Journey of Shadows

Journey of Shadows

Book One of The Immortalis Trilogy

By Dee Sutter

Text Copyright 2011 Dee Sutter

Cover Art Copyright Alberto Ramirez Jr.

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The Herald's Tale

The sound of horses and carriages echoed over the trees long before the caravan arrived at the small village square. Townsfolk paused to listen to the echoes chiming in from the surrounding forest. Seamstresses and washerwomen ended their gossiping and perked their ears. Blacksmiths held their hammers still. The voices of priests, lifted in prayers and chanting, died out in the wind. Children paused their play in the streets to listen as well. A sentry cried out a distant call that sent one and all scurrying about in every direction. Parents swept up their children and dragged them home by their arms. Mothers grabbed bags from under beds and threw in everything they could reach. Fathers collected valuables and stashes of coin hidden in walls, under floorboards, and in their robes. Sons and daughters gathered the precious family mementos they would treasure for years to come.

Before the dust of the caravan drifted into town, the entire village waited at the square. Women cried silent tears, tightly squeezing the hand of a child or two. The men folk held the great many bags and bundles, all smiles through their pain. When the caravan at last came into the village, the lead carriage left the thirty-something traveling wagons and pulled up to the gathered crowd. The horses were relieved to have the journey end for at least a time. They stepped and snorted when they stopped, shaking out the grit of long travels.

The crowd stood strong, staring the carriage down for long minutes, willing the traveler to make himself known. The children fidgeted in silence, afraid and yet excited for what was to come. These children had been prepared for this day their entire lives. They were scared but even the youngest knew their place in this day. It was time. Time to begin their adventures.

The carriage door opened and a fleshy man of middling age stepped slowly down from the wagon. The crowd, silent except for the weeping of some of the younger mothers, anxiously waited. The man looked around the throng and marked each and every face and family mentally from a long list. After he accounted for the last family, he looked back into the shadowed carriage doorway and then bowed his head. From inside, a low tinkling began. Softly at first, the rhythm beat steady and unchanging. Tink. Tink. Tink. The sound began to creep out of the carriage stronger and louder until even those farthest back in the square could plainly hear the ominous, hypnotic song.

The Herald lifted his head and looked back into the crowd. Whispers passed through the gathered masses. Those in the back of the crowd needed to know what was happening, while those in the front were too cowed to speak. The tink, tink, tink continued above all the whispering; it drowned out the voices as its beat became even stronger. Suddenly, a resonating voice sounded above the metal din. With no doubt whatsoever that he had everyone's attention, the Herald began his tale.

"The time is once again upon us! The story, as ever, must be retold! Long, long ago, this world was an Empire of greatness. Everything and everyone prospered as we have never seen. Our fields were fertile and our people lived with happiness and in peace. The Great Magic flourished in every kingdom, city, village, and hamlet and verily in every single heart. Humans lived and thrived alongside all the storied creatures of legend. The immortal beings of magic shared our fine world and shared our short lives in harmony and all were truly blissful. It was a grand and glorious golden age for our world and all who lived.

"One day, a day like any other, began a new age, however, for our people and this entire cursed world. Without any warning, the earth began to shake and crumbled away beneath our very homes and streets. Out of the broken trenches, a dark and ominous fire engulfed the air itself and foul demon creatures climbed into our existence, shattering the peace, shattering... the world.

These were monsters, savage and cruel. No two appeared the same. Some were dark crimson or a black darker than a raven. Covered in scales, fur, spikes or flesh, some walked on two legs, others on as many as six or eight. Their gruesome visages resembled no animals in all the worldly kingdoms. Everything about these ghastly creatures was tragic and wrong. Destroying everything within their reach, down to the very soil beneath their festering feet, nothing whatsoever could repel them. Even the great immortals fell in the terrible, destructive wake of this demon army.

The tink, tink, tink beat in the back of each mind in the crowd. The young children stood enraptured by the repeating of the legend they heard so often from their parents. Those older listened anxiously.

"The people, our Sorcerers and Sorceresses, and even the immortals themselves cried out to the Gods for assistance – for mercy. This dreadful army was relentless in their assault. The dark force swept quickly across the lands, slaughtering whole villages in its wake. Nothing could stay the onslaught. What began as small bands quickly became an uncontrollable mass of destruction, murder, and terror, marching to the heart of our very land, Nostal. As the multitudes of darkness converged upon the epicenter of this world, every kingdom sent messengers begging the demon leader for mercy with promises of fealty and riches. No messenger ever returned to his kinsmen. Such was the unbridled brutality of those monsters that they would even kill those that would voluntarily submit.

