Tales of Urth - Book 1: Chapter 6

Chapter 6

A Dark Gift

"I don't hear anything," Jamfire said, his ear pressed against the door. "I am sure it is safe to try the key."

Titan emerged with the lantern in one hand and the small ring of iron keys in the other. He handed the lantern to the elf, waiting as Jamfire adjusted it to cast the handle of the door in its pale glow.

"There is certainly a lock here," the dwarf muttered as he traced the outline of a metal plate with his rough fingertips. Just below a cracked and rusted handle, the metal locking mechanism was bolted to the door. It was more elaborate than what would be expected in a place like this.

Thumbing through each key on the ring, Titan chose a couple to try. The third attempt found the small key sliding into the lock easily. He turned the key and felt the bolt pull away from the frame. The full weight of the door dell on the hinges and it shifted slightly on an odd angle.

Standing up and away from the door, Titan pulled his hammer from his belt and nodded to Jamfire. The elf grabbed hold of the handle and dragged the door open, feeling it grate across the stone. He held aloft the lantern to peer into the doorway. Nothing but darkness stared back at them.

"What do you see?" asked Damar, standing well behind Titan, his staff at the ready to protect the nervous bird held under his opposite arm.

"It seems to be a hallway." Jamfire explained. The elf held the lantern away from his face, allowing his keen violet eyes to adjust to the darkness. He blinked away the spots in his vision as he looked into the empty corridor. "Yes, a hallway, about twenty yards. I think there is another closed doorway at the end."

Tales of Urth: Book 1 - Chapter 5

Chapter 5

An Encounter Below

The drop through the hole to the flat stone landing directly below it, wasn't more than the height of the average man, but the journey into the absolute darkness below still worried Damar. Tucking himself in close to the damp wall, he made room on the stone platform for the others to follow.

Titan was second, and with him came a welcoming shaft of light. His storm lantern was proving far too useful, and Damar suddenly had a sense of dread that something could happen to it, leaving them trapped down here in darkness. The Tartarean had never really realized his discomfort in the dark. He recognized his difficulty in seeing in the dark, more poorly than any other non-human race he had encountered. But there was something else in that blackness. It wasn't his inability to see that bothered him. Something far deeper tugged at him in the shadows.

The light from the lantern was a comforting sight, and the Tar looked around the room to get his bearings. The light of the simple oil lamp didn't cut far into the room that opened up beyond the stair. It flickered and glistened off of roughly hewn walls, slick with rainwater seeping in from above.

As Jamfire descended into the room, Karenna tucked tightly into the crook of his arm, Damar took a hesitant step down the stone steps. They were solid though unprecisely cut. Each step varied in depth and height, making them awkward to descend. The entire stair, fixed firmly to the side wall, appeared to be cut from the rock wall itself. In fact, as they moved down and into the room, it looked as if the entire room were simply cut out of the mountain rock. It was almost box-like in shape, as if the room had been built up with stone walls, but no brick or seem could be found. Closer inspection of the wall, as Damar kept his hand there for support down the steps, showed rough tool marks that had carved the room from solid stone.

"Is this dwarven architecture?" asked Jamfire, looking closely at the chips and scrapes along the wall.

"No dwarf would claim this sort of work," replied Titan with disgust. He turned to the elf to clarify, "It is too rough and asymmetrical.  Geometry is everything to a well skilled dwarfsmith. No something else cut this room, but something far cleverer than a burrowing creature."

They reached the bottom of the steps and Titan pushed ahead to lead with the lamp. Walking into the center of the room, they could just make out all four walls of the room. The floor was not tiled or built up of brick, and so it listed awkwardly in some places. The room looked square enough that the slight imperfections almost made them dizzy as they walked across the uneven ground. Water pooled in sloped areas near the walls, but in others, rivulets of rainwater ran to the center of the room where a crudely cut channel collected it and sent it out to two drains on either side of the room. Titan was right, the room was roughly made, but it was not the tunnel of some unthinking beast. There was reason here. Ideas and ambition held back by limited skill.

Tales of Urth: Book 1 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The Farm

A less than gentle nudge from Titan's boot woke Damar from a sleep he hadn't planned on. He blinked open dry dull eyes, trying to take in the room around him. The lamp on the stove had dimmed significantly signaling at least a few hours had passed, but the light from the windows was no brighter than earliest signs of false-dawn.

