Curse of the Riftborn

By Donovan Deleware

Riftborn Series Book 1:

A serial killer has reigned free in the city of Ebria for longer than anyone could remember. Some claimed it to be a vengeful spirit seeking justice in a city of corruption. Others say it's a powerful undead, practitioner of magic, or worse yet...both. There are rumors it's one person and others saying it's an entire cabal. Many have tried to bring the killer to justice, but for centuries all have failed.
Meira Dyel - a young woman plagued by a lifetime of nightmares is tasked to find the killer when Ryn - her friend and mentor, becomes the latest victim. With the aid of her friend and fellow guildsman Darven, she hunts for the Ebrian Slayer and learns a truth about herself so profound it threatens to unravel her already fragile psyche.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Donovan Deleware
• Release date: Nov 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311204240

Donovan Deleware

Donovan Deleware has enjoyed writing fantasy, horror, urban, and science fiction for the last 25 years. What started out as a hobby writing stories for table-top games has turned into an amazing adventure of its own as he dared take the path of independent publishing.

Book preview

Curse of the Riftborn

By: Donovan Deleware

~ ~ ~

Curse of the Riftborn

Copyright© 2014 by Donovan Deleware. All rights reserved.

Curse of the Riftborn is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 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 your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Acknowledgement

––––––––

I would first like to thank all of my readers as without you I would not be where I am today.

I would also like to give a very special thank you to Joyce Meyer for taking time away from her busy schedule to edit my works.

And to Nicole Dixon, Anthony Robson, and Max Reynolds for being the best beta readers an author could ask for.

And finally I would like to thank my family and friends for understanding the many long nights I've spent secluded in my small office with a computer and a case of coke as I wrote the night away.

Contents

Chapter 1: From the Shadow

Chapter 2: Hide & Seek

Chapter 3: Mysterious Fog

Chapter 4: The Great Road

Chapter 5: City of Hope

Chapter 6: Test of Power

Chapter 7: Chaos Hunters

Chapter 8: Trapped

Chapter 9: Nightmares

Chapter 10: The Honored Dead

Chapter 11: Lady of Ebria

Chapter 12: Lost Child Found

Chapter 13: Preparations

Chapter 14: Brush with Death

Chapter 15: A Step Closer

Chapter 16: The Search for Ebria

Chapter 17: Betrayer of Trust

Chapter 18: Returning Home

Chapter 19: The Search Begins

Chapter 20: Chaos Rising

Chapter 21: The Price for Dissention

Chapter 22: Testing the Lady

Chapter 23: Leaving Castle Edahl

Chapter 24: Torst Wetlands

Chapter 25: Mind Games

Chapter 26: Planning

Chapter 27: Into the Cursed City

Chapter 28: Finding Fina

Chapter 29: Escaping Ebria

Chapter 30: Retribution

Chapter 31: Beyond the Walls

Chapter 32: Death in the Mire

Chapter 33: Terror Unleashed

1

From the Shadow

––––––––

Jeltara rocked back and forth in the corner of the dark room, arms wrapped around bent legs, chin buried in her knees as she stared at the body in silent contemplation. Blood dripped from her fingers, cascading down her naked shins to form a small pool at her feet. So much blood for one so small. Her eyes drifted to the shocked visage of the former midwife whose cheeks were still flushed – the inescapable fingers of death not yet draining the warmth from her corpse.

Jeltara’s eyes lingered another moment and then went to the knife handle protruding from the woman’s chest. It was her favorite carving knife – a razor-sharp blade with an intricate knot pattern etched into its quartz handle. It was part of a wedding gift from the very woman whose chest it now protruded from back when the two were friends.

Her mind drifted back more than three centuries when she and then Lord Ul’Garreth walked through the center of the city hand in hand. Her lips formed into a smile as she recalled the customary long, light-grey veil that seemed to trail for miles behind her and all those precious children tasked with keeping it from touching the ground. Her heart beat faster at the cheers and applause from the people she would soon rule over. Theirs was a coupling destined for greatness. Or so the seers foretold.

