Curse of Water Read online

  “CURSE of WATER”

  Daughter of Destiny

  Book 2

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  CURSE OF WATER

  First edition. June 6, 2022.

  Copyright © 2022 Kate Jones.

  ISBN: 978-1393061137

  Written by Kate Jones.

  Also by Kate Jones

  Daughter of Destiny

  Shadows of Darkness

  Curse of Water (Coming Soon)

  Watch for more at Kate Jones’s site.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Also By Kate Jones

  Dedication

  Curse of Water (Daughter of Destiny, #2)

  Chapter 1 ENDINGS.

  Chapter 2 BEASTS.

  Chapter 3 GORGOLA.

  Chapter 4 GRIEF.

  Chapter 5 MYSTERIES.

  Chapter 6 MEETINGS.

  Chapter 7 LOVE.

  Chapter 8 LIFE.

  Chapter 9 DEATH.

  Chapter 10 HOPE.

  Chapter 11 PROPHESIES.

  Chapter 12 POWER.

  Chapter 13 ENERGY.

  Chapter 14 DEPARTURES.

  Chapter 15 HUNTERS.

  Chapter 16 DISAPPOINTMENT.

  Chapter 17 GOBLINS.

  Chapter 18 BLOOD-BOUND.

  Chapter 19 GOODBYES.

  Chapter 20 MEDDLER.

  Chapter 21 GUTHLAC.

  Chapter 22 SLYMERATH.

  Chapter 23 SACRIFICE

  Chapter 24 HISTORY

  Chapter 25 FAITH.

  Chapter 26 DARKNESS.

  Chapter 27 QUESTIONS.

  Chapter 28 ANSWERS.

  Chapter 29 IDEAS.

  Chapter 30 SOLUTIONS.

  Chapter 31 UNDERSTANDING.

  Chapter 32 TRUST.

  Sign up for Kate Jones's Mailing List

  Also By Kate Jones

  This book is dedicated to my ever patient partner, Mark, who has had to put up with having to wear un-ironed clothes, live in a messy house and eat microwaved food on a regular basis so that I can write this book.

  XXXX

  THE CRYSTAL LEGACY

  “And the Light shall be split by those who protect it;

  Its fragments flung to the farthest corners of the land;

  hidden from all until a hero -

  One who is of our own yet not one of us –

  shall first find his identity,

  Then he will find the fragments of the Light.

  And in the finding of the Truth, he will take the colours

  and merge them back into the Crystal of Light.”

  From “The Prophecies of Domar.”

  Chapter 1 ENDINGS.

  Pathetic. She has no hope of defeating me and yet she still comes.

  Moloch stood on the hilltop, watching, an ugly smile twisting his features into a grimace as he watched Charley and Narya stumble through the desolation that he had created.

  A moment of admiration for Charley’s courage crossed his mind, before being swept away by the thought of his impending victory. Everything he had ever wanted was within his grasp and soon he would reign supreme, his old enemy defeated once and for all.

  His glance swept across the desolate landscape below and a deep satisfaction settled over him. As far as the eye could see, the land was dead, devoid of life, bereft of love, barren, and empty.

  The way it should be the way it will always be from this moment on. I was meant to rule this land; these people were meant to serve me, and only me. Elohim was never meant to be their god—that right belongs to me. He drew a deep breath, his nostrils flaring as he savoured the smell of decay, putrefied flesh, and rotting vegetation.

  His gaze swung across the scene before him, his eyes narrowing at the pinpoints of light that marred the darkness. Elohim’s footsteps still shone...but not for much longer.

  Moloch turned his scrutiny back to Charley who continued to stumble across the rock and bone-strewn ground, her head low. His lips curled as she sank to the ground; his tongue flicked the air, savouring the scent of her fear and his cracked lips opened, rolling the smell around his mouth as he relished the taste. He quivered with anticipation, desire for her death pouring through his body.

  The elf, Narya, who walked with her reached out and placed a hand on her shoulders. Moloch felt the magic; it was weak, and of no consequence to him, but it was a delay and impatience rolled over him. Get up, girl, and face me like the hero you are supposed to be. Let me have the pleasure of watching you die as you should have died so long ago. He smirked as she staggered to her feet. This is going to be far too easy.

  He was looking forward to killing the elf as well...and he wasn’t going to have to wait much longer.

  Chapter 2 BEASTS.

  (Elorysia - five years earlier)

  Moloch sat in dark, brooding silence in what had once been the great hall in Viridia. He barely controlled his rage as he contemplated the scene before him.

  Only the rhythmic tapping of his gnarled fingers on the broken remains of the great wooden table betrayed his inner thoughts as the fury coursed through his veins.

  I have achieved my goal, yet my enemy is still not destroyed and I do not have the crystal in my possession. Damn Endar and damn the guardians for breaking the crystal. Now I will have to waste my time finding the individual pieces so that I can destroy the last of Elohim’s magic and take my rightful place as ruler of this world.

  He slammed his fist down on the table, grinding his teeth in frustration at the delay. So many generations spent planning, searching, finding the one who would give me form and victory, then to have it snatched from my grasp at the last moment.

