The Destiny of Amalah

  Table of Contents

  PUBLISHING INFORMATION

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  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

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  The Destiny of Amalah

  by

  THANDI RYAN

  PUBLISHING INFORMATION

  First published in 2012 by Bimbisara Productions

  London N14 6LH

  Copyright © 2012 Thandi Lubimbi

  The author’s rights are fully asserted. The right of Thandi Lubimbi to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  A CIP Catalogue of this book is available from the British Library

  First published as an eBook by Bimbisara Productions in 2012.

  Mobi ISBN: 978-0-9571797-1-4

  EPub ISBN: 978-0-9571797-2-1

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  This book is sold subject to the conditions that is shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publishers prior consent 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.

  This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary and it is not intended to represent specific people - living or dead.

  Cover design by Dave Watson

  Cover copyright © Dave Watson

  Typeset by www.chandlerbookdesign.co.uk

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Special thanks to Celia Monksfield for kindly typing up my manuscript.

  Thanks to Dave Watson for a great cover.

  Chapter 1

  Few can truly tell this story. The gods can tell it but they are forever busy and have no wish to; so that leaves only me. For I have been around since the beginning of time. Speaking of time; what a marvellous opportunity for me to introduce myself to you. I am the Timekeeper; the keeper of all time. I exist everywhere and anywhere, few can truly grasp the concept of me and I have yet to meet a human who can. Suffice to say, I exist to guard against and put right corruptions in timelines. You’d be surprised at just how busy that keeps me! But back to this story!

  The gods – there are twelve in all – had roamed freely on your world; before humans arrived, they stayed in their own form but with your inception, they morphed into human form and some even lived among you as lovers, spouses, parents and teachers and despite warnings from their peers; some became attached to you. When the equinox arrived, the gods would meet in their temple and talk; mostly of their exploits and universal findings but all of which, I am sworn to secrecy about. In the temple they would talk, laugh, drink their nectar and share their discoveries.

  Ah yes, the temple of the gods; the place you now call Stonehenge. A strange name indeed but I am getting used to the quirks of humanity. When it was the temple; the gods would inscribe their words and their works into the great monoliths.

  Their works in their words are carved from top to bottom on each of the monoliths in the temple; they wrote answers down to many questions concerning the universe, the earth, humanity, magic and a blueprint for your evolution; as well as many answers to science that are still to be discovered.

  Their words are not visible to the human eye but it was hoped, that as you evolved, one day, you would come to read their works so you could understand yourselves and have an insight into their existence.

  That was their hope, until the god Zarab carved an answer to time in a section of the monoliths. This was knowledge that many gods felt that humans should never have. Zarab’s words unnerved them but the gods’ were of equal standing and all works were permitted. So there, in the place you call Stonehenge lies an answer to time. A way to reverse it, propel it forward or even stop it.

  The gods’ of whom I speak had become impressed by human beings and they began to realise that human destiny must be forged by humans alone. Back then, magic was commonplace; as were seers and empaths’. It was foretold that humanity, magic and the physical form would create a unique destiny in the universe. The gods began returning to the heavens and a few years later; they held their last meeting at the henge.

  At the last meeting on earth, it was decreed that humans would be left to their own devices. Freewill would be the order of the day and any distortions or alterations in the human timeline, were now strictly forbidden.

  Mortal death would be permanent and human spirits would have to leave the mortal plane. Some of the gods – the ones who had become attached to you – grumbled at the decree but the majority had ruled and once a law was passed, it was binding and could not be broken. Salwar, the most radical of the gods, soon found himself breaking those decrees and to his chagrin, found himself expelled from the heavens indefinitely.

  With their departure, which was just over three thousand years ago, they left you and your nations to carve out your own future. Ah yes, the nations, their names long gone and long forgotten by now but there were nine of them back then: Amalah, Lansten, Santeb, Aradene, Mantor, Filine, Basimine, Equer and Parades.

  I know any human reading this will not believe me when I speak the names of these nations; for they are not in history books you have read. This is very true but let’s just say, it was one of those corruptions in the timeline that I told you about. It’s not only cities that can get lost you know!

  It was pangea at the time I speak of. The magnificent nation of Amalah was at the centre of the world with, a beautiful and vibrant city with the same name at the heart of it. Amalah also housed the temple of the gods. Then, there were rivers and spas running through the nations but not large enough to divide the continents as they do now.

  In those days, Amalah consisted of what you now call Europe, the Middle East and a part of Russia; of course those names were a long time coming. On the east of Amalah were the mountainous nations of Santeb and the snow filled nation of Lansten. Santeb became Asia and Lansten, Russia.