"What is happening," Damar said, his voice betraying the fatigued cobwebs in his head, that he tried his best to shake out.

"It is morning, but the storm is still raging." Jamfire paced across the single room farmhouse, speaking as if he were merely thinking aloud. "If we are going to go, now is better than later."

"I agree," stated the dwarf, "as much as I hate getting wet, I am bored to tears sitting in this shack."

Damar looked at Karenna who sat nestled on a wooden stool. The bird looked at the squat dwarf with a silent annoyance. The Tartarean stood, stretching his arms and working the blood back into his limbs. He pulled his staff from the floor and checked his pouches.

"I'm ready enough, but before we go out into the storm," Damar paused, "what exactly are we looking for?"

The chicken stood and hopped down from the stool with an ungraceful flap of useless wings.

"Whoever did this to me for a start."

"I saw something in the storm last night," said Titan, "I say we look for traces of that. Anything that will lead us to the dark creature she saw cast this strange magic.

"And where do we start?" Damar asked.

"The barn," the elf said simple as he pulled the door open.

Tales of Urth - Book 1: Chapter 3

Chapter 3

A Feathered Favor

“A talking chicken?!” said the dwarf incredulously, poking at the white feathered thing at his feet.

The chicken scoffed in a strange sound that garbled together the perturbed cluck of an old hen with the impatient sigh of an obstinate teenager. She ruffled her feathers in annoyance, looking from one member of the party to the next.

“It seems hard to believe and yet there it is,” stated Damar simply.

“What is your name, chicken?” asked Jamfire, his voice was slow, punching out each word as if he were speaking to a dumb child.

“It’s Karenna,” replied the bird with a sigh, her voice laced with impatience. “And you don’t have to speak to me like an idiot, just because I look like a chicken doesn’t mean I can’t understand you.”

“My apologies Corna,” Jamfire said with a humble bow.

“Karenna. I saw you take on those brutes at the tavern. I thought you might be great warriors, now I am rather concerned you are wandering idiots.”

“We meant no insult, bird, it isn’t everyday you see talking livestock,” said Titan with a chuckle.

“Fine,” replied Karenna, “just tell me this, are you great adventurers or not?”

“Adventurers, certainly,” said Damar, “but great?”

“Speak for yourself, lad!” Titan pulled his hammer from his belt, striking a heroic pose. He smiled like he had swallowed an ounce of sour cheese. He tossed his hammer in a show of agility, but immediately dropped it when the pommel inelegantly struck his palm. The hammer struck the ground near the chicken and sent her flying in a cloud of dirt and feathers.

Titan looked about sheepishly.

Tales of Urth - Book 1: Chapter 2

Tales of Urth is a serialized novel, to read the previous chapters, click here, and scroll down for each chapter.

Chapter 2

Hedgemeadow

“I haven’t had much luck in towns,” Damar said. “I’m pretty sure this country hates anything that isn’t human.

“The lad is right, I have been avoiding most of the towns myself. The most I can hope for is spiteful looks across the room and the polite refusal to be served,” added Titan. “Maybe an elf has better luck passing for human, but neither of us ever will.”

“Do I look human to you?” Jamfire retorted. “I haven’t had any more luck thank either you in the towns to the north. But we are all running low on supplies and my back could use a real mattress at least one night a month.”

“What makes you think the next town will be any better than the last?” Damar asked, his mnd quickly falling back to his past encounters with the citizens of Merridale.

“It might not be, but I am not opposed to trying.” Jamfire was confident. He didn’t seem the type to barge in blindly, but it wasn’t nearly as cautious as Damar.

Titan seemed more concerned with the hassle than with the possibility of any danger.

Jamfire pressed on without waiting for any further discussion. The other two fell into step behind him, unsure about the plan, but not willing to make much more of it.

Jamfire spent much of the walk talking about the forest, its creatures, and the wonders to behold back home in Ayne. He talked almost as much as the dwarf, but could fill an entire conversation with facts about a single species of tree. The others were less impressed with his vast knowledge and more with how many words on a single topic he could fit into one breath.

Damar listened absently. He was pleased to have the company, and with two heavy talkers, it left little for him to have to find the words to say. He wasn’t bored, nor was he lost in his own thoughts, reliving the moments from the past as the trail wound onward. He listened to the two intently, and realized he had learned more about the world in an hour of conversation, than he had in a month of walking.

