Dawning Ceremony (Sexcraft Chronicles Book 3) Read online

  Dawning Ceremony

  Edmund Hughes

  This digital book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this title with another person, please purchase an additional copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. All other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Edmund Hughes

  Kindle Edition

  Contents

  Dawning Ceremony

  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

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  INTERLUDE

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 1

  A cold breeze blew from the cave entrance, contrasting against the desert’s dry heat. Hal approached slowly, keeping one hand on the handle of his flintlock pistol as he watched for movement from the shadows.

  He was a couple of miles west of Lorne. The owner of the town general store, Koda, had complained of strange noises in one of the caves where she usually harvested her mushrooms. Hal had plenty of time for odd jobs now that it was past harvest season, with only the sturdy cacti that grew year round and the animals needing any real attention.

  He heard nothing from within the cave, at least not at first. A light scratching noise came from just beyond the entrance as he took his first step into the shadows. He flinched back, almost stumbling over a rock, as a sand rat no larger than his hand squeaked and ran between his feet.

  Could this be what Koda was scared of? She never gave a good description of whatever it was…

  He thought it was pretty likely, but decided to head deeper into the cave anyway, just in case. He’d had bad experiences with caves in the past, and felt his jaw tighten as he ducked low enough to make it inside.

  Almost immediately he recognized a damp, copper scent. It was the unmistakable smell of fresh death. It only took him a couple of seconds to find the source, the headless body of a man along one edge of the cave’s wall. Whoever it had been was missing as many limbs as they had, and remained eternally curled into the fetal position in a desperate bid to protect their underside.

  There was something else about the corpse that was unusual. His clothes were different from any Hal had seen before, or at least, they had been. What remained of the torn fabric was tight against the man’s skin, even stretching to cover him, in some places. It wasn’t how men dressed in Krestia’s Cradle, or even back in the Collected Provinces.

  Hal was still considering how the dead man had found his fate when another noise came from within the cave. It was heavy, far louder than any mouse. He scowled, cocking the hammer of his pistol and drawing his short sword in a quick series of practiced movements.

  He’d only barely brought his weapons up to guard when a monster lurched out of darkness and dove toward him. Hal spun out of its way, swinging his sword into a shallow slash across his opponent’s skin. He lifted his pistol and pulled the trigger.

  He hadn’t loaded the flintlock gun, but that wasn’t a problem, and it hadn’t been ever since he’d come into possession of his heartgem. All Hal needed was the spark. From that, he was able to channel some of the ruby essence, concentrated emotional passion, into a spell, in this case, Flame Shot.

  A spherical projectile of swirling fire erupted from the barrel of his pistol, illuminating the cave for the instant it took to cross the space to its target. It gave Hal a glimpse of his enemy. He was up against a husk, one of the hideous, undead monsters that had been plaguing cities and towns across Krestia’s Cradle for the past few months.

  We killed the necromancer we thought responsible for them. Why would there be another one here?

  The question was secondary to his current concerns. The husk staggered back, beating its long fingered hands against a small patch of fire from where the blast had struck. It opened a wide mouth, overfull with blackened, razor teeth, and let out a wet snarl.

  Hal didn’t have enough ruby essence left in his heartgem to waste on another spell. It had been hard for him to store much of it over the past three months. He relied on his teacher, Cadrian, for the frequent intimate encounters necessary to reliably generate ruby essence, and she’d only been in Lorne for a handful of days, much to Hal’s disappointment.

  He had the option of using a sapphire spell, but Hal knew from practice that it was hard to use water elemental magic as an offensive tool. And he still couldn’t draw from the other three potential elements that his heartgem would allow him to channel from, though not for a lack of trying.

  The husk stalked toward him, and Hal resorted to his alternative strategy. He sheathed his pistol and brought the tip of his sword up, keeping it pointed at the husk as the monster approached.

  The husk was smart enough to feint to one side before charging, but Hal didn’t fall for it. He jabbed forward with his weapon, catching the husk in the shoulder with the point. It reared back, leaving itself open for long enough for Hal to lop off one of its arms.

  His sword skills had improved by leaps and bounds over the past few months, and it felt nice to put them to use, even if it was in a life or death situation. The husk let out a monstrous roar twisting and moving unpredictably as it lurched toward him in a death charge.

  Hal decapitated it in a single, clean stroke, watching the creature’s body continue to twitch as it fell to the ground, blood pumping out of its neck stump. He took a look around the cave, confirming that the entrance he came in from was the only way out, and then returned to the dead man’s body.

  Hal crouched down next to the corpse as he wiped the blade off and sheathed it. The man’s shirt was torn enough for Hal to see markings across his back and shoulders, even through the blood encrusted on his skin. It was hard to make out what they were in the darkness, but he recognized elven lettering.

