The Turning Blades

By J.D.K. Elliott

A shadow hangs over the lands of Kosmaïa, as years of hard won peace are threatened by something sinister in the Desch Mountains. Unable to convince world leaders to respond to the threat without proof, hardened warrior Kaiden is forced to put together a group of elite warriors to enter the mountains to determine the danger that waits there. Twists and turns will lead this group of warriors down paths that lead to dangers that they could never have imagined, and an evil that surpassed Kaiden's greatest fears. Josh Elliott was born and raised in the small, largely forgotten province of New Brunswick, but now lives in the bustling metropolis of Picton Ontario (look it up if you don’t get the joke.) Josh fell in love with fiction at a young age, and has refused to grow up since. He’s a new comer to the world of finishing novels, but a lifelong writer at heart. He enjoys comic books, punk rock music, epic fantasy and long walks on the beach.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Jun 15, 2017
• ISBN: 9781483469416

Book preview

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Prelude

A Dangerous Road

Sokkona sat huddled by the fire with his wife and child, pulling his cloak tight against his shoulders to ward off the cold wind blowing through the Mountain pass. He looked up at the sheer rock faces on either side of them, cold and opposing against the small family. He felt so temporary and unimportant against the timeless rocks. These stood in contrast to the winding and worn path that formed naturally between them. At points thin enough for the family to struggle to bring their cattle through, but wide enough here to make a fire and give their feet and their animals a rest. He sat upon a cold hard stone that had already made him sore. His feet were no better off, his boots feeling tight and uncomfortable after a full days walk.

He rubbed his calloused hands together anxiously, running their plans through his mind once more. The prospect of moving his entire family from Fardael to find their own farmland had been one they had not come easily to. After many stressful conversations with his wife Taren they had decided they could no longer remain just farm hands and sustain their growing family.

His wife sat with his young son Sokken on the other side of the fire chatting and laughing. Taren was telling Sokken about the time when Sokkona was courting her and fell off his horse in the mud. It did Sokkona’s heart well to hear their joyful laughter.

You should have seen him! Taren said between laughs with her soft sweet voice, He stood up and shook it off and tried to pretend nothing happened! He just grabbed the reigns and hopped back on his horse! She glanced over at him with a smile, and then I looked at him and I couldn’t hold it in any more, I just started laughing at him sitting up so straight and serious on that horse covered in mud from head to toe! Then he looked back at me with a smile on his face and began to laugh himself! That my son is when I knew that this man was worthy of my love She smirked at Sokkona, warming his heart.

He remembered that day too. Her wide laughing smile and her messy brown hair bouncing on her shoulders. She refused to put her hair up if ever she could avoid it. She always told him that it was an expression of who she was. That her hair should be as free as she felt. He was beginning to see the signs of life wearing on her skin, but there was a new kind of beauty to his wife, the beauty of the familiar. The beauty of knowing someone so completely.

Sokken was the expression of the two of them together, with his wife’s free spirit, but already showing the hard working attitude of his father even in his adolescence. He also had his father’s looks, dark hair and light blue eyes. His son had also worked with him in the stables, and Sokkona had been teaching him as much as he could to prepare him for the new responsibility of running their own small farm. It was a long and difficult journey ahead of them, and Sokkona knew it would likely be generations before their hard work truly began to pay off.

The troubled father looked down the path that was still ahead of them, growing tense with worry once more. He wondered if this was the right thing to do to his wife and child. Was the freedom worth the risk? Should he have stayed in his homeland where it was safe and he knew his place? He had worried only a little while when a soft touch met his shoulder, startling him out of his distant stare.

Dear, the sun has almost set, and we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Perhaps we should make camp here for the night and get some rest so that we can get an early start tomorrow. His wife told him, with a kind smile on her face. Besides, perhaps you’ll worry less in your sleep, she said knowingly.

You’re right he said with a sigh as he stood to his feet, Let’s pitch our tent quickly, my tired bones are ready for some sleep! The family quickly finished the familiar ritual of putting together their tent for a nights rest. As they climbed back into their humble bedrolls, Sokkona’s mind went back to worry. He laid awake for most of the night, his love asleep with her head lying softly on his chest, his pride sleeping peacefully a few feet away. After what seemed like countless hours, Sokkona fell asleep watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his son’s chest.

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Sokkona awoke suddenly and forcefully from his sleep to the sound of his tent being torn from the ground and tossed aside. Before his eyes even had a chance to adjust Sokkona grasped at the sword he had placed by his bedside. A heavy boot came down hard on his arm sending severe pain coursing through him,jarring him to wakefulness.

