Roc Isle: The Descent

By Alex James

Roc Isle: The Descent is a heroic fantasy novel based on a tale of revenge and destiny.

It is now Year One, foretold to be the final year before The End of Roc Isle.

In the North, Lord Azure of the Azure-Cloud Clan vows revenge on those responsible for ordering the assassination of his parents. Lord Azure will invade the South in reprisal, and to rid the land of the infidel. But first he needs to raise an army to his banner, which will prove difficult. The Azure-Cloud Clan is divided: the Azure-Knights of Crag Rock refuse to owe him their allegiance. In spite of this, Lord Azure is the greatest warrior of his clan, and his search for redemption and vengeance will not be stopped until Roc Isle answers to him.

In the South, Ankah is a Knight Prentice. Frustrated that he is yet to be ordained, he wonders what his destiny is and why it is he wants to fight. He is the strongest, fastest, and most determined of swordsmen.

Only a titanic clash between clans and a monstrous release of sorcery and swords will reveal the truth. This is The Descent!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alex James
• Release date: Nov 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311825797

Alex James

Alex James was the bass guitarist in the nineties band Blur, a life he chronicled with great success in his first book, Bit of a Blur. He now lives on a farm in the Cotswolds with his wife and five children, makes cheese, writes for both the Sun and the Spectator and has his own show on Classic FM. In September 2011 he hosted the ‘Harvest’ festival at his farm, combining the best in British music and food.

Book preview

Novels:

The Antpod Faction

Roc Isle: The Descent

Roc Isle: Tempest

Please see the back of this book for more details on my stories!

Map

Chapter One – Year Sixteen

It was midday. The shining sun gave the day life, activity and happiness. There were cockatoos chirping with fervour in the shadowy parts of the trees above. The gaps between the elongated trees that formed the sparse forest allowed a view of the bright wispy tails of clouds. The air buzzed with excitement and a sense of anticipation.

Where was she? She was supposed to have been here an hour ago, by the dial’s reckoning, and there was still no sight of her. Through the few trees on his right Ankah could see that the tide was coming in, covering the sandy shore and hiding the sparkling brilliance the sun had blessed the sand with.

On Ankah’s left the Astul Plains went up and down in rolling hills before ending at the dark bleak northern forest, which appeared as a smudge to Ankah. Behind him a dark forest surrounded him like an unwelcome cape. The dark forest was such a contrast to the tall elongated trees that fronted the coast to his right, where the cockatoos were.

In front of Ankah’s eyes were a few homesteads, where he expected Zest to come from. Ankah glanced at his wrist-dial nervously and looked around in irritation and frustration.

Ankah had known Zest for two years now and she had not let him down once. They met up once a week to play in Darkhold Forest. Ankah was eight years of age, whereas Zest was nine. Suddenly a bunch of swats – blue feathered birds with white breasts – took flight and flew from the tall trees above, scaring the daylights out of Ankah. Ankah heard a rustling sound behind him coming from Darkhold Forest, and looked back in trepidation. He was sure there was some movement behind him, but he couldn’t perceive what it was, and was too frightened to investigate on his own. While looking down at the fluffy grass in boredom two black grisly hands the size of Ankah’s head appeared in front of his stomach and wrenched violently.

A child’s scream pierced the sunny afternoon and left a streak of echoes rebounding from the trees, irrespective of distance. A few birds fluttered above, escaping, but nobody was there to watch them.

Chapter Two – Year Eight

It was a dim and depressing day outside, and Ankah was fed up with it. He sat with his wooden yo-yo in his abode. The floorboards creaked as the distribution of his body weight altered as he spun the yo-yo up and down. His father was at the far side of the room, writing something to someone. His father always wrote letters. He even wrote stories and poems and eulogies. His writings were vast, and comprised three large paper piles. There was a small bookshelf on his father’s left where volumes of the most famous and recent poets were sat; blue and red bound books with little golden tassels, their titles printed with shiny gold. His father always took care of his belongings, much as he took care of Ankah. His father showed compassion in almost everything he did; when he wrote, when he sung, when he listened, gave instructions, or implored somebody to do something.

