Secrets of the Elders Kindle Version Read online

  Books by

  David Matthew Almond

  Chronicles of Acadia

  Book One: Secrets of the Elders

  Book Two: Land of the Giants - coming Winter 2014

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and completely a byproduct of the reader’s overactive imagination. Why are you reading this excerpt when you should be getting a snack to go with your book?

  Secrets of the Elders

  Chronicles of Acadia Book 1

  © David Matthew Almond; 2014

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, virtual reality, painting with meaning, emoticons, interpretive dance or otherwise, without express written permission from the author.

  Cover illustration by Victor A. Minguez

  To Julie, my wife and everlasting muse.

  Without you, none of this would be possible.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  “To world’s end with glint and valor,

  We were promised eternity.

  Reaching further toward the heavens,

  Until we fell from the stars alone and small.”

  “During the last days of life on the surface of Acadia, it became clear that mankind was finally being punished for its vast sins. Humanity had pushed the boundaries further and further, spreading like a cancer across the land and violating the very laws of nature. Rich living forests were stripped away, making room for our great empires. Valleys that once teemed with a myriad of creatures, all living in perfect harmony, were now left as nothing more than desolate wastelands, their soil stripped forever of its life giving properties. As our nations grew on Acadia so did the lust for power, each country holding adamant that their way of being was the one and only true path, some leaning on gods to excuse their bloodlust, others bent under the iron fisted rule of their greedy rulers. Regardless of the reasons, by the time the final world war began, it was on the heels of decades of ravaging the planet for natural resources and countless, meaningless battles.

  Each empire raced for the next great technological tool of destruction they believed would give their military the final upper hand. Some of the more barbaric countries even placed their children into military camps, raising them for years in the art of warfare. Hand to hand, these warriors fought with the precision and deadliness of a knife in the dark. It was not long before swords and rifles were no longer enough, as man decided to turn its scientific advancement toward robotics. The unstoppable android soldier was created for the sole purpose of winning the battlefield and ensuring victory under the flag of their kingdom.

  Genetic experiments opened the door to countless possibilities. Unlocking never before seen potential, humans began training in the ability to enter each other’s minds. Powers were tapped into that would harness the very ebb and flow of the universe around us. And so, magic had come to our world.

  This should have awakened a time of peace, a reaching out to the gods to seek wisdom and understanding. Instead, we forfeited the hour of our enlightenment in favor of blind obedience; it was to be mankind’s darkest hour. Empires chose to use these newfound powers to continue their struggle for domination and so the wars raged on for decades more. No one was safe. There was death and deceit at every turn. Mankind fought so long and filled themselves with so much hatred they could scarcely remember anything else.

  No one knows where the Jotnar came from. The ice giant invasion was swift and deadly, overwhelming all in their path and caring nothing for mankind’s petty wars. The other races, tired of man’s destruction, fell oh so eagerly behind their cause. It did not take long before our planet was forfeit to their might. In the last desperate hours, one of the greater empires set off their doomsday weapons in hopes of vanquishing the conquering horde, but instead, it was to be followed by every other country setting off their own in one fatal chain reaction of ultimate destruction.

  It will take centuries to repent for our sins. There were some, like your ancestors, that had no part in those wars. These smaller lands of goodly folk were wise enough to search for survival inside our planet. Those pilgrims traveled for years in search of this sanctuary, moving deeper and deeper into the very core of Acadia. It was only here, in the kingdom of New Fal, that peace had finally been found. It is here that we set ourselves on the path of righteousness, determined never again to repeat the sins of our past. It is this lesson that we humans may never forget.

  That was two hundred and twenty six years ago…”

  Chapter 1

  Elder Morgana’s words rang hollow in Logan Walker’s ears, as she retold the tale of their ancestor’s plight around the great bonfire, under the waning light of dusk. It was the same story heard every year during the Culhada, a celebration of the Great Crystal’s cycle of renewal. It was a version of history that, even as a child lying against his mother’s side, he could never seem to swallow. Today he was no longer a child, but a young man. Full grown of twenty years, already almost halfway through his life, but still he found that doubtful nagging, and yet here he was huddled around the fire pit with his fellow villagers just the same.

  The Culhada was a time for merry festivities, a time of year to share the traditions that made up their culture. Every villager eagerly awaited the festival all year. The women of Riverbell would come together to prepare for the feast days ahead of time, baking a variety of delicacies; oversized pies filled with sweet snaps, honey baked berry fruits, cocoa paste and even candied grapes. Even weeks before, Logan could feel his stomach rumbling in anticipation, just thinking of all the delicious desserts awaiting him. As a boy, he had found himself at the end of Miss Greta’s switch more than a dozen times for sneaking into the village pantry to steal a nibble. If they only knew how few and far in between those times he was actually caught in the act were, they would have strung the boy up by his toes to be sure. Logan chuckled to himself at the devious thought. After all, he did pride himself for his devilish antics.

