So I thought that instead of a story I’d share an excerpt from Blood Ties. This is part of the prologue, where we’re first introduced to the dark lord Anakaron.
Deep in the heart of the Shadow Mountains, darkness gathered. In a cave within Carenkraka, the highest mountain, two men met. The first was a tall, thin man, features so fine and pale he might have been carved from alabaster. He was not, as one would expect, dressed in black robes, but in robes of a deep, dark red, the colour of oxygen rich blood. They were bordered with gold symbols so bright they were painful to look at. He stood in the centre of the magically created chamber, awaiting the approach of the man dressed in brown.
“You wished to see me, my lord?” The man in the brown robes bowed low. At a glance he was seemed quite ordinary, and he took great pains to keep it so. He was both a thief and a spy, and it would not do to have any memorable attributes.
“I have a task for you.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I seek a talisman, or more to the point, the person in possession of a certain talisman.” He produced a clear crystal teardrop and held it up. “This is attuned with the talisman and will aid you in your quest.”
The man in brown accepted the crystal. “My thanks, my lord.” He hesitated for a second, then spoke again. “The world is vast, my lord. Is there one direction better than the others to begin my search?”
The lord chuckled mirthlessly. “The talisman appeared in Ghren from another world and was lost again in the Darkwood Elven Realm.”
If the man in brown was surprised by this information, he kept it well hidden. “I live to serve,” he said, bowing once more.
“While you serve, you live,” the other corrected him. With a casual flick of his hand he dismissed the spy. Once he was alone, he snapped his fingers and the torches set throughout the chamber flared to life. With unhurried steps he made his way over to the throne sitting on the dais.
Magical symbols were carved in the floor in front of the throne. Concentric circles twined with geometric shapes, phrases carved in dead languages snaked through a river of pictographs, a small, raised altar of black marble in the center of it all.
At first glance the throne appeared to be carved of ivory but it was, in fact, created from cunningly fitted together bone - bones of men, bones of women, even the bones of children. All had been carefully selected and seamlessly joined using magic raised from their deaths.
Before he reached the throne, another man burst into the hall. “My lord Anakaron, I have found it!” He was trailed by two guards who made to catch hold of him, but a quick shake of the head from their lord had them returning to their posts at the door.
“Pharos,” Anakaron said flatly. “For what reason do you approach unannounced?”
“I have found it, my lord. The spell for draining magical energy.” He waved a parchment in the air, beaming the whole while.
“Indeed. And was not your task to bring me the priest who wielded the spell?”
The temperature in the already cool room dropped another few degrees. That alone would have had most men quaking in their boots, but Pharos, full of cocky self assurance, waved a dismissive hand. “I knew the spell was the important thing, it took little effort to dispose of the priest once I had it.”
“I believe you have missed the point,” Anakaron murmured, taking the parchment from him.
“It seems a simple enough spell, although the priest claimed it took years for him to master it.” Anakaron looked at him sharply. “You did not test it yourself?”
Pharos shook his head, far too pleased with himself to realize the danger he was in. “Alas, I was unable to make sense of the symbols. They kept…changing. I have not yet achieved a high enough level of though for such a spell.”
“I see.”
The smaller man fidgeted as his lord unrolled the parchment and studied it. Visions of the riches he’d be rewarded with raced through his mind. Anakaron was always generous to those who acquired new spells or magical artifacts for him. Unable to help himself, he asked, “Is the spell not everything you hoped for?”
“Indeed.” Anakaron looked up at last, and smiled, but it was a chilling smile. He gestured with his hand and Pharos found he could no longer move his body.
“M-m-my lord? I don’t understand.”
“It is because the spell is everything I hoped for that you will receive a quick death, instead of the long and painful one you deserve.” His smile vanished. “I sent you to bring me the priest, not just the spell. This is not the first time you have failed me but it will be the last.”
The paralysis griping Pharos was spreading and he could no longer move, only watch with fear filled eyes as Anakaron turned his attention to the spell once more. The blood mage nodded slightly and then spoke the words of the incantation, spreading wide one of his hands to receive the magical energy. He gasped, a moment of ecstasy flashing in his eyes.
“Yes indeed,” he said to the withered husk on the floor in front of him. “It is everything I’d hoped for, and more. Guards!”
The two guards that had been guarding the chamber entered.
“Send for Darian, the dark elf lord. I have a task for him.” He turned towards his throne. “And have someone clean up that mess,” he said over his shoulder.
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