The Shard of Palrinah: Book 2 of The Remus Rothwyn Chronicles

By T.P. Grish

After saving High Peaks from a devastating war between Humankind and Fey, Remus and Elaina head to the grand city of Yondern to continue their adventures, yearning for excitement and the chance to do good.

However, the long-brewing political conflict between the Steelwielders and Paragonites has erupted into open war, and try as they might, the travelers cannot escape the eye of suspicious factions. Once-friendly factions have turned wary, and they find themselves allying with those who they would least expect.

An old friend, the bard Perfidian, confronts them with troubling information, hinting at a deeper objective to the brewing war, and possibly to an object of power that could wreak devastation upon the land in the hands of the power-hungry.

The three friends must discover what the Steelwielder technocrats and Paragonite monks are truly seeking in a remote corner of Glenryth, in a deadly game of cat and mouse involving dark and sinister forces, both Human and otherwise.

The Remus Rothwyn Chronicles is a dark, epic fantasy series with mythological elements and a nuanced world with complex perspectives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T.P. Grish
• Release date: May 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301504626

T.P. Grish

T.P. Grish devoured fantasy books since he was a kid, particularly liking character-based fantasy novels with exciting sequences, complex stories and a lode of deeper meaning. Although he also loved fantasy movies and hobby gaming, his dream to write his own fantasy novels was always at the forefront. Today, he is a PhD doctoral student and part-time business writer who can't help but daydream about writing novels for you to read.

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The Shard Of Palrinah: Book 2 Of The Remus Rothwyn Chronicles

By T.P. Grish

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.

Copyright 2013 T.P. Grish

Cover Art by Alexandrescu Paul

‘In The Aerie Of The Long-Dead Eagle, Lies The Nest Of Gold.

Atop The Shrouded Plateau, Rests The Warrior Of Old.

Between The Two Lies A Gully Deep, Locked Away In The Icy Reaches.

Within Lies Treasure Of Virtue Untold, Waiting For A Worthy Hand.

To Bring Its Thunder Upon The World,

And Rally The Hopes Of Man’

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Bibliography

PROLOGUE

Weylin strode across the marble-lined bridge in the Monastery of St. Palrinah. The monastery was perched on a seaside cliff face, and the complex expanded onto small islands near the cliff-side. The two small islands were as tall as the mainland cliff-side, small areas of land elevated atop protruding towers of rock. The monastery towered over the roaring surf below, and wide bridges connected the main building with the islands. Sounds of gulls, bright sunlight, and fresh salt air greeted Weylin as he made his way to the main monastery proper, but he was not the kind of man who could readily appreciate such things. His mind was focused on some very interesting and confidential information that had been divulged to him by his superiors, and his steps were quick and guided.

The recent months had been turbulent, but ultimately were a blessing for the dark-haired, boyish-faced man. He had risen through the ranks of the Paragonites fairly quickly; he was still low-ranking, but reaching the position of Disciple of the First Order this quickly was rare. He wore the robes of the order, which were burnt-orange and brown coloured and inscribed with the tenets of the order. His well-made leather sandals clipped on the stone bridge. He certainly looked the part of a Paragonite monk, and had done a good job of conveying his zealotry for the order. However, if one looked carefully at his hazel eyes, you would see not faith or religious zeal, but ambition.

Weylin reached the entrance to the monastery, and began ascending the stairs. The interior was dim and cool, intense sunlight being channeled through windows, throwing splotches on the ground. Groups of robed monks stood quietly conversing in corners, or sat on the floor praying. As Weylin walked towards Brother Renaldin’s private chambers, he reflected on the time that had passed since he left his home town of High Peaks. At first, it was an initial rush through the forest, surviving as well as he could. Approaching Yondern, he cleaned himself up as much as he could in a forest pond, so he could be presentable upon entering the city, a place he had been to before to practice law.

He talked to some old clients, and there was one who was having legal problems related to land issues. He already had a lawyer, but saw the need for an assistant for his lawyer, to assist in the drudgery of paperwork and clerical matters. Weylin moved to the client’s estate outside the city to complete the task, and remained there for the duration of the job, glad to be out of sight from the authorities. Weylin hardly remembered anything regarding the case, he had been merely interested in earning enough money to travel further. In the few days he spent in Yondern, he did research about any potential job offers he could find, that would take him out of the city.

