The Fallen Fortress: A War Left Unfinished: Volume 1

By Jeffrey Abercrombie

It has been twenty-five years since the end of what has become known as the Great War. A time of peace and prosperity has reigned in the land of Kashin with past events becoming mere myths and legends in the minds of most with the passing of the years, wanting nothing more but to forget the horrors of war. Peace, however, never lasts forever. A humanoid army led by Kareen, the half-orc, seizes control of a newly built fortress in the north, threatening to unleash an ancient evil long feared by the elfin people.

A group of young would-be adventurers sets out seeking to make a name for themselves, unaware of the special lineage they possess that will draw them deep into the coming conflict, changing them and their lives forever. The fate of an entire country, it seems, may very well rest on their very shoulders when they discover the identity of the true villain behind it all, while Lord Silverwolf attempts to regain his fallen castle. Evil, it seems, does not accept defeat but, instead, hides in the shadows, lurking. It bides its time, growing stronger as it waits for its next opportunity to strike, seeking to finish what it failed to achieve decades earlier.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 5, 2024
• ISBN: 9798887637037

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Prologue

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

Epilogue

The Fallen Fortress: A War Left Unfinished

Volume 1

Jeffrey Abercrombie

Copyright © 2023 Jeffrey Abercrombie

All rights reserved

First Edition

NEWMAN SPRINGS PUBLISHING

320 Broad Street

Red Bank, NJ 07701

First originally published by Newman Springs Publishing 2023

ISBN 979-8-88763-702-0 (Paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89308-002-5 (Hardcover)

ISBN 979-8-88763-703-7 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

When a problem is left without a conclusion, it will inevitably get worse over time. Old wounds tend to fester and ooze as they age, and power, well power, true power can corrupt the very soul.

—Sir Douglas Bunafant, Arch-Mage of North Ridge

Prologue

Sweat trickled down his forehead, narrowly missing his eyes as he sat up straight, frantically trying to catch his breath, his short blond hair wet with perspiration. He glanced around the room and placed his right hand on his broad chest, feeling his heartbeat. The small room was dark, illuminated only by the light of the night's crescent moon that showed through the small bedroom window off to his right. Wiping the sweat with his left hand, he swung his legs out of the small straw-filled bed so that his feet came to rest on the cold wooden floor. He was tall at just over six feet, with broad shoulders and muscular arms from years of working on the family farm. Leaning forward, he took several deep breaths, trying to steady himself.

The dream again. I should be used to it by now, Ian Mcworter thought to himself. He had the same dream frequently throughout most of his seventeen years, but this one was strangely different. He had made it further this time and could sense things, and he could almost still smell the strong, pungent odor of what he could only guess was old rot and decay. Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the dream. He was back and could feel the cold chill in his bones. He was in a long dark gray stone passage thick with spiderwebs near the top of the unkept walls. Slowly and cautiously, he made his way forward, feeling a little lightheaded as though the air was thin, making it difficult to breathe. He was now at the base of a long stairway, and a black mold-like substance now seemed to cover the walls as he acceded. The smell of death grew stronger as he absently braced himself, placing a hand on the wall as he tried to take several deep breaths, nearly gagging as he struggled to slow his heart rate. Then, realizing that he had touched the wall, he looked at his hand. It was covered with black mold, and he wiped it on his britches without thinking. A strange realization hit him then: he knew the passage was dark, but for some reason, he had no trouble seeing what was around him.

Next, he was at the top of the stairs and, for the first time, noticed the silence, no sound, not even from his footsteps. He stopped suddenly, he had been on the staircase many times before, but he had never made it to the top. It opened into a large room, with tapestries covering the walls depicting scenes that he could not quite make out no matter how hard he tried to focus on them. To the left, the far end of the room led outside to a large balcony that looked like part of an old castle wall, and resting at the edge of the wall was a dark, unnatural-looking shape. Ian strained his eyes but could not make out any of its features, but there could be no doubt someone was standing there about forty feet in front of him. Slowly he started to back up, to retreat down the stairway, but he realized that he couldn't move. His heart raced as he dared to take another glance over at the figure. Two red eyes now stared back at him. His heart felt as though it would explode as he felt chills that made his body start to shake uncontrollably.

