Flexible ropes of pale white light shot from each of my hands. Constructed from layers of manna threaded carefully around one another, they were harder than steel and as flexible as spider’s silk. They wrapped around the daemon’s arms and, the moment I released them, hurtled toward the giant red manna crystal across the room. The daemon shrieked once more as it was hauled into the air, flying like a thrown boulder as it writhed and tried desperately to escape. The ends of the threads embedded themselves so deeply into their target that I feared for a moment it might crack, and undo my work.
The daemon surged to its feet, screaming incoherently at me. It raced toward me—
—the manna ropes snapped taut and stretched to their limit—
—I winced, forcing myself to believe that they would hold—
Instead of rushing toward me, the ropes snapped back with tremendous force and slammed the daemon into the manna crystal with a shattering crash.
I grinned again. It must have been a ghastly sight.
They held.
With deliberate precision, I stalked over to the daemon as it pulled on the ropes and screamed, trying desperately to free itself from its new imprisonment.
When I reached a point about ten feet outside its maximum range, I stopped and glared at the creature. Every single one of its several dozen eyes stared at me with murderous intent.
“Well,” I said conversationally. “How does it feel to be the helpless one?”
“You will never destroy me, sorcerer,” it snarled. “Never. I can keep you from speaking any words I wish.”
My stomach lurched as I felt its presence in my mind again, but I steeled myself against it. I called manna to my will, fed every drop to the hungry flame, and flooded my mental passageways with the resulting pure energy. The daemon let out a cry that nearly destroyed my eardrums as it recoiled.
“No, no!” it screamed.
“Live with it, you parasitic whoreson,” I snapped right back. Then I smiled. “Or, better yet, don’t.”
This time, when I raised my arms, I knew the right words would come.
They did.
The daemon shrieked and snarled and whimpered and screamed and begged and struggled and cursed me in a thousand languages, but the ropes I had enchanted stayed firm, and the Verse of Undoing rolled off my tongue like waves rolling onto a sandy beach.
When the first stanza of the Verse completed, the daemon’s body jerked violently forward, straining the ropes as it went completely rigid, and began to howl like some sort of otherworldly wolf. Ignoring its cries, I shouted the next line even louder, and the next one louder after that, until I was screaming the words and nearly foaming at the mouth, my voice breaking with every other syllable. We made a thunderous cacophony, and it was beautiful.
On the third stanza, the power began to rip the daemon’s body to shreds. Images of the two palace guards I’d killed with the enchantment flashed before my eyes, but I ignored them and chanted on. The Verse of Undoing could not be stopped once it had begun. Oily black flesh burst into flames and began to dissolve; scattering like ashes in an unseen wind, before vanishing entirely, as the spell utterly annihilated them from existence.
The end of the fifth verse drew near, and there was nothing left of the daemon’s face but bleached white bone and the two almost-human eyes burning with inhuman rage.
“Sorcerer,” it whispered in an unnatural voice. “I curse you. Curse you.”
As I bit down on the final words, I drew in a surge of power from the corrupted manna crystals around me and channeled it through my mind and my body, throwing it out in every direction as I thundered the last syllables.
A tremendous explosion rocked the cavern.
Someone was screaming in pain, or cackling with victorious laughter, or roaring like an oncoming landslide.
It might have been me.
XVIII
I don’t know how long I was unconscious.
When I came to, it felt like I’d been immersed in an ice bath, and it was the most incredible feeling I could ever have imagined.
My eyes opened after a time and I stared at the distant ceiling of the cavern.
All around me, blue light shone down.
Eventually, I picked myself up off of the stone floor. Crystals and rubble had come down from the ceiling everywhere, leaving the once-mostly-clean cavern littered with debris. The giant manna crystal in the center had gone dark, with an enormous crack running down the center of it.
Havox Khaine was nowhere to be seen.
My first thought was that the daemon had killed him, and my second—equally horrified—was that perhaps I’d misdirected the Verse and targeted him at the same time. Both of those fears were alleviated, though, when I noticed that his manna sword had gone missing as well.
