Dark One Rising

Dark One Rising

Leandra Martin

Cover Art by Bonnie Wasson

Copyright 2013 Leandra Martin,

All rights reserved.

Published in eBook format by Createspace

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ISBN-13: 978-1-6300-1402-5

This is a work of fiction. The events, characters, and cover art, described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

Dark One Rising

All Rights Reserved.

Copyright April 2012 Leandra Martin

Cover by Bonnie Wasson

V3.0

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the expressed written consent of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

“Not all who wander are lost”

- J.R. Tolkien -

To those who have wandered with me –

we have arrived!

PROLOGUE

I
n a quiet castle on the top of a grassy knoll, a man paced back and forth across the smooth stone floor, awaiting news of the birth of his new child. It was taking a long time, longer than the last time, and he was getting worried. What if something went wrong? He shook the thought away. He could not think that way. This child was a surprise, his wife now much older than what was normal for childbirth age, but she was healthy and strong. His concern still ate away at him. He was so caught up in his worry that he almost missed the small brown haired boy peeking at him from behind the curtains hanging on the doorway. He stopped pacing and looked over at his son, whose small brow was furrowed watching his father pace like a nervous dog. He smiled at his son to belay his anxiety. He was too young still to have to worry about such things. He would grow up and become his successor soon enough, but for now, he should be able to be a boy.

“Come here, my son,” the king said, motioning to the plump cheeked boy trying to keep himself hidden behind the curtains.

The boy came out and approached his father’s side. King Randor Breslin took his son’s hand and walked him over to the bench along the far wall, where people waited for an audience with their king. He sat down on the bench and patted the place beside him. His son took his place beside his father and looked up at him.

“Why are you so worried, father?” his son asked him, frowning.

“What makes you think I’m worried about anything, Kevaan?”

“You only pace like that when you’re distressed, father.”

The king smiled at his son’s intuitiveness.

“I’m a bit worried about your mother and your new sibling that is on the way; that’s all.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s been more hours than normal, and I have heard no news.”

“Mother will be fine, father. So will the baby.”

“How do you know this?”

“Because I asked God for a brother to play with. I’m lonely. He won’t let me down.”

“There are plenty of children in the castle for you to play with. What about Fredrick and Rory?”

“They’re fine, but I want a playmate that I can teach things to, someone I can protect. I want to be a big brother.”

The king laughed heartily now. “I see. Well I guess you’re going to get your wish. I just hope it’s soon.”

“Be patient, father, these things take time.”

He looked at his son with even more admiration.

“How is it that you are so wise at ten years old? You’re telling me things I should be telling you.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just repeating what mother said. She said she knew you would be anxious. She sent me to tell you that you need to be calm, that things will be alright.”

The king really laughed now, slapping his son gently on the back. “I get the message, son. Tell your mother I’m fine now.”

“Yes, sir.”

The boy got up from his place at his father’s side and skipped across the sitting room and through the curtained doorway. King Randor smiled now and shook his head. His wife knew him all too well, and she knew how to calm him when he was anxious, even when she wasn’t in the room. She was his rock, his calm during the storm. He loved her deeply, and, if she wasn’t worried, he knew he shouldn’t be either. Instead of rising to continue his harried pacing, he stood and went to the window and looked out over the peaceful countryside. Spring was almost in full bloom, the trees budding, the many colored flowers dotting the lush green landscape. The fresh afternoon breeze blew through the open window and touched his face. It calmed him more, refreshed his soul. He took in a deep breath and let it out. Soon he would have another child.

His peace was interrupted by a servant who slid through the doorway, breathing hard. The king heard him enter and turned to him.

“Your Majesty,” he said bowing low, “your wife is requesting your presence.”

“Is everything alright, Kaleb?”

“Yes. You have a daughter, Sire.”

He smiled. “A daughter?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. She is nice and healthy. Baby and the queen are just fine.”

He pulled himself out of his distraction and followed the servant from the room.

***

In a high mountain pass in the Indriahs, a stooped over woman led a small boy through the zig-zagging trails of ice and slow melting snow, to a stone fortress hidden by a ridge. The boy was tired and dragging his feet, yawning in the waning daylight, the old woman pulling him along and berating him for his tarrying.

When they reached the road that led into the fortress they picked up their pace, scuffling faster up the cobbled lane. The main door was large with a depiction of a sorcerer’s dual carved into the wood grain. There was a bell pull near the entrance, and the old woman rang it, shivering in the frigid air of the mountains.

The door opened a few minutes later, and a man stood there. He motioned for them to step inside, and they did, the door closing loudly behind them, the echo bouncing off the stone walls.

The boy used the advantage of waiting, to look around at his environment. The walls and floor were stone; the floor, however, was polished shiny, and he could see his reflection in it. The walls were rough hewn stone and they looked cold, but the roaring fire in the large hearth warmed him, and he started to feel his hands again. There was uncomfortable furniture all over the room and the hallway and ornately carved wood cabinets and shelving lining the walls. There were large gold sconces along all the walls, casting eerie shadows of light from the flames into the room, and he danced around, smiling at his reflection as it moved on the floor. There were some tapestries and paintings on the walls but none that caught his attention enough to investigate further. What did was a bookcase that lined the entire back wall of the room, with leather bound books and tomes of every color and thickness. As the woman stood waiting for their host, shaking the numbness out of her frozen limbs, he went over to it and looked wide eyed at all the treasures. He loved books. His mother and father were lowland land owners and were not part of the king’s court, but they prided themselves on making sure they were well read, and in doing so, their child as well. He was only ten years old, but his appetite for reading was insatiable, and he wanted to take in all that he could. It didn’t matter what the book was about; he didn’t care, as long as the words on the pages filled his mind with knowledge.

He dragged his hand across the leather bound spines, looking at all the titles that jumped out at him. History, science, adventure, magic. He stopped in his tracks and stared at the last one he had touched. “
The Fundamentals of Magic
” was the title, and he touched that one again with his pointing finger. The spine of the book was warm to the touch, and when he reached out to pull it from the shelf, he felt a sensation run up his finger, all the way to his head. He pulled back from it in surprise, but his curiosity prevailed. He touched it again, tried to grab it and pull it from its resting place. The sensation shot through him again, and he felt a stirring in his soul. A voice behind him caused him to jump, and he pushed the book back in and turned.

A man was standing there, looking down at him with pale gray eyes which were behind small round spectacles resting precariously on his long thin nose. He was not scowling at him but rather studying him with an amused half grin. The boy looked up at him and tried to smile but was afraid he had done something wrong, and smiling would make the stranger mad, just like a dog thought you were snarling if you smiled at him.

The man continued looking down on him, then did smile, the firelight dancing in his eyes. He placed a gentle hand on the boy’s head and patted it. The man seemed to know what he was thinking, because he winked at him.

“Knowledge is never a subject that should get you into trouble. Knowledge is power. The more you know the more power you obtain. And magical knowledge is the most powerful of them all.”

The boy did not respond but continued to look up at the older man with the kind eyes. The man finally looked away and went over to the old woman, who was just now feeling warm by the raging fire. The boy followed him.

“We appreciate you bringing him up here. I realize it was a long and treacherous walk for you. It would not have been wise for any of us to make the trek down the mountain into the city, you understand.”

“I do. Does this mean you will take the boy in?”

“Yes, of course. He has his father’s eyes and his mother’s curiosity. He will learn much from us, and one day he will be ready to go out into the world and conquer it.” He smiled down at the boy again.