Tales of Blood and Bones Book 1: The Seven Trials of Constable Tarthadius

By Nathan Wells

In the early 12th century, the world enjoys its Fourth Age of Magic. Seas churn at the flick of a wrist and the dead rise from the ground at a beckoned call. Monsters stalk the land and demons lie in wait in every shadow. In the waning years of such an age, two sibling sorcerers and each of their fanatical armies vie for control over the planet. Constable Tarthadius seeks out the power to turn the tides of war and send the world into an Endless Age in one fell swoop. Such a power, he suspects, lies within The Grand Hall of Iniquity, the world's most well kept secret. Inside are held captured horrors, feral nightmares, and the darkest of arcane artifacts pilfered from every corner of the globe. Getting inside is the hard part. Finding want you want is even harder. And getting out is next to impossible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 7, 2019
• ISBN: 9780359644759

Nathan Wells

Nate Wells was born in New Orleans, LA in 1989. He spent most of his childhood in school, his local church and community group, and with his family. He moved to Baton Rouge, LA after Hurricane Katrina devastated his neighborhood. His desire to fly airplanes and serve inspired him to apply for the U.S.A.F Academy. He was accepted and entered the Academy in 2007. This first publication is a culmination of all those experiences.

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Tales of Blood and Bones Book 1: The Seven Trials of Constable Tarthadius

Tales of Blood and Bones Book 1:The Seven Trials of Constable Tarthadius.

Copyright © 2019 by Nathan D Wells

ISBN 978-0-359-64475-9

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

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~1. Jordy's Barn~

Autumn, y1132 AD

It was as average of a cold, bleak morning on a hapless countryside in France as there ever was. Jordy Grivvitch was as average of an old man as you could find, considering the times. He was old, but not wizened and he had little he was willing to offer the world in the time he had left. As a former scholar, he had retired and settled down in a remodeled barn that he had bought from the land owners several years ago, shortly after his wife passed away. He needed a fresh start, so he packed his scrolls and books and headed off to find a home, which would soon be his fresh end, he hoped. The barn was lonesome on the land, no longer having a farmhouse or fields to keep it company, lost to fires ages ago. It was just outside a small village, which suited Jordy just fine. Jordy popped into town and helped the people with the knowledge and skills he had acquired through many decades of translating, copying, and formulating. He earned enough coins to feed himself for the next few days and no more. All he could ask for was peace and quiet in his remaining years, but the universe is never so understanding in these matters, especially if one worked so closely with the Dark Arts.

Jordy was certainly no sorcerer, though he did own a small magical creature known as a toy cockatrice, but he had worked near and with sorcerers for most of his life. His dealing with the strange and otherworldly would come back to haunt him in due time.

Jordy Grivvitch hopped out of bed, which is to say he dragged himself out from the blankets as if he had heavy chains clasped to every joint in his body. Noticing the man's departure from sleep, the toy cockatrice hopped up from its small feather pillow on the ground and climbed up a wooden perch in the makeshift kitchen. It was a small tuft of a creature. It was the size of a house cat and shaped like a lumpy potato. The toy cockatrice was more chick than chicken, being covered in a fluffy, appealing down of cream colored feathers. Its beak was stout and rounded and it had two sets of clawed feet that it used to clamber up the perch. It splayed its useless, flightless wings as balance. The bottom half of its body was comprised of a fat, scaly snake tail. The tail was green and leathery, with rounded nubs going along the ridge of the spine. This provided the animal its primary mode of locomotion, slithering forward and using its feet only when making sharp turns. When inert, the short chicken feet curled up against its fluffy chest. 

Now this cockatrice was not the giant lethal chicken monster that stalked abandoned castles and thick, grimy forests. It was a special, tiny variety that groups of Chimera Crafters created ages ago to make them more people friendly and less lethal. The main difference being that it could not paralyze a foe into solid rock with a single gaze. Breeding out that feature of the miniature beast proved incredibly complicated, therefore the solution became to breed them to be born without eyes. It was a simple fix, really. The toy cockatrice breed flicked a snake tongue out from its beak to sense the thermal readings around it, for sight.

Good morning, Faucet, he croaked to the furry chimera. Whenever he was questioned on why he named his pet Faucet he would never say exactly why and then avoid further questions. Faucet peeped happily and began to hiss contently. It clasped the perch with its talons and wrapped the long tail around the base. The perch was positioned directly above a frying pan which sat on a tiny wooden table, just big enough to hold the iron cookware. As soon as Jordy grasped the handle the base of the pan started heating up.

