Black Shadows Gather

By Kenneth McDonald

Hauflin farmer Jaron Feldergrass has had enough of the world outside his village, a world dominated by the violent humans and populated with monsters. But when his brother Jayse is murdered by bandits, Jaron must take up his bow and knife and leave Fairhollow again for that wider world. Accompanied by his unstable cousin Beetle, a human swordswoman, and an old man with a minor magical talent, Jaron travels to the human town of Whiteridge to learn that his brother’s death was only part of a broader conspiracy that may end up threatening all of the residents of the Cinder Valley. The first book of the series "The Colors of Fate."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kenneth McDonald
• Release date: Oct 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301761838

Kenneth McDonald

I am a retired education consultant who worked for state government in the area of curriculum. I have also taught American and world history at a number of colleges and universities in California, Georgia, and South Carolina. I started writing fiction in graduate school and never stopped. In 2010 I self-published the novella "The Labyrinth," which has had over 100,000 downloads. Since then, I have published more than fifty fantasy and science fiction books on Smashwords. My doctorate is in European history, and I live with my wife in northern California.

Book preview

Black Shadows Gather

Book One of the Colors of Fate Series

Kenneth McDonald

[e-mail]

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 by Kenneth McDonald

Cover Credit: The cover image is adapted from the painting Pyramid of Skulls by Paul Cezanne (1901). The image is in the public domain.

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Works by Kenneth McDonald

Wizard’s Shield

The Ogre at the Crossroads

The Mages of Sacreth

The Labyrinth

Of Spells and Demons

Grimm’s War

Grimm’s Loss

Grimm’s Love

The Godswar Trilogy

Paths of the Chosen

Choice of the Fallen

Fall of Creation

Daran’s Journey

Heart of a Hero

Soul of a Coward

Will of a Warrior

Courage of a Champion

* * * * *

This series is dedicated to my readers at EN World,

who made me believe I could do this

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Prologue

The hauflin crouched low, so low that his face was scant inches from the dirt of the road. The winding track was in poor repair, thick with weeds and old ruts that had been turned by weather and time into miniature canyons.

Well, Master Feldergrass?

The hauflin continued his scrutiny for a moment longer, then sprang up and looked back at the four riders waiting behind him. Each of them, even the dwarf, would have stood tall above him afoot, and on their horses they looked like giants. Behind them the wagons were like a row of wheeled hills, packed full of supplies, tools, spare parts, and an afterthought of trade goods.

Recent tracks, M’lord Zelos, the hauflin said. Riders came this way, not more than a few days past.

Zelos stood apart from the others, draped in the mantle of leadership that was evident both in his attire and the way he carried himself. While his clothes were the same dark woolens and leather that the other travelers wore, his were of an obviously more expensive cut, augmented with silver and gold adjuncts that were muted enough to be tasteful but prominent enough to clearly mark his status. He wore one of the thin straight swords that men of the elite favored, its hilt protected by an elaborate ball of twisted silver. His mount matched his ensemble, a tall black-and-gray with a saddle chased in silver threads.

At the moment the nobleman did not look pleased. So? he said to the hauflin’s declaration. What concern is it of ours about these hypothetical travelers?

So, nobody uses this road, the hauflin said. Why would they? We passed the last settlement on the High Road yesterday. There’s nothing of note out this way.

The nobleman let out an exasperated sigh. So a party of settlers came this way, or prospectors, or maybe a party of revelers out for a picnic. I don’t see how that…

Ahlen… maybe our companion has a point, the rider beside Zelos gently interrupted. He wore the distinctive raiment of a White priest, though his robe was a bit discolored from the dust of the road. We are paying him to be our scout, after all. He looked down at the hauflin with patient eyes. What gives you alarm, Jayse?

The hauflin shook his head. I don’t know, Kevan, he said. Something about these woods is… not right.

The priest nodded in understanding, but the nobleman snorted. There are threats real enough standing against us, Master Feldergrass. There is no need to manufacture spooks and wraiths to frighten us.

The hauflin glanced up at him; he had to crane his neck to meet the tall man’s eyes. You hired me for my knowledge of these lands, m’lord. I know these woods, and I’m telling you, there’s something at odds here, something new.

Kevan nodded. What would you suggest, Jayse?

The hauflin drew off his cap and ran his fingers through his brown hair, which was starting to run to unkempt. I don’t know. Maybe it would be a good idea to fall back to Whiteridge, recoup our strength. After our encounter with those gavrals near the riverbank...

Those little monstrosities were but a nuisance, Zelos interrupted. Hardly worth the dire repute given them by the village folk. They might have been threatening enough to a farmer worried about his herd, but not for seasoned travelers like ourselves. The attack was a trivial distraction. Marak barely needed to earn his pay, what with the potent invocations of our White priest and the fast sword of Sir Kethar.

Zelos nodded to the two final members of their vanguard, who sat on their horses on the side of the road opposite the priest and the nobleman. The one on the right was dressed like a knight out of the stories, armed with the customary straight sword and shield, and clad in heavy plate that looked as though it had seen better days. His companion was a dwarf, clad in the heavy shirt of glittering metal scales favored by his race, and armed with a maul that was almost as tall as he was. The would-be knight rode a black charger, the dwarf a more humble gelding. Both seemed bored with the conversation and offered no comment.

