The Weeper: Early Earth/Monger

By Lee Bell

In the highly anticipated sequel to Ian Pike Hammer's first book, "There Lived Giants, Book One of the Early Earth/Monger Series," I present "The Weeper, Book Two of the Early Earth/Monger Series."

The barbarian Monger finds himself at a fair, where he sees many strange and wonderful things.

Lifting the flap of an old tent, he finds a very small and very violet girl. She is caged and poorly clothed, starving and cold, with winter on the doorstep, her eyes the colors of the rainbow. Most agree she is naught but a puppet… until she speaks and moves on her own! A great rent in her shirt reveals supports for wings, but none are there, ripped from her back by some cruel unknown source and equally unknown reason. Who would do such a thing? Who could do such a thing? She speaks only one sentence, and it over and over again, "I will cry for you!" Thus the title of the book, "The Weeper, Book Two of the Early Earth/Monger Series"

The warrior is desperately trying to rid himself of his own worthless, human emotions, for they do not serve a fighter well, but some tiny part in his shrinking heart finds compassion for her. He will save her, for something about her innocence reminds him of his sister Binny, whom he ever seeks since her kidnapping some years previously.

But the violet girl is caged in iron with double locks on the outside that even his massive broadsword nor bulging muscles cannot bend.

"The Weeper"

Meet Deeza, the first- born child ever of two gods. Born with a gift no human nor god should possess. Her father, Diovotaz, is the evil king of the gods who rules with fear and violence has banished her from Helios, the home of the gods to earth. Why?

Readers Warning!! This book crosses into the horror genre and contains depictions of the horrors and terrors of hell. Not for the faint of heart nor the weak of stomach.

You have been warned.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lee Bell
• Release date: Jun 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201925345

Lee Bell

Lee A. Bell was born and raised in Iowa, United States of America in 1954. He attended Ottumwa High School and graduated in 1972. He is currently widowed. He has been a member of the FourSquare Church in Fairfield, Iowa, and more recently The Word of Life Church, in Garden City, Ks, and has been a Christian for nearly 40 years.

Book preview

The Weeper

Book Two of the Early Earth/Monger Series

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By Ian Pike Hammer

Includes the short story, The Mind Invader

COPYRIGHT- 2021 © L. A. Bell

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reprinted, reproduced, distributed or used in whole or in part in any form or format without the written permission of the author. Protected under copyright laws of the United States of America and other nations worldwide.

The literary name Monger and the character of Monger the Barbarian are copyrighted and the exclusive property of its owner. Any illegal use of, sharing or distribution of it shall be considered copyright infringement which is punishable by the laws of the United States of America and other nations worldwide.

Cover: Original cover art by Nathan Carlisle

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Cover concepts by L. A. Bell and Nathan Carlisle

Early Earth scroll and text designed, created and illustrated by L. A. Bell

All handmade maps designed, created and illustrated by L. A. Bell

TABLE OF CONTENTS

EARLY EARTH

MAP NUMBER ONE: THE ENTIRE REGION

MAP NUMBER TWO: THE COLD NORTH

MAP NUMBER THREE: THE MID-LATITUDES

MAP NUMBER FOUR: THE HOT SOUTH

PROLOGUE:

A MASTER STORY TELLER’S TALE

A NIGHT VISITOR

MONGER FIGHTS BACK

THE TIDE TURNS

A CHANGE IN TACTICS

FINIS

THE WEEPER

PROLOGUE:

CHAPTER ONE: THE FAIR

A TALENT FOR ACQUIRING MONEY

CHAPTER TWO: THE WEEPER

INTERRUPTED

A HIDDEN COMPARTMENT

A MOST UNUSUAL BUSINESS PROPOSITION

A SPY CORRALLED

THE MOTHER LODE

HOW MUCH FOR JUST ONE?

PAYDAY

REGENERATION

A FATE WORSE THAN DEATH

CHAPTER THREE: INTO HELL

DIOVOTAYZ

THE RIVER STYX

THE ENTRANCE TO HELL

THE GATES OF HELL

A NEW SPIRITUAL BODY

THE EXIT FOUND!

DRAGON FIRE

INSIDE THE GATES

THE PITS OF HELL

THE HEART OF HELL

BACK AMONG THE LIVING

CHAPTER FOUR: PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE

THE FORBIDDEN POWER OF THE GODDESS DEEZA

THE HUMAN BOLT

A TOLL TOO GREAT

EPILOGUE

FINIS

EARLY EARTH

MAP NUMBER ONE: THE ENTIRE REGION

MAP NUMBER TWO: THE COLD NORTH

MAP NUMBER THREE: THE MID-LATITUDES

MAP NUMBER FOUR: THE HOT SOUTH

PROLOGUE: 

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BARBARIAN: Bahr-bear-ee-uhn

A person in a savage, primitive state; uncaring and/or brutal; an uncivilized man.

