A Darkness Unleashed (Book 2) Read online

  The winds of Chaos blow eternal, and kingdoms rise and fall. The dark Dragonsoul still seeks its vessel and those who crave power continue to scheme. Tallen and Maddi struggle to find themselves and each other as their world crumbles. With the fortress of Highspur broken, and most of its garrison slaughtered, Boris and Jaerd search for aid in a land gone mad with indifference. Armies rise to fight, and broken families seek to heal.

  While the tempest continues to brew, new hands reach out to shape it. The ancient story of the storm’s beginning continues to transform and evolve. Truth is hard to discern in war when terms like good and evil become relative.

  A Darkness Unleashed is the highly anticipated second book of the Dragonsoul Saga, sequel to the fan and critically acclaimed A Balance Broken. It dives right back into the action that left everyone craving for more at the end of the first volume. New secrets will be uncovered, revealing more truths of the human heart, even when that heart is not so human.

  THIS BOOK IS PUBLISHED BY

  IMAGINED INTERPRISES, INC.

  Text copyright © by J.T. Hartke

  Jacket art copyright © by Imagined Interprises, Inc.

  Jacket art by Lars Grant-West

  Illustrations in book © by Imagined Interprises, Inc.

  Map by Jason Engle

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. This includes the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

  Content Editor - Robert Lassen

  Proof Editor - Lorraine Stalians

  Published in the United States by

  Imagined Interprises, Inc.,

  6955 N. Durango Dr. Suite. 1115-717

  Las Vegas, NV 89149

  I.I.I. fantasy is a registered trademark of

  Imagined Interprises, Inc.

  www.imaginedinterprises.com

  The Dragonsoul Saga is a registered trademark of

  J.T. Hartke

  www.dragonsoulsaga.com

  ISBN: 978-1-936525-69-0 (eBook Edition)

  eBook Edition: September 2014

  Printed in the United States of America

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious

  or are used fictitiously.

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  For Dad, whom I miss.

  “The seeds of Change are sown by the winds of Chaos. Whether that Change is for good or evil is entirely relative to one’s point of view.” – Caladrius Dreamwalker

  Prince Jahnar Faroud il’Hasin pushed his left spearman forward one square, his eyes never leaving the spice merchant’s pudgy face. The perfumed trader scrambled, bringing his jade-carved cavalry closer to his emperor where it hid near the back of the board. When Jahnar moved an ebony catapult into range, a single bead of sweat trickled down the merchant’s brow. The Spicing Guild Master retreated once more, his brown fingers barely touching the spearman he placed in front of his emperor.

  “I see you have the same taste for blood on the Squares board that you have for the Arena.” Jahnar advanced his right cavalry into a flanking position. “I have not seen you there in my uncle’s presence for some time.”

  The merchant launched his catapult forward two squares to take one of Jahnar’s footmen. The man lifted a hand to stroke his pointed beard and hide a grin.

  Jahnar kept his face flat. If I had known he was this bad a player, I would have insisted that we play years ago.

  The merchant’s face paled as Jahnar took his last cavalry with a catapult. “I am sorry, My Prince.” His tone groveled. “But the Emperor has not called upon me. I do not presume to bother His Excellence unless I am required.” Perspiration beaded on his brow as he moved his own siege engine back a space. “However, I am eternally at the service of the imperial blood.”

  Jahnar slipped his emperor up to destroy the foolishly exposed catapult. “Nevertheless, an occasional reminder of the fealty of the Spicing Guild would be a welcome gift…to my uncle.” He slipped his flanking cavalry into the opening made by the merchant’s retreating footman. Jahnar eyed the bag of gold lying next to the Parisi Squares board. It’s as good as mine.

  The door to the parlor opened with a gust of air. One of the Emperor’s Sunguard stood at attention. “His Excellence has ordered the presence of his nephew, Prince Jahnar il’Faroud.”

  Jahnar leaped to his feet, jostling the pieces on the board. He drew up to the soldier’s face, their noses almost touching. “Prince Jahnar Faroud il’Hasin is my name, you wretch! I will have you and your entire family flogged if ever I hear you say it wrong again!”

  The Sunguard captain bowed low. “Forgive me, Prince il’Hasin.”

  He will watch his children die when I sit upon the throne.

  The captain turned and marched through the white marble hallway, lined with green palms and ebony benches. Jahnar’s eyes bored into the back of the man’s skull as he followed, but his mind raced down a dozen paths. What does my feeble uncle desire? I so look forward to the day I no longer have his whims to attend.

  Past several guard stations, deep within the palace compound, Jahnar brushed at his robes before a gold-inlaid door of ivory panels. A silk clad servant pushed it open, and Jahnar stepped into the august presence of the Emperor of Hadon.

  Jahram Alari il’Hasin sat on a thick cushion, his legs crossed and his gaunt head cradled by frail fingers. His parchment-thin skin clung to his bones, and only a few wispy hairs crawled out from under the red cap on his scalp. A scroll lay at his feet, and the black ribbon that had bound it rested nearby. The old man shuddered as if weeping.

