From Ash and Ruin: The Withered Hand Saga, #1

By David C. R. Nash

When we finally came out of the root cellar, the house was gone, the barn was gone, and the king was dead.

 

With these grim words, the tale of the War against Calemstraz the Necromancer begins. This epic story weaves together the history and sacrifices of the heroic individuals who were involved in the war.

Set against a background where men have grown into legends, simple soldiers tell the true story of what it means to fight in a war. This is the first book in a four-part series covering the war and its aftermath, told as a cautionary tale to the young nobility who may be called on to fight the next one.

For fans of epic adventures, magical combat, dragons, and heroes. 

Get your copy now.    

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: David C. R. Nash
• Release date: Mar 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9798201330699

David C. R. Nash

David C. R. Nash's is a hybrid author of fantasy, science fiction, murder mysteries, gamelit, and historical fiction. A graduate of Syracuse University, he now spends his time writing.  In the past he has been a computer consultant, run a dance studio and a small game development company, been a dance instructor, choreographer and professional dancer. He's taught computer game design at the high school and college level. He likes new technology, movies, anime, music, reading and 3D adventure games. He might grow up someday, but he's hoping it doesn't happen soon.

Book preview

VILLAGE

The horse was old and the cart was barely serviceable. A layer of brown dust covered both as well as the driver. But, the vegetables and fruits in the back were firm with a pleasing color. His crops had been good this year.

The master of the gate was an elder like him and waved him through with no questions. William nodded back as he entered and made a mental note to bring him a small bottle of his summer wine before he left. Inside the small town square he could see where people were gathering for the annual summer fair. He pulled up next to a familiar stall, and nodded to its proprietor.

Fair weather, friend, he said.

The other nodded and replied in kind, looking over the old man and his load.

Looks to be a good year for you, friend. The melons look especially tasty.

William smiled and reached into a sack next to his seat.

Saved one special for you, Tim, he said.

William did business every year with Tim. He always gave William a fair price and Tim had done more than his share of the reconstruction of the town after the war. William liked and respected him.

Tim produced a knife and cut the melon with a practiced eye. He handed part of a slice back to William.

The melon was sweet on the back of his throat and he wiped away some juice with the sleeve of his shirt.

Around him small boys played, holding wooden tree limbs as swords and engaged in mock battles. He watched as they swung and ducked, and fell with mortal wounds, only to rise again and snatch up their branch to return to the fray moments later.

There was no organization, no teams, the boys simply hacked away at each other with gleeful abandon.

One small lad brought up his branch to stop a blow, but the limb was heavy and twisted back hitting him in the head. He fell to the dirt with a small cut. The boy who struck the blow stopped in alarm. However, the lad on the ground shook off the wound and stood up gamely and reached for his stick.

Wait, boy, said William. Come over here.

The lad stood looking doubtfully around.

The old man smiled and motioned with his hand.

That’s right lad, you. Come over here. …And bring that fearsome weapon with you.

The boy approached warily.

It’s a good choice, the old man stated. It’s light and strong. A bit green so it won’t break. But you are holding it too low. You need to grip it a bit higher.

He held out his hand and the boy gazed at the scars on the old man’s palm. Reluctantly he gave the stick to William.

For now, hold it here, just a bit higher. As your wrist gets stronger you can move it down to here.

He demonstrated with his own hand where to hold the stick.

And when you parry the blow turn it a little like this. It will lessen the shock and turn his blade aside so you can strike here.

He pointed to a spot on the boy’s rib cage.

He handed the stick back and the boy tried the new grip.

Too tight lad. Hold it a bit less firm so you can increase your grip when he strikes. And, just a bit higher.

He pointed and the boy adjusted his hand.

That’s it.

The boy waved the stick and tried a couple slashes in the air. Then he tried to turn the stick as if someone was striking it as he saw William do.

Too much! You will lose your grip. Just a little.

The boy tried again and the old man nodded in approval.

That will do.

He smiled at the child and his brown eyes twinkled.

Now, remember when the opening appears don’t strike too hard. You must be fast when you are smaller.

