.”
Maelnar returned the bow.
“My pleasure. Oh! Bring Lukas. He might enjoy this, too.”
Venk stared incredulously at his son. Lukas, who had overheard, stood there with his mouth hanging open.
As Maelnar turned around to watch his parents chatting like two lovesick teenagers, he heard Lukas tell his father that the house they were going to move into had to be large enough for two foundries: one for his father and one for his own.
The End
The adventures continue with Something Wyverian This Way Comes (Tales of Lentari #2)!
Author’s Note
This is the first book in my Tales of Lentari fantasy adventure series. It features some returning characters from my first series, Bakkian Chronicles. The adventures continue in the second Tales of Lentari story: Something Wyverian This Way Comes! You can find the title at many online retailers:
Smashwords
Want to know when new titles are released? Sign up for the Daily Scroll! It’s the only official source of Lentarian
news.
Follow me online: official website, FaceBook
Feel free to stop by the blog and say hello! I usually have some type of contest running where you can win print copies of the books. I also enjoy helping out aspiring authors, so if you have any questions about possibly publishing a book yourself, feel free to ask as I am what’s called an indie author. I’ve helped others format their work to submit it to Amazon, or Smashwords, so if you need a hand, I’ll be more than happy to help out!
Thank you again for reading my book. Stay tuned! More adventures are on the way!
Jeffrey M. Poole
July, 2013
Fan Submissions
Thanks to all of you who submitted your suggestions when naming a fictional character. I had way more submissions than I did the first time I asked for help, so for that, thank you very much! Not all made it into the book, but I did use quite a few of them. Here are the ones I used:
Rhamalli – April Enos
Trindolyn, Jocastin, Rohath – TinaSings
Kovabel, Plukren – Scott Poe
Alpin, Kemxandra, Tristofer – Charlotte Dixon
Creedyn – Sallrw
Cantreya, Jurin, Prixus – Clawra
Samara, Timeki – Debbie Poole
Sabriella – Liz Moss
Bykram – Mark Berry
Elva – Christina P.
Rahygren, Krisken – Raymond Baker
Graemlin – Andrew Dyer
Zincoff, Neika – Nicki Jones
Oricfed Galfodin – Freddy Gandolfi
Bastion Delvehearth – Laura Matthews
Waxrobbe – Bob Terry
Trinidra – Brett Gable
For those that submitted some names which weren’t used, rest assured they are still on my list of possible names which may show up in a future story! Thanks again for all the submissions!!
Reversion: The Inevitable Horror
(The Portal Arcane Series - Book I)
Fourth Edition
By
J. Thorn
jthorn.net
Copyright © 2012 by J. Thorn
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, places, and dialogue are drawn from the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Edited by Talia Leduc, Katy Sozaeva, Laurie Love and Rebecca T. Dickson
Proofread by Laurie Love
Click here: http://jthorn.net/optin/pa2.htm
For those who seek redemption, may you find it.
The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.
-Albert Einstein, 1931
Chapter 1
Samuel pushed the twisted sheet from his shoulder and let the makeshift noose coil on the ground like a dead snake. He stepped out of the rope and looked up at the decaying branch overhead, shaking his head. His eyes darted about the empty forest as his heart raced.
He drew a breath, wincing at the pain in his throat as his lungs tried to pull in more oxygen. He smiled at the joy of being alive until the memory of his prison cell surfaced. Like a leaf at the mercy of the wind, the image of the bars floated from Samuel’s reach. Worry rushed back in as he struggled to find a connection, a reason for being here.
He stepped over the jagged rocks and closed his eyes. Silence. It could have been midsummer. It could have been the dead of winter. He could no longer tell and even if he could, Samuel struggled to remember what those seasons meant. The wind was still. The creek in the distance murmured like the whispers at a funeral procession. The insects, the animals–the creatures of the wood were silent. Again, Samuel fought to recall hearing any sound. A leather string holding an amulet lay on the ground at his feet and he picked it up. The charm was silver, three triple spirals connected and curling in on each other. He slid the leather string over his head until the amulet lay on his chest.
He walked in silence over branches sprawled on the ground and onto a rough path that wound itself farther into the forest. Samuel heard a slight rustle of leaves underneath his feet and yet his canvas sneakers did not make as much noise as they should have. The sun hung at an odd angle, tossing a bland shaft of light ahead, with most of the rays never reaching the ground. Samuel looked to the right and saw tattered, yellow caution tape dangling from the trunks of ancient oaks.
