Well of the Elements

By Coren Graves

"Well of the Elements" is the first installment in the "Return of Darkness" series, a work of high fantasy fiction set within the Legends RPG world.

After a series of bizarre attacks just outside the city walls, the Council of Barniss struggles to maintain its status as a thriving trade hub. Hiring a skilled mercenary to put an end to the attacks is only the first step. They also seek out the help of a well-known, although past his prime, wizard and his swordsman cohort in addition to a young woman raised within the dark and dangerous Thelirian Woods. Her knowledge of the forest would help guide them on their journey, but what was their quest? It should be a simple task, they had thought. By finding the abandoned temple of Thorin and retrieving the relic within, they could bring Barniss back its recent financial plummet. As they soon discover, in the world of the old and forgotten, nothing is as simple as it seems.

It becomes clear that they are not alone within the ancient temple and, in time, find themselves locked in battle with a mysterious warrior clad in black armor. One by one, horrible truths of the past, hidden by time, come to light and the heroes find themselves in the epicenter of darkness. A race against time ensues that will take themto the very edge of this world as they fight to stop the coming storm.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Coren Graves
• Release date: May 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310455674

Book preview

By Coren Graves

Smashwords Edition

Well of the Elements ©2013 Coren Graves

All rights reserved.

The Return of Darkness Series

Coren Graves

Book One

Well of the Elements

2014

Book Two

City of Blood

???

The rest, to be revealed . . .

For everyone who helped along the way, you know who you are.

Without you, I would have never made it this far.

Best wishes.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: The Master

Chapter 2: The Ancient and the One-Eyed Man

Chapter 3: The Woman of the Wilds

Chapter 4: The Departure

Chapter 5: The Darkened Woods

Chapter 6: The Reclaiming

Chapter 7: The Fallen Warrior

Chapter 8: The Rising

Chapter 9: The Time-Lost Temple

Chapter 10: The Threat Within

Chapter 11: The Shadow Sanctum

Chapter 12: The Hidden Well

Chapter 13: The Feast of Ages

Chapter 14: The New Beginning

Chapter 15: The Old Man's Secret

Chapter 16: The Long Walk Home

Chapter 17: The Inquisition

Chapter 18: The Preparation

Chapter 19: The House of a Thousand Fists

Epilogue

Chapter 1

The Master

Amidst the fresh corpses Damon knelt, catching his breath. The warm air carried the sweet scent of the pine forest surrounding him. His sweat-soaked tunic stung the stab wound in his back. Already, he could feel the blade's poison coursing through his blood.

Refocusing, after a moment's reprieve, he searched his mind for the proper course of action. His training had prepared him for a situation just like this. Damon was a mid-level soldier of the Order of the Black Hand, a group of mercenaries who specialized in discretion. While they were trained in hand to hand combat, as well as the use of a small variety of weapons, they were also trained to survive harsh environments and treat their own ailments. That was the training Damon sifted through now.

Step one, he thought, determine the sensation caused by the poison. Taking several deep, calming breaths, he focused on the wound. Clearing his mind, he led his awareness inward, disconnecting from all senses. All except for the feeling of pain in his back. His thoughts traveled down his spine, to the left, just above his kidney, where the pillager's dagger had struck. The pain was bitter, stinging with a dry burn. With his heartbeat, the wound pulsed and throbbed. The effects of the poison spread through his blood faster than through his tissue.

Step two, color. Looking over the remains, he found the dagger. Carefully grasping its hilt, he raised the blade. Swirled in twine with the darkening scarlet blood, he could see a deep green toxin. It was a kelp-like, hunter green with miniscule black speckles.

Step three, smell. Slowly breathing in the scent on the blade, he studied it. First was the coppery scent of his own blood. Beyond that was the cold steel of the weapon. Very faintly, he could smell a noxious combination of skullcap, algae, and hemlock.

This was Baiter's Poison and he knew the toxin well. Baiter’s Poison was one of the many things he and his fellow initiates studied before being accepted into the order. The most common application was coating an arrow to take down lone travelers. The victims would be tracked as they became weak and unstable. Confusion would set in and after a few hours, the bodies would be free to loot. It was truly a vicious and cruel poison. It was fortunate for Damon that his training had been thorough.

Reaching into one of the three small pouches on his right side, he withdrew a pinch of dried herbs. Placing them in his mouth, he chewed while tearing a strip of cloth from the hem of his tunic. Under his tunic, he pushed the moist herbs firmly against his wound, grimacing at the sting. Bundling the cloth strip over it as a bandage, he wrapped his sash around above his waist and tied it tight to secure the bandage.

Returning to his mission, he scoured the bodies.

Until recently, these bandits raided the wilderness roads around the trade city, Barniss. They made a meager living this way and usually did so unchecked by any authority figures. Though brazen in their attacks on travelers, they would never have been so bold as to attack the the local nobles. In the past two weeks, however, there had been three well known merchant caravans to be attacked, including one with a noble escort from the Duke of Greywall, Bernard Middlesex. In each account, the wreckage was discovered, plundered and ravaged. The corpses, too, were found dismembered.

Something had changed. The death of Bernard Middlesex was far too rash of a move to have been schemed by the bandits. The only reason the ruling council of Barniss could surmise was that someone was paying the bandits well to perpetrate these attacks, though the motive was unclear. This was what Damon had been assigned to discover. His order had been commissioned to find the reason for the change and counter it. A normal mercenary could have been hired to eradicate the bandits (and would have done so for a fraction of the price) but the council had the good sense to know the bandits were just pawns. Someone was behind them, pulling the strings and directing their actions.