The Steelwielders and St. Lusites were strong in the city, but Weylin thought it would be unwise for a Touched to be part of organizations that eschewed his kind, or any connection to magick. He heard of a conflict between the Steelwielders and the Paragonites from Eruthia, and performed more research on the group, discovering that they had a more tolerant attitude towards magick and the Touched. There were a few Paragonites in Yondern, as open war had not been declared yet, and he got to talking with them, persuading them he was a rogue needing salvation, and that he very much admired their tenets. He was advised to go a city in Eruthia named Rhineholm, and ask for admission at the Paragonite compound there.

Crossing the border into Eruthia, he had arrived at Rhineholm. The resourceful man had managed to persuade the priests of St. Palrinah to give him a chance. The work started off as assisting them in diplomatic issues, using his clerical and legal skills, but then soon he became involved in fighting their enemies and defending their interests. He had confided in his superiors about his Touched skills, hoping it would give him an advantage that countered his lack of physical or martial prowess.

They had been welcoming regarding his powers, and Weylin completed more and more tasks successfully, learning about the faith and projecting a dedication to it. He had eventually been shipped to a Monastery dedicated to St. Palrinah, located in a remote area outside the gates of any city, to train and help the cause in a greater capacity.

Weylin’s training and routine assignments had been interrupted this day by his master, who bequeathed upon him some private information that was most intriguing. He would learn more when he arrived at Brother Renaldin’s chambers. Weylin snapped out of his reminiscing as he entered the corridor that contained his master’s quarters. Knocking on the door, he was told to step in.

Inside the room sat Renaldin, two senior Disciples, and a man that Weylin had not seen before. ‘Sit, Brother’, Renaldin bade him in his dulcet tones. The two senior priests gave Weylin a curt nod, while the unidentified man simply stared ahead. ‘As I told you this morning, Weylin, one of our fold found a very unique Touched, one such as yourself… but quite different. He sits right over there’. Renaldin gestured towards the unidentified man.

Weylin observed the man, taking in every detail. He was powerfully built, and was a normal looking man, although he seemed to permanently have a dour expression on his face. His brown hair was close-shaven. Weylin noticed that he wore robes of pure grey, unlike the robes of the Order. Why would they make him wear grey, unless it was to somehow distinguish or separate him from the rest of the Brothers and Sisters of the order?

‘What is his name?’ Weylin asked.

‘His previous name and identity no longer matter. I… have decided to name him ‘the Prodigy’, for his exceptional abilities in the use of magick’.

‘Oh. And where was he found, and by whom?’ Weylin inquired.

‘He was found wandering in Eruthia, spurned by all, needing a home and purpose. Who found him is none of your concern, but he or she has been well rewarded. The Prodigy has been with us for months now, and Brother Gaius has been handling his training himself’.

Weylin knew of Brother Gaius, he had a reputation for being the harshest and most abusive of instructors at the monastery. The reputation was well-earned, as Weylin had discovered during his brief attendance in one of the Brother’s classes. As the Prodigy stared forward blankly, a shred of sympathy sparked in Weylin’s mind at the removal of identity and value the monks had subjected him to. Weylin’s own journey had been inspired by the desire to retain his individuality, identity and value- rather than rotting away in prison or hanging from the executioner’s noose.

‘Let us get to the main revelation, the very aspect that made us so interested in the Prodigy. He, you see, has access to all four elements’.

Weylin was taken aback mentally, carefully considering the words.

Renaldin smiled knowingly, not surprised at the reaction. He had received the exact same reaction when he informed the other select high-ranking members, of the situation. ‘That is right, Brother Weylin. Our friend here is the only human in known history to have control over the power of flame, wind, water and earth. And his raw power with each of these sources is quite impressive. He is a most unique Touched’. Renaldin sat back on his wooden chair and clasped his hands on his chest.

‘If this is true, then he will be a great asset indeed’. Weylin immediately regretted the words, he was not sure if he had stepped over the line into insubordination by implying he did not believe Renaldin’s statement.

Renaldin simply smiled and suggested a demonstration.