Besides, he chuckled. Your opponent was quite honorable after you fell so you don’t want to hurt him.

The boy nodded and returned to the fray.

As William turned back to Tim to bargain over the price for his vegetables and fruits, he noticed a tall man in a rich dark cloak standing in the shade looking at him. The man’s gaze was steady but not threatening. He nodded briefly in his direction and turned, walking north towards a small gathering of people.

The man looked familiar. William’s gaze was thoughtful for a moment as he turned back to the merchant.

I suppose you’re going to try and cheat me out of my last coin buying this lot, Tim said.

And I suppose you’re going to try and rob me of my year’s labor with your offer, countered William.

And with the traditional exchange of insults, the haggling began.

THE WAYWARD INN

William was surprised at the price he finally got.

True, his fruits and vegetables were very good this year, but others had also fared well. He expected the competition to lower his income. But, the Queen had ordered an increase in provisions to the castle this year, and the extra demand increased the value of William’s goods.

Tim was paying more for his wares, but his own profits were up. People were coming north again. The weather was milder this year and the highways were safer than they had been in decades. Patrols were seen regularly and reports of bandits were rare.

Walking slowly among the stalls, William could hear the soft tones of a lute and then the answering notes of other instruments. Soon a lively melody was rolling across the common and people looked up and smiled.

The heat of the day had passed. William brushed a lock of graying hair from his forehead. He shielded his brown eyes and gazed to the west. The sky above was clear and blue and a gentle breeze had begun to drift across the square. If the weather held, the trip home would be easy. William would normally have left by now, but he hadn’t seen the town in many years and wanted to check its progress.

William headed for a small Inn to the north of town. His large frame was a bit bent with age, but he still carried himself with a firm gait. The larger inns would be charging rates he could not afford, for luxury he didn’t need. He made his way up the street listening to the buzz of conversation, the sounds of children, and the general noise of commerce.

The Wayward Inn was just as he remembered it. It was a small place, among the first to be rebuilt. Its floorboards were weathered and polished from the passage of many feet. The door creaked as he opened it, a familiar sound.

Need to get that door oiled again, he called out as he entered.

Never going to happen. It saves me the cost of one of those silly bells.

William smiled. It had been a long time since he heard Caville’s voice.

I see they haven’t buried you yet.

Nor you. Guess the Reaper’s off his schedule or we’d both be gone.

William laughed.

True enough.

Caville turned slightly and a pretty young girl was behind him.

This is my daughter, Rachelle.

I’m pleased to meet you, Rachelle.

Caville straightened and his smile increased.

Rachelle is learning to run the Inn, he said.

He stepped aside and Rachelle came up with a beaming smile and a business demeanor.

Good day, sir, she began. Welcome to the Wayward Inn. Would you like food and lodging for the night or until the festival is over?

William smiled.

For the night only. I must begin my journey home tomorrow.

Very good, sir. You can sign our register right here. Our rates have increased a bit since last year, but I’m sure you will find…

Caville interrupted.

Rachelle, you need to be more observant, he chided.

Rachelle looked confused.

Caville smiled.

Look carefully. I have spoken of this man before. Do you not recognize him?

Rachelle looked at her father, then back at William. Her eyes traveled up and down his frame.

He appears to be a farmer, father. He is someone you know…

She stopped. Her eyes which were still wandering over him as she spoke, halted, focused on his right hand. Her head whirled to her father.

He’s…

Her father nodded.

Yes, he is. Remember him, always, Caville chuckled. No matter what scruffy outfit he might be wearing.

Caville continued.

He does not sign and there is no charge, for him. Not now, not ever.

The girl’s head bobbed up and down.

Yes, sir.

William reached for his purse.

Really Caville, I did very well at Tim’s and I should pay…

Caville’s smile was gentle, but firm.

Not now. Not ever.

Would you like your usual room?

William held up his hands in surrender, and shook his head.

Peace!, He said. I bet it is still better than sleeping on the ground outside the gate.

Grinning, Caville turned back to Rachelle.

