by A. Evermore
Contents
Join The Ravens
Title
Acknowledgements
Maioria Map
Chapter 1 - The Coming Darkness
Chapter 2 - Yisufalni
Chapter 3 - Dragon Flight
Chapter 4 - Baelthrom
Chapter 5 - Freydel
Chapter 6 - Hameka
Chapter 7 - Battle In The Ocean
Chapter 8 - The Orb Of Water
Chapter 9 - The Immortal Lord's Gifts
Chapter 10 - The Raven And The Dragon
Chapter 11 - Karshur's Gift
Chapter 12 - The Immortals Are Coming
Chapter 13 - Marakon The Half Elf
Chapter 14 - Time To Forget All Else
Chapter 15 - One Lifetime Is Not Enough
Chapter 16 - Calling The Wizards' Circle
Chapter 17 - Bokaard
Chapter 18 - You Are My Goddess
Chapter 19 - Ancient Land Of Dragons
Chapter 20 - Histanatarns
Chapter 21 - Maphraxie Spy
Chapter 22 - King Marakazian
Chapter 23 - Dolphins And Harpies
Chapter 24 - Shrinking Potion
Chapter 25 - The Sunless Dawn
Chapter 26 - Enemy On The Doorstep
Chapter 27 - The Elders
Chapter 28 - They Call Her The Raven Queen
Chapter 29 - Wizards, Witches And Seers
Chapter 30 - Sword Master In Training
Chapter 31 - Swordswoman
Chapter 32 - Interrogation
Chapter 33 - Sands Of Time
Chapter 34 - Drowning Wastes
Chapter 35 - Spear Of Light
Chapter 36 - The Kiss
Chapter 37 - Knights Of The Shining Star
Chapter 38 - Demon Wizard
Chapter 39 - Mark Of Woetala
Chapter 40 - The Final Price
Chapter 41 - Lovesick
Chapter 42 - Vornus The Betrayer
Chapter 43 - Life Seeker
Chapter 44 - Asaph's Dark Brethren
Chapter 45 - The Warrior Within
Chapter 46 - Baelthrom's Determination
Chapter 47 - Duskar's Terror
Chapter 48 - No Life Without Love
Chapter 49 - An Untrained Dragon
Chapter 50 - Mark Of Maphrax
Chapter 51 - The White Owl
Chapter 52 - The Talisman
Chapter 53 - The Ravens Of Zanufey
Chapter 54 - The Fall Of Celene
Review Copies
Afterword
Next In The Series
JOIN the Ravens and sign up for my no spam newsletter
You’ll get early access to future novels, exclusive content, news of give-aways, review copies and freebies. Get started here:
http://aevermore.com/sign-up
THE FALL OF
CELENE
The Prophecies Of Zanufey
Book Two
A. Evermore
Copyright © 2016 A. Evermore.
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Jessica Allain
Published by Starfire Epic Fantasy
Kindle Second Edition
ISBN-13: 978-99920-3-041-7
Acknowledgements
Thank you to Mollie, Sophia, Pauline, Jon and Angie for their excellent editorial work and advice and to everyone at The Writers Workshop and Corner Stones. Thanks to the Cosmos for making this work possible. I would also like to thank you, the reader, for continuing the adventure.
FOR FREEDOM
Chapter 1
The Coming Darkness
JAGGED metal bit into rock with an ear-piercing screech, just missing Jinfrosthard’s face as he fell back in the pitch black. Springing forwards he heaved down his axe, felt it slow, then crunch through bone. A scream of pain scoured his ears then fell silent. He wrenched his axe free.
The dark dwarven weapon that had missed him fell to the floor with a clang. The noise was soon lost in another scream of pain - his own warrior’s cry or the enemy’s he couldn’t be sure. He swung his axe again. It slammed harmlessly into the wall of the narrow tunnel. He growled in disappointment. Again he swung and clanged against the armour of the enemy in front of him.
