The Corin Chronicles Volume I: The Light and the Dark, page 1
The Corin Chronicles, Volume 1:
The Light and the Dark
MARVIN AMAZON
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Corinthians Publishing
Essex, United Kingdom
Copyright © 2012 Marvin Amazon
For more information about this book, visit www.marvinamazon.com.
Edition ISBNs:
Paperback 978-0-9572985-1-4
Hardback 978-0-9572985-0-7
e-Book 978-0-9572985-2-1
Cover illustration by Jay Libby
This edition prepared by The Editorial Department
7650 E. Broadway Blvd., #308
Tucson, Arizona 85710
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
To my family and friends, who made me believe that anything was possible and continued to inspire me. Thank you for your continued love and appreciation of everything I am.
Contents
Part I: The Battle
1.1 The Beginning of the End
1.2 The Fury of the Gods
1.3 The Battle of Corin
1.4 The Final Stand
1.5 The Light and the Dark
Part II: The Aftermath
2.1 A Mother’s Love
2.2 Leaving Calcara
2.3 Goneca
2.4 Discovered
2.5 The Dagger of Pyro
2.6 The Escape
Part III: The Anointed One
3.1 A Lonely Road
3.2 Not Any Old Office
3.3 The Takedown
3.4 Work and Family Don’t Mix
3.5 Adelaide
3.6 Do You Believe in Magic?
3.7 No Mistakes
Part IV: In Unending Light
4.1 The Forgotten Planet
4.2 Another Way
4.3 Secrets and Schemes
4.4 The Philosophers
4.5 The Ritual
Part V: Journey Into Darkness
5.1 Departure
5.2 The Burning Tree
5.3 Blademaster
5.4 A Merchant’s Tale
5.5 A Gesture of Goodwill
5.6 River Crasus
5.7 The Dark World of Corin
5.8 The Deserts of the Dark World
5.9 The Swamps of Ismail
5.10 The Village Horde
5.11 A Warrior’s Courage
5.12 Freedom
5.13 The Prophecy
Acknowledgments
And it came to pass that as the universe basked in all its glory, it inevitably turned on itself, bringing forth darkness and destruction.
He who has spanned the ages—the Creator, the Divine Deity, the God of Gods, Auphora—remained a symbol of both good and evil in the eyes of many. During the First Coming, the words from the lands spoke of peace and prosperity, but war emerged from the horizon. For two thousand millennia, the demigods—half men, half god—ruled by Auphora’s side as his loyal disciples. The War of the Immortals saw the demise of the demigods and brought forth the end of the First Coming, which signified the absolute power wielded by the Creator of all things. As the worlds continued to wither, loneliness and guilt plagued Auphora, who grew weary of the barrenness around him. The suns began to lose their shine, and the moons slowly cracked, as the dawn of the Second Coming approached. So Auphora began a re-creation of his universe. It is said that he spawned children completely in his own likeness, believing that the half-mortal element of the prior demigods had tainted them with human greed and the thirst for power. Words have never spoken of his true motives. The scriptures state that Auphora has finally achieved the peace he has so desperately sought since the demise of the demigods. But with war on the horizon once again, the question that remains unanswered is why the Second Coming, as with the First, has become synonymous with anarchy and death.
Duos visio of Auphora, The Two Faces of Auphora
Author: Wimni Prichat, The Second Coming
1.1
THE BEGINNING OF THE END
The shadows in the sky held no immediate significance when Kraipo Shamana first noticed them. He had witnessed many such sunsets in the past few months, each one continually reminding him how much he longed to return to his home planet of Tyranis, where he could gaze once more into the bright, blue eyes of his wife.
Kraipo’s good friend, Melot Lambont, rode at his side, his expression unchanged. Even the horse’s hoofs, kicking up water from the shifting lakes across his face, did not cause a stir. Melot’s long, dark hair remained well hidden by his helmet, but Kraipo could still catch occasional glimpses of his brown eyes, which had hardly blinked for as long as he could remember.
The noise around them increased, the farther they rode. Kraipo’s horse seemed to gain more stamina as they neared the sound, though the mare should have been slowing down from fatigue. The towering mountains surrounding the desert nearly eclipsed the two suns that shone ever so brightly on the battlefield. The lakes continued to move around the ground beneath them, as if alive. The extreme heat of the Folini Desert signified everything the planet Crazar stood for, contrasting sharply with the memories of his home planet, Tyranis—renowned for icy winds and thick forests.
The sight in the distance became clearer to Kraipo as they approached. What from a distance had appeared as a mere troop of soldiers grew into battalions, and he knew that the thousands that rode toward them were not only men, but also Akarai—the dreaded army commanded by Baran, the Red God of Corin.
Sparing a glance beneath him, he was relieved to see the water they rode over had started to move in another direction. Though it was not enough to ease his mind of the predicament they faced, it did give him courage to see the thousands of men riding beside him—men who had successfully toppled many armies at the behest of their gods. But the obstacles they faced now had never been so great.
