Sword of Blackfire

By Trafford Publishing

On a world known as Guiya, the Elfin kingdom of Valkhara is theatened by a dark and evil force.

Deschardon, the deathlord, unleashes his army of Gorg upon the lands of Guiya in hope to make the world his sole empire. His force is led by his five inspirited generals, the Shaynelords and is followed by a dark and menacing cloud that stretches over the conquered nations, signifying the deathlord's rule over them.

One being has the strength to stand against him; prophesied to be exiled from Valkhara, only to return and save it. Known as the Godchilde, this champion trains with the Elfin priests to master the martial art, Kayata and to command the empowering life force, called the Kiy. With these skills and the mightly blade, Godspel, she may succeed in destroying Deschardon and bringing peace to Valkhara once again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Feb 17, 2004
• ISBN: 9781412218290

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© Copyright 2004 David J. Addley. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data

A cataloguing record for this book that includes the U.S. Library of Congress Classification number, the Library of Congress Call number and the Dewey Decimal cataloguing code is available from the National Library of Canada. The complete cataloguing record can be obtained from the National Library’s online database at: www.nlc-bnc.ca/amicus/ index-e.html

ISBN 1-4120-1486-7

ISBN 978-1-4122-1829-0 (ebook)

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Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

THE IMPERIAL GENERALS

RANK OF THE KAY-JUN PRIESTS

THE MIKAIDO FORCE

ELFIN CALENDAR

GLOSSARY

CHAPTER ONE Birth of Kym

CHAPTER TWO Birth of Deschardon

CHAPTER THREE Ceremonial

CHAPTER FOUR A Peculiar Snow

CHAPTER FIVE The Vision

CHAPTER SIX Allegiance

CHAPTER SEVEN Lesson Number One

CHAPTER EIGHT Festival of Lanterns

CHAPTER NINE Interlude

CHAPTER TEN The Kubata

CHAPTER ELEVEN The Assassins

CHAPTER TWELVE Ironic Justice

CHAPTER THIRTEEN Interlude

CHAPTER FOURTEEN Deathstorm Cometh

CHAPTER FIFTEEN The Shaekiykiri

CHAPTER SIXTEEN Origins of the Universe

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN The Making of a Mikaido

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Truth Be Told

CHAPTER NINETEEN Homecoming

CHAPTER TWENTY The Test

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE The Reception

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Deschardon’s Origin

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE Deschardon’s Origin Part II

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR The Conversion

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE Crow’s Reckoning

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX The Abduction of Lady Donaleigh

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN Interlude

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT Kym’s Journey To Mukiydo

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE Your Life is Waiting My Son

CHAPTER THIRTY Crow’s Kubata

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE Welcome Home My Lady

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO Shingaku

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE Master Bhor

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE A Small Request

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE Madame Kat

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX The Iron Shirt

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN Death of A Master

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT Storm of Death

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE Interlude

CHAPTER FORTY Kym’s Enlightenment

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE Sword of Blackfire

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO Bane of the Deathlord

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE The Final Conflict

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank God for giving me the gifts of my arts.

I would like to thank my mother and father, Rev. Paul Hayes and Mrs. Muzella Hayes, for nurturing my gifts and never saying you can’t, but instead saying yes, you can.

Lastly, not at all least, I would like to thank my wife, Joan, for her patience and encouragement. Joan, you are my Wonderful! Ti amo.

D. J. Addley

In a time unknown, possibly years ago or years yet to come, there was, or is yet to be, a world far away known as Guiya.

It is a world full of legends unknown to us, but not impalpable to our minds, for if one dares to delve into the pages of her history, or future yet to be told, one could embark on adventures filled with a wealth of wisdom and powers untouched.

Listen with the ears of children and understand with a mind ignorant of technologies and philosophies, for you are about to be introduced to a new people, a new culture... a whole new world.

Guiya is a world that is alive—breathing with every roll of the tides and crying with every rainfall; so one race believes. They are the Elfin folk; proclaimed to be the chosen children of the gods.

The Elfin folk are of many types, yet their culture and beliefs are common to the entire race and have remained unchanged and constant despite the distances that separate their kind. They are black, brown, yellow, pale, but this is of no consequence, for they live in harmony with each other, but more importantly, with Guiya. Their kind values the individual, for their anthem is The nation is weaker without the one. They are a people that possess a great love of nature and the arts. Believed to be the oldest race upon Guiya, their architecture, music, philosophies and crafts have influenced nearly every corner of the world. This has not always been to their advantage, for they have found enemies in other races.

The humans have always sought the wealth of the Elfin folk’s wisdom and artistic gifts. Repeatedly, over several eons, the humans have enslaved the Elfin folk, to spoil their artistry, science and benevolence. The Elfin folk have been forced to deny their culture in the past and forbidden to express their arts freely. From the violent contact between the Elfin folk and humans came the half-Elfin folk. This race struggled for generations to find an honored place beside its parenting races.

The half-Elfin folk have been despised by the chosen ones, for all that was recognized as Elfin has been tainted with human blood. They are despised by the humans, for they are deemed the weakest race and unworthy of a moment’s thought.

Still, there is yet another race, preferred to be forgotten; the Gorg. Considered the cursed scourge of the land, these sub-human beasts roam Guiya with no true land to call home. They invade their neighboring homesteads to feed on livestock, harvests and even innocent children that manage to wander off beyond the watchful eyes of mother and father. The Gorg are a common enemy to the three races, but not strong enough an enemy to unite them...at least, not yet.

Guiya is a land that hosts creatures familiar to our myths and legends. This world nurtures the likes of dragons and unicorns. It holds an intimate relationship with the spirit world. And when one calls upon the ancestors they can be trusted to lend counsel.

