eternal shadow by nicole cambridge - s3.amazonaws.com · you'll doom every miserable wretch in...

Eternal Shadow

By Nicole Cambridge

Eternal Shadow © 2014 by Nicole Cambridge. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without

written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations

embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the

publisher or author.

For all my lovely reviewers. Thank you for making my dreams come true.

A better version of this map can be found on my tumblr http://showmaster64x.tumblr.com/

Contents Prologue 6

Chapter 1 12

Chapter 2 Error! Bookmark not defined.

























Prologue

An undisclosed amount of years previous...

Mors swore under his breath when his left bootpick became lodged between two stones. He

motioned for his partner to go on without him. He wasn't needed for this part. The killing could take

place without him watching. He wondered briefly how it would happen. A knife to the gut? The chest?

The throat? How much pain would there be and how long would the unfortunate fellow choke on his

own blood before surrendering to the darkness? Mors despised this sort of work, and yet he knew it was

all he was good for. There was no honor in what they did, no mercy, no questions, and no escape. He'd

spent nearly twenty years in service to the Covenant now, hating every second of it.

His bootpick came free with the added vigor of his hate.

They moved silently in the darkness of the new moon. This was the best time for killing, Mors

had long since learned. Those whose orders they carried out, those wretched souls who were able to

call upon dark magic to do their bidding- the Covenant's Summoners- were at their most powerful when

there was no moon. For these few hours the line between the world of the living and the world of those

beyond became blurred and allowed for what the priesthood called “shadow teleporting.”

Mors knew why he was here, he knew why he had been chosen for this mission. He was known

as a Collector, one of the few people in existence with the ability to touch the ancient relics that the

Covenant dealt with, a curse really, as it had reduced his existence to this...sulking about in the darkest

shadows of the moon to accomplish a thievery of a sacred artifact. He would not be blinded by the

teachings, his quest was not holy or righteous, it was wrong. But it had become clear long ago that he

was alone in this opinion...not that any thought or opinion of a Collector ever mattered to the Covenant

priesthood in the first place.

This was the first time Mors had ever laid eyes on the surfacelands. His people lived in a

kingdom deep underground, shut away from the rest of the world. His eyes were unused to the

brightness of the stars. Underground, they only had fire to give light. He was a long way from his home

temple, but how far, he was uncertain. The Summoners didn't tell them where they were being

teleported or who they were killing, for secrecy reasons, but as soon as Mors had set eyes on the thick,

thorny trees that twisted up into the heavens, he knew he must be somewhere in the Aquarian

Thornwoods. The crudely drawn pictures in the books did not do such beauty justice.

His partner looked to be of Cancerean descent. Mors could tell by his webbed fingers and the

distinctly western accent with which he spoke the Divine tongue. Apparently, Mors was not the only one

far from home. They had never met before this night, and would probably never see each other again

after this. His partner was a Silencer, the one who would be performing the murder. Mors wondered if

the man hated his job as much as he did, wondered if he had been forced into it like he had. Surely no

one wanted to assassinate for a living.

Wordlessly, Mors finished the vertical climb of the tower where their target was asleep and

slipped in through the window.

Candles were still lit, making it far easier to see in the dark interior. There was blood spreading

rapidly over the floor. Two bodies, not one, were lying still on the ground. One was their target. The

other was Mors's partner, who looked as though his skull had been bashed in with a blunt object.

Eleven hells! Aries forbid this would be the one time they'd have an easy job of things.

“Don't move,” a voice hissed in Mors's ear right as a dagger was pressed into his throat. This was

something Mors had never encountered in all his years working for the Covenant. A miscalculation.

Their spies in this castle must have informed the Summoners that the target would be alone, but they

might not have thought about the target having, say, a secret lover.

“You KILLED him!” the voice behind the dagger choked furiously, barely holding back a sob,

“Why?”

“Poor arse killed himself,” Mors corrected, feeling the prick of the knife, “The foolish bastard

broke Covenant law.”

“Give me one reason I shouldn't slit your throat and spill your blood where you stand, foul

priest!”

“You kill me,” Mors replied slowly and threateningly, “and you ain't only dooming yourself,

you'll doom every miserable wretch in this castle. Every tiny thing you hold dear we'll take. You can't run

from us. You can't hide.” The dagger at his neck began to shake as his assailant took in his words. He

seized the opportunity, knocking away the weapon and turning to face the other person.

It was a woman.

