The Grey Guardian (Book Of Sorothir 1)

By Joshua Mortimer

War Is Coming To Heaven

When a disturbance in time threatens the gods of old, one time-travelling boy holds the key to saving humanity's future.

Fifteen-year-old Rafe Stern knows he isn’t in shape, but he can’t believe his suburban world of being ignored and trying to avoid being bullied, is all life has to offer.

So when the Fates of Greek Mythology offer to make him a Grey Guardian, he leaps at the chance without wondering what happened to the last person to claim the title.

But when his debut mission transports him to Ancient Greece, he has no clue how to save an arrogant young Hercules from a less-than legendary demise. Thrown together with nerdy friend Evie, from his own era, Rafe plunges into combat with monstrous beasts to keep the sulky demigod safe. But with someone in their ranks guarding a dangerous secret, the modern-age kids must uncover a sinister plot before all of eternity is shattered.

Can they unmask their nemesis before an ancient weapon is reclaimed, disrupting the peace between the gods, angelic orders and shadow creatures?

The Grey Guardian is the fast-paced Young Adult adventure, in the Book of Sorothir fantasy series. If you like Misfit Heroes, Time Travel and Greek Mythology, then you’ll love this gripping fight for survival!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joshua Mortimer
• Release date: Sep 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9781998998005

Joshua Mortimer

Joshua Mortimer was born in the Isle of Man and has 5 brothers. He moved to the United Kingdom at the age of 18 when he studied Politics at Lancaster University. Inspired by his mum, Carole Mortimer, who is a prolific romance author, he began writing in 2013 while living in London. What started off as a few pages in the evenings after work and during lunch breaks would become an 8 year project to write The Grey Guardian and the start of The Book Of Sorothir Series. Married to Esther, they have 3 beautiful children that inspire them every day.Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/r1q8m5Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/JoshuaMortimerAuthorTwitter: https://twitter.com/JoshuaMortimerVisit my website: www.joshuamortimer.com

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The Grey Guardian Copy

Book Of Sorothir 1

Joshua Mortimer

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Copyright © 2021 Joshua Mortimer

The Grey Guardian (Book Of Sorothir 1)

by Joshua Mortimer

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without permission from the publisher.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Ant resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locations is entirely coincidental.

Cover by Ambient Designs

Logo by Peter Evans

Edited by Linda Ingmanson

Published by Joshua Mortimer

www.joshuamortimer.com

ISBN: 978-1-9989980-0-5 (ebook)

ISBN: 978-1-9989980-1-2 (book)

1st Edition

To Esther, Aoife, Jasper and Niamh

Contents

1. Chapter One

2. Chapter Two

3. Chapter Three

4. Chapter Four

5. Chapter Five

6. Chapter Six

7. Chapter Seven

8. Chapter Eight

9. Chapter Nine

10. Chapter Ten

11. Chapter Eleven

12. Chapter Twelve

13. Chapter Thirteen

14. Chapter Fourteen

15. Chapter Fifteen

16. Chapter Sixteen

17. Chapter Seventeen

18. Chapter Eighteen

19. Chapter Nineteen

20. Chapter Twenty

21. Chapter Twenty One

22. Chapter Twenty Two

Epilogue

Newsletter and About Author

Also by

Chapter One

With the secrets herein, you will gain control of the God's mind, body and lifeforce. They will no longer be immortal.

The Book of Sorothir

A long time ago at the Battle of Pieria...

Lifeless bodies plunged toward the ground as the winged angels fought in the sky above. Each time a body hit the earth, a thud echoed in the valley, dissipating the last of its life force.

Below the angels, a second battle raged on the ground on the once green and mountainous clearing, set beside a thicket of pines. Now, it was saturated with the blood of the dead as the two armies of shadow creatures continued to fight. All around, from the sky to the clearing below, came the noise of tearing flesh, the clash of steel, and the shouts of war.

Within the melee in the skies, two angels grappled as they fell. The speed of their descent flapped their cloaks about them, whipping anyone that they passed. With their swords lost, they held on to each other and used their free hand to hammer and pound, until they burst through the silver cloud cover and the vast battlefield opened up beneath them.

Avoiding a swinging fist, Darwin glimpsed a tide of beasts below as he and his enemy rolled over a veritable ocean of writhing, battling bodies. Holding his assailant more tightly, Darwin had just enough time to manoeuvre his wings and pull the two of them out of their free fall to avoid a pack of snarling wolfmen. Out of the corner of his eye, Darwin caught a glint of metal flash just in time to punch the wrist of the hand wielding the knife, sending it spiralling toward the melee on the ground. Darwin hadn’t even realised he’d been holding his breath until his lungs suddenly burned and he had to gasp for air.

He felt spittle on his cheek from the snarling face of his nemesis.

