The Blood Witch
Book 1
The Blood Reign Chronicles
By
D. S. Nielsen
Copyright 2013 D.S. Nielsen,
Published by D. S. Nielsen
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Acknowledgements
I would like to extend a very special thanks to the following people: Joie Nielsen, Dolly Nielsen-Patterson, Jerrine Hollien, Janice Martinez, Crystal McPherson, Laura Ruetz, Deanna Nielsen, Betsy Deardorf, and Harrison Mattos.
Table of Contents
Maps
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Prologue
King Erlandas solemnly stood atop a lofty cliff overlooking the beautifully placid Lake Ineadra which was nestled in the mountains of Hiilfglin. A perfect image of the tall snow capped peaks, bright blue sky, and lush green trees that surrounded the lake, reflected from the glassy surface of the water. The majestic cry of an eagle soaring below echoed off the rocks as the bird of prey plummeted down to snatch its prize. Ripples radiated from the spot, warping and distorting the peaceful image.
Just to gaze upon the expanse saddened Erlandas, since it threatened to root out painful memories that he had locked away deep inside. He had given the lake its name in honor of his beloved wife who had tragically passed away many years earlier during childbirth. Not even the priests or mordji could save her life, or the life of her child. After her passing, the king’s people whom he ruled became his wife. He dedicated himself completely to their happiness and prosperity, but despite everything, there was always a hole inside him where the love of his life had once occupied.
From his vantage point on the cliff, Erlandas could see the monument to his life’s work as king, his castle Bethvain, overtopping the old pine trees in the distance, dwarfing them with its spires. The castle with its lofty towers and wide arching walkways, even now gave Erlandas a morbid sense of pride. However, instead of bustling with life and activity as the capital should be, it was abandoned, cold and lonely, just an empty shell of what it had once been.
The King had sent everyone away more than fifteen days ago. Solitude was what Erlandas earnestly sought now, since he did not want anyone to witness what he was about to attempt. Most of all, he didn’t wish for anyone else to be harmed or killed because of him if things went awry. So now his great castle stood silent, with no clamor in the courtyard, the forges and stables were quiet and cold, and not a single soul walked the broad hallways or peered out a window. The mighty castle was vacant, desolate, and hollow inside, just like King Erlandas.
Even now, Erlandas wondered if he had made the right decision in attacking the witch. After all, the Blood Witch was an abomination, an evil scourge on the land and one that must be eradicated. At least that’s what he told himself to ease his despair at the carnage and bloodshed that had ensued. Had Allysix really been that evil? Even as their king, did Erlandas have any right to condemn all those people to their doom? There were so many that had died in the attempt to take the witch. Thousands, tens of thousands on both sides, and King Erlandas had been their executioner as certain as if he had swung the blade himself. The witch had not attacked the king outright, at least not yet. Perhaps she would have remained content with what power she already held. What right did he have to cause the death of so many of his people just to capture and imprison this one woman?
There was little doubt Allysix was involved in unholy and unnatural rituals. The witch had tapped evil itself in a desperate attempt at immortality, and apparently, she had succeeded. Was that enough to justify his actions? King Erlandas wasn’t sure anymore.
A month ago, King Erlandas had sent the decoy to the West. He had it whispered widely, that they were taking the Blood Witch to the furthest reaches of the kingdom. Far to the west lay a monastery in the mountains many leagues from civilization. Word would spread that the witch was being taken there to be held prisoner. Some in the decoy party that were headed for the monastery believed that instead of taking the witch, they were taking her Staff of Power to be held for safekeeping. Both of these deceptions were necessary to cover the truth. In fact, one lone Arch-Mordji had taken the Blood Witch to a secret hiding place known only to him, where no one would ever find her.
The staff………well, King Erlandas had gotten an alluring taste of the staff’s incredible power when General Soteri and the mordji had brought it, and the witch before him that first day of the trials. The mordji had warned the king that it was evil, and that no one except the witch could wield the staff. But when by mere accident, Erlandas’ hand had grasped the Staff of Power, for that split second, power beyond his wildest imaginings flowed through him. Something inside the king inexorably changed at that moment, and he had not felt fully alive since that fateful day. The power of the staff seemed, for that brief moment, to fill the hole that had been inside him for so long.
King Erlandas peered down longingly at the long wrapped bundle at his feet. He desperately wanted to feel that way again; his very soul yearned for it. Deliberately he untied the cords around the bundle and unfolded the oilcloth covering to reveal the Staff of Power. It looked much like any ordinary length of wood, with nothing to even hint at the power it possessed, but the remembrance of that extraordinary power made the king’s heart race and his hands sweat just to look upon it. The mordji had to be wrong about no one else being able to wield it. After all, Erlandas had felt the unimaginable power of the staff for himself, even if it had been only for a brief moment.
Reaching down with both hands, King Erlandas grasped the staff firmly and its unbelievable power began to rush into him, along with the wondrous joy he remembered and yearned after. It seeped into his bones and infused his flesh and was rapturous and invigorating. It did indeed fill the hole that was inside him to overflowing. More and more power flowed into him and through him. So great was the power that the earth itself began to tremble and shake. However, the king’s elation and joy quickly turned to pain and agony. It felt as if his hands had been doused in pitch and set aflame. The pain crept slowly through his fingers and hands, up his arms and into his body.
