The sound of impact was similar to that of metal hitting stone. Vibration ran down the steel, causing her such pain that the sword clattered to the carved whorls on the rocky floor.
The creature’s hand closed on Sloane’s throat. It had happened so fast, Sloane completely missed the motion. Fingers of iron squeezed.
Sloane gagged. She clawed at the icy hand desperately as her ability to breathe was taken from her. She drew on every lesson she ever took with the tutors in Pelos and attacked the man with all of them. She punched and kicked, chopped and wriggled. She pushed her thumbs into pressure points and swung a flailing arm for the tender eyes, nose, and ears.
Nothing worked.
He pulled Sloane closer to him and sniffed her jawline. The creature’s eyes were kindled with that terrible red glow. His voice was deep and soft in her ear. “I have many names, my child, but you will call me Vinnicus. And I am your master.”
The surrounding landscape began to blur, and bright spots of light danced across her vision. Everything was so hazy, she couldn’t make out any details. Sloane heard a popping sound, like bones breaking, and her sister screamed. She tried to swing her arms at the pale man, but they no longer responded to her commands.
Horrible burning seared her neck, and though she could not feel her body below Vinnicus’s grip, she knew the pain. She had never experienced anything like it in her entire life—so acute she could focus on nothing else. It was as if her soul were being drawn out from a blistering wound on her neck. Her very essence flowed out of her body and into the creature clinging to her lifeless form. Millions upon millions of tiny bites were taken out of her, until there seemed to be nothing left—she had become part of the pale stranger. Part of Vinnicus, her master.
GOBBLESNOT closed the last trunk filled with the mistress’s personal items. He ran his hand along the intricate details carved into the large wooden box. The handcrafted reliefs depicted scenes of battle under a glowing star and the world breaking underneath.
The little goblin smiled at the box and allowed the scenes to take him back to the battles his mistress had fought. Even though his part was small, he reveled in the chaos of war; men and goblinkind screaming in defiance or pain, in victory or defeat. Of course, each battle came with spoils. There was steel, gold, and jewels, to be sure, but what made the goblin smile widest, what he craved most, was the flesh. He loved the flesh; the feel of it under his claws, the taste of it on his tongue, and the supple slip of it when it was coated in blood.
He shook himself out of the daydream and scrubbed the glistening saliva from his chin. The mistress would be displeased if he dallied.
Gobblesnot dragged the trunk across the fine handwoven rugs and polished stone floors to a place near the door. He hauled the massive oaken door open and called for the hobgoblins to carry the many chests to the carriage waiting outside.
Gobblesnot looked on in satisfaction as the brutes bustled in and easily lifted the bulky, heavy luggage. He was ahead of schedule.
Rich maroon curtains rustled from across the room as Gobblesnot closed the mistress’s chamber door. The soft glow of morning sun shone through the cracks that formed as they swayed back and forth. He walked over to the thick material and pulled them aside.
Mistress Selen stood with her back to him. The dress she had chosen today was a dark fabric, almost backless, exposing her shoulders and back to the waist. Her pale skin reflected the light that passed through the curtain, giving it a saffron glow. Straight blonde hair covered most of her luxurious spine, while tiny ringlets of silver decorated the many fine braids arranged around her proud head. Long black sleeves overlapped the tops of her delicate hands as they hung artfully at her sides. She was a thing of pure beauty and rancorous terror.
The spanning rectangular balcony where she waited faced west and was shaded from the morning sun. The cantilevered structure was made of large blocks of brown stone and dark wooden timber. Heavy beams of the same wood held a roof of stone above half the patio.
The churning ocean beyond her glittered in the morning rays. The restless waves gave rise to a dense, low fog that hugged the beachhead before drifting inland to join with the reeking bogs of the wetlands, east of the mistress’s coastal home.
Gobblesnot shuffled forward until he could see over the balustrade while maintaining a respectful and prudent distance from the mistress. Below, in the harbor, the masts of hundreds upon hundreds of galleys poked out of the thick fogbank like skeletal fingers reaching through the dirt of a fresh grave. The ships were thick through the harbor and extended well beyond the edge of the fog, dispelling the image his mind had created.
