The Tempest: Book One: Tide of Seasons

By Aaron James Holland

It is a tumultuous time for the magical and mysterious lands of Seventh Realm. There are whispers of defeated enemies that have not been heard of in more than a thousand years. The faraway cries of dragons and grumbling of giants echo across distant lands. All the while, a great darkness moves across the earth like a plague, slowly choking out all life.

A silent war is about to begin across the realm. It is a war that, if left unchecked, could collapse what tenuous peace that is left between each of the races. This would tear Seventh Realm asunder and propel it into a Tide of Seasons that will never end. All the while a reluctant, reclusive warrior stirs among this change as he journeys to find his destiny.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jun 17, 2015
• ISBN: 9781491769829

Aaron James Holland

Aaron James Holland was born and raised in West Palm Beach, Florida. Through his time in the military he visited many countries around the world that inspired his interest in history, art, and music. He has published one other book called Legacy. He currently resides in the mountains of north Georgia with his wife and two children. He is at work on his second book of The Tempest saga.

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Copyright © 2015 Aaron James Holland.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-6981-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-6982-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015909344

iUniverse rev. date: 06/12/2015

CONTENTS

Part One Waves Crashing

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Part Two Light and Life

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

To Hunter and Sarah,

This book is dedicated to you

For the many adventures we have had along the way

And the countless adventures that are yet to come

I thank the Lord for you every day

And no matter what troubles may come

I will always be here for you

And I will always love you…

FOREWORD

This is the first book that will be published with my raw words, unedited by professional hands. There will be a plethora of mistakes, but I felt the time had come that I needed to release one of my most personal works of fiction. While I will always have a special place in my heart for the Legacy series I have written, The Tempest is by far the most exciting book I have ever written.

I plan to write many more books, and maybe I can work out the editing process a lot sooner than I did with this book. To my readers I say this… The story you are about to read is one I have wanted to write for almost two decades now. So when you turn the pages to the unedited version of this first book, please enjoy the story in its most basic form. And know that book 2 will be given its proper edits when the time comes.

Aaron James Holland

There is the ninety nine percent of this world that expect to find happiness before their last breath. Then there’s the other one percent of this world, they pretend to be peasants when they are truly diamonds among thieves. Locke Trueheart

PART ONE

WAVES CRASHING

CHAPTER 1

T he vibration of the waves gliding onto the shore of Norenpath was a constant song that had played since time immemorial. It was the birth of a new year and with each season passing, a new Hunt would begin. The eldest of the tribes of the northern lands would gather at the capital of the nomadic nation, bringing along their young men and women who had reached the Age of Ascension. It was a time honored tradition that had always existed, as long as any of them could reme mber.

The Humans of the North were a highly regarded people for having embraced the icy continent of Illosia. Its inhospitable atmosphere was almost unforgivable one thirds of the year, and the rest of the time it was unwelcome to a countless number of dangerous beasts. It was during the first season of each year that the Hunt was a focus for these people. This was the one time out of the year that all of the tribes put aside their differences, no matter how bad, to focus on eliminating the most dangerous of the beasts that surfaced only during such a time. For whatever reason, gods divined or statistical provocation, the most lethal of beasts would breed during the course of this one season.

For the men and women who sought to prove their birthright, they would venture to the capital, pay homage to the King, and partake in the Prima Hunt. Their honor came in one of two ways and that was either to be a part of the slaying of a number of deadly beasts, or dying in the process. No other honor was more important than this act.

The irony of the continent of Illosia was also that it was such an unforgiving place that even the bandits and lesser kind of miscreants of Seventh Realm gladly left it alone. The warmongering Orc hated the embrace of the cold more than any other race and for this fact alone they never even bothered considering conquest of the continent.

While the Dark Elves coveted the land as a natural source of connection to the energies and magic of Seventh Realm, the overwhelming presence of Humans here made it an illogical location for expansion on a grand scale. That is not to say that the Dark Elves had not already infiltrated the land in some form or fashion, but doing so would be under the cover of secrecy.