Pebbles and sand clattered down the face of the cliff and rained on the lake below as the earth trembled and shook. The king’s vision was becoming clouded from the intense pain, but not so clouded to prevent him from seeing his wondrous castle in the distance as it shook turbulently and tumbled to the ground in a heap of rubble. The king tried desperately to let go of the staff, but despite all his efforts he could not even budge his fingers. The staff felt unnaturally alive in his hands as it writhed and twisted in his grip, making it impossible for Erlandas to release his hold. The pain was overwhelming and blackness was beginning to close in around him. His legs eventually gave way and King Erlandas toppled from the cliff and fell the great distance to the lake below.
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A young dark-haired man, wearing a plain brown robe that was tied at the waist with a silver cord, secretly watched King Erlandas from a distance. Benjim had thought it very odd when the king had sent everyone away from the castle with little explanation as to why they must leave. The king’s behavior had been unpredictable and erratic since he had touched the Staff of Power, almost as if the staff had infected him in some way and was eating the man away little by little.
Benjim was aware of the decoy that had been sent to the monastery in the west, in the nearly uninhabited lands away from civilization. Benjim was also aware that in truth, Arch-Mordji Bellfornas had taken the Blood Witch to a mine in these very mountains to be imprisoned. Benjim was not supposed to know that part of the plan, no one was supposed to know, but Benjim did. Bellfornas would bind the witch in her prison and stand vigil until the ruse was played out, before making the final sacrifice to ensure the location of the Blood Witch remained a secret. Benjim thought it such a shameful waste……...all of this just for one woman. Bellfornas had been Benjim’s teacher, mentor, and friend for the past twenty-five years. Bellfornas was a great man and a powerful mordji, such a shame that he would die in such a manner.
From his hiding spot, Benjim peered intently as King Erlandas unwrapped the bundle which he had carried to the cliff. As Benjim had suspected, the king had indeed taken the Staff of Power for himself. The king raised it overhead and stood with the staff in both hands outstretched towards the heavens.
At first, nothing seemed to happen, but after a few moments, the earth began to tremble, then rock and shake violently. The tall pine trees creaked and danced rhythmically as if they were dancing to a beat. Rocks tumbled end over end, bouncing down the slopes, and Benjim was in fear that the entire mountain might come crashing down around him. Benjim could see the king’s face contorted in a grimace of pure agony. After several long moments, the king pitched forward off the cliff into the lake far below.
The trees ceased their dance and the last few falling rocks rattled to a halt as the shaking subsided. One more tragic end to a once noble and honorable man, Benjim mused grimly. King Erlandas had been a great man and a just ruler, the loss of the king this way left Benjim dispirited, as if the sun shown just a little less brightly with his passing.
Benjim scrambled down to the lake and fished the king’s body from the water. Carefully he pried the king’s charred fingers, or what was left of them, from around the staff, making certain not to touch the staff himself. He then wove a complex ward around the dangerous staff to conceal it and protect it from unwary hands. Once he finished with the protective ward, Benjim set off to find a safe hiding place for such a malignant and treacherous artifact.
Chapter 1
Abruptly, the serenity of the chilly night in the mountains of Hlifglynn was pierced by a beastly scream. The hair on the back of Jak’s neck stood up and shivers ran down his spine like icy fingers prickling his skin. Unfortunately, he knew all too well what had made the terrible sound. It was a ridge cat, and from the sound of its cry it was a particularly large cat which was not very far away. What was even more troubling, was the question of what the cat doing down here in the valley? The cats usually did their hunting in the high country far from people.
Jak’s head swung back and forth as he desperately tried to discern from which direction the cry had come. However, in the crisp cold air of the mountains, the sound echoed and rang, making it seem as if it was coming from every direction at once. Anxious moments of silence stretched by and the tension began to release from between Jak’s shoulder blades, but then the scream came again, this time it sounded a little closer but it was difficult to tell for sure.
Jak’s father always told him that the scream of a ridge cat could make even the bravest man’s blood run cold. Jak had never been a coward, but the sound of the scream made the blood in his veins feel like ice. It was a bone chilling sound, especially in the dark.
Jak had tried to puzzle out that particular mystery many times before. Why did things seem more frightening or dangerous when it was dark? In the blackness of night, the world would begin to shrink in on him. What he could see in the short distance around him was his entire world, and anything that was beyond sight was swallowed up in the abyss of the darkness. It seemed like a strange different world, full of unknown creatures ready to leap from the darkness and consume him. In the dark, his imagination began to play tricks on him with every sound that emanated from the eerie strange world outside. This scream however, was definitely not his imagination playing tricks on him. The ridge cat was a serious threat, made even more ominous by the darkness of night.
