Warriors of Epicene and Unity: Divine Union, #1

By Frank Mitchell

Elara, a warrior that shifts with the time of day, known by many names, heads toward a kingdom, run by a corrupt king who seeks assistance from the renown hunter. Having lived for centuries on end, the warrior is alone and fractures in both spirit and mind, unfeeling and uncaring for everyone and everything. When the hunter is sent out to retrieve a run away prisoner, they have no idea that the person they are sent to find will forever change their life in unexpected ways. 

Prazan, king of Terbesar secretly wages a war against the entire country in an effort to become Emperor and expand his reign across the kingdom until he and he alone has subjugated the lives of everyone beneath him. Ensuring their obedience to him and him alone. However, his obsession is only driven further when his prized prisoner escapes. A prisoner that is neither human nor fae. A being that is neither male nor female and yet both at the same time. Detesting anything that does not fit into his scope of right and wrong, he wants nothing more than to destroy the prisoner and everything they stand for. 

Keji, right hand of Prazan and a necromantic alchemist works tirelessly for three things. The creation of the ultimate undead warrior. The creation of a portal in order to gaze into the realms beyond his own and to gain the love of his King who he lusts after but knows he can never have. While he perfects his undead Pelecaks, soulless undead warriors, he opens a portal that sparks a chain of events that starts a war beyond anything he could have imagined, bathing the country in destruction and battle. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frank Mitchell
• Release date: Jan 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223477792

Book preview

Chapter One

They ran through the darkness of the night. The stars and moon would have been their only light, had it not been for the thick storm clouds that blotted the midnight sky. Darkness as black as pitch reigned down upon their vision. They stumbled across the valley. The uneven landscape allowed them no respite from pain or anxiety as they were forced to hurry. The sharp rocks cut across their bare feet. When they tripped and fell, their only padding were rough patches of dry weeds that tore open fresh gashes in their knees and palms. Blood trickled down their tan skin but it didn't matter. No amount of pain could equal the pain that they were fleeing from. So long as they put as much distance as possible between themselves and their unending torture, all the blood and pain would be worth it.

LIGHTNING WAS THEIR only source of illumination, minus the natural glow of their pale skin. The rolling hills lit up with vibrant flashes of white and blue as lightning streaked across the dark sky. They counted the beating of their heart from the point of lightning strike to the moment of thunder. Twenty heart beats. The storm was far from over and the night was only just beginning. Flipping up their hood, the glow of their silvery hair was concealed within the enchanted darkness of the material. The shadows of their cowl concealed all identity and revealing features. No assassin nor spy, not even the keenest of mages could penetrate the enchantment of their hood. The dark black fabric enveloped their body like a shroud of absolute darkness. Only in the flash of lightning did their form become visible to any onlookers. Though in the middle of the plains, there were few around and fewer still who would be so bold as to venture out during a storm. They didn't care though. They had long ago tossed away such trivial concerns. Another bolt of lightning zipped across the clouded night sky. A streak of blue against a sea of black and gray. Thunder exploded like the roar of a large saber tooth cat. It rippled across the skies with the force of an avalanche, dying out somewhere in the distance near the mountains. The smell of rain drifted on the wind. While they cared little for threats of thunder and lightning, getting wet and miserably uncomfortable was not something they enjoyed. Caverns and dug outs were common in the great plains of the west. It was only a matter of finding one.

THEY TRIPPED AGAIN over a sharp protruding rock, this time landing upon their hands which found their perch upon more sharp rocks. They barely noticed the pain anymore. After the first dozen scrapes and cuts, they didn't feel the lancing pain of torn open skin quite as badly. However, the lack of food and water was draining them. By sheer will power alone did they continue onward. Every time they even considered stopping to rest, thoughts of torture slid back into their mind. Chains and shackles. Whips and branding irons. The mere memory brought the physical pain rushing back as clearly as though it were about to happen. It was that pain which kept them going. They could not turn back. They would not subjugate themselves to that life. Never again.

