Spellbound Alliance

By Goodness Woke

Witchcraft was a common belief in the Kingdom of Delmore. Something both feared and revered - responsible for various recent misfortunes and calamities.

When Gabriel, seasoned warrior and witch hunter of the famed Nightshade brotherhood, decides to investigate, he realizes the threat is more than he can handle on his own. Force

• Language: English
• Publisher: 0-0-8 Studios
• Release date: Dec 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9781737381778

Book preview

Prologue

A path ran straight as a plumb line through the woods of Belwych, a village nestled in the land of Delmore. In the midst of this verdant haven, a squirrel leaped from a heavily canopied tree and into the fading, green rows of the shrubs lining the path.

The sound of the wind whistled through the leaves on the trees, and the smell of the wet soil filled the air. And though barely visible in the sky, the sun spread its rays on the treetops, leaving the canopy with dark shadows on the path between the woods.

Two men on horses galloped their way past in a rather hasty manner. One carried a drawstring bag with a scroll sticking out, whilst the other had a sheathed sword dangling beside his horse. From their distinguished dressings alone, it was easy to deduce that one was a mere messenger and the other a warrior. The horse continued through the lane, only neighing with resistance when the warrior charged it to move faster.

But then he stopped the horse, for he knew that something was awry. The atmosphere grew cold, and a sense of foreboding settled upon them.

Halt! the warrior ordered.

The messenger’s horse stopped abruptly, but he did not dismount. There was something unusual about the way the trees moved that froze him in place. The warrior could sense something strange, and his instincts were never wrong. But senses and instincts, most times, were not enough to avoid brewing evil. The warrior peered into the darkness of the woods, trying to detect any signs of movement, but there was nothing. Everywhere was still except the trees that waved and a dark shadow that lurked around.

They never learn.

They were about to discover that there was more to these shadows than what meets the eye.

Oi! Let us not tarry any longer! The sun doth almost set! cried the messenger in an irritated tone. He balanced on his horse, wondering why his companion dawdled, his brows furrowed in vexation.

The horses neighed again, and at that moment, the warrior confirmed his feeling. He hurried down from his horse and took hold of the sword which hung by his side.

The wind grew intense, and the atmosphere grew even colder. The men braced themselves, unsure of their next step; stay and fight, or mount their steeds and flee. There was no time to decide. The shadow closed in. They felt it on their skin—ice-cold.

Show thyself, coward! Fight me like a man with courage! The warrior charged into the woods, his boot digging into the damp silt of the earth, his heart pounding in his chest.

There was no response. And then suddenly, everything stilled once more. There was no whistling wind, and a deafening silence befell the atmosphere. The path became more visible. The sun crept out again. It appeared the threat had finally departed.

The warrior sheathed his sword, perplexed, but quickly hopped back onto his horse. If there was a meaning to this, he would find out. He was sure of it. He made to move his horse, but it, unfortunately, stood still.

It happened in a flash. Darkness covered the area, and the leaves and shrubs on the path sprang from the soil. The dark layer of matter rushed toward them, and in an instant, the horse fell to the ground alongside the men. Blood spilled onto the soil—blood from full decapitation. Their heads rolled on the earth, now covered with dead leaves and sand. Their eyes were still alive. A hooded figure within the rising fog stood before the head of the warrior. Then it walked to the scroll and stood before it.

Delmore needs to learn.

I

Part One

Chapter One

As the day waned, so too did the vibrant hues of the setting sun paint the sky with a breathtaking canvas of crimson and gold. The last rays of sunshine were like fiery tendrils, stretching out as if reaching toward the horizon. The sky was a sight to behold, with the clouds blazing in an array of warm oranges and pinks as if they were on fire themselves.

For the locals of the capital city of Delmore, Delport, this time of day was fascinating. Finally, after a long day of hard work, it was time to unwind and let loose. The streets bustled with people, who all seemed to be in high spirits, eager to soak up the atmosphere of the evening. The air was filled with laughter and chatter as friends and family gathered to share stories and enjoy each other’s company. Children played games and ran around, their energy seemingly boundless. The aroma of delicious food being prepared wafted through the air as vendors set up their stalls and began to cook up a storm.

