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  Praise for

  The Death Wizard Chronicles

  “Melvin shows his literary mastery as he weaves elements of potential and transformation; his tale dances among literal shape shifters and more subtle powers of mind.”

  —Ann Allen, The Charlotte Observer

  “Adult Harry Potter and Eragon fans can get their next fix with Jim Melvin’s six-book epic The Death Wizard Chronicles . . . Melvin’s imagination and writing equal that of J.K. Rowling, author of the fantastically popular Harry Potter series, and Christopher Paolini, author of Eragon and Eldest. Some of his descriptions—and creatures—even surpass theirs.”

  —The Tampa Tribune

  “Jim Melvin’s Death Wizard Chronicles crackle with non-stop action and serious literary ambition. He has succeeded in creating an entire universe of interlocking characters—and creatures—that will undoubtedly captivate fans of the fantasy genre. It’s a hell of a story . . . a hell of a series . . .”

  —Bob Andelman, author of Will Eisner: A Spirited Life

  “Jim Melvin is a fresh voice in fantasy writing with a bold, inventive vision and seasoned literary style that vaults him immediately into the top tier of his genre. The Death Wizard Chronicles . . . is scary, action-packed and imaginative—a mythic world vividly entwining heroes, villains and sex that leaves the reader with the impression that this breakthrough author has truly arrived.”

  —Dave Scheiber, co-author of Covert: My Years Infiltrating the Mob and Surviving the Shadows: A Journey of Hope into Post-Traumatic Stress

  “Action-packed and yet profound, The DW Chronicles will take your breath away. This is epic fantasy at its best.”

  —Chris Stevenson, author of Planet Janitor: Custodian of the Stars and The Wolfen Strain

  “Triken truly comes alive for the reader and is filled with mysteries and places that even the most powerful characters in the book are unaware of. That gives the reader the opportunity to discover and learn with the characters . . . Melvin has added to the texture of the world by integrating Eastern philosophies, giving the magic not only consistency but depth. He has worked out the details of his magical system so readers can understand where it comes from and how it works.”

  —Jaime McDougall, the bookstacks.com

  The Series, Thus Far:

  Novels

  Book 1: Forged in Death

  Book 2: Chained by Fear

  Book 3: Shadowed by Demons

  Book 4: Torn by War

  Book 5: Blinded by Power

  Book 6: Healed by Hope

  Short Stories

  Torg’s First Death

  The Black Fortress

  Rise of the Sun God

  (Coming 2014)

  Healed by Hope

  Book 6 of The Death Wizard Chronicles

  by

  Jim Melvin

  Bell Bridge Books

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or locations is entirely coincidental.

  Bell Bridge Books

  PO BOX 300921

  Memphis, TN 38130

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-61194-566-9

  Print ISBN: 978-1-61194-559-1

  Bell Bridge Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.

  Copyright © 2014 by Jim Melvin

  Printed and bound in the United States of America.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  We at BelleBooks enjoy hearing from readers.

  Visit our websites

  BelleBooks.com

  BellBridgeBooks.com

  ImaJinnBooks.com

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Cover design: Debra Dixon

  Interior design: Hank Smith

  Photo/Art credits:

  Sword (manipulated) © Paul Fleet | Dreamstime.com

  People (manipulated) © Atahack | Dreamstime.com

  Desert (manipulated) © Ramzi Hachicho | Dreamstime.com

  :Mhhy:01:

  Dedicated to

  my mom

  and two dads,

  gone but not forgotten.

  Map

  Author’s Note

  In Book 1 of The Death Wizard Chronicles, the sorcerer Invictus imprisons Torg in a pit bored into the frozen heights of Mount Asubha. After his escape, Torg and several new friends make their way toward Kamupadana, commonly known as the Whore City, where Torg hopes to learn more about Invictus’s plans.

  Meanwhile, Laylah, the sister of Invictus, appears briefly as a sorceress whom Invictus also has imprisoned. Unlike Torg, she has not yet managed to escape. In fact, she has been her brother’s captive for more than seventy years.

  In Book 2, the tale is told of Laylah’s escape. Under the guidance of the demon Vedana, she flees to Kamupadana, where she eventually meets and is healed by Torg. Along with the Asēkhas, Torg and his companions flee into the wilderness, with Mala, a.k.a. the Chain Man, and an army of monsters in hot pursuit.

  In Book 3, Torg, Laylah, and their companions work their way west toward Duccarita, known as the City of Thieves. There they destroy an evil being that uses the power of its mind to control thousands of slave creatures called the Daasa. Once freed of the evil being’s sway, the Daasa, which number more than 10,000, join with Torg and the others as they continue their journey toward the safety of the White City. Meanwhile, the Asēkhas are ordered by Torg to travel eastward to join in the defense of the fortress Nissaya.

  As Book 3 develops, three great wars begin to take shape: Mala and his army advance toward Nissaya, the druids of Dhutanga prepare to invade the White City, and an army of zombies marches into the desert Tējo, where they encounter the few Tugars who have remained there to defend their own land.

