Blessing and Curse: Acrabha Stone, #1

By J. Elias Epp

Raised by a cursed man called Hyrestl, Rylen will do anything to find the family he's never met.

But fate has other plans. Desperate enemies plot to steal a treasure he doesn't know he has and no obstacle will stand in the way of their greed.

All the while, Hyrestl struggles to find answers. Unable to go home, there's only one thing clearer than the edge of his blade: whatever cursed him will meet his unbridled wrath.

They'll soon find themselves thrust into a deadly tangle involving priestesses, thieves, kings, lords and a mysterious stone.

 

Blessing and Curse is the first book in the Acrabha Stone series. It has about 350 pages and 91,000 words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. Elias Epp
• Release date: Nov 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781951529017

Book preview

1

Hyrestl dragged his feet through the town of Tayra. The peaks threw their shadows upon the clouds in the setting sun. The rattle of carts and voices of people came to his ears in a muffled mumble.

Someone called out to him. He looked that way by habit, but didn’t see anyone he knew in the crystal lights. He slouched and looked down at his sluggishly plodding feet.

All around him was the bustle of Tayra’s main marketplace. Horses and donkeys drew carts past him, the smell of horse dung mixed with the sharp scent of spiced meats and the softer smell of baking pastries. Someone bumped into his shoulder and he winced from the ache it sent through his whole body.

Hey, honey! Come on over here! You look like you need a bed to sleep on!

Hyrestl wearily looked up. A woman smiled warmly as she took his arm.

Dearie, you’re always so tired when you walk by here! Come in and rest! Look at you! Bags under your eyes, lips bloody and chapped—you’re not young enough to be doing this to yourself! She started pulling him toward her inn.

No, I…I can’t. I have to get back.

Get back where? You can’t make it through Tarawa Pass at this late hour. Dearie, please, just come in and rest by the fire at least.

Hyrestl pulled his arm away. He stumbled backward.

No, I have to get back.

She called after him, but he quickly shuffled away into the crowd. He passed under a large stone arch. Leaning against it was a giant, twice as tall as the people around him.

Hyrestl blinked, and the giant was gone.

He shook his head and rubbed his tired eyes. He glanced behind him. People were all around. They had lighter complexions and were only a handspan taller than him. Giants didn’t walk these lands. Not like home.

An owl swooped silently over the crowd before flying up into the darkness again.

The hairs of his neck stood on end. He slowed in his step and scanned the crowd. Performers danced and sang to the delight of passersby. Shoppers with baskets on their arms looked at every kind of ware from the far corners of the world. Crystal lamps shone brightly, warding off every shadow.

His attention was caught by a woman and child making their way home, smiling. They came toward him, and as the little girl caught sight of Hyrestl, she waved.

Hyrestl smiled, and his weariness faded from his limbs.

The town around him faded into darkness, and sharp, mottled green mountains rose to take its place. The morning sun shone brightly. Terraces ran up the side of one of the mountains. On top was a small village comprising stone and thatch dwellings.

A little girl laughed and rushed toward him, arms outstretched. Hyrestl caught her and swung her up above his head before settling her in the crook of his arm. She hugged his neck and whispered in his ear, I love you, Daddy.

He kissed her cheek. I love you too, sweetie.

A woman laughed, and she pecked his cheek. I made lemon cakes this morning, she said. She hefted a young boy up onto her hip before he could run away.

Hyrestl returned her kiss and followed her up the steps of the terrace and into the village. The smell of morning baking was carried to them by a humid morning breeze.

They passed through the village and into their home. They all sat down at the table, said their prayers and ate. The little girl bounced up and down as she ate her lemon cake. Suddenly, she dropped it and it fell to the floor. Tears welled up in her eyes.

Hyrestl stopped eating. I’ve told you to stop bouncing while you eat. Now, pick it up.

But…but… she sobbed.

Hyrestl set his cake down and put her in his lap. He gave her his half-eaten cake, and she looked up at him with teary, red eyes.

It’s okay. Eat it.

She took a bite and smiled up at him. Hyrestl brushed away her tears as she bounced on his leg.

He smiled across the table at his wife as she began talking about what needed to be done that day. Her soft voice mixed gently with the calls of birds outside.

After breakfast, he took his little boy out to the terraced fields. They walked together, the little boy holding onto his thumb and he holding the boy’s soft, little hand.

Outa my way!

Hyrestl snapped his head up. The warm green mountains disappeared and were replaced by the bustling town of Tayra again.

A man shoved past him, and Hyrestl stumbled to regain his balance. His eyelids and limbs felt heavy.

