Nature's Peril Part 1 (The Nature Mage Series)
Read Nature's Peril Part 1 (The Nature Mage Series) Online
Authors: Duncan Pile
Nature’s Peril
Book T
hree of the Nature Mage Series
Part 1
Published in 2013 by Duncan Pile
Copyright © Duncan Pile 2013
First Edition
The author asserts the moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior consent of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
eward
One of the most satisfying things about being an author is engaging with young people and having the chance to offer some inspiration. I meet many wonderful young writers who dream of one day penning a best-selling novel, and it is a joy for me to be able to encourage them in their aspirations. In recent years, “fan-fiction” has become a big deal. For those who don’t know what this is – young writers take other peoples’ stories and create their own versions, posting them online. Sometimes it’s an alternative ending and sometimes the next chapter, but whatever the subject matter, the fan-fiction community is positive and encouraging – an invaluable resource for creative young people.
Inspired by the fan-fiction model, I’ve decided to do something similar
with Nature’s Peril and the rest of the Nature Mage Series. Nature’s Peril is going to be released in stages, with each excerpt containing a natural section of the book. Each release will be as long as many authors’ entire novels – more than enough for my readers to get their teeth into! In part, I’m doing this to ensure my readers don’t have to wait a year and a half to read the next book in the series, but I’m also doing this for creative reasons.
After reading the first part of Nature’s Peril,
my readers are invited to post one of several things on the new fan-site (
www.naturemage.com
)
, which will go live in August of this year (2013): the next chapter of the book, a scene you would like to see in the next section, a re-written scene from any part of the Nature Mage Series, a predication of the rest of the plot, a drawing of a character/demon/scene/place/weapon, or a map of Antropel. If anyone comes up with something entirely different, I will be more than happy to receive that as well. This is an exercise in creativity after all! I’ll select several of my favourite contributions, the creators of which will get a mention in the acknowledgements of the full novel when it is complete. I hope people like the sound of that, because I
love
it, and am very excited about seeing the entries.
I understand that some readers would prefer to read the whole novel in one go, so I’ll also be releasing Nature’s Peril as a single entity once the
last excerpt has been written. It’s a win-win approach to publishing – everybody gets the book in the format of their choice, and can be as involved with or as distant from the creative process as they wish.
Enjoy Nature’s Peril. I have loved writing it so far, and am looking forward to
engaging with some of you on the fan-site.
As Nature’s Peril has developed, several talented and dedicate
d people have come on board and made this project into much more than just a series of books. First and foremost there is Claudio Franco, Senior Researcher for Dubit – a well-known research agency and digital entertainment company. Claudio is conducting research into transmedia and digital publishing as part of his PhD, collaborating with a UNESCO (the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization) Chair for New Media Forms of the Book at the University of Bedfordshire. He approached Lovereading4kids in late November 2012 asking about authors who might want to work with him, and Peter Crawshaw (co-founder of Lovereading and Lovereading4kids) did me a huge favour by giving Claudio my name. Claudio got in touch, explaining he wanted to look at alternative transmedia and digital platforms for my books, as well as explore the possibility of turning the Nature Mage series into an iBook, game or film, and of course I bit his hand off so fast I don’t think he even noticed!
Since that time, I’ve been working on completing Nature’s Peril Part 1, and Claudio has been putting his energy into creating the fan-site (
www.naturemage.com
) so that it can go live
shortly after I release the book. He’s done an extraordinary job of it, freely giving his spare time to get this off the ground. Claudio has also engaged the interest of a couple of talented artists, who have been contributing their work in advance of the fan-site going live, which brings me onto two more people worthy of thanks - James Ledsham and Kyle Crompton. They have also given freely of their time and talents to populate the Nature Mage Community with some outstanding artwork. Honestly, take a look. I was blown away by what they created. Should you wish to find out more about James, Kyle and of course Claudio, further details are shared on the website.
