A Dance of Light and Dark: Queen Inaria, Tales of Nevaeh, Vol. VIII: Tales Of Nevaeh, #8

By David Wind

The Saga of Nevaeh continues in the Post-Apocalyptic Epic Sci-Fi Series, Tales of Nevaeh, with …

A Dance of Light and Dark, pitting young Queen Inaria of Freemorn against the Dark Sorceresses controlled by the Masters, as they try to kill the child Inaria carries, the child destined to change the world, and to stop the Dark Masters.
—Together with Princes Enaid, The Warlord, Roth, and her husband, King Nosaj, she meets the Dark Sorceresses on their chosen battleground. A Dance of Light and Dark continues the Tales of Nevaeh series, as the Queen of Freemorn fights to protect the child she carries—the child prophecy has foretold will lead Nevaeh to break the hold of the Dark Masters, forever—the child who will become the most powerful sorceress ever born in Nevaeh.
From the first book in the Tales of Nevaeh series, the International Bestselling Born to Magic, the critics have called Tales of Nevaeh a mix between Shannara, The Hundred Series, with a dash of GoT and a dollop of Andre Norton. A Dance of Light and Dark combines futuristic dystopian societies ruled by magic and metaphysical elements with science fiction in this Epic Post-Apocalyptic Sci-Fi Fantasy series based upon the magic that grew from the science & technology of the 20th & 21st centuries

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Wind
• Release date: Sep 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781736891476

David Wind

International award-winning author and double B.R.A.G. Honoree, David Wind, has published forty-three novels including Science Fiction, Mystery, and suspense thrillers. David is a Past-President of the Florida Chapter of the Mystery Writers of America. A Hybrid (Traditional and Independent) Author, David first Indie novel, Angels in Mourning, was a 'homage' to the old-time private detective's of the 50's and the 60's. (He used to sneak them from his parents' night tables and read them as a young boy.) Angels is a contemporary take on the old-style noir detective and won the Amazon.com Book of the Month Reader's Choice Award. David's Contemporary Fiction novel, published in December of 2017, and based on the Harry Chapin Song, A Better Place To Be, received the Bronze Award for Literary Excellence, from Ireland's prestigious DD International Awards; A Better Place To Be was named a B.R.A.G. Medallion Honoree, signifying a book of the highest literary quality and written by Independent writers. The first book of David's Epic Sci-Fi Fantasy Series, Tales Of Nevaeh. Born To Magic, is an international Amazon genre Best Seller, a Kindle Review of Books finalist for Fantasy Book of the year, and winner of the Silver Award from Ireland's Drunken Druid International Awards for Literary excellence. Over 80,000 copies of Tales of Nevaeh have been download. His mystery, suspense, Police procedurals, and thrillers are The Hyte Maneuver, (a Literary guild alternate selection); The Sokova Convention, The Morrisy Manifest, Out of the Shadows, and, Desperately Killing Suzanne. He wrote the Medical Thriller, The Whistleblower's Daughter, with Terese Ramin. The idea for this Medical Legal Thriller came shortly after the death of a close friend. David said, "I couldn't help but wonder about the medication...." David's his first nonfiction book, The Indie Writer's Handbook, is a guide to help authors who have completed their manuscripts to publish Independently. The Handbook was David's second book to be awarded the B.R.A.G. Medallion for literary excellence..   David’s Links --Visit David's Website at http://www.davidwind.com  

Book preview

A Dance of

Light and Dark:

QUEEN INARIA

Tales of Nevaeh

Volume VIII

––––––––

By

David Wind

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and events are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places or incidents are coincidental and not intended by the author.

Copyright © 2022 by David Wind. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

ISBN: 978-1-7368914-7-6

First Edition 9/1/2022

Cover by Steven Novak

Map by Jamie Noble

Edited by Lacie Redding/ Pelican Proofing.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to all people

who hold onto the hopes and dreams

for the future humankind.

Other novels written by David Wind are listed at the end of this book. Click Here

A Special Preview of GODDESS follows.

MAP OF NEVAEH

Circa 5249 AD

Map Description automatically generated

A Dance of

Light and Dark:

QUEEN INARIA

_______________________

Tales of Nevaeh

Volume VIII

PROLOGUE

5248 A.D. Fall

STARING east into the vastness of the blue-green sea, Hakebar stood at the edge of her cavern, her body once again healed by the Masters. It had taken almost three years since the battle with the Warlord and his people to heal her agony-filled body. Yet, compared to the centuries her Master had granted her life, it was but a faint whisper of time, for within her burned the twin fires of anger and hatred.

