Lore the Clan Wars: LORE Series, #2

By J.C. Willis

        It's been months since Sev'Ren and Kal'Vas defeated the wicked wizard Sekys-Mada. That hasn't slowed down the Cult of Marrow's machinations in the slightest though. The loveable Sev'Ren is still the reluctant savior of the story, but this time he has much more at stake than just his own life. With impending doom marching on the very doorstep of the Drow, how will he fend off the massive force of soldiers bearing down on Ravenrock? Or will he?

        If things weren't bad enough above ground, betrayal and genocide await down below where greed and envy become a central theme for those wishing to rule the Drow. Will Sev'Ren's new clan survive the clan wars when most of his members are off on another task? A sinister force stalks the newly ordained Lord Ren from within his own people. Can his friends and loved ones figure out who it is in time?

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.C. Willis
• Release date: May 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223607885

J.C. Willis

         J.C. Willis was an American born author who grew up in South Georgia and North Florida. He earned his master’s degree in organizational leadership from Trevecca Nazarene University in Nashville, TN. J.C. began writing his debut novel after obsessing over video games and books about dark elves, wizards, and dragons.          Inspired by notable authors such as Sophia Steward, Terry Goodkind and R.A. Salvatore, J.C. was interested in putting his own twist on an amalgamation of science fiction, dungeons and dragons, and dark fantasy. When he’s not world building, he can usually be found playing with farm animals or hiking in nature.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Sweet shadow, come to me,

Cover me with your grace,

Shield me from those unworthy to see,

For I bind myself to thee.

-Chronicles of the Amida’Tong

-Ez’Vas the Believer

He’s almost here, my Lord, came a voice from the entrance of the clan hall.

About time...

He finished off the rotgut with one final swig and tossed the empty mug. It shattered on a pile of other mugs beside his chair. The hour was late, the palace chimes sounded again in the distance.

His chair was fashioned from dried oak stained with a dark brown tint. Ancient symbols had been etched into the worn arms that ended in life-like carvings of a raven’s head. The raven was the sigil of House Ul.

A serving girl hurried over with a straw broom and pan to clean the mess. Would you like another, my Lord? she asked meekly. Her black hair hung down past her shoulders, curled into small ringlets. Her elvish dress was red with purple lace and her shoes were fashioned from soft wool.

I’ll tell you when I don’t, wench! he barked. One of his hands rested across the arm of his chair, the other relaxed across his round belly. He slumped down in the seat as he waited.

Instead of the fine robes of silk and linen he normally wore at the palace, Buz’Ul now relaxed in a pair of blue trousers with a white undershirt and velvet doublet. Brown bear skin slippers covered his feet.

As the serving girl turned to retrieve another ale from the kitchen, he called after her, And don’t you forget you live here now only by my grace!

Yes, m’lord, she said.

Gal’Ul hurried off. He had taken the girl under his roof after her husband had been killed in a recent raid. A raid he had ordered.

Around the clan hall sat grim Drow warriors. The gloomy light from half burned candles only seemed to amplify the mood. Empty mugs lay scattered next to sleeping pallets. Half the armor racks were barren and the few with equipment had cheap suits of damaged chainmail and battered scraps of leather. Since his quartermaster had resigned, dull weapons were lying about on the floors and tables of Buz’Ul’s clan hall. Twenty warriors in all huddled around the wood stove, mostly because they had nowhere else to go but also for a special assignment they would receive before the night was over.

Clan Ul was demoralized. After many failed raids of their own, they suffered devastating attacks as well. Out of around two thousand five hundred warriors he once commanded, spread throughout the city of Vash’Pal, he had lost around three hundred of them just in the last month alone.

His clan endured one dishonor after another while others thrived. In the same time period, the upstart Clan Ren’s ranks had swollen to around one thousand at last report. It wasn’t just Clan Ren that was worrisome, however, the other Great Houses had sent their own raids lately, testing his clan’s perceived weakness.

The Great House of Ul desperately needed a win, any win. With the master of Ren an active member of the Amida’Tong, along with one of his lieutenants, obtaining the services of the assassin guild was off the table. And that was even if he could afford them at this point. The rest of his gold had gone to other, more... sensitive transactions. He hoped his last-ditch effort would pay off.

Clan Ren was becoming more formidable by the day, though still relatively small compared to the Great Houses. Their warriors were the best equipped in the kingdom. Among the lesser clans, they were the elite.

Lord Ren had proven to be as shrewd a financer as he was lethal as a warrior. In addition to purchasing one of the larger mountain bone mines in Vash’Pal, he had established strong trading partnerships with Ferris and other Voshi settlements. Currently, most of Ren’s forces were occupied helping with the reinforcement of Ravenrock so at least clan Ul didn’t have to fear more attacks from them for the time being.

To make matters worse, there were rumors spreading like wildfire through the streets concerning the affection shared between Lord Ren and the princess, though publicly they did their best to deny it. If she chose to marry one from a lesser clan such as him, it could lead to all out civil war.

It would lead to civil war if Buz’Ul had anything to do with it but for a different reason entirely. They had to figure out a way to erode the princess’ support and to do that, clan Ren had to be dealt with.

Even the other counselors were becoming wary of clan Ren, and that was what Buz’Ul was counting on. City law forbade raiding parties of over ten warriors per clan, but even teaming his clan members with other Great Houses had proven ineffective against Ren. They recruited only the best and equipped them accordingly. For every one of them his clan killed, they would take almost ten of his in retribution.

All that was about to change though.

Outside, across the narrow sea, things were getting interesting.

