Balance: Descension of Souls Series

By Casey A Bishop

Few humans are blessed with the gift of magic, and fewcannot escape it's curse. As the armies of a kingdom begin to assemble, under the rule of a King blind with grief, the peace and prosperity of two united kingdoms begins to unravel. The fate of the world rests in the abilites of an unusual girl and the decisions she faces. Can she return home no

• Language: English
• Publisher: Casey Bishop
• Release date: Nov 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9781737734017

Book preview

Prolouge

Since his first wife's death, King Ortox Farrowind would rarely be referred to as a pleasant man. Kind words of praise rarely were uttered from his pursed lips. Advisors were delt with quick and decisively. Even when he remarried the well-bred Tristara Halfast and she bore him his second son, Aiden, few saw him smile. Her traditional style of beauty and affluent background won her much favor with the politically motivated families in the courts of Cambar. Her dark hair always perfectly coifed, and jewelry and gowns styled impeccably, should be enough to distract any man. No, instead much of his energy and effort were put into investigating the accident that took his beloved Myserla away from him; the accident that almost claimed the life of his eldest son, Ronan. 

Marrying Myserla, the cousin to King Fettier of the southern lands of Tulvan, did not gain Ortox many favors. She was wild and loved to ride her chestnut mare, Quickstep, through the northern tundra plains. Her shining blonde hair was often worn down, left to blow in the wind as she rode. She defied Ortox’s advisors and questioned their policies. How she loved to put those ‘old fools’ as she called them, in their places with her quick wit. All things that made her endearing to his heart. His spies often told him of what other nobles whispered when drunk and eased into gossip. Oh, the disrespectful things his people would say about him!

He is gullible to think that pompous Fettier would not punish her for leaving his kingdom. She was his dear cousin, and everyone knows he was in love with her.

How can King Ortox allow such an insult on our great nation? To allow such a crime against the royal family to go unpunished!

He is afraid. He is so afraid to lose his son that he dares not confront the monster Fettier.

At first after her death, Ortox could not believe that anyone would dare lay a hand on his Queen or son. Then the whispers followed him into his dreams. He would dream of looking down at his wife’s body on that stone slab, down inside the royal crypt. Skin blue and cold from the river. He would kneel down beside her, looking at the hair that would never again blow in the wind. But her eyes would open then her mouth would move, no words would come out of it. She would sit up, grab his shoulders, and begin to shake him. Her face becoming more and more frantic. Silent warnings to him. Behind her in the darkness a face would emerge, Fettier.

That night she was lost to him remained always on his mind. When the carriage, housing Myserla and their three-year-old Ronan, crossed a bridge collapsed when they were traveling home. Ortox began to doubt it as a coincidence. How could a bridge, built by some of the finest stone masons in the kingdom of Cambar, collapse under the weight of a single carriage and eight guards on horseback? Down south, in Tulvan’s Golden City, more rumors were whispered of murder. It was said, King Fettier Dormondis wanted revenge for his cousin leaving him. Fettier thought Ortox was not good enough for his beloved cousin. What could Ortox, a short man with eyes like onyx, and hair of the same color, lacking of any god’s blessing ever offer a woman like Myserla?

Especially when any man she married was assured his children would inherit her fierceness and strength.

The stone smiths of the bridge in question, all capable dwarves from the Ironsburgh capital of the Northern Mountains, claimed their own innocence, when put to wheel. Broken bones often broke silence. The dwarves from the Northern Mountain city were still his subjects and Ortox felt free to pry them from their homes by the Violet Ice Fields for questioning. Ortox believed their innocence, though. They had always seemed to love Myserla, and they were known for their loyalty. They even crafted her the most beautiful necklace made of gold and lined with diamonds as a wedding present. In the center was a moonstone the size of a date. Still, he kept it, not baring to see it left on her body, buried under stone forever. As far as Ortox was concerned, the dwarves from the Northern Mountain city were still his faithful subjects.

