Finding the Black Castle

Green grass churned under the hooves of the galloping stallions. One black, one brown, both challenged by their riders to race across the rolling hills of Southlorn. The foam at their mouths and desperate pants from their lungs told how hard and how far they’d run.

At the crest of hill that seemed taller than most, the older of two young men called a halt to their furious ride.

“You’d think we would have found her by now.”

Younger by only a day, Degra scanned the green and grey horizon.

“If she’s out here. I still have my doubts.”

“They why didn’t she come back?”

“Could be any number of reasons. Got lost, got hurt. Killed? If he were that worried, Lord Dyron would’ve sent someone to look for her.”

“Except these aren’t Dyron’s lands. Not yet, anyway. The Duke would throw a fit if he caught Lord Dyron’s men out here. But us, we’re just a couple of, shall we say, lost kids.”

Degra, looked out again to the far distance where the green hills met the grey sky.

“Meandra can take care of herself, Jimn. A lot better than the two of us. Look, we’ve been out here all day and it’ll take us into tonight to get back. We didn’t find her, and that’s it. Let’s just go before we get in even worse trouble.”

Jimn sat silently astride his black stallion, searching the distance. Degra was about to reiterate the urgency of their return when Jimn cut him off.

“Something doesn’t look right.”

“Where?”

Degra followed Jimn’s outstretched arm and finger, pointing due south.

“There. Keep looking south. Something’s not right.”

Degra had already seen the south and it all looked completely normal. But when Jimn got his head into something, the quickest way to get it out again was to just do whatever it was he wanted, and then when it failed he would at last relent to logic.

The hills and sky looked much as they had the previous minute. Degra had to admit though, to himself if not to his long-standing friend, that his curiosity was aroused. It was something about the way Jimn spoke; more strained than usual, more urgent, perhaps? Whatever it was, it kept Degra’s eyes pointed in the same direction as his friend. Until he too suddenly found something, something not quite, right.

Way out, three hills distant at least, the air seemed to shimmer. It was like those hot, hot days of summer in their youth when they’d run through someone’s barren field. The dirt was burning so badly they could feel the heat through the leather in their boots. On those days, the very air above the ground would distort, waving to them like a beacon. Over here it’s cooler, it would seem to say. Of course, it never was.

The air in the distance seemed to wave to them now, and though it was indeed a warm day, it was nothing like those hot summers.

“Yea, I think I do see something.”

“We have to check that out.” And Jimn was gone before Degra could even begin to protest, much less offer the logical explanation he had begun forming.

Jimn rode his stallion hard; the evening sun was falling lower and lower.

Degra gave up any hope of returning to town that night. Oh, the punishment they were going to receive when they did come back. Damn it Jimn.

Dusk was threatening to fall when the pair finally reached the hill where they’d thought they’d seen the shimmering in the distance. But the air was no longer waving like the heat waves of old summers, either here or off in the distance.

They no longer saw anything wrong, but they felt it. Like the terror that washed over them when they went near the old Connor house as ten-year-old boys. But there was no ghost in the window this time, no nightmares after the fact for days on end. This was sheer panic for seemingly no reason at all.

“Okay nothing’s out here, you satisfied?”

Jimn sat still on his mount, studying the rolling plain before him. Degra prodded again, fear growing inside him. Couldn’t Jimn feel this too?

“Can we go now?”

In answer, Jimn slid down off his mount, walking slowly, deliberately, his eyes locked on, something. Degra sighed in exasperation.

“We’re going to be so late. C’mon Jimn. Look, I’m going to back without you if you don’t…”

Degra’s words fell limp from his lips, his voice trailing off in utter, dreadful surprise. Now he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move. His eyes were locked open. What he’d just seen with them confirmed his deep dread, and rose it a hundredfold. Jimn had just, disappeared.

What am I supposed to do now? I can’t go over there, what if that happens to me? Oh, why couldn’t we just go home when I wanted?

Degra wanted to turn and run, knew he probably should. But nineteen years creates a great deal of loyalty, and Degra knew he’d never forgive himself if he left Jimn here with no idea what happened.

It took his most determination to simply dismount, and every step forward seemed weighted with heavy stones. It almost seemed as though someone or something were trying to push him back, keep him away. It occurred to him that Jimn had been walking much the same way, though he’d been too preoccupied with leaving to give that much consideration at the moment. He thought about now, though.

He stood near where Jimn had disappeared, looking, listening. Nothing.

“Jimn?” Degra called out, and again. No answer.