Standing above him was the hideous scarred face of a desch. The deschwere each born with disfiguring scars all over their features to mark them to everyone they met. The ruined tent was surrounded by at least a dozen of them, with raised swords and smug grins. Sokkona heard squeals of anguish as some of them buried their blades into the cattle that they had worked so hard to bring from Fardael. Blood splashed the dirt and seeped from beneath the poor creatures as they went silent.

HA! Looks like it’s our lucky night! The foul creature standing on his arm said to his comrades. I was getting so bored with no one foolish enough to come through the mountains. Looks like we have us some play things, He spread his teeth in a nasty smile that spread from cheek to cheek. Sokkona’s stomach twisted with anger and disgust.

Suddenly Sokkona felt them pulling his wife from his arms, and he grabbed her with his free hand as hard as he could. She looked at him with panic in her deep brown eyes as the Desch pulled her with great force. Sokkona felt a strength like he never had before, all of his love and adrenaline working to give him enough power to counter the two desch that now pulled against him.

Hope left him, and his heart dropped in his chest as a third desch brought down his sword on Taren’s arm. The sickening sound of the blade cutting through flesh and breaking bone resounded in Sokkona’s ears, a sound that would be forever in his mind. Taren’s severed hand went limp in his own, and he dropped it to the ground. For a moment Taren simply looked at the blood gushing everywhere with shock, until finally she screamed in pain.

The desch standing on Sokkona’s arm moved his foot and lifted Sokkona to his knees. The other desch did the same to Taren and Sokken. One of themstruck Taren’s face with the back of his hand, crying silence! Taren obeyed. She began to softly weep, her eyes closed, and blood all over her night clothes.

Well, well. How should we punish this man for being foolish enough to bring his family through our mountains? The desch behind him asked his men.

Kill him and his stinking family! One of the desch cried.

I say we keep him! I haven’t tortured anyone in ages! Another responded.

Yeah! We’ll make him watch and then keep him later for fun! A third desch said with a sneer on his twisted face.

Sokkona’s heart pounded as he watched the desch laugh and sneer at the prospect of torturing his beloved family. He couldn’t sit by and let this happen. Inside he felt the struggle between his desire to do anything he could to save his family, and his knowledge that he was far too weak to prevail against them. He took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes.

Sokkona found his courage again, and with as much force as he could threw his head back against the desch who was holding him, causing him to let go. Pain flooded his head and blurred his eyes, but driven by anger and desperation Sokkona reached for the sword sheathed at the desch’s side. Sokkona was thrown onto his back as the much faster trained warrior struck him in the stomach forcefully with his knee.

You disgusting little swine! You’re only calling down more wrath on yourself! Now sit and watch, this will be the last thing yourstinkin’ eyes will see! The head desch cried out in bitter anger. Restrain him! He called to his subordinates.

The desch held him tight, holding his eyes wide open as they forced his wife and son to their knees in front of them. Sokkona felt his mind go numb and reality seem to fade around him as the blades of the scarred creatures sliced through the throat of his wife, her blood pouring out on the ground in front of him. He heard his son cry out in a scream of anguish before the hateful desch repeated the same to him. As Sokken fell dead to the ground, suddenly a blade was forced into Sokkona’s eyes, as he heard himself scream as an unbelievable pain flooded all of his senses.

All was red, and soon faded to black. Sokkona felt the world begin to slip away as he lost consciousness. His mind flooded with pain, anguish and terror. He could no longer make sense of the world around him. As the Desch dragged him away, Sokkona felt one last powerful emotion for his beloved wife and son: envy.

Chapter One

A Team Assembles

T he wind swept the fallen leaves across the coarse dirt roads of town as Rakahn gracefully dismounted his horse. Before him stood a weathered building, standing as a somber testament to the value of tradition and legacy held in the small village of Evandale. The crimson sunset only served to intensify the feeling of timeless charm of the Tradesman Inn.

It was with a subtle feeling of regret that Rakahn hitched his horse to the post and approached the open door. Though met immediately with the din of a busy tavern at the beginning of their peak hours, Rakahn was hesitant to enter. He had relished the freedom of the open sky the last few nights. It had been many years since he had left the kings side in the walled city of Tarmenveil, so long that he had forgotten the quiet peace of the forest at night. So long that he had forgotten the relief and joy of successfully hunting the day’s meal, and the raw and beautiful taste of meat cooked with naught but salt over an open fire.

