Mastering the Elements: Elwin Escari Chronicles: Volume 2

by David Ekrut

  This is an original publication of David Ekrut.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  Mastering the Elements

  The Elwin Escari Chronicles: Volume 2

  Copyright © 2018 by David Ekrut.

  Cover design and book layout by Jennifer Ekrut.

  Map Illustration by Rebecca Sumerall.

  Edited by Linda Kleindienst.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage privacy of copyrighted materials in violation of author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  I would like to give a special thanks to all my loyal fans, who waited patiently for me to finish my incessant editing of this novel. I would also like to thank my amazing beta readers. Trevor, Mikey, Bethannie, and Melinda, this book is far better thanks to your input and observations. And a very special thanks to Jez, who selflessly allows me to pelt him with my never-ending barrage of ideas. Lastly, my amazing wife, who fully supports my habit of making up stories.

  Prologue

  Chapter 1: When Dragons Stir

  Chapter 2: Legends Awaken

  Chapter 3: Deals with the Underworld

  Chapter 4: A New World

  Chapter 5: Not the Same

  Chapter 6: Consequences

  Chapter 7: A New World

  Chapter 8: Rock Bottom

  Chapter 9: Lessons in Murder

  Chapter 10: Empty Promises

  Chapter 11: A Foreign Tongue

  Chapter 12: Old Swords and New Journeys

  Chapter 13: Just One Job

  Chapter 14: Sacrifice

  Chapter 15: Someone Else’s War

  Chapter 16: Enemy’s Rights

  Chapter 17: Healthy Fears

  Chapter 18: A Broken Kingdom

  Chapter 19: To the Letter

  Chapter 20: Perfectly Planned

  Chapter 21: Order of the Suns and Stars

  Chapter 22: A Little Trust

  Chapter 23: Perfectly Executed

  Chapter 24: Infamous

  Chapter 25: By the Guardians

  Chapter 26: Perfectly Botched

  Chapter 27: Foreign Powers

  Chapter 28: First Impressions

  Chapter 29: Friends in Dark Places

  Chapter 30: The High Inquisitor’s Shoes

  Chapter 31: Unerring Foresight

  Chapter 32: Rough Waters

  Chapter 33: Beyond Duty

  Chapter 34: Chasing Coin

  Chapter 35: Half Truths and Small Mercies

  Chapter 36: The Hamlet

  Chapter 37: Bounty Hunters

  Chapter 38: A Kind Soul

  Chapter 39: Taking Cares

  Chapter 40: Carnage

  Chapter 41: Hunted

  Chapter 42: A Thread in the Tapestry

  Chapter 43: A Scoundrel’s Welcome

  Chapter 44: Midnight Outings

  Chapter 45: A Gambler’s Designs

  Chapter 46: A Fool’s Quest

  Chapter 47: Clairvoyant

  Chapter 48: The Seeker’s Voice

  Chapter 49: A Dragon’s Call

  Chapter 50: Coin

  Chapter 51: The Ire of Dragons

  Chapter 52: To Death

  Chapter 53: Windfall

  Chapter 54: For the Cause

  Chapter 55: Taking Liberties

  Chapter 56: The Lost Road

  Chapter 57: The Aries of Abadaria

  Chapter 58: Snares

  Chapter 59: Companions No Longer

  Chapter 60: Not the End

  Chapter 61: The Orb of Incantus

  Chapter 62: The Awakening

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Don’t Miss the Other Books in the Elwin Escari Chronicles

  Taming the Elements

  By the Blade

  Mastering the Elements

  To receive special offers, sign up for our newsletters.

  Or visit us online at davidekrut.com.

  Prologue

  The conclaves of the magi have finally found common ground. As I scrawl these words, they come to defeat me. Though they are led by Mevidian, it is Asalla’s hand that guides them. The puppet master pulls the strings and his little fools dance, but I know this game. I have long studied the players and see the way forward.

  By the time these words are found, I will have already won. I do not gloat. I leave this missive to give a promise of the reckoning to come.

  Once I shed the boundaries of this mortal coil, walls will no longer constrain me. The Realm of Spirits is the shadow cast by the world of the living. Here, I shall have dominion. In this place, I will gain the knowledge I have long sought. When I have what I need, I will return and bring all the power of the abyss with me.

  ~Abaddon, Son of Life, 1980 A.R.

