Broken Souls – Chapter 44

Yeti, Aratheon, Bothvar, Viking

Bothvar Beorcolsson

The ax comes slicing through the air hunting for my throat. My hesitation is going to be the death of me.

By the gods…

He is slow. I move out of the way of his slash as easily as if a newborn baby threw it. I jump to my left as another one bursts through a shrub with his ax slamming down from over his head. My sword goes through his neck. I heard his footsteps getting closer. He is just as slow as the other one.

A smile forms on my face and fear shows in the skin wearer’s eyes. I charge him as he holds his shield up to defend himself. My ax breaks through the shield and slices him in half. I’m covered in his blood as it sprays out like a geyser while his torso and legs fall apart.

Three steps away, another one charges into the opening and my blade seeks its throat and finds it, severing it without him realizing he’s dead until his head is separated from his body.

The snow is red as I bathe in their blood. I lose myself in my all-consuming hunger for death. I feel unstoppable.

I’ll kill them all. Every last one of them. I’ll hunt each one and collect their heads. Three of them stop as they see the death and carnage in my past. They trade looks as my ax chops while a fourth one charges me. I spin away from his pathetic overhand chop while my sword twirls in my hand to a reverse grip and stabs him in the heart through his back.

By the time the three others decide to charge me, I’m already inside the first one’s guard my sword swipes up, slicing him from balls to head as the separate halves fall from each other, leaving twin waterfalls of blood spraying out.

The second Bone Eater, who wears the upper half of a bear’s head like a helm, entire face contorts in horror. I make sure it’s permanently contorted that way as I sever his head from his body. His bear helm falls in a separate direction from his head. The third gets his iron sword up in time so I can slice through it with my own sword, my blade digging a trench from his shoulder all the way down to the opposite hip.

I leave a trail of mangled Bone Eater bodies as I hunt them down. Reveling in death and carnage. I’m completely covered in their blood. My blades hunger for more death. I get lost in this primal hunger to kill.

But when I turn to look around, horror takes over at what I see. The Valkyrie have been spread out fighting an overwhelming number of Bone Eaters. But what makes my stomach churn is the sight of Tonna lying on the ground with a Bone Eater’s teeth digging into the flesh of her neck. Blue-Eyes cowers in fear as she clings to a tree.

The next thing I remember was my blades dismembering the corpse of the Bone Eater. I’m surrounded by his dead kin. Others of his kind flee in terror as I roar out, but they can’t run from me. I chase them down and slaughter every last one of them. The last one begs for his life. I make his last moments a complete nightmare. He dies from a thousand cuts.

As the rage slowly cools down in my blood, I drop to my knees and howl out the last of it. I clean my blades off in what little white snow I can find before I find the others gathered around the dead body of Tonna. Amalasontha kneels over her, clenching her limp hand as she weeps for losing her daughter. Blue-Eyes cries as well as she looks down at the dead Valkyrie that I once considered a friend. The forest floor has become a graveyard of dead bodies. Mostly Bone Eaters, but some Valkyrie lie here and there. “My daughter. My baby girl. Don’t leave me. A mother is not supposed to live beyond her child. This is not how it is supposed to be.”

Another person I cared about died because of me. If I wasn’t so lost in my hunger for death I would’ve been here where I could’ve saved her. It is my fault, and I will remember her along with Thorkel, Varin, Styrkar, Saksis, Longhorn, White-hair, and Short-Snubs. The list of lives I failed to save continues to grow. Why do the gods continue to curse me?

She looks up at me. Fear and grief in her eyes. “What kind of man are you? Even asking, I know the answer… You’re the bringer of death. But I cannot blame you for Tonna’s death. No. Not you.”

Her eyes travel across the forest of corpses. I follow her gaze to the sight of the bloody mess. I hate them. “I will make the Bone Eaters pay. They will all suffer!”

“They have suffered. None who attacked left with their lives,” she says as wolves stalk out from the forest and begin to feast on the corpses of the Bone Eaters. “Fetch our dead and bring them home. We will not let the wolves feed on them, but they can have the Bone Eaters. I hope they leave none of their wretched taint in our woods.”

“You can’t trust the Wolves,” I growl, glaring at them. If it wasn’t for Blue-Eyes, I’d have half a mind to kill them, too. The Wolves have always been the enemies of the Kraken Clan. They betrayed us and killed my forefathers long ago. I hate them.

“Do not let your blind hate lead you to the wrong path. The Wolf Clan was never your enemy,” she says.

“And yet the wolves only watched as we fought the Bone Eaters. They only come now that the fighting is over. Cowards,” I say, gritting my teeth.

“Perhaps,” she says, turning back to me as her daughter’s body is carried off. She reaches out to her. Tears stream down her blood-stained face. She puts a hand on one of her warrior’s shoulders. “Tell Dasyra and Amalgunda to prepare them for the funeral rituals for when I return.”

“Where are you going, mother?” the Valkyrie asks.

“I will honor my daughter’s last wishes and help the yeti child find a new home. I’ll lead the man to the other yetis to the south,” Amalasontha says. The younger woman warrior nods, puts her fist against her chest, and runs off with the rest.

I go to Blue-Eyes who stares off behind the fleeting Valkyrie soldiers. My hand rests on her shoulder. She looks up at me with wet eyes. It’s becoming harder and harder to see the differences between her people and mine.

I pick Blue-Eyes up and put her on my back. “Let’s be off then.” “I don’t know about you, but I need to clean and change or I’ll freeze to death. There is a cabin to the south of here on our way to the mountains. We can stop there, clean, and rest for a night before going on,” she says. I agree, reluctantly.

Be the first 100 to sign up for the Arathoon Newsletter and a FREE Digital copy of Shattered Souls when it is released!

fantasy, fantasy novel, Fantasy book, Fantasy story, elves, vikings

Broken Souls – Chapter 43

fantasy, fantasy novel, Fantasy book, Fantasy story, elves, paladin, holy paladin, elven paladin,

Lura Syllana

A knock on the door pulls me out of the book. The door opens as Damaris enters with a girl behind her with black hair and warm honey skin. She has some pretty, bright blue eyes. I’m not sure if they’re brighter than mine or not, but she must have a lot of potential. She’s clearly uncomfortable because she keeps shifting her weight from one foot to the other, fidgeting with her hands while her eyes keep shifting up from the floor.

“Hello girls, I hope I am not intruding, but Chalia, since you’re already showing Lura around, I was hoping you’d be willing to help, Melyis. I just brought her here, and I hope you three can become friends and help her.” Damaris’s eyes seem to say something else to Chalia, but it goes over my head. I wonder how Chalia became a stray? How did she meet Damaris? How did this new girl, Melyis, meet her? Was she too arrested for using magic without a permit?

“Yeah, that’s fine. I don’t mind. Do you, Lura?” Chalia asks.

“No, not at all,” I say.

“Good, I was really hoping that would be the case. That way, Lura, you have someone you can work with on earning level 1 and so on,” Lura says.

“That is a great idea, the more the merrier,” I say with a smile.

“Good,” she then turns to the other girl and gestures to me before Chalia. “This is Lura. She’s new here as well and will help you out with the class work. And that’s Chalia. She’s also a Novice but has a little experience under her belt, so you can go to her with any questions you have.”

She gets a nod from the girl and then turns back to us. “Lura, I’d like to sit and talk to you about how you’re doing with everything, you as well, Chalia. Lura, can you meet with me later today after, say, lunch?”

I nod and receive a smile with a nod in return. “Good, and Chalia, will you be able to meet me after supper?”

Chalia nods, and Damaris gives one in return with a subtle smile. Then she turns to the other girl. “We’ll set up a time to talk and check up on things after you get situated. For now, there’s a lot I need to take care of, so I’ll leave you in the hands of Lura and Chalia. Do not be afraid to come to me for anything. Now, I apologize for being so abrupt, but I must go.”

The girl gives a nod before Damaris takes off, leaving the girl standing there in the doorway, still nervously shifting from one foot to the other while she avoids making any eye contact. Chalia clears her throat. “Well, come on in then, and shut the door.”

The girl reluctantly walks in and shuts the door behind her, as she fidgets. She’s a beautiful girl, but she’s so timid. “Well, don’t just stand there. Take a seat and make yourself comfortable.”

The girl looks around before she takes one of our desk chairs.

“Welcome to the strays. Glad to have ya, so what’s your story?” Chalia asks.

“Me? I… I guess there’s not much to say. I’m nobody,” she says, avoiding making eye contact.

Chalia lets out a sigh. “I see we have our work cut out with you. Clearly, you’re not nobody. Damaris wouldn’t put so much time and effort into you if she didn’t think you were worth it. Now, stop with that attitude and get some confidence. You clearly have a lot of potential; I can see it in your eyes. Now, tell me what led you to the church,” Chalia demands.

“I… I have nowhere else to go. My mother and father passed away because of that awful glimmer. I didn’t know what to do. I had no home, but Damaris found me and offered me a place here, so I took it,” she says, her eyes shifting uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry about what you went through. We’ll take care of you. You’re one of us now,” Chalia says as she gets up to comfort the girl, rubbing her back. But then she opens up the back of the girl’s dress, revealing scars down her back. “In the name of the Light, what happened to you?”

Melyis recoils and pulls away from Chalia, quickly trying to cover up. “It’s nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing. You were abused. Weren’t you?” Chalia asks.

“No… I… I… He didn’t mean to. It’s not as bad as it looks,” Melyis says, holding herself while turning away from us. “It’s not what you think.”

“Melyis, who did this to you?” Chalia asks.

“Chalia, maybe we shouldn’t push the matter. She’s clearly uncomfortable,” I say.

“No, she needs to talk about this. She has to work through this,” Chalia says.

“It was my fault… I… My father, he always got mad when I spoke out or didn’t do as I was told. I was bad, and I deserved it,” she says, tears forming in her eyes.

“No. None of it was your fault. You didn’t deserve to be abused like this. Your father had no right to leave these scars. He is the one to blame. Not you,” Chalia says, pulling Melyis into her embrace as the poor girl weeps in her arms. “Don’t worry, you’re safe with us. I promise you; no one will hurt you here. At least none of us will. We’ll look after you.”

After she calms down a bit, Chalia tells her all that goes on here and everything she needs to know. At least the gist of it. The same stuff she told me when I first came here.

“So, what dorm are you in?” Chalia asks.

“I’m down the hall with a girl named Silanlina Morrowforce,” she says.

“Oooh… That’s… I can see why Damaris brought you to us. Silanlina can be a bit of a… Stuck up crown bird,” Chalia says with an apologetic look. “Sorry, you have to stay with her. Hopefully, it’s not for long and you can move in with one of the strays. I know Charinva isn’t far from achieving level ten so she’ll eventually move into the Accepted quarters and you can move in with Ochilysse. She’s not the easiest to deal with, but she’s a lot better than Silanlina, that stuck up…”

“Nobles…’ I say with a sigh.

“For now, you’ll just have to hang out with us and the other strays. We’ll introduce you to them at lunch. There’s quite a few, so don’t feel like you need to remember their names all at once,” Chalia says.

“On that note, we should probably get going to class. You’ll meet Biremeril and Ralodan there. Fellow strays,” I say with a smile. “Just try not to let Olizara drive you crazy. She’s the teacher, if you can call her that. She’s an Accepted who is of no help and leaves us to work on our own. So don’t really let her bother you.”