The Trolls were the only race that dared to wage conflict with the humans, however they had so much inner conflict they could never unify enough to be considered a true threat. Their primitive behavior made them easy to manipulate, and in the cases of the Dark Elves, control altogether.

King Raffe Trueheart stood atop a massive stone structure that overlooked the coastal city. He was an unusually large man. His muscles were overly developed, and no matter what form of armor he chose, the definitions of physique could not be hidden. He had a long, black beard that grew from mid-cheek extending all the way down to just below his breastplate. His eyes were a deep green color, while the outer edges had a hint of hazel. He had a well-defined nose that came to a flat end. His forehead was domineering but hidden by the most part from the length of his massive tresses of hair atop his head.

The gathering of the twelve tribes was a welcome sight every year. It was the one time out of all of the seasons that played their songs along the way that true peace happened among all the men and women of the North.

He took a deep breath into his massive lungs and could taste the salty air, the sting of the bitter kiss of winter’s arrival. When he spoke he did so with an authority few could command. His ability to rule had never been questioned as he was a direct descendant of King Illdane, who led the revolt against the Dark Elves centuries before. If not for the sacrifice of the Bowmen of the North, all races of light would never have escaped the ice cold grip that the Dark Elves had over them.

The legacy of King Illdane was legendary in the fact that he singlehandedly sacked Everfrost Keep, one of the leading harbor cities into the mainland. With no help from any of the other races that were still free, he took a band of his bravest warriors and assaulted the fortified center. Using magic in a way never before seen by a Human, those who witnessed his attacks said that he commanded all of the elements. Though he did not live to see the Fall of Durekaar, he nonetheless left an indelible mark on history, solidifying his bloodline in the annals of time as one of the greatest of the entire Human race.

King Raffe’s people loved and revered him. He was a good man, an honorable and noble Human whose council was constantly sought by other members of the Human Council of the mainland. Many dignitaries would come to Norenpath to speak with him and hear his thoughts on a number of subjects from war, famine, peace, and magic. All of these things he faced almost daily, yet he mastered and provided for his people.

On this day though, there would be no outsiders. There would only be his own people, looking upon him for inspiration, for understanding, and for preservation throughout the approaching year. Only the twelve tribes of Illosia were allowed to attend the Prima Hunt. No other races were permitted to witness it. King Raffe exhaled firmly as he raised his hands to a gathering of thousands, their cheers slowly quieting.

"My Brothers and Sisters of Illosia, the northern continent of Seventh Realm, I bid you Sanctuarius from this moment forward! His shout easily reverberated through the courtyard below the massive stone balcony. The crowd remained silent, looking up at him with eager eyes. The youngest of the hunters were at the forefront of the audience, just below where he stood. I can see the bloodlust in your eyes my young men and women. I feel your unending desire to drown in the Prima Hunt! I can look at you now and understand that all of your hearts race in unison, your thoughts and intents are filled with the honor of victory or fall!"

He raised his hands outward, flexing squeezing his fists as hard as he could until the whites of his knuckles stood out. This is no misunderstood moment in any of your lives. It is one that all of our people must do and always have done since the dawn of our coming here. It is our spiritual pilgrimage from young men and young women to full fledged members of our productive and peaceful society.

Yes, some of you will die, but be not afraid, for those of you that do, your sacrifice is for the good of your people, for those you leave behind. Our capital library and citadel of Norenpath is full of every story of those fallen and how their sacrifice made a difference. Their lives, no matter how short or long, held a meaning that echoes through our lives even on this glorious day. For every Hellcat, Shivercast, Locustmarr, Troll, and Werefrost that is slain, that is one less of their wretched kind that is left to increase their numbers. The King continued to clench his fists as he lowered his arms.

And be not dismayed in thoughts that we can never truly kill them all. Our plight is not of genocide, but of the means to provide a safe land to call our own. It is meant for us to rule here and to bear fruits and energies, resources and magics of this land to how we see fit. He raised his left hand high again and opened it. Ignatius Pillareth! Massive flames shot forth from his open hand and soared through the air above the gathering below. The entire courtyard was illuminated as if it was midday as the flames enveloped a massive concrete fire pit at the opposite end. The flames continued to shoot out of his hand, hissing forth and bathing the countless pieces of wood in the large heap in white hot fire.

