The Destiny Chronicles: Deceit and Honor

By C. J. Smith

The Golden Valley is in chaos. What should have been a peaceful refuge from war has turned into a miasma of misery and oppression. The church has betrayed the people, Javis most of all. With the help of his friends, Arianna, Tyr and Bloodstone, Javis must find a way to right the wrongs of his faith and put the rightful leader back into power. Once they find him, that is…

Drane Khal’Tara wanders the world, a voluntary outcast from his own people. Sick of the treachery and lies of his homeland, he has spent years on the surface, seeking beauty and peace. On a whim of nostalgia, he heads toward his home only to find himself embroiled in a fight between darkness and light. Strangers are his only hope of finding the truth. Dare he trust them?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Nov 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781638292043

C. J. Smith

C. J. Smith is a self-proclaimed fantasy nerd, having spent most of her life immersed in fantasy role-playing games and novels. She holds a Master’s Degree in English from Southern New Hampshire University, where her thesis examined the influence of literature in Dungeons & Dragons. She currently resides in Tennessee with her husband and can frequently be found with her nose in a book.

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About the Author

C. J. Smith is a self-proclaimed fantasy nerd, having spent most of her life immersed in fantasy role-playing games and novels. She holds a Master’s Degree in English from Southern New Hampshire University, where her thesis examined the influence of literature in Dungeons & Dragons. She currently resides in Tennessee with her husband and can frequently be found with her nose in a book.

Dedication

For Tristan, the fantasy guru that helps me find a way through the twisted tangle of my own mind and story, and the inspiration for wonderful characters.

Copyright Information ©

C. J. Smith 2022

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 written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, 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.

Ordering Information

Quantity sales: Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Smith, C. J.

The Destiny Chronicles: Deceit and Honor

ISBN 9781638292029 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781638292036 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781638292043 (ePub e-book)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022916204

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published 2022

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street, 33rd Floor, Suite 3302

New York, NY 10005

USA

[e-mail]

[phone]

Acknowledgment

Super huge thanks to Austin Macauley Publishers for their faith in my work and diligence in helping my dream come to life.

Chapter One

Bloodstone shivered as a cold morning wind swept along the floor of the valley and smacked him from the front, forcing its way into the cloak wrapped around him. While the weather was warm during the day, now, in the hour just before dawn, the sun had yet to bring its heat to the wind. Even as far from the beach as the valley was, he could faintly smell the saltwater and sand it carried with it.

Perhaps, it was his newly found hatred of the sea, carefully cultivated from the smell of saltwater on all the provisions. Although the meat they ate was freshly hunted, the dried preserves and stored spices had taken on a distinctly salty taste during the voyage oversea to the valley.

The Elves had graciously vacated a large area around the valley in order to give the refugee humans a place to hunt and harvest the needed supplies for their new city. However, the woods just outside the valley were dark and unwelcoming to those who had yet to learn the paths and secrets they harbored.

Even Arianna and Tyr had left them and retreated into the depths of the forest. He missed her biting retorts and comforting familiarity. She had changed outwardly, looking more like a cross between the elves and humans, but inwardly she was still the girl he had once known. It was that familiarity that had helped to keep him grounded when the refugees had landed and begun travelling overland to their new home.

He stopped to stare at the tent city that was around him. The vivid colors of the canvass walls had once been bright, but months of usage had allowed the sun to fade them into duller hues. This whole bloody situation was wrong. These people had been living in these tents for longer than he reasoned they should. He looked up to the single building that towered over the valley.

On the high ridge, just against the valley wall, and off to the east of the cave entrance stood the half-completed monstrosity that Paladin declared the temple and guard complex. Standing already three stories tall, the building boasted a wooden and stone skeleton that appeared sinister in the early morning light.

All around the base he could smell the fires of the forges and camps where the poor worked day and night to cut the brick, build the foundation and supports, and melt the gold from the dragon’s hoard for the roof tiles. The only thing visible was a massive two-story wall surrounding the entire complex and grounds. Paladin was sparing no expense for his new headquarters.

That, by itself, alarmed him. The man he knew would have put the welfare of others above his own comfort. This blatant display of power and status would never have occurred to his friend and brother. His friend should have provided shelter for the poor and sick where they could rest and heal. Instead, they shivered in cold tents at night and toiled until they dropped during the day. Those that could not keep up were sent back to the beach, ostensibly, to rest without hampering the healthy with their sicknesses.

