The Saga of Sordic: Masters of the Art (Novel 2 of 4)

THE SAGA OF SORDIC

Masters of the Art

Novel 2 of 4

by

R.S. Cummings

Smashwords Edition

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Published on Smashwords by:

R.S. Cummings

THE SAGA OF SORDIC: Masters of the Art

Copyright 2011 by R.S. Cummings

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal use 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 person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

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To view Sordic’s map and other very insightful references, please visit the official website:

www.wix.com/rscummings/the-saga-of-sordic

To receive exciting updates on Sordic events and new book releases, please email the series and request you be added to the mailing list. Sordic will never spam you!

the.saga.of.sordic@gmail.com

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Table of Contents

*The Magic Lies Within*

Series Chapters

Book 1: The First Dreamlight

Book 2: Masters of the Art

Book 3: The Warlock of Ajalk

Book 4: The Last Dreamlight

Book 2 Chapters

Chapter 1: Birth of a Krew

Chapter 2: A Lesson in History

Chapter 3: The Saga Continues

Chapter 4: Madness Creeping

Chapter 5: Veiled Investigations

Chapter 6: To Be a Speory

Chapter 7: Rumor of a Colbra

Chapter 8: Blabberskye Spit

Chapter 9: Companionless

Chapter 10: We All Live on the Purple Trampoline

Chapter 11: The Disciples of Majesty

Chapter 12: Meet the Zaiths

Chapter 13: Glorious Blades

Chapter 14: Impulses

Chapter 15: Eye of the Minquez

Chapter 16: Summoning

Chapter 17: A Hero’s Reality

Chapter 18: Falon’s Forest

Chapter 19: From Brunite to Luttu

Chapter 20: Limbwhip’s Mission

Chapter 21: The Bentrose Scheme

Chapter 22: Masters of the Art

Chapter 23: Foreshadow

Chapter 24: Fluttering Heart

Chapter 25: The Cottage Project

Chapter 26: Revelation

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Visit the Sordic website to continue the adventure!

www.wix.com/rscummings/the-saga-of-sordic

STRYKWORTH MANSION (by floor #)

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For Colbie Skye,

May the realm your mom and I create for you bring forth the most blissful of memories.

I love you.

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Chapter 1—Birth of a Krew

Without pain, there can be no pleasure.

Without evil, there can be no good.

Without a villain, there can be no hero.

He didn’t always go by the name Crash. His soul wasn’t always dominated by sinful thoughts and greed. He didn’t always wish everyone around him could feel the unbearable torment forced upon him since childhood. There was a time when Idol Spikes was filled with the most basic of love and compassion. But his surroundings drove the goodness out of him.

You killed her. You murdered my sister! Idol screamed at his father. He held the shiny Witachi Sword, a trail of fresh blood oozing down the blade.

It was an accident, Idol. I never meant to hit her that hard, the older man tried to catch his breath. He had never seen his son handle a sword, but he appeared to know exactly what he was doing. "Why does your weapon have flesh on it? What have you done?"

Idol became more enraged at his father’s accusative question. A glare from the Witachi Sword reflected in his inky eyes. Mother had it coming to her. She has always let you have the last word on Simone and me. It only took one swing, father. Now we have both killed, but one of us is about to kill again.

You’ve gone mad! the frightened man pleaded, I am your father. I have only ever loved you!

Love you too, Idol replied, spinning into motion. The sharpened blade hit its target with precision. The old man’s shredded body fell upon itself into a dead mass on the dirt floor.

Idol stood alone in his hut. He had never killed before this day. Now three corpses surrounded him, two slain by his own hands. He ran to his room and leaned over Simone, who had been placed in her crib. The dirt that covered the ground had become crimson-shaded mud from the spilt blood. He put his hands on the dead girl’s body. His thick arms began to shake uncontrollably and tears chased each other down his face. In attempt to stop the trembling and regain control of himself, Idol forced his eyes closed and tried to focus on the events that led him to this point…

