The Warrior's Beckoning

By Patrick Allen Howard

The Warrior’s Beckoning is a two-part horror thriller with an allegorical storyline.

Connected by a dream, a team of ghost hunters is gathered and sent into a mysterious forest. Once a town, it is now inhabited by only darkness and sorrow.

After finding himself at the mercy of the shadow creatures, the team leader is rescued by men he does not know, men who were called by the same dream. But as the ghost hunter plays his camera footage, a priest reads the diary that unleashes the Spirits of Decay. These cloaked figures surround them, their scythes sapping the team of their spiritual energy.

Told through a series of diary entries, The Warrior’s Beckoning is an evocative story about the epic cosmic battle between light and dark. The first part of this chilling tale chronicles the awakening of the mysterious forces, while the second part tells of the arrival of the Warrior.

A thrilling page-turner filled with unexpected twists and turns, author Patrick Howard’s haunting paranormal narrative will keep you enthralled from the first sentence to the last.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patrick Allen Howard
• Release date: Jul 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370776429

Patrick Allen Howard

Patrick Howard graduated from Mount Dora High School in Florida in 2002 and went on to meet with many struggles in his life. He has been employed at a local Subway in Sorrento, Florida, for nearly ten years. He is a single man devoted to the friends and family he has left. His experiences have shown him that hardship exists to strengthen us. Despite all the doubt that he has received from others, he has pushed on. In publishing this book, he is sharing the important life lesson that only you need to believe in yourself.

Book preview

Log 1

This took place in ancient times.

Unbeknownst to the common knowledge of man lie beings shrouded in legend and myth. Long have they sought a direct conduit into our world, and long has been their struggle. Whilst the Lord remains vigilant, man is tested of his faith. Herein, the encounter from the scribe’s eye.

CLAD IN PLATE armor with swords and shields, four knights approached, their silver armor shining beneath the moonlight. Two aged men in white robes stood before me, bearded and experienced. Each held a staff, and each staff seemed to react to the moon’s midnight gaze. A pretense immersed itself within the night, and I knew it followed these men. Or me. They would serve a purpose not their own.

Scribe, the eldest of the sages said to me. "I know full well what you sense, even now.

An encroaching darkness is forcing itself into your mind." To this, I merely gave a nod.

You are chosen, said the other sage. You often wonder which you would choose, light or dark. However, your choice was made in another time.

I knew of what he spoke, though I thought I could hide from it. Evidently, I might only face it. In my right hand I held a book, the record of all of my encounters and all that I had foreseen. The air around us grew colder and colder. Whispers in the dark emerged from the shadows. The time was nigh.

We are out of time, my friend. The first sage motioned to the knights, who turned toward the unknown, shields and swords raised. They were the only barrier between us and the atrocities that awaited us.

There is no escaping this? I asked the sages. In unison, they shook their heads.

We must stand our ground…and pray, the eldest sage said as he turned to stand by the knights. Stay behind us. If we cannot overcome this, you must not fight. May the Lord be with you, Scribe.

With that, the first wave crashed into the knights.

We were cornered in a ravine. I had arrived there in response to a dream, a calling. The others had shared the same dream and now might share the same fate. The knights, standing side by side, pushed the creatures back with their shields and drove their swords into them. The first creatures were small and weak but vast in number. The ravine funneled their numbers toward us.

The water in the ravine had dried up. The sages raised their staves, which glowed bright before releasing bolts of light into the mass of darkness. Shrieks and roars filled the air, and we glimpsed a visage not meant to be looked upon by mortals. An endless wave of darkness, flowing and ebbing, came for us. The knights were strong and valiant; they would not give up.

I lost count of how many creatures they had slain before they began to weaken and be pushed back.

The sages released more bolts of light, dispersing many creatures. First came the small humanoid creatures, their limbs thin, their bodies short and frail. Next came the canine forms with eyes as red as blood, revealing the evil sweltering inside them.

With a quick bash of the shields and a fast swipe of the long swords, the knights cut down more creatures. It was all they could do to hold their ground. No, they would not overcome this darkness. They knew it, yet they fought on. Why? Perhaps simply to know that they had fought and stood against evil. They would not give in, even as defeat loomed over them.

One knight was knocked to the ground; the sage behind him drove his staff into the attacking dog and helped the knight to his feet. They worked as a unit, each caring for the others, each covering the others’ weaknesses.

The battle paused unexpectedly.

The creatures before us withdrew, yet a shadow still loomed over us. This was not victory, just the calm before the storm. Something was coming, something massive. Wearily the knights stood, still ready to fight. The aura that surrounded the sages was dim now, their energy spent. Distant whispers carried by the wind crept toward us…toward me.

In that moment, it became very clear: it wanted me. Valiant and brave as they were, my protectors could not defend against this entity—not weakened as they were. A fog rushed in and surrounded me. Whispers came from every direction, echoing pain and sorrow.. Slowly the fog attempted to meld with me.

A knight rushed to my aid, only to be thrown to the ground. The sages cast their remaining energy, which dissipated in the dense fog. There was no saving me. Only one option remained. My skin became as gray as the fog around me, and thoughts of destruction and despair rushed through my mind. I had only one hope left; I had to focus hard to maintain control over my body and carry out the deed. Success! I removed my dagger from its scabbard and plunged it into my heart. I felt no pain. I was already fading. I felt the blade pierce my heart and saw the blood flowing from the wound, yet I was at peace. I would not let myself become an instrument of evil.

I fell to my knees, and my heart stopped. It was so cold, so dark, and with nothing below me to stop my fall, I pitched forward.

A voice called out to me. You have chosen the light. I closed my eyes, smiling. I had chosen the light.

Log 2

This occurred within the same century.

Mankind has long forgotten the desperate struggle fought so hard and so long ago. He is unwilling to gaze upon his zenith. The Fallen had come, and the battle was set. In the midst of the Fallen rose a warrior who would marshal a mighty army and hold back the demons, one man, chosen by God to lead.

THE VILLAGE I had come to defend burned around me as the chaotic symphony of battle enveloped my heart. There would be no retreat, no surrender. If we did not prevail here, mankind would meet its collective end and endure slavery at the hands of the Fallen. My armor was red chain mail. A coif covered my head, and white plated strips hung over my armor, each point painted red. One of the Fallen charged, and I brought my two-handed claymore down upon him. He blocked me with his own sword but was knocked to the ground.

I had power over them, even the power to command some of them. Those I knew would fight to aid humanity, I took to my side; the others I cut down. On my orders, they rescued the few villagers that remained, charging into burning homes, boldly and without hesitation. My army formed a protective barrier around the villagers who were gathered at the center of the town. I cut down each of the fallen that attacked me. Moving with fluid motion, I spun with my sword outstretched, slicing into a Fallen’s throat. Crouching, I dodged another one’s attack and kicked him in the stomach. There were so many.

Soon the last of the Fallen was slain, and those that remained had joined my forces. With this new army now marshaled, I readied my forces to march upon the lands to the north and free the people from the demons that had seized them and their land. The Lord had chosen me for this task. I would be a king, though only for this war.

Gathering my army, both mortal and angel, I gave my orders.

I will ride to the city alone. As I spoke, I turned to meet their collective gaze. Sire, it will be a trap, said my general.

No doubt, my friend, I said. However, we will spring a trap of our own. While I approach the city, you will gather in the Forest of Anguish, the place where the demons first entered our world—and the place where we shall dispatch them.

What of the Fallen that joined you, sire? asked one of the