Something whistled through the air, and he instinctively dropped to his knees. The hurled blade of the dark dwarf scraped across the top of his own helmet. Now kneeling and low enough to reach the knife in his boot, he jumped up and sunk his knife into the dark dwarf’s unprotected throat. He stared into the burning yellow eyes of his hated opponent.
‘Die you traitorous dark dwarf,’ he roared. Those eyes gleamed hatred and laughter before they turned dim. ‘Curse them and their night vision,’ he said.
The dark dwarves could see well in the dark. These cursed tunnels were their home. a place where evil flourished unreached and unchecked by the light. No, no light could ever reach these forsaken depths, he thought in disgust.
It came as a low hum at first, so low it was barely audible except for a subtle vibration, and he wondered if anyone else could hear it.
‘Necromancer,’ someone screamed behind him.
He could do nothing now, it was the job of his wizards to protect them from evil magic. He couldn’t feel magic, but the hands of the wizard beside him shimmered blue and a magic shield formed. The temperature dropped to freezing, and then rose so high sweat burst upon his brow. There came an explosive boom that shuddered through his body and sent his heart fluttering, and yet there was nothing to see. He glanced at the wizard’s hands as magic flared and then went out.
‘Shield shattered,’ another wizard cried behind.
‘Try again, and quickly,’ said the one nearest him. But as he spoke the darkness moved - a cloud blacker than the tunnel around them.
‘Duck,’ he cried as a tendril snaked out toward him. But the warrior behind was not quick enough. The black cloud engulfed him just as the shield went up.
In the dim light cast by magic, Jinfrosthard fell back as the warrior fought something he could not see. The colour drained from the warrior’s face, he screamed and tore past the others. His screams echoed as he fled down the tunnel and disappeared.
‘Leave him, he is lost. We must press on,’ Jinfrosthard ordered, and yet his own hands were shaking. He could only imagine at what terror his warrior had witnessed. ‘Find the source of the black magic and destroy it.’
‘I have it,’ a wizard replied, his voice strained in concentration. ‘Left fork. There it is. IceFire, strike now.’
The other wizards obeyed. A white flare shot forwards then turned left into the tunnel. There came the briefest scream, and then silence. The heavy feeling of black magic went and the temperature returned to cold.
Jinfrosthard sighed as silently as he could, and wiped a trembling hand across his brow. He hated necromancers. He could deal with almost any form of Maphraxie, but the necromancers and their soul eating magic scared the hell out of him.
‘Onwards,’ he commanded, and led the line of warriors and wizards, all the while wondering how long he could keep moving. They were all exhausted, spooked, and hating the fact that they could not use magic to light the way so as to avoid detection.
For another hour they fought vicious skirmishes in the narrow, pitch-black corridors that wound on forever under the surface of Venosia. As hardy and battle seasoned as his warriors and wizards were, they were not as prepared for the strength of the necromancers’ death magic. Many who had not fallen under enemy blades, were sent screaming from the tunnels with their sanity stripped from them.
Initially fifty, now on
ly a solid fist of thirty light dwarf warriors pushed forwards in the dark. They had come to the deepest part of the dark dwarven tunnels.
‘The barest light,’ Jinfrosthard whispered as he slowed.
A dim orange glow formed above them. He stopped. Here the air was stale and frigid. He could see his own breath in the gloom as faint puffs that rose before him then disappeared.
It had been a fair while, perhaps even half an hour, since they had last engaged the enemy, and the sound of the dead and dying had long disappeared behind them. The sudden lull made him nervous. The wizard beside him, which he could see now in the light, was Inklemak - a thin, long-bearded dwarf, pale-faced from fear and exertion. Inklemak whispered.
‘The Flow tells me no necromantic wizard is near, and I sense no others here besides us.’
‘So be it, Inklemak, your word has never failed me before,’ Jinfrosthard rumbled, feeling grim despite the news. ‘Let’s have a little more warming light,’ he shivered.
The wizard whispered a word and three torches held by warriors flared into life. In that moment, he wished with all his heart that he was before his flaming hearth, in his favourite chair beside his wife, and in his home far away on the green hills west of Tarvalastone, the great city of the Dwarves of Light. He pushed the distracting thought aside. He must be getting old and tired of war, he thought with an inward chuckle.