THE IMPERIAL GENERALS

The Doga-General is a rank of royalty. It is a political rank. They usually are not expected to participate in battle. Under the Doga-Generals are the Generals of the Field, who actually lead the Mikaido in battle.

Roh The oldest of the Doga-Generals at 60 years old. Also mastering the largest Kyu,numbering 350,000 Mikaido; requiring seven generals under his command.

Taigo Brother to Roh and second oldest Doga-General at 45 years old. He has the second largest Kyu with 280,000 Mikaido. He is legendary for his skill with thebow.

Vee Half-brother to Roh and Taigo. It is no secret in the courts that he is despised byhis older brothers. At 38 years old he commands the third largest Kyu of 170,000 Mikaido.

Ikaetana 32 year old nephew of the above three brothers. Known as a great strategist forsomeone so young. He commands the fourth largest Kyu of 106,000 Mikaido.

Uroso 30 years old and brother to Ikaetana. He commands 85,000 Mikaido.

RANK OF THE KAY-JUN PRIESTS

THE MIKAIDO FORCE

ELFIN CALENDAR

The Elfin calendar originates around a ten day period. There are ten months, each having thirty to forty days with thirty hours in each day. Every hour is named for an animal that represents the mood, or nature, of that hour. Each day is divided into three periods of five hours. The first five hours are collectively called the First period and occur before sunrise or just before sunset. The second five hours are called Mid-day and Mid-night. The third five hours are called the Third period; it is during this time that the sun and moon reach their peak.

Hours:

The Elfin years are named by the seven celestial beings. Each year is a particular cycle of that being:

The Elfin folk divide their year into three seasons; the Season of the North Winds, the Season of Life and the Season of the Morning Calm. They last three months, four months and three months respectively.

The months of the Elfin calendar are as follows:

GLOSSARY

Amarognon: the king dragon. The last dragon of Guiya. Offered its Ehld to Morcock.

Amarogdome: dwelling of the king dragon; the largest volcano in Dragonvale.

Bahkladharta: written words or small sculptures designed to house the dark force Nin-kiy. The affect is for evil purposes. Such practices have been banned from the Kay-jun.

Chantra: chant or spell.

Dan: land.

Deschardon: the Deathlord. Holds the essence of his former Elfin-self as well as the essence of Amarognon, the king dragon.

Doma: kingdom or land.

Dihatsu: the Mikaido code of conduct.

Dragonbone throne:the throne of Deschardon, the Deathlord.

Ehld: an organ of dragons that is said to house its essence.

Emperor Koroko: the first Emperor of Valkhara, said to have achieved Sudhara.

Erodite: metallic ore used by Elfin to forge their strong swords and otherweapons.

Gorg: called half-beasts by the Elfin-folk, felt to be the reject race of the gods. They have not demonstrated much intelligence and eat the flesh of humans and Elfin and sometimes one another.

Kay: sect.

Kai-sum: the voice of death. Just a spoken word, by one skilled enough, could render one incapacitated or dead, instantly.

Kayata: the Elfin martial art which utilizes all parts of the body as weapons.

Kay-jun: the order of priests and priestesses that serve the empire of Valkhara.

Kiy: life energy.

Kob: complicated strategic board game that is popular among the wealthy.

Komdharta: written words or hand gestures said to hold specific power. It is saidthat the power of the words are not revealed until spoken. The gestures enable one to channel the Kiy for a particular affect.

Kiy: life energy.

Kiykiri: ritual suicide. Sometimes such an act is assigned as an imperial order, however often it is performed to save embarassment, for it makes one appear extraordinarily brave. There is often a second person involved who aids in administering an anesthetic of some type to alter one’s consciousness.

Kubata: a way of dueling. Opponents face one another, just several feet apart and aim to strike the deadliest blow upon drawing their sword.

Kukaido: the sword of judgment, usually involving decapitation. This is the imperial act of corporal punishment of the worst offenses. Unlike Kiykiri one is not allowed an anesthetic such as wine or herbal drugs to alter consciousness.

Kyln: a unique family symbol, usually worn by the military rank signifyingthe house of their master. The wealthy have them made out of gold. The poor sometimes make them out of wood, but only for special ceremonies.

Kyu: a clan or family.

Kyubana: the Kayata practice hall.

Masai: feudal lord (rebel lord). Mazzerai: the High master

Mhorshae: the Elfin hell.

Mikaido: the Elfin imperial soldiers; skilled in a multitude of weapons from swordsmanship to archery to assassination.

Nin-kiy: the negative force, opposite of Kiy.

Sa: familiar form of honorable (less formal).

Samme-e-samme: the master of masters

Sammo (e): honorable one or master; context is in the gestures when spoken.

Shae-quai: the skill of shadow spying; being aware of surroundings and conversations from a distance, as if one were another’s shadow.

Shayne: the dark generals. They are five and each is possessed by some element of Deschardon’s essence.

Shayne-riki: the dark arts: a religion in which the practitioners worship evil spirits.

Sai: lord.

Shingaku: secret spell in which the written word’s power is only revealed when spoken.

Sudhara: the dwelling of the statue of the enlightened one.

Sudharum: path of life of the enlightened. Sudharut: the statue of the enlightened one. Tan-sa: thank you. Tome: aura.

Torres: aura (old tongue). Valkhara: the Elfin nation.

CHAPTER ONE

Birth of Kym

It was the twentieth day of the Month of Winds, and the Hour of the Horse, the twenty-fifth hour of the day. The Empress’ screams chilled the air of the Temple of Life, sending news that her labor had taken a turn for the worse.

This was not like the other times. This time, there was much more pain. Strange things were happening behind the closed doors of the birth chamber, and stranger things were yet to come.

Ahhh! she called once more. The doors to the birth chamber were shut, but they seemed to reverberate with every spine-chilling shout of the Empress.

