Disciples (The Fourth Age Dark Shaman Book 1)

Book summary

In Disciples, Elf Queen Aradia, confined to Elvalon, senses a dark force threatening Nostraterra as tensions between races escalate toward war. While training for the inevitable conflict, she’s called upon to uncover how this evil is breaching their defenses. Meanwhile, Prince Alfrahil faces a mysterious threat in his city, forcing him to seek unlikely alliances. As darkness encroaches, old powers awaken, leading to a perilous journey that may determine the fate of all.

Excerpt from Disciples

A Hazy Shade Of Forever

‘Time, Time, Time,’ she thought, ‘what has become of me?’

Returning ten thousand years to where she started her incredible journey, Aradia looked out over the quay to the bay of Solana. Another perfect day in paradise; light rain overnight kept the plants fresh and luxuriant. Still, the day had dawned clear with a breeze in the early morning coming off the mountains, and the fragrance of flowers and trees that grew nowhere else in the world greeted her nose with an exquisite perfume.

She stood at the edge of the harbor; the wind freshened out of the east and blew smells of the sea, fish and sea plants, the tang of salt, the breath of life. Hints of the city came her way, with the unique plants that grew there and gave the island its characteristic lovely scent.

Fresh from her meeting with her grandfather, Phaidan, she wanted to clear her head of the conflicting emotions that had fought against her logic and been her undoing. So much for breathing, she thought, but then she smiled when breathing was fundamental to her training and new role. Urging her mind to relax into a primordial breathing exercise, she felt every part of her being involved in the simple task of inhaling and exhaling. Like every aspect of her past fifty years of training in Elven martial arts, the simplest things were the hardest.

Thinking back, she recalled the day she had decided to follow the path of the sword, as Glamrond called it. Dorphin, her brother, had returned from a hunting expedition on the far shores of Elvalon with an oozing slash on his chest. Aradia was still grieving and angry over the loss of Bran two weeks earlier and under severe restrictions from the Elven Council, compelling her to be a serving woman again. She was forbidden to use magic and denied access to other family members except for her brother, who nearly went mad from frustration and boredom. While hating the dirt and discomfort of camping, Aradia had spent the night outside the city at Dorphin's hunting camp, waiting for him to return. In the late morning, she saw him ride up to her, his chest heavily bandaged, his face pale and drawn.

'The tusk from a wild boar,' he said with false jocularity. 'No need to worry, but perhaps one that drank at the Prismatic Fountain.'

Dorphin referred to a wild fountain in the far south of Elvalon that imbued all the different magical elements of the world. Fire and water combined into steam plumes that burst at regular intervals. However, unpredictable gusts of swirling winds were moving the superheated spray spume in a complex dance. Life grew there, vibrant flowers beautiful but deadly; even a deep whiff of their perfume caused unconsciousness for days filled with dark dreams.

Small golden berries were also in abundance, giving euphoria, and influencing chance for those who ate them in small quantities. A series of pools led away from the fountain, the waters clear but capricious, one moment resonating one quality of the world and another. Creatures or Elves who drank the waters usually found the waters unpalatable, but occasionally an animal would drink, and its lifeforce resonated with that of the spring. Eventually growing enormous before their indulgence destroyed them, the creatures could become dangerous and unpredictable.

The traditional healing unguents of the Elves had been of little use, and it was only with the aid of a senior healer and his use of a master crystal that the wound was closing now.

The following day, after her brother was out of danger, Aradia asked, 'Why didn't you simply kill it with your sword? You claim to be a great hunter,' she asked chidingly.

'Great hunter, my dear sister, I am a great hunter despite your tone of boredom and perhaps derision that I detect in your voice. This was an unimaginable ovine, nearly fifteen feet high; even as an Elf, you don't just take it out in one pass with your blade,' said Dorphin.

'Why not?' asked a bemused Aradia. 'It should be a simple matter of acquiring the target and contacting it with your sword.'

'Because it is charging towards you and shaking its head from side to side like one of the elephants that you tell me were present in the last great battles of Nostraterra, that is why not,' said Dorphin. 'Even I have my limitations, but tell me, oh strong-willed sister, I suppose you could do better with a sword than I?'

'Of course,' she said, 'we both come from the house of Phaidan, and if you can fight well with a sword, then so should I.'

Drawing his sword, he bade her come to the front of his tent and, placing it in his left hand, he handed her another sword, and bowing to each other, they began. Aradia's wild sword strokes were such that Dorphin did not even raise his blade, but instead moved his feet, keeping himself just out of range of her attack.

Rapidly tiring and becoming frustrated, she lunged towards him, hoping to wipe that vile smirk from his face; when he finally used his sword in a blur that was difficult to see, he struck her sword from her hand, and it fell, ringing to the ground. Her hand and arm were tingling and numb, and she gazed in helpless anger at her brother's face as she knew that her haughty words had given him the excuse to sting her body with his skill.

'Well played, brother,' she panted, 'well played.'

'You were a poor excuse for an opponent,' he replied with a barb. 'If you had confronted the boar today, I would be trying to visit your spirit in my dreams. Instead, thankfully, you are here. Now, can we have our meal?'

'Yes,' she replied, vowing that this was not how her swordplay would end with Dorphin.

So, it began the next day; Aradia followed her brother to his hunters and seeing that he would not be able to hunt that day until his wound healed, she bade him find her a sword instructor.

'Why?' he asked. 'There are no enemies here for you to slay.'

'Because, as you pointed out less than eloquently yesterday, I am bored. I have been kicking my heels in paradise for one hundred years and nothing happened until my recent catastrophe with Bran. Now, I am only allowed to do the most menial tasks. I have attended feasts with my loved ones,' she said, 'but until two weeks ago, nothing ever happened here; there is no grand strategy in place, no goals to be accomplished. Now with my magic forbidden me, and regarded as a common serving wench again, I am beside myself with futility,' she said.

'Goals to be accomplished?' asked Dorphin, 'What goals could there be to be accomplished?' he repeated with puzzlement. 'You aided and helped create the plan that brought Magnar down. Take satisfaction in the fact that you were able to rid Nostraterra of evil and enjoy your peace in the Blessed Realm.'

'Peace in the Blessed Realm? I was attacked; Bran was killed, and I am not under the influence of that terrible Blue Spectre. We must re-examine our magic to deny that creature access to Elvalon. My experience, as horrible as it was, was an unbelievably valuable learning tool. I will accept my punishment, but my knowledge learned in Nostraterra, and my recent defense of that terrible mind should be used, not banished,' she stated. 'There is extraordinarily little magic left in Nostraterra to resist such a presence; my son, Marcellus' gifts, lie in persuasion and reason, and Emedius, the most ancient of our house still abroad, has martial arts skills only.'

Turning away so he could not see the tears of anger well within her, Aradia thought of Emedius and events long ago. One of the very few of the house of Phaidan, Emedius was the King's nephew, a prince of Elvalon. Long ago, he had fallen in love with Aradia and asked for her hand in trothplight. While admiring and caring for him exceptionally, Aradia did not love him; instead, her passion was given to Justinus, one of the crystal smiths. Unlike others of the royal family who held smiths in mild contempt and disdain, Emedius did not. Unlike other males, he took his rejection with grace and with fortitude, accepting Aradia's choice, though he might have hoped that her choice was different from all of his heart.