Allies & Adversaries: Equinox Trilogy Volume One

By Dj Stearns

For over a thousand generations the Evil has been locked away, guarded by a being known only as the Equinox. With his assassination a nefarious plot will put the fate of the world of VoGiln in the hands of an unlikely hero. Aided by four elven wizards looking to belong, a disgraced champion searching for redemption, a retired knight affected by grief and loyalty, an assassin with her own agenda, and a spoiled princess dreaming of adventure, he will be forced into a world of lawlessness and cruelty. With no experience outside the walls of servitude, he will journey across the kingdoms only to find adversaries trying to stop him and few allies to help. Allies & Adversaries is the first novel in the exciting new Equinox Trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477201558

Dj Stearns

D.J. Stearns graduated from Grand Valley State University with a BS in Communications. He has been reading Sci/fi fantasy books his whole life and finally decided to write his first novel. He currently lives in Michigan with his wife and two children.

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© 2012 DJ Stearns. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 5/16/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4685-8359-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-8358-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-0155-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012906538

All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Epilogue

For my wife, the woman who is my guiding light in life and helped encourage me to travel this long road.

Acknowledgments

I never knew writing a book was a lot like work, but as a famous wise man once said, Do or do not. There is no try. I have those words set by my computer as a reminder that finishing a project is just as important as finding the ambition to start one. For six years I’ve had many friends and family members help and encourage me as I walked this long road.

I will forever be in debt to my editor, Chelsea Johnson, for her mastery of the English language. (So, hopefully I didn’t mess anything up in my last rewrite.) Without her knowledge I don’t think I ever would have even tried to get this published. Linda Garr, whose input for my first draft was immensely rewarding, and for her guidance in high school for three years of English classes.

To my good friends, Steve and Beth Dhue, who helped point out some little, but incredibly important, details that helped maintain continuity.

Mike Doran, the friend I will always consider my brother, Peter Johnson, Ron McGalliard, and my mother, Pam, who has voiced her opinion in most of the stories, both long and short, I’ve written growing up. I thank them all for reading the various versions of my book and offering their sound advice.

And to Fred Jehle, simply because he asked me to many, many moons ago and I haven’t forgotten.

Words cannot even begin to describe the support my wife has given me. Her standing by me with honesty and love has helped me finally reach my goal.

I hope you all enjoy what started out as a simple thought.

DJ Stearns

2012

Prologue

Strong gusts of wind blew the snow around the mountain range with unrelenting force. Barely visible through the deafening storm was a massive structure that sat alone, bearing the brunt of nature. Located farther south than most beings deemed reachable, Prison Keep was both a stone bastille and a magical symbol. Built like a ten-sided star, it could house over ten thousands beings and still have breathing room. Each of the points stretched off hundreds of feet, making the Keep look as though it were bolted to the peak of Godshigh Mountain. From a distance it appeared to be a cap covering the top of a volcano waiting to erupt. Flying buttresses covered each wall, looking like a tailor had taken thread and sewn the Keep to the mountaintop. Sculptures created by the best artisans sat in every nook and cranny along the outside, creating the illusion of a silent army guarding the walls. The prison was both horrifying and magnificent to behold.

Thousands of windows sat dark, void of any light, except one. A small window with colorful glass had a faint glow from a warm fire. A thin creature, entombed in a dark green cloak gracefully navigated the crumbling stone wall while a fine layer of frost clung to its limbs. The creature flipped onto a ledge, almost mirroring the horrific sculpture it sat next to. The firelight reflected in its hard eyes was the only color the dark orbs held. With patience born of two lifetimes, the being knelt down and peered into the cluttered room.

A small flame flickered, slowly dying as it ate the last bit of energy from the wick. It blinked once, twice, then the dance ceased and formed a small trail of curling smoke. The shadows in the room spilled out from a fire in the fireplace, as an old man raised his bushy eyebrows in annoyance. He laid an ancient, feathered quill down and rubbed his sore, milky eyes.

That’s the third candle today, he grumbled.

