The Awakening: The Artifact of Creation / D.JAMES LARSEN
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THE AWAKENING
ARTIFACTS OF CREATION
BOOK #1
D JAMES LARSEN
Copyright © 2016 by D James Larsen. All Rights Reserved
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Epilogue
Prologue
The silhouette of the dark mid-night sky hung in silence over the ancient Temple Anin’Nar. The Temple stood on an alcove of rock that jutted from the ground below, surrounded by dense forests of massive trees and vegetation. On either side of the alcove, large waterfalls cascaded downward, glistening from the waning light of the stars. The water disappeared in clouds of mist that hung heavy over the valley below.
For centuries the Temple Anin’Nar stood as a holy shrine to the ancient Order of the Awakened, an order long since forgotten to the world of mankind. The legacy of the Awakened was retold in stories of myth and legend, most doubted they ever existed. The stories told that for centuries, the Awakened protected the four races of mankind from a darkness that threatened the world. They prevailed against many horrors with their fabled power and strength. Yet any memory of their deeds of valor and honor, had all but vanished, along with the memory of the Temple Anin’Nar. But unlike the Awakened, the temple still stood as majestically as it had in its former years of glory, though the ages had worn on its walls. Its shimmering white walls, became grayed from years of dust and neglect. Thick vines grew around it accompanied by brush and soil. And yet there it remained, in the midst of the Forgotten Valley.
Shrouds of shadow lingered about its courtyard of stone that lined the perimeter of the temple. On either side of the cobble pathways within the courtyard, were statues of angels, each bent over as if blessing those visitors who would enter the temple. Beyond the statues, leaves from nearby trees quivered against the approaching wind. Rain began to fall in thin sheets, spattering lightly on the temple grounds. In moments, the light pattering’s grew to torrential sheets of rain accompanied by loud clasps of thunder.
A lone man scurried across the temple grounds and onto the wide path that led to the main entrance of the forbidding structure. A hand reached out from within the man’s rain-soaked cloak and rattled a massive metal knocker attached to the door of the temple. The knocked thudded dully against the wooden door, its echo lost in the sound of the storm. Overhead, lightening continued to flash, briefly lighting the sky and then returning to darkness. A small sliding window opened just beneath the metal knocker. A man appeared at the opening.
“Sir? What is your business?” The guard asked gruffly, obviously upset that his sleep was disturbed. The man in the rain-soaked cloak leaned forward to speak.
“It is urgent. I seek an audience with the Archon herself.” The man said with a weak whisper. The man looked tired and worn ragged, perhaps from weeks of traversing through rough terrain in search of Anin’Nar.
“Who sent you?” The guard asked. “No one knows of this place.”
“Please, my business is my own. I seek the Archon.”
The guard paused and studied the man a moment longer. “Fine, your name please.”
The man hesitated to answer, then decided there was no harm in revealing his name. “Its…Lyle… of Umberlee.” A brief smile crossed his face, a smile born of unsurety.
The guard closed the sliding window. In moments the door creaked open, just wide enough for the small framed man to slip through. The man stepped inside and into the shelter of the temple. The sound of falling rain continued to clatter outside of the temple walls but became muffled when the guard shut the door.
“Wait here,” The guard said and hurried down the candle lit corridor.
Lyle peered about the entrance of the temple. Shadows cast from the flickering light of nearby candles danced upon the walls. In the gloom, he could see elaborate archways that lined the entrances of various corridors inside the temple. Beyond the light of the candles was darkness.
It sickened Lyle to be inside of the Temple of the Awakened. He spat on the ground. “Damned fools. Crippled by fear. Our lands are being torn apart and they sit behind these walls.”
There was a soft scuffle of footsteps that sounded behind him. A woman garbed in white robes approached Lyle. The hood of her robes was drawn about her, hands folded beneath the soft material. Even in the darkness of the entrance way she seemed angelic and other worldly. Lyle could not help but gaze upon her beauty.
“Lyle of Umbreelee, welcome. I am Ingel, Archon of Anin’Nar master of the Awakened.” She bowed herself slightly before him. He could sense the significance of her calling, yet it made him even more irritable. He removed his hood and bowed in response. It was important to show her respect, regardless of his opinions of the Awakened.
“It is a pleasure Archon,” He said softly.
Behind her the guard and another woman approached. The Archon gracefully waved her hand to her side by way of introduction, “My trusted guard, Geoff, of whom you met earlier and this is the Seer and Prophetess of Anin’Nar, Ethi’el.” Lyle bowed himself a second time. When he looked up, he could not help but stare at the haunting white eyes of the Prophetess. She was unnaturally aged, even beyond the years of the eldest of women. The way her long white hair fell reminded him of the waterfalls from the northern countries, graceful and calm, but centuries old.
“Lyle your purpose for being here?” The Archon asked. Lyle snapped out of his thoughts.