"With an army of Hellish denizens bent on exterminating all that was good in our world, one single sorceress—Amies—stepped forward to fight in the fields of Nostal. Gathering the few remaining spell casters and the last remaining immortals to her side, she formed a small but badly outnumbered band of brave heroes to face the devils in a final, doomed last stand.

The most dreadful monsters of that terrible force shook the ground with laughter as they mocked our rebels when they marched upon them in the field. Amies prayed to the Gods for help, beseeching the greatest Powers for protection and courage to fight and yes, to win this awful battle. Determined to defeat the dark horde, our mystical champions joined their hands for support and attacked. The joining of power from one thousand creatures of our great world caught the denizens by complete surprise. The Great Magic swept through their vile ranks and destroyed half of their force before the monsters rallied, full of renewed rage and hatred.

Tink, tink, TINK! The crowd watched as if hypnotized, entranced as the legend unfolded anew. The Herald watched and noted their faces as he continued.

"The savages, though thick headed and slow, were immensely powerful and filled with a dark, ferocious energy. Determined to eradicate all life, they plowed through the heroes' magically protected shields. Beaten down to a few hundred legions, the terrible creatures knew still that victory was near. The heroes cried out in agonizing death as they inevitably succumbed to the relentless attacks. Soon enough, all but seven of the great champions were gone and those still living were exhausted from the battle. Defeat had become imminent and torturous death was creeping forward with every step.

"In one final desperate act, Amies prayed to the Gods once more. In return for their intervention, Amies offered the Gods her very self instead! She offered to sacrifice her magical essence that the Gods would save the world. Such a pure sacrifice! From the Heavens, the Gods finally intervened. The black storm clouds over those barren death fields parted and a great cleansing light burst forth like the brightest morning sun. The demon army, stunned from the sudden wash of light from above, howled at the skies in frustration and anger. Slowly, the light consumed the monsters from within and they began to burn and fall away as ashes to blow with the building winds. Regrettably, such miracles are ever hardly self-contained and those heroes left in the field were unfortunately sacrificed as well. Even the frail humans who had braved coming to the field to witness the battle and take up arms fell in that great cleansing light. But, in the end, the Gods saved our world.

While the Great Battle rage in our fields of Nostal, other humans fled to pantries, closets and cellars in hopes of living out the battle that day. Truly, they were the lucky survivors of the invasion. Most did not survive the march of the army and many others perished in the cleansing fire sent from our great Deities. Please, dear people do not mourn the loss of those caught by the light. They are the few that went to the Heavens without suffering pain or terror from the hands of those grievous fiends.

The tink, tink, tink was the only sound heard throughout the village as the Herald paused in his story. After a long moment, he spoke again.

"Finally, the winds traveled away over the sea and the ash settled. A few brave souls wen to the fields of the Great Battle, determined to put to rest those who were sacrificed. Piles of ash dotted the barren land, lying in great hills and vales of gray and white flakes. The humans knew not of the sacrifice of that maiden, Amies, but even their poor simple minds could feel the magic throbbing throughout the ground and in the air. A low cry came from further afield. Terror seized the people; they were so desperately afraid of the monsters. From a huge pile of stone gray ash, a frail arm flew out and waved around. This pale arm was not scaled, spiked, or even flawed. A simple human arm, with five fingers, completely human nails and the color of sunshine, waved from the dust of death. Everyone watched as another pale arm furiously shot out of the ash waving. A woman's fair head and slight body fell in a twisted heap from the pile, sputtering out ash and struggling to breathe. That woman was Amies, the great savior of our entire world!

"She was the lone hero, left to tell the sad tale of the terrible battle. The people were indeed glad for Amies. Once fully recovered from the shock of near-death, she related the events of that last stand to the gathering crowd. Eventually, she was able to mourn the loss of her comrades in arms, the humans caught in the backlash of that unpredictable Godly will. She also mourned for her sacrificed gift. Devoid of it, she could no longer summon the Great Magic and she despaired. For the first time in her long lifetime, Amies was a regular human like us. Nevertheless, the people did not care if she had that great magic anymore. She, the very savior of the world, was alive and the great hero of that already legendary epic battle!

The people vowed to take care of Amies. She had given up everything for them and so she would never want for anything again. Entire villages argued that Amies should come to live within their towns and offered to provide for her every need. Many days passed before Amies decided that it was unfair to burden a single village with her care for the rest of her life. So, she announced that she planned to spend only enough time in each village to help rebuild the land, homes, and lives of the people for whom she had sacrificed her very being. Life went on as it had to.

