Legend of the Gods is an original fantasy novel, packed with gods, dragons and magic. In the Three Nations, magic is outlawed, with severe punishment for those who disobey. When her brother’s magic emerges, Alana will do anything to protect him from the Stalkers that hunt them. Meanwhile, disgraced warrior Devon must choose between loyalty to the empire and his desire to protect the innocent. You can find my other books on my website.
A century since the departure of the Gods, the Three Nations are now united beneath the Tsar. Magic has been outlawed, its power too dangerous to remain unchecked. All Magickers must surrender themselves to the crown, or face imprisonment and death.
Alana's mundane life has just been torn apart by the emergence of her brother's magic. Now they must leave behind everything they’ve ever known and flee – before the Tsar’s Stalkers pick up their trail. Tasked with hunting down renegade Magickers, the merciless hunters will stop at nothing to bring them before the Tsar’s judgement.
As the noose closes around Alana and her brother, disgraced hero Devon finds himself at odds with the law when he picks a fight with the wrong man. The former warrior has set aside his weapons, but now, caught between the renegades and the Stalkers, he is forced to pick a side – the empire, or the innocent.
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“What the hell is that?” Quinn pulled hard on the reins of his horse, bringing the beast to a halt mid-trot.
His men did the same, milling about him as they turned to stare in the direction their lieutenant was looking. Only a few had magic to sense the disturbance radiating from the forest to the west, but they were experienced enough to recognise the look on their lieutenant’s face.
Closing his eyes, Quinn allowed the waves of magic to slide through him. They pulsed on the air, dark and unnatural, a power from another time. This was no rogue Magicker, no wild magic. It was something else—dark magic, primal and raw, powerful.
He looked around at his men, sharing glances with the few gifted with magic. He could see the question in their eyes. Something was happening in the forest of Sitton, something against not just the laws of the Tsar, but those of the earth itself. Dark magic was a perversion of the natural world; it was their duty to investigate its sudden appearance.
Yet the detour would mean abandoning their hunt for the rogue Magicker, wherever the renegade had vanished. Quinn still wasn’t sure whether they were on the right path. The confrontation with Devon had left him angry and humiliated, and still no closer to finding their quarry. He wished he’d pressed the man more. If he’d managed to goad Devon into drawing his hammer, Quinn would have slain him where he stood. He could have killed him regardless, of course, but it would have shamed Quinn to kill an unarmed man—even one so cowardly as Devon.
Still, with their only lead a dead-end, Quinn had pushed his men onwards in the hope they would stumble upon the rogue Magicker. He had sensed nothing of their prey since leaving the capital, but Quinn’s instincts told him they were close to something.
Now, though, dark magic was radiating from the forest. Was this something to do with the Magicker, or something else entirely? He had sensed no Earth magic amongst the dark, as he had back in Ardath, but that did not mean their quarry was not involved. He had heard rumours of the forest before; perhaps the Magicker had awoken something in the old ruins.
Quinn shook his head. His gut told him two outpourings of magic in two days could not be coincidence. Swearing under his breath, he turned to his men.
“Vim, take three men,” he said, pointing at his deputy. “Continue north along the Gods Road until the roads merge again, then follow the forest road back towards Ardath.”
“What about you, sir?” his deputy asked.
“The rest of us will retrace our steps and take the other road. With luck we’ll meet tomorrow near the ruins of Sitton.”
His deputy nodded and saluted quickly. “Good luck, sir.”
Quinn tightened his grip on the reins. A breath of wind stirred around him, picking up dust and lifting it into the air. He smiled as the magic swelled in his chest, feeding strength back to his weary muscles.
“And to you, deputy.”
With that, Quinn turned his horse and kicked the tiring beast into a gallop. The roar of hooves chased after him as his eight remaining men followed suit.
“How goes your brother’s teaching, Alana?” Her father’s voice was cold, echoing from the stone walls.
Alana shivered, looking up into his weathered face. “He’s…progressing, father.”
“Progressing? His birthday is in two months. Will he be ready, or not?” He spoke the final words in a hard, grating tone that left no doubt such an outcome was not an option.
She nodded quickly, raising her hands in deference. “He will be ready, I swear it, Father.”
“Good.” As quickly as it had come, her father’s anger vanished. “He will achieve great things, one day. As will you, Alana. When the two of you are ready.”
Rising from his chair, he wandered around the dining table and gestured for her to stand. “Come, walk with me, my daughter.”
Alana smiled, the weight lifting from her chest as she accepted her father’s hand. Together they wandered out into the courtyard. Snow was falling over the roses, but her father led her around the covered walkway, her hand still in his.
“What are your dreams, Alana?” he asked quietly, his eyes on the white frosting covering the garden.
Glancing up at him, Alana frowned. “To make you proud, Father,” she replied quickly.
