On the world of Marna, there are thirteen gods who watch over the people. These gods are worshiped by most of the races of the land. The proud and stoic Grom. The calculating and logical Anai. The playful and child-like Zithaen. The varied and adaptive Humans. On the lost continent of Telnir, a young savage priestess has a vision that will change her life and her destiny. Outcast by her people, the young priestess leaves her land and is thrust into a world she had only dreamed of.

Her vision had a purpose. She is "The Child of Thirteen", a figure of prophecy and legend. Surrounding herself with a band of unlikely companions, they travel the lands discovering the fullness of the prophecy and her place in the world. There is a force at work against her. Born of darkness and hatred, "The Child of None" a necromancer and priest of the god of destruction, Dealthagar, is determined to kill her and her companions.

Marna is at a crux. In her hands lies the fate of the world. If the Child of None succeeds, "The Reckoning", an apocalyptic nightmare, will come to pass and Marna will be destroyed. If she is able to triumph, the world will know peace for the first time in generations.

Excerpt l

The wind howled in Turuth's ears. The winter storm had come in quicker than anyone had expected. Looking down at the ledge, his brother Caeloth struggled to get up. Although conscious, the fall had wounded him badly.

"Hold still, I'll get some help!"

"We donnae have time for that! I'll be frozen stiff fore ye can return!" Turuth could barely hear him above the wind. He was right of course, as always.

"I'll come down an git ye!"

"Nagari be damned boy! Then we'll both be stuck on thas damnable cliff!"

"Why wuir ye up here anyhow?" Turuth began to dig through his pack for a coil of rope. Pulling it out, he tied one end around his waist, and threw the slack down to his brother.
"Word in the village is ye've been learnin sorcery. The Jarl's son shouldnae be learnin' women's witcheries." Seeing the rope, he began to crawl towards it.
"So ye wuir spyin on me?" Turuth looked around. Seeing a long, jutting stone, Turuth looped the rope around it.
"As the Jarl's oldest son, t'was me duty." Caeloth began to hand over hand up the rope. "Donnae matter much tae me really, just needed to find out if I have to cover for ye or knock in a few heads for speakin ill of me little brother."
"So it wonnae bother ye if yuir little brother was a ‘witch woman'?"
"I heard the crone talkin tae ye, an her praisin ye for how talented ye wuir. Thas family has warriors enough. We could use a few thinkers." With that, the rope snapped. The rock Turuth had chosen was sharper than it appeared.
Turuth bolted awake, the dying screams of his brother still ringing in his ears as he awoke from his nightmare. He hadn't thought of his brother in years, why tonight? "Maybe the night air will clear me head." He muttered to himself as he jerked on a pair of boots.

--- --- ---

Lord Kenneth, Grand Duke of Kensington and Lord of the Knights of Hawkwind, stood before Quinn. "I commend you on coming forward, and accepting responsibility for what you have done. However there are some things that the knighthood cannot overlook." Lord Kenneth held his hand out. "Her trappings."

Sir Aaron was a long-standing member of the honor guard. Quinn had squired to him, and even after attaining knighthood, he was still a mentor to her. The look of disapproval and sorrow on his face, spoke volumes as he jerked the honor sword, symbol of her station, from its scabbard. He handed it to Lord Kenneth pommel first. He then took the dagger from his boot, and cut the tabard free from her shoulder. Quinn could do nothing but close her eyes and wince. Lord Kenneth took the tabard from Sir Aaron with his free hand.

"When each knight joins our order, they work the bellows on the great forge here in the hall of knights. Each knight's sword is unique to that knight other than the crest of Hawkwind on the pommel. This is to show that even though we are all individuals, there is strength in our unity. This is the way of Hawkwind. In fifteen hundred years the number of knights that we have had to return the trappings to the forge is so small that it is nearly unspeakable. Bear us no ill will Quinn Malxus.

Not everyone is born with the resolve to be a knight." Lord Kenneth turned to the forge master and handed him the sword and the tabard. Several squires had spent the last few hours stoking the forge until it was white hot. "Let her dishonor be cleansed with the purity of fire." The apprentices begun to work the bellows furiously as the forge master threw her tabard upon the coals. The forge master then held her sword in the flames as if to temper it. Clang! The hammer came down once
mid-blade, bending but not breaking. Clang! The hammer fell a second time on the edge of the sword again mid-blade. Quinn thought she saw cracks beginning to form. The hammer came down a third time. Clang!