Life as a wife suited the young Riftborn for a time, but she grew antsy to bear the future king an heir and after three centuries of trying, with everyone from family and friends to midwives and seers telling her it was impossible for her to bear children, her prayers were answered and her daughter was conceived. Not the heir she had hoped for, but with the curse of infertility now broken, it was only a matter of trying before she had a son.

Jeltara heaved a heavy sigh as her thoughts drifted back to the present and the body lying at her feet. Standing up, careful not to slip on the pool of blood, she bent down and pulled the knife from Kalthia’s still heart. Walking across the stone floor, leaving bloody footprints that faded into obscurity with each step, she went to the kitchen and dropped the bloody knife into the magical wash bin. The icy blue waters turned pink and fizzled as all traces of blood vanished. Only when the waters calmed and turned crystal blue did Jeltara reach a hand in to pull the blade free.

After placing the knife back in its spot in the accompanying granite holder, she reentered the living room on her way to the wash room to change clothes and bathe away all evidence of her sins. I’m the Queen, she thought as she pulled her bloody top off and tossed it into a small hamper to be later cleaned. No one threatens my child and gets away with it. No one! she growled, balling her hands so tightly into fists the knuckles turned white, her long fingernails digging painfully into the palms.

Bloodying the shirt upset her more than the friend lying dead in the next room. Friends come and go, but the shirt was one of a kind – a final gift from her only sister before she passed away from a mysterious illness nearly eighty years ago.

Removing the rest of her clothes, Jeltara stepped into the tub of constantly heated waters and sank down until she was fully submerged. Raising her head above water she sighed, thoughts of how to proceed running through her head. She attacked me first, she thought, her eyes closed as she replayed the events in her mind. She threatened harm to my child. Threatened to kill her! What kind of mother would I be to sit idly by and do nothing? The clear water turned pink as the blood was washed away from her body – the waters bubbling gently as the magic did its job. With each telling of the events, Kalthia became more and more of a monster. In a matter of minutes she transitioned from a dedicated, caring midwife to baby-snatching maniac that needed to be put down while Jeltara became the saddened hero ridding the kingdom of a murderer.

It was more than an hour later that Jeltara emerged from the still perfectly heated tub. Thanks to the magics placed on it centuries ago by some now long forgotten Magus, the waters were also as clean now as before she sank her bloody body into its depths. Her mind reconciled that she had done the right thing in ridding the kingdom of the terror that was Kalthia, Queen Jeltara gave the corpse one final glance before leaving. Pulling the door closed behind her and locking it, she took a deep breath and hurried down the street in the direction of the nursery where her newborn daughter was being kept for observations and testing.

∞ ∞ ∞

There must be some mistake, King Ul’Garreth shouted. Do the tests again!

I’m sorry my Lord, we’ve done the tests three times. There is no mistake, Poltina said. Your daughter exhibits all of the signs of the Vestraa. You know the laws my Lord. She must be...

If you finish that sentence I’ll make sure it’s your last, the King snarled angrily. Your services will no longer be required. Guards, take her to the dungeon. He was not worried about the guards hearing the news of his firstborn’s condition. Although it was a death sentence for his daughter, they knew all too well that death would be welcomed not only to the one spilling the secret, but to that person’s entire lineage.

But, my Lord! Poltina gasped. You can’t do this! I’ve broken no laws!

Yes, my Lord, a guard said stepping forth to take the former seer into custody. But she was not going without a fight. Poltina stepped back from the guard and ducked under his grabbing arm as he lunged for her a second time. Think about what you’re doing, my Lord! You are breaking our most sacred of laws! She sidestepped the guard again, showing incredibly speed and agility for a woman of 347. Your daughter is Vestraa! She will be the ruin of this kingdom if she is permitted to live!