Lothair’s long black hair stuck to his wet face, eyes red and bulging with rage, his lips pulled back in a sneer. He made a grab for Darwin’s shoulder with his free hand, but it failed to hold. Lothair tried again, but his fingers slipped for a second time. Darwin twisted his head slightly to see his shoulder was covered in green blood that belonged to the demon he had slain earlier. The grip on him slackened as Lothair’s hand, now covered in that green ichor, repeatedly failed to find purchase.

Sensing his opportunity, Darwin wrenched completely free of his opponent and dived out of reach. He pulled up as he came closer to the ground, swerving to avoid being caught up in the battles raging all around him as he ducked and dived to lose his quarry.

As he continued to put distance between himself and Lothair, he passed a strange towering beast, separated from his brethren and followed by several centaurs with spears raised, preparing to launch them. Darwin thrust his fist forward in salute to the assailants.

It seemed to Darwin that the entire shadow world had now declared their loyalties for one side or the other. It was the battle to end all battles. This war had spread to all corners of their world now, drawing in every shadow creature: the Angelic Orders, the centaurs, faeries, warlocks, wolfmen and vampires. Even rarer and deadlier shadow creatures, such as the giant spiders that lived deep under the mountains. It was reported that their leader was near the size of an elephant.

Soaring through the air, Darwin caught glimpses of those shadow creatures, but had little time to register whose side they were fighting for.

He stole a glance behind him as he darted between the battle lines. To his relief, he seemed to have lost his foe for now.

He had known Lothair Voltaire for centuries, as they were both the eldest sons of their respective Angelic Orders, Orders Arndell and Voltaire. The outbreak of the war had unfortunately changed their status from acquaintances to enemies when Order Voltaire declared their support for Satan and his allies. Voltaire now led the Angelic Orders of Datho, Nisassah, and Mercos against Arndell, Galad, and Oaken. Faced with four opposing Angelic Orders, Darwin knew the sheer numbers were against him and his allies.

As the heirs of their respective Orders, Darwin and Lothair each led their side in battle. When they were younger, they had often sparred in training. On most occasions Lothair would win with his sheer brute strength. But Darwin had quickly learned to use his speed and agility to develop other skills and had become a cunning adversary. It was all these qualities that he used in his tactical thinking, earning him the respect of the coalitions’ leaders whenever he ensnared the numerically superior enemy in clever ambushes, and so far had managed to win every battle.

Until now, he had never come face-to-face with Lothair in this war. He’d always known that he would have to eventually. As he also knew that, one way or another, one of them would have to die.

Darwin scanned his surroundings for any sign of danger. While the ground was dominated by the fighting of his shadow creature brethren, the battle for the skies was entirely that of angel against angel.

Examining the sky to see how his coalition was faring, he saw his centre line of Order Galad holding Order Mercos. They were evenly matched.

His right flank, comprised of the smaller but brave combatants of Order Oaken, was starting to push back Order Nisassah, or Nis, as they were often called. Arch Borga Voltaire, the leader of Order Voltaire and the father of Lothair, had threatened the Nis into joining his cause under penalty of death if they refused. While the Nis numbers would swell any army, they’d had no real desire to take sides in the war, and their reluctance was now evident as their back lines began to flee.

Despite the centre and right flank holding, to Darwin’s left, his own Order Arndell faced the combined strength of Voltaire and Datho, the latter red-tattooed angels fighting like demons. Darwin knew it was no coincidence that his own Order faced the toughest opposition. He’d known that Arch Borga and Lothair would try to overwhelm his left flank, the most vulnerable area in any conflict. Like humans, most angels were right-handed, making it easier to attack the left of an enemy. Darwin had surmised that the hammer would strike his left to fold up his line from the side. To prevent this, he’d ensured that the toughest and most dangerous task was given to his own Order. Regrettably, as a consequence, he knew he wouldn’t see many of his kinsmen live to tell the tale of this battle. But he’d had no choice but to choose Order Arndell for this task. If his side had any chance of winning, then someone had to hold the left.

As he saw his Order struggling, his heart sank. He’d underestimated the combined strength of Orders Voltaire and Datho. Together, their numbers were twice that of his own Order. His brethren were in serious trouble. The superior numbers of the enemy were taking their toll, causing his Order to give ground. He had to act now, or all would be lost.

Most important of all, he needed to give Silevaith enough time to complete her mission.

Chapter Two

Present Day...

Raphael Stern, with his chestnut hair, freckled nose, and chubby cheeks, lay in bed thinking of the summer holidays ahead. A particular high point was the fact he would have no more homework or exams, neither of which he was good at. But more importantly, he wouldn’t have to see his classmates anymore. If he were honest, he hated school because of them. And he definitely wouldn’t call them mates.

He knew he was overweight. After all, he couldn’t miss the two rolls on his stomach. He was no good at sports either, although he desperately wanted to be. But he couldn’t understand why he was taunted at school just for being chubby.

