Gloom Rising (The Book Wielder Saga 1)
Read Gloom Rising (The Book Wielder Saga 1) Online
Authors: Sean Davies
The Book Wielder Saga
Gloom Rising
Contents
Chapter 2: A Night to Remember in the Real
Chapter 3: Woodsholme Road Trip
Chapter 6: The Inquisitor General’s Report
Chapter 8: The Attack on Orphan Isle
Chapter 10: Divine Intervention
Chapter 11: The Chaos before the Storm – Part 1
Chapter 12: The Chaos before the Storm – Part 2
Chapter 13: The End of the Beginning
Prologue
The books are fonts of magical knowledge that have existed in the world long before time was even recorded. Unlike artefacts and trinkets they cannot be traded or stolen, for the books choose their owners and will only bestow their great power to that individual. These individuals are known as Book Wielders, and should they die their book will vanish and find a new owner.
The most valuable power a Book Wielder possesses is to traverse into the Gloom; a dark and dangerous magical reflection of our world. The Gloom holds many treasures considered valuable to the Supernatural community which makes Book Wielders invaluable to their allies and targets for their enemies.
Chapter 1:
Gloom City
This is how Winston found himself on the other side, in the Gloom, 'auditioning' for the Capital City's Shadow Circle gang boss. A highly promising promotion, especially considering he had only been a collector for the local Supernaturals in his village since he had found his book, but a very tough task was necessary to succeed.
It had only been a few months since his book had chosen him, calling him to a small used bookstore where it was sitting under a pile of dusty old tomes. It seemed to glow as if an eerie green light was permeating through its worn brown leather cover. As he picked it up he was surprised at how light it was for a book of such a size. Each page came to life as he flicked through them, the ink slithering and racing across the pages like a swarm of tiny snakes leaving detailed illegible script and symbols. He brought it from the kindly old man who owned the shop, who was quite confused as to why Winston was interested in a dirty, musty book with blank pages, for just one Imperial Credit.
The room he was in now looked just like the autocrat suite of the hotel on the other side but it was darker, deteriorated, decayed; to be cliché, it was 'gloomier'. The furniture was battered, worn, and rotten. The paintings in the room had changed from beautiful landscapes and noble portraits to disgusting depictions of misery, degradation, and horror. To Winston, none of this was new; every area of the Gloom he had seen looked like this, a twisted reflection of reality, a darkened copy of the world we call home. However, the grim surroundings and unpleasant decor were not the worst things about the Gloom. It was the Freaks and the Demons.
Freaks were the reflection of humanity. They varied in size and appearance, from life-sized creepy dolls to hulking axe wielding psychopaths. Usually the larger the population on the real side, the more 'civilised' the Freaks were in that area of the Gloom. The Freaks in the reflection of Winston's country village would almost always kill on sight, but the ones here in The Capital would be open to negotiating an agreement that would give him some degree of free roaming. That's why Winston had the sack.
Demons, which Winston had never yet encountered, were just terrifying.
In addition to the sack, he carried in his best suit (which was guaranteed to be ruined in this audition), two lighters, a pocket knife, a small alchemists collection kit, a fully loaded 9mm pistol with two spare clips, and a couple of chocolate bars.
He had learned early on in his experience with the Gloom that 'real' forces such as fire were more effective against Freaks than forces created by spells, and most other magic based attacks in general. Living in a magically saturated plain of existence, unsurprisingly, seemed to give them a natural resistance to magic.
The light alchemist’s collection kit was roughly the size of a cigar tin and was used for storing the valuable herbs and chemicals that were only found in the Gloom, and the knife was to help gather them. You never knew when you were about to stumble onto something valuable and it always paid off to be prepared.
Lucius, the Vampire that would be his boss if he made it out of this alive, had given him the pistol and the ammunition as he would most likely be encountering Demons on this trip. Winston was not sure how effective it would be against them but he was still glad to have it.
Being in the Gloom was very physically draining. Food from the real world was the best remedy, hence the chocolate. There were ways to make what the Gloom had to offer beneficial but it took time and effort, and in a life and death situation quick and easy was usually better.
The sack was filled with fresh fruit. The Freaks went crazy for anything fresh and it was a tradition of sorts to trade fruit for safe passage. With the ones that would communicate long enough to make a trade, that is, their craving for fresh food applied to living flesh too.
He braced himself and headed to one of the room's dirty shattered windows to look out at what awaited him. The Gloom Capital was a menacing sight, tall buildings reaching for the misty dark purple sky like the blackened fingers of a giant monster. The structures resembled evil forts, sinister towers, and worn, tattered, decrepit versions of the skyscrapers that were in the regular Capital City. Sickly green witchlight glowed here and there indicating signs of Freak habitation. Down in the streets four legged Spidercars, rusty brass-coloured machines with big glowing witchlight lamp eyes, creaked and vented steam as they ferried Freaks about the city. Others danced and jumped about like a parade of puppets, or even climbed up the side of buildings as if there were no gravity at all. Winston had never seen so many of them before and wondered if he had been given enough fruit to trade.
In the distance a building soared above the rest, a neat shadowy obelisk silhouetted against the skyline, oozing oppression as it watched over the rest of the Gloom Capital. It was the copy of the real world’s World Government building. A bright white light radiated from the top of the tower; this was Winston’s target, a rare and powerful item that his far more experienced predecessor had died trying to procure for Lucius.