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In the days following the dawn of the civilization of man, a time known as Early Earth, a fierce warrior of the north lived. His name was Monger. These are his adventures, as he searches the known world for his only living relative and kidnapped little sister, Binny. (There Lived Giants, Book One of the Early Earth/Monger series)

THE MIND INVADER,

BY IAN PIKE HAMMER

A MASTER STORY TELLER’S TALE

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What’s the very first adventure Monger the warrior had? the lad Snurp asked. The yarn-spinner Eovaldar, stroking his short, pointed, red beard said, You mean before or after his fateful reaching of Stravida, on the coast of Almetra?

Before silly! Did he have any adventures before that?

Of course, he had many an adventure growing up in his homeland of Brii’um but perhaps you mean after leaving there? An enthusiastic nod confirmed he was on the right track. Well, in that case, that would be an encounter with the mind invader.

Oh my! a young lady in the audience gasped, and began fanning her face with a frilly handkerchief at the mention of those chilling words.

Probably a ghastly enemy to be sure! an older man added.

Tell us about it, tell us about it! she begged, sounding a bit like the demeanor of the two youthful, twin brothers in the audience beside her. This, unlike most of his other stories, would be a new one for her and her young friends.

The storyteller Eovaldar, dressed in rags except for his bright, red vest, launched into another one of his fabled plots. The silver-tongued devil from Sturdivant in Tazbul was well known for his yarns. They were so detailed that his audience never knew for sure if they were true or if he was an unbelievably talented orator, spewing out tales of awe and wonder-filled imaginings with great, nearly unbelievable ease. He was perhaps the most beloved man in the huge city of twenty-five thousand.

Eovaldar focused intently on Snurp as he often did while he spoke. Of the two brothers he was more easily swayed and yes, the more gullible. He loved the stories more than everyone else in the entire burg. The singling out of Snurp also tended to silence his brother Snip, who often called him out on his bigger, um, exaggerations. In fact, it was Eovaldar who named the lad Snip, for he was always cutting him off in mid-sentence, asking questions and challenging the validity of his verbal accounts. This was of course, by now, something Eovaldar took in stride.

"Within seconds of lighting the dry kindling, his campfire leapt to life, blazing with yellow light. The branches seemed almost eager to burn and with a loud pop rocketed off a white cinder high up into the night sky. Man, he loved that sound! A small rock formation at the very edge of the extremely high plateau he now camped on, hid some of the light from any eyes which might be below but Monger wasn't afraid of anyone seeing it. In fact, he welcomed it. Somehow, someone might have information about his stolen sister. Besides his horse, Binny had the only value left in his hardened, young heart. He had traveled many leagues this day, come to the edge of the overhang, his travel halted by the audacity of the setting sun.

Monger's tethered horse Midnight inched closer to the radiating heat on his left. This was no thoroughbred built for speed but a massive, muscle-bound war horse; pitch black but with a white blaze between his eyes, a white mane and tail to match. He was a beautiful specimen...and he knew it.

The warrior rarely tethered him, there was no point. He knew he would never run away, and if he wandered too far looking for food or water, it was always within earshot of his master's loud whistle. But tonight, they were in a new nation and fairly close to the edge of the very tall cliff as darkness closed in about them. The low hanging branch of a fir tree offered itself for the job. The smell of pine cones and running sap would be his last reminder of home for a great while to come. Midnight let the man know of his displeasure at his freedom being hindered with a snort and a glance. Yeah, yeah I know, I know. It’s for your own good!

This night found Monger right where he felt most at home: under the stars. It didn't matter that he had crossed over the northeastern border of, and into Almetra and was hundreds of leagues from his home. His little sister and only living relative Binny, had been kidnapped by slave-traders from Warthen and in all likelihood, taken to the port city of Stravida to be sold. That was his destination now and it was still a long, long way from here.

This was a dark and foreboding land with a long history of slavery, death and war, including occupation by the race of giants up until some several decades ago. Once plenteous in natural resources, Almetra had been the center of territorial claim disputes for a century. The evil nation of Warthen had eventually annexed and laid hold of most of the land to the east but the natives held a large portion on the coast and some inland. The country eventually began to thrive again, once the population of the giants dwindled greatly and Warthen backed away to the east and south, which held the most fertile farmlands.

