Taerak's Void (Fantastica Book 1)

by M. R. Mathias

  In the valley spread out before him was a gathering of hundreds upon hundreds of trolls. Rock trolls and wood trolls alike were camped in the valley all grouped with their own kind around smoking fire pits that were being tended and, apparently, used as forges by what Dendle could only imagine to be dwarves.

  Dwarves?

  Dendle was astonished. The dwarves were supposed to be the sworn enemy of trolls and gothicans alike. He observed the scene for some time, and then saw why the squat little cave dwellers were doing the vermin's bidding. They were enslaved, and being worked at the end of whips that Dendle's sharp ears could occasionally hear crack across the distance. Worse, the dwarves were being forced to forge weapons for the trolls. Spear tips and long, barbed pike heads, along with crude axe blades, were all being made and then fitted to wooden staffs and handles by a different group of dwarven slaves further down the valley.

  The more he looked, the more trolls Dendle saw. There had to be three thousand of them, or more, that he could see, and who knew how many he couldn't. The trolls moved over the next ridge in groups so Dendle had to assume the next valley looked much the same as this one did. But why? What were they up to? How did they manage to capture those dwarves?

  Dendle counted at least a hundred of the tired-looking, squat little folk laboring away for the relentless whip masters.

  The only thing Dendle could imagine was they planned to attack the kingdom while King Barden's army was busy in the north fighting the gothicans. Dendle figured he was slightly north and east of Uppervale, maybe four days away. Uppervale was where his only family was stationed, and he suddenly felt the urge to warn Captain Murdle of the situation. If this troll army stormed into Uppervale, there would be nothing there to stop them from taking it. The farmers and fisherman would fall quickly before the might of such a force. The trolls would then hold a piece of Narvoza that would be easy to defend, and Camberly was only a short march away.

  Dendle didn't even bother retrieving the troll head he'd left in the tree. He knew he had to warn Captain Murdle so that Uppervale could be manned and the people prepared for the attack that was sure to come. Unless the trolls planned on waiting out the winter, it would have to happen soon.

  Dendle hoped that was the plan, for if the trolls waited until winter, the people of Uppervale would have time to flee, and King Barden would have time to move troops into a position to defend his borders. If not, they would all die, or be enslaved like the dwarves.

  Captain Murdle will prepare a very surprising welcome for the trolls if they wait, Dendle thought, but if they came before winter, then the Vasting River would surely flow red with the blood of any who tried to resist.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  To Braxton, it wasn't clear exactly how he had done what he had. The fully relaxed state of body and mind that Nixy left him in had a lot to do with it, he was sure. Ten years’ worth of constant meditation couldn't have produced the kind of tranquility he'd found after she'd finished with him.

  The overpowering sense of doom was all but gone from the adventurers and the crew. It was replaced by the hope that the ship would actually get them back to land. The Luck of the Little moved along slowly, but steadily, under the few sails that weren't shredded. Two more had been repaired and raised just this morning and more repairs were underway.

  Captain Pickerell called them all on deck and told them they might see the marsh land called the Denizen Swamp off to their left as soon as the morrow, but not to be excited. There was no land there, only muck and the creatures who called it home. By his best calculation, they were at least two days away from the town called Baily, and the captain swore the ship would not leave Baily until full repairs were made.

  "It will take most of the winter to get her right," he said. "That is if they can even acquire a new foremast and the other items needed to fix her."

  Baily was just a small fishing village. The captain went on to say the ship would remain in the service of the dwarves. Her departure from Baily and the destination would have to be decided by them, but not until she was fit for the sea again.

  Hearing this, Vinston-Fret immediately began pouring over his maps to study the overland route from Baily to New Scarlee. After a while, he called Braxton down to talk.

  "It should only take us three days on land to make it from Baily to New Scarlee," he said.

  "So, we really haven't lost any time? We can make New Scarlee on schedule?" Braxton asked.