Come to me, my child. It is your destiny, a cold voice said, sounding as though it came from all around him. He suddenly felt his body hurled back down the staircase, expecting at any second to collide with the wall, but just then, he was sitting back at home in his bed.

Ian took several deep breaths and placed his face in his two hands. It was just a dream, he told himself, not realizing that he had spoken the words aloud. Then, pulling his hands away from his face, he froze. His right hand was covered in black mold, as were his britches, where he had tried to wipe the substance off.

1

The cool gentle breeze that had just recently started to blow was a welcome change from the grueling heat that had been beating down on the two travelers all day long. Shadows had begun to lengthen as the afternoon had worn on, and for hours now, they had been headed toward giant dark gray storm clouds on the horizon, promising relief from the day's heat which was unusual for this late in the fall. Finally feeling a gentle rain, the pair stopped and let it wash over them, refusing to take cover under the thick brush and pine trees lining either side of the well-traveled dirt road.

Shouldn't we be there already? said the shorter, heavyset young man with curly brown hair that was matted to his head from a combination of sweat and rain. His simple light-brown robe was also noticeably damp with moisture in several areas from sweating throughout the day's travel, and his body ached from the ride that he was unaccustomed to. Truth be told, he didn't think the brown and white horse he rode liked him either, having already tried to bite him twice.

Hearing a laugh, Drake Godwin looked over his shoulder toward his companion as he ran his fingers through his nasty-feeling hair. He was tall at just over six and a half feet, with short blond hair and broad shoulders. He wore an old suit of worn brown leather armor that he felt more than a little uncomfortable wearing. Ian Mcwarter chuckled as he said, It's just the heat. He continued looking down at the solid black horse he was mounted on as it took advantage of the opportunity to stop and chew on a small clump of green grass. You would think that getting to the temple in Sterling would be your sole focus with your newfound interest in faith.

Hey, watch it! Drake said. I don't make fun of your beliefs, he said with a stern look on his face that softened to a forced laugh, trying to cover that he had indeed taken offense to his friend's jest.

Laughing, knowing that he had hit a sore spot, Ian asked, So what did that priestess in Edinn do to you anyway?

She opened my eyes, he said quickly. She showed me the world in a way I could never have imagined, where everything is a gift to be treasured.

All right already. I'm sorry I asked, and don't try to recruit me again. Ian warned as he grabbed the reins of his horse.

It's not recruiting. It's—

No, besides, we had better get going while we still have several hours of daylight left, seeing that we can't be that far away, Ian said as he cut his friend off before he could get started.

Drake gently kicked his mount's sides, urging it forward, trying his best not to show that he had his feelings hurt again. You're not going to Sterling just to have a family reunion, are you? he said in an attempt to change the subject as Ian chuckled slightly.

No, just the cousins.

How did I get involved in this anyway? Drake asked, shaking his head slightly.

Maybe because we've known each other since we were seven or eight, Ian answered.

Yeah, that could have something to do with it. What about your brother? Why didn't he come?

Turning a glare at his friend, Ian replied. I ask, but I didn't expect him to come, anyway.

Arrrr! Thump!

What was that? Drake asked as several other cries that were clearly not human could be heard just over the next hill.

Sounds like there is a fight, Ian replied with excitement in his voice as he urged his horse up the path at a gallop.

The pair raced up the hill, Ian's right hand falling to the hilt of his sword that was now firmly in hand. Then, hearing two grunts of pain, they picked up their pace. Topping the small hill, both men brought their horses to an abrupt halt.

A man in long black robes stood about twenty yards away with his hood pulled back, exposing his short, curly dark brown hair. He chanted with mild irritation on his face as three dirty greenish brown-skinned, pig-faced creatures charged toward him.

Drake started forward, fumbling with his mace as he tried to take it off his belt. Ian grabbed his arm by the sleeve and held him back, saying, Just wait.