Degra scanned the horizon. Though the shimmering was gone, the scene simply looked wrong. Like he were staring at an extremely detailed painting, almost like real-life, but not quite.

With no answer yet, and his courage beginning to wane considerably, Degra took that next step forward.

And the world went dark.

It was like the sun sank in an instant. He was still standing on the hill, but it was now a moonless night. All around him, the darkness was everywhere.

Jimn, at least, was alright. Just a few steps away, he was standing upright, still looking forward. Relief escaped Degra’s lips and soul, if only for a moment.

As he stepped forward to take his friend’s attention, Degra looked up into the new horizon. Now he knew why Jimn was standing still, looking out across the hills that were now black with ash and burst grass. Now he knew why Meandra, one of Lord Dyron’s best and most loyal fighters, hadn’t returned from these lands. And he knew it was now quite likely he and Jimn wouldn’t be back either.

In the distance, in a valley that was carved out the hillside, stood a solid black castle. Tall, round towers stood at the corners, rising high into the night, black shadows against a darkened sky. Wicked battlements rose a hundred feet into the air. A tall, imposing structure arose from within the black walls, rising twice as high as the towers around it. Pointed stones jabbed at the night from its heights.

Most impressive of all was the absence of masonry. Degra knew a little about stonework, and the subtle lines made when one block was stacked upon another. There were none of those here. It was as though the entire structure were carved out of one massive block of black granite.

And the castle was not empty. Dark shapes prowled the tops of the walls. Degra could almost feel dark eyes watching him from dim lights twinkling in the dark stone towers.

Degra wanted to run, needed to run. He had to grab Jimn, and run for their lives. It was the only thought in his mind.

But thier feet wouldn’t move. Their legs were held stock still by a terror that froze them solid, from the tips of their nose to the marrow of their bones. And their eyes were locked on the black citadel at the bottom of a burned and broken hill.

At last, after a forever of fear, Degra tore his gaze away and moved close enough to grab the shoulder of his oldest and dearest friend.

“Jimn, we have to get out of here. Jimn!”

The young man, older by a day, stood rooted in place. Slowly his head turned. Jimn’s eyes were wide in terror, reminding Degra of their journey to a real, live haunted house. This look though, was ten times worse. Jimn’s face was a shade of pale Degra had never seen before. That look alone again held Degra still for a moment. When he again tore himself from the grip of terror, Degra repeated his plea, with no response from his friend.

Suddenly Degra’s legs came out from under him, as though his very strength had been sapped away. Degra fell to his knees, and had to fight to stay upright at all.

Jimn fell to his knees as well, then went all the way down, face first into the blackened earth. Degra tried to get up, but his legs refused to budge.

Then he heard them, footsteps of doom. One, then many; metallic, booted feet coming nearer. Degra tried to turn his head, force it around to see who or what was about to bring his end, their end. It would not move.

The steps were near now, whoever it was would see them clearly. Degra wanted to see them, but his body would no longer respond to his commands. As the last of his strength left him, and his own body followed Jimn’s into the black dirt, Degra thought he heard a deep, almost metallic voice. But he was never sure. He was never sure of anything after that, ever.

Damsel in Distress- an excerpt from A Redemption: The Legend of Tscon Lightbringer Book One

Dawn came early the next morning. Tscon had slept very little, owing his wakefulness to Dach's endless snoring. He was actually somewhat grateful for his lack of sleep; the nightmare he'd recently experienced was still fresh in his mind. As the sun rose above the horizon, Dach's snoring finally ceased. They got up, gathered their weapons and made their way down the stairs. Vetse was already waiting on them. As Tscon and his guard reached the bottom floor, Vetse handed them each a few small pieces of dried beef.

"Here's something for breakfast, you can eat on the way. We need to get going."

They walked outside, and started north. The forest was still wet, morning dew covering everything. The sweet smell of summer foliage wafted through the forest, and sunlight came beaming in through the trees. After walking for a while, Vetse asked a few questions that had been on his mind.

"So Tscon, how did you end up this far to the west? You seem like a pretty smart guy, so you must have known what kind of reception you'd get if you were found out here in the empire. So what gives, and don't just make something up, tell us the truth."

Tscon thought about what and how much he should tell his new friends. They both seemed like good people, even Vetse, though he was a bit bossy. Still, he decided to be basic in his information, just staying with the general facts.

"Well, I had to leave after there was an, 'incident' in a small village. I wasn't guilty of a crime or anything, the local sheriff's and magistrates weren't looking for me, but the Order had some questions. Questions I just wasn't ready to answer yet. I'm still not."