The King closed his hand and the flames ceased to emanate from it. He looked back down at his people with the reflection of the burning pillar in his eyes. Tonight my people, we will ride into the darkness with only each other to gain strength from. We will take the fight to these beasts and remind them of why this is our home, our land, and our continent! We will embrace our birthright as we always have done, and gladly sacrifice what must be sacrificed to ensure the safety of our farmers, cultivators, builders, and younglings! Tonight we rise to the challenge that each tide of seasons brings!

With his final words he bowed before his people and they immediately roared in adoration and reaffirmation. The people clapped and stomped on the ground as they began to raise their voices singing hymns passed down for generations. The massive gathering of people below began to move and mingle and even ignite their own fire pyres all throughout the courtyard.

The King watched and smiled for several minutes and then looked back at his dispatch of guards. His wife walked up beside him and smiled. Callisandra was a beautiful woman and perhaps one of the most powerful mages in all of Illosia. While she was not a master of all the elements of magic, she was still able to manipulate it across every element in one way or another. This trait alone made her highly respected and admired in the Human community of Sages across all of Seventh Realm.

My son did not attend the ceremonies again did he, my wife? the King asked somberly.

Please do not blame him for his absence. You know why he does not attend… She pointed out as she pulled his closest hand into her own.

For each year he refuses to formally act in the Prima Hunt is another year this land goes without a proper heir to our kingdom.

We made a promise long ago that we would never dictate the path any of our children take. She squeezed her husband’s hand firmly. Besides if we have to, our daughter can inherit the kingdom right?

You jest. To insinuate such a thing would incite out and out war among all twelve of our tribes. To even entertain that in open forum would cause dissention in every corner of Illosia. He fired back.

Traditions! She returned. Traditions are they are. She is an able woman, she has completed the Prima Hunt and has lived her life as honorable as any before or after her has.

He lowered his head. Traditions are what make us what we are my wife. And while she indeed finished the Prima Hunt, you know exactly why she cannot rule. That is something none of us can change. I am sorry.

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Locke Trueheart, a capable bowman from the north and of royal blood. He was firm in stature and physique. His hair was dirty blonde and a tangled mess for the most part. It was just over shoulder length and unruly. His eyes were as blue as the deepest sea and his cheekbones were well defined. He hailed from a long line of Kingly hunters as far back as history recorded it in the citadel of the great city he had always called home. The Humans of the North were, for the most part, a kindred lot who embraced the harmony of nature. They sought out balance in the entire realm. And while any lands outside the gates, protected walls, and reinforced magical barriers of the main cities of Seventh Realm, were inhospitable and full of dangers, they seemed to not only survive but flourish against such odds.

Locke was an able swordsman, adept at some magic. He was especially skilled at manipulating the magical element of water. He was prone to confront odds sorely against his favor of winning. He was a loyal friend, and no racist by any means, except the Dark Elves. He harbored an especially select bitterness towards that race for no matter what places he visited around the world, he only found darkness, evil, and desolation in their midst. While the majority of the Bowmen from the north were an unruly, inhospitable, and distrusting bunch, Locke had an uncanny trust in nearly everyone he met. He was an amazing judge of character. In a way, he broke the mold, yet that made his place among his own people shady to say the least. Not to mention the rest of the Human race frowned upon any a Bowman who would step inside the sacred grounds of the capital cities.

The young prince had never ventured beyond the icy embrace of his homeland and he had never felt the need to. There was a peace about Norenpath. There was a soft wind that blew across the land that made him feel so calm. He had seen his share of violence, yes, but he was not particular to pursue it just because he wanted a quick rush of adrenaline.

This was the exact opposite of his sister and brother. Both of them embraced danger and pushed the envelope of adventure above and beyond the norm. He smiled as he thought about the fact that his siblings had enough boldness to take his lion’s share if he ever had any.

