THE AGE OF AZMOQ
Book I: The Valantian Imperium
By Rajamayyoor Sharma
Copyright 2017 © Rajamayyoor Sharma
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the Publisher.
Credits:
Cover Art by Teodora Chinde and Tiffany Munro
Artwork by Tiffany Munro, Maksim Kuznetsov and Janrei
Edited by Richard Peters
Dedication
To my loving family, who had the patience to answer the same set of three questions multiple times every day for months (“How much have you read so far,” “Did you like it” and “What didn’t you like”).
A family who gave me the courage to capture my imagination on paper, for their support and love through all the tough times I have been through.
Contents
Contents
Prologue: The demons of the sea and land
Section I: The start of a journey
Chapter 1: Olmot
Chapter 2: Over the hills
Chapter 3: Sound of flowing water
Chapter 4: My fear of death
Chapter 5: Legends of the past
Chapter 6: The full perspective
Chapter 7: The shadow of the world
Chapter 8: Into the woods
Chapter 9: Out into the world
Chapter 10: The strange beast of the plains
Chapter 11: The three friends
Section II: The plains
Chapter 12: The consequence
Chapter 13: Meeting on top of a mountain
Chapter 14: The village of thieves
Chapter 15: The Imaginerium of the man with an unknown name
Chapter 16: The time under the banyan tree
Chapter 17: Welehölla
Section III: Chronicles of Dag Heyat
Chapter 18: Dag Heyat and the resistance
Chapter 19: The beast brothers
Chapter 20: The last of the Cekic Ortaq
Chapter 21: The third Beast, Zilonis
Chapter 22: A lone Yerin’s mission
Section IV: The tale of two cities
Chapter 23: Return to Welehölla
Chapter 24: The ride of the macabre carriage
Chapter 25: The Round Lotus blooms
Chapter 26: A thief in the wind
Chapter 27: Fate of a broken warrior
Chapter 28: Home away from home
Section V: The convergence
Chapter 29: The retaliation
Chapter 30: Survival
Chapter 31: The shadow
Chapter 32: Parallel events
Chapter 33: The new member of the group
Chapter 34: The first steps
Chapter 35: The journey to Khratosh
Chapter 36: The city of contrasts
Section VI: The End at the Beginning
Chapter 37: The entrance at the exit
Chapter 38: First battle for the man with an unknown name
Chapter 39: The end of a journey for an old warrior
Chapter 40: Fight and Flight into the Forest
Chapter 41: The omnipresent warrior
Chapter 42: The land of darkness
Section VII: The dawn of A new age
Chapter 43: Sarvadishya, two years later
Chapter 44: The Joyous reunion
Chapter 45: Grimm’s tale
Chapter 46: The reason for fighting
Chapter 47: The five fingers of a fist
Chapter 48: Cracks in the stone
Epilogue: Repercussions
Appendix
The Valantian Imperium
The Valantian Military
About the Author
Prologue:
The demons of the sea and land
The nation of Vanualon was made up of thousands of islands.
Although the bulk of the population lived on the largest 12, a significant number of its citizens lived in the smaller islands. There were islands with four to five thousand people living on them, and there were islands with just 20 to 30 people on them. The whole country was quite densely packed, primarily due to the pleasant weather, ample food and easy-go-lucky royal family.
However, there were some clusters of islands that were uninhabited. The largest such cluster was made up of hundreds of tiny land stubbles surrounding one large island. It was weird for such a large piece of land to be totally unoccupied. The citizens of Vanualon gave the whole archipelago a wide berth. Even under the surface, the fishes in the sea stayed clear of the waters surrounding this group of islands.
The isolation made sense, if what was rumored to be on the central island was true. The rumor had sustained for centuries, supported by one indisputable fact.
For as long as anyone could remember, any creature who went near that group of islands never returned.
The royal family, the army, even people with an adventurous streak, wouldn’t dare venture close to those islands. There was no reason for trying to probe deeper—why endanger any life? The islands didn’t hold anything of value.
The central island of Wakavanua, which meant “Land of death” in the Vanualan language, had a unique geography. The land was mostly flat, except for a set of small hills in the northern half of the island. These strange hills hid a series of caves in them. The caves were completely interconnected and all led into a large cavern at the center of the hills.
In the cavern was a lake connected directly to the sea. It was a beautiful place—silent, eerie, dark, with glowing green water. White stalactites on the roof of the cavern reflected the pale green glow from the water. With no source of direct sunlight the cavern looked the same throughout the year.
A place frozen in time.
In this cave lived a creature. The creature that was responsible for the reputation the islands had. It had once been human, but in the last few decades, it had morphed into something else. Its basic outline was still humanoid though. From afar, it looked like a seven-foot-tall, well-built man. But upon a closer look, one could see, it had blueish silver scales all over the body. Its eyes had white irises, which looked perfectly round. With transparent eyelids, it seemed to stare unblinking, all the time. Small protrusions like shark fins riddled its elbows and back. It wore a long black cloak when it wasn’t swimming in water, to hide all its fearsome features.
