Whisper Wither Wrath: Ascension, #1

By Kodo Teal

It is the Beginning of the End...

 

And the End is doomed from the start when a beastly Vessifer enters the city of Maerise. Artherien was banished from his home country with an impossible mission and a cursed bracer to keep him on task and prevent his transformation, something he is not keen on—considering how difficult his task is: to find the rumored healer of his race, called Heraghine.

Meanwhile in Maerise, the princess is kidnapped, preoccupying the King while another unwelcome visitor arrives thanks to councilwoman Kotaphira. Rinlear, who was once like Kotaphira's brother, is now more demon than man. Dragged into the bowels of the castle as one of three keys needed by Kotaphira, she also has plans for Artherien when she learns he is searching for the fabled Heraghine.

Caught up in her mistress Kotaphira's plans, rune mage Kemryn is falling apart. Attacked by Rinlear and unnerved by a night with Artherien, she no longer trusts in her abilities. However, she is needed to keep Rinlear and the other beasts at bay. Somehow she must find the strength to use her abilities without showing fear.

Is the Heraghine the answer to their problems? Or will someone else step up to take control? Can Artherien keep his transformation at bay, or will he fall to his curse and wreak havoc on the city?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kodo Teal
• Release date: Oct 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201633066

Kodo Teal

Kodo Teal lives in Southern California with her large family, eight chickens, and five cats. She's traveled the world and visited many countries, as well as traveled across the continuous United States. She started writing at 13, and went to college for digital art design.

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whisper

wither

wrath

Kodo Teal

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior permission of the publisher or the author, except in the case of brief quotations, embodied in critical reviews, and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by U.S copyright law.

Copyright © 2022 Kodo Teal

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All rights reserved.

Editor – JK Allen

www.hijinkswriter.com

Interior Format – L. Bachman

www.lbachman.com

QR Composer – Mattea Williams

www.matteacomposition.com/

DEDICATION

For Alex, Keah, and Shay.

Listen to the soundtrack:

contents

Ironmarsh (part one)

Map – Pg 8

Gheisen’s Fall – Pg 9

Aunt Jem – Pg 18

Harkanites – Pg 24

Betrayal – Pg 29

Kelhina – Pg 33

The Iron Dragon – Pg 39

Battle Unknown – Pg 44

Judgement – Pg 48

Truths – Pg 54

contents

Maerise (Part Two)

Map – Pg 64

Maerise – Pg 65

Of Rot and Plan – Pg 75

The Rune Mage – Pg 100

The Prince of Persuasion – Pg 108

Adequate Enough – Pg 119

Wrath – Pg 140

The Meeting – Pg 151

Capture – Pg 164

Ripped Magic – Pg 173

Exchange – Pg 179

Punishable by Death – Pg 185

A Truth so Bold – Pg 195

Maddening Accords – Pg 211

A Clue – Pg 220

Freed – Pg 232

Battle at Echertai – Pg 241

Skull Keys – Pg 210

Dephe – Pg 254

Reunion – Pg 300

Returned – Pg 315

Epilogue – Pg 322

About the Author – Pg 336

IRONMARSH

The Ascension Series

Book 1, Part 1

Chapter 1

Gheisen’s Fall

King Elighas Vessifer | House Tiveas

R eady the cannons! The giant king, still dressed in his wedding attire, shouted to the Edirthean slave mages that stood near massive, intricately detailed metal cannons. Hastening speed, the pale king ran behind them on the ramparts of his castle as arrows and magical balls of elemental chaos whined overhead and stunk the frigid air with burnt embers and smoke.

They’ve taken cover in the clouds, sire! the Commander, also giant, yelled as he ducked, just missing a red elemental magic ball that almost hit his head.

"So aim at wherever that came from! the king retorted, pointing to the crackling of magical electricity on the icy ground, the soldiers there twitching as they took their last breaths. They have the Heraghine—she isn’t just my bride-to-be, she’s the key to our very survival. In case you forgot!"

