The Obsidian Arrow

by Craig A. Price Jr.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Map

  Newsletter

  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

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Epilogue

  Newsletter

  Back Matter

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  The Obsidian

  Arrow

  By Craig A. Price Jr.

  Copyright © 2017 by Craig A. Price Jr.

  First edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the copyright owner, except for “fair use” as attributed quotations in reviews of the book.

  All characters in this work are fictional. Any likenesses to persons or situations are entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by Treasure Scarbrough

  This book is dedicated to my brother Robert, and his wife Jennifer, both whom have been very supporting and encouraging of my aspirations to become an author.

  Empowering women? Women wanting to break away from the male-led government? Read more about these amazon women called the Ikchani in my novella based in the same world as The Crimson Claymore and The Chronicles of Starlyn.

  You can get it FREE Here

  As an Indie author, reviews are really important to me. If you enjoyed this story, please leave a Review. I would really appreciate it.

  Chapter 1

  Searon stormed through the chamber doors to find everyone else already seated. He hated to arrive late, especially to the first organized meeting between kheshlars and humans. Searon wondered if the kheshlars would consider his tardiness a human flaw. He’d wanted to arrive earlier, but he’d decided to look one last time in Starlyn’s cabin for any trace of where she might have gone. Searon knew he should trust her, but he wished she could have seen Andron’s return before she left. Starlyn still believed Andron to be dead, and Searon worried she would carry grief with her wherever she went.

  Searon slumped at the corner of the table in the kheshlarn chamber, set his crimson-and-silver helm in front of him, and stared at his reflection in its depths. With his long hair and rough complexion, he didn’t look like the general he once was. No longer did he have a neatly trimmed goatee, and his face looked scruffy and unkempt. He ran his fingers through his tangled hair and pulled it hard, in an attempt to wake up from a nightmare. He wished it were only a dream and that he slumbered in bed next to his wife, Victoria, but he knew she wouldn’t rise from the grave.

  “I’m sorry for my tardiness. I tried to track Starlyn one last time.”

  The kheshlarn king, Elsargast, nodded. “Yes, her knowledge would have been helpful in this matter. I do hope she finds what she is looking for.”

  Searon glanced at the king’s pale blue ageless complexion and nodded. He knew the king only recently agreed to an alliance with humans, and only because of the threat to their own civilization. Starlyn, however, Searon knew to be a kind kheshlar, and he missed her company.

  Elsargast coughed, laced his hands, and set them on the table in front of him. “The army we recently defeated doesn’t seem as scattered as we hoped. In fact, it seems they’re building and plan to march on us … soon. We will appoint leaders for various positions, and any ideas you have will be considered. Andron, tell everyone what you saw so they may hear it from you.”

  Andron straightened in his seat, his eyes opening wide. He glanced to the kheshlars around him and shivered, appearing unnerved. Starlyn had been the only kheshlar the young man knew. “Well, as some of you know, I attacked a …” He glanced at the wizard.

  “Nacropis,” Karceoles uttered, scratching the salt-and-pepper stubble on his chin.

  “What is a nacropis?” Anaela interjected.

  Searon turned to her and smiled. For a kheshlar, she was vastly different from the others. She was one of a kind, or at least no other wood kheshlars had been found. Her skin, which was a soft green, rather than the blue of the other kheshlars, matching her to the trees, intrigued Searon.

  “A necromancer, the sorcerer of the dead, has raised scorpions to be a part of this army. However, these are not mere rodents, but larger than men, and walking on two legs. One of them may have the strength of more than ten draeyks,” Karceoles said.

  Draeyks. The mention of the savage reptilian beasts enraged Searon. He’d made it his mission to destroy each and every one of them, and that was why he sat at the meeting. The hatred Searon held for the creatures was how the wizard convinced him to lead an army.

  “The creature was more powerful than Phoenix and I,” Andron continued. “After he fell, I knew I wouldn’t be able to defeat it myself. I tried to buy time. I pulled a container of oil from my sash to drench my sword. I threw the rest at the nacropis. By using my flint, I ignited my sword in flames, and then continued to fight. After the nacropis caught aflame, it fled, as did I, in an attempt to hide from the necromancer directing the nacropis. I couldn’t leave right away. More necromancers came, and they spoke about scorpions and ways to create more nacropi.”

  “More? How many more?” Karceoles asked, his eyes bulging.

  “An army,” Andron answered, cold sweat running along his face.

  “What happened next? Tell us about the army you saw,” Elsargast said.

  “After I escaped, I had to evade them the whole way. I’m surprised I reached Sudegam without being caught. A hundred leagues northeast of here, I stumbled upon a camp. It was larger than any camp I’ve ever seen. It was full of draeyks—more than I’ve ever seen. There were daerions as well, almost matching the draeyks in number. I almost stumbled into their midst and had to take a long, arduous detour to get around the camp unnoticed,” Andron said.

