The Soulshard Chronicles: Book 1

By Luke Manly

Welcome to Imalion's journey! Luke published a prologue you can read for free, but that is background rather than story. It details Imalion's childhood and how he first came to write. Yes, you will need it if you are interested in or confused by anything Imalion refers to from his past. Luke excluded it from this compilation because it is slightly disconnected from the main story. (Also, he wanted to publish a taste of Imalion's journey for, well, gratis.)
This entire story is written in diary form. In March 2012, Luke started posting a daily entry, and although he took a break around June/July he found himself swamped in posts by mid-August. That was great, but unfortunately the blog format is quite bothersome for anyone who wants to start – or catch up on – reading. So he decided to collect his writing into compilations. He has contact with an artist who goes by the name of Bluooze; Blu drew the header for Soulshard Chronicles, and continues to draw pieces as Luke writes. If you dislike the writing or Imalion's story, the amazing pieces of art should make up for your loss.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Luke Manly
• Release date: Dec 10, 2012
• ISBN: 9780987452313

Luke Manly

Luke was born in Australia, but his childhood was spent in several different countries. Lots. The books he loved didn’t change, and neither has his new-found obsession with the world of Silencia, which isn’t just in his head anymore. Although he was once limited to notebooks and documents he has found his way online at soulshardchronicles.com. He would love to be contacted about his writing or about writing in general; to contact him, send an email to luke.a.manly(at)gmail.com or visit his site.

Book preview

Foreword

Welcome to Imalion's journey! I published a prologue you can read for free, but that is background rather than story. It details Imalion's childhood and how he first came to write. Yes, you will need it if you are interested in or confused by anything Imalion refers to from his past. I excluded it from this compilation because it is slightly disconnected from the main story. (Also, I wanted to publish a taste of Imalion's journey for, well, gratis.)

This entire story is written in diary form. In March 2012 I started posting a daily entry, and although I took a break around June/July I found myself swamped in posts by mid-August. It was a great feeling. Unfortunately, the blog format is quite bothersome for anyone who wants to start – or catch up on – reading. So I decided to collect my writing into compilations. I have contact with a great artist who goes by the name of Bluooze; he drew the header for Soulshard Chronicles, and continues to draw pieces for me. If you dislike my writing or Imalion's story, the amazing pieces of art should make up for your loss.

Imalion Soulstone grew up in Midpas. He was part of a noble family; his father was the lord of a town and its surrounds. When he was eleven, his father returned from a meeting with the king of Carapacia, and gave Imalion a box that was decorated with carvings of horses, swords, and crowns. A woman arrived at Imalion's home nine days prior to his first entry in this book.

That just about covers the most important things you need to know. If you still have questions and are left confused by the first entry, I encourage you to read the prologue.

-Luke.

81st day of Winter, 16th year of King Odyssen

I don't understand. Where are we going? Why have I been sent away?

Mother told me to pack some of my things in a satchel to go on a journey. She said I was going on an important quest, but she must have been trying to make me feel better, because her eyes looked everywhere except into my own.

Father made sure I had the little box he gave me seven winters ago, and he told me to keep it safe. He said perhaps one day I would find a key.

Mother and Father hugged me, and Mother draped a thick cloak over my shoulders and told me to keep the hood on. I said she was silly, because I wouldn't take the hood off in such a cold wind. It was freezing – heartless puffs of wind invaded the castle through every crack and doorway. The servants were told to close the shutters, but some of the frosty breath still lingered in the halls for a while. The kitchens were working on both the noon meal and warming the castle, and that meant that the smells of baking bread and spitted meat and oils and herbs all floated around, too. I hoped the journey wouldn't take long. I wanted to be back in time for supper.

When Mother and Father were sure I'd keep warm they sent me to the stables, where I met Aena – Father's relative, that is, the lady who arrived only a week or so ago. She talks to me sometimes, and she seems nice. She's not as old as Father, either, and she says she's traveled.

Aena helped me put my things into saddle-bags and get onto my horse, then she mounted her own and we waved to Mother and Father. Mother came up and grabbed my hand and kissed it as Aena nudged her horse forward. She led the way out of the stables and out of the city and onto the southern road, which according to Father had the least danger of wolves. We didn't stop until night, and luckily we found a tavern. I hate to think of what sleeping out in the cold with wolves would be like, but Aena has a sword strapped to her saddle, so we might have been okay.

The tavern is a smelly, shabby place, but it's warm and the beds seem to be made with fresh straw. I was going to take off my cloak, but Aena said to keep it on as my mother had said. I asked her why. She said just to obey Mother. I am confused.

82nd day of Winter, 16th year of King Odyssen

Aena had red eyes in the morning, and her hair was messed up. I asked her what was wrong, and she said that Mother and Father are dead, or would be soon. She said she'd been sent to take me and keep me safe. She said Mother and Father loved me very much. She said to be brave. She said to take a wash in the river. She said so many things, so many useless things.

All I can think about is that Mother and Father are dead. I will never see them again. I can't go back to Midpas. My whole life is suddenly very small and sliced away from everything I ever knew. I'm not a Soulstone now; from now on I am Soulshard. A million glass pieces of my heart are scattered in the wind. Every time I think of how I can never go back, another shard of my heart is lost in the storm. I am lost.

Aena took me to my horse and helped me up and rode close beside me. She held the reins of my mare and led her. I can do nothing but follow her and go where she goes, for she has become to me the only familiar thing in all Silencia.

83rd day of Winter, 16th year of King Odyssen

Aena tells me she is taking me to some of her friends. She says I will be safe there, and taken care of. I don't care. I am a shard of a soul. I am broken. Can she see that I don't care? Can she tell that nothing matters to me now? I'm not important. She should just leave me and go.

Trees and rain go where we go. I do not go, I merely stay. I stay where Aena goes. I also stay at the castle with Mother and Father. I also stay at the inn where my heart shattered. I am scattered to the world; how can I ever be whole again?

Aena says the place we are going is near King Odyssen's city, Yamlen. She said we would be riding for another two days. Father only had to travel for a day, perhaps two, to get there. We must be riding slowly. Father should have given us strong horses if he wasn't going to come with us. Father…

84th day of Winter, 16th year of King Odyssen

Wisdom is a gift. My mother and father had great wisdom. Would that I were so blessed; I've spent so much of my life fleeing wisdom to enjoy what I can.

Love is another gift, so wonderful that it might be divine. In fact, Maister Colman once told me that the Grove-keeper of Falamorna gifted love to some people of Silencia. Once again I fall short, but my parents… they loved me so much that they sent me away to save me.

Yet wisdom and love are not enough to make us divine. Mother, sweet Mother… as whimsical, pestering, tender, warm, and caring as she may have been, is dead. As is Father, who was strong and tall and weathered… ready for anything, yet still a gentle father and husband. They were not cruel, and they always listened. I don't think Father taxed his subjects much at all. What world is this that can take such people away and go on as though nothing has changed?

Or perhaps they are not dead! But then why would they send me away? Maybe this is all just a test, to see if I am