An ancient evil awakens in the heart of the Larion Forest....
Here begins the WARLOCK SAGA, the first of six upcoming novels written as a true High Fantasy Epic
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An ancient evil awakens in the heart of the Larion Forest.... Here begins the WARLOCK SAGA, the first of six upcoming novels written as a true High Fantasy Epic
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order from bookstores everywhere.
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CLICK THE PICTURE TO SEE IMAGES FROM DEATHSHADE |
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A black whisper crosses the land. Deep in the wilds of the Larion forest stands a mountain, a lone mountain with a heart of evil. Abandoned by the Dwarves, forgotten by Man and shunned by the very Forest itself, the Mountain...stirs. But the guardians of the land have heard. The Father of all Dragons, the favored son of DvorHavin, the Heir to the throne of Cathias, a rogue Wanderer Lord and the mute runaway with power beyond imagining. All of them will hear the evil whispers in DeathShade and one by one they will be swallowed by its darkness. And a world shall tremble when they fail... DEATHSHADE
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A History. To understand our future we must remember our past. It is known the Race of Humanity has a short memory and I, Sidhe, eldest being of the sentient Races, will retell our history. And I say ‘our’ history because the lives of Elves, Dwarves and every other creature are shared by Humanity. We dwell together, a unified Race, a light against encroaching darkness. Let the torch of our past illuminate the way. Once, long ages gone, we dwelled in a world other than Au’Wuld. It seems odd to me you can forget this, but then you have such swift lives. Bright and fiery are you but in being so die all the quicker. Our Goddess created a world fit for us, the sentients. We named ourselves by Race, the Elves, Dwarves, Trolls, Goblins, Orcs, and Humans, and with guidance fared well upon our world. Then our Goddess looked away, moments only in Her telling of time yet millennia passed in our world. In those millennia, away from Her guidance, a Race faltered. Compassion fell silent to their ears, tolerance of others drifted; misguided intentions took root, destroying the gift of peace. It was Humanity who began the downfall of our world, our Eao’Wuld. Craving power in ignorance, five men of lore and strength heard evil’s lure of pride, domination and easy satisfaction. These Dark Lords corrupted the weak of will, those apathetic Races with neither strength nor knowledge to fight against such subtle horror. First suborned were the Orcs, then fell the Goblins. Trolls resisted and it was they who warned the Elves and Dwarves of evil’s rise, who taught a world to fear. Eventually even Troll resistance faded and a majority of their Race passed from light’s way. The Race of Humanity, though responsible in their mercurial nature for birthing the five Black Lords, split ways, some remaining pure and just, others nearly so foul as their Dark Masters. Sides were drawn and war began. We were losing, we Races of Light, losing terribly. The arts of war were not ours and if not for a group of Humans known as Wanderers, all the Races of Light would have faded, enveloped by crushing darkness. They called to the Goddess. She answered. Bringing us to this world, this lovely Au’Wuld, how sad it must have been for Her on that day. Au’Wuld was pure, an ultimate expression of beauty, unity, and acceptance, yet to save the children of Her first creation, She despoiled it with our presence. Now we face destruction once more. Darkness spreads, creeping through the Veil, that great barrier through which we first traveled from Eao’Wuld, now an evil shadow of its former glory, known by all as the ShadowWuld. And this time the Goddess can do nothing. There is no further place for us to go, no migration to new and pure lands. We must stand here. And I now ask you, oh Race of Humanity, will you be strong? Can we stand together, a single Race of Light? I hope we can. I have set into motion events that create hope for our cause, but is it enough? After fleeing Eao’Wuld I set down my sword, unstrung my bow and shattered feathered shafts of death. Can I once more kill to save my way of life? I do not think so. I must seek another way. So must you. The Races of Humans, Dwarves and Elves have learned the arts of war. In battle we shall stand strong and in doing so ultimately fail. It is a treacherous evil we face, an evil we created, existing inside us. To fight this darkness with spells of death and swords of blood makes no sense. Is that not what began this evil in the first place?