She nods as I grab my book and say goodbye to Chalia before leading Melyis to class. I manage to snag us seats in the back row next to Biremeril and Ralodan. Biremeril doesn’t look at me, but Ralodan gives me a smile before his attention is drawn to Melyis. “Who’s she?”

“She’s the new stray Damaris just delivered. She brought her to our room and we’ve been helping her. Her name is Melyis,” I say.

Ralodan gives her that smile of his that makes me a tad bit jealous. “It’s nice to meet you, Melyis. I’m Ralodan, and this is Biremeril. We’re strays too.”

Olizara walks in with her usual icy contempt. She notices Melyis right away. “Ooh, look, another fresh face. Oh, joy. What’s your name, girl?”

“M… Me…”

“Speak up, girl. I don’t want to have to walk back there just to hear you!” Olizara snaps. My fist clenches as Melyis flinches.

“I’m… Melyis,” she says, with her eyes down to the floor.

“For Light’s grace, girl. You surely must be a low-born for how pitiful you are. Now get yourself a book in the cupboard over there, although I’m sure it’s a waste of time. You won’t last long,” she says with eyes as cold as ice. I glare at her, fighting the overwhelming urge to yell at her for being such a cunt.

Ralodan gives me a warning look and I take a deep breath in, letting it out slowly. Olizara continues. “Well, you all know what to do. If you have any questions, then you’re not very resourceful and won’t make it very far. Read the book, and if you still don’t understand, read it again. Read it until it makes sense. If it still doesn’t after you’ve read it ten times, then you probably won’t have a place here. Incompetence is not a trait we embrace.”

She is such a bitch. What is her problem? I can’t stand her. She’s just like every other noble. So entitled and arrogant. I hate her and the rest of them. They all need to be put in their place.

The rest of the class is unbearable. Olizara is constantly on a power trip, wielding it to hurl insults hidden in sophistication. I hate people like her. Nobles… I despise all of them. If it weren’t for their hypocrisy, this city wouldn’t be in such a miserable state. Greed, pride, and entitlement make for awful leaders. It’s because of them most of the people live in tents and have to beg for water. It’s because of them that only the rich can afford to wield magic. I hate them all. I know I shouldn’t, and I am trying to work on the hate and anger that resides inside me, but it is so hard. I truly want to follow this path. Damaris makes me feel like I can be redeemed. She makes me feel that I am worth redeeming. And the fellow strays make me feel at home. Like a sister. I like it here, for the most part. Of course, there are always people like Olizara and Chaetris, but I will not let that bother me. Not this time. I won’t screw this up. I’m going to become a Sister Priestess and from there, I’ll find a way to free my family.

As we are finally let out, I notice Melyis going up to the cupboard with her book. I walk up to her. “Hey, are you coming to lunch?”

“Yes, I just wanted to get a different book. This one has a bunch of writing in it,” she says.

“Keep it, trust me. I’ll explain later,” I say. She looks at me with a curious yet weary gaze, but she nods and keeps the book.

She joins us on our way to lunch, and I slow the pace of the group so everyone else in class is out of earshot. “She can see the writing, too.”

Melyis looks up at me as Ralodan, Biremeril, and I exchange looks of our own. “You mean, your books have the writing too?”

“It is a little more complicated than that,” Biremeril says.

“What do you mean?” Melyis asks.

“Someone put a charm on the books so that the writing presents itself to certain people. I’m beginning to think Damaris recruits us based on whether we can read the texts,” Biremeril says.

“How would she know, unless…” I say as a thought occurs to me.

“I don’t think she’s the one who put the spell,” Biremeril says, connecting the dots of my thoughts.

“Then how would she know?” I ask.

“I don’t know, but I find it more than a coincidence that so far, from what I can tell, the four of us can all see the writing, and we were all recruited by Damaris. I have an assumption that most of the rest of the strays can see them. Also, I have been thinking about the other books. I think we were looking in the wrong place. Those confession booths were not there when Terel was alive,” he says.

“You’re right. I already know where the books are at. They were originally hidden in the basement.” I spit out.

“Right… How did you… and what do you mean originally hidden in the basement? Are they not there?” he asks.

“Well, I also know that Chalia and Charinva can see the writing in the books. And no, they’re not there at the moment. Charinva has them, and according to Chalia, she has been hogging them,” I say.

“That makes sense. She always has a book with her. I never really took the time to notice what she is reading, though,” Biremeril says as he scratches his chin.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I don’t understand what you are all talking about,” Melyis says.

I turn to her and meet her weary gaze. “There is writing in Terel’s book that you just got that only certain people can see it for whatever reason. The writing talks about a secret within the church, and we’re trying to figure out what it is.”

Her eyes go wide. “Really? What is the secret?”

We all shrug. Ralodan speaks up. “None of us know yet. We still haven’t got a hold of the books mentioned in this one.”

“But at least we know where they are. We just have to convince Charinva to share,” I say.

“I have a confession to make,” Melyis says and we all look at her. Her eyes drop to the floor as she mumbles something I can’t hear under her breath.

“That’s okay,” Ralodan says. He heard her? How? She looks up at him, showing clear relief. “It’s easy to learn to read. I can teach you. It won’t take long.”

“Really? You are so kind. Damaris was teaching me when she had free time, but she is so busy, and I don’t want to disturb her,” she says.

“It’s okay. She does a lot to look out for us and the people, but lucky for you, I’ve got plenty of time,” Ralodan says with his perfect smile and even winks at her. Seriously? I feel my gut wrench. Am I jealous? Why am I jealous? I will not jeopardize all I have here for a man. Even if he has a really amazing smile and such soft hair. He seems like he has a good heart on top of that. What am I thinking?

I swear, there is something about him that makes my mind all hot and hazy. Is it just me? I look over at Melyis and she seems to be awestruck by him with those puppy eyes. Give me a break… Oh, that’s not fair. Especially knowing what the poor girl has been through.

We enter the lunch hall and join the other strays once we get our food. Ralodan introduces Melyis to the rest as Chalia joins us. Throughout lunch, I cannot keep my thoughts off this mystery within this book.

What could it mean? Could it really have been written by the author? What could the secret be? So many questions and so few answers. We need to get those books. I need to read them.

“Looks like they’re calling for a congregation within the cathedral,” Haemyish says, an Accepted stray with dark amberish-coco skin and curly black hair that fluffs up. “The High Father will give us a sermon.”

“When?” Chalia asks.

“One hour before supper,” she replies.

“Oh great… Another sermon by the High Father…” Ochilysse says with a long-exaggerated sigh.

“What’s so bad about a sermon from the High Father? Shouldn’t we pay attention to what he says?” Melyis asks.

“You’ll see soon enough,” Chalia says while devouring her food.

“They’re not exactly boring or anything. He has a rather flare about the way he speaks. A quite enigmatic man. He’s just…” Haemyish says but is interrupted.

“He’s a hypocrite,” Voborrie says, not mincing her words.

“Allegedly,” Haemyish says.

“Allegedly, he is a pervert,” Voborrie says before scooping up a fork full of veggies.

“There have been allegations against him of sexual misconduct,” Haemyish says, picking at her food. “Several women have reported that he has coerced them into sexual activities that are not suitable for the church.”

“He raped them,” Voborrie says rather bluntly.

“He hasn’t been proven guilty of it and until he does…”

“He is the High Father. He has the power to silence them. There’s not much any of us can do to stop him from doing whatever he wants,” Voborrie says.

“Well, regardless, he hasn’t been found guilty, and until he is, he will remain as the High Father,” Haemyish says.

“The only reason he was not found guilty is because he went after women who were whores. They worked in brothels before they became servants of the Light. He convinced the people in power that they were lying and that they were the ones who came onto him, but he’s a holy servant of the Light and would not give in to such temptations,” Voborrie says.

“Reminds me of that Paladin,” says Illianaro, a man who has dark cocoa skin and is one of the Accepted.

My eyes lock on him. “What Paladin?” “Oh, there was a Paladin a while back… I think his name was Orym? He got caught sneaking into brothels and was punished for it. They sent him up north to the human savage lands, poor bastard. Those pagans will surely mean his death. They might be weaker than us elves, but they are ruthless savages.” My gut clenches in pain, and I feel sick as the heat drains from my face. I get up from the lunch table, taking my tray and dumping what’s left of my lunch before I place it down and head back to the dorm.

Be the first 100 to sign up for the Arathoon Newsletter and a FREE Digital copy of Shattered Souls when it is released!

fantasy, fantasy novel, Fantasy book, Fantasy story, elves, vikings

Broken Souls – Chapter 42

fantasy, fantasy novel, Fantasy book, Fantasy story, elves, vikings

Bothvar Beorcolsson

The footsteps pick up as they get closer. They’re nearly on top of me. I bang my weapons together sending the clang of metal howling along with a mighty roar. “Bring it on. It’ll take a lot to kill me. Just ask the antler creatures if you can still find one alive.”

Suddenly, figures crash out of the forest and surround me. Spear points are held out against me as I see white fur-clad warriors wearing helmets and wielding the typical round shields we all use, but they wear no sign of who they are. They’re just painted white. They have me surrounded. I twirl around and snarl. If it is a fight they want, I’ll give it to them.

“Halt,” it doesn’t surprise me to hear a woman speak, but whether it is a Valkyrie, a Wolf, or a cannibal still remains to be seen. Women fight just as much as men in most of these villages. But I doubt it is the cannibals. The Bone Eaters would not stop to talk, they would’ve attacked.

“Why do you carry a yeti?” One steps forward with what little is exposed by the helmet covered in leather. Her voice sounds familiar and I believe she’s a Valkyrie.

“That is my own business, Valkyrie!” She sniffs. It was just a guess, but I must be right as she cocks her head up. “And will you show your face, stranger?”

The woman removes her helm and my eyes go wide as I recognize her. It doesn’t feel that long ago when we met here in these woods, when I was just a boy. But it was so long ago. When Thorkel was alive, leading our little crew of friends into trouble. I remember her being taller. “You are… Amalasontha, are you not?”

Her eyes narrow as she takes me in. “Who are you, stranger? Remove your hood.”

I pull back the hood of my cloak. She searches me but still does not recognize me. Have I truly changed that much? I reach up to stroke my long and wild beard. It has grown much since I left. It is nearly down to my chest and it has not been exactly well groomed. “What is your name, stranger?”

“I am Bothvar, son of Beorcol,” I say.

Her eyes widen, then she steps closer and looks into my face. “You… You could be him, but you do not look like him. Your skin… It is dark. Much darker. It has a stony gray color to it. Why is that?”

I look down at my hands and it has been such a long time since I have really taken notice of my appearance. My skin looks the same as it did yesterday, but compared to her, it looks a lot darker. It’s drifting closer to the yeti’s black onyx skin than to a Northern human color. “Must be from either the mushrooms I eat or the cave water I’ve been drinking. I’ve been living in a cave in the Northern Mountains since the end of the raiding season during my self-exile.”

“We have heard of your disappearance, if you truly are who you say you are,” Amalasontha says as she flips her head to the side to get a string of her blondish, whitish hair out of her face. It has grown longer since my wedding.

