Inquisition

By William Diaz

What do four, well traveled
ancient scrolls have anything to do with
smuggler Dean Jayden?
Welcome to the Republic of Premia, a city with the power to crush
dreams or make you rich, a city with many secrets that finds herself in the cross hairs
of a treacherous plot. These four scrolls hold the power of life and death and
are now the focus of a massive hunt. Only the strongest can possess these scrolls.

On the outskirts of Premia an army of nomads, hostile like the land they
were born to, are massing near the borders of the Republic on the brink of all
out war, and the people of Premia have no idea that they are to be sacrificed
like lambs to the slaughterhouse. In the midst of greed, betrayals and wars in the name
of unseen gods, Dean Jayden must escape the underbelly of the city he calls home, or
be at the mercy of Fate and perish.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Diaz
• Release date: Dec 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310030420

William Diaz

Born and raised in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. Enjoys time with his wife and child, watching MMA and reading, George RR Martin, Jack Whyte and Matthew Reilly among his favorites. William's first short story, Holy House was published by Dapper Press (click the link to read the interview). William's second short story, Scarlett, was recently published by Meizius Publishing's Grey Matter Sci-Fi Digest. His third short story, Pest Control: A Scarlett Mission was published by Meizius Publishing for their 3rd volume of Grey Matter; his latest short, Island of Toys has been published by Starving Writers. As of this writing William has completed a full length Scarlett novel titled, Codename: Scarlett. His first book titled "Inquisition", book 1 of the Blood Moon Chronicles and book 2 Agents of Chaos, is available in the following ebook distributors. Also check out the 5-star review! Inquisition (Blood Moon Chronicles #1) Check out this book on Goodreads: Inquisition (Blood Moon Chronicles #1) http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23377874-inquisition Amazon...http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00OARFNOC, iTunes...https://itunes.apple.com/ca/book/inquisition/id952565562?mt=11, Kobo...https://store.kobobooks.com/en-CA/ebook/inquisition-10 and Barnes and Noble...http://m.barnesandnoble.com/w/inquisition-william-diaz/1120923506?ean=2940046460629. You can find more info on William at: https://www.facebook.com/pages/William-Diaz/1480236135588937

Book preview

Chapter 1

100 years later, Age of Yama

The Strigoi were a long lost nation of wolf worshiping savages who ruled the Simtar Region with an iron fist four thousand years ago. On the Strigoi’s last millennium of their dynasty they had their sights on the Hezekiah Territories until the Clothians, a race of lizard-looking aliens tracing lineage back to their warrior god Clothar and led by Overlord Macabus, appeared like thieves in the night and invaded the Simtar Region. The Clothians started the war by killing a few powerful northern Strigoi tribes, in time wiping out the powerful Strigoi, taking Tor Mountain and Hezekiah in the process. Castle Tor, a dark fortress that took its name from the Tor Mountain Range in the Simtar Region was built by Overlord Collonus from the very rock and dirt of the mountain itself, shortly after the death of his father, Overlord Macabus.

Tor Mountain surrounds the pyramid shape structure of Castle Tor, adding impenetrable strength to the thick walls that protect the castle. Jagged rock formations sprout from the base of Castle Tor, a deadly moat of acid as dark as its devilish gates smolder day and night, the vapors rising like snakes around the entire mountain. The interior of the castle consisted of dark, hanging pointy rocks that took the shape of fangs. Down the darkened halls of the top floor was the Council Chamber, a spacious room complete with shelves of ancient leather bound books, maps on rolled parchment and scrolls. Here was where the Clothian would plot his armada’s positions, hold council with his sorceress Ascula or his generals. A terrace was built so the Clothian could look out from his Council Chambers. His personal bed chamber was below the Council Chamber and where the Clothian would retreat for rest; no one was allowed access without his personal invitation. The chamber was lavishly decorated with red velvet drapes, a table and chair, a large brazier located at the far end of the chambers. On the lower level were the Red Rooms and work chamber. The work chamber was where potions, elixirs and poisons were made. Scalpels, tubes and torture equipment covered every inch of wall space and gurneys with manacles were neatly lined along the length of the work chamber. Experiments were conducted day and night along with the creation of viruses and other substances foreign to Falcotta. Prisoners were kept and regularly beaten in the Red Rooms; grisly looking cells named for the centuries of blood that turned the grey brick red. The Red Rooms were never full to capacity; the inmates rarely lived long enough to spread any tales.

From a distance the massive watch towers resemble a pair of eyes full of vengeance, seeing everything beneath them, hate and anger radiating from them constantly. The entire structure has proved impregnable from all sides; it can easily ride out the most ferocious sieges and has never been taken. The Simtar Region was a hostile environment, the land void of any source of water or game. The armies of men have perished by the thousands and by the tens of thousands from thirst, starvation and other factors in their attempts to storm the gates of Castle Tor.

The Clothian, like many of his kind before him was a hideous looking creature with empty, red eyes, pointy ears and a piercing deep voice that made even his own armada tremble with fear. His scaly blue skin shone whenever the moonlight hit his skin and was slippery to the touch. He wore his black silk robe and hood; his long walking stick was made from steel foreign to Falcotta and was adorned with the emblem of his race, the iron gargoyle. The Clothian leaned on the railing as he looked out from his lair, the obscure landscape of the Simtar Region running endlessly away from him.