Now here he was, deep in the stronghold of dark dwarven territory in eastern Venosia. Who knew how the battle above ground was going, or how the three-thousand strong army of light dwarves fared in yet another attempt to wipe out the dark dwarves. Most of the battles would be underground, the dark dwarves could not abide the daylight, and had few holdings above ground. They would all be fighting as was he, in the blackness of underground tunnels that were truly endless, and truly forsaken.
He pushed forwards, no longer leading, but following the flaming torch, glad of its light and what little warmth it offered down here in the cold. The band of warriors and wizards moved as a tight knot, blades and magic at the ready. All was horribly silent, and the world of light felt very far away.
They slowed as the torchlight fell upon a great slab of rock marking the end of the tunnel. Jinfrosthard pressed to the front, tugging on his braided beard with one hand and gripping his axe in the other.
‘It’s not an end, but a door,’ he said, noting the obvious line around the rock that sealed the tunnel. He stared at the dark dwarven runes scrawled across it. They moved and danced like spiders in the flickering light. He bent closer, but then his eyes began to water, his chest constricted and he could not breathe. Black magic.
Magic shimmered, cast by his own wizards trying to break the runic enchantment settling upon him. Whatever gripped his throat released, and he tore away from the evil symbols with a bellow.
‘Damn them all to eternal torture,’ he roared, hot-faced and gasping.
‘We have less to fear, their wizards are all dead in this section,’ Inklemak said. ‘I cannot feel anything in the Flow besides our own wizards. Without their wizards nearby, the runes will weaken and we might be able to break them.’
Jinfrosthard nodded once. Though his patience was wearing thin, and his body and mind weary, he could not force this. The wizard was right, as always. Unlike most dwarves who only trusted strength through iron and steel, he respected the power and wisdom of magic wielders.
‘We shall wait.’ With a motion of his hand he set them all at ease. The warriors sat where they stood, and in the stale cold darkness they waited for the runes to weaken.
A restless hour came and went as the dwarves fidgeted against the evil of the place, worried faces watching as the torches burned low. Finally Inklemak spoke.
‘The runes weaken.’
The warriors jumped to their feet, and the five wizards entered the Flow. The warriors looked on, faces pensive, barely breathing. For another hour the wizards worked, the sweat rolling down their faces as they lay spell after spell upon the door trying to unlock the runes and open it. The pressure in the tunnel rose and fell, and magical sparks of orange and blue flickered around the dark runes. One wizard shuddered, turned white, and sunk to the floor. The other wizards did not break their concentration as the warriors pulled him aside.
The minutes rolled by, and seeing their sweat-soaked clothes and pallid faces, Jinfrosthard knew that the wizards wouldn’t last much longer. The air suddenly fizzled with red light and a dull explosion rocked the tunnel. As the enchantment upon the door broke, another wizard collapsed and was carried away to be placed alongside the other. The two fallen wizards both breathed in ragged gasps and their eyes fluttered feverishly bright, but otherwise were physically unharmed.
‘The magic is broken, but the door must be opened manually now,’ Inklemak said, his voice and body trembling. ‘We have some magical strength left, but not much.’
Jinfrosthard grunted as he laid a hand on the wizard’s shoulder. Without a word he turned to the massive stone door, put his shoulder against it, and heaved. Others joined him, and together they hefted and pushed. The wizards spent what little magic they could draw from the Flow, and inch by inch the door slid to the left into the recess.
He squeezed into the chamber and the others followed. The light from their torches spilled into the gloom. The room was ten yards square with no other doors. At the far end, upon a stone, pedestal lay a thick dusty book.
‘They fought to the death and cast their most powerful runic enchantments on this place just for a book?’ he said. Inklemak gave him a look that suggested he thought otherwise.
He shrugged. ‘It’s just a book.’