Tink. Tink. Tink.

"The immortals that graced our world were gone—either in hiding or truly extinct. The people raised Amies up as a living legend and hero despite her objections. True to her word, she traveled the Empire doing good works for everyone she met along her journey. Some said that the great woman traveled this broken world to find those Great Magic creatures once more, to restore them to their rightful place in our world. Others said she was searching for her own magic. Honestly, good people, the intentions of the journey are not what are important, but the journey itself!

Years later, the great lady was traveling when a tragic accident befell her and her party. The noise of wolves on the hunt sounded in the woods. These great dogs spooked the horses and Amies fell for her spirited mount. Rushing to aid her, the attendants found her near death and rushed her to the closest village for treatment. There she remained for weeks, lying as if dead in the home of the medicine woman and her family. The villagers saw to her comfort with bedding and cool water while the traveling party stood a solemn watch.

Tink, tink, tink peeled through the air as soft cries drifted from the crowd.

"When all hope had been lost, and the people had begun the funeral rites, Amies awoke. The man assigned to watch and protect her body was so overcome with surprise and wonder that he fainted and could not sound an alarm. Once fully awake, Amies wept and thanked the Gods for their great gifts. Mourners passing by the humble cottage heard her cries and stumbled in to find Amies awake. Crying out in relief, the women threw themselves at our Lady's feet and cried praises to the Heavens for her return. Comforting the mourning women, Amies told them that they must hurry to convey the news that she had had a vision! She praised the Gods for their benevolence. They had spoken with her while she lay in her stupor and had warned her of an impending threat. The hated army of evil was growing in force, one day to return. This called for immediate action. The women rushed to the funeral rites and screamed for the people to come quickly, rousing the guard and bringing the villagers running to the hut.

"At the medicine woman's home, Amies waited for the crowd to find calm before she could relate the events in her vision. Finally, the crowd quieted and Amies spoke. The Gods told her, she said, to gather the children to her and reestablish the forces needed to fight the darkness. They had told her that children with the Great Magic gift were alive and must be found! Even those without magic should be taught finesse with a sword, stewardship of the ground, care toward all creatures, and harmony in nature, as they would best serve his or her family, village, and country. Masters must teach the children skills for battle tactics, survival, farming, hunting, smithing, and more. Land would have to be made available for a great Empirical School. Our wise woman herself would train any children with the spark of magic within.

In a matter of weeks, the sprawling construction northwest of the fields of the Great Battle finished and the first classes began. Parents camped outside the gates throughout construction, begging for admission on behalf of their child or children. The people knew this school was our only chance to survive another attack. Unfortunately, even a school the size of the Lady's School did not have room for every child in the Empire, so the waiting list soon became incredibly long and then the School was expanding in every direction in order to make room for more children. Children between the ages of three and eight years were accepted. Older children were turned away since they were so near adulthood, much to the distress of their parents. Many parents and children lamented this, but the Gods were clear in Amies' vision that it would be the children that saved our world this time…and so it was to be.

TINK. TINK. TINK.

"Now, the will of the Gods was plain. Lady Amies witnessed the words of the Gods herself. However, some poor people, those that never saw the Great Battle, were suspicious of the School for unknown reasons. The suspicion was so great that they refused to send their children when the heralds called. The world cried for those poor, poor children! The good people in those villages threatened to take the children away from those terrible parents, those unbelievers! Our great lady spoke to the masses though, telling them to make peace with those who chose not to believe in her vision and in final peace for our world. She decreed that the people should tolerate and accept the non-believers because they were merely afraid of the unknown. She alone understood fear unlike any other person; she who had stood up in the face of the greatest peril our world has ever witnessed. Amies would not abide the good people to make those poor children orphans due to fear and confusion.

The people felt confused. Lady Amies was right, but how dare those people refuse to do their part in protecting the world! Eventually, hostilities in the villages boiled over enough that the rebels finally took their tainted minds away from our families. They left in the dead of night for the most remote parts of the world. Many villagers felt that should the wolves and bears eat them, no one would mourn. Throughout the years though, Amies has mourned the loss of every single one.

Tink. Tink. Tink. The shadowed musician played on, relentless in his monotonous song.