  Good news then, perhaps…

  “Whatever has happened, dearest Uncle?”

  The emperor looked up from his hands, his rheumy eyes red-rimmed and wet. “They have killed them. They have killed them all.” Rage crossed his features, fighting to drive away the sorrow. “Sharam insisted he go to those barbarians’ Midwinter Ball when invited…to foster peace, he said. Now death is the only peace he shall know.” The sorrow won out, and a slight wail escaped the emperor’s lips. “And his children will never know anything of life! Poor Jareen and Jaranna…and little Aiken, not even two years old. All drowned with their father’s ship.”

  Jahnar fell to his knees next to his uncle, forcing tears of his own. “What! My imperial cousin dead? How?”

  “A raider attacked his fleet, and a single ship gave chase.”

  The emperor’s words came between sobs. How disgusting! Jahn
ar kept his thoughts from his face, expressing only sorrow and concern while his uncle continued.

  “When that ship returned to the fleet, its captain found the rest of the flotilla burning and shattered. He writes that only magic could have caused so much destruction.” The old man lifted the scroll from the floor. “Captain Malohm saw blue sails on the horizon, but chose to bring this dire news rather than give another futile chase.”

  Those Jade Island warlocks I hired did their job well enough then. Too bad pirates will find them long before they return home.

  Jahnar clenched his fists. “That captain should be hung for cowardice!”

  The emperor crumpled the paper in his fist. “He should be made an admiral.” Sorrow disappeared from the spotted old face. His eyes focused on nothing, their rheumy glaze beginning to fade. “We shall have justice for my son and grandchildren.”

  “Yes, my Uncle.” Jahnar rose, anger burning in his tone. “I shall gather fifty thousand spears at Persus. We will march through the Golden Pass and claim Eron’s Rock before the barbarians know we are upon them.”

  The emperor held up one hand, only the slightest quiver remained. “No, my nephew. Every time one of my ancestors has made war upon the northmen, it has not ended well for us.”

  Pangs of anxiety washed through Jahnar, turning quickly to rage at his uncle. He watched his plan divert into unseen territory, years of work colliding with the oldest obstacle in his life. “But Uncle, we must have revenge for Crown Prince Sharam’s death! It is obvious the northmen invited him to their barbaric ritual only under pretense to attack him at sea, away from the safety of the Empire.”

  “Perhaps so, my fierce young nephew.” The emperor squeezed the ball of parchment in his hand until his already pale knuckles turned white. “But we always forget who truly is to blame for their very existence here. We forget who it is that brought them out of their ‘Exile’, who taught them to use magic so easily.” He placed his other hand on Jahnar’s shoulder. “Gather the spears, my nephew, but the spears will not march. The spears will sail.”

  Know that your power is both a gift and a trial. There will be many who seek to use it through you. And while their power is far different from yours, gold and steel can control magic just as easily as you can. – “The Ethical Challenges of Wizardry” by Magus Karana Varai

  “No, no.” Tallen lifted his hands in front of him, forcing the wizard to pause. “I will do this alone. We are in the capital city. No orcs will come for me here.”

  Tomas Harte folded his thick arms across his chest. “Where have I heard that before?”

  Taking a short step back within the tiny room, Tallen bowed to the paladin with deference. “Fair enough, but there are no Viridian Stones in Daynon, so I will be able to use my power now to protect myself.”

  Dorias Ravenhawke reached toward his empty shoulder to scratch a beak that was not there. He rubbed his gray-flecked goatee, instead. “Are you certain, Tallen? Things move faster than we thought. Stories have come to Daynon that Highspur is under siege…” The wizard’s brow drew together. “…by significant forces, if rumors are to be believed.”

  For a moment, worried thoughts of his brother Jaerd with the garrison fluttered at the edges of his mind, but the issue at hand drove them away.

  Tomas shifted one hand to the silver pommel of his sword. “My senses feel the truth of this rumor. King Arathan has called the banners of the Eastern Realm.” His eyes cast about the room as if he could see through the walls of their backstreet inn. “We should be westward bound as soon as possible.”

  “I will not go without Maddi,” Tallen stated, his tone more harsh than he intended.

  Tomas and Dorias receded, their heads ducking as one. A rush of heat rose to Tallen’s cheeks, embarrassed to have been so sharp with men he considered heroes.

  “I am sorry, my friends,” he said, allowing a sheepish inflection in his voice. “I have no right to speak to either of you in such a manner. It’s just…”

  Dorias patted him on the shoulder. “No need to explain, Tallen. Your feelings for Maddi are clear to me.” He thumbed at Tomas. “Though for all his understanding of emotion, the paladin doesn’t quite get women.”

  For a split second, Tallen saw Tomas’ controlled exterior crack. “I understand women, even if I have not shared in as many of them as you have, Dorias.” The granite façade returned to his features. “I knew of women before I took my vows…and since.”