As the sun finally disappeared beyond the horizon, the sky was transformed again into a rich canvas of deep blues and purples. The stars began to twinkle in the sky, and the night air grew more relaxed. But the energy and excitement of the evening continued as locals enjoyed the lively nightlife of Delport. The evening was a magical time, full of relaxation, fun, and the endless joy of the town.

Yet it was a well-known rumor that this was a happy facade, only a picture painted for visitors to see. It was no news that citizens of Delmore suffered underlying unrest. Irrespectively, the local taverns were always filled to the brim. One would think only degenerates and women of the night would visit these taverns for a social drink. But surprisingly, a few ladies from noble families also snuck in from time to time, to peek at the entertainment and sample the fresh ale.

The local tavern lights blazed the streets. The stench of ale, coupled with smoke from cigars and the loud sound of laughter, filled every nearby crevice. The Colve was a central tavern that was situated in the heart of the capital. It could be on par with pubs like Lindol, which were conserved for just the highborn. They served the best of drinks and had entertainers who kept the spirit of people alive. And like other nights, tonight was filled with activities.

The tavern was run by an aged man, Gedeon, who had once served the king and wanted nothing but to bring the people together, irrespective of class. To share food and drink and simultaneously enjoy the melody from the harpist who played from the middle of the room. He sat among his patrons.

Solid wood of mahogany held the building to the earth. It had a different, elevated platform that could pass as a table and a stool, which was comfortable enough. There were four windows in total, solving the issue of ventilation.

Bring some more, boy! one of the warriors hollered, and the rest laughed in contentment. They loudly discussed women and the glory of their past battles, which disturbed some locals, but they all had learned to deal with it. The tension between social classes hovering in the tavern was something common in the kingdom of Delmore.

The door suddenly opened, and a lady walked in. Everyone in the bar fell quiet. They gazed at the girl for a short while but then continued with their chatter. After all, it was not uncommon for a lady to be in a bar. What was unusual was for her to be alone—unassisted. She was like a lamb in a den of wolves.

Althea scanned the bar, seeking an empty spot to hide in. But, there was only one area close to the owner. The older man noticed and nodded, as if beckoning her, and, with delight, she sat with him.

What does an unchaperoned maiden find in a tavern teeming with perilous men? Gedeon inquired, his breath tainted with the scent of decay, akin to a rotten egg soaked in ethanol.

Who says I am unaccompanied? Althea replied, her voice sweet and melodic. Her lips parted ever so slightly when she spoke, accentuating her delicate features. The raven locks of her hair were fashioned in luxuriant curls that shimmered in the light. As she glanced around the room, he caught a glimpse of a small cut near her ear, adding a touch of fragility to her exquisite countenance.

Are you a warrior? he asked as he took a long swig from his cup, accentuating the creases on his face. He surveyed the tavern, noticing how the patrons gazed at them.

And what are you? A potion maker? Althea retorted.

Gedeon chuckled. Perchance ‘tis best if we savor the music and the ale, he suggested.

She signaled the boy who served. Bring me a flagon. . . and another. She beamed.

Moments into the drinks, they were both enjoying each other’s company. The older man knew the history of every man in that bar. Althea satisfied her curiosity by feeding off the man’s knowledge.

She had enough information for her friends. They would be happy to hear from her or not.

The door creaked open once more and a figure strode in, commanding attention with his formidable presence. A man of sturdy build, his imposing form evoked images of a seasoned warrior or a seasoned commander. He stood tall and broad-shouldered, his muscular physique showing a life of hard work and discipline. Tousled locks of brown hair framed his ruggedly handsome face, lending an air of quiet confidence to his demeanor. Every step he took was imbued with an aura of power and authority, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind that he was a force to be reckoned with.

But Althea wondered why the chatter in the bar subsided as it did when she walked in—he was no unchaperoned maiden. The gaze of the patrons shifted momentarily to the newcomer, yet they quickly returned to their own affairs. Despite this, Althea found herself drawn to the man.

