Serpent in the Mist: Shadows of the First Trine, #2

By Cleave Bourbon

What does a simple innkeeper's son know about wielding magic…

 

… In fact, he was raised to fear and hate magic.

 

But when magic wielders Lady Shey, Gondrial, and the grumpy old Morgoran entered his life, Dorenn decided that magic may indeed be his destiny. He may even be good at using it!

Since being ambushed by several evil creatures called Dramyds, Dorenn and his friends have been trying to help the wielders thwart the evil Naneden and his armies from taking over his homeland, and more importantly from taking control of the ancient battlefield known as the Sacred Land.

 For it is written. In the end whoever controls the Sacred Land will rule the world.

 

You'll love this nostalgic journey through a richly realized world of magic and dragons.

 

Get it now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cleave Bourbon
• Release date: Apr 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215571552

Cleave Bourbon

Cleave Bourbon is a native of Texas. His Texas heritage and his love of science fiction and fantasy allows him to write weird westerns among other fantastical stories. In fact, he has loved all things fantasy since he read the Belgariad by David and Leigh Eddings in High School. He says the word "fantasy" comes from fantasizing, so the sky is the limit on what fantasy can encompass as far as writing goes, so he isn't afraid to experiment and write new twists to liven up old tropes. Being that he holds both a B.A. and an M.A. in English, he writes full time and teaches in his spare time. He teaches Junior High and High School level grammar, vocabulary, and writing online. He says he will never stop writing and he will never stop teaching, unless he becomes physically unable to do so. He currently resides in Texas with his Tortoise Shell Cat, Khaleesi.

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Serpent in the Mist

Copyright © 2023 by Cleave Bourbon

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic

or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval

systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use

of brief quotations in a book review.

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

and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are

used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,

events, or locals is entirely coincidental

Contact info: [e-mail]

Front Cover Design by Oliviaprodesign

Print Cover Design by Oliviaprodesign

Editor: Courtney Umphress www.courtneyumphress.com

SECOND EDITION : April 2023

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Serpent in the Mist

Shadows of the First Trine Book 2

Cleave Bourbon

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Shadesilver Publishing

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Contents

1.A Sense of Change

2.Landfall

3.Allure and Consequence

4.Beyond the Darkness

5.Foundations

6.Opposition

7.Shades in the Dead Forest

8.Vetell Fex

9.Gatherings

10.On the Road

11.Brightonhold

12.Signs and Symptoms

13.Destiny

14.Dreams and Illusions

15.A New Leader

16.Prelude to Darkness

17.Darkness Falls

18.Hidden

19.The Basillain Plan

20.The Road to Draegodor

21.Shadow of the Mountain

22.Basillain

23.Secrets and Lies

24.A Cursed Land

25.A Path Revealed

26.Draegodor

27.The Talon Order

28.The Great Forest

29.A Memory of Dreams

30.Winterhaven

31.Unexpected Subterfuge

32.Motion

33.The Lost Army

34.Imprinted

Afterword

Also By Cleave Bourbon

Glossary

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Chapter 1

A Sense of Change

The Sea Goddess sailed smoothly toward the Sacred Land, and the weather held up nicely. One sunny afternoon, Dorenn finally cornered Tatrice when she came up on deck for some fresh air. She had stayed in her cabin with Enowene since the fight on deck. She was understandably furious with him, and he wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to forgive him even if the occurrence wasn’t entirely his fault. He had been tricked with an illusion. Tatrice must have realized he was not himself.

Tatrice, he began. She did not look at him, but he spoke anyway. I just wanted to say how sorry I am that I mistook you for shadow. I couldn’t have known.

Tatrice turned to him with fire in her eyes. You know, Dorenn, I realize you were not yourself when you attacked me, but what angers me the most is that you doubted what I was willing to do to have you. I would have done anything you asked of me because I thought I knew who you were, but I am not so sure now.

I am still me, Tatrice.

Are you? I am not so sure you even know who you are. The Dorenn I knew feared wielders, he could not sniff out shadow, and he would never attack me. I don’t know who you are now.

Tatrice, please, I am still Dorenn. The Dorenn you fell in love with.

Tatrice turned away and rubbed her neck. Vesperin had taken away the pain, but the feeling of what Dorenn had done was still there. I just need a little time to think, Dorenn, will you grant me that?

Dorenn took a deep breath. I will grant you whatever time you need.

Tatrice walked away without looking back and disappeared into the hold.

Dorenn kicked at an invisible something on deck and strolled to the aft of the ship. He was surprised to find Vesperin there staring off into distance and smoking his pipe. He was surprised his friend was not lost somewhere in deep prayer.