Mended you are, Hakebar, but ready to move forward, are you? The voice she heard only within her head was a welcome sound.

Turning from the sea, she knelt before the projected vision of the Dark Master standing deep within the shadows of the cavern. Covered from head to foot by a hooded dark gray robe, the only feature visible within the hood were his pale eyes, which were contained within a thin band of red, and so light blue they were almost white.

The Dark Master Fasil Abdul-Mu'eid stared at the Afzaleen Sorceress as if he were standing there, physically. Yet, after two millennium, she knew his face well. Beneath the hood of the dark robe hid skin as ancient and wrinkled as time itself, its bloodless gray parlor never changing.

Ready am I, My Lord, to do your bidding. While his presence was a bodiless psychic projection within her mind, he was here with her, and had been for two years. Although he was but a vision within her mind, when he bent and reached out to her, she felt his hand upon her head, felt his power flowing into her body, and a tear of gratitude rolled from the corner of her right eye.

As I know you are. Trained well, Lessig, have you?

A good student she has proved to be, My Master, and as you instructed, taught her did I all things possible in the time given us.

Master Fasil withdrew his hand while continuing to stare down at the witch. Now, Hakebar, I have but a single objective for you. Inaria, Queen of Freemorn is with child. This child must not survive. This child must not be born. Do you understand?

Understand do I, My Master. I will not fail you and the Masters, for deep within me does burn my vengeance.

The Dark Master pointed to the stub of her right arm. Look to your arm, Hakebar. Of all your injuries, only your arm have we not renewed. Keep it so, you will, to serve as a reminder of the cost of your failure. With you, have we left fifty ghazi warriors in the trance of sleep. Awaken them as your need arises. Use them wisely, waste them not. So saying, the Dark Master withdrew from her mind.

Hakebar rose, a warped smile growing on her distorted face as she stared at the remnants of her right arm. The baby will die, and the mother as well, she promised.

Not the mother ... Not yet, ordered the Dark Master Fasil. Other plans have we for her.

#

Completed your training you have, Lessig, came the guttural tones of the ruling Dark Master, Fasil Abdul-Mu'eid. You are ready!

Kneeling before the image, she said, Ready am I to serve you, My Master.

An important objective have I for you. You will go to western Nevaeh. You will be ready to assist Hakebar should she need your help. Task her I did to make certain the child of your sworn enemy will not survive the pregnancy.

But for you, Lessig, what we ask is also necessary for our future. Find willing servants you must, for through them will you accomplish what is needed. Turn these Women of Power to yourself. Bond them so tight they can think of nothing but serving you. He paused for a moment, bent lower, his pale, red-circled pupils bore into her own like twin tunnels of dark power. Pick your servants, chose wisely those who would follow you, for creating chaos among the domains is what you must do ... but stay a shadow you must, unseen by any other.

Go now, begin with Kashold and Welkold. Keep the Nevaens occupied so they see the trouble you ferment, and not the work Hakebar does.

Lessig met his eyes directly. You promised me my vengeance—I choose the time of her death, not Hakebar.

Have your vengeance on Inaria, you shall ... Such have I promised you.

Thank you, My Master, it will be done as you ask ...

CHAPTER 1

5249 A.D. Early Fall

STANDING in the courtyard an hour before anyone within the castle keep would awaken, and framed by the meager shafts of moonlight granted by the waning yellow disc, Inaria, Queen of Freemorn, smiled at her husband when he drew her into his arms. I would send half our army with you.

She stroked his cheek before catching his short beard between thumb and forefinger and drawing his lips to hers. The kiss was brief, yet poignant. Know you well, none can accompany me on my Journey of Clarity. I will be safe; I will allow no harm to our child.

He shook his head. I still fear for you. Enemies we have, and the Masters themselves would take you for their own.

Putting both hands on her extended belly, she shook her head. I have waited until the last minute. Six months will I be soon. I have put this off for too long. This must be done now! She looked up into his blue-green eyes, and promised, I will stay wary and alert throughout all. But for her, this must be done.

Never have I understood this journey, the King of Freemorn admitted. You will not know what she is to be until her fifth anniversary of birth. What does this ... this journey really prove?

Inaria held his challenging stare, her green eyes locked on his face. It holds true the tradition of who we are, my love, again, you know this as well as do I. I must prepare myself, and our child for the possibility she will be a Woman of Power. Ask not how this is accomplished, for I know not—not yet. But without this journey, she will not become what she is meant to be. And Nosaj, she whispered, Great things I see in her future.

