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Andrews UK - Jackson Bennett

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83 pages

English

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The world is changing...The Dragon Queen Stir's in her prison... The Red Lord's forces move in the shadows... And the Gods have returned... The Voldin go about their normal lives, Unaware that their existence is hanging by a thread... Between the Chaos and the Voldin stands Benedict... But can the legend protect his charges, or will he be sucked beneath the wash of evil as it floods across the land.

Sujets

Fantasy (canción de Mariah Carey)

Fantasy

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Publié par	Andrews UK
Date de parution	15 octobre 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781785380051
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0150€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Title Page
BENEDICT
Book One
Prophecies and Games
Jackson Bennett

Publisher Information
Benedict
This digital edition published in 2014 by
Acorn Books
www.acornbooks.co.uk
An imprint of
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
Copyright © 2014 Jackson Bennett
The right of Jackson Bennett to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

The Prophecy Of Dailon
From the Age of Dreams, before the War of Corruption
The king and queen shall rise up,
And smote the land beneath their fires.
From this land, born of lust and need,
From the beast but made of man, shall come their destruction.
Bearing the marks of Volacmir and Volacmon,
And wearing their crowns of fire.
When the fire burns in their heart and the sword of power burns bright in their hand,
The king and queen shall be brought down from the heights.

Prologue
The first star began to glitter in the early night sky, as the twin moons of Janar rose majestically to take their rightful place in the court of the Gods, and to continue their sacred duty of guiding lost souls home to the Heavens.
High in the mountain passes, on a plateau where once the gods of men, long since gone from mortal memories, made their homes and where for eons only the wind dared to trespass, six shadowy figures circled a wind worn rectangular stone altar that sat atop four once perfectly spherical stones, one placed at each corner, and began to chant in a language long gone from the mortal world.
As the tempo and volume of the chanting began to increase, the shadows began to slow in their other worldly precession, seeming to glide to a stop, one on each side of the altar.
Within two mortal heartbeats silence descended on the small gathering, nothing made a sound not even the wind, until a shadow unseen till now, detached itself from the dark recesses created by the antiquated columns that rose from the very bedrock of the earth. The shadow flowed, as if on a cushion of air, towards the waiting altar, and in its arms it carried a limp, naked woman of about sixteen cycles with long flowing flame red hair that would have reached past her waist if she had been able to stand.
As the newly arrived shadow approached the altar, one of the original shadows, which seemed diminished somehow by the presence of this new one, reached out and depressed one of only two inscriptions raised in relief from the rest of the plain unadorned stone. The inscription unreadable by any mortal seemed to resemble a horned beast, the likeness of which had long gone from the memory of man.
As the shadow released the depressed script, six hollow copper needles slowly extended from the flat surface of the stone, then its job done, it flowed back to its place around the altar. The young woman’s limp body was placed on the altar and as her body weight was allowed to come to bear, the needles pierced her skin and her life’s energy began to flow from her body which registered no sign of the pain the needles must have caused.
The blood flowed from the base of the altar and began to pool in a small trench that was carved in the floor of this hallowed place. With the emergence of the first of this liquid the shadows began to chant in the same tongue as before but with a tone that was more pleading and a tempo that was much faster. Above the altar, dark clouds began to coalesce where once there had been only clear sky, and the wind began to blow as if it was trying to erase the scene from the histories of time.
The new shadow raised its arms and began to chant in counter point to the others, its tone demanding rather than pleading. As it started the winds grew fiercer, until the very words were dissipated before they left the darkness that formed them, and if the words could have been heard, they would have been accented by the lightening that was emerging from the angry clouds above.