All of the ships he could see had dozens of speck-like forms bustling about the decks, loading goods, lashing bundles, or checking equipment. The mistress’s fleet was almost ready to sail.
“You have done what I commanded.” Her soft, firm voice was not asking a question, but demanding an answer.
Gobblesnot bowed even though she did not face him. “Yes, Mistress. Yer things are on their way ta the ship.”
The mistress looked out over her army, a small smile on her face.
Gobblesnot waited patiently. She always took her time. He had seen many without patience lose their lives to the mistress. He had learned from their mistakes and would be patient.
“The Awakening is at hand, my devoted,” she said finally, almost as though she spoke only to herself. “The long wait is almost over.”
In the dim glow of his subterranean sanctuary, Vinnicus laid Sloane’s body on the ancient stone desk. The smooth surface would be pleasantly cool to the touch when she awoke—if she awoke.
His thoughts on creating another like himself were only theories. He had tinkered with animals before, but never one of the “higher” life forms. The prospect of condemning another being to his cursed way of life had never truly appealed to him. In this case, though, it was necessary. She could not endure the coming days as a simple human, and he needed her to survive. The choices, then, were simple: give her what she needed to survive, or allow her to die and choose another. He told himself there was no time to wait for another. It made him feel better, most of the time, but today he felt hollow.
He looked down at the dead woman’s naked body and couldn’t help but admire her beauty. If he were still a man, Vinnicus could imagine he would have been quite taken by her comeliness alone. Her strength of will and forward thinking would have only added to his attraction to her. He was not a man, though. The attributes that appealed to him now had little to do with the flesh.
Her essence writhed inside of him. Her soul was strong and it struggled for freedom, even extracted from her body as it was. Most souls would have either been drawn away into the nether, or become incoherent within minutes of the death of the body. Sloane’s struggled mightily to be free. Yes, I have chosen well, he thought.
Vinnicus took hold of the stone table to steady himself. His willpower was waning. Every fiber of his being wanted to consume the sweet life force that surged through his body, but so far, he had managed to stave off his hunger.
I must hurry.
Vinnicus bent to reach beneath the desk; his long fingers took hold of the heavy iron handle that was attached to a large granite block buried within the bedrock floor. He pulled the lid free, and the sound of stone scraping against stone echoed through the chamber. He set the slab aside and knelt in front of the square-shaped hole that was now exposed. The brilliant, tawny light shining within its depths radiated from runes of power that glowed on all four sides of the smooth walls. He had placed them here to guard his most prized possession.
Tentatively, his pale hands lowered into the hidden safe.
Rough gemstone brushed against undead flesh as his hands wrapped around one of the only mortal-forged artifacts that could harm creatures of darkness such as himself.
Harundin, the stone of power, settled into his palms as he stood. The stone was about the size of a large apple and the weight of a bag of sand
the same size. It was impossible to say what kind of stone it had originally been before it had been subjected to the rites that made it what it was, but at the moment, it resembled nothing more than a finely cut but otherwise unimpressive lump of quartz.
Harundin might have been unassuming in appearance, but it harbored many secrets. Vinnicus had seen the stone be used to kill, but he had also seen it create life... Or “unlife,” as one might call it.
Vinnicus suspected Harundin was a key. A key that could potentially open more doors than those he had already explored, and capable of uses far beyond those he planned tonight.
Stepping forward, he held Harundin above Princess Sloane’s body and began to chant the words of making in his ancient tongue. The girl’s essence reacted violently to the incantation, pushing against Vinnicus’s will and body.
He clenched his teeth in pain for a moment but continued with the chant. His blood felt like it was boiling, but finally, a spark of life began to grow deep within the crystalline edges of the gemstone.
