Awakening (Telindell Book 1)
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Authors: Darren Lee
Awakening
Telindell Series Book One
Darren D. Lee
Edited by: Kelly Smith
©2016 Darren D. Lee. All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the author, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.
For Dad…
During this project, I lost my father from this world. He was the man that instilled the value of hard work and perseverance within me. I would like to formally dedicate all the time, effort, and hard work that has gone into this project to him. May the works you’ve done speak for you.
Table of Contents
Chapter 4: Blood of the Innocent
Chapter 15: Green Eyes and Goodbye
Chapter 21: Ever Consuming Darkness
Chapter 22: Shadows of the Past
Chapter 23: Burning Sands of Shinrok
Chapter 24: The Will of the World
Chapter 31: Black Clouds of War
Fog began to recede from Dawn’s Grasp Valley. Rays of morning sunlight chased away the night’s darkness from the icebound Telindell Mountains. Winter had faded into recent memory and allowed spring to grip the land. The warmth of the valley air aroused inhabitants of the small, remote village within Dawn’s Grasp. Bare feet traversed a worn path leading away from the village. The feet, dirty and calloused, belonged to a small, frail-looking boy wearing worn and dirt-stained rags. He journeyed deeper into the lush and blooming forest. He came upon a puddle, the water’s surface lay still, just as the forest did around him.
The boy kneeled before the puddle, staring at his reflection. Staring back at him was a boy, his face stained with dirt, his hair dingy and matted from weeks without bathing, but with piercing blue eyes that were the soft color of the sky.
Despair clouded the boy’s mind,
“Why am I here?”
he thought. Similar thoughts were never far from his mind.
The young boy shook his head, driving away the thoughts temporarily. He slowly lowered his hands into the cool water, watching the dirt leave his skin, revealing scars and cuts along his rough fingers. The boy sighed softly as he cupped water into his hands and splashed it onto his face, washing some of the grime from it. Satisfied with a somewhat clean face, he stood slowly, continuing to stare at the reflection of a boy, whose soft blue eyes yearned for a better, more meaningful existence.
The boy turned away from the puddle and started back along the path. Pain shot through his back unexpectedly; the sound of a rock splashing into the still puddle echoed in his ears. He looked down at his dirty bare feet and began to take a step once again. Another sharp pain shot through the boy’s back, shortly followed by another splash. The boy lowered his head and tightly clenched his fists as a voice began to shout from behind him.
“Hey Lian no-name, you’d best look at me when I decide to pommel you with stones.” The taunting voice paused momentarily before shouting, “Do you understand? You’d better!”
The voice was painfully known to Lian. He squinted and slowly turned to see Ebon Britewall standing a short distance from him. Lian’s assailant was an older boy by at least four years, with well-trimmed hair and neat clothing. Ebon was nearly a full grown man but delighted in tormenting the less fortunate Lian.
Ebon smirked as he spoke. “So no-name, tell me, are you going to wash that mess you call hair? I don’t know if your hair is that dark or if it’s all the shite matted in it.”
Lian glared as the seemingly giant Ebon chuckled at him. “Don’t call me that,” Lian said softly.
Ebon looked upon Lian in disgust, spitting on the ground at his feet. “And why shouldn’t I? Not my fault your whore of a mother didn’t give her bastard a last name before she left you in the village that night twelve years ago!”
Ebon’s words struck Lian painfully. “You know nothing of my mother!” Lian snarled, stepping towards Ebon.
Ebon smiled and crossed his arms. “Of course I do! T’was my father who took you to the elder.” A grin of malice overtook Ebon’s face. “I told him we should’ve just let the wolves have you. They did get your mother. Father found what was left of her the next day, said she was picked clean mostly, except for that rather ugly face she had.” Ebon chuckled at his own cruel remarks. “Guess even the wolves didn’t want that.”
The cruelty of those words left Lian speechless. A single tear escaped from his right eye. Lian had never known his mother. He knew next to nothing about her except that she had left him in the village as an infant. Lian’s pain and sorrow quickly transformed into a fury unlike anything he had ever felt before.
