Trail of Pyres Read online

  Trail of Pyres

  Sundering the Gods: Book Two

  L. James Rice

  Trail of Pyres is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, undead, possessed, or anywhere in between is purely coincidental.

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  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or magical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, mind melds and other psychic means, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or seance.

  Copyright © 2019 L. James Rice.

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Damonza.com

  Cartography by Jenna Jing Rice

  ISBN: 978-1-7324083-7-1 hardback

  ISBN: 978-1-7324083-5-7 e-book

  ISBN: 978-1-7324083-6-4 paperback

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  Praise for Eve of Snows

  Though the novel is dense in plot and characters, debut novelist Rice maintains a surprisingly sharp focus… The final act boosts the action, introduces menaces, and involves a few shocking revelations… Brimming with well-defined details and characters; augmented by bountiful enthusiasm and spirit.

  – Kirkus Reviews

  Sundering the Gods is an epic fantasy with high magic and powerful monsters. It's a sprawling tale, but author L. James Rice manages the large cast well, and all paths eventually cross in a convincing manner. The creatures in the story are original and terrifying, and the heroes are always stretched to their limits to meet the challenge. The magic in this world is believable and exciting to watch, the characters are engaging, and the action scenes are always clear and well handled. If you love epic fantasy, you'll want to read Eve of Snows.

  – Ellis L. Knox, author of Goblins at the Gates

  Dedicated to my father and uncle, the two original story-tellers in my life, may their spirits have found the Conqueror Heaven.

  Solineus: Sundering the Gods Book 2.5

  COMING AUGUST 5th, 2019.

  Pre-Order Begins May 5th

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  For additional maps, world information, or to join the Sundering the Gods Newsletter, head to www.sunderingthegods.com.

  Contents

  1. History’s Witness

  2. Bread and a Golden Knife

  3. Mainland Rains

  4. The Insiders

  5. Profiteer

  6. Returning to the World

  7. Peaceless Gods

  8. Naked the Dark

  9. Seasoned Mummy

  10. Clothed in Dark

  11. Wind Break on the Rise

  12. Adopted into Blood

  13. Conversations with History

  14. Snores are Life

  15. Bishop’s Parlay

  16. Oaken Splendor

  17. Crowning Tree

  18. The Mocking Fish

  19. Sundering the People

  20. A Deal Touched

  21. Star Talk

  22. New Fost

  23. Red Peacock

  24. A Simple Execution

  25. A Tortured Man

  26. Skyward Prison

  27. Scented Waters

  28. Bruised Conversation

  29. Hissing Tundra

  30. A Walk with the Dark

  31. Dining in Time

  32. Star Walk

  33. One World Twice

  34. Sinister Suspicions

  35. Shower of Stars

  36. Clouded River

  37. Spilling Shadows

  38. The Hidden Child

  39. Racing to Sails

  40. Dark Currents

  41. Converted Souls

  42. Sailing to Stand Still

  43. A Guarded Life

  44. Splashing Faces

  45. Sailing to Fire

  46. An Inquisitive Soul

  47. Wings in Fire

  48. Southern Winds

  49. The Whistler Vine

  50. Winter Home

  51. Silent Heads

  52. Crackling Winds

  53. A Ladder of Rivers

  54. Awakening the Night

  55. Fire Riders

  56. Peace for War

  57. Drowning in the Rung

  58. Parlay Under Fire

  59. Spear’s Tip

  60. Fight for Flight

  61. Fishing for Thunder

  62. The Raging Shore

  63. Kingdom for Storms

  64. A Scattered Peace

  65. Silent Tears Dried

  66. What the Monkey Saw

  67. Stranger Eyes

  68. A Casual Stroll

  Solineus: Sundering the Gods Book 2.5

  The Edan Calendar

  About the Author

  1

  History’s Witness

  Blind Eyes all seeing,

  white in the snows of Terminal reality.

  Pupils of Ice that envision colors but see them not.

  Blind, and blind and blinding, can they see the Dark?

  The Damned, the Dark, the darkness.

  The Darkness, the Creator and the Destroyer,

  where are your Minions in my Visions?

  - Tomes of the Touched

  14 Days to the Eve of Snows

  Glimdrem sat stoic in a seat Life-sculpted from living oak on a ridge high above the forested floor of the Vale of Resting Winds. Green eyes shown with hints of sparkling silver in the beams of sunlight that slipped through the forest’s canopy, and in a moment of weakness his foot tapped a rhythm of impatience. He caught himself and sighed. Patience was a blood-born virtue for the Trelelunin, but having returned home to Eleris Edan just a month ago, after a decade in the sweltering and dangerous jungles of Sutan, he had hoped for years of reprieve from the whims of the rulers of Eleris.