  It made him think of Zoria, his former companion and the only elf he’d known personally. Hal had helped her replace some of her tattoos and gotten a good look at them in the process. The one he saw on this man’s back was different, scarred into the flesh there instead of created with ink.

  Hal considered it for a few more seconds before leaving the cave. The sun was already low on the horizon, burning red in the sky like one of his ruby spells. He started back toward town.

  Lorne almost blended in to the sand it was bu
ilt on. It was a small village built around a single well, molded by the desert around it. The houses were all smooth, yellow sandstone, the edges rounded from years of intense weathering on the part of the seasonal sandstorms.

  It was a town of exiles, lacking any real reason for existing beyond being a place for those who’d fallen out of favor with Maxim Cedric, the ruling High Lord of Krestia’s Cradle. There were few children in Lorne, and each of its residents had their own story.

  The main road through town was mostly empty, with only a few people sitting outside, watching the sunset. Hal headed straight for the town’s inn, dusting his boots off on the porch before pushing through the door and the cloth barrier on the other side.

  The barroom was one of the town’s main communal areas, and already there were people slouched down at tables, sipping at mugs of ale. A large, wooden stage sat in the far corner, one that Hal had performed on somewhat frequently in his visits over the past few months.

  Meridon, the innkeeper, stood behind the bar, flipping through an open ledger with a frown on his face. He was a large man, his head balding and his face worn with scars. He glanced up as Hal approached him, closing the ledger and raising an eyebrow.

  “It took you long enough,” said Meridon. “The job’s done, then?”

  Hal gave the gruff man a nod and sat down on a bar stool.

  “It’s done,” he said. “But it was worse than what I was expecting.”

  Meridon scowled at him. The two of them had never gotten along all that well, though they’d developed a grudging respect for each other over the months.

  “You’re not getting a copper over what we agreed upon, you here?” barked Meridon.

  “That’s not what I meant.” Hal leaned in closer, glancing around to make sure nobody was within listening distance. “It wasn’t a beast, Meridon. It was a husk. An undead monster. And it had a corpse in the cave with it.”

  Meridon’s eyebrows shot up. He lifted his head, looking around at the people in the bar.

  “It wasn’t anyone from town,” Hal quickly added. “They wore strange clothing. Unlike anything from around here, or anywhere that I’ve seen.”

  He sighed, chewing on his lip and trying not to worry about Laurel, who was back at the homestead, on her own.

  “Hmm,” said Meridon. “That’s no good at all. I’ve already heard about there being more of these same monsters on the loose up north. The trade caravan that came in today was talking about them, worrying about whether they’d need to hire another guard, just in case.”

  “You’re going to want to spread the word,” said Hal. “But… in a way that doesn’t alarm people. I only saw one in that cave. It isn’t anything to panic over, just yet.”

  Meridon rubbed his hand through his thin beard for a couple of seconds. Finally, he gave a small nod and reached under the bar counter. He brought up a small pouch of coins and an empty mug, the latter he took to fill from an ale keg.

  “The same goes for you,” said Meridon. “And Lady Laurel, too. The two of you best be staying out of trouble up in that valley. In every sense of the word trouble, I hope you know.”

  Hal resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

  “We’re fine, Meridon,” he said, bracing himself for a lecture.

  “It’s improper and scandalous, and… and… a dozen other things for a lady of her background to be sharing a cabin with a ruffian like you,” said Meridon. “But… If you are going to be there with her, you’d best be keeping her safe, at any cost.”

  “I will,” said Hal.

  He accepted the full mug of ale as Meridon passed it to him and took a long sip. The old innkeeper’s fears for Lady Laurel, as he insisted on calling her, were well intentioned, if misplaced. It wasn’t like that between them, and it never had been.

  That wasn’t to say that their friendship was perfect. The past couple of months had been odd for the both of them. Laurel had taken to practicing with a ruby ring that had once belonged to her brother, Willum.

  She didn’t have a teacher like he’d had with Cadrian, and Hal worried about the trouble she might get in without proper guidance. The only saving grace was the fact that her gem filled with essence at an extremely slow rate. Laurel wasn’t the kind of girl to go chasing after passionate experiences for the sake of practicing her magic, and they didn’t have any of the herbs used by the Temple of Lyris to induce emotions by force.

  Laurel seemed to resent the fact that Hal was unwilling to take her on as an apprentice in the same way Cadrian had taken him on. It was out of the question, as far as Hal was concerned, and it made him wonder if Laurel really understood all of what his training with Cadrian had entailed.

  We’ve talked about it before. She knew that Cadrian and I were having sex. She must just be confused about what me training her would mean.

