The Cursed Lands Read online

  The Cursed Lands

  Book One of The Dragon God Chronicles

  by Timothy L. Cerepaka

  Published by Annulus Publishing

  Copyright © Timothy L. Cerepaka 2017. All rights reserved.

  Contact: [email protected]

  Cover design by Lou Harper (http://louharper.com/Design.html)

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, send an email to the above contact.

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  Chapter One

  Sarzen Alnem pulled his leather coat more tightly around his body, shivering involuntarily. His breath was visible in the cold air, while his hands felt cold even with the thick leather gloves he wore. His golden sword, which was sheathed at his side, made kneeling on the stone floor awkward, but he always carried his sword by his side, at least since it was given to him by High Priest Renuk upon joining the Order, anyway.

  Still, Sarzen thought, rubbing his cold nose, I wish it wasn’t so cold. Maybe I should have asked Helnia if I could borrow some of her Raugus beads.

  But then Sarzen shook his head at the thought. No. It’s a frivolous use of a resource that we’re running out of. Besides, the Warrior Priests of old used to worship in the snow during the winter; I think I can learn to deal with a cold temple.

  To take his mind off the cold, Sarzen looked up at the altar before him. It was about half his height and made of an ancient wood that was said to no longer exist in the land of Yores. No one knew for sure how old the altar was; High Priest Renuk had told Sarzen that it had been created by the founder of the Warrior Priests in order to give them a place upon which to worship the Dragon Gods.

  It was a beautifully carved altar, a work of art in its own right. Every inch of its surface was covered in reliefs that depicted the Dragon Gods themselves. The reliefs were incredibly detailed; up close, Sarzen could see the tiny ridges in the Dragon Gods’ brows or scorch marks on their scales from their battle with the One of Shadow. Written across the top of the altar was the motto of the Warrior Priests, written in the ancient Dragon God language known as Yenu, which Sarzen could read because he had been taught the language when he first joined the order five years ago:

  To serve the Dragon Gods and to protect the people from evil.

  Despite his fealty to the Dragon Gods, Sarzen couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly. The Dragon Gods had not been seen in Yores in over 500 years. No one knew where they were or if they would ever come back.

  And how many of the people even want to know where they are? Sarzen thought. Even within the Order, few seem to care about finding them. It’s sad, because we could use the wisdom of the Dragon Gods right about now to help us solve our problems.

  Then Sarzen heard a boot scraping against stone. He tensed and reached for his sword automatically, just as he had been taught over the years, before a familiar voice said, “Hold, Sarzen. No need to draw your sword. It’s just a friend.”

  Sarzen recognized the voice immediately. Relaxing, he took his hand off the hilt of his sword and looked over his shoulder to see an old man standing at the entrance to the Sanctuary. The old man wore a thick, old fur coat and large boots and gloves to keep his body warm, with a sheathed knife in a belt around his waist. The large hood of his coat made his frail head look even tinier, like it had been shrunken by magic.

  “High Priest Renuk,” said Sarzen, standing up and dusting off his knees as he turned to face the High Priest. “I did not hear you enter. I was—”

  “Meditating on the Altar, yes?” said Renuk. “Always a good thing to do whenever you are troubled or worried. It is how the Dragon Gods speak to us.”

  Sarzen nodded. “Yes, but I didn’t expect to see you here today. I thought you would be studying the Holy Books in order to prepare for the Dragon Festival next week.”

  “I probably should be,” said Renuk. He shrugged and gave Sarzen a familiar sly grin. “But you know, the Dragon Gods have never punished anyone for not delivering a perfect speech to the public, so I thought I would take the afternoon off.”

  Sarzen shook his head. “High Priest, sometimes it feels like I’m the Priest and you’re the Acolyte.”

  “I’m just young at heart, Sarzen, my son, that’s all,” said Renuk. “By the way, what has been troubling you recently? You usually are not meditating at the Altar at this time of day.”

  Sarzen rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s the political situation.”

  Renuk raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean,” said Sarzen. “It’s just that … well, the Elect Council still hasn’t come to an agreement on how to deal with the Draymens situation.”

  “Ah,” said Renuk. He stroked his chin. “Is that all?”

  Sarzen hated it when Renuk said that, because that always meant that Renuk knew what was really bothering Sarzen and he wasn’t going to let Sarzen get away with being vague.

  So Sarzen said, in a disgruntled voice, “Helnia and I had an argument about it earlier. Again.”

  “Helnia …” Renuk stroked his chin again. “She’s your sister, right?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Sarzen. “My twin sister, actually, though she couldn’t have been more different from me if she tried.”

  “What was your argument about?” said Renuk.

  “How to handle the situation,” said Sarzen. He jerked a thumb at his shoulder. “I think we need to find the Dragon Gods and get their help in driving off the Draymens, but she thinks we can just use magic to defeat them. The argument got … heated.”

  “I presume it got violent?” said Renuk.

  “No … sort of,” said Sarzen. “There was yelling and name calling. Also, she threatened to set me on fire with her magic. That was where it ended.”