“I come in a desperate time of need.” Lyle said. His hands were timidly folded in front of him, he was stooped over from a crooked back. “Our towns and villages are being massacred. Men, women and children lay in heaps across the land. A dark man with a wretched mask hunts us, he possesses abilities that are…. unnatural.” He paused. His voice was filled with urgency and his sincere need was reflected in his eyes. The Archon waited and listened. The guard shifted his weight form one foot to another and the Seer stared blankly into the dark room.
Lyle continued. “He comes with squadrons of mercenaries. No one has been able to match the wrath of his mercenaries or that of the dark man’s abilities.” Lyle shifted his gaze from one to another, trying to discern their interest in his story. All he saw in their eyes was apathy, a cold indifference, an indifference that he was not surprised to find. Despite their lack of interest, he continued, his words grew more desperate. “I believe.... I mean.... we believe that if the legends are true, about the Awakened, and those of the Fallen Bloodlines, then…. perhaps the Fallen have returned.”
A silence fell between them. Lyle stared at the floor. He knew the weight of his claims. His words by all intents were blasphemy. He risked a glance at the Archon. Her stare was penetrating.
“That is a strong claim Lyle of Umbreelee. I do not believe you understand the implications of what you say.” She crossed the distance between her and Lyle. Her movements were graceful and soft upon the stone floor, much like the mist upon lakes during the winter thaw. Her face was pale in color and her mannerism’s calm and collected. She graced Lyle with the lure of her touch, a finger traced across his shoulder.
“Those of the Fallen Bloodlines have been extinct for nearly three-hundred years by virtue of the Awakened and the Druid Gaphii’el.” She circled about the small man and returned to her previous spot. “The Seer would have foreseen the return of the Fallen.” She spoke softly, her words a distant whisper.
“Archon Ingen, even the King and his armies cower in fear behind their walls of stone.” Lyle spoke, struggling for the bold
ness of words to convey the urgency of his message. “The dark man has powers to snuff out the lives of grown men with the mere wave of his hand. He....has destroyed so much!” The tears began to flow freely down the side of his cheeks.
The Archon’s face hardened. “If the Fallen have returned, it would have been foreseen,” She paused and pointed to the Seer who gazed blankly into the darkness of the room. “The Seer would have foreseen it.” She shouted angrily.
The Archon then quickly calmed her emotions and leaned toward the guard and whispered something in his ear. He nodded and hurried off into a nearby hallway. The Archon turned back to address Lyle. “We will provide food and shelter for the night and then you will be on your way come the morning. Perhaps a petition to the king would better serve your needs.”
“With respect, Archon Ingel, we need the power of the Awakened. We are helpless with our swords.”
“Since the time that Gaphii’el and the Awakened caste the Fallen into the forbidden, there was no need for them. I am the last of the Awakened.” The Archon said softly. “I cannot offer the help you seek.”
Lyle’s heart filled with hatred toward the Archon and Seer. Suddenly they appeared to him as mere mortals like himself, and not as the fabled legends told among his people. He clenched his fists tightly, his finger nails cut into the palms of his hands, droplets of blood began to drip. His appearance seemed to change in the faintness of the candles flame. His skin turned pale grey and the white of his eyes took on a sickly yellowish hue.
“You would rather hide behind these walls and watch us suffer, then offer your support. You are not sworn protectors. You are cowards.” His words were searing with accusation. The Archon was taken back by his sudden impulse of disdain. “You take our money and claim to protect us. And when the occasion asks that you act, you cower in fear. Just like the King.”
He smiled a deathly grin and his appearance began to transform further. In his smile, he revealed fang like teeth, yellowed, cracked and oily. Saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth. Rage garnered beneath his crooked smile. Under the concealment of his cloak, he revealed the shiny metal of a long hunting blade, he held the blade forward, trembling with rage. “I will prove to the world that you are a fraud Archon, and that the so called Seer no longer sees!”
Lyle lunged forward, knife aimed at the chest of the Seer. The Seer stared into the emptiness of space and time, seemingly un-affected by the sudden change of events. Lyle plunged the knife deep into her chest, blood spurted and covered her white cloak. She stumbled backward with a moan of pain and anguish. Helplessly she fell to the floor.
Ingel screamed in horror as she watched her beloved mentor and friend fall. Quickly she knelt beside the Seer and placed a hand over her wound to help stop the bleeding. The Seer gasped for air in between the garbling of blood that pooled in her throat and lungs. Ingel clenched the woman close, tears streaming down her face.
“No… no... please stay with me.” She sobbed and cradled the dying woman into her arms. Lyle looked down upon her his grin wide with pleasure.
“I did what was necessary oh holy Archon.” Lyle spat on her as she wept. “I exposed the lie of the false power you held over us for so many years. I have delivered the message of the Dark Lord Elixir. He is my master and I am his humble servant.” He lifted the blade now stained with blood and pointed it at the Archon. “You too will suffer the same fate.” His grin dropped, replaced by pure rage.
