The Wrath of Thomerion

by Daniel Heck

  THE WRATH OF THOMERION

  AN INTERACTIVE NOVEL

  By Daniel J. Heck

  Copyright © 2019

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters herein to real people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  When you’re finished with this book, please review it on Amazon. The author welcomes all feedback.

  The Wrath of Thomerion is part of a trilogy! The Seal of Thomerion and The Gate to Thomerion are also available via Amazon as e-books or in print. Check them out!

  Plus, read Daniel J. Heck’s author blog at:

  http://www.theworldofthomerion.com

  Big thanks and acknowledgements!

  I extend my deepest appreciation to the following people

  for their critically important roles in making

  The Wrath of Thomerion happen:

  Matthew Ridout, for critique and unwavering friendship

  Cory Skerry and Chanticleer Reviews, for powerful

  developmental editing and critique

  Michelle Herring, for motivation and undying love

  Kay Herring, for line-editing and compassionate care

  Richard and Mary Heck, for raising me and instilling in me creativity and a burning desire to succeed

  Cover design by Andrei Bat,

  acquired via 99designs.com

  World map generated by and

  downloaded from worldspinner.com

  You may be wondering:

  What is an ‘interactive novel?’

  There isn’t just one story to this book. In The Wrath of Thomerion, you control the characters’ actions by making decisions every so often. When you come to a question, such as What do you do next?, don’t just turn to the next page. Instead, click on or tap the link instructed, based on what you want to have happen next. When you reach an ending, simply start again. As you read, you’ll find that a quest unfolds, and overall, the book contains 26 possible endings that range in scope from utter defeat to glorious and complete victory!

  That’s not all. Some pages may instruct you to write down a keyword, for which you should use your reader’s notes feature or separate pencil and paper. These words may help you down the road, as they have special meaning within the story. You can denote them in any order, but don’t erase them, even if you start the book over. That’s all I’ll say about that for now! Thank you for reading.

  MAP OF AMBROSINIA

  Roooaarrrrr!!

  Clinging tightly to the reins on a mottled purple dragon, you soar under and around low-hanging clouds as the forceful winds whip your hair about. You glance around you, where several competitors have already gotten the jump on you, ahead slightly in the obstacle course.

  You hear a barker shout below, “And they’re off! What an illustrious start to the first annual Ambrosinian dragon regatta!”

  You spur your carrier forward, and it beats its wings feverishly. Mere yards ahead, a familiar face comes into view.

  “Better keep up, Titania!” taunts the bleached-blonde elf over her shoulder. Smiling mischievously, she rides a slender green dragon that cuts through the air like a scaled knife.

  “You know I can, Celestine! Just watch me…” you shout back.

  The pack of fliers, about ten in all, approach the first obstacle, a narrow passthrough between two cliffsides, as the barker explains to onlookers on the ground, “Judges shall evaluate our contestants’ performances, combining points for style and overall order of finish with the number of magical tokens collected to determine a final score. Which strategy will each rider focus on? Trying to be fancy could cost time!”

  Approaching a squeeze point as your mount tips by ninety degrees, you overtake a competitor just in time to reach outward and touch a golden coin suspended in mid-air. Rather than hopping into your belt pouch, it disappears with a clank, counting that much more towards your final score.

  “Hey, that was mine!” Celestine shouts.

  You laugh and raspberry in her direction.

  Two riders hang back, choosing to fly over the cliffs rather than between, and the leading pack thins accordingly. Ahead, a waterfall rumbles, deafening you, and you steer your mount toward the tunnel mouth just behind it. Frowning hard, Celestine pulls on her reins, forcing her dragon to climb, then pushes up with her legs.

  “Oh ho!” shouts the barker. “What’s this? A standing double-grab!”

  Barely maintaining her balance but staying ahead of you by a few lengths, Celestine claims two tokens in one swipe, just before the blue currents drench you both.

  “Impressive, my friend!” you shout. Your words echo off the walls of the dark tunnel through which you now fly. And you mean them, you realize, even as you are behind in the count.

  The water weighs down the wings of a third rider’s dragon, who splashes into the river below, thinning the pack even more. The next obstacle, a system of moving nettings, tangles two more competitors, leaving only five. Glancing over your shoulder, you see that a burly orcblood atop a tremendous red dragon swiftly catches up to you and Celestine.

  Turning ahead once more, you emerge from the long tunnel’s other end. The pack starts to arc toward the right, following the cliffs’ jagged curves, with the intent of eventually having gone in a full circle, back toward the starting point.

  You quickly scan for tokens among the open air. A neat horizontal row of four floats high in the sky ahead, and while you would have to go out of your way to get them, an easy maneuver would pick them all up. In contrast, you also see a stone bridge to the right, and two tokens float near it, one above and one below. You think a vertical circle would be faster and more visually impressive, but with the trade-off of collecting fewer token points.

  And… this is all assuming that other fliers don’t pluck either out from under me…

  What do you do?