The Clothian line of succession was a brutal one; it is mandatory for each Clothian ruler to go through a bloody ritual called the kaanmurha. The kaanmurha is performed by the heir to the throne when a Clothian overlord reaches the fiftieth year of his reign. This is done to ensure no Clothian becomes a tyrant to his own people. Darius hoped to change that. On the night of the kaanmurha Darius whispered to his father Overlord Collonus that the tradition of his people would end with him; Darius also told his lord father, as the Clothian elders were cutting out Collonus’ heart, that he would not be providing any heirs. Furious and with his last breath, Overlord Collonus cursed his son a traitor, he was beside himself that Darius would commit such blasphemy by breaking with Clothian tradition over ten thousand years old. When the sorcerer Doniyor tried to intervene, the newly crowned Overlord Darius skewered his father’s man with a long sword, then had Doniyor quartered and burnt, scattering the ashes in Tor’s acidic moat.

The Clothians had been studying the ways of men for ages. His ancestors before him lived in secret ever since settling in Falcotta; however they slowly turned the desolate Simtar Region to their own personal country by plucking the vegetation clean off the land. Due to their advanced methods of machinery and Ascula’s high level of sorcery they somehow found a way to permanently block out the sun from the Simtar Region. The Clothian returned to his work table to consult his large size map where gargoyle figurines were placed on his other territories; Ammorah, Maladus to the north, Exmoor and Sorcha to the northwest and northeast. These realms were governed by a ruler of the Clothian’s choosing; the process always preceded a bloody conflict.

The Clothian would send an envoy to broker an allegiance but the offers were always declined, a known fact, the negotiations were only a ploy to set the wheels in motion. The influential factions of that particular state that held deep resentment towards their liege lord would rise up, fueling their ruler’s contempt with propaganda and in most cases they would spread far-fetched lies, easily swallowed by the discontent masses, to further stir the pot. The assassinations of key individuals from both sides would catapult into skirmishes between them and supporters of that particular kingdom. Then finally full-out civil war would unleash. Despite the realm having the wealth to purchase weapons and warriors, nobody could understand how or from where the rebels received weapons, fighters and funding...lots of funding.

Once the rebels were victorious, the new king would be chosen and the former ruler, his family and his allies would be hunted down like dogs and killed.

No trial.

Only the new king’s elite squad of highly trained killers ordered to wipe out any connection to the past.

On his work table, off to the side from his marking on the map were two antique-looking scrolls unrolled and laid side by side. The Clothian read the spells for the thousandth time, beginning with the first scroll.

Modo, Spirit of War, Winged Guardian of Vengeance I summon you.

In the name of the Blood Moon

your presence is welcome

I bow to you...

Second scroll...

From the highest mountains

to the deepest seas

Spirit of War and Vengeance

Stand before me...

The Clothian knew full well the origins of the Scrolls and the power they granted; he also knew the dangers if the spells were chanted wrong. Upon landing in Falcotta the Clothians had been searching for the artifacts ever since his father’s sorcerer, Doniyor had suspected their powers centuries ago; so far Overlord Darius had two of the Blood Moon Scrolls in his possession. The Clothian had razed cities to the ground along the way and had brought down kings and emperors and those who stood in his way to his much coveted prize. The Clothian rolled up the Scrolls and reached for a small blood red crystal and placed it on the wealthiest city in Falcotta, the Republic of Premia.

Chapter 2

Omega Research HQ

Downtown District

The grotesquery strapped to the table was too much to behold; two medics retched their guts out when one of the scientists cut the beast’s torso from throat to abdomen, releasing a foul stench from the corpse. Doctor Ellis crinkled his nose as he peered at the beast’s insides, but otherwise watched closely as organs were neatly laid out on a metal tray. Once everything was examined, Ellis crossed the floor to the glass security tank he called the Bucket of Blood to observe his other prototype. Dressed in a grey silk tunic with a light trim of fur, white cravat, grey slacks covered by a long white smock, Doctor Emerson Ellis stared in wonder at his prototype, as he liked to call his experiments to throw the Republican Council and Ethics Committee off the scent, as it smashed itself over and over again in an uncontrollable rage against the four inch thick security glass, trying in vain to look for an exit of some sort. He smiled inwards with a twisted sense of pride despite the disturbing scene in front of him. I don’t envy the poor fuck that has to go in and clean up the bloodstains off the security glass, he thought.

Doctor Ellis, a middle-aged man of average height and silver hair was the founder and head of Omega Research. He started off as a young scientist in this very building when it was known as the Royal Lambert Science Hall. Not one to let the Fates decide the outcome, young Emerson Ellis quickly gain influence among his peers and with nobleman alike, much to the disdain of his rivals. Unknown to his colleagues, Emerson had begun the first of many long planning stages to take over the Science Hall with his increasing fortunes and influence. Doctor Ellis’ own people were handpicked and brought on one by one, filling lower level positions; people that Ellis’ rivals would not bat an eye to, which made securing their tiny but growing power base less noticeable.

After years of scheming, gaining supporters through bribery and using skullduggery to take down key rivals threatening to denounce him to the Republican Council of Premia for his unethical workmanship, Doctor Ellis made his move. The Head of Royal Lambert Science Hall, Doctor Edmund Cole, a quiet man who came from a long line of doctors had seen a huge decline of his research centre and was ready to close its doors when Ellis presented a proposition. He offered to buy the Science Hall in the tune of three million Republican Torrins, which he had with him in an armoured box; an astronomical amount at the time so that, according to Doctor Ellis, the good Doctor Cole could retire with his dignity still intact. Doctor Cole was in awe struck at the amount of cash seen before him. At first Doctor Cole rebelled at the thought of giving up not only the company but his life’s work. Seeing how futile his behavior was and Ellis’ valid arguments, he accepted and reluctantly sold the