by C. Gold
The Summoner and
the Seer
Darklight Universe – Book 1
By C. Gold
Golden Elm Publishing
Redmond, WA
Copyright © 2017 C. Gold
Cover Design by HotCovers.net
Book Layout © 2017 BookDesignTemplates.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
First Edition
The Summoner and the Seer is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or places, is completely coincidental.
Golden Elm Publishing
Redmond, WA
Please visit the author’s official website:
www.thegoldenelm.org
Dedicated to my husband Dan and good friend Tristain for giving me feedback that helped make this story shine, and to all my friends, family, and WoW guild mates for supporting me even when I vanished for long stretches at a time.
“Forbidden to remember, terrified to forget; it was a hard line to walk.”
― Stephenie Meyer, New Moon
Contents
The Sentencing
The Man With No Memory
The Rescue
The Relative Calm
Before the Storm
The Prime Seer
An Old Enemy
The Nothing in the Void
Escaping the Cave
People of the Shae
Village Troubles
Hunting Preparations
The Trail to Madness
Unexpected Choice
The Angry Warrior
Retreat
The Hunted
Unlikely Escape
The Mountain
All the Threads That Bind Us
The Fight to Remember
Radcliff vs Radcliff
Rude Discovery
Delaying Tactic
Uneasy Partnership
Race Against Time
Endings and New Beginnings
From the Author
Books by the Author
About the Author
Acknowledgements
PROLOGUE
The Sentencing
Radcliff Durnhast, the most powerful wizard in the world and the Mage Commander of the Caladon army, was hauled from his dark cell and slammed up against the wall by two of the largest guards he’d ever seen. He glared at the rough treatment but said nothing while they clamped a set of leg irons around his ankles—larger twins to the restraints already keeping his wrists and magic bound.
As they shoved him up the stairs, laughing when he stumbled, Radcliff memorized each brute’s face and vowed to repay their treatment tenfold.
They dragged him down dusty back corridors and shoved him into a brightly lit room. One guard kept a bruising grip on his arm while the other fed the ring hanging between his shackles through a clamp embedded in the floor. It snicked shut with ominous finality.
“Not goin’ anywhere now,” the one gripping him taunted. His sadistic grin revealed several broken teeth, probably from a habit of mouthing off.
Radcliff’s hateful glare bored into the guard’s eyes. While he remained silent, his thoughts churned. Just give me one second with my magic and you won’t be going anywhere, ever. I promise it will take a long time for you to die. I will hack you apart, one tiny piece at a time.
The guard’s eyes widened and his smile slipped.
Not smiling now, are you? Finally realized who you are messing with? I will find you and make you regret this. Radcliff let his mind run with images of what he’d do to everyone responsible for his present circumstances.
The guard blanched at whatever he saw in Radcliff’s expression. He snatched his hand back as if from a viper and hastily backed up a step. His eyes began darting between the wizard and the exit. “You ‘bout done?” he asked his partner.
“Yeah.” The second guard stood. “Let’s go.”
The first guard bolted. The second one cursed under his breath and rushed to catch up, leaving Radcliff alone.
Good riddance. He tested the bonds keeping him locked to the floor. When nothing budged, he gave up and looked around. Wooden paneling and brightly glowing mage lamps gave the small room a bright and cheery feeling as if overcompensating for its grim purpose. There was no furniture at all except for twelve ornate ebony chairs perfectly lined up and facing him on a raised section of the floor. They stood empty at the moment. That was when Radcliff realized he was in the Council’s private judgment chambers—one of the few places in the fortress he’d never visited before. He’d heard the rumors of course. That people who came here disappeared. They’ve already made up their minds. That meant there would be no trial. His enemies were taking no chances—they knew he still had supporters in the military.
Before he could speculate any further, a door at the far left opened and the members of the Council of High Mages filed in. Representing the surrounding regions, they were the second highest authority in the empire, answering only to the emperor. Each was dressed formally in snowy white robes with gold trim. Once everyone was in place, the door slammed shut and they took their seats.
Radcliff glared at each one as hot fury boiled in his veins. These men and women sitting in judgment were the same people who had eagerly agreed when the emperor had ordered him to use whatever force was necessary to annex the surrounding kingdoms. He gave them what they wanted with swift brutality and they had no objections until he was betrayed and lay helpless at their feet. Then they turned on him like she did…
“What have you done, Jenine?” Radcliff’s speech was slurred as the drug started to take hold.
“You men are all the same. Easily led with your man part. Never once did you see me as a real person. I was just a bed warmer—a dumb pretty girl who was clearly honored and overjoyed to be in your company, pleasing you. I couldn’t possibly have my own thoughts and feelings. My own motivations.”
Radcliff lurched back and stumbled against the table, knocking the empty wine glass to the floor. It shattered much like his heart. “I love you.”
“Liar,” Jenine spat. “You are incapable of love.”
