Clash of Catalysts Read online

  Copyright © 2016 C. Greenwood

  Edited by Victory Editing

  Formatted by Polgarus Studios

  Cover art by Michael Gauss

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Excepting brief review quotes, this book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written permission of the copyright holder. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, real events, locations, or organizations is purely coincidental.

  CLASH OF CATALYSTS

  CATALYSTS OF CHAOS, BOOK FOUR

  Darkness has fallen over Earth Realm. As the evil sorcerer Rathnakar prepares his final move against mankind, the oracle of Silverwood Grove musters an army to counter him. She sends Geveral on a journey to a distant mountain fortress to forge an alliance with a winged race of dragonkin.

  Meanwhile, Orrick is captured by his enemies and put on trial for treason. Having failed to locate the one person who can prove his innocence, the barbarian’s time is running out.

  Alone now, Eydis faces her greatest struggle as mistress of masks when she is forced to battle a powerful and familiar foe.

  Even as the three catalysts are drawn inexorably toward their ultimate destinies, four armies meet on the plains of Endguard. Their clash will determine the fate of Earth Realm.

  * * *

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  PROLOGUE

  Right from Varian Nakul’s first view of Endguard, appearing as a gray smudge on the horizon, he had the sense of arriving at his destiny. One way or another, the formidable border fortress would be the beginning or the end of him.

  Even at a distance, he could see that the pinnacles from which proud banners once flew were now bare. But there were signs of fresh repairs. The previously damaged walls had been strengthened until once again capable of holding out the most powerful of forces. Obviously, the new holders of Endguard had been hard at work restoring the stronghold. Varian could only wonder if they knew what they were preparing it for.

  He and his winding train of followers approached until at last they stood looking up at the imposing stone walls immediately before them. Even with an army of one thousand servants of Rathnakar at his back, Varian had to quell his unease. Maybe it was the threatening edge of the Lostland wilderness, spreading out beyond the fortress walls. Maybe it was the last echoes of the master’s commands still ringing in his head. But the doubts that always nibbled away at the back of his mind loomed especially large today.

  Not for nothing did legend say that Endguard could never fall. Of course, it had fallen once, infamously betrayed from within. But Varian had no such traitorous ally on his side today. What if the fierce creatures now manning the fortress refused him entrance? His master would not tolerate failure.

  He craned his neck to look up at the strange beings now. Winged aviads with the bodies of men and the heads of hawks lined the battlements, spears clutched in their clawlike hands. Alongside them stood monstrous minohides, beasts that walked upright but wore the skin and teeth of animals. It was said aviads could hurl their spears with deadly accuracy across great distances and that minohides enjoyed ripping out their enemies’ throats.

  Even as accustomed as Varian had become to terrible sights, these beasts of the Lostlands looked fearsome. But he couldn’t allow himself to be intimidated by the task before him. Not when the magic medallion of his master weighed so heavily around his neck, a reminder of the extra powers at his disposal.

  Varian guided his horse, stolen from the most recent village his army had raided, closer to the walls.

  He threw back his head and shouted to the creatures looking down on him, “Open your gate and admit my army, in the name of Rathnakar, master of the earthly realm.”

  His demand was followed by stony silence. The afternoon sun beat down, its glare making it impossible to read the expressions of the beasts watching him even if Varian had known what to make of such inhuman faces.

  Gnash, the second-in-command of Varian’s forces, came to stand beside his horse. The half-decayed undead growled an indistinct question through rotting lips.

  Varian glanced down at him and answered, “If you can reason and communicate, Gnash, so can these creatures.”

  He had no sooner spoken than one of the aviads above swooped down from the towering wall and came to land in front of them.

  At the sudden arrival of the aviad, a number of Varian’s soldiers made as if to attack the newcomer. Varian motioned them to stay back. That was the trouble with walking corpses and bespelled captives pressed into fighting for the master. Their intelligence was low, their first instinct always to destroy.

  Varian allowed the aviad to come closer. It was easy to see why his soldiers were unsettled. The creature was taller and more muscular than a man. Its beak was wickedly curved, its eyes cold and cruel. But there was intelligence behind that beady gaze, and there could be no doubt the thing’s wits were sharper than the point of the spear clutched in its talons.

  Varian didn’t know what kind of speech he expected to come out of that hawklike beak, but he was startled by what did come.

  We have been waiting for you. We received the messages of Rathnakar, the Raven King.

  That wasn’t spoken aloud. It was a string of words suddenly popping into Varian’s head. He hardly knew if they were even words, for there was no voice or tone, merely a stream of ideas. Somehow the creature was communicating with him by directing thoughts into his mind.

  Varian resisted the initial urge to pull away. This wasn’t the first time his mind had been invaded by a foreign presence. The master sometimes communicated with him across distances in a similar way. And the aviad didn’t appear to be doing anything threatening inside his head. No rummaging through his memories or attempting to control him. It was unlikely the creature’s abilities extended beyond the exchange of ideas. So he let the aviad continue.

