Tales Of Nevaeh: The Trilogy and Backstory of the Epic Sci-Fi Fantasy Series Tales Of Nevaeh: (The 4 Book Bundled Box Set)

by David Wind

  When he was five feet from her, a swarm of gray dust swirled around her in a mini-tornado. Roth stared into her red-rimmed eyes, at the grey shriveled skin and distorted face of the Black Bitch, and leapt into the air, his sword already swinging at her neck.

  The instant the sword swished through the air, descending toward her neck, the gray mist solidified around her and the Black Sorceress disappeared,. The sword met no resistance and Roth hit the empty space where it had been and, unable to stop himself, rolled forward. He rose quickly, his sword ready, when he realized the fight had changed.

  The ghazi, leaderless, no longer followed any formation. They charged everywhere, swinging at anyone who came near. Twenty minutes later, the dark creatures lay dead and the fighting was over. The four or five hundred fighters of the third wave of Morvene’s troops reached the shore at that moment. These where not ghazi, and not a single one of them moved as the Nevaens reached them; rather, they laid their weapons on the ground in surrender.

  Taking in huge gasps of air, Roth came back to himself, his cool analytical mind taking charge and pushing the rage driven warrior back to where it hid within him. He turned just as Enaid reached him and stared into her cool gray eyes.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  Her eyes tracked across his face, taking in every inch. “Never again do that to me,” she said, her voice barely audible. “Never run before me! When we move, we move together, Solomon Roth. We work together, it is the only way we can defeat the dark.”

  He smiled at her, but before he could speak, Nosaj was next to him. “Well done!” the Prince of Freemorn shouted, a large hand clapping down on Roth’s shoulder.

  Next to him, Ilsraeth looked from Roth to Enaid, a knowing expression on her face. “Foolish to charge her the way you did.”

  Roth’s brows raised, and then he laughed. “Is this the way of it? Is this what I face for the future?”

  A puzzled look fell across Enaid’s features. “I don’t understand.”

  Roth shook his head. “Two women telling me what I should or should not do?”

  Enaid smiled at his words. “Only if you wish to live long enough for us to have children.”

  Next to him, Nosaj let out a loud roar of laughter. “That, my friend, is exactly what you face for the future.”

  IV

  THE FOLLOWING FOUR days passed in a blur of cleaning up the aftermath of the battle. By the end of the second day, the bodies of the ghazi had been collected and set on pyres. While they burned, the Nevaens took care of their dead and wounded. The third wave of the Morvene attackers who had surrendered without a fight, found themselves herded together and encircled by guards. These fighters were not soldiers; rather, they were the citizens of Morvene, pressed into service for this battle and had offered no resistance.

  On the morning of the second day, Prince Darb and his soldiers had arrived. The forces they’d met had lost heart in the middle of the battle, when the Women of Power leading them had suddenly fled the battlefield. Enaid was certain the Black Witch had gotten a message to them to return to her. Those soldiers of Morvene had surrendered shortly thereafter.

  Prince Darb and his troops brought them to Apolis after receiving Enaid’s message that the battle here was over. They were now with the other prisoners, in an area outside the walls of the keep.

  Just after sunset on the fourth day, King Ecorah and Queen Enna arrived at Apolis with a small contingency of guards and Prince Retlaw of Morvene, the heir to the throne, whom they had found locked away because of his resistance to the Black Sorceress. Half of the Brumwall army followed a day behind, while the other half remained in Morvene with Namron sitting the throne in Ecorah’s name until the fate of Morvene was decided.

  When they entered the great hall and strode toward the waiting group, Enaid broke away and hurried toward her parents. Roth stood with Nosaj and Ilsraeth, watching Enaid greet her parents with hugs. Then the three closed the distance. When Ecorah reached them, he went to Nosaj first and grasped his forearm. “Thank you,” he said.

  “It was my honor,” the young prince responded.

  Then the King of Brumwall turned to Roth and smiled. “And you, Roth, this victory belongs to you.”

  “Roth took the extended arm of the king and grasped it firmly. “Thank you my Lord.”

  King Ecorah motioned to the young prince who stood waiting. When the man reached them, Ecorah said, “Prince Retlaw, you know Nosaj, yes?”

  Retlaw smiled as he and Nosaj exchanged nods.

  “This is Roth, one of my advisors.”

  Without waiting for the man to do so, Roth extended his arm. The prince studied Roth for a moment and then grasped his arm, his fingers tightening on Roth’s forearm. “I have heard much about you, Roth, and of how you defeated Olrac.”

  Roth eyed the prince for a moment. “Strategy, my Lord, and luck.”

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  An hour later, after changing out of his day clothes and cleaning up, Roth walked along the hallway leading to the informal dining hall. As he neared it, he found Enaid waiting for him. Smiling, he reached out and cupped her cheek. “You always know where I am, don’t you?”

  She returned his smiled, pressed the back of his hand tighter to her cheek and said, “I would be a poor Woman of Power if I did not know where the man I loved was.”

  He lowered his hand. “What do you think your father will do about Morvene and Retlaw?”