  In Book 4, the zombie army is defeated in Tējo, though at great loss of life to the desert dwellers. The druids also are destroyed, but the Jivitan army that inhabits the White City pays a terrible price. Meanwhile, Mala’s army—led by the bloodthirsty golden soldiers—manages to achieve the unthinkable, surmounting the three great bulwarks that have protected Nissaya for millennia before going on a killing rampage that only a few, including Torg, manage to escape.

  In Book 5, the final war—between Mala’s army and what remains of the Jivitan army of white horsemen—takes place on the Green Plains. At stake? Torg’s life and Laylah’s freedom.

  In Book 6, the epic saga comes to its climactic conclusion.

  Gift of darkness

  “In the desert

  only a fool

  swallows sand

  . . . on purpose.”

  —Old Tugarian saying

  1

  DAWN NEVER ARRIVED. The unnatural darkness rushed over them and hungrily consumed the stars. But on the battlements of Hakam, Ott, and Balak, there was light aplenty. Large quantities of Maōi, worth a fortune times a fortune, had been arranged along the wall walks and set aglow. The milky illumination sprang into the opaque firmament like a spear. Elu guessed that it could be seen for dozens of leagues.

  None among them comprehended the purpose of the blue-black cloud. Certainly this was an event unheard of in all of recorded history, as frightening as it was mysterious. The cloud had surged toward the fortress from the direction of Avici; therefore most saw it as yet
another evil creation of Invictus. But Elu wasn’t so certain. What sense did it make for a Sun God to give birth to darkness?

  The Svakaran wished that Torg, Jord, or Peta were around to shed some light of their own. He hadn’t seen the wizard or Faerie since their encounter at Lake Hadaya, and the ghost-child Peta had since departed the fortress, leaving Elu and Ugga alone. Though the Nissayans had been friendly and even servile, the Svakaran still felt lonely. Recently he had buried his best friend in the world with his own hands; another man he had grown to love was no longer a man; and the rest of his friends—those who still lived—were scattered far and wide. It was enough to make Elu want to cast himself off Hakam.

  The bear nuzzled the Svakaran’s hand with his wet nose. Elu looked at him and offered a sad smile. The beast’s small eyes resembled Ugga’s in eerie fashion, containing the same gentle expressiveness.

  “I wish you could speak,” Elu said. “You always had a way of warming the hearts of those around you. Few have such skill. I miss you so much, my dear friend.”

  The bear snorted, and then to the Svakaran’s surprise stood up on his hind limbs and wrapped his front paws around Elu’s neck. There were gasps and shouts of dismay from nearby knights, but these soon changed to laughter when the bear leaned down and began to lap his companion’s face like an overexcited dog. Elu squirmed and spluttered but lacked the strength to push the beast away. Finally Ugga stopped of his own accord and dropped back down. Then he sat and stared, his long red tongue lolling goofily.

  “You see!” Elu said, wiping a gob of spittle off his face. “Even now you’ve found a way to cheer me up.”

  The bear yawned, laid his snout on the black stone, and fell instantly asleep. Elu studied him for a moment and then resumed his silent stance, staring outward into the pitch darkness. The light from the Maōi created the same effect as a well-lighted room at night; if you looked out a window, you were blind to anything beyond the length of your arm.

  A black knight approached the Svakaran. Essīkka was her name, and earlier she had provided him with a change of clothing and then offered to outfit him in black armor, the latter of which Elu had refused. Ever since, she had hovered nearby, as if assigned to keep watch on him and the bear. But the Svakaran suspected otherwise. When Essīkka raised the visor of her helm, there was a glint in her eye. Before the vines had gotten hold of Elu, his physical appearance had pleased most women. Apparently the return to his original body was not without benefits, even if he wasn’t quite as happy-go-lucky as he used to be.

  “How did you know?” Essīkka said.

  “Know what?” Elu said.

  “That the darkness was coming. You must have known, or you would not have ordered us to display the Maōi.”

  Elu snorted. “I would never order such great knights to do anything. I barely had the courage to ask politely. As for knowing in advance, I can’t lay claim to that. The girl is the one who knows everything. I just did what she told me.”

  “Is the child a witch or demon? One moment I was staring at her, the next she was gone . . . poof!”

  “Whatever she is, bad isn’t part of it.”

  Essīkka removed her helm and placed it in the crook of her arm. Her long black hair swirled in the chilly breeze. Despite her armor and the thick padding beneath it, she shivered and leaned closer to Elu.

  “So many are dead,” she said in a near whisper. “My mother, father, and two of my three brothers were slaughtered by newborns at Nissaya, and my remaining brother never returned from the Green Plains. I am alone in the world, as are many. At least I am unwed and without children. I could not have borne to see my husband, sons, and daughters butchered in such horrible fashion.”

  “I am truly sorry,” Elu said. “For what little it’s worth, I too have lost many who were dear to me.”

  Essīkka removed one of her gauntlets and wiped tears from her eyes. “I am alone,” she repeated, then brushed the side of his face with her damp fingertips.

