Finian’s quest in later books in my Word and the Sword fantasy saga involves uncovering the ancient past, and part of that uncovering involves the journal entries of a warrior in the First Age, Ashlan Kamori. One of the first mages in history, trained by the legendary Shimidar, Kamori’s journal becomes the key to unraveling the mystery that surrounds the Heroes of the Ages. Anyway, I had to write some of the journal entries, and here is one of my favorites.
The Fellwraith. That is what my people call this creature that haunts us, that dogs our steps. Blood, always blood, in the morning. It comes to feed in the darkness. Four killed last night and nothing we possess seems to touch it or hurt it; in the morning light we find others missing. They will never be heard from again, I am sure. It is the creature’s habit to slaughter and devour some, but take others completely. For what purpose we can only guess, though no one harbors the hope that the purpose could be a good one.
Swords and arrows are useless against its onslaught, when it can be seen at all. I believe it is only seen when it wishes to be seen, the better to strike terror in our hearts. It does not appear to be solid; it is called, after all, a wraith for good reason, yet it can tear our flesh when it wishes. Though whether it does this itself, or employs its foul minions remains to be seen. The Fellwraith is much more of a presence to be felt than a thing we have seen, and no one has yet seen what comes in the night. The only ones who know that do not live long enough to tell the rest. The truly remarkable thing is the sheer carnage done, and always without waking anyone else in the camps.
Terror and hatred seem to be our primary emotions now, and the other creatures in this desolate place appear to feed on them. These monstrous beasts are unlike anything I have ever seen, skittering and crawling, bleeding black oil from open, festering sores, covered in pincers and bizarre appendages. They are like shadows, terrors of the darkest recesses of our nightmares. Where the Fellwraith cannot be harmed, at least these foul things can feel the pain of a blade in their gullets. They draw ever closer by the day, growing more confident. At first they kept their distance, but I soon fear we will all be overrun.
This excerpt will appear in the final book, the 12th volume, in my series, The Golden Flame.