  Our army within the fortress numbers at two thousand warriors, each ready to join your master in return for the promised reward.

  Varian didn’t attempt to send his response in the same silent manner. “What reward is that?” he asked.

  Possession of the Lythnian kingdom upon its defeat.

  Varian shouldn’t have been surprised Rathnakar would offer such a prize to the monsters of the Lostlands. He had been sent here to put together the beginnings of a force powerful enough to conquer Lythnia and Kroad. He knew this was only the start of his master’s plan. Why then did the information stir feelings of unease?

  For just an instant, he remembered a simpler time when his life’s purpose had been a peaceful one, when his only care had been the keeping of the crypts at Umanath. But that was before the master had come and taken his will. The memory and the confused feelings it brought slipped away again, as quickly as they had surfaced. Varian’s resolve hardened.

  “We have little time to prepare,” he told the aviad.

  Then enter our gates now and take command.

  The aviad signaled its companions upon the wall. There was a brief pause followed by a heavy grinding sound. Slowly the immense gate in front of Varian’s army began to open, offering entrance to the fortress.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Eydis

  Eydis stood outside the warm glow cast by the flames of Server Parthenia’s funeral pyre, watching as plumes of smoke rose toward the starry sky. White-robed attendants gathered around in respectful silence, but Eydis clung to the shadows at the edge of the crowd.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t regret the server’s murder at the hands of an assassin. Although she hadn’t counted Partheni
a a friend, she would never wish such an end on the oracle’s chief companion. But after the revelations of the past few days, Eydis no longer felt she belonged among the mourners.

  The moonlit gardens surrounding the Temple of Tranquility were strewn with garlands of flowers in the dead woman’s honor. Pale wreaths were hung from tree branches and draped over fountains, filling the already fragrant gardens with the aroma of night blossoms. The ever-present little bells suspended from overhead branches tinkled in the gentle breeze, mingling with the sounds of shuffling feet, occasional murmurs from the gathering, and the soft pops and hisses of the fire.

  Eydis was vaguely aware of all these things, but her real attention was focused on a figure at the front of the crowd, a young woman who watched the ceremony from a reclined position on a litter. The oracle, too weak in body to walk on her own, had been carried out by attendants. She was recovering from the long sleep that had nearly claimed her life, but she wasn’t yet fully restored. Her simple clothing hung loosely on her wasted frame, and there were dark circles beneath her lashless eyes.

  Other aspects of her appearance were no more bizarre than usual. Eydis had grown accustomed to the oracle’s violet-hued skin and extra pair of arms, to the shimmering patterns marking her skin, and to the shaven head, only partially concealed beneath a fine black veil. The brass bands at her wrists and throat gleamed in the firelight. Eydis knew if she were close enough, she would see a matching glint in the young woman’s solid black eyes.

  From the oracle’s posture and stony expression, it was impossible to guess what thoughts were passing through her mind as she watched the fire consume the remains of her chief advisor and companion. If she ever felt emotion, she was not often given to betraying it.

  One of the attendants nearest the pyre began to sing in a high, clear voice. The song was in the old tongue, so Eydis understood only bits of it. It expressed praise for Parthenia and wished her peace in her final rest. The song must have signaled the end of the ceremony, because the mourners began to disperse. Eydis understood that later, after the fire had died, a selection of attendants would return to collect the dead woman’s ashes and sprinkle them over the sacred pool in the grove. But for now, everyone moved toward the temple and their sleeping quarters.

  Eydis didn’t join the women trickling past to make their way up the temple steps. Instead, she wove her way through the crowd to approach the oracle and the attendants preparing to bear her away on the litter. She had to find a moment to talk alone with the seer. But since waking from her deathlike sleep, the oracle had been impossible to gain an audience with. She had closeted herself in her chamber and refused to see anyone for the past few days. Eydis could wait no longer.

  Just as the attendants were about to lift the litter from the ground, Eydis stepped in quickly and took the place of one of the bearers. The oracle must have noticed her action, but there was nothing she could do short of commanding Eydis to relinquish her place.

  Instead, the seer maintained an aloof silence as Eydis and the others gripped the poles and bore the litter up the marble steps and through the double dragon-carved doors. The temple interior was usually bright with sunlight streaming through high slits in the walls. But at this late hour, only pale slivers of moonlight and a few candles penetrated the shadowed gloom.

  One of those candles was in the hands of a white-robed attendant who walked ahead of their party, illuminating the short corridor leading to the oracle’s chamber. To Eydis’s relief, the burden she carried seemed to exempt her and the others from the customary removal of shoes on coming indoors. As their footsteps echoed down the hall, the pair of female guards waiting at the end drew open the heavy granite door that was the entrance to the oracle’s chamber.

  Eydis usually felt a sense of unease when she stepped into this dark room with its thick windowless walls and its glowing torches casting flickering shadows across the floor. But ever since taking part in a terrible ritual here, involving a venomous snake, she had lost her dread of the place. It was as if she had seen the worst secrets this chamber had to offer and she had no further cause to fear it.

