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The Chalice of Forever
The Chalice of Forever
The Chalice of Forever
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The Chalice of Forever

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The shield that protects the kingdom has weakened; the Queen has suddenly died; and the coronation cup has vanished: Now, the heir to the throne must find the powerful Chalice of Forever before Hell breaks loose and threatens her people.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJul 15, 2019
ISBN9781989215661
The Chalice of Forever
Author

Allison M. Azulay

Born to Canadian parents of mixed, predominantly British heritage, Allison M. Azulay spent her formative years in a village outside of the capital city of Ottawa and her teen years in the steel city of Hamilton, Ontario. Like her mother, she read voraciously, and she composed stories of her own at home as well as in school. Later, encouraged by her husband to explore her ideas and talents, she wrote poems, short stories, children's storybooks for relatives, and more. After the death of her husband, she began to write and independently publish novels and short stories.

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    The Chalice of Forever - Allison M. Azulay

    Allison M. Azulay

    The Chalice of Forever

    A Fantasy Novella

    Copyright © 2019 by Allison M. Azulay.  All rights reserved.

    The use of any part of this publication, reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system without the prior written consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

    The Chalice of Forever is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

    www.allison-m-azulay.ca

    ISBN 978-1-989215-66-1 (e-book)

    Cover design by SelfPubBookCovers.com/Tina Pappas Lee

    Published in Renfrew, Ontario, Canada

    Table of Contents

    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

    Chapter 27

    AUTHOR’S NOTE

    Chapter 1

    THE WIZARD PACED as he pondered his dilemma.  His grey robes rustled in the silence, and a hint of breeze from the open window lifted a corner of parchment from the nearest pile on his long oak bench stained and fusty with the evidence of his craft:  splashes of potion and dustings of powder used in spells.  Around him the evening gloom deepened, its shadows on rack and bench softened by candlelight from a triple-armed iron sconce hanging on the narrow stretch of stone wall between a set of bookshelves laden with worn-leather tomes and ancient scrolls wound on wood, and a set of stairs curving up to his bed on the upper level.

    He halted facing a mirror behind which lay hidden a closed cupboard bearing an enchanted padlock—one of many secret enclosures in his lair.

    He could not allow Larana to accede to the throne of Albesh.  She was young and inexperienced, to be sure, for which reason he might have considered her suitably malleable.  But she had an inner power that mystified him.  And terrified him.  More than once, even as a tyke, she had stared hard at him, as though her eyes could pierce to his inner being and perceive his thoughts.  And his unease in her presence had only grown as she did.

    She would know, he was certain.  The moment she touched the Chalice of Forever upon her coronation, she would know.

    He must do something, and quickly.  The Council of Eight had already convened.  This very night, the Chalice must disappear.

    THE RUNES RATTLED ACROSS the table.  Grisha put aside her pewter casting cup, the unnecessary tool used only when she wished to highlight the importance of the reading, and she set her hands flat on the venerable oak board to lean forward and peer squint-eyed at the small rectangular tablets of bleached bone scattered haphazardly.  She grunted twice as she inspected the seeing-stones.

    Same as before, she announced in a voice gravelled with age.  The witch glanced up to study Larana a moment before fixing the gaze of the girl’s mother, Linnesh.  Tone solemn, the crone declared, Woe lies ahead and your daughter will be tested.  Whether she becomes Queen will depend on her ability to endure the trials and restore order to the kingdom.  If she cannot....

    Grisha let the remainder of her prophecy hang in the air like a noxious odour as she straightened and exhaled heavily.

    Is there nothing we can do? Linnesh pleaded.  Some spell or charm to ward off this evil?

    Grisha pursed her lips, puckering the chalky skin around her mouth to deepen the wrinkles there.  Presently, she promised, I will think on it.  Perhaps there is something to help Larana through the coming days.  But I warn you, she added with a brow high and a bony finger raised, this darkness cannot be evaded.  Only overcome or....

    She pressed her lips in grim resignation and shrugged scrawny shoulders under a ragged azure shawl and faded amber gown.

    Very well, Linnesh acknowledged.  We will await your instructions.

    LARANA WATCHED AS THE old woman gathered her runes into a dark-brown leather pouch and shuffled to the door with Linnesh at her side.  The elders whispered together briefly before Grisha made her exit.

    When her mother turned back to her, Larana simply met her gaze until Linnesh forced a smile and came to embrace her daughter a long moment.  Stepping back, Linnesh clasped Larana’s cheeks, held her eyes, and stated, Whatever happens, my dearest, I know you will triumph.  With another smile more hopeful than certain, she nodded and said, You will be Queen, my daughter, and all will be well.

    Larana let out a long, soft sigh.  She did not want to be Queen.  She did not want to spend the rest of her days in the Crystal Tower.  She wanted only to laugh and dance and run through the forests and the meadows.

    But she was a prisoner of destiny.  Of duty.  For to hold the Chalice of Forever was to carry the Light, to keep Albesh hidden from the Outer World of the Unenlightened and safe from the Inner World of Darkness.

    With a faint smile to her mother, she padded to her room and sat on the broad wooden ledge below the casement to stare out at the golden lights that brightened the city’s windows and twinkled along the shape of the spiralling streets, then beyond to the silver glint of moonlight on the Rambling River that hugged the eastern edge of the city and meandered toward a distant sea.

