A Balance Broken (Dragonsoul Saga)
Page 1
In a time before the Dragon Wars consumed Tarmor, the Dragonsouls ruled over the five races. Then, during the destruction of the Cataclysm that followed the wars, the Dragonsouls disappeared. Most wizards thought them destroyed forever, and a great peace settled over the land, each of the five races finding its place, decimated and hidden as it may be.
But the winds of Chaos blow eternal, and peace can never last. Secrets thought hidden are oft discovered. Though magic only remains in the hands of a few, and the Paladins of Balance are vanishing, some may still stand against the coming storm. Those who will rise have yet to prove themselves, and who stokes the tempest is yet to be known.
“A Balance Broken” is the first tale of The Dragonsoul Saga, a story to span an epic horizon, yet enter the hidden recesses of the human heart, even if that heart is not so human.
THIS BOOK IS PUBLISHED BY
IMAGINED INTERPRISES, INC.
Text copyright © by J.T. Hartke
Jacket art copyright © by Imagined Interprises, Inc.
Jacket art by Lars Grant-West
Illustrations in book © by Imagined Interprises, Inc.
Illustrations by Jason Engle
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. This includes the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
Content Editor - Maxwell Alexander Drake
Line Editor - Jo Wilkins
Line Editor/Proof Editor - Rob Smith
Proof Editor - Lorraine Stalians
Published in the United States by
Imagined Interprises, Inc.,
6955 N. Durango Dr. Suite. 1115-717
Las Vegas, NV 89149
I.I.I. fantasy is a registered trademark of
Imagined Interprises, Inc.
The Dragonsoul Saga is a registered trademark of
J.T. Hartke
www.dragonsoulsaga.com
www.imaginedinterprises.com
ISBN: 978-1-936525-64-5 (ePub/PDF)
ePub Edition: July 2012
Printed in the United States of America
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious
or are used fictitiously.
Hello and thank you for purchasing this eBook edition of A Balance Broken - Book One fo the Dragonsoul Saga by J. T. Hartke.
Just a note before you start reading. For those who have been following I.I.I. since its inception in 2008, you know that we take great pride in not only producing an entertaining product, but a high quality one as well. This is evident in the quality of our print and audio books. We are attempting to be as diligent with our electronic books.
Unfortunately, in the realm of eBooks, there are many limitations that we must contend with. Though the epub format is standardized, with many features available to publishers, eBook reading devices and programs are not so kind. Some tend to sidestep the use of the standards set forth in the ePub criteria. The most notable is their lack of use of custom fonts. For most books the font style is not really important. For our series however, we use different fonts to let the reader know when different languages are being spoken. Some eReaders ignore the codes that set up our special fonts.
So, to make you aware of this, below is a sample picture of how the text “should” look.
The following is the same text, but in code and displayed by your eBook reader. Please note if there are any differences, you may not see our special fonts later in this book.
Normal Text - Most of the book
Italic Text - For inner monologue
Dialogue - Dragonsoul speach
Handwritten Text
If both of the above look the same (or similar) you should be fine. If the text on the bottom example shows no difference from any other text, you may read a section of this story that seems odd. Just remember that it may be that some characters are speaking in a language that other characters present cannot understand. We have also found a few instances where the above text displays correctly on this page, yet incorrectly later in the book. We do not know why certain eBook readers have this issue. We simply wanted to make you aware of it. If you find that something is not working on your device, find an error, or have some advice on improving this eBook edition, please feel free to email us at info@imaginedinterprises.com.
For some possible solutions to spacific eReaders, see below.
If you are using a Barnes & Noble Nook, and the fonts do not look the same, please try the following two suggestions.
First, the Nook has an option to either use a Publisher’s custom fonts or not. By default, this feature is set to “do not use a Publisher’s custom fonts.” To turn this feature on, click on the “book information” panel. It should be the little arrow that is over the page number at the bottom of this page. Then click the “text” button. At the bottom of this screen, make sure that the “Publisher Defaults” button is showing “ON.”
If that does not work, make sure you have the latest software. Head on over to www.barnesandnoble.com and click on the Nook tab. In that section, look under “support” and choose the “software update” that is correct for your version of the Nook.
The startlement at seeing your first words in print notwithstanding, I should take a page to thank those who made this possible.
First, let me thank Drake, Rob, Jo, and Lorraine, who found a rusty blade and polished it as best they could. I hope the steel they found underneath reaches our readers. I also want to thank Brie, Brian, and the rest of the staff at I.I.I. for being eternally patient and committed to the Dragonsoul project.
I also want to thank Amy, Colby, Kari, and Joe, who actually took the time to read the drafts before I learned to write (better). I appreciate the undeserved compliments. And to my family and friends who never doubted – thanks so much for the support.
