The Scent of Death Read online

  The

  Oddfellow

  Chronicles

  The Scent of Death

  By

  Shelby Skabelund

  Copyright 2018

  Contents

  Chapter 1 The Scent of Death

  Chapter 2 The End, the Beginning

  Chapter 3 Nick Channing

  Chapter 4 Evanston Wyoming

  Chapter 5 Bubbled Glass

  Chapter 6 Cold and Alone

  Chapter 7 One Big Party

  Chapter 8 Answers

  Chapter 9 The Mark

  Chapter 10 House in the Rocks

  Chapter 11 The Mines

  Chapter 12 Prisoners

  Chapter 13 Out and About

  Chapter 14 The Prisoner is a Prisoner

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 15 The Heart of the Mountain

  Chapter 16 The Feast

  Chapter 17 The Armory

  Chapter 18 The Slides

  Chapter 19 Blacwin

  Chapter 20 The Keeper

  “For all of you who have had trouble believing in yourself when others always have.”

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Shelby Lee Skabelund

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [email protected]

  First edition March 2019

  www.tofchonicles.com

  Chapter 1

  The Scent of Death

  All he could hear was his own breathing and the soft rumble of the waterfall off in the distance. His hands gripped the cold wet rock beneath him. His lungs ached, and he could taste a hint of blood in the back of his throat. Sweat dripped from his graying beard. He reached a dirty thin hand up to dab the sweat away from his skin. It was not easy getting to the bottom of the crevice he was in, but it was the safest place he could find. He had figured that the bushes and trees that were growing along the top would help hide him and filter his scent. Hopefully the trees and darkness of nightfall might buy him a few extra hours.

  All he could think about was keeping it safe. He had spent his whole life protecting it. As he thought, his hands wandered to the hidden pockets inside of his black silky robes to the familiar worn leather cover he knew so well. He mindlessly stroked his fingers along the binding and traced the letters that had been stamped into the leather so carefully.

  It was an old leather-bound book with a leather strap that held it shut with a small piece of polished bone. There were delicate imprints of silver that traced the edges of the dark black book, but the silver lines were fading from wear. They were the same delicate lines that adorned Vidan’s black robes. It had an ancient look to it, yet it was warm and beautiful.

  He found comfort in holding the book and running his hands over the leather. Every inch of it was familiar to him and invoked so many wonderful feelings. He was not so attached to the physical cover or the pages, it was the ideals and values that it stood for. The importance to him was what it meant to those he was protecting. He thought he was such a great Keeper until now. He shook his head as he thought how he had nothing to be proud of. Most of the meetings with the king seemed trivial now. The survival and happiness of his whole world rested upon keeping this book as far from Mortes as possible.

  He had studied so long, practiced so hard but it just didn’t seem to be enough. Each time she got near him he froze up and could do nothing. He could not concentrate, and his spells required complete concentration. He felt like such a failure. He had let everyone down, especially his sister and her family. He would not let it end this way. He had to do something, but what? He needed a few days to think and to prepare. He could barely stay hidden for a few hours now. She was so quick to find him. He would disappear into a new cave or grove of trees just to be sniffed out two or three hours later. It seemed like no matter where he went or what he did he could not elude Mortes. She intended on destroying the book and its keeper at all costs. This was the only way she could ensure complete control over the humans.

  He had now been on the run for more than a month, hiding out in back alleys, rubbish piles, crawl spaces and small caves. He had tended to lean towards the wilderness now since he had realized that hiding amidst his own people put them all in danger. He had now banished himself to run and hide alone. The further he could get from villages and settlements the better.

  Mortes was taking less and less time to track him down.

  “She must be growing accustomed to my scent” he thought.

  “She will not stop until she has destroyed it, and she does not tire”, he said out loud.

  “Yet I am so tired” he thought to himself again.

  He looked around at the crack in the rock that he had managed to smash himself into. He felt the rocks sharp edges pressing into his right leg and his lower back. He found no comfort in the fact that tonight would be no different than the last night.

  “This looks comfortable” he quietly breathed to himself.

  Suddenly he felt overwhelmed again. It had been a month since he slept in a real bed with clean bed sheets. Not only was he without a bed but if he did fall asleep it was usually for a very short time before his eyes flew open with his heart in the pit of his stomach.

  He was tired of waking in the night with the scent of death creeping into his nostrils. It was the rancid smell of decaying corpses. The smell of bacteria feeding on the rancid flesh stuck between her scowling jaws, and if that were not enough, the putrid stench of sulfur made the air harder to breath. The scent that came with Mortes was a heartless unfeeling smell that made you understand instantly that there was no forgiveness, no charity and no remorse. Vidan could now recognize the smell when he was only a few miles away. Not because it carried on the wind so strong, but because of the nervousness it caused him when the slightest hint was in the air.

