In a time, long since forgotten, and in a world that is forever changing, reality has not yet been deemed myth and legends are still in the making. Mortals all play part in the unwritten destiny that will change the face of this planet forever, a planet governed by higher powers and watched over by the Guardians. This is one of their stories.
Drafted by a deranged king and guided by a mysterious entity, a handful of mortals will attempt to save the planet, conquer their demons and write history.
The dark wanderers have made their stand at Mountain Shadow and are now looking to destroy the source of the darkness in the ruins of Bohm. In order to find the artifacts, they must venture into underground ruins and a dwarven city. Charon has made it his priority to seek vengeance and a malefic band of dark assassins have been dispatched to kill high priests of the Holylight. The old man has called a meeting to discuss these events with others of his kind. Who is this old man and what role do the gods play in this story?
Welcome to the second of many books from the Immortal Saga.
Welcome to book two of The Avatar and the God: The Tormented and the Prisoner.
Michael G. Brown, born in Quebec in 1980, lives in Ontario, Canada with his wife, JC. His peers regard him as an intelligent but modest individual who can always put a smile on anyone’s face. He likes to consider himself among the most honourable of men, for he lives his life by a set of morals that he often states is lost upon the world today. Besides his beautiful wife, he has the love of his friends and believe it or not, his in-laws, who he considers all sacred to him.
He currently works at a window factory named Farley Windows as an assembler or “line monkey,” as he considers himself. He enjoys the tasks of welding, gassing, working the CNC and standing around talking. The standing around and talking part is just his own way of training to become a supervisor. Though with his lack of a verbal filter to stop certain opinions from being voices and his sick and twisted humour, he doubts he will ever be more than a simple line monkey just like everybody else. That’s fine with him for he only goes to work really to socialize with his friends and peers.
His hobbies include writing, computer games, home remodelling, drawing, and photography. He loves to spend time with his closest of friends and enjoys helping his beautiful wife, his princess, through her pregnancy.
A spear, which looked more like a snake made up of bones, appeared from behind the necromancer and began to circle around him as if waiting for a command. He then sent the bone spear flying, aimed directly at Frosty’s heart. The wizard reacted fast and incinerated the bone spear with a wave of his hand, causing it to fall to the floor in the form of ashes. Three more bone spears were sent toward the wizard, all with the same outcome; ashes.
It was now Frosty’s turn to deal out the spells. He threw a cluster of magic boulders, spinning through the air toward his foe. Prophus acted quickly and cast a strange shield spell. It took no more than the blink of an eye for the spell to complete. The discarded bone pieces lifted off of the floor and instantaneously converged upon the necromancer’s left arm. It happened too quickly for Frosty to understand what had happened but it was as though the bone dust and fragments had grown into full-length leg and arm bones, horns and sharp teeth. With this new gruesome shield comprised of bones, Prophus raised it before him to deflect the boulders. The impact was delivered with such force that it pushed the necromancer back, sliding upon his feet yet he remained unharmed. The shield saved the vile creature’s tormented life.
Frosty was surprised by this defensive manoeuvre and the ineffectiveness of his magic boulders but still he cast them again but this time in greater numbers. Fifteen in all flew from his hands in various sizes all surging forth to end with the same result. Each boulder hit the necromancer’s bone shield with a sprinkle of cracking sounds. Bone fragments flew off of Prophus’s shield but they were immediately replaced, as the shield seemed to regenerate. The boulders all bounced across the floor in different directions before crumbling to small pieces of rock.
Next, the necromancer sent forth a cloud of poisonous gas. It rapidly floated towards Frosty, expanding with a beautiful hue of deadly green. It would have surely poisoned him, if not killed him, but Frosty countered this attack with a wind spell. Winds manifested from Frosty’s hands, sending the poison back toward Prophus. Gusting airstreams blew across the floor, raising dust and dirt as it carried the toxic gasses along. The poison cloud engulfed the necromancer, concealing him from Frosty’s view. When the cloud finally passed, Prophus stood unaffected.
As Jinxy approached the animated skeleton sitting upon the throne, it turned its head toward her. It made no attempt to attack or block the swing, almost as though it hungered for release. Jinxy’s mace came down hard and smashed the skeleton’s skull into many pieces. This caught Prophus’s attention.
“ANDERIAL!” the necromancer screamed, like a simple man who had just lost everything yet with the voice of a demon. To Prophus, Frosty was of little importance now. The magic battle was forgotten, as the necromancer discarded his shield and ran toward the throne where Jinxy stood. A shower of ice shards hit the ground where the necromancer had just been standing a moment ago, crushing only the bone shield. Frosty continued to cast Ice Spikes at his opponent, following him as he ran. Each time that the spikes of shimmering blue ice flew with cold vapour trailing behind, the end result was the same. Shattering upon the wall and falling to the floor in shards, the ice missed the necromancer by scant finger lengths. Frosty halted his attacks, once the necromancer had reached Jinxy, to avoid injuring her in the process.
Jinxy never saw the necromancer coming. Before she knew it, two hands were around her neck and lifting her off her feet. She dropped her mace and gripped the arms of her assailant, trying desperately to break free. Her left hand felt something odd under its grasp. Within a split second she had assessed the situation. Her left hand was holding onto a glove made of flesh. The source of the odd feeling was the faces in the glove. She could see, through her now bloodshot eyes, that there were tortured faces undulating from beneath the skin of the glove, as if desperately trying to break free. The other hand around her neck was bare except for the odd jewellery and was cold as ice. Even with the absence of blood rushing to her brain and the lack of air flowing to her lungs, she could smell the disgusting odour of decaying flesh wafting from this putrid being before her. If that wasn’t enough to render her with a feeling of hopelessness, the eyes of her attacker were. When her gaze followed the arms to the one possessing them, she noticed them. Set within a face that was pale and clear of complexion, the glazed over eyes she had noticed from afar earlier, were now replaced with a raging hellish glow. The eyes burned bright red, giving the impression of two hot coals beneath his brow.