Fate's Hand: Part 1 of the Blood Moon Chronicle

By Michael Britton

When shadows darken the skies of Thaldesa and evil rises, the fates call on five unlikely heroes. An obnoxious land locked pirate and mentor to a jittery teen. A mercenary saved from certain death. Now infatuated with a maiden seeking vengeance for her family and a prince with no home.

The unrest of forgotten horrors compels the rag tag group to put aside their difference and work together for the common good. As the pawns of fate our bizarre group of heroes are forced to endure hardship and challenges. All passengers to the fickle whims of fate.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Jun 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664104662

Michael Britton

The second eldest of 4 children, Michael grew up in the wine region of New South Wales. From an early age Michael developed a passion for fantasy and mythology. After developing a fascination with pirates Michael enlisted in the Royal Australian Navy at the age of 20.During his time spent on the open sea he created many worlds and unique characters. Upon discharging, Michael put pen to paper breathing life to his creations.Michael has since returned home. Living in Newcastle with his 2 cats who enjoy hindering his attempts at writing.

Book preview

FATE’S HAND

PART 1 OF THE BLOOD MOON CHRONICLE

MICHAEL BRITTON

Copyright © 2021 by Michael Britton.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 06/21/2021

Xlibris

AU TFN: 1 800 844 927 (Toll Free inside Australia)

AU Local: 0283 108 187 ([phone] from outside Australia)

www.Xlibris.com.au

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1 The Boy

Chapter 2 The King

Chapter 3 The Search

Chapter 4 The Pirate

Chapter 5 The Dark Servants

Chapter 6 The Flight

Chapter 7 The Maiden

Chapter 8 The Hunter or The Prey

Chapter 9 The Agent of Shadows

Chapter 10 The Plan and Escape

Chapter 11 The Mountains

Chapter 12 The Sword Harbinger

Chapter 13 The Prince

Chapter 14 The Betrayal

Chapter 15 The Pirates Life

Chapter 16 The Island

Chapter 17 The End

Pronunciations

CHAPTER 1

THE BOY

T hick grey clouds rolled through the sky amassing in a morbid ceiling against the sun, casting darkness across the land. Crows greedily cawed with hunger, circling high above the slaughter. Working themselves into a frenzy anticipating the feast they were soon to enjoy, even as fresh blood already dripped from their sharp black beaks.

Smoke billowed upwards from fires. The flames long tendrils wrapping their thin fingers around thatched roofs, licking the houses heavy timber beams. Thick black smoke mixed in with the clouds thickening the blanket that engulfed them. Women screamed, dragged from burning homes by their hair begging and pleading to save their already dead families.

Prayers for salvation and deliverance were offered up, turning to beseeching for mercy when no aid came. Women were raped in the streets their husbands pinned down, forced to watch. Men were dismembered alive or strung up from the rafters too slowly choke. Children were trampled underfoot or chased for sport. Pregnant women were gutted, left to slowly bleed out, their unborn child left lying in the mud. The darkness of the sky reflected in the hearts of man and beast.

A girl of fourteen or fifteen years fled her burning village as screams and cries for help sounded all around her. Skirt hem bunched up in her left hand, held high so she wouldn’t stumble. Right hand wrapped around the slender wrist of a young girl, dragging her along behind. Fingers turning white as she clamped down bruising the young flesh. Not letting go, fearing that she’ll become lost if they’re separated.

Running past charred skeletal remains of homes and their occupants who were unfortunate enough to be inside. Forced to endure a slow painful death but spared the horrors of what came next.

Shadows burst from the trees behind them. Shapeless figures, filled with a murderous intent. Laughing and taunting as they chased the girls.

Branches snagged her skirt, tearing it apart as she tore free in her fear driven haste. The distance closing with every step, unable to outrun their pursuers. If she let go, sacrificing the child she might have a chance.

But she couldn’t. Her parent’s final words were for her to watch out for her sister. They died giving them a chance to escape. A sacrifice she would do everything in her power to keep. Even at the cost of her own life.

Pain worse than anything she’d ever known before sprouted from her left shoulder shooting down her arm. Instinctively her hand opened, tattered skirt falling around her legs hindering her movements. Stepping on the hem she tripped face first dragging her sister down with her.

She fell face first, both arms unable to break her fall. Eyes watering through the pain she knelt up. She could hear the crunching sound of footsteps on gravel as the shadows approached. Slowing down to prolong their fun, no need to rush, she had given up.

The screaming, beseeching and cries of dismay stopped long ago. Their village destroyed as their lives were stolen from them.

Wrapping her arms around her sister’s small frame holding her tight. Ignoring the pain, she buried her head against her own chest, shielding her from the horrors. Her sisters’ arms wrapped around her torso sending another jolt of pain through her as she bumped the arrow shaft protruding from her back.

The footsteps stopped bracing up she waited for the end. The scent of blood, sweat and smoke thick in the air.