  Searon cursed under his breath. The blue-skinned horned daerions hadn’t been seen in years, but lately they were making a showing. They were supposed to be extinct, but if they were matching draeyks in numbers … there was a problem. Daerions were much stronger than draeyks, and that worried Searon.

  “Who led them?” Elsargast asked, shifting in his seat.

  “I did not stick around to find out. They are heading southwest though, straight toward here,” Andron cautioned.

  “How long?” Searon asked.


  “A couple weeks if they keep pace,” Andron said, dipping his head and staring at his dirty, blood-caked hands.

  “I wish Starlyn hadn’t left. Her leadership would serve us well now.” Elsargast closed his eyes and shook his head.

  “Do you not have another to lead?” Karceoles asked, tilting his head.

  Elsargast flushed red, and his eyes darted to Karceoles. “Of course I do. Vil’ek will be in charge of our close-range melee warriors.”

  “My lord, what of you? If you remain here, you will need protection,” Vil’ek said, straightening in his chair.

  Vil’ek stood as the king’s personal guard, and one of the best trained kheshlars Searon had seen.

  Elsargast smiled. “My old friend, do not worry about me. I will place a squad of kheshlars with me. I need you leading our men and women. I trust no one else.”

  “I will not disappoint you, my lord,” Vil’ek said. He dipped his head and sat back in his chair, continuing as a shadow in the discussion.

  Elsargast nodded. “As far as our ranged units, I appoint my best archer to lead them to victory. Anaela, you are wise when it comes to long range. I want you in charge of our archers and crossbows.”

  “As you wish,” Anaela said, dipping her head and glancing at Searon.

  “Aliqua, I need you to organize all the spell casters.” Elsargast smiled at her.

  “Yes, sire. If I may?” Aliqua asked, eyes meeting the king’s.

  Searon looked to the herbalist, Aliqua. She was the strangest to him by far. He’d thought she was only an herbalist, and hadn’t realized she knew anything about spells. She was unlike any kheshlar, with chocolate skin and taller ears. She didn’t look like a high kheshlar or a wood kheshlar, but they regarded her as a high kheshlar, and she received more respect than Anaela did.

  “Go ahead,” Elsargast replied. He stretched in his seat as he watched her.

  “If I take the spell casters to the treetops and homes, we can be more effective. We’ll have larger range and stay safer,” Aliqua assured them.

  “That sounds like a fine idea, Aliqua,” Elsargast said.

  The king looked to Searon and smiled. “Searon, continue from here. You know your men best.”

  By men, Elsargast meant humans. Searon judged by the king’s downcast eyes that he found humans lesser. And why wouldn’t he? Humans weren’t immortal like the kheshlars, nor as strong. However, the king failed to realize that Searon was no ordinary human.

  “Karceoles and Sh’on will be in charge of range and support,” Searon said, glancing to the wizard and the mage.

  “Consider it done,” Karceoles said, reaching for his long-stem pipe from his brown robes.

  Sh’on nodded, his straight golden hair bouncing on his shoulders.

  “Etherond will lead his men since he knows them best as captain,” Searon stated. He looked to the bronze-haired northern captain and nodded.

  “Thank you, sir.” Etherond grinned at Searon.

  “And Andron will be a captain on the other flank, using his tactic skills,” Searon announced.

  Searon turned to Andron, observing his mangled black hair, which had once been straight, and the dried blood and bruises all over his body. Searon knew Andron needed rest, but he was a more than capable leader. He showed more courage than most of the warriors Searon led. If it weren’t for Andron, there was a high possibility that Searon wouldn’t be there. Andron had stepped in to fight the nacropis, allowing Searon to flee and gather the army, and it had almost cost him his life. Everyone thought him dead, but he’d returned and warned them of their new enemy. He deserved the title.

  “I won’t let you down,” Andron responded, his voice certain, although his wide eyes betrayed him.

  “What about you, Searon?” Elsargast tilted his head to watch Searon.

  “I fight with my men. I will be wherever I am needed on the battlefield,” Searon replied. From the corners of his eyes, he glimpsed the nodded approval of each of his officers.

  “All right, it is time to make preparations,” Elsargast said. “This room is dismissed.”

  Searon stood outside and studied his men. Some tightened their armor, others prepared food and drink, while a few practiced swordplay. Sparks scattered across the field as blades crossed, causing Searon to smile. He knew they wouldn’t all make it—even his men knew it. Death didn’t scare them. Instead of resting, they continued to practice. His men were loyal. Nothing was going to stop them from fighting until the end, with hope of returning to their families.

