Against That Shining Darkness: Boxed Set Trilogy Read online

  Against That Shining Darkness Trilogy

  By Chogan Swan

  Copyright 2016 Chogan Swan

  Table of Contents

  Author’s Foreword:

  Chapter 1 (Shadows)

  Chapter 2 (Blood Bought)

  Chapter 3 (Dubious Honor)

  Chapter 4 (Caverns of Ice)

  Chapter 5 (Innocence End)

  Chapter 6 (Sunrise Path)

  Chapter 7 (Holding)

  Chapter 8 (A Secret Place)

  Chapter 9 (Companions)

  Chapter 10 (Chains)

  Chapter 11 (The Pass)

  Chapter 12 (Mountain Tryst)

  Chapter 13 (Gathering)

  Chapter 14 (Dragonwing)

  Chapter 15 (Dragonhome)

  Chapter 16 (Darkfire)

  Book 2 — Darkness Gathering

  Chapter 1 (Dark Resurrection)

  Chapter 2 (Siege)

  Chapter 3 (Wallside)

  Chapter 4 (Sea Roads)

  Chapter 5 (Pirates)

  Chapter 6 (Gynt Camp)

  Chapter 7 (Bird in the Hand)

  Chapter 8 (New Day)

  Chapter 9 (Stone Walls…)

  Chapter 10 (Guest room)

  Chapter 11 (Moonglow)

  Chapter 12 (… Do A Prison Make)

  Chapter 13 (Seth—Moonglow)

  Book 3 — The Dragon and the Rose

  Chapter 1 (Spider in the tent)

  Chapter 2 (Shadows Passing)

  Chapter 3 (Gambit)

  Chapter 4 (Pieces on the Board)

  Chapter 5 (Fear and Avarice)

  Chapter 6 (The Dragon and the Rose)

  Chapter 7 (Darkness Falling)

  Chapter 8 (Dark Arrival)

  Chapter 9 (Sacrifice Knight)

  Chapter 10 (Dark Mercy)

  Chapter 11 (Dark and Light)

  Chapter 12 (Trapped in the Dark)

  Chapter 13 (Days of Light)

  Hi! Chogan Swan here.

  Author’s Foreword:

  I hope you enjoy this journey through this Boxed Set of the first trilogy in my series Against That Shining Darkness. If you enjoy the story, I hope you’ll let me know that I need to get busy on book four when you write a review where you purchased or borrowed it from the Kindle Library. If you’d like to see what I’ve been up to in my writing lately, you can:

  Click HERE to go to my Amazon Author Page

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  Book 1 — Caves of Ice-Caverns of Fire

  Chapter 1 (Shadows)