    Would that I were not gifted, she whispered wistfully.  Would that I were an ordinary girl with only the power to make small enchantments and mundane potions.

    JUST OUTSIDE THE DOOR to her daughter’s room, Linnesh stood torn between her desire to comfort her only child and recognition that Larana was fully grown, now—a young woman, the girl’s penchant for childish play notwithstanding.  A mother could wish the life of her offspring to flow smoothly and safely, but Larana would be Queen and, as such, must face the challenges of ruling the mishmash of magic folk, mystical creatures, and half-breed mongrels that was Albesh:  the land at the crossroads where the realms of light and dark met.  She would be chief among the sentinels that kept the dimensions apart, forever separate, for to allow the walls to fall would lead to much suffering.

    Linnesh leaned against the wooden jamb and regarded the daughter she had raised alone since the sudden and inexplicable death of her husband.  That memory wrenched her heart with a spasm of sorrow at the loss from which she had never truly recovered.  It had been thirteen years, now, and still she grieved.

    But she had Larana, who had inherited the flaming hair and emerald eyes of the man both had loved.  And the child had grown healthy and strong, her power blossoming with each passing year.  Larana had her father’s wit, as well, though it had faded in the two days since the Council of Eight had announced the death of the Queen and the choice of her successor.

    From the start, Linnesh had been both proud and apprehensive.  Larana was only nineteen, after all, with little experience outside of her schooling and her childhood explorations of the forests and meadows within a day’s travel from the city.  She would have the counsel of the senior wizards and witches, to be sure, but the ultimate responsibility for the realm’s safety would be Larana’s.  It was a burden for which Linnesh was not certain her daughter was ready.

    Abruptly, Larana stood and turned from the window.  Linnesh smiled fondly and stepped into her daughter’s room to kiss her goodnight.

    All will be well, she repeated.  Sleep well, my daughter.

    Goodnight, Mama, Larana whispered.  Then, she doffed her dress and climbed into her bed to pull the covers to her chin and close her eyes.

    THE EIGHT SAT WORDLESS and sober around the octagonal chamber in the centre of the octagonal room bare of all but golden wall sconces and a single extra chair set under a lattice-paned window.  Their silence hung heavier than the honeyed scent of the candles.

    For years, darkness had been spreading throughout the realm, at first unrecognized, then unacknowledged, but finally, very recently, investigated—quietly, so as not to alert and alarm the people of Albesh.

    But neither divinations nor reading of prophetic texts nor subtle queries among the townsfolk had uncovered the source of the evil that was slowly eroding the protective walls of the kingdom.  The Black Gate had thinned to dangerous levels and soon Demons would be able to penetrate it and unleash Chaos and Darkness upon the capital and thence upon all Albesh and even the Outer World, for the Spiral City had been built to guard the entrance from the Inner Realm and thus to preserve the safety of both the Enlightened and the Unenlightened.

    The Oracle Shard, the ancient quartz kept safely stored in a secret room of the Crystal Tower, had shown the members of the Council the demise of the reigning Queen and the identity of her successor.  But the Shard’s revelations had been fleeting, obscured by a strange swirling mist unlike anything the wizards had seen before.  A mist that had grown more opaque with each day since it was first noted.

    They did not know the nature of the looming troubles.  And their ignorance rendered them powerless to prevent this challenge and to discern how best to confront it.  None of them had ever before felt so utterly helpless.

    IN THE INNER REALM, Darkness waited in anticipation of the events that would free it to wreak havoc upon the world.  It would grin and rub its hands had it a mouth and appendages.  But its minions knew the signs and rocked and jumped with their own eagerness.

    Soon, now....

    Chapter 2

    KREN PEERED THROUGH the uppermost casement.  All the Spiral City appeared to be asleep.  No more fires or candles winked in windows or along streets.  No one walked the lanes.  Even the Night Watch did not stir—at least not in this neighbourhood.  Satisfied, he hurried down the zigzag stairwells of his tower to the ground level.  Opening the door just a fraction, he again peeked into the darkness to assure himself he would remain unobserved.  When no motion met his eye and no sound his ear, he slid out into the alley behind his residence and scurried along the cobbles.

    For years, since his expulsion from the Institute of Mystical Investigation for what he deemed a minor infraction of magical law, he had remained in disrepute, outside the finer circles of the wizarding community.  Eventually, his obsequious overtures to sorcerers of influence had gained him a measure of forbearance, which he had parlayed into acceptance back into the fold of wizard society, albeit at the periphery of power.

    But he had never forgotten.  Or forgiven.

    Year after year, he had studied in the Library of Sorcery the ancient manuscripts and newer findings published by the Academy or the Institute.  He had increased his knowledge of magic lore to such a degree that, in his seventy-ninth year, his scholarship had come to the attention of the Queen and, reluctantly, the Council of Eight had allowed him to serve in the Crystal Tower as a minor official in the Archives.

    The fools.  It was there that he found the means to exact revenge:  He now knew the true source of the Queen’s power and, more importantly, how to bend it to his own purpose.

    He grinned to himself as he crept into the unguarded West entrance of the Crystal Tower, tiptoed on to the Hall of Mirrors with its hidden access, and climbed the secret stairs to the postern of the royal suite.  He could never rule in name, for his gender disqualified him.  But he could rule the Queen, once he removed Larana and saw her replaced by someone more to his liking, and that would do nicely.  Soon, he thought, soon he would sweep away the Council of Eight and become sole confidant and adviser

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