The Messenger from Myris Dar
Book One of the Stone Guardians
A Novel by Kindrie Grove
This book is dedicated to all those who
choose to find light in the darkness.
Publishing Info:
Kindrie Grove Studios Inc.
© Kindrie Grove Studios Inc. 2016
Kindrie Grove Studios Inc.
Box 234, 113- 437 Martin Street
Penticton, BC, V2A 5L1
Canada
Story and illustrations © Kindrie Grove 2016
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced without prior written permission from the author.
First published in Canada, 2016
E-Book Version
The Messenger from Myris Dar
ISBN – 9780995855106
Author: Kindrie Grove
Front cover art and map illustration: Kindrie Grove
Table of Contents
Publishing Info:
Acknowledgments
Map of Eryos
Prologue
The Summoner
Part I
A Light in the Dark
Leave-taking
A Chance Encounter
Of Eryos and the Stranger
The Elusive Stalker
An Uninvited Guest
New Friends
A Desperate Battle
The Messenger
Hathunor
Getting Acquainted
Lok Myrr and the Master
Bathtubs and Preconceptions
The Black Fox
The Command Tent
Of Raken
The Retreat
Ambush
Into Klyssen
Worry and Wait
Hathunor's Gift
Of Raken and Magic
Across the Plains
Balor
The Inn
Hauntings from the Past
An Unexpected Friend
Northward
Spell Casting
Shaman of the Horse Clans
The Flight
The Bog Lands
Arorans and Tynithians
Returning through Mist
Part II
Pellar
The Besieged City
Shadows and Stealth
Into the Tunnel
Pellaris
Breakfast and Danyl the Great
Memories
The Council
The Balcony
Veiled Threats
Intruders
The Interrogation
A Traitor to be Found
The Concerns of the People
The King's Study
Atop the Battlement
A Sending
An Emissary
The Great Library of Pellaris
The Note
Silenced
The Sons of Ralor
The Temple of Erys
Truth Revealed
Fight in the Great Temple Square
The Raken Master
Taken
The Slayer
Revenge or Justice
The Chase Begun
Part III
Painful Awakenings
The River Pellar
Hard Won Freedom
River Search
Safe Harbour
Traitor's Chance
The Keeper
An Account Settled
The Pass
Fear is Not My Master
Into Krang
The Interior Within and Without
Lok Myrr
Shadows in the Night
The Walls of Pellaris
Into the Demon’s Lair
Intruders
Dark Passage
Weary Dawn
Escape
An Unexpected Turn
Inside the Belly of the Beast
Betrayal
The Summoner
Terrible Purpose Revealed
The Offering
Sacrifice
Hope
Enemy at the Door
Rebellion
A Lesson for the Teacher
Battle in the Great Cavern
A Warrior’s Sword
To Catch a Falling Hero
Battle’s End
A Brother’s Lament
Aftermath
Epilogue:
A New Beginning
The Adventure Continues…
sample from Book two of the Stone Guardians:
The Ren Warlord
About the Author
Back Cover art
Acknowledgments
This project began almost 12 years ago with a scene that came to my mind and would not leave. I began to write, thinking that it would free me to move on. Little did I know what a torrent of storytelling it would release. The book began to write itself, and I read it as it was written. The initial bones of the tale came through incredibly quickly with characters so powerfully real for me that I lived and breathed with them.
Then began the slow task of turning the telling of the story into a well written adventure that could be shared with the world. From then on, the work on the manuscript happened in short moments snatched from a busy family life and career as a professional artist.
As I neared the end of the incremental editing process, the images and spirit of the characters began to arrive as sculptures and paintings. Thus was born the Legend Collection – works of art that explore the archetypal essence of my book as well as other mythologies. This series of works is on-going as is the writing now of the second book of the Stone Guardians series. It is my hope that you enjoy the characters and story as much as I have enjoyed writing it!
Many wonderful people have helped to make this book a reality and I wish to express my sincere thanks for their input and support:
Initial story edits by Jerrica Cleland-Hura were immensely helpful. The first readers of the early manuscript offered great feedback – Michael Bezener, DJ Cleland-Hura, Wendy Grove, Barbara Tomes and Heather Campbell. Thank you all for your comments! I wish to thank Dawn Renaud for her great advice which made me a better writer. To Aurora Renée Matheson who helped me understand the importance of the Legend Collection’s link with the books. Lastly, to my husband Michael, for his unfailing support of my writing and the belief that it should be published. It has meant so much to me.
Map of Eryos
Prologue
The Summoner
Light seeped into the darkness. It grew from a faint pinpoint with a sickly, green glow – slowly pulsing. It expanded outward, pushing the blackness back. The pulsing was arrhythmic, thudding like a diseased heart. Vibrations stirred the cool night air.