*Flashback to Idol’s upbringing*

As a child, Idol was a ball of clay, quiet and absorbing the environment around him. Before he learned to speak, he discovered his family was different than others. No one in his family was a speory, a person gifted with magic. He recognized from trips around the village that others had the ability to do things that never occurred in his hut. But he wasn’t interested in magic. Secondly, he realized that punishment had a different meaning for him. His parents delivered brutal beatings to his weak, maturing skin. But he didn’t hold hatred toward his parents for the abuse—he loved them as he felt was expected. As he grew to adolescence, he became the target of teenage mockery by his peers. It wasn’t that he acted abnormal, but his appearance was unique. He was awkwardly tall, his skinny legs and neck both too long for his stubby torso. He wore his stringy dark hair with a part down the middle, the tips of each side reaching down to two sharp points that met right in front of his pupils. His covered eyes drew unwanted attention to his oversized nose. But he was unaffected by the cruelty of the other children. With all the factors making Idol’s life different from everyone else’s, he had a secret passion that gave him purpose. Swords.

Idol’s father, Sabre Spikes, was a weaponsmith of Strasa Village, but his name was known all throughout the Volkano Valley. Sabre had become a legend from the durable weapons crafted by his hands. From a young age he had an interest in shields, bows, and swords of all kinds. He was homeless and attempted to make a living selling his innovative weaponry to others without shelter. Strasa Village was peaceful, but Volkano Valley was a haven for evil creatures, especially north of Deadfalls. An iron spiked mace Sabre had spent months perfecting one day found its way into the hands of a wealthy man passing through the village. He offered to put Sabre up in a hut of his own and supply him with weaponsmith tools in exchange for newly-crafted weapons each time the traveler passed through. Sabre agreed to the bargain and found himself with a home and business of his own. From there, he became a master weaponsmith and made a multitude of tools that were purchased throughout all three of the major villages in Volkano Valley. As he settled into his niche, Sabre became a regular at the local pub. There, he fell in love with both the sweetness of ale and a woman that eventually became his wife. The couple enjoyed drinking together weekly, daily, and sometimes hourly. Time moved forward, delivering age and, one day, their first child—Idol.

Idol never grew to like Strasa Village. It was a series of huts, each made from the bark of grooboo, a strong tree indigenous to Sordic Realm. The grooboo grew in colors of orange and teal, giving the village a hypnotizing pattern of color. The huts were not luxurious and left much to be desired. They were comprised of three rooms, two for sleeping and one as a common area where meals were prepared. Architects of the huts stacked the grooboo bark directly on the hard, dusty ground. The brown dirt that lined the outdoors of Strasa Village was the same dirt that found its way onto the furniture and food of those living in the small huts.

The gardens of Strasa were on the eastern side of the village near the banks of the Ribox River. The exotic gardens were responsible for the crops utilized in Strasa as well as allocated to Frontier, the southern-most town in Volkano Valley. Most of the farmers were cloverfairies, winged creatures with a love for agriculture. They were small and sweet with no knowledge of war or greed. They had light pink skin and a single antennae coming out of the center of their head. The constant flutter of their wings could be heard from all corners of the gardens. Their race was entirely female and every member was a speory. Conception of new cloverfairies happened immaculately on the fifth birthday of each member of the species. This caused their population to hit a great number, which was beneficial to Volkano Valley because of their gardening skills in the unfriendly terrain. They used special magic to add unnatural nutrients to the dry soil, growing crops in the valley that even the rich farmers in Westpoint Kingdom couldn’t produce. A cloverfairy’s only obsession outside of agriculture was the sweet juices of a rare fruit called uthean.

Sabre’s weaponry was located on the western side of the village. What began as a small hut had become multiple huts built beside each other to aid the weaponsmith in storing his large stock. Strasa was supportive of Sabre, for his crafts brought humans, elves, imps, and a multitude of other creatures from the far reaches of Sordic to the village for the best weapons in the land.

Idol helped his father in the shop as often as Sabre would let him. It wasn’t that Idol was trying to be extra helpful, but rather that he had fallen in love with weapons. The store’s walls were covered from floor to ceiling with an amazing variety of crafts. Shields, knives, spears, bows, axes, and war hammers were just a few of the tools of destruction hanging from hooks. An iron-spiked mace encased in a shield of Raybok, an inpenetratable energy, hung from the ceiling. It was a replica of the weapon Sabre forged that had led to the beginning of his business.