  Mortes carried this scent as did all her kind. It was meant to strike fear into the hearts of any that came across it. The scent was one of her greatest advantages. There was no need to see her. The smell was so definitive of death and suffering that it drove the most courageous men to their knees in a state of panic. As if her huge muscular body covered in black and dark green scales, her horns, her giant claws and razor-sharp teeth, weren’t enough to drive fear into one’s heart.

  Vidan remembered the first time he had come across this scent two months before. The scent had left him powerless and paralyzed. It sent a shiver through his body just to remember it.

  He could remember so clearly, it was impossible to forget. He had just left the castle to visit with his sister’s family in the nearby village of Ashton. It was a small farming village that helped supply fresh vegetables, meat, eggs and milk to the King and his people. It was made up of small cottages, barns and wooden fences to hold back the cattle and pigs. The picture-perfect town nestled into the green lush hillside below the castle where the cows were found grazing each afternoon. Small spirals of smoke from cooking fires connected the clouds to their houses. The livestock outnumbered the people in town, but that was status quo.

  They were a peaceful people that were happy with their trade. The king made sure they were well compensated for their hard work and produce. The village people found it comforting to be so close to the royal armies for protection and the king’s soldiers found it comforting to have fresh food so close to their bellies. It was the perfect symbiotic relationship.

  His siste
r Niera was a beautiful woman. Her long brown hair was sleek, and she often would let her daughter put thin braids in it for her. Her brown hair accented her light complexion and brought attention to her amazing green eyes. She had taken his mother’s place. She had the same gentle voice, and he could always hear how much she cared about him when she spoke. She married at a young age but was very happy. Her dream was to have children of her own and she had two already. The oldest was nine, a son named Rhen. The youngest was a girl named Vidian, named after her uncle. She was only six. He felt a special bond with her because of her name.

  Rhen was an adventurous boy, dreaming of the day he would raise a sword to honor the king. He had a solid frame and dark hair like his father Jon. He also had the square jaw line of his father that made him look older than the boys his age. He worked alongside his father on the farm and became very strong and good with his hands. His father spent the day teaching him to be a man of honor and hard work. His sister Vidian was as mischievous as she was beautiful. She could melt any heart with her blue eyes and the upturn of the corners of her mouth. She had bouncing blonde curls that you could spot from a field away. Her uncle teased her that her hair was spun by angels out of silver and gold, it had to be for it was the most beautiful hair he had ever seen on a mortal. Her mother found her to be more to handle than her brother. She did spend time in the kitchen helping with the daily chores but often got side tracked and into trouble.

  Vidan found great pleasure in doing small magic tricks for the children. He had often caught himself wandering out of the castle to see his niece and nephew to get his mind off the rigors of the Grand Council meetings that he attended each week. Vidan was the “Keeper of Secrets”. He was one of the few people in his land and the whole world for that matter, which had the ability to perform true magic. He had studied long and hard with his master as a young boy to be ready one day to care for his people and to council with the King and the politicians from neighboring countries. The Kingdom of Detre was the political capital of Terran and all the problems of the people were brought before King Detre the III and his Grand Council. As the Keeper of Secrets, it was Vidan’s responsibility to counsel with the King in all his decision making. Vidan had long studied the history of his world and not just his people. This allowed him to remind all present of previous mistakes made by people and rulers before them. He also had the power of the Keeper that would allow him to see future mistakes before they were made and the power to counsel with those Keepers who had passed on before. His most important role had not been played yet. He held in his possession the Book of Secrets. It was his duty to protect it and to use its powers to protect the world. It was his duty to maintain the balance of good and evil. One was never to completely control the other. He had just never had to deal with anything too serious, and being the Keeper was simple compared to what he had to deal with now.

  This night was no different from the others. He had finished speaking with the king in private after the meetings and had locked up the Grand Room and started off down the trail that led down the hill from the granite castle to Ashton. The weight of the world bore down on his shoulders, yet each step helped him to forget the warring between countries, the plagues, the sickness, the famine and worst of all the bickering, high mindedness, and pursuit of power by the politicians at each meeting. It seemed that the latter worsened every year.

  He remembered the feeling of excitement he had to show Vidian a new spell he had been working on. She loved butterflies more than anything, and he had been working on a spell that would send sparks into the air and form into the shape of a shining green butterfly. It would then flutter around briefly and then circle into the air until it would disappear far above their heads. This spell didn’t compare at all to the wonders and powers he could perform from his book of secrets, yet it was especially for her and it was his own.

