The Awakening

By Stephanie Ayers

Savania is in chaos. Evil creatures roam freely across the land. The dark witch works steadfastly to bring the evil king Rtharo back to life, and there's only one way to stop his awakening—one boy and a band of unlikely companions.

 

Join River and his new friends as they roam Savania on a quest to save their world from a nefarious rule and fulfill the prophecy of the five unique relics and their magical gemstones:

Five to immortality there be,

One red as blood- cared for by the dwarves,

One like fire- slays dragons in the sky

One blue as the icy sea- lost upon an arctic shore

One like a beast felled upon the forest floor,

And the last, the most powerful of them all, to meld them and rule.

The Awakening begins now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Crazy Ink
• Release date: Nov 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215307526

Book preview

Logo Description automatically generatedA coin with a design on it Description automatically generated with low confidence

Introduction

Savania was divided into four realms. Connera, the eastern realm, and Danura, the west, were exact opposites—if it snowed in one place, then the other would have sunshine. Most of the races occupied these regions, with the Elves choosing to occupy the lush green forests that lie on the outskirts of the west, and the dwarves dominating the mountains and valleys in the east, and everyone else populating the fertile land between them.

Garee Jarrood, the southern realm, contained a great desert called The Barren that separated it from the rest of Savania. It was always arid, and it rained three times a year. Because of that, Aeris De’Loris, once the home of the forest Elves, and its surrounding forest became less inhabited than the other regions of the world, though it had once been a bustling metropolis.

Tylunand, the northern realm, was mostly dark and cold, a land that saw less sun than the rest of the world. It was also home to the vilest of creatures—goblins, trolls, and other nocturnal creatures. A few humans lived in the North too: Tierna ‘Or—the home to Prince Aletalian and King Rylias, current ruler of the world and the Guild Knights; the Crystal Castle—home to Ulia the sorceress and Rtharo; and Cormier—the bright tropical city that lies along the Vertwyn Sea in the northernmost sector of Savania.

The very center of the world was called Eithel, which was where the four regions collided. A tight cluster of trees, a hundred cubic circle of impenetrable protection, constantly shifted to protect The Billow, the well-like hole in the center of Eithel. That hole was large enough to swallow a full-grown giant, and hot steam rose from it. It was the source of life for Savania. The five relics of prophecy needed to be tossed within The Billow. If the zombie king, Rtharo, gained control of the relics, the core would lose its power, and the balance of the world would shift.

Prologue

Athick, ebony mist in the shape of a vile and forgotten face rose from the peak of the northernmost mountain of Savania. A giant mouth formed within the smoke and revealed rows of sharp pointed teeth. An acrid odor of decay and death filled the air. A deep voice erupted from the haze, causing the valley below it to tremble, and the races within it were filled with fear. Legions of dark Elves, trolls, goblins, orcs, and ogres bowed as Rtharo’s form devoured the sky. The rush of a thousand wings offered testimony to the awakened Scions of Darkness, and the dead buried beneath the Crystal Castle rolled in their graves, waiting for their rebirth.

In a sheer glass castle, a cackle echoed across the land, putting fear in the hearts of all, and bringing terror to the northern provinces. As Rtharo’s power grew, the sky over the Crystal Castle grew darker, fleshing out more of the nocturnal creatures answering Rtharo’s call. Everlasting life was promised to all those who remained loyal to Rtharo and served him well. His armies were manned with the mischievous, the selfish, and the deranged. Workers from each species were sent down to the depths of the castle to assist with the weapon making. Production was high because the workers were swift and tireless.

Things were going much smoother than Ulia had ever anticipated. The egg had been successfully transplanted. Her chants and incantations over the large pot she had boiling, the one she used to scry the world in, sealed the egg with magic. Rtharo’s resurrection moved rapidly, and she had no intention to let him down. Only she held the power to control him, but her power slipped away as he gained strength. Soon, she would no longer need the illusion of the giant face. Rtharo would be strong enough to stand on his own, and her creature would be born from the egg.

The trolls and goblins traveled together, as they headed for the wasteland that bordered around the Eithel to guard it and keep the Chosen One from casting the accursed relics into it. Though they were natural born enemies, they marched together, stayed on task, only resting during the daylight hours without disagreement, so the trolls wouldn’t be turned to stone. The goblins kept vigil over the trolls to protect them when they couldn’t travel. Families ran for their cellars in fear when they saw the armies marching by. Ordered to avoid the main roads and villages, they raided and pillaged any stray homes they encountered along the way. The army that started out small grew in numbers as they marched until they reached Eithel, two hundred strong.

And thus, the Awakening began.