Ves, how are you this afternoon?

Vesperin took the stem of the pipe from his lips, Oh, Dorenn. I didn’t hear you walk up. I am doing fine.

No prayers today?

There are always prayers, but I didn’t feel up to it today.

You’re good at this sort of thing. What do I do about Tatrice?

Vesperin puffed on his pipe, I’m not sure as a friend I should get involved.

What about as a cleric?

As a priest of Loracia, I would say give her time, but don’t hope for too much. The wound you inflicted may never heal. If it does heal, time will be the remedy.

So, you are saying I should stay away from her for a while?

Aye, give her time.

Dorenn sighed and leaned on the railing and gazed out into the seemingly endless ocean.

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Drakkius watched the skies as they darkened above the southern tip of the Sacred Land. Night had come; soon he would know. Not long after the stars began to shine, two winged figures appeared in the distance above. They circled around Drakkius and landed, folding their leathery wings around their lithe bodies like a cloak.

Report. Drakkius commanded.

We regret to tell you the plan failed. We only made away barely with our lives. The first Drasmyd Duil said in the usual raspy, almost unintelligible voice.

Is the one imitating Lady Shey still among them

No, my liege, that Drasmyd Duil was the first to fall.

Do they still believe Naneden is the evil they fight at least?

We did not give you away, my liege. As far as they are concerned it is he who tasks them.

Good, at least we have that. The both of you go to the city of Gothenwyre, on the northern borders of Scarovia, to my castle and keep there in the mountain. Arrange for Lady Shey to make her escape. There is no reason to hold her there now. He leaned in, Be careful you stay clear of her. If she sees you, she will not hesitate to use essence to end you. See that she gets away clean. I don’t want her harmed; she has an important role to play now that her imposter is no more.

We will see to it, master. The Drasmyd Duil assured him as they both unwrapped their wings from around their bodies and took flight.

Drakkius took a long clay pipe out from under his cloak. The stem appeared to be a scaled leg and the bowl was a red dragon’s skull. He waved his hand over it and the already packed pipe lit with a spark of light. He puffed on it while staring into the night sky. The next time I will make certain we get our way. I will bring the whole of dragon’s fire down upon them if I must! He turned and made his way back toward his lodgings.

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Chapter 2

Landfall

Dorenn felt a twinge of excitement as The Sea Goddess sailed into the ancient bay of Old Symbor. He had always wanted to see what the old city looked like before its people were forced to move to the present location called Symbor closer to Brookhaven. Old Symbor was now a part of the Sacred Land. Where there were once green fields, there was now a sea of dead browns and yellows. Where majestic trees once flourished, there was now shadowy specters. No crops would grow, and no animals could graze. The Sacred Land was a dead, desolate land.

The morning sun was still low on the horizon when Dorenn got his first full glimpse of the ancient docks; decay and overgrown vegetation made them look more like part of the landscape than the once vibrant trading hub of Symboria. Old Symbor lay in ruins from the docks to as far as he could see on land, with dilapidated buildings, bushy shrubs, and dead trees choking the once vibrant streets. Captain Edifor helmed The Sea Goddess into one of only a handful of still-maintained docks and moored the ship. Dorenn was surprised to see an old man hobble out from one of the hardier structures to greet the approaching ship. The old man walked with a cane, and a small, scruffy dog with black and white hair followed close behind him, barking in warning. The man wore an eye patch over his left eye and a dusty tunic over breeches that made Dorenn wonder if he remained dormant until a ship sailed into his port. His white hair and beard were long and unkempt, and he had a scowl on his wrinkled face.

I thought they had you exiled from this land, you old fool, what in Fawlsbane’s name are you doing back here? the old man said to Ianthill.

Ianthill disembarked. Aye, I was exiled, but then again, as I recall, so were you. And don’t use our god’s name in vain!

I say what I please, old elf.

Who let you back on sacred soil? Ianthill stopped and looked around. And where are those bothersome Defenders?

The Defenders are on patrol. I suspect your ship will have them scrambling for the docks soon enough. They will be disappointed your ship is not the supply ship. It’s overdue.

What, Dicarion, you didn’t tell them I was coming? I thought you would have predicted my exact return to the day and hour.

The old man grinned. I am good, alas, but not that good, old friend.

The rest of the party joined Ianthill in disembarking and stood behind him.

Dicarion’s manner became abruptly friendly, I did not know you were coming, ‘tis true, but I welcome you just the same. It’s the Defenders that are likely to get all block-headed crazy when they discover you have come to the dock unannounced.

