Symphony for the Wicked: Chronicles of Eldhjarta, #2

By Devon Van De Zandt

"Please don't kill me while I sleep," I plead, making a mental note to always consider the possibility of nocturnal homicide.

 

In this thrilling continuation, the cat-and-mouse game intensifies between the cunning thief, Armand, his magical sidekick Sebutsa, and the relentless imperial rangers. Emotions surge—some find solace in blissful isolation, while others barely survive the tumult.

Now, the narrative takes a dark turn as it grants a voice to the malevolent forces at play. Delve behind the scenes to witness the emergence of sinister schemes that threaten the realm's stability, revealing their origins and ominous progress.

Amidst this chaos, new heroes emerge. An enigmatic Paladin breaks free from the strictures of his Order, allying with an unconventional muscle-bound magician. Their paths intertwine with those of others, weaving a complex tapestry of alliances and conflicts.

As the empire teeters on the brink, the question remains: Will it reclaim its former glory, or will justice and order be forever shattered by the forces of chaos?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Devon Van De Zandt
• Release date: Jul 2, 2024
• ISBN: 9789527602126

Book preview

Symphony for the Wicked

Chronicles of Eldhjarta - Book 2

Devon Van De Zandt

Copyright © [2024] by [Devon Van De Zandt]

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Book Cover by [Timothy Stripe]

Illustrations by [Timothy Stripe]

Contents

Map of the Realm

1.Orken

2.Alyssum

3.The Voidling

4.Eolan

5.Orken

6.Alyssum

7.Nils

8.Sebutsa

9.Orken

10.Eolan

11.Alyssum

12.Nils

13.Orken

14.Eolan

15.The Spokesperson

16.Eolan

17.Orken

18.Sebutsa

19.Orken

20.Armand

21.Orken

22.Alyssum

23.Torsten

24.Alyssum

25.Orken

26.Eolan

27.Orken

28.Armand

29.Orken

30.Alyssum

31.Orken

32.Nils

33.Eolan

34.Armand

35.Scatus

36.Orken

37.Tyra

38.Nils

39.Tyra

40.Orken

41.Roland

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Chapter 1

Orken

On the 13th day of the first moon of the year 612, somewhere in Southern Eldhjarta.

Swift and graceful, despite her towering stature, a giant woman ascended the hill, drawn by the distant sound of battle.

Each step produced a muffled thud as her feet hit the ground, the soft crunch of grass buckling under her weight. The wind caught the frayed hem of her robe, filling the air with the scent of moss and damp soil. Upon reaching the plateau at the hill’s summit, she took in the scene below. In the ravine, a ragtag group of men surrounded a single individual.

What a bunch of milk-livered cowards, she mused, observing the chaotic scene.

The noise of improvised weapons clashing filled the air, accompanied by guttural cries and grunts. A mix of sweat and dirt hung heavily in the air, creating an earthy, pungent smell amid the turmoil. The ravine, chosen as their battleground, seemed to offer an advantage to their target.

In a futile effort, the bandits hurled stones at their quarry. Despite their numbers, their aim was off, with several rocks hitting their own ranks.

Hey, assholes. What’s this all about? Picking on one guy? she shouted to the group below, her voice echoing off the ravine walls.

Some of the mob looked up and immediately noticed the approaching giant. With the sun at her back, her massive shadow was impossible to ignore. Those at the rear of the mob, who had previously been focused on the man in the ravine, turned their attention uphill. They waved their crude weapons and shouted incomprehensible slurs as they advanced toward the giant woman.

She locked eyes with the advancing mob, her head appeared almost too small atop her enormous body. Her owl-like gaze, magnified by round goggles and underscored by the wild nest of hair in her ponytail, might have been comical if not for the intensity in her eyes, which gave the attackers pause.

A shout from behind the attackers snapped the mob out of their trance. With a clear murderous intent, they continued their advance.

Then she did something unexpected.

She discarded her garments atop the hill. The simple gray robe of a friar, torn at the sleeves, was cast aside to reveal an intimidating physique.

The giant woman was a towering behemoth with tanned, glistening skin that accentuated her bulging muscles, ready to burst at the seams. Veins snaked like vines across her frame, while visible muscle fibers twitched with every movement.

She shifted her stance, extending her outer leg forward and placing her hands behind her back. Flexing her muscles, she declared solemnly, Immediate Muscle Cramps!