“Don’t be afraid of me young man. I didn’t mean to startle you. Do you understand?” Graf couldn’t comprehend the boy’s unreasoning dread. It was a palpable presence, nearly empathic. What could he be afraid of? Surely the Warding spell hadn’t hurt him. “Are you hiding from someone? Is someone trying to hurt you?” Graf stayed away from the boy in an attempt to keep him calm but it wasn’t working. The boy became more agitated than before. “What is it...” Graf began but the boy’s eyes grew large and he simply pointed behind Graf. ~deathshade.~ It was the softest whisper of fear inside of his mind, mental speech, not words. Graf whirled around. “By the Goddess!” He stood to his knees in surprise. This was what the boy feared. Lumbering towards them was a score of menacing creatures, creatures that Graf had heard of but never witnessed until now. The heavy stomp of crude stone feet, the beat of doom, Graf braced himself for a battle he could never hope to win. Made from the very earth and stone of DeathShade, the element of earth had taken shape, was given form and purpose. That purpose was to grind the soft meat before them into meal. From the archived pages of legend in PorterDock’s libraries, Graf breathed the Elemental name behind shaking teeth. Rock Wights! By the Goddess, it was an unending hoard of Rock Wights! His Ebon Cloak struck out at the first few creatures as they reached for the Wanderer. Its touch wrapped the misshapen creatures of stone inside of its shadow, absorbing the magic spark of life that animated them. He had to think fast. There was no weakness to these creatures, no soft tissue to cut, no organs to puncture with a weapon. They were stone, stone filled with a magma heart. Wights did not possess an intelligence of their own, they were nothing more than drones without feeling, knowing no pain and they would not stop until their task was complete. Elemental magic fueled the automatons and he had to steal or snuff that power if he were to survive. Like a snake the Cloak struck out again and again, dropping the creatures as it touched them. With the substance of shadows that the stone beasts could not stop, the Cloak flung tendrils of itself among them, each spinning web of ebony ripping the magical life from these animated creatures of stone. Ebon spun a web of death as fast as the flicker of a candle but would it be enough? But even in his success there was defeat. Graf found himself being entombed by the dead bodies that collapsed around them. The Cloak could steal the elemental essence as quickly as they came but it could do nothing about the carcass left behind. The sheer numbers were still coming like a slow wave, unstoppable. The cavern shook with the vibration of their marching feet, pounding the floor beneath them, encroaching on the Wanderer and his mysterious specter. The Cloak alone would not save them from this. It was already beginning to burgeon with the power it stole from the Wights, unable to burn the energy away quickly enough. Graf had to take an active part in their defense. The flare of raw power ripped through the creatures, dead and animated alike. As though made of dust instead of granite chunks, the Wights disintegrated, exploded or melted as Mage Fire took its toll. Each blast rocked the cavern with virulent might, the awesome sound itself like the end of the World. Linked intimately with the Cloak it began to feed him the power it was stealing. The Wanderer siphoned the excess that burned with the Cloak and turned it back on the creatures. Wards cast towards his back protected the boy, force shields to his left and right prevented the vast numbers of creatures from coming in at his sides. Like molten fire from the sun itself, deep yellow, red, and oranges plasmas filled the cavern, shooting from the Wanderer’s outstretched hands as he destroyed tens of these monstrosities at a time. At each touch of his power the Wights were being slaughtered, the very substance of the cave was scorched and parts of the rock itself burned like the world’s heart afire. And still the creatures came on, oblivious to those who had fallen before them. Altering his attack, the Wanderer began to pull out heavy, darker spells but even Death Castings could not snuff the life out of these creatures fast enough. As each spell flew, delivering destructive energies through the Rock Wights and killing dozens at a time, two dozen more would take their place. Graf realized too late that the Rock Wights were not trying to reach him with their stony fists and by the time he understood what had happened his energies were too depleted to teleport himself or the boy from the chamber. The creatures had formed a rocky shell around them. Looking up he could see them scrambling up over his flaring shields, punishing them with their tremendous weight. Graf’s shields and wards held their crushing weight from falling down in on them but for how long? Soon there was only a small hole in front of them where Graf’s blasts of vivid spurting energies had blown them away into slag. More took their place. The meager light from the boy’s small fire was blocked out under the crush of stone bodies, hundreds more marching ever forward, unending. Graf strained under the tremendous pressure of the Wights as more continued to pour over his Wards, burying the two in a tomb of living, writhing earth. His shields shrank further and further down, unable to endure the incredible crush. Pain filled every pore in the Wanderer’s body like clinging fire, but he could not give in. The alternative was death. With a cry of defiance Graf held his Wards fast, warping them into a small bubble that was barely large enough to shelter the two beneath a dome of granite bodies.
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