The Legend of Umbrage: The Last Skinshifter

By Jacob Walton

The Legend of Umbrage is a medieval fantasy story about a world where magic blooms like flowers in a meadow, and men begin to discover the secrets hidden behind the forest. The book is set around the life of a lone woodsman known as Bothorn. He is a man born of a particularly unusual race of men called Skinshifters. As their name suggests, the Skinshifters have the natural ability to change shape and become massive animals with unbreakable hides. As with all beings, there are limits to what they can do. Though they do not know why, they have no choice over what they become. It is a mystery to all until the first transformation of a young Skinshifter. Among his people, Bothorn is a shameful man, hated by all but those closest to him over one small detail. He can't shift.

As a way to be rid of him, he is sent to live alone along the borderline of the forest of Umbrage as a sentry. There, in his solitude, he stumbles upon a saddened young woman from one of the major territories beyond the woods. Through this meeting of chance, tragedy and sorrow erupt with horrendous consequences. Bothorn discovers the beast within and, with it, must do everything he can to save the woman he loves even if he must take on an army, or worse.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 9, 2024
• ISBN: 9798890436085

Book preview

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The Legend of Umbrage

The Last Skinshifter

Jacob Walton

ISBN 979-8-89043-607-8 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89043-608-5 (digital)

Copyright © 2024 by Jacob Walton

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. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Conclusion

Epilogue

Glossary

About the Author

Introduction

Long and deep was the forest of Umbrage; its mass consumed a third of the known land. Deeper still was the rumor and superstition that enveloped it. For centuries, no one had dared to venture into that forest or even approach its boundary. Fear and terror were the watchdogs; mystery and malice were its gatekeepers.

Berzerkill was one of the few territories brave enough to reside near the edge of the forest. The great stone city fortress was built with its gates facing the forest edge so that no army could approach its vulnerable gates without venturing into the forest. The men of this territory, the Berzerkers, sired descendants of ferocious fighting ability. The army they formed became well known, as they were proven undefeatable, the Valir. The twenty best of their warriors became their rulers, their lords; they held power by their strength and ferocity.

The lords of Berzerkill were known for bloodlust and slaughter. With quick and decisive action, they expanded their land as far as their men could journey; their rivals were few and far. However, once their territories were established, it was only a matter of time before they turned on each other. One by one, they picked each other off through duels or assassination. Twenty men became ten and then five until all but one remained, Ôarg Slorel, the proven strongest of the twenty. He became the unchallenged ruler of Berzerkill. The final Lord. His line ruled through history, each one carrying on the tradition as a cold and ruthless killer.

In spite of the passing of time, Umbrage Forest remained unchanged by the problems of the world. Wars came and went outside the border, and history was forged by the hand of steel, while the forest slowly grew bigger and wilder. Occasionally, someone would look out at the trees swaying in a soft breeze and almost swear that something was looking back.

Chapter 1

Elliúra sat out on her balcony window like she always did at sundown. The sunlight glinted off the leaves, making the forest look like an ocean of gold. She loved watching the forest from her third-story windowsill, drinking in its emerald shine.

Elliúra was of average height, with sharp features, a slender waist, and long wavy golden hair. She had bright-blue eyes that seemed as deep as the eastern sea and shone when she smiled. Most considered her as the most pleasant woman they would ever see. She wore her favorite light-blue dress, with her legs tucked under and a paper and quill in her hand. Beside her on the windowsill sat a bottle of ink. She put the quill to her lips and let the sight of the golden forest inspire her. After a minute of gazing out, she looked down and wrote on her paper:

Oh, Umbrage trees, both long and tall,

reflecting sunlight winter to fall.

What wonders lurk deep within your heart?

When will we know the secrets you hold between earth and sky?

Elliúra smiled, happy with her work. She continued writing for a few minutes, letting inspiration fill her being until a knock came from behind her door.

Elli?

Come in.

