The Infinite Darkness

By Catherine Johnson

Alendria is a quiet and peaceful land where the Harmonics live quiet and peaceful lives in a Citadel built by nature. They value life and beauty, happiness and peace. Above all, they value the life source and spirit of Alendria, the Alendrian Diamond.
But Volca, a skilled and respected enchantress, experiences a vision of impending terror.
Hadian, a cruel, selfish sorcerer and the ruler of the Underworld desires the Alendrian Diamond. He creates an army to capture the Citadel and gain control of this most formidable source of power.
Volca sets out to warn the King and Queen of Alendria, in an attempt to give them time to devise a defense against Hadian and his evil army.
Volca’s actions enact a prophecy but time is against her. She must put all the pieces into place before both Alendria and the Alendrian Diamond are lost to Hadian forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Catherine Johnson
• Release date: May 6, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311567338

Catherine Johnson

Catherine was born in New Zealand before moving to Melbourne, Australia in 2001. It was here she discovered her desire to write. After traveling Australia with her husband and three boys she relocated to Townsville. Catherine is continually inspired by her favorite authors Juliet Marillier and J. K Rowling.

Book preview

The

Infinite Darkness

Book One

An Alendrian Trilogy

Catherine Johnson

Copyright © 2015 Catherine Johnson

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents

Chapter One – Volca

Chapter Two – Diego

Chapter Three – Volca

Chapter Four – Diego

Chapter Five – Tobias

Chapter Six – Volca

Chapter Seven – Diego

Chapter Eight - Volca

Chapter Nine - Tobias

Chapter Ten - Diego

Chapter Eleven - Tobias

Chapter Twelve - Volca

Chapter Thirteen - Diego

Chapter Fourteen - Tobias

Chapter Fifteen - Volca

Chapter Sixteen - Diego

Epilogue - Volca

Connect with the Author

Chapter One

Volca

Volca breathed in deeply. She closed her eyes to clear her mind and released her breath in a slow and steady manner, a ritual she had performed many times, over many seasons. Her shoulders drooped slightly as she entered a state of calm. Her mind felt free and upon opening her clear grey eyes, she gazed intently into a sparkling pool of blue liquid, it shimmered and glistened, yet remained completely still. The Essence of Illusion. Volca dipped the tip of her index finger into the Essence, it was warm and thick. She lifted her finger out and held it above the Essence, then waited patiently until a single drop fell back into the pool causing gentle waves to ripple across the surface. An image slowly appeared. It was an image Volca knew well, an image of life and beauty, the bright Citadel, with nature at its finest and the residents, all happily going about their peaceful lives. Volca had lived there once, long ago, when she was a child. She had lived there with her mother, a beautiful but simple women. Volca had no brothers or sisters and she had never known her father. Volca asked of him many times when she was younger but every time she had raised the issue, her mother had always grown very anxious and sad before quickly changing the subject. Eventually, Volca stopped asking. What did it matter anyway, she had finally decided. She and her mother were just fine by themselves. When her mother died, Volca had chosen to leave the Citadel, not because she had to, it was her choice to make. But she had never really felt comfortable living amongst so many, not with her gift.

Volca was born on the Day of the Prophet, which meant she possessed the gift of sight. When she had lived in the Citadel she tried very hard to avoid using her gift but it was not always possible. Sometimes visions would present themselves at random, on the river’s surface or in just a simple bowl of water. The visions could be that of past, present or of possible futures, so it was hard to determine what was real, what had been or what could still come to pass, for this reason, Volca seldom shared what she saw. Having knowledge of what events may occur to those whom she lived with in the Citadel was somewhat difficult. Choosing not to say anything to prevent a possible disaster and then feeling terrible when that disaster occurred took a heavy toll on one’s conscience. Would speaking of her visions actually change the future? Would taking another path turn out for the better and would something worse befall the poor soul involved? She did not know the answers to such questions and at times her thoughts threatened to overwhelm her. Volca’s gift was a hard gift to live with and over time she had learnt to use it wisely.

So in an attempt to preserve her sanity, Volca had left the Citadel and came here, to the Caves of Scoria. She now lived a life of peaceful solitude. Sometimes she wished for a companion and although she liked the simplicity of living alone she did sometimes get lonely and thought it might be nice if there was someone else to talk to other than the bugs and insects she shared the caves with, but Volca had accepted her decision in live in quiet isolation and she had no regrets.

In the Essence, the image of the Citadel faded, Volca leaned in closer, looking deeper into the liquid. The image turned dark, too dark to make out a picture. This seemed to Volca more like a foresight of feeling. Her stomach dropped and Volca suddenly felt as though she was falling, goose bumps tingled up her arms and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Something bad was coming. Something full of greed and evil. She felt something stir deeply within her soul and it caused her stomach to twist strangely. Volca continued to stare into the Essence, determined not to lose her focus. The Essence revealed an image now. The scene before her was lit up by the light of flickering fire, Volca saw a large army of strange creatures standing before Hadian, Ruler of the Underworld. Her inner voice spoke, ‘Demonic Fiends’, he called them and they were coming, here to Alendria, a prospect that sent chills deep into Volca’s very core. She shivered, the image faded again and another flashed across the surface so quickly she almost missed it. Volca’s slender hands held out before her, soft and pale. They were changing rapidly. Now her skin had turned black and her long thin fingers stiffened, becoming rigid with sharply pointed nails. Feeling suddenly ill, it was too much to bare and Volca wrenched her mind away from her visions, quickly, much too quickly. Her heart was beating hard in her chest, her throat tightened. She immediately doubled over and threw up what little food she had in her stomach. She took a step back, her mind was slow, foggy, still caught in her visions, but gradually she could feel herself coming back. Volca crumbled to the ground and shuffled across the dusty floor to lean against the warm cave wall, her breathing was short and quick. She nervously wrung her hands together, trying to stop them from shaking. She was sick with fear, not for herself but for the world in which she lived and for all those who lived here.

