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  Akatika’s Legacy

  Book one of

  The Adventures of Gabriella Sanderson

  By

  Kristopher Huffman

  Akatika’s Legacy

  ©2019 Kristopher Huffman, all rights reserved.

  Any reproduction in any form without written

  consent of the author is prohibited.

  This is a work of fiction. Any and all people,

  places, and events are imaginary. Any likeness

  to real-world people, places, and events are

  purely coincidental.

  Cover Artist: Anita Stepf

  Map Artist: RenFlowerGrapx

  ISBN: 9781090318619

  First edition: 2019

  Dedicated to Meg

  She believed in me and never let me give up.

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to offer a special thanks to my wife, she encouraged me and listened to the ranting of a man trying to create a world from nothing. I would not have been able to do this without her.

  I would also like to thank Annalyse. She brainstormed many ideas in this book and without her, it may have been a much different story.

  I must also thank my cover and map artists. They brought the images in my mind out for the world to see. I am blown away every time I look at the artwork they did.

  Finally, a special thanks to my beta readers, Olivia Angharad, Nathanael Verrill, Karinna Redline Azañes. You got to see behind the curtain and shape the final story.

  Prologue

  The heat from the midday sun scorched the skin of the band of monks as they took down their camp. Tents and bedrolls were loaded onto horses and mules along with the meager cooking supplies they carried with them. These were Kelvite monks, not the typical order but common enough on this side of the Tilian mountains.

  There were many sects which worshipped Kelvishanna, the god of nature and light, each placing emphasis on different edicts of the religion. This order of Kelvite monks were preservists. Most orders protected wildlife and the habitats they lived in; these monks actively hunted their foes.

  The preservists believed Kelvishanna demanded the eradication of the undead, demons, practitioners of dark magic, and anyone who defiled nature. This led to conflicts with many communities which relied on cutting down the forests, hunting, fishing, or mining for their support.

  There were never complaints when they came to the area and eliminated a group of goblins raiding villages or killed a demon who laid waste to the area. The Kelvites were tolerated, often seen as an acceptable means to an end. But when their work was done, they were asked to leave if not altogether forced out by the military.

  There was a rumored evil in this area. Those rumors had made it far enough up the chain of command of the preservists, that a band had been dispatched to investigate it. A vampire named Akatika had built a stronghold and if rumors were to be believed. Reports told of a strong coven already housed there. These rumors popped up every once in a while, in remote areas. They held truth more often than not in places where it was easy to go unnoticed.

  Sebastian, the Grandmaster of the order, made notes on the map his scouts had just handed him. The hastily sketched details showed they were only about an hour away from the stronghold.

  “Too close to stay another night here.” He said to himself as he jabbed his gnarled finger into the map.

  “Sir?” Orem, his second in command asked.

  “They will know we are here by now. We can’t wait another day.” Sebastian clarified. “By the time we break down camp, night will be all but upon us. They will be ready for us.”

  “So, we are going to attack tonight?” Orem asked. “Isn’t that a little hasty? We barely had enough rest from the journey here to pack up camp.”

  “They will expect us to come in force during the day. It’s when we have the biggest advantage. We go in tonight and have the element of surprise with us.” Sebastian said.

  “Sir, it’s a big risk. The rumors say they number more than twenty.” Orem said.

  “Most of which will believe we are going to come in a day assault. Those who are on the watch for us will have grown lax because of how late it is; believing their counterparts were correct in our timing.” Sebastian stated.

  “We cannot allow this Akatika to gain control of the area. There are rumors of war floating in the air. If war does break out, it would be easy for her to leave a legacy of undeath. There numbers would grow quickly after that, twenty could easily turn to forty, which would be eighty in no time. Imagine a kingdom being birthed on our watch. Every one of them devoted to Narsharsha! If we fail that is what is at stake.” Sebastian continued. “So, we go in tonight.”

  Orem sighed, “Sounds reasonable.”

  “Tell the men to finish breaking camp. We attack tonight.” Sebastian ordered.

  Orem saluted and jogged away to deliver the orders to the others. Hopefully, he would not have to bury many of his friends after tonight.

  The camp was packed away and the pack animals were staked in place. The band of monks were on the march to Akatika’s strong hold. Each man’s face decorated in conflicting emotion of the impending engagement. Some excited as the fortress came into view, others apprehension, but each strode with determination to rid the world of this evil.

  The moon hid behind thick clouds refusing to give its light. A small blessing, Sebastian thought. “Now only if Kelvishanna will grant me the other blessings I need for success tonight.” He whispered as they approached the stronghold.

  “Orem tell the men no lanterns or torches and to keep their weapons sheathed until we make contact with the enemy. The Sharsh can hear and see better than we can, especially at night.”