GUARDS! the king yelled angrily Shoot her down where she stands!

Arrows whizzed through the air. One struck Poltina in the back of the right thigh causing her to collapse to the floor in a heap of tears. On the bright side, it prevented the arrow flying towards her head to miss. It clanged off of a stone pillar thirty feet away and fell to the floor. The guard that was originally called to take her to the dungeon pulled his sword and drove it through the poor woman’s throat, ending her life in one swift thrust of the blade.

King Ul’Garreth paced the Great Hall, furious at the news of his daughter’s fate. He and the queen had been trying for three centuries to conceive a child and now she was to be put to death – just another slap in the face from the Gods that had abandoned his people millennia ago. Vestraa, he spit the word as venom. There hasn’t been a Vestraa born in a millennium, he thought to himself. The tests are wrong! They must be! I must see to the Queen. Thul’Bak, I am not to be disturbed for any reason, he said to his advisor.

Yes, my Lord.

And Thul’Bak, make sure this mess is cleaned up before I return. The King left the Great Hall for home with all due haste. Unlike the kings of the world above, the Riftborn King did not reside in the castle. In the Riftborn kingdom, the castle was a place of business, not a residence - unless you count the prisoners occupying the dungeons below, and it was the second best protected place in the entire kingdom after the King’s home which was protected by powerful magics as well as trusted and loyal guards.

The law was the law and like it or not he was as bound by them as those he ruled over. But that did not mean he had to like it. He could fight to have the laws changed, but that would take time and would fall on deaf ears. Everyone, himself included, knew the dangers the Vestraa presented to not only the Riftborn, but to the world at large should one ever be allowed to live long enough to realize their potential.

The Vestraa were abominations born in possession of powers and abilities that not even the greatest Riftborn Seers understood. While some Riftborn possessed magic based on the color of their eyes – earth magic for brown eyes and water magic for blue, and a few of them were heterochromatic – possessing two magics based on the colors of each individual eye, the Vestraa were septochomatic - possessing the ability to change the color of their eyes to anything in the Riftborn spectrum with but a thought, and could thus use all magics with equal ease.

No one knows exactly how this curse came to be, or how it picks its target, but a few theorized that those possessing it were somehow in closer touch with the Chaos Maelstrom – the source of the world’s magic, and the cursed always came from parents possessing powerful magics themselves.

This ability was not without its detriments, however, as all Vestraa eventually developed mental disorders that drove them insane. The last one to grow to adulthood slaughtered more than three thousand men, women, and children before finally being brought down. That was a thousand years ago. Since then tests had been developed to determine if a baby is Vestraa or not. If so, they are quietly taken care of to prevent another atrocity and the parents are rendered sterile to prevent the birth of another.

Word of a Vestraa being born to the King and Queen would not bode well for their continued rule, and King Ul’Garreth knew it as he hurried from the throne room for the streets without. He hurried towards home with all due haste, weaving between guards and pedestrians alike. Those that saw him coming stepped out of the way before being bowled over, while an unlucky few were sent head over heels without apology.

Unlocking the door he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Jeltara, you home? he called out to his wife. And then he saw the body of the midwife lying on the floor in a pool of blood. JELTARA! he shouted louder, pulling the knife from his belt as he moved into the room. He followed the bloody footprints to the kitchen and found it empty. He searched the cleaning room and found the bloody clothes in the hamper. Oh Jeltara, what have you done?

Returning to the living room he stood over the corpse of Kalthia and uttered the words of a powerful spell. In seconds all that remained was a thin layer of ash that he swept into the fireplace with an invisible broom conjured as rote. Another minor incantation cleaned the blood from the floor and he left for the nursery – the only place his wife could have gone.