You’ve been awake for over twenty hours writing, old friend. It’s possible you have another twenty to go, came a deep reply from the darkness shrouding the ceiling.

The old man scratched his balding head with a sigh, while his cracked fingers brushed the circular birthmark on his forehead. I know. I know.

With a groan he stood up, the decrepit bones in his legs screaming with displeasure as they moved. Grabbing his cane, he slowly made his way across the room. The study hadn’t been cleaned in well over a decade. The hem on his yellow robe weaved a pattern through the dust on the marble floor, like a snake through desert sand. With another loud groan, he pulled a beeswax candle out of a wooden box.

"You could relax your weary eyes for a while, old friend. Your predecessors have rested and the spell still came out the same. A brief nap will help against typical human errors."

The old man glanced up at the rafters, an attempted scowl written into the wrinkles of his old face. "Maythis, I’ve written this spell well over ten times. I wrote it just as well twenty cycles ago as I wrote it two hundred cycles ago, and I will continue to write it perfectly. ‘Typical human errors.’ I don’t make errors, you shabby fowl, and I don’t need rest or a nap."

Jerking his head, he hobbled back to his stiff, wooden chair and lit the candle with a wave of his spotted hand. With a quick glance at the ceiling and a dramatic flick of the wrist, he continued to write. His hand furiously moved across the parchment, awaiting another comment from his unseen companion.

Maythis watched with an amused glint in his eyes. You humans are so stubborn.

For the past century, similar episodes like this had taken place, but that was to be expected with age and humans. He was a good man, honest and devoted to his ancient craft. He was always trying to better the spell’s defenses, but he was old now. Older than any human needed to be. Maybe it was time to tell him, but when? Now or after the ritual?

Maythis glanced out the lone window; snow flickered around the bleak mountain landscape, and did nothing to ease his already somber mood. He hated snow, but this was where the Evil was sealed, so this was where he was, and would be for the rest of his nearly immortal life. Prison Keep, home to the Guardian and his guardian, was a prison in more than one way.

The second equinox of the cycle was drawing near, only two days from now. More importantly, it had been twenty cycles since the two moons were in perfect alignment. That was the exact moment the ritual needed to be performed. Then it would be off to find the new Guardian, the new Equin. The whole long process was to start over again. But this was Maythis’s purpose in life. He was given two clues to go by: a dream indicating the birth of the new Guardian, and the presence of a birthmark on that child’s forehead. The symbol was a perfect circle broken into quarters, each quarter the symbolic color of the magic it represented: red for life, white for death, green for earth, and yellow for sky.

The eagle flew down from the rafter and stood on his perch at the desk. He was old now, too. He needed the Changing to happen soon. The arthritis in his wings was just terrible, but it would be another twenty cycles before that went away again. As soon as the old man died, Maythis would be young again, the only pleasure in a Guardian’s death. This is the last time you have to do this, you know. Savor it, just this once.

Equin stopped writing and laid the quill down. He was quiet for a long time. Maythis saw his eye twitch, then a wistful smile briefly appear. You’ve received the Dream again. It was a statement.

Yes, a fortnight ago. I’ve been debating with myself when to tell you. I wanted to wait until after the Ritual of Entombment, but this is too important. You need to be conscious of it. The eagle turned his head away. It was different. So very different.  

Different? The Dream? What do you mean? Equin’s face was etched with puzzled concern.

"Typically, He would show me the birth of the Guardian as the sun rises over the world. All four symbols of the magic spheres would be present and encircle the baby. That’s how I’d know the mantle would be passed after the next ritual. This time was different. It was the setting of the sun.

When I awoke, I wasn’t sure it was right, but I’ve had the same dream every night since. It’s a very queer feeling, one I’m not used to. I’m almost going to call it fear. The last time I’ve felt fear, this despair, was right before the Evil almost consumed the world. And I’m afraid I will harbor this odd feeling until I find the new Guardian.

You worry to much Maythis. You fret about these things worse than a goblin about to get a bath. Everything will go as planned. I’ll stand out in the cold for three hours reciting the words, the paper will burn, the seal will be renewed, then I’ll spend the next twenty cycles teaching some insolent pup how he’s the big hero now and can have no life of his own, and then I can finally rest in peace. You’ll be young again, and laugh at this silly dream. Nothing is going to happen.