Kim Cleland
leads a double life. By day she is an English teacher at Ockbrook School in Derbyshire but by night she turns into a rock goddess called Princess Luxury, a core member of the parody metal band Evil Scarecrow. Kim introduced me to Ockbrook in early 2012, where I was welcomed by its delightful teachers and pupils, and given the chance to speak about creative writing and about my books in particular. It was an important day that awoke in me a passion for inspiring young people to pursue creativity in whatever form suits them best. I value my relationship with Ockbrook, and know that the feeling is mutual, but when they told me my books were to be included as part of the curriculum from 2013, I have to admit that they took me by surprise. Year 7s (11-12 year olds) will read Nature Mage, year 8s (12-13 year olds) will read Nature’s Servant, and Year 9s (13-14 year olds) will get involved with The Nature Mage Community, submitting their own creative writing and artwork, based on the content of the books. I can’t tell you how happy this has made me, and want to thank Ockbrook School for having the boldness to give this opportunity to a self-published author and allowing me to inspire young people as they find their own creative outlets.
As always, I’d like to thank
Dejan Davidovic for his awesome artwork. Although a book is not to be judged by its cover, it is the cover that first invites a reader to take a look inside, and I strongly believe that many devotees of The Nature Mage Series were originally drawn in by Dejan’s eye-catching covers.
Once a manuscript is complete, I rely on test readers to identify any holes in the story and to give me the chance to correct any mistakes that
may have slipped through the net. On this occasion I only had three detailed reports to go on, but they were written by some of the most eagle-eyed of readers, who as usual have helped me make Nature’s Peril Part 1 into the book it ought to be. Thanks go to David Shorto, Jon Prince, and Jenny Hayward for their generous gift of time and constructive criticism.
I’d like to thank Tim Johnston
for his support in the last year. Tim is an old friend who has gone on to be a successful barrister, and his legal advice has been of crucial importance in helping me gain full control of my books. I am now fully self-published and proud of it. The publishing industry is changing. Control used to reside solely in the hands of publishing houses and literary agents, with authors at the mercy of their decisions, but since the e-publishing revolution, authors can now retain full creative control of their work. They can control the pricing of their books, and gain the percentage of the royalties they deserve. An author can now release a book without expense, and if readers like it then they can build a “platform” without having to wait for anyone else’s say so. Many people like to bash Amazon for the size of their market share, but without their fantastic Kindle services I would not be where I am today, so I would like to thank Amazon too. As for Tim, he gave me sound legal advice that has enabled me to regain and retain full control of my books on every level, and for that I will always be grateful.
Finally,
and most importantly, I’d like to thank the readers of the Nature Mage Series. Without you, I’d have no-one to share this story with and no-one to write for. I love to hear from readers, so please feel invited to contact me through
www.naturemage.com
, Nature Mage on Facebook, or
www.duncanpile.com
.
“Please don’t go Kai,” Chloe said, falling to her knees and giving in to the sobs she’d been restraining until that moment. She’d tried for months to talk him out of going, but none of her persuasions had worked. She’d treated him like a king, whispered promises to him as they made love, tried to show him just how good their life could be if they stayed together. But it had all come to nothing, and at the last she had humiliated herself, exposing every last vulnerability to the man she loved. She knelt in the dust, her shoulders shaking and her face smeared with unchecked tears.
Kai dropped to his knees too, joining her in the dirt. He
lifted her chin with a gentle finger. She looked up and saw her pain reflected in the dark depths of his eyes.
“You know me, Chlo
,” he said. “If I don’t go, I’ll always regret it. If I give it up for you, it will always be between us.”
“I know,” Chloe s
aid, her heart so overwhelmed with sadness she could barely speak. “I could come with you,” she said for what felt like the hundredth time.
“You know you can’t,” Kai said. “Your health is too fragile.”
She
did
know, and didn’t try to argue. Kai stood up and helped her to her feet.