  ~

  Torchlight flickered in the brazier, casting a dim glow outward from a pale wall. The small flames cast a weak light to the desk below, illuminating the floor just enough to see the silhouette of a man at the center of an incandescent circle. Scratching of a quill across parchment contested the sounds from the torch. The marking of each script whispered across the empty room beyond the reach of the torch.

  The writer hastened to leave his tale for those who would follow. When the quill dried, he dipped the tip into the inkwell, scarcely noticing the blots covering the cuff of his blue, silk sleeve.

  His dark eyes stared beyond the page, as if seeing the events to come. Smaller men would find this work and be humbled by the foresight of the author of Arinth’s destiny. Those secrets so tightly held by the Keepers of the Dragonkin now belonged to him. He retained all of the ingredients which would allow him to rise to transcendency.

  Only then would he have the power necessary to bring her back to him. Even after all he had accomplished through the darker half of Spirit, he still could not raise his fallen love back to life once more.

  There was a brief knock at his door before it slammed open. A woman with an unnaturally pale complexion entered and gave a terse salute. “Lord Abaddon, the magi are here.”

  “My child,” Abaddon said, placing the quill in its stand, “why does your voice tremble?”

  “My lord, they have dragons with them.”

  Abaddon rose, turning with deliberate slowness. “As I predicted they would.”

  “Yes, but there are ten times as many as we expected.”

  So it was true. The Old Man had woken them all, as he had threatened. No matter. Abaddon’s incantation would encompass all of dragon kind. With their vast power, the dragons made poor pawns. He would exploit their one true weakness. In order to replenish their strength, they were required to slumber for long periods. He would put them all to sleep, using a source of power too great to wake them for at least three thousand years.

  “I do not hear their attack. Why do they stall?”

  “Mevidian wishes to speak with you. Thiroian Alcoa is with him, as is Galivant.”

  He smirked. “Of course. Will they come to me?”

  “No. They bid you into the courtyard.”


  Abaddon nodded. He went to a cabinet in the corner and gathered several items, placing them into the pockets of his cloak. Once it begun, he would not be able to return here.

  “Lead me to him.”

  He followed her out of his private quarters and down the corridor to the stairs. She went to the ground floor and across the grand hall. Two of his vampires stood guard at the entryway, day and night. They tamed as he approached, weaving the sequence of energies necessary to open the courtyard door.

  The vampires were careful to remain in the shadows of the stone doors as wind and morning light swept into the darkened hall.

  A cobbled road spiraled away from the castle, stretching all the way to the shore, just short of a league away. Even at this distance, he could see the details of the large, winged creatures standing at the ready. Each one carried a rider, all magi for certain.

  Two lone figures stood half a mile in front of the restless creatures. A shimmer of Air appeared in front of them, then Mevidian’s voice rang out.

  “See reason, my old friend. We have all but decimated your undead legions. Asalla will not allow you to rise to transcendency. You will destroy your body for nothing. Give up, Abaddon.”

  Abaddon tamed Air to amplify his own voice. He added an additional weave to increase the reach of his sight. He wanted to see the terror on the faces of his enemies when this began.

  “If this is true, why do you go to such great measures to stop me?” Abaddon gestured to the dragons littering the rocky shore.

  “We were friends once,” Mevidian said. “I only wished to talk you out of this madness. Surrender your forces and the Orders will give you leniency. Even the Invisible Fist, who have the greatest cause to see you hanged, agree to give you a pardon.”

  “What of Alcoa and his Sacred Order? Does my former master have nothing to say?”

  Thiroian Alcoa stepped forward. “We are prepared to give you country estates, where you will spend out the rest of your days in solitude.”

  “And what of your crimes?” Abaddon could not keep the venom from his voice. “How many dead now for your ambitions? You must answer for the blood on your hands.”

  “I am king by merit and by the decrees of my people. I do not answer to usurpers. You are—”

  Mevidian placed a hand on Thiroian’s chest. The king flinched and made as if to speak again but fell silent beneath Mevidian’s gaze.

  “We have our differences,” Mevidian said. “But we can all come to agreeable terms. Let us set aside our armies and discuss this with civility.”

  “If you wanted civility,” Abaddon said, reaching into the folds of his cloak, “you should never have brought him.”

  As the disingenuous smile faded from Mevidian’s face, they all knew the charade was over. Abaddon sent out a pulse of Death energies, signaling his undead creatures to come forth. He had saved the most powerful of his creations for this very moment.

  It was time to make history.