Two orcs, hideous creatures, lay either dead or seriously wounded on the ground as their three surviving companions tried to surround their prey. Fear showed on the face of one of the creatures as it realized too late that the wizard had completed another spell. He tried in vain to stop as a volley of bright white magical arrows exploded in its face, causing it to drop where it had stood. The wizard ducked as he felt a sphere tip scrape his scalp. Then, he grabbed a dagger from his boot and flung it into his attacker's neck. The orc gurgled as it held its neck, trying desperately to stop the blood flow as it stumbled backward, falling lifelessly to the ground. The wizard stood again, retrieving his staff by merely holding out his hand as the dark, twisted piece of wood gently floated into his grasp. He glared at the last of the pig men, who, after seeing his four companions fall, let out a long growl, exposing its two ivory tusks that struck out from either side of its lower jaw; seeming to have lost its will to fight. It dropped his sphere as he stumbled into the tree line. The orc tripped and fell over some loose stones as it fled into the safety of the trees.

The wizard took two steps forward and knelt on one knee as he began to rummage through the nasty animal hides that the humanoids had used for clothing. After finding only a few copper pieces, he pocketed them, anyway, with a look of disappointment. Then, looking up at the two riders for the first time, both grinned from ear to ear as they began to clap.

Bravo! Drake cheered, whistling several times.

I was beginning to think that those nasty little things would get the best of you, Ian said as he climbed off his horse.

The wizard reached up to touch his stinging wound that had started to trickle a small amount of blood. Then, raising his head, he glared at the young man before his feet even hit the ground. The two men stood expressionless for several seconds before quickly moving toward each other, embracing a half handshake, half hug.

It's been awhile, cousin, Ian told Hector as they backed off a step.

Hector shook his head with a mock hurt expression and said, I can't believe the two of you just sat there while I fought five orcs alone.

Ian took a step back while trying to suppress a laugh as he said, We just didn't want to interrupt your concentration. If they could have beaten you, then the stories I've heard about you could not possibly have been true.

Hector scowled but decided to change the subject as he looked from Ian to Drake. Why are the two of you traveling by land? It would have been faster just to take a boat from the old homestead?

Drake quickly let his gaze fall to the ground as Ian looked at Hector and answered with a sarcastic grin, Someone is afraid of boats.

Drake uncomfortably laughed as he said, So anyway, do you think your other two cousins will meet us there like they said they would?

Are you kidding? You're looking at just about the only two people in the family that are ever on time for anything, Ian replied as he mounted his horse.

Hector smiled as Ian, who was already mounted, helped him up. We will be there before nightfall, and they will arrive anywhere from an hour to a week late as usual. I bet they would even be late for my funeral, the wizard said.

*****

The city of Sterling lay before them. The wealthy and proud city was rich in history and a place where you could find almost anything ranging from fresh fish, crops, meats, fine wines, and hard-to-find items such as exotic spices and silks from several distant countries far off to the west. Ian walked briskly, leading his horse with Hector comfortably mounted on its back. Drake rode a little ways ahead; for the last two hours, as the late afternoon set in, all he had been able to talk about was getting to the city. With his newfound interest in the church, there was no greater excitement for him, and the closer they got, the more his excitement grew. Sterling was the capital city of Keishin and housed the largest temple in the country and not to mention the most influential when it came to government and having sway over its local politicians. Moreover, it was well known that nothing was done in the city without first getting the church's consent.

Many sections of the beautiful city's walls still showed scars from the Great War that had been waged some twenty-five years earlier with discolored and burned stone. The rival nation Kantaluse far across the sea was rumored to be ruled by a wizard named Pogisa, who lived in a floating citadel with his armies of undead and humanoids alike that had laid siege to this land and had brought war to the very gates of Sterling. A massive fleet of ships had landed on the beautiful sandy white beaches just south of the city, spilling forth a legion of Pogisa's nightmarish forces. He had attacked Keishin on two fronts. The first was the city itself, while a second and much larger force landed in Fifenshire Bay on the country's far side, mainly consisting of local farming communities. He intended to sweep quickly across the countryside, eliminating any that would come to the assistance of the capital city. A bold and unforeseen defense had turned back Pogisa's legions before the united group of townsfolk and farmers had ridden to the aid of Sterling. The city had been heavily damaged, but they managed to keep out the invaders.

A wizard named Melachi, who led the city's defense, was killed while in the middle of casting a deadly spell in an attempt to force back the invaders. Since the explosion that killed the wizard, or at least everyone presumed it had, considering no part of him was ever found, the ability to cast magic had been impossible in the area where he was said to have died, which was where the temple now stood. Pogisa ordered his army to retreat as reinforcements arrived and had been relatively quiet ever since, becoming more of a fairy tale to scare young children instead of being considered a real threat.

