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Halls of Shadows: The Shattering Series, #3
Halls of Shadows: The Shattering Series, #3
Halls of Shadows: The Shattering Series, #3
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Halls of Shadows: The Shattering Series, #3

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SECRETS LONG LOST 
Barely escaping with his life, an artistic prophet called the Shaper finds himself near his old home - the cloister known as the Shaperate. But things have changed over the years, and it can only mean trouble for the Shaper and his friends to stop the power hungry Leanah from destroying the Elders. 
Meanwhile, Leanah ravages old ruins in search of answers only to discover a group of longlost people who may have the answers she seeks.  
And three adventurers, each holding their own magical power, arrive at the Capitol seeking aid and information, but the world has been changed by Leanah's attacks on the Sacellums. Those with powers are sought after. In a world of darkness, these three friends are not sure who they can trust. 
Halls of Shadows is book three of the Shattering Series, and promises to be a new in the sword-and-sorcery fantasy you think you know.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMar 27, 2017
ISBN9781386221142
Halls of Shadows: The Shattering Series, #3
Author

KD Johnson

KD Johnson has written various other novels under different names. This is his first fantasy novel, inspired by the JRPGs that he grew up with as a kid.

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    Halls of Shadows - KD Johnson

    Halls of Shadow

    Book 3

    KD JOHNSON

    The powerful Leanah Kaisar, having woken the Sword of Stone, seeks out the power to confront the gods and make them answer for the seemingly random destruction of her village.

    The only ones who can stop her, three magical adventurers seek help from a friend in hopes of catching Leanah but it seems that nowhere is safe from those who would harm The Chosen.

    And while separated from his friends, the prophetic Shaper returns to his cloistered home only to discover that its once pure motivations have darkened and those he trusted are all too willing to help the evil he seeks to destroy.

    This is the third installment of The Shattering.

    Copyright © 2017 by KD Johnson

    This book has been licensed to you for entertainment purposes only.

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

    Interior design by Kevin Johnson

    Cover design by Kevin Johnson

    Cover photo copyright diter@123rf.com

    Start Reading

    About the Author

    Also by KD Johnson

    Copyright

    Prologue

    We do not give rise to threats, little girl. The man who stood at the other side of the gate had been wrapped in expensive garments, his reds and blues swirling into flowering patterns along his robe. Thick ropes of gold hung from his waist like a belt. His shoulders were broad—artificially broad—as fabric puffed out at his sides. His arms were folded along his chest, an attempt to stand up to her.

    Leanah clutched her sword, Kragg, and let the blade come down into the ground. She leaned against the handle as she stared into the town from the closed village gate.

    Miles and miles of rocky and wooden fences surrounded this town—more of a city. A fire city, by the looks of the tall buildings and the strong markets that wafted freshly cooked meats and foods over the walls.

    It was a strong town that boasted a population to almost rival that of the capital. For a city, it should have been more respectful of dangers.

    Unfortunately, someone had let them know that she was on her way.

    Leanah smiled ungraciously, letting her teeth show through her smile. This is going to be very, very embarrassing for you if you do not let me in, she said. I simply want to speak to the merchants’ guild.

    We have no business with you.

    That is beyond the point, frail man.

    The man let out a Harumph noise that sounded like an elephant sneezing.

    The point is, Leanah pointed out. She pulled the sword up off the ground, pulling the dirt off of the tip with the tips of her green leather boots. She was dressed in a green cloak that hid her blond hair. Her features were small, as she was only a teenage girl. But her experience on this earth had been heavily augmented by the three Elders she collected on her person.

    Kragg, Darque, and Kaverin. It would be only a matter of time before she collected more.

    She did, after all, need to find the Gods. And silly humans that they were, they were standing in her way.

    You are not going anywhere, ma’am. It is suggested that you leave. Now. The man shouted with some authority. The crowd gathering along his sides stood a safe distance from the wall.

    They were the smart ones.

    The asshole in the front, however, he was asking for death.

    I have business with you, she said. I wish passage into your city. Trust me, she said, you do not want to miss this opportunity.

    The man scoffed. We’ve heard of you. You burn down Sacellums and destroy the faiths of people. He eyed the sword the now rested on Leanah’s shoulder. We are not afraid of a little girl and her shiny sword.

    Leanah let out a burst of laughter and tucked the sword into her belt. It hung against her side as if by magic. The blade seemed shorter in the blink of an eye. It followed along, bouncing, with her walks, mimicking the motions of her left leg.

    If this is how things need to be done, then I guess this is how things need to be done, she said. Leanah extended a hand out as if she were grabbing at the gate.

    The guards flinched, the people behind the gate gasped.

    But the asshole at the gate, the rich-looking politician who would be everything wrong with this world, he didn’t move a single inch.