Aye, your Highness. Take aim, the Commander demanded, the much smaller, darker-skinned mages already in place and readying. Their shackled thin hands glowed brightly, cocking the cannons ready to fire into the low hanging clouds. Fire!

The king heard the command as he entered the high stone tower, his polished leather boots carrying him up a flight of stairs. With every heavy breath he exhaled steam, and it hitched with an explosion in his ear. Only one cannon fired before a massive boom behind him rocked the tower and he stumbled backward. Grasping at the ledge of a window, he bumped into an archer there, knocking her down past stairs that no longer existed. Hanging by the ledge, he pulled himself up to peer down, just catching her shadow falling through the dust of the lost stairway. Left ear still ringing and the right completely void of sense, he lifted his head to see through the window. The ramparts were also gone, the slave mages, the cannons, and the Commander all perished within a massive plume of thick smoke and magic the colors of blood, fire, and ink. Sparkles within the colorful cloud ignited the air and another explosion at the other tower caused it to fall as well. He pulled himself up on his arms, swinging his legs back and forth to gain enough momentum to land on to the crumbling stairs next to him. He landed shakily, but managed his footing and raced to the top as the stone fell away behind him with every step.

In the open air, he looked above and through dark clouds, glimpsing the beautiful bow of a Lutrian airship, sides white with gold filigree. The ship his bride-to-be was captured on. Letting out an intense roar, the king charged forward to the edge of the platform as another cannonball of magical energy flew past him. He knew if he missed, he would be caught in the blast, or fall to his death. Skin changing color from pale to a deep brown, his eyes glowed bright red as he leapt off the edge of the platform. Hands and arms twisted and malformed, muscles underneath twitched and pulsed as they transformed into massive leathery ashen wings. His finely tailored wedding suit ripped away in the process, and the handsome bearded face of the king transitioned into that of a hellish, nightmarish beast. The explosion behind him pushed him up and hard toward the receding ship. Through the clouds he flew, still roaring with all his breath.

FILADORA!

There at the bow she had pressed herself against the railing, her wedding dress of navy and silver and white whipping in the wind, her cloak with the filigree of the moons pulling at her throat and swinging around her. The high crest of her hair was half undone, strands of auburn flailing in the breeze and carrying her tears away. He saw her reaching for him, but as his claws scratched and brushed against the railing, her cloak ripped free and covered him, while the illusion warbled and waned. He grabbed the cloak and before his eyes another explosion in front of him blasted him backward, blinding him. The white ship was destroyed, along with his love. Falling back to his crumbled and burning castle, the king’s form shifted back to humanoid and his eyes closed. Filadora... He clutched her magical cloak to his chest as he whispered her name one last time.

The Heraghine was lost.

With the disappearance of the Heraghine, a great civilization fell. She was lost, but not forgotten.

60 years later

General Artherien Vessifer | House Ighten

Footsteps crunching on snow was the only evidence that a hunter was nearby. The head of his prey lifted, and delicate, woolen ears twitched around. The hunter stopped, breathing slow and quiet as silver eyes concentrated on the six-legged ewe. He could see the muscles twitch in her white padded shoulder as he was mere inches away. One wrong move and she would be gone; Oieghursi, or sheepbears, were faster than horses. Eventually her head went back down, soft and sensitive nose nudging through snow to find the newer blades of grass that spring was promising.

Close. So close.

With a slow and deep inhale in, the hunter raised his scythe, and with a solid swing of his arm, sharp red primiron swept through the neck of the ewe, collapsing her to the ground. Blood splashed, but all that made contact with the blade absorbed into the precious metal.

Blaaah! A shrill bleating made the hunter turn in surprise to see a lamb in the covered shrubs nearby, almost completely hidden where it sat as it too was as white as the snow.

A couple weeks old. If I leave it, it’ll die. White steam puffed from his mouth as he sighed, Fine. He folded the blade of his weapon in and made his way to the lamb, kneeling before it and unwrapping the rope at his side to bind the paws of the animal together.