  “Sibling rivalries,” said Renuk. “Ah, I remember when I was young, my brother and I would fight all the time.”

  “You have a brother?” said Sarzen in surprise.

  “Had a brother,” said Renuk. “He died ten years ago, but I still remember our fights. He always won because he was always stronger than me.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about his death,” said Sarzen. “I didn’t know he died.”

  “It’s fine,” said Renuk, waving off Sarzen’s concern. “Siblings always fight. It’s part of what being siblings is all about.”

  “I guess you’re right,” said Sarzen. “Still, isn’t it frustrating, to see so many people disbelieving in the Dragon Gods, instead of coming to them for help in saving our land? I mean, the Warrior Priests are down to fifty people now, when all of the old writings say that at its peak the order had five thousand people.”

  “I agree, it is sad,” said Renuk, “but at the same time, I’ve come to the conclusion that you cannot force anyone to believe in the Dragon Gods. You can still serve them even when no one else does.”

  “Yeah, I know,” said Sarzen. His shoulders slumped. “But do you think Yores will ever
return to the Dragon Gods?”

  “’Ever’ is a big word,” said Renuk. “There’s no telling what the future may hold for our society, though I doubt it will be any good unless we can defeat the Draymens quickly. And, of course, there is also the fact that our Raugus wells are drying up.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about as well,” said Sarzen. “The old legends say that it was the Dragon Gods who gave us Raugus in the first place. If we could find them, then we could restore our resources and fight against the Draymens.”

  “Even I don’t know where the Dragon Gods are,” said Renuk. “The legends say they left us years ago, going beyond the Cursed Lands where no human can get them.”

  “Maybe we could find them if we just put some effort into it,” said Sarzen. He frowned. “But, of course, our people would rather stubbornly cling to their pleasures rather than put in the work of finding the gods who gave us our land in the first place.”

  “It is, indeed, a grim situation, but as I said, you cannot force anyone to believe,” said Renuk. “It is much better to focus on your own life than on the lives of others.”

  “Is that really the way of the Warrior Priests, though?” said Sarzen. “Because to me, that sounds like withdrawal, like we’re saying that society has won.”

  “Think of it however you like,” said Renuk with a shrug. “It is simply the way my predecessor did it, the way his predecessor did it, and the way I do it. What you can do is keep in practice, keep praying to the Dragon Gods, and never lose faith or hope.”

  Sarzen felt like that was easy for Renuk to say, but he didn’t say that aloud because he didn’t want to disrespect the High Priest so flagrantly. He just said, “I know. I’ve done all that, and keep doing it. And still society keeps getting worse.”

  “There’s not much else I can tell you,” said Renuk. “I’ve only shared with you what I have been taught. You are still very young, so I doubt most of it will make sense to you until you are older and have some more experience.”

  Sarzen frowned again. That was something Renuk always told him, probably because it was true. Sarzen was still an Acolyte, though he would graduate to Warriorhood next year, once he finished his studies.

  Even so, Sarzen couldn’t help but feel a little powerless, all things considered. His sister Helnia didn’t feel the same way as he did, but then, she wasn’t a devoted follower of the Dragon Gods, either. Of course, thinking about Helnia just made him annoyed, because he was reminded again of their fight earlier that day. He didn’t know where Helnia was, but he knew he would have to make up with her later.

  That was when Sarzen heard another scraping sound, what sounded like bone scraping against stone. He looked around the Sanctuary, first at the stone statues of the Dragon Gods on either side of the room, then at the tapestry along the wall behind the Altar depicting the Dragon Gods fighting the One of Shadow, and finally, at the Altar itself.

  But as far as Sarzen could tell, only he and Renuk were in the Sanctuary at the moment. Yet Sarzen was sure that he had heard someone else in the room with them, even if he couldn’t see them at the moment.

  “High Priest, did you hear—” Sarzen abruptly cut himself off when he heard that same sound again, of bone scraping against stone. He looked up at the ceiling, but there was nothing on the ceiling aside from a few hanging ornaments meant to help praying Warriors focus on their meditations.

  “Did I hear what?” said Renuk. He held up a hand to his ear. “I am an old man, Sarzen. My hearing isn’t as good as it used to be, so if I did not hear anything, that is why.”

  “A scraping sound,” said Sarzen. He kept looking around, trying to spot what he heard. “Like a claw against stone.”

  “A scraping sound?” Renuk repeated. He also looked around, but unlike Sarzen, he did it slowly and somewhat skeptically. “I do not see anything in here. Was it, perhaps, a mouse? We’ve had mouse troubles recently, you know. It makes me wish we had a cat; I know that Widow Ell has some cats, so maybe I can ask her to let us borrow a few to deal with the—”

  All of a sudden, Sarzen heard the sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath. Before he could respond, something leaped out of the shadows of the pews, something large and quick, and slashed at Renuk.