Yet his father was not always this man. He had once been a blacksmith. Sometimes he still made weapons or helped, but for all purposes he could not continue to be a blacksmith all day – he was a cripple.

Ankah looked at his father’s back and wondered at what sort of man he had been when he was Ankah’s age. Ankah was sixteen and growing up fast. Although helping out his father was something he did often, he was finding it difficult to occupy himself – boredom inevitably took hold. His father sometimes gave him this ungracious look, as if to berate his son for not having found any way to spend his life and occupy himself. His father’s name was Woole, a curious name, even in the uncivilised and unrefined town of Barbituan, where Ankah had grown up.

Woole glanced behind him to look at his son, and then did so again.

‘You’re bored again, aren’t you?’

Ankah looked away, as if ashamed.

Maybe I am.’

‘I’ve told you … you can’t look after me forever. Sooner or later you’ll realise that. You are a strong lad of sixteen, and you have your whole life ahead of you. I am a broken cripple who revels in the pleasure of words.’

‘You weren’t always a writer father; you were once a blacksmith. You weren’t always a cripple either…’

‘Where did you hear about that?’ his father asked harshly.

‘One of Zest’s friends told me.’

His father turned his back on Ankah and continued to write whatever it was he was writing. Ankah had cared for his father all his life, since he was a young boy. As long as Ankah had been alive, he had had to do small tasks to help with what his father could not physically do. It was true that in the past other adults would help Woole when Ankah was too young to take care of the necessary duties. It was also true that his father had become highly active recently. His father had had quite a social life to begin with. It had grown, and it seemed to have a purpose, as if something private and sinister was afoot that Ankah had not been privy to.

Ankah stopped playing with the yo-yo and put it in the corner of the dingy room. He sighed and looked about thinking uselessly about what he was going to do. He had just been outside to find flowers and bring them home to study; he was that bored. Now it seemed he would have to go out again. His father appeared to be busy and needed no help.

Ankah contemplated going to town, but then thought otherwise. Barbituan Town was bustling with activity and would be busy at two-thirty in the afternoon. Ankah stood up rigidly and opened the door to leave his father in peace.

‘Ankah?’

‘Yes father?’

‘Are you going to Barbituan Town today?’

‘I could go, if you wanted something?’

‘No, I don’t want anything. You have been following me about all week having to fuss and hassle over me.’

‘It’s not a problem father – you need help.’

‘No, I don’t, not from you anyway. You forget that anybody in all of Clenly Village can help me; I know that many good people.’

‘So you didn’t want anything from town?’

His father looked around the room, searching for the right words.

‘I want you to stay away from that forest. Aunt Mawish told me you had been wandering about near there.’

‘She always spies on what I am doing!’ Ankah complained.

‘She cares what you get up to, and so do I for that matter. You should know better than most that that forest is not to be ventured on a whim.’

‘It was ages ago father. I am not a boy anymore.’

‘You have grown much’ his father agreed ‘but you still look like a young boy to me. ‘What were you doing there anyway, waiting for Zest?’

‘I don’t meet Zest there and haven’t ever since the incident all those years back.’

His father regarded him intently, as if trying to mentally decipher the reason for Ankah’s trip to the Darkhold Forest. Ankah turned his back on his father and calmly walked out, his father’s eyes following him as he did so. Ankah stood outside the entrance to the small hovel that was his father’s home and sunk to the ground, his back resting against the straight pieces of joined old-wood that were the hovel’s walls. It began to rain, gently at first, but then it fell heavily, the water droplets splashing loudly on the paved road that separated the village.