Maythis stared at Equin for a moment, lost in thought. I fret because I’ve been around so long. You may feel like you have lived forever, human, but you are just a mere speck in my existence. Anything different is beyond coincidence; it’s a changing of the flow of time.

I hope that’s true, old friend. I hope that’s true.

With a brief thrust of his legs, Maythis flew out of the room towards an open doorway leading into the harsh elements outside. Equin looked after him for a moment, and then resumed his writing. A small smile played on the face of the observer, before melting back into the shadows and snow.

*     *     *

Over the next two days the snow continued to fall, blanketing the Keep in a white apron. Maythis’s mood continued to diminish as his worries multiplied by the recurrence of the different Dream. He made his way through the Keep, heading towards Equin’s bedchamber. Quietly, he landed on the floor and peered in around the partially closed door. Equin sat on an old bed, eyes closed, murmuring. His yellow robe hung over his shoulders, almost weighing him down. When he had been younger, that yellow robe was his armor. Now it seemed like his death shroud.

Maythis flew over and landed at Equin’s feet. Equin, it is time.

Equin opened his sunken eyes and sighed. Yes, I know. Just give me a few more minutes. The ritual exhausted me twenty cycles ago; I’m almost scared to see what it will do to me now.

Maythis nodded his feathered head. You’ll be fine. I’ve been checking the grounds for anything that will disrupt the Ritual, and I’ve turned up nothing. Look on the bright side, this is the last time you need to do this.

Equin smiled. Yes, it is.

With a groan he stood up, grabbing the Gate Key. The Gate Key was a plain spiderwood staff, with a worn, crescent-shaped head. At the top sat four glowing crystals with the essences of the four magical orders. The red stone pulsed for Life, the white stone was cold for Death, the harmony of the green funneled the Earth, and the yellow represented the power of the Sky. Together, along with the Ritual of Entombment, they would reset the energies needed for containing the Evil.

Silently, the old man made his way to the center of the Keep. He walked through the long halls, thoughts drifting to the thousands of times he’d traveled these passages. The faint rustling of his robe disturbed the silence. Cobwebs and thick layers of dust were ever-present, and an occasional rat would scurry by. Frost coated the few statues lining the halls, each perched on an ancient pedestal. Equin shivered, a chill had penetrated his thick robes, brushing his skin. Most of the Keep was this cold; he only heated his bedchamber, study, and greenhouse. Since he couldn’t stomach meat of any kind, as was dictated by the Lord of the Untamed, the greenhouse supplied him an endless source of fruits and vegetables.

At the end of the hall was a massive painting hung over a grand spiderwood door. The door separated the hall from the entrance to the ritual courtyard, and it was there that the Evil was waiting.

The painting was old, almost as old as the Keep itself. The paint was slowly fading over the cycles, but with close inspection brush strokes could still be seen. The oils that had once saturated the canvas surface depicted four wizards performing the original Ritual of Entombment. The white tendrils of the Evil were encircling the wizards as it was sucked into an abyss. Golden wisps of smoke, representing the Creator, were also protecting the wizards. It was a very climactic picture.

Even now, Equin could feel the Evil touching his subconscious, threatening painful eternity. The Evil bribed him with complete power over all the races. It pleaded with him for a chance to retake the essence that it craved. Equin shivered.

Easy, old friend. Hold what you love, and think of only what you’ll be saving. Look at the picture; use it to enforce your resolve. Peace. Confidence.

Equin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Thank you, Maythis. Standing at this door has me questioning myself.