  The sun rose above the trees, and dew glittered on the meadow. Tiny, white flowers opened their blossoms in the light. It looked as though someone had spent the night sowing the field with diamonds and emeralds. A man emerged from the trees and looked over the clearing, squinting against the glare. His eyes were dark, almost black, but with a slight cast of green that most could only see in sunlight.

  ~~~~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~~~~

  Kilan checked the meadow again before beckoning to the woods behind him. Queen Jyllanah and the women of her court walked their horses past him to tether them to the bushes that edged the meadow. One of the younger attendants glanced sideways at him with a shy smile.

  Kilan sighed and followed.

  The Queen pulled her bow from its case and strung it with expert efficiency then took off her outer robe and stepped into the tall grass. Her companions plunged in behind her. Their thighs below their short riding kilts were soon dripping with chilly dew. The younger girls gasped and hesitated before wading in.

  Kilan’s orders were to attend the Queen’s party while they went fowling. It was unsettling to be guarding so much… femininity, and Kilan wished he were with the King hunting wild boars instead. He'd be there now if not for killing the boar himself on the last hunt. The huge forest-dwelling beast had charged straight for him, wuffing with piggy rage as it rushed the line of spears. Kilan dispatched it, but no one congratulated him. This wasn’t the first time, and the other hunters had started to grumble.

  For the past three years, the pattern was the same. No matter where Kilan stood in the hunt line, the boars charged him, as though he were the one responsible for all their troubles. Today the King ordered him to go with the Queen’s party so someone else might have a chance.

  He shrugged. It wasn’t his fault pigs didn’t like him; even domestic hogs would snort—threatening—when he got upwind of them. Kilan wondered if it had something to do with his scent. Maybe they sensed they weren’t welcome in his homeland. Pigs were just too destructive. A herd of them rooting through Raydcliffe’s forests would be a disaster near the level of a forest fire. Wild pigs had disappeared from his highland home over two generations ago, driven away by the archers of the woodlands, but it seemed their descendants would never forget... or forgive.

  A pheasant took wing, and shot across the meadow through a whirring gauntlet of fowling arrows. It escaped into the sheltering woods. The hunt continued.

  After two hours, they’d gathered four fine pheasant cocks and two hens. Queen Jyllanah called a halt, and the women sat chatting and passing the water skin.

  Kilan glanced behind him to look for Wyatt, before remembering that the prince was with the King’s party; He’d grown so used to the boy’s constant presence that now his absence was odd. Wyatt had chosen Kilan as his personal hero over a year ago and spent his free time watching everything the big warrior did. Kilan smiled, realizing he missed the youngster’s presence. Everything is fresh to the young, and he enjoyed the perspective Wyatt brought him. He considered Wyatt a friend, despite their age difference. He knew the prince treasured the friendship as well. Though, it made Kilan uncomfortable to be so aware of a hero’s responsibilities.

  The clearing was growing warm, and the sun beat down on his head. Even though everything looked peaceful, he was uneasy, as though something was stirring his stomach. A veteran of numerous battles in the King’s service, he’d learned to pay attention to these odd stirrings—they’d saved his life before. Perhaps he’d heard or seen something but not fully known it. As he scanned the surrounding trees—peering into the shadows beneath them—a shadow moved; the hair on his neck rose.

  The breeze shifted, coming around from the west, and the horses reared, snapping their tethers and galloping into the forest. A dark shadow, like a man, ran from beneath the trees into the clearing. A moment ago, the meadow had been full of light, but dark clouds now rolled in to block the sun.

  Kilan knocked an arrow to his bowstring and ran toward the Queen, calling to the women scattered around the meadow. “To me! To me! Around the Queen!”

  Some of them cried out in fear, seeing the rushing darkness. Still they all ran to surround the Queen—though whether to protect her or for protection may have been uncertain in their minds. Some drew their knives, throwing their light bows and useless fowling arrows to the ground.

  Kilan's arrow flew with a deadly hum across the clearing and sank from sight into the manlike shadow. It staggered… hesitated then came on. Kilan sucked in his breath, whatever it was; it was tough. He sent three more arrows, and—though the shafts knocked it back a little—they seemed to do no real damage. The arrows just disappeared into it. He tossed his bow aside and drew his sword. It was too close now to risk another useless shot.

  The approaching shadow was taller and broader than a man, but without features, reflecting no light, as though moving through a dark mi
st. It advanced now with short rushes and graceless apelike bounds. Between advances, it quested as though for a scent.

  Behind him, the Queen spoke an unfamiliar language, in a voice of quiet authority—a prayer. He didn’t understand, but the sound was comforting; he knew the Queen wielded the covenant power with great strength.

  The shadow halted, several yards out of sword range. As Kilan studied it, he recalled snatches of ancient songs, stories from childhood, tales of shadow demons who walked in constant darkness—the baalim from The Siege of Evelon. He waited, breathing a prayer of his own. The baal raised its arm. A sword, or a shadow of a sword, appeared in its fist—a dark flaming shape that seemed to suck light from the meadow. Jyllanah spoke three ringing words. The baal staggered back, flailing—diminishing as it fell to the ground. But, it plunged its smoldering sword into the turf, and the ground blackened, scorching around the blade. It leapt to its feet, recovering at once and swelling as before—just as horrible. With a murderous cut, it leapt at Kilan. He parried the blow and cut back.

  Gidrun hummed loud, and a tingle passed through the blade. The baal shrunk back. Kilan bared his teeth; Gidrun came from the forge of the Dragonsmiths, and the power of light that lived in the sword would make any creature of the dark lose fervor.

  Like an angry wasp, Gidrun hummed again—warning. The shadow leapt in with a cut. Kilan blocked then whirled full circle, whipping the blade around with all his strength. The blade bit deep into the baal’s neck. A shock ran through his blade, and the baal toppled, burning with ugly red flame. In seconds, only blackened grass marked the spot where it had fallen. Kilan shuddered and stepped back, breathing hard, adrenaline pumping through his body. It was too easy; instead of dissipating, the sense of danger grew stronger as he scanned the trees. “Is it finished, Kilan?” Queen Jyllanah asked.

  He shook his head. “I fear not, Majesty.”

  “Well then Commander? In a battle situation, you should give the orders. That is—after all—your purview.”

  Kilan considered. “What do you sense?” The Queen cocked her head, listening. “There’s a fog. I can’t perceive direction, only danger.”

  Surrounded?

  Kilan winced and picked up his bow. “I suggest retreat, but not the way we came. I think they followed us at a distance—until now.” He paused; Gidrun was tingling again. “Travel north into the wood then circle right to find the King’s party.” He grabbed his bow and handed it to the Queen, knowing she could draw it.

  Jyllanah took it and threw aside her short fowling bow. The rest of the women and girls milled around her. Some sobbed with fear.

  “Move,” Kilan snapped. Like startled deer, they took off toward the trees. Kilan loped behind them, glancing to the rear. His heart stuttered; a score of baalim rushed from the far side of the wood like a breaking wave of darkness. “Fly,” he shouted. “They are on us.” The Queen glanced back at him. He waved her on. “I’ll catch up with you.”

  She hesitated.

  “Go!” he screamed.

  Jyllanah disappeared into the forest with a swift, ground-covering stride, no panic, just efficient speed.

  Kilan turned to await the shadows. There were too many. He wasn’t getting out of this one. “Be with me,” he breathed. As he turned to face the shadows, a cloak of peace settled around him. Whatever came, he was ready. As he set himself, he had a fleeting wish that he’d told Wyatt goodbye.