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Awakening to a cloudy, dazed head. Stabs of searing pain jostled around his head that felt as if screws were being driven through his temples aiming for his brain. A chorus of grunting and shouting filled the air, as he faintly recalled hitting his head.

Why can’t they just be quite and let him sleep. He was comfortable sitting here with the sun caressing his face and something solid against his back. If he could sleep all day this headache might go away. Plus, it wasn’t harvest time yet, surely it couldn’t even be that urgent.

Ear piercing scream’s rent the air in two. Eyes snapping open he fought against his uneasy stomach as the world spun before him. Feeling sick with dizziness he tried to hold his head, to steady himself and wait for the spinning to stop.

He couldn’t move his arms, something pinned them behind his back. The meagre contents of his stomach emptied on the ground and down his front. Abruptly turning his head to look at his hands had him losing the battle.

The world slowly stopped spinning as his eyes widened with terror taking in the horrors before him. Praying that he was dreaming, hoping the scene that was playing out before him couldn’t possibly be real.

The fog in his head parted as the world stilled allowing him to remember clearly what happened. Goblins attacked the farm. He was running for help when something smashed into the back of his head, knocking him out before he had even managed to escape the field.

Checking his surroundings, he counted roughly fifty goblins. Most of the small green creatures sat around one of several fires eating raw meat. The others meanwhile patrolled the camp or checked on the other prisoners. Some of whom he recognized from the nearby village.

‘It seems the goblins attacked them also. So, no help was coming from there then.’ The stench of sweat, unwashed bodies and piss was almost unbearable. Checking his own crotch, he was glad to know he hadn’t pissed himself. At least not yet anyway.

He began to take deep breathes in and out, trying to calm down and figure out a way to escape. Straining against the binds on his arms and legs was futile, the knots were excessively tight and they used a new rope. He couldn’t even sit. The bonds pulled against the tree at his back if he tried to lower himself, the strain felt like he would dislocate his shoulders.

Another scream filled the air. He watched on in horror as an elderly woman was dragged towards the fire. He was transfixed, unable to look away as several goblins dove towards the hysterical woman weapons in hand. Hacking her up and devouring the raw flesh with reckless abandon. Turning his head to his side he dry retched. Nothing left in his stomach but revolted realizing what, or who the goblins had been eating this whole time.

Baird couldn’t believe it as the icy cold hand of despair wrapped its shrivelled fingers around his heart overwhelming him. He was going to die and be eaten by goblins without ever even kissing a girl. But that was his lot in life he supposed.

An orphan who was raised on a farm by an elderly couple who had no kids of their own. Only tolerated around the farm because they needed an extra set of hands. No friends, called an outcast because of his blood red hair. And what kind of father would ever marry off his daughter to an orphaned farmer with no inheritance. Not to mention his weight issue.

The largest goblin in the group carrying a huge battle axe taller than Baird was, stood up shouting something in a harsh language that Baird couldn’t understand. The other goblins seemed to understand what was said as the camp bustled with activity as the goblins prepared to make leave. Creatures of chaos and hate they didn’t douse the fires, feeding them instead. Piling the remaining wood and waste kicking them into a blazing rage. Almost daring them to grow out of control, spreading into a wildfire.

Obviously that large goblin is the leader of this group and he must want to head back to his caves or wherever they came from. While the rest fed fires or stuffed their faces two goblins approached one of the prisoners and began untying his feet. Baird sighed, resigning himself to a long-forced march with nothing to look forward to at the other end other than getting killed and eaten. Hopefully in that order.

The goblin leader barked some command at them in that guttural tongue. Both goblins shrugged before the one closest to Baird drew its sword. The other one stepped away as the prisoner struggled, fighting against the inevitable. Hands bound behind his back he couldn’t even stop it.

Turning his head Baird saw it was Brett. Another young boy from the village and one of his biggest bullies. As their eyes met a sword plunged right through his chest. There was once a time when Baird would lie in bed crying himself to sleep fantasising about Brett and his friends dying. But as he stood by helpless, he felt no joy, no pleasure. Only emptiness as he watched Brett go limp as his heart pumped the life from his body. His eyes didn’t beg forgiveness or offer apology. They only pleaded for help, pleaded to be saved as the life left them.

The two goblins continued their work moving from one prisoner to the next killing as they went. Not killing for sport, not toying with the captives. Just plain simple slaughter with efficiency and purpose.

What that purpose was Baird could only guess at, but they must be in a hurry and couldn’t afford to drag around the dead weight. The closest goblin finally stopped before him, it was finally his turn, he was out of time.

Wearing a rusted chest plate that seemed too small for it, held together with worn leather straps. Baird’s eyes were drawn to the weapon held in its green fist. A wicked looking scimitar with jagged teeth down the length of the blade, a blade that was razor sharp. ‘Well at least I won’t be eaten‘ Baird found himself thinking as he closed his eyes, what a funny thought to have right before you die.