The woman’s breathing began to slow as her life began to ebb away, until finally it stopped. This was what the shadow was waiting for, for in its hand appeared a dagger of shimmering silver, shaped in the likeness of a beautiful naked woman and a strange beast entwined together as if one, that was plunged into the woman’s heart before it beat for the last time. Silence descended so completely that it was deafening, and in its wake a light of shimmering black, darker than the dead of night, sucking in the light around it, began to shine two hands above the silver dagger. For five heartbeats it was there and was gone, as if it hadn’t been, allowing the sounds of the night to encroach once more.
It was replaced by a small sphere of brilliant light that was fiery red in colour that rapidly expanded until it was as large as a ripe water melon. Once it had reached its full size it began to change, becoming solid. On its surface appeared various features of earth and water. The ball began to rotate and as it did on its surface a small dot of white light began to pulse.
As the shadow watched it was joined by three other pulsating lights that looked like stars twinkling in the night sky.
“It isss done. Sssend word to the armiesss, it beginsss.” Commanded the newest shadow. The sound was pleasant, deep yet comforting, and completely out of place in the surroundings. The six shadows melted into the night leaving their leader alone.
Then another shadow detached itself from the rocks and stood waiting, unmoving.
“Take as many asss you need. Kill them and return the childsss body to me.”
The shadow and the ball of light disappeared as if they were somehow connected.
Now alone the shadow knelt on the ground and lowered its head to the pool of blood that was beginning to congeal in this cold thin air. From the shadows that constituted its head a tongue, like no animals, emerged and began to lap at the fluid. When its thirst had been sated it rose back to its full size, stretched, and began to laugh “Sssoon. Sssoon my foolisssh onesss.” Then removing the carcass from the altar it merged back into the shadows from where it had come.
The wind howled into the void left by the figure as if trying to wipe away the events of this night.
Only moments passed before there appeared a light, just a dot at first that shone with all the brightness of the stars, which grew in length, stretching until the height of a tall man and then expanding to take on the shape as well.
The being that appeared could only have been called a women by any who saw her there, for the beauty of its presence was beyond that which man could dream. The truth was that she was neither man nor woman for her people had long since left behind the need for physical form. She was Voldin, of the race men called Gods.
There were few of her people left in this world.
She wore long flowing robes that touched the floor and radiated the same light as her face. On her chest, in silver, was the half crescent of a waning moon.
She approached the altar with such grace that you would have been hard pressed to tell she had moved. She reached out a delicate hand towards the blood-stained top and from her fingers flowed a web of shinning silver. The web settled on the altar and slowly sank into the top, then disappeared. She lowered her hand and touched the surface. As she touched it blackness began to crawl up her arms starting at her fingertips. Pain touched her perfect face and she closed her eyes and began to glow with even more intensity, and then fading back to normal, she erased the blackness from her arm.
She raised her delicate hand to her mouth and paused, thinking.
She spoke in a tongue that would have melted a man’s heart. “They have grown stronger, and bolder to have performed such rights here in their old temple. It may be too late to stop what they have set in motion here today,”
We must still try, for we are bound to them as they are bound to us, for if not for us they would not be . The disembodied voice appeared from the air. The Women nodded her head and vanished in a flash of light .
The wind howled with slightly less ferocity now as if the mere presence of the being had eased its fitful mind. Only slightly.
***
The black and white bird watched the scene unfold, and then when its curiosity had been satisfied it took to the wing in search of something small and shiny.
***
The blood stopped dripping from the severed neck of the chicken the witch had a hold of by the feet. She lay down the carcass on the chopping board, and then took the black bowl that contained the blood and crossed to the ornate oval mirror that hung above the hearth. She had hung it there so that when she evoked its powers her frail body would be warmed by the glowing embers.
Her body wasn’t what it used to be, mind you she, thought; her body hadn’t been what it used to be for more than 500 years.
She dipped the bent and age corrupted index finger of her right hand into the blood and began to scrawl arcane symbols around the outer edge of the mirror. As she worked she mumbled to herself word’s that had no comprehension, save to those familiar with the art of blood magic and there were few if any more familiar than she.
She finished her scrawling then double-checking them; she placed her blood soaked finger