  To the southeast of Amalah was the nation of Aradene, a place of natural wonder and paradise. To the south was the mighty nation of Mantor, now Africa. To the north and south were a few archipelagos’. To the north of Amalah, were the glacial Parades, now Greenland and Scandinavia. Finally, to the west of Amalah, were the nations of: Filine, Basimine and in the northwest, cavernous mountain of Equer, now southern, central and northern America.

  ***

  Even when he was a child, Adriel had hated and despised other children. They had mocked him mercilessly for his rakish and weakly stature, not to mention his harsh facial features. The teasing had been relentless and he could never vent or take his frustrations out on the children who made his life a misery, for he was always outnumb
ered. And, unlike most children, Adriel had no other friend.

  Even now, in his fifteenth year, as he walked quickly through the forest of Amalah; the other children were intent on pursuing him all the way home. Adriel cursed his frame; his odd features and he cursed his peers even more. Always, he would hasten his stride but always, it was futile and the missiles of bread and stone that the children hurled pelted him on the head and back.

  For days, weeks, months and then years; Adriel had begged his father to do something, but his father –as always – was too lazy and spineless to intervene and speak to the children’s parents.

  ‘They are my customers,’ his father would say in a feeble voice. ‘If I don’t have custom, I don’t have a living and we, dear Adriel must eat and be clothed.’

  Thoughts of Adriel’s father only infuriated Adriel and brought his feelings of contempt for him and the children to the surface. Adriel’s lips curled into a smile as he remembered his retort:

  ‘When you are old and weak father, and I am the one going out to earn a living; if you are tormented and beaten, should I not speak to them? Will it console you, when I say to you, they are my custom and without custom father, we shall not be clothed or fed?’ Adriel seethed as he remembered his father smiling wanly, ignoring his witticism. ‘Curse you father,’ he spat; ‘and curse those vermin who chase me day after day,’ he spat, as yet another snarl left his lips.

  As usual, Adriel reached boiling point and as usual, he turned to scream at those infernal children and throw something back, mostly it missed as his eyesight and co-ordination also failed him.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ he screamed, as he threw the remains of his lunch at Jonas, the leader of the pack and also the tallest and strongest of the group.

  This time though, things were different. As the remains of Adriel’s lunch left his hand, streaks of red energy left his fingertips and travelled towards Jonas, hitting him dead centre in the body and sending him flying.

  This was the day Adriel’s life changed forever. As Jonas landed on the floor, everyone, including Adriel froze. When the children looked at Adriel now, it was not with mockery in their eyes but with fear. The children thought that Adriel had also frozen in fear at his new found might – how mistaken they were!

  Adriel had not frozen at all; he had simply taken a moment to savour the fact that the tide had now irrevocably turned in his favour. He had taken a moment to relish in Jonas receiving his long time comeuppance but most of all, Adriel was standing still, so he could decide which one of those children he wanted to hurt next.

  Adriel asked himself, which one of the other seven he hated the most. As he looked at all of the children who stood opposite him, he ran through the list of misdemeanours and sleights that they had committed against him and he decided that he hated them all in equal measure. A cruel smile surfaced on his lips as he embraced the vitriol that was consuming him but simultaneously creating a power surge within him, and his smile became wide and gleeful as the red energy crackled and glowed at his fingertips and shone ever more brightly with each passing second.

  Acting on instinct alone, Adriel threw his hands in their direction and he watched as his red streaks hit them about their body. Adriel laughed as they screamed and ran from him in panic. He chased them all, calling them names, not caring that their backs were turned to him, when he threw his red energy bolts at them. No one was spared the fierce rods of energy that Adriel expelled. It cursed through their bodies like electric shocks and sent them into painful spasms. The children screamed and yelped in pain and fear and Adriel enjoyed the chase as he pursued them relentlessly.

  ‘Keep running,’ he shouted at them. ‘If I don’t get you today, I promise to get you on another,’ he boasted.

  Adriel could hurt them now and they knew it. He and the children both knew that there would be no more name calling and stone throwing with impunity: now, there would always be retaliation of the highest order. Now, Adriel felt only disgust for those who ran crying from him. He had been angry and resentful at them but he had not shed a single tear when they had: hit, punched, kicked, pelted and teased him; he had simply snarled and called them names back.

  ‘How weak they really are,’ he said with contempt.

  When the children were out of sight, Adriel stopped his pursuit, not because he was tired but because he knew he could torment them another day. Now, he would face them head on; he would corner them one by one and he would bait them but most of all – he would make them all pay.