So certain are you?

My Lord, Inaria said pointedly, As sure am I of this, as I am of the love we share.

He shook his mane of raven hair and drew her close again. Then go you must, but return you will. Is this understood? When she nodded, he frowned. There are rumors of raids by exiles. Unusual is it as well. Never have they done so, so openly. I fear this is of the Masters’ doing.

I do not remember ever hearing of such. But I will take care, my love, and I will see what I might learn of these raids. But fear not for I will return from the forest of the Blue Desert.

A foreseeing I’m sure, he joked, then knelt suddenly, pressing his mouth to her expanding belly. The moment his lips met the material covering her stomach, the baby turned and moved to where his mouth touched.

Inaria’s hands wound through his black hair before turning his face up to her. She knows you already, My Lord. Eager is she to meet you.

And I her, he whispered.

Standing, he wrapped his arms about her. Come home to me safe, both of you. Then he released her and went to a small table where two wrapped silk objects sat. He picked up the first one, which was long and narrow, and brought it to her.

Inaria’s brows rose. What?

To bring you back to me. To keep you safe in the Blue Forest.

Opening the silks, she withdrew a white wood bow. The rare white gazebow was magnificently carved into a double arc, its handgrip of light tan dar skin glowed in the sunlight. She studied it like one would a rare object, then looked at him, her face reflecting her surprise at this gift. It is ...

... like you, one of the most beautiful things in my world.

He went back to the table to retrieve the second, smaller yet wider gift. When he handed it to Inaria, her eyebrows rose. To keep you and the baby protected, he declared.

She unwrapped it and held up a tan leather and armored vest. While she looked it over, Nosaj explained he’d had the vest made with an unusual design. I asked the weapons maker to create this, which will, like regular armor, protect your back and chest; however, this, he said, showing her the small leather hinge that attached another panel of leather and braided metal onto the front. Will expand with your growing stomach and protect the child you carry.

She raised her hand to his face and stroked his cheek. Her green eyes sparkled, and as she smiled, small laugh lines radiated from the corners of her eyes. I will wear it whenever I go into battle.

You will wear it when you go on this journey, Nosaj stated.

Inaria’s neck arched back. She stared into his eyes, and said, I love you, My Lord. But you must trust me to know when I need to wear this—too much weight do I already carry.

He started to argue, then stopped. He knew any argument would be a loss for him.

Be wary, was all he could say.

#

The dark sorceress Lessig looked around the single room of the small stone cottage, which sat near the far edge of a cliff overlooking the Western Sea. The newest Afzaleem Sorceress, barely thirty years old, yet she would be so powerful a sorceress that the Masters had foreseen her birth decades before she came into the world.

The Masters knew she would be the dark sorceress they had been waiting for, for centuries. And after her birth, they watched as she grew within the borders of Freemorn, and when the powers of the child matured, they sent Hakebar to bring her into their fold, for she would be their next Afzaleem Sorceress, their next black witch.

Here, in the stone cottage in the Western Badlands, just before the mountain range of Welkold, she had come with her two new followers. These were the two Women of Power she had selected to do her bidding, and they were here to continue their education.

The women, Enelle of Kashold, and Nasus of Welkold, had both been willing supplicants to her power. She’d found Enelle shortly after the young woman failed her testing on the Island, and had refused to stay and serve the Eight; rather, she’d chosen to leave the Island. The ebony-skinned Enelle had made the return trip from the Island to Kashold but did not stay there either. The failed Woman of Power chose exile in the wastelands, as her powers ripped self-destructively through her body.

Sensing the depth of her anger and rage, Lessing had taken her in. She promised to teach Enelle how to build her abilities to where she would have her revenge on the world she’d left behind. When the young sorceress accepted Lessig as her mentor, her lessons began as they walked through the wasteland.

Shortly after discovering Enelle, she’d found another Woman of Power, one whom, when called to The Island, refused to go because of her fears of her own abilities. Nasus of Welkold, cast out by her family, wandered through the mountains toward the wasteland, as she, like Enelle, sought one of the towns of exiles. Before she’d reached the exiles, Lessig found her.

Lessig spent weeks working on Nasus’s mind until she broke through the young sorceress’s fear of using magic. Once she conquered her fear, Nasus proved to be a brilliant student, and one eager to gain more power.

