Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Other Works
Up Next
Prologue
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
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Within the Ice
Book One of
The Isiir Chronicles
By C. J. LaPolla
Copyright 2014 Clifford J. LaPolla
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be
Reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express
Written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief
quotations in a book review.
www.clifflapolla.com
First Edition: May 2014
Second Edition: April 2015
ISBN 978-1-312-23787-2
Cover artwork by Frederick Herrmann
Printed in the United States of America
I dedicate this work to Sandy, without her constant support this book would have never seen the light of day. My love for her is eternal, like the Aelaar that I write of.
C. J. LaPolla’s Work
Isiir Chronicles
Within the Ice
Out of the Ice
Eryn’s Tale: Episode 1 (Coming soon)
Battle Engine Series
Battle Engines - Sparks (Coming soon)
This story is not the end. Out of the Ice the exciting conclusion of Within the Ice is out now!
Prologue
An excerpt from the Aelaar Chronicles.
In ages long past, when the primordial bones lay strewn across creation, the ancient Worms ground those bones into dust. As the great Worms created the land, an equally powerful force rose from the birth of the world of Isiir. Thus, the Maeliz staggered into the land as vile race of destruction, always seeking, always hungry. The Maeliz and the Worms, struggled against one another but maintained the balance of the world. Creation and destruction in equal parts, neither more powerful than the other.
The ages churned onward unrelenting, soon other races spawned forth from the dirt. Some were small and at the mercy of time, others were powerful and forged to rule the lands around them. The Elder races rose, the first of which were the mighty Dragons who roared and the small races bowed. Soon, their lie of godhood faltered as the Colossi, an Elder race of moss and rock and fur battered the dragons with their stone fists.
It was during the furious conflicts that the Elder races tore their first scar upon our beautiful world. The breath of Isiir burst from the north and the cold would never cease. The very earth froze, lush green fields were encased within layers of unyielding ice and snow. Massive glaciers formed the world over and all of the races suffered.
During the wars that besieged the world nine beams of light plummeted down, from our sun, the Eye of Isiir. Where the light touched the earth from the heavens, the Aelaar sprang forth into the world. They were weak at first, naked and lost. As the hegemony of the world passed from the Dragons to the Colossi, the Aelaar lay within the shadows building their strength.
The small races huddled beneath the new rulers of the lands. The Colossi offered them shelter and fires to keep them warm from the relentless cold. All the while the Aelaar remained hidden discovering the true nature of their powers.
Time continued on unrelenting, as it always does. An age passed, the Aelaar still numbering but nine, were ready. The wars against the mighty Colossi began, once again thrusting the world into turmoil. Our frozen world was torn asunder. After many battles, the outlook of victory for the Aelaar was grim. The immortal Aelaar fell at every turn only to rise, but the Colossi looked upon them as a nuisance to be squashed.
The Aelaar then discovered they could create others like themselves. And the tides turned…
Chapter I
Year 696, Age of Man.
A glistening flake of snow fell from the sky floating softly onto the face of Nuirn. The captain of the fishing vessel Breaker wiped the flake away with a thick, fur lined leather glove. He stood with his feet firmly on the deck with one hand grasping the railing as the Breaker jolted in the choppy seas. Northspire, the northern most town in the frigid world of Isiir spread out before him on the horizon. He had traveled the Isindril for over twenty years, during that time he had made port at hundreds of towns, but none of them felt so much like home as Northspire did.
The Captain yelled out commands to his crew who quickly scrambled into action. They would be docking in town very soon and the ship needed to be made ready for port. As they approached the dock the captain recognized the man waiting for him with a crate trolley in hand. The man who waited was not a large man, but was built with a stout frame. His shoulders were wide and his arms thick from working or warring. Nuirn did not pry into the life of other men, all men of Isiir had their secrets and they were best left buried. Like all men Devyn wore a thick beard but unlike most men he kept it shorter and well trimmed. Nuirn had watched the man that he called friend grow from a young lad in his twenties to a married man with children and gray flecks in his brown beard. It was rare a captain could befriend the men of the cities he visited but he made an exception in this case.
The choppy seas tossed the Breaker about in its approach. Devyn had not seen the seas this turbulent with clear skies in a long time, but he knew Captain Nuirn was an able seaman and would port with no issue. Ropes flew from the edges of the Breaker to the dock workers standing on the port, they tied the ropes off quickly. Multiple gang planks clattered onto the dock and men immediately began to spill in both directions from the ship. Devyn leaned heavily on his crate trolley waiting for the bustle to die down. Some of these men leaving the ship had been at sea for weeks and were anxious to feel solid ground beneath their feet. While a momentous event for some of these men, this was just another shipment for Devyn who worked the docks of Northspire.