He shuffled over to a horse’s trough and splashed his face. He shook his head, trying to clear the drowsiness from his eyes. The cold water revived him a little, and he jogged a little to get his blood pumping.

Hey! Drunkard! someone yelled from the crowd. Ya running to see your mistress?

The crowd laughed.

Hyrestl only glanced at them and continued on.

The weariness pressed down on him. His pace slowed. Soon, he couldn’t move much faster than a shuffle. He remembered something then and reached into his pocket and pulled out a pin. He pricked himself with it and felt the weariness recede a little. He picked up his pace to a quick walk. His body ached with each step.

He could see the entrance of Tarawa Pass now. The tunnel towered above the town. Angular designs were etched into the smoothed stone around the great doorway.

He scratched at his unshaven face as he looked at it. Someone bumped into him.

Watch where you’re going! Hyrestl snapped.

The offender kept walking.

Hyrestl passed by a side street, then stopped, backtracked and looked into it. The street meandered up the hill straight to the Tarawa entrance. A shortcut.

He hurried up its dark, cobblestone steps. This street didn’t have merry dancers or singers. The shop fronts were cast in dim torchlight, and a sickly sweet smell affronted his nose. The shrill warbling of a Kaso passed above on the rooftops. Hyrestl glanced up, but it had already flown away. The dark street intercepted the busy thoroughfare again and Hyrestl had to fight across the current of the crowd.

Return, a voice whispered.

Hyrestl’s breath caught. He looked wildly around.

There, standing among the crowd was a cloaked form as black as the darkest shadow. Silvery threads wove across it like spun moonlight. The threads came from all edges of the cloak to gather at the back of the hood, where they twisted together with the shadow to create a long, slender braid. It coiled at the figure’s waist like a whip.

No one paid the dark figure any heed. It was a half handspan shorter than most men in the crowd, and they walked through it as if it were made of mist.

The form reached out a smooth slender hand toward Hyrestl.

Come.

Hyrestl gave a cry and bolted through the crowd, pushing people out of his way and ran into the side street again. He ran until he was out of breath and exhausted. He slumped with his shoulder against a wall in the street’s shadow and panted heavily.

Dark figures detached themselves from shadows close by.

Ibrah, you take the right. Eis, left. Everyone else, block the street.

Hyrestl blinked as they approached him.

Heh, heh! Looks like he’s drunk or something. The man kicked Hyrestl in the belly, and he crumpled to the ground.

One of the muggers chuckled. This is too easy. He reached into the victim’s pocket.

Hyrestl stabbed him with the pin he’d been carrying, and the man jerked his hand away and cursed.

Hey! The other man kicked Hyrestl in the ribs so that he gasped.

Soon they were all around him, kicking him. He covered his head and scrunched into a ball.

The light from the torches winked in and out as they jostled around him.

Hyrestl yelled. Again everything faded. This time they were replaced with rain in a forest at night. Lightning forked among the branches, and men screamed. His pulse throbbed in his head as he swung his sword.

He gave out commands to his squad to flee. Metal struck metal in the inky blackness.

Hyrestl felt his neck prickle even before the lightning struck. He leaped away, falling to the ground, and lightning flashed where he had been standing.

He stood and tasted iron. He was bleeding.

An enemy rushed at him from out of the darkness. He cut the man down and turned, looking around himself. Lightning flashed again and revealed a shadowy form standing among the tree trunks. The lightning was reflected in silvery threads across its outline. A stab of fear lanced through Hyrestl’s heart.

Jain! a man screamed.

Hyrestl whipped around toward the shout.

It’s a Jain! Retrea– Lightning forked through the trees. Everything appeared to freeze in the sudden light—the drops of rain, the trees swaying in the wind.

Hyrestl caught a glimpse of a knight in full plate armor, lightning forking from his hand. It pierced through the dim figure of a man running in midstride. Then there was darkness and silence.

A war cry sounded from behind Hyrestl, and he spun. There was only the darkness of night and the pattering of rain. Water dripped from his hair into his face.

The sky flashed again. The Jain knight stood still with Hyrestl’s men scattered about the ground. The darkness descended again, and Hyrestl trembled.

The lightning crackled and flamed, arching over the pale faces of his comrades and their blades. The bolts did not immediately dissipate but rather lingered upon the forms of his dead men. The arcs of light illuminated their forms as they stood shakily and turned toward him, their weapons leveled at him. Among them stood the Jain in his gleaming armor, his arm upraised with lightning as if he had pulled Hyrestl’s men from the ground himself.

The lightning receded, and they were immersed darkness.

