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Utter blackness. An absence of everything – null existence, a cosmic gulf of nothingness. Kirinos-Halbro, the king who had betrayed his people to the Gualich, drifted without anchor, lost for all eternity in this cosmic void.
After all, he deserved no less, for the karmic bonds of his deeds most foul, clung to him like the stoutest chains forged by the blackest sorcery. But there...in the nothingness, the tiniest flimsiest tendril – a barely visible gossamer thread. The Usurper reached out and grabbed it in hope, pulling himself along. His progress was painfully slow, perhaps centuries, aeons – but there was no conception of time here. In the infinite distance, he saw an infinitesimal glimmer of light – his soul.
Threads of Fate: Book Two Teaser
Destiny Awakens
Nogunata, shaman to the Sha-Sahan of the Red Scorpions had no eye for the striking colours and beauty of the early dawn sky. He muttered a curse as he glanced back at the grey drab tent he had just emerged from.
It had been a long vigil. Atalia, the youngest of the Sha-Sahan’s wives had gone into labour with the setting of the sun the previous day, yet the child had stubbornly refused to emerge.
Custom demanded the shaman’s presence at all birthings. It was a rather onerous task for the Sha-Sahan, Akihiro, had ten wives who had blessed him with thirty-five children.
Nogunata was old. The wrinkled ones among the Red Scorpions remembered him as shaman to Akihiro’s grandfather. But his tenure as shaman to the leaders of the Scorpions reached much further back. He had served Akihiro’s great grandfather, and great-great grandfather, and borne witness to countless births, as countless wives had screamed, pushed, and torn their bodies, to deliver yet another squirming, mewling, wrinkled, dark-haired brat into an inhospitable world.
It was his sacred duty, for he had to mark each male babe with the sigil of Tusog – the Blood god worshipped by the Kovari tribes of the Arid Lands – before the severing of the cord attaching the baby to the mother.
The Red Scorpions had no clear line of succession upon the death of the Sha-Sahan. His surviving male children of sixteen summers or above had to undergo dread horrors in honour of Tusog, to determine their readiness to succeed their sire. The lone survivor became Sha-Sahan.
Wearily, Nogunata moved away from the tent. He pushed his fists into his lower spine and stretched his back, grimacing and groaning in pain as his ancient bones cracked liked dry twigs.
The early dawn light bathed the concentric circles of tents within the palisaded enclosure. Akihiro’s large red-dyed tent– the colour bleached by the hot sun and the elements, stood at the centre encircled by the tents of his many wives. The outer circle contained the tents of his elite warriors and their wives.
A wailing scream came from grey tent. Nogunata’s practiced ears detected a sigh of relief as the scream tailed off. “Praise be to Tusog,” he mouthed to himself. The stubborn brat had finally deigned to emerge. Spinning on his heel, he hurried back to the tent.
Atalia lay on her back on the blood-soaked hides, her knees bent, legs spread, and body wracked with pain. A helper, an elderly woman in a thin goat-skin dress knelt by her head, mopping her sweat-sheened brow with a soft cloth. Another, knelt by her feet cradling the tiny figure that had brought her so much pain.
All three women looked up as the shaman pushed open the flap and re-entered the tent. The other two quickly averted their gazes, not wishing to meet the dark-eyed stare of the shaman for it was said he had the power to bind the souls of those who looked him in the eye. Atalia believed no such nonsense, meeting Nogunata’s gaze as he moved toward her.
“Well?” Nogunata barked. His voice a hoarse whisper, courtesy of taking an arrow through the throat as a young man. The shaft, miraculously hadn’t killed him, but affected his speech. “Is it a boy child?”
The woman holding the child nodded. “It is High One,” she whispered.
Atalia felt her flesh crawl as the tall skeletal shaman knelt and took the baby from the helper.
Nogunata placed the new-born – umbilical cord trailing, on a relatively clean section of the hides, and drew a small dagger. He touched a finger-tip to the blade, closed his eyes and concentrated. The blade grew red hot, though the hilt remained cool to the touch. Whispering a short incantation to Tusog, he carefully traced the Blood god’s mark on the babe’s forehead.
New-born flesh sizzled. Expecting a wail of pain from the affronted infant, Nogunata’s brow lifted in surprise as the only reaction was a slight tightening around the eyes. He took a sharp intake of breath and his eyes widened, as the infant’s tiny clenched fists spasmed open and what appeared to be a blood clot spilled from his left hand.
Atalia lifted her head, concern in her eyes as she looked at the shaman. “What is it? she asked. What’s wrong with my baby?”
