Tales From The Renge: The Prophecy, Book 5: Rebellion

By Jaysen True Blood

Con has been sent to Muspel to learn from the necromancers who still exist there. While he is away, tensions build in the Renge. The emperor and his pet general have been sowing the seeds of chaos throughout the lands. The truth about Golmagug, the demimage and leader of the evil Inquisition, is revealed. The Dark Ring comes under attack. The gods and the heroes of old have returned. As have the necromancers of the Black Ring..and the last of the snake men. 

 

As darkness descends, the armies begin to assemble. They come from the east, west, north, and south. ahead of them the orbs and the relices begin their journey into the Renge after a long absence.revealing that the rebellion is in full swing. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jaysen True Blood
• Release date: Apr 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393030867

Jaysen True Blood

Jaysen True Blood was born and raised in the Midwest where he currently resides. His first taste of writing came early in grade school with a class assignment. a few years later, his love for writing would return as he found himself with another class assignment, this time a poetry unit. through junior high, he would write a series of novels, many poems, and begin his long interest in writing song lyrics as well. In high school, he would learn the value of tall tales, myths and other kinds of stories as he continued to build his store of stories. upon graduation, he went for a semester at a university, where he would write two stories, one of which would become a serial online for about six months. Returning home, he worked at just about anything he could find, but never strayed far from his love of the story. After his first marriage, he signed on with Keep It Coming, an e-zine, where he wrote two serials, "Tales From The Renge" and "Breed's Command" (the same characters appear with Fancy Marsh in several subsequent westerns. The serial was taken from a manuscript written for a class assignment while in high school). H also wrote writing and music related articles for the print version of KIC that came out for just three issues. When KIC went under, Jay was once again forced to work at different jobs just to make ends meet. between 2007 and 2010, Jay would release "Seven By Jay: Seven Short Stories", "The Price Of Lust: Book One Of Faces In The Crowd" and "So Here's To Twilight And Other Poems".

Book preview

1.

W e call your former master a Emosoulshrinker, Olstos began, I believe the Rengeland term would be Mistleraptor. He is a malignant parasitical being. They are world enders. They are born only to mankind as man is the easiest to corrupt.

So he wasn’t human,  Con assumed.

He was, she responded, "and yet, he was not. You see, a emosoulshrinker is human in shape and thought. Not in spirit. They are, quite simply, soulless. Empty. Their memories are false. Their lives are unlived. They drain because of a deep thirst that can never be quenched. To them, it is a nagging addiction, much as it would be with lotus. In reality, it is their emptiness consuming all.

"They are born human, but a parasite. Their power is their addiction. Their thirst rivals even that of the Darkmoor or the Incubi and Succubi. Though the latter will not drain their targets dry...but and emosoulshrinker does. It knows nothing of restraint or compassion. Just its unholy thirst.

"You, on the other hand, are the balance. You are the key to his destruction. There are always two born. The dark and the light. But not always at the same time or in the same settings.

"You were born a century later than he. Why is unknown. Perhaps the reason was to allow the necromancer his false sense of security and allow him to become overconfident and too sure of himself. Or maybe it was to allow the Demon King to gain enough pride so that he could be destroyed.

You are light where he is darkness. You are good where he is evil. Balance.

You are the one to end this age, Thronrym added, " you end the age of magicks, heroes, and gods. And you do so through bringing on one final golden age. After, only darkness remains for man.

"No gods. No demons. No heroes. No powers.

"Only science will endure. And myth. But myth will rule for a time.

"And from myth will grow religions. From religions, wars. As I said. Only darkness awaits mankind after you.

"And no matter how advanced they become, they will remain mindless savages in the way they treat their fellow man. Much the way we have always been a mite savage in how we have treated one another. It is our curse as a race. And we are but one race."

But if all are doomed, he was confused, why am I to end this age of enlightenment?