Locke’s father continually held him to a higher standard. He was constantly pressing Locke to join the Prima Hunt and partake in the festivities and parades during the entire series of events that took place. The fact that Locke had not completed a Prima Hunt in his life meant that his true nature as a Bowman from the North could never be defined as a Bowman of the North. While the two had similarities in wording, their definition within the lands of Norenpath was something else entirely.

This lack of ascension had caused such a wedge between them that Locke rarely came to the inner courtyard and chambers unless he was explicitly summoned. The tension when he entered the room sometimes took physical manifestations. Any element of fire would grow in strength tenfold when he would enter a room with his father in waiting. This was an underlying conflict that had raged for the past few years between sovereign father and heir-apparent son.

Locke sat on the shore just outside the city gates. He had made it a habit of coming to this one place to clear his head, to cast rocks into the harbor, and to watch the sunrise. The weight of the kingdom was something he never wanted to face and every year he would separate himself from the Hunt as best he could. He was a free spirit. He was like the waves crashing against the shore, carving their own path along the rocky coast.

His locks of long sandy blonde hair were untamed across his forehead as the night air softly blew through them. He looked out at the twin moons just cresting the horizon. The reflection of the sun off of them gave a soft glow to the water as the waves crashed gently against the rocks protecting the foundation of the capital city. His soft blue eyes were full of life. They almost glowed in the pale moon light.

He looked down at the water and could see his reflection ripple with each wave that passed. He shook his head as he heard approaching footsteps. He closed his eyes again, taking in the moment, breathing softly. Sister… He laughed a little as he could sense her cautious approach change. You should know by now that I can hear you a mile away.

Larissa laughed as she came up and sat right beside him. I knew I would find you out here.

Like clockwork right? He responded.

Sometimes I wonder if you could sense me approaching if you truly were blind! She laughed.

Mother says I have been since I was born. He grinned.

Maybe she was right. You never could strike a target with that old fashioned bow of yours. She leaned against his shoulder as they both laughed.

A moment of silence passed between them. They both peered up at the twin moons together. The lack of conversation shifted to an uncomfortable undertone as she shifted her position among the rocks and leaned back away from him slightly.

Brother, you already know your abilities. Why don’t you just do what needs to be done and fulfill your part for the kingdom?

You mean like you did sister? he asked as he turned his eyes to her.

That’s different.

Is it really? Come on, have you really bought into that? He looked back at the twin moons.

That’s not fair Locke. I still have my honor.

He grimaced. Go ahead and keep convincing yourself of that. You did indeed stand your ground and you took down your target as expected, but you were left with a sad fate. One that few are and all along I walk these streets of Norenpath every day and I see how people look at you. I hear what they say about you, the eldest daughter of the great King Raffe Trueheart.

Those are just words…

Are they sister? he looked back at her. You can never rule our kingdom as your birthright, you can never marry, and you can never be recorded in the art of histories that litter our great citadel. Such a thing is an unspeakable travesty.

She took his hand into hers and then turned and faced him fully. The side of her face glowed softly from the reflection of the moon. The scar of a massive claw mark ran down the entire length of her left face and her dormant eye was a frothy grey color. The scar ran down the side of her left neck and abruptly ended at the edge of her shoulder that had a large cloak covering it. But I still have my honor and that is all that matters to me.

"You have your honor but what is left of your dignity? Just for the mere fact that you could not land a killing blow on the prey that mortally wounded you all of the honors and rights that come with the Age of Ascension do not apply to you. That is foolishness to me!’

Locke, it is the law of our land. It is our custom, tradition, and legacy. I have my family and our people accept me.

They accept you because they have to. We have an entire section of our city littered with the memories of long-forgotten warriors. Men and women who once stood tall are now reduced to peasants.

But they have food and water, shelter from the elements. Such things give dignity.