As the giant woman flexed her muscles, the air seemed to ripple with energy, and a faint hum resonated in the very marrow of the onlookers. Her triceps tightened, triggering a remarkable phenomenon.

Every member of the attacking mob froze in their tracks, trembling and unable to move anything but their eyes. They stood in place, horrified and drenched in sweat.

The giant woman relaxed and donned her robe as she descended the hill, approaching the area where she had witnessed the assault. Upon reaching the bottom of the ravine, she approached the target of the mob—a man of average stature, adorned in shining white and gold armor.

‘Oh, so pretty and shiny,’ she thought, observing how the man wielded intricate short swords. However, his somewhat plain helmet seemed out of sync with his majestic attire.

Suddenly, realization dawned on her, and her eyes widened. She took a step back, her mouth agape. A Paladin? Here, in a behind God’s bottom? she muttered to herself, grappling with the implications of her discovery.

The alleged Paladin, his armor gleaming in the sunlight, kept his swords trained on the giant woman and demanded an explanation. You—large woman! Identify yourself, he commanded, his voice echoing in the open space. Who are you, and what magic do you wield? Are you a dark mage?

Excuse me! I am not a dark mage! the woman replied, clearly upset and taken aback. They are a vulgar bunch, abusing the elements for personal gain!

After a moment of silent confrontation, she composed herself and continued in a calm voice. I’m Orken, daughter of Stronghand, from the Bay of Roaches, she declared, pride resonating in her voice. My magic? I call it muscle magic! We’re pretty proud of it back home. She punctuated her words with a gentle, sideways double-bicep pose, showcasing her muscular form.

Pleased to meet you, Lady Orken from the Bay. I apologize for upsetting you. I’ve never encountered magic like yours before, but who am I to judge the potent abilities of others? And I sense no evil in your aura. The Paladin lowered his swords. You had your chance to harm me; you’re either a friend or the world’s worst enemy. He seemed to hesitate. Did you just strip yourself over there?

Of course, one simply cannot use muscle magic if all the sources of the magic are covered, silly, Orken stated matter-of-factly. And what may I call you? she asked curiously.

I no longer have a name, as I’ve been cast out of my Order. So, call me whatever you please, the Paladin confessed, glancing at her chest quickly before gesturing toward the immobilized mob. How long will they remain in this state?

Did you just sneak a peek at my tits? Orken asked, her brows knitting.

Umm, sorry, I might have, but it’s not like I can avoid it… they’re kinda massive… the Paladin stammered.

Orken stared at him with intensity in her eyes, then burst into laughter. Just jesting with you, dear fellow, she said, her hearty laughter causing her chest to jiggle. The Paladin, embarrassed, tried to divert his gaze, staring at the nearby treetops instead.

Erhm, so those, the Paladin began, indicating the ragtag mob of attackers, What did you do? Why are they pissing themselves? he continued, observing the terrified bandits. And how long are they going to be like that?

Hah, they’re mostly like that because of the agonizing muscle cramps, Orken laughed. They’ll be released when I deem it appropriate, Mr. Shiny, she added, noticing the Paladin staring at her in silence, his head tilted.

Feeling the need to clarify, she said, I’ll call you Mr. Shiny, courtesy of your radiant armor, her eyes twinkling playfully.

Shiny, eh? I’ll accept that. But first, give me a moment, said Shiny, rushing toward the paralyzed mob.

Adopting a more serious tone, Orken said, We should create some distance before I release them. Fortunately, they were all susceptible; the cramp spell never works on individuals with strong wills.

She watched as the Paladin, whom she called Shiny, approached the immobilized leader of the bandits, his swords gleaming in the sunlight. Shiny’s movements were deliberate, his eyes intently fixed on his target. Yet, in those eyes, there was no hint of bloodlust, only a calm determination.

You led them to this, Shiny said, his voice resonant but not angry. I see no honor in slaughtering those who merely followed your orders.

The leader’s eyes widened, fear flickering within, but he could not respond, paralyzed by Orken’s spell.

With a swift, deliberate motion, Shiny decapitated the leader. Justice is served, he declared, cleaning his sword with a rag. The followers are misguided, not evil. They need not die today.

Orken eyed Shiny with confusion, as if silently asking for an explanation.

That man was beyond redemption; his aura was abhorrent, Shiny stated calmly.