Then, on the corpse of the man who led the attack, he found it.

Folded and tucked into the dead man's boot was a piece of yellow parchment with green ink. Smeared from sweat, the script was barely legible. The document appeared to be a contract between the bandits and some larger organization. Each of the bandits had scribbled their mark on to it. Damon remembered that those using insignias to sign usually did so out of illiteracy, a common trait among criminals. He chuckled. They signed a contract that they couldn't even read. Then he noticed something odd.

On the contract, there were ten bandits' insignias. On the ground, here, there were only seven men. Two of the bandits from this gang had been found dead by Barniss outriders after the ambush on the duke's caravan. Apparently his guards didn’t go down without a fight.

That left one bandit unaccounted for.

Damon had committed the prior two insignias to memory. He mentally checked them off of the list. Then he went through the corpses again, checking hands, arms, necks, and chests for signet tattoos. He narrowed the list down to one insignia.

The symbol consisted of a circle encompassing a dagger tipped down over an eye. The man with this mark might still be alive. If he was, he would hold the answers Damon sought.

Tucking away the parchment in one of his pouches, Damon began to march north towards the city walls. Even for him, the woods were no place to be alone after nightfall.

He had reached the south gates just before they were to be sealed for the night. Upon entering the city, he made his way to Torven’s Gutter Grog. This was, as he had learned through eavesdropping the day before, the shadiest bar in Barniss. If he wanted to find the man with the dagger-eye insignia, this was as good a place to start as any.

As he approached the secluded bar, tucked away in its little corner and shadowed by the large store-houses before it, he could hear the lively sounds from inside. Voices sang out the words to a crude pirate shanty. Amusing, since Barniss was as inland as it could be. Drunken patrons yelled to one another, telling incoherent stories. Damon assumed some card game was being gambled on, based on the uproar he heard; a mix of excitement and curses. The outside of the bar reeked of vomit, urine, and soured beer. This was not Damon’s idea of a good time. While he was trained to be cold and calculated at all times, his true self was quite innocent. He often took joy in simple things; his favorite being the smell of a cold rain in the summer. This foul denizen for the lost and broken was akin to a plague town to Damon.

Pushing open the double doors, he was nearly choked by the smoke-filled air that assaulted. After a moment to adjust, he made his way through the crowd towards the bar. He was mindful to keep his hand resting on his pouches. When he reached the bar, he was relieved to find an empty stool. He sat down and motioned for the bartender.

He was a scruffy, barrel-chested man, every bit of three hundred pounds of muscle. He thumped his cigar, causing the ashes to fall to the counter before Damon. His scrutinizing eyes never left Damon.

What do you want? He bellowed out in a deep, raspy voice. He took a deep draw on his cigar. His expression validated Damon’s concerns that he stuck out in this place. He knew he couldn’t blend in here, but he still had a few tricks.

Rum. Damon replied, protruding his chest. Reaching in his pouch, he placed five copper coins on the bar and turned around. Leaning his back on the bar he scanned the room while he waited. In the dim light, he would have little chance of discerning the insignia he sought. He would have to listen. Unfortunately, the bar was every bit as loud as it was dark and smoky.

He turned to find a dirty tin cup of rum waiting. Raising the cup to his lips, he smelled the contents. It was definitely rum, though it had been watered down considerably. He considered picking a fight with the bartender over it. He had no intentions of drinking while he worked, but he needed to play the part. On the bright side, he would earn some respect as someone not to be trifled with. That kind of respect could go a long way in the criminal underworld. On the down side, the bartender was a big man. A big man. While Damon could most likely take down the bartender, he would also have to deal with the bar full of outlaws, who unfortunately for Damon, were most likely loyal customers. In the end, he decided to keep his rum water and work on a different plan.

They’re getting’ ballsy, I’ll say that much. The voice came from a middle-aged man seated with two other men at a round table a few feet away.

They had a good thing going. They ruined it, that’s for sure. Another man, probably ten years younger than the first spoke. I told Vars not to mess with the merchants. At that Damon turned back towards the bar and began the farce of drinking his rum. He listened intently to the conversation.

Vars is a fool! The first man let out, followed by a groan and the sound of his now empty shot glass of whiskey slamming down on the table. He cringed at the liquor’s burn before continuing. He thinks he’s some kinda king amongst thieves, all ‘cuz he runs that little operation.

That bastard will get what’s comin’. This was a new voice. Damon assumed it was the third man at the table.

Fate of fire! A voice shouted from the other end of the bar, where a card game was being played and gambled on. The shout was followed by heckling and empty threats. When the group had settled back down Damon honed back in on the conversation.

I hear they got hired to do those jobs. Damon was awestruck because this was a new voice. He casually peered over his shoulder to see only the same three original men sitting at the table. Turning to the door, he just barely saw the back of a light brown hooded cloak exiting the bar.

Hired? By Who? The first man asked, his rough voice toned with a hint of sore pride.

I don’t know, but I hear they were hired to do the Duke, too. The third man replied.

How the hell would those blundering idiots land a big job like that? This time the sore pride was clear, along with a bit of jealousy. Damon heard the man slosh down another shot and slam the glass back down, immediately pouring a new shot from his whiskey bottle.

Well they’re not gonna be around for long, they’re too clumsy. The Duke’s guards took Jess and Kain with ‘em. On top o’ that, I hear the council hired some kinda hunter to come track ‘em down.