The Rhumgold Sagas: The Witching Dimension

By Tim Conley

Felicia and her siblings are witches who have to correct an awful mistake made by a local coven. Someone found a spell that woke up the one person who should have stayed in stasis forever. Felicia has to figure out a way to permanently take care of the problem. Read & Enjoy!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tim Conley
• Release date: Aug 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005880293

Tim Conley

Hi, my name is Tim Conley. I live in Philadelphia, MS with my beautiful wife, Carmela. My son,James (JD) is in the Air Force and has a son Joshua who is 21/2 with another boy on the way. Carmela's son - Enrik just graduated from Mississippi State University with a degree in Teaching.I have been writing for over twenty years and have published 67 books so far - two recently with Amazon/Kindle. I'm currently working on a fantasy anthology of 28 books called The Rhumgold Sagas.I have always been interested in publishing via eBook format but just haven't found the venue until now. I'm really looking forward to participating in the eBook experience. There are 22 e-books available now and 16 more that are being prepared for release in 2020. Read, explore and enjoy!

Book preview

The Rhumgold Sagas:

The Witching Dimension

TIM CONLEY

Copyright © 2015 Tim Conley

Dragon’s Breath Publishing

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1-1514-6266-58

ISBN-13: 978-1-1514-6266-59

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

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

About the Author

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Other Books by Author

DEDICATION

To James (JD) Conley, my son who just took a huge step in becoming a man of his own means. His dedication to reaching for perfection in all his endeavors is an inspiration to a father. James just had his first book published – A Commentary on II Timothy and he completed a two-year college course at the Memphis School of Preaching. I am so very proud of him and what he has accomplished.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I want to acknowledge Carmela, my wife and companion, who has supported me in my quest to write all the stories in my head. Also, David Paffrath, Ron Davis and James (JD) Conley.

C1 1894 Transylvania

The horse drawn transom pulled up to a side door of a large semi-detached Greystone house and a slight figure rushed from the door to enter the cab. The man wore a dark hood that was pulled over his head. He pounded with his silver topped cane to indicate the driver was to proceed. The man said nothing to the driver, but they travelled down the cobblestones without pause.

The man sat back and pulled a fist sized watch from his waistcoat. It was after midnight when he looked from the picture of his lady love to the watch face. She had given him the watch as their pledge of eternal love to each other. It was all he had left of her love and was a source of inspiration for him.

He closed the case with a snap and returned the watch to the extra-large pocket where it resided most of the time. He looked out at the houses passing by and wondered not for the first time about the very concept of time’s passing. Mortals placed so much stock in being on time, or in time, or the passage of time. He never ceased to be amazed that they paid so much attention to something he considered an artificial construct.

The fact that it was after midnight on the morning of April 2, in the year of their Lord 1896 meant somewhat less to him than it did for all those mortals who would be able to pinpoint the date to match the macabre event that marked the highlights of the night’s activities. He was immune to the passage of time – therefore he didn’t measure it in the Lesliee mLynnr.

Derwood Russell Bruce was getting sleepy by the time the cab made it to his local address in a not too influential side of town. In fact, the address where he got out was really quite run down. The residence had a door but it didn’t close all the way. He wedged his way between the door and the jamb and turned left to descend into the basement.

His lodging for the day was tucked away into one corner. He inhaled the aroma of the earth and settled down to rest. His eyes closed as he re-considered the fact that he was going to have to change his lodging soon or the Committee of Public Safety was going to run him to ground. Anything could happen at that point. He just didn’t want to run the risk of waking up with a point through his heart.

Late evening brought a flutter to his eyes. He was erect in less than a heartbeat – listening intently to rustling that was going on upstairs. He tiptoed over to the stairs and then blended back into the shadows as a lantern on a stick was lowered into the black abyss of the underground. He waited.

Minutes passed as the intruders got up their courage. He melted further into the darkness and watched their intrusion into his sanctum. Their blue serge coats gave away their intentions and his fangs lowered as he almost hissed out his warning. With much frustration and deliberate control he suppressed his feral instinct and resolved the situation.