“I’ll fucking kill you!” screamed Lian as he began to run toward Ebon. His foot slammed into the puddle, moving him closer to his target. Lian opened his arms and leapt towards Ebon. Ebon’s eyes widened in shock. He had been caught completely off guard by the normally peaceful Lian. Lian’s arms wrapped around Ebon’s waist and both boys fell with the impact of Lian’s tackle. They fell upon the dirt of the path and began struggling. Lian let out a scream as he raised his right arm and struck Ebon with all his might. Ebon grabbed Lian and tossed him easily to the side. Ebon quickly mounted Lian and pinned him to the ground. Lian felt Ebon’s hands grasp his neck taking away his ability to breathe. Lian continued to gasp and squirm to no avail.
Ebon looked down upon his soon-to-be victim with hate in his eyes. “You little scrawny bastard,” screamed Ebon. “That hurt and you got my clothes dirty! These alone are worth more than your life!” Ebon gritted his teeth, gripping Lian’s throat tighter. “No matter though, I’ll just kill you and we’ll call it square. How’s that sound?”
Lian looked upon the young man that was about to end his short life. His vision blurred as he felt the life leaving his body. Lian began to frantically reach along the ground, feeling for anything he could get his hands on. Finally, his hand found a rock big enough to fill his entire palm. Lian gripped the rock and swung with every ounce of strength he had left. A distinctive pop echoed through the forest as the rock crashed into the left side of Ebon’s head. Blood splattered from the impact, spotting Lian’s face as Ebon’s grip loosened. Ebon fell from atop of Lian and crashed face down next to him.
Lian gasped and hacked struggling to fill his lungs with air. He looked up at the tree line. The sunlight was just beginning the pierce the leaves. Lian sat up wiping the water from his eyes.
Lian looked over to see a small pool of blood forming around Ebon’s face.
“Is he… is he… dead?”
he wondered.
Ebon gasped for air and twitched. He was severely injured but not dead. Lian looked upon Ebon as he barely clung to life. Lian glanced around and noticed the blood covered rock resting next to him; he picked it up and looked at it, then shifted his sight back to the wounded Ebon. Tears began to swell in Lian’s eyes. He gripped the rock and raised it again, ready to finish what he had started.
Thoughts of malice began to race within Lian’s mind.
“He deserves it… Just do it Lian… Just do it. Splatter that prick’s brains all upon the ground, let the wolves have him. Just do it… Just do it…”
he thought, tears now streaming from his face. Lian had never hurt anybody before. All the anger he felt and his desire to kill this boy were new sensations. He didn’t know what to do. He stood there, gripping the rock tighter while Ebon’s blood dripped from the makeshift weapon. Small cut and scarred fingers began to loosen from the rock. Lian let go; the rock fell to the ground.
“I’d better drag him back or he will die,”
Lian thought.
Lian crouched down and rolled him over. Seeing Ebon’s face covered in blood gave him a sense of satisfaction. A slight victorious smile crept across Lian’s face. He grabbed Ebon’s legs and began to drag him down the path to the village. “It’s a little bit of a hike. Hope you don’t bump your head… again,” said Lian.
Ebon’s head bounced along the path as they approached the village. Lian looked at the wooden gates of the village. They were far older than him, standing nine feet tall. Rickety worn planks made up the structure of the gates and walls around the small village. A militant force would have minimal difficulty breaching the walls in order to sack the village; these barriers barely served the purpose of keeping forest predators at bay. Luckily, the village was deep in the valley at the base of the Telindell Mountains, far from the reaches of most of civilization. A hunter, peering from the height of the gate in search of signs of game, saw Lian approaching the gates covered in blood and dragging something.
The hunter ran his fingers through his coarse and curly beard. “What you got there boy?” shouted the hunter. “You decide to make yourself useful and take up hunting?”
Lian stopped and stared at the hunter. He let go of Ebon’s legs and slowly stepped to the side. The hunter, a large, balding man wearing a simple brown tunic that tied at the neck, leapt from the gates and opened them immediately. He broke into a great stride, his long legs quickly carrying him toward the two boys.
The hunter reached the boys and looked from Ebon’s prostrate form to Lian. “Did you do this, you rat?” the hunter shouted at Lian. He lowered his voice to a sinister tone, “You’ll rot for this.” The hunter quickly raised his hand and flung it towards Lian. The heavy weight of the Hunter’s blow against his cheek sent Lian crashing to the ground clutching his face. The hunter snarled, staring at the grounded Lian. “So help me, if he dies I’ll gut you me ‘self and use your guts for bait.”
