The Blood Wizard Chronicles Novella: Stormwind

By Jay Erickson

For thousands of winters the war has been over. The fires of hatred that once burned bright have diminished to little more than ash and dust to all but a few. But for one, those ancient struggles still burn strong. A single ember awaiting the right moment to spark back to life. Just waiting for the right kindling with which to blaze anew.
Then there is Stormwind. A whimsical, wandering Elf who just happens to stumble into this ancient conflict. Driven by his compassion for a beautiful woman named Carmella, he agrees to rescue her son from those that seek to use the child to reignite the long dead war.
Will he become the hero that everyone hopes he is? Or will the trial prove too great for the self-proclaimed vagabond with little purpose, drawing him back to his wayfaring ways?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jay Erickson
• Release date: Jul 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781942958000

Jay Erickson

JAY ERICKSON grew up in Midwestern USA before joining the United States Air Force at the age of nineteen as an aircraft mechanic. During his active tour, he earned two degrees in Computer Applications and Aerospace Maintenance. In 2001, he separated from active service and became an Air Force Reservist. Since that time, he has held a variety of jobs from working at a casino, to crane operation, to masonry. Even with a myriad of different careers, though, writing has been his primary interest and hobby since high school. As an avid reader, he has always held a deep love for Fantasy and Science Fiction. So it was a natural fit for his writing. Now he's taking that hobby one step further by publishing the novella, BLOOD WIZARD CHRONICLES: STORMWIND for others to read. Mr. Erickson resides in Northwest Indiana with his wife and two children.

Book preview

PRAISE FOR

THE BLOOD WIZARD CHRONICLES NOVELLA: STORMWIND

This story utterly captivated me. I imagined it so vividly in my head it felt as if I had watched an epic movie.

-Jason Bigart, Film Director, The Empty Throne

A fast paced, high adrenaline, thrill ride of a story! Jay Erickson grabs you from the first chapter and doesn’t let go!

-Taurean Seneca Gray, Screen Writer, Befriended

Absolutely phenomenal! Jay Erickson's unique ability to transport his readers into the world he has created within the pages of his book is extraordinary. I couldn't put it down!

-Hope Norton, Award Winning Artist, 1st place winner at the Artist League of Sandhills Annual Art Exhibit for Mehndi Betta

"Stormwind is an intense, character-driven melodrama that never ceases to be entertaining. It's heroes are immediately likeable and the action is vivid, but it has just enough substance to make the reader think. Plus, it has so many plot twists both M. Night Shyamalan and Christopher Nolan are jealous!"

-Nathan Marchand, author of Pandora's Box and co-creator of Children of the Wells

Upcoming Books by Jay Erickson

The Blood Wizard Chronicles-

Pariah (July 30th, 2015)

Recreant (Coming Soon)

Blood Wizard Chronicles Novellas-

Stormwind

Dark Consort (Coming Soon)

Copyright © 2014 by Jay Erickson

All rights reserved.

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents depicted herein are either products of the author’s imagination, or, if real, are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, without the express written permission of the author.

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer.

Thank you for your support.

If you enjoyed this book, please take a moment to review it favorably.

Edited by Katherine LaSelle.

Cover design and layout by Jay Erickson.

Character art by Katherine Strohmeyer.

Blood Wizard Banner art template from RetroVectors.com

Copyright © 2014 Retro Vectors

Published By: Halsbren Publishing LLC. La Porte, IN. 46350

Smashwords Edition

ISBN 978-1-942958-00-0

Dedication

I've always loved to write, and to tell a story. It wasn't until 2002 however, that I was truly inspired to write a full novel. Through the inspiration of my good friend Joseph P. Strohmeyer, he helped me realize that writing could be more than just a hobby. That weaving a tale could be more than just a dream. Now twelve years later I am finally stepping forward to publish my first works, and it may have never happened if it wasn't for his initial motivation. Since you were there from the beginning, I find it only fitting that this first dedication go to you. Thank you.