When she opened the door, Axton, her brother, entered, followed by their little sister, Belinda. Axton was tall with a slim build and broad shoulders. His features were sharp, like his sisters, with dark-brown hair and light-olive-green eyes. He wore the standard Berzerkill uniform, an orange-red-and-black tunic sewn together to look like flames. Belinda was shorter than Elliúra with a full, curvy figure, dark-black hair, and sparkling deep-blue eyes. She stood behind Axton, smirking with her arms crossed.

Father wants to see you, Axton said, standing by the door. His face looked particularly grim today. Immediately.

Elliúra, ignoring Belinda, gave Axton a curious look. Is something wrong?

Axton looked down. He…insists on telling you himself.

Belinda covered her mouth with her hand, trying to restrain a laugh. Elliúra rolled her eyes at her stepsister and sighed reluctantly as she put down her quill and paper. Quickly she followed Axton while Belinda quietly skulked behind Elliúra.

The Great Hall was usually occupied by ten or eleven nobles, but today the room was stirring with movement. Many of these were lords and ladies of the city, descendants of the Zerkill, all dressed in silk and fine, brightly colored linen. Elliúra recognized some of them from previous meetings in the Great Hall, but many of them were hardly ever summoned. They were left to run their houses and sections of the city. Axton led his sisters through the crowd, weaving past nobles and servants, making their way toward the center of the large group.

Why are all these people here, Axton? Elliúra asked, looking around at all the unfamiliar faces.

Father summoned all of them this morning. He declared tonight a celebration.

What is so special about tonight? What is the celebration?

You'll see, Belinda said, chuckling behind them. Axton turned around, glaring at Belinda with disgust.

After scanning the crowd of lords and ladies, they spotted their father amid a group of noblemen, laughing among themselves.

Their father, Dökkálfar, was the current and most brutal ruler and chief of Berzerkill. Dökkálfar stood tall and thin with deep-green eyes. Many who stood before Dökkálfar considered him a fierce and intimidating man of stature. His face almost always looked restrained, as though he was restraining to keep himself calm. Always at his left side was a long rapier. The long, slim blade was silversteel, one that had a silver handle with a small ruby at the end of the pommel.

Dökkálfar was in a heated discussion with the nobleman closest to him when he glanced over in their direction. Dismissing the nobleman with a wave of his hand, he turned his attention toward his approaching children.

Ah, Elliúra! he exclaimed, welcoming her. I have much to discuss with you. You may go, Axton. Axton nodded and turned away, dragging Belinda with him.

Why are all these people here? Elliúra asked curiously. Did I forget some sort of occasion?

Nothing of the sort, my child, Dökkálfar said softly. I am afraid I've had to make a difficult decision. You know, I've tried to be a good father to you and your siblings. Better than most parents can be these days. So believe me when I say, it brings me no pleasure to tell you this. Edadmund has made a request to ally our cities in exchange for you to be his wife. He's thrown in three hundred silverswords as a tribute to his devotion. I've reluctantly agreed to the arrangement, and these people are here for the announcement.

No! No, no, no! Elliúra whispered, backing away. Please, you know he's a brutal creature! He is a monster! Not fit to call a man! You know what he does! What he enjoys! It's sickening!

He would not dare harm you, Dökkálfar said, taking her by the hand. We'll make certain…restrictions, an agreement if you wish. I can't promise that he won't sleep with you, but I can make sure that he'll be gentle. He'll see you treated well.

Even worse! He'll come against me the minute he can. Brutally. I won't do this, she replied, pulling her hand from his. How can you even ask this of me? I'd rather be thrown into the dungeons.

Silence! You've said plenty, Dökkálfar hissed, grabbing her shoulders and looking her in the eyes. I was not asking, and you will shut your mouth and accept your place!

Dökkálfar's deep-green eyes focused on Elliúra with a black intensity in them. His face contorted in anger. She'd seen this look many times before. There was madness in his eyes, which was followed by a red splatter and the sheathing of his rapier. It was then that Elliúra realized the room had grown quiet. Everyone watched Dökkálfar, fearful of what he might do.

Slowly Dökkálfar's face returned to a semblance of control. A smile returned to his face. You will be safely married to him. I'll see to it that he does not even dare to touch you.