Behind her, one of her warriors steps up to Amalasontha’s side and takes her helmet off as well. She looks familiar too. She brings her hand to her chin and rubs it. “His eyes seem to be the same as Bothvar’s. His hair is dirty and has grown wild, but I think it’s the same color. But he is a lot bigger than Bothvar. Much broader shoulders, and his arms are much thicker. He’s a lot taller than Bothvar.”

“I am Bothvar Beorcolsson,” I snap back at the girl and suddenly my eyes go wide as I recognize her. “Tonna? You cut your hair. It was longer at my wedding.”

Her eyes narrow suspiciously. Then I step up to her. “I remember the first day we met back at the river with my brother, Thorkel, and our wives, Arni and Asfrid, along with Vog, Solmund, Griotgard, and Skardi.”

Her eyes go wide. “It is you. For the love of the gods, that was so long ago. What are you doing here with the yeti cub? What has happened to you?”

“Blue-Eyes’ family was killed by these fiends with antlers that stalk in the night. The yeti call them Shadow Stalkers. She needs a new home. Her father, Longhorn, told me they came from the Southern Mountains and there are more there. I am taking her there.”

“You speak with the yeti?” Amalasontha asks, her eyes widening.

“Well, that’s debatable. I speak with them as well as I can. They talk through their hands and bodies. It is easy to get wrong and can be confusing,” I say, looking down at Blue-Eyes as she sits there, clinging behind my leg, looking at them.

Tonna bends down to her and uses her hands with her words. “Do not fear, young one. You are safe with us.”

Blue-Eyes reluctantly releases my leg and moves out from behind me. She hesitantly walks towards Tonna.

“You know their language?” I ask and this time, I’m the one surprised.

“We have had many dealings with the yeti to the south. They are not that different from us,” Amalasontha says.

“Yes, I learned that to be true,” I say with a nod.

“And how did you come to befriend the yeti?” she asks as Tonna pulls out a ration and hands it to Blue-Eyes. The little yeti wearily looks at it and then up at Tonna before returning to the food. She quickly snatches it out of Tonna’s hand. She sniffs it. Sticks her tongue out and tastes it before she eats it. Then she looks around and snatches up some snow to hand back to Tonna. Tonna smiles and takes the snow from Blue-Eyes.

“I was hunting and came across a bear. The bear and I fought, and I came out victorious. It was a good fight. I went back to get a sled and the Shadow Stalkers, as the yeti call them, were trying to steal my bear. They are tall, thin, dark creatures who dislike the sunlight and only come out in the dark. Monsters with a head like a skull of a deer with antlers on top. Their bodies are blotched in dark hair with sickly decaying skin. They scream like the dead and have teeth and claws as sharp as swords. They’re wickedly fast and crazy strong. I thought I was going to have my last fight after they swarmed me.” A bitter chill goes down my spine, and I try to shake it off. Just thinking about those fiends makes my skin crawl. “Then Longhorn, the yeti father, came roaring out of a cave nearby and together we defeated the fiends. I was badly injured and passed out. When I woke up, I was wrapped in fur in their cave. White-Hair took me in and healed me with the mushrooms and the cave water. I salvaged what I could of the bear and shared it with the yeti, discovering they had cubs. A yeti woman I’ve called White-Hair; Blue-Eyes, the little girl cub here; and Snubs, a little boy cub. That felt like a long time ago before winter came in full swing. I spent most of the winter spending time with them, learning their ways, and trading with them. I grew quite fond of them, and we developed a strong bond. That is until the fiends overran and killed Longhorn, White-Hair, and Short-Snubs. Fortunately, Blue-Eyes got away and came to warn me. I was too late to save them, but I avenged them and killed the Shadow Stalkers. All of them, including the ones at their cave.”

“I see. The yetis have a strong sense of kinship, and they view gift giving as a sign of respect. You give to them and they’ll give back. I am surprised a man like you could put aside his lust for a fight to befriend the yeti. Most men would hunt their kind,” Amalasontha says with much distrust in her tone.

“Bothvar was always different from the others,” Tonna says with a smile. “The day we met, he and his now wife were trying to prevent his brother and friends from harming a little hare until I intervened.”

I laugh. “Such a long time ago, that was. I was a foolish child.”

“But you still have the same heart,” she says as she looks down at Blue-Eyes who walks over to her and picks at her boots. Tonna leans down and picks up Blue-Eyes and the yeti girl wraps her arms around Tonna. “Now, mother, we should help find this child a new home. That is what our mother would want. This little cub, like us, is a child of the forest. It is the right thing to do.”

“I don’t know, my child. Our responsibility is to defend our home. We cannot leave it unguarded,” Amalasontha says.

“Then let me go. I can lead Bothvar to the other yeti,” she says.

“I don’t know…”

I hear many footsteps in the distance from the East. Blue-Eyes hears them too as she clings to Tonna. I turn to face them, pulling out my sword and ax.

“What is it?” Amalasontha asks, as she puts on her helm and draws out her weapon. Her sisters in arms also prepare to fight.

“Many footsteps from the East are heading in our direction,” I say, gritting my teeth.

I step before the others as a scream erupts from the trees. The woods are thick, but I can just make out something between tree trunks. Shapes dart between trees as they stalk forward. That’s when I see antlers.

The fiends have followed us here. I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them all!

No. Not fiends. They’re far too short and slow. Men with antlers on their helms. Not all, though. One is wearing what looks like a boar’s head, but I can see that it is hollow with the eyes of a man inside. They must be Bone Eaters.

It’s a raid then. Maybe a few hundred. But they have no honor. They eat the flesh of other men and women. Despicable.

I’ll kill them all. My rage boils over while I let loose a roar that makes even the trees flinch and charge at them. However, I hesitate as the first Bone Eater storms into the opening. He is wearing the face of his victim, stretched over his own face. The hesitation gives him enough time to slash his blade out at my throat…

Be the first 100 to sign up for the Arathoon Newsletter and a FREE Digital copy of Shattered Souls when it is released!

fantasy, fantasy novel, Fantasy book, Fantasy story, elves, vikings

Broken Souls – Chapter 41

fantasy, fantasy novel, Fantasy book, Fantasy story, elves, vikings, Lura Syllana, Cathedral, church

Lura Syllana

We have to take classes to learn about other cultures, mostly humans and dwarves. We’re also taught their languages. How to read and write their written word. It’s a lot of long, tedious work. Especially for those who haven’t quite mastered our own language. Thankfully, I’ve got a good grasp on it.

Human history is wrought with war ever since they just appeared here, chopping trees down to ignite a war between our primitive Wood-Elven cousins. Fortunately for them, the dwarves were already in conflict with the elves and allied with the humans.

Of course, these humans later settled in High Water, the capital of the Southern Kingdom, which is now ruled by King Vandil. However, there are two other groups of humans to the north. Saxons, and those called Norsemen, or Northerners. The two groups don’t get along and often fight each other. That is until the Southern Human Kingdom rose up to claim the other two kingdoms. The last great battle was fought between them, where King Vandil defeated King Teowulf of the north.

We learned a bit more about our primitive ancestors, the Wood Elves, as well and their beliefs. They practice an ancient druidic magic that allows them to communicate with life. As fast as one can cut them down, they can grow trees with their magic. They believe the forest is a living thing. And the druids can grow what they need, harvesting bows, arrow shafts, staves, and anything else made of wood from the trees they can grow. Their magic allows them to twist the trees into what they need. Of course, that is why it is such a huge offense to cut down their trees. They can also cleanse water, heal the sick, and provide food from plants

I spent most of the night reading until I fell asleep. I read over two-thirds of the book, including the notes in the margin. The book itself is about Terel’s own journey to discovering the Light’s grace, including the time before Angel Akrasiel arrived when things were dark after King Volodar renounced the throne and left. The city of Isyelnaes and the Volodar Elven Nation itself fell into despair. Idols were worshiped. Those that the apostles of Akrasiel denounced as false gods were worshiped by others. However, the lands became ruled by corruption by the Elder Gods and demons sought to conquer. They weren’t the only threats they faced. Creatures of the void hungered to devour everything. Fiends of darkness tried to block out the sun and envelop the land in darkness.

These were hard times. Even the old gods that the High Elves used to worship did not come to save the people. But even at the darkest hour, Light shone down from above as angels came to our salvation. Akrasiel was in the lead. He brought hope with him. His love and compassion restored the elves and gave them strength.

But the false gods wouldn’t give up and sought to destroy the angels. War arose between the angels and the false deities. The angels did all they could to protect the mortal elves and defeat the false gods. Terel himself became one of Akrasiel’s disciples along with Riluaneth Waeszeiros, Colvardonn, Anfather, Vedana Oddheart, Amaranthae, Nostra Longswitch, and Mathienne Naesalor. Together, they fought alongside the angels while learning from them.

But even they weren’t enough to turn the tide. In the darkest hour, Akrasiel shone brightly and made the ultimate sacrifice. He pulled the false gods within his Light and erupted, destroying them and himself in the process. There is still a good chunk left I haven’t read yet. So, there is more to the story after the Angel Akrasiel died.

However, in the notes, it questions things. Circling false gods, leaving the question, are they false? What is that supposed to mean? He wrote, if the angels are real, can there be other gods? I don’t know, nor do I understand.

There are also notes that provide specific details about the events and draw attention to certain things, such as Akrasiel’s death and the words used to describe the false gods like demons, elder gods, creatures of the void, and fiends of the darkness, ending with a question mark asking if there are more. The notes themselves bring up more questions than they answer. If this is Terel, why is he questioning his own work?

It really makes me believe that this isn’t Terel and is instead someone else who asks the questions. Some kind of heretic or something.

As Chalia wakes up, I ask if she wants to wash dishes for a couple of hours and she shrugs but relents. We head down to the kitchens after Chalia helps me get an hourglass from the Sister of Novices, a rather tall skinny woman named Arnarra, who has a face that seems to be perpetually tired. She was a pleasant woman, though. Dark brown hair with somewhat creamy beige skin.

We grab breakfast with some of the other strays real fast before getting to work in the kitchens. A short, pudgy woman in a red dress with a white apron gives me an earful about how things are done in the kitchens before I can get to work on the mountain of dishes. The dishes are never-ending. Every time I wash a plate, two more take its place. The mountain of plates grows taller and I furiously scrub and rinse as the dishes are taken from the rack and put into use. After a few hours, the mountain stops growing and I can finally get it under control. When I finally finish the remaining dishes, my time conveniently comes to an end.

My hands have shrunk into prunes as Chalia and I head back up to our dorm. Chalia and I both immediately grab books and start reading. After a while of silence, I turn to her. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” she says, not looking up from her book.

“When you were at my level and you received one of the books by Terel Glarespell, did your book have any writing in it?”

She stops reading, closes her book, and looks at me. “Let me guess, your book has writing in it that appears to be written by the author, and it seems like you’re the only one who sees it. Am I right?”

“Yes, so you did have one,” I say.

She nods. “It seems like all of the strays do, or did.”

“Really? That’s odd, but I can definitely confirm that Ralodan and Biremeril can also see the writing. What does it mean? Who all can see it? Have you found the books mentioned?”

“Slow down. I have no idea what it means. I do not know who can see them and who can’t or why, and I still haven’t gotten the books myself, but I know who has them.”