Something wet and warm splashed across his face. ‘Was that it?’ he thought. Death wasn’t very painful but his head still hurt weirdly enough. His arms were still unable to move but they wouldn’t if you were dead, would they? Baird was confused, nothing made sense and the afterlife sure was noisy. Cracking one eye open half expecting to be unable too, he looked upon utter disarray.

The king’s scouts had ambushed the goblins as they prepared to leave. Rather then draw weapons and fight the goblins scattered, fleeing in all directions. Goblins were channelled into killing zones, turned into pin cushions by the scout’s arrows. The others chased down on horseback, the riders cutting them down without much resistance.

Not caring about the battling soldiers having had his fill of death for the day, Baird fixed his attention on the dead goblin lying by his feet. Wearing that same rusted armour, the same scimitar that lay half buried under its torso and the arrow now protruding from its head. The arrow that saved his life. The next few minutes were a blur. He couldn’t even recall being cut loose or examined for injuries.

As he slowly came out of shock, he remained unable to accept the fact that he was safe, even with all of these soldiers around. It was like accepting it would cause it to disappear, cause it to not be real.

Baird sat huddled closely together with the other survivors. All relaxing a bit when the soldiers handed them each some water and bread. Tears still dampened faces, some sat completely stone faced either from shock or relief. No one wailed in grief, no mothers or fathers, no children or sibling. No one gave into despair, that would come later.

Baird still could not believe his luck, more than a hundred dead with only seventeen surviving. Baird had no idea why he was spared, or who thought he should survive, or even who to thank for it. The King was probably a good place to start.

At some point while they ate the captain of the scout’s approached the survivors introducing himself. We know that you are tired, scared and in shock but you’re safe now. My name is Captain Arion. My men and I will escort you all back to Voldengird. What happens after that is for the king to decide.

The survivors grumbled in unison. Mumbling displeasures amongst themselves, believing the king didn’t have their best interests in mind. In the end however everyone realized there was no better solution with their homes destroyed and many influential villagers now lay dead. Ultimately, they were just glad to be alive.

As they turned to depart Baird spotted a hooded scout staring at him from amongst the trees. Doing a double take he looked again, the scout had vanished but he was left with an odd sense of foreboding.

CHAPTER 2

THE KING

G avin normally watched the sunrise from his stall in the marketplace. In fact, for the last thirty years it has been the same routine, arrive before dawn with the other vendors greeting each one by name. Arranging your wares to display them in the most appealing way possible. Wait for the customers to arrive then entice them over once they do. It’s not an overly glamorous or very prosperous life owning a fresh produce stall. Nothing exciting ever happens, a fact which makes his wife happy. Something that keeps himself happy.

So, you can imagine the bewilderment caused in the marketplace when the captain of the guard rode past in full ceremonials complete with honour guard. The city wasn’t expecting any royal visitors that he knew of and the outer gates were still closed and won’t open until an hour after dawn. So whoever it was, they shouldn’t be arriving for a few hours.

Gavin knows he should just keep his head down and not worry about it. He could even hear his wife voice telling him the same thing but his curiosity had been piqued. Judging by the faces of the other vendors he was not alone.

The marketplace was soon a cornucopia of activity, full of shouting as merchants peddled their wares too eager customers. The flourishing morning trade drove the earlier surprise from his mind. Gavin was filling a basket up with crisp red apples for a young lady. Counting them out loud as he did so the customers knew he was honest. He didn’t notice as the market square went silent, merchants and customers frozen stiff. Trying to hand over the now full basket, he was left hanging as the women stared behind him oblivious to the apples.

Gavin turned following the gaze of everyone else. Not even an hour after the gates were opened and the captain with his guard rode past once again. This time however they were accompanied by the most beautiful man and woman Gavin had ever seen. A stampede of human bodies broke forth as everyone pushed and shoved to get a closer look at the pair of elves.

Elves, the word spread like wild fire through the market place. Basket were knocked over, spilt goods trampled underfoot in the peoples urgent need to reach the front. Gavin and a few of the other level headed people floated at the rear. Luckily for a pair of older slaves who were knocked over. Gavin and the others near him helped them to their feet before they were trampled just like the goods.

The procession passed alongside the square granting Gavin a clear view of the pair. Only catching a brief glimpse of the pair before they rounded the corner. Hair that sparkled in the light and flawless faces, perfect in every way.

Gavin, like most people here had never seen elves before today. He had heard all the stories and been fascinated with them ever since he was a boy. As quickly as they came, they were gone. Leaving Gavin feeling empty and sorrowful at the knowledge that he will never again see anything that beautiful or that mysterious again.

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King Olaf was woken before dawn, he hates being woken before dawn as his habit of executing those who do so without good reason can attest too. A scared soldier was standing at attention shaking, literally shaking. Olaf half expected him to piss himself whilst presenting his report about a group of riders that approached the city, flying a banner displaying a white swan over a purple background. The banner of the elven queen Yisolde. He immediately sent orders for Lord Trinian, the captain of his guard to ride outside the city walls and escort them to him. He must