Lian raised his head from the ground watching the hunter scoop Ebon into his arms. He spat some blood on the ground as the hunter carried Ebon away.
“Why won’t anyone ever listen to my side of the story…”
he thought, picking himself up from the ground.
Lian walked slowly through the gates and then inside the walls. The gates slammed shut behind him. Lian turned to see two male villagers glaring at him. Lian continued deeper into the village past a group of villagers surrounding the healer’s small hut. Lian looked down at himself; he was covered in Ebon’s blood and even a hint of his after the blow from the hunter. He slipped between two huts and sat down, resting his back against the wall; he pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Lian rested his head on his knees and closed his eyes. “Happy birthday Lian,” he softly spoke to himself.
As noon approached the village, Lian remained hidden between the huts, sulking with his head on his knees. An old woman approached the small crevice, leaning heavily upon her wooden staff with each step. Her bony, wrinkled hands gripped it tightly.
“Master Lian, whatever are you doing in here?” the old woman asked sternly. “And my boy just look at you.” the old lady slowly shook her head. “Filthy from your misadventures, and on your birthday to beat all.” A smile began to emerge on her weathered features. “Whatever is an old woman to do with you?”
Lian raised his head, showing a hint of a smile.
“Miss Eva…”
he thought as that small hint of a smile turned into a wide grin.
Miss Eva stood at the entrance to Lian’s crevice, smiling kindly at him, with a slight breeze blowing her long braided silver hair. Eva leaned against her staff and motioned for Lian to come out. He stood and quickly leapt toward her. Lian wrapped his arms around the old woman in a fierce embrace. The coarse feeling of her tattered brown robe against his cheek gave him a sense of affection that he rarely found.
“Miss Eva, it’s been awful! I don’t know what to do,” muttered Lian.
Eva placed her old bony hand on the boy’s head, running her fingers through his dark matted hair. “Now, now, Lian, don’t you worry. I know you wouldn’t hurt anybody without good reason.” She smiled down at him. “You have a purity in you that most lack, I see that and so does Elder Marrow. No harm will come to you, even if young Britewall is destined to be taken by Elintae this day.”
Lian looked up at her, puzzled. “Elintae? Who’s that?”
Eva smiled at Lian’s curiosity. “Elintae is the Goddess of Dusk,” she said softly. “When the dusk of our life comes, she guides our spirit into the next realm.”
Lian still wore a puzzled look. He had never heard of this goddess, or any deities for that matter.
Eva sighed. “You know, I’m not surprised you don’t know of Elintae.” An expression of disappointment overtook Eva’s face. “The time of the Gods has long passed,” Eva said sadly. “I was just a girl when they tore down Elintae’s shrine in the village. That must have been around sixty-seven years ago. The old faiths are no longer embraced as truth and barely remembered as a legend. I imagine it must be much worse beyond the Telindells.”
Lian stared at her blankly.
“Gods?”
he thought.
“If there are gods, which one did I piss off to have been left here and for my mother to become scraps for the wolves?”
Lian looked up and squeezed Eva tighter, closing his eyes for a few moments. Then, his soft blue eyes met her withered brown ones.
Eva smiled again. “Now, let us go Lian. I have just the thing for you.” She turned away, looking back at him over her shoulder. “How long has it been since you had a proper bath? Your hair is filthy. This will not stand, especially on your birthday. Come, come,” said Eva as she reached for Lian’s hand. Lian smiled and gave it to her.
Miss Eva walked as quickly as a seventy-two-year-old woman could. Her staff slammed against the ground with each step. Lian followed behind her obediently. They came upon the healer’s hut. The crowd of villagers was no longer present. Only Ebon’s father, Alrad, was left. Lian tried to listen in on their words, not looking to avoid unwanted attention.
The old healer covered in tattered brown robes was speaking to Alrad. “If he lives through the night he should survive. There is only so much I can do with a wound like this.” The healer shook his head as he turned from Alrad. “His left eye will be blind, and he will be scarred heavily where the skull was fractured.”
Alrad began to speak sternly to the healer. “How? How is it possible that the little whelp could hurt my boy so severely, even with a weapon?” Not a shred of compassion could be heard in Alrad’s voice, only hatred and anger, all of which was directed toward Lian.