Tscon detested lying, and even though what he was telling them was essentially the truth, he was bending that truth quite a bit. The heavy sadness he'd lived with for nearly a decade began to creep back into his mind.

"Running away from your past, ey ?" Vetse interrupted, "Well that's not very monk-like. Heh, what happened, you kill somebody you weren't supposed to?”

Vetse had no idea how much his words were stinging Tscon. The memory of what had happened over ten years ago was coming back to haunt him, not that it had ever really left. But Vetse' questions were bringing the memories back too quickly, and Tscon could feel the sadness and guilt of what had happened begin to cover his heart. The questions were becoming too painful now.

"I can't talk about it," Tscon said. He was looking sad and forlorn now. Vetse began to push the matter further, but when he turned his head to look at Tscon and saw the expression on his face, he decided to let the matter go, for now.

"Well fine, have it your way," Vetse said, "As for me and Dach, we've been friends for a while now, ey Dach?”

Dach gave out a short but enthusiastic "Ya".

"We were both accepted into the warrior’s guild pretty young," Vetse continued, "and I've loved the axe since the first time I laid eyes on it. When I picked this one out, everyone laughed since it was taller than I was. But I didn't care. And I've learned to use it pretty well, huh Dach?”

Dach gave another "Ya".

Vetse looked over at his tall friend, who was a good fifteen feet ahead of them now, and shook his head.

"Anyway, we finished with our training like three years ago. And ever since then we've been waiting to get put on our first assignment. So when we finally get one what do you think it is, why it's a babysitting mission. Take a couple a condemned prisoners on a hopeless mission and make sure they don't run off, and then bring them back if they somehow succeed."

Vetse suddenly realized he may have said too much, and looked back at Tscon. Tscon acted like he hadn't noticed the reference to a 'hopeless' mission, not that it would have made any difference anyway. Tscon already knew the sage's had sent him on a suicide run. They chose him because he might be able to pull it off, and if he didn't they wouldn't lose anything. The fact that both of these warriors would also be killed if he failed probably didn't bother the sages much, if they had given it any thought at all.

Suddenly Dach stopped, and was looking around. Vetse walked up next to him, but most of the forest fauna was obscuring his vision. Tscon suddenly felt like he was being watched. He tried to concentrate, and tune his instincts to the environment around him. Then Tscon leaned his staff forward, and put it right in front of Dach's face. A second later an arrow flew into the staff from somewhere in front of them.

They all three immediately went down, kneeling as low to the ground as they could get. Tscon grabbed the arrow and pulled it out of his staff, then he noticed both of the men staring at him. Vetse started to say something, but Tscon shook his head. He looked at Vetse, and tapped his own ear. They heard no sounds at all for several minutes; suddenly a voice came at them from somewhere ahead.

"Ahh, hello. Sorry about that. Didn't see you there. Don't worry it's ok, you can come out. We're the Destry boys, no doubt you've heard of us. This is kind of our part of the woods, and we don't usually suffer any trespassers. But, since I'm sure you didn't mean to come on to our land uninvited, we'll just take a small toll from you and let you be on your way."

They hadn't heard of the Destry boys, but Tscon assumed they must be the bandits the innkeeper had spoken of. Tscon leaned over close to Vetse, and whispered in his ear.

"I can hear them moving around; they're trying to surround us. All of them are armed with bows. But they're not sure where we are or they would have killed us by now. I'll crawl forward a bit, and stand up to distract them. Then you and Dach find the guys on either side of us and take them out."

Vetse started to object, probably to remind Tscon that he was the leader of this little expedition. But when he saw the look in Tscon's eye, he held his tongue and just nodded. Tscon leaned his head down, and started forward on his belly. He noticed Vetse looking in Dach's direction and making some strange hand gestures.

Tscon crept forward for at least twenty yards. Then he heard a faint sound of shuffling footsteps. He guessed the bandits were no more than ten or fifteen feet ahead of him now, and that it was time to make his appearance. He gripped his staff tight and stood straight up.

Just as he'd guessed, as soon as his head popped out from between the dense forest plants, arrows came whizzing at him from all directions. He looked forward, to see the startled looks on the two men's faces that were standing in front of him. Tscon never turned his body, or his head. He twirled his staff around him to deflect or catch every single arrow that came his way. After the first volley of arrows came flying in, Tscon heard two loud shouts and the sounds of heavy leather boots charging through the forest. Anguished cries soon followed, but Tscon's gaze never left the two men standing in front of him. One of them, a tall skinny man, was looking right and left, behind Tscon, trying desperately to see what was happening. The other one was returning Tscon's gaze. He was a head shorter than the other man, with an unkempt beard, and a small, evil grin could be seen on his face. Suddenly the crashing and shouting behind Tscon died down, and the two men in front of him suddenly turned and ran back into the forest. Tscon heard hurried footsteps from behind him, and then Vetse' voice.

