Ruin: Awakening

By Samsun Lobe

“Loveable but completely deadly”

The formidable and uncompromising warrior known as Ruin continues his adventures in the harsh environment of Mareta. Separated from his companions, he forges new friendships that take him to the floating city of Malforge and then deep into the prison mine of Serenity, Blood and destruction follow him at every turn. As he cleaves his way across a landscape he no longer recognises, creatures once believed to breathe only in legend, thunder into existence. As the great Wyrms and Drakes awake, Ruin and his friends must find a way to stop them ripping their world apart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Legend Press
• Release date: Oct 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781910053195

Book preview

Samos)

Chapter 1 - An Old Enemy

The comparable warmth of the palace seemed like a lifetime ago as the muscled warrior pulled his fur cloak tighter around his formidable shoulders. He had cocooned himself inside a hastily constructed snow hole as a fierce storm had swept in over the mountain pass. The cold air numbed his senses and bit at his exposed flesh. As he exhaled his breath froze on the hair fibres, and the white ice crystals seemed as if they were slowly claiming his body.

The wind howled as it lashed over the tundra. The small opening to his cramped hole had long since filled in. Ruin had given up trying to clear it. It was an unnecessary waste of his limited energy. He had instead resorted to poking his enchanted bone sword - the Wyrm-Blade through the domed roof to make an airway. This too had been futile as the deep snow outside drifted over his position. He had retreated from the violent ice storms more times than he could remember over the past couple of surges, but this time it was different.

He had been isolated in the mountains far longer than he had expected. He was out of supplies and seemed no closer to crossing the vast Vanguard of Elohim. The lack of food and warmth was taking its toll, and his normally unbending resilience to survive was fading just as the evening light was inevitably giving way to the night. His mind now retracting from his physical body, his thoughts drifted back to the city of Aegis.

After he had led his forces in victory against the deranged Arch-Mother, and walked triumphantly into the great city as its saviour, he had felt immortal. He remembered laughing off the advice from Sigmun not to travel during the winter months. Confident in his indestructible will, he had set off without a second glance back at the friends he had forged. There were few things that he regretted, but with his life-force ebbing away, for the first time in his young life he had the chance to reflect on his actions.

His last words to Efferial ricocheted inside his mind. She had declared her feelings for him and he had abruptly rebuffed her. He had intended to speak with her after the victory parade, to explain himself, but true to her word she had already left the palace. She was a proud Kantanese warrior and her disappearance had not really surprised him. His other companion, the apprentice sorcerer Kail and his annoying bird had followed after her. He had no idea where they were now. It was a situation he would treat differently if he were allowed it over again. The melancholy malaise ate at his soul like a cancer, and his achievements of the last cycle faded from his memory.

As he curled up into the foetal position and delirium tore at the edges of his sanity he saw his younger self, proud, focussed, determined, angry and deluded.

*

The female Oramos stood motionless in the snowstorm. The mountain antelope had sought shelter in a rocky fissure. It had lowered its heart rate and was conserving its energy for essential organs. Despite the sub-zero temperatures and harsh environment the Oramos was well suited to the mountain life. Its thick hide was covered in a shaggy fur, and it supported its body weight on four stocky legs each with a splayed foot to disperse the weight over deep snow. And now, even with ice piled high on its back it heard the scrunch of a footstep in the snow. Its eyes flicked open and it shook its body, senses straining, instantly alert.

A metal blade whirled from the blizzard and clattered into the rock just above the animal. The sound caused the frightened Oramos to bolt into the whiteness. A curse echoed from the storm like grumbling thunder, and a massive figure shambled to where the animal had just sheltered. A gloved hand reached down and retrieved the dagger and parting several layers of skins and furs inserted the weapon back in its sheath.

The man stood up straight and shook the snow from his clothes like a river bear trying to dry his fur. A massive two handed sword strapped to his back fell off his shoulder dislodged by his violent shaking. More muffled curses fired from the mass of fur wrapped around his face. Fierce eyes burnt from the thin slit beneath his hat, their intensity seemed as if it would melt the snow. He started to follow the Oramos footprints through the rocks, moving his feet in wide arcs to allow for the wooden snow shoes he wore.

Despite his apparent bulk the man moved swiftly across the snowscape. His breathing was masked by the wind and after only a short time he stopped and crouched low to the ground. Vision was difficult in the low light, and further compounded by the intense storm. But in the lea of one of the peaks, the snow became more of a flurry and in the near distance he could make out the blurred outline of the mountain animal. Feeling safe, it had once again stopped to shelter and conserve energy.

The man reached his hand back over his shoulder and his fingers coiled around the winged drake that formed the pommel. He drew the blade slowly. The metal rasped quietly and the Oramos once again raised its head sniffing the air. The hunter froze. He remained motionless until the creature settled, only his rumbling stomach betraying any sign of life. He succeeded in drawing the blade. The huge curved sword had two long holes along the dull grey blade. The formidable weapon needed two hands to wield it. This could be done by either holding the long weighted hilt or inserting the hands into each of the openings and using the sword like a staff.