SILVERY EYES AS COLD as ice peered into the darkness of the dugout hill. The smell of fresh rain soon to come pushed them into the darkness. The cold chill of the cavernous dug out didn't bother them. Perhaps years prior it might have caused them to shiver and struggle. Forcing them to cling onto what meager warmth they could manage. However, that was a long time ago. Now, they embraced the cold. They welcomed the numbing sensation with open arms and a steel heart. Within the dugout sat a bench carved out of stone. In front of it was a carved out pit with an iron cooking pot and stand. Deeper into the thirty foot dugout was a large pile of wood. Maintained by the monk plainsmen of the west, the dugouts were well stocked. A single basket sat near the edge of the stone seat. Inside of the hand woven container was flint and steel, a short knife wrapped in leather, dried food and a satchel of water. It was not uncommon for travelers to stop by and utilize the dugouts, the baskets were there as both aid and offering. Anyone using the dugout was encouraged to give something in return. The monks of the west received no wages nor compensation for keeping the shelter dugouts stocked. Only by the generosity of strangers did they receive thanks. Pulling their hood down, they turned away and leaned against the wall. They did not believe in the generosity of mankind. Not anymore. Long ago they had turned their attention away from kindness of spirit. Humanity had proven to them time and time again how cruel and unjust it could be. They offered no more generosity, for none would be given in return. A fact that they had learned the hardest way possible. Leaning into the cold stone wall, they drifted into a light sleep. They no longer knew what deep sleep felt like. Too many enemies and too many opportunists lurked about. Sleep was a commodity that they could not afford. Lightning shimmered across the sky in every direction for miles around. The blue and white streaks cut across the open plains illuminating the grassy valley of hills and slopes. Moments later the sound of thunder as loud as canon fire split the air followed by the rain. A heavy downpour of rain so dense that the outside of the cavernous dugout was blocked completely. They didn't care though. There was nothing to see and there was some much needed rest to catch up on. It would be many hours before the storm passed and they intended on utilizing every bit of it.

THE SCENT OF RAIN DRIFTED on the wind and they knew there would be little time to find shelter. Lightning flashed overhead giving them a single bright moment of clarity. They stared intently upon the landscape trying to see everything that they could. Every rock, every hill and every sloping contour of the landscape. Their dark eyes held that moment of illumination clearly in their mind and tried to keep it present in their thoughts as they continued through the darkness. The air and ground shook with the thunder that seemed to shout the threat of rains soon to come. They stumbled forward, walking through the darkness with their eyes closed, clinging to the image of the landscape that they had trained to memory. There was a flaw in that memory though. A single darkened line of rock and stone. Believing it to be no more than a dip in the ridge, they stumbled forward and stepped over the edge. Their feet, numb from the cold dark stone, barely felt the sliding decline of the stone. By the time they realized their mistake, it was too late. They tumbled down into the darkness. Rolling down over the steep sloping side they fell and hit the bottom of the chasm with a hard crunch. Darkness took their consciousness into a cold embrace.

WHERE IS IT? HE SHOUTED, slamming a fist down upon his metal throne. King Prazan was not a patient person. His long gray hair was bound up in a top knot held together by a black metal coupling. His pale skin made his blue eyes seem to glow in the dimly lit chamber of his throne room. The toned muscles beneath his pale skin rippled as he gripped the rounded edges of his seat.

I apologize, my king. Keji replied, his accent thick from someone who grew up in the tribes across the dark seas. The royal advisor, a hulking lean man with skin as dark as shadows and hair blacker than ebony, bowed before the king. His long black hair flowed over the steel silver fabric of his robes.

Prazan snarled in frustration and waved his thin lanky hand with a sigh. Keji rose to his feet, a towering black behemoth of lean muscles and raw power. His silver and black robes flowed around him. Small precisely cut arrow heads hung off steel rings along the edge of his robe. Their metallic arrow heads clinked together like raindrops of steel. Keji looked up at his young king, a man barely near the middle of his second decade of life. Prazan stared intently back at his advisor, meeting the man's green and red eyes. The heterochromia was a rarity amongst his people and just as rare in the kingdom. Against his black skin, his eyes stood out like glowing spheres of light.

My king. Keji continued with a voice deep as the rumble of thunder. I have a bounty hunter on their way as we speak.

Prazan arched a brow, more in curiosity than in suspicion.

A bounty hunter? King Prazan asked.

Yes my king. He is the best in his field.

When will he be here?

Perhaps within-

When? King Prazan shouted.

Tomorrow at the latest sire. Keji replied.

Dammit! I need it back now! That thing is a monstrosity. A powerful one at that. Prazan grimaced. I need it back behind closed doors.

And it will. I assure you my lord. I-

Can you send out a Pelacak? King Prazan asked.

