by Matt Moss
The End of Days
Matt Moss
Contents
World Map
World Map
City Map
Map of the Eastern Lands
1. ONE
2. TWO
3. THREE
4. FOUR
5. FIVE
6. SIX
7. SEVEN
8. EIGHT
9. NNE
10. TEN
11. ELEVEN
12. TWELVE
13. THIRTEEN
14. FOURTEEN
15. FIFTEEN
16. SIXTEEN
17. SEVENTEEN
18. EIGHTEEN
19. NINETEEN
20. TWENTY
21. TWENTY-ONE
22. TWENTY-TWO
23. TWENTY-THREE
24. TWENTY-FOUR
25. TWENTY-FIVE
26. TWENTY-SIX
27. TWENTY-SEVEN
28. TWENTY-EIGHT
29. TWENTY-NINE
30. THIRTY
31. THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
FORTY-ONE
FORTY-TWO
FORTY-THREE
THANK YOU
© 2018 Matt Moss
www.mossthewriter.com
@mossthewriter
All rights reserved.
For full map, visit www.mossthewriter.com/the-books
Map of the Eastern Lands
ONE
The sun had yet to rise as Sarie glided across the palace courtyard and towards the church. She raised her eyes high up to Victor’s room and found it dark inside, glad that he still slept. He always rose with the sun. Many years ago, she found that much could be done before the sun rose, and much could be done unnoticed.
“Highness,” a guard said with a bow as she walked by the front of the church.
She nodded back to him in passing and kept her walk intentional as she crossed the grounds. Her path led her past the exterior walls as the guards slept on the ramparts, and she traveled west along the river bank. Her heart raced at the thought of meeting Lucian, her mind riddled with questions to ask him. But part of her was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to find the words upon seeing him. The dagger strapped to her hip would be her choice of meeting with him, but she had to know what he knew.
With every fiber of her being, she had to know about Arkin.
But there was something familiar about the place she was going, and there was a certain honesty to his words in the letter.
Meet me at the river on the outskirts of the city at dawn. I’ll be by the oak tree where we shared our first kiss so long ago.
By the dock, past the east wall. The guard doesn’t patrol there.
What would they say to each other without Victor being present? Part of her feared what Lucian might do once he had her alone. Another part feared of Victor and what he might do if he found out. Those thoughts scared her, but none more than the thought of what she might do in the moment.
What would she do for her son?
Anything.
The shadow of the large oak tree loomed before her as she rounded the bank. The old, broken dock jetting out from it towards the sea. The faint sound of soft waves crashing timed themselves between her steps and a soft, cool breeze blew against her face. She approached the tree and saw no sign of Lucian. A few sailors made their boats ready at the east docks in the early morning, and she wondered if Lucian had tricked her into coming here so she could be kidnapped and sailed away for ransom. He’d never been late for anything before in his life, and she knew that he couldn’t afford to be late today. Giving him a little more time and one last chance, she sat against the tree and watched the sun rise.
Her thoughts occupied the time in waiting and she watched the land come to life—birds chirping overhead, sailors cursing, dogs barking, roosters crowing. Sitting for longer than she cared for, and so far away from the safety of the church, she shook her head and rose to leave.
“Don’t leave.”
Sarie looked up to find Lucian perched on a tree limb. She scowled at him. “You son of a bitch. How dare you keep me waiting this long?”
He left the limb and landed gracefully, brushing the hair from his face as he stood. “I’m sorry, m’lady.”
“How long have you been up there?”
“Long enough to see the sun light your beautiful face.” He smiled and reached to touch her cheek.
She pulled away and looked around nervously. “Since you’ve wasted so much time, we don’t have much longer. If anyone catches us together here, we’ll both be hanged.”
Lucian plopped on the ground and reclined against the tree. “I’ll never let that happen to you.” He held his hand out, inviting her to sit.
She narrowed her eyes at him, searching. She found his words to be true. The way he said it—the way he carried himself and the way he smiled at her—everything about him brought old feelings back to life. She thought of when they were in love so long ago and, though the years had passed and time had made its mark on both of their bodies, she felt it brand new. Before a smile could reveal itself and her hand could fall into his, she shook the thought from her head and came to her senses. “Tell me what you wanted to tell me.”
“Sit.”
She put her hands on her hips. “No. You’ll tell me or I’ll leave.”
He gave her a stern look. “You’ll sit. Then I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
She turned to leave, paused, then turned back and shook her head at him. “Stubborn ass.” She flopped down next to him and gazed into the flat, sparkling horizon. He couldn’t help but grin.
“I’m listening.”
“As I said in the letter, Arkin is alive and well.”
