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    Tales From The Renge: The Prophecy: A Savior Foretold
    Tales From The Renge: The Prophecy: A Savior Foretold
    Tales From The Renge: The Prophecy: A Savior Foretold
    Ebook144 pages1 hour

    Tales From The Renge: The Prophecy: A Savior Foretold

    By Jaysen True Blood

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    About this ebook

    The Renge Is a wedge of land between two converging rivers that is divided into four 'lands'. Millennia after the rule of the fabled King Qarkis I, the land has gone through changes. Waves of invaders have ruled, one after another, and the gods have left after wars of their own...the last being fought with their human subjects.

    A new evil has risen in the form of the Inquisition, led by a maniacal demimage. When a savior is foretold, the demimage and the emperor conspire to kill the child.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJaysen True Blood
    Release dateJan 17, 2020
    ISBN9781393145813
    Tales From The Renge: The Prophecy: A Savior Foretold
    Author

    Jaysen True Blood

    Jaysen True Blood was born and raised in the Midwest where he currently resides. His first taste of writing came early in grade school with a class assignment. a few years later, his love for writing would return as he found himself with another class assignment, this time a poetry unit. through junior high, he would write a series of novels, many poems, and begin his long interest in writing song lyrics as well. In high school, he would learn the value of tall tales, myths and other kinds of stories as he continued to build his store of stories. upon graduation, he went for a semester at a university, where he would write two stories, one of which would become a serial online for about six months. Returning home, he worked at just about anything he could find, but never strayed far from his love of the story. After his first marriage, he signed on with Keep It Coming, an e-zine, where he wrote two serials, "Tales From The Renge" and "Breed's Command" (the same characters appear with Fancy Marsh in several subsequent westerns. The serial was taken from a manuscript written for a class assignment while in high school). H also wrote writing and music related articles for the print version of KIC that came out for just three issues. When KIC went under, Jay was once again forced to work at different jobs just to make ends meet. between 2007 and 2010, Jay would release "Seven By Jay: Seven Short Stories", "The Price Of Lust: Book One Of Faces In The Crowd" and "So Here's To Twilight And Other Poems".

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      Book preview

      Tales From The Renge - Jaysen True Blood

      1.

      The lands of the Renge lay, in a wedge, between two rivers. The Big Muddy separated the lands from the western wastes where the barbarian hordes roamed, while the Eastern Great Muddy divided them from the eastern wilds. To the north lay the great expanse known as the mists that divided the lands from the Great Northern Ice Plains. The Rivers formed a flying-vee that separated the lands from the southern lands where the lords of Muspel braved fire to become unstoppable warriors.

      At least that was how the legends went. It had been three centuries, at the prophet’s count, since the last barbarian invasion that had brought the last ruling house to the Renge. Like all ruling houses, they had attempted to stamp out every sect in the four lands through setting up their own pantheon of gods. But they could not rid the Renge of the line of prophets that had dictated its destiny.

      Nor could they rid the four lands of the presence of the nigh immortal bard who kept the grand tales of the Renge’s history alive by retelling of the battles and invasions that had formed the empire that now existed. It was almost as if the bard had seen it all. The wars against the gods, the wars of the tribes, the wars of the mages, and even the establishment of that horrid instrument of evil, the Inquisition. He held the lands’ histories. He knew their secrets. He knew their dark pasts.

      He could remember when the four lands had been a single, glorious empire that had allegiances to lands now almost forgotten by all. He remembered when the aristocracy ruled justly and righteously. He remembered when peace prevailed across the lands.

      But now, that was just a shadow of the past. The great alliances were dead and the Renge was now isolated in its location, cut off from the seas that once surrendered their bounty. Rumors had it that pirates now controlled the southern, eastern and western ports on the seas. But rumors were all that ever made it this far into the interior of the vastness that included the Renge.

      But who would want to come into the Renge anyway? Here, a stranger was at risk of becoming a victim of the Inquisition. By Hele, all were potential victims of the Inquisition. Even the bard and the prophets.

      But the Inquisition was a tale unto itself. How it began was shrouded in mystery. Golmagug, the son of the Master Mage of the Dark Ring, had rebelled against his father, taking half the original Dark Ring with him. Golmagug had wanted to rule the Ring, taking his father’s place as Master, but had not had the power to defeat his father. Not even his allies had been strong enough.

      The Master had banished his son and those who’d allied themselves to him, then made a ruling that no Mage within the Ring could ever rise to the level of Sorcerer Supreme. This would prevent, in his opinion, any rising to a position where they could challenge him. And the Ring had accepted this new law without realizing that it also put them at risk of becoming victims of a new threat to all: The newly christened Inquisition.