Good girl he said to the gently hissing cockatrice. How many eggs do you have for me this morning? He tickled an area on its chest and Faucet clucked with joy. Faucet's body quivered and somehow laid an egg the size of its own body, directly into the magically charmed skillet. The shell cracked open upon hitting the surface and released several eggs worth of material. The shell fragments dissolved into a greasy substance as the eggs began to cook. Jordy counted seven yolks total and whistled in appreciation.

Wow! he exclaimed. Somebody likes the new corn meal don't they?

Faucet clucked happily. Jordy grabbed a handful of corn meal from a sack on the ground without letting go of the skillet. He raised the meal up to the bird, who gladly ate away at it, careful not to peck Jordy; its master and protector. The eggs were nearly done, the whites turning opaque, and he savored the smell that filled the entire barn. He stood and enjoyed the ambiance; the sizzling of the eggs as he shuffled them in the skillet and of Faucet pecking away at the corn meal.

But that's odd he thought. That's all I can hear. Normally there would be the sounds of birds screaming in the trees and the bustle of the town to create their own music for him. The outside world was empty. A wave of uneasiness took him over and trampled his decent morning, so soon after it began. A series of knocks on the door did nothing to calm his nerves. The large barn doors, having long since been sealed indefinitely, were replaced as the entrance by a small, cheaply made, wooden door placed off to the corner of the structure. He never had visitors, had no living relatives, and the village folk always left him be. There was nobody that would normally ever be knocking on his door. Jordy, against his gut feeling, walked over to answer it. He wrenched the door open and his whole world fell apart as he saw who it was. It was Constable Tarthadius: the most dangerous sorcerer who had ever walked the Earth.

All happiness and contentment drained from Jordy's body as he stared face to face into the horrible eyes and maliciously grinning face of Constable. His eyes were completely black with thin yellow irises. His face was a deathly gray, with skin unnaturally shrunk to his skull and veins. His whole body was completely hairless and above his head, sprouting just above the ears, were curving horns of black and orange. They curved sideways three times before ending in points which faced each other, two feet above his scalp. He looked sickly, like a corpse, but had the energy in his voice and movement of a man still enjoying his youth.

Constable dressed more modestly than other sorcerers of the time. Gold and gems meant nothing to a man like Constable, who bore true power and emanated raw chaos. He dawned black robe ends, so dark that they seemed to beat away any light that shone on them, tightened halfway up from his chest and secured with a large dark purple belt at his waist. The robes pooled at his feet and trailed behind him. Over the robes he wore the upper half of a completely separate gray robe, cutting off above his hips in front and flowing down longer in the back. It was wide rimmed on the neck and loose fitting, especially on the arms. Purple banded patterns on the chest of the robes curved around the sides and met up vertically on the back on the neck. Across them were stitched runic symbols with golden thread. He wore tight black sleeved gloves, ending underneath the upper robes, which wrapped around his thumb and wrist and made his arms look like deathly charred limbs. His hands were just as bony, hairless, and meatless as the rest of his body. But more shocking than anything was seeing how short Constable was. The tales of the infamous sorcerer had him standing at 15, sometimes 20 feet tall, an uncanny monster of a man. But the unmistakable horns told him this was indeed Constable Tarthadius, though he was barely over five and a half feet tall from his feet to his scalp.

Hello Mr. Grivvitch. Constable said with a powerfully sneering voice which contradicted his appearance. I've come to- but Jordy slammed the door in his face in sheer panic. Jordy backed away from the door, overwhelmed with shock. This was the least likely thing that could ever happen in the history of history. Jordy was the complete opposite of somebody important and Constable was arguably the most important person in the world right now, what with the war of his demons and sorcerer cultists against the Angellicae Guard of Ewan Tarthadius.

The knocking commenced and Jordy froze still, sputtering things like impossible! and not today of all days! as if any other day would any better to have a deranged and terrifying sorcerer walk up to his house.

I SAID 'KNOCK, KNOCK'! Constable yelled from behind the door in a booming voice.

Komme tillja mig, mino slivere kroarhghandskeer! The oddly inflected incantation echoed through the mostly empty barn and Jordy knew it meant trouble, though he had no idea what would happen next. No Dark Arts performed by Constable Tarthadius ever brought joy and sunshine to anyone.

