Invaded: The Darkest Day: Chronicles of Caleath

By Rosalie Skinner

Trapped on a dying planet by friends he trusted, Caleath falls into the hands of his arch-enemy.
Fortunately, viewing rights make the Deathbringer a valuable asset. More torture, better ratings. Nobody suffers as well as he does.
Sent back to Allorn, Caleath is the only one able to stop the invasion of his former Karadorian masters. If he keeps a cool head, accepts the help of those who betrayed him and the power offered by the dead planet’s spirit, dare he unleash the ferocious warrior lurking within?
Wrath has been waiting for his chance to take revenge far too long. His time has come--for better or worse.

• Language: English
• Publisher: MuseItUp Publishing
• Release date: Jul 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781771271097

Book preview

Back Cover

A Sci-Fi Fantasy Epic Novel by Rosalie Skinner

Trapped on a dying planet by friends he trusted, Caleath falls into the hands of his arch-enemy.

Fortunately, viewing rights make the Deathbringer a valuable asset. More torture, better ratings. Nobody suffers as well as he does.

Sent back to Allorn, Caleath is the only one able to stop the invasion of his former Karadorian masters. If he keeps a cool head, accepts the help of those who betrayed him and the power offered by the dead planet’s spirit, dare he unleash the ferocious warrior lurking within?

Wrath has been waiting for his chance to take revenge far too long. His time has come--for better or worse.

Invaded: The Darkest Day © 2012 by Rosalie Skinner

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

MuseItUp Publishing

14878 James, Pierrefonds, Quebec, Canada, H9H 1P5

Cover Art © 2012 by Delilah K. Stephans

Edited by Lea Schizas

Copyedited by Christine I. Speakman

Layout and Book Production by Lea Schizas

eBook ISBN: 978-1-77127-109-7

First eBook Edition *July 2012

Production by MuseItUp Publishing

To Aenea, and my ‘Bonus’ family.

Hold my hand...and I will take you into my dreams...but it could be dark and scary in there.

—Cailyn, after a nightmare, August 2011.

Acknowledgements

Thanks go again to Steve and Lisa Skinner, Edith Parzefall, Ruth Williams,  John Llewellyn and all those who have waited patiently for these new adventures to arrive. As always I am indebted to Matt Bryant and Rachel Lewis Photography for the photos used in the covers and promotion. Mick Pollock, Tim St Clair, and Trisha, my thanks for creating the website. To Lea Schizas and Chris Speakman for your editing skills. Finally, to the team at Museitup Publishing for making this dream come true.

Invaded: The Darkest Day

The Chronicles of Caleath

Exiled: Autumn’s Peril

Exiled: Winter’s Curse

Exiled: The Legacy of Lathraine’s Pledge

Exiled: The Battle for Enderseer Hold

Invaded: The Darkest Day

Underground: The Day of the Sun

Adrift: In Search of Memory

Adrift: The Fragile Sun

Rosalie Skinner

MuseItUp Publishing

www.museituppublishing.com

INTRODUCTION

The minstrel strums a quiet tune. Anticipation ripples across the crowd and her gaze follows the straggler finding a place close to the fire. A mother calms her child as beyond shuttered windows a storm howls. The minstrel’s fingers dance across the strings of her lute, drawing all eyes.

Peace brings complacency. After five summers the horrors of battle fade into memory. Now the threats from Wilden and Tarack no longer plague the south, Caleath, Penwryt, Father Eamon, and Corinne seek anonymity near Aberssley Cross. Working as a smith, disguised by spell wrought illusion, our hero has enjoyed two summers in relative peace. With him in obscurity is Raul, a native of the southern realm of Ruak, who feels bound to protect the man who saved his life.

The crowd mutters at the mention of the Ruak barbarian. The yowl of the wind lifts to a frightening level. The minstrel gives her music time to work its magic, waiting for a lull in the gale before continuing. Her fingers skip in tune to the tumultuous conditions outdoors.

Our story resumes as peace shatters and Caleath is drawn towards his destiny…

PART ONE

DEPARTURE

Chapter One

A pulse of wild magic knocked Caleath forward before the backlash exploded along the valley. He reeled in the saddle and watched a wall of wind consume the daylight. Above him, lightning shredded eldritch night, while an unnatural tempest stripped vegetation and rubble from the earth.