  The litter bearers walked up the center of the room, passing between rows of empty cauldrons. They ascended the stairs leading to a raised dais and set down their burden atop the platform. There, the oracle shifted onto a pile of cushions and motioned her attendants away.

  The other women departed swiftly and silently, the heavy door closing behind them. But Eydis lingered at the top step of the dais. She expected to be ordered away. But the oracle pretended not to notice her, arranging her cushions and spreading a blanket over her legs. It was strange to see someone who had always embraced pain and physical discomfort suddenly making efforts to avoid the cold floor stones. Perhaps the oracle realized how close she had come to death recently and understood she would have to take better care of herself if she didn’t wish to repeat the experience.

  “It’s the unavoidable nuisance we must endure when trapped in these cages of bone and flesh.”

  Eydis jumped at the oracle’s sudden words. “What do you mean?” she asked warily. Everything she said to the oracle would be cautious from now on, considering the revelations of the past few days.

  The oracle lifted a slender brow, her eyes looking blacker than black beneath the torchlight. “You were thinking I am like an old invalid, concerned with comforts. But I have important work to carry out and have foreseen my survival will be linked to the survival of Earth Realm in the coming days. That is why I must build up my strength as quickly as possible.”

  Once, Eydis would have accepted such a declaration without question. Once, her faith in the oracle had been absolute. But those days were no more.

  “You have had a new vision of the future?” she asked, her tone heavy with skepticism. “Is that like the time you saw a plan for me? A plan from the First Mother, who doesn’t exist?”

  If the oracle was startled by the casual mention of Eydis’s newfound knowledge, she didn’t show it. She sounded merely curious when she asked, “Who told you the First Mother was a myth?”

  “The same voices I once mistook for the voice of the Mother,” said Eydis. “The voices of eternals. While you were trapped in your deep sleep, I asked Server Parthenia to show me one of your rituals, to help me reach out to the Mother. I got more than I bargained for when she produced a viper, whose venom caused powerful visions. I saw more than the future. I saw past and present and understand for the first time the great deception you and others have perpetuated. The lie of the First Couple, who’s supposed existence is used purely as a means of keeping simple folk in check.”

  She had expected some denial from the oracle. But the younger woman merely shrugged. “Parthenia should have known better than to give you the viper.”

  “Don’t shift the blame onto your server. She is too dead to defend herself,” Eydis said. “And Parthenia was as taken in by your lies as the rest of us.”

  The oracle looked unapologetic. “I did not create the story of the First Mother. It is older than me. I simply worked out the truth for myself.”

  “But you continued to work miracles and foretell the future in the name of the Mother,” Eydis pointed out. “You led others to believe the lies.”

  “Sometimes it is necessary to manipulate people’s ideas for their own good,” the oracle said. “Do not imagine I was ever blind to the stirrings of darkness. I did not guess from where the danger would come. But I have known since assuming the role of oracle that it was my purpose to prepare the earthly realm for the Raven King’s eventual awakening, to prevent a return to his ancient rule. I have used every tool in my power to do that, including working within the old superstitions of the people of this kingdom.”

  “You’re claiming your deceptions are for a greater good?” asked Eydis.

  “I do claim it,” the oracle answered. “But whether you choose to believe it is up to you.”

  Eydis shook her head. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.
Maybe it’s just as well I’m getting away from this place. Maybe when I put Silverwood Grove behind me, I’ll be able to make sense of things again.”

  The oracle’s look sharpened. “You intend to leave us.”

  It wasn’t quite a question, but Eydis sensed the other woman was surprised by the information even if she refused to show it.

  “Yes. With your gift of foresight, doubtless you’ll have anticipated my departure and the reason behind it,” Eydis said dryly. “We cannot allow the golden scepter to remain in unsafe hands, and I fear that is exactly where the assassin who stole the object intends to deliver it. He works for a wizard who hides in a tower in the Arxus Mountains. The wizard has long coveted the scepter, and this isn’t his first attempt to gain it. Merely the first time he has succeeded.”

  It was impossible to ascertain from the oracle’s expression whether any of this was news to her. For all Eydis knew, she was already well aware of the wizard’s existence.

  Still, Eydis continued, “The assassin already has a head start on me, and it’s unlikely I can intercept him before he brings the scepter to the wizard. My only hope is to reclaim it before the wizard puts it to some terrible use.”

  The oracle said, “You mean before he or someone else uses it to free Rathnakar from the tombs that hold his physical form in one place.”

  “So that is what the scepter is for,” Eydis said. “I wasn’t sure whether my understanding of that musty old book in the dream was correct.”

  “Book?”

  “Never mind.”

  Eydis wasn’t sure she was ready to trust the oracle with any further information from her visions. She changed the subject.

  “I leave for the mountains in the morning,” she said. “If you want to be of help, I’m sure your people could aid me in procuring a horse and supplies for my journey.”