Apparently, he’d had no further use for me, and had simply left me behind. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I shrugged. That suited me just fine, and I genuinely hoped he’d found what we’d come looking for.
I stretched and flexed my fingers. I, Edar Moncrief, had achieved something that no other sorcerer in living memory had done.
Edar Moncrief had killed a daemon.
Well, I amended mentally. With a little help.
Speaking of help, there was one more thing I needed to do before finding a way out of Grysalta and settling down to thoroughly research my new condition. I turned my attention inward, seeking out that hungry flame that lurked in my mind.
Can you help me? I asked it.
It flickered.
XIX
Somewhere beyond the trees to the east, dawn broke, and golden rays of sunlight filled the sky.
The waves roared as they crashed against the rocks. The tide was coming in.
Trying to suppress my panic, I dug in the sand with both hands until my fingers brushed over something with an entirely different tactile sensation.
With utmost care, I pulled the fragile form of the heartblade that I’d lost out of the sand, and tucked it away in my tattered clothing.
Thank you, I whispered to the little presence. The hungry flame flashed an acknowledgement in my mind's eye.
I licked my lips, and regarded the sea with wary respect. Many things needed doing. I could see my future spinning out ahead of me in my mind’s eye.
Someday, someone would say that Edar Moncrief unraveled all of the secrets of the Arbiters. The truth was buried in a thousand ancient tombs, a hundred lost and forgotten sites scattered all around the Old Kingdoms and beyond, and when I found it, I would hold it aloft and scream to the sky that Edar Moncrief understood.
See? I told my mind. Self-interest.
That was all well and good, but one thing had to be done first.
“I'm going to find a place somewhere near a mountain,” I said aloud. “Far, far away from water. No offense.”
To its credit, the sea made no reply at all.
<<< | >>>
AFTERWORD
Thank you for reading this electronic omnibus edition of THE ELEMENTS OF SORCERY. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it.
Sorcerer’s Code was originally devised as a prequel to my fantasy novel series, the Arbiter Codex. During the writing process for the second book in that series, I met this strange character by the name of Edar Moncrief, and one of the first things that my protagonist, D’Arden Tal, said to him was: “Didn’t I tell you I’d kill you if I ever saw you again?”
That question begged for an answer.
In late 2011 I set out to write Sorcerer’s Code, and discovered who Edar Moncrief truly was. Originally I’d planned for it to be a single story telling how the two characters had met, but my astute readers promptly informed me that there had to be more to Moncrief than that.
As it turned out, there was.
This edition is the culmination of two and a half years of work, and now it is complete. Thanks for joining me on this journey, whether you came in early or only discovered these stories in omnibus form.
If you happen to
be looking for other great books to read (and come on, who isn’t?) I highly recommend looking at the Genre Underground, where we search out and collect the diamonds in the rough, the underappreciated and the true gems of fiction. We want you to find your next favorite book, and it might come from the place you least expect!
www.genreunderground.com
Thank you again, and may you find your next great adventure!
About the Author
Christopher Kellen is an Amazon.com best-selling author and co-founder of the Genre Underground. To date he has published two fantasy novels (the Arbiter Codex), six fantasy novellas (The Elements of Sorcery and The Corpse King) and one science-fiction book (Sins of the Father). He is a gamer and IT professional in his copious spare time.
He lives in New Hampshire with his wife and a
giant black dog.
Connect With Me Online
http://www.christopherkellen.com
http://www.twitter.com/eisengoth
http://www.facebook.com/authorchristopherkellen
www.genreunderground.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Lesson I: Sorcerer's Code I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
Lesson II: Sorcerer's Crime I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI
XII
Lesson III: Sorcerer's Blood I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
Lesson IV: Sorcerer's War I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
Lesson V: Sorcerer's Truth I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
XIX
AFTERWORD
About the Author
The Elements of Sorcery Page 26