Orken couldn’t fathom what she had just witnessed. ‘Could stress have gotten to even a mighty Paladin like Shiny?’ she wondered, though deep down, she had her doubts.

She realized that this man, now known as Shiny, possessed the skills to easily dispatch the amateur bandits. Yet, he had chosen not to provoke a massacre, opting instead to neutralize their leader when the opportunity arose.

Reflecting on the Order of the Paladins, known throughout the land for their legendary deeds, Orken asked, Hey, Mr. Shiny. Are the stories I’ve heard true?

What stories? Shiny responded, his shining brown eyes peering through his helmet’s visor.

You know, the ones about dealing with dark mages, holding back evil, rescuing princesses and baker’s daughters, then bedding them in a frenzy of gratitude?

Well… I might have been in a different division, Shiny replied evasively, and Orken sensed he was hiding something.

My brother joined their ranks a few years back. His name’s Jakoben, a massive bald guy. Hard to miss. Ever met him?

Erm, no, sorry. Like I said, I might have been in a different division, stationed at a distant outpost, Shiny answered, his tone suggesting he’d rather not continue the topic.

Ah, well. Those thugs were probably after your shiny armor. I doubt there’s anyone in the realm who wouldn’t want a closer look. I’ve heard it’s even tougher than anything the Deephold dwarves can craft! Orken exclaimed, holding back her curiosity about what Shiny had mentioned regarding seeing auras. Hey, Shiny, Mr. Paladin man. How about joining me?

Shiny hesitated at first. Well… I don’t know.

Oh, come on now, you might dress fancy, but do you really want to be decapitating all the bandits from here to Humeria that come after you? And safety in numbers, right?

You have a point. Where are you headed? Shiny admitted.

I’m hungry. Let’s camp in the woods, away from these stinky lads, she gestured toward the attackers. Need to resupply tomorrow. Ran out of dried meat and honey. Sound good?

Lead the way, ma’am, Shiny replied.

Ma’am, my ass, I’m 21! she laughed heartily, her whole body jiggling. Let’s get moving. She patted Shiny on the shoulder and turned away, with Shiny obediently following her.

As they moved away from the attack site, Orken snapped her fingers, freeing the bandits from their enchantment. Some fell to the ground, weeping like hungry infants, while others scavenged their fallen leader for valuables before limping or crawling away on stiff legs.

So, Orken, you’ve piqued my curiosity. What’s this muscle magic of yours, and how does it work? Shiny asked as they set out for the nearest village, unaware that it would be his last question for the rest of their journey.

Orken’s eyes sparkled. Damn, I’ve been waiting for someone to ask that! Let me tell you all about it, starting with my village.

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Unbeknownst to them, a sinister, cloud-like entity hovered menacingly overhead. It had writhing tentacles and countless ink-black eyes shrouded in mystery. Drifting silently with eerie grace, it defied gravity, its gaze fixed unwaveringly on Orken and Shiny. It seemed to dissect their intentions with each movement they made.

In a sudden, violent burst, the entity split in half, reducing the size of the original. After a brief moment, as the split half adapted to its new state, it turned and rushed away at incomprehensible speed towards the north, toward Z’ahatum, the Darkhome.

The remaining half stayed put, flowing silently and continuing to follow the trail of the unlikely companions below.

Chapter 2

Alyssum

On the 14th day of the first moon of the year 612, somewhere in Southern Eldhjarta.

As the first light of morning gently caressed the sleeping forms of Alyssum and Iliandra, it slowly stirred Alyssum from her slumber. She blinked her eyes open and felt the warmth of Iliandra’s head resting upon her chest.

A sly smile curved her lips as the memories of the previous night flooded her mind. It had felt like an ethereal dream, into a realm of shared passion and desire, yet it had been undeniably real.

Alyssum’s gaze lingered on the peaceful visage of Iliandra, finding solace in the beauty that lay beside her. All their stress was gone, and they had built a world of their own where nothing else existed.

Iliandra opened her eyes, and as she looked at Alyssum, they both smiled. They knew each other well, and that was clear. Let’s stay here for a while. Her voice carrying a hint of longing.

Alyssum nodded, her heart in agreement with the sentiment. They embraced once more, their fingers tracing delicate patterns upon each other’s skin, their bodies intertwining in a dance of desire and tenderness. Alyssum toyed with one of the braids tied tightly at the back of Iliandra’s head.