Hyrestl screamed and flung himself at them. He ducked by instinct as lightning forked from the Jain’s hand, and the storm flashed all around them.

The forms of his comrades were revealed for only a moment, so Hyrestl moved with the rhythm of the light and timed his blows to strike in the moments of darkness. In a world of confusion, his sword struck iron, flesh, bone, and heart. The world alternated from jittery to still images. His heart was torn with each stroke of his sword.

A blow struck his weapon from his hands, and his arms dropped to his sides. Rain dripped from his fingertips in the darkness.

A mighty roar greater than thunder shook the ground. A gout of fire consumed the sky and trees. Hyrestl’s skin blistered from the heat as the flames evaporated the rain in an instant. The smell of ash and hot iron was immediate.

Something large struck him and picked him up into the air. Massive claws encircled his torso.

He passed a treetop in his flight. Upon it stood the form darker than shadow. Reddish-orange fire was reflected by silvery threads in the shadow upon one side, and the other side reflected the cold blue of lightning.

Hyrestl screamed and flailed his arms. His hand struck a wall, and he blinked.

The town surrounded him again. At his feet lay six bloodied men. In his hand he held a bloodied knife.

He looked around to see shopkeepers with mouths agape in horror. A crowd had gathered at the street’s entrance. Among them stood the shadowy form.

He ran, ran toward the Tarawa Pass with everything he had. When he reached the top of the hill, his strength gave way, and he stumbled to a shuffle. He could see the gate in front of him, open wide and inviting.

The two guards stationed at the door pointed at him and advanced. They were saying something, but he couldn’t make it out. They did have spears, but they had them hefted over their shoulders like they weren’t worried.

He stopped. His feet felt like they were rooted to the ground. His eyes slowly blinked. He stood, swaying a little. It was all he could do to keep his eyelids from drooping.

He could see his wife and children coming toward him from the tunnel. His little girl pointed excitedly and started running. His wife smiled and waved.

I…I have to get back home… he mumbled and took one more step.

Darkness crept in from the edges of his vision. A tear streaked down his cheek.

The guards reached him, and one crouched down and looked at Hyrestl’s sagging head. He fell asleep with his eyes open again, poor drunkard.

The other shrugged. Ol’ Bumble-dum here was overdue to show up again sometime. Hey, you owe me! I bet he’d turn up on the twenty-second, and here he is on the twenty-third.

The other guard got up and grumped. Fine, here’s your two rani.

Two? You bet me three rani, you lyin’ cheater!

The other guard shrugged. Worth a try… Hey, he pointed to Hyrestl’s cuff is that blood?

The first bettor leaned forward. Sure ’nuff! Hey, look at poor Bumble-dum’s face. Looks like he took a beating.

Eh, isn’t the first time. His wounds don’t look too serious. Now, I’m going to bet he doesn’t start sleepwalking this time. I’ll go get Miss Wida—

"Now, hold on! You gotta give him a chance! Here, your three rani I just won. I’ll bet he does start walkin’ in the next five minutes."

You got yourself a deal.

They leaned on their spears and waited.

It was nearly five minutes later when a tremble went through Hyrestl’s limbs.

O-ho! You owe me six rani now!

Ah, shucks. The loser of the bet dug in his pocket and fished out the silver coins and handed them over.

Come on, let’s get back to our posts before the captain yells at us.

The two men returned to the gate as Hyrestl heaved himself up and, with one heavy step after another, turned and starting walking with a deep slouch and hung head.

His breaths came slow and shallow. His face was slack, and his eyes stared at nothing. He dreamed of only one thing. He walked down a cobble road with a shadow leading him at his side. Darkness was all around, and his home was behind him.

2

Prince Bardulla Daum took a sip from his steaming drink and looked over the gardens in the twilight. It was the evening of Mocday and the beginning of another week. Nobles with their retinues were making their way back to their homes. Their far-off laughter echoed off the stone palace tower behind him.

Crystal lamps dotted the paths, and their light sparkled off the noblemen’s garments. Some spaces were left in darkness though. One such area was where Bardulla was standing. In fact, most of the gardens surrounding the Tower of Daum were dark.

He could still remember the days when the centuries-old trees were lit by lamps from beneath. The Gardens of Daum had horticultural merit then. They were beautiful to behold in both the day and the night. But now, though they still retained their beauty in the day, one could only walk beneath their limbs in darkness at night, when the old trees took on sinister forms.

Bardulla took another sip. He liked the darkness and how it surrounded him. He was in a spot on the hill leading up to his palace tower. Here he could look out over the brightly lit King’s Gardens and no one was the wiser.