His knees gave out as the poison overwhelmed his system and cut off his magic. “But you said you loved me,” he hissed through his locked jaw.
“I lied.” She bent down and he could see the loathing in her crystal blue eyes. “Do you think anyone could ever love you? Pasty white, spindly, scarred monster that you are?”
Radcliff could only stare back at her in shock and growing horror. How could she have fooled him for so long?
Jenine pushed him to the floor and stood over him now with her dagger, eyes gleaming in happy revenge. “You always enjoyed having power over others and slaughtering whole villages. How does it feel to be on the other side?”
“This isn’t you,” Radcliff whispered, barely able to speak now.
“My parents lived in Westbrook. You remember, the town you destroyed to set an example? Well, here’s my example.” She plunged the knife into his stomach again and again.
“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”
Radcliff blinked and looked down at his stomach, half expecting to see blood and guts spilling out. Someone must have stopped his lover from killing him and then patched him up enough to stand trial though not without a beating first. Ignoring the pain, he straightened to his full height and stared down his nose at the speaker, Archmage Candlass, who was pacing back and forth at
the front of the raised platform in agitation. Radcliff ignored him and scanned the other council members. Their stony faces and hard eyes extinguished any hope he had that some would be sympathetic.
“Well?” Archmage Candlass asked in growing impatience.
Radcliff didn’t remember being asked anything, but he had stopped listening during the long litany of his victories turned conveniently into crimes. There was no denying some of the things he’d done, like Westbrook, were considered brutal, but after news traveled of that tragedy, the remaining cities in the Westspire kingdom surrendered peacefully. Fewer total lives were wasted doing things his way. Would you have torched Westbrook if you knew Janine’s parents lived there? Of course. The answer came instantly and without remorse. Maybe Janine was right, and I am incapable of love. Then why does her betrayal hurt so much?
Shoving all the feelings of betrayal, anger, and heartbreak behind a cold mask, he responded with arctic iciness. “It doesn’t matter what I say, you want me dead because you fear me.”
Archmage Andural stood and pointed an accusing finger at Radcliff. “Your conduct in the field was reprehensible.”
Radcliff wasn’t surprised at the man’s outburst. Andural hated him ever since the emperor gave him control of the army—a placement Andural had long desired, yet wasn’t as qualified for. Radcliff refused to be baited. “I did what was necessary. I did what was asked of me.”
“Don’t you feel any remorse for the innocents you slaughtered in Westbrook?”
This question come from behind him. Surprised, Radcliff turned around awkwardly, his chains clanking in protest, and spotted a group of women at the back. Three were huddled together in brightly colored blue, orange, and yellow robes. The fourth stood apart and captured his attention with her striking silver hair and violet eyes that challenged him. Clearly she was the one who had spoken, but he had no clue who she was. Then he noticed her green robe and recalled that mages in Westspire used that color. These must be mage representatives from the newly acquired kingdoms.
He looked straight into her judgmental eyes and gave her his honest answer. “No. Their deaths saved thousands more.” Radcliff refused to lie even to save his own skin. Though he doubted anything he said would save him now.
One of the women cried out and the other two pulled her into a comforting hug. The woman in green stood unmoving and maintained eye contact. While her face revealed none of her feelings, Radcliff got the impression she was somehow looking straight into his soul. Let her, he had nothing to hide. He stared back, defiant, until she looked away.
Seeking an end to this farce, he faced the council. “Just get this done.”
Archmage Candlass looked only too ready to comply. “Yes, let’s finish this up,” he said, addressing his colleagues. Each gave a subtle nod of agreement. “Very well.” Candlass turned back to Radcliff, a grim expression on his face. “This council finds you guilty of using excessive force which resulted in the deaths of thousands of innocents. The punishment is execution, to be carried out this evening at sunset.”
“Wait.” It was the woman in the back again. “We demand extended punishment.”
Candlass frowned. “As you are not members of this council, it is left for us to decide his fate.”
“But as your newest allies, we require this as a matter of honor to appease our dead spirits. He must spend a minimum of one year in punishment for each life he stole.”
The grouped women began to argue in raised whispers. Radcliff turned his head in time to catch the green robed woman glaring them into silence. He narrowed his eyes as he studied her. Why was she so eager to keep him alive when everyone else in the room sought his death?
“Silence!” Candlass shouted. “The emperor won’t accept anything less than his death.”
His onetime mentor’s words sent an icy spear of pain straight through Radcliff’s heart. Of all the people who betrayed him, he never would have expected it of the man he considered a father. Why isn’t he here to do this himself?
“Actually, putting him under the obliviate spell would be far more satisfying than his death,” Archmage Andurel countered with a pleased glint in his eyes. “And as for the emperor… let me handle him.”
Radcliff shuddered at the thought of having his mind stripped of all knowledge except for a vague sense that he used to be more. Then at the end of a year being forced to remember everything that was stolen and know it would be taken away again in a few hours. The effect drove prisoners mad.
