Books by
D. M. Almond
Chronicles of Acadia
Book One: Secrets of the Elders
Book Two: Land of the Giants
Book Three: Necromancer’s Curse
Other Works
A Dark Rising
Trollin’
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and completely a byproduct of the reader’s overactive imagination. Why are you reading this excerpt when you should be getting a snack to go with your book?
Chronicles of Acadia, Book 1: Secrets of the Elders
copyright D. M. Almond; 2014
All rights reserved.
No part of this ebook may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, virtual reality, painting with meaning, emoticons, interpretive dance or otherwise, without express written permission from the author.
Cover illustration by Victor A. Minguez
To Julie, my wife and everlasting muse.
Without you, none of this would be possible.
Table of Content
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
CHAPTER 1
“To world’s end with glint and valor,
We were promised eternity.
Reaching further toward the heavens,
Until we fell from the stars alone and small.”
Elder Morgana was going to miss the simplicity of these everyday chores. She had toiled tirelessly for the last week to put everything right and had gone through the log cabin with a fine-tooth comb. Every shelf had been dusted and each plate had been washed at least twice. She had even made time to fold all of the boys’ clothes after they hung out to dry. Morgana ran a drying cloth over the keen edge of her chef’s knife, savoring the feel of cold Falian steel through the fabric. It was so strange how time seemed to slow in moments like these, when the world suddenly flared out before you in sharp detail. She took a moment to relish that feeling, polishing the knife until she could see her reflection, and then set it down, exactly evenly placed with the three beside it on a towel by the washing sink.
She wiped her wrinkled hands on the apron hanging around her waist and hobbled slowly over to the cabin’s front door. The door clattered shut behind her, jumping against the frame as it settled in. Smells of the bonfire tickled her nose, its flames already kicking up in the late afternoon breeze, which came from the Southern Pass and broke over the hills on the border of Riverbell. She stopped at the top of her steps and looked northward, to the Great Crystal floating high above the massive cavern she and everyone else in the kingdom of New Fal called home.
Facets of cerulean and topaz worked over the Crystal’s gleaming surface, bathing New Fal in Baetylus’ light. She found it funny that no matter how many times she gazed across the distance at the Crystal God, she never ceased to be in awe over his radiance. She had no sorrow in her heart today. Elder Morgana had lived a good life, a full life, and had no complaints or reservations that today would be the day she died.
Children were laughing, running around the bonfire playing tag, and the sound of it filled her heart with a warm contentment. Elder Morgana did not fear for herself today. Her chief concern was that her boys, Logan and Corbin, would be all right once she was gone. Corbin was a little less worrisome. He had found a good partner in Elise Ivarone, who would be Morgana’s spiritual successor as the village Elder as had long ago been preordained. Elise did have her work cut out for her, though. Corbin was a great young man, but he could be a little pigheaded at times, and it would not hurt for Elise to give him a good kick in the rear from time to time. Overall, though, he would be fine. Corbin had grown up to be a fine member of the village.
Logan, on the other hand…now that boy made her worry. She knew in her heart he would manage, but the thought of him being left to his own devices gave her no end of discomfort. He was, in fact, the chief reason she had made sure the cabin was fully in order. Logan was twenty years old, but sometimes he acted as if he were still the little boy she had taken in fourteen years ago after his mother passed away.
“Elder Morgana!” Samual, one of the village children, called gleefully as he ran up to her front porch with a pack of his friends in tow.
Morgana lifted her old brown dress above her ankles and made her way carefully down the three steps. No sense in spending my last day bedridden from a twisted ankle, she thought. The group of children surrounded her with giggles and smiles. Morgana ruffled Samual’s bowl-cut hair. “Aren’t we looking mighty fine today?” she said, throwing them a wrinkled grin and appraising their neatly groomed clothes.
“Mamma said my dress is special ‘cause it’s a Culhada,” Bethany said with the pride of a four-year-old.
Samual scowled at her as only an older brother could. “You’re so stupid. Your dress is not a Culhada. Today is the Culhada.”
“That’s what I said.” Bethany pouted.
“Now, now, Samual, you be nice to your sister,” Morgana said, smirking at them with a twinkle in her eye.
“Sorry, Elder Morgana,” Samual said with rosy cheeks as he stared at the ground.
“Elder Morgana, ma’am, can you tell us the story of the Founding?” one of the older boys, Clarence, asked. A chorus of delighted squeals rose as all the village children grew excited at the prospect.
“Perhaps later,” she said. “You children run along and play now. Morgana has lots to do to prepare for tonight’s festival.”
Their laughter and eager faces turned bleak, as if she had just told the lot of them there would be no Culhada dinner. Their gloomy eyes and frowning faces pulled at Morgana’s heartstrings and she shook her head with a laugh of defeat. “Oh, alright, drop the sad faces and I’ll tell you the story.”