“Please don’t make this har
der than it has to be,” he said. “This is just something I have to do, but I’ll be back in a year; two at the most, and the first thing I’ll do is come and find you.” He reached out with his long, tapered fingers and she dipped her cheek into the warm, smooth skin of his palm.
“You should go,” she said,
lifting her head and straightening her shoulders. She pushed the hair back out of her face and wiped her tears with her sleeve. “If I can’t change your mind then dragging it out is just going to hurt even more.”
“I’ll think of you every day,”
he said, leaning in and kissing her one last time. She tried to drink in the moment, to seal it in her memory as a keepsake, but it passed her by too quickly and all she was left with was the fading warmth on her lips.
“Goodbye my love,” Kai said, and turned to leave. He shouldered his pack and took his first steps down the road. She watched him for many m
inutes, unable to pass up on her last chance to look at the man she had come to love.
“Goodbye Shirukai,” she whispered as his slender form shrank into the distance.
Adela pressed her face against the rusty bars of her cage. Her cheeks were hot and swollen from crying, and the coarse metal was cool against her skin. She peered upwards at the single beam of light leaking through a chink in the shutters. From time to time it winked out as somebody walked by on the street above, their passing the only indicator she had that life was carrying on as normal for some people while she remained trapped down below in the dark.
She looked away
, blinking as her eyes readjusted to the darkened cellar, taking in the looming bulk of other cages similar to hers, dotted across the cavernous space of the room. There were twelve cages in all, seven of which were occupied by other girls, though two of those girls hadn’t moved in days. The first night she was brought here she’d tried to question the others, but a guard had overheard and beaten them senseless. There had been no reprieve for the girls who’d told her to hush, and they had all been made to suffer on her account.
Since then she’d exchanged nothing more than a few whispered words with the nearest girl, a petite, dark-haired beauty
called Lia, but apart from those stolen moments of human contact, each girl lived in her own private misery, curled up on the floor of their cages.
The only thing that eclipsed
Adela’s pain was her indignity. When she needed to relieve herself, she had to squat at the edge of her cage and do her business. Afterwards, she pushed whatever leavings remained through the bars and onto the floor. She tried very hard to keep her cage as clean as possible, going in the same place each time and covering the stain with a piece of cloth ripped from her clothing, but it was impossible to hold onto any kind of self-respect when she was living in worse squalor than the lowliest of dogs.
In the brief conversation she’d had with the others on the night of her arrival, she’d learned that Belash kept many girls, and the c
ages were reserved for those who had displeased him. When she asked what Lia had done to deserve her punishment, the petite girl said that she’d become friendly with one of Belash’s henchmen. Belash had disembowelled the man and had her thrown into a cage, and she’d been there ever since.
Adela shuddered at the thought of Belash’s possessiveness, remembering the grasping hands of the sailors on
board the Maiden, forcing her into the ultimate degradation. And now she’d been taken once more, just when she’d started to believe that she could live a normal life again. Belash hadn’t used her yet, but she was in no doubt that he would. Whenever he felt she’d suffered enough, he’d pull her out of this pit. He’d have her washed down and made presentable, and then he’d take her for himself.
Adela
stared bleakly into space, wondering what was to become of her. The only thing that kept her from giving up entirely was her concern for Jonn. When Belash had recaptured her, he’d made it clear that Jonn’s life was forfeit, and that was something Adela couldn’t bear to contemplate. It was Jonn who had saved her from Belash in the first place, risking his life to do so, and since that time he had been her constant companion. There was some kind of connection between them that went beyond friendship and bordered on desperate need. Jonn was the only reminder she had that there was more in the world than greed and cruelty, and she clung to the thought of his gentleness as if it were her only lifeline. And maybe it was – a single strand of hope that kept her from falling forever into black despair.
What she couldn’t account for was that Jonn appeared to need her as much as she needed him. She’d never got to the bottom of
exactly why that was, but somehow she knew he was as desperate for her company as she was for his. The two of them seemed to be tied together by some inexplicable, hungry bond. She also knew that he would attempt to rescue her. Terrified for his well-being, she hated herself for clinging to that hope, but in the grim reality that her life had become there was nothing else to cling to, and the thought of Jonn bursting through those doors to take her away from that terrible place was all that kept her sane.
