by Sam Ferguson
Brothers Haymaker
By
Sam Ferguson
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Dragon Scale Publishing, 212 E Crossroads Blvd. #119, Saratoga Springs UT 84045
BROTHERS HAYMAKER
Copyright © 2016 by Sam Ferguson
Artwork Copyright © 2016 Dragon Scale Publishing
Published by Dragon Scale Publishing
Front cover art by Bob Kehl
All Rights Reserved
ISBN: 1-943183-15-5
ISBN-13:978-1-943183-15-9
For Jeremy F.
Contents
Other Books by Sam Ferguson
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
EPILOGUE
About the Author
About Terramyr
Other Books by Sam Ferguson
Other Books by Sam Ferguson
The Sorceress of Aspenwood Series
The Dragon’s Champion Series
The Wealth of Kings
The Netherworld Gate Series
The Dragons of Kendualdern series
The Fur Trader
The Haymaker Adventures
Flight of the Krilo
Winter’s Ghost (Novella)
The Moon Dragon
The Beast of Blue Mountain
The Dwarves of Roegudok Hall comic Episode 1
Other Books by Dragon Scale Publishing
The Lost City of Alfarin by Keaton James and Sam Ferguson
The Protector of Esparia by Lisa M. Wilson
Kingdom of Denall Series by Eric Buffington:
The Troven
Secrets at the Keep
The Changing
Tales of the NoWhere and NeverWhen by Jason Hauser
Wisp the Wayfinder
Puck the Pathwinder
Nobb the Nightbinder
Also available exclusively on the
Dragon Scale website:
Tharzule’s Tome of Wishes by Malinda Smiley
Orcs and Elves by Bethan Owen
For the latest updates, follow Sam’s Author Page, Blog, Twitter @Author_SamFerg and Facebook
Age of Demigods, year 3,502
CHAPTER 1
Lightning crackled and popped as it soared just a few feet over Raven’s head. He could smell the stale, bitter odor of the magical bolt as it ripped through the air and nearly blinded him with its blue flash. The pine tree that took the brunt of the lightning exploded ten yards away. The top end of the tree crashed through the forest while the twenty-foot-tall stub was left smoldering in place.
The wizard knew he had been lucky, but now his ward spell was consumed. He needed to find cover if he was going to live long enough to put up another defensive barrier around himself.
Raven leapt around the jagged boulder and slammed his back up against the cold, pointed surface, bits of stone digging into his flesh as he gasped for air. Another searing flash of blue light erupted around him and a pine tree splintered and cracked, showering the area in bits of light-colored wood just moments before crashing down to the ground where Raven had just been. The wizard threw up a ward, but not quickly enough to stop a mess of pine needles from scraping his right cheek.
He winced and pulled away. An arrow glanced off the left side of the boulder, ricocheting out wide, but causing the man to pause before darting out from behind the safety of the boulder.
His lungs burned and his feet ached. He scanned the area near him, knowing that to stay still would mean death. He found a sufficiently large oak and darted across for it. His left hand shot out to his side, fingers continually moving as they wove the magic that maintained his ward.
Three arrows slammed into the invisible shell around him, snapping off under the force of their collision with his magic.
The ground here was hard and dry, a far cry from the drenched, murky swamps he had been in only a little more than a year before as he hunted down the trolls in the Warrens. Yet here, in the Tanglewood Forest far to the north of the Murkle Quags, the trees and underbrush was at least as thick, if not thicker, than the swamps. Sturdy vines drooped down, threatening to catch or slow him with their lazy loops that swung slightly, right at neck level. The pines grew dense and strong, branching out and pushing their way into the forest with their sharp needles. Oaks dotted the forest, with their large trunks and their low-hanging branches that made it nearly impossible to run at a full sprint. Underfoot were patches of creeping morning glory and thick, wide-leafed ferns that slowed his legs and pulled at the hems of his robes. If that wasn’t enough, there were fallen logs everywhere as well. Some were new and still hard, while others were soft and overgrown with moss and fungi. One such log nearly swallowed his right foot as he stepped up onto the fallen tree and immediately crashed through the first few layers.
Another arrow sank into a sapling nearby just as Raven managed to yank his foot free, pulling up with his boot a mess of reddish wood that smelled of dirt and dampness.
Had he the energy left, he might have thought to blast a trail before him using fire, but he knew that that would be more likely to result in a raging blaze that not even he would be able to control.
He could hear angry shouts, but he could not understand the words his enemies spoke.
As he finally ducked under a low branch that was easily thicker than his thighs, he jumped around the large, spotted oak and tried to catch his breath.