Two or three potholes in the road were soon large puddles of water, soaking the paved road and spilling to the grassy verges on either side of it. Ankah felt depressed. He didn’t know what he should be doing and was tired of his father’s I-don’t-need-help-from-a-boy-with-a-future attitude. Today was one of those days where his father sat and spent time on his own, and Ankah was left to decide what to do; other than to play his yo-yo or collect flowers and pretend he knew what he was doing. He knew a lot of folk in Clenly Village, courtesy of the many visits his father paid the local people, but he tired of seeing the same faces. The only face that was special to him and that he found truly interesting was Zest’s. A girl of seventeen and one of Ankah’s childhood friends, he always felt dazed and dreamy whenever her face was before him. His father didn’t know that Ankah had not seen her for over two months. The only feeling Ankah had regarding this girl when he didn’t see her face was one of bitterness. Zest did not spend her time with lowly cripple-helpers like Ankah anymore. Zest had ‘town friends’ now and a ‘life’. She was a lady, or at least she thought she was. She certainly looked like a lady, but why should she be seen as something better than Ankah – she had grown up in the same town and they had been friends ever since.

Zest was not foremost on Ankah’s mind at the moment. Ankah was thinking about life and this great adventure full of light that his father seemed to think lay in store for him. Perhaps his father had been reading too many books and volumes of works. Because his father’s reality had ended when he became a cripple, he seemed to live on in parchment and text, and expected Ankah to live the real adventure. The only places Ankah had been were Clenly Village, which was close to Darkhold Forest; the Astul Plains; and he had visited Barbituan Town a few times.

Ankah hated town. Townsfolk leered at him as if he were a simple backward boy, and beggars grasped at unsuspecting folks’ purses. There was too much activity there, even though it wasn’t far from Clenly Village – two miles to the east. The last time Ankah had been was weeks ago to get some meat and mead for his father.

Ankah stood up and tried to hit the rain out of his now sodden clothes. He wore a brown cotton jerkin and tight leather pants, as befitted a villager. They were his only clothes. He had a brown loose-fitting belt slung idly across his waist, but it was tattered and broken in a few places. His bright white hair was soaked now, and his face was dripping rapidly. Yet still he dare not go back inside to confront his father or make a nuisance of himself. He wanted to say so much to father but he couldn’t get it out, and he didn’t want any more of the same lectures today.

Ankah suddenly walked across the paved road and scanned the cottages opposite. They had timber and stone structures with straw at the top to keep the heat in. Some even had sheets of timber or metal above the straw hats to keep out the rain. Ankah turned right, the way to Darkhold Forest, and tried not to look at Aunt Mawish’s cottage as he went. Aunt Mawish was Zest’s mother, and wasn’t really Ankah’s aunt, but his father preferred to refer to her as that for Ankah’s sake, since she visited regularly. Ankah pulled the thin hood at the back of his jerkin over his head and proceeded to the forest.

The last time Ankah had been to Darkhold Forest was a few days ago, but he had not known Aunt Mawish had seen him. He went because he was bored. It was because the rest of the village feared the forest that he thought it was full of something he was looking for; something to do and be occupied with.

It was not a long road. He was soon out of the village and cresting the small hill that fronted Darkhold Forest. When Ankah had been eight years old he had been abducted by a large and violent man that had been wandering the woods. Later on that dark day, he had been told the man was a thief or an outsider trying to make money by spying on the inhabitants of the nearby towns and villages – to what ends Ankah could not say. That day he had been saved by Zest. She had screamed a shrill sound and had run away quickly to the village. Ankah had bitten the man’s black grisly hand which had covered part of his mouth, and the man had fallen back, uncertain. It had not been long until the strong men of his village had caught up with him in the forest and had seized the outsider. He had been hung somewhere, but Ankah felt blessed he had not been told where.

Walking at the edges of the forest now, there was no ominous feeling that something of a similar nature could happen now. Ankah was a boy of sixteen, nearly a man, and he wasn’t frightened of much, save perhaps overpopulated towns.