  The wizard cleared his throat. “In any case, you may visit her alone, if that is your wish. You are a free man.”

  Tallen ducked his head, the heat still throbbing in his ears. “Thank you. I will bring her back here as soon as I can.” He faced the wizard. “Then we will head westward.”

  Hooking his fingers behind his belt, Dorias shrugged. “We must wait for our friend Gwelan to join us anyway. He is within the city, and Merl is searching for him.”

  “I’ll be back soon.”

  The words barely escaped his mouth before Tallen was out the door, taking the rough-hewn steps two at a time. The cool, twisted metals of the ancient medallion Dorias had given him upon the Isle bounced against his chest. He dashed out through the common room and into the muted, early morning bustle of Daynon’s streets. Delivery carts flowed around him, as did a few messenger boys – the only objects moving faster than he.

  Tallen let all other concerns fade from his consciousness as he slipped on the familiar glove of his power. The Psoul Aspect curled up in his mind, and he reached out with it as Dorias had taught him. Thousands upon thousands of lives flashed into his perception – from the smallest rodent to the highest noble, each just another pinpoint of life force. Through the torrent of various psahnii, the sterling familiarity that was Maddi called to him from a vague direction and distance. He knew she was awake, and that her heart hung heavy with sadness. He felt a need to reach out to her, but his feet could only move so fast. They churned a steady gait into the heart of Daynon.

  As the buildings aged, their magnificence grew. Stones as large as a house served as cornerstones for vast mansions and public buildings. A colonnaded square stretched across the entire peak of Comernine Hill, where thousands of wealthy nobles and merchants traded the goods of empire. Tallen frowned. On the frontier, the Gryphon is a grand old lady. Here she would be a dilapidated shack.

  He circled the Comernine Plaza and took a wide bridge over the thickly populated cleft between it and Jalanine Hill. His sense of Maddi only grew stronger as he waded through the humanity. His eyes glazed on the cobblestones of the ancient streets of the Jalanine, mesmerized by their interlinking arcs, while his mind focused only on the trail to the woman who consumed his thoughts.

  It led him into a maze of brick structures, each with only a few young people and even fewer elders moving in and out of their entrances. Tallen ignored them all, his direction set upon the dome of a temple just across an open yard of yellowed grass barely dusted with fresh snow. He crunched through it, his new black boots leaving a clear path behind him. As he closed, his sense of her sorrow and fear grew.

  She’s in a temple? What has happened? He picked up his pace, his boots clanging against the old stones of the temple steps. They led into the structure where five walls faced each other, a different semi-precious stone encrusted into each one. A cloudy gray dome covered the open space, and a dark-haired form huddled in a charcoal cloak in front of the silver ankh of Psoul.

  “Maddi?” he called out, a tremble in his voice that had not been in his steps.

  The form turned. It was her, a trail of tears on her cheek.

  He drew his brows downward. “What is wro—”

  The wind left his lungs as her arms flew about his chest. He felt a shudder in her breath as she clung to him, for a second as alone and vulnerable as he had ever known her. She leaned against him with a weight of more than her frame, and he wrapped his arms about
her, giving them a moment just to stand there.

  “Tallen. It’s you.”

  Her words trembled slightly. She blew out a deep sigh close to his chest. With a longing squeeze, she stepped back, drawing a kerchief to her cheek.

  “Maddi, are you alright?” His hands clasped onto hers, and she clung back.

  “Yes. I’m sorry.” She sniffed and dabbed her nose. “Things have been…tough since Midwinter, but your return is enough to wipe my tears away.”

  “Are you in classes?” Tallen stuttered. “Did you get my letter? I’m sorry I only sent one. I didn’t know things were so rough here. It was hard on the Isle. I got stabbed by this monster and—”

  Her lithe fingers clamped his lips shut, and the hint of a giggle escaped her own. “I understand. And yes, I got your letter. And I do too.” She stretched up on tiptoes and her lips greeted his, as soft and warm as he remembered from his fondest dreams.

  When their sweet connection broke, he whispered, “I want you to come west with Dorias, Tomas, and me…at least as far as Gavanor.” He tightened his arms around her, hands caressing her strong, yet supple back. “Please. It might be dangerous, but I don’t want to…”

  She silenced him with an even more vigorous kiss. Tallen’s mind sensed nothing more than the soft wetness of her lips, the feel of her fingers twining through his hair. A passion he had never known with any of the girls in Dadric flowed through him as they held each other. It was strange and wonderful and frightening, and he only knew he wanted more of it.

  Maddi broke away a short moment later. “First, come with me,” she said, slipping back onto her heels. Tallen tried to follow her lips to no avail. Her hand slipped around his. “I want you to meet someone.” She drew him through the Temple, past Water, Earth, Air, and Fire. Tallen followed in confused but accepting silence.

  She led him to a house in a short row behind one of the warren of campus buildings. A strange sensation tickled the back of his mind as they approached the entryway. A deep foreboding lifted the hairs on his neck.