Torn By War: 4 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Praise for The Death Wizard Chronicles

  The series, thus far:

  Torn by War

  Dedication

  Author’s Note

  Brush with Death

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  Evil Within

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  Sounding the Horn

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  Army of Fiends

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  Pure Madness

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  Hidden Monsters

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  Blinded by Power (Book Five: The Death Wizard Chronicles)

  Glossary

  Acknowledgments

  About Jim Melvin

  Praise for The Death Wizard Chronicles

  Melvin shows his literary mastery as he weaves elements of potential and transformation; his tale dances among literal shape shifters and more subtle powers of mind.

  —Ann Allen, Charlotte Observer

  “Adult Harry Potter and Eragon fans can get their next fix with Jim Melvin’s six-book epic The Death Wizard Chronicles . . . Melvin’s imagination and writing equal that of J.K. Rowling, author of the fantastically popular Harry Potter series, and Christopher Paolini, author of Eragon and Eldest. Some of his descriptions—and creatures—even surpass theirs.”

  —The Tampa Tribune

  “Jim Melvin’s Death Wizard Chronicles crackle with non-stop action and serious literary ambition. He has succeeded in creating an entire universe of interlocking characters—and creatures—that will undoubtedly captivate fans of the fantasy genre. It’s a hell of a story . . . a hell of a series . . .”

  —Bob Andelman, author of Will Eisner: A Spirited Life

  “Jim Melvin is a fresh voice in fantasy writing with a bold, inventive vision and seasoned literary style that vaults him immediately into the top tier of his genre. The Death Wizard Chronicles . . . is scary, action-packed and imaginative—a mythic world vividly entwining heroes, villains and sex that leaves the reader with the impression that this breakthrough author has truly arrived.”

  —Dave Scheiber, co-author of Covert: My Years Infiltrating the Mob and Surviving the Shadows: A Journey of Hope into Post-Traumatic Stress

  “Action-packed and yet profound, The DW Chronicles will take your breath away. This is epic fantasy at its best.”

  —Chris Stevenson, author of Planet Janitor: Custodian of the Stars and The Wolfen Strain

  “Triken truly comes alive for the reader and is filled with mysteries and places that even the most powerful characters in the book are unaware of. That gives the reader the opportunity to discover and learn with the characters . . . Melvin has added to the texture of the world by integrating Eastern philosophies, giving the magic not only consistency but depth. He has worked out the details of his magical system so readers can understand where it comes from and how it works.”

  —Jaime McDougall, the bookstacks.com

  The series, thus far:

  Novels

  Book 1: Forged in Death

  Book 2: Chained by Fear

  Book 3: Shadowed by Demons

  Book 4: Torn by War

  Ebook Shorts

  Torg’s First Death

  The Black Fortress

  (Coming 2014)

  Rise of the Sun God (ebook short)

  Book 5: Blinded by Power

  Torn by War

  The Death Wizard Chronicles: Book Four

  by

  Jim Melvin

  Bell Bridge Books

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or locations is entirely coincidental.

  Bell Bridge Books

  PO BOX 300921

  Memphis, TN 38130

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-61194-383-2

  Print ISBN: 978-1-61194-363-4

  Bell Bridge Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.

  Copyright © 2013 by Jim Melvin

  Blinded by Power (excerpt) © 2014 by Jim Melvin

  Printed and bound in the United States of America.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  We at BelleBooks enjoy hearing from readers.

  Visit our websites – www.BelleBooks.com and www.BellBridgeBooks.com.

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Cover design: Debra Dixon

  Interior design: Hank Smith

  Photo/Art credits:

  Art (manipulated) © Dusan Kostic | Dreamstime.com

  Back cover background (manipulated) © Bolotov | Dreamstime.com

  :Mwty:01:

  Dedication

  To Maya, Metta, and Lia,

  three gifts from Cambodia.

  Map

  Author’s Note

  In Book 1 of The Death Wizard Chronicles, the sorcerer Invictus imprisons Torg in a pit bored into the frozen heights of Mount Asubha. After his escape, Torg and several new friends make their way toward Kamupadana, commonly known as the Whore City, where Torg hopes to learn more about Invictus’ plans.

  Meanwhile, Laylah, the sister of Invictus, appears briefly as a sorceress whom Invictus also has imprisoned. Unlike Torg, she has not yet managed to escape. In fact, she has been her brother’s captive for more than seventy years.

  In Book 2, the tale is told of Laylah’s escape. Under the guidance of the demon Vedana, Laylah flees to Kamupadana, where she eventually meets and is healed by Torg. Along with the Asēkhas, Torg and his companions flee into the wilderness, with Mala, a.k.a. the Chain Man, and an army of monsters in hot pursuit.