And at this moment, both were doing what she had asked of them, creating chaos, and turning Kashold against Welkold in skirmish after skirmish along the length of the border between the two domains.

Enelle of Kashold, with Lessig, had tricked and drawn the Queen of Kashold into submission. They took control of her thoughts and actions, and compelled Kali to do the same to her husband, King Tamor.

Following her months of training, and with the King and Queen under her solid control, it was easy enough for Enelle to accomplish what Lessig commanded.

For Welkold, Lessig had a different plan. Nasus did not go to the capital to take control of Queen Mairim, for Lessig knew neither Enelle nor Nasus was strong enough yet; instead, she’d sent Nasus to the border to use her now potent magic. Within a day she had Welkold’s royal guard patrols within her grip.

By Fall, there had been three border clashes, and the rumblings of war were vibrating through the two domains as Lessig pushed her shadow work forward.

CHAPTER 2

THE fountain’s water, transformed by the sun into a sparkling waterfall, mesmerized the small boy watching it. Blue eyes the shade of sapphires, contrasted to the paler iridescence of crystal-clear water as Mikaal followed the water spilling over the top of the fountain and down into its base.

Gazing at his son, Roth could do nothing but smile. Tall was he for his age, with dark, almost jet-black hair, and born exactly nine months to the day after the final battle with Hakebar. Roth glanced at Enaid. Childbirth’s only effect was to make her even more beautiful since Mikaal’s birth.

He scooped the boy from his feet, lifted him high, and spun them both in a circle. When he stopped, he set him into the fountain and under the falling water. It wasn’t the first time his father had done this to young Mikaal. The same laugh that had erupted the first time, burst free again.

Queen Enna smiled warmly at her grandson. I still cannot believe it! Every time you do this, I expect to hear him scream and fight. I’ve never seen a child so love to be dumped into the fountain, at least not one Mikaal’s age. He’s not yet two.

Enaid shook her head. We have yet to find something that frightens him.

Her mother’s eyebrows rose. Yet ...

Standing, twenty-month-old Mikaal raised his arms, his eyes locked on Roth. More!

Roth bent, but stopped at the sound of his name. He turned as Siwel, one of his Six team, came running. You are needed in the training grounds—Prince Darb requests it.

I’ll catch up. He turned to Mikaal, hoisted him out of the fountain, spun in a circle, and dumped him back into the fountain before casting a smile at Enaid.

When he strode off, he heard Enna’s fading voice. And he talks so well ... how?

#

Two minutes later, the Warlord of Nevaeh stepped through the archway of the castle keep, out onto the large training ground, and stopped as he looked around. Twice the size of any arena from before he’d left his dying earth, the practice grounds comfortably held four to five hundred soldiers. Today, there were less than fifty.

Off to his right, his two Six teams worked out. Across from him a platoon of Royal Guardsmen practiced their close-in sword work. However, and as good as these warriors were, they needed to understand how better to work together as a unit to protect their charges with perfection and precision.

His eyes went back to his Sixes. Behind them, in the shadow of the keep itself, was a woman in a wheeled chair swinging her sword at imaginary foes. Roth paused to watch Epoh. As always, he was amazed at her resiliency and power.

Ah, the Warlord shows his face, came Prince Darb’s half-whisper.

Smiling, Roth turned to his friend. As it should be.

Darb shook his head, his dark hair flew outward, then settled on his shoulders. Always the ready answer.

Sometimes, Roth admitted. Siwel said this was urgent.

Shaking his head, Darb said, It is. Word has come of skirmishes at the border between Kashold and Welkold.

Roth frowned. Why would Tamor or Nagrom break the alliance?

That is the answer we need seek.

Roth scanned the training grounds, taking in everything, but seeing nothing as he thought on Darb’s word. See this as darkness, do you?

Darb met his eyes. You have taught me much about how the Masters manipulate us. Yes, see this as darkness I do.

Then we must learn the truth.

Tomorrow?

Roth glanced over his shoulder at his six teams. Have your men ready at morning’s first light. He paused, closed his eyes for a second, then said, We’ll need someone to deal with Mairim and Kali if they are a part of this.

Enaid?

He pictured Mikaal. Not this time.

Darb stared at Roth for a moment, his head tilted slightly askew as he puzzled out the answer. Then looked over his shoulder, past the Sixes to the woman in the wheeled chair. Epoh? She has more strength and determination.

Turning, Roth watched the Woman of Power in her exercises. Yes.