The water beneath them had completely disappeared, moving behind and away from them across the desert. Now on dry land, Kraipo and his men rode quickly, the distance between them and the approaching army closing rapidly. Kraipo drew his sword, accompanied by a loud, recurring shout that was quickly echoed by the riders beside and behind him. The screams seemed to fade almost immediately, however, eclipsed by the louder cries of the opposing army.
Kraipo could see the Akarai now. The pitch-black armor across their bodies shone in the sunlight, occasionally blinding him. The lower halves of their faces and their bright yellow eyes remained the only body parts not shielded by their armor. The fangs that hung out of their mouths rested around their chins, and the scales on their faces added to their terrifying appearance.
Kraipo saw the fear planted on the faces of many who rode beside him, but Melot still continued, unflustered and coordinated. With a clash imminent, the sky brightened for a moment, and the shadow returned once more. Kraipo realized then that the earlier darkening of the sky was not caused by the sun’s setting but by a black and unnatural cloud covering the brighter Crazaran sun. The cloud remained, and from within it a shape began to manifest as the outline of an unnaturally tall man, wrapped in a cloak of shadow. The remaining sunlight revealed the glare of its pitch-black eyes, turning Kraipo’s stomach. Its face was gaunt, and reptilian scales covered its whole body. Black, leathery wings slowly came into view.
“ZOATANS!” he screamed. But it was too late. A loud wail went up around him, as a number of his men were suddenly snatched from their saddles and dragged into the skies by the flying reptiles, many more than the sole one Kraipo had noticed.
Chaos spread across the entire frontline of riders. The sight of flames from the flying beasts and the screams of the warriors engulfed in fire caused Kraipo to flinch momentarily and almost fall from his horse. Half his army was now in disarray, and within seconds, he found himself on his back, with no sight of his mare.
By the time he returned to his feet, his men were completely surrounded by the might of Baran’s army, led by the Akarai, who easily cut down his own brave soldiers. Desperately trying to avoid the hoofs of the many horses around him, Kraipo prepared himself for death, which seemed as certain as the approaching Akarai that had apparently singled him out for elimination.
Navigating through every gap he could find, he ran in the opposite direction of the more intense fighting. Sparing occasional glances backward, he saw that there were now four Akarai headed in his direction. Above him flew at least eight hundred Zoatans, many flying unmanned, with many more carrying Akarai riders. The beasts continued to rain down flames from their nostrils, scorching Kraipo’s men. He was powerless to help them. He had hoped that the battle between the gods would not have reached such a juncture, but he had sworn his life to the God of Gods, Auphora.
“For Crazar!” he shouted. “For Tyranis! For Shoraux!” He repeated it as a chant, and hearing his men echo it back gave him hope, displacing all fears of death. Looking back at the galloping horses of the Akarai, he remembered the courage he had shown on numerous occasions, earning him the right to lead the army of the gods, which helped him spur on his battalion with progressively louder chants.
Charging forward, he noticed Melot’s brown mare approaching from the west, prompting him to rapidly change direction. He saw that Melot also had the reins of his own horse, which revitalized his spirits.
“Quickly, General,” Melot said. “The Akarai will be upon you in an instant.”
Kraipo leapt onto the white mare, reining it around to face the approaching Akarai. Sensing what his general prepared to do, Melot screamed before charging the opposing army, which had merged with a host of their own riders, as the battle became fragmented.
Kraipo’s army began to reform their lines, strategically eliminating the threat of the Zoatans with well-timed arrows in the air. Kraipo found himself in the thick of numerous duels, each one made easier by Melot’s presence by his side.
The dust from the ground blinded many. The sight of death triggered fear. The constant shifting of the lakes continuously interrupted several duels. Kraipo continued to lose men at a rapid rate, still disadvantaged by the threat of the flying Zoatans. They had to eliminate them. “Melot,” he shouted. His right-hand man signaled that he had heard, but his eyes stayed fixed on the battle. “We must mount the Zoatans,” Kraipo ordered, breathing heavily. “We must decrease their numbers in the sky.”
As Melot opened his mouth to respond, Kraipo saw the frame of an unmanned Zoatan behind his friend. Its eyes maintained the deadly glare he had become familiar with. Observing the worry cross Kraipo’s face, Melot spun around, swinging his sword at the same time and striking the creature’s head. The beast screamed, spraying flames into the air.
Slowing his horse, Melot continued to strike at the Zoatan, until a wing caught hold of him. He tried to hang on to his galloping horse with his legs, but he suddenly felt the powerful grip of the Zoatan, as it lifted him from his mare and into the air.
Having advanced as close to his friend as he could, Kraipo stood on his horse, holding on to its reins at the same time. Melot realized what his friend was about to do. “No, General!” he shouted. “Do not risk your life. You must live.”
Kraipo leapt from his horse and partially landed on the Zoatan, with one leg still hanging loose. The scream from the creature quickly transcended into a stream of fire, as the beast desperately tried to throw him off. Using its scales to continue climbing, Kraipo swiped at the talons that held Melot, but the creature did not release him. Now completely astride the creature, Kraipo seized its reins and jerked them from side to side, causing a disjointed movement and continual exhaling of fire. A few seconds passed, and Melot was loose and falling to the ground. Observing this, Kraipo continued to wrestle with the creature, trying to get it under control as it continued to fly over the battlefield.