  Elu did not respond, but neither did he draw away. She was beautiful, after all.

  They stood together above the gate of Hakam and watched as a trickle of people, attracted by the light, entered the fortress and gathered in the courtyard inside the third bulwark.

  “They are standing just a few paces from where the snow giant fell,” Essīkka said. “When the time comes and this evil is no longer, Nissaya would be wise to turn the ‘death area’ into a shrine. But we are too exhausted to consider such things now. The great gates must be repaired and peace restored before we will have the strength to turn to other matters.”

  Elu shivered. The air seemed to grow colder with every breath he took. “I never met Yama-Utu, but Torg spoke highly of him at the Privy Council in Jivita. It was a terrible loss—yet one among many. In just a few weeks, I have seen more horrors than I could have believed possible.”

  “As have I,” Essīkka said. “Yet I have never felt more alive than I do at this moment.”

  Then she leaned forward and kissed Elu on the mouth. When she finally backed away, the Svakaran could see the reflections of Maōi glittering in her irises, which were as black as her hair and skin.

  “You have been long on the wall,” she said. “You must be hungry and tired. Will you accompany me to my chambers? There is a pen nearby that I believe the great bear will find comfortable. I am sure I will be given permission to leave my post for a spell, as long as you are with me.”

  Then she took his hand.

  Elu did not resist.

  2

  PODHANA, SIX THOUSAND Tugars, and one thousand Pabbajja marched tirelessly through the night. Near dawn, they came within ten leagues of Avici, an impressive feat in the new chieftain’s opinion, especially considering that the Homeless People’s legs were shorter than his forearms. Or at least so he guessed. With all that hair, their feet weren’t even visible.

  Much to the large company’s dismay, there was no sunrise. The impenetrable cloud that rushed toward them from the east fell across the sky like a blue-black blanket. If not for the Pabbajja’s magical tridents, the company would have been cast into darkness only demons could have navigated. As it was, the humming glow of the three-tined staffs only provided enough light to see for a stone’s throw beyond the main gathering. Podhana pondered what it would be like to be trapped alone in such darkness. Was this how it felt to be blind?

  Holding his trident like a torch, Bruugash walked over to Podhana. “What is this darkness, Kantaara Yodhas? Has the sorcerer inflicted Triken with further malice?”

  “I don’t believe this is the work of the sorcerer,” Podhana said. “If we’re lucky, it is the opposite. I believe The Torgon has played a role. In the past, I have inhaled my king’s breath. This air smells like Death Energy.”

  “There is Demon Energy as well, blended in with the other,” the Pabbajja overlord said. “Yet I agree with what you say: The cloud does not feel entirely evil. Somehow we are shielded from danger.”

  “Regardless of the cloud’s intent, I will continue toward the Golden City,” Podhana said. “The Tugars need the Pabbajja more than ever. Overlord, will your people light our way?”

  “It would be our honor,” Bruugash said.

  Now the going was slower, as it was no longer wise to run heedlessly, even with the strong bones of Iddhi-Pada beneath their feet. Podhana guessed that it was late morning before the large company stumbled first upon the roaring rage of the Ogha River and then the southern gates of Avici. What they found there amazed Podhana even more than the unnatural darkness.

  3

  AFTER THE BATTLE with the fiends inside the gates of Avici, things quieted down considerably, and Asēkha-Rati finally was able to take a breath. But small numbers of snarling monsters still sprang sporadically from the darkness. Rati counted groups of three, nine, four, seven, nine, and six interspersed with thirty-se
ven loners—all dispatched by the Tugars with their usual efficiency.

  The Svakarans and Bhasurans grew restless, wanting to do something other than guard gates unchallenged from either side. Rati countered by telling the Mahaggatans that they were free to go wherever they chose, even back to the palisade at the base of Uccheda. But the Tugars would not follow. Though Rati still believed it possible that Laylah was trapped inside the edifice, he knew that it would be suicide to attempt to enter a tower that several hundred thousand monsters still surrounded.

  “Help is on the way,” Rati said to them all, not entirely believing it himself, but knowing that additional assistance was their only hope of assaulting the stronghold of the sorcerer.

  Gorlong pounded the tail of his trident on the golden wall walk, casting angry sparks. “The leader of the Kantaara Yodhas speaks the truth,” the Pabbajja said. “Help is on the way, and I sense that it includes a large company of my own people.”

  “We will wait only until dawn,” a Svakaran warlord said.

  Rati shrugged. “I do not presume to command you or your people.”

  All through the night they lingered by the southern gates. There was no shortage of food and wine, as many of the nearby homes and businesses were well-stocked. Rati reluctantly permitted half-a-dozen fires to be built near the banks of the river, where they quickly could be extinguished. But even then, no more of the enemy appeared.

  As morning approached, the fires burned out, and almost everyone went to sleep, some on the wall walk, some on the stairs, and the rest along the base of the bulwark. The Tugars did not sleep, choosing instead to meditate with open eyes, which in many ways was more rejuvenating to their bodies than slumber. In the meantime, they remained alert to anyone who might attempt to accost the company.