  ~~~~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~~~~

  When the baalim saw him waiting, they halted, uncertain.

  A shaft of sun broke the cloud cover and shone on Kilan. His sword glittered. The baalim held their hands over their featureless faces against the glare.

  With a furious rush, they charged across the meadow at him. Two fell—disintegrating from Gidrun’s bite—before Kilan dropped to one knee. Two more disintegrated in the red flames before the rest swept over him, hiding him from sight beneath a mass of darkness.

  A clap—like thunder—sounded in the meadow, and the baalim fell back from him, crying out eerily. Four faded and flickered then vanished altogether. The remaining baalim—those who hadn’t touched him—turned aside from his still form to pursue the fleeing women.

  A dark-robed figure holding a staff stepped from the trees and approached the body. It bent and studied Kilan’s body without touching it. Below the hooded robe, a sneer showed on thin lips.

  The figure waited until the baalim straggled back to the meadow. One dragged the limp form of the Queen by a vine looped around her waist. It halted in front of the dark-robed man.

  ~~~~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~~~~

  The man in the robe stooped; with the staff, he turned her over to reveal her face and grunted. The mark was there; her forehead glowed with its holy warning. He squinted against the vision.

  It had taken a toll of his influence to force his baal warriors to come against two of the marked ones. The big warrior had also born the mark, and the baalim shunned looking at it. It was terrible for them to fight those marked by the covenant seal. Even when the covenant-blessed were dying, they did not surrender or smell of fear. The dreadful light from the mark and the unbearable words they could say made the baalim’s eldritch sinews unravel. Worse was the awful presence that manifested when they died—the power that poured out striking any baal who dared touch them.

  The man removed a black glove from his left hand. He touched the ring on his forefinger, muttering a soft word. To his eyes alone, it glowed.

  “My lord, I have your... bride.”

  He signaled one of his servants to take the vine and walked back into the trees. The baalim followed, avoiding Kilan’s body and the bright sword still clutched in his hand.

  Chapter 2 (Blood Bought)

  The breeze scarcely rippled the grass, but it carried the piping to the young ferret as it made its way through the neglected garden. Curious, he tilted his head. A bird...? Something to eat…? The sound came from the great willow that wedged between the crumbling wall and the brook. The ferret moved closer to the old tree, threading through weeds and bushes. The willow branches came to the ground so thick they cut off all view of the trunk and trailed in the stream. As he wove through the branches, the ferret realized it wasn’t as bird-like as he'd thought and halted, wary. But, he was curious, and the song pulled him forward.

