Shadow of the Winter King
World of Ruin #1
By-Erik Scott de Bie
Genre- Epic Fantasy, Adventure
Published By- Dragon Moon Press
Assassin
Armed with the voracious sword Frostburn, court slayer Regel Winter once shed the blood of countless foes in service to Orbrin the Winter King.
Oathbreaker
But even the coldest steel cannot save those Regel loves: his beloved Princess Lenalin, her daughter Semana, and the Winter King himself, felled by treachery five years ago.
Shadow
Barely an echo of the man he was, Regel forges a pact with the assassin who slew Orbrin, setting out on a deadly quest for vengeance that will change the face of the World of Ruin.
The attack came suddenly. Regel raised his falcata as a slayer rushed from hiding. No casters—whoever had come to kill them wanted to keep it quiet. Ovelia’s sword had warned him of the direction of the man’s attack, so he could block easily. He caught the slash high, locked blades, and twisted to slash his other blade across the man’s belly. Steel screeched against power armor, shedding sparks as its fine edge gouged the imbued iron. The man staggered back, surprised at Regel’s perfect block and counterstroke, and his gray cloak swirled in the night air.
“Dusters,” Regel said. Neither of them had known the identity of their foe, and it gave him pause.
Three more power armored men—elite Dust Knights of the Ravalis—appeared then, their gray cloaks parting as they moved. Hooked swords glittered and armor hummed, imbued with destructive magic. Thaumaturgy or “dust magic” was not real magic—not like the Frostfire of Denerre, the metal sculpting of Ravalis, the warding of Dracaris, or the power certain heirs of another noble blood might wield. A thamaturgical charge could be used up unlike a true relic, but it could slay just the same.
“ ‘Ware sorcery!” Regel cried even as one of the swords blasted into his defense with a roar. The cacophony blew him through the air three paces, and he fell to one knee, magic ensnaring and binding him like a man trapped in a net. Eyes swimming, he looked back to the duel.
Ovelia was holding all four at bay, cutting red lines through the air with Draca. One of the ensorcelled blades slashed toward her but she caught it and—with a whine of fizzling magic—the Duster’s sword rebounded, its power drained away. That was Draca’s other power: it devoured magic, the better to defend its chosen ward. The wavy shape of the steel gave Ovelia a further advantage, because it made swords she parried vibrate painfully in their wielders’ hands. Regel felt a surge of hope.
Blades sang in the gloomy alley and artificial magic withered away to nothing. Ovelia hissed aloud as she fought, sacrificing accuracy for speed, and the ferocity of her defense surprised and impressed Regel. At length, the four Dusters fought defensively to reassess the situation. They showed no fear, only an evolving strategy. They gave up hope of overwhelming her and instead sought to tire her.
Regel knew he had to help Ovelia, or they would be lost. “Get up, old man,” Regel said despite his heaving lungs. His body wouldn’t obey. “Get up.”
As if he’d heard, one of the Dusters broke from Ovelia and rushed Regel, sword high. Weariness giving way to the thrill of combat, Regel felt his limbs throw off the binding magic. He waited until she was two paces from him, than sprang forward in a roll. The Duster tripped and went down with a crash, and Regel hooked his falcat like a scythe under the Duster’s faceplate, beheading her as she fell.
A war cry alerted Regel, and he wrenched the blade free to parry another rushing Duster. He slammed his elbow into the back of the man’s neck and ran for Ovelia and her two foes, who had maneuvered to either side of her. He saw the truth of the duel in a heartbeat: Ovelia was a great swordswoman but she could not win. Her foes wore armor that she lacked, and though their inferior swords had chipped against Draca, the weapons yet held. Their plates would weaken her strikes, but the first blow they landed—her first mistake—would end the duel.
Regel charged, silent as looming death.
Sensing him, the nearest Duster began to turn—too late. Regel kicked off the ground, shattered the weaker sword with a vicious cross, stepped on the near alley wall, and slashed out the Duster’s throat with his second sword. The knight tumbled aside, blood sailing, as Regel spun and landed just behind his the last of their attackers, blades crossed and ready.
This one seemed more capable than the others, but the impossible move still took him by surprise. “Silver Fire!” he cried as he turned on Regel.