He steeled himself and headed to the exit of the room. The corridor outside was almost pitch black so he summoned an orb of light that would follow him. The sphere of light flared into existence and purged away the darkness. Rat-like creatures scuttled out of the brightness before they could be properly revealed, their small red eyes glaring at Winston at the edge of the sphere’s illumination. Walking slowly and warily across the bared creaking floorboards, dragging the sack of fruit behind him, he made his way towards the staircase. He didn't even want to entertain the idea of using an elevator in the Gloom. Making his way through the empty doorframe to the set of stairs that were luckily made of concrete and not wood, he was plunged into a seemingly new level of darkness, but he was not sure if it was just his mind playing tricks on him. He risked steadying himself on the rusty guardrail for a peek downwards, but his light orb revealed only more concrete stairs descending around the chamber and the darkness of the void in the centre.
Small Blightmoths flickered upwards, drawn to the light; translucent violet insects with roughly a three inch wingspan, they weren’t violent but just annoying, so Winston made his way down unhindered. A short while down, a larger blood red moth flew passed his face and skittered around the light orb with his smaller kindred. Winston stopped in his tracks and carefully reached for his Alchemists Kit, selecting a thin silver pin that slyly elongated itself into a long deadly needle as he held it between his shaking fingers. He raised the needle and cautiously moved it closer to the red moth’s direction.
The creature was a Crimson Blightmoth. It was the female of its species and had an impressive five-inch wingspan, and it was also the carrier and administrator of a poison that boiled the blood. It was a highly valuable specimen, but not because of its poison; a well skilled Vampire Bloodmage could boil a victim's blood if they so wished. It was valuable because of an enchanted chemical in its wings, a chemical that allowed the creature to be highly resistant to flames and high temperatures. If utilised properly, mixed with the right ingredients, and brewed into a potion, it would grant its drinker the same properties. It would even allow a Vampire to walk in daylight unharmed, for as long as the potion's duration at least.
The moth hovered momentarily and Winston jabbed it with the needle, piercing it right through the centre of its body. The other moths rapidly dispersed due to the sudden movement and the Crimson Blightmoth's body shrivelled up before it could unleash its hail of deadly blood-boiling barbs. Leaving its beautiful and highly prized wings perfectly intact (as was the enchanted needle's sole purpose), Winston delicately plucked them off its withered body and placed them into one of his kit's many compartments. The needle returned to its normal size, leaving the abdomen of the moth to fall gracelessly to the ground. He put the needle into its holder almost as carefully as he had handled the wings, as it too was incredibly expensive.
There were a lot of expensive potions and ingredients traded in the Supernatural circles that would give various powers or healing to their consumer, but there were three in particular which were very useful and often consumed. These were known as the Corrective Potions. They fetched a high yet reasonable price, and the ingredients to make them were highly sought after, such as the Crimson Blightmoth's wings.
The Sunshield potion would allow a Vampire to walk in broad daylight without disintegrating, and would even put a bit more life and heat into their pallid flesh. Very useful for moving around unhindered by sunlight and for situations where they might be under close scrutiny.
The Tranquillity Potion would suppress a Werewolf's immense rage and prevent any unwanted transformations in public. It also reduced teeth, nail and hair growth, and stopped it from growing in places it shouldn’
t amongst the elder members of their species.
The Vitality Potion would breathe life back into a Mage’s flesh. Although immortal like all Supernaturals, their bodies withered and aged at the same rate as a regular human, if left unchecked an elder Mage would resemble a member of the undead even more than a Vampire would.
Winston was pleased that he had found the key ingredient to the Sunshield potion. Each wing would bring in a sizeable amount of money if he managed to get out of this trip alive. Knowing that he was most likely going to die quite soon at the hands of a psychotic herd of Freaks or a horrifying Demon made his rare find seem rather pointless.
He continued down the stairs at a steady pace, always gazing into the darkness for any sign of danger, always anticipating a possible attack. The closer he got to the ground floor, the more nervous he became. The chatter, laughter, singing, shrieks, and screams of the Freaks outside grew louder the further he carried on downwards, their eerie voices becoming a spine chilling background noise. His hand slid into his suit jacket and pulled out one of his lighters, thumbing the metal lid open and pressing it to the striker, ready to ignite it at a moment's notice.
When he reached the ground floor, he pushed open a creaky wooden door into the lobby of the hotel. It was well lit by Freak-conjured Witchlight orbs in broken glass containers, and it reminded Winston of the old gas lamps people in the past used before electricity. The place was classy by Gloom standards. Someone, or rather something, had gone to a degree of effort to make the place look presentable. He dispelled his light orb and made for the exit.
It was as he walked around the corner that Winston noticed the Freak behind the front desk. He instinctively went to strike his lighter when he remembered there was a diplomatic solution available. He stared at the Freak, waiting for it to make the first move. It was an abnormally tall puppet with dirty grey fabric skin, big brown stitches holding his joints together. His head was a cylindrical shape with two pure black eyes that reflected no light, and black stitches made his nostrils and eyebrows. His head bulged outwards either side to accommodate for the huge grinning mouth with giant human-looking square teeth. He was dressed in a dusty black suit with patches missing where it had been eaten by moths and other Gloom creepy crawlies, and atop his head was a grubby top hat that almost touched the ceiling.