What of him? Althea inquired, gesturing toward the corner where the man had taken a seat.

Gedeon paused to observe the newcomer, his senses dulled by drink. His world spun around him, and he knew it was time to retire for the evening to his chambers, which lay just beyond the bar.

That man? He cleared his throat. Best you steer clear of him, he warned before trying to make his exit.

He staggered for a second but finally picked up his momentum. He did a fantastic job hiding his drunken state, but it was clear to anyone with the patience to stare that he was drunk, just maybe not in a stupor.

Althea continued to fixate on the man, sensing an air of calm and darkness that intrigued her.

Hark! the voice of another drunken man bellowed through the tavern, drawing the attention of the patrons. Althea recoiled at the pungent stench of ale emanating from him, her amber eyes glinting with disdain.

She stared at the bearded man, who now occupied Gedeon’s spot. He was huge and rounded. He had a mini skull hanging on his neck. It was supposed to intimidate people but failed at its purpose here.

Leave me be, Althea said and turned away after inspecting his dirty appearance. She knew this was not a place to show the bearded man what she was capable of, so she ignored him and refocused her thoughts on her mark.

She knew better than to provoke an already agitated man, but Murray did not leave her be.

What’s a lass doing here all alone, and ignoring me? he growled, seizing her arm and causing her to turn back and face him. But Althea refused to cower before the brute, and she spat at him instead.

Enraged by her defiance, Murray struck her across the cheek with the back of his hand, sending her tumbling to the ground. Some of the other patrons laughed cruelly, but Althea burned with fury, her fists clenched at her sides.

A commanding voice boomed from the shadows as Murray grabbed her roughly by the hair.

Release the maiden and be gone with you! the voice demanded.

The warriors who had been observing the confrontation from afar stood up, ready to intervene. Murray hesitated, then reluctantly let go of Althea’s hair. Then, with a final snarl, he turned and slunk away, defeated.

Althea picked herself up, her cheek stinging and her heart racing with anger. She charged toward his form, tugged at his arm, and returned the slap, fleeing the tavern before Murray could cause further trouble for her.

I will find the girl, and the warriors would not be there to protect her. Murray thought to himself.

Meanwhile, the brooding man who only just arrived remained unfazed by the chaos that ensued. Instead, he relished in the comfort of his drink, allowing himself to become numb to the world around him. For he had seen and done things that made the violence and commotion in the bar seem insignificant. As he savored the final drop, he closed his eyes, realizing that sometimes, liquor only intensified one’s pain.

With the moon high above, casting its glow upon the land, Delport began to quiet down, and the lights from the bar dimmed. The man exited the tavern and unfastened his horse, ready to depart. As he stood there, the wind brushed past his hair, and he paused momentarily, taking in the familiar scent of the wet roots and the chill in the air. He scanned his surroundings, feeling a strange sensation that he couldn’t quite place. Perhaps it was the drink that had clouded his senses, but he couldn’t be certain. He mounted his steed and rode off into the night.

As he traveled deeper into the woods, the darkness enveloped him, and the kingdom slumbered peacefully. However, miles away from the bar, under the tree canopies, dark shadows loomed, waiting for their prey.

The Next Day

The thriving town of Delport was a wonder to witness, even on sweltering mornings like this. Regardless of the relentless heat, the populace went about their daily chores with a fortitude that spoke volumes of their tenacity. The market square in the capital city was bustling with activity, with leather and smithing stalls being the most sought after by the locals.

For the farmers in Delport, it was a different tale altogether as the meager selection of crops that made it to the market was disappointing, with few buyers willing to pay a fair price for their hard work after they labored unceasingly to cultivate enough food for their households.

The dusty road leading to the market was teeming with men, some on foot and others blessed with owning horses. Whilst owning many horses, along with acres of land and an abundance of gold, were the pride and joy of the elite and warriors, for some these steeds were a means to an end. They used them to transport their purchases to and from the market or buy accessories.

Amidst the chaos, Gabriel strode through the market without a purpose.