***

Ankah took a few steps into the gloom of the forest. There were bright orange and blue butterflies dancing in front of him. The woods had a smoky and musty smell to it. It also happened to smell of wood, funnily enough. The woods here were composed of dark-wood trees, which were not used for anything, as far as Ankah was aware. He assumed too many folk feared the forest to come much closer to it. Ankah didn’t know much of the land he called home. His father tried teaching him a bit about it from maps but soon caught on that Ankah was not really interested. He knew the land he lived on; a vast land with many different peoples, cultures, and a rich history; but he didn’t actually know of anything specific. The land he lived on was Roc Isle, in the general sense. What Ankah wanted to know was if there were any other woods like Darkhold Forest and if the folk that knew of such forests ever dared to venture inside or learn about them. Of course they probably would; Ankah had learnt long ago that folk outside of Clenly Village were very different, and were not tied down by superstitions or old fears from the past.

Ankah continued to walk forward, rustling a few leaves as he did so while his shoulders brushed past a few dark-wood trees. The dark-wood trees did not look so dark when looked at closely, or was it the sunlight that made them appear light brown and oily with moisture? For some reason Ankah could not explain, he noticed that there were no rain drops falling from above. Either it had stopped raining or dark-wood must absorb moisture. Ankah didn’t need to venture far before he heard the voice of someone familiar. A few giggles and girly screams caught his attention. Ankah carefully proceeded to the dark area of the woods, in curiosity. Dark tangles of roots caught at his feet and the dark-wood trees seemed to press closer to him. The dark green small leaves patterning the branches above seemed to shrink – dark-wood trees were not known for being tall.

Finally Ankah spied the place where the noise was coming from; a small clearing, not free from tangles and brush. The sun poked its shiny nose through the mist enshrouded clouds and the hole between the tree tops to light the scene before him. As Ankah viewed the two young persons, he tasted something funny in his mouth. Ankah’s heart beat faster as he realised who the girl was – Zest. Irritation and denial gave way to annoyance, and then anger. Ankah shook his head.

The girl and the boy before him were kissing on the lips; Zest wearing a bright white dress patterned with flowers while the boy had on a white tunic with pale brown leathery pants. His belt was fastened neatly, and he had his hair styled peculiarly. Zest was like a second sun shimmering in the clearing. Ankah wanted no more of the scene and backtracked, turning his back and not even thinking where he put his feet. The sun’s power waned and a chill wind pervaded the air momentarily.

How dare she! She kissed that boy with light brown hair as if he were some Knight on a golden horse. She always thought those fools were special for some reason. They didn’t even have an interest in her or appreciate her; they just wanted to possess her. Ankah had been her friend for a long time, and yet he could not say what on Roc Isle had made her behave so stupidly all of a sudden.

Ankah quickened his pace and stomped further into the forest, wondering what the silly girl Zest was doing here anyway; didn’t she know it was dangerous? As Ankah continued forward, further from Clenly Village, he heard sounds of buzzing and wildlife, as if there were some small creatures around him that he could not see. Ankah touched the oddly damp tree beside him and rubbed its surface a bit. When he rubbed the texture between his fingers, dusty grey particles rose into the air. Ankah coughed, and then sneezed all of a sudden. He felt a bit dizzy, but looked about him at the other trees. When Ankah looked closely he noticed that the trees also seemed to have a dusty sheen on them, and felt damp when he touched them, like the other dark-wood tree.

It wasn’t a moment before Ankah saw the trees spiralling around him fast while the patchy rock-and-brush ground remained still. Ankah looked up, and didn’t know if the sky was moving like the trees. Then he realised that he couldn’t look away from the sky and came to the conclusion that he must be lying down – how did that happen? Ankah felt the tangled roots, the leaves, rocks, dusty sand and mud surrounding him, but couldn’t move. Paralysed, he began to lose his sight as well. The last thing he heard was the sound of birds tweeting. Everything went dreamily dark.