A smile appeared on his bearded face. “Ever the dutiful daughter,” he murmured. A light appeared in his blue eyes as he spoke again. “Now, the truth.”
Unbidden, the words bubbled up from the depths of Alana’s soul. “To be free.”
Laughter whispered through the courtyard as her father led her towards the exit. Between the great columns holding up the roof, she glimpsed a shadow approaching. Something inside her screamed a warning, but in the dream, Alana walked on, oblivious. A cold crept through the scene, blurring its edges, as the couple stepped into the doorway leading outside.
Alana staggered to a stop as she found herself staring into Quinn’s hard brown eyes.
“Are you ready, Alana?”
“No!” Alana screamed, sitting bolt upright on the forest floor.
Gasping, she stumbled to her feet, hands scrambling in the darkness for her blade.
“Alana, stop, what’s wrong?” A voice came from nearby, familiar yet strange.
Steel rasped on leather as she found her sabre and drew it. “Stay back!” she warned, spinning in the voice’s direction.
“Alana, stop, it’s Kellian!”
Light blazed suddenly in the darkness as someone tossed fuel on the dwindling fire. Flames danced, casting their glow on the man’s face. She let out a long sigh as she recognised Devon’s friend. Lowering her sabre, she slumped back to the ground, her breath still coming in ragged gasps.
“Are you okay?” Kellian whispered, moving closer.
She shook her head and lifted a palm towards him. “Just give me a second,” she panted.
He nodded. Turning away, he crouched beside the fire and stocked it. After a moment, Alana moved across the clearing to sit beside him. She let out a sigh as she felt the fire’s heat on her cheeks. Her brother lay nearby, and she reached across to tuck the blanket firmly around him. Brushing a curly lock of black hair from his face, she watched him sleep. His eyes flickered at her touch but did not open. A moan built in her throat, but she pushed it down, willing herself to be strong.
Silently, she cursed her decision to venture off the Gods Road. She had been so confident they could keep in touch with the path, but within half an hour they’d become horribly lost. With the path nowhere in sight, they had stumbled on through the growing darkness. For a moment, Alana had thought them saved when they’d found the clearing. Then the red eyes had appeared in the shadows of the trees, and the vines had come for them, knocking Braidon unconscious before either of them had a chance to fight back. Only pure instinct had saved Alana, her sabre sliding into her hand before she even understood the danger threatening them.
Now, with Devon and Braidon unconscious, she crouched in the same clearing and stared at the silent trees. Alana hadn’t left her brother’s side since Devon smashed the demonic tree, but afterwards Kellian had ventured close enough to inspect them. Apparently several of the trees lining the clearing had dark faces etched into their bark. She expected them to reawaken at any moment, but there was little they could do if the trees threatened again. Between herself and Kellian, they could barely lift the massive hammerman—let alone her brother.
Instead, Kellian had lit a great fire in the centre of the clearing, and together they had sat down to wait out the night. She must have fallen asleep, because she could already see the first light of morning creeping through the treetops.
Her gaze shifted to Devon’s motionless figure. Sleep had softened the rugged features of his face, the furrows in his forehead vanishing, the scowl replaced by a slight smile. Beside his massive shoulders and muscular arms, her brother seemed but a child, precious and fragile. She cursed herself again for ever bringing him to this place.
She flinched as a low groan came from across the clearing. Reaching for her sabre, she made to stand, her eyes going to the trees, before the sound came again. Across the fire, Devon shifted and sat up, his amber eyes blinking in the shadows. His gaze shifted from Kellian to Alana, before returning to his friend.
“We beat the bastards, then?”
Kellian chuckled. He reached down to pick up the warhammer and handed it to Devon. “You beat them, old friend.”
“Good.” Taking the hammer, Devon placed it beside him and held his hands out to the fire. “No wonder I’m starving. We got anything for breakfast?”
Alana’s heart lurched in her chest as another moan came from her brother. She scrambled across to him as he sat up, his brow creased with confusion.
“Alana? Where are we—” He broke off as she smothered him in a hug.
“I’m sorry,” she said at last, breaking away. She quickly wiped a tear from her eye. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I think,” he replied, rubbing his head where the vine had struck him. “What happened…” He jerked as he looked around and saw the faces on the trees, lit now by the light of day. “The trees!”
“It’s okay,” Alana said quickly, resting a hand on his shoulder. “They seem to be…asleep,” she finished lamely.
“Scared, more like,” Devon said gruffly.
“Whatever they are, your breakfast will have to wait,” Kellian said, standing. He gestured at the trees. “I don’t know about you, but now you’re both awake, I’d rather not stick around in this place.”
Alana nodded. “Let’s get out of here.”
There was no telling which direction they’d come from, but Kellian climbed a tree and was able to pick a path northwest towards the river. So long as they kept to that direction they would eventually stumble onto the road. It would take another day to leave the forest by those paths, but with Quinn and his Stalkers behind them, no one was enthusiastic about heading back the way they’d come.