My eyes go wide. “Really? That’s a relief. Ralodan, Biremeril, and I went looking for them after we got out of class yesterday and couldn’t find them.”

“Let me guess, you went to the booths where confessions are made in the Cathedral, didn’t you?”

I nod. “And before we could really dig, we got caught by Mother Chaetris.”

“Really?” she asks as her eyes go wide. I nod. “What happened? Did she punish you for putting your low-born hands all over the sacred marble?”

“Something like that. She gave us extra hours of labor. She’s a real cunt,” I say.

Chalia bursts out laughing. “Yeah, that’s why I told you to steer clear of her. She hates low-borns. If it were up to her, none of us would be allowed in the church. She’s exactly what notes warned you about.”

“That’s what I said! But Biremeril got mad that I would even speak against her or say the things I said about her.”

“Well, Biremeril had a rough life and has reason to think that way,” she says, looking away from me.

“Yeah, Ralodan explained it to me. It’s terrible, no one should ever have to endure slavery. It is truly atrocious.”

“It truly is. I can’t understand why slavery is legal. It’s the most hideous thing ever,” she says, her hand clenching into a fist. She takes a deep breath in and lets it out. “By the way, don’t go back to the booths to look for the books. They are not there and they were never there. That’s the new place of confession. There’s an older place of confession in the basement where they used to hold meetings in secret to tell truths. I believe that’s what he meant by the heart of the cathedral. But there’s a secret lever that opens up a little hidden storage chest where the books were stored.”

“So, who has the books now?” I ask.

“Charinva,” she says.

“Oh, that makes sense. Is that why she always has her nose in a book?” I ask.

“Nah, that’s just who she is, but she won’t give them up, saying she needs them to look into something. She won’t talk to any of us about it,” Chalia says. “It is really starting to piss me off.”

“How many people know about it?” I sit up in my bed.

“No idea. I talked to Damaris about it and she told me to come talk to her once I have read the books, so it’s clear she knows about it but won’t tell me anything. It’s frustrating. Charinva won’t even hand over one of them.”

“Who all within the strays have read them?” I ask.

She shrugs. “I believe only the Accepted so far, aside from Charinva, but I don’t know. Everyone is reluctant to talk about it, fearing it’s heresy.”

“Do things always have to be this complicated here? I feel like now that I know there’s this huge secret, I need to know what it is,” I say, flipping through my book.

“Tell me about it. I’ve been dying to get my hands on those books forever,” she says.

“What could Charinva be doing with them? It’s hard to believe she hasn’t finished them yet. I swear she seems to read nearly every waking hour.” I let out a sigh and lay back down on my bed, finding where I left off in the book.

“No kidding. That’s why we call her page-turner… Well, I need to finish this. I’d like to test for the next level soon,” she says as she returns to her own book.

I sigh and start again where I left off, reading about the hardships the disciples had to face after the death of Akrasiel. He talks about a prophecy that mentions Akrasiel being reborn from a virgin. Why is it always about virgins? And how does that happen?

There’s a note here that asks a simple question. Do all beings experience reincarnation? That would certainly make heaven rather pointless if we are just reborn again and again. Wouldn’t it?

Be the first 100 to sign up for the Arathoon Newsletter and a FREE Digital copy of Shattered Souls when it is released!

fantasy, fantasy novel, Fantasy book, Fantasy story, elves, vikings

Broken Souls – Chapter 40

Bone Eater, Cannibal, Aratheon,

Bothvar Beorcolsson

Blue-Eyes won’t eat. She lays in the corner and rarely moves. It is as if she has lost the will to live. It saddens me to see such a lively and merry creature lose all the joy and happiness in life. I do not know what to do. If only I could’ve gotten there sooner. Maybe I could’ve saved them. I began to consider them family and to lose them makes my heart bleed in pain. There must be something I can do for Blue-Eyes. Seeing her like this reminds me of when Thorkel died. She looks the way I felt. Lost, confused, and full of sorrow.

I spend the day trying to get her to eat. I search my cave for anything to help her. I find the old clothes I wore when I met the yeti. They’re all covered in my blood. I go to burn them only to find something in the pockets. A pendant. The same pendant I found during the raid that killed my brother. The one with the large crystal inside it. I was going to give this to my wife, Arni. I take it, clean it and hold it in my hands, rotating it.

As much as I wish I could, I cannot bring her family back. But… maybe I can provide her with a new one. Longhorn mentioned that they traveled north, leaving behind many yetis in the mountains to the south. They said humans encroached upon their lands and would hunt and kill their people, but surely Blue-Eyes would be better with her own people than to slowly die here with me. I’ll think about it. I take the pendant and hang it around my neck.

I walk out of the cave into the long, cold winter that seems to never end. Even though the cold no longer bothers me, this lack of sunlight snuffs any hope inside me. My skin has darkened much and has almost become iron. Pain has no hold over me anymore. I have long ago lost track of the days, but it feels as if it should be spring by now.

Looking down the mountain at the little speck of my village, I can’t help but think about my own family and people back home. They are always on my mind and in my heart. I hope they are well. I pray to the gods to keep them safe. Especially Fridgerd, the mother goddess, Siv, Thunar’s wife, and Frida, the goddess of love and fertility. Those are Arni’s favorites. Surely, they will look after my wife and child. She has been a faithful believer.

I wonder how my father and mother are doing. Does my father still grieve? Does he blame me for Thorkel’s death? What about my siblings? Are they well? Do they blame me? I miss them, as strange as it sounds. Thormar and his stupid logic. He was always strange. Always collecting maps and books even though I know he can’t read. What good is a book, anyway? You can’t use it to fight. Nor can it be used to hammer metal or cut wood. It would make good food for the fire though. But he seems to find some value in those books. Father never read, but mother always has many books. Svala too reads, but she is a girl and that is expected. But Thormar is a man. He should spend more time training and building his strength, not wasting time with these nonsense books.

At least Bodvar sees reason. He’s a bit wild, that is true. The boy is fearless. He’s always climbing things and getting into trouble. He is so much like Thorkel in many ways. The thought saddens me. I look back at the cave to where the hammer sits, still unmoved. I’m beginning to think it is impossible to lift that hammer. It must be magic. Maybe you must be a god to lift it. Or there is some kind of thing you must say or do. I do not know. There must be a way, but I cannot figure it out. It is like the hammer does not want to be picked up. Or it is as heavy as a mountain. I can lift tree trunks like twigs and yet I cannot move that hammer an inch. I’m ready to give up. Am I not worthy? Will I ever be?

What if I am incapable of avenging my brother? How can I bring my family peace if that elf still breathes? How can my brother rest while his killer still lives? But surely, he feasts in Valholl with the gods, right? He died honorably. As honorably as anyone could. That surely should earn him a place in Ornulf’s hall. If not, I will kill the elf so my brother can feast. I’ll earn back my honor. I’ll follow my brother’s dreams and sail west with Thormar, since he’s always wanted to do that as well. I’ll become the strongest warrior and be the most glorious Viking ever. I’ll sail to shores unknown and discover treasures our people can’t even dream of. All in my brother’s name, and when we meet in Valholl and feast in Ornulf’s hall, I will tell him all about it. I will make sure his children are a part of the glory and earn much honor. I will see them become strong, just like their father.

I return inside where Blue-Eyes lies, staring at the wall. I hear her soft cries and feel her pain. I say I no longer feel pain, but I was wrong. The pain my body endures is no more bothersome than a mild itch, but the pain I feel in my heart at the loss of these yetis is far more painful than any cut or bruise my body could ever endure. It was as unbearable as the pain I felt when Thorkel was slain in front of my eyes. I think love is the most unbearable pain there is.

Seeing Blue-Eyes like this is proof that I must do something for her, and the only thing I can think of is to take her south. It will be a long journey, especially in winter. It might take me many days and nights, or more depending on how bad the weather is. I can run most of the way at a steady pace with her on my shoulders if I pack lightly, but I won’t be able to wear the armor. That would slow me down too much. But I can take my ax and sword. I’ll pack up all the smoked fish I have and a few bags full of mushrooms along with a wineskin of glow rock water. I can put on my bear cloak. Thankfully, I could add a hood to it. It is settled. In the morning I will take Blue-Eyes south to her people.

After a short and restless sleep, I arise and pack what I need. I attach my blades to my belt and the food I store in packs I’ll have to carry. I wrap the spare cloak I brought with me from home around Blue-Eyes and the bear cloak around myself. Then I pick the little yeti up and sling her around my back, keeping her hands around my shoulders as I wrap my arms around her legs. Thankfully, she holds on.

Then I run. I run down the mountain at a steady pace, sloshing through the snow. Even with the little yeti, the bags of food, and my weapons, it does not feel like I carry much. The yeti is not heavier than the trees I haul up the mountain. I start my journey in the dark. It is not too cold out. Of course, I never feel all that cold anymore.

It is still dark when we reach the bottom of the mountain. I go east for a little before going south. I hope the river is frozen over. I do not want to cross the bridges to the northeast. They are usually guarded by the Southern Tyrants who have taken Chillshore. They do not belong there. Chillshore was always our city. One day we’ll take it back.

I run south on the peninsula to the east of our village. To the east of here on the same peninsula is the Builder Clan. A strange lot they are. Peaceful Northman. Sounds like a contradiction to me, but no one seeks to fight them because they are some of the best builders around. Shipbuilders, house builders, blacksmiths, and much more live in their village, and they are always willing to trade finished goods for raw materials as long as they get a cut of them for themselves.

I do not tire, not when I keep a steady breath. My muscles have been hardened into tempered metal. This journey is nothing. I feel no pain. The snow is a bit annoying; I always sink. I finally reach the river and it looks pretty frozen solid. It is as wide as a small lake, but there is a point at the southeastern tip of the peninsula that is its narrowest. I find it and hesitantly step on the ice.

It groans. It looked thick enough. I take another step, putting my full weight on it, and the ice breaks, causing me to fall through. It is only as deep as my knees at this point, but still, being wet is something I hate. I can feel the cold of the water, but it does not bother me. I guess I have become too heavy now. The ice will not hold me. I’ll have to wade through the water. I set Blue-Eyes down on the coast, pull out my ax and chop at the ice. One whack makes the entire river crack open.

I toss my ax to the other side and it slices through a tree, causing it to fall. I wrap the bundles of food with the flint around my sword and hurl it like a spear. It slams into the ground and stands there.

Then I lift the little yeti above my head and walk into the water, pushing aside the ice. The river continues to get deeper and deeper until I’m up to my neck in the freezing water. My body feels the cold water, but it does not bother me. The ice makes me feel alive. It tingles my skin with prickles. I take another step forward and go completely under the water. I do not panic and continue forward, doing my best to hold my breath and keep Blue-Eyes above the water. Another step and I’m deeper as the bottom half of Blue-Eyes gets wet. I struggle to breathe as I continue taking steps forward to a flat bottom.

My lungs strain for air in the ice-cold freezing water. It continues to prick my skin as I walk further. Finally, the next step brings me up. A few more steps after that and my head pops out of the water and I take in all the air I can. It feels cold, but I embrace it.

