Quinnterra: Hero’S Trial

Copyright © 2014 A. C. Perry.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-2944-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-2943-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-2980-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014905307

iUniverse rev. date: 03/31/2014

Contents

Prologue

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

Epilogue

To Megan for whom none of this would be possible with out your love, support and encouragement.

Prologue

Quinnterra was a realm of mystical wonders—a realm devoted to hope and peace. Quinnterra was a place much like the mortal world but much larger. People who visited Quinnterra and returned to tell about it would describe Quinnterra as a plane of existence more than a world. Quinnterra was so big that there were more uncharted than charted regions of Quinnterra. In Quinnterra a second was called a secron, a minute was called a minron, an hour was called an houron, and a day was called a terron, which was the same as two mortal days. A year was called a tauxicycle, and two tauxicycles were equivalent to one mortal year. A week was known as a zeton, and a month was called a quarton.

Tarith was a man who could have been considered middle aged and of slender build, with hair as gray as stone and a beard he kept short to match. Wanting to set himself apart from the rest of his peers, he chose to wear a nontraditional black tunic and pants, a brown leather belt, and a brown cloak. His peers tended to wear the traditional brown or tan uniforms of the order. From his belt Tarith wore his saber blade at his left side, the chosen weapon of the order given to those charged with the defense and peace of Quinnterra. The saber blade was an elegant weapon that no good defender ever went anywhere without. Like all members of the order, Tarith was attuned to the Terrakia, the living, mystical energy that flowed in one degree or another through every being in Quinnterra. Some said the Terrakia flowed through all things, both living and nonliving, and from a certain point of view, they were right. However, overall only sentient beings could use it as a source of energy. The degree of the Terrakia in a being was what set one person apart from another. The members of the order tended to be more attuned than an average being in the Terrakia. Tarith had not met many other members of the order who were as attuned or above his understanding of the Terrakia.

Normally Tarith could be found with the pouches on his belt packed with supplies he or someone he might encounter may need. However, on this terron, his pouches were empty. It had been a long journey. Tarith had never been more excited in his long life. The Council had summoned him to a meeting. At first Tarith had been frustrated by the inconvenience. He thought it was pointless to make the long quarton’s journey that would also be physically demanding over the mountains, just to have them inform him they had denied his request. However, after speaking with his close friend Raynor, who had told him the journey would be rewarded by the Council’s approval of his request, Tarith could hardly wait to reach the palace of the Council.

Tarith knew the journey would take a few terrons longer, but he had chosen to travel over the mountain on a straight path rather than the traditional route most people took from Terra Prime to Port Terra. Now, as he entered the southern border of Port Terra, Tarith thought back over the discussion he and Raynor had had and couldn’t help feeling lucky that at least one of them had made it into the apprenticeship of the Council. Because of that fact, Raynor had been able to leak the good news to Tarith before the Council had sent the summons. Tarith knew what his peers said about him. He knew they thought of him as a madman who was obsessed with finding a force powerful enough to fight a nonexistent dark power that threatened all of Quinnterra. They would shake their heads and ask how a man such as him could have ever been considered for a position on the Council. Tarith hadn’t always been an outsider. In fact, he had once led a very responsible and orderly life. It was that life that had put him in the position to be offered a seat on the Council. The truth was, Tarith never wanted to find himself in that place. As great as it must be to have the privileges being a member of the Council or even an apprentice to a Council member, Tarith had never been that kind of person. No, he enjoyed the freedom of being on his own, though he was finding more and more the Council wanted him to undertake missions over other Elders. That fact bothered him more than he wanted to admit, especially since he was sure he knew who was behind his sudden popularity with the Council when it came to the pointless missions.

Lord Astronamus, lord of the Council and Tarith, had had a love-hate relationship over the cycles. Tarith had been there the terron Astronamus had ascended to the level of Council lord, and when Astronamus had decided to boast about and rub it in his rival’s face, Tarith had answered his boasting taunt with a fist to the jaw. Tarith, feeling like the order was heading in the wrong direction, had once thought to apply himself in search of the position of Council lord, but two things had stood in his way: his need for freedom and Lord Astronamus.

Port Terra was a city located on the northwestern coast of the Clak’tel region. The walls of rain never seemed to stop, with its towering buildings evoking a feeling of constriction and oppression for those not of a higher status. Tarith could smell the scent of mildew as he looked around at all the moss and other fungus that seem to grow out of every nook and cranny. The Council had made sure that the roads in Port Terra were built of stone rather than the dirt roads the rest of Quinnterra had. This time of the tauxicycle, the stones seemed to take on the appearance of hard, wet, fuzzy green shells rather than the normal black they were supposed to be. The smell alone turned Tarith’s stomach, but pairing that with the sights and sounds of those who were suffering forced him to stop a few times on his journey through the city. Coming to Port Terra always made him ill. His master had once illuminated why Port Terra evoked such an effect, and Tarith could feel the truth behind his master’s words now. Port Terra was almost completely devoid of the Terrakia. The dullness the gray sky cast upon this land, paired with the lack of the Terrakia seemed to have drawn the life from everything and everyone Tarith encountered.

