Erragal

By Robert T. Sanabria

Erragal is a story based off of legends and myths.  His name sake comes from the religion of ancient Mesopotamia.  He is an immortal in a mortal body whose journey will take you across several lands, each with their own unique inhabitants.  Alliances are formed, and enemies are crushed in this epic tale of heroism.

Follow the god of storms and destruction, Erragal, as he faces off against dragons, magicians, golems, werewolves, vampires, elves, and many other creatures of legend.  Let this tale sweep you away to a distant land where the impossible is ordinary, and myths are genuine reality.  Enjoy the rigors of the unknown as our hero's quest unfolds.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert T. Sanabria
• Release date: Dec 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201076009

Book preview

Chapter 1

The fight against iniquity

The day sky was shadowed by terrible storms drenching the Earth, and bending the trees with their might.  Trudging up a mountainside, grabbing onto roots and sharp granite, climbs Erragal of Mesopotamia.  His leathers softened by the rain that they had absorbed.  His pieces of armor were dented, scratched, and tarnished.  His hair was dark, long, and tangled with leaves and twigs caught in it.  At a steady pace he advanced with a heavy leather satchel dangling behind him, tied to his back.  Dirt and rocks spilled onto his face stinging his eyes as the water washed away his footing that he made with every perfectly timed step.  The sky lit up the Earth in a series of lightning flashes touching the mountain peak as Erragal reached a plateau near it.

He leaned his back against a tree as he sat, pulling his satchel up into his lap and breathing in hard gasps.  He reached inside after untying leather straps and undoing buckles.  The heavy sound of twigs breaking underfoot came from the walls of vegetation around him.  His eyes focused on the shivering leaves as he retrieved a silver hatchet from the satchel, engraved with runes that gleamed out into the darkness in colored beams.  Two ferocious, snarling werewolves appeared from opposite sides of Erragal slowly, ready to close in and pounce.  The beasts’ claws were like the talons of an eagle, with dark fur thin enough to see their bulging muscles every time the lightning strikes. 

Erragal let out a breath as he slowly raised to his feet, keeping his eyes fixed on the threat before him.  His ears, however, were tracking a much larger target that had positioned itself directly behind Erragal, whom was preparing to ambush him.  The seconds felt eternal as time seemed to slow down in the intensity of the moment.  Each raindrop falling shined reflections like crystal balls levitating for a moment in the crackling of the lightning before they splashed the Earth.  Erragal could see the tiny reflections of his three attackers in the drops of rain as he readied himself.

In an instant the rain and wind stopped completely, placing them in a moment of silence.  The two beasts before him paused for a split second on their approach when the heavy rain ceased.  Given that opening he spun around to face the true threat leaping towards him, arms wide.  Erragal caught the attack, avoiding teeth and claws, as they tumbled through the brush and down the jagged mountainside.  They landed on the remnants of a rock slide the werewolf snapped at Erragal’s face a couple of desperate times before emitting a deep growl that echoed from inside its chest, vibrating the blade of the hatchet that was buried there.  Then the great beast fell limp, and Erragal rose to his feet once more looking up at the empty plateau.  The two remaining beasts surprise-attacked him from opposite sides, again, lunging with all their might.  Erragal moved so quickly that even his shadow couldn’t follow him.  He grabbed onto his attackers’ throats while they were in the air, flipping them backwards before letting go.  One of them slammed its back against a tree, and at the exact same moment Erragal raised his armored right arm, pointing it at the werewolf.  Three short iron arrows with silver tips adorned with holy runes as well as scripture engraved onto their heads shot from Erragal’s specialized gauntlet, stapling the werewolf to the tree where it let out one last whelp.

The final beast had tumbled down the mountain along the rock slide, breaking its limbs as they twisted around it.  It tried to pull itself behind a large rock while its body contorted, putting all of its pieces back into their proper place.  It howled out in its suffering as Erragal watched from the edge of the cliff.  Erragal raised his arm again, sending down the same blessed arrows as before with perfect accuracy piercing its heart.  As the last beast lay tasting its last bit of air, the wind and the rain began again.  All of the elements of storm assaulted the Earth with much more force than before changing the face of the land.  Erragal raised his weapon into the swirling sky as he cried out from the mountainside with an animal like roar.  Lightning kissed the ground all around him, crowning him the deity of storms and destruction.

The clouds poured out all their fury, cleansing his body of the blood, mud, and debris, while even removing the twigs from his hair.  The water and wind moved oddly as if they had a life of their own as they groomed Erragal.  When he was cleansed the clouds began parting over Erragal’s head, encasing him in a shaft of sunlight that spread outward as the clouds dissipated.  He unstrapped his armor and laid down his heavy leathers. 

He returned his hatchet to his satchel, it still laying open on the ground, and pulled a metal jar out of it.  He unscrewed the lid while staring down at his fallen adversaries.  He pulled a large pipe from his satchel, and stuffed it full of the sacred herb that was in the jar.  He raised it to his lips producing small strands of lightning between his fingertips to ignite the pipe.  After a few deep puffs he began collecting his arrows from the corpses, and reloading them into his gauntlet; smoking his pipe as he went.  He piled the