This was never an age of enlightenment, Orlowaug growled, "for had we truly been enlightened, we would have never waged wars, allowed evil to reign, or given rise to demons. We would be gods and a new race would have evolved from the dust to take our place.

But man has never learned. Thus, he is still imprisoned in this existence. And none have risen to take his place.

You have to forgive Orlowaug, Olstos apologized, he is old and far wiser than most of us here. He has seen millennia, even eons of time. The majority of us here have only seen a few centuries.

Then, he bowed, I will honor his teachings. Ageless wisdom shall guide my steps. But your tutorings in magicks will aid my way.

JENNY FOUND LIFE AMONG the Assassinidii peaceful. She did not exist to the outside world. Thus, the demimage ha stopped searching for her.

She found the Assassinidii magicks easy to learn even though they were far older and much more potent than those used by the Inquisition. And much more complex. Their complexity made them deadlier. More binding.

She learned counterspells to those which the demimage used against his enemies including the one he had cast upon her. This had been the first counter she had used. No need in remaining a child for all eternity.

You grow in power and strength, young apprentice, The Assassinidii mage commented, you are a natural. An adept’s adept. Are you sure you do not have Assassinidii blood in your veins?

I know not what tribe I belong to, she shook her head, for we stopped being tribes when we were banished from the Dark Ring.

No matter, the Assassinidii smiled, you are now one of my own. A child of the Assassinidii.

I am most thankful, master, she bowed.

Did you know that the bard is Assassinidii? He inquired.

No I didn’t master, she answered.

That makes his grandson Assassinidii, the mage chuckled, and his grandson is Con Tikiraud. Your friend.

Oh my, she sighed, I had no idea.

Now you know, the mage nodded.

Do you know the fate of my friend? She looked at him.

Do not worry, little one, he began, Con is well and beyond the reach of Golmagug. He will return when it is time. But not yet.

GOLMAGUG SAT ON HIS throne. He had lost two Seekers. No, he had lost a Seeker and a bride.

Now, both had vanished. Neither could be found. It was as if they had simply stopped existing.

But then, the boy had always been unreadable. The girl would have simply been a meal. A snack.

Still, it was a vile trick they had played on him. The boy had destroyed half of his army of Seekers. Not to mention over a third of his Inquisitors and Masters.

He had also killed and mortally wounded several demons. Not that demons were unkillable, but there were no human weapons north of the Gaelheim Fenns that could kill a demon. Or were there? Did the savages beyond the river own such things?

In a way, the boy had acted as a distraction. Something so the girl could escape. It had been a cunning move.

And the attack by the Succubi had stripped him further. He had taken heavy losses because of them as well. It was maddening!

He had also lost his prizes. His meals. They had taken the girls from him.

He frowned. And to make it worse, the soul and powers of the girl he had feasted on was stripped from him. He had lost youth and strength. All in a single night.

Yet, he could not punish Master Jenarra. The Inquisitor had not had anything to do with either incident. In fact, the man had been horribly wounded, disfigured, by the boy. The injury had made him more cruel. More deadly.

He snorted. The man had been forced to don a mask to cover the hideous scar. He had been lucky to survive.

Gol looked around his throne room. Everyone stayed away from him. They kept their distance. They knew he was not normal. That he might drain them of everything.

Even his chamberlain refused to draw near to him, but passed cups and plates from a cart.  And his exchequer, his treasurer, refused to shake his hand. Or even step too close.

And none dared show emotion. Or pain. He seemed to drink it in.

No, even he knew that he was not normal. No mage ever possessed such a power. Such a hunger. Or such a thirst.

He had the gifts of charisma and glamour. And yet, he was awkward with ordinary magicks. He could only cast a handful of spells. Not that they were much good. They really weren’t.

No, they were more residual spells. Things that seemed to be remnants. Leftovers.

He could barely defend himself. His only offensive abilities were the powers that caused even his inner circle to avoid closeness. They were the source of his addictions.