  Hal counted the coins, smiling as he noticed that Meridon had thrown in a few extra as a tip. The innkeeper had already moved on to greeting a small group of traders that had come into town on a caravan, gesturing toward a table for them to sit at.

  CHAPTER 2

  Hal had planned on getting back to Lorne earlier and heading back to the homestead before dark, but it had taken him longer than expected to find the cave. He’d have to spend the night in Lorne, not that he really minded. Hal scanned the barroom and spotted a familiar face in the corner of the room.

  Vrodas was sipping on a mug of ale and scribbling in a notebook, oblivious to the growing merriment in the barroom around him. His long black hair was tied into a warrior’s tail which fell across one shoulder. His upper arms were on the table, while his secondary arms, one of the defining characteristics of the ogre physique, hung loosely at his sides.

  Hal made his way across the room and sat down across from him. Vrodas glanced up at him in surprise, his expression shifting as he recognized him.

  “Hal,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were in town today. Good to see you.”

  “Same to you, friend,” said Hal. “Things were quiet at the homestead, so I figured I’d see if anyone had any work available.”

  Vrodas closed his notebook and folded his arms, a wry smile spreading across his face.

  “That explains why I had trouble finding anything to do today,” he said. “Slim pickings for odd jobs outside of harvest season.”

  Hal shrugged. “You could always put on a show tonight. The new drummer in town is talented, and the traders passing through probably have some coin to spare.”

  Vrodas nodded, though his smile wilted a little bit. When Hal had first met him, he’d been traveling with a fiddler named Theron who’d been his partner in both performing and life. Theron had been killed during a dragon attack on Lorne, and Hal wondered if mentioning the drummer had trudged up painful memories for him.

  “It’s not that simple, at least not with this caravan,” said Vrodas. “Which is actually why I’m glad you’re here.”

  Hal furrowed his brow, shaking his head slightly.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  Vrodas gave a subtle wave toward the corner of the room nearest to the door. Hal looked in that direction and whistled in surprise. There were two ogre women sitting at one of the tables, eating dinner and making conversation.

  “Huh,” said Hal. “I guess they must have arrived with the caravan. You don’t see many ogres passing through Lorne.”

  “Maug,” corrected Vrodas. “You should really try to stop using that word.”

  “Ah,” said Hal, sheepishly. “Sorry.”

  “My point is,” said Vrodas, “I won’t be able to dance the Kye Lornis without them joining in.”

  “And that’s a bad thing… why?” asked Hal.

  He was still looking at the maug women. They were both attractive, though in different ways. One of them had medium length black hair, perfectly straight and shiny, along with generous breasts that her low-cut blouse barely kept in check. The other was petite, with short red hair and a generously freckled face. She wore a
dress that only hung to midthigh, and Hal stared at her milky, exposed calf muscles for a shamefully long amount of time.

  “Maug culture is heavily rooted in dance and music,” said Vrodas. “It’s hard for me to explain this to you in the common language. When maug of different tribes first meet each other, they must… engage with each other.”

  As he said the word engage, Vrodas’s hands went through a quick series of movements. Hal was familiar with the maug hand dancing language, but he wasn’t familiar with the word that his friend had just signed.

  “Okay,” said Hal. “So you’re worried about what would happen if you engaged with them? And by that, you mean dancing, right?”

  Vrodas nodded slowly. “Right,” he said, holding up the stump on his bottom arm where his missing hand had once been.

  Of course. I’ve picked up enough on the details of Vrodas’s past to know that his injury is somehow related to something shameful that happened between him and his tribe.

  “I get it,” said Hal. “It’s no big deal.”

  Vrodas glanced over at the maug women, and then back at Hal. A mischievous smile crept across his face, and he leaned in closer.

  “Would you have my back, if I did decide that I wanted to perform tonight?” he asked.

  Hal grinned and slapped him on the shoulder.

  “Of course,” he said. “You don’t even have to ask.”

  The two of them waited until the town’s new resident drummer and musician, Donnel, had entered the inn before making their move. Hal and Vrodas waited next to the stage while Donnel set up his blackwood drums. True to what Vrodas had said, both of the maug women were eyeing them from across the room, waiting and watching to see what they’d do.

  Donnel began his drumming with a slow warmup rhythm. As soon as Hal and Vrodas stepped on stage, the inn’s patrons gave them an introductory round of cheers and applause, most of the people knowing what was to come. The maug women stood up and came to join them without asking for permission, and without saying anything.

  Vrodas started off the Kye Lornis circle with some basic standing movements, his boots hitting the wood in time with the drums while he spun and shifted his arms. He gestured toward Hal and made to slide out of center and let him take over. The black haired maug woman beat him to it, a small, teasing smile spreading across her lips as she broke into dancing.