 Twenty years after that faithful event, he stood with his two grown sons at his side, staring down at their military campaign map in the Cambar capital city of Tiavat. Ortox looked at his sons, feeling small next to their size. He no longer spent the hours sparring on the training grounds as he did in his youth.

 Those days of his physical power were gone, but he had sons now to use as his tools for revenge. For generations the wealthy and powerful families combined bloodlines in the hopes of producing a child who was blessed by the gods. They hoped of having a child who would be stronger than the average man, born quicker, cleverer, or even able to use magic. Now he had two sons blessed by the gods, ready to honor their father. He would suffer indignities no longer. He would silence their whispers. He would finally show Fettier that he was worthy of Myserla and to all other peoples of the world, that his worthiness should never be questioned.

1

Chapter 1

Eyrie tried her best to stay in the sunlight while working her garden in the cooling winds of autumn. Her long light auburn hair, matching the turning leaves of the season. Her slight but muscular build was now covered by warmer layers as the temperatures dropped. There was much more to do in the garden before winter came, and she was resentful of her sister hiding inside. She would have to work hard the next few weeks before the freezing nights would start, and no other crops could be salvaged.

She looked down at her calloused hands. Eyrie's dark blue eyes darted to the modest cottage where her sister Tarelia and Aunt Jaina were warmly baking deer meat pies with herbs she gathered from the garden and glowered. It had two private rooms, a washroom and a common area that shared space with the kitchen. It was small but comfortable. She and her sister had lived there with her aunt as long as she could remember. It was home. Their cottage was on the edge of the Aldavera Forrest, in a small opening of trees, close to the rugged road travelers took when they chose to venture to elven lands. There was enough sunlight in the clearing of trees for Eyrie to have a functioning garden. Her aunt had taught her well, but now she was busy in the village working, and Eyrie picked up the slack of chores around their home.

Herbs from my garden! Tarelia is so ungrateful. She was the one that provided her sister Tarelia those herbs she used for cooking. And it was her meager hunting skills, which had recently gotten much better, that garnered the meat for those pies she made! All the effort spent into getting those ingredients for Tarelia never went acknowledged. When Eyrie and Tarelia would take their biweekly walk to the market of Cherohala to sell pies and whatever Eyrie could forage from the forest, Tarelia would get all the attention. No one bothered to applaud Eyrie's successful hunting trips into the woods or acknowledge the quality of her vegetables! But at least her Aunt Jaina did. Jaina was shorter than Eyrie by about three inches with light golden-brown hair and mischievous brown eyes to match. Always supportive, but overly cautious, she was the only reason why Eyrie had not left her sister, Miss Perfect, to be all on her own.

Tarelia was two years older than Eyrie's twenty years. She had ashen blonde hair and brown eyes and looked just like their mother. Well, of what Eyrie could remember of their mother. Tarelia was taller, and the muscle she was spared by not contributing to the manual labor outside left her seeming more feminine in Eyrie's eyes. More delicate. The village women would do nothing but complement Tarelia's grace and poise. They would congratulate their Aunt Jaina for teaching Tarelia such great manners and civility. Little did they know Tarelia was just so uptight that it came naturally, Eyrie would think to herself during such an occasion. Tarelia even ensnared the affections of one of the larger landowners near the village of Cherohala, a man named Micha. Micha was older than Tarelia by five years but seemed more immature in Eyrie's opinion. He was broad shouldered and well-muscled, as any land-working man should be. His upturned nose and often shaggy kept straw-colored hair contributed to his youthful appearance. As fine a man as any in the village, but not what Eyrie had in mind.

Eyrie had her way of gaining a small revenge on her sister’s lack of doing chores. While her aunt was making house calls to the locals who sought her knowledge of medicinal herbs, Eyrie thought it justified to leave her sister alone for hours in the village market to tend to the sales of their goods, while she went to visit with Adaleigh. Eyrie loved to go to the market and watch the incoming travelers. Cherohala was the second largest farming village of the Tulvan Plains because of its proximity to the capital of Tulvan, the Golden City. Eyrie had good practice of scaling the rock and wooden walls of the buildings in Cherohala over the years to watch the crowds below. Some buildings with roofs, were made of thatch while others with the more fashionable clay tiles.