  Orem saluted and passed the word down the line to the sub commanders. He figured it would only be a few more minutes before the plan fell apart. Everything always went perfectly until the enemy was engaged. Best to keep the odds in his favor.

  They reached the outer wall without opposition. The slope of the wall made it nearly impossible to scale, but they came prepared. Each of the squads had one man with a medallion, which when activated would allow him to become weightless.

  This afforded them the option to walk up the side of the walls. Each monk with a medallion would tie a rope around their waist and walk up. Once on top, they would take out any centuries as quietly as possible and pin the medallion to the rope and the next member of the group would walk up.

  Sebastian estimated without interference from guards the process should only take his men ten minutes. The only trick would be-

  Thud… Thud.

  “Mother’s Milk!” Orem swore under his breath as two bodies dropped lifelessly to the ground almost on top of the Grandmaster.

  “Not ours.” Orem said as he inspected the lifeless forms.

  “No alarm, but if these two are part of a patrol they may be missed. Tell the men to go up the wall our timeline got cut shorter.” Sebastian explained.

  It only took the remaining monks a few minutes to run up the side of the wall, Sebastian and Orem going up last. To their surprise, there were no other Sharsh atop the wall, or in the courtyard. The blessings were being given out like on Bounty’s festival.

  A few minutes later they were at the door to the main building. Sharsh strongholds always looked so creepy, tall stone structures without windows. No ornamentation, no scroll work or carvings, just smooth stone. They were imposing to be sure but even Goblin and Orc strongholds had some decoration to it.

  Sebastian opened the door a crack and peaked in. As the opened the door wider, he revised his opinion. This was ornate, well beyond ornate he thought. This was ostentatious and not a soul standing guard.

  Brass braziers held the la
st life of a few dying embers giving the room a romantic glow. Paintings in gold and silver frames covered the wall floor to ceiling. Overstuffed couches which looked to be covered in velvet to either side of the door.

  The other side of the room had a giant archway flanked by long crushed red velvet drapes. Years of footsteps had worn the stone smooth. The hall could easily allow five men to walk shoulder to shoulder or would have if not for the statue standing in the middle.

  A master mason had done the work. The statue was smooth without scratch or blemish from an errant hand working the tools. It was a masterful artwork. It was of a woman draped about the waist in a loose robe. Her thick hair trailed all the way to her feet. She had an air of command with an inner strength not usually found in someone who looked so young. The softness of her face balanced between thin and round.

  The statue seemed to have a soul. The eyes, felt real, as if a real person were connected to stone. He sighed as he realized it was Narsharsha, the goddess of the undead.

  The amulet with three rings hanging between her bare breasts gave it away. These creations always amazed him, artisans with such skill used to create such corruption. How could someone who was always portrayed to be so beautiful, be so evil. He supposed, the thing about evil and darkness was, the fantasy of it was always exciting and glamorous. That’s why so many fell into its snare.

  Sebastian’s men slowly entered the foyer and began splitting off group by group to hunt the undead terrors which lurked in the depths of the compound. There were four groups of four men. Each group exceptionally quiet as they stalked away after their pray.

  The main wings held only four of the vampires they came to kill. With almost no trouble they were killed. One door had been locked and barred from the other side they would have to come for that one last. They moved along and descended into the bowls of the structure.

  The lower rooms were filled with sleeping vampires. Sebastian and Orem crept into the first one. This room had two vampires in it, cuddled together, while asleep on the small bed. As long as they were careful this should be a clean kill.

  Orem pulled his sword free of its scabbard. The room brightened as pure light began to coalesce into a mist around the blade; The Kelvite blessing activating on the blade. The Kelvite swords were forged from pure silver, but the blessing imparted strength to them. They were harder than any of the tool steels blacksmiths used.

  The blessing also used a special enchantment which seemed to give life to the blade and instill in it the light from the sun. Most of the Kelvites thought this only legend, stories passed down in the order of those truly worthy hearing the call of Kelvishanna. One story even told of a monk able to will the light into a stream of fire.

  The Kelvite swords were thought to be the perfect weapon for hunting the undead. The swing of Orem’s sword sheered the head off both vampires proving the sentiment. One of the bodies slid out of the bed knocking the stand next to the bed over a foot, spilling a strange smelling fluid all over the top of it.

  One of the monks appeared in the doorway. “This wing is clear, sir. We had one casualty, Davis. His throat torn out, possible bite sir. We did the rite of separation on him.”

  “Makes me want to weep. I saw him take down a werewolf with only his hands once. Such a great soldier. I’ll make sure his family gets his things and his stipend personally.” Orem said.