Ahead, a cart loaded with children moved onto a bridge across the river. Beside him, Corinne snatched at her horse’s reins. The creature squealed and bucked beneath her.

Tallowbrand, Caleath shouted as the storm raced toward him. We could use a little help! Wizard!

The hurricane drove a bank of river water high into the air. Corinne screamed and spurred her horse toward the children. Caleath gave his stallion, Enigma, free rein, urging the beast forward.

Before he reached the children, the wave struck the bridge. The wooden structure shattered. Cart, horse, and humans tumbled into the maelstrom.

A whiplash of sorcery slashed against the tempest. For a fractured moment, relative calm surrounded the tragic tableau. For respite from the tumult Caleath silently thanked the unseen wizard.

The children! Corinne’s voice pitched above the thunder and rumble of tortured rock. He shared the urgent need in her shout, throwing himself from Enigma’s saddle. His wet hands fumbled while he unbuckled the stallion’s reins and lashed them around his own waist. With a shout and few gestures, he urged Corinne to attach the lifeline to the stallion’s saddle. He left her to calm Enigma. When the horse stood hock deep in rising water, Caleath used the slippery leather and rope for support.

He moved deeper into the raging river. Cold tightened bands of steel around his chest and his head ached as air pressure dropped. He waded through waves of debris snagged on the remains of the bridge. Branches, broken timber, and clods of grass struck his head and shoulders as he fought the current. Through driving rain, he caught a glimpse of the overturned cart and the sodden woodwork that rose above the melee. The precious cargo of frightened children clung to the framework. As he approached, Caleath heard their whimpered cries and strident shouts. A deeper voice of calm among the shrill pleas offered comfort and courage.

He caught the dray’s side and dragged three small boys clear of the splintered frame. With one child’s arms around his neck and another boy under each arm, Caleath pushed away from the dray.

Hang on. He turned his back on the terrified faces of those children left behind. "Tallowbrand, tell Corinne we are ready," he told the disembodied dread lord using telepathy to avoid swallowing more river water. Prohibited from working sorcery himself he relied on his companion, the ghostly archimage, for any form of magic.

Rain ran across his face, filled his mouth and blocked his vision while river water sluiced over his head with each successive wave. If not for the tug of the lifeline at his waist, he would not make way against the drag of the current. Even with this additional pull, progress seemed slow. The children cried as they clutched him and made headway more difficult.

He stumbled on slippery boulders, dragged heavy boots from the guttling mud and managed to reach shallower water. To his relief, Corinne took charge of the children, allowing him to step back into the current.

On the second trip, he half-carried half-dragged two older boys. A young man grabbed the lifeline, adding his strength against the current, aiding Caleath’s progress toward the river’s edge. While he helped rescue the terrified children the youth kept pointing and shouting toward the dray. Corinne lifted saturated bodies from Caleath’s arms.

El’sbeth and her baby. The youth gasped, taking one child from Corinne’s arms and scrambling to higher ground.

Caleath nodded, dragged air into his lungs and signaled the stallion to step forward again. Intense cold burned every limb. His legs shook and his boots slipped on mud-covered rocks. With teeth chattering he lifted a hand.

I am going. The storm snatched his words away. High on the dray’s upturned seat he could see a girl clutching a baby in her arms. When he reached deep water, the wind whipped his hair across his streaming eyes and hid the young woman and the baby from sight.

"Caleath, I can do no more. This storm is unnatural. I am spent." Tallowbrand’s hollow voice echoed through his mind. Caleath cursed, surging forward to touch the splintered dray.

"A little longer, Tallowbrand," he pleaded, but heard nothing in reply.

He scrambled hand over hand along the dismembered cart until he found a foothold. The girl slid toward him across the dray’s bench seat before she dropped into the turbulent water. Her hand reached through the murk, desperate eyes pleaded for help as she struggled to keep the baby’s head above water.

His fingers touched hers. In the same heartbeat, the dread lord’s magic dissolved. In an instant, the storm hammered into the void Tallowbrand’s sorcery had created.