“Nothing,” Nogunata replied. “Your baby is strong. Tusog favours him and he will be a mighty leader.” Rising to his feet with some effort, his knees creaking, he glanced at the nearest helper. “I am finished here, do your work and cut the cord.”
Nogunata spun on his heel and walked out of the tent his heart beating erratically in his chest, as he moved towards the Sha-Sahan’s tent to inform him he had another boy-child and possible heir.
But what he had just witnessed had changed everything. Every shaman in the Arid Lands was familiar with the prophesy that had been kept alive through the ages and passed down the generations through word of mouth. The words were seared into Nogunata’s mind.
Persevere and bear the endless years of hardship with dignity, people of the Arid Lands, for your day will dawn. A boy-child will emerge from the warmth of his mother’s womb clutching a blood clot in his left fist. The scorching of his new-born flesh with Tusog’s mark will draw little more than a flicker. The child who doesn’t feel pain will unite the Kovari under one banner, and lead them from the Arid Lands into green, verdant lands of plenty. The Blood god will once again walk among his people. The soft-skinned unbelievers will drown in lakes of blood, and the palaces and castles of the arrogant mighty torn down. The children of Tusog will wipe their feet on silk sheets and take their pleasure with soft-skinned wives and daughters of Kings and Emperors.
Nogunata grunted, shaking his head in bemusement. With the knowledge accrued over his uncommonly long life span, he had in his arrogance, considered himself all-knowing, and had been vehemently opposed to the union between Akihiro and Atalia.
Atalia was a Lohani; one of the smaller tribes of the Arid Lands. The Lohani, generally despised for their weakness were sneeringly called the Slithering Worms by other Kovari. This arose from one of their Sha-Sahan’s crawling on his belly in supplication, after losing a battle.
Fed up with constant raids from larger, stronger tribes, and forced to pay tributes, which left the Lohani on the verge of starvation, their Sha-Sahan, Orghut sought an alliance with the Red Scorpions.
Orghut was a squat, bow-legged ugly man, and his single wife no less so. Not favoured by Tusog, he had sired only two children. A son, Orfas, who inherited his parents’ looks, and a daughter, Atalia.
Atalia was an uncommon beauty, tall and slender of limb among the short, squat, wide-hipped Kovari women. With little else of value, Orghut had offered Atalia’s hand in marriage to seal the alliance. Akihiro had taken one look at her long dark hair, shinning dark eyes and lithe limbs and was instantly besotted.
Nogunata had been against the entire enterprise for he believed the Lohani had nothing to offer and would be a drain on the Scorpions. He viewed the proposed marriage with distaste; the clearly inferior blood of Orghut’s line would taint the Scorpions. He recalled his conversation with Akihiro.
“She is of inferior stock, my Sha-Sahan. Tusog’s eyes! You only have to look at the father and mother. And she won’t give you strong male heirs. She’s all skin and bone, and those narrow hips are not
meant for childbirth.”
But Akihiro wouldn’t be dissuaded. “I value your counsel and wise words, Nogunata. But my mind is made up. I will form an alliance with the Lohani, for the strong shouldn’t prey on the weak, and after all, are we not all Kovari? As for Orghut’s daughter, she fires my blood like no woman has for a long time, and I will take her into my tent.”
Nogunata had tried to protest further, but Akihiro cut him short, his eyes darkening in anger. “No more, Shaman! It shall be as I have said.” Then his tone softened. “And don’t worry about my heirs, for I have other wives who have given me strong robust sons, and if Tusog pleases, others will surely follow.”
As the spear-wielding warriors guarding the Sha-Sahan’s large tent parted to let him through, Nogunata had to concede he had been wrong. The union he had so vehemently opposed had produced the great child of prophesy. And when the child grew into a man, he Nogunata, would be there to guide him to his and the Kovari’s destiny.
Acknowledgements and a Word from the Author
www.facebook.com/ollieodebunmiauthor
www.epicanthologies.com
A big thank you to my test readers Sam Hough and Julie Fox. Their encouragement and enthusiasm for my work helped keep me going in the days when my mind went blank, and the muse deserted me. Not to mention their invaluable input in helping me develop some of my characters.
My gratitude to Fiona Jayde of www.fionajaydemedia.com for her stupendous cover design.
And of course, a big nod to my main influences: Karl Edward Wagner and David Gemmell, two wonderful epic fantasy authors who are sadly no longer with us.
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I hope you enjoyed reading Verge of Darkness – Book one of the Threads of Fate, as much as I enjoyed writing it. I would be grateful if you could take the time to leave a review. Thank you very much!
Keep an eye out for details of SIEGE! – Book two of the Threads of Fate.
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