Say nothing to your friends. You may tell them after he leaves, but I do not want him bothered while he is here. Is that clear?

The head continued to bob up and down.

Good, now go prepare his room. You know which one it is.

Rachelle started to race away. Then she stopped and came back. Standing very formally, she curtsied.

Thank you. Thank you for saving my dad.

Then she was gone.

William looked over at Caville.

What did you tell her?

The truth, Will. Just the truth.

He smiled and William could hear pride in Caville’s voice.

I think the imp believed me.

THE SWORD ON THE MANTELPIECE

William ate alone in his room.

It was a small space, used for storage most times, but it was clean and warm. When the Inn was being built he had helped in the construction and had slept here many nights. He loved the feel of it, the smell of the wood and the fresh straw.

Upstairs people slept in beds with fine linens. Caville ran a good place. But this one room he always kept for his old friend, using it for simple storage when he did not come by.

William realized he had not been by in several years. No wonder Rachelle did not recognize him. He had last seen her as a toddler of three or four. He couldn’t remember. What was she now? Nine at least, maybe ten.

Where had the time gone?

His room was near the common room and he could hear the sounds of music and laughter.

How different he mused, from that time so long ago when the place was being rebuilt from the ashes.

The war had cost so much. His eyes closed and he put images aside.

It was behind him.

His eyes were closed but sleep refused to come.

Damned bed is too comfortable, he thought.

He heard strains of an old elvish tune and he wondered who could be playing it.

Suddenly he felt sleep rushing towards him.

Maybe the bed isn’t so bad after all, he thought as the strains of music finally carried him off.

He woke in the morning feeling more refreshed than he had in weeks.

Stretching, he felt none of his usual aches and pains. After splashing water in his face from a small basin, he emerged from his little room and made his way down the hall and out to the privy. Afterwards he washed up in a nearby basin and was feeling quite lively as he approached the common room for breakfast.

Coming down the main hall he was greeted by the smells of food. Odors of roasting meat, bread, and a hint of wood smoke had him salivating by the time he reached the entrance.

Looking around the room as he entered he noticed a group of people gathered at the far end. There were two tall men standing facing the doors and a woman and man seated at the farthest table. He recognized the tall man he had seen watching him yesterday. He couldn’t see the woman’s face. At the surrounding tables he saw a number of other people engaged in lively conversation. They were all dressed in simple outfits, but even at this distance he could tell the clothing was well made and rarely worn. Everyone seemed to be dressed in good clothing. He noticed that there were several children in the common room as well, including the young lad he had instructed earlier.

The room seemed to be filled with good cheer.

As he continued to look around the room his heart suddenly clutched as he saw a familiar face. The figure knelt tending the fire. Tall delicate pointed ears and sky blue eyes looked up towards him. A worn lute case was at her feet. The head bowed.

He nodded back and walked forward slowly.

Luriel, he held out his hand.

William, said the elf rising gracefully and taking it.

What brings you here? he said.

Small shoulders moved in an elegant shrug.

Change comes.

William looked around warily all his senses alert for an enemy. It had been years. But a careful search of the room yielded no feeling of threat. Children played, people conversed in normal tones. Through the window William could see the sky was clear, no sign of storm. He looked back at Luriel.

She was smiling.

Not all change is bad, William.

I’m too old for change. My duty was served long ago.

I think not, said a soft feminine voice behind him. It was a too familiar voice - even after so many years.

Without looking behind him he glared at Luriel.

I should have known. I should have started running the minute I saw you.

It would have done you no good, you know, said another feminine voice, just as soft but somehow even more commanding.

William turned slowly.

Before him was a beautiful young woman, her smile as wide and generous as the open breeze. He smiled in return and dropped to one knee his hand over his heart.

Her face turned fierce.

Don’t you ever do that to me again!

Well, he commented dryly, I could try and have you arrested little thief, but I think the judge would be too lenient.

She laughed then, the clouds gone instantly from her face, and her arms went around him as she pulled him up and hugged him.

For just a moment he hugged her back, then remembered his station. He relaxed his grip and held her gingerly, waiting until she composed herself as well and released him.

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