by Heath Pfaff
The Hungering Saga Complete
Heath Pfaff Justin Hernandez
(2011)
Rating: ★★★★☆
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Product Description
THREE complete - full length - novels. Magic and driven by soul crushing loss, Lowin Fenly, a young scribe-turned-knight, struggles to hold onto his humanity as he battles to rescue that which he values most in the world. Along the way he will be forced to make friends of his enemies, and enemies of his friends. He will grow from a boy no one has heard of, into a man destined to leave the land forever changed, but how will he be remembered? Will he be Sir Fenly, Hero of the People, or will he be Lowin the Dread, a monster to terrify children?
Volume 1: The Noble Fool
A man is not great because he is a good man. A great man can be good, evil, or any shade of gray in between. A great man is a man who sees the world around him, and changes it to suit him, instead of letting it change him to suit itself. Lowin Fenly didn't want to be a hero, and he never thought of being a villain, but sometimes the path that must be walked by great men leads to dark places. Body twisted by dark magic, the scribe-turned-Knight must learn to control the beast he is becoming, or risk losing the few remnants of humanity he clings to.
Volume 2: The Vengeful Malice
All men who would change the world, must first be willing to destroy it. The continuation of the epic saga began in The Noble Fool, The Vengeful Malice returns to the memories of Lowin Fenly as he is stirred from his respite of self loathing and forced on a quest to bring peace to his people, his land, and himself. A new menace comes from the sea, and it has come to devour mankind whole. The kingdom is at war with itself, and with a new enemy, and powerful men have decided that Lowin will play an important role in the upcoming conflict whether he wishes it or not.
Volume 3: The Snow Song
Lowin has driven himself tirelessly towards his goals, seeking an end to the torments that have riddled his soul with guilt for years. The threat of the Hungering seems abated, but still greater challenges lay ahead. His companions are divided, and his own mind is split by dark thoughts, and darker urgings. Lowin must master himself, and find friends amidst the enemies that surround him, or all he has worked so hard to gain will be lost. Far across the ocean, an enemy beyond his understanding waits. Hero, tyrant, man, beast; which is Lowin Fenly?
The Hungering Saga Complete
By Heath Pfaff
Version 3.35
3/1/12
www.offoxsmind.com
front cover art by Justin Hernandez
http://glowingraptor.com
Book 1 -- The Noble Fool
Book 2 -- The Vengeful Malice
Book 3 -- The Snow Song
The Noble Fool
Vol. 1 of The Hungering Saga
by
Heath Pfaff
Edited by Andrea Brooks
version 2.0
The Noble Fool is ©2008 by Heath Pfaff
Revised Edition ©2012
All rights reserved.
This novel is dedicated to my wonderful wife
Jen, who is responsible for the title,
and to my family who have supported my
many eccentric and silly whims throughout the years.
I am a monster. I was not, however, born to it. I was born as so many others into a loving family who cared for me and did all they could to ensure that my upbringing be as comfortable and pleasant as possible. I remember most keenly being told by my father, "A man who carries a sword is a man who is looking for a fight." I sometimes wonder if I should have heeded his word with more enthusiasm. Did I ever really have the chance to listen to him? I'm still not sure. Life has its ways of sending us astray despite our best efforts to the contrary.
As I've said before, I wasn't always a monster. I began my adult life as an apprentice of lore at the age of 16. I was tasked with keeping the stories and histories of my people alive, so that later generations might understand our people and the glory of our kingdom. Fate however had other things in mind for me. My life changed forever the day a Black-Eyed Devil walked into my place of business, the Danivil Library. I remember the details well. As a keeper of lore, it was my task to remember details, to recall them as accurately as possible, so that they might be preserved for our records. Though I have rarely had a chance to use it in the time since acquiring it, I will be applying that skill now in the writing of this story.
It all began in a single, terrifying moment...
He wasn't a tall man, but that did little to ease the imposing nature of his visage. His skin had a vague blue tinge to it and his hair hung like long black curtains about his face, framing the gaunt stone-etched features in such a way as to make them seem even more extreme and hostile than they already were. He was wrapped in a Lucidil Cloak, the fabric turned light in such a way that it became difficult to determine the movements and edges of the person wrapped within the shifting folds of cloth. The cloak was strange enough, but the eyes that peered out of the hard face above the neck line of the magic fabric were stranger by far. His eyes were solid black but for a circle of white that encircled the center and from which sprouted bolts of white that were crooked and slowly, almost imperceptibly, moved like terrible legs on some fantastic insect trapped within the blackness of the man's eyes. Of course I knew immediately what those eyes portended, though I had never had the displeasure of actually seeing them before. Everyone knew of the Black-Eyed Devils, though few chanced to see them in person; there were few of them. So few of them in fact, that they were considered by most to be mere legend. Yet there I found myself staring into those pitch-colored eyes, terrified to the very center of my being. Even then, before any other thought came to my mind, I knew that those eyes were something alien, something that didn't belong to my world.