  The Lord Chancellor of Knowledge herself had sent him here without a word of explanation, leaving him with only cryptic glances and smiles to assure him of its importance. Glimdrem was Trelelunin, not Edan, and life in their service reminded him of this truth at every step. All he knew was what he needed to know: travel to the Vale of Resting Winds and wait for instructions. All he had gotten thus far was empty air.

  He stretched and meandered to a narrow path leading to the floor of this legendary site. The Vale was a place of secrets that defied even his keen Trelelunin eyes and ears; a shifting haze disfigured everything below into a soundless blur. There wasn’t a discernible sign of life visible through the haze, but lore dating as far back as the Age of God Wars spoke of treaties forged and other heated negotiations won and lost in its shade. It was a place in which history happened.

  “Denfelu Glimdrem Liljyu?”

  Muscles jerked in start. The use of his formal Trelelunin name startled him as much as being snuck up on. He saw a human when he turned, but the impression faded as he took in the details. The man had pale yellow eyes with large pupils, and when he smiled he revealed rows of small, shark-like teeth. Glimdrem had traveled four continents and uncounted islands in the five centuries since the last Forgetting and he had never seen anyone like this man. He most resembled the vile Boboru, but his skin and eyes were wrong.

  “I’m at a disadvantage.” He failed at a false smile.

  The stranger approached and offered his hand in a human gesture. “I had assumed the Chancellor mentioned me. Uvin Lo.”

  Glimdrem shook his hand before a chill passed from neck to toe. “The Archangel?”

  Uvin huffed and withdrew his palm. “An unfortunate mis
translation, I assure you. When first we met the peoples of the Hundred Nations, we did not share a language, and it was some time before we realized the mistake. Walk with me.”

  Uvin strode past him to take the path into the Vale, and Glimdrem followed, albeit with hesitation to tread on what was forbidden ground. “Mistranslation of what, exactly?”

  Uvin glanced back at him with a wry smirk. “I’d rather not say, which is why the moniker stuck.”

  The Archangels, or as some called them, the Twenty-Five, were so little seen in the world that their existence had passed into legend for most mortal peoples. Glimdrem couldn’t name more than five, and yet this one’s name felt familiar. It struck him, a blow to his ego so hard his gut hurt.

  “The Oxeum Codex, you found it.” Glimdrem’s journey to Sutan had been predicated on finding the ruined city of Oxeum.

  Uvin nodded, but continued his descent from the rim of the Vale without offering a word. They passed through the haze of Elemental energy and Uvin glanced with a grin. “I hope you don’t blame me for your trip to Sutan.”

  Glimdrem smiled as he realized Uvin had walked into the silence of the Vale before speaking. “The Chancellor deserves the direct credit, but if you’d told her where Oxeum was, it would’ve saved me a few thousand bug bites.” And dozens of lives.

  Uvin stopped with a turn and laughed, the man’s sweet-sour breath striking Glimdrem’s nostrils. It was difficult not to cringe. “I am sorry for that, but I hope the Chancellor wasn’t too upset by your failure.”

  “Who says I failed?” Archangel or whatever he preferred to be called, the man was grating.

  “I do. If you did, you may have achieved the impossible.” The man winked with a grating laugh. “The city is more likely under the waves of the Sea of Tempests than resting on Sutan.”

  “So you never found it?”

  “Heaven and seas, no. I found the Codex in a small temple, or perhaps the remnants of a large one, but Oxeum itself? Ah! If only the fates could be so generous.”

  From that moment until they reached the bottom of the Vale, Glimdrem stewed in irritation, not allowing himself to speak until he could control his tone. “We lost thirty-two Trelelunin in the search for a destroyed city? I nearly died… suffered poisons.” The memory of the Œzjet’s deadly bite, of friend’s lost, and the lengths he had gone to save his own life left scars yet to heal.

  Uvin’s tone oozed a sincerity Glimdrem couldn’t believe. “I apologize for misleading your Chancellor. But Sutan was fascinating, don’t you think?”

  “You summoned me here to speak of Sutan?”

  “No.” Uvin stopped in the middle of the Vale, and gestured to the horseshoe-shaped table that swallowed them. A silver-laced cloth covered its entirety, but only this close did Glimdrem notice bulges beneath the fiber.

  “No?”

  “Perhaps a little.” Again with the aggravating wink. “When I heard they had sent a party to Sutan, I felt bad. For you, and those lost. I should have admitted the truth rather than playing coy. Pride is a pitiable trait, don’t you agree?”

  Glimdrem did not agree, nor did he trust Uvin’s explanation. The man wanted something. “What little do you wish to discuss?”

  “A later time, a later time! Then we will pore over maps and discuss the wonders we have seen. I asked you here as an apology of sorts, so you might witness the fruits of the Codex.” Uvin stepped to the end of the table and pulled back the cloth to reveal an exquisitely crafted khopesh.