A critter stirred in the underbrush, and Bardulla’s head whipped around at the noise. He stood still, and it moved again. But it was just a mouse.

Bardulla let out a breath and nursed his drink. An owl hooted above and flew over the moon. He let his gaze hover for a moment, then followed the lines of the steep mountains surrounding the valley. A cloud was spilling over the top of one of them like a waterfall.

Prince.

Bardulla jerked away from the voice and spilled some of the drink on his sleeve.

Black crowns! Harbiya, it creeps me out how you sneak up on me all the time. You need to stop. Really! Especially when it’s dark out. He set his drink down on a mossy stone wall next to him and brushed himself off.

Eh, heh, heh! Honestly, I don’t do it on purpose. A man stepped out of the deep shadow of a tree into moonlight. His clothing glittered with inset gems. It’s probably from all my days as a pauper on the street, y’know?

"That’s you know. If you’re going to be a lord, you need to act and speak like one. I wouldn’t have put that at the end of my sentence in the first place."

Eh, heh, heh! I suppose. He scratched the back of his head. I likely won’t be a lord much longer. Kacium and Fehued want to put Telun in my place. They’re still having trouble with Ellin, though.

Bardulla glanced at what was left in his cup and drank. Mm-hmm.

Harbiya sniffed. Is that… What is that?

Fatif with a touch of red wine.

Oh, that bitter and sour drink.

With a touch of sweetness and its combination of aromatic seasonings, this drink is made for nights like this. There is still the warmth of summer in the air, but the breeze carries the smell and chill of winter from the mountains.

Yeah, uh…I’ll just stick with my raloni smilers.

The prince tsked. Such a commoner’s drink.

Yet, even the king’s storerooms don’t have anything like it.

You’re right. They have drinks of far better quality.

Harbiya shook his head. So, why am I here, again?

Bardulla coughed. "What? Pardon, I was told you had something to tell me."

Yes, but do you have something to offer me in return? Harbiya shrugged. I came to tell you I’d like to negotiate a deal.

Bardulla took another sip and glared at Harbiya over the rim. He set it down on the wall.

I don’t have anything to offer a cretin like you. Except this. I promise I won’t join in with Kacium and Fehued to remove your title and send you to prison where you belong. He raised an eyebrow. If what you’re offering is good enough, that is.

Harbiya was silent.

I generally don’t engage in the affairs of the lords, Bardullah continued, but I could make an exception.

The two eyed each other. A soft breeze rustled the leaves of the trees.

My father was well-loved by both the nobles and his own people, Harbiya said carefully. It was in his will that I should inherit his estate. It would be against his dying wishes to remove my title.

Bardullah nodded. "Yes, one addle-brained wish of an old and confused man. And now that man is dead. To remove you from your title would fulfill the wish of many living men with sound minds."

Harbiya’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. After a moment’s thought, he spoke. Heh, I assure you what I have to offer is worth more than that.

Bardullah was about to speak, then stopped.

A group of nobles walked by at the foot of the hill where the trees ended. Their talk and laughter could be heard clearly.

Did you see the way Kacium’s son danced tonight? A woman’s voice. I could hardly help laughing!

Honestly, said a man, he needs to take his lessons more seriously. Guard, hold your light up a little higher. It’s dreadfully dark here by the Daum’s estates.

The woman scoffed. What is wrong with that family, anyway? Dying without a son or daughter—truly a waste! They were just lucky his niece is a high priestess to the king.

Shhh, said the man, "what if you were heard? You’d get off easy if all he did was enslave your favorite servants. You are talking about a son of the king!"

The woman protested, but she lowered her voice, and her subsequent words couldn’t be made out.

Bardullah watched the group through the trees.

Harbiya also looked to them. I think that was Beisha and his wife.

Uh huh was all Bardullah said. He appeared lost in thought.

Harbiya waited patiently. He watched the crystal lamps of the partygoers float through the gardens. Some bobbed along slowly, others zipped here and there as the guests chased each other. Suddenly, Harbiya spoke.

A way to find the King’s Desire.

What’s that? Bardullah turned.

That’s what I’m offering.

The prince looked hard at Habiya’s face, trying to detect any indication of joking. The harsh shadows the moon cast on his features made it hard to read him.

A patch of flowers nearby had closed up with the night. As the moon moved across the sky, the flowers bloomed again in its faint light. During the day they were every kind of color, but at night their inner bulb bloomed bone white. Night Blades was their name.

But one of them had bloomed red, and Bardulla noticed it. A rarity. He reached for it.

Sire, I wouldn’t play that game if I was you.

He picked the flower, nevertheless. I don’t believe in such superstitions. Even if most commoners do.