"Come on hurry up, they're just ahead of us, we can still catch up to them."

He started to run ahead, but Tscon put his staff in front of Vetse, holding him back. Vetse turned around; looking annoyed and started to say something, when Tscon cut him off.

"Suppose you lived in these woods, robbing people, and in between thievery you had a long time to yourself out here. Would you just lie on the ground, looking at the trees, or would you set about making this a safe place for yourself, by putting up all manner of traps and devices, just in case your men were defeated in battle."

Vetse started to respond sarcastically to that, and then stopped. He looked around a minute, then back at Tscon.

"Ok your right, now what?”

"We go carefully forward," Tscon said, "following their footprints. They were in a hurry so they didn't have time to cover their tracks. We shouldn't have to be rangers to see which way they went. And offhand, I'd say if anyone knows where an old keep in these woods is, it'd be them."

Vetse seemed pleased with this little bit of wisdom, and nodded his head in agreement. He looked up at Dach, and then leaned his head forward.

"Keep an eye out for those bandits, big guy. I'll be checking the forest floor for, traps and devices. Tscon, you keep us on the right trail."

Tscon had no problem seeing which way the bandits had gone, simply following the trail of mashed plants and broken branches. It wasn't long before they found one of the bandits traps, a kind of snare connected to a nearby tree. The line of the snare was made out of some kind of vine with nasty looking thorns on it, certain to dig into the ankle or leg of whatever unfortunate victim happened to walk into it. They shook their heads at the apparent cruelty of these forest brigands, and continued creeping slowly forward. After passing safely through a few more equally devious traps, Tscon stopped and knelt low to the ground. Vetse and Dach followed. He tapped his ear again, and they all listened. At first, they didn't hear anything, and then the sound of a shifting foot, close by, came to them. Tscon judged the bandits couldn't be more than a few feet ahead of them. He turned back to his companions, made a fist and then opened it quickly. The men looked at each other, then back at Tscon, and knew what he meant.

Tscon held up three fingers, then let one drop, then another. When the last finger dropped, Tscon rose quickly and let his staff fly like a javelin. Vetse and Dach leaped from their hiding places with fierce battle cries.

The bandits were taken completely by surprise. There were four of them, and when Tscon and the others leaped up, the men just stood there. Not that they had much time to react anyway. Tscon’s staff struck one full in the face before he had even risen all the way to his feet. Vetse jumped much farther than anyone seeing him would have thought such a small person could. In one leap and one step he closed the distance to the bandit nearest him and buried his axe right in the man's chest. Dach had gotten to the brigand nearest him even faster, his greatsword within easy reach of the man's neck. When their opponents had fallen, they looked around, but the fourth man seemed to have vanished.

Tscon picked up his staff, and looked around. It seemed they had found the old keep. What had obviously once been a good sized castle stood before them. It was so overgrown with trees and vines that it almost looked as if it had grown out of the forest with the rest of the plants. Many of the blocks that must have once made up the front of the keep had fallen off and were lying in various places all around them. Huge holes in the walls allowed the men to see inside the front rooms, although nothing could be seen in them save more forest debris, vines and small trees.

Although the castle had obviously at one time been large, most of it had crumbled apart, leaving huge stones scattered all over the area. Even so, there still seemed to be a large part of the old structure that was still partially intact. A large hole had formed somehow in the castle's wall just ahead of them, possibly from some kind of attack, ages ago.

They cautiously approached this opening, looking all around the room they were about to enter before stepping into it. The room itself was bare, save for the dried leaves and twigs that littered the floor. Finding nothing, they continued on through the castle, carefully checking each room they entered for traps, or loose blocks, any hazard that might bar their way. They found no traps, perhaps the bandits never anticipated anyone getting this far in. It took them over an hour to look through all the rooms, but they found no bandits, and no treasure. They had found a staircase to what was once the second floor, but that part of the keep had fallen down, probably centuries earlier. After they had covered what they thought was the entire level, Vetse suddenly stopped and looked at Tscon with a doubtful eye. He wiped some sweat from his brow, looked around, and back at Tscon again.

"Well, I haven't seen any treasure yet, have you? I'm starting to think that maybe we've been hoodwinked by some sneaky villagers into getting rid of their bandit problem for them. What do you think?”