With a final deep breath, Equin pushed the spiderwood door open and strode into the central courtyard. Ten pillars sat around the courtyard. Each one was in line with one of the Keep’s arms gripping the top of Godshigh Mountain. Four inner pillars represented the four orders of magic. All had the historical symbols of magic carefully carved into their crowns. The Phoenix, symbolizing Life; the Skull, representing Death; the Leaf, standing for Earth; and the Sun, acting as the emblem of the Sky. All four sat facing the center, channeling pure energy towards the massive hole in the middle of the courtyard. It was a gateway that descended to the very heart of VoGiln. A shimmering field was glowing over the mouth of the well. Below, the Evil was pressing on the barrier, a milky-white fog demanding an escape. A strong, silent scream began tearing into Equin’s mind.

Farther out stood six more pillars, smaller in contrast but equally important. Each stood for one of the Evil’s six Generals, the Juggernauts. The Evil itself couldn’t physically harm a being, only rob it of the very essence of sanity. The Juggernauts were the Evil’s first conversions; they could inflict physical harm, and they did so without remorse. Like Maythis, they were near immortals. The Evil acted through them.

Each pillar had a weapon, representing each of the Generals, carved into the top. There was a sawn edged sword, a massive spear, a chain whip, a double-sided axe, a two-headed hammer, and a spiked mace. They were the six weapons of choice, one for each of the Evil’s warlords. The Juggernauts were truly terrifying. Massive, brutal and sadistic.

Maythis flew towards the edge of the hole and rested on his perch. Equin made his way to the dais, looking up into the night sky. No matter how cloudy the sky was, no matter the weather, when someone entered the courtyard everything was clear. The two moons were overlapping, creeping up at the horizon in the east, while the sun was slowly setting far to the west. Being so far south the sun and moons were almost touching, but in the courtyard they appeared as if he were at the equator. The constellations were staring back from their eternal prison, forming images created from ancient myths. The second equinox was almost over. Once the moons passed each other, they would set a few hours later, starting the new day, never to cross again for another twenty cycles.

Equin placed the Gate Key in a small hole next to him. With a quick shiver, he pulled his robe off. The first time he had performed the ritual, he had refused to disrobe. But when the sealing fire came, it had burned his robe off anyway. The actual fire hadn’t affected him, but the fire from his robe burning startled him. Maythis had given him a stern lecture after that ritual. He smiled at the memory. But that smile faded as he recalled the errors he had made when he was younger. Could he live knowing he caused the downfall of life?

His body began to tremble, doubt clouding his judgment.

I’m going to fail. I’m going to die, and so will the world.

His breathing came in gulps. Sweat beaded his skin, freezing to his body from the grave cold emanating from the Evil. His heart was thundering in his chest.

No! I’m going to succeed!

With two hundred cycles of mental exercises, Equin mastered himself. Steadying his breathing, his heart resumed its normal pace. Maythis was staring at him. I’m okay, old friend. The Evil is creating doubt. Trying to break me. Just like it always does, while I’m in here.

The moons are nearly aligned along the horizon, you can start the ritual now.

Equin set the stack of parchment with the spell on the pedestal, and gripped the Gate-Key with his hand. Closing his eyes, he cleared his mind of all doubt and confusion. With a steady resolve, he began to chant. The mystical words spilled out across the courtyard. For over two hours he chanted, the meaning of time stopped. The cold vanished, the pillars seemed to melt away, and only the parchment in front of him was visible. Slowly, the jewel of Earth began to glow; a green aura shimmered across the field. A beam leapt from the staff striking the shimmering surface of the prison, and an eerie howl arose from the energy field. The beam ceased, and the crystal’s light faded. The power from the Earth pillar gained in intensity.

The Sky jewel then began to glow, its radiance burning the area with the power of the sun. Searing flames enveloped the courtyard. The stones began to smoke, while the robe at Equin’s feet began to burn from the heat. Something under the dome began shrieking with fury, as waves of cold rage pulsed around the magical barrier. It knew that if the ritual was completed, it would be another twenty cycles before it would ever touch a mind this close again. A soul was what it desired; it craved the conscious of the human. The flames died down, leaving the yellow jewel dim. The Sky pillar flared with a new life.