Caleath’s fingers closed on empty air, a hair’s breadth from El’sbeth’s hand.

A wall of water smashed into the broken bridge, lifted the structure skyward and speared fractured woodwork into the turbulence. Forces beyond comprehension twisted the cart, thrust the drowned horse into the air and tossed portions of the mutilated bridge in front of the wave.

Caleath heard El’sbeth’s scream above the din. He struggled to reach her but the lifeline pulled tight around his waist before giving way. The sudden torrent tore him from the dray and dragged him beneath the water. Around him uprooted trees, shattered corbels and water pounded into the muddy riverbed. His throat closed when the cart landed across his chest. A silent scream reverberated through his head as a splintered floorboard speared through his side. Watery darkness engulfed him. The dray pinned him in the river’s depths.

Again, he cursed immortality.

* * * *

"Tallowbrand!" Cold leached the pain from his extremities as his blood drained into the river. Death’s laughter echoed in his head, but she sought the souls of El’sbeth and little Joe. Caleath resisted the lure of the Abyss, where pain dissolved and nothing remained. Death passed him by and the dead wizard ignored his plea. He swallowed self-respect and called to his bonded dragon ‘Merkaat’ before the Abyss drew him into nigrescent depths.

A dragon’s clawed talons sliced through the darkness and dredged Caleath’s broken body clear of the mire. Too weak to scream when pain lanced his consciousness, Caleath’s eyes burned as the dragon spirit shielded its draconian presence in a bolt of blue lightning.

The touch of coarse mud, the bite of driven wind and rain, brought tears to his eyes. He lacked the energy to question Merkaat’s absence or why the dragon should send a spirit to save him. The air he dragged into his lungs tasted sweet. Even the mud coating him from head to toe felt wonderful. He lay in the slime and explored the extent of his injuries. Numb fingers groped toward the ragged shaft of timber protruding from his abdomen. When his hand bumped wood he held his breath. Splinters of agony pierced his mind. With a sob, he arched away from pain.

In the distance he heard a voice call, Look! A body!

Caleath froze. He did not own the strength to turn his head, but the voice meant he could relax. He breathed controlled, shallow gasps and listened for the sound of footsteps.

Cal!

Corinne’s voice carried through the savage storm. Hearing footsteps squelch in the mud, Caleath released his hold on consciousness.

* * * *

Raul’s mellow voice greeted him when he woke. Focus returned and Caleath recognized his own room, nestled behind the blacksmith’s forge, where ancient bricks held residual heat. He did not know how long he had slept. Waves of pain radiated from his injured side when he moved. A groan escaped his lips as one hand moved to explore the damage. His fingers sought the shaft of wood that pierced his side, but found cloth bandaged against the wound.

Relax, Rami’bat, Raul used his native form of address, a nickname meaning ‘small man who needs protecting’. The boys are safe. Father Eamon and Corinne care for them.

Caleath’s bleary eyes closed and tension eased from taut muscles. The scent of neatsfoot oil and warm beeswax filled his nostrils. Unperturbed by his lack of response, Raul crooned a familiar ballad. Warmth generated by the smithy’s fire restored feeling to Caleath’s aching limbs.

Relax, now you are awake I will fetch food. Raul covered Caleath’s exposed limbs with blankets warmed by the fire. Don’t go anywhere. I shall not be away for long. It is good you are recovering. Caleath listened as the big man stepped outside and shut the door.

With eyes closed, Caleath listened as the storm tore through forested glades, roared along steep valley cliffs and whistled beneath his door. Lantern light flickered when the door opened and allowed a gust of damp air into the small room.

The smell of camphor and mold announced the arrival of a young man dressed in homespun linen and furs, someone other than Raul. Caleath opened weary eyes and turned his head. The young man from the river looked vaguely familiar. He perused the room. There seemed little to impress him. The boy gave a quick glance to the mud plastered walls with their chipped whitewash. His gaze rested on the wrapped sword hanging above Caleath’s bed.

What do you want? Caleath could do little but whisper and even this exertion caused his wound to ache. Do I know you?