She
turned her head and stared once again at the bright chink of light, wondering what Jonn was doing, and if he was thinking of her too.
…
Jonn sat alone in the Smuggler’s Den sipping on a pint of ale that tasted of dust and old rope. Under normal circumstances, he’d ditch the foul brew and move on elsewhere, but these were far from normal circumstances. Besides, he wasn’t there for the ale.
Or the smell
! he thought to himself, taking another sniff of the stale air, ripe with the scent of sweat, piss and vomit. Light filtered dimly through the grimy windows, illuminating the brows and cheekbones of the tavern’s patrons, but the rest of their features were cast into shadow. Though he should have felt secure in his magical disguise, he felt utterly exposed to the pervasive gaze of Helioport’s underworld.
The plan was an audacious one, but he was glad of the chance to act.
Jonn was to infiltrate Belash’s organisation to find out where Adela was kept, so that Trask could mount a rescue attempt. Voltan had argued that when push came to shove, Jonn’s emotions might get the better of him and give him away, but there was no way Jonn was going to trust Adela’s safety to anyone else, and he insisted on being the one to do it. The magicians were doing everything they could to help (short of interfering directly in law enforcement), including providing him with a magical disguise.
The chancellor had placed the spell on him
several days previously, and Jonn couldn’t even recognise his own reflection. Under the spell’s influence he had blunt, heavy features, shaggy brown hair and a scar that ran from the corner of his right eye to just above his lip, a souvenir from an imaginary knife fight that twisted his mouth into a permanent grimace. The most unnerving part of it was that when he looked into the mirror, he saw his own eyes looking back at him out of a stranger’s face.
Hephistole had enchanted
a device to hold the spell in place - a small, pearly-white pebble, perfectly smooth to the touch - and had given it to Jonn to wear on his person at all times. The power contained within the pebble would eventually run out. Hephistole had guessed it would be about two months before that happened, but Jonn wasn’t intending to be under cover in Belash’s organisation for anywhere near that long, so he wasn’t too concerned. If the worst happened and the enchantment started to run out while Jonn still needed the disguise, the pebble would start to blacken. It would darken incrementally as the enchantment faded, and would cease to power the illusion entirely when it turned pitch black. At that point, the disguise itself would still hold on Jonn’s person for about three hours, leaving him time to get away before the spell wore off entirely.
Jonn
patted the internal pocket of his jerkin subconsciously, seeking reassurance from the pebble’s presence. Catching himself, he jerked his hand away, cursing himself for an idiot. People who sat around patting precious bulges in their clothing were soon parted from their riches in this district. Taking another sip of his ale, he watched new arrivals as they came in through the door. He was waiting for one man in particular – a person known as the Wrench.
The Wrench was the person you went to if you wanted to work for Belash. Having a single point of c
ontact enabled Belash to keep tight control of who became part of his organisation. This meant there was no back door for Jonn to sneak into, which increased his visibility, but it also meant that he was about to meet someone with direct access to the man he sought.
The tavern door swung
open and the room instantly quieted as a small, wiry man entered. He quickly scanned the tavern’s patrons, his eyes flitting from person to person until they settled on Jonn. He walked lightly across the room and took a seat opposite him. As he sat down, the room came alive again with the murmur of conversation, but Jonn wasn’t fooled. He knew that every ear in the place was pricked, trying to catch the exchange between the stranger and Belash’s henchman.
“Tarek I presume?” the Wrench asked in an accent that marked him as a cit
izen of Helioport.