The Harmonics are a passive and peaceful race. They value life, beauty and that which gives their world spirit, the great Alendrian Diamond. The diamond stands tall, taller than all those living in this land, and it stands proudly in the centre of the Citadel. It is as wide as a tree trunk and has shone brightly for as long as the histories can tell. From beneath the diamond flows the Alendrian River, which runs quietly through the land and into a great lake far, far away at the edge of this world. There is a King and a Queen who are sworn protectors and guardians of the diamond, a responsibility passed down through each royal generation. The King and Queen have protectors of their own, the Alendrian Seven, a team of highly trained warriors who are greatly skilled in sword and staff. To become an Alendrian warrior, one must be special. Each of the Seven are born with the warrior’s skill much like Volca was born with her gift. But Volca knew, as skilled as the Alendrian Seven were, there was no chance they could ever stand up to a force of such a magnitude as that of Hadian’s army.

Volca stood up slowly and carefully, using the dry walls of the chamber for support. She tried to force the last image from her mind but the vision of her clawed and blackened hands seemed to be tattooed on her mind. It was rare for Volca to experience such a personal image and one of such evil was difficult for her to comprehend. She waited a moment while her knees steadied then she made her way across the chamber, down the steps, through a tunnel, up the next staircase, down another and back into the main chamber where she lived. She passed by the small creek that ran along the chambers left side, moved between two stone columns and passed her bed on the right which was just a hollow carved into the rock wall. She stopped, placing her hand on the top of the stone table, taking another moment to steady her nerves then she moved on and entered a small storage room. A waterfall fell from high above into a well at the end of the store room providing Volca with a constant source of fresh, clean drinking water. The gentle splashing sound it produced as it fell and filled the well, calmed her mind. She cupped the cool water in the palm of her hands and splashed her face, she sighed with gentle relief. Volca picked up an old and well used wooden mug, she took a cupful of the cool water then moved back into the main chamber and took a seat at the little stone table. She still felt nauseas. Slowly, she sipped the water and soon her stomach and her nerves had settled enough to allow Volca to think things through properly. Volca thought about the visions that had appeared in the Essence and she realized that for once in her life she had a feeling of obligation, that for once she felt she had no choice. She must act upon her gift of sight and she must warn the King and Queen. But she was afraid, Volca had been living alone for a long time now and the thought of being amongst others again made Volca feel a little nervous. But this was more important, this was the existence of the world in which she lived. She absolutely must warn the King and Queen, but first she needed to be sure of what she had seen.

Volca knew her gift was very complicated, the visions may have been that of the past, present or future. Future visions are only possibilities and may never come to pass depending on decisions or actions made by the individuals involved in each vision. A major factor in her current situation is that the vision presented itself in the Essence of Illusion. Volca could easily see visions on any liquid surface, the small creek that ran through the main chamber or in just a simple puddle but visions seen in the Essence are generally more accurate and likely to occur even considering individual choices made between the time of the vision and the actual event occurring. If Hadian had truly built an army then there was a strong possibility that he would be bringing that army here, to Alendria to claim the Citadel and perhaps even, the Alendrian Diamond for himself. What he planned to do next, Volca could only guess but if he succeeded it would be the end of this world as it is known and the end to all who lived here.

Volca’s head spun with so much to consider. She finally decided that it was best to be thorough. She would observe the Essence of Illusion once more before making any real kind of decision. But first she would need to regain her strength. She lay down on her bed pulling a thin blanket up to her chin. Volca did not really need it blanket, it was warm here in the Caves but a blanket gave her a sense of comfort and security. She closed her eyes, the visions still ran vividly though her head and she tried to force them from her mind. This happened often and in such times, Volca would tell herself a tale, one from her childhood. It was a tale her mother had told her many times when Volca had been troubled or saddened by the things she had seen. She knew every word of this tale, it wove through her mind as though it was not Volca that told the tale but as if the tale was telling itself.

Once upon a time…Her mother always began this way… a pretty young woman was strolling through the deep, dark forest. Now to say she was pretty was not enough, this woman was of an unimaginable beauty, her pale skin was flawless, her bright eyes sparkled and her rich brown hair shone as it tumbled gracefully down her back. Many a young man had courted her but none, she felt, had wanted her for who she was on the inside, but only for her beauty. Upon her arm she carried a small basket that was filled with wild flowers of many colors and the young woman was on her way home as she had been out all morning and she wished to put her flowers in water before their life began to fade.

As she came around a bend in the forest path, she was suddenly startled. Because there before her leaning against the trunk of a tall tree was a handsome man with a head full of wild black hair. His dark eyes stared into hers and his mischievous grin drew her close. She came to stand before him and as his eyes gazed deeply into hers, she felt as though he could see straight into her soul. She felt he could see her for