  ~~~~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~~~~

  Seth stopped playing when he saw the ferret scrutinizing him—red-brown eyes intent. He lowered his flute, but the spell broke, and the ferret turned like water and vanished. Seth leaned against the trunk and ran his fingers over the note holes, recalling the night when Wyatt had given him the flute.

  ~~~~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~~~~

  A familiar scratching sounded at his door. On opening it, he saw his older brother leaning against the frame, smiling. “Hello, young mirror,” Wyatt said.

  “Greetings, ancient mirror,” Seth intoned.

  People who had known Wyatt when he was young often said how odd it was to see a young Wyatt all over again. So, Seth started the mirror joke.

  Both of them had a golden caste to their skin and cheekbones wider than most. Seth's brown hair had a tendency toward curling; his eyes—green with brown in the center—missed nothing. His brother displayed the same traits on a more mature scale. Wyatt's eyes reflected greater experience from traveling as a courier and ambassador for the King. There was a sardonic twist in his face, from hard lessons early in life and experienced many lands and customs.

  Wyatt had been away for two months on a diplomatic errand to a distant province, and Seth had not expected him for another week. Seth grabbed his older brother in the hug that always turned into a wrestling match, but this time Wyatt just embraced him in return and jerked his chin towards the door.

  “Come on, you need to meet someone,” he said and turned to pad down the hallway.

  Seth snatched up his cloak, questions running through his mind. He followed Wyatt through back halls and seldom used corridors then up the stairs to the eastern watchtower. On the b
attlements, Wyatt halted for a moment to gaze at the stars of early summer. The moon was just a sliver on the western horizon, but the two of them beheld the countryside from the light of the stars alone. The constellation of the wolf was rising, and the skypath blazed across the midnight sky glimmering a faint silver across the land.

  After a few moments, Wyatt tugged on Seth's cloak and opened the door to the tower. A flood of light spilled out on the battlements. With a blink, Seth adjusted to the light from the fire in the brazier. Two guards slumped against the wall, breathing the relaxed sighs of deep sleep.

  Seth stared at the guards. “What?” He closed his mouth. Seated by the fire, two cloaked figures sat on three-legged stools that the guards must have been using a few minutes ago. The man nearer Seth was short, but—as he rose to greet them—Seth noticed a supple vitality in his movement that spoke of strength. His muscular frame came just short of straining his clothes.

  “Marshall, the bladesman,” said Wyatt.

  Marshall made a courteous bow then stepped over a guard and examined the pantry’s contents.

  “And Jyrmak.”

  Seth noticed Jyrmak’s eyes first. They had a depth to them like wells and caves, looking out from a wealth of ages.

  “Good evening, Seth Arodan,” Jyrmak said with a smile that was strange to be at home in such a sober face.

  “Wyatt, we have an hour before the guard changes,” Marshall said from the pantry. “Perhaps you should explain…. No doubt your brother is curious about a few things.”

  “Starting with how you got inside the castle,” Seth said, pointing to a guard with his toe. “You are of the magi, Jymack?”

  “Curious and quick,” said Wyatt, raising an eyebrow.

  “Seems a good explanation, doesn't it?” murmured Marshall. He removed the cork from a bottle of wine and sipped it, rolling it around in his mouth before deciding to swallow.