Ethan. The youth grabbed the only chair and sat astride it. Borrowed clothes stretched tight across the young man’s broad shoulders. Hazel eyes reflected flickering light from the lantern while his chin rested on the chair’s high back. You worked on my da’s mare. Nathan the crofter.

Bad knee. Caleath closed his eyes and recalled memories of the mare and the weighted shoes he manufactured to cure her odd gait. He heard Ethan’s fingers rap on the woodwork of the chair and opened his eyes again. Go on.

What happened?

The enormity of the question troubled Caleath. He let his brow furrow.

Why did you let El’sbeth and little Joe die? Ethan kneaded the edge of the chair. I would rather you left me.

Let her die? Caleath struggled to breathe and talk. Do you think I had a choice?

You used magic to save us.

Is that what you think? The paradox of Ethan’s words abraded old wounds. I used no sorcery, boy. Certainty on the youth’s face faded and doubt crafted wrinkles around Ethan’s eyes. From doubt grew confusion and anger. Shadows deepened beneath the boy’s brow.

I felt the spider web of sorcery. The storm, Ethan lifted a beardless chin and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. You can’t say that was a normal storm.

Before Caleath gathered enough strength to answer, the door slammed open and Raul entered bearing an armful of pots and steaming dishes. He kicked the door closed and unloaded his burden onto a cabinet beside the bed.

Don’t let me interrupt. Raul broke a lengthening silence. When the man bent to avoid hitting exposed beams in the ceiling, his bare chest glistened in warm lamplight. Each movement gave life to tattoos and ritual scars marking mahogany skin. A bone pendant contrasted with dark skin, hair, and black eyes. Caleath enjoyed Ethan’s surprise when Raul unwrapped a battered lute and settled in the far corner to pick out a tune.

If you plan to say nothing, feed the man, Batu, Raul suggested to the boy, again using his native term for ‘friend’. Caleath closed his eyes as Raul continued, Father Eamon’s food is palatable. I took Rami’bat’s share before your siblings ate everything.

Feed him?

Caleath opened his eyes to watch Ethan fold lanky arms across his chest as he considered the suggestion. After a moment, Ethan nodded. On condition he answers my question.

What question would that be? Raul met Caleath’s weary gaze. Can I answer for him? You might not have noticed but our friend is a little unwell.

Unwell? Ethan snorted and ran oversized hands through tangled hair. By the One! He should be dead!

Then what would you ask of the dead? Raul prompted while Caleath closed his eyes, listened and appreciated his companion’s perception. The barbarian devoted his time to protecting Caleath in payment for saving Raul’s life in the southern regions of Ruak. Not that Caleath thought he needed protection, but the man’s loyalty and good humor helped ease the trials of existence.

The storm wasn’t natural was it? Yet, it was sorcery that saved us. Why does the smith deny using magic? Why didn’t he save El’sbeth and little Joe? Ethan finished with a rush. The boy cracked his knuckles before his attention focused on spooning thick stew into a wooden bowl.

While he watched the boy from the corner of his eye, the scent of garlic and rosemary filled the room. The smell of Eamon’s cooking reminded Caleath he needed food. Immortality came from the healing action of nanobots. To work proficiently, they consumed vast amounts of energy and if food was not forthcoming, they stole protein from living tissue.

Raul strummed his lute and cocked his head as if he listened to the wind howling outside. He tightened a fret and plucked a note that matched the fevered pitch of the storm before answering Ethan’s query.

You asked three questions, Batu. He stilled the strings before beginning to strum a tune. You already know the answers but you need to accept them with your heart or you will remain troubled.

What? Ethan looked around and waved a dripping spoon in the air. What do you mean?

You are right. The storm came from an unnatural source of magic. You know this. Accept your intuition. Raul’s fingers danced across the strings. A dark melody rippled through the room. My guess is Vergöttern spells. Nothing good comes from disregarding the laws of nature.

Vergöttern? Caleath spoke in a whisper as he eased his weight onto one elbow and accepted a bowl of stew from Ethan. He did not intend to allow the boy to feed him. Yeah. Caleath searched his memory. He tried to analyze the feeling the strange tempest instilled in him. You might be right.