Bloodstone was beginning to think there was another purpose. Signs pointed to Paladin using the people until they were helpless, then exiling them from his presence. After all, if a problem is not right in front of you then it is not expected to be solved. Out of sight, out of mind. Something must be done, but without proof there was little he could do right now. He needed help.

A small child wailed in hunger from a nearby tent, cutting Bloodstone’s heart. Yes, something must be done, he thought. But now was not the time. Whitemage had summoned him from his own exile at the mouth of the valley, away from the combustible materials of the forges and building supplies.

Paladin had deemed that his affinity and lack of control over the fire he wielded was a danger to the community. That too, was unlike his friend. Paladin should have trusted his own sense of when to call the flames and when not to. Instead, he had pushed Bloodstone away, as if by sending him to the edge of their settlement would keep Bloodstone from seeing the discrepancies of Paladin’s behavior.

He tucked his cloak in tighter around his body and set off once again. Whitemage was set up in the cave, his precious books and magical apparatuses taking up an entire room within the cavern structure. Evidently, Whitemage’s penchant for getting lost in his studies allowed Paladin to dismiss him. And rightly so. Those too close to a problem rarely see the entirety of the situation. If Paladin’s edicts did not interfere with Whitemage and his studies, very little of what he did came to the attention of their old friend. Sadly, Bloodstone could not say the same.

Bloodstone slowly walked the winding pathway up the valley walls, his thoughts on the gravity of their new situation. He had believed that when they won this valley from the elves, and then spent months sanctifying the land and removing the cult’s desecrations that the worst was behind them. He had spoken to Arianna and Tyr of his suspicions about Paladin, but even then, he had held hope that it was only the stress of evacuating an entire kingdom across the sea. How naive he had been!

As he climbed, he noted the signs posted at each new level of the valley walls. What had been rough shelves along the mountains were now neatly sculpted into tiers and levels, each one dedicated to a specific function of the city. The valley floor was comprised of farmland and farmers, then came the inns and taverns.

The third level was devoted to homes for the middle class, the craftsman, and merchants. Their wares would be sold on the lower floors, with their homes above their shops. Fourth level was for the guard and nobles. And the fifth…that was the sole domain of the temple. Odd how as he now considered it, that there were no designs for a new palace. Perhaps, this complex would house King Elias and the members of the council. He would have to remember to ask Paladin the next time he encountered him.

That too had changed. No longer could Bloodstone just go and talk to his friend. Now, he had to practically ambush him as he made his rounds. Lately, even that had become next to impossible. Paladin went nowhere without an armed escort. He insisted it kept him on schedule, and those that truly needed him could make an appointment.

Hah! An appointment! That was if one could convince his special staff that they really needed the almighty mouth of the One God. Most of the time petitioners were turned away. Bloodstone shook his head quietly to himself. Yes, there was something very wrong with his old friend.

Entering the cave was a godsend. The wind finally stopped pelting him with its bitter sting. Heat began to seep into his limbs, warming him slowly. Whitemage’s little corner of the cavern complex was not far, but he took his time getting there. He needed a moment to clear his head of negative thoughts and energy.

One thing he had learned was that negative energy around other mages tended to set off things he would rather not deal with. It was the negativity of his own worries and fears that caused his magic to flare unexpectedly, usually resulting in something either burned to a crisp, or at best, smoldering.

Tucking his hands into the arms of his robes, Bloodstone created the sound of a soft knock, since a physical one was not possible. Whitemage’s cavern did not have a door, but an opaque magical energy that served to separate it from the rest of the cave.

Enter, came his friend’s voice from within.

Bloodstone crossed the threshold and blinked in the sudden bright light. Once his vision cleared, he noticed that White mage was puttering around the room, packing away herbs and spell ingredients in a large backpack. Going somewhere? he asked.

Whitemage looked up, and seeing who his visitor was, made a quick magical gesture encasing the room in a sound barrier.

Yes. And before I leave, I need to speak with you.

Bloodstone nodded. What’s with the silence bubble? You going to finally impart the secret magical elixir that heals your sunburns?

White mage smiled slightly.

If only it were that simple. He shook his head and sighed. Something highly unusual and important has come to my attention and I must leave to research it. He pointed to a small stack of papers on his desk.