  "Yes. If we can find the stone. We have a good chance of getting out of the Wilderkind and back to New Scarlee in time to charter a different ship before winter sets in," Vinston-Fret explained. "If we buy horses in Baily, and wagons to help get all the cold weather gear and bulkier equipment to New Scarlee, we will still be on the schedule we've set. My only fear is there won't be enough horses available. If we are forced to carry all our gear, we won't be able to travel fast enough or we will have to leave the winter gear behind."

  While Vinston-Fret and the elves continued planning, Braxton was cornered by Suclair. She interrogated him about what he'd done. Nixy was at his side, but each time he looked to her for help, she just smiled and looked back out to sea.

  "But I can't explain it," he told Suclair for the third time.

  "You can and you will," she demanded. "You say you left yourself and you were outside the ship, and then you turned into a mist. Then you went down into the hold —" she looked at him impatiently, " — then what?"

  "I've already told you.” He sighed. There was no use fighting her, he decided with a shake of his head, and explained it to her again as best he could. "I slipped myself through the hole in the ship and flattened myself back over it."

  "As a mist?" she asked.

  "Yes, as a mist. I stuck myself over the hole and stayed there until, uh—" he looked at Nixy awkwardly, and she just smiled at him again. "Until Nixy woke me up."

  "But you weren't asleep," Suclair insisted. "You could not have been asleep."

  "Look, Sue, I don't know what I was." He'd had enough. "All I know is that I was feeling very peaceful, and it just happened. Now leave me alone, I'm getting a headache." The last came out with an angry snarl he hadn't really intended.

  Just then, a crewman came storming onto the deck.

  "Captain Pickerell, sir." He huffed with a terrified look on his face. "She's busted through. We are taking on water again."

  "How bad?" the captain asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  "Same as before yon wizard fixed it.” The man pointed at Braxton.

  "Get the carpenter down there," the captain ordered, "and start the bailing chain immediately."

  The captain turned to Braxton, "Can you work your sorcery again?"

  "I can try," Braxton said, wondering if he could do it. "But I will need some peace and quiet." The last was directed at Suclair.

  A few moments later, he sat cross-legged in the horse stall where he always practiced meditation. He had his usual gold coin in his palm and his eyes closed for concentration. Nixy wasn't far away, he knew, and she silently watched him. She had been very quiet and content since they'd become intimate. She'd said she loved him, and he'd responded in kind.

  The fact that she'd saved him more than once and had trusted him back on the road, when she had no reason, made him feel confident in her feelings. There was a lot more ahead of them, though. Keeping their emotions from getting in the way was something he knew they both had to work on.

  None of that would even matter if he couldn’t stop the ship from sinking again so he carefully forced those thoughts, and the slight movements of the ship away, and concentrated on what he had to do.

  Eventually, Braxton found himself back in Taerak's void. He studied the coin he'd created there, and tried to picture himself outside the ship like he had before. He tried over and over again, but each time nothing happened. It was frustrating, and he felt anger creep into his space.

  He spent some time forcing the errant emotion away, like he would
a bad smell or a nagging sound. Once he was back in the void again, and it was free of anything save for the coin, he consciously removed another thought from his head. This was his void, not Taerak's.

  It was then that his mistake came to him. He didn't need to be picturing the coin in front of him. He needed to form the jewel from his medallion. Only then would the power of it become available to him. It was the power of the jewel he was after. His part was just tapping it. He cleared the object of fluctuation from his mind's eye, leaving his void empty. From there, he tried to imagine the jewel.

  Time after time he tried to see it there, but it felt like something was fighting him.

  Was the last time an accident?

  Can I even do this?