  Adriel turned on his heel and hurried home. When he arrived at the cottage, he was relieved to find that his father had not yet returned. Adriel walked through the dark and dank corridor that was home and into his father’s library where he began scanning the bookshelves and the floor, where more books lay; some were in piles and some simply scattered around. He selected every book he could find on magic and carried them in piles of four to six to his room.

  Adriel placed the books that he wanted to read immediately on the floor, in the centre of his room and put the remainder in his toy chest that was conspicuously empty. He then returned to the library to do one last search and any ensure that he had not missed any other books. Adriel shook his head, as he looked at all the books that his father never bothered to utilise. The books had been his mothers but whilst his father had kept them after her death over five years ago, he was not interested in reading them.

  Adriel returned to his room and closed the heavy wooden door behind him. He sat on the floor in the middle of his room and eyed the books in front of him. He spied a thin green hardback book entitled: “First Magick’s”. He looked thoughtfully at it for a few moments, eyeing the majestic writing and elaborate symbols inscribed on the books cover and he wondered if his mother had been a sorcerer.

  He knew magic existed but he did not know anyone who had any power. In his village, anyone who developed the ability of a seer or sorcerer generally left to go to Amalah City, or to the magic schools in Lansten and Santeb. Adriel gently stroked the book before he picked it up and began to read his first book on magic.

  When he was finished a satisfied smile crossed his face and he went through it again; this time, he practised the spells in the book and he took notes of the potions. He then picked up the next book as he read and from there; he began reading avidly. Adriel didn’t bother to leave his room when his father arrived home and when dinner was ready, he simply piled some food onto a plate whilst saying a few obligatory words to his father and then returned to his room and to the books; much to his fathers relief; for he found his surly son more difficult to understand with each passing day.

  Adriel read through the night and even continued to read when his eyes were sore and he only relented to resting them when his candle had burnt out, and then he reluctantly went to bed, thinking only of magic.

  In the days that went by, Adriel’s father began to receive complaints about his son’s behaviour from the parents, who Adriel had begun to bully. At night, he would return home to confront his son but was met with similar responses and they always contained a tone of contempt:

  ‘Why are you so angry father? Is it that they are customers of yours, who are still buying your goods; or is it that every parent in the village has not hesitated to act in defence of their child?’

  ‘Do not question me Adriel,’ his father would say, raising his voice.

  ‘I have never questioned your cowardice father,’ he retorted one day, before stalking off into his room.

  In the months that passed, a new Adriel had emerged. By day he was the boy that children and then adults had begun to fear. By night he was a hermit; poring over any magical books that he could acquire. He would stay in his room, learning his craft, practising spells and mixing potions.

  At seventeen, the streaks of red energy, had evolved into energy balls that he could throw at will, he could move things kinetically with his hands, levitate and conjure things using spells or potions. He had also tired of the village and the peopl
e, whom he regarded as small and weak.

  On the eve of his eighteenth birthday and without much ado or affection, he informed his father that he was leaving. A few days later, on what appeared to be an inauspicious day, Adriel left his fathers place with a rucksack of clothes; some supplies; hunting equipment and food, and as he closed the gate of the cottage and walked away, he never looked back and he did not care if he ever saw his father again.

  Over the years, Adriel ventured through Amalah and the other eight nations. Over time, he learned the magic of other cultures, mastered his own powers and made few friends but many enemies. He chose to align himself with outcasts and criminals and he forged unlikely alliances on his travels.

  He lived in the open, sleeping in mountains, caves and forests; trekking through arduous and rough terrain. When he began his travels there had been no plan, only day-to-day life where he acquired what he needed and desired by whatever means he fancied. But now, eight years had passed and whilst Adriel loved his life, he grew restless.

  As he rested at the foot of a cavernous mountain in Equer, he decided that he wanted a future, he wanted to leave a legacy but most of all – he wanted to be powerful, he told himself.

  ‘How powerful?’ he heard a voice ask.

  A startled Adriel turned around to see a man with long dark hair standing under a tree and staring at him. ‘I said how powerful?’ he asked again and then smiled.

  ‘Is this a trick?’ Adriel said quickly, clearly unnerved by his presence. ‘How can you…?’

  ‘Read your mind?’

  ‘Yes,’ Adriel said warily.

  ‘You are powerful Adriel.’ Adriel frowned. ‘Yes, I know your name. I also know what you are thinking and what you wish for.’

  ‘Then tell me.’

  ‘Power,’ he replied in a bored tone. ‘You wish for a future where you wield power; where people fear you. Where you are a supreme leader, do you not?’

  ‘Yes…but…’

  The man laughed. ‘Tell me what I do not know dear Adriel. Most people in this world seek love. If you had to choose between love and power; which would you choose?’