His Highness, Emperor Gorobada, paced the hallway like a nervous cat. He strained to make sense of the voices of the birth-maids behind the closed doors of the chamber. They all seemed to be speaking at once, and in frantic tones.

He was desperate to know everything. He wanted to be by his wife’s side, but such a thing was unheard of. Elfin men, especially one of the Emperor’s authority, were not to concern themselves with the acts and duties of the female race.

The Empress screamed again, and his Highness’ eyes darted toward the tall, mahogany-stained doors, hoping he would receive some sign of his wife’s progress. He prayed silently, pleading to the Sages to watch over his loved one.

This pregnancy was foreseen to be a difficult one for her Highness. The Imperial Counsel of Priestesses had advised the Empress not to attempt another pregnancy. She had given birth five times previously. Five times in ten years, she had gone through the horror of watching her frail, young infants perish before her eyes.

Each infant was a boy; a possible heir to the throne. Each labor was worse than the last, draining more and more of the Empress’ essence. After her third delivery, she was warned that any other attempts could be fatal. However, she desperately wanted to deliver an heir for her husband and country.

She knew many thought her essence was too weak to carry a child into this world, but no one would dare let those words escape his lips.

Aahhh! she shrieked again.

Afterwards, a door to the chamber opened. The Emperor gazed down the hall to see if it was news of the birth. For a brief moment, he smiled as he watched one of the birth maids exit the chamber. However, his smile quickly faded, for the maid rushed past him, her face soaked with tears. She did not stop to address him. Ordinarily, such an act would be punishable, but Gorobada was not concerned with formalities at this point.

What is it? he asked the passing woman. What is happening in there?

Gorobada turned to the doors again, debating if he should ignore tradition and march into the chamber to render whatever aid he could. His stomach ached as he thought of his wife’s agony. He wished he could order it all to end at this moment.

Just miles away, in the forest of Kay-jun, an old man traveled toward the Imperial City of Valkhara. His gait was hastened, for he knew the Empress was in need of his help. The birth of the royal infant was an important event, one that was crucial to Valkhara’s survival as a powerful nation.

The man was a priest, the High Brother of the Kay-jun sect and the most trusted advisor to the Imperial family. He was dressed in a long rust-colored robe that draped down to his ankles. Tied around his waist was a rope of multicolored beads, representing the number of years he had served the Following. This girdle was so long that it wrapped around his waist twice and the redundant tails hung to his knees.

It was the Month of the Winds and the cold air chilled his frail skin despite the thick woven cape draped over his shoulders. He carried an intricately carved staff that stood as tall as his head. The staff was made of oak and was as thick as a young man’s leg, yet he carried it effortlessly despite his 157 years.

His old body ached. He had taken his sandals off miles back because he kept losing them in his hastened pace. His eyes filled with tears, for he could hear the cries of the Empress within his mind as he concentrated on the events in the Temple of Life.

He had aided many women of the royal family in their labor there. Many, but not all, were successful. But none worried him as much as this one occurring tonight. Tonight, he felt a disturbance in the Kiy, the driving force of life and energy. Tonight, something spectacular was going to happen.

The wind began to blow harder and the trees swayed wildly above his head. This child is a powerful one, thought the old man. Its Kiy is strong.

The old priest’s concern turned toward the Emperor, for he could feel his Highness contemplating entering the birthing chamber with a sword, ready to sever the head of his child if he felt that the Empress could stand no more. The priest needed to find a faster way to move.

It began to rain. The old man stopped for a moment to catch his breath and noticed a male deer standing just twenty yards from him. The animal stood still as stone, for it had sensed the approach of the priest. As he leaned on his staff for support, the old man held his hand toward the buck. He closed his eyes, reached within the Kiy, and called to the animal with his mind. ‘I need your help, friend. You will not be harmed.’

The buck’s head turned to the old priest instantly and it approached him fearlessly. As soon as the buck was near enough, the old man mounted it and rode off toward Valkhara.

Within the Temple of Life, there was chaos. The Emperor waited anxiously outside the birthing chamber straining to make sense of the cries of panic and fright coming from within. The cries were coming from the birth-maids, who were scattered about the floor on hands and knees to avoid being hit by the cups, vases, basins and chairs that seemed to take to life and were flying around the room.

This is not right! said one maid as she crawled to the chamber doors.

This one is a demon! said another.

The objects crashed upon the walls of the chamber as the Empress screamed in agony and pleaded to the Sages for help. Two of the four birth-maids were making their way out the chamber on hands and knees.

There is evil in this room! they said as they covered their heads and ran down the hall past the Emperor.

The maids still in the chamber could see the concern in her Highness’ eyes as she held out her hands toward them. The labor was not going well, and she was losing too much blood. Her hands shook for lack of strength and her eyes filled with tears as she begged them to stay.

One young maid looked at her companion in desperation, for she too wanted to flee from the possessed chamber. It would be easier if her Highness commanded me to stay, she thought to herself. But both maids crawled to the side of the Empress and assured her that they would remain until the event was over.

Outside, the Emperor finally decided to go against tradition and run to the rescue of his beloved. But before he opened the chamber door, his eyes fell to the sword held by one of his guards.

Give me your sword, Mikaido! he demanded, as he held out his hand to receive it.

The guard was shocked to hear the command. Sir? he said, turning to the Emperor at attention.

By the Sages, are you deaf? I said give me your sword! The Emperor wanted to grab it, but it would be considered a deliberate insult to touch another man’s blade without permission. Even the Emperor could not excuse himself from such a thing.

The guard realized that he was keeping his Highness waiting. He dropped to his right knee and presented the sword across both hands, with the hilt pointing to his left side as he bowed his head. The Emperor took the blade with his right hand and rushed forward, as a prince to the aid of a maiden in distress. At the moment he was about to pull the doors open, an announcement came from the hall behind him.