  Tiny doubts threatened to pull him from the void. He had never envisioned the sparkling jewel on his own. It had just appeared after-- after—

  He almost lost concentration then, thinking of how Nixy had taken him to a state of total bliss the last time. He hadn't had to imagine the jewel before. It appeared on its own. He remembered a passage from Taerak's journal that said sometimes necessity fueled the power of the gem. How if its servant didn't want to go in the right direction, it might make a pack of wolves chase him where it wanted him to go. Braxton knew if the ship sank, so would the medallion. Clearly, the jewel didn't want to be lost to the world. It wanted him to use its power to stop Pharark. Understanding all this lent him confidence, and he refocused on envisioning the jewel that much harder.

  Slowly, and with great effort, he formed the intricate and complex image of the jewel in his mind's eye, facet by facet, until it was there, rotating and sparkling as before. After he was certain the jewel was exact, he tried to picture himself outside the ship.

  The first few times he couldn’t get himself out of his void but, eventually, he found himself looking down at the Luck of the Little as it lumbered along, half-submerged in the cobalt sea. He was about to try to make his way back into the hold to attempt to patch the leak again when something caught his vision. In the distance, he saw a tiny speck hovering about as high above the sea as he was. It took all his concentration to focus on what it was, and when he figured it out he was almost disappointed. It was just a seagull, but a bird meant land was near.

  Instead of trying to go down into the ship, he raised himself higher and higher above it. Not so far north he saw land, and it wasn't the marshy swamp the captain had spoken of. It was a town, for Braxton could see thin trails of fire smoke rising from lighter colored specks that had to be houses. As his focus intensified, he saw flocks of birds swarming around a dock lined with small ships boasting fishing nets.

  It was Baily. It had to be.

  When it all slipped away from him, he felt as if he were falling. The planks of the ship's deck rose to greet him, and he thought he felt his heart stop when he would have impacted them. Instead, he went right through and slammed back into his own body sitting in the horse stall.

  He nearly broke his neck getting up to the deck to tell the captain they needed to turn the ship due north. He was glad that Pickerell didn't argue, and even happier when less than a quarter of a day later, the lookout clinging to the broken mainmast called, "Land ho!"

  It was nearly full dark when they made it to the dock of the fishing village called Baily. A few dozen seamen and folks from the taverns and homes came out with lanterns, torches, and skins full of water and wine. They didn't hesitate to help the haggard looking crew get the Luck of the Little lashed safely to the dock in the shallows, where it couldn't sink any deeper.

  One of the townsmen, upon seeing Darblin grumbling about the planks with Big H, and the condition of the vessel, said, "That might be the best named tub I've ever come across."

  Braxton, thought about the way Nixy felt hugged to his side, and remembered just how lucky he'd gotten on their voyage. He decided then and there he had no choice but to agree. He had companions he could trust now, and he'd found love on that broken ship. Taerak's void had become his, and he had no doubt that, with practice, the jewel would remain his object of fluctuation. They still had a journey ahead of them, but Debain had gone to warn King Barden of the threatening gothicans and clear he and Nixy's names.

  The quest for the Sapphire of Souls was about to begin in earnest, and Braxton was ready for more.

  The End of Book One.

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  Sapphire of Souls - Preview

  Fantastica, Book Two

  Copyright 2017 by Michael Robb Mathias Jr.

  All Rights Reserved

  The Previous Spring

  Ulrich Gruell, commonly known as Lord Ulrich, towered over King Rayden of Nepram, even though he was sitting in Rayden’s throne. King Rayden stood just over six feet tall, but Lord Ulrich was gothican. The average height of a gothican male was around nine feet. Lord Ulrich was nearer to ten. His size brought with it a natural intimidation, especially when dealing with what he called inferior humans.

  Lord Ulrich accentuated his powerful look with a wide, spiked shoulder piece of pullover armor. It sat on some of the finest chainmail ever crafted. His long black hair, and the pitiless look he conveyed with his empty black eyes, created an aura of supremacy that was only fortified by his deep intellect.