Elliúra wriggled herself free of his hands and backed away. Please…don't do this.

It's final. Come the end of the first week of spring you'll be wed.

Without giving her another thought, Dökkálfar raised his hands, beckoning for everyone to come to attention. Elliúra turned and made her way through the crowd and out the door as Dökkálfar began a long speech about the proposal.

This wasn't a marriage offer, no matter what her father said; it was a death sentence. Edadmund was the chief of Durkson, the second-largest city in the land. It was a three-and-a-half-week march on foot from Berzerkill. Edadmund was known for his sickening pleasure for inflicting pain. This perversion was only enhanced in his bedroom; many women perished from the disgusting torments he did to them. The title of the wife only meant personal plaything to him with hardly any more rights than a leashed dog. Elliúra knew it would only be a matter of time before not even Dökkálfar's name could protect her. By then, it would be even more horrible for her!

Elliúra met him only twice in her lifetime. The first time Elliúra was only a child, but even then, she found him to be an uncomfortable man to be near. He was younger then, a man in his thirties, with his current wife at the time slouched behind him, looking well beyond her years even though she couldn't have been more than twenty-five. The second time was three years past; Edadmund had stopped by on trading business, with a different woman behind him. She seemed barely able to stand at all, and her legs wobbled as she walked. She killed herself about a month later.

Elliúra stifled back tears as she walked along the streets of the city, her city. An ominous mood hung over the walls and stones, saturating her mind, fueling her tears. In less than a year, she'd never see this place alive again. People who recognized her lowered their heads in respect and sympathy, for all knew the reputation of the Durkson ruler, and the announcement spread faster than a rampaging wildfire. She paid them no heed but continued onward with blank and hollow eyes.

Before she reached the gates of the city walls, tears came that she couldn't stop. She ignored the looks the entrance guards gave her as she left the city. Elliúra walked onward with her face in her hands, lost in her sorrow. Her eyes to the ground, she wandered off into the fields surrounding the city. She ran her hands through the wheat fields, feeling the grain with her slender fingers. Tears dripped from her cheeks, falling onto the soil. She passed men pushing carts filled with tools or dirt, barely giving them a glance.

Before she realized where she'd gone, she tripped on the great roots of a fallen tree. Falling to her knees, she looked up and found herself kneeling before the great imposing border of Umbrage Forest. She hadn't noticed that she left the fields and walked off the road. Or even the steep incline up the hill to the woods. Elliúra looked behind her, at her home, at her life, and then looked forward, toward the forest she'd always feared and admired. The moon had not yet risen into the night sky, which only enhanced the shadow of the foreboding forest. Thick tree limbs stretched outward, welcoming her, inviting her in.

Shall I live a year more and die in agony…or shall I die quickly, now, at the hand of a more merciful beast?

A horrible choice for anyone to make, and yet, to her, it was not a choice. Elliúra shed one more tear, then breathed in. Unable to turn back, she sniffled, looking into the forest. The tall, dark oak, pine, and cedar trees were swaying majestically in a gentle breeze; the woods creaked and groaned, almost beckoning to her, the long branches waving to her, greeting her.

How could anyone fear such a beautiful place? she asked, gazing into the immense darkness. Thoughts about turning back, to say goodbye entered her mind. She wished to at least see Axton again. She buried her face in her hands. I don't have the courage to go back. I am not brave enough. Oh, I wish I was.

Please, she whispered into the forest, calling out to the spirit of the woods, show me grace, mighty forest. If there is a Master of the Wood, please, be merciful to me.

Taking a deep breath, Elliúra stepped into Umbrage Forest.

I'd rather die in this palace of beauty than in the bedroom of a monster.

Chapter 2

The forest swayed in the wind, almost alive with excitement! Trees swayed with rhythm as the wind whistled pleasantly in Elliúra's ears. The moon was ascending to the top of the summer night sky, bathing the forest in silver light. Elliúra walked on for about an hour, lost in the splendor of the forest. Even at night, the forest never rested. It was as though life never grew tired here. The crickets played their song of joy, and the insects clicked and welcomed, lifting Elliúra's spirits. A deep presence hovered around her, whispering sweetness in her ears, caressing her tear-covered cheeks, guiding her further in.

