Fate of Wizardoms Boxed Set

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  The death of a wizard lord was a rare thing. Malvorian was only the twelfth ruler of Farrowen in two thousand years. Normally, such an event would attract a great deal of attention, the entire country mourning the loss for weeks. In this case, the man’s funeral had been held just two days after his death, the citizens of Marquithe gathering as his body was sealed in the mausoleum. There was no time to waste, for those same people would return in a few more days to crown a new wizard lord. The Darkening would not wait. If missed, many weeks would pass before the sun was again in the proper location. The very idea of going so long without a wizard lord was unthinkable. Never before had a lord been selected in so short a time, for never before had one died less than a week from the Darkening.

  With the war proceeding in Ghealdor, the Farrowen Army and the wizards who had joined it were hundreds of miles away. Malvorian’s mandate forcing the wizards to join the campaign was, perhaps, the sweetest irony of it all. Without another wizard in the city, none could contest Thurvin’s claim for the throne.

  The retinue reached the building connecting the palace to the temple and entered an antechamber where a dozen others waited.

  “There you are,” High Priestess Sheuren said with a scowl. With black hair and lines around her dark eyes, the woman always wore a scowl, even today, the day she would embrace her god.

  “Yes. I am ready to present myself to Farrow.”

  “Good, because the Darkening is fast approaching.” She turned toward Korlian and began issuing instructions.

  While he waited for his moment to shine, Thurvin wondered what progress Despaldi had made. Has he tracked the thief and his cohorts down? Has he reclaimed the amulet? In his head, he recalled their last conversation, five days prior.

  Despaldi had entered Thurvin’s chamber wearing a grimace. At the time, Thurvin had been standing on a stool, Malvorian’s oversized robes hanging loosely from his body while his tailor took measurements.

  “Welcome, Captain. I pray you have news,” Thurvin had said.

  “I do,” Despaldi replied, lowering his voice to a whisper as he leaned close. “I just received word from one of my scouts. They rode through the village of Harwin’s Corner yesterday.

  “Where is that located?”

  “It’s a full day’s ride south of here.”

  At least they cannot interrupt the proceedings here when I am crowned. “Gather some men and pick up their trail. You are to personally lead this expedition. The amulet is a risk and cannot be allowed outside of our control.

  “Don’t you care that they killed Malvorian?” Despaldi sneered, not even attempting to speak quietly. “Or was it a fortuitous act for your behalf?”

  He suspects me, but he doesn’t know for sure.

  “I’ll not pretend fate did not twist in my favor, but how could I have planned Malvorian’s death? How could I know they would attack? How could I dare believe they might succeed? Besides, it was Malvorian who forced the other wizards to leave Marquithe. If things had gone differently, I’m sure Forca or another would have taken my place. However, I believe Farrow has plans for me, which is why the bones have fallen as they have.”

  Despaldi had not appeared pleased, but he left the room, and the city, in pursuit of the assassins, which was the label Thurvin had applied to Landish and his crew. Now, days later, Thurvin hoped Despaldi had either captured or killed his quarry.

  A gong sounded, ringing throughout the room and stirring Thurvin from his musings.

  The high priestess and her clerics walked through the doors and into the temple. The waiting crowd cheered, the sound deafening. They are cheering for me, for I will be their god. This moment was something to savor, a feat he had imagined many times in the past but never truly hoped might come to fruition.

  Five prisoners, shackled and gagged, were dragged through the room and into the temple, where they were strapped to altars while Sheuren watched. Torches were lit with an augmented flame, burning the blue of Farrow. After some words, the high priestess requested all applicants to join her in the center of the altars. Thurvin strode out to meet the cheering crowd. He stopped before Sheuren, alone, none to challenge him. How could they when the wizards of Marquithe were a wizardom away?