While Candlass considered it, Andurel spoke up again. “Just think of it. The almighty Destroyer turned into a harmless sniveling nobody. Let his name be struck from the records too while we are at it.”
The others were nodding in agreement.
Radcliff’s palms began to sweat and his heart raced. Instead of panicking, he focused on the anger building up inside. He was angry at himself for ever trusting his deceitful lover and angry at this farce of a council. “You should kill me now because I swear when I escape I will personally make each one of you regret ever crossing me.”
Archmage Andurel chuckled. “You won’t even remember your name.” Once he finished laughing, he gave Radcliff a blatantly false pity stare before adding, “And nobody escapes.”
Candlass slashed the air with his hand. “Enough.” His expression was grim and tinged with remorse as he formally addressed the council. “Let it be known this day that Radcliff Durnhast is no more. His name shall be stricken from all records and he shall be banished to the northern wastes where he will remain for all eternity under the obliviate spell. Take him to the preparation room and let it be done.” The council members stood and exited the room. Candlass looked at Radcliff like he wanted to say something, then shook his head and followed after his colleagues.
Everyone else left except the woman in green, who lingered by the door. Before he could make a comment, his two thuggish guards walked in and the woman stepped in their path.
Radcliff was too far away to hear what they were saying but based on the shaking heads and sour looks on the guards’ faces, it appeared they were in sharp disagreement. After a tense moment they finally backed off, and the woman came towards him.
“Enemy of my people,” she whispered. “You must survive.” Then the woman grabbed his chains in her left hand and placed her right hand on his forehead. “Survive using whatever means necessary.”
Sensing an attack, Radcliff tried to break free but her grip was like iron. Her power invaded his mind, overran his meager defenses, and cemented the compulsion in place. He fumed at the violation. “I will reserve a special hell for you when I escape,” he snarled.
She stared at him with all-knowing eyes. “I accept that fate if you are alive and able to mete it out.”
That was not the reaction he expected. Speechless and more confused now than angry, Radcliff watched her walk away. What exactly did she mean by that? Jerked off-balance by a swift yank on his chains, Radcliff’s attention returned to his two guards. They presented a problem if he wished to escape. He was still mulling over his options when his group turned a corner straight into Archmage Candlass.
“Ah, there you are. I expected him to be in the preparation room by now,” Candlass snapped at the guards. “Never mind. Hold him tight. I’ll do it here.”
It was now or never. Radcliff head butted one of the guards, taking him by surprise. The sound of bone crunching gave him savage glee. When the other turned to grab him he shoved him aside and took a shuffling step backwards. Blasted chains.
“I said hold him!” Candlass’ angry shout boomed over the scuffle.
Hands clamped onto Radcliff’s shoulders from behind but Radcliff twisted and sent an elbow jab into soft gut. Candlass’ swift curse made him smile in vicious delight.
The second guard closed the distance and Radcliff absorbed several blows to his ribs before planting his feet and body slamming the guard into a wall.
While the man gasped for air, Radcliff shuffled down the hallway
towards a door that could lead to escape. He got about three steps when a hand latched onto his arm and swung him around. The first guard, bloody faced and angry as an enraged boar, landed a meaty fist to his jaw that sent him staggering.
The distraction was enough time for Candlass’ fleshy hands to latch onto bare flesh. A sharp jolt of power blasted his mind, and he sank into total darkness.
Radcliff gradually emerged from the darkness, but his mind was webbed by threads of compulsion. He attempted to burn them using his power but when he reached for it, nothing was there. Panicked, he tried to sit up. The bite of cold steel against wrists and ankles pulled him up short. Snapping his eyes open he saw his naked body splayed out on the chilly stone floor in a dark room containing only a desk for furniture.
“Ah good, you are awake. We can begin now.”
Startled, Radcliff strained to look behind him for the speaker but he only saw shadow.
“Candlass was so kind keeping you unconscious when he spelled you.” The man’s sneer told Radcliff what he felt about that nicety. “I am not kind.”
The voice gradually shifted locations until Radcliff saw the figure move into his field of view. He wore a black robe and his face was hidden beneath a hood. Only his scarred and slightly crooked hands were visible.
“We have never met before. You can call me Spider.”
Radcliff’s heart raced. He knew of Spider, everyone did. The man was once the previous emperor’s personal torturer and rumor had it he was also an assassin. He could believe it. There was a sickly, evil aura about the man and a terrible odor of death. Radcliff struggled not to gag.
“I am sure you sense the compulsions in your mind. They are a small part of your imprisonment.” He leaned closer and Radcliff saw a knife in the man’s left hand coming closer. “This next part will hurt… a lot.” The voice sounded like a lover’s caress.
Radcliff trembled despite his best effort to appear indifferent. “You like to talk a lot,” he shot back.