-Jay Erickson

Author

(2014)

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter One- Agontill Highlands

Chapter Two- Order of the Sacred Fist

Chapter Three- Deny

Chapter Four- Raid

Chapter Five- The Purist

Chapter Six- Black Beast of the Wilds

Chapter Seven- Carnifex

Chapter Eight- Bär-geist

Chapter Nine- Ambrosia

Chapter Ten- Carmella

Chapter Eleven- Symbioun

Chapter Twelve- Stone of Destiny

Epilogue

Bonus Materials

About the Author

Prologue

Blood ruptured from his thigh like a geyser. It plumed high in the air, a crimson fountain, spraying his life’s essence about the party like wine launched from a goblet during revelry. He screamed and writhed, more in horror than in pain, as the fluid continued to jetty out of him with every beat of his heart.

Hold him, a woman said calmly as she tried to pack something into the deep laceration across his upper right thigh. The hot acrid mist that kept him alive doused her simple white gi and olive skin liberally, giving her normally beautiful complexion a morbid appearance.

No! he tried to yell at the people holding him down, but it came out as little more than a grunt. His crystal blue eyes could only watch with abject horror as her small delicate fingers disappeared between the parted flesh of his body, delved deeper into his muscle, and grated on bone. He was dying; he knew that now. The large barbarian that had attacked the village had done this to him. The massive man had landed this felling blow, and now he was going to spend his last moments bleeding out on a cold stone table surrounded by strangers.

Not so fitting an end for a High Elf.

Agontill Highlands

Two months earlier . . .

"Who is he?" Carmella asked as she glanced around her friend’s shoulder to look at the attractive male sitting at a table just behind her.

I have no idea, her friend, Rosethorn, answered as she giggled slightly and looked down at the bowl of ruby red berries between them. He arrived yesterday seeking enlightenment.

Carmella raised a dark eyebrow as she looked at the man once more. Enlightenment? She turned her gaze up the hill out of the town of Agot and to the horizon. There she could just make out the monastery of the Order of the Sacred Fist, just over a half a mile away. He desires to join the order?

Rosethorn winked mischievously at her, Better catch him before he forgets how to use it, she said as she popped a berry in her mouth.

Carmella stifled a laugh as she looked to her friend in shock. You’re terrible.

Rosethorn merely shrugged. I hear that he’s not the only dashing stranger soon to arrive, she remarked. A whole contingent of Jasian Purists has been seen heading this way on the Trade Road.

Oh? Carmella remarked, not really listening. She found her dark eyes peering over Rosethorn’s shoulder once more to admire the man. He was tall and slender, with long flowing brown hair that drifted around his shoulders like a brilliant cascading waterfall. He had deep blue radiant eyes that seemed to absorb everything he looked at. His face was smooth and clean, unlike the scruffy men she was used to seeing every day. However, more than just his fair features, there was something about him, a sort of precision. Every movement, every nuance, seemed to flow from him like a form of dance, as if he knew precisely what to do and when to do it. He was brilliant. Moreover, he was a High Elf.

High Elves, or Goldhym, as their own people called them, were a rarity in the Agontill Highlands. There were only two at the monastery and in all of the township of Agot that neighbored it, and both had been wed to each other long before Carmella’s twenty-two winters of life. So to see this one so far from his home astonished the dark-haired human.

Yes, Rosethorn continued. As I hear it, they are quite dashing in their platemail armor. Paragons of honor and virtue. For them to be heading this far north, they must be on a crusade.

Carmella nodded absently Must be, she agreed superficially. She studied the Elf in more detail. He was dressed in rustic brown leathers. Carmella thought it might be something she would see on a hunter, but this seemed far more elaborate. Small studs of metal ran across his shoulders and biceps slowly tapering into thickened cured leather at the elbows. His forearms were covered in gauntlets of heavy leather that were emblazoned with intricate patterns of autumn leaves and twisting vines. His right hand bore a glove that only covered his thumb and first two fingers. The last two were bare and exposed. Carmella knew that it was an archer’s glove. One meant to cover the fingers used primarily to pull the string of a strong taut bow. Many monks of the order were also accomplished archers.

