The fear came back, but this time wild. The girl was doomed, marooned at that tree surely as any castaway on a lost island. It was only a matter of time until the rendworms caught wind of her.
Before he knew what he was doing, Con urged his horse into a gallop, off the stone road and into the undulating grass. His breath rasped and tears blurred his eyes.
From the wind, he thought. Tears because of the wind. Not because I am stupid and going to die out here.
He rode hard across the grassland, the twisted spire of the tree ahead of him. As it drew closer, he saw the cadet had caught sight of him. She waved frantically. Conbert focused on her desperate movements, shoring up his rapidly disappearing courage with the knowledge that he was her only hope.
Something brushed his leg and he almost shrieked, but realized it was only a heavy stalk of grass. The tree and the waving girl were a few lengths away now.
Con leaped from the saddle, stumbled, and fell on his face, but he got up quickly. Breathlessly, he stood before the girl. “It’s alright, cadet,” he gasped. “I can take you out—”
Her hand shot out, covering his mouth. It was almost too fast to follow and his eyes widened with shock.
The cadet met his gaze with a cold, hard look of her own. There was a focus there and not the desperate gratitude Con had expected. Slowly, she raised her free hand and laid a single finger against her lips.
Utterly confused, he could only nod.
She cocked her head, listening. Tall and fairly thin, she was not a delicate beauty. Her features were too strong, too sharp for that, but her clear, blue eyes were vibrant as she searched the grass around them. She sighed and released the hand over his mouth.
Con drew a deep breath. “Cadet, what are you doing out here?”
The girl turned and then, appearing to notice the black and silver uniform, snapped to a smart salute. “Forgive me, sir. I was hunting a rendworm.”
“You’re what? Are you absolutely mad, girl?” he asked, his voice rising.
“No, sir. Not at all. I am merely here to honor the First Trial of Aedan,” she said, bowing her head momentarily. “I am not to return without the jaw of a rendworm, but so far, none have appeared.”
“The First Trial of Aedan?”
Con’s eyes grew wider. The Hunt. The joke upperclassmen played on first-year cadets at the Academy. The older students regaled them with stories of the First King, Aedan, and the legend of how he bested a field of colossal rendworms to earn a meeting with an ancient one, the Shepherd of Tree and Stone.
Only there was no Hunt.
It was all an elaborate ruse, a traditional jape each first-year cadet class went through. The cadets were stopped at the gate of the Academy, chased and beaten by older cadets wielding sticks and wearing garish costumes. And then the ale casks were brought out and everyone would get ripping drunk.
No one ever actually went out to hunt the damn things.
He looked at the girl again. For her to be out here meant she must have been very sheltered or very stupid. But that didn’t explain why the other cadets wouldn’t have stopped her at the gate.
Conbert felt suddenly cold. Had they done this on purpose? Had they sent her unknowingly to her death? The chill turned to anger. The Academy had never been a warm place, but it had never been this cruel.
Conbert opened his mouth to tell the girl the truth about her fool’s errand, but saw her posture change. She stood absolutely still, looking past him, a long-handled black mace in one hand. His horse danced skittishly as the grass waved around it.
The girl put a hand on his shoulder. Her voice was low. “Whatever happens next, you mustn’t move.”
And then the ground underneath the horse exploded and a pale white form the size of a wagon erupted into the air. The horse let out a scream that turned into a wet gurgle as white writhing tentacles enveloped the animal. The copper tang of blood filled the air and Conbert felt his stomach lurch.
He thought to go for the sword at his side, but he saw the girl’s eyes.
He held himself still as another of the creatures breached the drowning grass. It was a huge mass of rippling white flesh, except at the front, where the mouth opened like an exposed wound. Massive tearing fangs lined the pink maw, and white tentacles writhed from the worm’s throat, seeking the remnants of the thrashing horse. The two monsters tore the horse apart in seconds, powerful tentacles flaying meat from bone with horrific efficiency.
As the rendworms began to slide across the ground in their direction, Con felt a terror urging him to run. He fought against it, trying to focus instead on the perfect stillness of the young girl as the huge worms slid past them.
Then the girl moved.
The young cadet was fast and sure as she darted forward. She struck out with the mace, swinging it with both hands, and smashing it into the rendworm’s side. There was a loud crack, and Con knew that somewhere inside the sinuous horror, a bone had broken under the blow.
The rendworm let out a keening screech that stabbed Con’s ears and took the breath from his lungs. The injured creature folded its bulk around, trying to round on the girl. The crown of white tentacles snapped and writhed like angry serpents, seeking her.
Instead of retreating, she moved into the circle of the rendworm’s turning bulk. The mace carved through the air once more, the flanged head crashing squarely just behind the enormous hooked jaws and tentacles. This time, there was no crack like thunder, but a wet sound like the smashing of rotting fruit. The rendworm immediately shuddered and collapsed to the ground dead.