Well, technically, that was untrue. She was Aquarian and that meant she had no gender, but

seeing as she was pregnant, she currently presented all the features of a typical female. Aquarians were,

without a doubt, the fairest of the eleven races, Mors thought as he examined her. She had hair so

blonde it was almost silver and her eyes were alluring and blue like sapphires. She wore only a thin

nightshirt and had one arm hastily thrown across her breasts and the other clutching her swollen

abdomen. Proud. Defiant.

Pity rose in Mors's chest, and it surprised him because he no longer thought himself capable of

such feeling. How many deaths had he seen? How many missions had he been on? Too many to count.

The Black Priests have eyes everywhere, that was the common saying. But Mors was one of those pairs

of eyes, and he knew at this moment that no one had eyes on him.

It was his own weakness that caused him to reach out and cup her face. Frozen in terror, she

allowed him to lift a single, crystal tear from her cheek. In his own country, children were so very rare

and precious. The fact that this Aquarian was so obviously carrying life had been enough to still his

blade.

“By the holy eleven, yer a pretty little thing, ain't ya? If you can find it in yer heart to trust the

words of a devil like me, then I'll make a promise to ya,” he told her. Wet eyes blinked up at him. Such

agonizing sorrow in those depths, sorrow that Mors was responsible for, no matter how indirectly.

“Don't be speaking of what you saw here on this night, girl, to any living soul, and we won't return for

you. However, the moment yer silence is broken...you'd best be right with yer god, Aquarian.”

When he released her and their trance-like state was broken, she sank to her knees, utterly

defeated. Shocked perhaps, unable to think or breathe.

Far from the comforting type, Mors left her in her corner. He picked up the limp body of his

partner and put him over his shoulder. Blood continued to ooze onto the floor. Afterward, Mors went to

the dead body of the target and searched him. He found what he had come to collect. A golden scroll.

He'd only ever seen one relic before this, the one in the possession of his own people. The sword. He

knew this scroll must have some sort of amazing power or dark secret, it was the only reason the

Covenant would interest themselves in it. Mors was loathe to place another powerful relic into the

hands of those who he knew would use its magic to tighten their suffocating hold over the eleven

kingdoms. He wished he could say it was his conscience that caused him to hesitate, but in truth it was a

more primal part of him.

To hell with their rules.

He handed the scroll to the woman, the Aquarian, that had been the target's lover. As Mors had

suspected, she was able to touch it without it burning her skin. She was the same as he was, cursed,

unknowingly trapped in the tendrils of dark and twisted magic.

And that was it. Done. Over. Mors the Clantraitor, Mors the Mad, Mors the Manslayer, all that

he was and would be, with that single action, had sealed his own fate.

*

It is told in the lost scriptures that the Lord of the Heavens once had twelve children. Upon

reaching adulthood, the Lord presented each child with a part of the planet as a gift. To his eldest son,

ambitious and adventurous Aries, the lord presented the gift of the planet's fiery underworld. To his

eldest daughter, compassionate and clever Cancer, the Lord gave the planet's deepest oceans. To the

following son, loyal and loving Libra, the lord gave the densest jungles. To calm and cautious daughter,

Capricorn, the tallest mountains. To trustworthy and tough son, Taurus, the arid deserts. To peaceful

and passionate daughter Pisces, the flowing riverlands. To alluring and androgynous son, Aquarius, the

lush thornwoods. To strong and skillful son, Sagittarius, the vast pinewoods. To gentle and generous son,

Gemini, the icy tundra. To voluptuous and vivacious daughter, Virgo, the fertile plains. To secretive and

shrewd daughter, Scorpio, the swampy boglands. And finally, to the youngest son, Leo, who was doted

on the most, the Lord gave the very sun.

The other eleven siblings soon became jealous of Leo's gift and sought to steal it from him. They

raised their armies and together burnt Leo's kingdom to the ground. They locked Leo in a crystal prison

from which he could never escape. Then, each sibling took a piece of the sun for himself, weakening its

light until there was only darkness. Enraged by the actions of his children, the Lord closed the gates of

heaven to them forever.

With the power of the heavens lost to them, the eleven siblings and their descendants were

forced to remain shackled to the desolate and dark planet for all eternity. Desperate to cling to their

immortality, each sibling imparted his piece of the sun to a close friend when death was near. These

chosen ones became the first Oracles, the first eleven humans to possess the holy relics.

