The ground quaked. Split open as shards of rock jutted up.
The wrath of a mage unleashed, Nardus knew there was nothing he could do or say to temper her rage.
Cinolth stalked toward Nardus and unleashed a column of fire.
Nardus shielded himself again with an air shield and called for Sarai, the ʈrenƨbūrʈ, with his mind.
Moments later, Sarai replied in Nardus’s mind. “I am ready.”
“Round up the others, and then get Zerenity and Theyn,” said Nardus.
“Yes, master.”
At some point, Ridan and Bakkan had joined the fight. They and Urza warred against a large orc. Ridan tossed a spear at the orc and then disappeared into the ground, along with Bakkan. The spear met its mark and took the orc to its knees. Urza moved in for the kill but fell away from view inches away from striking.
Rakzar and Rayah were nowhere to be found, but he didn’t have time to worry about it. He cocked his head and looked passed Cinolth. “Grab Alderan’s bow and get over to Zerenity!” He yelled to Theyn.
Cinolth whipped his head around, launching boomerangs of saliva and blood from his chin spikes. Theyn reached for Alderan’s bow, but Cinolth reacted faster. He grabbed it in his claws and smashed it to bits. Theyn rolled away and shifted in stride, dropping on all fours. She galloped toward Zerenity, who still knelt over Alderan’s dead body sobbing and convulsing.
Cinolth dropped his lower jaw, and his chest expanded and glowed bright red.
Nardus pulled himself to his feet. “I’m right here, you scaly bastard. Am I not the one you want dead?”
Cinolth paused for a moment, but then released several bursts of flames toward Zerenity. Her eyes fixated on Nardus, Aria stepped right into the path of Cinolth’s fire.
Nardus swept his hand to the side. A mighty wind ripped across the valley and tossed Aria to the side like a ragdoll. She hit the ground hard and lay still.
Theyn leapt, shifted in mid-air, wrapped Zerenity in her arms and legs, and skidded across the charred grass just ahead of Cinolth’s flames. A moment later, she and Zerenity disappeared into the ground.
“They are with me,” said Sarai in Nardus’s mind.
Nardus glanced back at the pool of molten gold that swirled on the ground behind him. “And what of my son?”
“I am sorry, master. I cannot transport the dead. Doing so would kill us all.”
Nardus huffed and nodded.
Cinolth stomped the ground, whipped his head around, and spewed a column of fire at Nardus. Flames surrounded Nardus, whipped his hair back, and ruffled his trousers and shirt, but they didn’t harm him or his clothing. The air shield he’d conjured did its job.
Nardus sneered at Cinolth. “Haven’t you realized by now that your fire cannot touch me? You’ll have to do better than that.”
Cinolth roared and charged Nardus, but Nardus threw himself backward and into the golden pool—into Sarai.
“You coward!” roared Cinolth. “You cannot hide from me. No rock will be left unturned until I’ve found you!”
“I’m betting on it,” said Nardus, directly into Cinolth’s mind.
“You’re a dead man, Cyrus!”
I’ve heard that several times before.
Cinolth spewed a column of fire into Sarai, and Sarai groaned.
Nardus closed his eyes and breathed Sarai into his lungs. “Go, Sarai.”
† † †
Aria roused. Her neck ached, but not nearly as much as her heart. She rose to her feet and looked around as she massaged her neck. Her father and the others were gone.
Pravus’s remains lay in a pool of blood and saliva. Only his legs and lower torso remained intact. A few yards away, she found his hand. Knew it was his because of the ring. She picked it up and held it to her cheek. Already, his flesh felt cold against her skin. She begged to feel his intoxicating touch one last time but knew it would never come. She kissed his fingers, kissed the top of his hand, and then dropped it on the ground next to his other remains.
Aria drew mezhik into her hands. Its intoxicating touch did nothing to silence the sorrow and rage storming within her. Nothing would. A fireball formed on her upturned palm. It undulated with flames of red, yellow, green, blue, purple, and orange.
Goodbye, husband.
The fireball rolled off the ends of her fingers and landed on top of Pravus’s remains. The intense heat cremated Pravus in a flash and left nothing behind but scorched earth. The deed done, she turned her attention back on Cinolth.