Quinn sat up with a start. Her sheets and nightclothes were soaked. She knew she would not be able to return to sleep. "Maybe some tea will calm my nerves," she thought as she threw her nightgown over the back of the chair. --- --- ---

The stallion bucked and screamed, but no matter how hard Godakai pulled on the black beast's mane he could not change the lead horses course. The smell of the wildfire was still too close, too fresh in the stallion's memory. No amount of coaxing or pain could change its path to anything but directly away. The only problem with its path was that just beyond the bend in the ravine was the spot the clan had chosen for its summer home. Olonan, Zarakesh, and many of the other warriors had volleyed arrows and spears into the charging herd, but even taking down a third of the largest herd anyone in the clan had ever seen, would not be enough. Hopefully the scouts had gotten back in enough time to warn the village. As this thunderous wave of destruction turned the bend in the ravine, Godakai nearly allowed himself a sigh of relief, as it appeared they had. Over the thunder of hooves Godakai thought he could hear a woman screaming, Elini, his father's second wife.

"MELIKKI! WHERE IS MELIKKI?"

Melikki was Elini's only child with the Khan, born six winters ago. Ashamed of nothing and unabashed in her hero worship of Godakai, she proudly told anyone who would listen that he would be Khan someday, and if she weren't his sister she would be first wife. Godakai gasped in horror. In the center of the village he saw a shock of red hair he knew was hers. She was struggling at the door of Godakai's yurt with the rack that held his robes, the robes that marked him as the first-born
son of the Khan. Woven of red and purple silks and threads spun of the purest gold, Melikki often spent hours cleaning and preparing these robes for her older brother. They were more precious to her than any of the presents the Khan had given her.

Enough was enough. He pulled his sword from its scabbard. The stampede would stop or he would die trying. The sword came down hard on the forelock of the chestnut mare on his right. It bit deeply into the neck of the pinto to his left. In a frenzy, swinging to his left and right, slowly the herd began to split. It was beginning to work! Godakai began to roar in exhilaration as the herd split and seemed to be veering around the village. Suddenly the stallion he was on faltered as the horse's front leg broke. Godakai was thrown. He landed headfirst and the world suddenly went white then black. Godakai awoke to his two brothers changing the dressings on his head and arm..

Godakai barely had the strength to speak. "Did . . .they . . .turn . . .?" Olonan looked down at his brother with a look of compassion rarely seen on his face.

"Yes, my brother, the village was saved. The damage was minimal. Other than yourself, there was only one serious casualty."

"Who . . ."

"Melikki. Apparently a large black stallion near the front of the herd came up lame while at full run and landed on her. Makala said she was lucky and never felt a thing."

"NO!" Godakai reached up and grabbed his brother's shirt . . .

. . . And promptly fell out of his bunk. Godakai looked up from the floor. He was still aboard the damned ship. A tear rolled down Godakai's cheek. It had been three years now. No one, especially Melikki's mother, blamed Godakai for the tragedy. If Otar had chosen her to come to his hearth what could a mortal do? He still missed the little girl, and no matter what anyone in the clan said, he still held himself accountable for her loss. Godakai shuttered to think that the deck was
more appealing than his room right now. Right now it felt like a tomb. --- --- ---

Walks-With-Stars stood before the council of chiefs. She was to become the medicine woman of the thirteen tribes. The Great Beasts had spoken to her. Her visions had lasted six days, and many of the tribe thought the Great Owl would take her. Her father, Red Moon, chieftain of the Nightingale, looked at her. The disappointment and sadness in his face was plain for all to see.

Hands-Of-Thunder, chieftain of the Owl stood and addressed her. "Walks-With-Stars. We the council of chieftains, have all heard the words of your vision. Eyes-Of-Stone has also heard them."

Eyes-Of-Stone was the medicine man of the thirteen tribes. Blessed by the Great Beasts with his knowledge of healing, the medicine men and women of all thirteen tribes came to him for advice. With seventy winters behind him, he knew the time for choosing his successor was near. He had chosen Walks-With-Stars two turns of the seasons ago. The look of loss in his face was second only to her father. "None of us can accept the words of your vision as truth."

"Even we do not accept these words as mischief." Teeth-Of-Night was chieftain of the Earth Snake tribe. Even though his words usually held little weight with the council, his words this time meant more than anything anyone else could say. If the snakes were not accepting it, than the blame fell on her head and hers alone.

"Will you renounce your vision and your place as successor to the medicine man of the tribes?" Hands-Of-Thunder viewed her firmly. He thought well of his niece. She was an intelligent girl. Surely she would see this was folly and keep her place in the tribe.

