Tale of Doom
When the realm is threatened, when the gods cower in fear, when kings and their armies are useless and wizards offer no hope, who would even try to save the world?
An ageless assassin and a tormented barmaid will dare...
...but fate has other plans.
The complete version of Tale of Doom, containing Volumes 1 and, 2 is now available in e-book format, through Amazon and Itch.io
We were about to enter the tavern when the door flew open and a big, giant ragged shape tumbled through, narrowly missing us. Someone else, behind him, was yelling:
“And stay out! You're depressing my customers with your doom sayings.”, he then entered back and slammed the door. A moment later, the door flew open again, and the man threw out a dusty, tattered bag, in the vicinity of the ragged person he had just evicted.
“Do you... do you have visions of the impending destruction as well?”, Gwen asked.
“Impending? Destruction?”, he said, with sluggish speech, trying to grab his bag and pick himself up.
“Visions? Of what? A fellow asked how I was feeling and I was just trying to explain that to'em.”
He slowly got up, and finally raised his gaze to actually see who he was talking to. When he saw me, his sad, distant expression suddenly cheered up for an instant.
“Thorm?”, he asked, less sluggish.
“Thorm?”, he asked again, with more enthusiasm.
“Bren, how have you been.”, I said.
“Thorm!”, he shouted and rushed at me with open arms and tears in his eyes.
“My old comrade. Oh, it's been so long since I've seen a friendly face.” , he hugged me tightly, lifting me off the ground. I patted him on the back, hoping he would let go.
“You were always there for me, you always got me.”, he continued.
“You...”, he put me down and took a step back.
“You look about as well as I feel.”, he looked down.
“At least I have shoes left.”
Gwen laughed
“Well, he is right.”, she said.
“And you miss? The red hair, that hilt, hanging out with him... You're Will's daughter, aren't you?”
“Indeed I am, nice to meet you”, she bowed slightly. Bren gave her a hug that startled her a bit.
“Will said I would find you with him.”, he let go of her.
“We stopped at his tavern on the way here. Those two said you would be there. Thought it was some trick when you weren't there, but at least I got to see Will again.”
“How is father doing?”
“He's fine miss, he's fine. He was worried about you, about his Gwen. He even gave me a free drink if I told you he missed you. So he misses you.”
“That was nice of him.”, she smiled.
Bren then turned towards me.
“So, what's the old snake want with us? Getting rid of evidence?”, he asked.
“No, not yet. He's looking for something. We've got this”, I showed him the stone.
“It's supposed to do something when near the right person. And since it's doing nothing, then it's probably not you.”
“It never is, is it.”, he said with a low voice.
“Never the one to have a home, never the one to have a family, never the one live his days in peace and quiet, and not be dragged back, back to this, this thing, this thing that ruined me, ruined you, ruined her dad, ruined us, probably going to ruin her too.”, he grabbed me by the vest and pulled me in close to him.
“We used to be people, Thorm, we used to dream. Or, at least I think I did, once. A long time ago, before… ”, Bren let go and started sobbing.
Consoling him was always a chore, and since the tavern kicked him out, I guess a drink was out of the question.
“Come on.”, I patted him on the back.
“Well take a ship back around the island, see the old gang again. Have a food, a drink, and make fun of the old prick. Doesn't that sound better than moping around the docks? And on the way, Gwen can tell you how she fought off a band of pirates single handed, and blew up their ship. Wouldn't you like that?”
“Aye.”, he said with tears in his eyes. “It does better.”
Gwen was reminded then of what her father could have turned into, had he remained in service, had he not met Elizabeth, had she not been born, and it upset her. So she did her best to cheer up this broken shell of a man, with a tale like Will used to weave, mixing fact and fiction, and for a moment, making the poor old wreck forget to be crushingly sad.