  “It’s beautiful,” Glimdrem murmured, but he caught himself. What he should have said was, impossible. The entire hilt and the wire wrapping the grip were crafted from Ikoruv and polished to a black sheen that would challenge the finest melanite jewel, while the blade was smoke-hued Latcu, the so-called unbreakable glass. The two materials were unable to be forged together, always working apart. He stammered. “This, from the God Wars?” He had heard of such artifacts, but never thought to see one.

  “Yes and no. The pieces date from the Age, but they were a gift from the jungles of Sutan, and the Codex held clues of how to reconnect them… safely.”

  It was no doubt the pitiable trait of pride making the man point out he had a hand in the weapon’s reconstruction, but Glimdrem couldn’t hold this against him. The result of his labors was impressive and worthy. “Stunning. How long have the pieces been together?”

  “Over two years, and no sign of separation. I gnawed that bone for months! But other clues from the Codex are what bring us here this evening. So I might finish, truly finish, this weapon. A Celestial spirit.”

  Uvin stared with a shark’s grin as if Glimdrem should know of what he spoke. He liked this strange man less and less. “Celestial spirit? Some say that is what you are.”

  “Chatter and pratter! Spirits from the Celestials, like the gods themselves bound to weapons.”

  Glimdrem thought to take his turn at laughter, but managed to stifle the outburst with a grin. “You think you’ve unlocked the secret to binding spirits? Are you mad?” He regretted the latter, but there was no rescinding the question.

  Uvin poked him in the chest, hard. “Maybe, just maybe. But even if I made this discovery, I’d need help. That’s why we will bind spirits, just as the priests of the God Wars before us.”

  The “we” caught Glimdrem off guard, and he opened his mouth to protest before realizing he wasn’t part of this we. He cast his eyes around the arc of the table and quick-counted the lumps in the cloth. Twenty-four, plus the khopesh. All the Archangels were coming.

  “An alignment of the Celestials is nearly upon us, peaking upon the autumnal equinox. And you will be one of the few to witness this history. Ah, ah! I want you to meet my good friends, Gornit and Xanesu.”

  Glimdrem turned and stumbled backward, his heart skipping a beat as it jumped to his larynx. Two Archangels strode his way, huge white felines, with silver-gray and black leopard spots. The male was eight feet tall, the female a few inches less. Their tails twined with affection as they approached. He didn’t recall their names until they were spoken, but the reputations of these two as deadly foes were renowned. Seeing them in person left no doubt.

  Gornit loomed over him, golden orbs studying him. Like Uvin, Gornit was fluent in the Edan tongue, but his voice was deep and full of gravel. “We need two of these two make a proper dinner.”

  Xanesu gasped and giggled, a strange twitter with a rumbling purr. “Love, be nice.” She looked to Glimdrem with green eyes bordering on luminescent. “Ignore my man, we only eat Trelelunin on holidays.” Her tail swatted Glimdrem in the face and Gornit rumbled with laughter.

  Gornit spoke to Uvin. “I’ve seen antelopes less nervous than this one.”

  Glimdrem pursed his lips and cursed himself, and at the last Uvin chimed in.

  “Five years on Sutan, I’m sure he’s survived worse than your wit.”

  Gornit’s whiskers twitched. “Modostrok Yodostrok.” He shrugged.

  “Excuse me?” Glimdrem asked.

  “The kitten has claws, or so say the Ilu-Silvstro.” The great cat swatted Glimdrem on the back with what he interpreted as respect before turning to Uvin. “Two weeks to the equinox, who’s here?”

  “If we’re missing a couple, it won’t diminish our initial ritual. But I expect everyone.”

  Uvin walked the length of the table, lifting the cloth to reveal an armory of assorted weapons one by one. Most were weapons for close combat, a wild variety of swords, axes, and maces, and even a couple halberd heads yet to be fitted with a haft, but a few were bows and crossbows fashioned from composite materials. Some bore traditional designs easily attributed to Edan or Kingdomer craftsmanship, but most of their origins were beyond Glimdrem’s expertise in arms. One, however, was a recurve bow that took Glimdrem’s breath away. It was legendary amongst the Edan.

  “Motu Ensa. The Distant Rain of Limereu, how did you come by this?” It was beautiful, Life-Shaped from Eternal Oak, and inlaid with rare infused woods to enhance its
Elemental strengths. Legend reported its construction extended over five centuries. “The finest example of Eternal Oak craftsmanship I’ve seen.”

  “I knew we had the right Trelelunin for the task. A keen sense of history.” Uvin put a hand on his shoulder. “Limereu herself gave that bow to her friend, Zimpœyo, whom you will meet soon, before Limereu left the Eleris for Elerean.”

  The histories spoke of Limereu growing weary of the cycles of Forgetting and leaving the Mother Wood for the Father, but nowhere did it speak of her bow remaining in this world.

  Uvin’s grip tightened on his shoulder. “The core is a thin bar of infused alloy, with the oak Life-Shaped around it, which will allow the binding of spirits. Bet you didn’t know that.”