Locke cursed under his tongue. I will refuse to act upon my birth right to participate in Prima Hunt until my dying breath. It is hypocrisy in its most base form. A spectacle…

Larissa let go of his hand and raised her finger. It brings a purpose and peace for all of our tribes, for all of our people. No matter how base it seems to you, its reasoning is solidified in centuries of tradition, the thinning of beasts throughout our lands that would otherwise raze all twelve of our tribes and sack our cities without hesitation. It may be hypocrisy, but it is a necessary hypocrisy. She couldn’t help but smile a little. And we cannot forget the sacrifice of those who lost their lives for the good of all of our people.

But those who sacrificed their lives actually have more dignity and honor than you ever can hope to have. How is it right that you either totally win at your prize or die trying? To have any other outcome with survival leaves you without the full status of our people? How is that even right Sister?

I am thankful for what I am, for what I have become Locke. I don’t hide behind my scars or my incomplete limbs. I stand tall with my people and even if they do mock me, speak ill of me, or ridicule me, none can say I did not play my role. You have yet to make this same statement because of your refusal to participate.

And as long as I can choose not to then I will never participate… Of that much I am sure. Locke stood up and helped his sister to her feet. They embraced tightly. One day I will make all of this right. One day I will change the purpose of our people a little more to make everything we do, even Prima Hunt, noble and just.

Dear brother, you would have to be King to accomplish such a thing!

Maybe someday I will be! Ha-ha! He exclaimed as both of them began to travel back to the city gates. They could see the celebration of the citizens and fire still illuminated behind the great walls harkening a coming conflict that would soon arrive. The resonating sounds from those gathered were a portent of things to come. Prima Hunt had come to Illosia and thousands of young men and women were eager to participate in the one event that would unify their peoples, solidify their foothold in the region, and prepare safety for the coming months of a bountiful season.

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The scattering of a thousand flashes of light littered the horizon as a lone ship toured the waters of a forgotten place. A cloaked figure leaned against the railing overlooking the pathway ahead. A slight wind bellowed across the bow of the ship and it tugged at the sleeves of the cloak, blowing them backwards in a rippled form. Tanned hands gripped firmly to the railing as the boat moved upward with the momentum of a passing wave. The muscles in the wrist and along the forearm tightened as the figure braced for another solid shake of another passing wave.

Our destination is just ahead Lord Aaradin, said the helmsman as he approached the man in front of him.

Excellent, set anchor of the Lineage and prepare for intersection, helmsman Vargas, replied the cloaked individual as he lowered his hood and blinked softly. The crest of another crushing wave blasted against the side railing of the ship scattering a tiny mist of salt water into his blue eyes. His face was pelted with the taste of bitterness as he shook his head causing his curly brown hair to bat back and forth. He had the stature of a human but the expression of an elf. Fetch me Eamane as well.

Yes Master!

Aaradin could see the lights of a colossal mass glowing deep within the bowels of the ocean below. He smiled as another shower of sea drops sprayed against the side of his face.

No one has been here for over a millennium, my master, a soothing voice said from behind.

The cloaked man glanced back and cleared his throat. That is why it is going to work. Do you know what really happened here Eamane?

Pride was the downfall of Karnos, she said as she walked up next to him and grabbed the railing of the massive boat for support as her master did moments before. Legend tells us that Karnos grew to the majesty of one of the eight Marra. This angered the gods so they removed their protection from the city and that was when it fell.

Aaradin laughed. That is why legends never die… The history of Karnos is something lost in translation. Karnos was indeed the pinnacle of the entire world a century ago but the people had forgotten why they were so blessed and thriving. At one time homage was paid to the gods day and night. After a while it was forgotten, the statues were torn down to make room for more majestic buildings… The fall of Karnos was not in its pride but in its ignorance. The people forgot who they were and where they came from. They were so consumed with their quest for magic that they forgot what it meant to live. They forgot what it meant to obey the laws.

You still haven’t told me how we will get what we came for, Eamane commented with a shudder after a cold mist of water cascaded down the side of her maidens dress. The purple velvet material seemed to merge with the white silk as it dampened in the wind.

The nuances of retrieving the item are not to be worried about, my apprentice, He took a step forward and raised his right hand outward. Eamane tightened her grip on the side railing as he pointed in front of them. He separated his fingers with a cautious slowness that made the focus of the moment all the sweeter.