Recently at school, he’d found his underwear in the middle of the changing room after swim class. Someone had flung them onto a wet part of the floor, where water had collected from someone wringing out their swimming trunks. He’d been forced to sit through class with them on, sodden but hurting more inside. But the worst of all was last week, when the teacher left the classroom momentarily, and the whole class, both boys and girls had taunted him. As he lay in bed now, he could still hear the screams of delight as they chanted, Big big Rafe. Big big Rafe. Big big Rafe.

He sighed, feeling a little sad. He had one friend, at least. Although he wasn’t sure if Rory had joined in the chanting or not, as he was sat a few tables behind him that day, but Rory was his friend, so he hoped he hadn’t.

Last summer, Rafe mused, recalling happier times, he and Rory had sneaked into the cinema to watch a movie they weren’t old enough to see. But his sister had found out and told their parents, and he’d been lucky to escape with only extra chores.

Rory, though, was travelling to France tomorrow. Even though he went every year, it still never got any easier. Maybe one day, when Rafe had the money, he’d go with him. Rory was not only his best friend, but, in fact, his only friend. For the next two weeks, Rafe would be by himself.

His mind drifted to what he’d buy tomorrow with the money he’d received not long ago for his birthday. As his mind dwelled on the possibilities, his eyes grew heavy, until finally, sleep took hold.

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Most don’t hear the whispering of faint voices as they sleep. But if you listen carefully, you may just hear in your dreams the voices weaving their plans against the most dangerous of enemies…the gods themselves.

He appears a bit fresh-faced to me, Larissa, a stone-hard voice muttered.

They all were at his age, Anthony, replied a softer voice. He’ll soon learn.

Oh my goodness! An excited squeal. He has action figures on his table. May I touch them?

No! ordered one of the voices, followed by a sigh of exasperation.

We’ve told you before not to touch, the gravelly voice belonging to Anthony said to the scraping of metal. How many times do we have to tell you, Clarence?

Anthony, put the spear down, the delicate voice of Larissa soothed. You know what he’s like when he meets them for the first time. Besides, what will you do with a spear? You know it won’t kill him.

Maybe not, but it’ll certainly make me feel better! Even invisible in the darkness, his mischievous smile could be imagined, spreading from ear to ear.

Anthony, Larissa warned.

In the emptiness, the seconds ticked by. Okay, okay. But he needs to start controlling himself. A metal clang followed as the spear fell to the floor.

Thanks, Larissa, Clarence said, clearly relieved.

Just behave yourself. Remember, he’s bigger than you.

Okay. So, who’ve we got here? Clarence continued.

Let’s hope he’s made of stronger stuff. The last one didn’t end so well, Anthony pointed out.

Oh, the poor dear! We still haven’t found the body, you know. We’ll be lucky if it’s still in one piece, she finished with a sigh. So sad. With a rustle of paper and renewed strength, she ploughed on. "Right, here we are then. Raphael Stern, age fifteen, lives with his mum, dad, and sister. Parents have been married twenty years and were university sweethearts. The test subject has…failed most of his subjects. WHAT? Hang on, perhaps he passed… No, my mistake. He failed that too. This can’t be right. Clarence, what’s going on?"

Uh?

Why have you given us a test subject who’s failing academically and… More rustles. "Ah yes, here it is, someone who is socially excluded with few close friends and spends most of his time alone?"

Oh. That can’t be right… Unless…

Unless…? a stern Anthony asked pointedly.

Unless, I filed some of the ‘Excluded Candidates’ under the ‘Potential Candidates’ by mistake.

Clarence! he yelled.

Sorry. At least we won’t have to glamour many people about his disappearance.

Small favour, considering if this goes wrong, you could end up killing him.

Oh. Well, admittedly, on paper, he’s not much, but let’s be honest, our usual types haven’t exactly always worked out, have they? Maybe it’s time to branch out. You don’t need to be academic or strong to be a survivor. So what if he’s a loner? At least he’s self-reliant. Besides, we’re out of time. Do we really have another choice?

Larissa sighed. It’s not ideal, Anthony, but maybe Clarence has a point. The candidate has certainly got resilience to his name. When he blew up the science lab last spring, he hid in a cupboard for twenty minutes just to avoid being caught.

So he’s a coward, Anthony scoffed.

Or just creative.

Well, let’s get this over with, then. It’s going to be a long night, and I still have to wash my loincloths. Clarence, if you’ll do the honours.

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As Rafe slept, he dreamt of a dark emptiness surrounding him. An unsettling feeling crept into the pit of his stomach. Flapping his arms in panic, he searched for anything that could be an object. After his third turn on the spot, he spied in the distance a white dot. What was that? Staring at the pinprick, he noticed it begin to grow, slowly at first, then faster and faster, until suddenly, it stopped. Rafe frowned in puzzlement. Was that a noise he heard? When he cocked his ear, a faint voice hit him.