The spark grew until a chartreuse glow surrounded Harundin and spilled through Vinnicus’s elegant fingers. Bands of power began to arc across the surface of the stone like tiny bolts of lightning. The bolts increased in number and size, dancing not only across the surface of the stone, but also across Vinnicus’s hands. He could feel them like feathers on his skin. Their touch was light and seemed out of proportion to their brightness.
Vinnicus never ceased his chant, but he released the stone above Sloane’s still breast. Harundin hovered in place above his palms, with the veins of power still connecting it to his hands.
The pale green glow picked up an angry red tinge, and the tendrils of power began to burn.
A scream tore itself from Vinnicus’s throat. Sloane’s spirit, boiling inside of him, screamed in unison. The light of the stone swept them both up and tumbled them together.
Searing pain raced through his veins as the sweetness of the girl’s essence was extracted from his body by the cords of power radiating from the stone. More than just the girl’s soul was drawn from Vinnicus. A part of his very being was torn from him as her awareness left and was imbibed by the ancient artifact.
Vinnicus watched raptly as the stone flickered and churned with power. He could not run. It was far too late. The floating gemstone was a maelstrom that glowed as bright as the sun, burning its image into his eyes. The bolts of power shifted away from him as the last of the girl’s presence was pulled away, and then they stabbed into her lifeless corpse. Her body jerked and twitched as the bolts stabbed into her head, breast, and torso. Her transformed spirit shrieked as the bolts funneled it into the body and locked it away.
Vinnicus fell to his knees, blood leaking from his eyes and the flesh of his hands smoldering. At this moment, he was the most vulnerable he had been in centuries—just as it had been for his creator. He needed to get away before she rose. He needed to get away now.
Vinnicus rose to his feet on trembling legs. He looked at the gemstone that had fallen to the floor, its brilliant light dimming. I must go, quickly, he thought, leaving the stone where it lay. He shuffled toward the crack in the cavern wall that would grant him sanctuary from his creation.
A sound like stone dragging across stone echoed behind him.
Vinnicus jerked around, breathless, and stared at his new creation.
She remained unmoving.
Out of breath? Vinnicus thought, amazed. He had not consciously taken a breath in over three millennia, and now he found himself reacting like any mortal presented with a threat to its insignificant life. It would seem there was rather more at stake than he realized, creating a child as he did.
He hurried through the darkness, putting distance between his weakened self and the monster he had created. Vinnicus realized that more had awakened in him than just a forgotten mortal habit.
For the first time in longer than he could remember, Vinnicus discovered that he wanted to live.
Thank you for reading our book!
We hope you enjoyed it! If so, we would greatly appreciate a review from you.
Leave a Review
Sign up for our mailing list!
If you would like to know the instant we have a new book available, please sign up! We will only email you when a new release has launched.
New Release Notification Sign Up
About the authors
Matt Howerter
Matt is one of those guys who grew up loving to draw, watching cartoons and playing RPGs (the kind where you sit at a table and the other players are generally in the same room with you). When deciding what direction to take in life, Matt was torn between illustration and storytelling, both forms of art he truly enjoyed. Illustration and design won out and became his career for nearly two decades, but storytelling always remained close to his heart. Finally, Matt has used his pencil to write as well as draw, and he hopes to continue to do so for the rest of his days.
Jon Reinke
Wandering has always been a hobby for Jon Reinke, but one thing has always been a constant. A love of fiction. Whether it’s getting lost in a fantastic world of his own imagining through RPG’s (see a theme here?) or reading dozens of books populated by wizards and warriors, heroes and villains, this genre has always been a fixture of his life.
Glossary
Artifacts
Harundin - (Ha • Roon •Den) The stone of power.
Mordekki - (Mor • Dee • Key) Symbol and weapon of the ruling family of the dwarven people.
Characters
Alexander Ventus - Prince and acting king of Basinia.
Arece Moridin - (Ah • Reese) Queen of Pelos and mother to Galen, Sloane and Sacha.
Baeloke - (Bay • Loke) Immortal awaiting the Awakening.
Bale Tigon - A captain of the Pelosian army, responsible for the safety of the royal family.
Banlor Graves - Lord and Minister of Trade for the Basinian kingdom, Blanor is a man of substantial power and influence.
