Bound to the Abyss

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Bound to the Abyss Copyright © 2014 by James R. Vernon

  Cover Illustrations and Design © 2013 by Mominur Rahman

  Formatting by Inkstain Interior Book Designing

  www.InkstainFormatting.com

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without permission is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from this book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission can be obtained by contacting the author at rvernon222@gmail.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  ISBN: 996000611

  ISBN-13: 978-0-996000611

  My immediate family for supporting all of the time and effort I’ve put into this story.

  My excellent beta reader, C.D. Verhoff, for helping me shake off the bad habits of a new writer. I am becoming an adequate adverb killer and plot streamliner thanks to her help.

  My cover artist, Mominur Rahman, for the amazing work he creates that helps draw both my readers and myself into my world.

  And certainly those that backed me in a big way to get this book whipped into shape;

  Jim and Frances Vernon

  James and Kim Logan

  Caitlin G.

  Charlie and Amy Metz

  Angela Q.

  Mary Elizabeth Gaige

  George Windsor

  James E.

  Linda Aben-Kralowetz

  A SHARP PAIN EXPLODED in the back of Ean Sangrave’s leg, tripping him up and stopping his mad dash for safety. He stumbled forward, bounced off the side of one of the village’s small, wooden homes and landed face down in the dirt alley. The copper and silver coins he had been carrying flew from his hand, jingling as they struck each other before hitting the ground with a splat in the mud. How did they find me so quickly? he thought as he tried to rise. The plan had gone perfectly that morning. For once, Krane Erikson had been on the receiving end of some punishment, and Ean had been spared another horrible morning of abuse from the other eighteen-year-old and his two lackeys. He had felt so confident, in fact, that he had sent his only trusted friend away. The rock, or whatever they had hit him with, killed that thought. Footsteps squishing into the mud behind him made Ean wish Zin were around, even if his only true friend couldn’t help.

  “You really thought you could get away with it, didn’t you?” Krane’s voice was like a second blow, this one filling him with dread instead of pain. “Even as educated as you should be as a healer’s apprentice, you should have realized that whatever tricks you pulled wouldn’t scare me off.”

  A foot stomped down on Ean’s back, and he splayed out on the dirt. Expecting a follow-up blow, he chose to roll over onto his back, tucking in his knees to protect his body and raising his arms to protect his face. In a back alley of his village, between homes and away from the farmlands, Ean had little hope of someone coming to his aid. In his eighteen years of life, fending for himself was the only way to survive. When a few moments without an attack passed, he lowered both his arms and legs to look.

  Krane stood a few paces away. His lackeys, Gall and Dansh, stood on either side of him. The thickest in size of the three, Krane tried his best to smirk down at Ean. The bandage wrapped tightly around his head took away from the boy’s attempt to look tough though. Krane’s two friends seemed nervous at least, both of their eyes were locked on Ean’s gloved hands. If Zin were still around, he could throw a stone or branch at the two of them without being seen, fooling the two superstitious bullies into really believing that the Lord of the Abyss protected Ean. He mentally cursed the decision to send Zin away as Krane took a step forward.

  “You might have these dopes believing you are something special,” Krane said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the other two boys, “but I know you are too worthless for any of the gods or goddesses to waste their time on. All you are is the son to a pair of dead drunks that got what they deserved.”

  Krane always tried to get a rise out of Ean by mentioning his parents, as if talking about two people he had never really known would stoke his ire. The looks of disappointment and disgust he received from most people in the village on a daily basis had dulled any feelings he had over the loss of his parents. But Krane continued to think one of these times it would get under Ean’s skin. Letting silence be his reply, Ean stared back at Krane as he moved into a sitting position.

  “Luck was the only thing that saved you this morning,” Krane continued on, his frown hinting at his disappointment that his comments had yet to strike a nerve. That tile was probably loose and you saw it was about to fall off the inn roof. You just tricked me into moving underneath it so it would hit me on the way down. It wasn’t an act of one of the gods trying to protect you, especially not Ze’an.”

  Ean hadn’t needed to maneuver Krane. Zin just happened to have excellent aim from where Ean had told him to wait. Their mistake was feeling confident that after the two lackeys carried Krane off, that there wouldn’t be any retaliation later that same day.

  “Don’t say his name!” Gall whispered in a harsh voice. “You’ll curse us all, or at the least, get us whipped if anyone else hears you say that name.”

  “Quiet, you dope!” Krane replied, spinning and pointing a finger at both boys in turn. “Bunch of superstitious fools you two are. I’ll prove it was a fluke right now.”

  As Krane turned back around, Ean got to his feet. Dansh juggled a rock in one hand, eliminating the choice of flight. Bracing himself, Ean stared Krane down.

  Krane was as fat as Ean was lanky, with a wide nose and dark, beady brown eyes. His clothes had the look of someone that came from outside of their village; different colors marked his shirt and pants, his boots, a dark red leather. If it wasn’t for all of the different food stains blending into the colors of his shirt, Krane might actually look imposing. The boy took a step towards Ean, but stopped as Ean raised two fists.