He glanced around the left side of the tree and caught the slightest hint of armor glinting gold in the little bit of sunlight that managed to permeate the heavy canopy of leaves above him. The wizard sent out a small, yet deadly ball of fire. It hurtled through the air, aiming for a point the wizard believed to be in the enemy’s path. An armored archer leapt out from behind a tree and aimed his short recurve bow, but never got the chance to use it. Raven’s fireball blasted through the weapon, snapping the limbs back around to smash into the archer’s face. A half second later, the fireball tore through the armor and the archer squealed in pain as the magical fire burrowed through his chest. He fell to the ground, smoke issuing out from the hole in his back.
The shouting around Raven grew more frantic.
A twig snapped off to the right.
Raven turned to see someone rounding the oak, scimitar drawn and raised up in preparation to strike. Raven pulled his dagger with his left hand and lunged toward the elf with the scimitar. His blade bit into the elf’s chest, which was clothed only in a forest-green tunic, and the elf fell backward. The wizard pulled the scimitar free from the dead elf’s hand and held it in his right hand. He was not nearly as good with a sword as Captain Ziegler, but his magical energy was ebbing out of him, and he knew he would need to rely on steel as well as wizardry.
He ran on through the forest, feet slamming and pounding the ground as he moved.
The shouts kept pace with him, and occasionally arrows would either slam into his ward, or hit a nearby tree. Lightning was being used less now, fo
r which Raven was most grateful. He wasn’t sure his ward could deflect another magical assault.
Lumbering footsteps pounded the ground off to the wizard’s right as something large crashed and ripped through the underbrush. He glanced to the right, scanning through the dense trees to see what it was that had joined in the fight, but in doing so he failed to see the sharp decline he was approaching as it was somewhat hidden by ferns that had managed to grow tall enough to make the ground appear level.
Raven’s foot failed to land on the ground as he sprinted out over the drop and began to lurch forward. He tucked and rolled as best he could, careful not to lose his grip on either the dagger or the scimitar. The thick ferns scraped and cut his cheeks, leaving stinging welts and slices across any part of bare skin that was unfortunate enough to tumble through the undergrowth. His shoulder struck a short, sharp stub of some sapling that had long ago been snapped off, and he cried out in pain as the wood tore through his skin and bit into the joint before the weight of his body tumbling yet further downhill ripped him free. The dagger in his left hand was released and he now tumbled without as much control, slamming his back and neck onto the ground more than he would have liked. He only barely managed to conjure a pillow of soft air before he flipped onto his face and would have surely dashed his forehead against a large, flat rock lying at the bottom of the hill.
Raven tried to catch his breath and moved to sit up. He started to rebuild his ward, but something was coming down the hill toward him.
He couldn’t see it clearly through the large ferns, but he saw flashes of black fur and could tell by the thundering steps that it was something massive. The foliage shook and trembled around him before opening up to reveal a humungous bear lunging for him, mouth open and turned to the side, its yellow fangs on a trajectory that would surely place them around Raven’s neck. Out in front of the gaping maw were the bear’s paws, tipped with thick claws that could easily finish the man off.
Raven didn’t think. He reflexively magicked the pillow of air up between the two of them and then hardened it, somewhat like creating a ward, and then he exploded the spell. Most of the blast was directed toward the bear, but some of the shockwave knocked back into Raven, sending the wizard flying several feet to land upon his back with a thawump! His left shoulder burned and he cried out in pain, unable to lift himself up. The fiery stinging in his shoulder crept up through the side of his neck and his back arched in a spasm that he could only control after calming his mind enough to focus and exhaling slowly; even then it was all he could do to sit up.
Fortunately, the bear had taken the brunt of the spell. The animal was groaning upon the ground, blood streaming out of its head and down its snout. Raven lifted his scimitar and used the last bit of energy he had to send it soaring point-first into the large, open gash he saw on the bear’s forehead. It took every ounce of magic he had left, but he managed to bury nearly half of the blade in the bear’s skull.
He breathed a sigh of relief, but his joy was short lived.
The ferns around him shriveled, turning black and falling like ash to the earth as they crumbled. An intense heat forced its way down from above like a ball of invisible fire. Raven put his good arm up and tried to conjure a ward, but his energy was spent. The heat enveloped his fingers, and then pressed his hand back down. Beads of sweat formed on his brow and it became hard to breath. The air grew heavy and tasted of sulfur. Then, an unseen force pushed him down to the ground. Unlike the plants, he did not burn or whither, but the sweltering force pinning him down scorched his skin, stinging and burning as it held him firm.
He looked up, barely able to squint against the heat.
A shadowy form was approaching him, making its way down the hill. Raven had to close his eyes as the heat grew more intense. Sweat was pouring over him now and he could smell burning hair coming from his arms and head. Two feet stopped beside his head, but the wizard could neither move nor look at the enemy.
“There are only two ways to deal with trespassers here,” a stoic voice said. “The first option, of course, is to kill the offender.”