"No." She whispered. "The Great Beasts guided my vision. To renounce it, I would be unfaithful to them and myself. They have given me this vision.. Why can this not be accepted? Why can you not . . ."

"ENOUGH!" Ice-On-Water, chieftainess of the Crane stood. "She accepts her madness as truth. We have discussed this. We know what must be done."

Eyes-of-Stone walked up to her. Taking his flint knife, he cut her medicine pouch from her waist. He then cut the totem pouch from her neck. Finally he cut the owl and cranes feathers from the comb she wore in her hair. He then turned to Red-Moon. "By the will of the Great Beasts, it is done. Red-Moon, feel no loss, for your daughter is unborn. Only she without name remains."

The nameless child of Telnir awoke, tears running down her face. She hadn't dreamt this in three high moons. The pain was still as fresh as when it had happened, last summer, why now?

This had to be the work of the Beast of Sorrow. She quickly performed a cleansing ritual. When finished, she took her pouch and headed for the deck. Perhaps she could find an explanation in the night sky. --- --- ---

It was a cool night. A light breeze flooded the sails. Kel, the smallest moon, was crescent high in the sky. Tolo rose full just above the horizon. Wara, the high moon, had already set. The sky was free of clouds, and the Eyes of Otar shone clearly from the north. With the sea so calm and the night so beautiful, it was hard to understand why most of the crew wandered about the deck in the middle of the night, as if they had just weathered a storm.

"It's the staff of Dealthagar, I tell you! Must've passed over one of the shards!"

Turuth looked at Old Farley questioningly. Farley had spent more time at sea than most people aboard had spent alive. He knew more tales and legends of the sea than some priests of Felenae. Admittedly, a good portion of his memories was soaked in the rum of the Copper Isles, but he was still a font of knowledge. "What are ye wailin bout, ye drunken sot?"

The smell of chamomile tea wafted over the deck. The cook had put on a large pot, and brought it and a sack of wooden mugs on deck. Quinn poured herself a mug. "Has anything like this ever happened before?"

The cook grimaced briefly and shrugged a shoulder saying, "Well, not really . . ."

"Yes, something like this has happened before!" His gruff voice barked at her mockingly. "Every time you pass over one of the spots where a piece of Dealthagar's staff has crashed into the lands. Don't you read books?"

"Yes. . ."

"Then you know the tale of Dealthagar's Staff?"

"No . . ."

"It is said that when the great despoiler came to the land, the god of night swooped down and attacked him with all his might. The great despoiler threw his staff in the way of the blows. The strength and ferocity of the night lord's wrath rent the staff into a thousand pieces that rained down upon the world like black stars falling from the heavens. When mankind comes too close to one of the shards, these areas of darkness, even after all this time, mankind still remembers the darkness of
the world before and it affects our minds and hearts."

Farley and the rest of the people assembled on the deck stood in silent amazement. Quinn turned to the Telnirian in befuddlement. "How is it that one of your lands knows so much of our gods?"

The Telnirian looked up. "In my lands the god of night is the Great Owl. Dealthagar is the Great Earth Snake. His staff in our version of the story was his rattle. The weapons of the night lord are his talons and beak. The story is to explain why even though the Earth Snake looks much like the diamond-back snake, that he has no rattle. All the better to sneak up and kill his victims."

"So no one knows for sure where these pieces are?"

"The pieces rained down all over the world, the power of the great battle was so strong. I would say about the time everything happened, we must have passed over one of the shards."

Quinn raised her eyebrows briefly and took a long drink from her mug. "Alright . . ."

Farley piped up. "This isn't the first I've run into either. Every time you try to take a ship through the Northern Straight . . ."

"Well, that's enough pleasantries for tonight. Does anyone know an instrument so we can liven this up a bit?" Quinn looked around anxiously. Within moments a hurdy-gurdy, an accordion, and a fiddle struck up a lively tune. A couple of the sailors joined in by beating on buckets. Old Farley grabbed Lt. Quinn by an arm and began to dance. Hearing the commotion on the deck, and braving his fear of the sea, Godakai came up from the hold. As the night went on, the Telnirian drew out a beautifully carved wooden flute. The music was entrancing but strangely alien at the same time. The haunting, sad song she played seemed to make the crew forget about their nightmares. Within an hour, the only sounds on the ship were the lapping of waves on the hull, the light rustling of the sails, and the night watchman, alert at his post, humming the Telnirian's tune.