Still he could not forget the reason he had been sent on this three day journey to this smoky tavern. The king had sent him as a representative to this meeting, and he intended to serve his king well. King Aragill, since claiming his throne in the heat of the war, had served with a quiet ferocity tempered by wisdom that none could help but admire. He had done much to rebuild the kingdom of men, and had thus earned the loyalty of those who served him, especially Rakahn.

Rakahn’s senses were assaulted upon entering the crowded inn. Despite the relatively small size of Evandale, it was situated in the middle of four highly travelled trade routes, making their inn one of the most prosperous in the land. This prosperity only increased now that there was a pervasive peace all around. His ears were battered by noise, from the older tired men in the corners talking loudly over the rabble and rolling their eyes, to the young men bellowing drinking songs from the tops of tables. The aroma of smoke from the many smoking pipes scattered throughout the room met his nose with a potent but pleasant smell.

Waiters and waitresses busily scurried throughout the room distributing drinks at a harried speed. The room was beginning to fill with soft light from the oil lanterns placed along the wall, just being lit in anticipation of the coming dark of night. In front of Rakahn was a dark and worn chest high desk covered with paperwork strewn about haphazardly. Behind this stood a broad-chested man with tired eyes, but a wide smile across his face.

Evening good sir! How can this humble innkeeper serve you this fine evening? You’ve got the look of a traveler about ya! We have a few rooms left this evening, shall I prepare you one while I have someone fetch ya some ale? He said with endearing warmth.

Prepare me a room for the night, Rakahn said, smiling politely at the man as he placed gold pennies on the desk in front of him. Could you take me to Kaiden? I was summoned to meet with him this evening, and I am loath to keep him waiting.

The man nodded appreciatively and pointed Rakahn to a doorway on the far left wall, across the smattering of small tables throughout the open dining hall. Rakahn thanked the man and began to weave his way across the crowded room. Most accommodated him pleasantly, while still others shot him glances of depreciation as he disturbed their revelry.

After emerging triumphantly out of the other side of the crowd, Rakahn pulled open the door to a much different atmosphere. Smoke trailed into the otherwise smokeless room through the door as he opened it, turning the heads of those present. Before him was a long table, set with candles and adorned with fine centrepieces. On the far end of the table to his right sat an aged man dressed in full plate armor, worn and dented in places with a subtle black cape hanging from his rigid shoulders. The man sat straight with his hands clasped together on the table in front of him, his face holding a rigid and determined look as he gazed at the newcomer.

Hail, stranger The man said in a rough and deep voice. Do you come invited, or have you come to disturb our meeting? He eyed Rakahn suspiciously, awaiting an answer.

I come by the invitation of King Aragill himself, Rakahn said, reaching into his cloak and producing a letter, are you Kaiden?

Indeed I am, he replied, his expression unwavering, take your seat and we can get this meeting started. Kaiden motioned toward the only open chair at the table.

Rakahn quickly surveyed the diverse group seated at the table before him. At Kaiden’s right hand sat a magi in deep blue robes. His eyes were half shut seemingly as an attempt to exude an air of wisdom and sophistication. This was exacerbated as he lifted his hand and stroked his bare chin. His skin was dark like all of the members of the magi race, and his eyes glimmered like gemstones in contrast, even in the dimly lit room.

Across from the magi sat a man that Rakahn could swear he recognized from the royal courts. He remembered King Aragill mentioning something about sending a Lord. This Lord sat adorned in a fine purple robe with gold filaments adorning their edges. Beneath this he wore a pale blue tunic of equal finery. He held his head high, displaying his well groomed beard proudly, which matched his deep brown hair. He took a hearty swig of his ale, keeping his shoulders square and confident.

There sat beside him another magi, this one wearing a wide eyed look of excitement across his bright features. His eyes seemed to dart around at his fellow guests, as if trying to take them all in at once. This magi wore on his shoulders a deep brown cloak, which bore the mark of a crimson hand on the right shoulder. Another magi, this one female, wore a matching cloak, as did yet another male magi to the right of the seat Rakahn was asked to take.

At the end of the table, on the opposite side of Rakahn sat a dweller, his shoulders high in a vain attempt to match the height of his companions of other species. On his face he wore a wild brown beard, knotted and frayed every which way. He continued to roll his axe in his hand, despite everyone else at the table having placed their weapons aside.

Finally at the far end of Rakahn’s side of the table sat a mysterious figure, the hood of their green cloak obscuring their features. Rakahn took his chair beside the robed magi and folded his hands on the table in front of him. As he did the magi across the table waved his hand and eyed the newcomer with excitement.