Going over to look at them, Bloodstone recognized the writing of his native English, a language not known by more than a handful of people in this world. The flowing script and delicate handwriting told him it was from Arianna even before he saw her initials inscribed at the bottom.

Quickly scanning through, he noted they were troop movements and details of the outcomes of Elven skirmishes with the Elven Bane’s forces. You’ve been in touch with Arianna? he asked.

Yes, Whitemage answered, and her current information reminded me of an old legend I need to look into concerning this shadow dragon. However, most of my books were left behind in White Haven, so I need to locate my old mentor and see if he can help shed some light on what we will be facing.

So certain that we will have to fight this war? Bloodstone asked.

Aye. Even if Paladin believes that it will end with the elven defeat, and we will be left alone, I cannot. We fled Thutamos once, and power calls to power. It will not be long before they combine their forces if they have not already done so. Whitemage spoke quietly.

So, what do you need from me? Bloodstone asked.

I need you to get in contact with a man in the valley. He has some information he feels is vital to our survival here but will not put it in writing. I was supposed to meet him tonight, but I must leave before then. Will you go in my stead and see what it is that is so important? Whitemage grabbed his spell books from the shelf and stuffed them in the bag.

Sure. No problem. Need a written report on what he has to say? The sarcasm in Bloodstone’s voice was quiet but cutting.

No. If anything needs to be done, I expect you to take care of it. Whitemage said absently.

No offense, Cavish, but last I was told is that I don’t have any authority to handle anything, without specifically bringing it to either your or Paladin’s attention first. Odd that you would suddenly ask me to act without orders. Bloodstone sniped.

Whitemage sighed again and stopped what he was doing.

I know. This situation is not the best. But, trust in me. If what I suspect has happened, then things will reveal themselves in time. Including why I agreed with Paladin to have you stationed at the entrance to the valley instead of in here with me. I promise, it was not out of malice.

Bloodstone looked sternly at his friend, wanting to take another verbal bite out of him, but something in Whitemage’s demeanor held his tongue. In fact, this entire situation was starting to raise the hair on the back of his neck. He stood there, letting the scene before him and the words spoken combine and give him a hint at the whole picture.

Paladin doesn’t know you are leaving, does he? he whispered.

No, and I prefer it that way. Meddle not in the affairs of wizards, I always say. And this journey I am going on is none of his business, for the moment. It may even be a dead end. Whitemage shrugged. What I do know is that you need to leave now, before the guard changes and the day workers begin puttering about. Say nothing of our meeting here this morning.

Bloodstone nodded. Understood. Who is this man I’m supposed to be meeting?

His name is Malcolm. Blonde, with a scar down the side of his face. He’ll be in the Cloudburst Tavern this evening. Tell him you need to speak to him about the batwings he found in the cave. He’ll know you are from me. Whitemage cinched his pack and slung it about his shoulders.

Bloodstone nodded. Good luck and fair journey my friend.

And to you. Do what you need to do while I am gone to keep the people here safe. I charge you with that. Whitemage placed his hand upon Bloodstone’s shoulder in a gesture of confidence and trust.

I will. You have my promise. Bloodstone bowed slightly and stepped back. Whitemage banished the silence spell and gestured again, disappearing in a muted flash of light. Bloodstone turned and exited, returning through the cave and across the valley to his tent. He had a lot of thinking to do.

Chapter Two

Javis stared at the carnage and devastation that surrounded the Temple of the One. The valley floor was covered with the rotting cadavers of both elves and humans. The stench of death pervaded his nostrils so foully, it was all he could do not to vomit. Everywhere he looked, he saw Lady Death’s grisly work. Above him the sky was a hideous green, turned so by the noxious smoke of burning wood, stone, acid, and flesh.

He waded onto the horrid battlefield, his heart heavy at the thought of the once beautiful valley returned to the graveyard which he had first known it to be. Trying to focus on where he was going, and not so much on what he was wading through, he sought only to reach the Temple.

When a child’s face stared at him from beneath what might have once been its mother’s hair, he lost his composure. Tears streamed from his eyes as he turned them towards his goal. There, on the roof of the Temple of the One, its golden light dimmed by the unworldly sickness of the sky, stood Paladin.

