An Excerpt from The Moon’s Eye
As many of you know, my next book is on its way. This week I wanted to share with you an excerpt.
The following comes from chapter 3. Aran’daj is introduced in this chapter, as is Shan’tar (the insane wizard who sets many events in motion). If you read to the end, you’ll see your first glimpse of the Soulless. (On a side note, Dranamir’s character profile will go live on my website on October 30; she is one of the Soulless and one of the more terrifying villains I’ve conjured up through my writing.)
I hope you enjoy this piece of the upcoming novel, The Moon’s Eye (book 1 of The Relics of War).
Aran’daj was awakened from a heavy slumber by a pair of rough hands shaking his shoulders. He caught a glimpse of pale eyes from beneath the hood of the Murkor that knelt beside him, panic in the soldier’s gaze. He sat up and shrugged away.
“I’ve had little sleep for days,” he growled ominously in their own tongue. “This had better be important.”
“Commander, sir,” the soldier replied, his tone wavering on the edge of terror, “it is. The wizard is at the chasm’s edge, sir. He’s performing a ritual, or so Sal’zar claims. He’s an alchemist. He would know.”
Aran’daj tugged on his boots and grabbed his belt, buckling it over his rumpled clothing as he stepped outside in the soldier’s wake. If it came to a fight with Shan’tar, his mail would do him little good; he left it within and followed the soldier to a place near the edge of the camp. The other Murkor milled about in confusion that bordered on panic. He strode past them, shoving those in his path brusquely out of the way. Most who took notice of his presence began to calm, though all remained fearful.
As he broke through the last of the crowd, Aran’daj was greeted by the sight of several large fires burning brightly along the chasm’s edge. The flames spun and swirled in intricate patterns unlike any he’d witnessed previously, and he knew immediately it was the work of the wizard’s magic. Shan’tar’s figure moved between each mound of burning tinder, a silhouette amongst the midnight shadows. He danced at times, and gesticulated at others.
“What does he do, Commander?” one of the nearby soldiers asked.
Aran’daj shook his head and continued to observe the wizard’s strange performance. “I’m not certain I want to find out.”
“He calls powerful magic,” a low voice said from beside him.
Aran’daj turned to find a Murkor hooded and garbed in vibrant green standing beside him. The color marked him as an alchemist; there were only two within the camp, but he suspected this must be Sal’zar. He was nearly as tall as Aran’daj, with a thin, wiry frame.
Alchemists specialized in creating weapons and tools, salves, potions, and elixirs using the ingredients they encountered in the land. Some of their concoctions were used with devastating effect, while others were meant for healing, or simply to improve fortune. Murkor could not use magic, but the alchemists’ creations were a close proxy.
In that moment, Aran’daj wished Sal’zar had brought with him one of the exploding stones the alchemists had been perfecting, if only to distract the wizard from his task. Shan’tar’s blatant use of magic made him uneasy.
“Can we stop him?” he asked of Sal’zar.
Sal’zar shook his head. “He is nearly finished, I believe. What he does feels…wrong.”
Aran’daj did not question him further, though he wondered how Sal’zar could seem so certain of Shan’tar’s actions. Perhaps the alchemists had learned a means of detecting magic, but had not yet perfected it enough to share their knowledge. Alchemists were known for experimentation, which often spanned years before they unveiled their creations.
Aran’daj focused his attention upon the strange human in the distance as he gyrated and spun toward the central fire. He caught a gleam of light in Shan’tar’s right hand, a green-white glow that outshone the flames for a moment before the wizard changed direction and his hand was hidden from view.
“What was that?” he asked of Sal’zar.
The alchemist shrugged. “It was a part of his magic, but separate, somehow. I do not know.”
Shan’tar fell to his knees at a point equidistant between the three pyres he’d built, his arms stretched upward toward the midnight sky. His voice soared in volume until it thundered across the barren landscape between them, a veritable shockwave of sudden noise. The words he uttered were in a language the Murkor could not decipher, neither their tongue, nor the common, but to Aran’daj, it sounded as though it had come from a time long past, ancient and mysterious.
The green-white light shone brilliantly. It enveloped the wizard and the three bonfires surrounding him. Instinctively, Aran’daj shielded his eyes and turned away from the sight, unwilling to risk blindness from the terrible, searing glare. Most of the other Murkor did the same, though given the sudden bout of swearing he heard from behind, some must have failed to avert their gaze in time.
When the light receded, Aran’daj gaped at the spectacle unfolding near the chasm’s edge. The pyres had been extinguished and Shan’tar remained kneeling between them, but five figures now encircled him. Even from a distance, Aran’daj knew something was terribly wrong with the newcomers. They seemed human, but their skin appeared grayish, as though rife with decay, while their movements were too fluid and quick to be natural. He could see one of the newcomers’ eyes, and they glowed dully in the night, crimson and filled with rage. Each wore antiquated garb that Aran’daj recognized as human-made.
“Gods preserve us,” Sal’zar murmured, his tone stunned and horrified.
“Who are they?” Aran’daj asked quietly, though he suspected he already knew. His stomach churned and flipped as bile rose into his throat.
Before Sal’zar could respond, one of the newcomers, shorter than the rest, with a figure that appeared female, strode forward to meet Shan’tar. She raised her hand toward him, but her fingers never met his flesh. At the last moment, she drew her hand into a fist, and Shan’tar’s neck snapped sideways at an unnatural angle. She waved her hand dismissively at his corpse. It rose into the air and tumbled over the edge of the chasm behind her.
“Gods,” Aran’daj breathed, unable to tear his eyes from the sight. Terror rooted him in place even as the figures began to march toward him.
“They are the Soulless, Commander,” Sal’zar replied, his tone faltering. “The wizard has doomed us all.”
(c) 2021, A.J. Calvin
Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this first glimpse of The Moon’s Eye!
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