Always, Raul laughed. Second, Batu, you have seen the signs. You must know who Rami’bat is. Why do you question his integrity?

He’s the smith? Ethan wiped thick gravy from the spoon and licked his finger. Caleath chewed a chunk of venison and forced himself to breathe as Ethan continued. What signs?

Ahh, your brain is thick. You refuse to see, even now the dead wizard’s spells of illusion have dissipated.

Wizard? Illusion? Ethan glanced from Caleath to Raul and back again.

Raul, do you think this is wise? Caleath swallowed a chunk of stringy meat with effort. Does he need to know?

He owes you his life, Rami’bat. The boy must understand.

Not everyone, when their lives are saved, feels the commitment you do, Raul. Caleath avoided Ethan’s scowl. Our young friend would rather I saved the girl El’sbeth and little Joe than himself and his brothers. He doesn’t appreciate drawing breath.

Ethan sucked in an audible breath, bridling at Caleath’s suggestion. He slammed the spoon onto the cabinet. That’s not what I said.

No? Caleath raised an eyebrow and shook his head. No. You said you would rather I left you to die. Forgive me, Ethan, if I am wrong, but you managed to help me pull your brothers to the shore. Without your help, they might not have lived. I carried your younger brothers first, they were closest and in grave danger too.

If you took El’sbeth first…

Then both your brothers would have drowned. We did all we could. Who can stop to argue over who should live or die when every second counts.

Ethan lowered his head into shaking hands. Young shoulders heaved while the youth sobbed. After a few moments, he raised his head and glanced toward Raul. We? You and Lady Corinne?

Corinne, me…and Tallowbrand, Caleath corrected, sipping steaming stew from the edge of his spoon. Raul, would you tell him?

Tallowbrand is a dead wizard, Raul explained as Caleath put aside uneaten stew and lay down. Food turned to sand in his gut while the ache in his side grew with each breath. Although he wanted to sleep again, he monitored Raul’s answer. He didn’t welcome his friend’s idea of trusting the youth. ‘Trust’ was a difficult commodity to come by. The ghostly archimage helps keep Caleath’s identity obscured.

You’re a smith, aren’t you? Ethan sounded less confident and more accusing. My da says, though you can’t mend a pail you work magic with horseshoes.

Not magic, Raul corrected. "Rami’bat calls it skill."

So why hide your identity? Ethan helped himself to a bowl of stew as he listened.

Caleath finds no welcome in most places we visit. As soon as anyone realizes who he is he finds any acceptance withdrawn.

Ethan concentrated on shoveling food into his mouth. Caleath wondered how long it would take the young man to put the facts together and reach a conclusion. He could almost hear the boy’s mind ticking over.

Five years had passed since the battle for Enderseer Hold. After three years hunting Wilden and destroying Tarack Caleath sought a haven where his exploits might fade from memory. For two summers Caleath and his entourage of minders had settled in and around Beardsley Falls, close to the commercial center of Aberssley Cross. They’d managed to keep a low profile, until now.

Ethan paused in his consumption of stew and frowned. Father Eamon. He arrived at the same time as you. He’s been helping the priests in the Chapel of the One and everyone thinks he’s wonderful. Ethan stopped eating long enough to look from Raul to Caleath for censure. Then there is the old wizard who lives in the herb witch’s cottage. Penwryt. Rumor is he’s a mage without ties to the Council. He’s not like a regular wizard is he?

Caleath rolled his eyes. He wanted to be somewhere else but Raul smiled encouragement. To Caleath’s distress, the boy seemed to gain confidence.

Again the village love having him around when someone is sick. He never charges for his liniments or lotions.

And he’s not here when we could use his skills. Caleath groaned.

Corinne isn’t from Allorn. She’s Kentorian isn’t she? Ethan began to snap his fingers. The Church, the Council and the Royal House of Kentor. Is she Mykael Trasson’s sister?

Raul laughed aloud. Caleath winced.

Which makes you... Ethan’s mouth closed when he looked again at the huge sword balanced across the wall. He coughed and cuffed his nose with his sleeve before speaking, The Deathbringer.