Your Highness, the High Brother, Ghreyfounder, is approaching the temple.

Gorobada turned and hurried back to the temple entrance. He was not surprised to see the old priest riding the back of buck. The old man was capable of more peculiar things than this. The old man dismounted and greeted the Emperor formally, with a bow onto his right knee.

I am sorry to have taken so long, your Highness, said the priest in his deep coarse voice.

No matter, old man. You are here now.

As the two approached the birthing chamber, a scream was heard through the temple’s hall. Emperor Gorobada followed the old priest like an anxious child and told him how two of the birth-maids had already left the chamber in a panic. Ghreyfounder quietly listened to the demands of the Emperor to end this agonizing event and bring peace to the palace again.

Your Highness, said Ghreyfounder, pointing to the Emperor’s chest. Peace is found within. Please, wait out here.

The old man then opened the door and stepped into the chamber, holding the Emperor back with one hand. In that brief moment, Gorobada could see objects flying about the room and his Empress in the birthing chair with a mask of fear upon her face.

Brother Ghreyfounder, what is going on? the Emperor demanded before the door was shut in his face.

In the chamber, Ghreyfounder wrapped his cape around the handles of the doors and tied it into a knot. He then turned to the Empress with a smile. Do not worry, your Highness, he said with a bow. I am here now.

The birth-maids ran to the old priest and threw themselves at his feet, tugging at his robe and begging him to save them from the possessed room.

There is evil in this room, High Brother! said one.

We only stayed for her Highness’ sake. This spirit ... started the other, but she was cut short as Ghreyfounder placed two fingers on her forehead and told her to rest. Instantly, she collapsed into a deep sleep. He then turned to the other maid and touched her; she too fell asleep upon the chamber floor.

Quickly, he went to the side of the Empress and placed his hand on her forehead, wiping the sweat from her brow. Empress, listen to me, he said. You must not waste any more energy on fear. Let all your love, strength and heart pour into this child.

The Empress nodded in agreement and held Ghreyfounder’s hand tightly. The priest placed his other hand between the Empress’ legs to examine the child’s head within the vaginal vault. He had seen that she had lost a lot of blood and was not certain if she had the strength to continue. He then placed his hand on her abdomen and saw within his mind that the child would die if it was not born soon.

All right, your Highness, he said encouragingly. It is time to push.

The Empress took a deep breath and began to bear down. Ghreyfounder encouraged her not to scream, but to absorb the pain and use that energy to expel the child. The Empress’ knuckles turned white from squeezing the priest’s hand so tightly, but if Ghreyfounder was in any pain from her iron grip he did not show it.

The Empress could feel the pain shooting down her right leg like fire. Her heart began to race as though it would jump out of her chest. One more push, Ghreyfounder said. He could see the head of the child coming into view.

Ghreyfounder, please! gasped the Empress. I cannot go on.

Your Highness, it is almost over. Please, be strong. This child must be born. Ghreyfounder placed himself between the Empress’ legs and held his hands around the infant’s head, ready to pull.

The Empress nodded. ‘This child has to live,’ she told herself. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and pushed again. This time, the shoulders of the infant were expelled and Ghreyfounder began to pull the child out. With the continued efforts of the Empress, the child was born.

Ghreyfounder tied strings around the umbilical cord and began to clean the child. He saw that the Empress was extremely weak. Her skin had become pale and dusky and her fingertips, ears and lips were turning blue. The bleeding from her vagina had grown worse.

Is it a boy, Brother? she asked with a half smile. They told me it was going to be a boy.

No, your Highness. But she captures your beauty well.

The Empress’ eyes glowed briefly, then dimmed in disappointment. Please, tell his Highness... I am sorry I could not bring him a living son, she uttered with great effort.

Before Ghreyfounder could respond, the Empress collapsed in the birthing chair. She was dead.

At that instant, the infant let out a howl. The walls and floor of the chamber shook. The shutters to the windows crashed open and the glass shattered into tiny pieces. A great wind began to blow within the chamber and Ghreyfounder felt a powerful energy fill the room. Its force was so shocking that the old man fell to his hands and knees. He did all he could to keep the child safe in his arms. Soon, the floor and ceiling began to crack.

What Ghreyfounder had suspected was now apparent. This child has a greater Gift than I had first suspected, he said out loud, chuckling.

He fought the forces in the room to make his way to a bassinet near the Empress’ chair. The infant continued to cry with such intensity that Ghreyfounder could barely hear the Emperor calling from the hallway.

Brother Ghreyfounder, what is wrong? asked the Emperor.

After placing the infant in the bassinet, the old priest placed two fingers upon her forehead and said, Sleep, little one.

Instantly, the child fell into a slumber. The wind and quaking ceased. Seconds after the calm, the two birth-maids who had been sleeping upon the chamber floor awoke. The room was quiet, but in disarray. They were relieved to find the high priest still present.

You have chased the spirits away, High Brother? they asked.

Ghreyfounder smiled, amused by their ignorance. There was no evil here tonight, my children, he assured them. Before the old priest could explain what had happened while they were asleep, the maids noticed the Empress, void of her usual bright, energetic spirit.

They ran toward the Empress and fell at her feet. Although their lamenting was appropriate, Ghreyfounder had hoped he could count on their help in making the Empress presentable for the Emperor. Before anything more could be done, the Emperor’s Mikaido had forced the doors of the chamber open.

Ghreyfounder turned toward the Emperor in surprise and tried to block his view of the dead Empress. Your Highness, the old man started. I must warn you that all was not well with your child’s birth.

The priest could see that his efforts were in vain, for the Emperor seemed to stare right through him. The guards at the door had fallen to their knees and lowered their heads to the floor as they recited prayers to the Sages to keep the Empress’ spirit safe from evil possession.