The plateau that stopped the barbarian for the night, ended abruptly in a drop of several thousands of feet to the bottom. Going further would have to wait 'til the light of the new morn. The hours of the day were well spent and night was taking rule. It offered quite a spectacular view of the plains below, however, and the gold and pink clouds and sky as the sun set to the west. On the morrow, he would backtrack some and find a way down. It would be a long, long time before he returned to his home country of Brii’um.

Looking back to the left and right, the barbarian saw eight uneven lines, which were the silhouettes of the tall and very wide Duharr mountains. They appeared dark up close but their colors shifted to the lighter side of purple as they receded into the horizon. It was from there he had come, heading south and west. The snowy tops of the tall peaks looked not white but painted shades of violet in the receding sunlight. Before him, they gave ground to the lower foothills.

A waning moon hung in the western sky, chasing the setting sun, while the eye of the bull was low in the east, one of only a handful of stars to show themselves so early. A chill in the thin air hinted that the first snow might be a month early this year. In an hour, Taurus rising and the Seven Sisters in full glory dominated the amazingly clear night sky.

The traveler had picked a spot on the high ground with a small brook nearby. The water was clean and cool and washed the dust out of his throat. From there, the flow took a hard right and tumbled over the edge of the plateau in a long waterfall but a short distance away. He always took the higher elevations when possible, allowing his keen eyesight to spot approaching trouble below. However, if strife was to be found at any particular time, it was usually Monger who brought it with him. That, however, would not be the case tonight.

Below, a fog began to cover the flatland or was it a low cloud? Looking down upon it from high above, and for the first time, the warrior realized that they were one and the same. A slight smile crossed his lips. He had done no smiling since leaving his homeland of Brii’um in search of Binny. With the bleak future that lay ahead of him, he wouldn’t have much to smile about later either.

A NIGHT VISITOR

Darkness falls quickly in the mountains and but an hour later it was pitch black. Above the loud crackling of the fire and the babbling of the brook, the barbarian hadn't noticed that the crickets and other small creatures of the night had fallen silent. Midnight stamped the ground hard and threw his head into the air, neighing loudly. The barbarian knew each and every inflection of Midnight's voice but this was one he rarely heard: fear. The stallion, often Monger's early warning, was the first to sense it.

The northerner had been sitting on the side of the fire closest to the edge, occupying himself with one of his favorite pastimes: making arrows; a craft he had mastered some five years ago at the age of eight. He was one of the very best archers in the land; any land. He dropped the wooden shaft and quickly unsheathed his broadsword. With a flip of his thick wrist, the blade spun a complete circle ready to thrust, parry or slash. He cursed himself for letting his guard down by sitting on the wrong side of the fire, close to the edge. As a warrior, he knew that sometimes it's the little things like this which give away strategic advantage and position, and can tilt the battle in his foe's favor.

In four long strides, he was around the burning wood, looking into the darkness for whoever might be out there. He was at his most vulnerable right now, while his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. He dropped to one knee holding his sword in a defensive position in front and slightly above him, to ward off a downward arcing blow if one came. If a big cat approached silently he could still thrust forward and down. He was at the ready no matter the situation.

Focusing on his other senses he breathed in deeply and slowly through his nose, hoping to catch an odor which might tell him something. Cocking his head slightly, he listened intently but heard nothing. Upon also seeing nothing once his eyes had fully adjusted, he allowed himself to relax somewhat but not totally. He had been with Midnight long enough to know not to dismiss his warning.

Standing his ground, he was poised for action but none came. Not one to wait any longer, he strode off boldly into the darkness to find out what was there. After making a sweep of his campsite perimeter he returned, now going to the edge of the overhang. Surely no-one is climbing up the side of this steep ledge, he reasoned. Standing guard he waited. Nothing developed and no-one showed himself. A careful look over the edge confirmed. The uncivilized man gazed out upon the plains below but no lights shone and he could hear nothing above the crackling of the fire anyway. He was more or less convinced his area was secure but still concerned enough not to let his guard down. There could still be a big cat out there nearby and armed with this knowledge he recalled a teaching moment from his uncle Gusmos, the man who had raised him after the death of both of his parents: Big cats are big trouble nephew. They walk on air and are silent enemies! 

He traversed back to his horse, sword still in hand. Passing behind, he patted it on its large flank and calmly said, Steady boy. He felt the horse's flesh quiver nervously beneath his hand. Midnight seemed to be somewhat reassured at the sound of his master's voice but soon began to stamp at the ground again. The young, brutish barbarian didn't really like the idea of leaving him on the ledge side of the fire but any intruder would have to go through him to get to his mount. He would give his life for his horse and had no reservations about doing so.