He wore a long, black cloak that billowed behind him as he strode through the crowd. The cloak was made of high-quality wool, trimmed with intricate silver embroidery that depicted scenes of moonlit forests and soaring birds of prey. The embroidered motifs seemed to come alive as they caught the sunlight, creating an ethereal aura around him.

Beneath his cloak, Gabriel donned a dark, fitted tunic of deep indigo, crafted from fine linen. The tunic featured long, flowing sleeves that tapered at the wrists, accentuating his sturdy frame. The collar of the tunic was adorned with a silver brooch, intricately carved with a crescent moon and a star, symbolizing his allegiance to the Nightshade Brotherhood.

Gabriel’s legs were clad in supple, black, leather trousers, expertly tailored to provide both comfort and flexibility. These trousers were tucked into knee-high boots made of sturdy, brown leather, with intricate lacing adorning the sides. The boots had a worn, rugged appearance, indicating that Gabriel was no stranger to arduous journeys.

As he strode confidently, a slender, leather belt adorned with various pouches and pockets encircled Gabriel’s waist. The belt held the tools of his trade: a small dagger with a silver hilt, a pouch filled with mysterious vials, and a leather-bound book containing his extensive knowledge of the arcane.

Gabriel’s demeanor was calm and composed, his piercing, blue eyes betraying a hint of mystery and wisdom. His brown hair was tousled and reached his shoulders, framing his sharp features. A silver pendant, in the shape of a crescent moon, hung from a chain around his neck, glinting softly as it caught the light.

As he made his way through the throngs and past some guards, a messenger from the king jogged up to him and called out his name, Gabriel of the Night.

Gabriel was caught off guard but quickly regained his composure when he saw the royal seal on the messenger’s letter. He pocketed it without uttering a word and sauntered away, heading straight to the tavern. He hoped the proprietor was sober this time, unlike the night before.

The bar was eerily quiet and almost desolate, which was unsurprising given that it was midday. The townsfolk were busy tending to their daily chores, and only a few people like him stopped by. He tethered his horse, DarkKnight, outside and made his way in.

Inside, he met the owner with the same maiden from last night. Her distinctive hair color and aura were unmistakable and he found himself momentarily lost in thought, reminiscing about how she’d left the night before and knowing that he’d seen her somewhere before now. He would wait for them to have enough of themselves. Without drawing any undue attention, he slipped into a corner of the bar and ordered a drink, patiently biding his time. The king would have to wait.

It appears he is a regular, Althea remarked, avoiding eye contact.

Pay no heed. He is aware of your watchful gaze. Why are you so curious about him? Gedeon asked, his interest piqued.

The young maiden paused for a moment, raising her brows. She was deep in thought. Nothing much, just like any other man I’ve inquired about. I merely wish to know. Who knows? He might even take me as his bride. Althea feigned a smile, trying to conceal her true intentions.

I understand. Gedeon nodded. He frequents this place whenever he is around. But, most of the time, he is away, he added, adjusting the metal goblet on the table and sliding it toward her. Here.

Thank you. She gulped down the drink and winced. This one is potent, she remarked.

Yes, it is a soldier’s favorite, Gedeon replied, scrutinizing her from the corner of his eyes. There was something about her. She had visited his tavern alone at night and now took strong liquor during the day.

Tell me about him. When he is away, where does he go? Who is he? she pressed on.

Gabriel had made himself busy in his corner, cleaning his dagger with a rag.

That would come at a cost, Gedeon responded leaning in so their conversation wouldn’t reach the ears of the other patrons, Gabriel included.

Why is that? I have never had to pay for the others, Althea said in disbelief.

This one is different, the man said, and a crooked smile formed on his wrinkled face.

Bold. You’re not very hard to read now are you?

Gedeon didn’t like the sound of that and he frowned. What do you mean?

I mean, you were drunk last night and you kept on speaking well about those with magic, and I had to say to myself. . . it’s rare coming from your kind. Perhaps, she gave a dramatic pause, he’s of a kind heart. Or, he’s got to be benefiting something from such folks. She gave him a teasing smile.

He chuckled. You can’t start deciphering things like that from a drunk man’s statement.

I might intrigue you, because I have a special talent for deciphering, she announced.