They walked on through the morning in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. When they finally reached the road, the four of them exchanged brief glances, relief etched into their faces. Turning to the north, they continued on, determined to escape the forest as soon as physically possible. Kellian dug into a small pack as they walked, coming up with a few strips of salted jerky. The scraps were passed around without speech. With Alana’s meagre supplies lost in the battle with the trees, there wouldn’t be any more food until they left the forest.
The day dragged on. The sun rose high above the treetops, but its light did not penetrate beneath the canopy. Shadows clung to the path, and when they breathed there was ice in the air. As the sun crept towards the horizon, Alana’s breath began to cloud before her face. Shivering, she pulled her cloak more tightly around her, and marched on.
Only as the light began to fade did Alana glimpse the first traces of the city that had once been Sitton. Fallen stonework, shaped by human hands, appeared amongst the trees. She glimpsed a wall to their left, its surface turned green by moss, then tripped as the path beneath her feet changed to stones, a groove worn into the rock catching her boot. Mounds of broken tiles lay amongst the trees, and as she looked more closely, she realised the path was now threading its way through former buildings, their roofs long gone, their walls crumbling.
“Sitton,” she breathed.
Up front, Devon nodded. “All that remains,” he murmured, glancing back. “I’ve come this way before. There’s a temple ahead. Its walls are mostly intact, they should offer some protection. We’ll camp there for the night.”
True to Devon’s word, the temple was in better condition than many of the other buildings, though a massive tower had fallen across half the structure, burying everything beneath a mound of stones. The remaining three walls stood strong, offering their ancient protection from the elements. Devon led them to a doorway in one of the walls, its wooden arch long since rotted away.
Alana paused in the doorway as the others moved ahead, her eyes scanning the interior of the temple. There was no sign of broken tiles or roofing material, and she guessed this section must have once been a courtyard within the temple’s inner sanctum. Several trees grew in its centre, their long branches stretching high above the height of the walls. She stared at their trunks but could see no sign of the demonic faces.
Allowing herself to follow the others into the temple courtyard, Alana scanned the walls. Moss and lichen covered the stones, but she could just make out the old etchings in their surface—of lightning bolts and spiralling trees. The symbols meant the temple had once been dedicated to Antonia and Jurrien—the Gods of Earth and Sky.
Kellian and Devon moved quickly about the courtyard, gathering branches and kindling for a fire. A tinderbox appeared from Kellian’s bag and within minutes they had a fire burning against the far wall of the courtyard. Taking her brother by the hand, they moved across to join them, savouring the warmth on their faces. Silently the four of them sat round the fire, eyes to the flames.
“What were those things?” It was Kellian who finally broke the silence.
Alana shuddered. Her skin crawled where the vines had touched her, their inexorable strength threatening to drag her to her death. She recalled the red eyes, glowing through the dark, the gaping maws opening to greet her. Shivering, she pushed the memory away.
“Nothing I’ve ever seen,” Devon mused, his voice strangely calm. The hammer lay beside him, his hand rested on its haft. “Something evil.”
“Really?” Alana snapped. She looked up to find the eyes of the other three on her. Her shoulders slumped and she shook her head. “Sorry. I’m just…” she trailed off, unable to put words to the terror that had lodged in her soul.
“Afraid,” Kellian finished for her. His eyes flickered around the fallen temple. “Are we safe here, do you think?”
“I’ve camped here before,” Devon answered, “when I travelled this way in the past. But those things…who knows how far their darkness reaches.”
Beside her, Braidon shuddered. “I barely saw them. They knocked me down before I knew what was happening.”
“Count yourself lucky,” Kellian murmured. His eyes flickered from Braidon to Alana. “Why did you venture off the path in the first place?”
A shiver swept down Alana’s spine as she glimpsed suspicion in the man’s eyes. They had been behind them on the Gods Road—that meant they’d seen the Stalkers ride past. Reaching down, Alana took a swig from the water skin, buying herself time.
“We stumbled from the path,” she said finally. “It was dark and the path was overgrown. I didn’t realise how lost we were until we found that clearing.”
“What I don’t understand,” Devon said quietly, his eyes flickering down to the hammer at his feet. “Is why the vines fell back from kanker. Your blades barely cut them, but as soon as kanker touched them, they withered away.”
The others looked back at him, unable to offer any answers. Alana was about to ask where the hammer had come from when her ears caught the soft whisper of noise from beyond the walls. Goosebumps tingling on her neck, she rose quickly, waving a hand to silence the others. Clutching at her sword hilt, she crept towards the doorway, eyes fixed on the shadows beyond, ears straining.
Crunch.
This time the noise was unmistakable—the sound of a footstep on stone.
Become a paid subscriber to access this entire series from the start, plus many of the other series I have written! You can even take a free 7 day trial to see if my books are for you.