But amongst the plethora of weapons lay the collection Idol was most obsessed with. Longswords, broadswords, rapiers, and many original creations yet to be named clung to the wall, begging for a war to break out. He would sometimes fall into a trance when staring at the different swords. His mind would transport him out of Strasa Village and to the grounds of a great battle. He could see himself leading an army to victory and becoming the king of Sordic for his service. It was these thoughts that led Idol to steal one of his father’s swords.

It was called the Witachi Sword. When Sabre finished crafting it, he told his son it was the sharpest blade he’d ever forged. Out of fear of the weapon losing its sting, a drunken Sabre lured a cloverfairy with uthean and then threatened her life, forcing her to cast a spell that would forever preserve the perfection of the one and only Witachi Sword. When Idol found the courage to secretly claim a sword as his own, he couldn’t ignore the power of the Witachi. He stole the weapon and hid it in a hole he’d dug north of the village along the western bank of the Ribox River.

He received the beatings of his life over the next several months. Idol persevered through the bruises and bleeding without ever experiencing the temptation of returning the Witachi Sword to his father. When he wasn’t sleeping, eating, or being whipped, he would escape from Strasa and retreat to the hiding place of the stolen good. The weapon was light and its body thin. The blade was flexible and short, giving the misperception that the wielder could be easily defeated by a larger sword. But the magic the weapon possessed wouldn’t let the swordsman fall. The Witachi Sword was the most powerful sword in Sordic. Idol knew it.

He would spend hours swinging the weapon and fighting enemies that weren’t there. Sometimes he would sneak to the warrior barracks of Strasa and watch through the cracks in the walls as fighters trained in a variety of combat methods. He paid close attention to the swordsmen, watching the way they moved their feet to parry and their hands to attack.

For two years, he kept the sword concealed and became excellent at handling it. Many things happened over the course of that time. He would receive his daily beating. Sabre would attempt to craft a duplicate of the Witachi Sword without success. But most significantly, the Spikes brought another child into the world. Idol was given a sister, named Simone. At first, he was unaffected by the presence of another human in the hut. He continued with his regular routine of working and practicing with his prize possession. It wasn’t until the first time he saw Sabre hit Simone that he realized he cared about his little sister. This sequence of events led to the night that changed everything.

Is supper ready? Idol asked his mother as a puff of dust followed him through the hut door.

No supper tonight, she answered, her hand gripped to an empty ale bottle. It was the second night in a row she was too drunk to cook.

He made his way across the common area without saying another word. There were no decorations of any kind in the room. No paintings or family valuables in sight. There was just a small table with a woman on the verge of passing out. He felt anger, but kept it tucked away. He entered his room and peeked into the crib. Simone wasn’t there. He shrugged and began to run his hand harshly across his bed, trying to rid it of all the dirt hiding in the creases of the mattress. He dropped his weight onto the old bed. His pillow had recently torn and the feathers within kept escaping. He tried to shove as many as he could back into the case. Finally, he laid his head down.

BAM! Idol shot back to sitting position.

Stop crying! he heard his father shout from the other bedroom. He feared for Simone. Normally, he avoided confrontations with his father at all costs. He would wait for the crying and bruised Simone to be brought back to his room and then comfort her until she was okay.

BAM! Against his instincts, Idol darted to the next room. As he peered at the scene, he was suddenly in a dream—what he saw couldn’t be real. Simone wasn’t okay. Sabre had blood on his hands. Idol looked over his shoulder at his sleeping mother and then at his guilty father, who was still trying to comprehend what he had done. And finally, he peered at his still sister lying on the ground. He felt different than he ever had before. His hands began to sweat and his vision blurred. Rushes of pain overtook his body. Every beating his father had given him flooded his mind. The suppressed anger was boiling over. In that moment, Idol transformed into a new person. He said nothing. He turned away from the horrifying scene and sprinted out of the hut. He ran north, moving faster than ever before. Once to the hiding spot of the weapon, he swiftly uncovered it and headed back toward his home.

The door of the hut slowly crept open. A pair of livid eyes observed as much as they could without calling attention. Idol’s mother had woken, but was still sitting at the table with puffy eyes. With the edge of the Witachi Sword, he pushed the door all the way open. Sabre was not in sight.

His mother lost her breath at the sight of her son holding the missing weapon. But it wasn’t her son she looked upon. Idol was an agent of hatred seeking revenge. She never had a chance to speak to the stranger standing in front of her. As the blade entered her soft neck, a final gasp for air ended her life. She returned to her sleeping position on the table.