Gorobada’s steps appeared heavy as he moved past Ghreyfounder. The Emperor’s body shook as he held his hand toward his beloved. No, he whispered. No, no, no, no, no.

The often poised and controlled Emperor fell upon his knees and laid his head upon his wife’s belly, emitting a loud, trembling moan. All else was silent as the Emperor had his private moment with the Empress.

Why he screamed. Why this way? No one spoke for several very long minutes. Ghreyfounder then walked to Gorobada’s side.

Your Highness, he said softly. She wanted you to know that she was sorry she could not give you an heir.

Gorobada’s head whipped toward Ghreyfounder. The child is dead? he asked, eyes filling with tears.

Ghreyfounder went to the bassinet and picked up the infant. No your Highness, he said, showing the Emperor his new daughter. She is just asleep.

Gorobada shuffled away from the child in disgust. A girl? he said. My wife died giving birth to a girl?

The Emperor stood and began pacing the room, running his hands through his hair several times. Ghreyfounder could no longer sense the Emperor’s emotions. It was as if Gorobada’s heart had gone numb. But then the Emperor stopped in his tracks and began to laugh hysterically. Everyone watched him with dazed confusion. I. I cannot pass on my kingdom to that, he said between chuckles.

The Emperor looked toward the ceiling and shook his clenched fists above his head. Is this your way of punishing me?

Hatred stirred within the Emperor as he gazed upon the infant once more. She lives! he started, shaking his finger at the infant. At the expense of the Empress’ life, this child lives. For ten years this land has awaited an heir. And five times ... five times he was robbed from us. For ten years my beloved was drained of her essence to bring me an heir, and this is what we are left with. Five sons were sacrificed for her? Why?

The Emperor grabbed the lapel of his shirt and began to tear it. No! he yelled. I will not settle for that! Remove this child from the palace. Remove it from this land. She has no place here!

The birth-maids ran to the feet of the Emperor and begged for his mercy upon the child, but he would not listen to them.

Ghreyfounder was shocked. Your Highness, truly you do not expect this child to.

I have spoken, Ghreyfounder, interrupted the Emperor.

Remove the child through the tunnel. It will not leave through the palace gates. As far as Valkhara is concerned, the Empress and her child both died. Gorobada spoke to his guards.

Prepare her Highness for the ceremonial and use a pup in the infant’s stead, he left the chamber saying.

Everyone was in shock. The maids sobbed even more forcefully, for they could not believe the Emperor could disown his newborn infant so ruthlessly. Ghreyfounder looked upon the infant’s face. He was just as bewildered as the birth-maids, and he was filled with disappointment in the Emperor, whom he had known since the Emperor’s childhood.

He turned and walked pass the Mikaido guards, who remained on their knees. He sensed their pity for the child. As he walked to the cellar of the temple, to enter the tunnel of the city, he realized that this event modeled the prophecy of the Godchilde, taught to him by the Sages long ago.

The Sages spoke of a time of great darkness that was to overcome Valkhara. In this time there was to be turmoil within the Following and the nation. A champion would be born and would be exiled from the land, only to return later to save it.

This champion would be born with the great Gift; the ability to manipulate the Kiy. This champion’s power would be great and the darkness would be vanquished from Valkhara for ages.

Although Ghreyfounder was sure that this child was filled with an unusual, powerful energy, he was not certain if it was the great Gift mentioned in the prophecy. A champion needs a name, little one, said Ghreyfounder, with a smile. I think yours will be ... Kym. In the old tongue it means ‘essence.’ I am sure yours will be great.

CHAPTER TWO

Birth of Deschardon

While the birth of Kym occurred in the crisp, cool night, far to the north of Valkhara it was a hot and humid day in the land of Dragonvale, so named because it was once inhabited by herds of dragons that claimed the sky and any land they chose to tread as their own. Now it is overwhelmed with hordes of Gorg, the scourge of all of Guiya.

The Gorg are ravenous sub-humans that stand, on average, five feet tall. They are thick of frame, with barrel-shaped torsos held erect by heavy, bowed legs. Their lower jaws protrude just slightly, allowing their yellow, often blood stained, two-inch fangs to curve before their upper lips.

They are quite a frightful sight with their single, broad, thick brows, and scaly, green-complexioned skin. Their eyes are orange-red and their arms are pendulous and furry, with hard, long nails that often serve as claws.

Over the past century, the Gorg have managed to make the dragon species extinct by eating their eggs. Now, without the eggs of dragons, the Gorg often wander into any populated region and feed on livestock or on a child that happens to wander beyond mother and father’s watchful eyes.

The Gorg find Elfin flesh particularly appetizing. Lately, however, they have stayed clear of Valkhara, thanks to the Mikaido soldiers. The Imperial Nation has not found itself in many battles against the Gorg since Gorobada instituted the Perimeter Campaign. As for the humans, they still struggle to control the kidnapping of innocent babes.

Dragonvale is a tremendous circular range of volcanic mountains, stretching about thirty miles in diameter. It was once a giant lake of molten rock, bordered by the mountain range, but for more than a century the mountains have been inactive and the molten rock has crusted into a strong, hard surface nearly a mile thick.

In the center of the hardened lake of lava lies the highest point of all of Guiya. It has become known as Amarogdome, named after the king dragon, Amarognon, who once claimed it as home. Amarogdome has a broad base that extends to the perimeter of the valley, thus making up the floor of the hardened lake. It is said that the mount is the mother of the entire volcanic range. The spire is black as pitch due to large deposits of Erodite, the metallic ore that Elfin folk used for forging their weapons which is twice as strong as steel.

Amarogdome sits alone, in the middle of Dragonvale, like a mighty king surrounded by his loyal subjects. Its rumble was once heard throughout most of Guiya, like that of a god announcing its presence. But for more than a century it has been silent, dormant. Until now.