Excerpt ll

Nikolos and Bob rushed down the main street to the harbor. Nearing the main stairs they could hear the clash of steel and the shouts of men. There was also the unmistakable sound of grinding that nearly drowned out everything else. Turning down the stairs the source was obvious.

The stone doors of the harbor gate were closing, and at the far end of the harbor it appeared as though a large contention of the city guard was engaged in a frantic melee with the crew of the Korganai ship. It appeared as the city guard had already sustained large losses. A half dozen Korganai, armed with a pair of the thin saber-like swords they used, were ripping through the front rank of the city guard with no effort. Nikolos pulled his axe and sword and charged forward, issuing his battle cry. "In the name of justice and by the will of Veeder, surrender or die!" A number of the Dark Anai looked up and smiled. Unlike their more fragile golden cousins, Korganai relished battle, and even more so when they had a skilled foe. The first Korganai quickly leaped over his current opponent and dashed to engage the knight. A young Korganai trooper, quick to prove his worth,

thought the knight would be an easy mark. Nikolos' axe swung through the air and removed the young Korganai's head along with any doubt of what caliber opponent the Korganai trooper's now faced. Two more quickly fell from a volley of sharpened metal ‘snowflakes' from Bob. Nikolos charged to the line and buried his sword to the hilt in the chest of another Korganai sailor. "Rally to me, men. They shall not win this day." The soldiers formed a wall, centered on Nikolos and began to
steel themselves for another wave of Korganai troopers. Nikolos leaned to the trooper next to him.

"So what started this?"

"A Freestate's clipper came in late this morning with several members of the Kellworth council, including the Harbormaster, who happens to be Consular Copperton's cousin. He was surprised to see a Dark Anai ship in our harbor. When he assured us there had not been a Dark Anai ship in his harbor for well over a year, we demanded to search the ship and they turned on us like rabid dogs. We kept them here long enough to get the harbor doors closed, but they still won't surrender. It's as if they'd rather die." With that, the last of the gray cloaked troopers fell. The battle had pressed the
guards a good fifty yards down the wharf as Nikolos and the remaining guardsmen closed towards the ship, Nikolos called out. "Ahoy, crew of the Wavecutter! We have dispatched your solders! Lay down your weapons and prepare to be boarded!"

The Captain walked into sight, his silver cape fluttering in the breeze. Twenty more troopers in crimson cloaks stood behind him. "Beware, human. We do not recognize your authority or the laws of this human nation. We are Korganai, heirs of Marna, and the chosen of Dealthagar. You will allow us to leave, or all of you will die here this day." An arrow sunk deep into the captain's shoulder.

"Nae today, if we kin help it yea gray-skinned bastard son of a she-bitch!" Turuth grinned evilly as Godakai knocked another arrow and the three remaining companions ran forward to join the line.

The captain pulled the arrow out of his shoulder and threw it on the deck. "Kill them all. A hundred gold to the man that brings me the head of that bowman." The red cloaked troopers descended on the line like locusts. The line brunted the assault and began to strike back. These were no novices they faced now. These were men accustomed to war and accustomed to winning. Many good men would sleep with Otar tonight. A fearsome cry erupted from Turuth as he wielded his claymore above his head. Until now, none of the companions had seen him in battle, nor had they any way to gauge what sort of warrior he was. His first blow cleaved the Korganai he faced in half. Spinning, Turuth's sword shattered the Korganai's weapon as he tried to parry the blow and removed the Korganai trooper's arm at the shoulder.

Only wielding one sword, Quinn quickly found herself on the losing end of a battle. Dropping to pick up a fallen guardsman's shield, she slowly pressed her way back to the battleline. Nikolos began to look around. Where had Calanna gone? He had seen her come with them, but now she was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly a sharp, chittering war cry came from the deck of the Dark Anai ship. Calanna smashed the captain in the face with her tortoise-shell shield and quickly followed it
up with a pair of hits from her ball headed warclub. The captain turned and faced the Telnirian, his eyes red with anger. "A human and a woman at that. You would dare to lay hands on me? Away from me, bitch." His left hand came to a point and darted forward, the tips of his first two fingers striking her on the breastbone. Calanna flew ten feet and crashed into a barrel on the deck of the ship. He drew a sword and began to close with her.

Author: Adrian Drake
6820 N 42nd Street
Milwaukee, WI. 53209
414-352-5897
ISBN: 1-58776-099-1
Available April 1st, 2001 from Vivisphere
To order call : 1-800-724-1100
Or fax: 1-845-463-0018
Also available through Ingram

Copyright © 2001 by Adrian Drake