He headed to the scene of the crime and found his father alone in the bedroom. They made eye contact. Sabre was about to speak but was cut off by his son, You killed her. You murdered my sister…

*Present time*

Idol opened his eyes and took his hands off his sister. He didn’t have a choice on his next move—he would have to flee. Sabre was the most well known man in all of Strasa Village and it wouldn’t be long before his missing was noticed. He wiped away his tears and brushed his dark hair out of his eyes. He returned to the other bedroom to find a sheath to hold the Witachi Sword. Stepping over his father, he grabbed a sturdy one from the wall. After strapping the blade to his back, he put on a black cloak and left his hut for the last time.

He journeyed further north than he’d ever been. The rocky terrain of Volkano Valley was rough, constantly increasing in altitude. Idol’s muscles became fatigued—he had never traveled such a distance. The peaks of the Golden-Ice Mountain Range that formed the valley were reaching higher and higher into the sky. The light of the full moon guiding Idol on his journey was now blocked by the monstrous mountains. The wind picked up more and more, blowing pieces of debris into his eyes. The environment mocked him as he battled his way up the valley. His stomach began to rumble from the missed supper. Just as his muscles threatened to give out, a startling sight gave him an unexpected energy burst. His eyes could barely make out two silhouettes in the distance.

The figures had tall, pointy ears. At first, he was panicked by the new company, but knew he would not have the stamina to outrun any foes. As the creatures approached, more silhouettes split from the original two. Suddenly there were four. Then eight. Then ten! His eyes adjusted more and more, until the outline of the figures’ fingernails, long like their ears, came into view. He was being ambushed by imps.

As the imps made their final steps to Idol, they formed a circle around him. He drew his weapon but struggled to hold it upright. Despite the lightness of the Witachi Sword, his weary body prevented him from gripping his protection in a proper manner. He became frightened. Imps were notoriously aggressive for their small stature. His skin was melting off his body from the twenty evil eyes staring through him.

Rasha geaku! an imp shouted, pus dripping out of one of the craters on his little blue face.

Geaku! Geaku! the others joined in. They were unarmed, but Idol was outnumbered. The attackers sprung into action and attacked him from all sides. Dust danced into the air and filled Idol’s lungs before the first imp hit him. He managed one successful swing of the sword, the blade robbing an imp of its arm. Then he was thrown to the ground. The creatures scratched and gnawed on his skin, trying to persuade him to release his weapon. But he had an iron grip. If he were going to die from this unfortunate fight, he would die with the Witachi Sword in hand.

FLASH! Two imps were tossed off the boy with electrifying Red Magic. The attack halted for a second as the alarmed creatures searched for the source of the new assault. Idol would have taken the moment to regain his footing, but he didn’t have it in him. The imps’ slanted eyes darted back at him as they decided they would finish what they started—but their time was up. Two streams of Purple Magic gripped onto a pair of imps and the energy rammed them into the rest of the group surrounding the beaten boy. Some of the creatures fled in fear of the magic, but others were determined to kill Idol and steal the enchanted blade. Their determination was stunted by the mysterious attacker once again. The speory summoned two balls of Red Magic, one at the palm of each hand. Idol tried to position himself to see what was going on, spitting at the same time to rid his mouth of blood. The energy spheres swelled and the shade of red became darker. The defenseless imps were defeated. Before feeling the wrath of the super-charged Red Magic, the creatures scattered, their long ears tucked backwards along their bald heads.

The magic vanished as the figure stepped into Idol’s view. The man knelt beside the boy to check his status. His body had endured a lot from the savage attack, but nothing that couldn’t be healed. The man stood and cracked each of his knuckles one by one. He was elderly, but highly skilled in magic from his many years of practice. He was short and wore a black hat and large pack upon his back.

This will make you feel better, boy, the man said under his breath. Again, magic filled the air. Whiteness poured out of all ten of the man’s fingertips and struck all regions of Idol’s body. The boy could feel his pain fading and wounds healing. The White Magic penetrated each break in his skin and brought him back to nearly full health. He tried to sit up.

Slowly, son, slowly. Your wounds may be healed, but I’m guessing you are not a speory. My magic will not give you your energy back. You must eat and rest.

He gazed at the man who had saved him.