Today, at the Hour of the Beetle, the eighth hour of the day, this mammoth mountain, which has been inactive for so long, began emitting a black mist. Slowly, over several hours, the mist grew into thick smoke that collected far above the mountain’s peak like a black cloud. This cloud of black smoke has grown large enough to block the sun’s rays from the mammoth spire, and still it continued to grow; casting its shadow over Dragonvale and a mile or two beyond.

At the foot of the mountain, three strange, motionless figures sat about a camp fire. They were short, stocky women, and very old. Their excessively wrinkled, sun baked skin resembled the bark of a tree. Their hair was unkempt and matted into thick cords caked with the dirt they fail to wash off each day. Their arms hung past their knees if they could stand erect, but instead they move about by leaning on their knuckles and swinging their torso between them.

To the Elfin folk they were known as the Wyches; three former priestesses who, although Gifted, became seduced by power and began to indulge in the dark art of Shayne-riki. They became greatly feared by the Elfin folk and were exiled from Valkhara many years ago.

Shayne-riki, the dark art, was banned from Valkhara so long ago that it has attained recognition only as a folklore. Its practitioners worship the dark, evil spirits of the shadow world, Mhorshae. They claim that their power comes from the blood rites and sacrifices required of their art. Often, newborn babes and young females would serve as their sacrifices.

Every day for the past half century, these hags have congregated about the foot of Amarogdome and waited for their prophecy to come true, the prophecy that a dark and powerful lord would rise from the depths of Amarogdome and walk the soil of Guiya as the Sai, the high priest and master of Shayne-riki. Now, as they noticed the sun being masked by the black cloud rising from the gut of Amarogdome, they realize that the time has come.

Look, said one in her scratchy, old voice, pointing to the peak of Amarogdome with a craggy finger.

Yes, its happening, exclaimed another, jumping to her feet and clapping her hands in a frenzy.

At last, said the third. Our master has awakened.

The three Wyches began to dance around the fire, waving their hands above their heads and shouting praises to the spirits of Mhorshae. Quickly, their energy subsided, for they were not use to physical exertion. One broke away from the dance to pick up a horn made out of a dragon’s bone. She sat down and held the horn gently to her lips, as though she was about to kiss a lover.

Without much effort from her the horn sounded deeply and powerfully. Its song reverberated throughout the valley and beyond. The Wyche blew the horn for several long notes and then raised it above her head, only to bring it down with all the strength she had within her. The dragon bone horn shattered into hundreds of pieces. The three hags then proceeded to pick up each piece and toss it into the camp fire. From the fire rose a tall column of bright red smoke that stretched from the ground to the black canopy that hung over the valley. After this, the trio rose from around the camp fire and began to trek up the wall of Amarogdome.

Without warning, a thunderous boom was heard from the great mountain. The ground began to quake violently and rubble began to roll off the wall of Amarogdome. The old hags looked up to the peak of the great mountain and noticed the black smoke spewing from its mouth faster than ever.

Its thick cloud pushed its way further beyond the boundaries of the valley, as though marking territory. Now, as the sun approached its bed, its light could only be seen far into the horizon, over the mountainous border.

In the surrounding woodlands and desert of Dragonvale, many species of creatures began to flee from beneath the shadow of Amarogdome’s canopy. Hundreds of Gorg, approached the great valley from many directions. They came in lines of hundreds, to the call of the dragon bone horn.

A great boom sounded from the mouth of Amarogdome and rang across the valley, gently shaking its floor. The Wyches had to balance themselves against their staves so they wouldn’t fall off the quaking wall of Amarogdome. They made their way up the side of the mountain to an entrance they knew would lead to the center of it. As they climbed, the floor of the valley began to crack and release streams of lava hundreds of feet into the air, making apparent the powerful potential that had been trapped a mile beneath the surface.

The Gorg had begun to congregate at the peak of the surrounding mountain range as the awesome pyrotechnics took place. They grunted, growled and barked in exhortation to their lord, whom they knew was awakening within the belly of Amarogdome. They knew that this lord would lead them to domination over all of Guiya.

It was approaching the second Hour of the Dragon, the fifteenth hour of the day, and the hags had made it to the entranceway. From its threshold, they could see across the valley. By this time, the once dull, hardened valley was glowing a yellow-orange hue from the great lake of lava that now filled it. Sinister grins formed on their faces as they gazed at the miraculous lake of fire and molten rock.

What power, said one, in a whisper.

Yes, we serve a powerful one, added another.

Come, we must greet him, said a third.

The Wyches turned to enter the great mountain. Behind them, the lake of lava boiled feverishly, as if about to erupt, but instead a giant bridge of Erodite broke its surface and stretched from the mountainous border, to the south, to the masterful spire in its center.

As pools of lava cooled upon the surface of the bridge, the Gorg began to cross it. A chilling roar was heard from within the gut of the mountain, its sound reverberating throughout the halls of Amarogdome and echoing faintly across the valley outside. The Gorg, upon the bridge, cheered in grunts and barks, as praise to the beast within the great spire.

The Wyches became excited at the thought of serving their powerful master. They giggled and patted each other on the back as they trekked through the dark, winding halls.

The master calls, they said in synchrony as they wobbled their way through the long corridors, up long, seemingly endless staircases, until they came to a tall archway. It was not the rough, amorphous rock found elsewhere in the corridors, but instead a cleanly polished rock, resembling pitch black marble.

Through the archway, they saw a chamber with a black, polished, reflecting floor and black, glassy walls. Within the chamber, directly across from the archway, was a dais made of dragon bone, precious metals and gems. It seemed to glow in the hue of a small pool of lava that lay in the center of this dim room.