She turned to him and gazed deep into his eyes. “Tell me no lies. Tell me he lives.”
“Sarie, he lives.”
Love and regret filled her heart and she squeezed his hand in reflex. He looked down, then brought his eyes back up to meet hers. Tears began to stream down her face. “And he’s well?” she pleaded in a shaky voice.
He smiled and nodded. She burst out in short, relieved cry of laughter. “And where is he now, Lucian? Where is my son?”
He looked down. “I don’t know.”
She stiffened. “Where did you see him last?”
He looked to the palace. “Here.”
“I thought you said you saw him at The Crossing.”
“I did. We kept our identities hidden from one another, but I have a feeling that he knew after I left the Whistlestop. The next morning, I waited until he left and followed him here. He’s the one who attempted the assassination on Victor’s life.”
She shook her head. “No. It was the guilds along with a few rogue members of the Order that tried to kill him. Arkin wasn’t involved.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “I saw him, Sarie. It was him. He got banged up pretty bad.”
She looked away, her tear-filled eyes twitching with the thought of losing him once more.
He’d seen that look too many times before. “Don’t worry. He left with Moses and the others. Arkin is in the best of hands and is, no doubt, healthier than ever, I’m sure of it,” he comforted her.
She looked to him with hope. “How do you know?”
He grinned knowingly. “Trust me.”
“That’s not saying much,” she jabbed back.
He snapped a small twig and threw it
at the sea. “I know. And I know that I broke your trust in the past, but I’m begging you to give me one more chance.” He gazed into her eyes. “If ever you’ve trusted in me before, please, trust in me now.”
She stood, fixed in the soft grasp of his hands as he pleaded for something she just didn’t have. It was ripped away a long time ago and never to return, so she thought.
I want to trust you. I need to trust you.
Don’t make me regret this.
“I trust you.”
He let his head fall in thanks and then raised it, gazing on her in appreciation.
She straightened up and gathered her thoughts. “Right. Arkin is alive and well. I believe it. Now, what of Victor? You say he’s using me? Tell me something I don’t know.”
Lucian moved to speak. He smirked at her instead. “You’ve always been sharp as a tack. I’m not surprised that you came to realize he’s only using you to position himself in power.”
“I’ve known that for quite some time, Lucian. And truth be told, I wanted power, too. I thought that, together, we were doing the right thing.” She looked down in shame, and he allowed her the moment. She continued. “But he took it too far. His lust for power has saturated every thought, every fiber, and he won’t stop.”
“Then I will stop him,” Lucian stated.
“We will stop him,” she retorted.
He gave her a wink. “Yes. We will.” He gave her one final look and caressed her cheek before leaving.
“Wait,” she called out. “What’s the plan, then?”
He stopped and turned back to her. “Act normal and be yourself—for now. I’ll come for you soon. Victor’s time will come shortly after, and I promise you I’ll make sure his entire being is wiped from this world.”
Her eyes locked onto his, conveying hope and urgency with everything in her.
“Lucian, find my son.”
Lucian paused and took her in—her green piercing eyes, crimson hair flowing in the wind like some angel of vengeance seeking justice upon the world of men. He gave her a reassuring nod that he would do as she bid before leaving, his long hair and black cloak whipping to the side as he walked away in the morning seaside breeze.
Sarie looked to the east and suddenly felt her heart drop as a dark, menacing storm cloud brewed in the distance. Always one that believed in omens, she found this one to be a bad sign, and her heart gave in to thoughts of despair.
No. I won’t accept that. Not now. Not after everything that’s happened.
She turned east to face it.
This omen is meant for me.
I am the storm.
TWO
The heat of summer had gone, and was replaced by the crisp, invigorating feel of autumn. The first leaves had begun to fall, the forest was alive with the chattering of squirrels and birds preparing for the winter that would soon come.
A leaf broke away from a tree and gently fell in front of Arkin’s face. He sat cross-legged on the ground hours before the sun came up, stilling his mind and focusing his energy. He could feel himself grow stronger with every passing day now that he understood soul tapping better. Moses had taught him much in the short time they were together. Arkin just wished he had more time with the grandmaster.
It had been three months since Moses had instructed Arkin to unite the clans of the outer lands to go to war against Victor. In his travels, he had visited three of them and found no success. He couldn’t speak their languages and had no luck finding a translator on his journey. Everything was foreign and the people seemed strange to him. His instinct was to chalk it up to a lost cause, but he vowed he would not give up.
Everyday, he relied on meditation to still his mind. It gave him clarity and restored his faith. He would unite the clans, somehow.
As the sun began to peak over the horizon, filling the sky with color, he stood to his feet and stretched. After taking a drink from the waterskin, he began the day’s training.