Devyn eyed Captain Nuirn as he slowly walked down the plank that bridged the ship to the dock. A smile spread across his face as he approached Devyn. They clasped hands and hugged with one arm patting each other on the back.
“Long time.” Nuirn spoke first.
“Long time indeed. How long are you in port?” Devyn replied.
“We’ll be in port long enough for a few drinks at the Ice Chest. Where is that bastard, Dorm?”
“Dorm is working a fishing skiff across the way. I’m sure he’ll be here to help when he’s through.” Devyn answered.
Nuirn spat. “Well you two just be sure to meet me after at the Ice Chest. Bring your coin, I have a hankering for the dice to be tossed.”
Devyn chuckled and clapped his friend on the back. “We’ll be sure of it. It’s good you’re so eager to part with your bit ‘o gold, we could use ’em. What do you have for me today?”
“Haul of fish and other critters. Not a terrible trip for how choppy the seas were. Must be the season change.” Seasons in Northspire consisted of cold and colder, occasionally there was a coldest month where even the seas began to freeze. Nuirn continued. “Haul was also light due to the mist in the north. Strange eerie sight it was, we had to avoid our best fishing hole.”
Devyn nodded to him. “All the easier for me. I’ll see you after, Nuirn. Don’t drink yourself u
nder the table before I arrive.”
“Very well. I’ve got to check in with the dock master anyway. Tonight then.”
Devyn gave him a smile and Nuirn stalked off as a skeleton crew of men eyed Devyn from the ship. He waved his arm and a small patrol of men, also carrying crate trolleys, marched onto the ship. Devyn was the last to walk onto the plank and the labor began once again.
Northspire was a small town which maintained a meager level of prosperity as it was positioned furthest north within Isiir. It was nestled in the shadow of the Great Glacier, which gave it easy access to the mountains that were hidden within their icy confines. It also acted as a fantastic drop off point for shipments from the mountains which jutted out of the northern Isindril sea. The virgin mountains were laced with silver and iron ore, and were set upon by the men of the north like starving dogs once discovered. Northspire became a hub of activity and the trade of silver and ore to the south became lucrative for the southern merchants. Unfortunately, the wealth of the traders did not transfer to the people of the town and while the people sustained a comfortable living they only maintained a small step above squalor. The appeal of the northern town came from the fact it was so remote from other places, which kept it out of the eyes of wandering war bands, most of the time.
Darkness slowly crept over the town as the last crate of the day clunked upon the wooden deck of the warehouse. Devyn wiped his forehead and beard where the sweat from the days labor was beginning to freeze against his skin.
“That’s that last of them.” Devyn cried to his co-worker Dorm.
Dorm approached and wore a face only a man about to end a long day of work could wear. “About time. Time for some brew at the Ice Chest.”
Devyn clapped his friend on the back with a broad smile as a barely audible sound rang quietly in his ears. Ding. Both men stopped dead and turned their eyes away from the Isindril and towards the center of town. The once bustling town had fallen deathly still. Each citizen held their breath awaiting the next bell which would validate if it was a raid or not. Northspire, being an independent town of the north held the unfortunate position of being a recruiting ground for roaming war parties. It was a rare occasion this far north, but every few years a warlord that had depleted their forces looked to the north for raw recruits. Once, long ago, the northern towns would hold standing armies to defend themselves against the bands of men. The standing militias were only met with further assaults of the town, as they were never as hardened or trained as their attackers. Barowyn, the mayor of Northspire, does his best to dissuade the attackers from raiding the town, but like all northern governments, he holds no true power. The previous Mayor even attempted to build a wall in defense of the town, the first band to pass by demolished the wall and hung the mayor from the remaining standing pieces, no one made an attempt to reconstruct their defenses.
The entire town continued to hold its breath as they listened for the bell tolls of the scouts out in the hills. Many decades ago homes were positioned to spot any oncoming invaders. Once invaders were spotted, the scouts would ring their warning bell which would begin a chain of alarms that would reach the town.
DONG. Dorm and Devyn looked at one another with dread in their eyes as they clasped hands but said no words. The gesture was enough to say to one another, “good luck” as they both burst off into the town towards their homes. Devyn had come north fifteen years prior in hopes to avoid the constant fear of conscription, he soon discovered that no part of the world was safe from this fear. To be forced to fight in a war that didn’t serve to protect your families or homeland left many soldiers hollow and worn. Sadly, this is the way of the world in Isiir and all Devyn could think to do was endure and protect his wife Rana and daughters Frida and Lil. Devyn continued to race through the town, dodging friends and strangers alike as they raced towards their own cover. The snow began to fall heavier and it obscured his visibility as he raced through the street. His wife, Rana, awaited him in the doorway of his small home as it came into view through the thick snow.