  In Book 3, Torg, Laylah, and their companions work their way west toward Duccarita, known as the City of Thieves. There they destroy an evil being that uses the power of its mind to control thousands of slave creatures called the Daasa. Once freed from the being’s sway, the Daasa, which number more than ten thousand, join with Torg and the others as they continue their journey toward the safety of the White City. Meanwhile, the Asēkhas are ordered by Torg to travel eastward to join in the defense of the fortress Nissaya.

  As Book 3 develops, three great wars begin to take shape: Mala and his minions advance toward Nissaya, the druids of Dhutanga prepare to invade the White City, and an army of zombies marches into the desert Tējo, where they encounter the few Tugars who have remained there to defend their own land.

  In Book 4, the three wars set the world on fire.

  Quote

  “The noble ones say that it is a sin to kill a human being, that in doing so, you are dooming yourself to the endless cycle of rebirth. Sister Tathagata once told me that she thought it was wrong to kill a fish. I have to admit that, well, I don’t agree. It is not a sin to kill an evil person. And to be honest, I love the taste of fish.”

  —Asēkha-Tāseti, in the middle of a night of heavy drinking around a desert campfire
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  Brush with Death

  1

  THOUGH TORG KNEW it naught, Laylah woke soon after he peeled himself off her naked body. She lay still as a fawn and watched through the slits of her eyes as the wizard wandered a few paces away and then sat down in a cross-legged position on the grass. She had witnessed him in meditation one other time, in the rock hollow near Duccarita, and had been curious then too. Everything he did pleased her, but this was especially fascinating.

  Immediately his body became motionless—except for the rise and fall of his chest. Soon after, even that steady movement ceased, and when his head fell forward she became puzzled and then frightened. It dawned on her how little she knew about his abilities. He was a Death-Knower; she could surmise what that meant. But to consider it psychologically and to view it physically were two different things. Suddenly her heart pounded, and her breath came in gasps. Beyond belief, Torg was dead. The reality of it struck her like a blow from a war hammer.

  Laylah didn’t know what to do. Should she cry for help? Or rush to Torg and shake him? Even as she sat up, the great stallion she had named Izumo came up silently behind her and nuzzled her on the ear, startling her so much she nearly joined the wizard in death. Her scream caused the horse to bolt, spin around, and snort. It took Laylah what felt like a very long time to regain her composure.

  When she again could breathe semi-normally, she crawled toward Torg on hands and knees, her arms and legs trembling so much she could barely support her own weight. The night was so quiet she could hear herself shuffling through the scorched grass, which was carpeted with wilted petals. She also heard a strange thudding sound—and finally realized it was her own heavy tears striking the ground. Her beloved was dead! She could see it, sense it, feel it.

  Laylah crept within an arm’s length of her lover’s lifeless body. She wanted to grab him and hold him. Sob and shout. But she was afraid to touch him. If his death became that real to her, she might go mad.

  Without warning, Torg’s head jerked up, his eyes sprang open, and his mouth opened so wide she could see the back of his throat. Blue-green energy roared from his body and battered her face, lifting her off the ground and casting her several hundred cubits. She landed on her naked rump in a cushiony patch of wildflowers just beyond the scorched circle. Obhasa came to rest beside her, but she noticed in her daze that the Silver Sword remained where she had left it. The blast would have killed almost any creature on Triken. But other than feeling dizzy and stunned, Laylah was unharmed. As if concerned for her welfare, Izumo trotted forward bravely and nuzzled her cheek; this time, she didn’t shout, which regained his trust. The stallion backed a few paces away, lay down, and rested his muzzle on the ground like a loyal dog.

  Soon after, Torg came over and took her in his arms. “My love. What have I done? Are you hurt? Tell me you’re all right!”

  “I’m . . . fine.” Then she looked into his eyes, where she again saw life. “In fact, I’m better than fine.”

  Torg squeezed her so hard she grunted. Then he released her, sat back, and leaned against his hands. “I’m sorry, Laylah. You appeared to be sleeping so deeply . . .”

  “You frightened me.”

  Torg chuckled ruefully. Then he took a deep breath and sighed. “With all the running we’ve done since Kamupadana, we’ve never had a chance to fully discuss Maranapavisana, my visits to death. They are brief in duration but appear unnatural to those unprepared. I apologize again. I made a severe mistake in judgment. But when the mood comes upon me, it’s safer and easier for me if I succumb to it quickly.”

  “Succumb to what?”

  “To the desire. My magic comes from Marana-Viriya (Death Energy). I have lived a thousand years—and died a thousand deaths. Only a Death-Knower is able to fall—and rise. When I return from death, I am renewed.”

  The wizard leaned close to her face, speaking now in a whisper. “At this moment, I am greater than I have ever been. But the trials that lie ahead will require all my strength. Will it be enough?” Then Torg lowered his head.

  Though Laylah had been with him for just a few weeks, she already knew him well enough to sense that he was holding something back. “This time was . . . different?” she said.