The glow revealed a figure in a dark hooded cloak holding a long staff high with a gnarled hand. The glowing green light was emanating from the tip of the staff.
A second light burst into the space before the figure. It exploded into the night, a blinding, dazzling white with a thunderous crack, rolling and echoing in the unseen distance. The shockwave whipped up the figure’s cloak.
The second light pulsed differently from the staff tip. Its rhythm was solid and constant. With each beat, it expanded outward until it dwarfed the figure. It appeared as a thin vertical slash, an illuminated disk. From the front it was like a sun, too bright to look into. Light rays scattered outward, crackling and sizzling through the air.
Despite the blinding glare, the face of the figure remained in shadow within the deep hood. Only the creases and folds of the cloak were thrust into clarity.
The figure stood like stone, waiti
ng, summoning.
Soon a shape began to take form within the circle of light. Flickers and shimmers coalesced into the dark mass of a monstrous figure. It erupted from the centre violently, head thrown back as an agonized howl died in its throat.
Grudgingly, a deceptive calm descended upon the creature – a constrained stillness. It strode out into the darkness to stop in front of the one who had summoned it.
The Summoner looked up, for the creature before it towered. The beast ponderously bowed its enormous head in response to the command and turned to stand facing the portal.
As it turned, its features were exposed to the unforgiving brilliance. A great head, sporting a spiky crest of stiff fur swivelled to watch as more movement stirred from the other side.
Another huge figure exploded forth.
The second creature, arriving in torment like the first, accepted its orders from the Summoner and turned to wait as well.
And so it began – more and more of the huge beings emerged through, sometimes in twos and threes, howling in unison. Their ranks grew, merging into the shadow.
They were enormous, with wide shoulders jutting with spikes that traveled the length of the arms to end in sharp, clawed hands. They wore no clothing and with each pulse of light, their muscular forms and sinewy movement was illuminated. The glare reflected off their jet-black skin, glittering on scales. Long ivory fangs gleamed when they opened their mouths. When the huge heads turned to watch the next of their kin arrive, thick corded muscles flexed down their necks.
There was a formidable beauty about the creatures. Yet for all their grace a harrowed stiffness settled upon them as they arrived, hunching their erect bodies.
The creatures came to the Summoner, ripped from their own lands, escorted by the dying sound of a roar they had begun on the other side. By the time the last of the terrible sound left their throats, their transformation was complete.
Time eked by and the length of the night slowly passed. And still more came, swelling the throng of black bodies, standing shoulder to shoulder, rank upon rank.
Finally, when so many of the great beings had gathered that they spread out into the darkness where only the imagination held sway, the hooded figure lowered the staff. The greenish glow from the tip faded. In response, the portal of light flashed outward – streaks knifing out across the blackness then collapsing back with a great crack, leaving a burning after-image and a ringing in the air.
Blackness engulfed the scene, then was beaten back as the staff flared once more, lighting the towering bodies closest. Stone-still they stood, a forest of huge black trunks.
The Summoner reached up a pale, bony hand and cast back the hood. Green light glistened on his bald head as he turned to survey the ranks. The figure swept out a hand with fingers splayed and spoke.
A harsh guttural sound of an odd language, accented with strange clicks and burrs, echoed out over the sea of waiting creatures. Wind stirred the figure’s cloak, lifting the hem to reveal blood red robes beneath and swirling the strange sounds into the night.
As the last of the speech died away it had reached every ear, made every command clear.
The immense beasts began to stir, slowly at first, then more and more quickly as the innumerable host fragmented and broke apart and the last of the creatures disappeared silently into the night.
The creatures had been brought through. The Summoner sagged in exhaustion but a flash of teeth gleamed in a twisted smile. A price had been paid this night in excruciating pain and mortal weariness, but the Summoner was pleased even as the lassitude washed through him.
He had waited almost a thousand years for this; it marked the beginning of the end game, of events carefully planned and long anticipated. He would not be able to bring more of the creatures through this way again – would have to rely on his more conventional methods, but it would be enough. He slowly pulled himself upright with the help of his staff. As he took a step to leave, his mind was already turned to the next tasks.
Part I
A Light in the Dark
Therial Lan Morian sat quietly waiting. Her ancient bones ached keenly from the cold of the stone floor and her ropy back muscles had stiffened in protest. It used to be she could wait like this for days, moving only occasionally as her bodily functions demanded.