  For instance, how much fun had it been to let a basket of mice out inside the village community pantry! He could barely contain his laughter at the shrieks below his hiding spot, while the women ran out half crazed throwing aprons at the scrambling little rodents. They suspected him, of course, but had no way to prove it. Logan sighed aloud, drawing a sharp look from Elise who was sitting by his side, fervently listening to Elder Morgana’s story, as if every word were from the mouth of Baetylus, their Crystal God.

  Logan gazed about the town square in boredom, lost in thought. The area was really more of a circle than a square, with low squat wooden cabins forming the perimeter. Everything here was boring, the houses were dull, the people were predictable, and everything was perpetually covered in a thin layer of dirt. Even their clothing was drab, rough wool
breeches, tunics, and canvas loafers. Looking up he wondered, not for the first time, what would happen if one of the hulking stalactites, hanging overhead from the caverns ceiling, came crashing down into the square. Not that he wanted anyone to get hurt, it was a morbid curiosity to be sure, but he would never wish any of his fellow villagers any actual ill will.

  “But it would sure shake things up around here for once…add a little excitement to all this…” He mused to himself.

  “What kind of trouble are you thinking of getting yourself into now, Logan Walker?” Elise demanded poking his shoulder, and speaking to him as if he were a child who had just been caught doing something naughty. The village women and children all around them were standing up, brushing off their long thick woolen dresses, mustering up a cloud of dust. He had been so caught up in his thoughts he had not even realized that Elder Morgana had finished her parable of their forefather’s sins and greed.

  “Well, do you have wool stuck in your ears, or are you going to answer me?” Elise stood looking down at him with clear blue eyes, cocking her head to one side, thick blonde ringlets falling over her shoulders and hands resting on her hips. Her dress was surely one for the Culhada, with brightly embroidered roses stitched from the hem, working up toward her slender waist.

  “Surely I have not the slightest inkling of what you are referring Madame.” Logan mocked, speaking in an uncharacteristically haughty tone. He chuckled, reaching out to have her help him to his feet.

  “Don’t you play the injured lamb with me Logan. You may have spun your little tale with Elder Morgana and the hunters, but surely you don't think I am going to fall for this nonsense?” Elise reprimanded, still helping him to his feet despite her words.

  Logan stood tall at five foot eight, almost a full foot over her, with broad shoulders and chiseled features. His eyes shone mischievous and emerald-green down at her giving stark contrast to the walnut colored mop of short-cropped hair atop his head. Elise thought he would truly be a handsome man one day, if he only took some care to groom himself up a bit more from time to time. He was nearly as large as his brother, her fiancé, in build, capable of taking on most of the men his age in a grappling match, for sure. She frowned slightly at the idea that all this muscle was to be wasted on Logan’s silly pranks and loafing about.

  Looking as if his pride may truly have been wounded he said, “Now that is not fair Lisie, you know I hurt myself pretty bad when I fell.” He faked a pout, glancing at his left foot for sympathy.

  “Well if you were not being a peeping little smurf it would never have happened, eh? Maybe then, instead of trying to spy on ladies in the nude, you could be out there doing your part in the great hunt.” Elise scolded, though she knew each word fell on deaf ears. In fact, they both knew that he had zero interest in hunting. It wasn’t that Logan could not hunt, because he happened to be very skilled at tracking and better than most with a bow. Elise had often overheard the men of Riverbell lamenting the wasted potential of the boy. However, he always claimed he was built more for life in a city filled with the hustle and bustle of society. Villages like this were no place for such laziness and vanity.

  Riverbell was a place of close-knit families working hard each day to survive. Their goods came from farming and hunting the land, which produced many crops and furs that they would trade with the capitol of Fal. Once a year they would celebrate the great Culhada, a time when their god, the great floating Crystal Baetylus, at home high in the cavern above their heads, would blow out his light, regenerating for a new year. A month after this the city traders would come, bringing silks, chocolates, and ever-precious oils for burning and energy, all the goods the village needed. When everyone else was hard at work, Logan was the one to be found daydreaming in the gardens. When he was supposed to be working the fields, he would certainly be found napping instead, hidden in the tall grass.

  “Awww, come on Elise that is not what happened. I already told you I thought I saw a sand snake going up the wall and wanted to catch it before any of the women were given a fright!” Logan’s blush made him look guilty as ever while he stood there nervously scratching the back of his neck.

  No one believed him about the snake, but he had actually seen one this time. It began innocently enough, with him trying to catch the tiny serpent. Well, as innocent as trying to trap it with plans just to let the serpent loose in the women’s costume building could be. How could he help his insatiable curiosity? Once he reached the window the snake slithered into, he saw the three women inside giggling while they were getting dressed. How was he expected to look away as they were discussing the day ahead naked from the waist up? When the crates fell out from beneath him, it was all he could do to hold onto the wooden window frame, bringing a series of shrieks from the women inside. He had tried quickly to explain about the snake, but then a popping sound of the wooden frame coming loose let him know he was in real trouble. When he hit the ground below, he wanted only to run and hide, but the flames of pain shooting up his left leg would not allow for that. It seemed that Elder Morgana decided his injury was punishment enough, but also forbade him from being a part of the upcoming hunt.

