by Joe Jackson
Eve of Redemption, Book VIII
The Awakening
by
Joe Jackson
Copyright 2018 by Joe Jackson
All rights reserved
Cover Typography by Andreas Zafiratos
Map by Andreas Zafiratos
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“I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality... I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word.”
– Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
To Vinny, Louis, Thanasi, Crystal,
Erin, Rachael, and Mike
You all made this story come to life
The Eve of Redemption Series
Salvation’s Dawn
White Serpent, Black Dragon
Serpents Rising
Legacy of the Devil Queen
The Huntresses’ Game
Preludes to War
Convergence
The Awakening
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Author’s Note
“The Awakening” is a bit of a departure from what you’ve come to expect from the Eve of Redemption series. This will be the first work that doesn’t follow Kari at all until its last pages. It details the work of the group who found the first jade seal, as was mentioned in the final chapter of Convergence. This book begins after Kari’s departure from Terrassia following her hunt for Annabelle, between the events of The Huntresses’ Game and Preludes to War, and the timelines will meet up at its conclusion.
In short, don’t panic. This cast is not replacing Kari and the Silver Blades; they are being added to the main cast, but I chose to do this in a way that they would be intimately familiar to you rather than have them appear as add-ons who took care of an incredibly important and complex subplot. To leave out the details of the jade seals being discovered would, to me, feel like deus ex machina of the worst variety.
So buckle in and enjoy this classic quest, and get to know these new heroes!
Chapter I – Dark Resurrection
The room was a cacophony of sound, all measure of order lost in the opening minutes. While the meeting was supposed to involve only the representatives from the major cities, it had been invaded before the opening welcome remarks from the city council. Angry, terrified, or curious townsfolk forced their way past the guards and into the assembly hall, determined to get the answer to the question the meeting was intended to ask:
Why are the dead rising across the continent?
Leighandra Evenstar looked over the crowd from her place near the high windows, her studious nature urging her to capture the scene as thoroughly as possible. Representatives from all of the major cities were present, but not every nation. It was disappointing, though not surprising, that the elven, luranar, kwarrasti, czarikk, and gnoll nations had sent no diplomats. It was the expected outcome in the case of the gnolls, but despite the distant nature of relations between the major city-states and the lands of the elves, wolf-folk, cat-folk, and lizard-folk, the organizers had expected to see ambassadors from those other peoples.
The easiest conclusion was that the luranar, kwarrasti, and czarikk had experienced no instances of their dead rising. But that wasn’t necessarily the correct conclusion, as evidenced by the fact that the elven ambassador, too, was missing. As a half-elf, Leighandra had limited access to the otherwise xenophobic elven nation, and she knew for a fact that their dead had, in some instances, risen. Were her mother’s people that xenophobic that they would ignore efforts of this magnitude to put a stop to the problem?
Shouts were exchanged between the city council and the invading townsfolk. Eventually the guards restored order, but Leighandra raised her brows in surprise when she heard the council declare that the citizens could stay, so long as they remained quiet and in the rear of the gallery.
“And I do not want to hear the words zombie, necromancer, or scourge until we have all had our say and come to a consensus!” bellowed Councilor Peters. The stocky man looked like he’d once been a blacksmith or perhaps a wrestler. At the very least, he looked nothing like what Leighandra would expect of a city councilor. He was burly and intimidating, and the boom of his voice only magnified the effect.
“Call it what you will, man, but the dead are rising, and you’ve got to do something about it before we’re overrun!” shouted one of the citizens.
Peters pointed at him. “Final warning! One more comment from anyone not here in an official capacity, and it’s out with the lot of you.”
“Yes, then, let’s begin,” said a dark-haired human with a worried face. He was gaunt and a bit sallow-looking, but still held himself with dignity. “It’s a shame our eastern and southern neighbors didn’t see fit to join us, but that may change if this issue persists. Now then…”
The doors were opened before he could continue. Leighandra turned that way along with every other man and woman in the chamber. Elves were uncommon among the human and rir society at the best of times, and when they came among men, it was typically for a specific purpose. There was an air of relief about the chamber despite the mystery of the woman’s appearance, the stares of the people reflecting curiosity, but also a grateful respect. Somehow, the presence of an elf made the people feel less alone in the midst of the chaos, even more so than the gathering of diplomats already in the chamber.
The elven woman nodded briefly to those who met her peridot gaze, her fair skin with its golden undertones appearing to glow in the light of the chamber. She paused only long enough to click her tongue against her teeth, and a wolf loped into the chamber beside her. That set some of the people on edge, but the magnificent animal walked with her like a well-trained dog and yet so much more. Leighandra knew her mother’s people well enough that she recognized the druidess and her companion for what they were.
The council gestured the elven woman forward, and she strode toward them with her back straight and her chin held high. When she reached the floor before the podium, she bowed with grace, flipping her golden-green hair back into place afterwards. “Greetings, gentlemen,” she addressed them with the melodic accent that bled in from the elven tongue. “Forgive my tardiness; I was detained briefly at the gates on account of my companion, Vo’rii. I believe the ambassador from the luranar was similarly detained but should be arriving shortly.”