She could sense the others in the room with her always, knew exactly where they sat and when their breathing or concentration faltered. When the sight took her, though, she would not be able to feel anything of this world. She would be lifted up, away from her aching bones and the inadequacy of her withered lungs, away from the perpetual shadows, and she would be able to see. Colour and light, the unbearable beauty of Erys’s world would unfold in a swirling, spinning deluge of imagery.
The calling of sight was Therial’s one true joy and she endured the darkness of her days living for the visions. As a child, she had been quite content, never knowing what she lacked. But when she turned thirteen, the inner sight found her, and she finally understood what she was living without. She had languished for months, devastated by the knowledge that she should live her life bereft of eyesight.
Her mother had gone to the Seers in hopes that a place for her daughter could be found, where she could live happily among others like herself. Not all the Seers of Danum were blind but many were. The gift of inner sight, it seemed, came often to those who were not whole. And so she had found a purpose for her life – to be a vessel for the light of Erys, waiting always for the wonder of visions to shed light on her darkness.
It was coming now. Therial could feel it, like a faint breeze that stirred the stillness, ruffling the hair on her head. It always came with sound as though a distant storm approached, growing in volume as it came. When it hit, it was with full force and Therial was continually surprised not to find herself flat on her back afterwards.
Light suddenly blazed into her blackness and she turned her head instinctively to ease the brightness. She saw stars, a wide bright spangle that studded the heavens and glittered like jewels in the dark. She was floating and she felt coldness unlike any she could have imagined. The bright light came from the moons, but Raelys and Bashelar were not in their own space. Bashelar’s smaller reddish surface barely peeked out from behind her larger sister.
Before Therial could wonder, sound crashed into the peaceful space. Screams and curses, animal growls and men’s voices swirled around her, clashing metal. A dizzying spiral of movement. She could still see the moons but she was looking up at them from the ground.
A black streak hurtled passed her with an animal scream and a battle solidified. Before she could make out the details she was above once more, looking down on a great city perched on the edge of high sea cliffs. The city was about to be swallowed by a mammoth black tide but the wave came from the land not the ocean. She did not recognize the place but she knew with certainty that the city must not fall.
And then she was hurtling through space with only the moons for company until she felt it – a nameless dread welling up. It rose from the blackness beneath her and she could taste the wrongness of it in the back of her throat. It was older than time itself. It existed outside of the endless march of days, forever just under the surface, awaiting the call. Then it would be pulled into this world along with the doom it harboured.
It took a moment for Therial to realize the darkness she saw was her own. Hoping to steady herself, she took as deep a breath as her scarred lungs would allow. She reached up and wiped away some of the sweat on her wrinkled brow with a shaking hand.
Ignoring the pain that darted through her neck, she turned her head to the others, opening her eyes. Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper that had as much to do with what she had seen as the dryness in her throat. “The time has come.”
Leave-taking
The blue water of the Eryos Ocean was pure and deep. A wind blew from the northwest. Northern winds were a rare occurrence but seemed fitting for their departure, bringing the faintest s
cent of the unknown continent they were to sail for. Rowan looked away from the surging swells that rolled under the dock and studied the rocky shore of the bay. The wind caught a few loose strands of her hair, tugging them free of her long braid.
Her small party stood on the shore, going once more through last minute packing and organization. She could hear their excited voices now and then. Their horses stood in a milling group beyond and Rowan made out the grey flashes of her big stallion.
Her mother and brother had seen her off from the city earlier this morning but she had not wanted them to come to the port, needed time to herself before they were to embark on the foreign ship. Her cousin Dell was off to the side, perched upon a huge boulder rooted in the churning surf. Like her, he needed to be alone for a last farewell to their island home. Most of their small party had said their good-byes back in the city, except for Lesiana, inseparable from her husband until absolutely necessary.
Rowan turned her back on the rising volcanic hills of the island to face the sparkling ocean again. After the banquet last night with its fanfare and revelry, the morning was quietly portentous. She flexed her hands into fists and relaxed, exhaling. The sense of the gravity for their mission would not leave her. Myrians were very supportive of sending aid to the mainland, even when they knew little of its people, but Rowan suspected that many of the Islanders did not completely understand the nature of the mission they had voted to send to Eryos.
She had woken long before dawn to sit, awaiting the soft glow of the rising sun as it filtered through the open fretwork of her room. She had been suddenly afraid she would never again see the sun rise over the land of Myris Dar.
When she and Dell had spoken last with the Seers, they had been cautioned that their small party would face hardship in the distant lands and that strength of heart would succeed at times where strength of arms failed. In typical fashion, the Seers had given no details or further help beyond the vague, cryptic warning.
Rowan shook her head and sighed, glancing to the side at the rising shoulders of the bay. The green of the spring grass had faded to the customary golden hues of summer. Only the olive trees and terraced gardens retained their verdant colour.