Blaaah! Blah!

I’m not going to hurt you, I’m trying to help you, After the binding he noticed something on the back of the lamb’s head. What’s this? A birthmark? Dark blue and jutting out, it looked not unlike a horn—but an Oieghursi’s horns were dark gray or tan, not blue. Nor crystalized in nature like this one appeared to be.

Blaahh. The lamb looked up at him pathetically, and it was then he noticed the eyes of the animal were also blue, and glowing.

You’re—magical, aren’t you? He had the intention of raising the thing to train or kill later, but if this had any value, perhaps he could get some good coin for it. He’d have to have it properly appraised before that, though. Good thing I didn’t leave you behind after all.

After securing his prizes to his draft horse, he lifted himself up on the beast and began the long journey home. From the position of the sun at its peak, about eight finger-widths from the horizon, he estimated it was early afternoon. Three of the moons were visible, crescents that floated nearby. Dephe was the biggest and brightest, its bright yellow streak visible even in its crescent phase. Praise be our Dragonmother, who shelters us with her ever loving caress. Sarcasm dripped with his words as he rolled his eyes. You hear that, Brighteyes? As though Derdia cares for us. She abandoned us and forsook the Vessifer. We’re cursed because of her. He spat at the ground, and his horse neighed in response. Just keep going, Toreighen. I know I was given the slowest of the horses, but you’ve a lot more stamina than those other big guys, He smirked at his own suggestive remark and patted at the horse’s neck, which seemed to make the horse a bit pleased.

The tundra of Ironmarsh was a harsh, cold, and desolate place. Few dared brave its severe winds and frigid temperatures, even in the more reasonable seasons. Even the native Marshers stuck to the lower altitudes closer to the southern shores. But those called Vessifer, cursed by the deity Derdia herself, had naturally higher body temperatures and hot blood, able to survive and thrive in the blizzards and frozen ocean of the north. They attributed that to Dragonbreath, believing Derdia was a dragon, and bestowing upon her children some of her powers. Some saw it as a gift while others, a curse. They left behind decorated behemoth landmarks of upright swords and statues of kings, queens, bonded dragons, and dragon saints throughout the snowplains, with ambiguous names and titles that indicated a rich, elusive reign in history.

Their race resembled humans, though much taller, broader, and more attractive. But with their attractiveness came a dark and terrifying side that most would describe as nightmarish. When their emotions, sensitive as they were, become overwhelming, the Vessifer transformed into a massive terrifying beast-like creature that is unique to the person. There was once a being that helped keep the Vessifer’s overwhelming emotions in check, but she left them cursed just as Derdia had.

The Heraghine turned her back on us, too. The man frowned, pulling his thick oilskin parka closer to his throat. He was a Vessifer, hot blooded, but the winds striking at hot flesh felt as though it were ripping through him. Aunt Jem insists that’s a lie, but she hasn’t explained herself. Everyone says the Heraghine killed herself in the Rapture of King Elighas to save her betrothed king. She left no heir, which means no more Heraghine to continue her healing work. Which means assholes like my brother-king go on unchecked! He spat to the side again, his grip on the saddle horn tightening as he felt himself increasingly becoming angry. Toreighen, sensing his master’s shift to irritation, neighed loudly and halted in his tracks. This caused the lamb to bleat loudly in discomfort, pulling the hunter’s mind to the present. "What, horse!" To that, Toreighen whinnied and shook his head before picking up a trot again on the flat tundra.

They passed one of the landmarks, the closest to the capital of Gheisen, a massive stone and solarnickel sword, the solarnickel reflecting pink and gold in the dim sunlight on the hilt. This was a replica of Lady Emyre Ighten’s Bloodsword. Forged with precious primiron to soak up the blood of her enemies, the hilt had been delicately inlaid with the pinkish rose dull-cast solarnickel. A perfect balance between ferocity and a genteel mind. The landmark itself marked her final resting place. He paused here, but instead of admiring the majestic metal towering above, he was observing carefully the point where the monument met the ground. In a stone box were her mourning flowers, the carefully handcrafted paper lilies and moon flowers still inside. On the front of the box was her name, elegantly carved with letters swirling around the edges. Like all mourning flower boxes, it was enchanted with a spell that made the box glitter with swirling lights that followed the carvings of the letters. His mother was the last of her clan, and decorated highly in her ranks.