I need to make preparations but I can send one out by morning. Keji replied.

Take whatever you need. Just get that thing back here. Immediately!

Keji bowed low before backing out of the room and through the doors that emptied out into the main corridor. With a smirk on his dark face he walked off. The erection in his pants was hidden only by the sleeve that he fashioned to contain himself. Keji enjoyed the passion that his king displayed. The sheer force behind his words was arousing. The dark skinned advisor could feel the strength behind every word. It was in that passion and strength that he found his desire. While he disliked seeing his king so displeased and stressed, the force of that displeasure vented itself from him in a way that piqued his interest. Though he could never allow his interests to show, not ever.

Chapter Two

Abolt of lightning tore across the sky and less than a heartbeat later, the crack of thunder ripped through the darkness of the night. Elara shook from their slumber. Taking stock of their surroundings they checked the dugout, then the entrance before visibly relaxing. Rain still poured down across the valley. The dug out entrance was sloped which allowed all the water from the overhang to flow downward away from the cavernous shelter. Elara pulled the hood away letting their silvery white hair spill out like a shimmering waterfall of moonlight. Their long hair fell over their sloping shoulders and hung just above their waistline. Grabbing the flint and steel from the basket, they walked over to the wall of wood. The chopped wood had been arranged delicately as if a great amount of time and care had been put into the arrangement of the wooden pile. Elara snatched a single quarter piece of log and tossed it into the charred pit. With the small leather wrapped knife, they shaved off some dry kindling and lit the dried shredded wood with the flint and steel. It didn't take long for the wood to ignite and soon the cavern was doused in flickering light. Reaching inside the inner pocket of their worn and slightly tattered black jacket, they pulled out a folded envelope. Inside was a note. They opened the paper and reread the letter.

'The King of  Terbesar demands your immediate attention to a matter of greater importance than one such as yourself could imagine. Arrive by the half moon and you shall be compensated for your haste.'

Elara slid the letter and the envelope back into their pocket. They were used to receiving letters from royalty. Half of the time they were laced with deception and insults. Few looked kindly towards bounty hunters, only when their services were truly required did they receive praise but even that was normally backhanded at best.

Elara didn't care. It was just for the money.

KEJI PULLED OPEN THE double doors to his chambers. His room was all dark gray stone. Smooth as tile but stained within the even and flat stone were pools of dried blood. Red marred the walls to the back of the room where he had chains and cuffs bolted to the stone. Near the left corner of the room sat benches and tables, fastened with leather and rope interlaced with metal gears. Anyone who knew the rumors of the advisor's chamber knew that it was a fortified torture dungeon. With over a dozen stations for torture and experimentation. The loyalty he displayed toward the King was only equaled by the cruelty he showed to his enemies and experiments. Keji walked to the right side of the room and stopped to marvel at his alchemy table. A ten foot by ten foot steel table fit with glass tubes and beakers. Vials of liquids and glass reservoirs of mixed concoctions boiled and steamed as they worked under his close supervision. Making his way over to a tall five tiered cabinet he opened the doors and did a quick inventory of his products. There were tall, thin, wide and large glass containers on each shelf. The colors and consistencies of each were different and individual. The dark skinned alchemist plucked a single thin vial from the middle shelf and uncorked the top. The clear solution smelt acidic and vile. Grabbing a small needle and syringe he withdrew several drops of the liquid before replacing the container back in the cabinet. Then, he slid the needle into his left arm along the thick vein that protruded from the crook in his elbow. Slowly he withdrew his blood, adding it to the translucent liquid, turning it to a scarlet color.

THE DARKNESS CLEARED like a slow fog in the early morning of dawn. They were slow to rise and with every attempt, a fitful surge of pain lanced through their body. They turned onto their back and tried to get a look at their body, but with no light to work off of, it was almost pointless. So far down, the flashes of lightning didn't reach the depths of the crevice. Only the onslaught of heavy rain made its way down. Using hands and fingers, they felt for the source of the pain. Fingers slid across bloodied and torn skin. The long tumbling fall to the bottom of the chasm had left them in far worse shape. When they touched their foot, they felt the pain shoot up through their leg and into their back. Their left foot was twisted and broken. Before they could do anything though, a new sound emerged. A sound from the darkness beyond their vision echoed through the crevasse that had suddenly become their new shelter.