The children rejoiced, ushering the old bent woman to her place in front of the fire. The women of Riverbell had done a grand job of getting the celebration fire kindled. They had dug a trench and built the roasting pit wide and long so that when the spoils of the hunt came back they could be cooked. Morgana leaned on Samual, needing a little help to steady her old bones as she settled on the mat Elise had set up for her so that she would not get dirt on her dress. She sighed once her body settled in a cross-legged position then smacked her dry lips together. When her eyes caught on the small jug of wine to her left, she grinned, pouring a wooden mug full and throwing a wink to Elise and Logan, who sat across the fire from her.
She was not surprised to find at least half the villagers already sitting in rows around and behind the fire, eagerly awaiting her story. It was, after all, a tradition in Riverbell. Morgana took a deep draught of the wine, letting it warm her cheeks and wet her lips, and then she began.
“Hmm, it would seem that more than just the little ones wanted to hear about the Founding, eh?” she said, pointing to no one in particular. More than one guilty laugh went up. Morgana did not mind.
She loved these folk, every last silly one of them, and would do anything to keep them smiling for the rest of eternity. That was really the point of it all, wasn’t it?
“To understand how the great oak grew so tall and majestic, you must first understand its roots. The cavern of New Fal is blessed to have our Lord, the Great Crystal Baetylus, who watches over his flock with warm arms and guiding light. We are fortunate to have found this place in this time where we have erected our kingdom.
“Nevertheless, it wasn’t always luck which guided the human condition, was it? No, for we weren’t always so enlightened…not back when we lived up above.”
The villagers hung on her every word, staring over the flickering flames of the fire as if in a trance. Elder Morgana licked her lips and took them in for a moment before continuing.
“During the last days of life on the surface of Acadia, it became clear that mankind was finally being punished for its vast sins. In the beginning of the Third Age, mankind took over, sprouting like a weed in the forest. In the first half of that Age, our ancestors conquered the land, setting all creatures of Acadia at their disposal, spreading like a cancer across the surface and violating the very laws of nature. In our lust for growth and consumption, rich living forests were stripped away and the oceans desecrated. Valleys once teeming with life soon became nothing more than desolate wastelands as greedy mankind devoured Acadia’s natural resources.
“And for what, so that his empires would grow stronger? As the nations of man grew on Acadia so did the lust for power, each country convinced that their way of being was the one and only true path. Some used the Gods as an excuse for their bloodlust, while others bent the will of their people under an iron-fisted rule. Regardless of the reasons, by the time the final world war began, it was on the heels of decade upon decade of ravaging the planet and countless, meaningless battles.
“Each empire raced for the next great technological tool of destruction they believed would give their military the final upper hand. Some of the more barbaric even placed their children into military camps, raising them in the art of warfare. Hand to hand, these young warriors fought with the precision and deadliness of a knife in the dark. It did not take long before swords and rifles were no longer enough to satiate man’s growing darkness, and so they turned to science, twisting advancements in robotics toward military means. The unstoppable android soldiers were created for the sole purpose of decimating the battlefield and ensuring victory under the flag of their kingdom.
“Genetic experiments opened the door to countless possibilities. Unlocking never-before-seen potential, humans began training in the ability to enter each other’s minds. Powers were tapped into that could harness the very ebb and flow of the universe around us. And so Magic came to our world.
“Such a discovery, such a oneness with the universe, should have awakened a time of enlightenment, an age of peace. Mankind could have reached out to the Gods to seek wisdom and understanding. Instead, we forfeited that sacred potential in favor of blind obedience.
“It was to be mankind’s darkest hour.
“Those great empires chose to use Magic and science to continue their struggle for domination, and so the wars raged on for decades more. No one was safe. At every turn there was death and deceit at hand. Our ancestors fought so long and filled themselves with so much hatred they could scarcely remember anything else.
“Until one day, the ice giants came to Acadia.
“No one knows where the Jotnar first came from, but their invasion was swift and deadly. Like the hand of the Gods, they crashed upon the great empires, overwhelming all in their path and caring nothing for mankind’s petty wars. The other races, tired of man’s destruction, fell eagerly behind the Jotnar, siding with the blue-skinned devils. Once that happened, it did not take long before our planet was forfeit to their might. In the last desperate hours, one of the greater empires set off their doomsday weapons in hopes of vanquishing the conquering horde, but instead, it was followed by every other country setting off their own in one fatal chain reaction of ultimate destruction. The surface was awash in the eternal flames.
“It will take centuries to repent for the sins of our forefathers. Thankfully, there were some, like your ancestors, who had no part in those wars. These smaller lands of goodly folk were wise enough to seek survival inside our planet. Those pilgrims traveled for years in search of this sanctuary, moving deeper and deeper into the very core of Acadia. It was only here, in the kingdom of New Fal, under Baetylus' guiding light, that peace has finally been found. Moreover, it is here that we set ourselves on the path of righteousness, determined never again to repeat the sins of our past. It is this lesson that we humans must never forget.
“That was two hundred and twenty-six years ago…”