Golden claw tips smashed through the door with the sound of splintering wood. Faucet squawked in alarm from the noise. The claws gripped the other side of the door and yanked it off the building, as the sound of chains rattled outside. The door was ripped in two and tossed to both sides. Jordy could see now that Constable had stepped (or teleported?) several meters back and unleashed what even Jordy recognized as the Hammazeir's Hands. The Hammazeir's Hands were huge silver gauntlets with golden knuckles and golden clawed fingers. A circular plate was bolted into the base where slightly rusted metal chains hooked into and snaked down through the air and into swirling purple portals positioning themselves fixed above Constable's shoulders. These gauntlets were unique in that they bridged the gaps between the already blurred definitions of the different branches of established Dark Arts. They were charmed objects, inhabited by and embedded with twin sister demons that were summoned by channeling arts. The right hand was possessed by Ermagreen Hammazeir and the left was Fallor Hammazeir. Constable had complete control over both of them.

Constable was floating several feet above the ground supported by his robes which had grown a strength in them as if they were another appendage. Constable rushed forward by the slithering robes, in a most unsettling manner. The gauntlets flailed behind him as he rushed forward, propelled by the charmed robes. Just before reaching the threshold, he ducked down and guided his cumbersome horns through the doorway, facing forward in a way that reminded Jordy of a rhinoceros beetle. In a smooth motion, he swung into the barn, the chained gauntlets following suit and rearing up threateningly behind him. Constable's sharp tipped horns scraped against the rafters as he drew the robes up as high and menacingly as he could manage. The clawed gauntlets hung in the air, waving their faintly rattling chains behind them.  The demons possessing them twitched their fingers, hungry for some impending violence. It was like their metal thirsted to get slathered in blood.

It's not polite to ignore your guests, Mr. Grivvitch. Constable sneered, as he activated his Shadow-man's Grasp sleeves. The blackened sleeve gloves were charmed in a similar fashion as his lower robes. An inky black substance poured out from the fabric, at a single thought from their owner, and grew into elongated wavy arms with long square fingers. They bent through the air like slimy black worms and touched down to the floor with the blocky animated hands. The floorboards groaned as his right arm was forced down on its palm, and the left arm crashed haphazardly into an unlucky table which exploded into splinters upon impact. Faucet scampered away and hid behind his trusty corn meal sack that had never brought it anything but happy feelings and full bellies. Nuts to this noisy intruder. The protector could handle himself, Faucet concluded.

Supported by the long shadowy arms, Constable leaned forward and bore down on Jordy. The man quivered and his legs gave out beneath him.

W-w-what could you possibly need with me? I'm nobody! he yelled to the amorphous sorcerer that was towering over him.

Constable couldn't help but have good humor at that comment.

"You couldn't be more right 'soulless', he said the word as if it were an offensive slur which, for sorcerers, it was. You don't have a single bit of magic in you whatsoever, which makes you little more than a sack of animated meat. But right now, thank the stars you're a USEFUL sack of animated meat. Tell me where to find the Grand Hall of Iniquity."

Jordy's old eyes glimmered for a second, but he feigned ignorance immediately.

I've never even heard of such a place! I'm just an old man, surely you understand. Jordy pleaded.

In an unanticipated move, Constable withdrew his Shadow-man's Grasps, lowered his robes, dispelled the Hammazeir's Hands, and turned to walk out the open threshold where a door used to be.

Oh, I see. Apologies for the misunderstanding sir. Sorry for having wasted your time this morning. he waved an apologetic hand over his shoulder.

Jordy was properly puzzled by this and he dared to allow relief to calm him. Then, Constable whirled around on his robes and launched a Shadow-Man's Grasp at Jordy's chest. The palm forced him against the wall then wrapped itself around his body like a boa constrictor. The free hand wedged its fingers around Jordy's neck. Constable hoisted him into the air and knocked his head against a solid rafter. Jordy attempted a yell of pain but nothing came out with the solid inky hand currently crushing his wind pipe.

I don't even NEED my special eyes to see that feeble excuse of a lie. Constable knocked Jordy against the ceiling again, but released his grip on the man's neck, so he could hear the resulting scream. Do you think I would have tracked you down, come all the way out here, and set up a field silence if I didn't know who you were?

He flung poor Jordy into a nearby solid oak chair. The chair stayed together, but a portion of the frail man's spine shattered from the impact. He screamed in pain at the gash on the top of his head and his newly snapped back. He slumped in the chair and continued screaming, this time about how he couldn't feel his arms or legs. Constable rolled his glowing eyes and tried to remember a flesh knitting and bone repairing incantation. It had been many decades since he'd needed regular aid of a spell that reversed damage and misery instead of inflicting it.

Dehn harrum mannon tillgon sin tidigarde halsia! Constable blandly stated aloud. A faint white light glowed in between his two tall horns and transformed in to white strips, like cloth, that floated down to a broken and sobbing Jordy Grivvitch. The strips of light gently caressed his head and spine, wrapping around him until absorbing into his flesh. The wound on his head closed up and healed without even a scar left to tell of it. His broken vertebrae were pushed back into place and the bone and nerves were returned to the way they once were. Constable seemed impatient about the entire deal.