Hail there stranger! My name is Adhomer of the hand o- He began, before Kaiden shot him a quick glance of derision, silencing him.

A moment of peace master magi! I insist He growled. I have not called the eight of you here for idle chatter. We should deal with business as soon as possible, lest we waste away the evening as you indulge your curiosity with every living thing that enters this room. He let the room remain silent for a moment, as if to give gravity to his words.

Before I begin He eventually said, It is necessary that we introduce ourselves to one another. I admonish you to please do this in an orderly fashion, and to keep your introductions brief, as we have much to discuss. I am Kaiden, son of Kade, a renowned warrior in his own right. I have been a friend and trusted advisor to many of the great leaders of this world, even if now they choose to forget it. Rakahn could hear bitterness creeping into his voice. Kaiden motioned with his hand to the smartly dressed man on his left.

My thanks most gracious host the man said, inclining his head and speaking with an elegant, if not a little slurred, tone. I am Lord Belethor, and I serve the great King Aragill with gladness. It is he who summoned me here to attend this meeting. Might I say, he spoke most highly of you good sir.

Kaiden seemed to entirely ignore the praise of the man, maintaining still the same flat, unimpressed expression he had worn on his face since Rakahn had entered the room. Belethor sat back in his chair, appearing pleased with his own introduction. As he did so, the magi beside him perked up with excitement as it became clear that his turn to speak had come. Rakahn could swear that he saw Kaiden shift uneasily in his chair from the corner of his eye.

Hey everyone! I’m so excited to be here. My name is Adhomer, of the Hand of Fire. I was sent here by Paelias, the leader of our order. Did you know he used to travel with Kaiden? You know, back before the whole Hand of Fire thing. Yeah, they were good buddies and stuff. That’s probably why Paelias sent so many people to this meeting, you know, because he trusts Kaiden and stuff? This is the first time in a while that I’ve come to a human settlement. They are so strange the way you cut up the trees instead of building inside of the-

Enough. Said Kaiden with a quiet authority, quickly silencing the excitable Magi.

I am Lorenar The female magi beside him said, leaning forward. I too was sent from the Hand of Fire, by our leader Paelias.

I as well, Said the third magi in matching dress to the others was sent by Paelias on behalf of the Hand of Fire. My name is Nolondil. It is a pleasure for us to be in your service, as we have heard much about you. He finished by inclining his head to the end of the table, giving sign to the hooded figure that it was their turn to speak.

This figure then proceeded to lower their hood, revealing the fair female features that had been obscured before, as well as her short and poorly cut hair. This woman had darker skin and bright eyes of a magi. This was contrasted by her strong features that betrayed a human ancestry. Rakahn recognized that this woman was in fact a half-magi, born of both human and magi blood. He knew well the look, as it was the look his own children shared.

My name is Mireth. I come from the wilds of Elenbra, and I was recruited on reputation alone by Kaiden himself. She said quietly. The half-blood then quickly drew her hood up around her face and withdrew back in her chair, once again obscuring her fair features.

Harrumph, there are too many pointy-ears here for my liking. Grumbled the dweller next to her. They call me Dervish, and Balmen was my father. I was sent by the head of my tribe Thorn on the insistence that he trusts this short beard that gathered us. I am a blacksmith by trade, but a right bit handy with an axe if I do say so myself. He punctuated the end of his introduction by slamming down the end of his axe on the wooden floor of the tavern.

A moment later the doors swung open, and an enquiring waitress was disappointed to learn that they had no need of her service at the moment. Following her apology and exit, it came time for Rakahn to introduce himself.

I am Rakahn, hand of the King. I was sent here on the King’s behalf to investigate Kaiden’s claims to appraise whether they were indeed worthy of his majesty’s attention. I am honour bound to complete my mission to the best of my ability in the way I believe would please the King. Satisfied that he had said all that they needed to know, Rakahn nodded to the robed magi beside him.

The magi first cleared his throat, an evident air of importance behind his every move. He looked into everyone’s eyes in turn, leaving a moment of silence before speaking.

Inlician is my name, travelling wizard and advisor to Kaiden. He came to me personally to ask of my service. I trust his word regarding the danger that faces us all.

Danger?! There’s danger? Adhomer said, eyes widening, what kind of danger? Like, are we gonna have to fight desch and-

Of course there’s danger! Dervish interrupted, "why the heck else would they gather a team of warriors together in this stinkin’ tavern? Now would you just let the man explain himself before you go on another tirade?"