"Lowin Fenly?" The mouth barely moved beneath the dark eyes, the voice little above a whisper. Quiet though it was, my knees trembled upon hearing it. It took me a moment to register the fact that he had said my name; it wasn't the quietness of his voice that deafened me, only the shock that he should know my name and be addressing me directly. I nodded dumbly in reply as I didn't trust myself to voice an answer.
"You are to come with me." He said, turning his back to me and taking a few steps before stopping, obviously waiting for me to fall in behind him. My heart pounded in my chest. For a moment I thought it would shatter my ribs and rip through the front of my breast to escape. I admit my reaction was one of cowardice and born of complete and pure terror. I knew nothing of what was happening and I could see only one route of escape, and so I made a decision. I turned and ran. Perhaps if I had fully understood what was to become of me, I would have somehow found the strength to run faster. I do not think it would have mattered.
My feet worked of their own accord, one landing in front of the other to propel my body along. I didn't know where I was running, the library wasn't very large and the door at the back was kept locked. As I said, though, it didn't matter. I only managed to cover thirty steps before I slammed into what felt like a solid wall. The blow was so hard that the air was knocked from me and I fell to the ground, momentarily stunned. Standing above me, peering down with those hideous alien eyes was the Black-Eyed Devil. He smiled, exposing a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. I had not seen them before, and they did little to help the terror that was clawing away at my ability to control myself. I couldn't understand how he had gotten in front of me so quickly or how he could stand, still and unmoving after I had hit him running at full speed. Yet there he was, imposing, staring down at me like a predator sizing up a kill. I made the briefest attempt to scramble to my feet but there was a blur of mot
ion and suddenly I found the world slipping away from me with only the faint echo of the alarmed voices of other library workers present to guide me into darkness.
When next the world cleared for me, I found myself inside a coach. The shades were drawn, submerging the interior into near darkness; barely enough light crept in for me to see that there were two other passengers seated with me in the small space. Both wore cloaks around their shoulders, though only one looked to be the Lucidil Cloak of the Black-Eyed Devils. The other figure was dressed in a white garment, though once she noticed I had awoken she quickly drew her hood up to hide her features from prying eyes, leaving only delicate, feminine hands as an indication of her sex. The other figure also had his hood pulled up and the bottom half of his face was wrapped by a scarf that might well have been part of his cloak. The effect was such that amidst the sickening churn of the Lucidil fabric only the white portion of the Devil's eyes shone through. Upon meeting that gaze, I found myself unconsciously trying to force my way backward through the bench upon which I sat.
"Be calm, Lowin." A soft female voice came from the white cloaked figure. "I assure you that we have not collected you with the intent of killing you." Her words were serene and gentle, as though spoken by a girl just into her earliest years of womanhood, yet they carried a sad harmony that immediately made me wish to reach out to her. I did no such thing, however, being far too terrified.
"What is this about?" I asked, blurting the words before giving much thought to them. I was calmed by the girl's presence, as though she might protect me from the creature that sat at her side. I hoped that she might at least clarify what was happening. Her hood shifted, revealing a glimpse of her mouth and a pretty, well defined chin. The ends of her mouth lifted in a small smile.
"I could answer your question, but you don't know enough to understand all I would tell you yet. Instead, let me tell you why you are here in this carriage with us."
I nodded, eager to learn anything I might. My eyes momentarily met those of the shifting figure next to the woman. An involuntary shudder took me, and I forced myself to focus my gaze on the white cloaked girl. I could feel the gaze of The Devil beside her, watching us impassively, its dark gaze never wavering.
She spoke, and I listened because I knew of nothing else I could do. Running was out of the question, even if I could manage to leave the moving carriage without breaking my legs; the rumble of its movement beneath me indicated that we were traveling very fast. The only other options I saw were fighting, or staying and listening, and if running was a bad choice, fighting was a worse one by far. So I sat, trying to calm myself as best I could.
"On the first day of your 16th year, you were brought to a house of testing, as are all boys and girls that age. Such is the way of passing into the days of being men and women." I noticed, as she continued to speak that her voice, beautiful and calming though it was, carried a tonality and accent that I had never chanced upon before. "As a boy on the threshold of manhood, you are given a crystal to hold and you must keep it locked in your fist until it changes color. Once the color changes, the crystal is taken from you and the ceremony concludes. This is what you experienced, like all other boys of your age, is it not?"