Bella Louvet - Cousin to Sloane and Sacha Moridin.
Galen Moridin - Prince of Pelos and eldest of King Hathorn’s children.
Gideon Thorel - General to the second house of the dwarven people.
Erik Aveon - (A • Vee • On) Orphan and adopted father of Kinsey Aveon, Erik is a loyal and long-time scout for the Basinia army.
Hathorn Moridin - King of Pelos and father to Galen, Sloane and Sacha.
Jagger DeBoucher - Notorious, human rogue of the northern lands.
Jocelyn Thorel - Prominent warrior among the dwarves and sister to Gideon.
Kesh Tomelen - A chancellor of the Basinian courts, Kesh is also a prominent emissary and works closely with Lord Banlor Graves.
Kinsey Aveon - Adopted son of Erik Aveon, Kinsey is half-dwarven and a soldier of the Basinian army.
Leanne Louvet - Cousin to Sloane and Sacha Moridin.
Marcella Moridin - Cousin to Sloane and Sacha Moridin. Older sister to Meagan Moridin.
Meagan Moridin - Cousin to Sloane and Sacha Moridin. Younger sister to Marcella Moridin.
Renee Folet - Traveling minstrel and lover of Sacha Moridin.
Rhian Ventus - Queen of Basinia and mother to Alexander Ventus.
Roderick Ventus - King of Basinia and father to Alexander Ventus.
Rouke Tarr - Loyal friend to Erik and Kinsey. Soldier of the Basinian army.
Rylan Moridin - Daughter of Sacha Moridin and Renee. A princess of Pelos.
Sacha Moridin - Daughter of King Hathorn and Queen Arece, Sacha is a Princess of Pelos with potential to become one of the most powerful users of the Shamonrae.
Selen - Immortal awaiting the Awakening.
Sargon - A dwarven high priest of Dagda and friend to King Thorn.
Sloane Moridin - Daughter of King Hathorn and Queen Arece, Sloane is to become queen of Basinia by marriage to Prince Alexander Ventus.
Teacher - Headmaster of the Monastery.
Thorn Brunahlen - (Brune • Hall • In)
King of the Dwarves.
Vinnicus - (Vin • I • Kus) Immortal who seeks to manipulate events and people toward his ends.
Gods of Orundal
Anoba - (An • O • Buh) God of life. Primary deity of the elves.
Dagda - (Dag • Duh) God of the earth. Primary deity of the dwarves.
Eos - (E • Ohs) God of survival. Primary deity of the humans.
Mot - God of death. Worshiped by all of the goblinoid races and most outcasts of society.
Supernatural
Arcane energy/power - Mystical force used by mages to alter reality. Sometimes called, Shamonrae.
Dakayga - (Da • Kay • Gha) Blessing of the dwarven god Dagda. Demon or spirit warrior.
Dausos - (Da • Sos) The spirit world.
Rohdaekhann - (Row • Day • Con) Giant eagles in Basinia.
Shamonrae - (Sha • Mon • Ray) The place between reality and spirit where arcane energy is stored in its raw form.
Skinner - Demon doppelganger.
The World
Asynia - (A • Sin • Ya) Elven capital deep within the Winewood.
Basinia - (Base • I • Knee • Ya) Home of Terrandal, the tree of peace between elves and men. Also known as the ‘First Nation’, referring to the first settlement of humans on Orundal.
Dry Tower - Abandoned colony of elven and human settlers.
Pelos - (Pel • loss) Nation of the screaming eagle. Comprised of humans that were once nomadic tribes, the Pelosians became ‘civilized’ after the dwarven civil war 500 years prior to the present day storyline.
Mozil - (Moe • zeal) Dwarven capital in the Dale mountain range.
Orundal - (Or • Un • Doll) The only known land mass.
Savage Lands - The wilderness. Untamed lands inhabited by nomads, outcasts and wildlife.
Dark Fate: The Gathering (The Dark Fate Chronicles Book 1) Page 51
