Kindle Edition
Amazon
Aricin Enterprises
Category:
Fantasy
Publisher: Stephen Ford
ISBN-10: 1490387862
Type: Fiction
Pages: 290
Copyright: September 2013
ISBN-13: 9781490387864
Price: $3.99 (eBook)
Countess Alyssa and Captain Arden must stop the pearl of corruption from destroying their home!
When the location of the Pearl of Corruption is discovered, the evil Talishaire Empire invade the peaceful Kingdom of Hallan, desperate to claim the powerful artifact. Countess Alyssa must find a way to save her home from the corruption of the evil pearl while Captain Arden must defend his nation against the armies of the demon-possessed! Two heroes, two paths, one destiny; saving their home from the unrelenting forces of evil!
Excerpt
PROLOGUE
he man had been dying since the day he had come to this place. It had been so long ago that he neither remembered how he had gotten here nor why he was here. His own name, given to him by his parents so many long years ago, lay somewhere in the deep recesses of forgotten memory, remembered only once in a great while. He had forgotten much, but knew the demands placed upon him were becoming less as the years passed. He had given his life, spent all the waking centuries feeling it drain from his body. First, like a flood, then slow as a wide river, then it trickled like a stream. Now it was like the last few drops of rain at the end of a slow summer shower. He was neither grateful, nor content about the slowing demand placed on him. It meant he would be here longer.
He grew enraged, wanting to scream. Rather, he would have screamed if he had been able to control his body, but although he was present in it, he had no control over it as it lay encased in his hellish cocoon. It was perhaps one of the most terrible prices he was forced to pay. He felt his body, cramped and contorted in his confining prison, but was unable to affect it. He hated it even more than the hunger or thirst plaguing him. He had long ago grown numb to those sensations. He learned to shut his mind off from it, to ignore it. He knew he would not die from either, using it to his advantage.
He tried remembering how his mother would sing to him at night. He tried remembering how his father would set him on his knee to teach him how to do something. He tried to remember her song, failing. He tried to remember what his father tried to teach him, but failed at that as well. He longed to feel his mother stroke his cheek and whisper kind words to him, but it was impossible. He tried to picture their faces, but failed. He wept, longing for the comfort of another’s touch.
They were dead, it showed him. They would not come for him, it showed him. No one remembered him, it showed him. It played these games with him, forcing him to steel himself against it. He was not angry, how could he be? What right did he have to be so? So instead of railing
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against it, he talked to it, speaking kind words, thanking it for keeping him alive, thanking it for sheltering him.
It would try punishing him for it. It would fail. He felt it, knew it wanted to get rid of him by draining the last vestiges of life from his tired, old body. But it would not do that. It needed him. If he died then it would die. So it sustained him. However, because it was unhappy with him it would continue to torture him with the thoughts. He refused to give in.
He may not remember what his parents looked like. He may not remember what he looked like. He may not remember the words of his mother’s song, or the things his father would try to teach him. He may not ever feel their love or their touches again but he did remember one thing his father told him. He remembered, because his father told him this every day. He said, “Son, do the right thing, even if doing the right thing costs you everything. Do that and I will be proud of you, but no matter what, I will always love you.”
It grew angry every time he remembered it. It tried punishing him to try to make him forget. It failed every time.
Then something happened. A voice he had not heard before whispered in his ear. “Stay the course. It is almost finished.”
He held onto the words, repeating them as if his life depended on it. Every time he did, it tried to punish him by making his hunger or his thirst worse, to plague him with nightmares. It failed. He held onto the words, smiling for the first time in four thousand years.
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