I nodded. Indeed, I remembered the ceremony well. Six other boys from the city were with me as we approached the house of testing. We were all nervous, but excited to be taking our first steps into adulthood. I knew nothing of what the others were thinking, but I had imagined difficult challenges awaiting me in the house of testing. I pictured myself forced to fend off attackers with my bare hands, or forced to run a grueling course that would test both my strength and endurance. My father had only smiled when I asked him what awaited me at the house of testing, and that had only made my imagination reach further afield.
The night before I was to be tested, I lay awake in bed trying to steel my nerve against the perceived menace. Of course, I had never heard of someone failing the test of adulthood. This is a common fault of the young - perhaps it would be more accurate to say that this is a common fault of all human kind. We build walls in our path that need not exist, but for our own foolish fears. This is only a thought I've had in retrospect, however. I was, that night, quite intent upon building myself an insurmountable wall of opposition.
The truth of the ceremony was, of course, something else entirely. The six other boys and I were brought before a large altar within the house of testing. The altar was a remarkably perfect slab of onyx, seamless and shining dully in the candle-lit interior of the sanctuary. It was such an altar as every boy pictures when told stories of ancient times in which human sacrifice was practiced to appease hungry and vengeful gods. The effect of that grandiose piece of stone was obvious as it took its hold on our psyches. I was standing in the middle of the other boys, three to each side, and the young man two to my left was visibly shaking to the point that I thought he might collapse. For some reason, I took a certain amount of strength in seeing him so terrified. Watching him quake meant that I was not the only one afraid, and that I was at least handling it better than some. My odd reverie was broken when one of the Keepers approached the opposite side of the altar. He was a round, balding man of middling years with a merry smile on his face that immediately put me at ease. I could see no malice in his eyes, and his obvious good humor went far to dispel the fear that had been gripping me. I noticed as well that the shaking of the boy two down from me had lessened to a degree at the sight of the Keeper's warm disposition. He still fidgeted in place, but his resolve seemed to have solidified. It was a wonder what a kind face could do to fortify the heart.
With a sweep of his chubby hand he indicated the hitherto unnoticed crystals that lay in the center of stone, telling us that each of us should take one and clench it tightly in our fist. I found the crystal in my palm before I had even realized that I had reached for it. The others at my side seemed to have hesitated, only going to gather a stone of their own after witnessing my miraculous survival of the task. I clenched my hand tightly around the crystal as instructed, and immediately I felt a strange surge in my chest. I would liken it to a firm punch, though not painful. It startled me, and I almost dropped the crystal right then and there, but I saw the others were still holding theirs and decided dropping it at that point might be a sign of failure. I clenched it tighter in my hand, waiting for some indication that we were done. After a short time the cheery balding man indicated that we should place our stones back on the altar. There was a chorus of sharp, surprised gasps from all of us as we saw that each of our gems now shone a distinct color.
The white cloaked woman's voice brought me back from my memories. "What you do not know, indeed: what very few are privy to, is that some crystals, those that turn blue when held, are immediately passed on to our hands." At this I knew my eyes opened in alarm. That day many years ago as we replaced our crystals on the onyx altar, only one had been a deep azure -- the one that came from my own hands. The woman in white didn't clarify who "our hands" belonged to, and that raised a curiosity in me, but I was still far too frightened to chance a question.
"Once we receive the testing crystals, they undergo further testing until only a select few remain. Very, very few. Of the twenty or less we receive a year we are fortunate if we find one that passes the remaining tests. That is why you are here, Lowin. Thought you were not aware, we have tested you and found that you possess characteristics of interest to us."
I shook my head, confused by everything that she had told me. "But... my name was not on that crystal in any form. Even if the Keeper at the testing center had known me and sent the crystal to you with my name, how is it that you could find me amidst an entire city of people? I am one man, and not even exceptionally noteworthy, at that. Who are you?" When I asked that last question, I had intended to imply that I wished to know the identity of the group the white cloaked girl belonged to, but she either misinterpreted my question or chose not to answer it the way I had intended. I suspect it was the latter.
I couldn't be entirely certain if she was telling me the truth, for the alien nature of her voice made it difficult for me to read any intent beyond her words. I also felt that there was a great deal she was purposefully withholding from me, a great deal that I should know. I believe she somehow sensed the realization in me: indeed in looking back now, I am certain of it.
"It will not be long before you have all of the answers you seek. You need only wait for us to reach our destination, and traveling at this pace we will soon arrive..." Her words trailed off, and I felt I could almost hear an unspoken "far sooner than either of us would like," the thought hung in the air, as obvious as the darkness was for lack of light She did not speak her full meaning, yet I felt it and knew it all the clearer. My fear, which had diminished as Kyeia spoke, inched its way back into my heart. I found my attention drifting to the dark shape of the Black-Eyed Devil.