  He had learned patience over the years though, and so now he quelled the inner rage and set his mind to making a new plan.

  The Watchers had scattered and he had to find them, fetch them back and crush every piece of the Crystal into dust, finally obliterating his enemy once and for all. From Geraint’s final memories he knew of the protectors and gifts each had been given, but they failed to trouble him. What concerned him more was that Endar held the only remaining piece of the Crystal that contained pure, white light and obtaining that would be by far the most difficult task.

  Moloch was under no illusion as to the lengths the elven wizard would go to in order to protect the final legacy of his master, and he was a formidable opponent. His power matched that of Moloch, and with one piece of the Crystal still holding part of Elohim’s power, Endar had an advantage that would take cunning, strength, and all the darkest forces of magic he could conjure up, to finally defeat the Light.

  I need someone else to find those pathetic weaklings he has entrusted with the crystal shards; no, I need something else; something so twisted, dark, and evil that not even the protection of the gifts Endar has given his so-called ‘Watchers’ will be enough to prevent their capture.

  He jumped to his feet, the decision made, and a grim smile settled across his contorted features as he considered the forces of the Dark that he needed to use.

  Very little of the form that had once been Geraint remained, and though Moloch retained his height, there was little else to show of the man whose body Moloch had taken over. Down the centre of his skull ran a deep cleft, splitting his face so that even his nose, jaw, and mouth appeared to be in two halves, and when he smiled, he revealed razor sharp top teeth curving over a tongue split into three.

  His mottled skin was stretched tightly over his face and the pupils in his eyes were so distended they filled the sockets like deep black pools of emptiness.

  Apart from a few remaining strands of dark, lank hair clingi
ng to the back of his head, his skull was bare, veins twisting and pounding in sinuous rivers just beneath the surface of the skin. The ligaments of his neck stood out in rigid cords beneath ragged holes where ears had once been.

  Lines of sinew and muscle were clearly visible beneath the papery greyness of what had once been a deep tan, and blackened talons curved and forced their way out from the ends of his clawed fingers.

  The body that had once been Geraint could not contain the force of the Darkness, and it had twisted and torn in agony as humanity tried to escape from the evil that claimed it. His appearance was of no concern to Moloch. The body he had claimed was merely a vessel that was required to carry the soul of Elohim’s creation, the soul that Moloch had lusted after and sought for so long, the soul he had finally enslaved so that he could carry out his plan.

  How that vessel looked was irrelevant. What mattered now was the creation of the hunters, the beasts that would seek out the Watchers and fetch them back to Moloch along with their pieces of the Crystal. Then he could finally destroy the last vestiges of his enemy and reign supreme, as was his right.

  It did not take him long to create them.

  Drawing on the strongest, most evil magic, he pulled together the horrors of the Dark and wove them into a shape that was as sickening in its make-up, as it was powerful. Weaving strands of dense, black energy into a swirling, ethereal form of malevolence, he built up bone, sinew, muscle, and skin, drawing on the darkest spells in order to create beasts that would only know how to hunt and kill, without mercy and without rest.

  As skilfully as any craftsman, he wove terror and the most sinister magic into his creations, stepping back only once he knew there was no more horror that he could add, a grim smile distorting his deformed mouth into a picture of demonic satisfaction.

  Before him stood a horde of creatures that could only ever have existed in the darkest depths of a depraved mind. Bent and twisted, they stood on two legs yet resembled some tortured form of wolf more than anything remotely human. A dense shaggy coat covered their bodies and they crouched low on powerful legs, long, razor sharp claws scratching deep into the surface of the broken stone floor. The same claws sprouted from the ends of forearms bulging with powerful muscles, but it was the torso and head that was Moloch’s ultimate creation of horror.

  Rising from a twisted spine, the powerful neck curved forwards in a hump of muscle carrying a massive head, features pulled back into a snarling grimace to reveal yellow fangs dripping with foul smelling saliva.

  One command from Moloch and they dropped onto all fours, growling and snapping at each other as they vied for his attention. They were dog-like spawn of the darkest evil.

  A second command and they slipped back up onto their hind limbs, twisted bodies straightening into a vaguely human shape, their fur coiling into a cloak-like form, covering and disguising what they were so that, from a distance, they resembled tall, darkly clothed people.

  They stank of evil and the dark forces that had created them. Realizing this flaw in his creation, Moloch waved a hand over them and the stench disappeared. He did not want anything to alert his quarry to their presence until it was too late. Then, with a snap of his fingers, he sent all but two of them slinking out of the ruined hall, noses close to the ground as they familiarized themselves with the scent of their prey.

  They began the hunt. Nothing other than death would stop them, and Moloch knew that only the most powerful of magic was capable of that. No one other than Endar possesses that kind of magic, and now I am going to make sure that blasted elven wizard never gets the chance to use it.

  For the time being his beasts, the Ushaz, would carry out the task of searching for each of the Watchers, whilst he considered his plan to find and destroy Endar, take possession of the only piece of the Crystal that was still pure, white light, and await the return of the other pieces.

  With a grim smile he began to work, convinced that victory was finally within his grasp.