  “Oh?” Krane replied with a laugh. “Have to defend yourself now? No god to come to your aid and drop another tile on my head? Or is that just because all of the homes around us have thatched roofs?” Turning slightly towards his companions, Krane gave a dismissive wave in Ean’s direction. “See boys, nothing to fear. He is still just a weak little—”

  Krane’s words cut off as Ean’s shoulder slammed into his chest, sending both of the boys tumbling to the ground. When they stopped rolling, somehow Ean ended up on top and began raining down haphazard blows on the larger boy. Ean had never been on the offensive before and was not going to let up now while he had an advantage. Unfortunately, it was only for a few moments before his arms were seized, and he was flung off of Krane.

  As soon as he hit the ground, the assault by the other two boys began. Kicks came from every direction. Ean curled up into a ball. He lashed out with a kick of his own when he could. Twice, his foot connected with something solid, but most of his kicks hit open air and he resigned himself to staying on the defensive. When the blows stopped, Ean moved his arms away from his face enough to see why.

  Dansh and Gall stood on either side of him, breathing heavily and staring him down. A few paces away Krane had gotten to his feet, his hand covering his mouth. A new red stain had appeared on his shirt and sleeve. When Krane pulled his hand away from his mouth, Ean could see a large gap where two of the boy’s top teeth should have been. Despite his pain, a barking laugh escaped Ean’s lips before he could stop it. That was a mistake.

  “You think this is funny, you worm?” Krane growled, spittle sho
oting out of the gap in his teeth. Glancing around for a moment, Krane moved over to the side of one of the houses. With an evil smirk in Ean’s direction, he reached down and picked up a thick branch from a pile of firewood. With slow deliberate steps, Krane moved towards Ean, smacking the branch in the palm of his hand.

  “Alright, healer’s apprentice,” he said with a laugh that held no warmth. “Let’s see how long it takes you to recover from this.”

  Ean blocked the first blow with his forearms. The pain lanced through his arms and shook his entire body. As the second blow fell, the telltale crack told him something was breaking, although at this point the pain was so intense he had no idea if it was the branch or one of his arms. As the blows continued Ean tried his best to separate his thoughts from the pain, but the sound of Krane’s laughter made it impossible. When the pain became too much, Ean happily welcomed the loss of consciousness.

  EAN SPENT THE NEXT nine days recuperating in bed until he was tired of lying around feeling sorry for himself. Rising, he got dressed as quickly as his bruised and battered body would allow, then moved over to the chest at the end of his bed and started routing around in it. He pushed the odd piece of clothing and empty bottle out of the way as he searched the chest until he found his small carving knife and a few small pieces of hardened clay. It had been long enough for Zin to accomplish what he needed to do. Time to bring his only real friend back from the Abyss.

  Ean gathered the materials he needed for the task at hand: a few hardened pieces of clay, a carving knife, and most important of all, the focus to carve the necessary runes onto the clay piece. With everything he needed, he sat down on the wood paneled floor, propping his back up against the side of the bed. Piling the blank, medallion-sized clay pieces next to him, he chose a round piece and picked it up with his left hand. Moving around was difficult with his right arm in the sling, but thankfully at this point, moving his hand around didn’t cause him much pain. It had been strange during his recovery to think of his scarred left arm as his more useful arm. Taking the carving knife in his left hand, Ean began the slow process of carving the summoning rune into the clay that would bring Zin, an imp from the Abyss, back to this world.

  Compared to the more simple runes that represented individual words, summoning runes were the most intricate of them all; the complex shapes and letters twisted together in a manner that was difficult to get perfect. One slip or misspelled word and any number of creatures could crawl out of the Abyss, if the spell didn’t simply fizzle out of course. It took him three tries before he was happy with his work. Ean examined the completed rune.

  “Perfect,” he said and set the finished piece on the floor with the rune facing up.

  Taking a deep breath, he mentally prepared himself for the pain that came with a summoning. After a few moments of peace, Ean braced himself. Placing his left hand on the rune, he activated it by tracing a finger along the proper symbol set in the center of the design.

  An iron-tight grip began to squeeze his chest as the spell took hold. The rune carved into the clay began to glow with a dark blue light that bathed Ean’s entire room. As the light grew in intensity, the piece of clay began to dissolve into the floor. Once the glowing rune actually touched the floor, it flared once, causing Ean to squint. Then it was gone, replaced by a pinprick of blue light shooting into the ceiling. The small speck grew into the size of a coin and continued to grow. When it finally stopped expanding, a circular opening twice the size of a dinner plate rested on his floor. A dark blue, purplish mist made seeing into the hole impossible, but Ean knew what was on the other side.

  Ean couldn’t help but grin a little bit through the pain at the sight of the knee-high imp rising out of the gateway. Claw marks and burns covered his light brown, humanoid body. His cheeks and small pointed nose looked bruised. His normally erect, long pointed ears flopped forward like bent blades of grass. Out of the eight nails at the end of his four fingered hands, six were broken. The worst injury appeared to be a broken toe bent at an odd angle. Zin had a large smile on his face, though; Ean imagined the imp was just as relieved to be free of the Abyss as Ean was to see him back in one piece.