“Clearly, we didn’t leave specific enough instructions for those morons at the gates,” Peters growled, but he calmed himself and cleared his throat. “Our apologies, madam. We’re only just getting this conference underway, so thankfully, your detainment cost us little but embarrassment before you and your people. I am Jason Peters, this is Reed Morgan, and this is Angus Mitchell. How shall we call you?”
“I am Yiilu ’n’Torae D’ansu,” she introduced herself with a gesture of respect. “For the sake of expediency, feel free to simply call me Yiilu.”
“Thank you for coming, Yiilu,” the gaunt man, Councilor Mitchell, said. “It is no small thing when this city has the honor of receiving elven ambassadors; we appreciate your presence. You said the…”
The doors opened again and Leighandra gasped as a wolf-man strode into the assembly chamber. She was far from the only person to do so. If the people had been put on edge by the druidess’ wolf companion, the effect of the luranar’s appearance was more obvious. Unlike most of the other occupants of the hall, he wore an impressive-looking breastplate, a shield and a sword across his back. No doubt he, like Yiilu, had only just arrived in to
wn, and came straight to the meeting after being delayed.
The fact that he’d lacked time to get settled made little difference to his appearance. He had a regal bearing, the salt-and-pepper coloration of his fur accentuating the icy blue eyes that looked solely forward, toward the council, and took little stock of the nervous citizens. It may have seemed arrogant to some, but Leighandra got the impression he was mindful of intimidating any of the townsfolk by meeting their eyes. At the same time, he gave no indication that he was unnerved or at all uncomfortable among the foreign people.
What truly set him apart in the chronicler’s mind, however, were the three golden bands about his upper left arm. Does anyone else know their significance? she wondered.
The luranar stepped beside the elven woman and bowed his head graciously to her before he turned to address the council. He had no chance to speak, however, as Councilors Peters and Mitchell stood.
“Three golden bands…,” Peters muttered. “By the gods, they sent their crown prince.”
The assembly began muttering amongst themselves, but Councilor Mitchell kept his head about him. “Welcome, Prince Auremax, to the City of Solaris. Thank you for answering the summons of this assembly.”
The luranar bowed. “Thank you, gentlemen, but I am a prince only among my own. Here, I am your fellow servant of the people, and I come among you to lend what aid I may, not to be treated or pampered as royalty. Auremax will suffice.”
“Have the kwarrasti dispatched an ambassador as well?” Councilor Morgan asked, rising to his feet as he realized he was the only one not standing.
“No, sir. Queen Cecia al’Morinh entrusted me to deliver their feelings on the matter. I do apologize for my tardiness, but…”
“We understand,” Peters interrupted with an upraised hand. “Our apologies for the zeal of our guards. The last thing we wanted was to give a poor impression to our neighbors on their first visits to Solaris. We may not know your peoples well, Masters Auremax and Yiilu, but we respect your people and your nations, and we welcome you to our city.”
“Think nothing of it,” Yiilu said with a dismissive wave.
Auremax made a gesture of agreement with the elf. “I know enough about your people to remember all the proverbs about wolves at the door,” the luranar said dryly, eliciting some laughter about the chamber, and prompting Yiilu to consider her wolf companion with a creased brow. “As far as I am aware, our Caerumach neighbors have sent no emissaries either, but though they told us little of their circumstances, we do live close enough to them to know. I will speak for them unofficially, if that is appropriate in your sight.”
“That would be appreciated. Very well, let us begin,” Councilor Mitchell said.
The two other councilors sat behind the podium, and the elf and the luranar went and took seats beside each other. Auremax absently stroked the head of the druidess’ companion, which drew some short chuckles from the others in the chamber. From the elf, however, it drew what looked to be an uncharacteristic smile. Vo’rii, to her credit, kept her tongue from lolling out of her mouth in pleasure.
“I suppose there is no purpose to treading lightly around this issue. The reason you were all summoned here was to enquire whether the recent instances of undead rising were specific to certain parts of the continent, or whether they stretch from sea to sea. So please, if your home city and its associated lands have not seen a measure of increased undead activity in the last several weeks, please stand and move to the gallery with the citizens.”
Not one person moved, and Councilor Mitchell’s sallow coloration paled even more. “It’s just as we feared. This is either some curse from the gods, or a concerted effort to throw all of our nations into chaos. Prince…,” he began, but then stopped himself. “Auremax, would you tell us of the goings-on in the south? How widespread is this issue in the lands of our luranar, kwarrasti, and gnoll neighbors?”
The luranar prince rose. “My people and our kwarrasti neighbors commit our dead to the pyre, so the issue is not as troublesome to us. However, from time to time our people are lost, killed in skirmish or accident, or simply fall to the elements after wandering too far from safety. Some of these have come back among us, so when we received your message, it was determined that I should come among you personally and see to what relief efforts I could. As for the gnolls, well, I do not wish to speak ill of our neighbors, but they are less concerned with the remains of their dead, and I suspect it may be a larger problem for them – which means in time, it will be a larger problem for us. For all of us, really,” he added, glancing around at the other emissaries.