Maythis sat still during the ritual, staring with both satisfaction and sadness as Equin read the spell. Equin was completing his purpose in life, but this was the last time he would. The Life jewel flared, its brilliance blinding the scene with a red haze. The magical dome turned a dark red, and began to thicken. The aura of fury radiating throughout the courtyard began to lessen for the Evil knew that this would soon be over. The haze melted away, leaving the red jewel cold and naked. The emblem of the phoenix on the pillar held its magic on the surface, holding the Evil within. The only process left was Death.

Later, when looking back, Maythis wasn’t sure exactly how the events unfolded over the next minute, but they went terribly wrong. Out of the corner of his eye, an object moved. He swung his head in that direction and saw a being, bow raised, release the shaft of an arrow. In that small span when time seemed to stop, he watched the arrow fly towards Equin. The eagle opened his beak to yell a warning, but the head of the arrow pierced Equin’s back. The head of the arrow erupted from his chest, spraying blood from his heart over the magical seal, creating hairline cracks. Equin ceased to chant, and a look of surprise filled his wizened face. His head dropped down, while blood started dripping from his mouth. His vision blurred, he swayed for a moment then collapsed upon the hard stone floor.

Equin! Maythis flew down to his friend. Equin stared at him, his eyes glazing over.

You know what you must do. Equin’s last statement came out with a gasp.

Maythis felt his body instantly grow young. With a shriek, his talons grabbed the Gate Key and he began to chant. The cloaked figure started to run towards him.

Maythis continued to speak the spell of Return. One by one the jewels vanished from the staff. The figure pulled a wicked sword out as it ran. It raised its arm for a killing blow. Maythis heaved with his wings, pulling the staff from the hole. Up he flew. The figure threw down its sword and drew its bow in one fluid motion. With a twang, an arrow ripped through the air. Maythis flew as hard as his wings would carry him, but the arrow bored through the upper meat of his leg. He almost dropped the staff. Below, something began to howl with rage. Maythis kept flying, higher and higher. Another arrow hit him, but didn’t break the skin. He was too high now.

The figure below cursed, and spat towards the eagle. Its purple eyes turned towards the dome. The body of the human lay sprawled on the dais. His blood pooling out around him. The figure walked over to the well and looked down. The Evil was below; it could feel the caresses touching his subconscious. A milky fog seeped from the bottomless pit, stopping along the magical dome. The cloud sensed the undead creature, then, as if repulsed, sank back down into the void.

The undead creature lifted the body of the Equinox up. Then with a heave of un-natural strength, ripped the corpse in half. Entrails and blood exploded out over the seal. An invisible force began beating against the arcane barrier. More cracks appeared, and then with a shriek of defiance, the shield blew apart. The stone pillars quivered but held fast. The entrance to the courtyard blew apart, exploding with the fury of a god.

Slowly, a crunching began to fill the shaft. An icy haze began to seep upwards. Massive horned heads looked upon the sky for the first time in over a thousand cycles. The Juggernauts climbed out of the central circle. They stared into the night sky in silence. Ice spilling out around their bodies, freezing the very stones they stood upon. The shrouded creature began to back away, sensing an anger slowly focusing on him from the six terrifying creatures.

As one, the Juggernauts surrounded the undead being. With an unspoken command they crushed the creature beneath their frozen fists. The milky fog began to seep back out of the abyss and filled the courtyard like a blind man searching the floor for the first time. The six generals turned their frozen eyes towards the three active pillars, silently cursing the magical tether that would hold the brunt of the Evil, their creator, for the next twenty cycles.

The lone pillar of Death sat vacant and silent. The Juggernauts focused their attention upon the lifeless stone. As one, they turned and heading away from the courtyard. They needed to find the new Equinox before the time of the next ritual and eliminate him. They would not be imprisoned again. With a vengeance, the Juggernauts began destroying the Keep that had imprisoned them for so many long centuries.

*     *     *

Maythis began to grow tired from flying, carrying the Gate Key and from the loss of blood. The wind whipped through the night, pelting the eagle with merciless anger. He coasted down, landing on a small ledge. The cold gnawed into his body, like a parasite eating him alive.

Why? Why did this happen? What was the Creator thinking?

Maythis checked his leg, the blood had stopped flowing, but the arrow was still there. He needed help. But how would he communicate with any of the races, when only the Guardian could understand him?