    Shadows dripped out of Leanah’s skin, like thick globs of liquid. The globs appeared to absorb all light from the afternoon sun. They turned around her forearms, melting into the surface of her skin, pulling themselves up and along her arms as if they were snakes.

    Then the lengths of shadow flattened against her skin, wrapping around her to become a second coat of flesh on her teenaged skeleton.

    Demon, the man said. He backed away, holding out his arms to keep the others away from the gate. Demon at the gates! he cried. His eyes widened. He turned to the guards and made a motion with his hands as if waving upwards.

    The guards ran to the tops of the towers that guarded both sides of the door.

    They knocked their arrows and, without any commands, let them loose upon Leanah.

    Leanah stood still. The thwip sound of the bows rang in the air. Leanah could feel the vibrations off those strings.

    And she smiled.

    The arrows flew into her, digging deep.

    And the guards watched, horrified, as the shadows consumed the arrows.

    Leanah stood tall, silent, enjoying everything.

    The shadows crawled over Leanah’s skin, covering her entire body. Soon, she was a hooded shadow walker, a creature of pure darkness that moved silently toward the gate.

    The guards fled their watchtowers. Those who could not escape fast enough jumped off the towers, landing on their knees and their backs. Crying in pain.

    Leanah reached for the gate with her darkened, shadow hands. Though small, she had ripped the gates off the hinges and let it drop down in front of her.

    She floated over the gate as if it had just been another part of the floor. No sign of effort. No sound.

    She’s a demon! the man shouted again. He began to run, but the robes that he wore only slowed him down. It fluttered in the air behind him, his feet kicking up the heavy fabric that fell back down and tangled in his sandals.

    The politician stumbled for a moment. He peered back over his shoulder. Eyes wide, he grabbed the nearest panicking citizen and threw her into Leanah’s silent path.

    She could only shake her head as she continued down the long, broad walkway to the center square. The buildings she walked by were at least two stories each, thatched roofs that appeared have been painted over with expensive, brightly colored paints that could outshine the sun itself.

    Gaudy, yet demanding respect.

    The woman fell to the dusty ground and pulled her legs toward her. Please, she cried out and covered her eyes.

    Leanah’s shadowy form went over the woman, keeping her untouched and unharmed by her wrath.

    She would not be the target for today.

    Leanah paid attention to every gasp, every cry for help.

    And yet, as she let the woman unharmed, a small handful of the citizens fell to the side of the road, watching as Leanah stormed forward in a determined path toward the politician. The man who didn’t even bother to introduce himself, but assumed by sheer appearances and extravagance that she should know who he was.

    Leanah bit her lower lip, clenched her fist.

    She was going to enjoy this.

    The politician could run no more. He stood his ground, panting. He tried to stand up tall as a gesture of strength. But all of that went out the window when he had sacrificed a random citizen for his escape.

    Leanah stopped just short of the man. They stood by an extravagant stone fountain. It was round, nearly as large as a house in Vamori, the town where Leanah was born. In the center, a woman seemed to be born of curling, intricately carved waves that fanned out from where she stood. She was nearly naked, with convenient placement of her hands and arms concealing the most private parts of her.

    And yet, her look off into the distance was coy. Almost playful and insulting at the same time.

    Leanah pointed at the man. You will submit yourself.

    You’re a monster, he said. His knees gave out and he fell to the ground.

    I’m the monster? Leanah said. She reached over to the crowd, pointing at the staring crowd that watched cautiously from the sidelines. You sacrifice your own village for your preservation, and I’m the monster?

    The man seemed to shrink under her as the shadows pushed her up into the ground.

    I can show you what a monster is, ser.

    A glob of darkness poured from her hand like a thick liquid. It dripped along the ground as it drove forward through the dusty road to grab the man by the waist. It pulled the man up into the air, gripping his waist tight in a vice grip.

    The man’s face grew red, his eyes bulged.

    Leanah turned around, extending her arms out into the air. I have asked once and I will not ask again. I seek admittance to your merchants’ guild, she said. I have need of products, products that I am more than willing to pay for.

    The man’s eyes grew wide. Why…didn’t…you…just….

    Hush, you, she cried. Leanah clapped her hands together swiftly, creating a sonic boom that pushed back rocks and blew forth a wind through the city.

    And at that instant, the man’s torso remained in the air. His legs fell to the ground.

    She pulled her hands apart, bringing them down to the side.

    When the crowd had seen the man’s waist dangling in the air by the cold, dark grip of the shadow hands, they gasped in quiet waves around her.

    The shadows receded from her face first, pulling to the sides and then melting back down her to forearms. Her skin and green clothes appeared untouched, unhampered by the shadow.