We make it to the other side and I stop to grab my things. I decide to stop here to make a fire and dry off. I take the tree and chop it up into nice logs and build a pyre, piling it up on top of each other like a log cabin. Then I get some dead wood and chop it up into little kindling. With my flint, I start the fire. I take some time to get the deadwood to catch because it’s frozen and when the flame hits it melts and becomes wet. Finally, little by little, the fire burns.

The pyre slowly catches flame. I pull my wet clothes off and hang them on a nearby branch while I dry off. Blue-Eyes also sits near the fire. I have to bundle my feet up in the cloth of one of the sacks. It takes much of the morning to dry my clothes. I suppose I could use a little rest even though I don’t feel in the slightest bit tired.

I take out a mushroom for each of us and Blue-Eyes reluctantly eats it. By the time I get back to running, I’m feeling the odd effects of the mushroom and Blue-Eyes must be too as she fiddles with the fur of my cloak. These mushrooms make me feel a connection with the trees. It’s like I can hear their heartbeats as if they were alive. I can smell the pine and hear the birds that stay behind in winter chirping. I can also hear what I believe are wolves stalking in the distance. I don’t know why I know it’s the wolves, I just know. They linger just outside my sight but trail me. Keeping watch.

I know these wolves are in league with the Wolf Clan. I saw it with my own eyes. They scout for them and hunt with them. I’ve heard stories that the Earl’s grandson and granddaughter, Baldric and Siv, can speak with these wolves. They’re twins of the Earl’s daughter, Asny. I remember them being at my wedding. And I’ll never forget the All-Clan Meeting when Thorkel tried to play a prank on the Wolves, only to be met by Baldric and Siv along with a pack of wolves. If they are in fact with the Wolf Clan, they must know I’m running through the forest. I suppose they have no need to fight or interfere with me seeing how I’m not heading towards their village, but they’re not the only clans in these woods. I must be careful. The Bone Eaters linger in these woods. They’ve long been outcasted by the other clans for their cannibal ways. Both the Bone Eaters and the Wolf Clans are to the east of my path.

The Valkyrie clan is also here, and these are their woods. I remember that all too well from when I first met Tonna and her mother, Amalasontha. A clan of all women. As crazy as it sounds, they are fierce warriors. I do not wish to fight them. But I am in their part of the forest and they do not take kindly to trespassers. They may not be able to stop the wolves from scouting these lands, but I am not a Wolf.

Far to the south and west of the mountains I seek is the clan of the late King Teowulf. His brother rules there with the King’s widow, and both have much honor. The Giant Clan lives far to the northeast, but I am not exactly sure where the Eagle Clan lives. 

I have to turn east since I’m dangerously close to the road. The road is always full of Southerners, and I do not wish to fight them right now. I stop dead as I hear the footsteps of people approaching. Then, I set Blue-Eyes down and pull out my sword and ax. I then hear many pairs of feet make their way towards me. Who is it? If it is Bone Eaters, I’ll kill them all. And if the Wolves want a fight, they’ll get one, but it doesn’t smell like a wolf. 

Be the first 100 to sign up for the Arathoon Newsletter and a FREE Digital copy of Shattered Souls when it is released!

fantasy, fantasy novel, Fantasy book, Fantasy story, elves, vikings

Broken Souls – Chapter 39

fantasy, fantasy novel, Fantasy book, Fantasy story, elves, vikings, Lura Syllana, Cathedral, church

Lura Syllana

On our way out of class, Ralodan catches up with me. “Hey, sorry about Olizara Greatgazer, she’s a bit of a stuck-up crown bird.”

I laugh at the notion. I can picture the crown bird with its head up high, acting above the other birds. “That is a perfect comparison.”

He smiles. “What can I say? I tell it like it is.”

I can’t understand why this boy makes me feel so full of hope, love, and compassion. That smile just brings it all out from inside me. I try my best to ignore it. “Say, what do you know of Terel Glarespell?”

His eyebrows seem to collapse down on his nose. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m just curious. I heard a rumor that he had some secret or something like that,” I say nonchalantly, trying to downplay my curiosity.

“Did you hear this rumor or read it out of a book? Maybe someone wrote it in your textbook?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes… How did you know?” I ask, tilting my head as my eyes widen.

“Within my textbooks are notes written by someone who claims they are the author. However, when I asked about them to Olizara and several others, they have no idea what I am talking about. They say that Terel had no secrets. They even claimed there was no writing in my book,” he says.

“May I see your book?” I ask.

He hesitates. “The person who wrote the notes told me to keep them secret. I’m not sure I should show you.”

I hand him my book. He opens it and his eyes go wide. He looks at me with his jaw gaping down at the floor. “They’re the same notes, and it even looks as if they are written in the same handwriting.”

“Now may I see your book?” I ask. He hands both books over to me without saying a word. I open them and compare the two books. It’s as if they are identical copies with the same handwriting saying the same thing. “What does it mean?”

“I don’t know…”

“You two have the writing in them, too?” We both turn to see Biremeril following behind us.

“You mean your book has them too?” Ralodan asks. Biremeril says nothing, just hands him his book. Ralodan opens it and his expression says it all. The book must contain the same words written. “What does this mean? How many copies are there with these notes in them, and why do we have them?”

“I’ve been looking into it, and I suspect there is some kind of charm on the books themselves so that only a select few can read the notes. That is why if you give these books to another who isn’t selected for whatever reason, they can’t see the notes. The writings vanish. I suspect whoever cast the charm only wanted those with specific qualities he sought to read them,” Biremeril explains. “I’ve tested this, and I have verified it. I found that Irlana Blackshadow cannot see the notes, but Prysmeril’s book has the notes within them, and can see them in mine. Whatever this secret is, it is dangerous.”

“What should we do?” I ask.

“We should find Terel’s books and read them,” Ralodan says.

“I concur,” Biremeril says. This is the first time I’ve ever heard Biremeril speak more than a few words. There’s more to this boy than meets the eyes.

“Then let us find them and read them,” I say. “Have either of you read where they are located?”

“It says that the books which contain the truth are located where truths are admitted and forgiveness is given,” Biremeril says.

“What does that mean?” I ask, scratching my head.

“Don’t we have to admit our wrongdoings? Would that be considered truths? It would make sense to be forgiven for them,” Ralodan asks.

“That is my thoughts exactly,” Biremeril says.

“So where is the place where we are to confess for our wrongdoings?” I ask.

“Follow me,” he says and starts heading in the opposite direction. Ralodan and I exchange looks. He shrugs and we follow him. We head up the stairs until we reach the main floor. Then we head into the cathedral itself in all its glory. Rows upon rows of pews made from white marble with silver cushions trimmed with gold resting upon them line the cathedral. An aisle splits them down the middle covered in a vibrant gold carpet that leads to the most grandeur of pulpits made from pure gold. The walls have gold and silver-stained glass that depicts an image of angels. Brilliant chandeliers hang from the ceiling high above with a painting of such magnificence it truly leaves me in complete awe. It shows two angels, a man and a woman, descending from above to shed Light upon the darkness.

“That is Akrasiel with his sister Jophiel. Our savior,” Biremeril says.

“He is beautiful,” I say. I look around and oddly, there’s only one other person in here. A man who’s kneeling on a bench to pray. I immediately recognize his uniform. He’s some officer within the Golden High Elf Trading Company. The way he is dressed, he must be someone important.

“He feels…” Ralodan says before mumbling under his breath something I can hardly make out. “Familiar…”

He stares at the painting long and hard before Biremeril pulls him from his trance-like state. “It should be over here.”

We follow him over to several booths made of marble that line the back corner of the hall. He goes through them, inspecting each one. We help, searching for the others. “May I ask what you are doing?”

We all stop and stand up from the booths as a short, stout, pudgy woman wearing a white gown in gold trim with a rather pompous headdress that seems to stand up from her hair to make her appear much taller. It’s white with gold trim.

“Mother Chaetris…” Biremeril gasps. “We… we… we…”

“We were just marveling at the beautiful architecture of this gorgeously built cathedral. It’s quite impressive,” Ralodan says with that beautiful, handsome smile. “Have you seen the way this marble is elegantly chiseled to such perfection?”

“I agree, it is quite impressive and surely deserves such adoration. However, it should not be dirtied by such impure hands. I suggest you three should put in extra hours of chores to put such dirty hands to their proper use,” she says with a look that makes a crown bird seem humble.

“A… as… you wish… Ma… Mother Chaetris.” Biremeril tries to spit out in a trembling stutter. He turned into a complete mess.

“What makes our hands so impure?” I ask, meeting her judgmental eyes with defiance on my own.

“You dare question me, you low-born… Child?” the stout, pudgy woman asks with eyes full of fire.

“What she meant was how can her hands become pure such as yours? She only seeks to better serve the Light such as yourself,” Ralodan says. I go to correct him, but he speaks over me, giving me a warning glance. “Like we all do.”

“I suppose that is a worthy goal, but I’m afraid low-borns such as yourselves aren’t capable of reaching the level of purity that I and the other high-borns obtain. It’s just how things are and will always be. Now, go and do us all a service and put yourselves to good use and get to work cleaning our beloved cathedral,” she says raising her hand to shoo us away.

Before I can say a word, Ralodan ushers both of us out, practically dragging me behind him. I see the short stout woman spot the other man. “Ahh, Admiral Myrdin Sylkas. I’m sorry about them. Novices do not know any better, despite that, they shouldn’t be in here disturbing the peace of the faithful, such as yourself.”

“Thank you, Mother, Chaetris. I appreciate it. Order is of the utmost importance to me,” he says as he stands up. I realize he’s not the tallest man. In fact, he’s even shorter than Mother Chaetris, if that can be believed.

“What an impetuous, stuck-up, arrogant cunt!” I spit out when we get far enough away.

“Lura! You shouldn’t say such things. She’s a noblewoman. A high-born. We’re just low-borns who have no right to even be in the same light as a high-born,” Biremeril says, his eyes wide in fear as his face pales in shock.

“Seriously, Biremeril? Didn’t you read what Terel wrote? He was talking specifically about her! Those who call themselves pure and demand that others follow in their own light,” I say, quoting what Terel wrote in secret, word for word.

“We don’t even know if that was Terel himself. Besides, it’s acrimony to speak ill of nobles. We are but humble low-borns of no real value. Our only purpose in life is to serve those who are above us. That is why I am here. To serve the best I can,” he says, and it looks like he’s on the verge of tears.

“Then ask yourself, why are you able to read the notes and not someone like her? Or Olizara?” I ask.

“I don’t know… I just… It is not our place to question them. Please don’t say such things,” he says, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“I have been treated like gutter trash my entire life by those who think themselves above me just for the simple fact that I was born in poverty and grew up in a tent. I won’t suffer it from anyone, especially not from someone who is a hypocrite like her.” I feel my face getting hot with anger as I fold my hands against my chest and glare back at the cathedral. I hate high-borns like her. “She is supposed to be of the Light and yet she acts to place herself above the rest because she was born in wealth with a fancy family name. She is nothing but…”

“Lura, that’s enough,” Ralodan says, cutting me off. Biremeril doesn’t say a word but instead walks away with his head hanging down. “Look, I understand where you are coming from, but you don’t know what Biremeril’s been through. He was raised as a slave. Born into it by his parents who were slaves. His entire life he was taught that his only purpose was to serve the noble high-borns. That it was their birthright to rule and his to serve. Your anger is certainly deserved, but don’t blame him for his misguided views and take it out on him. He only does what he believes is right.”