  The group went back up the stairs to the main level and met the other monks who cleared the remaining wings. “All the areas are clear now sir. We ran into a necromancer, his pet skeleton kept reanimating every time we dismantled it. We locked it away in the room. We had four casualties up here, so, five all together with Davis.” Orem reported.

  Sebastian pointed to the last remaining door. “This will be the beast’s layer. I expect major resistance. They have to be waiting for behind this door.”

  Sebastian slowly opened the door. The remaining eleven of the monks followed behind him as he entered. The dark corridor remained silent as a tomb even with his men following behind. The chamber was filled with cots and a few stone sarcophagus near the back wall. There barely enough room between each for a person to walk. Twenty of the Sharsh sleeping in here, Sebastian thought.

  Sebastian gestured for everyone to gather round. “We have a unique opportunity we can get them all. They are too close together to kill them without waking the others. We can bring the main supports down. The room will fill with daylight and do the work for us.”

  “I have the rope and some wedges for felling trees. If we tie the ropes to the beams and chop the beams the roof should come down.” The quartermaster said.

  “Chopping the beams will most likely wake them.” Orem interjected.

  One of the monks pulled a small bottle from his bag. “My brother is an apothecary sir. He gave this potion to me. You mix this other bottle with it and a moment later, BOOM! Told me it could knock a small house down. I reckon if we put it in the middle of the beam it will bring it down.”

  “If we set it up, we can be out of the room before it goes off.” Sebastian said. “Thanks for letting me know Tom.”

  “We could board up the other side of the door so no one can get out.” Orem added. “The smithy should have some boards and nails.”

  “I’ll get them.” One monk said as he ran toward the door.

  We will set it off at sunrise. Shouldn’t be much longer.” Sebastian said.

  They needed to get the bottle set up, every moment they were the risk of waking the vampire became greater. Tom tied a rope around his waist and wrapped one of the medallions around his wrist. After he made his way to the support beam removed the cork stopper from the bottle and waited for the signal.

  Sebastian made a chopping motion in the air, giving the signal. The monk opened the stopper from the other bottle and began to mix the catalyst and the explosive potion. His hand shook as he set the bottle on the beam. As he stood, he knocked the bottle over with his foot. He dove after it was it rolled over the edge. He grabbed the bottle at the last moment and watched the medallion fall off his wrist and to the floor.

  The other monks pulled the rope as hard as they could trying to get their friend to safety. He hung beside the support beam, it was too late, he wouldn’t be able to set it and get free in time. The catalyst was already in the bottle. There wasn’t enough time to get the bottle back onto the beam and get free. He made the only choice a true Kelvite could. He grabbed onto the beam with his free hand and yelled.

  “Get clear or you’ll all die!”

  He pulled himself up and cut the rope so they wouldn’t try in vain to get him out. He let his sword fall to the floor. He saluted the others as they cleared the hall and held the bottle as close to the ceiling as possible.

  The monks managed to get the door shut and a single board up and nailed before they heard someone banging on the door. The banging became pounding and soon turned into several bodies slamming into the door. The board began to crack, as they tried to get another one nailed in place.

  The floor shook, and a piece of rock flew through the door and embedded into Sebastian’s shoulder. He fell backward cursing in pain. The pounding at the door was replaced by a head splitting ringing. Several of his men grabbed their ears. Those who had been by the door had blood beginning to drip from their lobes.

  Sebastian peeked through the hole in the door to see clouds of dust and beams everywhere bathed in bright sunlight. Monks behind and to the side of him groaned, and he smiled relieved that he wasn’t deaf. Squinting through the smoke he saw bodies smoldered in the light, either from the sunlight or perhaps the explosion.

  The main support beam rested atop the stone tomb at the head of the hall. It looked cracked open from where he stood. Akatika was dead or would be soon enough without a way out of her stone prison. Their work now finished; the Kelvite monks could return home.

  As they left the area, they stopped at a small village named Gibron and told the local authorities of a plague that had killed every
one in the stronghold and not to go near it. The risk of infection was too great to even go near to post a sign warning of others.

  As years past, each telling of the story changed it. The stronghold was changed to a monastery, the monks having fled a curse that fell over them for displeasing their god. The story of plague forgotten along with the location of the ill-fated monastery in the tales.

  Chapter 1

  The air was stale as if the forest was holding its breath. The young woman was miles away from Gibron, the nearest town, looking for what she was sure was her destiny. There had been a storm the night before and the wind should have blown plenty of fresh air in to clear out the staleness of the air. The mud her horse was plopping through would even have been a better smell, Gabby thought.

  Maybe the lateness of the season had something to do with it. Things always started to turn stale at the beginning of the Ockim turning. Of the twelve turnings each year, this was the most disappointing. Everything was waiting for the winter turnings and just getting over the spring turnings.