Chapter Two

Please, Ethan, I would appreciate a little discretion. Caleath spoke with little hope. The gleam in the young man’s eye showed that discernment lay far from his thoughts.

Then if you are the Deathbringer, I understand why you don’t work at the forge unclad. You conceal the dragon’s token under your glove. Ethan’s eyes opened wide while he discarded his empty bowl and scratched his temple. You conceal the mark of a Karadorian slave brand beneath your shirt? Everything makes sense. You hide here behind a sorcerer’s spell.

The boy’s perception made Caleath sweat. Without Tallowbrand’s spells, the villagers would soon realize they gave succor to the Deathbringer. Although regaled as a hero by a few, most citizens heard the darker side of ballads and offered no welcome. The presence of Council, Church, and Kentorian authority alone, would dissuade associating with him, if the community recognized their stranger’s origins.

So you know the reasons why Rami’bat couldn’t rescue your friend. Raul allowed a riff of notes to inspire confidence. You understand?

I know the Ballad of Enderseer Hold and the oath the Deathbringer took to deny his right to mage craft. Ethan nodded. In case the witch Azriel reaches across the barriers of the Dragonslair and steals the power of an immortal again.

Ahh. Raul let the melody drift into a somber refrain. If anyone is to blame for the death of El’sbeth and little Joe… Raul caught Caleath’s gaze and raised an eyebrow before he turned his attention toward Ethan. Vergöttern mismanagement of magic should stand accused. Not the Deathbringer.

Ethan surged to his feet and spun the chair beside the cabinet. He ground his fist into his forehead and after a moment shook his head.

You have been given a gift. The accusation in the boy’s eyes worried Caleath. Nothing Raul said seemed to make a difference to the young man’s train of thought. Why didn’t you take a chance? Are you so afraid of this witch you prefer to watch innocent people die rather than face her?

Ah, Batu, the man gave his word. Would you have him break it?

To save El’sbeth, yes I would. Ethan leaned against the wall with his heel hooked on a beam behind his knee. He didn’t stand still. Clenched fists rapped against the woodwork while he ground his teeth and fought back tears. I would give anything for her to live.

You don’t know what you are talking about. Caleath dragged himself to an upright position supporting his weight on trembling arms. I think you should leave.

Leave? Ethan thrust himself away from the wall and waved a finger at Caleath. I think…I think you are afraid. He cuffed tears from moist eyes. You don’t own the courage to face the witch. El’sbeth died because of your cowardice. No wonder no one wants you near them.

Raul moved. Before Caleath blinked, the barbarian stood between Ethan and the door. Muscles rippled in bulging arms as he blocked Ethan’s departure. I won’t listen to such rubbish. Raul’s massive fist closed on Ethan’s shoulder. Apologize.

Rami’san, leave him. The boy is aggrieved. I warned you speaking of such things would cause problems. Let him go. Caleath hung his head. Each breath made his side ache, while his stomach churned, demanding food. He wanted to deny the boy’s accusation, but he couldn’t find the heart. Perhaps he is right. Five years is too long. I am tired of forsaking my destiny. Corinne, Eamon, and Penwryt should have their lives back.

They made the choice, Rami’bat.

They lost their freedom when they agreed to watch over me. They have traveled this continent with me and proved true friends, Raul. How have I repaid them?

Raul chuckled and stepped aside to allow Ethan to pass. Caleath couldn’t understand his mirth and Ethan looked pale as he shoved trembling hands into deep pockets.

What’s so funny? Ethan backed toward the door. Are you insane? Is this how you cope with being around the Deathbringer?

I laugh because Rami’bat cannot see for himself what is plain to everyone else. Raul resumed his place in the corner with the lute across his knees. Ethan, you are free to go but remember the debt you owe. Whatever you feel, every breath your young brothers take is a gift from this man.

What is plain to see? Ethan grabbed the latch and leaned against the door as the wind fought for admittance.

Look around. Don’t let others do all the thinking for you. Raul accompanied his words with a lilting tune. The rain has stopped. Make the most of the break in the weather, Batu.

When the door closed behind Ethan, Caleath breathed more easily. We must prepare to move on.

"You