The creature, who had inspired such fear in Vanualon just by its reputation, reinforced by wild rumors, was known by the urban legend, Manasama. Or “The Demon Shark”—an unholy combination of man and shark. All those who had seen its outline called it a “he.” It was still a man, although a “demonic” one to all who considered themselves normal.
The creature sustained itself on the sea. He used the inland lake to access the sea and hunt fish, sometimes even sharks, for food. It had rudimentary gills on its neck, allowing it to breath under water for long lengths of time. Although it was quite strong, it would often use a sword to kill its prey, especially the gigantic Megalavalt sharks, which swam only in the waters of Vanualon.
Its sword was as tall as the creature itself and almost as wide. Unlike a usual sword, it was quite thick, with a near cylindrical cross section. But it was streamlined, just like a fish. The weapon sported scales on the blade, instead of having a smooth surface. The thickness rendered the sword useless for cutting. But each individual scale was razor-sharp, allowing him to shear straight through his large prey in one stroke. The hilt was quite plain, just like a regular sword, save for a large black jewel
, just where the sword ended and the hilt began.
Back in the cavern, where it spent most of its time, the creature would often just admire the sword. Around him lay the bodies of all those who had been the “Demon Shark” before him. He would often talk to those dead ones. About his past, how he was waiting for the day he could leave this island and terrorize the country, even the entire world. But there was something he was waiting for. He didn’t know what. He’d often ask the corpses strewn about, hoping for an answer. He got none.
Thousands of kilometers away, in the middle of the world’s largest desert, waited another “demon.” It also lived in a cave. Unlike the massive cavern of the “Demon Shark,” this one was a small place, barely enough for this creature. It was a completely different being from the Demon Shark, but it was also a “demon.” A skeletal humanoid creature, with hardly any skin. Even on the face.
It also wielded a sword, although it barely qualified as one. The blade and the hilt together looked just like a backbone. A barely visible black stone was embedded just above the lowest two vertebrae. This demon had little reputation anywhere, as it lived in a cave in the middle of hundreds of kilometers of the harshest land in the world. The creature seemed almost dead, as there was no food source for it. The fact that it was alive, let alone moving around, seemed like a miracle. This creature wasn’t delusional like the Demon Shark. It didn’t speak to anyone or anything. The cave was completely empty anyway. It used to spend its days in silence, no sound for hundreds of kilometers, but for the blowing sands.
This demon also seemed to be waiting for something, and it didn’t know what it was either. It was just… waiting.
Section I:
The start of a journey
Chapter 1: Olmot
The journey begins in a quaint little village in the middle of nowhere…
The village of Villasboro was in the middle of nowhere. For vast distances around, there were no other villages, towns, settlements or habitats of any sort. This extreme isolation was not a problem for any of the villagers. It was quite self-sufficient, and its inhabitants loved their home. The village was surrounded with such beauty—why would someone not love it? There were hills to the north, with a tiny brook flowing from them. There were dense forests on the other three sides and a small lake in the middle of the village that the brook flowed into. The hills, the forests, the lake and the brook made Villasboro quite a heavenly place to live in.
Because of this serene and beautiful location that provided for all their needs, none of its inhabitants cared about the world beyond the boundaries of their village. To be honest, the isolation was quite stark. There was no civilization for hundreds of kilometers around the village. To add to that, it was difficult to enter or leave Villasboro, even if one chose to, given its location. But the villagers did not care. Through generations, they had stayed in this one place. So, they had grown to care little of happenings beyond the village, or even beyond their own lives. If the world beyond the village was destroyed, no one would have even come to know.
The people of the village had a peaceful and detached demeanor, which was as much the character of Villasboro, as its hills or its lake. The thoroughly self-sufficient nature of the village had percolated down to each individual of the village who was quite content with the events of his or her own life, and didn’t bother anyone he or she didn’t have to. The villagers were simple in their needs, most of which they themselves were able to provide for.
Despite the isolation, every now and then, a few travelers did visit. But the villagers, given their supremely detached attitude, treated anyone who came in the same manner. Do your thing, don’t bother us.
It was in this village that my life began. I wouldn’t start my story from the beginning, my birth, my childhood and all such tales. Instead I’ll start from a point that really changed the course of my life and led me to where I am right now. It started the day the village chief visited the shop I worked in.
The village chief, Parshtel, was an easy-going man. That was probably why he was the leader of this easy-going village. In fact his whole family, for generations, was known as the most relaxed bunch of people in the village; may be why the position had stayed in his family since the time Villasboro was founded. His size was also a clear indicator of him not caring too much. Most people in the village had an athletic build. And while he was among the tallest in the village, he was also twice as vast as anyone else. So when this easy-going man came into our little shop looking a little worried, we did take notice.