What about bandits, m’lord? Jayse offered. There’s been a lot of talk in Whiteridge of late…

The nobleman laughed. Fear not, Master Feldergrass. I have little concern for of the rough sort of men who would live in these wilds and prey upon common travelers. If there is one trait that connects that sort, it is cowardice.

The priest laid a hand on Zelos’s arm. Still, if there’s been recent traffic out here…

The nobleman drew back, obviously bristling at the dissent. Ours is a legitimate and important commerce, and I will not have it distracted merely by rumors of trouble. You know what is at stake, priest. Or have you forgotten?

Kevan colored slightly. I have not forgotten, nor has my commitment wavered.

Good. No, I am sorry to have questioned your motives. Opening a new trade route into the Cinder Valley is of common interest to us all. Too long have our routes of access into our homeland been controlled by the dwarves of the Pale Hills. The valley might have once been theirs, but my father was born here, and his father before him.

And my family was here for ten generations before that, Jayse said, but Zelos, still in the midst of his soliloquy, did not note the comment. We have bled for this land, the nobleman was saying. This route we blaze, if successful, will open up settlement of the western valley and lead to prosperity for all, as well as opportunities to advance the cause of your sect, Kevan. The coins paid for tolls today can be tithed to the White temples tomorrow, earning better homes than greedy dwarven coffers.

The priest ventured a look at Marak, but if the dwarf cared about the contents of their conversation he gave no sign of it. That is... logical, the White priest acknowledged.

The wizard looked back down at the hauflin. And we will rely on your knowledge and skills, Master Feldergrass, to keep us alerted to any threats that may lurk in these woods.

Of course, m’lord, Jayse said.

Marak, Sir Kethar, take us forward, Zelos commanded. He turned his horse to face the trailing wagons. If the two warriors looked bored, the drivers looked nervous, and all three carried weapons openly. Stand ready to depart! Zelos said, waving his hand in the general direction of the road ahead before turning his horse back around.

The dwarf and knight started ahead, the iron-shod hooves of their horses making a steady clop on the packed dirt of the road. Jayse walked over to where he’d left his pony. The animal had spent the break cropping the tall grass that grew along the sides of the road. It was a smaller breed, tiny in contrast to those ridden by the others. The little horse lifted its head as Jayse approached and let out a whicker of greeting.

Yes, we’re moving out again, girl, he said. Patting the horse’s neck, he wondered for the hundredth time what he was doing out here, out in the middle of nowhere, leading someone like Ahlen Zelos on a quest for profit and prominence. This was what passed for honest work in the western Cinder. Somehow the thought gave him grim amusement.

A shadow fell over him and he looked up to see the priest there. There was something going on with the lead wagon, and Zelos was haranguing the driver as the man fiddled with the harness connecting his team. We take your warnings seriously, Jayse, Kevan said. It’s just that Lord Zelos is under a great deal of pressure. His family invested a lot of money in this venture.

It’s no problem, Jayse said. You know, it’s going to get a lot rougher once we get up into the range.

Men have navigated the western passes before.

Sure, and there’s a reason that they stopped.

Well, we’re packed for every eventuality, but if it’s not meant to be…

Not the words that I expected from one of the White, Jayse said.

The priest laughed. Well, not every circumstance is covered by our catechism. How’s the shoulder?

At the priest’s words the wound twinged as a reminder. It’s fine. Not the first time I’ve encountered gavrals.

Well, it was my first time, and I hope it is my last. How did Marak refer to them? ‘Ornery buggers’?

Jayse smiled and worked his shoulder. The cuts weren’t deep, but still, without your magic they would have been a long time healing. I thank you again.

We’re all part of the same company. Ah, it looks as though the wagons are straightened out, best be moving. I know that Lord Zelos wanted to be well into the hills come nightfall.

Jayse nodded and turned back to his pony, but he paused with one hand on the leather handle that dangled from one side of the saddle.

He frowned, looking around at the surrounding woods. To the left the ground sloped upward off the road; the remains of a fallen tree, moist with rot, marked the boundary between path and forest. Up ahead the road continued more or less straight for a good hundred paces before turning again to the left. Marak and Sir Kethar had almost reached the bend, and had paused again to wait for the rest of the company to get moving. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Yet it was too quiet. Even the birds had stopped their chatter. The hauflin felt the hairs on his arms rise; all of his experience and woods lore whispered something is wrong here. He wasn’t Jaron’s equal in woodscraft, but he’d spent enough time in the forest to know its moods, the subtle rhythms that filled the woods like the beating of a heart. And here, it felt as though that heart had stopped beating and was quiescent, silent, waiting.

Kevan had sensed the change in his mood. What is it, Jayse? he asked, leaning forward in his saddle.

Jayse held up a hand. He turned back to Zelos, who was riding over to them, an angry look on his face. But whatever dire declaration the nobleman was about to make was overshadowed by a new sound, a faint whisper like a sudden breeze. The warning the hauflin had been about to issue caught in his throat as he saw the wooden shaft jutting from Lord Zelos’s shoulder, the bright red fletching shaking from the force of the impact.

For just a moment, a fraction of a second, Jayse froze. Then another whispered hiss ended with a second bolt that struck Zelos in the throat. The missile went