He slammed his sword wildly into Regel’s defenses, and though it was a poor blow, the dust magic exploded with enough force to send Regel back a step. The Duster spun back and managed to bat the Bloodsword wide and strike Ovelia in the chest with the pommel of his sword. She fell back, gasping, but before the Duster could launch a killing blow, he had to defend against Regel’s assault. The older man’s twin falcata spun around his hacking blade, kissing the steel but seemingly unable to stop it.
“You’re dead, traitors!” the Duster said. “You’re dead!”
Then Regel locked the off-balance Duster’s sword between his two weapons and held it wide. “Not likely,” he said.
The Duster’s eyes widened in realization of his mistake. Regel had lured him in, and now he couldn’t disengage. He might have managed to rip the sword free with a heartbeat’s effort, but Ovelia only needed that long to rise and put her sword through his back with a grunt. The point burst out his chest, parting the steel plate with ease. As the Duster choked on rising blood, Draca slid out of him as smoothly as a knife through water. Regel had known only one other sword so efficient and deadly, but the days of wielding it lay far behind him.
Dropping his blades to stab into the refuse-covered ground, Regel caught the dying Duster, covered his mouth, and lowered him to the cobblestones. The man stared up at him, confused and terrified, so Regel put a blade through his heart. Mercifully, the man’s gasps choked off. From his face, the Duster was little more than a boy—perhaps half Regel’s age—and northern-born by his pale skin and black hair. What a waste.
“Dust and shadow.” Regel murmured as much in mourning as in benediction.
Ovelia was staring at him, Regel realized. “Frostburn is gone, and yet you wield the falcat.” She gestured to Regel’s swords, hooked like a scythe and sharpened on the inside of the curve. It was an ancient design, hard to wield but deadly. “You are still a reaper of men.”
To that, he refused to respond.
Ovelia wiped Draca on one of the gray cloaks. Blood steamed off the blade. “You never did tell me where you learned to move with such grace.”
“No.” Regel closed the Duster’s dead eyes. “I did not.”
He accepted Ovelia’s proffered hand to get to his feet, and it was only then he recognized the shape in the shadows flowing from Draca’s blade: a casterman.
There came the great crack of a caster firing and blood spattered Regel’s face. Ovelia’s fingers splayed out in shock, her hand just short of Regel’s own. Her face went white.
Regel’s eyes shot to the man who had risen behind them. It was the Duster Regel had merely stunned with a blow to the neck and—in his haste to defend Ovelia—forgotten entirely. Now he stood behind Ovelia, a caster in his hand.
Then blood bubbled out of the man’s helmet, and he toppled. A bolt had driven a hole through his middle. His caster—unfired—landed on the ground with a wet thud.
“Stand away from him!” A slim woman in dark leather and a cloak the color of fog appeared. She tossed one expended caster aside and pointed a second at Ovelia’s face. “Right burning now!”
Shield of the Summer Prince
World of Ruin #2
By-Erik Scott de Bie
Genre- Epic Fantasy, Adventure
Published By- Dragon Moon Press
Publication Date- December 11th
Bloodbreaker
Though the knight Ovelia Dracaris swore to defend the Blood of Denerre with her life, hers was the dishonored hand that felled the Winter King.
Shroud
After five years as a spymaster, Ovelia resurfaced in a desperate quest for justice that cost her everything: love, her sight, and almost her life.
Shield
Blinded and exiled, Ovelia wards her only remaining friend on his quest to save the burning city of Luether, hoping to find what has eluded her for so long: redemption.
I am a speculative fiction author, mostly writing fantasy, science fiction, and some mix of the two. I'm probably best known for the Forgotten Realms series SHADOWBANE (the tale of a thief turned vigilante paladin, sworn to a dead god), as well as a growing body of short stories in various anthologies and available for download on the web. (Seriously, check my website, it's pretty awesome.)
I am also a known quantity in the gaming industry, designing for the legendary tabletop RPG Dungeons and Dragons as well as other systems.
When I'm not writing, gaming, or more writing, I compose technical documentation by day and fight injustice by night. I lives in Seattle and am married with pets.
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