And mostly, thanks to Julie, who makes it all possible just by being who she is. I would never have thought myself an “artist” until she dared to let me think so.
jth
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Epilogue
About the Author
For Julie, my love and my muse, without whom this would never have happened.
“The Balance shifts as the Balance will. Its opposing forces wax and wane. However, the Balance itself always exists. No matter how Chaos may reign in one plac
e or time, Order will hold its sway elsewhere. Be it across the world, or across the Universe.”
— Volastarun Mardus, “Writings on Opposition”, 414 B.C. (Before Cataclysm)
“Arise, oh people of the Northlands, children of the bristling boar. Arise and seek the fiery stars.”
—Boar Clan traditional
Slar watched the cold, ebon water of the Galesh River churn past. Its dark hue matched his mood.
His humor held far less cheer than it did a week ago, before the Boar Clan patrol marched out from under the solid gates of Blackstone. Slar had thought this a final foray into clan territory before the Winter Gathering—a pleasant trot through the late autumn countryside. Continuing the journey, however, brought a solid knot of worry into his gut. It burned deep within, an anxiety he had never felt before, even at the approach of battle.
Put away your worry, old woman! Neither Bear nor Wolf would raid this far south during this season. His thoughts turned toward his sons. I will see them soon enough – when the clan seeks shelter at Blackstone. His eyes searched the leaden sky, seeing only a horizon that matched his heart. Looks like we will have a long winter together as it is.
“Storm gathering behind us, Captain,” Sergeant Radgred grumbled in a low tone as he walked past Slar. The veteran stalked toward the tight circle of warriors resting nearby. “Up, you dogs! We’re on to Sourbay!”
The squad gathered within moments, the squeak and clink of leather on metal the only sounds they made. With a wave of Radgred’s arm, the patrol set off again. Their mail rang with the rhythm of their march as they exited the small copse of trees in which they had taken their afternoon rest.
After about a mile, Slar leapt atop a lichen-crusted boulder, his nail-shod boots scrambling for purchase against the stone. Looking back to scan the westward horizon, the burning knot in his gut sank even further. He squinted against the wind that howled along the northern slopes of the Dragonscale Mountains. The last of the sun hid behind purplish clouds, heavy with the first snow of winter. They hugged the rocky, conifer-covered slopes, hiding the eternal white of impassable peaks.
Slar signaled to the column some distance down the worn, ancient road. “We had better make double time, Sergeant!”
Radgred looked back. “Aye, Captain!” For a fraction of a second, the sergeant’s face sank at the sight of the storm. His expression shifted to grim determination before he smacked the shoulder of one of the warriors. “You heard the Captain. Move!”
Slar scanned the landscape from his perch. Ahead, a small stream trickled down from the Dragonscales, its clear flow carving a narrow gorge before it tumbled into the Galesh. He jumped down from the boulder, wincing at a creak in his knees that had not been there a year ago. He ignored the protesting cartilage and the sourness lingering in his stomach and sprinted to the front of his patrol.
“With me, lads!” he shouted, passing them with a steady gait. “There is cover ahead.” The troops picked up speed to match that of their captain. Radgred followed at the rear, scowling each time he glanced over his shoulder.
His eyes alert, Slar watched the fir trees that spread down the mountains. They began to sway as the first flakes of snow whipped about the squad. By the time he led his warriors down a dry gully toward the gorge, white powder had gathered within the crevasses. Reaching the bottom, Slar ordered Radgred to unroll the heavy, oiled mammoth skin the sergeant carried on his stout back, and the entire patrol huddled beneath it.
Forcing cheer into his voice, Slar wrapped an arm around the warrior next to him. “We can’t build a fire, but if we gather together we can save our warmth from draining away.” He shouted against the storm that now raged beyond the shaggy tarp. “Huddle close, lads! This is going to be a long night.”
His dreams were fitful. Gloomy images flitted through his mind, calling to him from a great distance. Slar searched his dream for the source of the summons, but before it ended, it was he who fled from a dark hunter.
Morning broke outside their dome of snow and flesh. Slar crawled from cover and blinked at the sunshine glittering off a blanket of white. The snow had piled deep, even within the relative cover of the gorge. The thump of drifts settling under the new sun echoed from the cleft in the rock.
After a breakfast of hardtack and snowmelt, he led his men out of the gorge and back onto the road, hidden by a few inches of swiftly melting whiteness. I know this land like I know the veins tracking the back of my fists. It is as if this land’s very soil and water flow within my blood as well. I pray to the Fires that my sons may roam it as long as I have. The frown on his face deepened. I fear they will not. “Back to it, lads.” He waved a hand forward, shooing away his dark thoughts. “We can be in Sourbay by nightfall if we press hard.”