  The sun slid behind the moon, darkening the temple interior, save for the blue-lit area surrounding the altars. Sheuren lifted her arms to the sky and recited an ancient incantation before bowing, supplicating herself to Farrow. The prisoners bound to the surrounding altars squirmed, struggling to break free. A buzz stirred in Thurvin’s head, like a distant magic coming toward him, growing louder and louder until he gritted his teeth, shaking. Sheuren burst into azure flames, swirling and consuming everything.

  Agonizing pain seared through Thurvin. Shrieking, his voice joined Sheuren’s and the prisoners’ as the flames consumed them all. Lost in the pain, time became irrelevant, lasting forever or a moment, Thurvin could not tell. Until, suddenly, he felt nothing. Deep inside the emptiness, a blue flame lit inside him, the fire blooming as it filled him. Not with pain, but with power. The power increased, flooding him with such vigor he staggered and fell to one knee, remaining there until his vision returned.

  Sheuren was gone, as were the prisoners. He shakily rose to his feet and felt a presence, massive and overwhelming. He looked up into the eyes of Farrow, the god’s hairless body scarred with lightning bolts running across his scalp, down his legs and arms, all pulsing with a silvery shimmer amidst his glowing blue skin.

  “Welcome, my son,” Farrow said in Thurvin’s mind. “Rule well, for your people need you.”

  The god faded, yet the presence lingered. Thurvin turned toward the crowd and raised his arms. As one, everyone knelt and began Devotion, the chanting filling him with power until he was sure he would burst. With little effort, he wove a disk of solid air beneath his feet and lifted himself toward the arched ceiling high above. As the sun emerged from behind the moon, the Darkening receding, he basked in the glory of his newfound power.

  Thurvin Arnolle, the weakest of all the wizards in Marquithe, had risen to the pinnacle of power. When his army captured Fastella, another great city worth of prayers feeding him, he would become the mightiest wizard to have ever lived.

  Note from the Author

  I hope you have enjoyed the story thus far. The Fate of Wizardoms series has a long way to go, and I would love to have you join me for the entire saga.

  Among my favorite aspects of the series is the opportunity to tackle classic epic fantasy tropes and twist them to fit my vision. In the next book, I address a theme that has interested me for decades: Prophecy. When done well, it can be a fun plot tool, enticing readers with a sense of mystery. Done poorly, it becomes a crutch upon which the author leans far too heavily. I intend to twist prophecy in an entirely new way. Expect the unexpected. The true answers won’t be revealed until the final book, sometime in 2020.

  Best Wishes,

  Jeff

  www.jeffreylkohanek.com

  Temple of the Oracle

  Fate of Wizardoms Book Three

  © 2020 by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.

  The final approval for this literary material is granted by the author.

  First Edition

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-949382-20-4

  PUBLISHED BY JEFFREY L. KOHANEK and FALLBRANDT PRESS

  www.JeffreyLKohanek.com

  Journal Entry

  We now begin the third leg of our adventure. Although much has occurred
, little has been truly exposed. This will change as our story advances. Allow me to remind you of what took place in the first two volumes, but BEWARE, the following information is reserved for those who have been here from the onset, for it includes far more than I would otherwise reveal. I wouldn’t wish to SPOIL the fun.

  What has occurred thus far:

  In a race neither knew existed, a menagerie acrobat named Rhoa stole the amulet known as the Eye of Obscurance moments before master thief Jerrell Landish reached the fabled item. Jerrell, who goes by the name Jace, was working for the Marquithe Thieves Guild. To compensate for his failure to steal the amulet, Jace agreed to track Rhoa down, claim the Eye of Obscurance, and use it to assassinate Lord Taladain, the wizard lord of Ghealdor.

  Meanwhile, Rhoa and her fellow menagerie performers migrated from Marquithe to the Ghealdan city of Starmuth. During this journey, they acquired a new talent in the form of a dwarf named Rawk. As a stone-shaper, Rawk’s unique magical abilities made him an instant star in the menagerie.

  After a brief sojourn to High Wizard Montague’s dungeon in Lionne, Jace caught up to the menagerie outside of Starmuth, where he cornered Rhoa and demanded the amulet. Rhoa refused, for she had her own reasons for wishing Lord Taladain dead. She, instead, suggested she, Jace, and Rawk work together toward that end.