***

Birds cawed loudly and a little violently when Ankah woke. His back hurt like hell and he had a terrible headache. He felt dizzy and couldn’t work out where he was at first. The sun was shining brightly and all was quiet. He stood up cautiously and decided to head home; he didn’t know how long he had been unconscious. There was a stinging pain behind his neck for some reason, but he couldn’t work out why it was there – perhaps from when he had fallen. Had he fallen?

The dizziness wore off as he neared the edge of Darkhold Forest. He easily made his way back to his father’s hovel. As soon as he had entered Ankah couldn’t really remember how he had arrived. Had anybody seen him?

Chapter Three

His father was still writing when Ankah went inside, and he was murmuring something to himself. Ankah sat down at the table and peered about; thinking about what he had done, and then vividly remembered seeing Zest in the forest. His father turned around and bit his lip.

‘I heard from Aunt Mawish that you went there again.’

‘What?’

‘To Darkhold Forest…’

‘I’ve had enough of this Darkhold Forest. What is there to be afraid of anyway, apart from grimy men or trees that don’t look natural?’

‘Did you see anything?’

‘What would I see? Oh, actually I did. I saw Zest.’

‘Zest?’ His father was incredulous.

It was only after Ankah had said it that he realised the disservice he had done to Zest; he hadn’t intended to report her presence in the forest to anyone. However, Ankah would have no such compunction about telling his father of what she had been doing.

‘She was kissing this boy!’ he announced, awaiting some sort of condemnatory remark from his father.

‘Sometimes that’s what girls do…’

His father wasn’t looking at him anymore and was concentrating on his work again. Ankah was sorely disappointed to hear his father say that. He expected his father to be as shocked as he was at Zest’s behaviour, but it didn’t seem to matter to him.

‘She always hangs around with those fools from town…’ Ankah complained, hoping to squeeze any sort of concession from his father.

‘How do you know they are fools?’ his father calmly asked.

Ankah was astonished. Although he and his father had never had this conversation before, he had truly expected him to agree with Ankah’s sentiments.

‘They think they’re better than us, and Zest does too!’

‘Zest? Why does she think she is better than us? We have known her since she was a little girl, and her mother doesn’t think she is better than us. I thought I hadn’t heard Zest come from your lips for a while ... what’s the problem between you and her?’

‘It’s how she behaves when she’s in front of her friends. She ignores me, and her friends give me these looks. I haven’t seen her for two months, and she never seems to be at Clenly Village any more. She prefers townsfolk.’

‘Give her some space Ankah. She is starting her life now, whichever way it goes. You need to begin your own life.’

Ankah was annoyed that they had managed to ride into this conversation again.

‘Does that mean I need to lose my friend?’

‘You’ll see her again Ankah’ his father re-assured. ‘If she has found some new friends then why don’t you?’

Ankah was infuriated at the statement. What use would he have of other friends?

‘You can’t just stick to the locals I know Ankah. They are my friends and are much older. When was the last time you made a friend by yourself?’

Ankah did not deign to reply. He sat there, sulking, and fed up with his father’s penetratingly accurate statement.

A knock at the door startled Ankah and gave him something to do. He went to the door and opened it, glad to not have to answer his father. It was Zest.

‘Hi Ankah! I saw you in the forest’ she whispered.

Ankah did not know what to say.

‘Hi … Zest. Do you want to come in?’

It was customary to allow Zest in whenever she knocked, yet there was nothing else Ankah wanted to do at that moment other than to berate her and question her about what she was doing with that older boy.

Zest followed him in and sat down at the table. His father greeted her, and the responses between them were fast.

‘Hey Ankah I was going to Barbituan Town today and wondered if you wanted to come?’

‘Just me and you?’

‘Yeh.’

His father looked up encouragingly while smiling, as if he had known she was going to ask that very question.

‘I know you don’t like town much, but we haven’t seen each other for a bit and there are some places I want to show you, and people’ she added.

‘Yeh sure.’