A devoted group of knights from each kingdom swore to dedicate their lives to the protection of

the Oracles. They formed a brotherhood, spilling their blood in oath to this servitude, and hence became

known as the Covenant, guardians to all that remained holy.

But with such power, corruption is inevitable. Even the purest of intentions become tainted,

hearts turn, and noble vows are lost. Strife grows, secrets multiply, and soon, the story of Leo's gift and

life before the darkness was forgotten to all.

Chapter 1

Dion’s life began on the bleak slopes of the Virgin plains, in the small town of Hajjie. At least,

that was as far back as he could remember. He was just a farmboy then, running with the other children

through the dusty fields. Dirty feet. Stains. The air was open and clean there. The stars were always

visible. If he’d known he’d only be spending that small, innocent portion of his childhood in that place,

perhaps he could’ve better committed it to memory.

Hajjie was located at the very easternmost tip of the Virgin Plains, at the point where the

farmland blended together with the Capricornian Mountains and with the Aquarian Thornwoods. Hajjie

was the last settlement before the land morphed into lifeless wastelands known to most as “The Great

Decay.” They were cursed lands, the townsfolk said. The land could not be tilled or mined, nothing grew,

no water flowed. The Great Decay was an evil place. The villagers did not go into the Decay. It was said

that the air was poisonous to breathe and if you strayed too close you would go mad and end up taking

your own life. Dion could remember running with the neighbor's daughter to where the last stalks of

grass grew and where the black earth began. They would tempt fate by putting toes across the line,

simply to see what would happen. Standing there upon the rift and looking over the dead hills would fill

Dion with an indescribable sadness. The lonely wind would blow their hair and whistle in their ears, as if

the land itself was crying. They never returned poisoned or mad, but the terrible sadness was more than

enough to keep Dion from venturing any further.

Dion realized quickly that he was different than the other boys. Always smaller. Always weaker.

He didn't look like a Virgin. His light complexion and fair hair set him apart from the dark-haired, tanned-

skinned people of the village. His mother assured him that he was perfectly normal, but Dion could see

that he did not belong, and occasionally the townsfolk would whisper about it.

Revelations came in his seventh year, toward the end of the lunar harvest. It was said

sometimes that water and ice fell from the sky in other parts of the world, but there on the Virgin plains

the seasons were judged by the temperature and amount of moonlight. After months of summer and

strong moonlight there was much work to be done in the fields. Everyone had to prepare for the

darkness...for the winter. No one was happy to see the soldiers.

They were not Virgin soldiers, but the small town on the border was used to the presence of the

Aquarians, as their territory occasionally eclipsed the village. They rode in on their pure, white unicorns,

long hair flowing behind them. They could be mistaken for lovely maidens, if not for the armor and bows

slung across their backs. They were a genderless people. Mysterious. Neither male nor female,

considered to be the fairest of all the races. But they kept mostly to their forest, perhaps too afraid to

wander beyond the safety of their thornwoods and into the lands of Men. Their beauty was cold and

severe as the moonlight itself. Their sharp features and petite stature made a stark contrast to the

rounded faces and features of the native Virgins. The small group rode up to the house. Dion noticed

there were two clad in black cloaks. They were Black Priests, “justice” of the Covenant, harbingers of

punishment and death.

“Come here, Dion,” his mother had ordered him in a fearful whisper. Her hands clutched at him

painfully tight as the Aquarian soldiers trotted up to them. Their eyes were pale blue like starlight and

their faces were painted to accentuate their beauty.

“Hail, she-Virgin,” the first of them dismounted. He spoke neither in Virgin nor Aquarian. He

chose to address Dion's mother in the stiff and formal Divine tongue. He was young and utterly flawless,

like a goddess clad in mail.

“Sykios of Rosewood,” Dion heard his mother hiss.

“You know of me, she-Virgin?” the Aquarian's delicate eyebrows rose, “then you must know

why I am here.”

“You can't have him,” her hands gripped Dion's shoulders.

“He is not yours. He belongs to Aquaria, and we have come to take him back,” there was a note

of pity in the Aquarian's voice. After he spoke, the two Black Priests who had ridden with the soldiers

stepped forward, metal chains clinking ominously.

Dion could still remember his mother screaming as they tore him from her grasp and clamped

the iron shackles around her wrists. If he’d known that he would never see her again, perhaps he might

have fought just a little harder.

eternal shadow by nicole cambridge - s3.amazonaws.com · you'll doom every miserable wretch in...

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