  As soon as the imp’s body was completely free, the gateway closed on its own, shrinking back into a tiny beam of light before winking out. The pressure vanished from his body, signaling that the spell had run its course. Reappearing at the end of the spell, the clay piece was slid into Ean’s pocket as Ean collapsed onto his side. “Welcome back,” he said to Zin in between heavy breaths.

  “Why, thank you. It’s good to be back,” Zin said, that mixture of a half grin and half smirk he usually wore showing off his rows of razor-sharp teeth. “It looks like you had just as rough of a time up here as I did down there.” Moving over to Ean’s side, the imp dropped his little pack onto the ground and sat on the floor. “I’m glad you decided to bring me back a day early. It only took me half the time to get what I needed, which meant I spent the rest of the time either getting kicked around or doing my best to hide.”

  “Yeah well, as you can see, I got kicked around quite a bit as well. Almost right after you left, in fact.” Ean used his good arm to push himself slowly back up into a sitting position. “Krane didn’t waste any time getting his revenge for making him look like a fool.”

  Zin’s eyes opened wide. “So quickly? That’s a surprise. I swear that boy is slightly insane.” A mischievous grin appeared on his face. “But we won’t have to worry about him much longer. Time for your present!”

  The imp reached over and grabbed his bag, opening it up and digging around inside. When he pulled his hands back out, he held what looked like a writing utensil, but it also could have easily been a severed finger from some large creature with blue skin and red nails. “Here is the key to your future,” Zin gave an elaborate bow as he presented the hard won prize. “May it help us to finally get out of this armpit of a village. The only other thing we need now is The Abysmal Tome.”

  Ean smiled, but said nothing. Feeling underneath his bed, his fingers touched the rune carved into the planks of his floor. On instinct his finger moved to the activating symbol, the sudden glow coming from beneath his bed signaling the activation of the rune and effectively opening up his Pocket. A miniature gateway into the Abyss, it connected him to a small, secure area that held his most prized possessions. His hand dissolved through the floorboards for a moment before he pulled out a rough cloth bag. He pulled out a book from inside, its cover a thick black leather about as wide as his leg. Since the cover had no distinguishable markings, he had started calling it The Abysmal Tome, or just ‘The Tome’. Ean deposited the book in front of Zin before he tossed the bag aside.

  “All right, what page are we looking for?”

  “Look for a hand with a rune inscribed on the palm,” Zin said. “I‘m pretty sure I saw it towards the back.”

  After a couple of moments flipping through the worn pages, Ean found an illustration of a hand with one of the most intricate runes he had ever seen drawn on the palm. The number of different shapes and inscribed letters was astounding. He let out a low whistle.

  “This looks pretty complicated. Are you sure I’m up for it?” All Ean could make out were the simple words for “abyss” and “rune.” The majority of the rest he had never seen before. He started to shake his head. “I don’t even know if I can figure out which parts are the activating words and which are just descriptions of what the rune does.”

  Zin’s finger floated over the book as he scrolled over the words. He was careful not to actually touch the Tome lest his hands burst into flames again. The imp scanned over a few of the passages and then stopped at what appeared to be the middle of a paragraph. “That’s it, right there. This won’t put you in the kind of pain that summoning does. All you have to worry about is getting the rune perfect on your right palm.”

  Shrugging, Ean reached down and picked up the finger-like item. “Whatever you say.” Ean moved the Abysmal Tome from the floor onto hi
s lap so he had a clear view of what he was doing. He stared at the drawing, trying to take in everything, all of the curves and lines, trying to see it as one continuous rune as opposed to a series of interlaced ones. When he was finally comfortable with the design in his head, he dipped the strange nail down into the ink. As soon as the tip touched the ink, the fingernail drained the ink bottle and the entire finger began to pulse with an eerie blue glow. Ean glanced over at Zin, eyebrows raised. The imp simply nodded back and then waved him on to continue. With a shrug, Ean took the item and placed the tip against his palm. When nothing happened, Ean relaxed a bit and started to draw.

  A jolt of pain lanced through Ean’s entire body as soon as he moved the nail even the tiniest bit along his skin. Dropping the finger, Ean shot Zin an angry look. “What in the Abyss was that? Are you trying to play a joke on me?”

  “Of course not,” Zin replied. “You didn’t think a powerful spell like this would be painless, did you?” The imp flashed him a smile, showing off his tiny, jagged teeth. “Trust me, from what I’ve gathered, the new power you will acquire will more than make up for what little pain you endure now.”

  “Little pain?!” Ean almost yelled but controlled himself. The last thing he wanted was Cleff coming up to check on him at this particular moment. “It felt like I had stuck my hand in a hornet’s nest and then gave it a good shake.”

  Against his better judgment, he picked up the finger and tried again. The pain returned as he started to draw, but Ean kept reminding himself that the pain would be worth it in the end. Hopefully. He had gotten the first major design finished, a swirl of lines that curved around and back on itself so many times it became difficult to follow, when a particularly nasty jolt made him drop the finger again. As soon as the nail left his palm, the entire rune he had been drawing disappeared.