Relics- The Chronicles of Solomon Drake Read online

  ROBERT YORK

  RELICS

  The Chronicles of Solomon Drake

  Book 1

  RELICS – The Chronicles of Solomon Drake is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities to an actual person living or dead, business establishments, events or locales are entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 Robert York

  All Rights Reserved

  Published by Robert York

  www.robert-york.com

  Fiction-Urban Fantasy/Adventure

  Cover Design: Robert York

  Except under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, scanned, recorded, distributed or transmitted in any form by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission by the author.

  Dedication:

  This is to my dearest love Kelly.

  You found me in the dark and brought

  me into the light.

  Without you, life would hold no meaning.

  I Love You

  To You Intrepid Reader,

  I would like to Thank You for reading this, my first book, which I hope flourishes into a series of books. I discovered that I enjoyed reading at an early age thanks to the encouragement of my mother. She was instrumental in helping me discover and nurture my creative side. Reading became an escape and a way to fuel my imagination through frightening tales of horror, swashbuckling adventures, which included cutthroat pirates or heroes on other worlds battling evil in all of their guises. I hope you enjoy Relics: The Chronicles of Solomon Drake as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  Robert York

  “What the eyes see and the ears hear, the mind believes.”

  Harry Houdini

  Chapter 1

  Idon't know why I'm writing this. I keep asking myself that question over and over again. Articulating my thoughts and emotions through written word has never appealed to me in anyway. It's ironic because I absolutely love to read and there's the duality of it all. I've never been much of a writer to begin with, punctuation being a major area of weakness for me. OK, to be honest I'm horrible at it. I sort of know where periods are supposed to go and I use apostrophes infrequently. As for commas well, they look nice here and there, yet I have no clue what they're for. I think my high school English teacher may have retired early from the stress of having to grade my composition papers. So for those of you still brave enough to read this after expressing my opinions on my writing abilities, I'd like to apologize in advance for all the bad grammar and punctuation errors.

  I’m not a professional writer by any stretch of the imagination and this manuscript is being written in secret. There are some people, powerful people that wouldn't be too happy with me if they knew I were writing a book about the goings-on in our world. In point of fact they'd probably kill me and I don't mean that figuratively. Anyway, perhaps the real reason I'm writing this record is so that I can better understand things that have happened or things that have yet to happen. To be honest, maybe it's because I'm trying to prove to myself that there's a part of me that's still sane. It’s not that I’m insane, but from what I’ve been through so far, I should be.

  My name for those of you who are interested is Solomon Alexander Drake and I’m a Wizard, a real one in fact. I was named after two kings. One of which was known for great wisdom and strength, the other known for cunning and a fearless nature in battle. I’ve sometimes thought that someone, be it my mother or my father had high hopes for me and of what kind of a man I’d become when they decided to give me those names. I only hope that I haven’t yet let them down. Now for all you observant readers, I do realize that my initials spell S.A.D. Something that’s never been lost on me from the very moment I could read. So before you decide to come up with clever sayings or jokes at my expense please save your time, because I’ve heard them all before.

  The world that I am referring to isn’t the normal world you’re familiar with. There’s another world that people don’t see or more accurately don’t care to see. A strange world in which the “normal” rules that govern our perceptions cannot be adequately explained through science or the rational mind.

  Have you ever been walking down a street, whether it is during the day or the night when you could’ve sworn something darted out in front of you only to dismiss it as a trick of the light or your tired eyes?

  Have you ever been home alone and experienced strange sounds which at first you can’t explain only to decide that it was nothing more than the house settling or the furnace resetting?

  Have you ever felt as though you were being watched when no one else was supposed to be around?

  Have you ever walked through a cold spot in an empty room that sent goose flesh all over your skin?

  If you’ve answered yes to any of these questions I wouldn’t panic just yet. It may shock you to learn that there’s a supernatural or magical world, which exists and is real. It isn’t hidden by magical spells or managed by departments of magic. There are creatures and beings that mankind comes in contact with everyday which most people don’t even notice. There are also those other beings that live in the dark places of the world. They hide in plain sight, watching and in some cases waiting. You can blame a high percentage of unexplained disappearances on some of the nastier creatures, like Ghouls, Vampires and Wraiths. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a Dark Fairy or Snotling watching you from the shadows as you read this.

  I’m twenty-seven years of age and like many people my age I find myself adrift between the mental state of high school and adulthood. Knowing that I should be more responsible while at the same time not wanting to let go of those carefree days of uninterrupted sleep and long hours of playing video games. I never went to college, which some would argue is a detriment to my upward financial mobility when it comes to advancing my career or making money. I however don’t agree. I have yet to find a college that offers degrees in potion making or spell casting. At least I don’t have thousands of dollars in student loans crushing me financially, a crime in my opinion. Knowledge shouldn’t cost exorbitant amounts of money. I’ve been able to further my own education through PBS, experience and the public library; not to mention I’ve been able to do it without the influence of jaded professors. Besides, I’ve already served my time in lock up. I mean school. Thirteen years to be exact, kindergarten all the way up to my senior year in high school. Why would I tack on another four when I loathed every minute of the previous thirteen?