Tscon had to admit the same thought had begun to creep its way into his mind as well, but the girl at the inn, Donan, had seemed so sincere. Tscon was looking all around, trying to find anything that might seem unordinary or out of place. He was about to give up when he thought he may have just found what he was looking for. He walked over to what must have once been a wall sconce. It still had an old, rotten piece of wood in it. The wall it was bolted on seemed just as old as the other walls around it, but where the torch holder was, the stone seemed to be scratched, in an odd shaped pattern. As Tscon was studying the piece, he heard Vetse and Dach walk up behind him.

"Find something?" he heard Vetse say.

"I think so," Tscon replied, "Look at the stone here."

Vetse noticed it too, and began to knock on the wall with the head of his axe. Tscon reached up and turned the wall sconce on its side. A grinding sound suddenly came from a nearby room. The men all looked at one another, and slowly began to walk toward the sound, their weapons ready.

They made their way slowly into the next room, and looked at their new discovery. The stone floor had moved aside in the middle of the room, revealing a small stone stairway. It was dark underneath the floor, and they could not see where the stairs ended. Vetse stood up and began looking around for a piece of wood they could light as a torch.

Suddenly they heard a voice cry out in pain, and the sound of swords clashing. Tscon leaped down the hole, counting on his instincts to keep him safe. The floor was just a few feet down, and Tscon had to bend over to make his way toward the sounds of battle. As he went he heard another cry of anguish, and then the sound of swordplay stopped. Tscon could see a flickering light up ahead in the small tunnel, and he carefully made his way toward it. No sound was coming from the room now, but he could see the shadow of at least one person moving around. He approached the doorway to the room, and slowly peeked inside. On the ground, he saw two men, unmoving, with blood pooling up underneath them. Standing over them, wiping the blood off of the sword in her hand with a dirty rag, was a tall, dark haired woman.

Her clothes seemed ragged, but intact. She was six feet tall, slender build, and her long, black hair was curly. Her build was lithe, but powerful, and the way she held the sword in her hand suggested that it was not the first time she'd grasped such an instrument. After she was done cleaning her blade, she looked around the room, as if searching for something. Obviously not finding it, she started to walk toward the doorway, which Tscon was standing in now. When she saw him, she did not seem the least bit startled. She stopped, regarded him coolly for just a moment, and then spoke.

"Well, you’re not carrying a sword, is that stick supposed to be your weapon? I've seen rusty daggers that were scarier than that. Look I've got to get back to the village, so either get out of my way or get ready to die."

Tscon didn't move, taking in the strange beauty of this bawdy woman.

"You must be Naeid."

She was obviously taken aback by this, and she took another look at this stranger in front of her.

"How do you know my name? Speak quickly, I don't like it when people know my name and I don't know theirs."

Tscon was beginning to smile now, as he had finally unnerved this woman, who seemingly had nerves of steel. He was about to answer her when he heard booted footsteps approaching them. Naeid must have heard them too, as her hand gripped her sword tighter. Tscon spoke up quickly at that point to calm her.

"My name is Tscon, and this is Vetse." He nodded toward Vetse, who had just come running up behind him.

Vetse looked down at the dead bandits, then up at Naeid, standing over them, her sword in hand. He smiled brightly, both at what she had apparently done, and at her good looks. After looking at her for a few seconds more, he spoke.

"Heh, did you take these guys out by yourself. We were way back there when we heard the fighting. Nice work, what did you say your name was again?”

"It's Naeid, little man, don't ask me again." She turned her gaze to look back at Tscon, "And you still haven't told me how you knew my name."

"We were sent by your friend Donan, to rescue you. She said you had been kidnapped by some bandits and she was afraid for your life."

Tscon suddenly realized he had just let the cat out of the bag, so to speak. He could feel Vetse' gaze turn slowly up to face him.

"What? You mean that old man lied to us so we could rescue some girl? Who clearly doesn't even need rescuing? Wait a minute, did you know about this? "

Tscon hesitated for a moment, knowing the effect an honest answer was going to have on Vetse. But he decided to tell him the truth.

"Yes, I did. But I didn't actually lie about it. I told you there was a treasure in here, and if a person being held captive isn't a treasure to you, then I don't know what to say."

Vetse was clearly getting angrier by the second, and for a moment all he could do was stand there and fume. After a minute, he looked over at Naeid, then up at Tscon.

"When we get back to the village there's gonna be hell to pay for you.”

With that Vetse stomped off back down the corridor, and soon after Tscon could hear his booted feet walking up the staircase. After he left, Tscon took a step back and motioned down the corridor.