Jordy, now no longer paralyzed nor suffering a mild concussion, clutched the oak chair with a new but more intense fear of the sorcerer standing in front of him. Constable returned his arm to normal and bore down on Jordy.

This can all be so much less unpleasant if you would cooperate. But know that I will leave this pathetic hovel with the information I want. I need to get into the Hall of Iniquity soon, if not tonight. Believe me. I'll know when you're lying.

Constable shut one eye and pointed the open one directly at Jordy, leaning in for effect. Jordy could see crackles of electricity in the yellow iris and faint smolders of fire resting in the black. A thought shot through his mind regarding how he was probably the only person alive who could truthfully claim to have witnessed that much detail on this deranged lunatic of a sorcerer. For how much longer? That remained entirely uncertain. Jordy had to be crafty.

What makes you think I know anything of this place, much less where it is? This was a question, therefore could not be a lie.

I've done my genealogy homework, stupid man. Stupid THING. I know for a fact that your grandfather sealed it up and hid it, and that you inherited the information. Jordy didn't dare deny that. Constable knew those facts just as well as himself.

What do you want with the Hall that may or may not even exist? Jordy asked meekly. Constable grunted.

There is allegedly an object that was placed there whose properties I have no hope of replicating. 'Burtraend's Confines'. Have you ever heard of a genie?

Jordy felt a chill. Of course he knew what genies were from old fairy tales and stories, but even in the fantastic world of magic and Dark Arts, such creatures were still considered fantasy. The very idea of Constable Tarthadius getting a hold of ultimate power, even for a moment, was terrifying beyond all reason.

But.. you can't possibly think there is a genie living somewhere in the Hall of-

Oh but I CAN possibly think. I know how it sounds, hence why I am here alone and why there is not a hoard of my Elitists currently shifting through your mind to DRAG the information out of you. I've read multiple reports and logs of the Hall's contents before it was shut down and sealed. A team came across a bizarre jug whose purpose could not be determined, yet it emanated such raw power that there was a unanimous vote to seal it away along with everything else. Multiple reports from different parties confirms this much. I have cross referenced the details described of this jug to written accounts surrounding existing legends of humans wielding the endless power of genies and their confines. They must be the same item.

Jordy shifted to become more comfortable, for what little good that did, and swallowed hard.

Certainly a powerful sorcerer such as yourself has no use for wishes to be granted. Genies are a construct of weak, soulless humans who could only dream of having the power of a man like you. This statement was mostly opinion, and opinion that Jordy believed truthfully enough at that, so Constable couldn't detect any dishonesty there. Jordy was clearly just kissing up to his captor, but Constable was not the kind of person to chastise anyone for doing such.

It may be difficult for you to comprehend, but there are things that I am incapable of doing. Things I am fundamentally incapable of altering. These are end times, here, Jordy. My war may not stretch all the way out here to your tiny village, but it’s reaching a crescendo that could bring everything I've worked towards to ruin, whether I come out the victor or not. The only way I can come out on top here is with the theoretical power of a demon genie. If I'm wrong and there isn't one, nobody has to know and I won't have to suffer any embarrassment.

Constable leaned in for more effect and continued. Jordy scooted back in the chair as far as he possibly could, which was not very much at all.

But if I'm right, I can turn this burning garbage heap of a world back on the track it should be on. Sink your teeth into that while you start telling me what I need to know.

Jordy was beside himself. If he chose to abed Constable in this endeavor and it resulted in Constable's complete conquest of the world, or whatever the crazed man was going on about, what kind of human being would he be, betraying mankind? He sought to stall. It was the only power he had over Constable right now. He chose his words carefully, down to the last syllable.

Nobody knows for sure where the Hall of Iniquity is, you see? Even I am not completely certain. he managed to say with moderate confidence. This was a technical truth and, from the look Jordy could see on Constable's face, it succeeded in not setting off his bizarre method of lie detecting. Constable displayed a look of mild confusion and annoyance at Jordy's answer. Jordy thought he was in the clear now. He thought wrong if he thought outsmarting Constable Tarthadius was anywhere near that easy.

Even if that is true... Constable whipped back.

Which it is! Jordy frantically replied.

EVEN so. You're using much too specific words like 'sure' and 'certain'. All that tells me is that if you weren't left with an exact location then you were left with a means of finding it, correct?

NO! Jordy yelled.