If this is such an evil place, she spoke softly, then how can it be so beautiful?

Up ahead, Elliúra could see some sort of clearing. Excited, Elliúra rushed to see what else this incredible place had to show her. The clearing was about half an acre wide with a small creek running through the center. Rocks and small boulders outlined the creek with reeds and willows dotted along it. Elliúra let out a small cry of joy at what she'd found. This was the most beautiful place she'd ever seen! Long forgotten were the troubles of hours ago; if she were to die tonight, she would die happier than she'd ever been.

Listening to the sound of running water, she realized how dry her throat was. Kneeling down beside the creek, she scooped water into her delicate hands and quenched her thirst. The water was cool and sweet, more pleasant than the finest wine in Berzerkill. Laying her head on her arms, she lay beside the creek, unsure of what to do next. She expected death to claim her as soon as she entered the woods; now she wished it had. With nowhere else to go, this meant she had to return home.

Putting those thoughts aside, Elliúra lay in the grass and let her mind wander. She felt pained that her father would do this to her and had such fear for what lay ahead. Closing her eyes to the world, she let the melody of the creek mix with the music of the crickets. The wonder of Umbrage relaxed her pain and fear of the future. The music of the forest whispered in Elliúra's ears like a mother to her child. The melodic hymn of the creek soothed her spirit, and she began humming to a tune that matched the rhythm, letting it build in her soul. Unable to contain her voice any longer, she sang,

Time goes on…

The trees sprout and touch the sky,

Ambitious to see and be seen.

Their rise…their demise.

Time goes on.

Time goes on.

Children of men grow old,

The warrior's sword turns to rust.

Fire to ashes, flesh to dust.

Time goes on,

Time goes on…

She hadn't written the rest yet, and it pained her to think that she may never be able to. That feeling of inspiration may never again touch her heart.

Please, a clear, strong voice spoke out, don't stop singing.

Elliúra jumped up and faced the direction of the voice. She could see no one in the clearing even with the moon high above. The moon illuminated her golden hair hanging loosely down her back, making her stand out in the evening light.

Who…who is there? Where are you?

Please, fair one, the voice replied, you need not fear me. I will not cause you death or injury.

All Elliúra could see was the shadowed silhouettes of the forest trees. The mysterious being to whom the voice belonged made no movement or sign of where he was located.

If you mean no ill will toward me…then show yourself.

I…I am afraid, the voice replied timidly.

Of what, mysterious one? I am the one talking to shadow, not you.

There is a reason I lie in the shadow. You may not find me of gentle appearance.

I am here because I'm sentenced to die. I do not care either way what I meet—be you a friend or foe.

Who would sentence someone so beautiful to die? You're surely not one deserving of it.

And what would you know about me? I may be a wanted murderer for all you know! If you wish no harm to me, come out. You'll see no sign of fear from me, and I have no desire to continue speaking to the air.

I wish you no ill will. I am stepping out.

A human silhouette emerged from behind a great oak tree outside the clearing and began moving forward into the moonlight.

Elliúra bravely held her head high as she looked upon the owner of the voice. The man who stood before her was at least six feet, eight inches tall! His hair was shaggy, deep brown, and he had fair skin. He wore a simple tunic of deer pelts and leather pants. His feet were covered by simple leather boots, and he carried no weapon, just a sack over his right shoulder. He looked to be around her age, and his features were slightly round yet muscular with scruffy facial hair. His eyes were brown, but the whites of his eyeball reflected the moonlight, giving them an unearthly glow.

He made no effort to approach her, or move for that matter, but stood as though he was being threatened with a crossbow.

Are…are you a giant? she questioned.

Am I that tall by your eyes?

Well, no, but…but what else could you be?

He opened his mouth to answer but said nothing.

Well? she asked, slightly impatient and more than a little frightened.