    A person stepped forward from the crowd. He was a heavyset man with a thick beard that grew to his chest. The beard grew in patches of gray and black, a color that matched the sides of his head, the parts that were not covered by the ridiculous puffy red velvet hat that sat atop his head like a pillow. We do not have a merchants’ guild any longer, he said.

    Lies, Leanah said. She smiled again, sensing the fear from the crowd.

    There was a bit of silence that hushed over the crowd.

    I mean, Leanah said. She surveyed the crowd and stepped forward, offering a curtsey. I am sorry, we definitely got off on the wrong foot, didn’t we?

    The silence grew more intense, and Leanah felt every eye upon her.

    You come in, threaten, then destroy our mayor? the man said. He then removed his hat, revealing a patch of skin poking through his otherwise thick, stringy hair. I mean, ma’am.

    Leanah let her shoulders relax near her side. I will not be insulted by a mere plutocrat, she said. He considered his life worth more than yours, it seemed. She looked into the crowd, searching for the lady who was thrown in her path like fodder. And so it is that I rid you of your own poison so that you may have a leader who truly appreciates you and honors your wishes.

    The man looks to the crowd, still gripping his hat against his chest. His own shirt was puffy and ornate. It looked delicate but well-worn, a mismatch that Leanah could not process right away.

    These were a people about style, not substance.

    Leanah nodded as the thoughts finally reached her.

    And so I see, she said. Perhaps you would like him back. She turned her head to the side.

    The crowd gasped and the black hand that gripped the upper half of the town’s mayor flung the body back into the crowd. The body flew end-over-end, landing somewhere amongst the crowd. Children cried, women fled the scene.

    Drips of blood along the ground sunk deep into the thirsty ground, turning a dark red, then black.

    The man took a step back. That was hardly necessary, he said.

    Leanah took a step forward. What is your name? she asked.

    The man rested the hat back on his head. Leanah wished he didn’t.

    My name is Fredo, he said. I am of the old merchant’s guild here in town.

    Fredo, Leanah said, it appears you already serve this crowd better than the previous master.

    You speak ill of the dead, ma’am.

    And what of it? Leanah said. He was a horrible man in life, he was a horrible man going into death. I don’t see why anything should change. She paused with a dark smile. Shall I retrieve him, say it to his face?

    Fredo’s face turned white. No, ma’am. This is sufficient.

    Good, Leanah said. What happened to your guild? Who is running it?

    No one is running it. It was destroyed by the foreigners, he said. The knife-ears.

    Leanah raised an eyebrow. Knife-ears?

    Fredo nodded. The Dallheimers.

    The liquid-like shadow covered Leanah’s feet. She crawled forward, over the ground, as if riding on the dark puddle. You mean to tell me that the ancient people are still alive? she said. Please. They died in the Dallheimer War.

    Fredo shook his head. No, ma’am.

    Leanah’s eyes narrowed. Prove it.

    Fredo turned to the crowd. They seemed to exchange glances for a moment, hushed whispers. Then Fredo turned back to face Leanah. I do not know how to prove it. They have been hidden from us for months, if not years. They were nearly destroyed, this is true, but that is why they fight like shadows— The man coughed, suddenly aware that he was speaking to a living shadow himself. —and so to prove it, you would need to find them. The man coughed. Beads of sweat gathered on his brow, then dripped down his chin. I cannot say that you find them, but they find you.

    Leanah clasped her hands together. Oh, joy, she frowned.

    I am sorry to deliver the bad news, Fredo said. He looked down at the ground, afraid to look at her in the eyes.

    I am sure you are, Leanah said. She began to float on toward the gated entrance. I will send someone to repair that. She stood by the gate, lifting it up with a shadowed hand. She then rested it against the doorway, letting it lean against the broken stone wall. As she stepped foot out of the city walls, she stopped to turn around. Oh, and Fredo?

    The man finally looked up. Ma’am?

    If I were you, I would run for office. It seems that this city would be much, much better with you as its leader.

    We do not have that much time to waste, Leanah said. She snapped her giant fingers, letting loose a sonic boom that pierced the walls and threw dust from the cracks.

    Giant shadowy hands gripped a book from the shelves and brought it Leanah’s face. You had quite the library, she said.

    The library had been only a small part of an entire tower of rooms connected by long stairways and twirling steps. The insides of each room were nicely decorated, proof that Flint—or whoever he was before being a Chosen—had a wealth that rivaled the chieftains and churches she had read and heard about.

    A pale, white-haired man walked into the room. Compared to Leanah’s cloak and leather breastplate, Flint was vastly underdressed. He wore no shirt, only a pair of pants that had gradually whittled down into shorts that hung just above his thin, knobby knees. The ends of each leg ended with short, burnt threads hanging off the edges. He stood, his hand clutching the rocky walls, letting his fingernails cut across the surface. With each jagged peak and valley along the walls, blue and purple sparks fizzled into the air.