My eyes fall to the floor as I let out a breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that. I shouldn’t have said those things. But still, it isn’t right. And neither was what was done to him. Surely, he can see that slavery is wrong.”

“I agree with you, and I think in time he’ll come to see that as well, but don’t rush him. He needs time to understand that what he lived through was not how life should be. This freedom we have is new to him. He needs time to adjust,” Ralodan says. I nod as I look down the halls to the back of Biremeril as he walks away. What a truly awful way to be raised.

Be the first 100 to sign up for the Arathoon Newsletter and a FREE Digital copy of Shattered Souls when it is released!

fantasy, fantasy novel, Fantasy book, Fantasy story, elves, vikings

Broken Souls – Chapter 38

Yeti, Aratheon, Bothvar, Viking

Bothvar Beorcolsson

Winter seems to go on longer than usual. I haven’t been keeping track of my days, but it feels like it should be spring already. Food has grown scarce. I’ve spent all my mornings fishing and I’m lucky to catch even a small guppy every other day. I’ve even taken to eating the mushrooms several times a day. Longhorn tells me that the mushrooms and cave water keep them sustained all winter if they can’t find meat. Or at least, I think that’s what he was trying to tell me. His drawings in the dirt are not the best. I’m understanding the way he talks. It’s not just with the different grunts, growls, and other noises he makes, but his body tells a story. The way he moves his arms and his facial expressions combined with each unique noise tells me at least how he feels and what he is trying to tell me. I’ve learned that he calls the mushrooms urrgill, and he holds one hand in the shape of an upside bowl while the other hand is underneath it like a tree trunk. The glow ore he calls barrggill while holding one hand into a fist and the other he hovers above it, wiggling his fingers. I think his fingers are to show that it is glowing.

I’m also thinking that he is understanding my words as well. He knows when I say mushroom, I’m referring to the glowing mushrooms, and the same with the glow rock and meat. Meat in his way of talking is yum yum, with one hand going to his mouth and the other going to his belly. Although I think that might refer to more of the act of eating instead rather than the food itself. It’s hard to tell. Snubs and Blue-Eyes are always looking to play and I oblige them. Both have a lot of energy and are very fun to be around. They do a lot of goofy things that make me laugh. Blue-Eyes also likes to cuddle and rest her head on my lap. I’ve come to enjoy their company. I see them as an adopted family. They tell me many stories about their people in the mountains to the south. Spending time with them is one of the brightest moments of a typically dark day. I haven’t seen the sun since it started to snow. The clouds own the sky and night is still winning the battle against the day. Daylight still only lingers for moments in the sky while night seems to last forever.

I fish in darkness, do my blacksmithing in darkness, build my strength in darkness, and when daylight finally comes, I only have long enough to chop a tree down, haul it up the mountain and chop it up into what I need before the light disappears.

I still can’t believe I’m strong enough to drag an entire tree up a mountain; it feels as light as an iron two-handed battle hammer. I just put the cut end over my shoulder and take it up the mountain as if I was carrying a spear. I’ve made a few tables and chairs. Unfortunately, my glow ore tools and weapons I’ve made are too heavy for a normal wooden table and I’m too heavy for normal chairs, so I’ve had to make reinforced tables and chairs with the metal. I made several trips up and down the mountain to gather more trees as I make more furniture with it, including a reinforced bed, a reinforced weapons rack and many other things. I use more than half of it for the fire while I turn some of it into arrow shafts, and whittle gifts for the yeti. I’ve made myself some plates, bowls, spoons, traps, and a comb. I’ve given some of the plates and bowls to the yeti. I’ve even made a door to the stone wall I put up at the entrance of the cave. It took me forever to gather the stones I needed for the wall, but it keeps snow out. I used clay as glue to hold the stones together. Most of it is frozen, but now I have a nice glow metal pickaxe I made that can pick through anything. I’ve even discovered a way to sharpen the metal by heating it to make it soft and then putting it in a vice trough where the bottom comes down to a point. I put the heated blade in the trough like vice and press the sides against each other. The blade develops a finer edge than anything I can do without it. While it’s still relatively soft, I also use a coarse piece of glow metal to run up the edge of the blade to make it even sharper. It needs to be coarse enough. The good thing about this metal is that I only have to do it once. The metal doesn’t seem to dull at all, and it’s all but unbreakable and can cut through almost anything. I can chop a tree down with a single blow of the ax I made. With the newly sharpened edge, I can cut through iron with ease.

I’ve also made myself a helm and a full chest plate body with pauldrons, wrist guards, and shin guards. I used leather made out of a goat hide I saved. I’ve taken to wearing it all the time to maintain my strength.

I also have to be careful. With the pickaxe, I can ruin everything that isn’t the glow metal. For the love of the gods, it’ll even chip the glow ore. I do need to come up with a better name for the metal. It doesn’t glow once you heat it. It’s just a dark emerald color.

As night came, I just finished making a long knife with the emerald metal. Ehh, that doesn’t sound any better… I’m pulled out of my thoughts when I hear a banging against my door. I open it to find Blue-Eyes all frantic and afraid. She has tears in her eyes. She desperately pulls at me to come follow her. I grab my sword and battle ax and follow her up to her cave. Long before we reach their cave, I can smell a rotten, foul stench and know something is wrong. As we reach their home, my eyes fall upon the ground where Longhorn, White-Hair and Snubs all lie in a bloody mess in the snow. Their corpses are being desecrated by those shadow creatures with the antlers. There are much more than last time. I let out a roar with all my burning rage and charge at them.

The first one is too late to react as I slice its head off. Two others come charging at me and kiss the edges of my ax and sword. They are far slower than the ones I fought before. I can hear one charge behind me as I slice open the one in front of me. Its claws can’t scratch my armor. I twirl and tear my sword through its torso, cutting it in half. The other two retreat, running in fear, but I do not let the slower one escape as I chase it down and cut off its legs. It screams and struggles, but not for long as I slice its arms off before I bring my ax down on its head.

Then I track the one that got away, following its trail up the mountain. It leads me to another set of caves where more of those fiends’ rest. I charge in and cut each and every single one of them down. Even the younglings. I leave none alive. By the time I finish, I’m soaked in their blood along with the ground and walls of the cave. I walk back to find Blue-Eyes clinging to her father, mother, and brother. The sight hurts my heart. I put my hand on her shoulder and she turns and buries her face in my arms. I take Blue-Eyes back to my cave before going back to bury Longhorn, White-hair, and Snubs. They deserved so much more. I find one of Longhorn’s horns and take it back with me.

Be the first 100 to sign up for the Arathoon Newsletter and a FREE Digital copy of Shattered Souls when it is released!

fantasy, fantasy novel, Fantasy book, Fantasy story, elves, vikings

Broken Souls – Chapter 37

fantasy, fantasy novel, Fantasy book, Fantasy story, elves, vikings, Lura Syllana, Cathedral, church

Lura Syllana

The next day brings my first day of training. Chalia doesn’t explain much and pushes me off on one of the other strays named Biremeril. A dark amber-skinned boy, who’s short and skinny. I can tell he’s a little over half my age. He’s shy and doesn’t say much. We walk the halls in silence as he takes the lead up the stairs past several floors until we’re on a floor with white stone walls and flooring with a golden silver trimmed rug, much like other floors in the church. The walls have gold and silver banners with paintings here and there. One is of an angel clothed in Light, descending down upon the people.

We finally reach a room where a bunch of others in brown robes all cluster in little groups, chatting amongst themselves. We get a few looks and nods, but I don’t recognize a single person. I follow Biremeril to the back row, where there are several empty seats.

My heart leaps up into my throat as Ralodan enters. He sees us and waves with a smile before rushing over to sit by us. He’s so tall and handsome, but despite that, I can’t let my heart go to another man. Especially with what happened with Orym. I’m so afraid I’ll run into him here. What if he sees me and regrets what he did? What if he tells people what I used to do before I came here?

I can’t let that happen. I need to avoid him and any other attachments at all costs. Maybe the church is right about that. Attachments only lead to pain.

“Hey, I was hoping to see you here Lura. You too, Biremeril. How are you both doing?” he asks, taking a seat next to us.

Biremeril shrugs, But I can’t help but smile. There is just something about him that makes me feel like everything is going to be alright. A girl with blonde hair that is nearly white and pale skin wearing a yellow robe walks in. She has a smile that seems to be permanently plastered but doesn’t quite reach her bright blue eyes that seem to judge everything they lay upon. “Welcome back zeroes. Time to get back to work.”

Her eyes scan the room before they land on me. “Looks like we have a new zero on her first day here. What is your name, child?”

I clear my throat. “I’m Lura.”

“No last name?” she asks, her piercing blue gaze seems to already form its judgment.

I shake my head no. She sighs. “Pity… I almost assumed from your golden hair that you might be a noble. It’s a shame, but the church has grown desperate for new recruits, especially with how few Novices actually become Accepted. Now, since it is your first day, I hope you’ve already learned the basics, so I don’t have to waste time explaining things to you. You’re a zero. That means you are nothing. Of course, you already knew that being a low-born. The only way to become something of any value and find salvation is to accept the Light’s grace into your heart.  Once you learn that salvation comes from embracing and living in the Divine Light, you can fully begin your journey as a servant of the Light. To fully learn this, you must read The Light’s Embrace by Terel Glarespell, the first prophet of the Light. Unfortunately, he is no longer with us. You’ll find a copy of the book in the back cupboard.” She looks down her nose at me before waving her hand at the cupboard. “I suggest you read it several times and know it from cover to back. Put every last word to memory. You will be tested on your understanding of it and you must pass with complete certainty before you can move on to level one. Now get to it. If you have any questions at all, you may ask me, but don’t waste my time with things that are already in the book, and everything you need to know is in that book. You do know how to read, don’t you?”

I nod, and that earns me a relieved sigh. “Good, too few low-borns know how to read or are incapable of learning.”

I ignore the insult and head over to the cupboard and grab a rather thick book before heading back to my seat. I blow the dust off it before opening it to find little notes and scribbles written all over it. I don’t want to risk being insulted by her noble arseness, so I just keep the book. On the inside of the cover, there’s a little message written. I can’t help but read it.

To whoever picks this book up, I must tell you what I have discovered on my journey to find the Light. Within my book, I have made more notes on the visions shown to me by the Angel Akrasiel and what he has taught me. The things I have learned and have kept secret must be remembered. It is too important for it to be forgotten. Read on with the utmost caution and urgency. The truth must be known. But whatever you do, do not trust those who call themselves pure or who demand others to follow their own Light. There is darkness and corruption within the halls of the Light. Be wary and be cautious.

Below, at the bottom of the page, there’s another note and this one makes my heart flutter and feels familiar.  

A hidden secret lies in a list at the back of this book.

I’ve seen that note before, but I can’t remember where. What are they talking about? I don’t quite understand. It sounds like the person who wrote all these notes is the same person who wrote this book. I close the book and look at the cover to read the name Terel Glarespell. Who are you?

I flip to the back of the book to see the Appendix and at the bottom there’s another note.

I’ve also hidden other books that detail everything I have learned and what I believe it means. I ask that you read them, and please put them back where you found them for the next person.

He’s written more books?  

