Borne Rising
Beyond the Shadows
Matthew Callahan
Roguish Creations
First published by Roguish Creations 2020
Copyright © 2020 by Matthew Callahan
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Matthew Callahan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
Matthew Callahan has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
First edition
ISBN: 978-1-7329222-1-1
Cover art by Patrick Knowles
Editing by Meredith Tennant
Created with Vellum
Contents
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Prologue
1. Destiny Calls
2. Absolution
3. The Halls of Legend
4. The Fires of Sapholux
5. Shadowborne
6. Flames of Light
7. Revelations
8. Travels with Rienne
9. The Isle of Eternity
10. Ancient Arts
11. Undermyre
12. A Bargain Struck
13. Breathing Ashes
14. A Traitor’s Blood
15. Fanning the Flame
16. Those Worth Saving
17. Winter Winds
18. Aurellaine
19. Departure
20. The Ways
21. Pulling Shadow
22. The Brothers of Darkness
23. Void
24. A Rumble of Thunder
25. Baiting the Trap
26. Burning Bright
27. Homecoming
28. The Seekers
29. Thorn of Night
30. A World Beyond
31. Shock and Awe
32. Legends Collide
33. The Shattered Ways
34. Borne Rising
35. Separate Paths
Epilogue
Thank You
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Also by Matthew Callahan
About the Author
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Get a FREE copy of Valmont’s Descent: A Tale of the Relics of Antiquity.
Pre-dating the events of Shadowborne by over five-hundred years, this tale is a look at Dorian Valmont through the eyes of Fen Kuang, a warlord from beyond the Daurhi Wastes. Filled with magic, suspense, and history, follow this powerful pair as they enter a realm of death and decay in search of an artifact that can turn the tide in Valmont’s battle against the Hesperawn - the Codex of Ahn’Quor.
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For Parker Grey, who’s undivided attention to my ramblings during our many long walks helped me find the missing link for this story.
Prologue
Sitting in the pool of darkness, the Crow watched his seneschal conclude her business of the day. She was efficient and earnest. Eager, even. Overall, she had been a good replacement for the last one. That man had been problematic for more years than the Crow cared to admit. Yes, the man’s loyalty to the Nordoth, to the Crow, had been unwavering, but the Crow did not regret removing him from his position. There could be no denying that all reason had escaped him by the end, the pressures of his job too demanding. The event with Thorne’s descendants proved that.
Bringers of change, that pair.
The audience having ended, the Crow turned silently. Masked in darkness, he lurched into his personal office where he poured himself a glass of wine and eyed the measure on the far wall. It had been active lately, far more active than he’d seen it in decades. Darkness billowed against the bright white, smoke-like substance although there was still no variance of control. He’d thought there had been a surge of darkness briefly a few months prior, a flux, but it had gone quickly. Still, an active measure merited careful consideration.
Bringers of change, indeed. The Borne always upset the status quo.
He sipped at his wine and considered. Perhaps it was time for change.
There had been no reports of the brothers nor word from their Seeker guide in some time, too long for the Crow’s liking. There had been a sharp uptick in cultist activities in both the borderlands and central control. The Necrothanians were growing bolder, no longer simply a mild inconvenience but burgeoning to a problem that would soon require attention. He did not believe the timing coincidental. Nor did he believe that the horrendous crack in the heavens that had appeared around the same period was coincidence. Many things the Crow may be, but a fool was not among them.
The pieces are moving on the board and the world is falling in their wake.
There was a sharp rap at the door.
“Enter,” the Crow said and collapsed into his seat. He sipped at the wine once more before placing it on the table. The door opened and Shifter, commander of his personal patrols, stepped within. The lean man removed his helm and the Crow frowned slightly. The man’s weapons and armor were worn and cracked. Resupply. Another item that demands attention. The Crow beckoned the hawk-nosed man toward him. Shifter gave a slight bow and approached.
“Lord Crow.”
The Crow eyed the man. “You work fast. Report.”
“Yes, my lord. The roads leading into the city have seen an increase in activity, particularly those peoples from the lands north of Theravane. Havenfjord and Tavernal have also reported population influxes given the aggressor activity stemming from their outer territories. There have been no attempts to infiltrate any of the major hubs yet. The roads beyond Letchbrook continue to bear the brunt of cultist attentions.”
A continued focus on Theravane and Letchbrook? Interesting. “What of Stormvale?”
“Additional watches on the pass, but overall no change.”