With Drake leading the way, the trio, still in awe, made their way to the city's east gate. Unlike most cities in Keishin, Sterling had tall walls that extended around the city with large, evenly spaced towers equipped with siege weapons that covered everything except the harbor, which was protected by a standing garrison and a large and widely respected fleet of warships. They approached the gate as many merchants and farmers made their way into the city, buying or selling their various wares at the city's open market held daily in the central square.

On the other side of the raised iron gate was the entrance to the city, where members of the city guard stood. They were dressed in light blue chainmail and armed with spears in hand and short swords strapped at their waist. The man on the left was an older gentleman with a curly mustache and beard that was starting to gray. He stood just outside the entrance questioning everyone before they were allowed to enter. When he had finished looking somewhat irritated at a young man that was doing his best to hold onto a feisty duck that had tried several times to bite him, he turned his attention to the three newcomers as he motioned the man inside.

Reasons for coming to Sterling? he asked gruffly.

Hector, who had been looking up at the gray stone walls that looked even more impressive at their base than they had at a distance standing at least twenty feet high, answered, We are meeting some family members that are supposed to be staying here.

We're here to visit the temple also, Drake quickly added.

Ian tried unsuccessfully to hide a smirk as he looked to Hector, who was in the process, or rolling his eyes as he continued, We're only staying for a couple of days.

The old guard chuckled as he scribbled something on a sheet of parchment that he carried and said, Have a nice stay in our city, and try to make sure that your friend here stays out of trouble.

Ian nodded, knowing that Drake had not been paying attention to what the man had just said as the three entered the gate and walked into the city.

The streets were busy with activity, but there was only about an hour before the market ended and the day's sunset. The sun already hung low in the western sky, and the temperature that had been unusually hot all day for late autumn had already begun to drop, giving some much-welcome relief. They had agreed to take the horses to the stables and proceed directly to the Cozy Old Inn to secure lodging before the market ended for the day and all of the rooms filled up for the night. After paying the stable boy, the three started toward the inn. Drake's pace slowed, however, as he spotted the temple's rooftop off in the distance. While not much could be seen, you could tell that it was indeed a massive structure positioned in the northernmost portion of the city.

Guys, I'll catch you later, Drake said as he started toward the temple. Then, with one final glance over his shoulder, he said, It's why I'm here. With that, he lost himself in the crowd as he headed up the busy street toward his goal.

So why the sudden interest in the church? He has never shown much interest in it or anything else for that matter, Hector said as he noticed Ian's look of slight irritation.

Taking a deep breath, Ian said, I'm still not sure that it's genuine, although I really hope that it is. About a month ago, we went to Edinn. We were at the market when I promised you he fell over on his own two feet.

Well, he has never been the most coordinated person I've ever met, Hector laughed with a smirk.

Shaking his head, Ian continued. A woman who was quick to try and help him up just happened to be part of a church group visiting the city. They immediately started up a conversation and quickly became inseparable. You would think that the way he followed her every move, he was getting something out of it. I was embarrassed for him, but needless to say, he was fully converted when we left three days later and even purchased books from her to take home and study, he said as he took another deep breath.

Sounds like he really wanted to impress her, but maybe she did truly open his eyes, Hector said as he laughed a little seeing Ian's expression of continued disbelief. He has never had any luck with women anyway, has he?

Just be careful, Ian warned. He'll try to recruit you if you're not.

Maybe you should take your own advice, Hector said in a firm tone that caused Ian to hesitate.

He's always been a good friend that I have never had to question. Besides, we have known each other since we were kids, Ian said. I just can't help but believe that it is just an attempt to impress her.

Chuckling slightly, Hector raised an eyebrow as he asked, Is that necessarily a bad thing? After a pause, he continued. Still, those are the ones that change before you know it and tend to become just another blank face on the street. It's no one's fault. Life just tends to send people in different directions."

Now, that's not going to happen. We have been friends for far too long. Let's just get to the inn before the market ends, Ian said, clearly uncomfortable with the direction that the conversation had taken.