"The Great Mother remains today as the headmistress of our School, though she has been around many more years than a natural human. Generations have passed through the school and yet she seems to have only aged a year for every ten that passes. The magic, though gone from her by the great sacrifice, still touches her soul. That, my dear brothers and sisters, is how she is still living. That remnant of her gift is why Amies is the only person alive able to find the Great Magic in our frail human lives. She will find it in one of the children!

We owe Lady Amies for our lives and, as such, we owe her our faith that we will all be saved once again. So now, my fellow citizens, my kinsmen, I give the call once more for the children! I have come to you every five years in order to gather the youth for the School and it is time once again. The newest class will begin at the School after the next season so we must be on our way very soon. Be proud of your little ones for one of them might be the one that will one day restore us to glory and save the peace. Pack their clothes, toys, and family reminders. Send what provisions you can afford. I will return in three days' time to collect the little ones and begin their journey to the Empirical School... and on to their destiny. Be ready!

TINK! With one final blow, the music inside the carriage twinkled softly as an echo and then floated away on the wind.

As the Herald finished, the long-patient crowd converged on him. Parents offered their children immediately, bags in tow. They had awaited his coming for months. It was a holiday for the people, full of hope and wishes for their young. While the village would miss their little children, all the mothers and fathers graduated during their ages and knew exactly how great an adventure the children were about to undertake. The children themselves waited all their lives in anticipation of this day.

With the crowd pushing and yelling, no one noticed one woman behind the stables. Her hood pulled low over her face and the dark leather cape that fell around her shoulders covering her slight body, she slunk back into the shadows and melted into their dark recesses. Like everyone else, the stable hands stood occupied at the pronouncement. So she found a strong swift horse and led him from his stall. The tall black had been forgotten when the Herald and his men arrived. Walking the horse from the stall was simple enough as the woman whispered up at him and ran her hands down his glossy neck. From the back doors of the stable, the woman and the horse walked straight into the dark of the woods and she thanked the Gods for finding a common dark horse ready instead of a light one. This one would not be so easily seen or recognized.

The woman pulled the black further into the woods until she reached a small clearing. She tethered the horse by the stream and threw a gray leather saddle across his back. The black drank his fill and cropped grass near the stream while she felt his legs and checked his hooves. She whispered softly to him all the while. With the horse tending his own needs, she laid a hand on the largest tree and peered into the dark woods. Certain that no one followed her and that no one watched, she knelt down into the spring berry bushes and pulled out a small hidden bundle. She cooed to the small object wrapped up in her hands and then opened her leather cape to reveal a sort of rough harness strapped to her chest. She situated the bundle into the opening of the harness and then adjusted the strapping. With a final coo, she closed the cape. After one more surreptitious look around, she unfettered the tall black, mounted him in a single stride and heeled him into a gallop, hoping to quickly get as far south as possible.

Unnoticed behind her, a pair of yellow eyes followed her progress. Stepping from the darkest pit of trees, the creature raised his muzzle to the air and inhaled deeply. Scenting the horse, the creature stepped fully into the clearing and gazed south. With a growl and flashing fangs, it set off in pursuit. Its dark fur and ears flew back as it loped through the woods picking up speed, following the scent of the horse, the mysterious woman, and the irresistible aroma of magic.

Chapter One

Even as a child, Dani felt her differences when compared to everyone else her age. While other children of Maels ran and played the days away, little Dani devoured text after text in the enormous town library. She spent her days sitting on the steps of the library ignorant of the people passing below. Few noticed the raven-haired child sitting atop the steps with her stacks of books or the mangy dog always lounging no more than a few feet away in the sun. Most of the villagers knew the child. She had spent her entire life in Maels, or as much of her life as she could remember.

As Dani grew older, she gained the trust of the old scholars. When they closed the doors of her personal playhouse, the old men always allowed her to select a text form the library to read overnight so long as it returned in perfect condition the next day. Dani's world thrived in those precious words on the pages: she treasured the books above even her own life. To protect the tomes, she often read by candlelight atop the library stairs long into the night. Sonja, Dani's foster mother, would find the girl asleep against the largest column on calm, comfortable nights. The scruffy cur that smelled more often than not of the deep woods lay at her feet on those nights. The dog would keen to his human companion and rest his paws across her feet to keep her warm.

The villagers knew Dani treasured those books and no one ever attempted to make her act like the other children. They respected anyone that could read, regardless of age. The truth was that the literate people in the village were rare barring, of course, the scholars that came and went. No one knew how the little girl had learned to read; only that one day she could. No proper school ever formed in Maels. The Lady's School in the north was to thank for that.

Some families came to