    He stepped onto the red carpet with a gold trim that seemed too ornate to be anything purchased in a local village by an average craftsman. Leanah had admired every inch of the interior of this castle. It was in part why she had claimed it, beyond the fact that her captive Shaper had led her here with no clues as to why. But Leanah had moved on instinct because that is who she was, what she had become.

    We are chasing nothing, Flint said. His voice was young, though the person who Flint possessed looked like he had walked Aelis for ages upon ages. Dark, heavy circles around his eyes, sharp features that threw shadows across the smoother surfaces of his body.

    And with Flint, every surface glowed a bright yellow as he got excited. In a situation in which Leanah had been summoning him nonstop for the last hour, his body would glow blue.

    Though Leanah had always thought blue was a funny color for rage.

    I am not asking, Leanah said. We have to find the Citadel, and we have to find it fast. That stupid Shaper was worthless.

    Was he? Flint said. He led you to me, did he not?

    Leanah nodded. Sure, but—

    And you now have my castle at your disposal. And you have me. Leanah watched Flint’s throat jut out briefly as he swallowed.

    She could feel the pain and worry in his body. The one thing with emotional Elders, they tended to hold their emotions on their sleeves. This one particularly so.

    It meant less guesswork. And the less guessing she had to make, the easier it would be for her to slay him later before he got too out of line.

    You said there is another sense of magick around here, Leanah said. We agreed it would be done today.

    But you had also said that I would get to sleep, that you could help me.

    Leanah laughed. A small shadowy hand pulled itself along the ground, slithering along the red, threaded carpets and the stony floor. It traveled in a thin line, grasping at Flint’s feet and tugging up his thighs.

    When it had finally grabbed his knees, she raised her eyebrows and the hand stopped.

    Then, clearly before Flint had noticed what was happening, it crunched his knees together and he crumbled to the ground.

    What is this? Flint said. He pointed his fingers at the shadowy hand, but it retreated quickly.

    Do not forget who is in charge here, Leanah said. We go after the Dallheimers today. You said there is a village. Kragg senses it as well.

    Can you not teleport?

    I could teleport, she said, if I already knew it. Turns out, there are limits to these abilities. She stared at her own hands. A round, dark red rock stuck out of her left hand, a rock that had once belonged to an orange fire mage named Grenseal.

    He was the first of the Elders to die by her hands.

    The first Elder among many. Oh, so many.

    She clutched her hands together, clapping for a few moments. We will get that information now, or you will die tonight, Flint. And I will fit you in with this basket of crying, fearful Elders.

    You cannot possibly be so mad, Flint said. He took a step back. His words were strong, but actions had made him appear weak.

    Leanah casually reached out, letting the shadowy extension of her hand grip Flint and bring him closer to her. The hand released him at nearly three inches from her own nose. The hair on the back of her neck and forearms began to stand on end. Her own blond hair had begun to frizz as the bright blue boy came closer.

    Be careful who you call mad, Leanah said. You are hardly in a position to be throwing insults.

    That may be so, Flint said. A spark flickered off his nose and tapped Leanah’s forehead.

    She barely flinched.

    But you need me as long as you want this tower and my knowledge of this area.

    Leanah smirked, letting the corner of her mouth curl up slightly. I like you, she said. But do not let that get to your head. At some point in your worthless life, I will kill you just the same.

    Chapter 1

    After three days, the Shaper had grown tired of picking and eating those damned berries.

    He had hoped they weren’t poisonous, but in his limited journeys Luca, and Leanah before him, couldn’t remember poison from perfectly fine. He could tell himself that his stomach was perfectly fine, but that would be a lie.

    It fluttered about like the butterflies that Lyle loved to chase.

    It was stress, he told himself. The stress of climbing mountains that he had only escaped from fourteen years ago.

    Or was it fifteen?

    As he stretched his feet to the center of the rocks, hoping to climb up the mountain with the least amount of effort, he found himself falling back down again. For every step up, a slide down.

    He could only smile to himself, though not a smile of happiness, but of frustration. He had trekked these hills before. He had ridden with kind merchants and farmers who would give him a ride in barrels and carts, hiding amongst their goods.

    If only the Citadel had been taking in goods at this time of year.

    The sun had begun to set along the ridges of the Carapathian Mountains. The jagged edges seemed to almost cut into the sky, scraping the wind dragged clouds as they pass over.

    There were only bright, clear skies. It made no sense. This would have been a rainy season. He could feel the humidity in the air, the way everything stuck to him—his brown robes stuck to the edges of his hands, his soft white terrycloth pants that clung to his thick calves with every step.

    Water. If anything, he wanted rain so he could taste the

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