Ankah would gladly step off the end of Roc Isle if she asked him to go with her to do it. Ankah couldn’t say no to Zest. Her fluttering eyelashes, sumptuous lips, high cheeks, and full brown eyes forced Ankah to say yes every time. His minor annoyances with her had faded, receding to the background in the light of her angelic presence. Her silky brown hair shone when the sunlight through the window dazzled through. It was long and straight, swept to one side. Ankah wanted to touch it and feel the strands between his fingers.

‘Don’t stay out too long – it will be dark in a few hours. And don’t-go-near-that-forest-again’ his father chided. He looked at Zest as if to say ‘you too’.

***

Baribituan Town was two miles to the east of Clenly Village. On the way they passed fields of crops by small footpaths. Farmers and villagers looked at them and smiled as the day waned to dusk. They went up and down tranquil hills, holding hands, as was usual when they went anywhere together.

‘You have huge muscles Ankah’ Zest remarked. ‘It has been so long since we have seen each other. I am sorry I have not visited often.’

‘You look a lot more grown up too’ he said reluctantly. ‘I saw you in the forest as well…’

‘Oh, yes I suppose you did. That was Ralph. He is the son of a rich farmer near Barbituan Town. We are close.’

‘What were you doing in the forest?’

‘I might ask the same thing of you Ankah. I thought you would know what I was doing in the forest – hiding from prying eyes.’

‘Like your mother?’

Zest laughed.

‘Yes, like her.’

The atmosphere was magical. It was just like old times, when they talked and visited local places. Suddenly Ankah felt a little uneasy.

‘Why are we walking to Barbituan?’

‘I wanted you to talk to some of my friends. I have told them who you are, and they seem to be interested to meet you. They need a strong arm to help them with things, and I mentioned you.’

‘You talk about me to your friends?’ Ankah felt touched.

‘Of course Ankah, you’re one of my best friends. How could I not? Do you mind if I have a little rest Ankah, we have walked quite a distance?’

‘Sure.’

It was surprising to hear Zest say she wanted a rest. She was always so energetic, going places and meeting people. Ankah didn’t feel tired at all. The stinging on his neck felt particularly harsh, but his body felt strong and muscle-bound. Ankah felt one of his arms and was surprised to find that it was ribbed with muscles and tendons he was sure were not there yesterday.

***

When Ankah and Zest arrived at Barbituan Town, many folk were leaving, content that they had concluded the day’s business. It was already going darker. Ankah read his wrist-dial and the hand pointed at five-forty-five. They kept at the road, Ankah avoiding the lingering eyes of the drunken men outside a tavern. Some of them pointed at him and Zest. Perhaps they had both decided to come out too late. Zest seemed to be unfazed and completely unconcerned at who was looking at her, and strode confidently down one of the many footpaths to their left. The birds were cawing loudly atop a rooftop, and a chimney belched out smoke in the dying light of day. They were walking down the footpath so fast that Ankah half-expected the stars to soon appear. Zest suddenly stopped and pointed to the butcher’s.

‘I have a friend in there called Malt. His father is a bit creepy. He asked to see you alone. I’ll wait outside.’

‘Are you sure you’ll be okay out here on your own?’

‘Of course … I’m used to it.’

Ankah nodded and approached the butcher’s uncertainly. The shop was lit up from within. Ankah saw a broad heavily built man cutting up slabs of meat and throwing them in this bucket to the side of the chopping table. Ankah went in and the man gave him a suspicious glare.

‘What is somebody your age doing here? You want to buy some meat?’

‘No, I’ve been asked to meet somebody.’

‘The only man who meats anybody is me. Who told you to come here?’

‘My friend Zest, she’s just –’ Ankah looked outside the shop but there was nobody there in the dark stillness of the town.

‘It’s alright. I know who Zest is. My son wants you. He’s at the back.’

Ankah made his way to the rounded wooden door and pushed lightly. It creaked a little. Before him was a lad of about seventeen with clear blue eyes. He was tall and smiled graciously to Ankah. The boy was sat on a small stool, surrounded on all sides by wooden objects Ankah could not identify, but which looked similar