Rakahn couldn’t help but feel the edges of his lips curl in a suppressed smile as the embarrassed magi looked at Kaiden and then sheepishly stared down at the table in front of him, colour flooding his cheeks.

Now that we are finished with necessary pleasantries and introductions, Kaiden began, we can finally get to the heart of this matter. I am sure all of you are eager to learn for what purpose I have called you all to travel far from your homes to meet in a seedy tavern. Let me assure you, I do not call this meeting casually. For years now, Kosmaïa has lavished in a much deserved time of peace. The King has built his kingdom, and prosperity has been the rule as of late. I come to you now as a herald to the end of that peace. Silence fell as Kaiden allowed his words to resound on empty air. Even Adhomer remained still and contemplative at the declaration. The bustle of the busy tavern continued muted in the background.

These concerns I have brought before Kosmaïa’s greatest leaders, but they have fallen on deaf ears. Despite their claims to have great trust in my word, they will not take what I have heard at face value. This is because I am one man, and have little to go on save my intuition, and whispers in the wilds. But rest assured that I know deeply in my heart that there is a great evil stirring in the Desch Mountains. Groups of desch have been seen at levels of activity unheard of in recent years. All of them seem to sneer and laugh at us, sharing some joy at knowing behind our backs of a danger we cannot fathom. He paused and eyed everyone in the room.

It is for this reason that I have called to my aid the best that my trusted allies could send me; I need for you to confirm my suspicions. I need for you to enter the mountains, to scour them for any signs of renewed activity among the desch, and I need you to enter the halls of Mal’Sheth and see with your own eyes what lies within. He sat back in his chair and waited, letting those at the table process the weight of his concerns.Rakahn felt growing within him a sense of foreboding, a deep worry about what might lay waiting for them if they should accept and go forward into those dark mountains.

And what if, after many weeks journey, we reach these halls and find out that our search has been for naught, and we have nothing but wasted time to show for it? Dervish asked with a scowl.

Then I will breathe a sigh of relief that my suspicions were proven wrong, and pay you handsomely for the inconvenience Kaiden replied curtly, returning his gaze with intensity.

And if we find the worst to be true? Asked Adhomer.

Then you return with haste to your peoples, and pray that these peaceful lands are prepared for war.

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Rakahn sat in the corner of his dark room at the inn, not but the light of his pipe lending eerie amber glow when he dragged on it. His mind was flooded with the possibilities, his heart filled with dread despite his attempts to remain calm. He had tried to sleep, but it continued to elude him until at last he gave up and lit his pipe.

He thought about how long it had been since he had last faced danger in earnest. Not since the war had passed, and his beloved had died. Aragill had granted him a position of relative leisure, gifting him time to be a father to his three sons. He wondered now if his excitement at the chance to relive his adventurous days was unwarranted. He thought of his sons, and how hurt they would be if he were lost. He thought of the real possibility that if the worse happened, he may never see them again. His heart raced, and despair began to master him, when he shook his head and rediscovered his resolve.

He could not lose heart now. He had to remember why it was he swore fealty to the King and fought in his service for all these years. It was not for the comfort of wealth and the power of position. It was not for the king’s regard and for a lasting legacy. He fought for the safety of his people. He fought for the lives of those he loved.

Chapter Two

The Last Bridge Inn

M ireth sprang up in her bed, her breath shallow, her brow sweaty, and her heart beating a mile a minute. She wracked her fogged, sleepy mind for understanding. She was at an Inn. She was waking up. She must have been dreaming. In her hand she felt the dagger that she always kept close when she slept. Her eyes darted from corner to corner, irrationally certain that something lurked somewhere ready to pounce at her.

Images flashed before her eyes. Blood and death, pain and suffering. Her father dead at her feet. She held her breath for just a moment, tears welling in her eyes. Then she let it out slowly as her limbs stopped their trembling, and calm returned to her demeanor. She summoned her courage to place her feet over the edge of her bed, despite being sure that creatures of darkness lurked beneath.

Her steps were deliberate and slow, but she made it to the mirror and basin the Inn provided. She splashed the cold water on her face, closing her eyes and letting it run down her chest. The sharp cold on her skin soothed her. She opened her eyes and stared into her own reflection with a look of determination.

Those days are over she thought. You are stronger. She proceeded to get dressed slowly, intentionally taking the time necessary to let logic return to her mind. She needed to find her centre again, to regain a composure that suited her far better than the fear rattled mind of a child.

One day she would awake calm and in control. One day she would sleep without being plagued by nightmares. One day she would believe the words she told herself every morning.

Mireth pulled her hood up around her head as she walked out