"We should probably get going; your friends and family are going to want to know you’re ok."

"What's with that little guy?" Naeid asked, apparently ignoring what Tscon had just said.

"O nothing, he apparently just misunderstood something I had told him earlier. It's no big deal. Shall we go?”

Again, Naeid acted as if Tscon weren't even speaking to her,

"He sounded like he was looking for treasure, and I guess I didn't fit the bill. Here, maybe this will make him happy."

Naeid bent down and pulled a necklace off one of the bandits, the very same one Tscon had looked eye to evil eye with earlier. It was made out of gold, and it had a perfectly round jewel inlaid into a gold setting. Tscon looked it over, and smiled. Naeid handed it to him.

"There wouldn't happen to be another one of these would there, because there are two of those guys up there, actually."

Naeid gave Tscon an annoyed glance, then walked over to a chest that Tscon hadn't noticed before. She opened the top and began rummaging through it. It apparently held some moldy old clothes, but Naeid soon stood up with something shiny in her hand. It was a sword hilt, made out of solid silver. It glowed as if it had just been polished. Tscon could see it had a huge gem attached to the base of the hilt. He suddenly wondered if this were part of some magical sword that had been disassembled. Naeid tossed it to him and asked, "Can we go now?”

As they emerged from the secret door in the floor, Tscon looked around and saw that neither Vetse nor Dach were around. He called their names, but got no answer. After a minute, he turned to Naeid,

"They've probably already gone back to the village. Don't worry I'll straighten everything out with them when we get back."

"I'm not worried." she replied. "Why, do I look worried?”

Indeed, she did not.

Queen of Hearts

Playin' with the Queen of Hearts

Knowin' it ain't really smart

The Joker is the only fool

Who'll do anything for you

Long Live the Night

Stars bright, Loving Night
Fold your arms about me,
Moon Above, Like a Dove
How can I be free?
See the owl, hear the wolf,
Creatures of your Love
And ever watchful over all,
Stands your sentinel tree
Cold is your breath, cold as your heart
Freeze my blood to ice
Eternally, your virtue stands,
diligent 'gainst the light
Soothe my soul with your chilling breeze
Take my chaos thus
Until at last I am one with you
And never shall we part

Army of Undeath

http://otherworldrealms.tumblr.com/image/86217405350

The vibrant forest withered as the undead army pushed forward. Nature's barriers crumbled before the evil might of of death itself. Only the brave hero's of old could save the world now.
And they had avoided the forest. No one knew the army of Undeath now pushed between the trees.
None but the wind and the willows.

Two of Love

Excuse me Lord, I'll have two of love

One for myself, and one for my dove

So she'll soar in white,

as my bride of light

Let my love shine on

as the early dawn

Let me ne'er see the day

When my heart goes astray

Let me burn my desire

As high as bonfire

Chain my heart to her soul

May her passion make me whole

I want to love her

'till the end of time

Make me her own,

Let her be mine

Happy Anniversary

My Love

J S Eaton

The Last Warrior

http://spassundspiele.tumblr.com/post/86484830931/mountains-of-koan-fantasy-art

On the precipice of doom, stands the last warrior. No defeat shall he know, all who stand before him fall.
The armies of Darkness stand poised for victory! The mountains were no safe haven for their enemies. Only one stands in the way of total dominion.
The battle is joined, who shall fall?

The Tree at the Center of the World

http://pidgeonsandpeeps.tumblr.com/post/86468336219/tree-of-life-speedpaint-by-allisonchinart

Image from Tumblr

At long last, after journey long, pain and loss, toil and trouble, at last he stood before the Tree at the Center of the world. Only a few more steps to take. He had the power, he had the courage, to do what was necessary to save the world.
And yet, all he could do was stand, enraptured at the amazing, monumental statement of nature.
How could he do what must be done, how could anyone?
How could anyone?

The Arrival

http://fantasy-art-engine.tumblr.com/image/86430419344 caption

Image from Tumblr

The tempest was mighty. Gale winds shredded sail and flesh alike. The maelstrom opened its yawning lips, ready to swallow ship and crew. Thunder and lightning, a storm of pure evil, poured rain and hail.
But they are unstoppable, the dragon-ships of death.
Now, as he stood there at last face to face with the water-borne terror, he knew the true work was about to begin.

Falls a Dark Shadow -COVER

And here it is, the cover of the next book in the epic fantasy series, Arcania Rising, Falls a Dark Shadow.

Release date is unknown at this time, but is impending!!!
Be sure to go to aeonith.webs.com to register to win a free copy of the first book in this awesome series, Comes a Dark Heir!