  “He has two choices: name someone to sit the throne of Morvene in Brumwall’s name; or, allow Prince Retlaw to assume the throne and the kingship.”

  “What do you know of Retlaw?”

  “Much. Betrothed he is to Layra of Welkold, the niece of the king. She, Ilsraeth and I were in the School of the Lords together. Retlaw was there, Nosaj as well. I have never known him to be less than honorable. He was always the opposite of his parents, who always seemed to seek more, rather than build onto what they had.”

  “You see him as an ally more so than an enemy?”

  She studied him closely, her brows knitting together, the corners of her mouth tugged downward. “I do, why?”

  Roth exhaled slowly. “I wanted to know more about him before we sit with him.”

  “Why?”

  He smiled suddenly. “You know me so well already, do you?”

  Her lips showed no smile; rather, her entire continence reflected a deep seriousness. “I do, and I know you sense something. What?”

  Roth lost his smile. “I know not,” he said, slipping more naturally into the way of Nevaen speech. “It is something at the edge of my thoughts. I cannot grasp it, yet, but it involves Retlaw.”

  When she blinked after his last word, he knew she was aware of something. “What?”

  She shook her head. “I cannot speak of it. Trust me on this. You will understand.”

  “I have trusted you since the minute we met, that will not change.”

  “As it should not. Come, we will be rudely late.” Without waiting for a response, she turned and started toward the dining hall.

  Roth followed behind, shaking his head slowly at her back while wondering what her father was up to now.

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  For the first twenty minutes of the meal, all talk was on the fighting at Apolis and at the tip of Brumwall. When it came to the Dark Sorceress, all eyes went to Enaid and Roth, who both fended questions from Ecorah and Enna.

  “Did you not think that Black Bitch could harm you?” Enna asked Roth.

  Roth took a sip of wine and a deep breath. He met her curious gaze with an unwavering stare. “I didn’t think at all. I remember no other time in my life when anger took such deep control of me. All I saw was this…thing, killing our fighters and knew it had to stop. But, I knew that no matter what, Enaid would find a way protect me.”

  “And Ilsraeth and a half dozen other women,” Enaid said. “But we did.”

  Retlaw spoke next. “I find it unusual…no, unheard of, for someone like you, someone not born of
a dominion to sacrifice his life for it.”

  Roth held the prince’s gaze for several silent seconds. “From where I come, loyalty and sacrifice are earned. Just being born to a…place is not what I consider a logical reason to offer my life.”

  The prince did not look away. “I understand you were born in exile.”

  “I lived in exile, yes,” Roth admitted. It was not really a lie, considering he could logically view the three thousand years of space travel as exile.

  “What of your loyalty to the other exiles?”

  He noticed the concerned expression on Ecorah’s face as he wondered what Retlaw was seeking. “My loyalty, my Lord, is to life, not death. Exiles seek to neither conquer nor war with other dominions, but to live out their lives peacefully. They live their lives away from the rest of Nevaeh, because their deformities distress most ‘normal’ people and it singles them out. At present, nor ever, do they have any need for me to sacrifice anything, so your question has no answer in that aspect. As I said, my loyalty is to life. ”

  Retlaw continued to study Roth. “I find myself in a precarious position. My father and my mother fell under the control of the Dark One, which caused death and destruction throughout Morvene, and spilled into other dominions. A military leader of Brumwall occupies the throne that was mine by inheritance, and an exile in the service of Brumwall has defeated Morvene’s army, not once but twice. And all I really want to know is if the results of all of this will end up as a benefit to my people, or something else.”

  “My Lord,” Roth said in a very low voice, his words spoken slowly and distinctly. “That is something I am not qualified to answer.”

  “No,” King Ecorah said. “Roth is not qualified to answer, but I am. For centuries, there have always been ten domains ruled by ten leaders. I will not be the one to change that. Yet, precedence says that I have the right to name a new king, as I am the conqueror of Morvene.”

  Retlaw turned to him. “I have thought much on this, Highness. I have known you all my life. I know you as a king, as a father, and as a man. I know you are just, and wise. Whatever your decision, it will be correct.”

  Roth did his best to see if Retlaw was speaking to gain sympathy and favor, or if his words were heartfelt and true. Then he looked at Enaid and Enna, and by their expressions, knew Retlaw was saying exactly what he meant. There would be no possible way to fool those two women. Nevaeh, unlike the world he’d come from, was not a place where lies gained foothold.

  Ecorah looked from Retlaw, to Darb and then to Roth. He leaned back, tugged at his thick curly black beard and exhaled loudly. “I see before me, three of the finest examples of the nobility of Neveah. Two who are born to the blood, while one, although exile, who by word and deed is no less of a royal specimen. It would be simple to name my son Darb as king, but then he would not be able to sit my throne when the time comes. And you, Retlaw. I know you well having watched you grow into manhood.”

  The King of Brumwall paused to sweep his eyes across everyone’s face until settling his gaze on Roth. “Solomon Roth, what say you, to the throne of Morvene?”

  The moment Ecorah uttered the words, the silence in the room thickened into a constricting aura while Roth did his best to hide his shock. He closed his eyes. When he opened them, every eye was on him. He did not fail to notice Nosaj’s shadowy smile, nor Enaid’s stone-set features.