With her childhood friends she would race along the ruined outer walls, built before the current reigning families were even named. In the center of the town remained an outdated clock tower, currently being restored by one of the town’s wealthier merchant families. An Ironburgh dwarf was brought in to help with the mechanisms, to make the hands move. Interesting fabrics, scents, statuettes, trinkets and jewelry always seemed to pass through the town. Even items claiming to be ancient relics or weapons of heroism were on display. Trade would bring many interesting characters, and the market would entertain Eyrie enough for her to think that she may be satisfied to stay in Cherohala, in her small cabin with her aunt and sister. But she also had desires to see the places that these oddities came from, to go to the foreign lands these odd accents came from.

Although the city only had one thousand true residents, as many as eight thousand could pass through the village during the busiest of days. Because of this flow of travelers and traders, Cherohala had all the refinements of a much larger city. Blacksmiths, tanners, tailors, and several inns were all ready to assist the needy travelers. Eyrie's favorite places to watch people were inside of the several bars and pubs. She enjoyed listening to the traveling bards and hearing their tales from all over the continent. She also enjoyed watching the more low-brow bar brawls.

Its proximity to the Aldavera Forrest also brought with it the occasional elven curiosity. Eyrie was somewhat familiar with the fabled magical forest of the old ones; never daring to venture too far to hunt, staying within a few miles from her home. The Aldavera Forrest was the largest left on the continent. The majority being inside the boarders of Tulvan, and the rest located in the Feral Lands on the other side of the dividing Volinax River that ran from North to South. If any old creatures or species still walked the world, it was in Aldavera or in the dunes of the Feral Lands.

North of Aldavera and Tulvan was Cambar. Cambar’s territory took up almost the entire northern part of the continent, all the way up to the frozen waste lands of the Violet Ice Fields and the Northern Mountains. The Veiled Forrest and the origins of the Volinox River lay in King Ortox’s territory. The dwarves of Ironburg fell under the fealty of King Ortox, according to a war fought almost seven centuries ago. Their mines produced silver, iron and gems. Their stonework and crafting abilities were well sought after. Cambar had two major port cities on each side of the continent: Dereen in the West and Lorgoch in the East, giving them an edge over Tulvan for commercial trade. Trade from the seas, the Veiled Forrest and the dwarven mines allowed for Cambar to be successful in a land that was not very suitable for farming. In the center of it all was the capital, Tiavat, wedged between the Selen and Volinax Rivers.   

Inside the Aldavera were the woodland elves. Of slender build and average height, these elves were a secretive, but not altogether reclusive race of elves. Although the forest was inside of the Tulvan boarders, King Fettier had never forced any oaths upon the elven people. Elves were free to live life how they would in the forest, and they shared a mutual respect for the king.  In turn, they protected the forest from any who may cross the Volinax River from the western Feral Lands, or cross from the northern Volinear River from Cambar.

 King Fettier’s control was laid over the whole southwestern plains of the continent and extended over the Volinear River in the North on to the Dolman Peninsula. The Castle of the Golden City laid atop a monumental bridge that expanded over the Volinear River, connecting the two halves of the east side of the continent called Alenthia. It was named the Golden City due to its Golden capped minarets adorning the castle and other important buildings. The populace of the city tried to emanate this look in subtle ways in their own homes. With other gold like metals. Homes and businesses would adorn windows, doors, and other decorative pieces with some golden color material. This gave any traveler the impression of wealth for the capital, leading to its name.