The other rendworm came now, covering Con with a shower of earth, a massive shadow blocking out the sun. Bringing his blade free of its sheath, he held it before him in desperation as one of the tentacles lashed at him. By some fortune, Con’s sword came across his body right in the path of the slashing tooth of the tentacle. Con dropped to the ground as the horror reared for another strike.
There was an explosion of gore as the creature’s soft abdomen was crushed under the girl’s mace. The white flesh shuddered and collapsed, and Con scrambled away from the new corpse. Through the noxious rendworm blood dripping down his face, he peered at the young cadet.
Her eyes shone with excitement and triumph.
“From the stories, I thought they would be bigger,” the girl said, her voice colored in disappointment.
Conbert looked at her, unable to stop shaking, unable to keep from staring as she handed him a water flask. She walked to the first corpse and began working away at the creature with the short blade from her belt. With quick, sure movements, she tore free the huge serrated jaws of the rendworm.
The girl grinned ear to ear. “They have no eyes, but they can feel your vibrations when you move. You did incredibly well, sir.”
Con could only nod dumbly. Finally, he found his tongue. “Conbert Eylnen,” he said, unsure of what else to say. “My name is Con.”
The cadet nodded as she tore out the jaw of the second rendworm. “Elinor,” she said, handing him the bloody mandible. “That one’s yours, but I think we had better get on our way before we attract any more attention. Don’t you agree?”
Con shook his head in disbelief. “After you,” he finally managed.
Elinor smiled and started for the road.
Con made sure to follow close behind.
Prologue
THE BOY FELT IT BEFORE he saw it.
There was a chill feeling, different from the usual cold that filled the stone halls of the orphanage. That cold was familiar and simple. You felt it in your bones. You endured it by hovering closer to the kitchen fire before the matron caught you, or by sharing a blanket with your chosen brothers and sisters.
But this was different. This was a sharp-edged cold. Like the glitter that came off the knife they used to kill the goats. Like the ice that sheathed the old tree outside and made the branches snap off. He did not feel this cold in his bones, but in his very soul. And it made him want to whimper with fear.
/>
He had tried to keep quiet. Already many of the other orphans were angry at him. The dancers and jugglers had them clapping and laughing, a rare treat for the forgotten children housed here.
Until he had begun screaming and pointing at one of the performers.
He had ruined the show, and the embarrassed matron sent the children off to their dormitories immediately. Their anger was palpable, a terrible thing he felt all around, and he could hear harsh whispers up and down the halls of the old fortress that served as the orphanage. “Crazy is at it again,” he heard. “The lunatic’s seeing monsters again.” He knew if not for his friends, he would have suffered that night.
His friends Elinor, Alys, Roan, and Kay had not been angry, though. They believed him. They comforted him, drawing him away from the performers and out of the room without a look back at the ruined entertainment. Elinor wrapped an arm around his shoulders as they walked and Roan stared daggers at the other orphans, defying their anger at his friend. Together, they returned to the dormitory and prepared for bed.
No, his friends had not been angry like the other children were. They never were. But he also knew they did not understand. Not truly. Even he began to doubt himself. Perhaps the cruel whispers from the other children were right, he thought.
Until tonight. Until he had seen the blackheart just an arm’s length away from him and he screamed and screamed till his throat was raw. Where their hearts should have been, oily mud and black smoke oozed from their chests to cover their bodies. He had seen them three times before, but never up close like this.
Even now, in the small hours of the night when everyone in the large room was asleep, the boy remained awake. The fear of the shadowed juggler would not leave him, and behind his closed eyes, he pictured the horrible darkness moving over the man. The feeling crept over him more and more. The cold feeling. Sharp. Dangerous.
He finally could not stand it any longer. His eyes snapped open, and he looked across the darkened room, past the simple cots the orphans all slept on.
And he saw it.
The blackheart was in the room. The rolling, oily blackness spilled from its chest like blood from a wound, deeper even than the dark of the night. It stood across the room from him, looming over the foot of one girl’s bed. The boy felt his heart pounding, and he longed to reach out to touch his friends, either to wake them to see what he saw or to wake himself from what must be a nightmare. But he was too frightened to move.
As he watched, the juggler’s shape sloughed off, dropping to the floor like a discarded garment. In its place was something more horrifying. The head became longer and had no eyes, only a round mouth from which the boy could see wicked teeth. It craned a long, serpent-like neck toward the sleeping child while reaching forward with ragged claws at the end of spindly arms. The thing bent down to feed, and the boy moaned with terror.
The long neck whipped impossibly around, turning its eyeless face toward the boy. It dropped to all fours and charged across the room.
For the second time that night the boy screamed himself raw.
***
Ferran opened his eyes and tried to still his breathing. The room was warm. All around him were men and women, wearing the earthy colors favored by the Order of Talan. Many of them had their exposed skin heavily tattooed with strange symbols and designs. But all of them looked on him with understanding eyes.