Chapter 1: A Prophecy Foretold

Ravengale rode into Willowglen on the back of a black unicorn with a broken horn. When news of his arrival hit the dwarven village, the people flocked around him. He entertained curious bystanders with stories from his travels and his purpose for being there. Ravengale’s gray eyes turned cloudy as the people laughed at the mention of River’s name. On cue, the boy, who had just returned from the river, bumbled up the path, tripped over his feet, and spilled the bucket of fish he carried.

This boy, one of the smallest dwarfs of the village, is the one who will save us? Baha! This boy can’t even save himself from kissing the dirt he walks on. Baha! an older man shouted.

Mage, go back to the cave you crawled out of! The prophecy would never choose a loser who can barely save himself from falling, let alone an entire world! a woman with a small child on her hip yelled.

More shouts filled the air. Boo! Go away! Leave us!

The taunts grew louder the closer the boy came. River’s father, Haldaôl, stood next to Ravengale through the entire story and scowled. Red faced, he pulled River away from the crowd, gestured to Ravengale to follow him, disappeared into his hut, and slammed his door. He had no desire to help anyone, no matter how badly they needed him.

Are you familiar with the history of Savania? he asked River as he made himself comfortable at the small, wooden two-seater dining table.

River was too overwhelmed to answer, so he nodded his head.

How much do you know? Ravengale pressed.

River shrugged. I know dragons used to exist. I know of a race of people who shifted into dragons, but they were wiped out long ago. The mage who defeated the dragon queen was the last good king of Savania, Edgar the Great. That’s about all I know.

Ravengale pointed to a ruby sword hung above the hearth. Do you know anything about that sword?

River shrugged his shoulders again. Only that it’s been in my family for years. My da never explained why it was so special, and I asked all the time.

Ravengale shook his head. He was dismayed that no one had passed the story down through the years and prepared the dwarves for that day. I suppose you’ve never heard the prophecy, then?

There are many, but they’re just stories, River answered.

Again, Ravengale shook his head. He should’ve spent more time among the people, teaching them and reminding them.

This one is very real, I’m afraid, and the time to fulfill it has arrived. That’s why I’m here. This is the prophecy: Five to immortality there be, one red as blood—cared for by the dwarves, one like fire—slays dragons in the sky, one blue as the icy sea—lost upon an arctic shore, one like a beast felled upon the forest floor, and the last, the most powerful of them all, to meld them and rule. He pointed at the sword on the wall again. That sword is the sword of prophecy, and it belongs to you. The ruby stone within it is as red as blood and has been passed down in your family for many generations.

River shook his head. Dragons don’t exist anymore, so the prophecy is outdated. I don’t believe you.

Ravengale’s nose whistled as he took a deep breath. Anger colored the room crimson. He wasn’t angry with River but with himself. He’d hidden away with the monks too long. River’s words stung.

"Regardless, there’s a staff that slayed the dragons, and that staff is what the prophecy refers to. Each line of the prophecy refers to a special item, which when combined with its magical gemstone offers the bearer immortality. They were scattered all across Savania in hopes the prophecy would never be fulfilled, but in the north, deep within the Crystal Castle, a witch works to reawaken the evilest king Savania has ever known—Rtharo. It is he who desires the relics, and he will stop at nothing to find them. This is why you must find them first and destroy them."

River’s jaw dropped. Why me? I’m nobody. My father is nobody.

You’re more of a someone than you think, River. Ravengale pointed to the sword again. Remove the sword from its perch.

River stood on his tiptoes and pulled the sword down. He held it out to Ravengale, but the mage didn’t take it.

How does it feel? Ravengale asked.

River’s brows furrowed, but he held the sword in one hand before adopting a battle pose.

It’s surprisingly light, River answered. He swished the sword through the air a few times before replacing it on its hook over the hearth.

"I expected it would be. It also hums, and the ruby glows whenever trouble is near. It has been passed down to Edgar the Great’s descendants since it was forged. You, dear boy, are the heir of a king and most definitely not a nobody. Your father is a descendant from Queen Salisa’s bloodline, Edgar’s dwarven wife. I have failed you and your kin greatly by hiding away. For that, I apologize."

Da? River’s eyes turned to his father, who had remained in the corner of the room since Ravengale arrived. He had difficulty believing the mage’s words, despite hearing it from Ravengale in person. Is what he says true? Are we the kin of kings and queens?

Haldaôl nodded his head. Your great grandmother was Queen Salisa. She made your grandfather, Bramerlig, promise to keep the sword safe and never reveal its true purpose. He turned to Ravengale. That is why River knew nothing of the prophecy. He isn’t old enough yet.

Ravengale’s eyes narrowed. Or perhaps you aren't willing to admit he is. He looked at River and continued, "This is very important, River, but I can’t make you do that. It must be your choice. No one else can collect these relics and their stones and destroy them all. It’s your destiny. However, if you don’t accept that,