Tulvan had the richest farmlands on the continent. The Sulfur Hills produced Iron and gold for the kingdom. They also enjoyed resources the elves traded from the Aldavera Forrest. Eyrie appreciated seeing the fine needlework the elves produced. Her Aunt Jaina often purchased rare herbs that could only be found by the elves in the heart of the forest. Elves were also expert performers and minstrels. One elf in particular, Ruinian, was an expert enchanter. She would come out of the forest on her white pony with her three handmaidens fluttering along beside her, perhaps only twice a year, passing through on her way to and from the Golden City. But Eyrie noticed it had been almost some years since anyone had seen her return to the forest.

Eyrie was excited when the elves visited the market, but not all humans shared her sentiment. Some felt that they were living inside the boundaries of the kingdom and should be loyal to the king. Others harbored old prejudices and biases that had long lost their origins. Although everyone wanted a child who could possibly possess an ability blessed by the gods, a child born between a human and a magic wielding elf was taboo. 

In the capital some believed that King Fettier’s ill health was due to the gods cursing him for allowing the elves, and whatever other old ones lived in the Aldavera Forrest, left unchecked. For inside the forest laid hidden those that still practiced the old magics, dark and bloody, shunned by the new religions and seen as unholy. Not everyone that entered the forest returned home. An elven guide was almost a necessity to navigate what would seem to be well cleared and direct roads through the tall oaks and pines. Many a traveler would opt to go around the expansive forest were it not so vast.

Even traveling up the rivers was not always a guarantee of safe travel through the forests, but much safer by far. When hiring a guide for water travel, Setlings held the monopoly.  Setlings were once human, like everyone else, but bred only within their blood line to a point where they all shared the same physical and magical properties. A god’s blessing of increased night vision and expert swimming abilities were paired with what some considered a curse of eventual complete hair loss and shrunken ears. Their shorter than average forms contained a strong torso that seemed to exhibit uncorrectable bad posture. Setlings originated on the banks of the Feral Lands but could be found in almost any port city offering water travel for a price.       

Life in town did not revolve solely on traveler entertainment, for Eyrie would also enjoy meeting up with her two childhood friends, Smith and Adaleigh. Smith was an apprentice tanner, of average build, with light curly brown hair and blues eyes that made the village girls blush when they caught his gaze. Adaleigh had shoulder length dark hair that she often wore up and eyes of a warm honey color. As Eyrie waited for prey in the woods, or would be lost in her gardening, she would reminisce how they used to run the streets by day and by evening climb on top of the Bare Back Inn and watch the sun set. They would fantasize about the lives they would lead, and snicker at the bawdy noises they heard below.

Lately though, Eyrie had begun to notice things changing, as all things must do.  Adaleigh had more pressure from her mother and father to work in their textile trade. Adaleigh had less and less time to meet up with Eyrie. Getting to see Adaleigh turned more into Eyrie going to her family's store in the fashionable new part of town and playing, mannequin, as Adaleigh would drape Eyrie with the latest silk or wool blend that her father had imported. Yet still Eyrie would come to visit her despite her own disinterest in fashion. Adaleigh's dark hair and bright eyes always came with a smile that made Eyrie feel less unsure of her own place in the world.

Eyrie's relationship with Smith had become, well, more complicated. Smith noticed how the other men, passing through the village, began to look more often at Eyrie, and so did he. He noticed the curves that began to show, and how they complemented her lean muscular build.  The hunting and farming that had made her seem tom-boyish in their youth, now had the appeal of a capable and strong young woman.

 Eyrie looked down at the dirt under her fingernails; cringing and thinking of how Smith had even made a move on her not long ago, one night atop the Bare-Back Inn. Adaleigh had to stay late working with her father, and Smith had brought up a pony keg barrel he had swiped from the back door of the pub. They listened to the bard below through the open windows and drank under the rising moon. She remembered looking at his face and how a curl of hair had laid across his forehead. When he had thought the moment was right, he leaned in for a kiss. Their hands moved around each other’s bodies, and they slept together under the stars in one another’s embrace. Eyrie had been receptive to him, but now she felt that Smith would only be in her company if others were around. Maybe she would never compare to the polished ladies of the village, or the posh travelers who passed by Smith’s tannery. She was a freak anyway. The less Smith really knew about her, the better.