The scene beneath Kraipo was carnage and destruction. Men and Akarai fought on dry land and in water. The lakes emerged on numerous sections of the desert, almost as if multiplying with time. The deathly cries of his army continued to ring in his ears. It became obvious that the might of the Akarai would overwhelm his people, but the shower of flames from the Zoatans remained the biggest threat.
Still trying to gain complete control of the flying beast, he caught a glimpse of a blur that fizzled past him. He rested his palm against the side of his face and felt dampness—blood. A stinging sensation pulsed from the edge of his ear, where something had just grazed him. Something flashed past him again, but this time he managed to get a better look at it. It was a long arrow with a thick blade at the edge. Realizing that he had become a target, he looked around him, managing to keep the Zoatan beneath him relatively steady.
It seemed that most of the Akarai that flew in the sky had not yet realized his intrusion, as they continued to throw spears at his troops on the ground. But a sole Zoatan approached, with an Akarai rider. The warrior had its bow aimed straight at Kraipo and released another arrow in his direction. A slight weave to his left put him out of harm’s way. Tugging hard at his Zoatan’s reins, he directed it toward the approaching Akarai, and the flying beast complied.
With both creatures flying toward an immediate collision, Kraipo continuously maneuvered his transporter to avoid the sea of other Zoatans in the sky. The closer he got to the Akarai, the more he had to weave to avoid the constant stream of incoming arrows. Steadying himself, he drew his sword. Another shot came toward him, but it was completely off target, so he spurred the Zoatan on.
Realizing how close Kraipo’s Zoatan had progressed, the Akarai quickly dropped his bow. It drew its sword a second too late as the general swung his own blade, catching the Akarai in the midsection, just as his Zoatan flew past. Although deflected somewhat by its thick armor, the sword caused some damage, and the Akarai’s sword fell to the ground. Kraipo quickly reined his own Zoatan back around and charged again at the now struggling Akarai. He didn’t slow down, even when a number of Akarai, now alerted to his presence in the air, began to approach and fire arrows in abundance. With both hands on his sword, he stood upright, taking advantage of the steady flying of the Zoatan.
The injured Akarai was still looking around in every corner of the sky before their eyes met. The beast abruptly stood up on its Zoatan, but Kraipo was already upon it. With all his strength, he swung his sword directly below the Akarai’s helmet, catching it right in the center of its fangs, dislodging a number of them. The wail that followed quickly died down as the creature fell to the ground, with the Zoatan letting off occasional shrieks and blasts of fire.
Kraipo sat back down on his Zoatan, just in time to see a blade swinging in his direction. A quick roll across the creature kept him away from the sword, but he found himself hanging on to the Zoatan’s thick scales to stay in the air. Trying to recover his balance, he saw the frame of an Akarai jumping from its Zoatan onto his. He desperately sought his sword, but he could not reach the hilt.
Looking into the yellow eyes of the Akarai, he thought of shutting his eyes and embracing death, but a spear flew through the air, straight into the chest of the Akarai. Although blocked by the Akarai’s armor, the force of the blow unbalanced the warrior, allowing Kraipo a second to see Melot still fighting just below, along with a number of his own soldiers.
Still clinging to the now unstable Zoatan, Kraipo could only watch as the Akarai edged closer to him. He knew that death would most certainly befall him if he stayed in the air. He shut his eyes, released both hands, and let himself fall. His landing did not bring as much pain as he thought it would. The face of the soldier whose horse he landed on was as frightened as he had seen anyone during the entire battle.
“Are you hurt, General?” the soldier asked, dumbfounded.
“You have done well, Maddy,” Kraipo said. He held on to the soldier’s right arm. “Take me to Melot at once.”
Maddy reined his horse, which shot off at a blistering pace toward the front of the conflict, as Kraipo eased himself into a more comfortable sitting position. The battle raged around them, and the aerial advantage posed by Baran’s army continued to dominate the escalating conflict. Watching man after man fall, Kraipo knew that the fight could only end in defeat for him and his men. “We must retreat at once,” he shouted.
Advancing beside him, the bruised hands of Melot held on to his, as a number of their men watched. “We cannot give up now, General.” His voice remained unsteady. “To the death we must fight.”
“But what good is death when our gods cannot learn of what transpired here?” Kraipo shouted above the noise of the battlefield.
Melot nodded his head firmly. “If it is your will that we leave this place,” he said, “then I will ride with you.”
“Sound the horns,” said Kraipo. “Retreat at once.”
The emergence of a deep, muffled sound shot across the land, nearly bringing the battle to a temporary halt, followed by the continued chants of “RETREAT,” by the hundreds of men in Kraipo’s army that still stood. In the midst of the fleeing army, Kraipo and Melot rode side by side, occasionally glancing back. Only a fraction of Baran’s army had given chase. The rest held back, cheering their victory.