      Golmagug and his followers formed the Inquisition to ‘purge the lands of impurities’ and to replace the Dark ring as a spiritual guide for the people. But Golmagug also invited disaster. He had come to a misguided conclusion that he could make a bargain with the king of Demons through a botched attempt to bind himself to the king. He had failed to realize that using evil for good was still committing evil.

      And so, a darkness began to grow upon the four lands. At first, it remained within the core of the lands near Valthrid, the Inquisition’s new city. But the city they had taken as their own had not been theirs for the taking. It had been Drathyn, a venerated city of much history, But they had made war upon it and taken it from the inhabitants. Executing all who’d inhabited the city, The Inquisition had created a city of pure evil.

      Yet, they had not been able to burn the holy tomes that had been sheltered within Drathyn’s libraries and university. These had been secreted out of the city and to the west into the Austryn lands. Autryn was the west, near the Big Muddy. Here, they would be safe within the hallowed halls of Yndarr’s great university. There, free mages could still teach the tomes’ contents to pupils who longed to know ancient magicks.

      It was there, in Yndarr, that the bard resided. Yndarr was his ancestral home. Here, he had begun as the son of a bard and a nobilis. But his birth was before the aristocracy had given themselves that name, so he was merely an aristocrat whose path would lead him to reject the position that he had been born to for the one that had been in his mother’s family for generations.

      Now he had a family of his own. Well, actually, it was his sixth family. He had watched his previous families go through growth, interbreeding with other noble families, and then decline. Five generations had come and gone over five hundred years. The remains of all six no longer resembled the once proud blood they had inherited.

      Now, most of his inheritors were little more than drugged up puppets to a regime that cared little for human life. Even his current son had abandoned the ancient faith and become a mind-slave to the Inquisition’s drug. At the moment, though, his son was sober enough to try for an heir. But how long would it take him to abandon the child?

      Bezreddyn shook his head. His son had already rejected his inheritance as the next in line to be the bard. That left it all up to Bez. Another five hundred or so years would be a cake walk. Still, he no longer wanted to live. The sorrow of watching his bloodline end so tragically over centuries had taken their toll.

      The only thing that kept him going was his profession. Yet, even his life as the all-knowing bard wasn’t enough to make him want to remain in this life.  But the gods that had cursed him for his part in the wars against them had known well what they were doing. They had known that his suffering would indeed be enough of a penance for his crime of rebelling against them.

      And their punishment had done its job. For five hundred years, he’d had to bear the burden while he watched wife after wife die and generation after generation of offspring do the same. It was a burden he never wanted any other to endure.

      2.

      The prophets never married. They never died either. At least that is what the people believed, not that it was really true. In fact, many of the most ancient prophets had past long ago and the eldest among the community was now aged enough to warrant his end.

      One out of every generation was born with the gift of foresight, insight, or discernment and was brought before the ancient prophets for an offering. These youths became a part of the prophets’ community, learning the trade of prophecy. As one became a full prophet, the eldest among the prophets would ready for his death.

      It was an endless cycle of entrance and death. Entrance because the one becoming a prophet was not really being born, he was just entering service. But the death was always death. As with Sorcerers Supreme of the Orders within the Rings, the prophets chose their successors from the adepts within their communities.

      The power of the prophets was such that even the Sorcerers of the Rings listened and took heed. Deaths were prophesied, new mages were foretold, battle outcomes were decided before they even began, and a god’s return would be announced. All were spectacles to behold. Galas were thrown to celebrate the births of every special child and chosen servant. Whole cities would gather to hear the blessings of the prophets when they were spoken.

      Darakkys had long served as elder prophet. He remembered when the bard had been a young rebellious noble, long before he had become the bard. He knew full well what power the bard truly possessed. He knew Bez was no ordinary bard. Bez had been a formidable Magus. His power rivaled that of even Olgath, Lord of the Dark Ring and perhaps Tryl of the White Ring.

      He had warned Bez what the price of his rebellion would be, but the noble in Bez wanted to hear none of it. The Magus wanted to hear even less. Darakkys knew that Bez had to learn in his own way by paying the price. Yet it had not put an end to their friendship. Instead, it had made them closer.

      Now, Darakkys had one more prophecy to pass to his friend before death claimed the aged prophet. And though age had dimmed his vision, it had not diminished his foresight, insight, or discernment. Something big was about to take place. A child was going to be born to Bez’s son, a

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