“Don’t they eat their dead?” came the high-pitched voice of one of the more diminutive ambassadors.
Leighandra took in the squat, dark-haired woman. She looked human in every respect but for the short frame, somewhere between four and five feet tall. Despite the darker tones of her skin and the rich black of her hair, she had green eyes that didn’t seem to register just how offensive her inquiry might be to the luranar ambassador. Leighandra had little experience with the hill people, but the diminutive woman had undoubtedly come from that nation to the west.
“No, though at one point, that was true of their people,” Auremax said. “The Caerumach are changing over time, just as my people did many years ago, Miss…?”
“Wineseller… Starlenia Wineseller,” the woman returned with a smile. If the bluntness of her question had caused any offense, her smile seemed to diffuse it.
“And what of your nation, Yiilu?” Mitchell asked.
The druidess rose. “Our people are interred in such a way that rising from their graves is nigh impossible, buried nestled in the roots of our great trees. But the land cries out under this abomination, this torment. The Earth Mother herself groans with the indignity laid upon her, and Queen Tiyaana saw fit to send me to you, that my mentor, Peri, could see to some other matters important to Her Majesty.”
“I’m more concerned by the news coming out of Aurun Ch’Gurra,” said a rugged-looking human as he stood. Leighandra found herself intrigued by his wondrous, long ebon dreadlocks, gathered into a tail, along with the short beard and mustache that framed his handsome, dark-skinned face. His eyes were coals, intense, and by his dress, Leighandra marked him as a frontiersman from the north. “Delkantar Clintarrin of Chandler’s Grove. I can’t help but think the work of the Red Mask and the demonhunter Karian Vanador in the past few months has something to do with all this. Still, while all this news of undead is troublesome, we must consider that if the rumors of overthrow in Aurun Ch’Gurra are true, there’s likely a connection of some kind. There are too many things afoot for this to all be coincidence.”
“I have to agree with Delkantar,” said another of the ambassadors. “It’s entirely possible that one event was put in motion specifically to distract us from the other. Considering the wider effects of the undead scourge, I’m inclined to think the events in Aurun Ch’Gurra bear some looking into.”
“There is little need for you to concern yourselves with that,” came the indignant reply from the shakna-rir ambassador. The green-skinned rir rose and adjusted the front of his tunic reflexively. “While there is currently a… transition taking place in our homeland, it does not require the assistance of outside kingdoms. Indeed, we would prefer you respect our borders and political sovereignty as usual.”
“Transition?” Starlenia piped up. “The way our people have heard it, your queen was murdered and replaced.”
The chamber erupted into excited or terrified chatter, and it took Councilor Peters and the guards several minutes to quiet everyone down and restore order. “Gods, is this true?” the gruff councilman asked the shakna-rir ambassador. “Is Queen Tumureldi truly dead?”
The ambassador made a dismissive gesture. “With all due respect, I did not come here to discuss the politics of my homeland, but to address the threat of the undead which, I assure you, has affected us just as acutely.”
“Be that as it may, sir,
” the luranar prince said, rising again, “you owe this gathering at least a cursory explanation. Many of us are ambassadors of the various kingdoms of this land, and if your monarch has fallen at the hands of an assassin, our kingdoms deserve to know the truth behind it. Surely if our king fell to an assassin, your people would be curious to know the cause and what effect it might have on relations?”
The shakna-rir ambassador snorted. “We have little time to consider the political struggles of savages. Our kingdom should be of little concern to you, and yours is of no concern to us, I assure you.”
The luranar prince’s ears stood up straight and his jaw opened for a moment, but rather than utter a word, his features froze into an icy glare, and he folded his arms across his chest.
“How dare you,” said another of the many humans present.
He, with his close-cropped black hair, a short goatee and mustache, and broad shoulders, looked to be a warrior, but there was something about his bearing that instead made Leighandra think knight. Was it the lack of visible scars? No, it’s the way he’s reacted, Leighandra thought. This seems like a man accustomed to jousting with words, not just swords.
The nobleman continued, “Do you not know who you’re speaking to? This is Prince Auremax Talvorus, son of Kalamaris Talvorus, by whose bravery you still have a kingdom. Or have you so quickly forgotten the man who saved all of us from the wrath of Arku Chinchala?”
There was muttered agreement all through the crowd at the mention of the late luranar king’s name, the people nodding in remembrance of his bravery. It was a tale Leighandra knew well: how only a few years before, toward the end of the Apocalypse, the luranar king had rallied the nations of Terrassia to his side as he met the invasion of the demon king Arku head on. King Kalamaris had lost his life in the battle, but those who fought alongside him succeeded and drove the demon king back to the underworld. It was obvious to Leighandra that many had forgotten, even in only a few short years, but it didn’t take much to remind them of the fallen luranar monarch.