  ~

  The full moon provided more light than was comfortable for the treasure-seeker making his way through the alleys of the deserted city of Abadaria. Though abandoned for three millennia, not a single building had fallen. Crafted from the Elements, the structures stood as strong as they had since the first day of their creation. Vines and growth climbed the walls. The windows and doorways were empty, glass and wood having decayed long ago.

  Careful not to kick any loose stones, Jernod Farcrie moved in the shadows of the tall buildings. Though he’d yet to see signs of any fabled creatures said to lurk among these streets, he opted for paranoia as he moved closer to the center of Abadaria. No treasures rested in the deserted palaces nor the hollow homes of these forgotten streets, but if legends held truth, treasures beyond imagining laid untouched within the colossal aeries high above the abandoned dwellings.

  One did not simply fly up to the aeries. Each cavern held a deadly incantation, set in place by a master magus. Some were laced with Elemental powers as well. Not to mention, there were sleeping dragons atop some of the structures. Not that they were likely to wake anytime soon. Still, he stepped as though setting off a trap would stir a dragon. If he solved the puzzle of the heartblades, he would walk away with the grandest artifacts in Arinth. The famed swords were beyond regular touched weapons, those blades crafted from the Elements. The metal was tempered with the essences of dragons in a long-ago treaty between the peoples of Arinth and the fabled creatures. And according to his notes, there were manuscripts with instructions on how to use them. These blades were the only weapons that could truly kill a dragon. Or so the legend had said. Once Jernod retrieved them, he would become the most famous treasure hunter in all the lands, and the wealthiest.

  He had stolen the secret to reaching the weapons from Theron Argyle, a lord of Iremine. Argyle had hired Jernod to help decipher the scripts in that tome of his. Jernod had, of course, kept the best copies of his findings for himself. Instead of accompanying the lord, Jernod had made his own plans. The pompous baron would be on his tail by now with an army of guards, not that it would do the lord any good. He would never make it through the gate. Jernod had changed instructions for disabling the ward on the cypher before taking the correct copy. A botched attempt at disabling the ward would turn Argyle and his guards to stone. If that somehow failed, he’d made a few other alterations that would keep the lord busy.

  He stopped at an intersection with a statue at its middle. The moonlight gave the creature an ominous presence. It stood on two legs but had the head of a dragon with a long tail and wings. Its poise was that of a dictator looking down on the people passing below with hands on hips and serious expression.

  Across from the dragon-like statue, the city changed. Ever-torches lined the streets, lighting the way to a large square in the distance. Beyond, the signs hung in front of shops, just like any other city. Manicured gardens led to homes.

  The orange glow of torchlight moved in the opening far ahead. He could hear low voices but could not make out the words. Curse it all. Had Argyle outpaced him somehow? Impossible! How had he gotten past the gate trap?

  He pulled out his map again and estimated one more block to the center. He would need to go through that square or find a way around to get to the manor. He mapped out a back alley that would take him around the square.

  Moving behind what looked like a butcher’s shop, he crept along with more stealth than he had before. When he was parallel to the square, he stopped. He should continue onward, but the voices were still there. What would one peek hurt? If it wasn’t Argyle’s hunting party, he would need to know who he was up against. After all, there could be minotaurs as the stories claimed.

  Jernod took careful steps between two buildings, keeping to the shadows.

  Cloaked figures filled the square, kneeling before a gargantuan statue in apparent reverence. The details of the lizard-like creature were exquisite. The thing curled around itself as if sleeping, its large wings wrapping around its great body. Scales of varying sizes covered every inch of the animal.

  These monks must have maintained the inner city, but why?

  Looking closer, Jernod could see cracks running across the intricate stone. Large chunks rested in the clearing between the kneeling men and the sculpture. As another piece fell, a loud clang rang out. The cobbles beneath his feet vibrated.

  Not some mystical monster at all. Just some statue finally giving way to the devastating effects of time and weather. Were they trying to repair the structure?

  Then he saw it.

  Another chunk fell away. He could see movement inside the rocky cocoon. The side swelled then relaxed with the rise and fall of a sleeping animal.

  “What in the abyss?”

  One of the figures stood, speaking in a language Jernod had never heard. The others crowded around the woman with parchment and quill, making furious scrawls.

  “I
t’s working,” one said. “It’s actually working!”

  “Of course it’s working,” the woman said. “What do you think I have been doing up there all these years?”

  “Hurry it up,” another with a dark beard said. “What are we waiting for?”

  “You cannot rush this sort of experimentation,” the woman said. “This is new territory. Stand back. All of you.”