The two coppers didn’t recognize how close to danger they actually were. Their attention was drawn to the freshly turned earth in the side corner. They were investigating it further – under the light of the lantern as Derwood floated up the stairs and vacated the building.

It had become obvious what he was going to have to do now. Finding another place to sleep was paramount and he was rapidly running out of places to stay. He bared his fangs again – knowing that the authorities would have his latest digs staked out for some time to come.

He considered again that his time in the local area might be at a final end. He hated to move on – what with the local cuisine being so tasty and abundant.

However, it might be time to call an end to his time in Abraxea. He thought that over as he made his way across town and finally looked with longing on another of the high society soirees where the rich and influential became shit faced and stumbled along home after the party was over.

He called them fresh cows and settled down to wait for the chimes of midnight that would signal the revelry that it was time to return to the solace of home. Only he knew that one or two would not make it tonight.

But he didn’t account for the hounds from hell who had been released by the local constabulary. They were taking no chances after the recent spate of murders that had taken place. Derwood climbed down from his perch, hissed once and hurried through the night. He would have to go hungry tonight unless he just ran into something that couldn’t get out of his way.

C2 The Birth of a Witch

It was back in eighteen nineteen when Derwood was turned. Horrible death really. Back in the eighteen-hundreds there were witch and vampire burnings. Derwood so happened to be among those people who hunted the witches and vampires.

It was January 20, 1819. They had a suspect in the village who they thought was a witch. Derwood for once found an actual vampire – not the false humans he claimed were vampires or witches. He was trying to fight it down, but it was so strong against his human strength. They exchanged a few blows. The vampire knocked Derwood off of his feet.

Then the vampire lowered himself to Derwood and gave him a single bite on his neck. The vampire heard many people coming his way, so he fled. That was a surprise. Never before had Derwood heard of a vampire fleeing blood. And human blood at that.

Derwood lay there withering in pain for days as the transformation took place. He couldn’t scream out because the villagers might hear him and burn him at the stake. He couldn’t do anything but wait.

Finally, when it ended, he got to his feet and he fled the village for good. Derwood knew he could not stay there. He also felt different. He felt powerful, immortal, stronger, and he felt a burning sensation in his throat that he knew he must get rid of… he knew how to do that.

But he didn’t want to be the monsters he once hunted. His conscience hurt him terribly. He had murdered so many innocent lives. So, he tried to kill himself. He tried to drown himself first but came to discover that vampires can breathe indefinitely.

He tried to slit his throat but came to find out that ordinary knives can no longer penetrate his skin. He tried to starve himself to death but only succumbed to the thirst and burning in his throat. It only worsened until the very thought of it drove him mad.

He determined to stay away from humans, so he stayed in the woods for a long while. He only fed on the blood of humans when most needed and only those who deserved it. Murderers, rapists, and thieves.

And over his time, he came to learn he could control the four elements. Water, Earth, Fire, and Air were his to manipulate. The feeble minds of his prey even more so. In time he came to accept the facts as they stood. He was both a vampire and a witch. He could control the elements of nature like any witch. He could bend the minds of men like a vampire.

His travels took him from place to place. Staying in one place too long was dangerous to his health – even after the witch trials were completed. People would start to notice he was different. Very different from other humans. Then he had to move on. He couldn’t afford to be lax when it came to the tell-tale signs that meant the world at large had noticed him.

Philadelphia was just the latest location on a new journey to start all over again. Derwood sighed as he stepped down off the Trailways bus and surveyed a street that seemed just like so many others that he had walked in his career.

He could smell the putrid flesh the humans called hamburgers as they sizzled on a grill across the street. He almost retched as the odor hit his nostrils full force. There was no blood in any human food that he had found. The cloying smell lingered on the back of his tongue for more blocks than he wanted to consider.

Finally, he arrived at an old boarding house that had a FOR RENT sign in the window. The place looked run down – like the neighborhood. He decided it would do and mounted the steps up to the porch. An elderly woman answered the door.

Hello madam. My name is Ben Johansen and I was wondering if the room is still to let.

Mrs. Bailey looked him up and down and he appeared to be on the up and up. Probably wasn’t a mass murderer or anything like that. But she couldn’t be too careful.