  Renuk cried out in pain as a sword tore across his chest, cutting straight through his fur coat and sending him falling to the floor in pain. Renuk collapsed into a heap, blood rapidly bleeding from his chest as he clutched the wound and gasped for air.

  Sarzen was too shocked to respond. He just looked at Renuk’s assailant, dread rising up his spine as he got a good look at the attacker.

  The assailant wasn’t human. He was humanoid, to be sure, but not human. He had long horns rising out of the top of his head, which curled back like the horns of a ram. He was about the same size as Sarzen, but his skin was a sickly pale gray, which made him look more like a walking corpse than a living being. When he looked at Sarzen, he was wearing a mask that resembled a snake’s face, his eyes a purplish black that made Sarzen feel sick just looking at him.

  Although Sarzen had never seen this particular being before, he recognized his species from the stories he’d heard from survivors from the plains: He was a Draymens assassin, which meant that the city of Ars had finally been entered by the Draymens.

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  Chapter Two

  The Draymens assassin carried a long, thin sword made of bone in his hand. The sword’s blade was covered in Renuk’s blood, along with bits of fur from Renuk’s fur coat. The assassin looked at Sarzen with amusement, holding his sword as if he was planning to stab Sarzen, too.

  That was when Sarzen finally remembered his own sword. He drew it immediately, but also clumsily, because he was in such a hurry to defend himself. He almost dropped his sword before he got a good grip on it and held it in front of him defensively, though the assassin hardly seemed afraid of him.

  Sarzen didn’t know what this Draymens was doing here. The Draymens people—more like monsters, really—had not yet made it into the mountains. All reports had indicated that the Draymens were either on the border near the Cursed Lands or else in the plains at the foot of the mountains, where they were attacking and killing innocent Yoresian men, women, and children alike. The Draymens were said to be a powerful and ruthless force, so powerful that even the Yoresian Army had been unable to fight against them effectively.

  But Sarzen had always thought that the Draymens would never make it up here. Yet there was no mistaking the assassin standing before him for being anything else. The assassin was identifiable due to his bone sword; the Draymens had been said to use weapons made out of bone, though no one knew if the bones were human bones or bones belonging to other creatures.

  Regardless, Sarzen would have to kill this monster quickly. If this Draymens had somehow entered the mountains, then there was a good chance that the rest of its people were going to join it at some point; besides, it had just attacked Renuk, and Sarzen, as a Warrior Priest, could not let that crime go unpunished.

  Yet Sarzen didn’t attack right away. Although Sarzen had received plenty of training as a swordsman during his five years as an Acolyte, he had never been in actual combat before. Acolytes were not allowed to participate in actual combat unless they received permission from the High Priest or it was in self-defense. Renuk hadn’t given Sarzen permission to fight, but he thought he could justify this under self-defense if he survived long enough for it to be an issue with the rest of the Order.

  Still, Sarzen kept his distance. He watched the Draymens assassin carefully, remembering how tricky the Draymens creatures were said to be. He was going to make sure that he didn’t lower his guard long enough for the assassin to attack him.

  The assassin, for its part, didn’t seem threatened by Sarzen. It raised its sword up to its mouth and then licked the blood off of its blade with a long, disgusting green tongue, all the while making a moaning sound, like it was enjoying a nice treat.

  “Delicious,” said
the assassin, lowering the sword. “Then again, human blood is always delicious.”

  Sarzen felt his stomach churn, but he still asked, “Wait, how can you speak Yoresian? I was told the Draymens don’t speak our tongue.”

  “Learned it from some human slaves,” said the assassin. He licked his lips. “I told them I would spare their lives if they taught me their language. They really did believe me, right up until the moment I took their heads off with my sword.”

  Sarzen felt bile rising in his throat, but he pushed it down and said, “So all the rumors about Draymens cruelty I heard were true. You really are monsters.”

  “Monsters?” said the assassin. “Is it monstrous to kill your enemies in war? I think not.”

  “Who are you?” Sarzen demanded. “And how did you get up here? The Mountain Guard would have reported if a Draymens had gotten past the gates.”

  “Do you really think I’d tell you that?” said the Draymens assassin with a snort. “Of course not. But you must know that I am the harbinger of what is to come.” He leaned forward, his dark eyes glittering with glee. “I want you to tell the rest of your people that your days are nearly over. Soon, your gates will be knocked down, your cities burned to ash, and your people slaughtered like cattle. And you won’t even lift a finger to stop it.”

  Sarzen bit his lower lip. “What do you mean, you want me to tell the rest of my people about this?”

  “I mean I intend to let you leave this Sanctuary alive,” said the Draymens, pulling back. “Someone needs to deliver this message to your leaders, after all. Unfortunately, it cannot be me, since I doubt your leaders would listen to me.”

  “What about High Priest Renuk?” Sarzen said. “Why did you attack him?”

  The assassin glanced at Renuk, who was still lying on the floor moaning in pain. “You mean this old human? I was given orders to kill him. So I did.”

  “That’s it?” Sarzen said. “You really are an assassin, aren’t you?”