  Vidan had been entrusted with magic for years now, but it was extremely difficult to do anything beyond what was in his book of secrets. He had only learned that he could make his own magic just a year before. He had been casting spells since he took over as the keeper of secrets 35 years before but by accident on the night of his 55th birthday he created his first spell. Vidian had written him a note on some parchment for a gift. All it said was “u ar the best uncl, luv Vi”. She had handpicked a bouquet of flowers from the nearby field to go along with the note. He was so overcome by this simple gift that a tear formed in his eye and ran down his cheek. He wrapped his arms around her tight and said, “I love you, Vi”. As he said the words, he felt a tingle in his chest and it flowed through his hands. The next moment there were silver streaming tears floating through the air. Everyone gasped at how beautiful and unexpected they were. He had to admit they were beautiful. It was as simple as that. When he thought about that evening and said “I love you Vi” he would get the same beautiful result. It didn’t compare to the spells he had learned from the Book. Spells like levitation that could move large boulders, or a lighting spell that allowed him to burn objects to a crisp charcoal with a flick of his wand and the word “incendi”(this was his favorite).

  He worked over the next year trying to harness this power and to create new spells. None had worked, well none had worked correctly. He even had scars to show for a few bad ideas (His fire spell had not worked as he had hoped, and he knew when to admit he had gone too far too fast). This would be his biggest self-created spell yet. It didn’t seem like much, but it was a big accomplishment to him. This was intentionally created to bring joy to someone he loved so much. The best part for him was that that he could get it to work every time. Even better, the spell worked by saying her full name, “Vidian”. She would be so excited, and so would her family.

  When he finally arrived at the house he was finding it difficult to hold back his excitement and had completely forgotten about that night’s proceedings at the castle. He stopped just short of the small cottage with the weathered thatch roof that he knew so well and pulled a slender ivory wand from his black robes. He raised it to his temple and closed his eyes. He quietly mumbled a few words under his breath and then thought to himself, “Where are my favorite niece and nephew?” Inside the house he could hear a cry of delight from both children as they had heard his thoughts as clear as he had spoken them into their ears. He could hear the floor boards rumble as they raced for the old wooden door and pulled on the iron ring handle. The evening had approached and only the soft red light of the sunset barely lit the horizon. As the door cracked open, Vidan’s eyes were made aware of the arriving darkness because of the contrast against the warm light of a lantern and a home fire piercing his eyes. Two dark small shapes jumped up and down in the doorway and only became clear the closer he got to the opening.

  Vidan’s cheeks were plump as ever and full of color. Her blonde curls glimmered in the light shining out of the house. Rhen’s dark hair looked unkempt from a day of hard work in the field with his father. They both had a look of expectation on their face, as to say, “What fun will we have tonight uncle?” As he entered the home he was smothered by embraces from both children and was met with a hug from his dear sister Niera. A warm wave of smells crashed over him and he was lost for a moment in the smell of fresh baked bread, roasted chicken and something sweet and full of cinnamon. Niera stepped back and held him tightly at his shoulders and smiled at him. “What kept you so long tonight?” she asked.

  “Was it more fighting over unclaimed land or was it the fact that our king can barely make a decision without you these days?”

  Vidan smiled back at her. “It was neither.” he replied,

  “I figured if I kept you waiting you would enjoy my company all the better.” They both laughed at this.

  Just then Niera’s husband Jon came into the room. His shoulders were broad, and he had huge strong hands. Just looking at him you knew he was not a man to make cross. He had a square jaw like his son and a slightly crooked nose. He knelt by the fireplace to poke at the fire with the iron
poker he took from a hook on the mantel. He had a heavy look on his face that did not match the demeanor of the rest of his family. He turned his head to look at Vidan and said “It is good to see you Vidan. I am glad that you have come tonight but I have something that is urgent we discuss.”

  Vidan was taken back at the serious tone in his voice.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I do not wish to discuss it in front of the children.” replied Jon.

  “Dear could you take them and get them some supper while I speak with Vidan for a moment?”

  Niera quickly took both unhappy children and tore them away from their uncle pushing them towards the kitchen at the back of the small cottage.

  “Please sit down Vidan.” he pointed to the worn wooden chair next to the stone fireplace. He quickly sat down forgetting the excitement he had felt about his new spell. He had only seen Jon upset like this once. It was when he showed up at the castle to tell him of a group of men stealing animals from their farms, but even worse was the fact that his best friend Alec had been killed trying to stop them.

  Jon went on to tell him of the odd things he had seen in the woods nearby while preparing to clear new ground for crops. He had seen tracks that he did not recognize at all and there were many of them. He didn’t think much of them at first and thought they were that of some type of badger or some small wildcat, but then he found something odd. It was small pieces of hard greenish black, what seemed to him, eggshells. He had never seen anything like them in his life. He pulled a small piece from his pocket to show Vidan.

  It was very odd indeed. The color was so different. It was black but at the same time there was a light green glimmer within the blackness, almost magical. He could see no signs of animals around and then realized that he couldn’t hear animals in this part of the woods.

  He said he had an eerie felling because the forest was so quiet.