  The wizard appeared surprised. “I will never be able to deceive you. In our future together, that should work to your advantage.”

  It was Laylah’s turn to chuckle. “You don’t strike me as the lying type.”

  “I have weaknesses, but lack of truthfulness is not among them,” Torg agreed.

  Then he described to Laylah what it felt like to die and what he witnessed while in the Realm of Death. He also told her about seeing the green energy for the first time—and hearing the disturbing voices. By the time he finished, it was almost dawn.

  “Did you understand anything the voices said?”

  “Whoever, or whatever, it was spoken in no language in which I am fluent,” Torg admitted. “I sensed neither friendship nor hostility. But I was stunned, nonetheless. After more than a thousand visits, I was arrogant enough to believe that I knew everything about death and its accoutrements. Apparently, I could not have been more wrong. I have been humbled.”

  As if in response, Izumo nickered. They both laughed.

  “Maybe Rathburt is speaking through the horse,” Laylah said.

  They laughed even louder, though afterward they fell into mournful silence that lasted until the first fingers of dawn crept across the plains.

  Afterward, Torg and Laylah put on the clothes that they had worn to the banquet the night before and then climbed onto Izumo’s bare back, carrying Obhasa and the Silver Sword with them. By the time they approached the great white bridge that spanned Cariya, a squadron of Jivitans already had crossed to the far side of the river. The horsemen cheered as the couple passed, waving their swords and crossbows in salute and tossing in a few good-natured hoots and whistles. The wizard shook his fist, but he laughed as well.

  Several dozen foot soldiers guarded the bridge, but their lackadaisical attitude made it clear that the White City did not yet fear attack. Squadrons and scouts were spread out for leagues in all directions, making it nearly impossible for Jivita to be assaulted unawares.

  Even before the wizard and Laylah passed through the eastern gate, she could see the roofs, chimneys, and church spires of the main business district looming behind the wall. Izumo trotted proudly between the double-leaf iron gates, which were flanked by a pair of modest watchtowers. There was more cheering, and Laylah waved to the guards above.

  Just then, the dawn bells rang out from every church and cathedral in Jivita. Even from the outskirts of the city, the harmonic sound was deafening.

  “How marvelous!” Laylah said, squeezing Torg’s waist from behind.

  “Yes, I’ve always loved the bells—though these remind me that we haven’t eaten in quite some time. Are you hungry?”

  “Famished. But I’m not sure I can stomach another meal at the queen’s palace.”

  Torg nodded. “I know a place that is out of the way.”

  “Do we have time? Captain Julich said there would be an important meeting of the Privy Council this morning.”

  “The queen and her advisors can wait a little longer . . . or start without us, if they prefer. I’m tired of rushing everywhere we go. War is on the horizon, but it won’t begin today. Let me show you where the common folk of the White City break their fast. The décor isn’t nearly as grand as the queen’s palace, but it’s gentler on the eyes and stomach.”

  Izumo carried them along the main thoroughfare that led to the business district. Parallel to the road was a manmade canal, one of several that spun off the Cariya River and supplied Jivita with drinking water. At this point, open field still surrounded them, but a mountainous cluster of buildings loomed in front of them, broader and denser even than the inner ward of the fortress of Nissaya. Though no single structure in Jivita approached the height of Nissaya’s central keep, Jivita did contain great cathed
rals and numerous other tall buildings. All told, more than one hundred and fifty thousand had dwelled in this area of Jivita before the evacuations, and many who lived farther away had come there to perform some form of business.

  Where it pierced the crowded conglomeration of stone structures, the main thoroughfare was thirty paces wide. Shops and houses framed the street, their corbelled upper stories looming over passersby. All the buildings were either painted white or sheathed with white marble, but an array of colorful wooden signboards hung over the doors of shops, taverns, inns, and other businesses. Even in the early morning, the street swarmed with people, most on foot or in horse-drawn carriages. Torg and Laylah were the only people on horseback, other than a few mounted sheriffs on patrol.

  Among the throngs were housewives wearing gowns and mantles, merchants adorned in fur-trimmed coats, and clergymen in long white albs. Almost everyone was pale-skinned with white hair and gray eyes, but Laylah noticed a few who did not match that description, though they appeared to be treated no differently than the others. If it’s this crowded now, Laylah wondered, how must it have been before some of the Jivitans fled to the havens?

  Delectable aromas from hundreds of cookshops blended oddly with the pungent smell of trampled horse dung. Hundreds of narrow side streets fed off the main road, leading to a variety of businesses: blacksmiths, butchers, doctors, fish merchants, laundresses, shoemakers, tailors, tanners, and wine sellers, to name a few. The congestion reminded Laylah of Avici, though there was an antiquation to it that felt less threatening. Not every Jivitan was a member of the royal class or military, but each one was free to come and go as he or she pleased. Laylah envied them.