When a woman died, she would be carried in a procession with her favorite flowers surrounding her body, but it was always almost impossible to get fresh flowers, so meticulously painted paper ones would be made. Her family members would each take one when it was time to bury her, but if any were left on her, they would be placed in a sacred enchanted box.

Toreighen neighing brought him back to the moment. By this time the sun had arched closer toward the horizon, only a couple of finger-widths away from setting. If he didn’t get back to Gheisen before the sun set, the nighttime wildlings and nightbeasts would be of more concern than the knife-like winds and rapidly dropping temperature. He’d already braved one night out here on his hunt, he didn’t want to attempt another. Let’s go. Geeyagh! Snapping at the reins and leaning in, the hunter raised in his saddle as Toreighen picked up speed once more.

The mountain that housed Gheisen was getting closer, a double sharp peak that was always half covered in snow except for the few months of summer. At the base, and hollowed out like a basin sat the city, carved into the insides of the mountain and half hidden well under a rock shelf that provided a sort of roof for a good portion of Gheisen. This kept heat in, allowing the non-Vessifer residents a more comfortable living arrangement. Up the center was a wide stone bridge and road that led to the castle near the top of the Scissor Point, also carved into the higher part of the mountain, where the Vessifer ruled over Ironmarsh.

By the time he arrived, the sun had set and all the lights in the city were on and a warm glow cast over the streets. Fog had settled in, which he was grateful he’d made it back in time before it did. People were closing up, moving in toward the warmer underside of the rocky shelf. Pubs and taverns were still open, but that would have required a detour into the denser parts of the city, and as enticing as a pub was at this particular time, the young man had something in mind he needed to handle right away—clean and skin his kill, give the meat to the kitchens, then take the lamb to Aunt Jem to see if she knew anything about the magic it contained.

Toreighen, huffing, settled for a light trot as they made their way up toward the castle. The clacking of his thick hair-covered hooves on the paved road was muffled by the fog, echo traveling only as far as his rider’s ears.

Chapter 2

Aunt Jem

When he finally arrived at her quarters, it was near midnight and a snowstorm was picking up outside. Three raps at her door and a heavy, agitated sigh responded.

Enter, you inconsiderate lout, the old woman demanded.

Once inside, he shut the door and placed the sack with the sleeping lamb gently on a table nearby. His aunt was pulling a robe around her older, muscular frame, a testament to her years of training in battle.

Don’t you have any idea how to use a timepiece, Artherien? It’s late, it’s cold, and I’m tired. Arms crossed tight over her chest, Aunt Jem, whose face was in a constant scowl, glared at him with glowing yellow eyes, instead of her normal hazel ones. She was near transforming, but he knew it was just a threat because she was in a bad mood.

I found something. He began pulling the bag down to expose the creature within.

"Something that couldn’t wait till day? Something that is so important you have to come knocking in the middle of the night to bother me? She stopped when she saw the animal. An Oieghursi lamb. We can have a tender meal over steamed potatoes. Congratulations."

Her sarcasm and threats had been lost on him awhile ago. She raised him, after all. "If you want a magical dinner. Look. He pulled the wool back on the head to reveal the blue crystal formation growing there. After I got it back, I found some more like this on it. Its eyes are blue too, and glow. And take a look at the paws, at that, he gently bent one of its legs to show crystals growing between the small bear-like claws of each finger. What do you think could cause this?"

More importantly, you want to know how much you can get from selling something like this! Don’t think I don’t know your agendas, young man. She moved to get a closer look, lighting some candles on her desk and bringing an oil lamp close.