The crouched warrior held the mighty blade in one hand as if the heavy blade was made from feathers.

He exploded forward. His movement alerted the Oramos and it bolted. He closed the distance in moments and leapt with the huge sword outstretched and thumped it downwards. He landed face first in the snow. He looked up and saw the tail of the Oramos lying beneath his blade. Snarling, he hauled himself up and ran after the fleeing animal. The four legged creature bounded through the snow at pace, but the determined hunter had no intention of letting his prey escape for a second time. As the Oramos crested a small ridge it suddenly flailed as its fore legs plummeted into a hidden orifice, and it awkwardly somersaulted into a snow drift. Eager for the kill the man leapt the unseen hole and landed in front of the dazed animal. He lifted the blade above his head and was about to strike when he heard a groan from behind.

He turned to see a figure cough and splutter as it feebly crept from the hole the antelope had stumbled into. He turned back to his prey. This minute distraction had been enough for the Oramos to get to its feet and once again disappear into the night. Anger welled in the hunter and growling he stalked towards the emerging man.

Ruin was struggling to comprehend what was happening. He had been hit hard on the back. That had woken him from his deathly stupor. Adrenaline coursed through his body awakening his senses, and as he squinted against the snow he saw a leather boot swing towards his face. He managed to turn his head slightly but the foot thudded soundly into his jaw knocking him backwards. He scrambled to his feet drawing Skinwalker from its scabbard with one arm and shielding his eyes with the other.

He glimpsed a dark blade arcing towards his head. He raised the poisonous blade to block, but the sheer weight of the strike knocked him backwards. Before he had a chance to react his attacker had reversed his sword and with a deft twist, Ruin saw his beloved blade spin from his hand and disappear into the gloom.

He jumped back several steps and eyed his opponent for the first time. His heart was pounding in his chest, and the primal beast within him was stirring.

You cost me my supper barked the hunter.

It looks like you have eaten your fill already growled Ruin.

The man spun with incredible speed reaching out with the massive two handed sword. The blow would have cut Ruin in two, but he managed to jump high into the air. The sword passed harmlessly beneath his feet and at the same time he brought his knee up and into the face of the hunter. As he landed, he spun, thrusting his leg outwards. The blow caught the fur clad warrior in the midriff and sent him skittling back into the snow.

As Ruin drew the demonic bone blade he felt an unnatural power surge through his veins. The tides of hardship and feelings of failure fell from him like the snow shaken from his armour. He raced forwards only to face the charging hunter coming out of the blizzard. They collided like two rutting Mantoors.

Ruin fell under the weight of his opponent. The hunter pressed his advantage and pinned Ruin's sword arm across his chest with one arm, and then dropped his elbow into his unprotected face. The bony blow opened up a deep gash above his eye. Ruin struggled to free himself and furiously moved his head to avoid further damage. The Wyrm-Blade sensed a soul and the normally modest blade morphed to find its prey. The razor sharp blade reached out and cut into the hunter's cheek as he sought to head butt Ruin. He jerked back. More shocked by the sorcerous sword than from pain. Ruin used the opening and punched up with an outstretched hand. The tips of his fingers plunged into the throat of the hunter. Clutching at his neck with both hands his adversary staggered backwards, his giant blade fell to the floor, although it was still secured by a wrist strap. Ruin leapt to his feet and charged. He hit the coughing man and they both fell backwards. Their joint momentum saw them plummet off a shallow ridge and slide down the hill behind. Ruin forced his way on the chest of the hunter and reigned down blow after blow into his covered face.

Before Ruin could press his position further they came to an abrupt stop colliding with a large boulder. Both dazed, they stood to face each other once more. Something was different. Ruin felt it beneath his feet. The ground beneath the snow where they stood was smooth, and felt like it was buckling. They both heard the creaking and then in a crescendo of snow and splinters they disappeared into the earth.

The pit they had fallen into wasn't that deep, but deep enough that a climb back to the surface would be impossible. The sides of the hole were smooth and square, whatever it was it was not a natural formation. Ruin grunted as he felt the pain in both of his legs. It was near dark. A faint glow showed a tunnel leading off from the pit, and something filling the aperture. Ruin felt around for his sword.

Your cursed blade is here came the voice from the shape in the tunnel. Ruin gingerly got to his feet and climbed down the rubble at the bottom of the shaft. The hunter kicked the bone blade towards him. You'll be needing it he added.

As Ruin bent down to pick up the sword his large opponent slung his weapon over his shoulder, and removed the wrappings around his face. He had a cut lip and blood seeping from his nose and cheek and several more cuts around his eyebrows. He offered his hand.

You fight like you are possessed said the hunter. I must admit, I have never fought anyone like you before. You can lower that sword, and take my hand as a sign of truce.

Ruin eyed the warrior. He felt warm blood trickle from the cut over his eye. As the excitement of the fight subsided his weakened body cried out to him. He pushed the Wyrm-Blade into its scabbard and clasped the man's outstretched hand.

I am Ruin.

The hunter removed his hat and hood to reveal long golden hair and an equally splendid beard. His bright blue eyes shone as he shook the moisture from his hair.