Jak hadn’t brought his bow or any weapon except his belt knife with him today; not that the weapons would be of much good even if he had brought them. Even heavily armed, just he alone against a ridge cat would be a pretty poor fight. He wouldn’t stand much of a chance against the ferocious cat. Frantically he searched for a way out of the peril. If he didn’t think of something quickly both he and Brigette might end up as dinner for the large cat.
Their outing today was supposed to be a short day trip, but Brigette had talked him into going all the way to the Endless Falls and they lost track of time. Since they hadn’t been able to make it all the way back to Elsdon before the sun set, they were stuck in the woods, miles from home after dark. Even worse was the fact that now it seemed that they were being hunted by a dangerous predator; one that usually stayed away from these parts of the woods.
“Was that what I think it was?” Brigette asked quietly as she reached up to grasp Jak’s arm.
“Yes,” Jak whispered curtly.
“What are we going to do? Will it go away? Father said ridge cats don’t usually attack people.” Brigette’s voice trembled slightly, but she was holding her composure well.
“Usually they don’t, but we aren’t in Elsdon. Besides, all the animals have been acting very strangely today,” Jak whispered, as he scanned the surroundings for any signs of the cat.
Elsdon was a tiny farming village in the mountains of Hlifglynn where Jak and Brigette had grown up together. Having been born within a month of each other, they had lived the entire sixteen years of their lives never having traveled beyond the mountains that surrounded Elsdon. Jak’s father and older brothers, along with other men of the village, would travel once a year down the Jagmerain pass to Kragston to trade for supplies, but Jak had never made the trip with them.
Jak was tall and lean with short-cropped dirty blond hair and blue eyes. He had been best friends with Brigette his entire life. Brigette had long, deep flame red hair and dark eyes, but she was rather short and small-framed for an Elsdoner. Jak and Brigette had spent the day together just hiking and enjoying each others company but lost track of time, so now they were still hours away from Elsdon traveling in daylight. If they were to try now that it was dark, the journey would take much longer.
“I’m scared Jak. What are we going to do?” Brigette asked as she turned to Jak for assurance. Her long flame-red hair was partially covering her face, as if she was attempting to hide behind it. In the dark however, her hair looked almost black instead of red.
Jak wished she would just keep quiet. If the cat wasn’t hunting them, the noise of their talking might attract its unwanted attention. Besides, he was trying to think of something to get them out of this, but her talking was distracting and making it difficult for him to think clearly. He glanced around again, desperately looking for some way out, or at least some type of cover or protection.
“This way,” Jak whispered, as he started up the slope towards a stone outcrop a few paces away.
“What?” Brigette exclaimed in a loud hiss, “How am I supposed to get up there? I can’t make it up on my own! It’s too steep.”
“Yes you can,” Jak said, trying to sound confident, “you have to, it’s our only chance. Just try to get up to that ledge,” he said as he hoisted her up first.
Brigette slipped sev
eral times trying to get foot and handholds up the slippery rock ledge. Being short and petite she was not really accustomed to climbing rock ledges. Jak wasn’t faring much better but he had climbed cliffs around Elsdon many times, and was fairly adept at it. His tall lean build and long arms made it easier for him. Even so, not being able to see in the dark, along with the dampness from the thunderstorm earlier in the day, made the climb that much more difficult.
The small ledge was at least twenty feet up the rock cliff and the progress was painfully slow, especially with the dirt and pebbles pelting him that Brigette was knocking loose above him. Jak could not spare any effort to even glance over his shoulder to see if they were being followed by the cat, for fear he would lose his grip and fall.
Suddenly, Jak’s answer came all the same when the cat’s shrill cry pierced the night, and this time it was much closer. It was fairly certain now, that the cat had caught their scent and was stalking them. The small stone ledge they were scrambling to reach wasn’t going to offer much protection, but it was the most defensible position available at the moment, for that matter the only one available. Jak figured if they could reach it, then they could crowd the edge and swing branches or something which might keep the cat from coming up after them. The cat couldn’t climb up the way they had come, but it could probably leap that high without too much trouble. If they made it seem to the predator that there was no place for it to land on the ledge, then maybe it would look elsewhere for an easier meal. It was a pretty flimsy plan, but it was the best he could come up with at the moment.
Finally, they were able to reach the stone ledge, but only to find there were no sticks or branches within reach. Jak chanced a glance down and could now see the cat stalking threateningly towards them as it crossed the small clearing. Its eyes glowed with a pale blue hue in the moonlight, and its long razor sharp teeth gleamed. The moon had just topped the horizon and now bathed the forest in eerie blue-black shadows. It was like a terrible nightmare that Jak couldn’t seem to wake up from. He didn’t want to die here and now, he was only sixteen. They were both too young to die, but if the cat really wanted them there would be little they could do to stop it. The ridge cat would surely kill them and devour their bodies. The thought of being eaten by the ridge cat was actually worse than the thought of dying. Jak had seen the way wild animals fed, the image came to him unbidden of the cat tearing messy bloody chunks of him and Brigette apart and devouring their bodies. He shuddered at the prospect and pushed the thought from his mind, since dwelling on the gruesome image wasn’t really helping matters.
The Blood Witch (The Blood Reign Chronicles Book 1) Page 1