High in the hills overlooking the city of Port Terra stood Omzbecker Palace, home of the Council. Omzbecker Palace was considered by most to be the most amazing and beautiful structure ever created. It had white marble pillars and oversized red banners with gold trim hanging from every wall, and at its top was the crystal dome that was the Council chamber. Tarith, however, would never agree. Tarith would forever believe the title of greatest structure ever created belong to the first structure the Council had called home—the structure that now sat empty back home in Terra Prime. Omzbecker Palace sickened Tarith. All of the funding the Council had put into having it built and maintained belonged to the people of Port Terra but was being manipulated out of them with empty promises. Tarith stood just outside the palace gates, staring up at the towering behemoth of a structure. As the rain poured down, drenching Tarith from head to toe, he began to feel even happier that he had not had the misfortune of being a resident of Port Terra, the city in which the Council now dwelt. Many cycles earlier, when Tarith had first started his apprenticeship under Lord Joah, the Council had resided in Terra Prime. As long at Tarith lived, that would be where he truly felt the Council belonged.

Hello, Tarith! The Council has been expecting you. Conditions over the Haudorian pass must be horrible for it to have set you behind three terrons, the gatekeeper said as Tarith stepped through.

First, I don’t believe I informed anyone of my departure from Terra Prime, so if the Council has been waiting for me, it is their fault, and second, I’m sure conditions are horrible on the Haudorian pass—they usually are this time of the cycle—but I didn’t come that way. I chose to take the Santel pass instead, Tarith said with a curt grin.

Why would anybody choose to take the Santel pass? It’s completely out of the way and adds another … The gatekeeper stopped, realizing Tarith was in no mood to be answering his questions.

Tarith stepped inside the palace, walking into a long and very open room, its ceilings at least eighty stories high. The décor of the palace seem to create another world, with its bright yellow tapestries adorned with two aqua-colored swords crossing one another. The red and gold rugs almost overtook the speckled black and pine green tile floors. Tarith could smell the peach– and cherry blossom–perfumed air, designed by order of the Council to stimulate the emotions to make one become more submissive. The scenery Tarith was looking upon sparked a deep anger inside of him, and the scent of the perfume-infused air instantly gave Tarith both a head and stomachache.

The Council appears to be doing very well financially, Tarith thought to himself, shaking his head as he strolled across the palace, toward the south staircase that would take him to the very top of the palace and into the Council chamber. No one considered the Council chamber to be a floor of the palace. The Council enforced the belief that they should be considered above even those who were lucky enough to reside within the palace. Tarith climbed the steps, choosing not to take the elevator so he could gather his final thoughts before facing the Council. As he did so, he thought about how good it was going to feel when Astronamus had to tell him his request had been granted, but most of all Tarith thought about all the failed attempts he had already made. Tarith knew this would be his last chance to find and properly train the being who could defend Quinnterra from the coming darkness. About midway up, Raynor stopped him and led him to a private chamber where they could speak without being heard. Raynor was the same age as Tarith, but being in the employ of a Council member, Raynor was under strict orders that his hair be colored, and he kept his naturally sandy blond. His face was to be clean-shaven, and his robes where to be white and purple, the colors of his master’s family crest. Raynor and Tarith had been the only members of their former team to have stayed in touch regularly, but over the last few cycles, they had begun to find it harder and harder to say connected due to Raynor’s master’s ascension to a Council member.

You know me, Tarith. I would never stand in your way if you truly think it’s possible, but I had to look in to your eyes to know for sure, Raynor said.

I assure you it is possible, my old friend. I know there have been many failed attempts, and most of them were my fault. I was wrong in my choices, but I know this time. This time I’m sure I have found the one we’ve been looking for! Tarith said with an excited smile, holding both of Raynor’s shoulders. Tell me, Raynor, how many of the Council members voted in favor of my request? Tarith said, releasing him.

I wasn’t able to gather much more information than I have already given you, but all but Lord Astronamus voted in favor from what I could gather. He feels you’re on the same path as you were with the others and that you’re wasting resources, Raynor said with a smile.

Well, then let us get to the Council chamber, my friend. We wouldn’t want to keep ‘our old friend’ Astronamus waiting any longer then we have to, would we? Tarith said with a wink as he and Raynor headed back to the stairs.

As Tarith and Raynor reached the chamber doors, they stopped. This is where we must part ways, my friend. I have much to do, and if my master caught me speaking with you before your meeting with them, I’d be expelled for sure, Raynor said, patting Tarith on the shoulder.

Very well. I shall try and find you before I depart back to Terra Prime, Tarith whispered, cautiously bowing.

Please do. We have much to catch up on, Raynor whispered, returning the bow as he turned and strode away quickly.

As Tarith opened the doors to the Council chamber, he saw Astronamus seated in the center of the room, surrounded on both sides by three Council members. Every surface of the Council chamber had been made out of marble and gold except for the clear crystal ceiling. The seats in which