Yes, as ever they think that Umbriferum acts as their protector, even in death. “Carry on.”
“The gazers have maintained a constant watch on the heavens since the event. The crack in the sky has continued to be a cause of concern for the general populace. While its brilliance is unwavering, the reports of size fluctuation were exaggerated. It remains static. The gazers have no new information at this time. Given that, the stockpiles of the Nordoth have been filled according to plan. The armies are being amassed.
“Sir.” The commander took another step forward and leaned down, speaking in a quiet tone. “If I may, troubling rumors are spreading. An upset, as it were, where none was expected.”
The Crow smiled thinly, hiding his disappointment at the gazers’ inability to explain the rent in the sky. That Shifter grew troubled at rumors, however, took precedence. Ripples, then. “Explain.”
“Your request to bolster the defenses of the Nordoth was passed through the ranks and active recruitment has begun. The Undermyrian people are hesitant, as expected, as are the people of the surrounding territories. It has been some time since the last faction war, and few are willing to believe that another may be upon us. Nonetheless, recruitment has been steady these past months.”
“Good.” The Crow nodded. Yes, sheep seldom believe a wolf approaches until it is already tearing them apart. “Go on.”
Shifter paused and the Crow raised an eyebrow. And now we come to it. “That is hardly news, Commander,” he said. “The Shale have ever been notoriously difficult to contact.”
“Agreed, my lord. This instance is of particular note, however. The problem stems from the usual liaisons. We have made contact with them, established terms and brokered costs. It is they, sir, who have had no contact with the Shale.”
The Crow did not let the surprise show on his face.
“It appears,” Shifter went on, dropping his voice ever further, “that there has been no sign of the Shale for some time now. Reports indicate the last official contact via their sources coincided with”—the commander paused a moment, searching for words—“with the arrival of the Blademaster’s descendants.”
The Crow’s mind worked quickly, connecting the dots and filling in the blanks before the commander had finished speaking. He saw the entire story plain as day, though he had difficulty believing it despite everything he had seen in his long life. Changes. Yes.
The commander, receiving nothing from the Crow, continued. “As difficult as it is to believe, sir, our contacts believe that the Shale have fallen.”
“And you think that the young Shadowborne did such a thing?” The Crow watched as the commander wrestled with the absurdity of the notion before finally nodding.
“My lord, I do.”
The Crow laughed. “Your concerns are noted, Commander, although I do not share them. The Shadowborne was young and inexperienced.” He sipped his wine and considered a moment. Not the boy, but another. “Do your contacts know of the boy? What rumors spread of the Shadowborne’s coming?”
“None, my lord. The channels are ignorant on this matter, it seems. As ordered, no word of the Shadowborne left the citadel following his arrival. In the city there is the usual fear that arises any time cultist activity increases, but I have heard no rumors regarding the Borne that bear acknowledgment, sir.”
“What do the people believe then?”
The commander did not hesitate. “Sir, they believe it has something to do with the shattered sky.”
They’re more right than they know. The Crow steepled his fingers and smiled at the commander. “Very interesting. And do they have any theories to back this belief up?”
“No, Lord Crow. Merely superstitious conjecture.”
“Indeed. Is there anything else, Commander?”
“No, my lord.”
The Crow waved him away. “Very well. Well done, Commander. One cycle’s reprieve before your next assignment.”
“Sir.” Shifter saluted and turned, making for the door. Before he could reach it, another knock came. The commander paused and glanced back at the Crow. The dark man nodded and gestured for him to leave before calling for the other party to enter.
A short, inconspicuous form entered—Calen, one of the Crow’s personal messengers. He slipped past the departing Shifter and hurried over to the Crow.
“My Lord Crow,” the thin man said, bowing. He handed over a small, folded piece of paper. “A Seeker delegate from Greygarde has arrived. She wishes to see you. She said you would be expecting her.”
The Crow knew who it was before he opened the missive. The parchment was unadorned, the plain script saying only I have news. The Crow snickered at the brief, useless message but folded it nonetheless and tucked it delicately into a nearby drawer. “Send Cephora in.”
Calen turned and promptly exited the room. In the brief interlude of silence, the Crow sipped at his wine and worked through the many details his web of spies had collected since his last meeting with the Seeker’s Prime. He analyzed every angle and smiled. Yes, this should be interesting indeed.