They will never change.

Nor would I expect them to; it’s their job, Dicarion said, holding his arms in invitation. Ianthill embraced him warmly, and the black and white dog began to bark uncontrollably.

Quiet, Palanon, Ianthill is a friend, Dicarion scolded, and the dog stopped barking.

Palanon! You named the dog Palanon? Ianthill said amused. What does our good man Palanon think of that?

Ask him yourself, the Defenders have arrived. Dicarion pointed his twisted cane to several riders dressed in blue cloaks pulled over black armor approaching from the edge of the ruined city.

The men on horseback reined in their horses directly in front of Ianthill and Dicarion. There were five of them, with the lead man being about the age of Dorenn’s father, Lourn. His tabard bore the crest of the captain of the Defenders. His hair was black and curly with grey temples, and his facial features were rough and slightly pockmarked.

You! He glared at Ianthill. I might have known it would be you who would sail so brazenly into the hallowed port of the Sacred Land.

Well met and salutations, Palanon, Ianthill said, ignoring the man’s tone. The dog, Palanon, looked up at Ianthill sharply when it heard its name.

Dicarion, I told you the last time this man appeared on these docks not to allow him access to the Sacred Land. Why do you allow him passage now against my orders?

Dicarion examined his dirty fingernails indifferently. Hmph! He must have slipped past me.

Indeed. Palanon was still glowering at Ianthill. What brings the great defender of the isle to these lands? Another ancient scroll in the hall of records to pilfer, perchance, or is it simply to make more mischief?

Ianthill lifted his staff and pointed it at Palanon. I dare not tell anyone of my true reasons to grace these lands again, least of all, you.

Palanon was stunned but recovered quickly. Well, you, being a great and powerful wielder, in a land where you cannot draw upon your power disturbs me, for it means you are here for an urgent reason. You are like a fish out of water here; I will have your reasons for landing on these shores.

No, you will not, Ianthill said in a matter-of-fact tone. Palanon’s men shifted uncomfortably in their saddles, and Palanon’s contempt increased.

You will not tell me then? I thought not. You will toy with me? Palanon drew his sword from its scabbard, and his men followed suit.

Dorenn realized he was holding his breath.

Ianthill lowered his staff. Very well, I shall give you a reason, Palanon. I need to know if the Enforcers are holding a young woman prisoner in the Sacred Land.

Palanon sheathed his sword and motioned to his men to sheath theirs. I know not why you insist on trying my patience, wielder, he said. The one you seek was at the Enforcers’ keep of Brightonhold. They brought her there a few weeks ago. It is now rumored they have moved her elsewhere. They say she killed a whole regiment of Enforcers near the Vale of Morgoran.

Ianthill scoffed. It was only a few men, three at the most, and she did not have any part in their death. They managed that out of their own stupidity. These rumors you speak of, do they tell where she is now? Palanon said nothing, but Ianthill could read the answer on his face. Are they keeping her in the dungeons below Vetell Fex?

Naturally, and under constant guard too. She has escaped them more than once, saying she needed to find Gondrial and warn him she was not herself. That talk almost got her flogged for madness, or so the rumors say. I have not any evidence to give you.

Ianthill stomped the ground with the butt of his staff irritably. Rumor or not, we need an escort across this infernal land, and then on a trip to the monastery of Vetell Fex.

Impossible, I am to admit no one, you know that, Ianthill, Palanon said emphatically.

Nevertheless, Palanon, I am going to cross the Sacred Land. You can choose to help me, or you can be unfortunate enough to get in my way. I leave the matter up to you.

Palanon shook his head. The days and nights in The Sacred Land have grown increasingly darker, and I have heard reports of vegetation growing in remote areas, along with strange occurrences, and attacks upon my men. I sense change is on the horizon. I may not trust you, Ianthill, but my men and I will help you no matter how reluctantly. I have always been loyal to the Defenders’ cause, and I suspect whatever you may be up to shall not sway me from my course.

Ianthill nodded. The day is not getting any longer, Palanon, we need to get as far into the Sacred Land as the light of day allows.

I will guide you across, but I cannot go with you to Vetell Fex. I can, however, tell you how to get yourself in when you arrive, Palanon said. You will have to enter alone. The keep guards will let you pass but not your party.

Let me worry about who goes in and whatnot. Just lead me to the western border of the Sacred Land and I will find my way to Vetell Fex after I set foot on Symborian soil.

No need for you to lead them across, Palanon, I will take them, Dicarion said. There would be no use in you losing your post here at the docks, and you know as well as I that Commandant Trayore would have your head if your patrols came up missing.