  En route to the capital of Ghealdor, the trio stopped at an inn located in a small village, finding me reciting a tale for patrons. Having a long history with Rhoa, I invited them to ride with me to Fastella. The four of us traveled to the city with me none the wiser to what Rhoa and Jace intended, at least until I overheard an argument and pressed them, demanding the truth. With my assistance, we laid plans for Lord Taladain’s final performance.

  However, Lord Taladain had a new addition to his household – his daughter, Narine, recently returned from her eight-year stay at the University in Tiadd. Now a master wizardess, the princess inserted herself into Taladain’s life with the intent to prove herself an asset. Unfortunately, her brother, Eldalain, viewed her as a threat.

  Prior to the performance, Prince Eldalain was sent off to Dorban to assist his cousin, Heldain, against rival wizards seeking to usurp him. While the prince was away, Jace assumed the role of a steward at the Fastella Palace, using his position to provide inside information toward our efforts. Taladain soon accepted our proposal to perform for him, and the confrontation ensued.

  At the risk of sounding arrogant, the performance was masterful, leaving the man and his daughter enthralled until the grand finale when Rhoa was to kill Taladain. As best laid plans are want to do, fate had its own agenda and tossed the proceedings into complete disarray, resulting in an epic display of magic, twists, and surprises. When things settled, the wizard lord lay dead. It was then that his daughter demanded we help her escape, for she feared her brother’s response…and rightly so.

  A fight ensued, the escape one of bravery, stealth, and magic. Our small party fled not only the palace, but the city itself. Unfortunately, Prince Eldalain returned to Fastella, declared us wanted criminals, and commanded his forces to capture us at any cost.

  When we arrived in Starmuth, the inn where we stayed was stormed by High Wizard Charcoan’s soldiers. With stealth and guile, Jace snuck Princess Narine and her bodyguard, Adyn, from the inn, evading capture. The next day, the three fugitives sailed off on a ship bound for the Farrowen city of Shear.

  Rhoa, Rawk, and I soon departed Starmuth on a journey to Lionne. Along the way, we were captured by Captain Despaldi and brought to the Farrowen Army’s camp at the border. Soon after, we were headed to Marquithe to face our fate before Lord Malvorian.

  The three of us were locked in a cell below the Marquithe Palace but escaped with the help of Rawk’s stone-shaping abilities. He then led us to a cavern beneath the palace to discover his uncle, Algoron, working for Malvorian in secret. Algoron revealed Malvorian’s plan to take over Ghealdor and eventually rule the world. To our dismay, the dwarf betrayed us, leading us into Malvorian’s hands.

  Upon entering the wizard lord’s throne room, we discovered Jace, Narine, and Adyn already there. Things progressed from a tense situation to an all-out confrontation of magic, swords, and death. In the end, Malvorian lay unconscious, Chancellor Thurvin wounded, and Captain Despaldi disarmed. Jace was mortally wounded, until Narine healed him using the added power of an enchanted bracelet she had taken from Thurvin.

  Our party of heroes escaped the city, on the run once again with Despaldi and his men in pursuit. Somehow, Malvorian died as a result of the skirmish, the second wizard lord to pass within two weeks. The resulting shift in the balance of magic yielded disastrous results. Creatures of legend, mighty and dangerous, began to appear – something unheard of for two millennia.

  Upon reaching the Pallanar border, I led our group to a lonely cabin in the mountains, seeking the assistance of a retired soldier named Brogan Reisner. Despaldi and his squad followed our trail and cornered our party. A skirmish ensued, Despaldi losing most of his men while his spooked horse fled the scene. Afterward, Brogan and his archer friend, Blythe, joined us as we journeyed to Illustan, the capital of Pallanar.