The words hung in the air heavily as the heat bore down on Raven. The wizard found himself thinking of his daughter. She had told him not to come here alone. She had pleaded with him to take the other Ghosts of the Quags with him, but he had not listened. In the next two seconds, it was not his life that flashed through his mind, but that of his daughter. He saw her birth. He felt her toddler-sized hand reach for his and grasp his fingers. He heard her voice as she spoke her first words, and then it changed to that of a young woman filled with excitement and a zest for life. He watched Miranda grow into the young woman she now was, replaying each moment as if living it for the first time. In his heart, he knew there had been times he had been too hard on her. He had yelled too much, or been too short with her on several occasions, but mercifully none of those moments came to him now. He saw only her smiles and her achievements. His heart swelled with pride and he smiled, ready to hear his enemy’s next words.
As if on cue, the enemy spoke right as the replay of Miranda’s life ended.
“The second option is to use your heart, but you are a human, and therefore, your heart is useless to me,” the voice said.
Raven accepted his defeat, knowing that death would be the option exercised here in Tanglewood Forest. He would have gone quietly, happily even, if the enemy had not uttered his next phrase.
“If you have loved ones, pray they do not follow you, for their death will be as inevitable as yours,” the voice said.
A flash of terror ripped through Raven and his eyes opened, drying in the heat as he screamed in horror before a nightmarish wave of heat rippled through his body.
CHAPTER 2
Jonathan shifted on the hard stump and wiggled his right foot, trying to push the encroaching needles out of his foot. As he moved, he could feel the edge of the stump pressing in along the back of his thigh. He brought the water-skin up to his lips and let the warm liquid flow into his mouth. He grimaced at his drink as he pulled it away and put the stopper back in place.
“Left it in the sun again, didn’t you?” Jason called from a few yards away.
Jonathan nodded and tossed the water-skin to the ground. “Did you find her?” Jonathan asked.
Jason nodded and came over to the stump, shoving Jonathan aside just enough to make room for himself. He held up a bit of blood-streaked wool. Jason knew at once the lamb’s fate.
“Pa should never have bought those dumb sheep from Nebok,” Jonathan said.
Jason shrugged. “Grandfather was trying to expand the farm a bit,” he said. “I can understand that.”
Jonathan shook his head and stood up from his now considerably smaller seat, wiping the back of his pants free of dirt. “Nebok is a pig farmer. I mean, he is good with chickens too, but the sheep were never kept well by him. Pa should have known he wouldn’t be able to control their wanderlust.”
Jason set the bloody bit of wool over his knee. “It wasn’t entirely Grandfather’s fault. I might have talked him into it a bit.”
Jonathan folded his arms across his chest. “You, the Hero of the Quags, tried to talk Pa into becoming a shepherd?” Jonathan stifled a laugh and shook his head as he looked to his older brother. “What on Terramyr would you do that for?”
“You fought in the Murkle Quags as much as I,” Jason pointed out, deflecting the question.
Jonathan shrugged. “I doubt many here would agree with that, the way the townsfolk fawn over you.” Jason shook his head, but Jonathan caught the hint of a grin that turned up the corner of his older brother’s mouth. “Don’t pretend as though you don’t like it,” Jonathan added. “You have always thrived on being the favored son of Holstead.”
Jason laughed and waved his brother off. “If not for you, I would have been Holstead’s favored dead son.”
Jonathan smirked.
The older brother stood up. “It’s been a year since the war ended. It’s tim
e we thought of what we are going to do with the rest of our lives, Jonathan. We can’t go on adventures forever.”
“And why not?” Jonathan teased.
“Because there are no more adventures to be had,” Jason said.
Jonathan screwed up his face and pointed out at the forest around them. “There are many lands to explore. Terramyr is teeming with adventure, you just have to know where to look.”
Jason shook his head. “I’m getting married, Jonathan, or have you forgotten?”
Jonathan’s blue eyes lost their twinkle and his smile faded. “Yeah, I remember.”
“Actually, that’s why I talked with Grandfather about the sheep.”
Jonathan frowned.
“I know it may not make sense, but actually I have a very logical explanation for it,” Jason said. “You know that Grandfather made a deal with Mortimer. It wasn’t just to arrange the marriage, but to keep me out of the war as well.”
“Sure, but Mortimer didn’t keep up his end of the bargain,” Jonathan said quickly. “You were one of the Ghosts! That’s a far cry from being kept safe behind a desk in Lehemat.”
Jason nodded. “Mortimer doesn’t see it that way. He paid off the appropriate people, and I should have gotten that quiet assignment Grandfather wanted, but since I was the one who put myself in danger, Mortimer believes I owe him for the money he spent.”
Jonathan shook his head. “Well, then don’t marry his daughter Annabell. There, problem solved.”
Jason sighed. He looked down to the grassy ground and his shoulders slumped.
It was then that Jonathan realized what his brother was trying to say. “You’re in love with Pig-face!?”
Jason lashed out and backhanded Jonathan in the stomach. “Don’t call her that,” he said as he pointed his index finger up at Jonathan’s face.