∞ ∞ ∞

Jeltara entered the nursery, greeting the wet nurses and midwives with a smile. I’d like to see my daughter, she said to a short, plump woman named Yantia. She had been a midwife for centuries, having delivered hundreds of babies including the Queen herself; and was the closest thing the Gods-forsaken Riftborn had to a Saint thanks in part to her skills at delivery and surgery having saved the lives of countless women and children during difficult births.

Of course, my Lady, Yantia replied right this way.

I know the way. I’d like to be alone with her if that’s ok.

I’m sorry my Lady, but I am under direct orders from Poltina to remain with you or the King should you wish to see your daughter.

As you wish, the Queen said with a forced smile. After you.

Yantia led the Queen into a small room with only one child within. She is such a beautiful baby, she said, her voice filled with sorrow. I’m so sorry for your loss.

My loss? What loss would that be, Yantia?

Have you not heard the results of the tests, my Lady? I sent Kalthia to tell you personally.

I’ve been rather busy this day, the Queen replied, picking her sleeping baby up and cradled her in her arms I did not receive your message.

Oh! Oh, my Queen, I’m so sorry, but your daughter tested positive. She is Vestraa. That is why you are not permitted to be alone with her, my Lady.

And I’m sorry too, Yantia, the Queen said, her eyes changing from blue to black. With a dismissive wave of her hand she sent the midwife into the wall with thunderous force. And with another she and her daughter were gone, leaving Yantia’s broken body slumped against the wall.

Gone were the cold stone and mists of the Rift. Gone were the sanctuary of home and the safety of rank and privilege. Dim rays filtered through a cloudy sky – the last bits of light as the suns sank below the horizon. The land stretched out before her in all direction further than she could see, or imagine possible. It was forbidden for the Riftborn to leave the Rift, but desperate times called for extreme measures. She took a deep breath, breathing in the fresh air of the world above for the first time in her life and choking on it as it burned her lungs.

Her baby began to cry out in pain as it too breathed in the foulness of the air. In a panic she muttered words of magic. Two small clouds of mist rose from the Rift and enveloped their heads. The effect was immediate. Mother and child could breathe easy again. Jeltara shook from head to toe. Everything about her being told her to go back, to return to the comforting arms of the mist and darkness, but the desperate need to save her child’s life urged her on. Cradling the baby tight in her arms, she ran. She ran until her muscles ached. She ran until her lungs burned. She ran until she couldn’t push her body any further.

Her path took her across the Grayhz Grasslands to a copse of trees. She leaned against a giant oak to rest and feed her once again crying daughter. Outside of a few books she was privileged enough to see thanks to her station in life, she had never seen a tree before. She had never felt the warmth of the suns on her face, nor smelled the intoxicating aromas of the flowers she sank down into to rest her weary mind and body.

Jeltara marveling at the feeling of the grass against her skin. She allowed her baby to drink her fill before nestling her tight and running once more. She wished she could use her magic to travel across the world, but her knowledge of the lands outside of the Rift was limited to what she could see around her, making the use of such powerful magics a waste of time and energy.

∞ ∞ ∞

When the suns rose above the horizon, bathing the land in their radiance at the dawn of a new day, Jeltara was forced to hide in the shade of a tree while covering her and her child’s face with blanket and shirt. Her skin burned; her vision blurred. Her daughter cried hysterically. In her haste to flee before her daughter was put to death, she did not give thought to the effects the suns would have on them.

The Riftborn – condemned to the Shadow Rift since eons long past for crimes forgotten by all but the Gods, had lived their lives in darkness for so long that the suns were anathema to them. As a species they had lost the ability to absorb sunlight countless millennia ago. Their natural ability to see in the darkest of conditions did away with the need for light of any kind though they did use fire where needed. Such as with cooking and disposing of the dead.

The first rays of light upon her skin burned Jeltara as if she had been set on fire, and her child cried even louder as the light burned part of an exposed foot. Jeltara quickly covered the baby more securely and set her on the ground at the base of a maple.