#

Standing in a circle before the gleaming steel of the needle, the only unsullied piece of metal on The Island, the Eight stood within the constant dome of the rust red dust swirling over the The Island. Seven of the Eight sorceresses clasped hands with the one on either side. In the eighth space, her hood lowered, stood the Speaker, the jet-black skin of her face and head exposed; where hair should have been, scales gleamed dully. Yet, the skin of her face was as smooth as silk, and the thin orange bands encircling the pale blue irises glowed in the low light.

She stood absolutely still, touching no other while deep within the trance she had set an hour before. The seven watched her for any signs of awareness. Finally, the Speaker blinked several times, and then grasped the hands of the sorceresses to each side of her.

A great danger comes, one not expected here and now. The aura of Hakebar is returned to Nevaeh. And another as well, this one deeply hidden by shadows. Much danger do they create for Nevaeh.

Why? What do they seek to gain so soon after they were defeated? asked one of the circle.

The Speaker stared at her. The Staff. It is always about the Staff of Afzal.

The sorceress shook her head. I understand not. It is too soon. The prophesy speaks of—

Stop! The Speaker’s thoughts, sword edged and sharp, cut the other off. This is something unforeseen by us, or by She who is below. What is happening is for the Old One to stop, but only with our help. We must prepare those who are best suited for this.

Who? asked another of the circle. The mother of one, perhaps, but the ... the one ... the woman has not yet birthed.

Before The Speaker could respond, a sharp thought broke into her mind. The spirit guide of Nevaeh—known to them as Sophia [1], the bodiless entity who had led the Eight for three millennia — pushed another thought to the Speaker. They come to create havoc, to force confusion and turmoil upon Nevaeh. They do so to weaken the strength the dominions have gained—weaken us so they may pursue the Staff. With it, they conquer all. Trust in the instincts of the Old One must we.

The Speaker exhaled when She withdrew, then gazed slowly around the circle. Remember do we, when the Masters came last, and the Master Jalil escaped them to come to us. He told us much, and showed us even more, before Ailish took him to the secret place.

Remember as if it were today do we, the joining of circle and Staff, came the unified voices.

Feel you not the sense of darkness coming?

The seven looked from the Speaker to each other and back. They said nothing.

Join fully with me!

It took only a moment for the eight sorceresses to become a single connected mind. In that instant of bonding, the seven stiffened when the Speaker’s mind filled theirs with her absolute sense of danger.

They will come as they did the last time. Within two decades come will they, for it is foreseen. Rises as well does the new Afzaleem. Two thousand years has it been since the Masters last touched foot on our lands. Two thousand years has Hakebar reigned supreme as their Afzaleem Sorceress. And now another joins her.

A part of our foreseeings, this was not, said one.

Put it out of mind, have you? The Speaker’s serpentine body stiffened. She looked from ebony face to ebony face and, staring into identical eyes, pushed a thought to them as hard as she would have sent an arrow. Warn us of what is coming did Jalil.

But too soon it is!

The Speaker’s neck arched like a snuck about to strike. Gestates does the girl-child. Near two decades will it be before she is ready. Plans are needed, now, for the Masters of the darkness grow impatient and they wait not, as we do, for the children to grow older. They prepare to find the Staff—soon.

How do we stop them? asked the combined minds of the other seven.

There is nothing can we do ... yet, The Speaker said, speaking aloud for the first time. As her words echoed through the corroding remnants of the buildings of The Island once known as Manhattan, she shook her head and continued aloud. "In motion are certain components; I have spoken with Her, and we are to do only what is absolutely needed, if anything is indeed needed. Believes, Sophia does, the Old One—the survivor who has returned—is strong enough to mold the dominions. Unknowing of his purpose is he, and perhaps always shall he be, but comes to us from the oldest of known prophecies he does, and we must trust in this as we do in Her, for it is as foretold."

A man ... an old one ... the ancient of the prophecies, said one of the circle, the two silent words echoing through their minds with all the drawn-out and unrestricted disdain, and the deep emotional fury fueling the dark anger with which each of the Eight viewed men.

Yes, The Speaker replied. And be directly with him, we cannot. But the women ... the women we can help to help him. The first of this has begun; the mate of the Old One will know what is needed.\

Footnote:

The first references of Sophia is found in TRINITY,  Tales of Nevaeh, Volume III -

CHAPTER 3

THE leaves of the giant gazebow trees were thinning with the oncoming Fall season. Mixed within the forest were the gazebows, maples, succulents, and