  While all this was occurring, the Farrowen Army advanced to Starmuth and took the city without the loss of a single life. When presented the opportunity to rule Fastella, High Wizard Charcoan joined the Farrowen campaign rather than fight. The obelisk in Starmuth was captured and converted such that the prayers of the citizens were now directed to the Tower of Devotion in Marquithe.

  The army then marched north to Fastella where a siege ensued. The first attempt to enter the city failed miserably, Thundercorps soldiers and Farrowen wizards dying while attempting to destroy the inland gate. The bulk of the Farrowen Navy was crushed while trying to enter through the other gate. With this failure, tactics were altered, the Farrowen forces resorting to subterfuge.

  Lieutenant Trey Garvin, Despaldi’s right-hand man, led a small team through a smugglers’ tunnel. This elite squad then stormed the gate tower. There, High Wizard Charcoan faced Prince Eldalain, who overpowered the turncoat wizard and was about to destroy him when a thief named Rindle skewered Eldalain from behind. With the prince dead, the tower was captured, the gate opened, and the city fell to the Farrowen Army.

  The end of the second volume centered on events in Illustan. When we arrived, we were welcomed by Wizard Lord Raskor and his wife, Ariella. Our heroes informed Raskor of Malvorian’s plan and the war waging in Ghealdor. He intended to take steps to protect his wizardom, until a dragon attacked the city. The wizard lord confronted the dragon, attempting to kill it. However, dragons are quite difficult to kill. As the man discovered, they are also immune to magic. Engulfed by dragon fire, Raskor almost died, only able to save himself by using the majority of his prayer-fed magic.

  When magic and blades failed to stop the dragon, Jace and Narine proved cleverness a better tool against monsters of such might, luring the dragon away and saving the city.

  Later that evening, I met with Raskor in private just before he was to begin Devotion, where he would receive the prayers to refuel his magic. Before he could do so, he fell to the floor in convulsions, apparently victimized by aftereffects of the dragon’s magic. Raskor died that night, a dark ending to the second volume of the saga I am sharing with you.

  And, so, our tale resumes. Don’t assume you know what comes next, for fate interferes and twists destiny as it sees fit without regard for where man might wish it to lead.

  -Salvon the Great

  Prologue

  Ki-Atti Illuokon stood upon the wall, leaning on his spear and staring into the massive chasm. Shadows clung to the tall cliff walls to either side, the rocky surface partially covered by vines. Behind him, the sun had sunk below the horizon, the sky darkening. His insides twisted with trepidation as nightfall drew nearer.

  Fighting in The Fractured Lands had hardened him, but tonight was different. It felt almost as if he were a new recruit once again, freshly trained a
nd untested in battle. This was his squad’s first evening at their new post.

  Chasm Sixteen, also called Blood Alley, was legendary for all the wrong reasons, known throughout the Murguard. Of course, Ki-Atti’s previous post at Chasm Eight had been subject to attacks during his deployment, no different than any other post. However, Blood Alley had a reputation for being the worst of the lot, the chasm twice the width of any other, the volume of monsters coming through it equally outstripping the others. Accordingly, the man-made wall spanning the gap stood ten feet higher than the walls of any other chasm. Similar to Ki-Atti’s prior post, numerous sections appeared newer than the rest of the battlements, having undergone repairs after prior breaches.

  He glanced toward the soldier to his left, a woman named Rialla and a fellow Kyranni. Similar to his own, her skin was dark, her armor covering it only from her upper thighs to her shoulders, the leather light and flexible, reinforced by metal panels in critical locations. With cropped hair, not much longer than Ki-Atti’s shorn head, her fierce appearance was remarkably appropriate.

  There were five other Kyranni in his squad, the rest a mixture of Hassakani, Orenthians, Ghealdans, and even three Farrowens. Among the twenty-four soldiers, three were women, Rialla the most skilled fighter of the lot…among either sex. She knew how to deliver death with her naginata, the blade at the end of the staff stained black with the blood of the monsters she had killed.

  “Feels odd, no?” she said, looking toward him. “A new post after all this time.”

  The two of them had only spent a little over two years at their prior post, but it felt like a lifetime.