Hector hesitated for a moment, opening his mouth only slightly as he whispered, We will see.

A scream behind the two cousins immediately caught the pair's attention. Turning, Ian got a sudden pop in the chest as a very frail-looking short man dressed in a thick dark-gray cloak with a hood pulled over his head covering his face ran into him and fell hard to the ground. Then, with the grace of a cat, he was back on his feet and running before Ian was sure what had just happened, seeing only a gray blur racing into the crowd. Merchants and citizens alike were doing their best to clear a path, trying to get out of the man's way as the shouts of the city guard could be heard as they tried in vain to keep up with the agile thief. Before he managed to get twenty feet away, Hector, who was always quick to act, was beginning to chant. He tossed a sticky piece of spiderweb toward the thief as he began to move his hands in coordination with his chanting. A second later, a sticky weblike substance exploded from his fingertips.

The thief who had risked a glance over his shoulder knew that a spell had just been cast, dove, hitting the ground hard. He tried in vain to rise from the surface but found himself encased in what felt like a giant sticky spiderweb and was unable to move.

Well done, greeted a middle-aged man who was in the process of sheathing his sword while struggling to catch his breath. He stopped next to the two as his hands went to his waist. I am Sergeant Collins of the Sterling City Watch. The man, whose brown hair had begun to gray with age, extended his hand first to Hector and then to Ian. May I be of service to you two gentlemen seeing that the two of you have been of great help to us, not to mention the fact that you saved us from a long chase that I'm not sure would have ended with the same results?

Thanks, but no, Ian replied. We have just arrived and are merely seeking a comfortable place to sleep tonight.

The older man smiled. Then once again, let me give my thanks. With that, he bowed his head before turning and giving orders to his men, who had already begun surrounding the pinned thief. Ian looked back as the pair reached the next street, catching a glance as members of the watch scrapped the little man off the street, web and all.

Nice handiwork. Ian chuckled as the two continued.

Once off the street, the thief glared at the backs of the two men who had just caused his capture. His dark black eyes studied every detail, committing it to memory, ignoring the guards removing the rather large coin purse that he had recently acquired from his person. He had escaped the city prison once before; he would just have to do so again. A minor inconvenience, really, but one that he would have to suffer through to get his revenge on those who had dared to meddle in his affairs, and that was not something to be tolerated.

*****

Hector and Ian secured lodging for the next couple of days at the Cozy Old Inn, one of the oldest buildings in the city. The inn was a two-story structure that's exterior was a faded gray with black shutters that could also use a fresh coat of paint, as could the rest of the building. Stone stairs lead to a single faded black door with a small wooden sign above it, swaying slightly from a soft, gentle breeze. They had asked the innkeeper, who looked almost as old as the inn itself, if a message had been left for either of them, fearing that they already knew the answer before asking the question. The brothers had either not left a message or, more likely, had just not arrived yet. Leaving a note, the two decided to check out what little was left of the day's market. Hector had readily agreed, telling Ian about a vendor he had heard about, a woman from a distant country off to the West specializing in rare magical substances. He knew her reputation well but, strangely, could not place her name.

The two proceeded to the open market located in the center of town. Being that it was getting to be very late in the afternoon, a few of the merchants had already shut down, and those that had not were in the process of trying to grab one last customer or two before the day ended. Ian stepped in front of one such table with several swords of various types, including short, long, and two-handed varieties. A burly old man stood behind the table, looking greedily at another potential customer as the young man gripped the hilt of one of the blades while scanning the rack behind the old man. It held several bows along with several dozen arrows with various types of tips.

Greetings, young man, what can I get for you today? the man asked.

Ian let his hand fall to the blade's hilt that he wore around his waist as a smile found its way to his lips. After finally giving up trying to talk his son out of adventuring, his father handed him a bedroll and told him to be careful. When his father had walked off, the uncomfortable feeling that came with doing something you know that your parents disagree with gripped him, he took in a deep breath and realized how heavy the bedroll was. Unrolling it, he found the very sword that he now carried. His father had wielded this same blade in the adventuring days of his youth. He had never heard the story of how he had acquired the weapon; it was like so much about his adventuring days was not something that his father talked about much. However, he knew it was a magical frost blade, a powerful weapon