The sun began its ascent on the horizon, casting a golden glow upon their entangled forms.

As the first light of morning gently caressed the sleeping forms of Alyssum and Iliandra, it stirred Alyssum awake. She blinked her eyes open and felt the warmth of Iliandra’s head resting on her chest.

The taste of the previous night still lingered on her lips; a sly smile, born from those memories, curled her mouth. It had felt like an ethereal dream, a realm of shared passion and desire, yet it was undeniably real.

Alyssum’s gaze lingered on the peaceful visage of Iliandra, finding solace in the beauty lying beside her. Their stress had evaporated, leaving behind a world of their own where nothing else mattered.

Iliandra opened her eyes and met Alyssum’s gaze; both smiled. They knew each other well, that much was clear. Let’s stay here for a while, Iliandra’s voice carried a hint of longing.

Alyssum nodded, her heart swelling in harmony with Iliandra’s words. They remained in that comforting embrace, lying as if each had found a missing piece within the other. Slowly, the sun rose, painting them in golden hues as it climbed the horizon.

As the world around them stirred to life, a mutual understanding passed between them. They had roles to play, duties that demanded their attention, responsibilities they could not ignore. Reluctantly, they disentangled themselves and faced the awaiting reality, each strengthened by the intimate moment they had shared.

They exchanged a glance and realized that their relationship would face many challenges. Alyssum, a career soldier, understood the implications of their union within the rigid hierarchy of the imperial army. Their love was against the rules and could jeopardize their reputations.

Discussing their future, each contemplated the gravity of their choices. Iliandra broke the tense atmosphere with her characteristic blend of lightness and resolve. What if one of us had the option to step away from soldiering?

Alyssum pondered Iliandra’s words, contemplating their significance.

Iliandra gently touched Alyssum’s hand, her eyes shimmering with sincerity. I get it, Alyssum. Army life is your calling, but I’m free to explore any path! We can make this work—let’s go find out how!

They felt confident that neither would have to make sacrifices. Although their future was uncertain, their love would remain strong. A glimmer of hope filled their hearts.

As they prepared to leave the campsite, Iliandra knelt and picked up something from the ground. Alyssum, curious, had seen this act before.

Alyssum’s eyes narrowed with curiosity. What have you found this time, Iliandra?

Iliandra opened her hand to reveal a tiny pebble.

Before Alyssum could inquire further, Iliandra explained, Since childhood, I’ve collected objects from places that hold special meaning for me. They could be anything, but they’re all mementos of cherished moments.

What makes this pebble so special? Alyssum asked, intrigued but with a teasing tone.

Why, it was here that I kissed the most beautiful, annoying, and incredibly complicated human being I know, Iliandra retorted, her eyes twinkling with mischief. I’ve never shared this habit with anyone. You might think I’m strange.

Alyssum smirked. Oh, Iliandra, I already knew you were a bit odd, she teased. But the way you cherish these moments and hold on to these memories—it’s endearing. Who am I to judge what brings you joy?

The words clearly lifted a weight from Iliandra’s shoulders. Looking up at Alyssum, her face was radiant with relief. Drawing closer, Iliandra leaned in and stole a gentle kiss.

Should we move? Let’s try to find some tracks first. It’s clear they’ve been here. It shouldn’t be hard going from here, Iliandra said, earning a smile and an approving nod from Alyssum.

You’re learning fast, darling, Alyssum stated, making Iliandra squirm once again.

After a thorough investigation, Alyssum spotted clear tracks that they followed.

How I love this scent, fresh morning, the dew, and the meat-eating bees buzzing around, Iliandra mused as they went.

Huh? What? Alyssum asked, deep in her thoughts.

Ah, nothing, just blabbering, Iliandra said as Alyssum turned to her, seeing her radiant face glowing with an admiring expression.

Can you be less attractive? Alyssum said playfully, you’re making it hard for me to concentrate on this job.

For sure, anything for you, my dear, Iliandra said and poked her finger in her nose, let’s pick diamonds. I heard they shine brightest in the morning sun, she smirked, making Alyssum roll her eyes before continuing her observations on the ground.

See here, Alyssum said. They met a group, three individuals maybe. She dismounted from the horse and kneeled down. They were ambushing our targets, probably bandits of some sort.

But here, they have started to fight among themselves, and our targets have bolted away, Alyssum concluded.

