Perdition's Rest

by J. C. Placeres

  THE VESNIAN CHRONICLES

  BOOK 1

  PERDITION’S REST

  BY J.C. PLACERES

  Dedicated to my Three

  Copyright ©2021 J.C. Placeres

  All rights reserved.

  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  FIRST INTERLUDE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  SECOND INTERLUDE

  EPILOGUE

  PROLOGUE

  The Journey

  Night had just fallen over Juxton and with it came the howling cold winds so common in the barren reaches of the north. Juxton, a land of desolation, where little grew and even less lived, was perpetually shrouded in a dreary unnatural chill. The northern most reaches of the country were dominated by a single massive landform, the Patriarch Mountain, home to Juxon City, the capital of the Tormos. While historically the Tormos had been nomadic and roamed the wilds of Juxton, the majority of the population now currently resided inside the Patriarch Mountain. Unlike their brethren far to the south, the Phlebos, the Tormos did not believe in building structures. The Tormos preferred tunneling deep into the Patriarch Mountain, making their city and homes safe within its ancient and hard stone walls. The Tormos believed Juxton was perfect the way their Gods had created it and any building constructed would be a scar upon the landscape and an affront to their creators. Thus, the few remaining nomadic Tormos lived in primitive tents made from what limited wood and animal hides could be found in their barren land.

  On an especially cold and dreary night in the upper reaches of the Patriarch Mountain where the Tormos royalty resided, the ragged breathing and low mournful cries of one who was departing this world filled the halls. At the end of a maze of corridors that would be all but unnavigable to someone who was not already familiar with them were two large double doors made of fine silver, a rare visible display of luxury and opulence amongst the rugged Tormos. Behind the decadent doors resided a single man lying prostrate on a large bed; and while his breathing and moaning would lead one to believe he was an elderly individual, in truth his body was young, muscular and appeared to be in prime physical condition. What was afflicting this man was not a malignancy of the body, but rather one of the soul.

  Lying in his bed, beneath layers of thick ancient bear and wolf hides that had adorned the chamber for ages, writhed the sick Tormos. The individual in the bed moaning in agony and twisting in despair was not any normal Tormos, he was Thunvold, the eleventh reincarnation of the emperor of Juxton. Spread out around the room, mostly hidden in shadows, was a small group of Tormos watching over their emperor. Thunvold's bed chamber was illuminated by dull candles and pale light shining in from the windows and balcony. The outside light was provided by Lunara, one of their Gods who manifested herself as a bright white orb in the night sky, rising high and casting her loving glow over an otherwise dead landscape of darkness. The collection of Tormos surrounding the wailing emperor was mostly made up of the highest members of Tormos society. The reason they were present for their emperor's death would be a surprise to anyone not familiar with the life cycle of the Tormos. The observers in the emperor’s chamber were not there to see their emperor off to the next life, but rather to prepare for and greet him upon his return.

  The Tormos, same as their southern brethren the Phlebos, were immortal beings in a sense. While they could be permanently killed due to grievous injury, drowning and other such methods; they did not age, had a limitless life span and did not need to eat or drink. Every so often though, the soul of a Tormos or Phlebos would begin to wane and grow sickly until the individual fell into a catatonic state. The Tormos or Phlebos would be in a lifeless coma for a seemingly random period of time, normally between one to three days, and would then reawaken, an event which the Tormos and Phlebos had come to call reincarnation. The individual would remember nothing of their previous life but would quickly re-assimilate back into their respective societal role and continue along as if their life had been uninterrupted. The time between reincarnations was random but often ranged between one hundred to three hundred years.

  This night would mark Emperor Thunvold's eleventh death, followed by his twelfth reincarnation. The spectators in Thunvold's chamber presented no help or aid to their wailing emperor, for there was none to be offered. Each, despite the fact they could not remember it, had all undergone reincarnation multiple times. Falling into nothingness only to be reborn anew was a given event in the lives of all Tormos and Phlebos; it was something each had to experience on their own terms. No drug or medicine in their possession would help the emperor; this was his burden to bear.

  Thunvold suddenly shook violently and clenched at the animal hides covering his body. The watchers in the room held their breath, all eyes on the emperor. Thunvold's eyes jerked open; he stared up at the ceiling and opened his mouth as if to say something, and then - nothing. The moaning, the shivering, the throes of agony, it all stopped. Silence hung heavy over the room. After several moments, the shrouded figure closest to the silver double doors silently walked over to Thunvold's bedside. The individual was cloaked in heavy dark robes and a hood that masked the face. The figure leaned down close to Thunvold to listen for any sign of breathing, but no movement or sound could be detected from Thunvold's body, for all intents and purposes, the emperor was dead.

  The figure stepped back and removed the hood covering his head revealing the stern face of Duvold, guild master of the geomancers. Duvold's skin was dark grey in coloration as if mimicking the stones of the mountain in which most Tormos called home. Like all Tormos and Phlebos, his face was perpetually youthful belying the fact he had been alive for over two thousand years. His hair and skin, as with all Tormos, was the color of soil. His hair trailed down his back in tightly knitted braids. Duvold sighed, the first real noise to grace the royal chamber since Thunvold’s passing. The high geomancer carefully placed his palm on the emperor's face and closed the lids over Thunvold’s lifeless eyes which were still staring skyward, as if guiding his fleeing soul. Duvold turned to address the other silent figures in the room.