On his left hand he bore no glove at all, but instead had two silver rings, one of them like twisting ivy holding an emerald. The other one beheld twin dragons fighting over a ruby. Across the back of the Elf, she could see a quiver full of arrows and a long bow.

As Rosethorn rattled on about the Purists and what crusade they may be embarking on, Carmella’s eyes drifted lower to examine the man’s leather trousers that bore the same metal studs as his tunic. These studs however were different, they were shaped like small maple leaves. They continued down to knee-high doe leather boots.

The Elf’s legs were crossed and Carmella could see that the boots looked to have seen a reasonable amount of wear, as if the High Elf had just begun a great journey.

Aside from his impressionable good looks however, Carmella noticed he had a unique sword. None of the monks of the monastery had any use for swords but the town marketplace had enough smiths and vendors that sold such weaponry.

This sword was different though. It bore an unusually thin blade, a weapon of finesse designed not to crush through armor, but find its kinks and exploit them. It was an artisan’s weapon, a master’s weapon.

The hilt of the narrow bladed sword was adorned in an ornate design of swirling leaves like those caught in a small whirlwind on a late autumn day. Studying it further, she could just make out ancient-looking symbols across the scabbard, lightning bolts, and at its center of it all was an eye.

Carmella realized that she had been staring for too long. As her gaze drifted up his frame once more he caught her looking at him, and smiled. His dazzling white teeth were perfect.

Flushed with embarrassment, Carmella looked down at the table. She heard the shift of wood against stone as the Elf slid his chair away from the table at which he sat. Soon a shadow covered her, eclipsing the afternoon light. Sheepishly she looked up. He stood over the both of them, smiling widely.

Tis a lovely day to make new acquaintances is it not? he asked her. His voice carried like a melody; there was an undeniable elegance to it, almost as if he were singing when he spoke. It caused Carmella to blush even more.

Yes. . . yes it is, Rosethorn stammered, caught off guard by the sudden approach of the man they had just whispered about for several moments before.

The Elf gestured to the empty seat at their table. Would you mind if I joined you?

Well . . . I . . . Rosethorn replied, shocked at his forward way of speaking.

I wouldn’t want to cause you ladies any discomfort. I apologize if I may have taken your glances as something more. In my culture, it is usually an invitation, he said quickly. Perhaps I should adjourn back to my own seat, he added and began turning away.

Please, sit, Carmella spoke up a little too quickly.

The Elf smiled widely, and took a seat. Splendid! He held out his pale-skinned hand before them. May I ask the names of the ladies who present such a hospitable invitation?

Carmella, she replied, as she extended her hand in kind. To her surprise, instead of shaking it, he took her olive skinned hand and brought it gently to his lips.

Lady Carmella, he said afterword, with a slight dip of his head.

Carmella looked to Rosethorn, her face a deep shade of crimson. Rosethorn however was beaming. She held out her freckled hand towards the Elf, Rosethorn.

Ah! He replied charmingly. He reached down and kissed her hand as well. You bear the appellative of a Lefhym. Are you perchance distantly related to the Wood Elven people?

Rosethorn stared at him, perplexed. No . . ., she stammered.

My mistake then, he apologized politely.

And what is your name? Carmella asked, hoping not to cause too long a gap of silence.

The Elf smiled and placed a hand to his chest. I, my dear ladies, am known as Stormwind, he said with a slight bow of his head. A wandering vagabond of little renown, and even smaller purpose.

And what brings you here? Rosethorn asked, her green eyes lost in an almost dreamy state.

Wandering of course! he said with a perfect smile.

Nothing more? Carmella asked curiously.

Monks, the Elf replied.

Monks?

He nodded and then glanced to the monastery on the hill. "I’ve heard they are masters of the body and mind. I am hoping that they can help me