What is this?
The tape ran from trunk to trunk in tattered, random shreds like an abandoned crime scene. He reached out and tore a shred of tape from the tree while looking for the human remains that should have been there.
Samuel looked up into the canopy of branches, which hovered overhead like a worried mother. As far as he could see, ropes and nooses hung empty and cold. Piles of clothing, personal items, and other artifacts lay beneath some.
He tossed the scrap of tape to the ground and continued down the path, knocking aside a shoe, a sport coat, a backpack. He stopped and bent down to grab the backpack, the aching in his neck causing him to wince. The backpack was made of nylon, the zipper long gone and its teeth forever in a black grin. He reached into it, his fingers brushing against a few leaves that rustled inside. Nothing. He turned it over to reveal three characters embroidered on the front: BCD. He rubbed his head and stared at them until he recognized the letters of the alphabet, and a thin smile spread over his lips. He was not sure if those letters mattered anymore, and he could not recall why they ever would. Samuel dug through a few of the mounds beneath the hanging trees, shoving articles of clothing into the backpack.
He threw the only remaining strap over one shoulder and shuffled farther down the path on instinct. He kept the pack to store items that might keep him alive. The creek moved closer with each step, and he was happy to hear its meanderings. The natural noise brought a brief sense of normalcy, a memory from childhood: long summer days in a valley and a creek that cut a ragged line through the forest. Some days he would spend hours in solitude, overturning rocks in a search of salamanders. On other days, he would throw stones across the bank with his brothers in a friendly competition that would end when his mother’s voice echoed through the trees, calling them home for the evening meal.
He saw more items strewn across the path and kicked a pair of shoes to the side. So many shoes. He wondered why the shoes remained and the bodies did not.
Samuel looked down at his sneakers with Velcro instead of laces. A faded denim shirt hung open revealing a plain grey T-shirt underneath. His khakis sat loose on his hips. The guards did not care how well they fit the inmates.
The path curved as it approached the stream, turning right into a grove of high pines, their needles covering the ground. Samuel drew a deep breath through his nose, catching the faintest odor of pine, and it made him smile. He savored the distant aroma for as long as he could. It did not last.
He sat on the ground next to an abandoned, blue shopping bag and reached inside, pulled out the contents and arranged them in a circle over the pine needles. He remembered the names for most of them. Lighter. Pen. Nickel. A few he could not recognize, but his brain assured him he would. Samuel picked up the lighter with his right hand, pinched between a thumb and finger. Muscle memory snapped into place as his thumb struck down on the flint. The lighter sparked, and Samuel smiled. He could almost taste the burnt, woody smoke of a hand-rolled cigarette. He could almost feel the airy buzz with each puff of the tobacco. He struck the lighter again and again, but each time it failed to ignite, and each time it reminded him of the temporary satisfaction delivered by the nicotine. Another item
returned to his expanding repertoire of old words as he opened a supple leather wallet.
Samuel removed the paper sticking out from its fold. As with the pine needles, he caught a faint whiff of the earthy, organic scent of the rawhide.
He looked up and noticed the sun had dropped closer to the horizon, as if touching the tops of the trees to ignite them. Darkness crept closer, surrounding the far edges of his vision. Samuel’s toes became numb from the cold and he realized his exposure could kill him.
With the chill of the approaching night, the undoing of the universe tightened its stranglehold on this place, slowly crushing the life from it. Each universe exists infinitely close to one other much like grains of sand on a beach. The collection of universes is known as the multiverse. In this place, the reversion started on the edges where sounds disappeared and colors dulled, draining it all of rich, sensory perceptions. The physical world began to fold in upon itself and threatened to swallow everything into the eternal void. Not every universe was cursed with a reversion that held souls in transition, but this one was.
Using the reversion as his tool, Deva snatched those in need of salvation and dropped them into a dying world to find the path to redemption and release from the cycle: Should the soul fail to make a lifetime of wrongs right, it would reawaken in another place, in another reversion. Spirit demands a resolution for all souls and Deva orchestrates it. Deva, the gatekeeper of the reversion, spent eons keeping the great cycle intact and would do so for as long as Spirit required it.
***
The night came silently, stealing the remaining light from the forest and replacing it with an insufferable coldness. Samuel shuddered. He could no longer control the muscle spasms that racked his body and occupied his mind. The yellow tape, the shoes, the hunger. None if it mattered while his brain searched for a solution to the numbing cold brought by the night.