Who would want to be with a man that smells like tannin anyway?  Eyrie asked to no one in particular, pretending to not care about the stroke against her pride.

So now, Eyrie looked at the changing leaves of the forest around her and began to feel alone in the town. Since being together

on top of the bar with Smith, and now this feeling of rejection, Eyrie could not help but be reminded of her secret. The thing that made her so unlike the normal people of the village. That secret that only her aunt, sister, and one other soul knew.

2

Chapter 2

Somehow, through her family’s blood line, Eyrie had received a god’s blessing. But it did not feel like a blessing to Eyrie. What had seemed like a night that Eyrie was sure she was dying, now was just another fact of life.

She was just fourteen when she had her first episode. Eyrie and Tarelia pulled at the straps of Tarelia’s delicate bag, a scattering of coins on the floor between them. Eyrie’s temper over her sister insisting on spending their allowance on a new shawl was ready to make her head explode. Eyrie did not notice it herself through her yelling, it was her sister who saw the blood leaking out of Eyrie’s clutched fists. Gasping and startled, Tarelia stopped mid insult to fetch their aunt from outside. When Eyrie cried out to her sister for trying to involve their aunt, she tasted the coppery pang of blood in her mouth. She ran her tongue over her teeth to feel where newly sharp points had formed, cutting her tongue as she did so. As her breathing and heartbeat began to race in her confusion, she could feel them growing and sharpening even more, as though she had the fangs of a wild beast.

 Her aunt and sister arrived at the bedroom just as Eyrie looked down at her closed fists. Tarelia and Jaina looked on at a frightened Eyrie as she slowly uncurled her shaking hands. Her nails, like her teeth had changed. What were once the grungy bitten off fingernails of a young farm girl, were now strong pointed claws of a mountain cat being pulled out of her flesh.

What is happening to me?  Eyrie screamed, as she cut her own tongue again. A hand flew up to cover her mouth, scratching her chin in the process. Tears began to flow down her cheeks. Blood and tears dripped on her blouse, pants, and bare feet. 

She’s been cursed! She’s been playing in those damned woods and now she is cursed!  What else has she brought into this house? cried Tarelia, finger flying out to point at Eyrie from the doorway of their room.

Stop that! said their aunt, quickly composing herself. Cautiously entering the room, she reached up slowly and took the back of Eyrie’s hands in her own. Her eyes calm and sincere as she looked at Eyrie.

I had believed that one day, you or your sister might have such a…  Jaina took a deep breath. What I mean to say is that you have received a god’s blessing Eyrie. I am sure of it. Our family line possessed someone with a great ability. A druid, some might call him. What you are experiencing now, must be such an ability passed on to you. Jaina forced a smile, trying to keep Eyrie focused on her.

She’s a beast, just like the ones she hunts in the woods! sneered Tarelia, now bracing against the doorway, face in disgust. Eyrie watched her sister with a scowl on her face, standing with her slender arms folded cross her chest. The tears began to flow from her eyes even stronger and Eyrie’s chest gave in to sobs.

Hold your tongue Tarelia or so help me I’ll let Eyrie bite yours too! We all know that there are people in this world who possess… certain abilities. Eyrie you are no different than those great people who work for the king. Jaina reached up to clear Eyrie’s hair from her face. Some of those people are healers, trades people, or statesmen that are well respected in this country; all with god’s blessings, comforted Jaina.

Perhaps she could row a boat like a Setling, scoffed Tarelia.

At that remark Jaina dropped Eyrie’s hands and turned a cold stare to Tarelia. And perhaps I will shave your head to match a Setling Tarelia.

Tarelia let out a little squeak and darted from the doorway, Jaina giving chase. The sight was enough for Eyrie to catch her breath. As she relaxed, the claws and fangs began to shrink down back to normal. 

After a few minutes of watching her aunt chase her sister around in the noonday sun, Eyrie went to the wash basin and began to clean the blood off her face and hands. She would have to do something about the droplets of blood on her shirt, though. Maybe I should burn it?