Be the first 100 to sign up for the Arathoon Newsletter and a FREE Digital copy of Shattered Souls when it is released!

fantasy, fantasy novel, Fantasy book, Fantasy story, elves, vikings

Broken Souls – Chapter 36

Yeti, Aratheon, Bothvar, Viking

Bothvar Beorcolsson

A man with bright, shining white hair and a golden patch upon his eye stands holding a spear of pure light as ravens sit upon his shoulders, staring out as we stand upon the mountain top. He watches those toiling and working, fighting in wars, farming, and much more. They are but ants beneath us. I still don’t understand why we protect them. “Why do we let them do as they please when they should all be serving us? Bowing at our feet. We protect them yet most turn their eyes away from us in search of others.”

He turns his single gaze upon me, yet it has the full weight of the mountain itself upon it. “And why do you think you deserve their servitude? Are you worthy of it?”

“I am. I am their superior in every way. No one can match my might. With my hammer, I am the strongest there is. Even the giants tremble beneath me. The serpent that sleeps beneath the waters knows not to challenge me. Why should I not rule over them?” I puff out my chest with pride.

“Might does not always make right. Just because you are one of the strongest, doesn’t mean you are worthy of it or of their servitude. Nor should they serve. Why should they not have the freedom to live their own lives and make their own choices? Shouldn’t all living beings have that right?”

“Look at what it has brought them? They fight and make war over and over again. They kill each other over land and spoil rather than help each other. No one’s willing to aid their neighbor. They’d rather steal the boots off a starving man’s feet than feed him.”

“Not all of them. You just see one and generalize the rest. If you look closer, there are plenty who will give the tunic off their back to another who is without. Some even give the last of the food they have to feed those who are without. Is that not noble and honorable?” my father says.

“I suppose. But would they not prosper even more if they were under our rule instead of meandering as they please?” I ask.

“Perhaps… But what makes you think you know what is best for them? What would you do if you ruled over them? Would you subjugate them? Force them to do unyielding labor? Build your monuments? Wage war with the other gods?” His eyebrow raises.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. But the other gods would wage war. Surely, I would meet them with my own army of followers. We should prepare for Ragnarok. These mortals need to be ready,” I say.

“Ragnarok will come regardless of whether we are ready for it. Fate waits on no one, and destiny can’t be changed by even the strongest of us. I hope one day, my son, you will realize that we are not that different from them. Our biggest difference is relative.”

I wake up in a sweat. What was I dreaming about? I swear it was Thunar and Olaf. The gods. Why would I see such a dream? Is it a sign? I shake my head. I should not dwell on such things. I’m but a mere mortal of no importance. I try to forget the dream and get on with the day.

Prey is getting scarce as winter is in full swing. I’ve gotten much stronger and yet I still cannot lift the hammer. But I keep snapping bow strings. The glow ore has proven to be tricky to smelt and mold. It takes a hot fire to melt. Fortunately, the coal I have is different and burns hotter than other coal, but even that barely does the trick. Then it melts my quenching bucket anyway. I haven’t even managed to get it into the molds yet, but I suppose that will be a challenge if my buckets keep melting. Luckily, I’ve made a new one out of the glowing ore. A shotty one at that, but it works far better than the one I traded Aldam for. I find that if I temper it and beat on it, it becomes more resistant to heat. Another thing that strikes me as odd is that the glow fades when heated. It is now just a highly dark emerald color. Much like the altar the hammer sits upon.

Once I made the bucket, I tried my luck with a hammer. The first attempt destroyed my molding but gave me a shoddy hammer. It’s a crooked handle with a very rugged head, but it suffices. I created new molds with the metal. It was tricky trying to figure out how to mold the liquid metal into an object I desire. I ended up molding it around the hammer, and I was able to pull the hammer and bend the metal to make a smoother mold, but that only made the head. The handle was more difficult. It took me several attempts to create a straight enough handle mold. Fortunately, these caves are rich with this ore. I had to do this for each mold until I could make decent weapons and tools with the metal. Of course, it took me a good part of winter and a lot of ore to make suitable weapons and tools that were not shoddy.

Eventually, I was pleased with the most recent ones I made. Of course, with the hammer and axes I had to resort to making it all out of metal. The wood wasn’t strong enough to hold such heavy metal. It would snap. I tried doing that back before I even attempted smelting the metal. Not to mention trying to sharpen them.

What I have now is beautiful. A nice long sword, a battle ax, and a big war hammer. All created from this ore. The sword and ax aren’t as sharp as I’d like them to be without having a whetstone that is capable of grinding the metal, but it makes up for it in density. It’s heavy enough to break through just about anything. Unfortunately, my leather belt isn’t strong enough to hold the weapons. It ripped as soon as I tried to attach it. So, I ended up having to make a complicated plate link belt with the ore. Even made a loop for the ax and one for the sheath I’ll make for my sword. I’ll have to reinforce it with the metal in some way. I have no idea what to do about the hammer. I might have to make another plate-link belt to go across my shoulder for it.

I’ve grown so strong over the winter. Strong enough to pick up the metal with great ease through my daily rituals. I can do a thousand ground pushes, squats, ledge pulls, and sit stands without getting tired. I can run for a long time through the snow, without breaking a sweat or even getting cold for that matter. The cold hardly bothers me at all. I guess my skin has thickened. I’m fast. Really fast. I outran a goat and a hare. I can catch them with no difficulty at all with just my bare hands. I don’t even hunt with weapons anymore, at least I don’t use them. I still keep them on me just in case I run into whatever those creatures were.

I’ve built my relations with the yetis further. I gave the yeti a hammer I made with the glowing ore. Surprisingly, it picks it up with great ease. It must drink the water. That must be what gave me such strength and speed. This ore must soak into the water and it makes the body as hard as the metal.

One thing I have noticed is that my skin has darkened. It’s gray. I think it’s from eating the mushrooms and drinking the ore water. Maybe that’s why the yeti’s patches of skin that are not covered in its white fur are completely black.

As the land reaches the heart of winter, daylight is scarce. The night seems to last forever. When the sun does rise, it doesn’t take long to set. This is something that always happens every cycle, but living in this cave it seems to make it more daunting. Especially with what lies out there. Those monsters haunt my dreams. I can hear their howls at night.

Days go by as I live my routine, not knowing if it should be day or night. The brief light I get is always shrouded in clouds and it snows constantly. Hunting has all but become impossible. I can’t even find a hare, let alone a goat or bear. Thankfully, I did not find those creatures either. I’ve done decent fishing on the ice. Caught a very large spiked-horned tuna. I have also traded a good deal with the yeti. We’ve become comfortable around each other. The cubs even get excited when I come by. I always bring gifts. I always mess up the hair on the top of their heads every time I see them and they always love it. I can tell they smile and laugh.

I even spent a moment sitting around their fire and they shared their food with me. They’re not as frightening as I first thought. They’re rather friendly. Much friendlier than most humans outside our clan, which is hard to believe. We have found a way to talk to each other with images in the dirt. It’s difficult, but we seem to understand each other more.

From what I can understand, they speak of something similar to what I am, but taller. It makes me think of the Jotnar. Giants from Jotunheim, who are like us but much taller and have raided our lands in the past. We have not seen them in a long time. Thankfully, it does not think of me as one of them. It also does not like those creatures we fought before. They hate them with as much passion. They lost a cub to one. I can understand that pain. They call them Shadow Stalkers, or that’s what I think they’re trying to say. They point at my shadow and make a hand gesture with two fingers of one hand that looks as if it is walking, following the other hand with the same gesture. Or it could be Shadow Followers? Maybe Hunters? I think Stalkers sounds better. One thing is for sure, those creatures do not like the sunlight.

The yeti speak with their hands and they say how it is the yeti way to forgive and move on. You should always take action to keep your people safe and provide for them, but grudges only leave your people vulnerable and at risk of retaliation and a cycle of violence. They tell a story of a war between the tribes of their people. It was a cycle of violence that never stopped until they learned to forgive each other and leave the past behind.

Of course, just because you forgive doesn’t mean you should forget. Remember the past, so you don’t repeat it, but do not relive it. That also doesn’t mean you should not seek justice for wrongdoing. Forgiving is one thing, moving on is another, but to let wrongs go unpunished sets a bad precedent. It isn’t just to seek revenge, but it is also dangerous to let crimes go unpunished, for the one who commits them will think it is okay to do so and will do so again. I’ve come to see that these yetis are wise beyond even our own people. I’ve learned much from the little time I have spent with them and greatly value the wisdom they share.

They tell me there are more of their people to the south in the mountains by the great lake. I heard from the Southern Tribes about their dealings with the yeti. They always made them out to be violent, mindless beasts, but these yetis are smart. Smart enough to trade and draw in the dirt. Wise enough to know the difference between justice and revenge. They are more like us than they are of any other beast. I have enjoyed my time with them. The cubs are particularly playful and they like the gifts I bring them. The toys I’ve carved from wood. I’ve carved many little toys for them. Even some figurines. I made one of Thorkel, even engraving the symbol of Thunar’s hammer on the shield he holds. I also made one of Arngunn and Asfrid, carving Frida’s symbol on Asfrid’s carving. I gave them all to the cubs. They liked them very much. I couldn’t bear to hold on to them, for the pain is still too raw, but carving them helped ease it.

I’ve come to call the big one Longhorn and its mate White-Hair. The male cub, Short-Snub. It grows horns, but at the moment they are just little snubs. The little female cub I’ve named Blue-Eyes because her eyes are bright blue where the others are only brown. In a way, it reminds me of the elves. I suppose I may have treated them unfairly. I feel some guilt thinking about letting Gizor have his way with those elves on the ship, but what else could I have done?

I still haven’t worked out any manner of talk from their grunts, snorts, growls, and other noises they make that seem to act as talk for them, but maybe one day I can make peace with them together.

It is beyond cold out, but for whatever reason, the cave doesn’t get very cold at all. It stays the same warmth during winter or fall, it seems. I think it’s either these mushrooms or the ore. I cannot tell. Maybe the mushrooms grow because of the ore, I do not know. Regardless, I am thankful for it. It is hard to have a fire within the cave without suffocating from the smoke.

Hunting is all but useless. Thankfully, fishing is viable and plentiful. I’ve learned the hard way that I cannot bring out the glow ore weapons and tools. They are too heavy and will break the ice. I’m nearly too heavy myself, which I find is odd, because this time of the cycle, we can carry oxen with huts onto the ice to fish without having to endure the wind. But I can hardly walk without hearing the ice crack and groan, and this ice is as thick as a stone wall.

Even though I have these new weapons and tools, a good relationship with the yeti, and am far stronger and faster than I was when I came, I’ve become distraught. It seems like no matter how strong I get, I cannot even budge the hammer. It will not move. I’m not sure how much stronger I can get. I feel like I could push the ground and pull up from the ledge and little gain anymore. I have nothing heavy enough to lift to gain strength from. I’ve piled almost all the glow ore rocks in the corner. At least all those not in the water. I’m not sure I want to take them out of the water. It has given me great strength and I’m afraid if I take the ore out, the water will just become water. Besides, it gives light, and if I take out all the ore the. Thankfully, the mushrooms seem to grow back nearly every day. So, I never run out of them.

I would like to bring my son up here one day and teach him how to become as strong as I have. And if I take all the ore out of the water, I will rob him of that opportunity.