“That’s right,” Jonn answered neutrally. The Wrench scrutinised him in silence, his expression stony. Jonn felt as if he was being examined inside an
d out, the Wrench’s sharp gaze searching for deception. Swallowing rising nerves, he held the small man’s gaze and fought to keep his expression as flat as possible. If he was caught lying now it would all be over, and Adela would be abandoned to a life of slavery. He was an honest person at heart, and not normally capable of lying, but in that moment, when it really counted, he dug deep, and found that he could wear the lie like a cloak. He steeled himself, hardening his resolve, and kept his face and eyes from betraying his nerves.
The Wrench’s search-lamp gaze held him for another moment, and then all of a sudden his posture changed and he relaxed, looking over his shoulder for the innkeep.
“Bart,” he called, raising his hand, and the fat innkeep came shuffling over as fast as his enormous bulk would allow. “Wine for me, and for my friend?” he looked at Jonn enquiringly.
“Another beer,” Jonn responded, thinking it best to accept this man’s hospitality, even if he still had half a pint of ale in front of him. To refuse the offer of a drink might look suspicious; too much like a man trying to stay in control of a situation.
“You heard him,” the Wrench said with a languid wave of his hand, and the innkeep shuffled back to the bar to fix them their drinks.
“You’ve gone to some trouble to find me,” the Wrench said, leaning back lazily in his chair, a man at his leisure. “What is it you wish to talk about?” Jonn observed the change
in his demeanour. This was a person who could shift from mood to mood at will, a master of disguise. The hard-eyed inquisitor had been replaced by the convivial conversationalist in a heartbeat, and Jonn instinctively knew that the Wrench was a very dangerous man indeed.
“I want to work for your master,” he said. A straightforward approach made it easier to keep up with his own lies.
“So do many people,” the Wrench responded with another wave of his hand. “My master is a hard taskmaster, and many of those that think as you do come to regret that choice. What is it that makes you so sure you want this?” The innkeep returned at that moment with their drinks, placing them on the table and departing without a word.
“I came to
the city to visit my brother. He used to write to me once a month without fail, but six months ago, his letters stopped coming,” Jonn explained, wheeling out the story he and Trask had prepared. “After three missed letters I knew something was wrong, so I set out for Helioport to find him. When I arrived, he was dead. He’d only been arrested for a bit of petty thievery, but someone had messed up and he’d been left in the lower cells on his own without food or water for too long. They said it was a mistake. So here I am with a dead brother and idle hands. What better way to get my revenge than join the Rats?”
“Was your
brother guilty of the theft?” the Wrench asked.
“Probably,” Jonn answered with a shrug. “My brother was hardly a law
-abiding citizen, but then neither am I.”
“Do you know who was responsible for leaving your brother to die?”
“Tobias Trask,” Jonn answered, sticking to the story they’d agreed to. He had serious reservations about giving Trask’s name, but the drillmaster had insisted on it. A story wasn’t convincing without a certain level of detail, and Trask hadn’t wanted anyone else to be named.
The Wrench sat upright
, as if he’d made up his mind. “We’ll start you in the docks,” he said, his manner suddenly business-like. “There’s a shipment coming in tomorrow morning and we’re short on men. Be there at dawn. If you’re late, you’re out.” Jonn knew exactly what that meant. If he was late, he wasn’t just out – he was dead. Now that he’d met the Wrench, there was no going back. He knew too much to be let loose around Helioport, so if he didn’t please Belash, his life was forfeit.
“I’ll be there,” he said.
The Wrench rose to his feet. “If you work hard for us we will make sure you get your revenge,” he said, his tone suddenly flat and hard. “But don’t even think about going after Trask on your own. We’ll let you know when and how it’ll happen. Understood?”
“Understood
,” Jonn answered.
“I have other business to attend to,” the Wrench said, stepping lightly away from him and turning towards the door. “Don’t be late,” he called back over his shoulder, and then he was gone.
Jonn almost let out a huge sigh of relief, but he caught it just in time. He berated himself silently. What would that have looked like to the men around him? He was going to have to do much better if he was to get close to Belash, and that was exactly what he had to do, because if he found Belash, he’d find Adela.