Cinolth stood at a distance. Smoke bellowed from his nostrils as he examined his wings. Several holes punctured the leathery membrane connecting bone and muscle. Many of those wounds came from the fire and ice she’d rained down on the valley, and it gave her a small measure of satisfaction.
Malice rose in her heart. Cinolth must’ve sensed it because he looked right at her with a hate-filled glare.
“Your rage is misguided,” said Cinolth in her mind.
“You ate half my husband!” Mezhik crackled at her fingertips.
“I did what was necessary. What you wanted to do but couldn’t. Think of all the things he did to you. How he manipulated you. Killed your family. Killed your friends. Enslaved you for his purposes. I’ve set you free.”
“Set me free? I’ll never be free as long as you’re alive!” She balled her hand and pulled it down to her side. A bolt of lightning shot down from the sky and struck Cinolth between the shoulder blades. The strike didn’t faze him.
Cinolth spoke, and fire spewed from his lips. “Strike me again, and you’ll see just how short your leash is.”
Aria turned away. Hate him if you want, but he’s all you have left.
She gathered herself and returned to Alderan’s side. The dragon’s fire continued to consume Alderan, his flesh and bones little more than charcoal.
“I’m here, brother.” She touched his grayed cheek, and his form collapsed into a pile of smoldering ash.
She lifted her head skyward and screamed.
Everything she’d ever loved lay dead on a charred field in a land she’d grown to loathe. Tears of blood fell from her eyes, and her heart grew cold. Invoking the name of Diƨäfär, she vowed to soak the earth with the blood of her true enemy.
You’re dead, Father.
Blood streaked the backs of her hands when she wiped her eyes. She stood and gazed southward. Nothing of beauty remained in the world.
She placed a hand on her stomach. But beauty will be reborn.
She turned and faced the mighty dragon. “Come, Cinolth. We’ve got a little dragon to hunt and a man to kill.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
“Where am I headed?” asked Sarai in Nardus’s mind. Her voice sounded hollow and weak.
“Nasduron,” replied Nardus.
“Nasduron? It still exists?”
“Yes. I will show you the way,” said Nardus.
“Yes, master,” said Sarai in Nardus’s mind.
Nardus set his thoughts toward the sunken city and opened his mind to Sarai. “Do you see it?”
“I do. I will get you there, but it shall be the last time we travel together.”
“What do you mean?” asked Nardus.
“My strength is fading. This journey will consume what little I have left, and I will soon be no more.”
“Then stop wherever we are and let us out. I’ll take everyone there myself.”
“Stopping now will make little difference,” said Sarai. “I will not survive long no matter what path you choose. Cinolth’s fire has critically damaged me.”
Nardus clenched his fists. Damn you, Cinolth. Must you take everything from me?
“This is my fault,” said Nardus. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do this.”
“No, master, it’s exactly what you created me to do,” countered Sarai. “Allow me to serve you this last time.”
“Very well, Sarai. Nasduron it is.”
/>
“We will be there by sunset.”
“Good.” Nardus set his mind on the Great Library in hopes that thinking of Gnaud and the numerous trips there would keep him from dwelling on Shardan’s self-sacrifice saving Shanara’s life, but the plan didn’t work. Instead, his mind obsessed over the single anomaly of the event.
Why didn’t the amulet protect Shardan?
Had its power simply run out, or was there more to it? Had something far more sinister and devious occurred? He couldn’t put his finger on an answer, but his mind would never stop mulling it over. In time, he’d figure it out.
For now, he must focus on finding a way to save Shanara and the world from Cinolth’s clutches. Even as the darkness surrounded them and threatened to snuff out the light for good, one last ray of hope remained. A single ray. It focused him and drove him to press on.
I hope you’re ready, Gnaud.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Dozens of books piled high across five tables, many of them opened or bookmarked for further reading. Most of the books dealt with accounts of historical significance, but a handful of them pertained to prophecy, both fulfilled and unfulfilled. Wrik sat at the third table, his nose buried in one particular history book titled The Banishment of Light.
A certain passage caught Wrik’s attention. He looked up from the book and adjusted his spectacles. “I think I might’ve found something.”
Gnaud sat atop the first table, scouring through several books of his own. He glanced up for only a moment. “Either you have, or you haven’t. There is nothing outside of those two choices.”