Dark Heir Giveaway!

Hey Aeonith fans!! Aeonith.com is hosting a brand new book giveaway. That's right, one(or two) lucky winners will have a free copy of Comes a Dark Heir: Arcania Rising Book One delivered right to their door!
Giveaway begins May 19 and runs through June 14, 2014! So enter today for your chance to win, and tell EVERYONE!!!
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Sheyene, Vampire Huntress

Dead leaves crunched beneath Sheyene’s boots. Wind whistled through pine and oak, ash and birch to sing a melancholy dirge of sadness and death. For death was her mission, a death long in coming, urgently needed.

She considered the many ironies of the situation as the dark forest chirped away at her. She sought Death, to bring him death. But Death was hiding now, cowering somewhere in this place full of life. She of such low birth, born of no-one, come from nothing. He from the highest nobility, born into luxury, having everything, wanting for nothing. Except more.

Always, more.

Sheyene never really understood that; how having everything only seemed to make one even hungrier for more. And no one, no man or woman in this world had more than Death, this death anyway. He had literally one of everything, including immortality itself, and still it was not enough.

It was this drive to acquire more that had brought this Death to her attention. Stealing goods, money, and life itself from ordinary folk for centuries had brought him little consideration. But when the wealthy had begun disappearing, when the elite had met him, at that point this Death had signed his own warrant.

He’d been amused when he saw her approaching his manor, a great white castle built from the finest stone in the world. She’d heard his laughter, from so far away, though it was doubtful he knew it at the time. No doubt he’d thought she was just another foolish mortal come to try her luck against the evil vampire. No doubt she would be as easily killed as the rest of humanity he’d slaughtered.

How wrong he’d been.

Having dispatched with werewolves as servants ages ago due to their unpredictability, the vampire’s protectors were fresh vampires, newly-turned into the undeath and still weak against their master’s will. Faster now than they were in life, and stronger, they were slow compared to Sheyene, and weak. These were put down quickly and easily.

Pangs of guilt still shocked her when these were killed. These were almost always taken against their will and turned into monsters. Once they came back to unlife, they were slaves to their maker’s will. Some few might break free, given time and enough willpower, but they were far and few between. And never the newly turned, never.

His guards inside the halls proved more formidable. Some might still be his slaves, most were likely serving him willingly now, waiting for their master to share some bit of vampire knowledge, doled out in small bits designed precisely for the purpose of making them want more.

For reasons she’d never truly fathomed, vampires who’d broken the shackles of their mind-chains were faster and more powerful. Ultimately, it was a question never worth pursuing. Perhaps, someday, she’d have the time.

In the end, even these proved useless against the vampire-hunter Sheyene.

Oh, the look on his face. Priceless. He’d been expecting his personal guards to bring this bloodied, humbled human before him to beg for her life. When those doors slammed open, when she stood before him, dead vampire blood dripping from the double-ended daggers that were her mark-in-trade, the grin dropped from his face as if weighted by stone.

He was gone in an instant, recognizing he faced no mere mortal at all.

She saw him in the distance, fleeing at a speed no man could even perceive, let alone follow. But she could see.

And smell. She smelled him as well. His fear. One of the many traits she’d picked up from her mother. Smelling fear.

Terror actually had a sickly odor, like soured sugar poured on old, stale bread. And the deeper the fear, the worse, and stronger, the smell.

This one, this death, stunk to high heaven of it.

She’d found that this was quite common actually, especially in the older vampires. When all their defenses were finally broken, when they were faced at last with their own deaths, they emanated a terror deeper than anything she’d ever felt from a normal human. Devilishly perhaps, she found that quite satisfying.

The three story jump, out his window onto the ground, was but a step. She smiled, just in case his old, evil eyes were turned in her direction.

Briefly, Sheyene considered closing the distance between them now, finishing it quickly. At last, she decided against it; this one deserved to be afraid after centuries of arrogant invulnerability.

She’d promised her father, all those years ago, never to take pleasure in her work, lest it one day tempt her to become like the very monsters she hunted. It was not a promise entirely kept.

For a moment, she thought he might flee entirely, running to fight another day. Possible, but doubtful. From long experience she’d learned that when pitted against a formidable foe, vampires almost never fled the battle, they merely retreated to place of safety and defense. A vampire whose reputation was marred by cowardice was not long for this world, one way or another.

His stench of fear was still strong among the ancient oaks. She need not look up to know that’s where he was, lurking above, hoping for a chance to immobilize his opponent before killing her. Vampires do love their torture.