Gedeon looked around the tavern and back at her, his interest spiked. You think I have a secret?

She took a gulp of the strong liquid again, then pointed a finger at him and said in sarcasm, You’re smart, I’ll give you that. She focused her gaze at his eyes. And in this scenario, I’d be doing the spilling for free.

He leaned in. Mind sharing that secret with me?

No, not to you. Yours ain’t free. Comes with a price.

He chuckled then it turned to a mocking laughter and she joined him.

Gabriel looked up from his drink at the persons disturbing the near quietness of the tavern and frowned.

Are you some sort of spy?

Even better.

Alright. Gedeon folded, pouring out a few coins to her.

More. She looked at him as if it was ridiculous to think she was so cheap.

He frowned and added a few more. Pray, tell.

I found out that a few years back you had grapevine land problems with the owner of the Lindol bar. You claimed it was wrongfully awarded to him. A few years later he dropped the land because he claims it has an ancient curse, doesn’t that sound a bit interesting?

You think I paid to get a curse placed on the land? I lost the place too. He smiled.

Yeah, but did you? She flicked her wrist dismissively.

Gabriel turned to give them a look, and Althea observed that his eyes were light blue like the clear waters of Sonar Lake of Aztra, her home, perched between ashes and the shore. He is Gabriel, Gedeon quickly said, his voice laced with a hint of apprehension and reverence.

Pray tell more about this Gabriel, Althea urged, her curiosity piqued. She was not one to be intimidated by a mere look, even from someone like him. Gedeon wondered where the young lass got her confidence from.

The older man cleared his throat before continuing. I have known Gabriel since he was but a young lad, and he has grown into a man of remarkable fortitude and valor. His father is one of the most powerful elites in the kingdom, and it is no surprise that Gabriel has become a force to be reckoned with.

Althea’s brows furrowed in disbelief.

He might not look it, but the Nightshade Brotherhood turns a man into a beast.

Explains the aura he emits. He’s a witch hunter, Althea thought aloud. A man of such great stature would not stoop to the profession of a witch hunter, would he?

Gedeon shook his head. You do not understand, my dear. Gabriel is a hunter of the most dangerous kind of witchcraft—the dark magic that has wreaked havoc in our lands for centuries. He has dedicated his life to ensuring that the spread of such vile magic is put to an end.

Althea leaned in, intrigued. Tell me more of this man’s exploits, and how he came to be such a formidable witch hunter.

Gedeon was unsure of the maiden’s intent, but whatever the case, Gabriel could handle himself.

The older man’s eyes gleamed with admiration as he recounted Gabriel’s tales of single-handedly fighting off hordes of dark magic practitioners and saving countless lives. Yet, despite his fearsome reputation, something about Gabriel drew Althea’s attention.

As the atmosphere in the bar thickened with anticipation, Althea sat in contemplation, her mind filled with thoughts of the mysterious and intriguing man she had just met.

Gabriel did grow impatient, as was apparent by how he cast annoyed glares at them and quaffed the contents of his cup. He pondered how much longer the older man would prattle on as though he were not present.

The capital had already worn on him, and he yearned to depart after Gedeon had arranged his affairs. Such were his thoughts.

And who has claimed that dark magic has been vanquished? Have you not heard of the attacks and slayings in the hamlet of Belwych and other towns in Delmore? Althea inquired of Gedeon with a troubled mien. He paused before he spoke.

Is this the reason for your presence here? The soldier spoke of your consorting with one of them. Who are you? Gedeon inquired, yet Althea only poured herself a drink and gulped it, disregarding his queries. You are unaffected by the drink as well. Hold a moment. . .

Let us converse on another occasion. It is wicked to keep your friend waiting. I shall see you later tonight. Maybe another bully shall not spoil my evening once more. She left a few coins on the table and departed. Her svelte blue gown swayed gracefully as she exited the door.

As Gabriel surveyed the tavern, he espied that the damsel with whom Gedeon had conversed had vanished. He made his way over to the older man, seating himself at a nearby table. The two men shared a subtle yet significant glance, signifying their mutual awareness of the woman’s intentions.