He shifted the scimitar on his hip, caressing its worn handle. This sword travelled the road long before I ever did. The knot of anxiety still tore at his gut, unrelieved by the storm’s passing or his morning movement. He struggled to keep a grimace of pain from his face. Shaking off his discomfort, he jogged to the front of his men. He set a fast pace that would test their stamina. Perhaps I can shake loose this pain, and my useless worry.
It was still there, though, when he led his men into the outskirts of Kragnek, a small village that was the last settlement before Sourbay. Mud brick huts with thatched roofs huddled on a small knoll overlooking the Galesh. A few goats milled through the recently harvested barley fields. Slar smiled. Barley bread is our staple, but barley beer keeps us alive!
He marched his men to the open-aired bar serving the small community. “A round of beer for my men, who run like heroes,” he said to the barkeep. “With a fresh loaf for each – and yogurt as well.” Slar dug into his pouch, past the gold to the copper underneath. The glitter of real gold will cause a riot in a town as poor as this.
“To the captain!” Radgred hoisted his brew and quaffed it down.
A cheer rang out before the rest of the squad followed their sergeant’s lead. The beer mugs emptied well before the bread disappeared.
While the men ate, Slar pulled his sergeant aside. “I have a feeling of unease,” he whispered, “greater than any I have had since you first led me on this trail nigh twenty years ago.” He glanced toward the warriors, who paid them no mind, and continued in an even lower tone. “Something unnatural haunts our steps. Not just raiders from another clan. Something more…powerful. I know not what it is.”
Radgred raised an eyebrow, matching Slar’s clandestine tone. “You are the one with the Old Blood. That is why you are captain, and I am still sergeant. Even though you never sought to become Boar chieftain like your father once did, you still sense things that others do not.” He narrowed his eyes. “Your whole family has this ability. I trust your lead, as I once did your father’s.” The sergeant clapped Slar on the back. “As I will some day follow your sons.”
Slar watched Radgred while the sergeant gathered the squad once more. They grabbed what sustenance still lay on the table and jumped into line behind their captain. Slar trotted the first few miles. Running his warriors on a full stomach would waste the food he had just bought them.
The beer he had consumed did nothing to ease the fire in his stomach. Before long, Slar doubled their pace. The faster we reach Sourbay, the sooner we return to Blackstone. Slar frowned at his sergeant, whose focus remained upon the surrounding woods.
Talk of my sons has set them on my mind. Grindar should arrive at Blackstone any day. I bet he found another wife this summer. He smiled at the memory of his youngest son. Sharrog won Victor status at his first Clanhold this year! Perhaps he might even be home from his Victor’s Hunt when we return!
The knot in Slar’s gut loosened somewhat with thoughts of his sons and home. He knew that before long, the days in the Northlands would last only a few hours, and a winter storm might last for days. Blackstone, however, would be warm with the fires of Slar’s peo
ple. The meat from their hunts would fill bellies throughout the long, dark season.
His pace never slackening, Slar ran his squad into the early autumn evening. Dusk hung in the air when the squad jogged into a sharp cleft cut into the rocky hillside.
“Weren’t these carved by the shamans of our people in the Elder Days?” Warrior Lishnak asked under his breath.
“It is true,” Slar said to the new recruit. “They wielded great power. That was in a time of greater glory for the Clans.” Before the Dragon Wars left us broken. Before the Clans began to turn on one another.
Gossamer threads of twilight sifted through the tree limbs, casting an eerie glow upon the unblemished snow as Slar followed the coiled road through the cleft. The sour knot in Slar’s gut tightened into the fiery ball he knew from the moment before battle. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the sun had left the sky purple.
Stars pricked the firmament, until sudden darkness, deeper than the night, blackened them out as it flew overhead.
“Spread out!” Slar drew his family sword and dove to the ground. The pace of his heart quickened. “Take cover!” He held his breath while Radgred and the others scrambled into the brush along the road.
Slar crept forward on all fours. The cold snow bit his knuckles, but the feeling remained distant. His mind focused outside his body, becoming one with the world around him.
The black shadow darted overhead again and crashed to the earth. The concussion threw Slar backward along with chunks of stone and earth. He slammed into the ground, breath fleeing from his lungs.
Forcing his chest to heave again, he shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the crimson that seeped from scrapes on his elbows and the pain throbbing through his cheek. He shook his head to clear his senses. His heart pounded furiously, though it was not from the fear of any enemy. Awe and respect for the power that radiated before him coursed through his being. Anticipation and trepidation filled his heart at the sight of it.