The Wyches entered the chamber slowly. The thud of their staves against the polished floor echoed throughout. The floor reflected their hideous visages and matted hair. They could not stand to look at themselves, for they were once beautiful, but the nature of Shayne-riki drained them of physical beauty long ago. Thus, they kept their eyes always forward upon the pool of lava.

They squatted upon the floor in front of the pool and waited anxiously. Their eyes watched the dance of the fire upon the pool’s surface and their ears strained to make some rhythm from the pops and crackles of the bubbling lava. Then the yellow-orange hue of the lava turned a dull brown and then black. Occasionally, streaks of yellow flames raced across its surface.

Black Fire, the trio whispered in reverent synchrony.

Then, without warning, a great form broke the surface of Black Fire with a roar, startling the Wyches so that they fell onto their backs.

The form disappeared beneath the surface of the pool with a splash, as quickly as it had appeared. The Wyches tried to focus on the pool’s surface for some hint of a being within its boiling fluid.

Then, what appeared to be a very muscular arm broke the surface of Black Fire and grabbed the edge of the pool. The Wyches gasped as they held each other closely. The arm was covered with thick, black lava. As it dripped onto the floor of the chamber, the bluish-black scales of the arm were revealed, as well as long, talon-like nails.

The Wyches shrugged their shoulders and grimaced as the hard nails of this arm scratched the polished floor, emitting a high pitched squeak.

The hags scrambled to their knees and reached into pouches that were tied around their waists. They pulled out handfuls of crushed bones, minerals and herbs and threw this mixture into the air, chanting words in the old tongue to praise the great spirits of Shayne-riki.

Another arm broke the surface of the black fluid of the pool. Together they pulled out, with great effort, an enormous beast of a man. Smooth, black horns, nearly two feet long, extended laterally from his head. His yellow eyes were canopied by a prominent brow. As his mouth opened to spit forth thick, black phlegm, he revealed a pointed tongue and long, curved teeth set within his protruding lower jaw. His musculature was impressive. Every muscle rippled under his scales, as he struggled to pull himself free of the pool.

Finally, he managed to free himself, revealing broad, long feet which also had talon-like nails at the end of them.

The beast lay face down upon the polished floor of the chamber, coughing and gasping for air. He looked as though he had almost drowned. The Wyches were careful not to say a word while they watched this mammoth being in awe. It was several long hours before the beast had the strength to stand. By this time, a crowd of Gorg had gathered at the threshold of the chamber.

The Wyches bowed their heads and remained quiet. The Gorg were quick to follow their example. The beast’s eyes began to glow as he focused upon the Wyches and Gorg before him. His balance was mildly unstable, but grew steady within minutes as he felt his strength growing.

Although the Wyches kept their eyes upon the floor of the chamber, they could see their master’s awesome reflection and hear whispers of air entering his body through his nostrils as he took a deep breath.

When he was fully erect, the beast arched his back and let out a thunderous roar. The walls and floor of the chamber vibrated, startling the Gorg and causing them to stumble upon each other as they retreated into the corridor.

The Wyches could feel themselves move slightly across the floor, yet they kept their heads bowed. They grinned at the thought of how much power their master’s voice alone possessed.

The giant walked toward the Wyches. His callused feet echoed throughout the chamber. His every step could be felt through the floor’s vibrations. He towered over the Wyches and an evil grin formed upon his face as he stared upon the back of their heads, which were humbly bowed. The old hags scurried toward their master to adorn his taloned, scaly feet with kisses.

The dark master reached down with his left hand, placing the sharp, curling nail of one finger under the chin of one of the hags. Gently, he lifted her head so he could see her face. When their eyes met, terror raced through the Wych’s blood. She shivered uncontrollably as she examined every scale of his face. His broad, flat nose and pearly, white fangs were a gruesome sight to behold. She forced her eyes closed immediately, terrified she would fall dead at any moment.

The dark master released the Wych’s head and held out his right hand. The three sisters scrambled to greet it as they had his feet, then they backed away slowly, bowing repeatedly with their eyes ever low.

How shall we address our master? they asked simultaneously.

The black beast slowly turned and walked to his dais in the chamber. I am ... he said in one long deep breath, as he lowered himself upon his dragon-bone throne, Deschardon.

The Wyches smiled broadly, for they knew that in the old tongue Deschardon meant ‘lord of death.’ They were proud that he had chosen such an appropriate name.

We serve you, Lord Deschardon, they said as one. Command us.

With that said, the Gorg grunted and howled in praise to their lord.

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CHAPTER THREE

Ceremonial

Open your gates! It is I, the High Brother!

A voice came from the top of the tall tree-trunk gates. However, the wind moaned so loud and the rain fell so hard that Ghreyfounder could not make out the words of the guard who stood in a booth at the top of the gate. The old priest was about to ring the bell once more, but the gates creaked as the priestesses on the other side started to open them. Before they were fully open a young novice priestess, called a Runner, darted through the gates to greet Ghreyfounder.

Welcome, High Brother, she said in a soft, humble tone. She bowed low, as was expected for her rank, and then she stood by his side, holding a bamboo umbrella over his head. Ghreyfounder held Kym tightly as they entered the temple.

Ghreyfounder smiled as he examined the Runner’s face briefly. She looked tired, and walked as though she was forcing herself into activity. He guessed that she was the Night attendant in the temple today, and so had been awake since the Hour of the Rooster.

Attendants were to stay awake throughout the day and night, for their job was to serve the Sisters of the temple in anything they needed. To sleep would present the Sisters with the inconvenience of having to wait for a job to be done. All this was not to support their egos, for the Sisters mastered selflessness, but instead to build the mental fortitude of the Runner. The teachings of the Sudharut, the master priest and founder of the sect, is that to desire anything, even the simplest of pleasures, such as sleep, was to serve a weak essence. A strong essence, a perfect strength, desires nothing and is content in any situation.