He noticed perspiration on the skin of his horse; an odd thing for a chilly night, especially since the fire had not been burning for but a short while. He wondered if Midnight had caught a cold or some other sickness.

At that instant, the stallion reared up on his back legs, his front hooves flailing at the empty air. Putting his hand on the horse's neck, he suddenly felt it turn deathly cold. Its body heat returned as quickly as it left when the cold seemed to pass through the horse...and into his hand! A violent shiver raced up his arm to the back of his neck; the hairs there standing straight up. In an instant it was gone, passed through the back of his neck and out into the night. What's going on here? he questioned out loud. He knew the rush up his neck was a bodily warning sign of the supernatural. He had felt that before and realized that there was indeed an enemy here, and it was not flesh and bone. 

Closing his eyes, he took a deep, relaxing breath and let it out slowly. This always calmed him, giving him an inner peace and tranquility. In this relaxed state, he began to focus. He looked behind, toward the edge of the plateau but again saw nothing. Turning his head around, his gaze once again found the fire. For another time he had to allow his eyes to adjust. This back and forth was leaving him vulnerable and he knew it. The thought crossed his mind to actually put out the fire for a fleeting second. He searched the campsite looking for any clue as to the whereabouts of this silent, unseen enemy.

There, beyond and to the side of the fire he saw a shape. It was just a shadowy film really; a darker dark than the black of night itself. T’would be imperceptible to others but he had extraordinary eyesight which served him well as a fighter. It was approaching. At first it seemed flat, like smoke trapped inside a glass mirror. But as it moved, he could see it had a measure of depth, an innerness to it. It seemed to have a dark light inside of it...it was alive. It possessed no bodily shape but seemed to be composed of filaments or long tentacles of blackness, tightly woven and connected together. It moved into, through, then out of the fire but the flames had no adverse effect on it nor did the light of the fire illuminate it. Over the crackling and popping, Monger thought he heard a sound; speech coming from the being; as if it were trying to vocalize its thoughts. The traveling barbarian got the distinct impression it was experiencing flames for the first time. It stopped, then flowed back into and stayed in the fire. Monger could see it clearly now. Hesitating there for a lingering moment, it then raced out and headed straight toward Midnight.

It entered into the horse with great speed but did not come out this time. The spirit was inside! Midnight began to buck and then foam at the mouth. He shook his head violently, his beautiful white mane waving back and forth in the air. Again, the horse reared up and protested loudly. Monger seemed to realize what was going on but was powerless to do anything about it. This was a feeling that he despised more than most, for he always tried to grasp control of every situation, right or wrong.

His mount calmed momentary, somewhat like a wild stallion finally broken and allowing its first rider to stay on its back. The barbarian did not see the entity leave Midnight but he certainly felt it...as it entered into him! An icy chill engulfed him from head to toe, like a blast of arctic wind on his bare, wet skin. Now it was within him. It felt like an invasion, a violation of his body against his will. He immediately felt as if he was being examined...from the inside. His entire body felt frosty cold, as if he had just dived into a frozen lake in the middle of winter. He noticed his skin turn a light blue color in the pale moonlight.

His countenance fell, as foreboding thoughts began to fill his mind. Darkness began to engulf him. He felt tremendous pressure in his head, as if something were pressing outward with great force. This lasted a few seconds, then stopped as abruptly as it had begun. Monger then felt the unclean spirit leave him. A glance at the fire confirmed his hunch; the wandering spirit was back in the flames again. It was a pattern which Monger recognized: campfire, horse, then man.

He had the uneasy impression that this wispy being was intelligent...and hostile. However, he also felt that it was loosed on the earth for the first time, never having experienced life before; a firstling of some kind. It seemed to have limited knowledge and intuition. It struck him as being young and inexperienced, yet still powerful and malignant; dangerous. He knew instantly that it did not belong. How it got here was a mystery; possibly escaping through a hole somewhere and forming on this side of it. He wondered where it had come from and how it had crossed over. It seemed to be recently arrived from an unknown prison in another realm but did not know what to do with itself. These were questions not likely to be answered, however.

Following its previous pattern, the ghost moved. Still barely visible to the naked eye, it made straight for this horse. It appeared to Monger that this was a conscious decision. Again, it entered Midnight quickly. The horse tried to bolt but was kept from doing so by i's tethered reins, which now strained greatly, nearly giving in to the stressful pull from the powerful, black, warhorse. The warrior was thankful he’d tied them firmly, else his mount would be headed for the edge. Realizing what was happening he shouted, No, come out of him! Your fight is with me!

Barely perceptible, the savage