Hmm, weird… Iliandra admitted. Let’s follow them.

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In an hour, after a few detours and finding the tracks again after they went dark due to the hard ground, they found themselves at an abandoned farmhouse.

Iliandra stepped in before Alyssum, Ouch… that must’ve stung! she hollered, and Alyssum came forth to look.

On the floor lay a dead man, his head pale. Alyssum kneeled down and quickly searched the man. He looks like his head has been frozen, quite suddenly I would say, and then melted. She touched the man’s hair, it’s wet… hmm.

Magic? Iliandra asked.

Reeks of it, Alyssum agreed as she looked around, there, multiple messed tracks on the dusty floor. Our targets were ambushed, again. And it seems someone saved them, perhaps.

Or competitors who wanted them as well? Iliandra pondered.

Yes… what the hell is this all about? Alyssum said, thinking hard, trying to connect dots that were still out of her reach. Damn, we just better find the next set of tracks and see where they have gone.

They looked around the farmhouse and quickly spotted a new set of tracks. This time, their targets moved with someone else.

At the forest edge, Alyssum spotted tracks of a horse cart. See, here, they’ve gone into the carts, or were forced into one.

Yes, can you discern what sort of cart it was from the tracks, and whether the horse was a mare or a stallion? Iliandra quipped, trying to make sense of the tracks.

Nah, I think they used an old cow to pull the cart, which was made of pine lumber and painted orange, Alyssum said, and by the look of it, Iliandra had a hard time telling if she was serious.

Ah, dear, forget that, Alyssum leaned closer and kissed Iliandra, to which she responded eagerly and passionately.

After catching their breath, Alyssum stated, let’s follow. At least these tracks are easy to see and may lead us to something.

That’ll do, Iliandra smirked as they departed.

Chapter 3

The Voidling

On the 14th day of the first moon of the year 612, in the skies over the Z’ahatum.

The sky tore open as a mysterious entity shot through, leaving a trail of electric tension in its wake. Propelled by an invisible force, it hurtled toward its masters on the enigmatic island known as Z’ahatum—or Darkhome, as its inhabitants called it.

Upon arrival, the creature unveiled an awe-inspiring, uncharted realm.

Every sight, sound, and sensation it encountered was recorded and stored in its vast memory banks, even though it lacked the ability to comprehend or process any of the information. It functioned as a drone, serving its higher purpose and the powerful beings who commanded it.

A thick, eerie, red mist clung to Darkhome, infusing the air with a fragrant, metallic scent that was both intriguing and foreboding. This gave the island a reddish glow and an unusual atmosphere. At first glance, eyes widened and breaths caught in throats, captivated by the spectacle.

Darkhome’s boundaries contained unique plants and animals not found elsewhere. The question whether they were products of natural evolution or the result of something more mysterious added to the island’s intrigue.

Known as the Voidling to the few aware of its existence, the entity now floated above Z’ahatum’s sprawling landscape. A myriad of images and memories flickered through its consciousness. To the Voidling, Z’ahatum was not just another place; it was a realm entwined with stories and mysteries accumulated over centuries.

The Voidling remembered every detail of its experiences like a colorful tapestry, where each thread symbolized a unique moment in time. In its memory, the Voidling focused on a pivotal mission to gather information as commanded by its master.

Elven scientist Mombrandum had unearthed the target from a ruined temple on Sikis Island States. From an island now known as the Isle of Dead, formerly known as Emerald Isle, after Mombrandum’s intervention.

The target, a figure, had been wearing a form of Paladin attire when found, prompting Mombrandum to contact Voidling’s master, Eolan, immediately. Eolan had sent the Voidling to oversee the transportation and confirm the status of the found alleged Paladin, whom he suspected to be a long-lost fugitive from Z’ahatum itself.

The ship meant to take the target to Z’ahatum from Sikis had been shipwrecked near the waters of Lumiere, and a sea patrol fending off pirates had discovered the wreck and its only survivor—an unconscious man in Paladin attire. Recognizing the significance of this discovery, the patrol reached out to their lord, the Regent of the Empire of Eldhjarta, The Voice of the Emperor, Ignacio Ordega.

The Voidling had witnessed every detail with its keen senses. My lord, I have news— Ah, yes, The Voice interrupted, his booming voice echoing within his inner sanctum. "The alleged Paladin. Sent a crow to their headquarters, so they