Tales of Urth - Book 1: Chapter 1

Part 1
- - - -
Chapter 1

An Unexpected Meeting

The rains fell hard in Merridale, Damar noted. It has been cold and wet since he had arrived in the barony nearly a month ago. He wasn't cut out for the cold and wet, he thought, as he huddled under a tree by the side of the mud slick that had once been a well tread horse path. His red-skinned body shivered. He had lived his entire life on Urth. He knew nothing of the hot and dry world that his ancestors had once called home. Damar had never seen Tartarus, all he knew of it was from the tales of humans, who had never been there either.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered under his breath. The deluge continued and he knew that very quickly he would need to find better shelter than an old tree. The trek was slow in the mud and muck, but his pace was quickened at the bright strike of lightning. The knotted old oak was certainly not the place to be in a thunderstorm.

He pushed forward, miserably grumbling at the wet sloshing of water in his overworn boots. The shoddy leather had given their all in the long days of walking, but for boots found discarded behind an old farmers house, they had done more than he could have expected. A hole-ridden riding cloak, also pilferred from some unsuspecting human's farmstead, was failing at its sole duty of keeping the rainwater off Damar's back. His probing tail could feel each and every hole in the cloak as it tried its best to stay hidden. The old coat was once a faded black color, but had long since been washed and was now caked with brown mud and horse excrement. It was a miserable thing to behold, but Damar kept it close to him as he traveled if for only one purpose. The coat had a tall hood that covered the young man's head. He kept it up rain or shine, even in the heat of midday sun. It was the only security he felt in this land. It did more than protect him from the elements, but traveling alone in Merridale, a barony almost exclusively inhabited by humans, it hid his true identity from other travelers.

It was hard to hide his heritage from closer inspection, he couldn't deny that someone within a few paces could easily recognize his distinctly crimson hued skin. But at a distance the hood at least hid the unmistakable outline of the black boney horns that identified his race.

Tales of Urth - Book 1: Prologue

- Prologue -

The Hell War

Over five thousand years ago, the world changed. Curious men of great intellect and even greater hubris, through folly and blindness opened gateways to another world. They seemed like fantastic phenomena of the natural world, but they were anything but. Tiny tears in the fabric of reality soon opened into great chasms.

It is human nature to be curious, and mankind watched the gates as strange creatures poured out of it. At first it was strange plants and fungi, then larger creatures. Bizarre insects, foraging beasts, and even prowling predators. But unseen to those watchful humans, the gates poured out something far more powerful. In a world once governed by science and reason, the very elements of magic spread across the world. Particles of thaumaturgical energy enveloped everything. The great machines that man had come to rely on began to break down. Society and civilization were soon to follow.

Before the human race could turn upon itself in its time of darkness, a more foul and strange thing emerged from the gates of magic. A being, tall and red skinned. Its features were angular and sharp and its glowing reptilian eyes searched the landscape of its new world. The humans called it "daemon" and "devil" for its horned head and long leathery tail reminded them of every depiction of their god's adversaries. The lone scouts were only the first. They searched, observed and reported back to their masters, unseen beyond the veil of the gates.  Then they disappeared, just as quickly as they had come.

Months went by and no sign of the scouting creatures were seen, until suddenly, nearly twenty-five years after the gates had opened, they reemerged. But it was not sole scouts or wandering beasts that emerged. The full force of a daemonic army poured out upon the world. On a scale never seen before by the human race, the armies of Tartarus invaded. From every known gate across the planet, the marching armies of hell came. They took days to flood out of the open rifts.  Nearly countless in number.

They came with a single purpose. Conquest. The humans called them Tartareans, denizens of the underworld. They were a warrior culture, bred and force fed as a society of violence and domination. Their kind were strictly hierarchical. With military-like ranks developed into rigid castes. They ruled over each other with as much cruelty as they did over their many slave races. Bred from a single species, the slaves of the Tar were now a multitude of shapes and sizes. Each bred to serve a particular purpose under the conquering might of their masters. They ranged from diminutive, two and three foot creatures, to mighty ten foot hulks. Their only shared trait was a primate-like skull with pronounced brow ridge and angular yellowed teeth, and their green hued skin that seemed well conditioned to the heat of their homeworld.