The tall, dark-skinned woman entered. It had been just over a year since he had last seen her. Nothing had changed—she appeared exactly the same and bore the same manner, although he supposed that was to be expected. Even if something had changed, this ancient one had long since adapted to not letting it show. She was armed, as was customary of the Seekers when they met with him. The Nordoth guards had protested for years, but the Crow brushed their concerns aside. Weapons or no, a Seeker was dangerous, this one particularly so. But the Crow held no fear of them or her.
Cephora scanned the room quickly and then crossed to him. Her face was impassive, but the Crow noticed a slight hesitation when her eyes found the measure. He studied her while she analyzed it, suddenly growing even more interested in whatever she had to report. What had his spies missed?
The Seeker gave a small shake of her head while reading the device then, without a word, moved on and surveyed the entire room. Spying the decanter, she crossed and poured herself a humble serving of wine. Only then did she acknowledge the Crow’s presence, raising the glass to him in a greeting before politely sipping at its contents. Unbidden, she sat opposite him and placed the glass on his desk. Then, with a casual sigh, she clasped her hands and leaned back.
“You look well,” she said.
The Crow smiled a genuine smile, a rarity for him, and tipped his own glass in salutation. “I feel well.” A moment passed where neither spoke further. The Crow let it stand. The silence began to stretch and he chuckled to himself. Very well, then. “I expected you sooner.”
“Complications arose.”
“That, my friend, is why I sent a Seeker.”
“Complications beyond my own capacity.”
This brief, bold statement shocked the Crow, another rarity for him. Still, he did not let it show. “Well then, hmm. Complications, you say?” He raised his eyebrows. “What do we know now that we didn’t before?”
“Dorian Valmont is alive.”
Two-thirds of the calculated potential outcomes of this meeting immediately dropped by the wayside. He dismissed them without a second thought. “That is hardly the shock you make it out to be. Nor do I imagine that the knowledge of his survival is beyond your capacity to comprehend.”
Cephora cursed. The Crow smiled, watching her frustration boiling just beneath the surface. She took a measured breath, regaining her composure. “I should have presumed you would have known of his survival.”
The Crow spread his hands, as if to express that all his cards were on the table. “It is in my best interest to plan for all potentialities. Go on.”
The Seeker frowned. “Jero din’Dael is alive also. Alive and free. It was he whom your information led us to. He had been imprisoned deep within the Shale. The Davis boys released him. The Revenant destroyed both the Shale prison and army upon his release. The Shale are no more. I assume you knew that as well.”
The Crow nodded. He had expected as much, given Shifter’s reports, but confirmation was always welcome. He motioned for her to continue.
“The celestial anomaly that has lingered in the heavens was a direct result of din’Dael’s act.”
That would interest the gazers. The Crow stroked his chin and sipped his wine. “Continue.”
“Valmont did not come alone. His army has already risen in force.”
Of course he has his force with him. But if she saw them then . . . The Crow raised an eyebrow. “You saw him, then?” Cephora nodded. The Crow’s features stretched into a knowing, toothy grin. “Complications, indeed.”
Cephora held his gaze unwavering, no warmth in her expression. “The first contract we agreed upon was to guard the assets in their journey to the Shale.”
“I recall.”
“The second contract was contingent upon their success within the Shale,” Cephora continued. “In the event of successful retrieval of the assets, the N
ordoth entered an agreement with Greygarde to guide said assets to Umbriferum in order to retrieve any records from the ancient halls. The assets did not reach Umbriferum.”
The Crow did not allow his expression to change, but he mentally crossed off another significant percentage of his remaining potentialities. “And why not?”
“Valmont. Immediately following the destruction of the Shale, he made his presence known to us. Immediately. I do not know how. I only had time to recall myself and the Shadowborne to the nearest Greygarde haven. The extraction from the Shale was . . . difficult. The Casc needed time to recover, but he was understandably irate at the loss of his brother. It was some time before we set out once more. I do not know what became of din’Dael or the other Casc.”
The Crow had already dismissed them. Madigan Davis had had promise of a potential leadership position within the guard, given his ancestry and training. The loss was a blow, but only a minor one. The whereabouts of the young man and din’Dael was an issue for another time. “Time, yes. But upon the boy’s recovery, you did not set out for Umbriferum.”
“We did not. When Valmont was last active, he set out to destroy the Umbriferum. Taking the Shadowborne there would have been a tactical error. Valmont would have expected such an action. Instead, other measures had to be taken.”
“Such as?”
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