Calling our miniscule shop “little” was actually an understatement. Despite being a smith shop, it was one of the smallest buildings in the village. Most people did their own metal work, so there really wasn’t a lot for us to do. And by us, I mean me and my master.
Parshtel had come in, worried about the newcomer who had stayed in the village for long. Long enough to be noticed by the villagers. To be clear, when I say new comer, he had been around in the village for almost a year and a half. And yet, no one knew his name. No one had yet bothered to ask him. It was difficult for us to understand why he was worried about the new comer now, after all this while. And why he had come to my master to discuss this.
“What do you think about this new chap, Grim?” started Parshtel, in his surprisingly flat voice, which did not match his size.
“Don’t know, don’t care,” replied my master.
Forresgrim was the tallest and, though not correlated, the most unflappable guy in Villasboro. He was built like a rock, and had the demeanor of one—always calm and composed, although his movements were always surprisingly fluid and fast when he so desired. However, he was extremely laconic, something most people, even in a village like Villasboro, had noticed. Though I had been his assistant for the last 10 years, we never exchanged more than a dozen words in a week. He spent most of his time walking in the surrounding forests and hills, or sleeping. The little amount of work we had, we would finish in no time.
“But what is he doing here? I mean, he’s been around for a while! I am getting worried,” Parshtel retorted, clearly unhappy at the four-word reply.
“So what? He hasn’t done anything. In fact, he has fit in as if he has been here since the beginning. He doesn’t bother anyone, lives at a leisurely pace and has does nothing alarming. Why are you so bothered by him? And more importantly, why are you asking me what to do?” While it wasn’t unusual for Parshtel to ask everyone some or the other query every now and then, Grim wasn’t sure how this one was related to him.
“Well, look. It is true that he has gelled well here and not bothered anyone… too much. But I don’t think anyone has started to live in the village so late in their lives. I even looked up the village history. No one has moved here permanently in the last 300 years. And that was your ancestor. So I figured since you are the closest to an outsider we have, you can help me out!”
My master smiled. The logic seemed too farfetched. Even for Parshtel. And my master let him know it.
“That reason is ridiculous and you know it. My ancestor was one of the founders of the village, who left it for just a short while before returning permanently. Tell me now, what is the real reason for your visit?”
Parshtel looked a little sheepish. It was a funny expression to see on such a large man. Especially on a man who was supposed to be our leader.
“You got me. Alright, let me be completely honest. I don’t really care about the guy. I didn’t even know there was anyone new in the village till about six months back. That’s when Johotei met with me and told me about this stranger. He asked me to act. After that, he has bugged me continuously to do something about it. I figured it was time to think about it… Otherwise Johotei wouldn’t let me be. The only thing I could think of was come to you and….”
Finally, one mystery solved. Johotei, the captain of our village guard, was probably one of the few in the village who could be called intense. If a knife was held to my throat and I was forced to make such a ca
ll. He was the only man who could be relatively paranoid and persistent enough to make Parshtel worry. However, even the most paranoid person in the village took a year after the new comer arrived, to get worried enough to bug Parshtel to take action.
Parshtel was still talking. “…discuss this issue with you. Do you think we should go talk to him? I don’t really see the point, nor do I know what we’ll say… But just starting a dialogue might give Johotei some sense of peace… Maybe you could do the talking, Grim? You have traveled the most….”
And the second mystery solved—why he had come here. A couple of decades back, my master had gone out of the village, into and beyond the woods, for some time, and hence he qualified as the most well-traveled man in our village. Hence the visit and the request.
However, Parshtel should have anticipated the response. Anyone could have anticipated Grim’s response.
“No.”
One word was response enough. He didn’t even address Parshtel’s ludicrous assertion of him being well traveled.
But Parshtel persisted. He wanted something done.
“Come on, Grim, please talk to him. I don’t want to disturb him. I might say something wrong. You have much more experience than me.”
Grim knew this would continue for a while, unless he proposed a solution that Parshtel, or rather Johotei, would be satisfied with and wouldn’t involve him putting in any effort. He started to pace up and down the shop, slowly, as he tried to come up with a solution. He looked at me and something clicked in his mind.
“Why don’t I send our young friend here to talk to the new comer? I’ll supervise and use my experience to ensure he doesn’t bungle it up.” Parshtel missed the sarcastic emphasis on the word “experience.” Or maybe he chose to ignore it.
That was a fresh turn of events. Me being thrown into the mix, from a listener to forefront of this little “adventure” in our village. I wasn’t too eager to agree as I wasn’t keen to interfere in anyone’s life, let alone that of a stranger. I, after all, did have the same character as the rest of the village. But within the village, I was one of the more active people, though not by a lot. Spending most of my time with Grim did make me yearn for some conversation. I thought, maybe this little adventure could add some more conversation in my life.
Age of Azmoq_The Valantian Imperium Page 1