ELARA HAD LEFT THE shelter of the dugout after the rain had passed by. Thunder and lightning continued on in the distance but it would not circle back around. As the light of day pierced the clearing clouds, the fields of grassland gave way to rocky landscape. Jagged dark stone that rolled over the hills for miles around. In the distance, set in a large hill only an hour's walk west, was the castle of King Prazan. Elara strode forward, their long hair now a short golden blonde, flowed in the warm wind. Their dark tan skin resembled that of the desert dwellers, dark as soil with bronze eyes that radiated a light of their own. They walked through the rocky valley of rolling hills and didn't stop, even when they noticed the castle scouts following behind.

USING THEIR ONE GOOD leg and two arms, they dragged themselves along the cold wet ground. The thick mud and grime that had slid down from the sloping walls made it nearly impossible to move quickly but at the same time, it hid their scent from the cave scorpions of the depths. The Arahnid; eight legged scorpions that ranged from five feet to fifteen feet long, were bottom feeders of the darkness. Inhabitants of the caverns and tunnels that ran through the depths of the world. The mud and grime that now covered their body prevented quick movement but it also hid the scent of their blood. With their body injured and running low on stamina and endurance, their best chance was to find a hole to hide in and wait out the creatures. Eventually they'd return to the darkness of the depths.

ELARA STOOD AT THE edge of the mote that encompassed the entire castle. The kingdom of Terbesar was the western most kingdom, an entity state that resided within grasslands and rocky valleys. Nearly half of the kingdom was bordered by mountains. The Sudenje mountains separated the Terbesar valleys from the open ocean. The royal castle of Terbesar, was a massive structure. Three large spires stood nearly a hundred feet high, fully thirty feet above the castle's highest chamber. The dark stone that the castle had been built from added to the massive stronghold. Elara looked over the edge of the mote that separated themselves from the castle entrance. A twenty foot wide gap that had a straight thirty yard drop to the bottom. Sharp carved spikes and wooden poles had been set along the bottom. Anyone who fell in was guaranteed a death, be it slow or fast. A guard that stood post outside the front door shouted across the mote to them. The guard was dressed in all gray armor with a single grip straight sword at his side.

What business have you with the King of Terbesar?

Elara pulled free the letter and brought it up over their head. The sound of crossbows clicking into place echoed across the chasm. They knew that there were at least a dozen, if not double that amount trained on their position. If they were even the slightest bit off put, they didn't show it on their placid face.

I am answering the summons for assistance.

The guard quickly shuffled over to a reinforced door where another guard resided. After a few moments the gate guard returned and shouted once more to Elara.

You are the bounty hunter?

That I am. Let down your drawbridge so that I may claim my business and be gone.

Elara watched as the guard nodded to someone inside and a moment later, the sound of gears and chains grinding echoed out from the castle. Elara hated this kingdom. They hated the ruler and its way of ruling. However, a job was a job and royals, especially kings, were willing to pay far more than small town lords and leaders. The metal and wood bridge lowered across the mote and they walked forward. The bounty hunter could feel the arrows and bolts being trained on them. One move, one startling motion and a volley of arrows would descend upon them.

Elara paid it no mind though.

PINCHERS SNAPPED AND armored legs clacked against the wet stone of the chasm floor. Their black bodies were nearly invisible in the shadows. They gave wide births around the beams of sunlight that pierced the veil of darkness which hung over the chasm. The creatures searched the wet mud with their jagged pinchers, clumsily feeling around for anything that had been swept into the pit. Without warning, they all turned and hissed at some foreign threat. From beneath the surface crawled free humanoid creatures. Half crustacean and half human. They walked on six crab-like legs. Their torsos were covered by a black exoskeleton that extended up over their arms which ended in lobster claws. Their heads were human in shape but had long bulbous eyes that extended several inches out of their skulls allowing them a complete visual of their surroundings. The Rakovi were a fifth the size of the large subterranean scorpions, however, the Rakovi moved out in large numbers. They carried crude weapons that could cut deep into the Arahnid hide. The scorpions ran from their smaller foe. The Arahnid were not terribly intelligent beings, like many of the beings that lurked within the depths, they lived to eat and prey. Feasting upon whatever came nearest. The Rakovi knew how to handle their arachnid foe with ease. Pushing the Arahnid back into their large crevices, the Rakovi went to work searching through the mud