This temple was run by Lady Donaleigh, the head priestess of the Kay-jun

Sisters. Lady Donaleigh had been trained by Ghreyfounder since her childhood, and although she was 125, she maintained the image of a 30-year-old. No one but Ghreyfounder knew her true age. Such was one of her gifts; the Gift of Youth.

The old priest came here because he had entrusted Lady Donaleigh to the initial training of novices. However, he had never brought anyone as young as Kym to her before.

Shortly after the gates had closed, Ghreyfounder was met by a priestess who was escorted by another Runner. She too had the privilege of having an umbrella held over her head by a novice. When she was close enough, Ghreyfounder noticed a yellow sash tied around her slim waist. This told him that she was a Fellow, a priestess of the third rank. The old priest recognized her right away as Dana, a close assistant to Lady Donaleigh.

Dana and her Runner bowed toward their master priest with their heads dropping below their waists, as was customary. Ghreyfounder returned with a deep nod of his head, as was his prerogative. A strange night to go walking in the rain, High Brother, said Dana, smiling.

A fool wanders aimlessly in the rain and achieves nothing, returned Ghreyfounder, but a wise man wanders in the rain to know the nature of Guiya, Dana-Samme.

Dana nodded in agreement and asked the old priest to follow her to a private cottage. This was common courtesy. It would allow Ghreyfounder time to freshen up before his audience with Lady Donaleigh. It was an odd hour for visitation, Dana thought, but she would be out of line to ask the High Brother about his business.

Where is Lady Donaleigh? Ghreyfounder asked, through labored breath-

She was awakened by a disturbance in the Kiy a few hours ago, High Brother. She now meditates in her pagoda.

I must I see her right away, the priest said anxiously. Please take me to her.

Ghreyfounder felt a pause in Dana’s gait, but the young priestess continued moving. He knew that he was stern in his voice and that his request may have seemed out of line to her, but he felt that taking care of Kym was urgent.

The Kiy. The driving force of life. Some say the creation of life itself. No one knows for sure. But it is said that some are born who can manipulate its energy. They are called the Gifted. Before the development of the Following, the Gifted were considered too peculiar for Elfin-kind, for they were driven mad by abilities they could not understand. However, the priesthood took them in and taught them how to control their gifts.

It was at the start of Ghreyfounder’s priesthood that the Gifted were sought out and brought back to the temples for training. They were encouraged to embrace the ways of the Following, for it provided them with a sense of purpose. They were trained in Kayata, the martial art that has made the Elfin nation revered by all others. It was Ghreyfounder’s belief that the training in Kayata taught the Gifted self-control and thus enhanced their ability to harness the Kiy.

The private pagoda of the High Sister, Lady Donaleigh, was a free standing chamber made of pine planks. Its walls and floor constantly teased the nose with their sweet aroma. The chamber was spotlessly clean, even though it was well sealed from the outside air.

Lady Donaleigh had very simple tastes, so the chamber was free of any elaborate decoration. A single scroll, written in the old tongue, hung on the wall directly across from the only door. Knowing yourself is the greatest form of wisdom, it read. On the floor were several cushions placed around a small table, also made of pine and stained a dark brown. Upon the table sat a bowl from which rose a fine mist that filled the pagoda with a flowery scent. Beside the bowl rested a steaming kettle of lemon tea and a small cup, and next to the cup rested a small bell hammer, which Lady Donaleigh used to call the runners that were assigned to tend to her pagoda.

Other than these simple furnishings, the room was empty, save the High Sister herself. She sat quietly on the floor, upon her knees, with her feet folded underneath her bottom, watching the scented steam rise from the bowl upon her table. This was her way of obtaining Ryn-mu, the quiet mind, which allowed the truth of her contemplation to enter her mind freely, without doubt or scrutiny.

She meditated tonight, for she was awakened by an odd disturbance in the Kiy. She was not sure if it was a dark force or a positive one, such as the familiar sensation she had when coming in contact with a newly Gifted student. She hoped that if she opened her mind to the Kiy, the source would reveal itself to her. Now she knew the temple had visitors and that familiar sensation was stronger than ever.

A knock came from the chamber’s sliding door, and one of the runners opened the door slightly and slipped in quietly, after cleaning her feet on a floor towel kept outside. Lady Donaleigh maintained her position of meditation, facing the scented mist with her back to the door. Once inside the chamber, the Runner bowed low below her waist, even though the priestess was not watching.

The High Brother requests to see you, my lady, she said, holding her bowed position.

Please, let him in.

The Runner nodded briefly and exited. While she waited, Lady Donaleigh covered her meditation bowl and turned to face the door. Still on her knees, she used her hands to press out any wrinkles that may have been noticeable on her robe.

The chamber door was opened once more and Ghreyfounder entered, holding Kym wrapped up safely in his arms. The priest smiled at the high priestess. It was always a pleasure to see her, for she was a woman of great elegance. Although she was his subordinate, Ghreyfounder often felt as though he was in the presence of royalty when he stood before her. Since her childhood Donaleigh had always had a regal air about her, so Ghreyfounder had nicknamed her Lady Donaleigh. Since that time, the name stuck and seemed appropriate.

She was dressed in several layers of thin white silk and had a braided, white silk rope tied around her waist. Her hair was long and dark, hanging in a silken sheet to the small of her back. She was an angelic sight as the wind from the open door lifted her hair softly into the air.

The Runner closed the door behind her as she left the chamber. Lady Donaleigh rose from her knees with very little effort. As she approached her mentor, she seemed to float across the floor, for Ghreyfounder heard not a sound from her feet. The high priestess held one side of her silk robe as she bowed slowly, with a small bend at the waist, as was appropriate since she was Ghreyfounder’s equal in rank. She smiled as she gazed upon the old man. She had not seen