  "Thunvold has passed, and we must begin preparing for his return." Duvold turned to a thin figure in the opposing corner of the room. "Tulinda, prepare the messengers, the word must be spread."

  The lithe figure stepped forward, revealing a small female Tormos. Her slender frame masked a tremendous power though. Tulinda was second in command of the geomancer guild and commanded as much fear and respect, if not more, than Duvold did.

  "Shall we notify the Phlebos as well?" She asked the question without any sign of emotion gracing her smooth beautiful grey face.

  "Yes, send word to them at once,” responded her superior. Tulinda began to move to exit the room when Duvold quickly spoke up again.

  “The messenger being sent to Armistan – I would ask that you accompany him. I do not know how Gunvold will react to this news," said the guild master of the geomancers with a concerned look on his face.

  Tulinda nodded and exited the room, silently shutting the double doors behind her. Duvold flashed a quick weary smile to the other figures in the room. During the interim between Thunvold’s death and reincarnation, Duvold, as high geomancer, assumed the position of ruler of Juxton. Thunvold, from the beginning of the Tormos Empire to current day, had always been the ruler of Juxton, something Duvold was pleased with. While Duvold was proud to oversee the geomancer guild, a position he would trade for nothing in the world, running an entire empire was something
he took no joy in. Being emperor was a taxing undertaking, one in which the cons outweighed the pros in his opinion. Thankfully for Duvold, it was a responsibility he only had to bear for a short time and very infrequently. Duvold spoke to the assembly in a voice that demanded respect but was tinged with anxiety at having to shoulder the weight of an entire race of people, even if only for a short period of time.

  “Come, let us all move to one of the meeting hall to determine the most pressing matters while we wait for Thunvold’s return. In the meantime, one of you go get the servants; we need to get the royal chambers in proper condition for the emperor’s return.”

  ***

  Tulinda was a rare specimen in Tormos society, a female who had reached the upper echelons of power. It was not that the Tormos were an overtly sexist society, women had all the same rights as men and were treated with as much respect, but there was an unspoken subliminal male presence in Tormos society. The Tormos, birthed of a male demi-God, arose from his dying flesh and made the corpse of their creator their home. The Tormos, unlike the Phlebos to the south, were still a largely tribal society which placed great emphasis on individuality, physical strength and ruggedness, traits that in general favored males over females due to their generally superior size and strength.

  Due to their immortality, no Tormos or Phlebos ever lost their position in society. Thunvold had been emperor since he united the Tormos tribes and would continue to be emperor for all eternity unless the unthinkable happened and he was killed. Likewise, the unknown servant who had waited on and served the ruling families since their society was created would forever serve in that subordinate position. The only way an individual's societal position could shift was if a vacancy opened and a replacement was needed, such as a soldier being killed in battle, however deaths were extremely rare. Thus, shortly after creation, when Tormos society was still forming, the inherent physical traits of the males caused them to assume most of the dominant leadership positions. Somehow during that formative time, Tulinda had been one of few females in Tormos society to plant herself in a position of authority, specifically under Duvold. How she had been able to accomplish this was unknown to her or any other Tormos, as those events happened many lifetimes ago and were now faded from memory, but Tulinda liked to think she earned the position due to the fact that, while physically unimposing, she could mentally and through use of her magic dominate anyone.

  She had, for all intents and purposes, attained the highest position she would ever hold. She was effectively the third or fourth, depending on how some view Tormos society, most politically powerful person in Juxton, a position which she would hold for the rest of her existence. While technically Duvold held the position of most powerful geomancer, Tulinda far exceeded his abilities. Tulinda had always been a gifted geomancer, however six years prior she had unexpectedly reincarnated early after only being alive for roughly sixty years. Upon her return an unknown spark was lit inside her. She had through unknown means or explanation attained a form of power no other Vesnian had ever achieved. Whereas normally geomancers cast spells to mold and command the stones and rocks of the planet, upon reincarnation Tulinda gained total dominion over them. No longer did she need to cast spells to have the soil do her bidding, rather the very land they stood on became an extension of herself which completely bent to her will.

  Realizing that she had been lost in thought while traversing the labyrinthine royal quarters, Tulinda mentally snapped herself awake to her surroundings. In the halls beyond her physical sight, she heard the servants scurrying between rooms and working at a fevered pitch doing who knows what. None of the servants wished to be seen this evening, one reason being the solemn occasion of Thunvold’s passing and another being that most of them found Tulinda imposing. The geomancer exuded a confidence and power that none of the servants could describe, yet all feared. To the non-magically gifted, and they made up the vast majority of the population, a geomancer was a thing of mystery and awe, especially one as famous and powerful as Tulinda.