Finally, he replied, I am your friend. Let that suffice for now.

Elliúra opened her mouth to argue but thought better of it and nodded. It would not be wise to argue with a complete stranger in a dense forest.

How long have you been watching me?

I came upon you while you were humming, he replied, motioning toward the creek. I did not wish to disturb you.

Yet you startled me while my eyes were closed. That is more than a little strange, Elliúra stated, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. I would say you did more than disturb me.

You are the one invading my glade, drinking from my creek, and lying in my grass, he said, crossing his arms and speaking in a like tone. Then you had to go and sing. That is not fair, pretty one.

Well, if you want money, I have none, Elliúra said in an irritated tone. And if you want me to leave, I shall be on my way!

Hold on now. I meant no fair trade to me. That song was more than enough payment. I have never before heard a voice like yours. And tonight I was in low spirits, until I came across you.

Elliúra would have assumed he was flattering her with exaggerations, but his face showed genuine sincerity.

What are you called, mysterious one? Elliúra asked.

My name is Böthorn son of Joath. May I ask yours, fair one?

Elliúra, daughter of Dökkálfar.

A privilege, Böthorn said, taking a slight bow. His bow disarmed her, making him seem less threatening and more friendly.

Thank you, Elliúra replied with an awkward curtsy.

If it's all the same to you, I'd like to sit down and eat, Böthorn stated, moving toward the creek. I'm famished. You may join me if you'd like.

Elliúra seemed unsure of what to make of him. His demeanor was kind and his face genuine, but she knew nothing of who or what he was for that matter. On the other hand, what did she have to lose? The most he could do was kill her if he'd been lying about who he was. Besides that, she was curious about him. He had a kindness to him that surprised her, and he was offering her food. Elliúra, realizing how long it was since she last ate, walked over to the creek and sat down just out of arm's reach from him. Böthorn was half-buried into his sack, looking for something.

Aha! he exclaimed, pulling out a massive loaf of delicious-smelling bread followed by an equally large block of cheese, a tin plate, and some smoked venison wrapped in some sort of large leaf.

Elliúra sat there quietly and waited for him to finish laying it all out. He arranged the bread in a ring around the plate, and the venison and cheese inside the circle. Satisfied with it, he set the plate down on a small boulder between the two of them.

Help yourself! Böthorn said, grabbing some food.

She eyed him while reaching for the plate. Other than biting into his food and chewing hungrily, Böthorn made no movement.

She grabbed a piece of bread, cheese, and meat.

So, Böthorn said, finishing his bite, you did not answer me. Why would anyone want to harm a head as beautiful as yours?

My father is trading me in marriage to the leader of Durkson, who is a known sadist, she replied, looking down at her food, for three hundred damned silverswords.

Disgusting! Böthorn growled, reaching for another slice of cheese. Why not refuse the marriage? Do you not have the choice?

She looked up at him. ‘Have a choice.' You mock me!

Böthorn stopped midbite. No! I was not raised to mock a woman.

Elliúra's face relaxed slightly, her fists relaxing. She grimaced when she realized she'd scrunched up the bread in her hands. She shrugged reluctantly and resumed eating.

You did not answer me.

Annoyed, Elliúra rolled her eyes and sighed. No, I do not have a choice!

Now that's unheard of.

Maybe where you're from. That is why I am here. Better to be killed quickly than to be the plaything of a madman.

Killed by what exactly? There are no predators in this part of the forest.

Have you not heard the legends? No one enters here for fear of death! Not in the last hundred years at least.

Really? I've never heard such things. I've known that men outside this border of the forest fear the woods, but I didn't know why. It sounds absurd to be so afraid of nothing.

Where are you from, Böthorn? I have never heard a name like yours before, and how do you not know of the horrors in this forest? Hold on, you said, ‘this border of the forest.' Are there villages beyond Umbrage?

I live here. My cabin is a short distance away, and I have never been out of the woods before. As for where I am from…it is a distance into the forest. And yes, there are many other villages beyond the forest.

You live here? Elliúra gasped.

"I