Nevertheless, he stepped carefully towards the leather-bound tome. His boot clanged against something metal. He looked down at a foot-square metal box chained to the pedestal. He glanced back at a warrior, motioned for him to free it., and turned back to the book. He was about to touch it, then hesitated, fearful of more enchantments. Inklemak gave him a reassuring nod.
Cracking his knuckles he reached and opened the cover. Symbols were scrawled in neat little rows filling the page. His skin crawled and his sweat turned cold. He, blessedly, could not read dark dwarven runes, but Inklemak could, and he came to stand before the book, squashing his half-moon glasses onto his fat nose before peering down at the runes.
The warriors hacked at the chain holding the box until it finally broke. But try as they might, they could not break open the box by force. Setting it aside, the dwarves sat or stood and listened as Inklemak began to read from the book.
Over the next hour, until the torches began to splutter, they learned of the portended coming of the “Almighty Immortal Lord” from a dark and lifeless place beyond the boundaries of time. The victory of their recent battles was replaced with an all encompassing dread.
‘ “Tusarza, the country most beloved of the foolish peoples of the Goddess, the place most blessed with pure magic and bountiful lands, will be where the Almighty Immortal Lord shall seed his being. Tusarza will be the first to fall to his might. Its purity will be his to consume, its magic his to conquer and wield… The fools upon Maioria know nothing of the darkness that looks hungrily upon this planet. Our Almighty Immortal Lord is the God to which we have prayed for millennia. When he comes to us, true power will be ours, and none shall stand in our way.” ’ Inklemak paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead.
‘Tusarza,’ whispered Jinfrosthard. His voice echoed in the chamber though he’d spoken quietly. He’d been there once, and longed to stay for the rest of his days, for it was a beautiful land of lakes, forests, rivers and valleys. Mild winters allowed a myriad of plants and animals to thrive. It was for all this goodness that Tusarza was named the “Orchard of Maioria,” supplying lands far and wide with food, even throughout the winter months.
This haven was the only place in all Maioria where the Ancients, elves, dwarves and humans lived in equal numbers, thriving peacefully alongside each other. The land was everyone’s, belonging to no on
e race in particular. Those seeking refuge came to Tusarza, travellers and pilgrims, and many were seduced by the land’s beauty and never left. The magic was strong in Tusarza for it was pure and untainted by greed.
‘No one knows of this terrible thing coming from the skies. No one knows what the murderous dark dwarves have been doing in their dark, twisted lairs…’ he trailed off and looked at him, lips pursed. He dropped his eyes and looked back at the dusty book, tracing the letters as he muttered to himself, then finding where he’d left off.
‘ “…From life he is not, from light he is not. He is the darkness that fills our minds and hearts, he is the death that needs not the life to be forever. He is our King, our God, our Lord Eternal, for whom which we have waited millennia to come and guide us. Hail the Immortal Lord. Hail Baelthrom. Enter the Age of Oblivion…” ’ Inklemak closed the book and shook his head. ‘I can read no more and the torchlight dies.’
Jinfrosthard nodded. ‘Let’s leave. What about this?’ He nudged the box with his foot. A wizard reached over and placed a hand upon it.
‘No axe can break this. No magic can open it. Only the key with which it was locked can,’ the wizard said and removed his hand.
Inklemak lifted the book from the pedestal, and there came a tinkling sound of something dropped. A small black key gleamed on the floor.
‘Why would they lock something and keep the key close?’ Jinfrosthard said. He looked at Inklemak who nodded, clearly thinking the same thing.
‘They must have locked it for their own safety,’ Inklemak said, speaking Jinfrosthard’s thoughts aloud.
Jinfrosthard took the key. ‘Wizards, be ready for anything,’ he said, preparing himself for any horror that might jump out of the box. He inserted the key and turned it. The box opened smoothly. Inside was a rag-bound object.
Inklemak reached inside. ‘It’s magical and heavy, too heavy for its size.’ He let the cloth fall away and stared at the dense black object, about an inch thick and the size of a small plate. He held it back and squinted at it. ‘It’s shaped into a raven.’