The silence of the valley echoed strongly in Javis’ mind. Nothing moved, save him. He could clearly hear the rasping breath of the massive dragon as it soared in circles above the valley. He inched forward a precious step at a time, trying with all his might to not be noticed. Gone was his full armor. Dressed in muted browns and leather, he focused on getting closer to his goal.

It seemed to take forever, and everywhere he looked as he searched for footing, stared the judgmental eyes of those he had sworn to protect. Men, women, and children all looked upon him, questioning silently as to why this had been allowed.

His muscles protested as he reached the base of the path to the Temple. The wind of the dragon’s wings assaulted him as she landed and stood eye to eye with Paladin. Surely this would be the final battle, Javis thought. Paladin would never allow this to happen willingly. He waited in the shadows of a burned husk of a house, planning his own strike to assist his mentor in slaying the evil beast.

My servant, how well you have done. The dragon’s voice slithered out in a cold, venomous hiss.

As you commanded, Great One. I have brought the humans to their deaths. None remain to stand against you. Paladin bowed low before her. Javis could not believe his ears. No. It could not be true. Paladin would never have been the puppet of such evil. He would have stood against it! Would have given his own life before he let this come to pass! Javis’ heart broke in two.

He could not deny the words he heard nor the thing he witnessed. With a cry of defiance, he raised his sword and charged from his shelter. He would rather die than be a part of this deception! If his life was the cost of remedying this ultimate betrayal, then it was a price he would gladly pay.

Javis woke up suddenly, a scream of battle choking in his throat. It took a full quarter hour for him to snap out of the horror of his nightmare and realize that he was halfway out of his bed, poised for battle. When his wits returned, he abruptly fell back onto the bed, confusion chasing away most of the dream. How strange, he thought, that he would dream such a heretical thing.

To even imagine that his beloved teacher would succumb to evil was, in his mind, one of the greatest sins. He should not doubt his God, nor the messenger He had sent to guide the people. Whatever had possessed him to conjure such an image?

He rubbed his eyes and pulled himself out of the sparse bed and over to his dressing table. Pouring the cold water into his basin, he liberally splashed his face and shivered as the cold water completely returned his rational thought.

Nonsense is what it was, just a dream. Most likely brought about by the fear and stresses the people voiced in their prayers. Paladin was a good man. Strong. Courageous. Intelligent. He would never betray those he had vowed to protect.

Javis dismissed the dream and set about his morning routine. His armor he polished to a high shine, not that it needed that much effort. Most of his duties these days were to stand guard over the inner sanctum, overseeing the work that was being done.

According to Paladin, this sanctum was where God would come to live, once it was completed, and where he could speak with Paladin and guide his hand with the people. It was also to be the treasure vault and store house for the Temple. Its opulence was to know no bounds. Indeed, the craftsmen had worked wonders on the ornate and majestic architecture.

Upon arrival to the vault, Javis was met by Paladin himself.

Javis, my friend, there will be no need of your services this day. Construction has been halted until the materials can be obtained to finish. I have placed guards upon the doors to see that no one enters unauthorized. Please, take this day for yourself. I shall call for you when your duties are to be resumed. Paladin smiled grimly, as if the cessation of the construction was more of an upset than he wanted it to seem.

Understood my Lord Paladin. And thank you. Am I on leave until then? Javis asked with a respectful tone.

Not quite. While your time is your own, you need to remain within the boundaries of the valley. Your return to duty could come at any time. Please make sure someone always knows where to find you. Paladin said, then turned and strode back to his escort down the corridor.

As you will, my liege. Javis muttered at the abrupt dismissal. Stresses of command and leadership were becoming apparent in his friend and mentor’s demeanor. Paladin said all the polite niceties, but his tone and manner had become so abrupt as to border on rudeness.

Never in the time he had known him, had Paladin every been anything other than considerate and open. Now he was so closed off that no one, not even Javis himself, Paladin’s right hand, knew what was going on behind those veiled eyes.

Javis headed back to his room, only to find one of Paladin’s personal guards just outside his door.

I am to be your liaison. If you leave, just tell me where you plan to go, so that Paladin can find you should he need you. The man’s voice was a bit gruff, as if marred by years of drinking hard liquor.

Javis nodded and stepped inside, a shiver running up his spine. Strange. This did not feel like a holiday, but more like he was being watched. Slipping out of his guard armor, Javis donned a leather jerkin and breeches, his holy symbol tucked into the shirt underneath, and decided he would go for a walk.