  Suddenly the narrow hall she had been traversing opened into a massive passageway. This new and larger hall, much like every other Tormos hall or room, was scarcely decorated or adorned. The Tormos had no desire for the finer and irrelevant details of opulent decoration which the Phlebos admired. Halfway through the large empty hall which had multiple smaller passages branching off was a set of gargantuan double doors. These doors were not extravagant though, rather they were thick, made of granite and required multiple guards to open or close.

  As she approached, the guards on duty began grunting in exertion to open the doors for Tulinda. Thankfully for the gate keepers, rarely did they have to open the doors that separated the royal reception chamber from the royal quarters as most servants and residents of the royal family used secret backdoor entrances to enter their abodes. As massive and sprawling a complex as Juxon City was, the number of hidden passages and tunnels therein was unfathomable and unknown even to the city architects.

  Tulinda passed through the double doors and began descending a massive staircase, at the bottom of which stood the emperor’s throne. Thunvold's seat was of imposing size and built from thick slabs of obsidian. When Thunvold sat on the mammoth structure he seemed to meld into it, as if the very rocks were protecting and warding the emperor. Tulinda knew such was not true though as she understood the elements of soil and stone. The throne exuded such an effect simply because it was so large it took up most of one’s view when close to it. Anyone who sat on the throne would appear to become engulfed by rock.

  As Tulinda walked past the throne, the large royal reception chamber continued for some distance. An enormous rug, worn down to tatters in most places due to eons of use, stretched the entire length of the chamber. At the very end of the hallway Tulinda could see a large entourage of royal guards milling about talking in hushed tones. They all stood before another set of massive double granite doors that led out into the main courtyard which then opened into Juxon City proper. At her approach, the royal guards all dropped to one knee and averted their eyes downward. Tulinda stood for a second staring down at them; each wore the unique armor that only adorned the royal guards, heavy iron plating decorated in sequenced fabrics of silver and brown. The iron armor seemed to move and dance about as it reflected the light from the roaring braziers that dotted the reception chamber.

  Tulinda, in a quiet tone but forceful enough to convey authority, uttered one word: "Runners.”

  In response the guards spread apart and snapped to attention while several individuals wearing light brown leather armor stepped forward. Tulinda had not noticed these unarmored Tormos initially due to the fact they had been in the rear of the large gathering. Each runner upon coming forward bowed to Tulinda and then likewise came to attention. The runners, in perfect unison, as if they had practiced it a thousand times prior to this moment, spoke. "What is the word of the United Tribes?"

  Tulinda stood still for a moment, thinking and pondering about how to properly announce this historic event. After a few tense moments of silence which, to the guards and runners seemed an eternity, Tulinda spoke. "Tell them: Thunvold the eleventh is dead - long reign Thunvold the twelfth."

  As soon as the sentence finished leaving Tulinda’s mouth the runners turned to begin delivering the news throughout the empire. Tulinda quickly grabbed one of the runners by the arm with a force that seemed impossible coming from such a diminutive figure. The runner was surprised and jerked back in reaction; he opened his mouth and stuttered. “M-Milady, what would you have of me?”

  Tulinda smiled at the runner, a futile attempt to relieve some of the anxiety he was feeling at that moment. “You are the runner for Deep Ridge are you not?” The runner nodded his head in affirmation with a look of consternation on his face. Tulinda spoke while still smiling, “quickly go and fetch five horses from the royal stables while I round up a guard entourage to escort us. You will not be going on your journey alone." The runner nodded and spoke, “Yes Milady,
although, if you don’t mind me asking, why do I have the honor of your presence in this task?” The geomancer who up until this point had appeared as cold and emotionless as the very stones she commanded, paused for a moment, a hint of apprehension suddenly gracing her voice. "Because we are going to directly inform the Behemoth."

  FIRST INTERLUDE

  A Concise History of Vesnia

  Written by Sielan the Third, Historian of the Red Empire

  In the beginning there was nothing. Deep, dark, endless nothingness that stretched infinitely into eternity. However even nothingness is not really nothing. For the infinite nothingness that both was and wasn’t had a name: Nua. Nua would eventually come to be known by many names including The Great Darkness, The Enveloping Void and most notably, The Northern Night. Nua existed for an untold amount of time because when all that exists (or doesn’t exist) is nothing, time has no meaning. However, after a certain unknowable period of time had passed, Nua started to become lonely. She longed for someone to be with and to share her nothingness, but she was unable to find such a being, for all that existed (or didn’t exist) was Nua. Her loneliness built inside her until she could no longer contain the sadness anymore. So consumed with apathy had Nua become that something miraculous occurred.

  Out of her infinite sadness which stretched the limits of time and space, an opposing effect sprang into existence. Her darkness and misery became so deep that a burst of light erupted out of the void. From this light sprang her opposite - Aun. Her counterpart Aun was born in an explosion of blinding fire. His love and warmth for Nua became so strong he collapsed in on himself becoming spherical. When the eruption had settled, two beings now existed, Nua, a being of darkness that spanned an infinite amount of time and space, and Aun, a singular entity of heat and light that shed warmth and love throughout Nua. With Aun's creation Nua ceased being nothing, their love had changed everything.