I am the fabulous Babbulous smiled the man. But you can call me Babb.

Did you give yourself that name? asked Ruin raising one eyebrow.

Babbulous chuckled.

Surely you must agree, I am the most handsome man you have ever laid eyes on? came the response.

It was Ruin's turn to laugh. Maybe. Although if I had pounded on your face for any longer, then maybe that boast would be lost to you.

True enough said Babbulous. Tell me Ruin, what were you doing buried in the snow on the foothills of Mount Oldale? You are not from Catal, nor Elohim?

I am from Pureia. I have been travelling since I was exiled. I made my way from the city of Aegis. I had intended to travel through the mountain pass into Catal.

In winter? Are you mad? asked Babbulous.

You're not the first to ask that question. Let's say I was not adequately prepared admitted Ruin. As Babbulous's eyes adjusted to the light he saw for the first time, Ruin's yellow eyes and his long canine teeth.

Are all Pureians like you? inquired Babbulous.

No, I am unique replied Ruin.

That you are my friend. I can see you have the features of a Fenwulf as well as its heart. Come we have to get out of here. I have heard too many horror stories about the warrens on this mountain. Babbulous made to leave, but Ruin placed his hand on his shoulder.

Before we go any further, I would know what brings you up into the mountains. Surely there is more suitable prey in the lower foothills. You risk much to hunt this high up?

I am sure you have your share of secrets. I too have my own. Let us just say I am not the most popular man in Catal explained Babbulous.

I can't imagine why replied Ruin smiling. "But I can respect that. In the last cycle since I landed on the shores of Elohim, my life has been a blur. I seem to have a similar knack for annoying people, even those I considered friends.

Well together we can upset the world smirked Babbulous. But before we can do that, we have to find a way out.

What is this place? asked Ruin.

I'm not sure. There are folk tales of an ancient people that sought refuge beneath the Vanguard when the world was ravaged by the Wyrms. They were known as the Skraven. I have seen a few similar pits to the one we fell down, but I have never ventured any further. Besides it is just a myth. Nothing can survive down here stated Babbulous.

Ruin nodded towards the gentle glow emanating from further down the tunnel.

But someone has left the lights on.

Ruin drew his sword. Babbulous looked nervously at the weapon.

Where did you get that thing? It's like it has a mind of its own.

That's truer than you might think. It is a living blade that not only quenches its thirst in blood but in the souls of those I kill with it. I borrowed the blade from the Arch-Mother of Phaistos, but that is a long story disclosed Ruin.

Just keep it pointed away from me instructed Babbulous.

Until that moment Ruin had forgotten about his other sword -Skinwalker. He would search for it when they got out of this place. Part of him knew that wouldn't happen. The two men made their way cautiously down the hollow. Ruin strained his eyes against the darkness making sure his steps were surefooted. If anything did still live in this subterranean world, he was reticent to meet it. As they approached the eerie green light source a chill ran down Ruin's neck.

Into the side of the tunnel a small recess had been chiselled out. Within this was growing a moss-like plant. It was this that was emitting the light, in some form of bio-luminescence.

Clever whispered Babbulous.

At that moment pain flared in Ruin's head. He dropped his sword which clattered onto the floor. He clutched his hands to his head. The magical properties of his helm were not protecting him against whatever sorcery was causing the intense discomfort. Through his watery eyes he could see Babbulous was suffering in the same way. The fur clad hunter was doubled up on the floor. Then as soon as it came the suffering ended.

Ruin breathed deeply.

The pain suddenly returned, this time however it was not so brutal, more of a pounding headache.

[Apologies. I am without Practice in your tongue, or in the ways of linking minds.]

The words simply appeared un-beckoned into Ruin's mind.

[Intrusion yes. Harm intended, I did not.]

Do you hear that? shouted Ruin. He could see by the confused look on Babbulous's face that he too had received the message.

Where is it coming from?

[Link to your minds I have. Hear your thoughts I can.]

Who are you? barked Ruin. What do you want?

[Prisoner I am. Like you.]

We are not prisoners said Babbulous still confused by what was happening.

[All in the Great Warren are prisoners. Aware you are not. Yours are the first minds in a thousand cycles, touched I have.]

A thousand cycles! Whoever it is, they have lost their mind said Babbulous.

[Mind weak. Yes. Mind lost. No.]

Dammit! exclaimed Babbulous. He can hear everything.

He is in our minds explained Ruin. I believe whatever we say or think he can understand.

[Yes. Comprehension you have.]

Tell me your name, and explain to me what exactly you want from us demanded Ruin.

[In your dialect my name is difficult. Try I will. My calling is Pyris-Haugmeningauer.]

All I heard was 'Hawg' and then some other stuff complained Babbulous.

[Hawg. Suffice it will. Time of essence. Help I need.]

"Why should we help you? asked Ruin.

This could all be a trap added Babbulous.

[Deceive I do not, help I need. In return, help you I will.]

How will you do that? questioned Ruin.

[Vast is the Great Warren. Prisoners you are. Realised you have not. Knowledge of the way out I have. I alone.]

Babbulous moved in close to Ruin and whispered.