Dicarion, I—

No, you don’t get to argue with me, Palanon, Dicarion scolded. I will be taking Ianthill and his party to the keep and you will patrol here.

Palanon bowed his head and nodded in reluctant agreement. As you wish, honored Dicarion. I will allow this out of respect for your office.

Dicarion turned his attention to Ianthill. The first bit of advice I have to give you is to send that huge ship you have there out to sea. If she stays moored to the docks, she will attract attention, and the sort of attention she would bring would not be the kind you would want on your back. We will need a few horses, and since they are scarce, I would suggest only a small delegation of men.

I already have all the men I need right here on the dock, Dicarion, Ianthill said as he waved his hand toward Dorenn and the others.

Palanon pointed at one of his soldiers. Take two men and go to the stable. Prepare fresh horses for their journey.

Aye, sir, the soldier said.

Gondrial was standing behind Ianthill with apprehension. Dorenn had noticed Ianthill occasionally glancing at Gondrial with irritation.

All right, Gondrial, what is on your mind? Ianthill asked.

Gondrial looked back at the ship. We are stranded here once the ship sails. We have no way back?

Ianthill scratched his head. Aye, what are you getting at?

We will be close enough to New Symbor when we leave Vetell Fex, but we will have to hire a new ship. I have to be careful in Symbor, you know. I er…well, I have had some trouble there. I would prefer the ship to swing around to port in Symbor.

What sort of trouble, may I ask?

You do not want to know, Gondrial said.

Oh, that kind. Ianthill absently rubbed his left temple. The new captain is not too keen on being in our service. He sighed heavily. "It will cost me a small fortune, but I think I may be able to fix a price. I will have The Sea Goddess sail around to New Symbor."

Gondrial still had a look of irritation, and Ianthill noticed it.

What now? Ianthill asked.

If you pay Captain Edifor, what assurances do we have that he will honor your agreement?

Tatrice stepped forward. I will stay with the ship.

Dorenn immediately objected, but Tatrice stood her ground.

I fear you may not be enough, Ianthill said.

Bren took a step toward Ianthill. Then I will see it done. I will remain on board.

Ianthill glanced at Enowene who eyed Bren and Tatrice suspiciously.

And I shall remain as well, Enowene said.

Ianthill nodded. So be it; come with me now and we will talk to the captain. Gondrial, you and the boys help prepare those horses Palanon sent for. As soon as we see the ship off, we will ride deep into the Sacred Land.

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Chapter 3

Allure and Consequence

Two days passed without incident as Dicarion led the small band of rescuers across the barren Sacred Land. The dog Palanon raced back and forth ahead of the party, sniffing anything he could get his nose into and barking at any rabbit or rodent that scurried by. More than once Dicarion had to call the dog back when he started chasing after one furry animal or another.

Dorenn had begun to doubt the teachings that magic was evil. Those childhood stories, which frightened him into bed at night, may have had little to no basis in fact. Dorenn had also begun to think about letting Ianthill teach him the ways of wielding, but he knew Rennon would get in the way. Still, he was fascinated with the prospect of using magic. Who wouldn’t want to learn how to wield? He made a point to remember to talk to Rennon about it when they stopped for the night. Maybe he could convince him it was a good thing. Deep in the back of his mind, however, he knew Rennon’s resistance would not actually stop him from wielding once his mind was made up. Rennon would have to deal with it should he decide to learn from Ianthill.

As they traveled even deeper into the Sacred Land, Dorenn could not feel the sensation of the land around him, as if all of his senses had suddenly ceased to function. He took the three smooth, round stones from the black pouch in his vest pocket and turned them over in his hand. He could feel the power they each held, and he felt comforted by it.

As the sun began its final descent, Dicarion signaled it was time to make camp. Dorenn felt uneasy of Dicarion’s choice of campsite; he had led them to a cluster of ruins very similar to the ruins of Signal Hill. The architecture was almost identical, but Dicarion assured him there were no cursed townsfolk. As the party passed through the old gate entrance of the ruins, Dorenn noted the abandoned buildings were largely intact and appeared more in disrepair than in ruins. At the center of the village was a town square, and at the rear of the square was a large structure with crumbling statuary. Its base appeared worn, and part of the roof was missing, but it was still a remarkable sight.

We will stay in the temple of Loracia. It is a defendable central structure, Dicarion announced.

Vesperin was very excited at the prospect of staying at the temple, and he nodded his approval to Dorenn, who returned the nod. Vesperin made his way to the temple by working his way behind Dicarion.