An old man stepped forward, leaning heavily on a cane. Dark stripes were inked onto his weathered and wrinkled face, contrasting with the bright white of his long beard. He stood before Ferran and watched as the young man drew deep breaths.
“What did you see?” the old man asked.
Ferran matched the old man’s gaze and steadied himself. “My past,” Ferran said.
The old man studied him for a long moment and then nodded once. He stepped out of the way and made a gesture. Across the length of the chamber, a heavy iron door swung open, to reveal the creature from his memory. The monstrous head whipped around and the circular maw puckered at the air. Long talons scraped across the floor with a high-pitched keening as it drew away from the open door.
“What do you see?” the old man asked from behind Ferran.
In his left hand, Ferran felt the weight of a long length of silver chain, and he let one end fall to the floor with a clear, bright ring. His other hand tightened around the haft of a short spear, the blade held before him, catching the light of the torches carried by the members of the Order who looked on.
“What do you see?” the old man asked once more.
Ferran’s lips drew back into a savage smile. “My future,” he said and advanced on the monster.
Echoes of the Ascended
by Gelineau and King
Elinor 1: A Reaper of Stone
A Lady is dead. Her noble line ended. And the King’s Reaper has come to reclaim her land and her home. In the marches of Aedaron, only one thing is for certain. All keeps of the old world must fall.
Elinor struggles to find her place in the new world. She once dreamed of great things. Of becoming a hero in the ways of the old world. But now she is a Reaper. And her duty is clear. Destroy the old. Herald the new.
Ferran 1: Rend the Dark
The great Ruins are gone. The titans. The behemoths. All banished to the Dark and nearly forgotten. But the cunning ones, the patient ones remain. They hide not in the cracks of the earth or in the shadows of the world. But inside us. Wearing our skin. Waiting. Watching.
Once haunted by visions of the world beyond, Ferran now wields that power to hunt the very monsters that he once feared. He is not alone. Others bear the same terrible burden. But Hunter or hunted, it makes no difference. Eventually, everything returns to the Dark.
Alys 1: Best Left in the Shadows
A Highside girl. Beaten. Murdered. Her body found on a Lowside dock. A magistrate comes looking for answers. For justice.
Alys trades and sells secrets among the gangs and factions of Lowside. She is a daughter of the underworld. Bold. Cunning. Free. When an old lover asks for help, she agrees. For a price.
Together, they travel into the dark heart of the underworld in search of a killer.
Roan & Kay 1: Faith and Moonlight
Roan and Kay are orphans.
A fire destroys their old life, but they have one chance to enter the School of Faith.
They are given one month to pass the entry trials, but as Roan excels and Kay fails, their devotion to each other is put to the test.
They swore they would face everything together, but when the stakes are losing the life they’ve always dreamed of, what will they do to stay together?
What won’t they do?
Praise for Best Left in the Shadows
“I was blown away by the detail and world building that was accomplished in so few pages. I didn’t feel like I was seeing a section of a puzzle, more like I was reading a story that would contribute to a larger whole, but is compelling and rich all on its own.”
– Mama Reads, Hazel Sleeps
“Like with the previous Ascended books, I really love the characters and their dynamic. The female lead Alys is different from the heroines in Reaper and Rend the Dark, but she’s just as complex and strong.”
– White Sky Project
Praise for A Reaper of Stone
“Gelineau and King have done a great job in this novella. They at times remind me of Ken Follett and a family friendly George R.R. Martin. I would recommend this instant classic to young adults and seasoned fantasy lovers alike.”
– Patrick McQueen, President, CWC South Bay Writers
“A classic fantasy tale with a strong, admirable heroine and a nice emotional punch. Great start to an enjoyable new series!”
– RL King, author of The Alastair Stone Chronicles
“I don’t know if you can call a book lovely, but A Reaper of Stone as a fantasy has a lovely quality to it. It has a strong, kickass female protagonist – always a good thing to have, in my opinio
n – and a setting/environment that gives it that true classic or epic fantasy feel.”
– White Sky Project
“I really enjoyed the world building here, the myths and legends are tangible and the world’s history lingers just beneath the surface of the storyline. I loved the resolution.”
– Galleywampus
Praise for Rend the Dark
“Atmospheric, fast paced, engaging quick read, with a satisfying story and glimpses of Supernatural and King’s IT. This is definitely a series I can get hooked on and look forward to month after month.”
– BooksChatter
“Rend the Dark really is a good old fashioned horror adventure with an exciting plot and strong characters that you would root for from beginning to end. Like A Reaper of Stone, Rend the Dark is very fast paced and has an intriguing story that can really pull you in.”
– White Sky Project
“Wow. This is an awesomely dark and scary world these writers have created. I love their use of runes and tattoos. Children with Sight and adults who no longer believe. It’s a world I will enjoy visiting, for certain.”
– Paranormal Romance and Authors that Rock
Best Left in the Shadows Page 6