The sounds of a night forest waned as Sheyene made her way slowly into the woods. She followed the path, as he would have so as not to leave a visible trail among the brush and bushes. As if that were all she could use to track him.

His stench grew stronger, he was near. Leaves fell from above, wood creaked. Her father’s voice, loud in her ear, told her to finish it quickly, and quietly. Sheyene chose not.

“Come now, Count Mykant.” Sheyene’s voice echoed among the ancient trees. The voices of the forest were hushed now, hanging on every word of the deadly opponents. “This subterfuge is beneath you. You are old, I am young, and you are truly formidable indeed. Why not face me in the open?”

“Why should I?” the question rang from above, a whispered, hateful voice, old in the extreme. “And I am no fool. Your youth is well behind you now, perhaps farther even than mine. But, I am formidable.”

Sheyene heard the orb. She heard his arm reach back, suddenly thrusting forward. She heard his fingers open. She heard the bomb leave his hand, traveling at blinding speed.

She leapt, well out of reach of the explosion. His next attempts missed as well, four in all. Sheyene moved as each one flew from his fingertips, in unpredictable patterns that ultimately wasted his efforts. She was not about to show this monster anything of value.

Despite the echoes of fire, she could hear his low curses. Another smile crossed her lips.

He would have more tricks up his sleeve though, the old ones always did.

Sheyene returned to the path, forcing Count Mykant to follow her from above. He likely had a pistol out now, a silver bullet loaded into the chamber. How droll.

Sheyene’s easy steps forward allowed the Count to draw a bead on her. This was always the most dangerous part of her ploy. A shot to the head would end her game forever. But they never took that shot. Always to the chest, so the bullet would wound, incapacitate, not kill. They always wanted the killing blow for themselves. Vampires did love their torture.

The shot rang out. The bullet pierced leather, flesh and bone. Blood erupted from a gaping wound in Sheyene’s chest. Slowly, the double-ended silver daggers fell from her fingers. Her body shook violently, and Sheyene fell to her knees. Blood welled in her throat, gushing out in her attempt to keep it from strangling her as she knelt, dying.

Suddenly before her, stood ancient Count Valkmir Mykant. He was old in the extreme, reports put him between one and two millennia, give or take a few centuries. Despite having been turned in his youth, lines were beginning to creep onto his face, creasing his forehead. His eyes were old, however, but they all were. Though every part of them was (nearly) immortal, their eyes always seemed to age normally. An old vampire looked tired in the eyes, and the older they were, the more weary they appeared. Mykant looked tired indeed. And angry.

But he stank of terror. Even with his opponent bloodied and nearly dead, he was still afraid.

Try as he did to hide it, Sheyene heard the fear in his voice.

“So, the great Sheyene is taken down by a simple ruse, and a small silver bullet. A pity I cannot keep you alive for a time. Our brethren and sisters would no doubt take great pleasure in watching you die. Too bad.”

Sheyene looked up into the Count’s old, dead, tired eyes.

“Yes, too bad.” She uttered through the blood and bile in her throat.

Her reflexes were even faster than his, so he never saw the stake emerge from within her sleeve. Never saw her grip it tightly, and thrust it upward into his chest.

He did feel its wooden sting, smelled the polished bit of nature that was the bane of all vampires.

He did feel utter surprise at seeing her rise even as he fell, the blood oozing from her chest already beginning to slow.

How? The question ran through his mind. Sheyene saw it in his spent eyes, in all their eyes when it came to this.

“I am only half of what you are, old one. Only half of death, just enough to bring justice to you and your kind.”

Mykant laughed, blood spurting from between his lips.

“Justice. Ha! You know nothing of it, child. Nay, for vengeance you have come, and vengeance you shall have. But I go, knowing it will not be enough. Never will it be enough. Even if all our race is extinguished, and light rules the world forever, never your thirst for vengeance shall be quenched. No girl, you are not half, no matter your heritage. You are as much vampire as I, and perhaps more.”

And Count Mykant died, his body decaying quickly until nothing was left but ash blowing in the wind, a bloody stake lying on the ground.

Sheyene stood above him, watching as he dissolved. His words echoed in her mind.

She’d killed many vampires, some as old as Mykant, some even older. All had uttered hateful words at the end, all that had been able to do so, at least. But none had hit her in quite this way before.

Sheyene stood long after Mykant was lost to the wind, wondering if he was right. If he was, in any way or form, about her, then he was right about her motives. What was she, then, if she could no longer tell justice from vengeance? And whom did she truly serve?