  I attempt a barrel-roll to get the farthest tokens!

  I perform a loop-de-loop to claim both closer tokens!

  Your excitement heightens with each item you earn, and you figure at this point that you might as well go for a clean sweep. You grip the wheel, and spin yet again…

  Look up again at the nearest digital timepiece. Add together the ones digit in the hours and the ones digit in the minutes.

  The sum is greater than 14.

  The sum is between 9 and 14 inclusive.

  The sum is less than 9.

  Your excitement heightens with each item you earn, and you figure at this point that you might as well go for a clean sweep. You grip the wheel, and spin yet again…

  Look up again at the nearest digital timepiece. Add together the ones digit in the hours and the ones digit in the minutes, then follow the corresponding link below.

  The sum is greater than 14.

  The sum is between 5 and 14 inclusive.

  The sum is less than 5.

  As you progress further, the ground underneath your feet starts to firm up, and your legs feel less like unstable jelly.

  You push the last overhanging branch out of your way to reveal a green dragon, sheltered underneath a partially fallen sumac near the rear of the clearing. Eyes closed, she snoozes peacefully, as an occasional burst of smoke puffs from her nostrils and mixes with the acrid air.

  “Omnara,” you whisper.

  A pause hangs, long and silent.

  “We wake her?” Galumnuk responds.

  “Dare we?” Celestine says, glancing at the orcblood.

  This is, after all, you ponder, what we came here for.

  Steeling your resolve, the three of you stride toward the legendary dragon sage. The air hangs clearer here.

  Seeming to hear your footsteps, Omnara slowly opens her eyes, blinks several times and flexes her maw in
a tremendous yawn. After a quick stretch of her legs, she intones with a light air, “Greetings. Although I can make a guess, what brings you here, humans?”

  Her unthreatening tone helps you relax. “Pardon our interruption of your rest, madam sage,” Celestine replies, “but we bring you news of great import, and at the same time seek your help.”

  “The homeland.”

  Your party exchanges wary glances.

  “Indeed, madam Omnara,” you confirm, “it has been desecrated.”

  She glances to the side and clicks a trio of tsk’s with her immense tongue, but then refocuses her attention on you.

  You continue, “A wounded dragon on the premises said something about a young man using magic and fire, but she couldn’t make out exactly who it was.”

  Galumnuk nods. “What we need do to stop more destruction?”

  Omnara stands on all fours, and approaches to within a few feet of your party. A moment passes. She glares down at you with unblinking seriousness.

  “I have been performing some complicated divinations as of late,” she professes, “and what I have found threatens the very existence of all lands, creatures and the core of goodness itself.”

  Your eyes widen. Celestine adopts a look of apprehension. You all listen carefully.

  “I have deduced that just before the Arcanites were obliterated, one of their least socially capable lieutenants sought to make his mark on the world for eternity. For he extracted the magic imbued in a specific golden idol and employed it in such a way that Thomerion himself could eventually inhabit and control a human body, to do with it what he wills. A demonic possession, if you follow me.”

  You gasp. Galumnuk grunts and hangs his head.

  “It took several years before the necessary circumstances arose. But that time is now. I theorize that Thomerion was responsible for the destruction you saw, and it is possible that, although his magic may need time to recharge and develop further, he could strike again quite soon.”

  Celestine asks, “Goodness, that’s awful. What do we do?”

  Omnara sits once again, in a graceful sphinx-like pose, and exhales softly. “Calm yourselves. For Thomerion and anything he carries can be fought. Others have attempted to do so, only to have his intense evil bend their spears and deflect their magic. They did not know that only three items in the history of the world can harm his spirit: the ancient Dragon Relics.

  They are the Sword of Dragon Lore, which the royal museum keeps under close watch in the capital, the Shield of Dragon Might, stolen and protected by an ogre chief within a cavern near Bladepass, and the Amulet of Dragon Soul, an item that can of its own power transmute other items and even itself if it so feels. Seek them. Use them. Perhaps then, peace can return to Ambrosinia, and to the dragons.”

  The weight of the situation settles into your core, heavy. No one says anything for several moments.

  We must do what we can…

  “If time is of the essence,” you state as the sage nods solemnly, “and it sounds like it is, we must find these artifacts as soon as possible. Can you come with us, Omnara?”

  “I am old,” she counters, “and weak, as dragons go. My knowledge is more powerful than my body, and as such, the sanctity of our race depends on my staying here, where few can find me. But then again, if you found me…”

  She puts a claw to her chin, thinking. Your party exchanges glances.

  After a moment, Omnara smiles. “Alas. I am sorry,” she whispers, hanging her head.

  “Aww,” Celestine purrs, extending a hand to pat the dragon on the forehead, “Don’t be ashamed. You’ve helped so much already. So don’t worry. We can handle this!”

  You arch an eyebrow. And to think, you reflect, I prided myself on being the fearless one.

  As a final note, Omnara shares that the possessed body is probably riding a steel-gray dragon and wears a black mask.