Of course, I’m sure there are other caves, but how many of them are filled with yeti or other creatures? I would not kick my friends out of their homes just because I want their ore. Especially after they have been so kind and generous to me. Thinking of their family just makes me think of my own. How are my wife and child doing? I pray to the gods to keep them and my brother’s wife and children safe. I hope my brothers and sister are doing well along with my mother and father. I hope all the people of my clan are doing well. I wish I had my wife here to share the nights with. I miss her touch and her kisses. That is why I stay busy with what needs to be done. Because it hurts to think of them and not be able to touch and hold them. I hope it does not take much longer to get strong enough to pull up the hammer.

Be the first 100 to sign up for the Arathoon Newsletter and a FREE Digital copy of Shattered Souls when it is released!

fantasy, fantasy novel, Fantasy book, Fantasy story, elves, vikings

Broken Souls – Chapter 35

fantasy, fantasy novel, Fantasy book, Fantasy story, elves, vikings, Lura Syllana, Cathedral, church

Lura Syllana

I follow behind them as we’re joined by the girls down the hall. The one girl… Charinva? She still has a book in her hands with her nose buried in it. We make our way up the stairs and continue up two floors and come out in a vast corridor. Halfway through is a large doorway with two huge carved wooden doors depicting a feast of angels. The doors are open, and beyond is a giant hall with many rows of tables running vertically from the entrance. I follow the girls as we enter a line to get our food. Discussion breaks out between them as we wait.

I can’t help but drift away as I look out at the busy hall where clusters of people in brown and yellow robes settle in groups. Oddly, the groups aren’t separated by the color of their robes. Some yellow robes sit with the browns and vice versa. As we get our food, which is prepared for us and provided, I follow them to a group of others in both brown and yellow robes sitting next to each other.

They all seem to welcome us warmly. Chalia speaks up. “Hey all, meet the new stray, Lura. She’s rooming with me now.”

“Nice to meet ya. Welcome to the club,” a brown-haired boy says, raising his goblet. He wears a brown robe.

“Thanks,” I say.

“That’s Hubys,” Chalia says. “No point in telling you everyone’s name right now. You won’t remember them all. You’ll just have to get their name as you meet them.”

“Fair enough,” I say.

“So, little pup, did you come here by choice, or were you here because you have to be?” an almond-skinned girl with deep blue eyes asks. She wears a yellow robe, which tells me she’s Accepted. Then she laughs. “What am I saying? We’re all here because we have no other choice. That’s why they call us strays. Let me guess, you used magic without a permit and went a little overboard?”

I shrug. “Something like that.”

“I think you hit the nail on the head, Voborrie,” a dark-skinned boy with dark black curly hair says. He’s tall, even sitting down. He wears a brown robe, claiming he is a Novice.

Voborrie shrugs. “Call ‘em like I see ‘em. Besides, most of us are here because of that. We all got greedy or overconfident and went a little too far.”

“Not all of us,” a thin girl with dark brown hair says. She also wears a brown robe. “Some of us just want to help people. I grew up in Mid Town and was inspired when Damaris healed my sick little brother. She saw the potential in me and I accepted her offer to learn.”

“We get it, Therlu,” Ochilysse says with a long-exaggerated sigh as she twirls her butter knife around her fingers. “You’ve told us this story a hundred times. We all know you have your nose so far up Damaris’s arse; it’s covered in turds.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, Ochilysse, I was talking to the new girl.” Therlu’s eyes thin into slits as she glares at Ochilysse.

“And I’m sure you’ll remind her of it a hundred more times,” Ochilysse mumbles under her breath.

“Come on, Ochily, don’t be mean,” Charinva says while reading her book and munching on her vegetables.

“Easy for you to say, Page Turner,” Ochilysse says and mumbles under her breath. “And don’t call me that in front of everyone else.”

“Don’t worry, Therlu, I like your story. I have a similar one with Damaris,” Hubys says.

“And here we go again. Why don’t we all just share our stories while we’re at it? Heck, how about I just give the gist of it since I’ve nearly memorized them from all the times you’ve told them,” Ochilysse says, rolling her eyes before taking a big bite out of her meat. Then she tries to talk with her mouth full but gets interrupted.

“Come on, Ochily, don’t speak with your mouth full,” Charinva says, not lifting her eyes from the book. Ochily glares at Charinva, mumbling incoherently under her breath.

“What’s gotten up your bum?” Hubys asks.

“Oh, she’s always this way before a test. She’s trying to pass level three,” Charinva says, as she looks closer at something in the book. “I don’t know what she has to worry about, though. I’ve been helping her study for the last few days and she knows everything she needs to. She’ll do fine.”

“Especially with the notes we all can see within the books,” Hubys says before earning an elbow and a sharp glare from Voborrie.

“You’re not supposed to talk about it,” she says as she looks over at me.

“Ochily won’t have to worry, she’ll pass easy enough,” Charinva says as she turns the page.

“You don’t have to talk to me like I’m not here, ya know,” Ochilysse says before she chews off a piece of bread.

“You don’t have to behave like a child, acting out,” Charinva replies.

“I’m not acting out,” she says.

Charinva places her finger onto the page of her book and looks up at Ochilysse with a single eyebrow raised.

“Okay… Maybe just a little. I’m sorry. There! Is that better?” Ochilysse asks. Charinva smiles at her and returns to her book.

“So, Lura, what’s your story?” Therlu asks.

“There’s really nothing to tell. I grew up in Tent City and had an accident where I used magic and was arrested for it. And thanks to Damaris’s intervention, I’m here instead of being sold to slavery or worse,” I say, skipping the details, praying they don’t ask for them. But it seems to have satisfied her.

“Heard that story many times before. It’s basically every low-born’s tale,” Voborrie says.

Two really tall, handsome boys walk up and take a seat across from us. Both with brown robes. The one with a chiseled jaw and a warm honey complexion waves at us all. “Hey everyone. The little pup here just had his first run-in with Mother Chaetris.”

Everyone lets out a collective oooh. A darker skin girl in a yellow robe with thick black curly hair that seems fluffed out speaks up. “Well? What happened?

The other boy who must be a “pup” just like me speaks up. He’s quite handsome. Strong jaw, silky brown hair, and kind eyes with a light complexion. “She is truly awful. I just don’t understand why they let people like her become priests. Isn’t the point to spread Light?”

They all snicker. “You’d think. She’s like the void of Light. She sucks in all the joy and happiness from everyone else.”

“It’s strange because she wears a smile and acts so proper,” the pup says between shoveling the food into his mouth. “But then she talks to you and she makes you feel like you’re less than sand.”

“Yep. She’s so condescending. Always talking down to you as if you’re a stupid child,” Cheyoise says, picking at her food.

“She’s the worst,” Inhepireth says as she stuffs her mouth full.

“How she achieved the rank of Mother, I will never know,” Chalia says as she takes a sip from her drink. “By the way, Ralodan, looks like you have a fellow pup to study with. This is Lura. It’s her first day here.”

The brown-haired boy takes a break from devouring everything in sight and smiles at me, and I feel my face heat up. He’s got a really brilliant smile. So warm and welcoming. Particularly when you overlook the piggish way he eats. “It is very nice to meet you, Lura. I’m definitely going to lean on you to learn this stuff. I’m not good at studying.”

“Yeah, sure!” I spit out. I hear several sighs, and one girl mumbles under her breath how handsome he is and I’m hit with instant jealousy. “I would love to study with you.”

That earns me a few side-eyed glares from the other girls. One girl I haven’t got a name to speaks up. “Maybe you should study with someone who’s actually passed the test.”

“Oh? That would be a good idea. Let’s all study together,” he says with a smile.

“I wish we could marry,” Therlu breathes softly, but just loud enough for me to hear.

“So, I don’t understand. Are we not allowed to have relationships?” I ask without thinking.

“Why? Do you want one?” Voborrie asks with a smirk.

“No… I was just wondering. That’s all,” I say quickly, trying to regain face as I pick at my food.

“Unfortunately, you’ll learn that attachments are forbidden. This means relationships of any kind, physical or emotional, aren’t allowed. At least anything above a friendship. Duty is our responsibility as servants of the Light and attachments can make it difficult for us to perform our duty. Especially if there is ever a situation where we have to choose between duty and our attachments,” Charinva says without looking up from her book. I swear, I didn’t even think she was listening.

“I think that is stupid. Love doesn’t get in the way of duty and neither do attachments. If I had someone I love to fight for and protect, it’d make me fight harder,” Ralodan says.

“They say that all the texts from the Angel Akrasiel himself preach about love. The one the Light sent to guide us in the time of the breaking when King Volodar left us. The time when darkness, corruption, and greed took over. Where demons attacked, nightmares became reality, and the dark took over the day,” Charinva says, actually looking up from her book.

“Oh, come on, you actually believe that dung?” Ochilysse says, tossing up a grape into the air and catching it with her mouth. “demons, seriously? That’s a load of camel turds.”

“That’s just what I read. In fact, it’s documented in many different texts,” Charinva says.

“I don’t believe it. demons don’t exist. Neither do void wraiths nor dark fiends. It’s all just a bucket of goat piss they make children drink to make them behave,” Ochilysse says.

“I believe it. Something in my gut tells me it’s the truth,” Ralodan says.

“Does your gut tell you that the sky is green? Because it ain’t,” Ochilysse says.

“No, right now my gut tells me I’m full,” he says as he leans back in his chair and pats his stomach. I can’t help but laugh along with the rest of the girls. Aside from a few, including Chalia, Cheyoise, and Inhepireth.

Charinva snaps her book shut. “Well, I gotta go put in hours. Still need twenty-seven more.”

The other girls stare at her with wide eyes and gaping mouths.

“You’ve only got twenty-seven hours left? You’ve hardly been here for more than half a cycle,” Chalia says.

“What do you mean by hours?” I ask.

“Each Novice has to do one-thousand hours of manual labor before they can be Accepted. Along with completing the ten levels,” Charinva says as she pulls out a small hourglass and sets it on the table. This time it’s my jaw that drops in a wide-eyed expression.

 “This hourglass is charmed to keep track of hours. You just turn it upside down and place your finger on the top. The hourglass starts counting hours. It also can tell if you’re actually doing chores too. It’s another charm. I believe these hourglasses are connected to another hourglass and that must have our total. At least, that’s how I would do it if it were up to me.”

I pick my jaw up from the table. “One-thousand hours!”

Ochilysse snorts. “Why do you think there are so many Novices and so little Accepted? The weak ones can’t make the cut.”

“They get free labor, but since they’re allowing us to sleep here with free food and everything else, we need, it’s a small cost to pay. I’ve been doing about five or six hours a day, so it only took me over a cycle to get them all done,” Charinva says before she takes off.

“Six hours? Where do you get the time!” Ralodan asks, but Charinva is already halfway to taking care of her tray. “It’s not so bad,” Chalia says. “If you start now, you can do an hour a day and have it done in just under two cycles. Besides, it’ll take you at least that to get to level ten anyway, unless you’re Charinva. She’s not normal.

Be the first 100 to sign up for the Arathoon Newsletter and a FREE Digital copy of Shattered Souls when it is released!

fantasy, fantasy novel, Fantasy book, Fantasy story, elves, vikings