He plucked one of the slim blood red petals. I’m dead. He plucked another one. Dead I’m not.

Harbiya fidgeted. It ain’t right.

Do you know how long I’ve been searching for that?

The flower?

You know what I mean.

Harbiya opened his mouth.

My fiancée won’t even hold my hand anymore.

Harbiya closed his mouth and silently sighed.

I’ve been working in those cursed mines of the king’s—a prince, no less! I have calluses! The other princes too! I’ve gone into that…that… Bardulla shuddered that black hell.

Harbiya glanced at the movement of the moon and nodded.

His only son by the queen dies, and what does he do? He wages war against Ara-Era in his grief. We push them to their doorstep! We could have taken their capital! He plucked at the flower in agitation.

Harbiya didn’t mention that Bardulla had only been a little babe when that war started and only a small child when it ended. He sniffed in disdain and instantly regretted it. The bitter smell of Bardulla’s fatif mixed with that of the moss and wet stone around them. He watched and counted the petals that Bardulla picked.

Dead. Dead he’s not. Dead. Dead he’s not. Dead.

Bardulla continued. "What does he do? He withdraws as they simper for peace. We didn’t even take carts of treasure back with us as payment! We got nothing! He gets back and nothing happens. He just sits on his great throne and ignores his children. We’re his children! Just because our mothers are concubines doesn’t make us any less! He waved the flower in Harbiya’s face. Then what happens? When all of us princes are practically begging him to announce a new favored son? He declares that if we are to find favor with him, we’re to go and find a stone like the one on his crown in the very place that became his son’s tomb!"

He paced and motioned with his arms. So what do we do? We work like common laborers and get nothing for it. Absolutely nothing! Lowas went crazy because of it. Apertan died—though I can’t say I miss him—and what do we get? Nothing! He just sits impatiently waiting! I saw it for what it was. A hoax! That’s why I stopped. The others are fools to keep looking for such a stone.

So, what are you going to do? Harbiya cut in. Keep complaining?

Bardulla looked sharply at him. Muffled voices reached them from the gardens. Two figures meandered their way through the paths a little ways off.

Dead he’s not. Dead.

Eh, heh, heh! Forgive my rudeness, Prince. It’s just that I have something to help your position. If you won’t accept my aid, I’ll go to another prince who will.

Hmph. What do you want for offering your aid? Besides not losing your filthy title?

The cold moonlight glinted in Harbiya’s eyes. I’d like the hand of your sister in marriage and, should you come into the position of king, a place by your side.

Bardulla stared at Harbiya incredulously, then, realizing that Harbiya was being serious, he picked his drink up and took a swig of it. He cleared his throat.

Harbiya, I know I’m the head of my family now, but…your request is…

Too much? Too much for the Daum family’s line a chance to become the royal one? Hmph, you value your family very highly. I guess choosing you wasn’t right after all. He turned to go. I’m sorry to—

Wait!

Harbiya stopped.

Bardulla’s face betrayed his conflicting emotions. I just… I’ll have to speak with my elders. Using family as political bartering chips is…touchy business. A person has a tendency to make one powerful ally and a crowd of enemies no matter which way you go about it.

Dead he’s not. Dead. Dead he’s not.

Harbiya’s smile glowed in the moonlight.

A flash of annoyance crossed the prince’s face before he concealed it. He had recovered control after the initial surprise. His expression was calm, disinterested, and haughty.

So, what kind of enlightening information do you have to reveal what the king’s true desire is? He’s been mooning about like a love-sick child for the past ten years. The queen knows less than anyone else… He raised an eyebrow.

Harbiya tapped the side of his nose. Those who stop looking will never find what is lost. A platoon of royal guardsmen has been training in secret for years now. Do you know what for? Convoy protection. The captain reports directly to the king.

Oh? Bardulla plucked at the flower. Dead. Dead I’m not. So the king is paranoid. What of it?

Harbiya shook his head. It could be that, true, but I have a feeling it is something else. Something was gained from his talks with the Ara-Erans. He isn’t the kind of man to back off before he gets what he wants.

The plucking paused. "Then, why isn’t he satisfied? Why does he have the princes, of all people, working in mines?"

Harbiya shrugged. To make fools out of the lot of you? He cleared his throat. My pardons, Prince. I think it is because he has hidden whatever he gained somewhere. Remember…oh, that’s right, you were just a babe then. There was… he waved his hand abstractly …political unrest after the king returned from the war. I’m sure he wanted to see who he could trust before bringing out his prize.

Bardulla shook his head. "It still doesn’t warrant me giving my sister to a street cretin like you who swindled the title of lord from