Rana, the love of Devyn’s life, stood in the door. She was the first thing he could remember in his life to bring him joy. He was able to escape his servitude after the army he was conscripted by was in a crushing defeat. Devyn, who became quite an accomplished swordsman during his service, had been trapped under a fallen horse that had been slain a flurry of arrows. He remembered the crushing weight of the armored destrier and the feeling that he would black out from the lack of air like it was yesterday. Devyn also knew at the time this was his only chance of survival and escaping servitude. If the victorious army found him they would have surely executed him or pulled him into service for them. A commodity, that is all men were in the frigid world. He had escaped the clutches of his servitude and fled north. The air grew colder and the sky grew more gray as he stole and begged his way up the northern roads. With every day the great glacier came closer into view and when he stood within its shadow, he knew he was far enough. The moment Northspire entered his gaze he knew he was home, something about the town just felt right. Northspire was not a rich town, the houses weren’t much more than shacks and the people appeared tired and worn, but that was exactly what Devyn sought. A town that would sit unsuspected and armies would ignore. It also had a bustling ship port sitting upon the shores of the Isindril. Devyn quickly found work and caught the eye of a beautiful young maiden, Rana. She brought him a happiness he never found in his old home with his family on the farm or during his years of service in the army. A year after meeting they were married, the birth of their first daughter soon followed.
DONG! The sound had seemed to gain in intensity as Devyn reached his home. Rana, with dirt covering her simple blue and white dress, had already dug out the hole on the side of their home that lead into the dirt basement of the house. Devyn reached out and kissed his wife. He saw his daughters clinging to his wife’s worn dress.
“It is going to be alright girls. It will get scary and then this will all be a memory.” Devyn hugged his daughters and tried his best to comfort them.
He kept his eyes on them for a long moment before giving them a reassuring smile as tears streamed down the faces of Frida and Lil. Just before Devyn began to move, Rana gave her husband one last kiss on the cheek with tears welling in her eyes and handed him a cloth covered package. It was food for Devyn while he was in hiding. Devyn moved around the house and burrowed into the hole that his wife had begun, wriggling his way under the house. The chamber he entered was not a basement so much as an open space between the earth and his home. The ground was muddy from the heat given off from the house above. It was not the most pleasant place to spend potentially the next few days, but it would prevent him from being captured. He could hear his wife pushing the dirt back into place where he had burrowed his way within. The snow fell so heavily, all traces of him burrowing under the home would soon be covered.
The ringing of the last alarm seemed to hang in the air for a long time after it was sounded. Devyn could hear nothing of the approaching army as they lived in the center of the town but he knew what was going on. He had lived through this experience only a handful of times since moving to Northspire, but it always played out the same. Mayor Barowyn, or one of his predecessors, would walk out to meet the army dressed in his finest outfit. He would negotiate with the army about the benefits that Northspire provides for the men of the south and how the men here should be left alone. The commander of the army, or the warlord himself, would discuss a money payment in exchange for only taking a handful of men. Northspire itself had very little money, as it lay in the hands of the merchants who take the goods south and the mayor would be unable to pay. Barowyn would beg and plead for a lower price which will earn him an injury at the hands of the commander and they will then enter the town to perform their evil purpose here. A few men will fight and die, some women will be violated, and many others will be pulled screaming from their homes into service to die in some battle far away, never to be seen again. It
is a sad truth of life in the North and in every corner of Isiir. This constant fear always made Devyn happy he never had sons. Although, were the men to come in and threaten his wife or daughters in a carnal way, there would be nothing Devyn could do but to kill those men and be taken himself after he was found. He gripped the long knife at his side he used in his work at the docks hoping the strength of the metal would pierce the armor of any man that threatened his wife or daughters. While he was not a devout believer in the Gods, Devyn, made a solemn promise to them to slay any man who threatened his family.
The soft sounds of sobs faded as he could hear his wife talking to their daughters. “Frida, Lil, be calm. It is time to be strong and quiet. Your crying will only say to these men we have something to hide.”
Devyn smiled at the strength of his wife and his daughters as the sobbing faded. Life quickly returned to normal within his small home. His arms and back began to ache in his contorted, uncomfortable position under the house. He could feel a number of insects coming out of the ground to explore his body, giving him an uncomfortable itching feeling. Devyn sighed as he resigned himself to this cramped life for the foreseeable future.
After many hours the marching, steps of soldiers, and the screams of those that had been found began. Rana lowered herself to the floor boards and spoke softly to him.
Within the Ice Page 1