He trained like Torin showed him at the Grand Highlands—falling to the ground, pushing back up, and jumping from the ground over and over again. He did this until his body couldn’t do it anymore, his muscles and lungs fatigued and burning. He wiped the sweat from his head, waited until he gathered his breath, and did it again. After the fifth repetition, he lie flat on his back and gazed up into the blue sky as the morning dew began to form on the cool grass.
His eyes locked onto a row of pines. Arkin stood, breathed in deep and focused. With arms extended in front of him, palms turned out, he channeled his energy. Waves upon waves of force exuded from his body, his hair flying in the surrounding energy that he had created around himself. Focusing on the line of trees in the distance, he tapped further and the ground cracked and shattered under his feet. His voice raised to a yell before he let it go, channeling the energy through his arms, out his hands, and towards the pines. With a loud cracking sound, an orb of light surged from his palms and shot towards the mark, leaving a trail of parted grass and debris in its wake. It hit the trees above their trunks, exploding them into a blast of splinters and devastation. The tops fell from the sever, shaking the ground where he stood.
He breathed deep and felt the power drain from him, his body numb and exhausted from tapping so deep. He pulled a stone from his pack and gazed into the depths of it, as it seemed to have a universe all of its own. The transparent, blue hue radiated in his hand, and he lost himself in the glow, tempted by it more and more each day.
He saw Lyla in the stone.
“No!” he said and dropped the stone as though it were hot slag. Fear of the soul stone, and what it might tell, made him drop it. He recalled Paul the Prophet talking about a stone of Sight and how when used would reveal what would come to pass.
We are better off not knowing some things, Arkin thought.
He flexed his hand, noticing how his body became weaker from the tap. He looked at it and smiled, knowing that every time he depleted his tap, it left him stronger in the end. Over time, his body began to hunger for it; wanting to test itself and drain everything he had.
A small price to pay for the reward.
One of the costs of depleting one’s body, though, is an insatiable hunger afterwards. Refueling in a strange land proved to be difficult at times, but Arkin was a decent hunter and knew how to forage. For fun, he would often soul tap and chase down his prey on foot. A small part of him felt savage, almost beast-like by doing so, but it worked, and he felt no shame in it. Oddly, he felt more connected to the world.
Along the barren roads, he would stumble upon a traveler from time to time. He found that bartering was the universal language that everyone understood. He would trade the skins from hunting for food and water, to which they gladly agreed because they seemed to know where to get both with ease since this was their land. Sometimes, other things caught his fancy such as a new tunic or hunting knife. In the villages, he had less luck as they proved to be harder to trade with due to the fact that they had an abundance of pelts. And he was a stranger. But there hadn’t been any trouble in dealing with the tribes. Arkin couldn’t speak the languages, but he could sense the people and knew that they were more apprehensive to him than hostile. Their skin, eyes, and hair was different. Their customs were strange. They prayed differently and more frequent; to one god or many gods. The villages weren’t as civilized like the ones in the kingdom that he knew. The people were simpler and seemingly more connected to the world in their day-to-day lives. Sometimes, Arkin would observe them in a village while he rested. The people didn’t pay him much mind and went on about their business. They stayed busy for the most part, and there was a deep connection that each family seemed to have with one another. Only on one occasion did a man armed with sword and shield ask him to leave. Arkin didn’t need to speak the language to know what the man meant.
The days continued to pass and he knew time was running out. With each morning, he would train and continue his journey, all the while resisting the urge to use the stone of Sight.
Every morning he would hold it in his hand, fixed upon its glow.
What if, by knowing the future, it helps me unite the clans faster?
“No.” He put the stone away. “When the time is right, I’ll know. No sooner.” He found himself on an old goat trail on the side of the mountain, a village in the distance far below, smoke trailing to the sky from numerous campfires. “If only I had a communication stone. Then I could talk to Lyla.” He missed his friends and wondered how they were fairing back at home.
He felt lonely and missed talking to people. Language was one thing that he’d taken for granted as he was only familiar with the world around him back in the kingdom. Yet another thing to remind me that I don’t know what I’ve got until it’s gone. He pulled the hood tightly and tucked his head against the wind as he made the descent towards the village.
As he arrived, he found the people frantic and on edge. Men were running about, gathering weapons and shields, while the women ushered children into the homes. In the center of the village, one man barked orders, pointing with his sword and commanding his authority. His dress and stature revealed that he was the chief of this tribe. His eyes locked on Arkin.
“Man of the west! Why have you come to my village?” He marched towards Arkin with his curved sword ready. Five other warriors joined him.