Aaradin closed his eyes and raised his head towards the sky as he began to whisper the same words over and over. Arias Foundus, Arias Foundus. He spoke the words ever so softly as if trying to sing them. Eamane gasped in suspense as the entire ocean that spread out before them shuddered. Deep within the waters below the ground shook and cracked apart. Bubbles and disturbances all over the ocean water in their view became evident. She looked down into the water below and put her hand over her mouth as she took in the scene. It looked as if the entire ocean floor in front of them was rising to the surface slowly. As the ground below moved closer to the surface, the waves in that area began to churn outward, agitated by the shifting bedrock.

The boat seemed to drift towards the rising ground as more tremors vibrated against the ship. Correct the ship and keep us back from the depression of water! Eamane shouted.

Correcting now my Lady!

The nearby water was dropping in height to fill the void left by the rising structure of land below. That was when the first of the city was revealed. An ominous tower pierced the water’s edge and floated upward slowly, revealing the architecture and majesty of a long, lost race of Dark Elves. More and more large towers floated upward out of the water, the sound of hissing and belching from the buildings that naturally emptied once above sea level for the first time in over a thousand years. The rest of the amazing civilization rose above the water to the point that the jagged rocks deep below its original surface finally floated upward. Millions of gallons of ocean water rained down from the edifice as it finally was fully above the water some thirty feet.

Astonishing! Helmsman Vargas exclaimed as he beheld the sight.

For several minutes Aaradin continued his chant. Meanwhile the rain of water emptying from all of the buildings continued. Tears filled Eamane’s eyes as she watched the spectacle. Aaradin had been preparing for this moment for years. He toiled daily to master the magic arts to pursue this one brief pause in time. He had, since a child, dreamed of raising this very city from the depths of the unforgiving ocean. And now in this point of his still young life, he accomplished just that.

The ambient noises around the ship dissipated into an absolute silence that caused Eamane to move backwards cautiously. A slight howl filled the air as a crackle of electricity traveled down the length of Aardin’s arm. A spark of energy sprinted from his fingertips as another more defined strand of pure electricity raced down his arm. In a matter of seconds a thousand ribbons of electricity flowed along the length of his arm and gathered at his fingertips with an ominous hiss. A glowing ball of sporadic energy formed just inches from his outstretched palm.

A chaotic display of flickering lightning bolts arced outward toward the water as the ball of lightning grew twice the size as Aaradin. Finally the human bellowed one final word that boomed out across the surface of the water in front of him. The ball of energy hurled forward and shot onward ahead towards the newly raised city without slowing.

Aaradin was forced backward by the brunt of the energy ball as it left his presence. He slid several feet backwards and tumbled into Eamane’s cautious arms. They both watched as the circle of light began to decrease in size as it moved upwards towards the newly risen city of Karnos.

Master Aaradin, Vargas screamed as he ran onto the main deck behind them. A dragon draws on the ship!

The wizard grabbed Eamane’s hand and they both ran to the side of the ship. They looked back behind the vessel as the outline of an ominous creature filled the heavens. Its silhouette was unmistakable. Its purpose was undeniable. Its interference was unavoidable.

It’s Zelthos! He is here! Eamane yelled.

Prepare the ship for combat, yelled Aaradin. We must hold out long enough for the task to be completed here, no matter the cost!

The skies rumbled as the great black dragon stretched outward to his full wing span. It controlled its flaps in unison with the crashing of the waves against the hull of the ship below causing a deafening echo to fill the main deck. The dragon leaned his massive head downward and opened its jaw with a horrendous roar that shook the very foundations of the vessel.

Eamane tugged at her companion as she tried to move back away from the approaching menace. It was then that a blast of pure black energy slammed against the side of the railing next to them, sending shrapnel everywhere. The side of the ship ignited as another bolt of darkness clashed into the side of the ship. Aaradin leaned forward and took a knee as he pulled Eamane down next to him.

Zelthos hovered a