Jeltara raised her arms, moving her hands in quick, precise patterns. Domus terrum, she said the words of an incantation. The ground rumbled and split apart as chunks of dirt and rock rose and spun about to form a small, windowless dwelling large enough for her and the baby. Once safely inside, she closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief.

I’m so sorry little one, she said rocking her daughter in her arms. Mommy didn’t know the suns would hurt us, but that’s ok. We’ll adapt. We’ll grow stronger and you’ll live a long and happy life away from the monsters that would see you dead. Your father and I didn’t even have enough time to give you a name, she sighed. Though it will never go in the book of names, I will call you Fina Edahl, she said holding the smiling child up before her. "That means bringer of hope in our language. That is what you are my sweet little Fina. You are the hope that one day the Gods will release us all from that hell. You are the hope the world will see we are no longer the savages they banished to the below so long ago.

2

Hide & Seek

––––––––

What do you mean she’s gone!?

I’m sorry my Lord. She came to see her daughter but never left the nursery room. When I went to check of the Queen and Yantia I found the midwife dead and the Queen and your daughter gone and they did not leave through the nursery.

Are you saying they left by magical means?

Yes my Lord. They could be anywhere in the city by now. Perhaps they went back home.

I just came from there. I’m holding you personally responsible for their wellbeing. If anything happens to wither of them I’ll have all of your heads!

My Lord! You cannot hold us responsible for the Queen’s actions!

All...of...your...heads! King Ul’Garreth seethed. He wanted to lay them all to waste where they stood, but that would require the use of magic. The only ones in the kingdom aware that he possessed the gift were his wife and his most trusted and loyal guards that were hand-picked and magically charmed by him to ensure their silence.

The King stormed from the nursery and back to the castle – the look on his face as he marched down the street that of a mad man daring anyone to step in his way. None did. When he reached the castle, he went straight to the audience chamber where his personal guards stood in waiting. Al’Dun, go fetch Tal’Brek at once. Tell him he’s to drop everything he’s doing and return with you immediately, or I’ll have his head.

Yes my Lord. Al’Dun replied dutifully. He left the audience chamber at once and headed straight for Tal’Brek’s home. While other trackers lived and worked out of the Guild, Tal’Brek was something of a special case. He was an arrogant, self-centered and manipulative bastard they few could stomach for more than a minute, but he was damn good at his job and had worked himself up to a special position where he only worked for the King.

Al’Dun gave the sturdy door three hard knocks and waited. After nearly six minutes the door slid silently open and a disheveled man in unbuttoned pants and an open tunic greeted him with a look of disgust.

This better be important, Tal’Brek huffed.

The King requires you at the castle immediately. You are to follow me back without question or complaint or he’ll have your head.

Tal’Brek smirked and removed his trousers. Fine, lead the way. And I dare you to tell the king I was wearing pants when I answered the door.

You can’t seriously think I’m going to let you walk down the streets with your...stuff hanging out!

Hey, you’re the one that said immediately. If I were you I’d get to walking before I tell the King you’re the reason for the holdup.

At least close the tunic.

Lead on messenger boy, lead on.

∞ ∞ ∞

Tal’Brek not only marched down the streets half naked, he barged into the castle as if he had owned the place. The look he gave the guards dared them to say a word about his state of dress. None did as they knew who he was and that questioning him would only cause him to do something even more ridiculous. He pushed the doors of the Audience Chamber open and walked straight to the throne without form or custom – something that would get anyone else beheaded. You wished to see me? Again he dispensed with formalities of recognizing the King as his Lord.

"Why are you half naked? Nevermind, I don’t want to know.

Your lackey disturbed me mid-coitus and would not permit me to dress, Tal’Brek replied, shooting Al’Dun a challenging glance. What is so important a man can’t even get dressed first?

Everyone out! the King shouted. Not you Tal’Brek, he added when the tracker turned to leave with the others. He continued when only he and Tal’Brek remained. "The job I have for you is dangerous and you will