Just to check things out around the valley. He had been on duty for so long, surely things had changed outside the temple. Stepping outside he turned to his new liaison,

Just going for a walk. Javis stated.

Where to sir? The man asked.

Javis’ eyes narrowed a bit.

The end of the valley and back. If Paladin needs me, he’ll find me on one of the main tracks through the town.

Very good sir. The man responded, taking up a guard position in front of Javis’ door.

Javis’ hackles raised again. With a forced breath, he calmed himself and set off out of the temple for the first time in months. The grounds were awash in smoke and cinder as the workers practically slaved over the forges and construction sights. The outer wall hid the rest of the valley from sight. The only way to see into it was either to exit the gates, or risk oneself climbing out into the unfinished skeleton of the temples third floor. And that, as designated royal quarters, was off limits, even in its barest form.

As he stepped out of the gates, Javis closed his eyes. He wanted that first breath of fresh air to be cleansing, focused. Inhaling the warm scent of mid-morning air brought the scent of baking bread and a hint of spring flowers. Standing there, he felt his spirits rise, the suspicion of the morning and previous days floating away on the soft breeze. With the second breath he opened his eyes, and all his doubts and worries came flooding back, with a vengeance.

Where there should have been the beginnings of a prosperous town were rows and rows of faded tents. Roads that should have shown signs of cobblestones were nothing more than pounded dirt and mud tracks, weaving in and out of the rows of tents.

It looked like a military camp after a season’s siege. This should not have been here. Javis himself had written the orders for building supplies and materials to be distributed amongst the people. Plans and instructions for the building of the town had been his pride and joy upon arrival. Why had nothing been done?

Javis’ nice outing had quite suddenly taken on another level of importance. He needed to know why his orders had not been carried out. Heading down into the lower levels of the valley, he stopped to check each message board for copies of his orders. He found none. Not a single page detailing the supplies and priority builds that he had so carefully thought out.

Upon reaching the second tier, he decided to make direct inquiries. Heading for the guard tent, he assumed as much of a calm demeanor as he could and marched right into an empty tent.

There was no guard on duty, no sign at all that any of the soldiers stationed here were even in residence. The tables were overturned and splintered into pieces, papers lay embedded in the mud and muck of the floor. Javis went through the tent thoroughly, finding no sign of where they had gone.

What he did find was both highly intriguing and disturbing. In the muddiest and messiest corner of the tent, embedded so far into the mud as to but a small corner of parchment sticking out, was a missive from Paladin, unreadable now, but caked into a hard wad of paper by old, dried blood.

Javis stood and stared at the carnage around him. Why had this gone unreported? Why had no one noticed that the guard tent was empty? He was standing there trying to sort out the need to believe in his order and the confusing scene around him when a small shadow moved against the tent outside.

Acting on instinct he darted out and quickly apprehended the small urchin of a child that had interrupted his thoughts.

Who are you and what are you doing here? he asked, a bit more gruffly than he had intended to.

Puh…Puh…Please sir, don’t hurt me! The child should have cried for mercy, but it came out as a whisper. The children of White Haven, although they had been through much, had been as joyful and boisterous as ever when they had finally arrived in the valley.

Javis set the child down gently and smoothed the boy’s scruffy hair.

There is no need to fear me, child. You startled me, creeping around the tent like that. What are you doing here? Javis spoke softly.

Looking for supplies sir. Our tent has some holes in it, and I was going to take some of this one to patch it with. The boy’s face turned red with shame.

Javis took a hard look around at the tents in the area. He had noticed the faded colors, but now that he was up close, he could see the rot and storm damages that were affecting the tents.

Where do you stay, son? I’d like to talk with your parents.

Am…am…am I in trouble, sir? The boy’s lip quivered in fear.

Not at all. I just want to talk with some adults about what has been happening down here. Javis smiled at the boy, trying to convince him that there was nothing to fear.

Uh...uh…Ok. This way. The boy trotted down the tent row, but not so quickly that Javis could not keep up with him. As he led him down toward the mouth of the valley, Javis’ misgivings grew. It was obvious that the people were not being cared for. The question was, why?

According to Paladin’s teachings, the people were the foundation of the church, and without them, it did not matter about buildings or riches.