A loud explosion shook the cliff face. In the distance, the top of Godshigh Mountain, having been there since the creation of VoGiln, disintegrated. Maythis knew that the seal was shattered, but the Evil was still tethered to the Keep. He had to find the new Guardian and relocate the four stones before the next equinox, in twenty cycles. The Evil had to be resealed. His leg was throbbing where the arrow had struck. He bent down and bit both sides off of the arrow. A small bit of wood was still there, but he knew from past experience, to pull the shaft out would start the bleeding again. Only a Life Wizard could heal this properly. Maythis could perform magic, but it wasn’t related to the four magic spheres. He closed his eyes and tried to think.

A few hours later, the pain was a dull throb. The wind had died down some, but snow was falling. Where to go? What to do? He only had a few options left. Although he was immune to illness and infection he could not escape pain. Prison Keep was burning in the distance. His eyes could almost make out the Juggernauts smashing their master’s prison, but the four pillars were indestructible and would only collapse if the ritual wasn’t spoken again. Maythis knew it would only be a matter of time before the Juggernauts began heading north, into the Kingdom of Jaysta.

Since few beings knew what he was, he was limited in where he could go. The Kingdom of Selvatura was a thousand leagues away—too far. Jaysta was close, but the King didn’t know him. However, he had met the Royal Life Wizard once, fifty cycles ago.

The Creator willing, you are still alive. Even though pain burned through his punctured flesh, Maythis grabbed the staff and started flying north.

Almost nineteen cycles later…

Chapter 1

Homecoming

The Spiral Mountains resembled a massive seashell sitting on the face of the world of VoGiln. Covered in snow capped peaks and scattered forests, the races couldn’t master such a beautiful terrain. Considered the guard walls of Selvatura, the mountain range was often referred to as the Creator’s Hand. Starting along the northwestern side of the kingdom, it hooked around to the southeast and then curved around back north. This side of the range spiraled to a central point, creating the look of a giant shell.

Located inside, the Kingdom of Selvatura rested in the basket of the mountains’ protective arms.

To attack the Kingdom of Selvatura—also known as the Center of the World—an army would have to move through the fertile fields to the north. Past kings had erected a highly fortified, and enormously thick wall along the northern boundary. The King’s armies heavily guarded the few passes that led through the mountains to the south and east. The mountains in the western spiral were high, steep and virtually impassible by foot. Only a road, built in ages past, ran through the southern side of the spiral. It was the only trade route between Selvatura and the Port City of K’nubal. Many had tried different paths, but only a few had ever succeeded. This was the reason the Assassins Guild was so hard to find. The Guild had built a small stronghold, nestled in the valley almost at the center of the spiral.

Vîven Jay’Dorbar breathed a sigh of relief as she crested a small peak and saw the keep through the trees in the valley below. Her thick cloak warded off the bite of the wind, but it was still a long ride down to the valley. She led her mare past the two obelisks marking the trail down the steep decline. Dusk was approaching. Soon it would become twilight, then the stars would stare at her, wondering why she wasn’t camped on such a cold night. She was anxious to get home, though. It had been almost two seasons since she left on assignment, and a successful assignment it had been. The cool mountain air warmed her lungs with that thought. She pulled a piece of salted meat from her tunic and let her mind wander.

Vîven had just completed her first real assignment. When she returned to the Grove, she would give her payment to the Guild coffers and take a long deserved hot bath. Running her hand through her short black hair, she gave a small sigh. Finally, after twenty cycles in the Assassins Guild, she would be considered a certified member. She could take or reject contracts of her choosing. No more formalities with the other members. The very thought sent a ripple of pleasure up her spine. The Mother would be pleased.

Like many of her brethren, she had joined at a young age, cast out by society and left to the wolves of humanity. Her mother had been a whore, her father a mercenary. Both of them were probably dead by now. They hadn’t cared about her fate, so why should she care about theirs? The only family she had now was the Guild. They fed her, clothed her and cared for her during ills. What did it matter what she did for a living? The