  I work in a magic store. I know what you might be thinking.

  “How smart can this guy be if he’s working in retail,”

  The only thing I have to say to that is read on and find out. Blackmane’s Magic and Potion Shop, the place where I work is located on Michigan Ave. in the greatest city in the world, Detroit, Michigan; my hometown. If you’ll allow me to indulge in a little shameless advertising I’ll tell you a bit about my job. Blackmane’s isn’t your ordinary run of the mill magic shop. There are no card tricks, no magic rings and no top hats with rabbits hidden inside or cabinets to saw the unsuspecting lady assistant named Trixie in half. We do however sell trick handcuffs. I never figured out why we carry them, but you’d be surprised at how many “normals” with BDSM fetishes come in and clean us out of our whole inventory. Takes all kinds of people I guess.

  Blackmane’s is a real honest to God magic store. We carry wands, we carry staves, we make potions on demand; a very lucrative business, especially around Valentine’s Day or when the occasional middle-aged balding man decides to come in looking
for something to restore hair to his barren head or as it turns out more often than not, his virility. We stock exotic, yet sometimes illegal ingredients. Blackmane’s also carries a large selection of spell books, potion books, reference books, books on charms or just about anything connected with the world of magic, we stock it and sell it all for a reasonable price. It’s not exactly the work environment of Walmart or Starbucks, however my job has a coolness and wow factor the others don’t have.

  Anyway, the story I’m about to relate to you is an unusual one. One in which many reading this have never experienced and I hope you know how lucky you are to have never fallen down a rabbit hole even Lewis Carroll would be too frightened to write about. My story for you begins on a Monday and we all know how much of a maligned day Mondays are because it heralds the end of our weekend and the beginning of a potential five-day hell. I’ve often thought there should be an eighth day to the week. A day between Sunday and Monday, because let’s face it, we all need a few extra hours to prepare us for dealing with the people that try our patience in the upcoming days. One other thing I forgot to mention, I tend to ramble on occasion. I don’t mean too, it’s just that I like to tell stories and don’t get the opportunity as often as you might think. I promise that I’ll keep my ramblings brief and to the point because the information I have for you is important and might just save your life one day. But I digress, like any good story; mine has a beginning, a middle and end, however my end has yet to be written. I’ve been through so much already; sadly I don’t think I’ll be fortunate enough to see how my story ends given the dangers I must face. As you read this you will come to understand why that might be the case. On this particular Monday my journey begins simply with a dream. Not a dream of hope or a dream of inspiration, but a dream of survival.

  Chapter 2

  Ienjoy exercising about as much as I like to do chores around the house. It’s not that I don’t exercise, because I do. I ride my mountain bike nearly everyday, weather permitting of course. I’ll do a little Tai Chi to keep myself limber. Maybe I’ll do a few reps here and there with some free weights, but what I absolutely dislike is running. Some out there reading this are probably asking,

  “Well, what’s wrong with running?”

  I’m well aware that it gets you up and out of the house and it’s good for your heart. Frankly if I’m going to travel three to five miles distance from my home and sweat in the process, I’d rather sit and pedal my ass there. Then again, on further reflection, running does come in handy if you’re running for a train, have to run out and grab a bite to eat, if you’re being chased either by the authorities or by someone or something that wants to do you harm. That last one I can really relate to and take to heart. To know what I’m referring to, I’d have to tell you what happened; so let me set the scene for you.

  It was winter at the time and abnormally cold. It was getting dark. I looked to the horizon to see the last fleeting rays of the sun disappear behind distant tree lined hills, silhouetting the mountainside in darkness. A feeling of fear and isolation fell over me at the sight. Anyone that’s ever been in a forest alone at night knows what I’m talking about. A feeling of primal terror and dread of what lurks in the shadows by day, but prowls in the open when the blanket of night descends over the land.

  Detroit, over the years has been known for it’s harsh, unpredictable weather. Sadly, everything that I’ve ever experienced about winter’s fury in my hometown pales in comparison to the monster of a storm Mother Nature cooked up this night. Snow carried by high frigid winds swirled about me; biting through the winter gear right through to my skin. Snowflakes the size of popped popcorn fell from the sky, pelting my exposed face. Ice formed on my eyebrows and four days worth of stubble. The temperature felt like it must’ve been more than ten degrees below freezing. My face had gone cold hours ago; I could no longer feel any sort of sensation on my skin and I was struggling to breathe. The snow, knee deep in most places meant moving through it was difficult at best. If being tired, hungry and trying to survive the stinging cold of this storm wasn’t bad enough, I was running for my life.