  As all but the last two of his beasts slunk out of the hall to pursue their prey, Moloch turned his mind to his next task.

  Endar. He alone holds the only remaining white piece of the great Crystal, and if I can get my hands on that, there may be a chance that I will have enough power within my grasp to no longer need the other pieces. He will be hiding like a coward in the Glass Mountains, so that is where I will go to take the shard from him

  A flutter of anticipation curled across his belly as he allowed himself a moment to imagine what he was going to do to the elven wizard once he had him trapped. A long, slow, drawn out death before I take his power and turn him to dust.

  He chuckled grimly as he rose from the chair and prepared to leave the ruins of Viridia for the journey to the Glass Mountains. That will be where he will have holed himself up like a cowardly nematode worm.

  Moloch knew of the existence of the portals that would enable him to reach his destination in the briefest of instances, but he also knew that the Light magic within them was too powerful for him to risk using one. I have not come this far to be weakened by Elohim’s magic for the sake of a few days travel.

  Besides, he didn’t want to waste his time trying to locate one, or any of them, and the thought of the pain and death he could inflict on any of Elohim’s people who refused to bow before him was more than enough recompense for the additional time it would take travelling across the land.

  His preparations were short; he would seize what he wanted from the land and the people as he travelled, so took nothing but his cloak and the two remaining Ushaz who crouched by the shattered doors awaiting his command. Snapping his fingers, he swept from the room and took the tunnel that led down under the sea and across to the Marshlands of Syndaria, the drooling beasts slinking silently behind him.

  As they emerged into the sunlight at the other end, the Ushaz whined in discomfort and Moloch squinted his eyes away from the glare. He muttered a few words and waved his hand to the sky, waiting for the darkness of the clouds that gathered to block the light, before turning to follow the coastline along the edge of the great marshlands.

  Darkness trailed in his wake. He strode on, ignoring his surroundings, confident that his beasts would warn of any approaching animal or person, or simply dispatch them before they could trouble his path. His mind seethed with thoughts of how he could deal with Endar, but each were rejected as he picked out the flaws in every one of them, and as he travelled, anger and frustration built up inside him at the dawning knowledge that this task was not going to be as quick or as easy as he had at first hoped.

  The first populated place he came across was Selketh, by which time rage bubbled almost uncontrollably inside him. He strode to the outskirts of the small fishing town and waited for his presence to be noted.

  I should at least give them the pleasure of knowing at whose hands they die.

  He sniggered as the first cries of alarm broke the peaceful silence of the evening air and lifted his hands to send a blast of dark magic into the small crowd that had gathered. The remaining townspeople fled but there was no escape for them.

  The heady scent of death caressed Moloch’s nostrils as he marched through the streets, murdering every living being, and he shuddered with delight at the screams of terror and agony filling the air.

  When he reached the far side of the town, he turned to look back and savour the sight of his destruction. Bitter, acrid smoke from burning buildings hung in a heavy pall over the entire scene, and the contorted remains of men, women, children, and animals littered the streets, their blood turning the grey dust to a coppery-coloured sludge.

  Too late, he realized he should have left somewhere to rest for the night.

  The only food left was the corpses upon which his Ushaz feasted as they trotted along behind him. Turning, he cuffed one of them across the head so that it dropped the hunk of flesh it had torn from a body close by and sank back onto its haunches, ears flat to its head as Moloch took its meal from it.

 
There’s plenty more where that came from; you won’t go hungry tonight.

  He reached out a claw and absentmindedly scratched the Ushaz under the chin. It whined and pressed its head against his leg.

  Forgoing rest, Moloch strode on through the night, leaving the coastline behind him as he made his way into the plains and a dawning sense of familiarity. Old memories swirled up, and bile filled his throat at the reminder of the pain and defeat he had suffered many generations previously at the hands of his enemy in this very place. He scowled and ground his teeth as he recalled that final moment when the light had seared his mind and shrivelled the body that had been his at the time.

  That moment should have been my greatest triumph.

  Growling, he stomped to a halt and looked out across the expanse of land Elohim’s people had named The Great Plain of Salvation. He lifted his head to scream into the darkness and even the Ushaz cowered in fear at the sound.

  That was nothing compared to what was to come next.

  Raising his hands above his head, Moloch called upon the darkest of magic. He wove it into the ugliest, most powerful spell that was filled with every atom of his hatred and rage and hurled it out into the darkness. Like a scythe it swept across the land, felling every living being in its path.

  Nothing was spared, not one plant, nor a single insect or animal; nothing that lived and breathed survived. The rocks and earth heaved and recoiled at the violation of life, and the air sagged into a dank, suffocating cloud that smothered everything. All light was extinguished as abruptly as a water-doused candle, and a grim smile of satisfaction at the wanton destruction of all that his enemy had created, settled on Moloch’s face.

  But even as the smile lifted the corners of his mouth, a glimmer of light in the distance caught his eye.

  As he strode towards it, he noticed another on the ground in the distance beyond it, and then another, and another—stepping stones of light in a sea of darkness, brightness that rekindled the rage in his breast as he realized what he was looking at.