Try it again, you fool, and do it right this time. Upon that command, a blinding white light erupted, swallowing him whole. Even with his eyes squeezed shut, white dots pricked at his eyelids.

After a few moments, and to his surprise, something jabbed him in the ribs. It didn’t hurt, but he wasn’t expecting it, and with a startled scream, he swatted at his attacker, hoping in vain to knock them back. While his arms flung about, his hand hit something soft. Feeling around, he discovered, in fact, he was on his back, lying on a thick carpet.

Unable to see, he startled when he heard three voices whispering. Who were they? His heartbeat sped with panic.

Raphael. Wake up. Raphael! a voice shrilled.

How did they know his name?

Cooey, anyone at home? I really hope his brain hasn’t turned to mush.

He struggled to pry his eyes open and identify the source, his vision was still shocked from the blinding light. When he blinked to clear his eyes, blurry shapes materialised. An urgent sense of vulnerability crawled along his body. Without his vision, he wouldn’t be able to defend himself from an attack.

His sight clearing, the outlines of three heads came into focus. But this close, he wasn’t sure whether they were attached or separated.

From his left, a silky voice soothed away his worries. Maybe we should step back. He’s giving us the same pained stare Achilles did right before he vomited.

A hard, gruff voice from Rafe’s right boomed, He seems a bit…pale. Clarence, what do you think?

Clarence, the shrill voice from earlier, answered, The first time they transcend is always the hardest, Anthony. Food will help. I’ll get the cakes from the oven.

At the sound of feet shuffling away and with his eyesight almost returned to normal, Rafe pushed onto his elbows to see who was there. His jaw dropped at the sight of the three beings.

The first was a tall, broad man resembling what Rafe could only describe as a Viking, complete with a light brown goatee and loincloth. The only item out of place was the red frat-boy jacket he wore. This by no means deterred Rafe from feeling intimidated.

This Viking walked toward a wooden table and took a seat next to a second figure, a lady with purple hair tied at her nape and loose strands framing her face. What struck him most, though, were her piercing purple eyes. She smiled endearingly, the way a mother would at her child. It’s okay, dear. Why don’t you sit with us? She gestured to the seat beside her. Clarence is bringing us over some lovely blueberry muffins, and the sugar will help.

Slowly getting to his feet, Rafe saw the dining table was part of an open-plan design, complete with kitchen and living room. A cosy white sofa brimmed with cushions, while a glass coffee table sat atop a sheepskin rug. On the table, Rafe spied a knitting magazine headlining How to Make a Warm Loincloth. Rafe sneaked a glance toward the Viking, but instantly wiped the smirk from his face as the fearsome man glared back.

Seeing no choice, he took the offered seat. The third figure, a slight man with an apron over a black suit matched with black tie, placed a tray of muffins on the table. Four mugs of hot chocolate topped with marshmallows completed the delicacy. The third figure grinned widely as he dished the contents of the tray out to each of them. This must be Clarence, Rafe mused. He wondered if Alice had felt as perplexed at the Mad Hatter’s tea party.

Ignoring the persistent stares, Rafe ploughed into his muffin, slurped his hot chocolate, and then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. The purple lady was right. He did feel a lot better. As he chewed, a thought occurred to him. Had he ever felt full in a dream before?

He didn’t have long to ponder as the man opposite in apron and suit squealed excitedly, So, how were they? I didn’t have much time, I’m afraid, what with having to find a new Grey…ouch! What did you do that for, Anthony?

What just happened didn’t go unnoticed by Rafe, as the Viking, whom he now knew as Anthony, prevented Clarence from revealing something. Let’s see if we’ve found the right one first, shall we?

The softly faced lady smiled warmly at Rafe. So, Master Stern, are you feeling better?

A lot better, thank you, but may I ask, who are you?

My name is Larissa, our resident chef is Clarence, and next to you is Anthony. Each acknowledged him with a nod. There are many names for us in your world. Over the ages, the name has changed, but the principle has remained. Norns, Moirai, Parcae, or just plainly…the Fates.

As the information sank in, images from films and books flooded past his eyes. Sorry, did you just say the Fates? The three old women who determine who die? The one’s with the ball of string and scissors?

Before Larissa could reply, though, Anthony furrowed his brow in irritation. That damned Homer! Rafe thought he’d heard that name before but couldn’t quite place it. We were putting decorations up for a Halloween party. When Clarence, who’d had a little too much punch. Anthony glared at the suited figure, who blushed in reply. "He fell off the ladder trying to cut the string I was holding up to him. In the confusion, we accidentally transcended to earth entangled in a banner. Of all the people to see us! Why did it have to be that blasted Homer! We weren’t even dressed as witches. It was a