  “My Lord, you honor me in a way I have not even remotely considered. And I have only one way to answer you.” He fell silent, turned to Enaid and smiled at her. She returned the smile and nodded. He reached out to her, resting his hand palm up on the table. She put her hand in his.

  “My Lord, the very last thing I want, is to be a king. I prefer service to ruling.” As he spoke, Enaid’s fingers tightened around his.

  Ecorah stared at Roth for a full half minute before nodding. “As you wish.” He turned to Retlaw. “My Lord Retlaw, you remain as our guest until the details of a new treaty between our domains is finalized, after which you will sit the throne of Morvene as king. Does this suit you?”

  Retlaw bowed his head and held the incline for several seconds before meeting Ecorah’s eyes. “It does, your Highness.”

  “Then all is settled.”

  “Not quite,” Nosaj said.

  Darb laughed and shook his head at his father’s expression. “We had a bet, Nosaj and I. I knew it would come to this. Nosaj won the bet.”

  Ecorah raised his eyebrows. “And the bet?”

  “Two of my battle bred kraals against two of Freemorn’s best sleeping silks.”

  “Not the winnings, the bet!” Ecorah snapped.

  “Oh,” Darb said innocently with a wink to Nosaj. “That you would ask Roth what you did.”

  “Then how did Nosaj win?”

  “The bet wasn’t that you would ask Roth to take the throne, but that Roth would refuse,” Nosaj told them all.

  While Ecorah and the others laughed, Retlaw turned to Roth. “I am in your debt, Roth.”

  Roth shook his head. “No, my Lord, you are in Ecorah’s debt, not mine at all.”

  Ecorah pushed away from the table. “Now that this is settled, and after the treaty is done, we will begin the preparation for the wedding.”

  “Wedding?” Retlaw asked.

  “Wedding,” Darb replied. “My sister is to wed Roth.”

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  Book II

  The Dark Masters

  The Tales of Nevaeh: Book II

  By

  David Wind

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and events are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places or incidents are coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Copyright © 2015 by David Wind. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact David Wind.

  ISBN-10: 0990003558

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9900035-5-7

  Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill

  Map by Jamie Noble

  Editorial & Proofing, J. Lacie Redding, Pelican Proofing.

  © Copyright 2015 by David Wind

  First Edition May 2015

  Second Edition, November 2015

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  A listing of David Wind’s previous novels are at the end of this book.

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  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I would like to thank everyone who has helped me on this journey into the future. To Bonnie Wind for all her support and love, and to my fabulous Beta readers, Terry Vanlandingham, Effrosyni Moschoudi, Nicholas Rossis, Amanda Tibbets & Mike Kaufman.

  To

  Bonnie Marilyn

  "….what people call magic is but the witnessing of a science they cannot comprehend…."

  —Areenna of Freemorn, Age twelve, 5267

  PROLOGUE

  SHE LAY ON the cavern floor, unmoving, her twisted limbs spread awkwardly as she stared at the high ceiling above. She had failed, and with failure came fear. Her masters would soon know of this failure, if they did not already have the knowledge.

  Trembling on the rock floor, exhausted from the battle fought with the forces she had never encountered before, she pleaded with her masters even as she built the message of her failure to them.

  She was explicit within the message, sparing no detail of what had happened and filled the mist-carried, winged messenger with her impression of the powers that had defeated her creations and herself. At the end of the woeful tale, she added her plea for mercy, knowing well the answer might never come.

  There was no choice. There was no one other than her dark masters, the rulers of her world, the ones who had entrusted this part of the world to her with the most important task of all: to destroy Roth, his woman, his child, and the woman-child called Areenna, just as she had killed the woman-child’s mother with a lingering painful death.

  She dragged herself from the floor and half-walked half-sc
uttled to where the winged mist awaited outside the cavern. She drew in all the strength she could muster and once her message was complete, and the mist swirled about her impatiently, she would either live or die at their whim. Yet, until that day came, she would not cease her attempts to finish what her masters had decreed.

  “I will destroy them, I will do as you have commanded. Or I will give my life in the attempt.”

  A rush of confidence filled her when she swirled her hands and called up the formula to send the message on its winged way.

  She completed the message and the mist disappeared. She saw not the cloud-filled heavens above, but the faces of the four she had sworn to destroy. From within the black remnants of what once was her soul came a haunting laugh, for she knew what was coming.

  CHAPTER 1

  Areenna of Freemorn sat stone still: her breathing soundless, her senses ranging, searching. Hidden by the branches of a low-hanging gazebow tree, she eased her tense muscles before making her next move.

  Challenging her inner strength while willing her body to rest and recover, she could not help but marvel at how much had happened in the few months following their testing on the Island.

  She had changed in so many ways, there were times when she barely recognized herself. Her strength and her powers had increased more than she’d ever imagined possible—far more than the short eighteen years she’d lived. Her ability to meld her mind with his was as if they were one person. Harder though, was the knowledge that the emotions within her could not rise to the barest of thoughts—not yet.