Excerpts
Noise, like insects screaming everywhere. A sharp throbbing in my ears as they circle all around in a spiral, coming closer and closer, louder and louder. They wake me up just as a ray of sunshine pierces through the clouds and warms my face. Up until this point I've felt numb all over, understandable, since I am lying on a patch of snow, soft, freshly fallen and very cold. I get up, noticing an itching sensation in my left eye. Scratching it makes it fade, but it doesn't really go away. Looking around, I seem to be in some sort of meadow with snow and dirt. There's a path behind me, leading up to a mound, and everywhere else there's a dark forest with short, dead trees, tightly packed together. They all look sort of the same, and I think I can hear sounds coming from inside. Not the insects this time. I can't make out any of them, they're distorted and just hearing them is making me ill. The trees twist before my eyes as I walk closer, but the thought of another step freezes me in place. I would instead want to go away from here, run. But why? Fear? Doubtful, not after, not... I look around again and panic. Where am I? How did I get here? Do I at least know who I am? Thorm, yes, I'm Thorm. I remember looking for someone, but everything else is unclear. Flashes that don't make sense, noise I can't understand, then nothing. This place isn't very appealing, maybe I'll find answers somewhere else, far from these fell woods.
I walk to the top of the mound. The land stretches as far as I can see, but it's somehow utterly featureless, blurring off into the distance. Maybe my eyes are getting too old. I scratch the one that still itches and move on. There's less snow down here. Melting into the ground, it leaves behind muddy soil. Though, when walking over it, I could almost swear there's stone underneath. It seems as if it's actually dirt on a paved road. Like the one leading to the tavern. What tavern? There's a sharp sting in my head when I try to remember. Maybe it's not important. At this point I just wish the insects would stop following me. The mud dries up, turning into dry earth, cracked, baking under the bright hot sun. The clouds are gone. Should have picked up some of that snow, the heat is almost unbearable. I turn around to see how far I've gone, but it doesn't make sense. The forest shouldn't be that close, there should be mud, there should be snow, there should be a mound. Had I got turned around? Walked in circles? Perhaps, it's hard to tell in this place, wherever it may be. I must have walked the world twice over, at least, and some places beyond it too, but seen nothing like this before. A few blades of grass rise up from the cracks, small and frail, but a most welcome sight. They grow longer after a while, thicker, swaying in cool wind. I find myself surrounded by tall grass. Everywhere, just grass, but not behind me. I don't want to look behind me. Wherever I may be, it's a peaceful place, calming. For some reason, I breathe a sigh of relief, and for a few moments I lie down. I hadn't noticed up until now, but I feel tired and I would like take a nap on a soft bed of grass, if it were not for the insects. Their sounds is like an irritating ringing clawing through the ears and into my brain. I do my best to ignore it, but I can't. I get up and now, in the distance, there's something new.
Red. A spot of red in the corner of my right eye. Approaching it, I can see that it's a small garden of roses, being tended to by a woman. I remember her. She's not supposed to be here, she couldn't. I call out her name, but before I can utter a sound, a gust of wind blows dust into my eyes, blinding me for a spell. When it dies down, she is gone, so is the garden. This more than anything serves to fuel my suspicion that I'm not in a real place. And the ringing, it's not insects, I don't remember seeing any insect in this place. It's in my head and growing louder with each step I take. Perhaps going farther would give me answers, so I walk and walk for untold lengths, yet no answers come, just more ringing. The sun is fading, and with it the grass withers. It used to be pleasant here, but now even the cool wind has an ominous sound to it, blowing through the dry blades of grass, making a sound that scrapes my nerves and makes my eye itch even worse. Then the blue sky turns to blood and the ground turns into a desolate wasteland. It doesn't even feel like earth anymore, the ground is dry and hard, almost as if it were stone and from time to time small twisters form in the wind, scattering dust in all directions. Then I see it. On the horizon. A single black shape approaching. I know it. The vision that first visited me decades ago, the inevitable I had hoped to never meet again. The creature they would call Death.
Quotes from actual readers
It's a book that exits. I guess. Probably. It's full of words and stuff. There's two instances of those three asterixes, so I guess it's a good book.
So, let me see if I understand this. It took you 10 years to write this and so far you've sold basically nothing?
If I were stuck on a desert island with this book, I couldn't even use it to make a fire, since it's all digital and whatnot.