* * *

Disciple of the Ninth Order Renaldin savoured the fruity tang of the vintage wine on his tongue, as he listened to the ongoing conversation between the other high-ranking Disciples. It had been more than a month since the discovery of the Prodigy, and the affairs of organizing the war against the Steelwielders had taken his full attention once again. Today’s meeting was intended to gather all Disciples of the Ninth Order, to discuss the overall strategy.

The courtyard of the remote monastery was opulent and well-kept; the marble chairs, tended greenery and sumptuous feast pleasantly complemented by the warm sunlight. Although the issue at hand, the present war with the technocrats, was a grave issue, his Paragonite brethren knew how to enjoy the power they had worked so hard to attain.

‘They are becoming bolder now. The volume of forces they are bringing to bear is no joke, our eyes have seen many Steelwielder boots marching to the border. There are even some of those steel contraptions they love so much’.

Brother Lintharo’s comment drew a grim chuckle from the others present at the meeting. The Steelwielder reliance on their bizarre technology was something most Paragonites held in disdain, despite their occasional effectiveness. The technocrats tried to impress the peasants of Glenryth with their technology, steel, gears and steam, but offered no real purpose or guiding principles to their adherents.

Renaldin said, ‘We will continue to send our own forces. They are in good spirits and well-trained. But more important are our diplomatic and spiritual efforts: we need to educate and uplift the ordinary folk into our faith, and show them the benefits it would bring them’.

‘Aye, some of our healers have volunteered to go down to these border settlements, even on the Corsenii side, to ply their arts to aid the most vulnerable among the peasantry’, added another Brother.

Talk shifted to specific logistical issues, reports of skirmishes and casualties, and pontificating on how close they were to winning the hearts and minds of certain border settlements’ populations. Renaldin largely tuned it out, taking the opportunity to rest. The Paragonites, his faith, were the most important thing to him, but wars and conflicts came and went. He was confident that their preparations had been thorough, and at the very least this conflict would show the Steelwielders that they would not be intimidated, and gain followers and exposure in Corsen.

Brother Gertrand, from the far north of Eruthia, proclaimed, during a lull in conversation, ‘There is an issue related to the war, something I believe is important for us to consider’. He paused and licked his lips, seeming more nervous than he let on. ‘It would be wise for us to use the full set of resources at our disposal. This war may become more brutal than we believe, and our survival in this modern age may require the utilization of every ability we have’.

Renaldin put down his goblet, his attention fully on Gertrand, as the man went on.

‘I believe we should access the Boon, or, at least, investigate whether it is a material asset that may be of use to us in these times of strife’.

There was stunned silence.

Renaldin, dumbfounded, balked at the arrogance and impropriety of the suggestion.

Ancient and secretive passages in Paragonite texts, written in the long-ago age when St. Palrinah walked Glenryth, spoke of a Boon that Palrinah would bestow upon her flock in times of direst strife. This Boon, sealed away by St. Palrinah, was an unspecified source of power meant to be a gift for future generations of the faith, to be used only when their need was the most grave.

Four keys which had been given to four leaders of the faith, and passed down to their descendants since time immemorial, would, according to legend, open a secret vault in the Sacred Temple at Vulholden. The keys had been passed down and treasured, with most Paragonites believing they were naught but ancient symbols, metaphors for the values of the Order.

No previous generations of the faithful had attempted to claim the Boon, and the catacombs of Vulholden were left locked and undisturbed.

The faces of many of the Disciples around him showed anger and confusion, but there were more than a few who seemed strangely calm with Gertrand’s statement. He had secretly curried support before the meeting- Renaldin could sense it.

‘I agree with Gertrand’, Brother Lintharo drawled, ‘After all, we are in the here and now. Let us find out if her most holy St. Palrinah left a tangible gift for us to access. What harm could it do?’

‘What harm?!’ Renaldin scolded. ‘The Boon of St. Palrinah is to be used only in times of greatest peril. It would be selfish of us to deny posterity its use. Our situation might be serious, but it is not the worst threat the Order has faced, and will not be the last!’

Murmurs of agreement issued from the assembly, with one old-timer named Porcarus yelling ‘Who’s idea is this, to claim the Boon? None of our ancestors did it, and they survived through many hard times!’