Eventually, Jaina caught Tarelia and drug her back into the common living area by her blonde bun. The dirt stains on the knees of Tarelia’s typically pristine lilac dress told Eyrie that Tarelia had not gone quietly. They all sat at the dining table, quietly waiting for Jaina to speak. When she did, her tone had changed from comforting to somber.

Look, Eyrie, I want you to feel okay about this, but we must take it seriously. There are men and women who hunt those with abilities, to take advantage of them and enslave them. So right now, I want you two to promise me that you will tell no one of what happened here today. The seriousness in their aunt’s voice brushed away any other feelings that lingered. She had never sounded this sincere, or her tone lose its lightness.

Both girls shook their heads in agreement. Racing thoughts entered Eyrie’s head. How could I live like this? Could these hunters, my aunt spoke of, sense the power that was just unleashed from inside of me? How can I tell who a hunter might be? Once more, she began to panic as the power surged from within.  

Eyrie? Please tell me what you are thinking, distracted her aunt, continuing to keep a serious but calming tone. She reached a hand across the table, her eyes briefly looking down at the blood droplets on Eyrie’s white blouse.

I… I don’t know what to think. Eyrie stammered as she dared a glance towards Tarelia.  Surprisingly, for the first time in Eyrie’s recollection, her sister looked worried. Suppressing an urge to sob, Eyrie said, What if I don’t want this? What if I want to go back to just being normal? How could I possibly control this? I can imagine haggling with a merchant and having these fangs pop out!

Well, I actually have prepared for this day. Eyrie watched her aunt dart up, grab a chair from the table and race to the kitchen cabinet where she kept her off-limit herbs. Stepping up, she stretched herself to reach the top shelf, moved some bottles and jars around and reached to the farthest back corner. She pulled out a ceramic jar, glazed in a dark garnet and generally seemed unremarkable. She placed it on the table and removed the lid.

It is called igsnaring root, Jaina said as she pulled out a hairy looking black vine. Its thin stalk had no leaves, but the vine was over a yard long. It smelled as if it was just picked from the muddy banks of some fetid body of water. With this root, I can brew you a tea. After a few days of drinking it, the herb should have a nullifying effect on your abilities. Jaina looked over at Tarelia as she spoke. This will only work on abilities that are passed down through families, and not curses, Tarelia. Tarelia sighed and crossed her arms, rolling her eyes.  Eyrie took a small pleasure in seeing Tarelia’s hair disheveled.

Alright! conceded Eyrie. If you say it is safe, I will drink it.

Good! But Eyrie, doing this will only work as so long as you take it every day.  Eventually, we will have to find someone who can help you. Until I locate someone, remember, you cannot tell a soul!

---------------------------------------------------

Eyrie had barely kept her promise for a year before she broke it. It was her fifteenth birthday. As a present to herself, she decided to avoid her sister and walk to town. She dressed, grabbed an apple and crust of bread, and drank a glass of her tea. She was wearing her brown wool pants, hunting boots, and a men’s style white blouse. Her hair was pulled back into a loose braid. She planned to meet Smith and Adaleigh at their usual rendezvous point near the vendor who sold hand carved animal trinkets. This tradition started when they were younger and were intrigued by the small crafted menagerie.

She left the worn two-track forest path for the gravel and dirt main road. Eyrie heard the sounds of hooves coming from behind her. She glanced back to see a hooded rider upon a gray dappled stallion. His cloak was a deep emerald green and his clothes looked well-tailored. Not the garb of a highway assassin she had become accustomed to watching for since her abilities came. But still Eyrie remembered the warning of her aunt and stepped to the side of the road, keeping her head down and waiting for the traveler to pass.

Good day, greeted the man as he approached.

Eyrie nodded in return; eyes focused on the ground.

What great spring weather we are having, he continued, slowing his horse’s pace so that he was keeping pace a few feet from Eyrie.

Eyrie noticed then, the ears that continued in length inside, beyond the