He slashed violently forward, this time the attack was aimed at the Archon’s throat. She ducked beneath Lyle’s blade and quickly extended her hand forward, palm facing outward. Beams of white light and elements swirled in a mist about her extended arm. In an instant, the whir of white light exploded from her palm and crashed into the man. His body was whipped away effortlessly, crashing into the wall on the adjacent side of the room. His body struck the wall with a sickening sound and then slumped to the floor. Stone crumbled from the damaged wall and buried him.
In the next instant the guard came running into the room. His eyes widened when he saw the gruesome sight of the dying Seer, her head cradled in the lap of the Archon.
“What has happened...?” He asked.
The Archon shook her head and pointed to the other side of the room, to where the piles of stone lay upon the remains of Lyle. “Check him.” She said and then returned to caring for the dying Seer.
“Ethi’el, please don’t leave me,” The Archon sobbed, burying her face into the dying woman’s shoulder.
“Ingen...” The Seer whispered. “Please. don’t fear. for me...I am not afraid...” The Seer spoke in a barely audible whisper.
The guard hurried across the room to the dead man. He turned the body over. Lifeless eyes stared back toward him. Blood spilled from the corners of the man’s lips. “Archon he is dead. Crushed to death from the looks of it. Geoff examined the body more closely, he noticed a glowing sphere attached to a silver neckless on the man’s chest. He yanked the necklace free.
“He was wearing this.” Geoff said as he returned to the Archon and handed her the necklace.
She took the chain and gazed upon the sphere. There was a dark purple substance that swirled about with sparks of electricity, it appeared as it were a violent storm raging inside the sphere.
“What is it?”
The Archon shook her head and indicated she was not sure. Then the Seer stretched forth a shaking hand and took hold of the necklace. Immediately her body convulsed and her eyes lit up with a neon white light. She began to speak but her voice was laced with another’s, as if a man and woman were speaking in unison.
“I have returned from the Forbidding. My message has been delivered. I am Elixir, Lord of The Fallen, The Fallen will rise once more.”
The white in the Seers eyes vanished and she collapsed lifelessly into the lap of the Archon. “No! Please…please don’t die…don’t leave me.” Ingel sobbed once more, her lower lip quivered from the growing sadness in her heart. “You were everything to me sweet sister.”
After minutes of wailing and clenching the lifeless body of the Seer, Ingel finally came to her senses. The realization of a more devastating tragedy sunk into her mind.
“The Fallen have returned.” She whispered. Gently, she closed the eyelids of her beloved Seer and laid her gently on the ground. “And without her,” she sniffled. “We are lost.”
“It seems that this attack was perfectly orchestrated.” The guard observed.
“Hmm. It would seem as such. I do not understand how the Seer could not see Elixir’s return.” She looked at the guard. Hopelessness and confusion crossed her face. “I should have been able to sense his return as well. Have we really fallen this far away from the life blood of the Awakening?”
“All is not lost Archon?” The guard observed, offering a cheery response to lighten the mood. “So long as we have the Artifacts of Creation we can wish for the imprisonment of the Dark Lord once more.”
She shook her head. “No, the Artifacts were lost long ago. Four of the seven artifacts were hidden by the servants of Elixir. If Elixir finds the remaining artifacts, he will use them to resurrect the Fallen Lords. If that happens this world will fall.” She nodded toward the Seer. “Without her it will be impossible to discern whom in the four lands has the ancient bloodlines of the Awakened within them. Without the ancient bloodlines we will be powerless against Elixir...” She trailed off and began to weep as she brought the Seer close to her bosom once more.
“Are there no others who have the power of the Awakening?”
The Archon shook her head slowly. “I am the last of the Awakened. We are lost.”
Outside the Temple walls the storm continued to thrive, it seemed to crash more violently. Rain and wind descended furiously, lightening flashed proceeded by the loud clasps of thunder, it seemed as if the whole earth were shaken by the loss of the Seer.
Chapter 1
Asher shoved his tool into the dry ground, splitting the hard soil in prepar
ation for the spring planting season. Beads of sweat dripped off of his face and onto his dirtied shirt. He and his grandfather had labored through the course of the day, clearing new land to expand the area to plant more food. Their village had grown considerably over the last few months, most of which were refugees from the Federation Wars near the southern border. There were many more mouths to feed and barely enough cleared land to sustain them.
“I believe we did a good day’s work laddy,” His grandfather said. “Let’s call it a day.”
Asher shoved the tool into the dirt, more than ready to be done. His stomach rumbled for want of food, his body ached and his skin was burned from the heat of the day.
He brushed by his grandfather and sat on a nearby stomp of wood. His grandfather followed after Asher, concerned by his grandson’s sudden change of behavior.
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