He was sheepish as he cleared his throat. I mean... I need to save up every penny I can.

Ever since your brother forbade you from nearing the treasury after your ‘special night out’ to the pubs and nighthouses? She scoffed, beginning her examination of the lamb. It’s magical, alright, she muttered, pulling a monocle from a small case and adjusting it to her face as she sat at the table, setting closer to the lamb.

I just thought—since you’d... done a lot of research on magic already, you might be able to figure this one out, Artherien responded quietly, trying to avoid the matter about his ‘special night out.’

"Don’t make it sound like I’ve been wasting my time, lout, I never said I was retired from war." 

My brother did after he declared himself king when he murdered our father.

She almost broke the animal’s leg at his statement. Watch your tongue! He’s still our king. I still advise on his war council, as do you. You’ll be replacing me as General soon enough.

His eyes rolled. "Your king," no one rules over me. Still, her loyalty to her country and leader knew no bounds. Despite that, he still had the feeling she was hiding something, even from him. No one else knew of her magical studies, and he certainly didn’t know exactly what she was researching. The papers plastered on her walls were torn from random books, her hand writing scrawled over most of them. It seemed gibberish for the most part, though what appeared to be bits of map and locations were evident. A location of something, perhaps? He didn’t know if he cared enough to ask.

Snapping fingers got his attention. Get me the book on forced magics. Second shelf from the bottom. Green bound.

Forced magics? As in unnatural? Interesting theory. He sat the book next to her, then crossed his arms over his chest as he watched. Eyes heavy, he leaned back against the wall of papers as he began to feel the longing pull of sleep desiring to overtake him.

Artherien, wake up! A heavy boot to his side made him grunt in pain as he sat up from his spot on the floor, heavy blanket falling to his lap.

Unh... what? Grumbling, he rubbed his head as he blinked sleep away from heavy eyes. 

You’re not getting a gem for that lamb of yours, it’s not worth it! I was right, it’s got forced magics on it—and get this! It’s Harkan magic! Aunt Jem waved an open book under his nose, pointing to something about the country of Geodona, founded by the Demi-deity, Terramis.

Sleep still clung to his mind as he tried to grasp her words. What are you saying? After a heavy rubbing of his eyes, he took the book from her and squinted at the pages.

Harkanites are cultists, yeah? Relying on magics bestowed on them genetically from Terramis to change or alter nature around them. Instead of those from Arc’hilde who force magic from their victims to the point of death, the Harkanites manipulate magic from their victims like puppets. She paused at the confused look on his face, "I’m saying that whoever put this magic on your sheep here, was a Geodonan Harkanite. They’re here. In Ironmarsh. And likely close by."

Artherien’s eyes widened as he looked up at her quickly. An attack? Why would they have a reason to come here, if not to set an attack on us? Don’t they have some ‘chosen one’ they’re supposed to be going after, why would they come here?

Aunt Jem smiled at him. Exactly why you’ll be replacing me as War General, Artherien. Your first thoughts, as they should be, are for the protection of your nation. She took a deep breath and pet the lamb behind the ears, scratching at thick, white wool. I imagine, this animal was not supposed to receive the magic it did. If we didn’t hear wind about any newcomers by now, the Harkanites have been doing well to cover their tracks. Which means a surprise attack on the city. Her head turned to the rattling window, short, whitened hair aglow in the roaring firelight of the hearth, and Artherien could feel the itch and excitement that was growing within her. She was quite ready for a battle, perhaps a last one to relive the glory days.

Before you get carried away, this still needs to be brought to the attention of the king. And who knew when that irritable man would be available to talk. Setting up a War Council meeting alone could take days. Artherien was sure his brother would be ready to let out some built up aggression on some proper enemies, but it would need to be approached, and most messengers were terrified of their king to deliver any news. I’ll do it, he exhaled.

That risks a fight between the two of you children. And if two Vessifers destroy each other before the Harkanites arrive, they’ll have the upper hand already! The division between you will only secure their victory!