  “It is a simple plan, really.” Lord Ulrich spoke in a deep, commanding voice. “King Barden will be so busy fighting and feeding men to his northern border he will leave himself exposed from the south. My master will grant you full control of all the lands south and east of the Vasting River. Your kingdom will triple in size overnight. You will no longer be forced to grovel for food and goods from Narvoza. The rich farmland along the river’s bank will be yours.”

  King Rayden shuddered. He wondered who or what this giant warlord referred to as his master. The obvious respect, and sometimes fear, Lord Ulrich showed when he spoke of this mysterious entity was truly unnerving. Rayden was sure this person, or thing, was very powerful. He was also so sure, if he didn’t agree to betray King Barden, and all those innocent people, that Lord Ulrich and his legendary warriors wouldn’t mind fighting one more battle against his people.

  “As you know, Lord Ulrich.” Rayden tried to keep his voice steady and diplomatic. It wouldn’t do him any good to let his growing fear show. “King Barden is my cousin, and the Kingdom of Nepram was a gift to my family, given many generations ago for our heroic deeds in the migration. Why should I agree to betray my own blood? What guarantees can you and your master give my people?”

  “Your own blood indeed.” Lord Ulrich laughed. “You humans came here three centuries ago because you somehow consumed everything in your own land, I am sure.” Lord Ulrich stood, paced slowly across the floor in his loud boots, and looked down at Rayden, his dark eyes full of fury. “You drove my harmless, simple-minded ancestors out of their homes into the frigid mountains to freeze and starve without a care.” He yelled now, throwing his arms about erratically.

  “If you want a guarantee, King Rayden, then I will give you one. If you do not cooperate with my master’s wishes, then I will personally lead a force of insanity so ruthless your bravest men will die of fright before we even swing a blade. We will march through the heart of Nepram unchecked.”

  Rayden did his best to swallow back his fear as the massive gothican warlord went on. “I will keep you, and your children, and your children’s children for pets. The pathetic gift King Barden’s ancestors gave your people is a wasteland. Your whole populace is dependent on his great kingdom for everything. Nepram was a token gesture at best, a pacifier given to silence a screaming child.”

  King Rayden, now terrified, shook with fear. He didn’t like hearing this from Lord Ulrich. He didn’t like hearing Nepram undignified in such a way. He didn’t like it at all. What bothered him even more than his inability to hide
his dread, and hearing these insults hurled at his people, was the fact that it was the truth. To King Barden, Nepram was but an afterthought. It was a place to visit and be treated like a god whilst strutting around in full regalia, only to whisper about how dreadful of a place it is. Rayden wanted desperately to believe Lord Ulrich’s so-called master would restore dignity to his kingdom. After all, he and his father, and even his grandfather, had been forced to beg for base necessities for the last two hundred years.

  With a sigh of resignation, and maybe a hint of hope, King Rayden asked, “How long will maneuverings take?” He still fought to hide his fear with what he hoped was a blank face and a diplomatic tone.

  “You will have to put on the show for some time.” Lord Ulrich breathed deeply and strode to a window that overlooked the rocky, mostly useless land that was Nepram. The massive gothican had to stoop to get his eyes below the peak of the arch. Rayden cautiously eased nearer to Lord Ulrich and saw a herd of goats searching for rare tufts of grass.

  The sigh the great gothican let out was thick with what might have been pity. Rayden understood Ulrich’s race in a sense. Like the gothicans, his people had been pushed aside for King Barden’s ever-growing Kingdom of Narvoza. The only difference was that the gothicans had been here long before the humans had come. If Lord Ulrich could have his way, which Rayden understood was a viable possibility, the gothicans would still be there long after humanity was eradicated from the realm.

  “To answer your question, King Rayden, late next summer we can start our attack on the southern border. By the end of winter, you will be the only human king left alive, and Narvoza will be less most of its men. Imagine claiming King Barden’s lands as a greater Nepram. Of course, your new subjects will need you desperately, for we will leave no one who opposes us alive.”