  So, while all the men were out hunting for the feast, he was stuck back here with all the women and children. Logan actually felt that this was a reward! So much so, that he neglected telling anyone his ankle had gotten better three days before the celebration. Instead, he worked the limp with dramatic flair to stay behind and loaf about.

  Elise wagged her finger at him dangerously, “I have known you all your life, and I can see right through these childish games! I can tell when you are acting the part, which seems to be most of the time lately, so don’t you be trying to fool me.” Despite her lecture, Logan could see that glint in her eyes that told him she still secretly found his antics amusing. In fact, as children, Elise found herself laughing with him more than once at the trouble he so easily found himself in. Back then, she took almost as much pleasure in them as he did.

  Holding his hands up in mock surrender, he said, “Okay…okay, you got me, I never fell from the window.” At this, Elise wrinkled her nose and boxed his ear.

  “Oh quiet! You are a wool headed mule after all…. If only you had your brother’s integrity, then you would not need to be sneaking peeks at women’s underskirts.”

  Logan grunted at her reference to her relationship with his younger brother. Elise was one of their childhood friends, but in the last three years she and Corbin had become much more than that. He did not like to think about his brother holding Elise that way, it felt weird. Not that he held any resentment toward the couple; he was very happy for them and thought they made a great pair. He just did not like to think about having to settle down with one of the girls in the village, though he knew the women folk had other plans for his future. Once they decided who was a good fit, meaning what girl would put up with his nonsense, there would be little he could do to avoid that fate. A good woman would take care of his mischievous nature and he would be tamed into a respectable member of the village by the time they were done. That is why Logan had every intention of leaving Riverbell this year when the traders came after the festival. He had told no one, only hinting it to Corbin when they ate their meals.

  “Well here comes your Knight of Integrity right now, milady.” One of the little village boys teased, tugging at Elise’s skirts, he must have been listening in on their conversation, and pointed at the seven foot wooden wall that encircled the small village from the outside wilds of the underground kingdom New Fal.

  Logan perked his head up to see the hunters returning through the gates, with all the women swarming around them in excitement. Elise grabbed him by the sleeve, happily running toward the men. His foot only slightly ached so he was almost a match for her speed. He had watched the men come back with meager catches each celebration and never saw the need for all the excitement. They were really not that much different from the regular hunts. There was one festival where t
he bounty was larger, when his father still lived and had helped four others take down a bull of enormous proportions. The beast had wandered into their territory, virtually stumbling into the hunters’ path, as they were tracking a wild boar. That year the feast was more than plentiful and everyone swore it would be a cycle filled with fortune. That was the same year he had lost both of his parents.

  Logan and Elise made their way through the gathering to watch as the men paraded into the village with their catch. Some had nothing but a smile to offer, while others were carrying bags of tree squirrels for stews or cages of sand snakes for roasting. A few actually had caught a baby boar together for the festival feast, carrying it with prideful smiles at the cheering women.

  Günter was walking by, with one such trophy, when Elise tackled her father, smothering him with hugs and kisses. “Now, now my little rose; careful you don’t stain that pretty dress.” He laughed jovially, hugging her back.

  “Pa, where is Corbin? I don’t see him anywhere; did we miss him coming through?” Elise asked, eagerly searching the group.

  Günter gave one of his boisterous laughs, his large stomach bouncing. “That boy is something else! He said he was tracking a boar and nothing could get him off that trail. I expect he probably will keep on it until he gets the game. Don’t fret over the young man darling girl; he can certainly take care of himself. I’m sure he will be back soon enough.” Elise pouted as he patted her cheek lovingly, crossing her arms while Logan looked out past the wall into the wilds.

  “What can my little brother be up to out there all alone?” he thought to himself.

  Chapter 2

  Corbin Walker slithered across the rock, like a panther stalking its prey. His muscular arms and legs stretched wide with his stomach pressed flat against the smooth cool surface of the rock, as he waited bare chested. He had left his leather vest hanging in the branches above, before slipping down from his temporary perch in the tree, to tie his shoulder length raven-black hair behind his head. Gritting his teeth, the bones of his square jaw pulled against the smooth pale skin, as he scanned the area with probing blue-grey eyes. Corbin had come out this cycle with one goal in mind, to hunt down the elusive wild boar that had been pillaging the villager’s truffle supplies all year. The beast had so seldom been sighted, and had thus far proved to be most elusive, that his people thought it would be impossible to trap the swine, and some even considered it a phantom. The older hunters told him it was a waste of time to track, not wanting to join in what they deemed a futile hunt, not when there was a festival waiting for them back in Riverbell.