Once inside the structure, Dorenn marveled at its magnificence. High ceilings with layered, vaulted walls and statuary of the goddess Loracia as a centerpiece near the pulpit gave the interior a majestic flair. A large part of the ceiling toward the rear of the temple was missing and the furnishings where all time worn, askew, and fragile, but Dorenn had no trouble seeing the former elegance of them. Dicarion took it upon himself to stable the horses, and Rennon joined Dorenn in gathering firewood. Ianthill and Gondrial set up a table and began pouring over old maps while Vesperin prayed at the altar of Loracia.

The overgrown cobblestone streets twisted and turned around small round houses crumbling from neglect. Trees and brush had once grown throughout the village, so Dorenn and Rennon had no trouble finding dead branches to hack into firewood.

This place is incredible, Rennon said as he gathered a few stray pieces of wood. It’s hard to believe it was abandoned.

As I understand it, there were no crops or livestock that could flourish after the war stripped the land, Dorenn said.

Magic corrupted it. Its evil took this city. One more example of how magic ruins things.

Dorenn grimaced. It wasn’t magic that corrupted the land, it was its misuse. The magic had to be wielded by someone.

What is wrong with you, Dorenn? Ever since we left the Vale of Morgoran you have been magic’s advocate. Are you sympathizing with the wielders now? Rennon laughed uneasily when Dorenn did not reply.

Dorenn sighed and picked up another piece of wood. Would that be so wrong?

Rennon dropped his wood. Have you lost your mind? Of course it’s wrong. Look around you. The drawing of essence destroyed this village and the very land around it. If you have any doubts of its evil, destructive power just remember what happened to Vesperin and Rodraq.

Vesperin is fine and Rodraq almost died by Dramyds as I remember, not essence wielding. In fact, I believe it was the use of essence that saved us all. Dorenn paused to think of a way to word his next question. Rennon, the tea leaves Sanmir gave you, surely you have run out by now.

Rennon began picking up the wood he had dropped. It has been four days.

Four days! How long can you go without? Dorenn asked alarmed.

I don’t know. I have never been without this long.

Do you know what the mixture is? Can we find the plants in the wild?

That is all I… He paused and held his finger up to his mouth for Dorenn to remain quiet. Did you hear that?

What? I don’t hear anything.

Rennon dropped the wood again and drew his daggers. He moved slowly toward one of the abandoned houses, and Dorenn followed. He slowly put his firewood on the ground. From inside the house came low mutterings Dorenn could not understand. Rennon looked back to the square and realized it would be quite a run back to the temple. As the two got closer, they could hear the dark speech more clearly.

Shadow Lurkers? Dorenn whispered to Rennon, and Rennon shook his head.

I don’t think so. They look like small Dramyds, maybe half the size.

The creatures stood inside the house talking in dark, guttural speech intermixed with hissing noises. They were short, black, and covered with thorny scales. They wore as much dirt and grime as they did clothing, and they carried black, curved swords.

A snapping noise from behind him sent Rennon’s wrist in motion, and a dagger whizzed by Dorenn’s face, striking a sneaking creature between the eyes. Rennon looked down at his hand and the dagger he had just thrown was still in his possession.

Dorenn drew Dranmalin slowly as not to make sound. We have to warn the others, he whispered to Rennon.

What are they and what are they doing here? I thought the Defenders kept such creatures out of the Sacred Land, Rennon whispered.

Dorenn shook his head. I don’t know, it isn’t important. Back away slowly. If we can make it back to the temple undetected, we can warn the others and find out.

As the two were backing away from the house, Dorenn saw a hearth fire burning in the temple, and the whole place was lit up with soft glowing light. Dicarion had already begun preparing for the night, apparently not at all worried about an attack. Dorenn realized the small Dramyds must know of their presence and were preparing to attack. Frantically, he searched the dark edges of the temple with his sharp eyes for movement. Concentrating on the darkness, he let his consciousness search out the areas around the temple, and when he opened his eyes, he could see in the dark as if it were day. The temple was surrounded. Dorenn grabbed Rennon’s arm and stopped him from moving. The creatures are all around the temple. I see them crouched there.

In the darkness you see them? Rennon asked skeptically.

Aye, trust me, they are there.

What do we do now? Rennon asked.

Dorenn felt the pouch with the three stones and closed his eyes for a moment.

Dorenn, what now?

Dorenn slowly opened his eyes. Rennon, forgive me, but I—

No, Dorenn, please don’t do it.

I have no choice, my friend. I must.

If you go running out there, they will swarm you like a colony of angry hornets.

Dorenn put his hand on Rennon’s shoulder. "We need a diversion. I know what