  “We should all split up,” you propose, “so that we can each get one of the relics and reconvene later.”

  Galumnuk and Celestine nod in fervent agreement.

  Which dragon relic will you pursue?

  I seek the Sword of Dragon Lore.

  I acquire the Shield of Dragon Might.

  I track down the Amulet of Dragon Soul.

  You ponder the alternatives for a split second, even as instinct takes over and tells you to go for the more definite form of scoring, style be darned.

  Gotta catch ‘em all…

  You yank the reins to the right and press into your dragon’s thigh with your left leg.

  “Jerrelin! Special maneuver Cirrus!”

  She complies, and your stomach churns as you rotate along a graceful arc. Holding tight, you squint and feel blood rush to your head. You pull a short staff with webbed netting at its end from your waist and reach as far as you can with it…

  Clank. Clank. Clank!

  …

  Trying to keep up as two other flyers pass, you frown. You’re pretty sure you missed one token, but there’s no time to double back and still hope to finish respectably. Far ahead and in the lead, Celestine cackles and whoops with glee.

  “Here they come ‘round the final bend, ladies and gentlemen!” shouts the barker. “Who shall cross first? Who picked up the most tokens? It all comes down to this!”

  The first- and second-place fliers charge into abrupt dives, trying to nose each other out. All you can do is watch as Celestine zooms through and tears down a brightly-colored banner stretched across the canyon mouth where you all first convened. Spectators cheer and clap with uncontrolled vigor.

  A moment later, you cross the finish line, then land gingerly upon the rocky mesa. A feeling of pure joy surprises you and floods your chest, precluding any disappointment in your performance. You dismount.

  “What an experience!” you rejoice as you embrace your friend.

  “Nothing to have ever been afraid of,” Celestine concurs.

  After the barker grants a short while for discussion and recovery from flight, he once again commands everyone’s attention: “Congratulations, one and all! To those who didn’t finish, thank you for giving it your best. Shall we get right down to business?”

  He retrieves a scroll from his pack, unrolls it and reads from it in grandiose tones:

  “In honor of the Citizens’ Draconic Pact, which this past moon was heretofore signed and agreed upon by the petitioners of Whitetail, and which affirms humanity’s renewed bond with dragons as a race of glorious creature, forged in fire by the gods as an example of power, grace and…”

  A lithe woman standing next to the barker clears her throat, smiles awkwardly and nudges him with her elbow.

  “Oh, yes…heh heh… the point. I hereby declare this dragon regatta a success!”

  More cheers erupt. Peering over the crowd, a pair of halflings high-five each other from atop the shoulders of human friends. Your dragon roars its acknowledgment, while others hum in tune with the beat of distant drums.

  A young boy pulls on the barker’s sleeve. When he turns, the boy gives the barker a scrap of parchment, which he opens. The scores are ready.

  “In third place, Petrus Farnsworth, of Noblehorn!”

  You arch an eyebrow. Maybe your strategy paid off at least partially!

  A gangly male with bright eyes and long hair, whom you are surprised to admit you have never met until now, steps forward and shakes the barker’s hand.

  “In second place, Titania Vermouth, of Sungaze!”

  Your heart sinks just a little when you learn you didn’t pull off the victory, but you recover quickly, smile and give your best sportswomanlike curtsy to the cheering crowd.

  “And… our winner, Celestine Lillimarsh of Whitetail!”

  Your friend squeals in delight, steps closer to the barker and shakes his hand.

  “Celestine,” continues the barker, “you shall receive one of the most special prizes ever given away by the draconic alliance. Perhaps the most special. For no humanoid has ever set
foot in the legendary draconic homelands. You have heard of them, yes?”

  Celestine nods with force. “Who hasn’t, by now? It’s supposed to be a beautiful cavernous island full of the most exotic plants and wildlife imaginable. Plus, it floats, so that it’s never in the same place and only the dragons themselves know how to find it.”

  You arch an eyebrow, intrigued.

  If I’d only known that the homelands were involved…

  The barker booms, “All quite true. Well, my dear, I’ve arranged with Vanadu here…”—with a grand sweep of his arm, he indicates a large dark-blue dragon resting calmly a few feet behind, who flashes a toothy grin—"to take you there on the morn of morrow, to see every inch of its grandeur for yourself.”

  Several onlookers gasp, and an excited murmur rises from the crowd. Celestine yelps and dances in place, her excitement now completely uncontained. You repress a brief wave of jealousy, trying to stay equally thrilled for your friend.

  “Can I take anyone with me?” she asks.

  The barker hesitates and mumbles, “That… would be against protocol. We’re lucky enough that they agreed to host one person.”

  Celestine’s face falls, and she reaches toward you for a hug.

  “I wish there could be two winners.”

  You console with a grin, “I’m fine. You enjoy yourself! You deserve it.”

  “Awww. Thank you!”

  “Besides,” you continue, “this gives me time to accomplish something I’ve been intending for quite some time.”