The Sword Cuts Deep: A Dark Tale of Fantasy

By Wayne C. Hannis

'Dark Tales of Fantasy' In the end, when Evil Things happen to Good People, there never is a happy ending.
Four tragic tales of classic fantasy, with a touch of horror. A light can shine in the darkness when Evil Things happen to Good People, and it seems like there never is a Happy Ending.
Lives caught in circumstances beyond their control. Innocent lives seized by outside influences that will determine their fate. Lives unacquainted with Evil, changed forever.
Niall Emayn is a blacksmith who just wants to live his life with his family. Until a stranger appears, and hires him to forge a sword. Niall will soon learn how 'The Sword Cuts Deep', as circumstances beyond his control takes hold of his life. Niall will do the unthinkable, as he is changed forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wayne C. Hannis
• Release date: Jun 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005777647

Wayne C. Hannis

Wayne is a writer of Fantasy and Alternative History. He lives in the fantastic realm of the sunny Shuswap Lake in British Columbia, Canada and has called it home since he was a child. While growing up he played along creeks and in ravines, climbed ancient spruce trees and swam in clear fresh-water lakes. So it's no wonder his life is steeped with imaginative magic, and the world he's created has a lore as old as the mountains. Growing up, Wayne played Dungeons and Dragons, while reading authors like David Eddings, Terry Brooks and Piers Anthony, who instilled a love for fantasy in him at a young age. For awhile now Wayne has realized there's something wrong with our world, and has struggled to understand it. Wayne always had a passion for history and has come to think that the history we all have been taught is a lie (as well as most things we are taught) and a our real past has been hidden. Join Wayne as he ventures down those proverbial Rabbit Wholes in search of a lost kingdom.

Book preview

The Sword Cuts Deep

A Dark Tales of Fantasy

When Evil Things happen to Good People,

there never is a Happy Ending.

Wayne C. Hannis

Copyright ©2022 Wayne C. Hannis

©2022 Published by Goblinkind Publications

All Rights Reserved.

Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

Dedication

To: Colin Michael Soucy

My best friend since we were kids.

I wish you were here to read the final story.

The Sword Cuts Deep

A Dark Tale of Fantasy

One soul will grieve with the pain they see,

while another delights in the madness of suffering.

The Soul contains the nature of good and evil within each mind,

the consciousness is a river that runs deep.

As blood brings forth life, so the shedding of blood brings death.

Blood will open the door through the veil where time has no meaning.

-Written somewhere within 'The Ancient Book of Secrets'.

-Author unknown.

Prologue

The darkness was thick, as if the weight of the mountain above him compressed the inky blackness, and it covered him like a blanket. He revelled in the total absence of visible light, embracing it like a second skin. The only sound was a repetitive drip of water onto a stalagmite far away, echoing down the endless passageways. He stepped to the side when he came upon a cluster of glow worms fastened precariously to the high ceiling, with their glistening, caustic secretion hung motionless in long tendrils, waiting for some unfortunate prey to come along.

Nakal Mish'Pachah made his way easily through the subterranean caves, while the natural effulgent heat of the humid rock rose from deep within the world. The dark vision inherent to all underground races enabled him to see the stellate shades of reds, blues and greens that glimmered in symmetrical patterns, radiating from the different degrees of heat within the minerals of the stone. The imperceptible incandescence took on the craggy shapes of the rising ledges in the oval walls, while the concave ceiling of the cavern, and the smooth floor undulated downward, as its surface once rose molten from deep within the core.

His kind had once been the Dokk'alfar clan among the surface Elves, and had lived in the green forests, under the cool radiance of Thebel- The Bright Star. Until the Dokk'alfar clan betrayed their cousins, attempting to sacrifice them to Elotha, The Bright One in Darkness. The Banished One spoke to them through the veil, promising them dominance over the land. The Blood Wars that lasted for hundreds of years was the result. After the defeat of the Dokk'alfar clan, they were exiled for all time into the deep crevasses of the world. Myrkheim the world of darkness would forever be their home. It is the shame of all Trow.

As the blackness took root in their souls, their fear quickly turned into malice. They adapted to the gloomy tunnels in isolation for three thousand years of surface time and became known as the Trow. At first, they huddled hungry for the light, like frightened blind children in dimly lit chambers of bio-luminescence that thrive in the deep recesses of the world. Within a few generations their vision adapted, as they emerged from those dank caves.

The Trow became short in stature, with pale, thin skin like gypsum, and grey hair like ash. Their ears grew larger, enhancing their hearing, so they can detect the slightest echo in the perpetual silence. The magic of the Trow increased with each consecutive generation, so their large, elf eyes reflected their sorcery in light shades of greens, blues and violets. Their slim fingers became sensitive to touch so they can feel the smoothest stone.

His people became feared by all the creatures of the deep, as the Trow created a culture that dominated most of the underground with maliciousness, enslaving most. When the Trow made crusades on those that dwell above, the surface dwellers said they were more beautiful than their cousins, being described as ethereal beings, and their prowess in battle was like a force of nature. They became known as The Black Elves that dwell in perpetual darkness, and held in consternation, remaining an enigma to them.

Nakal Mish'Pachah differed from other Trow, because of an inherited abnormality that still remained in him, when a dark-skinned human assaulted his grandmother. She eventually committed suicide after she gave birth in order for the family to keep their esteem. Nakal never knew what family she was born to.

His mother was shunned her because of her blood and cast her out as a slave to the less prominent families. She eventually unified with a Trow of low standing from a minor house, the Mish'Pachah clan. When Nakal was still young, humans slaughtered his parents when they came into the tunnels. Nakal began to despise his human mutation, thinking his genitors were better off being forgotten.

He grew up at Stroumerth, the Institute of the Arcane arts, in the heart of Myrkheim, the capital city of the Trow. All Trow children study to learn the Black Elf ways of magic, and armed combat under its tall glowing, crystal spires, that illuminated all of Myrkheim in its pale blue light.

Ostracized because of his blood at the school, Nakal had to defend himself constantly. He was larger than all other Trow, which made him a ready target, as his rivals constantly challenged him because of his darker complexion. Nakal didn't have a prominent family to depend on, so early in his life he learned he needed to kill for his very survival at the school. They would have expelled him otherwise, deeming him worthless as a Trow, or just killed him.

Excelling in weaponry and sorcery of all kinds, Nakal put his fellow students to shame. He soon transcended the ways of a Warlock, seeking the knowledge of influential beings throughout the multiverse, and the powers he could gain. His hatred for all humans, and his impure genetics, grew with each passing moment of time.

After graduating with honours from Stroumerth, Nakal unified with Yvorn Sheezric, a Trow female from a lesser family. Devoted to him, his coppery skin didn't seem to matter. Yvorn bore Nakal two sons, Rahere the older, and Cynric the younger. Their skin and hair were as white as their mothers, looking like true Trow. Rahere had skill in crafting