Runestane

Darkness, fear & despair embrace the Erthe... a dirty war from the past reaches through time & grips the present. Star fallen Gods awaken in deepest Spellhold. They hunt for the key to the gates of time. D'Janyl is that key. One man, a thief, one woman, a witch, one chance: the Runestane. They jump from now back to then. A race, a map, an adventure. Their journey unfolds... they are delivered by the sands of time to a world of danger & sorrow. Snow dragons, vampires & dark sorcery await them. Cat & mouse... stealth & cunning... blood will run, wings will tear the air, flames will scorch the Erthe. It begins, watch your back, enjoy the ride...

Runestane

By

Fergal F. Nally

It begins, watch your back, enjoy the ride…

Copyright © Fergal F. Nally 2012

The moral right of Fergal F. Nally to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act, 1988.

All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Cover image (Callanish Standing Stones, Lewis) copyright © E.K. Rummery 2012

CHAPTER ONE

Mist clung to the man’s cloak as he stood, waiting. Darkness approached silently. Still he waited. Ahead of him in the distance lay a cabin, a solitary light burning in one window, a small ray of life amongst the emptiness of the night. The smell of moist earth smothered him; he could taste the steely chill of the mountain air.

Embraced by the night, the watcher moved in on the lone dwelling, stealthily. Uninvited. Suddenly, the light from the window died. There was emptiness all around; damp cold seemed to writhe through his bones. Something was wrong, he could sense it.

For a moment, he considered abandoning his plan, but then reality resurfaced. He had not eaten in two days; he had no coin and no friends, nor even acquaintances in this godforsaken region. His sickness was also progressing, slowly gnawing at him, weakening him by the day. He was an outcast, unclean, no one would help him; desperation was his only ally. No, he must do this. He had to do this.

Ashina, Ashina…forgive me…

He had seen the old man that day, unobserved, from the cover of the forest. He had appeared from the cabin about noon, had gone about gathering wood and drawing fresh water from the nearby stream. He appeared alone; he was alone. This would be easy; still, to avoid unnecessary violence he waited until darkness when the old man would be asleep, before he made his move. A soft breeze rustled the treetops. The stream; black velvet liquid, danced through the night. He crept towards the cabin.