It saves anyone else from his wrath.

A heavy sigh came from Aunt Jem. Tell Kelhina. She will advise him to gather the War Council. If I go to him alone, he will undoubtedly question my every response, if you and I approach together, he will assume we are using whatever ‘nonsense’ we’ve conjured here against him. Kelhina will not come near me. There is a dumb and fragile game that has to be played here, Artherien. So tell her. He will listen to her.

His eyes widened. You can’t be serious! He’ll kill me if I get close to his wife, you know the history she and I have—

"I’m aware, Artherien. He married her to spite you, but he will listen to her. And, we want no giant rifts within the royal halls before we are torn asunder by Harkanite magics!"

Why not you? His pathetic attempt at a comeback irritated her.

Her eyes glowed yellow at him. Do not test me, boy. The woman despises me like a cat to a dog. 

He sighed heavily in defeat. Is the lamb the only proof we have?

No. Here. She handed him the book on forced magics, a bookmark at the pages that described Harkan abilities and uses. Show her the comparisons to the animal. She’s not an insensible woman. And Artherien, do it soon. The snowstorm buys some time, but who knows when they will be coming here.

We’re absolutely sure they’re coming here, then? To attack?

Her look to him was one of irritation, but it dawned on her the stupidity of the question was not from him—it would be asked of him, and he was searching for the exact statement to say to such an idiotic lout. "There’s no other settlement within a five day walk from here. Harkanites do not travel alone. They are loyal to state and country, and if one does not make their presence known before arriving, what kind of introduction do you think they will be making?"

Artherien nodded. Just as I thought, too. Alright, Aunt. I’ll see you in the morning.

"It is morning, Artherien. Go get some breakfast." She yawned before ushering him out with the lamb, the books, and, fortunately, his head.

Chapter 3

Harkanites

By the time Artherien reached his chambers, he’d managed a measly breakfast and fed the lamb when it wouldn’t shut up. He set up the drying rack to clean the skin of the ewe and brush out the wool. It would make an excellent coat, and the leather would be tough enough to craft on to another piece of armor he had been working on. As he worked, he went over how he might tell Kelhina of the impending attack. But judging how their encounters had been in recent days, he was sure it would lead to them right back here, to his chambers, in his bed.

As much flirting, or as most would view it, arguing, that they had done, he had never imagined it would lead to the two of them actually having an affair. It wasn’t his intention, as this was his brother’s wife, but from the moment Artherien and Kelhina had met, there was a spark of animosity between them. He enjoyed her snarky remarks and foul mouth when they were in close quarters, and found it particularly amusing how she could switch between a sailor-mouthed drunkard and a prim, straight-backed lady of court at a moment’s notice. They argued to no end, heated in topics, and reveled in the frustration they caused each other. But she was intelligent enough to pick out the most important information, and knew how to handle Reighen. When Reighen used his kingly order to marry her after she refused an informal invite, she realized how different the two brothers were. But Artherien knew he married her out of spite. He didn’t want his younger bastard brother to have something that was worth anything.

That didn’t stop them from convening secretly, which they did for over a year until Reighen found out. After which, they kept their distance, but Artherien watched from afar how she seemed to be breaking. Her head often hung, and every so often mysterious bruises would arise on her skin. Her once thick and curly auburn hair had become straighter and thin. Her once bright and dartful hazel eyes had become overcast and dull. A few months prior, Artherien sent a secret note to her, and demanded they meet. It took that long to slowly work on undoing the torture his brother had been dealing her, and the moment the light returned to her eyes, Artherien engaged in another argument with her, to which she promptly won by kissing him. From then on, they continued their meetings in secret, but almost always ended them here, in his bed.

A long sigh, and he looked up from his work. The rattling of the window had died down, indicating the snowstorm was passing. Let’s go, Brighteyes. We don’t have much time. He already spent too much time thinking over how to tell Kelhina about the situation and getting lost in his fantasies about her. He had