LIAR!!! Constable screamed back as his lower robes exploded into a sea of inky muck, ending in a dozen thick, jagged spider legs the trampled the ground noisily. The barn shook and threatened to fall apart around them. Jordy slapped his hands to his ears and nearly burst out into tears of horror.

Alright! Alright! I can find it!

Constable smiled smugly and returned his robes to their original state, sucking up the inky mass and legs into them as if they were being drawn down a whirlpool.

Much better, Mr. Grivvitch. Much better. Constable said. He stepped back and stood over the shattered remains of the dinner table. He gestured his arms up around the spacious area. Go right ahead. Find whatever it is you need to find

Jordy hesitated but decided to speak when he saw a pang of impatience flare up on Constable's face.

Well... It is not... here. Jordy managed to say.

Constable found this statement to be true. He nearly responded with asking where in the world this item could possibly be, in that case, but he saw through Jordy's word games.

'Here' is a relative term. If you meant it is not in your current and immediate possession then I suppose that would be true enough. Now I suggest you stop STALLING before I become flustered. Is it in this house somewhere? Answer me!

Jordy bit his tongue but it was no use. This was a yes or no question. He answered in defeat. Yes. It is.

Constable gestured impatiently. Retrieve it!

Jordy shuffled over to a worn out chest at the other end of the barn. Each step felt like his feet were made of cement, feeling Constable's gaze burn right through him. Every one of his muscles screamed at him not to turn his back to the sorcerer, but Jordy had little choice. Time seemed to slow down as he opened the trunk, shifted through old blankets and coats, and finally pulled out an old map. It appeared frayed and torn, when it was, in actuality, sturdier and more durable than a sheet of iron. He turned around towards Constable, who immediately snatched the map from his hands with the jet black extended hands.

What a foolish map. Constable stated while looking it over. It had crude outlines of continents and rivers with more detailed topographies of mountains and ravines and fields. In the open spaces on the corners of the parchments were notes written in a dead language. 'The Known World' eh? Ha! This barely constitutes a fraction of the world's enormity. Laughable.

He glanced up slightly from the map to glare at Jordy accusingly. I see no indication of any Hall of any kind, here.

Oh! I have to do something to it... if I remember how... Jordy quickly responded.

Constable immediately enchanted the map the fold itself into an aerodynamic shape and fly itself over to Jordy, where its pointed end stuck fast in his forehead. Jordy moaned pathetically as he pulled the map out, which promptly unfolded itself to its original shape in his hand. A single drop of blood bubbled out from where the map hit him. Jordy held it promptly, intent on placing on his table, only to look up and his tormentor standing on its remains. He looked around for another flat surface but Constable was growing less and less patient.

Oh for Nether's sake! Constable cried as he stepped off of the shattered boards and splinters. He pointed a gnarled finger at the mess and prepared to perform some chronomancy. This was a skill that didn't require any ingredients or incantations or sacrifices. Constable was a pro at manipulating time just enough to be useful but not having to worry about disrupting the natural time flow or creating any irritating paradoxes. He conditioned his mind and communicated to the broken table through his chronomancy. If put into words, what he said to the table would be something like The time frame of the last few minutes, since you have been demolished, were mistakenly flowing the wrong direction. You must correct this by reversing anything done to yourself in that period of time. This would essentially trick the matter into reversing properly. The table, having fallen for this trick, perfectly reversed its destruction and put itself back together in the complete opposite fashion that it had been crushed by Constable. Once the table had been expertly reconstructed, he nodded to Jordy wordlessly.

Jordy hesitantly set the map down on the new surface and placed his hands on the sides of the paper.

I... I... Jordy stuttered, I... can't do it!

Constable scowled. Yes you can! he said without a single ounce of the motivation that the statement typically came with.

I mean I... won't do it! Jordy said as he looked up with enough confidence to render his statement irrevocably true. Constable crossed his arms, huffed, and pondered this. Jordy suddenly feared for his life again, but he held his stance.

I will not aid you in whatever terrors you hope to unleash! It's my duty as the last holder of this map and as a human being. Sorcerers like you were the reason the Hall was created and eventually hidden forever. To keep maniacs from getting a hold of anything in there! Jordy pushed out the words frantically, afraid his courage and nobility would subside and fear would take over again to clamp his mouth shut, as it definitely did several seconds later. Constable's eye twitched in contained anger.

Is that so? Then I'll...

Suddenly, the Hammazeir Hands burst from their portals, now positioned on the floor at Constable's feet. The left gauntlet careened at Jordy with its index claw curved upwards, as if beckoning. The clawed tip hit Jordy's midsection, at the waist, so quickly that the man didn't have