Wrik had previously spent several weeks with the little gordak and had grown quite fond of his company. He knew Gnaud felt the same about him but didn’t think Gnaud would ever admit to it. At least not after being so adamant about keeping Wrik away from Nasduron.
Wrik rose from his chair and carried the book over to the first table. He set the book down in front of Gnaud. “Take a look for yourself.”
Gnaud’s eyes grew ever wider as he read several paragraphs to himself. “Oh, my!” He shot to his feet and danced around the table, knocking several books to the floor. “That is most certainly of significance!”
“As I thought. Now, we must—”
A rush of wind rustled the pages of Wrik’s book as a gold-and-black swirling vortex materialized in the middle of the floor of the Great Library. Wrik jumped to his feet and readied a fireball. Nardus, Theyn, and several others Wrik didn’t recognize rose out of the vortex, and then the vortex disappeared with a loud sizzle and a puff of smoke.
Wrik’s fireball fizzled out as he exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d held. He pulled a chair from underneath the table and sank into it. “Gods, what happened to you?”
Nardus stood, his face streaked with dirt, ash, and tears. “We did everything we could, but the Three Kingdoms fell.”
Based on all the prophecies he’d read, Wrik had guessed the outcome of the war long before it had begun. His fingers wrapped around the ring in his pocket. “And your son? Where is he?”
Nardus stared at him without emotion. “Shardan is dead.”
“Dear Ƨäʈūr,” said Gnaud. “How did it happen?”
“He sacrificed himself to save Aria from dragon’s fire,” said a young woman. Her wings shimmered in the light.
“And did it work?” asked Wrik. Sweat began beading on his brow.
“Yes,” replied the young woman. She started sobbing.
Guilt ate Wrik from within. Gods… He wasn’t supposed to die.
Wrik clasped Nardus’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss.” Nardus only nodded.
“His sacrifice served another purpose,” said Theyn. “It severed the bond between Aria and Pravus. Then Cinolth killed Pravus.”
Pravus is dead…
Wrik had hoped for such an outcome but hadn’t been optimistic about it. Giddiness swirled in the pit of his stomach. “And what’s become of Aria?”
“She’s still controlled by that wretched dragon.” Nardus slammed his fist on the table. “Cinolth must be stopped by any means necessary.”
“Yes, but not until we figure out how to free all those under his control,” said an older woman with silver hair. “The cost would be far too great.”
“Don’t you dare talk to me about cost,” snarled Nardus. “I don’t give a damn how many lives it takes to kill that beast. Shardan won’t have died for nothing.”
“Agreed.” Wrik leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees. “For what it’s worth, I have some good news.”
Nardus glared at Wrik but said nothing, so Wrik continued, “I believe I’ve located Hemär Dhef Əllíʈ.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
The story continues in True Heir, Book #4 of The Dark Heart Chronicles.
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To save her son she must destroy a civilization.
Emorith used her persuasion magic on the wrong man, and he’s controlled her ever since. Now, she must find a test subject for his spell, Scourge. She knows Magus, the powerful wizard who rules the southern realm, will use the spell to obliterate anyone without magic. But she can’t live without her son, and Magus will kill him if she fails…
To defeat Magus’s ominous plot, Emorith must betray him and trust a friend with her young son. However, her smooth talking and determination may not be enough to prevent an apocalypse.
Scourge takes place in the World of Centauria 1200 years prior to the events in The Dark Heart Chronicles epic dark fantasy series. If you like thrilling adventures and heroic characters, then you’ll love Daniel Kuhnley’s dark and creative novella.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I’m Daniel Kuhnley, an American author of dark fantasy and mystery thrillers. Some of my novels include The Dragon’s Stone, Reborn, The Braille Killer, and Rended Souls. I enjoy watching movies, reading novels, and programming. I live in Albuquerque, NM with my wife.
Connect with Daniel
danielkuhnley.com/connect
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book is dedicated to you, the reader. Thank you so much for sticking with me along this long journey. I hope you enjoyed reading this continuation of The Dark Heart Chronicles as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Geoff and Steve, thank you for your feedback!
Last, but never least, all glory goes to Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior. Through Him all things are possible!
Rended Souls Page 61