  He motioned for Andron and Etherond to come to him. He needed to discuss how they were going to set up swordsmen. The two strode forward proudly, side by side, as they spoke to each other. They were probably speaking of their own ideas for leadership. They knew they were in charge of their companies, but also knew that Searon retained complete control.

  “We need to coordinate positions for us to use when they attack. They are going to attack us from the south,” Searon stated.

  Both captains raised their eyebrows and tilted their heads.

  “They are coming from northeast,” Andron argued.

  “Yes, but if they have draeyks, daerions, and nacropi together, then we have to assume they are smart. Now tell me, Andron, why would attacking from the south be the smartest move?” Searon asked, handing him a map.

  Andron surveyed the map with care. He noticed how the city was arrayed, the main roads and the buildings facing north and south. All the small roads in the town connected to a larger road in the south.

  “They would attack from the south because it is the only direction where the main road forks in each direction, making it easy for an army to spread through town without being too cramped,” Andron said, glancing at Searon, grinning.

  “Very good.” Searon nodded. “Therefore the south is the most vulnerable. Why did they build it like this?” Searon asked, glancing to each of them.

  “The kheshlars have no enemies south of them,” Etherond said.

  “Yes, now my plan is, I cover the south, Etherond, you cover the east, and Andron, you guard the west. We each have messengers to deliver information between each other,” Searon said. He glanced at his captains for approval.

  “What of the north? Shouldn’t it be protected?” Etherond asked.

  “I am sure Vil’ek will be guarding it. Kheshlars are practical in battle—they do not know it like I do, they will choose the obvious. They may be stronger warriors, but they do not see battle as often as humans do,” Searon said.

  Searon dismissed them and leaned against a tree. He pondered how they were going to get through this. It seemed all the odds were stacked against them. He only hoped the willpower of his men would prevail in battle. He ceased worrying about it when he saw Anaela. He saw her in her green-and-silver armor, her helm wedged between her ribcage and arm as she spoke to the kheshlarn archers, allowing her gorgeous brunette hair to hang loose, sparkling in the sunlight.

  Everything is going to be all right, it has to be.

  Chapter 2

  The room was dark, but that was how Zergiel liked it. Dark energy surrounded him. Darkness gave him peace, it allowed him to smile. He lived for ultimate hate, for revenge. He knew Karceoles must die for doing this to him, for killing his beloved. Oh, how he missed her. She was the only good thing in his life.

  “Hairamat …” He whispered his love’s name.

  He glanced at his hands, so wrinkled and dark. They were tan from centuries of living. It was torture living for so long, especially now, without his love. She was the one person who’d brought him balance. He almost remembered himself as normal before she became sick. He was changed now. It was all for her, to save her life, and he had, until Karceoles killed her.

  He took the kettle off the fire, ran some water over his fingers, checking the temperature, and poured the boiling water on his face. It burned and steamed around his red eyes. He gazed in the mirror at his ragged appearance. His gray beard wasn’t short anymore
, but long and unkempt, and his wrinkles had only worsened. He sighed, put his black robe on, and walked outside.

  The sunlight almost blinded him. When his eyes adjusted, he noticed the draeyks and daerions acting restless. He wanted them restless, craving battle. When they finally got to attack, they would not relent.

  “Lord Zergiel,” a voice hissed.

  He glanced to a draeyk dressed in blue leather armor. His complexion was dark, except where his black scales glistened in the moonlight. The draeyk standing in front of him was his chosen captain.

  “Yes, Rabok?” Zergiel asked.

  “We hunger for battle,” he hissed.

  “Not yet. Trust me, when the time is right, we will strike, not before,” Zergiel said.

  Another warrior lumbered over to him, a daerion dressed in red leather armor. The armor stood out more than any other because of his rough blue skin. The horns angling toward his jaw were chipped from hard battle.

  “Yes, Captain?” Zergiel asked.

  “The necromancers have arrived.”

  “Thank you,” Zergiel said.

  Zergiel turned to his three necromancers. All had black-and-gray hair trailing down their backs and a full trimmed beard making a point at their chins. It would be impossible to tell them apart if not for their different color robes.

  The youngest, and the newest addition to their force, was Darelme. His robes were dark green, and he was the one who’d come up with raising dead scorpions for an army. He created the nacropi. Zergiel was grateful for his contribution.

  The oldest was Valender. He wore purple robes, and excelled at raising the dead. He was one of the first necromancers whom Zergiel had met when his life changed.

  The last was Dumarst. He wore yellow robes and could outdo the others at spells. He was working on a spell to permanently increase the nacropi armor, but hadn’t perfected it yet.

  “What do you have for me?” Zergiel asked.

  Darelme held up a cage full of scorpions. They were all different sizes, and many different species. The ones still alive were fighting each other.