  Three huge shaggy white creatures plowed their way through the snow behind me, like it was nothing more than piles of freshly raked autumn leaves. I heard their ground shaking bellows of angry challenge over the howling winter winds, which frightened the crap out of me. I turned this way, then that, frantically stealing glances behind me.

  Each time I spied them my heart pumped faster. They were closing the distance rapidly. Their nostrils flared with each deep breath, large canine fangs bared in what I assumed was the anticipation of sinking them into my flesh, a chilling yet motivating thought to help move my legs faster. Frozen breath huffed out of their mouths like smoke from a chugging steam locomotive running at full speed. There wasn’t time to get a good look at them, but they appeared to be apelike in appearance only with longer hair.

  Distance.

  I needed to put as much distance as I could between my attackers and me quickly. It was difficult to do in this snow to say the least, it didn’t help that I was close to exhaustion either. I managed to put fifty or so yards between the creatures and myself. I huffed like an out of shape cop chasing down a purse-snatcher. My chest ached; shooting pain went through my burning lungs with every labored breath.

  These things moved fast, faster than I would’ve believed possible had I not witnessed it with my own eyes. If something wasn’t done to get their interest off me, they were going to overtake and kill me. Dying wasn’t something I really wanted to do at that moment. I turned, glancing hurriedly behind me, out of fear more than anything else. They were about twenty-five yards away now. My heart pumped faster at the sight, almost like I had been injected with a syringe of adrenaline. I could feel the fright filled beats pounding against my sternum. Fueled by fear and a sense of self-preservation, I turned again in mid-stride, leveling the head of my battle staff at the ground ten yards in front of the closest of the charging ape creatures. With an unspoken Latin phrase.

  “Puter Navitas Telum,”

  A ball of blue energy erupted from the end of the staff. It rocketed toward the ground at the oncoming ape creatures, exploding on impact, hurling them away from me in a tangled heap of snow mingled with chunks of frozen dirt.

  It worked!

  I thought somewhat amazed. I put a bit more power than I’d intended into the spell, but I was satisfied with the result nevertheless. The powerful blast of blue energy wasn’t meant to harm the creatures only to give me a little breathing space.

  Stopping in my tracks, I turned to face them, thrusting off my coat hood in one fluid motion. Taking a firm grip on the head of the battle staff with my right hand, I gave the shaft a twist unsheathing a concealed thirty-two inch blade. The straight blade, about an inch thick, was similar to a Japanese Katana, but devoid of the characteristic curved shape. This elegant weapon of war was made from an extremely rare black metal called Damasca, forged in the foundries of the Mountain Dwarves that resided in the Alps of Switzerland. Magic runes etched into its length ran down the blade edge on both sides. I held the sword brandishing it in a loose En Garde posture uttering the Latin phrase “Mucro Suscitatio” as I did. The runes erupted into a white-hot fire, which glowed with a spectral incandescence.

  I didn’t have long to wait for them to come at me again. The larger of the three ape creatures bounded over the crater made by the energy blast, another ran around it coming at me from the left. I didn’t see the third ape creature. I speculated that it may have been killed by the blast or just rendered unconscious. A thought that made its way into my brain which made me uneasy, was that the creature at this very moment was circling its way around the action to get the drop on me. I doubted whether it would run away. These creatures didn’t seem to know the meaning of the word retreat.

  I had to concentrate on the two immediate threats before me; I didn’t have time to think about the third ape right now. Moving to the right as well as I could in
the drift of snow, I leveled my battle staff at the creature coming straight for me. I thought the Latin phrase “Nisi Incendia” A lance of white-hot fire, thicker than my forearm erupted from the end of the staff, sending it hurdling at the ape creature closest to me. The intense heat caused the air around the lance of fire to vaporize turning to steam. The fiery blast hit the ape square in the chest lighting it up like a high school pep rally bonfire. The beast let out a pained agonizing roar, grunting and writhing in horrified pain as the blast knocked it off it’s feet, sending it hurdling backwards about forty-five feet into a stand of nearby trees. I heard a loud crunching sound, figuring it was probably bone breaking against the frozen trunk of a tree.

  Silhouetted by the light from the fire I could just make out a tall tree mantled with snow falling to the forest floor with an echoing crash. The force of the fire blast and the mass of the ape creature’s body striking the tree must’ve brought it down. I let out a sigh of relief, one of my attackers out of action; that left only the immediate threat and a possible third.

  The second ape creature raced furiously around to the left, out of my peripheral vision. I made a clumsy step in that direction nearly losing my footing. Hindsight being twenty-twenty, it was a lucky thing that I stumbled. Had my head remained in the place it was a millisecond before, the ape creature’s fist would’ve knocked it off my shoulders. Fortunately, his massive fist only grazed the left side of my face, but it still hurt like hell. Stars danced around in my vision mockingly. My body went limp; I slumped forward, succumbing to the blow, my balance wavering, however I held on to the sword and lower part of my staff.