The death of Sekys-Mada, while devastating to the Cult of Marrow, had in the long run only served to solidify their resolve. From their stronghold in Visec, a new wizard had taken command. And to make things even more compelling, there were rumors of a dragon rider as well. They called her the Firequeen.

Open warfare between Rune and the Cult was upon the realm. K’Dar had been consolidated and sworn to the Cult while Mythrane and Gul had pledged their support to Runestone.

K’Darran cavalry were some of the finest in Abaddon and their beastmasters controlled scores of rock trolls. The Elven mages of Mythrane were formidable in their own right, however. Things seemed to be at a stalemate for the time being. The realm was ripe for chaos to erupt at any moment and all eyes seemed focused on the Drow and who they would choose to succor.

So far, the dark elves had remained neutral although receptive to delegates. In the past month, representatives from Rune and Mythrane had come calling, eager to sway the council to their cause. Buz’Ul had successfully stalled any commitments for the time being, however, and the Cult of Marrow would soon get their shot at swaying the Drow.

The message he had recently received from the Cult’s special envoy had piqued his interest greatly. The chest of gold had aroused it even more so.

Things were changing. If the message was true, a choice would need to be made sooner rather than later. The dark elves had to pick the winning side, and from his perspective, the Cult and its money made sense.

Outdated notions of cordial relations with the Runic Empire wouldn’t save the Drow when the Empire crumbled. He wondered if the princess had the backbone to do what must be done. If not, he certainly did. The Cult was coming one way or another.

Buz’Ul and his House had the resolve needed. He was so tired of losing. Clan Ren would continue being an issue though unless they were brought to heel. They vexed him dearly; Sev’Ren’s legend seemed to swell with each passing day.

Lord Ul, he has arrived.

Two Ul warriors stood and took their place as their Lord’s side.

Send him in, Buz"ul commanded. He made no effort to even sit up straight. He sipped from his mug as the envoy stepped into the hut.

The Drow before him was nothing like he expected.

He was unassuming in every sense of the word. Slender, of average height, and tattered rags for clothing.

His eyes though.

His eyes were black, and not just the pupils but the entire eye. It was unsettling to look at but somehow Buz’Ul knew the Drow was looking right at him.

I am Kiel, he said, as he raised both of his palms upright in a strange greeting.

Gal’Ul! Buz’Ul boomed, Bring our guest a much of ale.

Water, Kiel said simply. It was not the normal guttural voice of a Drow at all.

Buz’Ul appraised him, trying to figure out the odd little dark elf, Make that water!" he finally yelled.

Gal’Ul soon appeared from the kitchen with a glass of water. Kiel smiled pleasantly as he accepted it. His fingers glided smoothly over her knuckles and thumb as he took the cup.

Thank you, he said with a nod of his head.

Gal’Ul smiled shyly and fidgeted with a black ringlet of hair. She brushed it behind her ear and went to stand by the wood stove to wait for any else Buz’Ul might need.

Lord Ul, my master sends his gratitude for granting this audience, Kiel said as he took a sip, he seemed to savor the taste, closing his black eyes as he swallowed. When he opened them, Buz’Ul was leaning forward in his chair staring at him. The rolls of his belly were threatening to burst open the buttons of his doublet.

This conversation never happened, Buz’Ul grunted.

Understood, Kiel said softly, The Cult of Marrow would not dare compromise the standing of your Great House.

If word got out to a certain counselor, it could be the end of Ul, and the end of your chance at Drow support.

Indeed, Kiel said. His black eyes betrayed no emotion or even a hint of intent. I trust you have selected the warriors we requested.

Yes, these are the ones, Buz’Ul said, gesturing around the room. They have no families.

And their loyalty? Kiel asked.

Absolute. Many of their friends were lost in recent battles.

And the gold was... distributed as planned? Kiel questioned.

Delivered as promised, Buz’Ul growled, one yes, two abstains should it come to vote. Clan Ul will be the decider for the majority.

Now, what of the Cult’s side of the bargain? Buz’Ul said with a glare.

An expedition force of 10,000 set sails this morning from Kingsport to Moorehead. Once they take Ravenrock, they will be at your disposal to assist in your claim to the throne, Kiel said calmly.

I was hoping for more than that, Buz’Ul complained, And you promised me a weapon, not just men.

The firequeen leads them, Kiel explained to try to quell Buz’Ul’s reservations.

Even so, Lord Ren is formidable and his forces elite. These are not just outcasts and Voshi your men will be fighting.

Yes... the Lord Ren, Kiel said distastefully, We wish to humble him for his part in the slaying of our beloved savior, Sekys-Mada. We also wish to repossess the Codex.

So, the Cult takes Ravenrock and the Codex, I get Vash’Pal, Shantytown, and the remainder of the Cult’s forces after the attack in exchange...

That is the agreement, Kiel said smoothly.

So, how do we begin? Buz’Ul asked.

You will take these twenty warriors and begin to slaughter the families of Clan Ren soldiers. They will show no mercy. Only then will his support be eroded to the point of breaking, Kiel said dispassionately.

Buz’Ul harrumphed, There is no honor in that! he shouted.

We are well beyond honor, my Lord Ul, Kiel said quietly, You wish to be King, yes?

Buz’Ul scratched his fat, scruffy chin, Well yes, but there has to be another way, he finally said, those are innocents.

War is sacrifice, Lord Ul, Kiel insisted, Any great King would understand that. He took another sip of water and then placed the glass on the table. "We can’t have elite Drow running around interfering with