Renaldin was grateful for the support, but noticed a lack of input from many, who seemed to at least be rendered curious by Gertrand’s idea.

The seed had been planted.

Renaldin watched the back and forth between the other Disciples. He knew what was happening. Fierce resistance against the idea was scarce, and most seemed to be considering the idea of accessing the Boon.

He saw greed and laziness on their faces, a desire to grasp power without working for it, a desire to end the constant efforts required to maintain the strength of the Order. The Paragonites had been through many hard times, but claiming the Boon had been seen as a sign of selfishness, of putting present troubles above future troubles that may plague posterity. What weakness rotted the ranks of the faith, when a war with the Steelwielders, dangerous but not fatal to the Temple, would bring about a call to claim the Boon? Yes, the Paragonites had dwindled in number due to the rigorous standards all members were expected to follow, but they were still strong, and their holdings in Eruthia had not been threatened.

Inevitably, the high-ranking council was persuaded, by oily argument after oily argument, and it was decided that the four keybearers should go to Vulholden to utilize the Boon.

Renaldin was fuming, but could not disobey the majority opinion of his peers.

* * *

Arriving at the Paragonite Temple at Vulholden with the three other keybearers, Renaldin passed through the crowded centre of worship, and through heavily guarded corridors which grew narrower and narrower. They passed through greater and greater levels of security, rooms and corridors empty save for heavily armed guards, and the chained and barred doors that they guarded.

Then, they finally were face to face with the dusty stone door that had been sealed since the death of her most holy Palrinah. Solemnly, all four inserted their keys in the right orifices, and turned. The door swung inwards into gloom, dust clouding their view.

Entering the inner catacombs, Renaldin could smell the odour of rot and abandonment. The body of St. Palrinah had been burnt to ash, that her followers would focus not on her mortal body, but her everlasting spirit, which was released after her death so she might guide the righteous once again. However, coffins and urns with the remains of famous and venerated figures from the legends, laid there in the catacombs, labeled and decorated respectfully. It was all the four keybearers could do, not to spend all day down there in awe-struck worship.

Walking through the adobe-lined dank tunnels, cobwebs strung along corners and wooden pillars, they descended through dusty corridors and winding stone halls, the sense of depth and poignancy increasing with each step.

The corridors converged, ending at a wall inscribed with elaborate murals that were strangely clear and distinct, even after such a long passage of time. The murals represented the various ranks used for members of the faith. The ancient symbols were still used today to gauge the hierarchy of nine Orders of Disciples. The other men stood confused, trying to remember which symbols were which, and in what order they should be pressed.

Brother Renaldin shoved past them, shaking his head in scorn. Palrinah advocated Skill and Worth as key virtues; the higher ranks would be pressed first. It made sense. Undeterred by the deadly and well-hidden traps that no doubt waited a wrong press, Renaldin pressed the murals in the correct order, having no problem remembering which symbols were higher. After the ten symbols were pressed, the last for new novices without rank, a deep rumbling shook the entire catacombs. Groaning and spewing dust, the wall slid open a few feet. It would be uncomfortable for more than one man to walk into the recess, and impossible for three. Renaldin grimaced and determinedly walked in.

A dead end, but in the right wall there was a small, rough-hewn crevice. Resting in it was a small chest, old and dusty, but bedecked in timeless jewels and the intricate designs their proud ancestors had mastered. A chill went down Renaldin’s spine as he considered the weight of this event, and the worthy ancient hands that had crafted the chest, and this place.

Whatever Boon lay in the chest, it had been placed there by the first Disciples of the faith, back when the Paragonites were stronger and purer. He did not feel worthy. Fingers trembling, he opened the chest.

It was not locked, but groaned under the weight of rust and dust. As it opened, a cloud of dust blinded Renaldin and choked him. Coughing, he waved the dust from his face and stared into the chest.

It was a simple scroll, nothing more. Gently picking it up and unfurling it, he started to read the calligraphed

Reviews for The Shard of Palrinah

[sportzmomof5 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I was given this book in exchange for an honest review.This was a great story with amazing details. The characters were well developed and relatable. You are captured from the first page until the last. The author does a great job holding your attention.