Hi, everyone.
I wanted to clean up The Coming of the Spell Caster by putting it all together into one novel. I am also correcting the category and republishing it under Sci-Fi &Fantasy—which is where it belongs.
I will be taking down the individual chapters, sadly this likely means all the comments and ratings will disappear as well. I apologise for this but having eleven chapters up for one novel doesn't make sense to me any longer. Especially since some of the chapters were shorter than my normal length.
For newcomers: This is fantasy with an obviously erotic twist. I think it is a little over the top, but I had fun writing it and in the end that is generally all that matters to me: that I have fun. The good news for you is that the second novel has been published!
Enjoy,
Lana Ocean
Canada
The Coming of the Spell Caster
Spell Caster Series: Book One
Chapter One
DANIEL DAVIES STRUGGLED to pull the fallen tree free from the underbrush, where smaller saplings and undergrowth had twisted around the trunk. He wrapped his arms around the two-foot-wide girth and gave a mighty pull, straining against the resistance, his arms taut and threatening to split his undersized tunic. His face turned deep red with the effort and sweat poured down his face. He reached deeper within himself and found an extra ounce of strength and suddenly, with the sound of saplings snapping, the trunk suddenly surged forward, and Daniel fell to a knee and released the heavy trunk.
The tree thumped to the ground, and Daniel took a moment to catch his breath. He felt a hitch in his shoulder, and he rotated his arm around the socket to loosen it. He pushed himself off the ground and wiped the half-sleeve of his tunic across his brow and blinked against the burning of sweat in his eyes. He looked down at himself and grimaced at the condition of his shirt, covered in dirt and pieces of bark and leaves. The shirt was made from rough-spun cloth and was more suited for holding potatoes than his body. It was a size too small, and he wished he could afford better, but he was only a poor farmer with a small plot of land given to him by the King.
He looked back at the fallen tree. Now that it was finally free of the saplings, and he could remove the branches and ready the tree to drag back to his farm with his mule. He had found it fortunate to have found the tree—it had meant less work for him. Daniel was standing in an old growth forest and the trees were dense and thick. The trees took a long time to fell and chancing on the fallen tree had saved himself an hour of chopping at least.
Although it might have been less work than pulling it clear of the undergrowth
, he thought.
He studied the stump of the tree for the third or fourth time. It kept catching his eye as it was oddly charred. A lightning strike would not have been so focused. His gaze lingered for a moment before he shrugged and thanked the Gods for providing this bounty. His mule, only a dozen yards away, stomped the ground in impatience and glared at him. Daniel smiled at the beast and stepped away from the tree. At his feet, insects, exposed to the light, swarmed, and scurried for a place to hide. Daniel made a noise of disgust and stepped further back and shook his head with a look of distaste on his face. He hated insects. They ate his crops and caused no end of grief for a simple farmer like him. It was a constant battle and losing meant losing the farm and likely prison for not paying the King his due.
If only I could afford a simple spell to rid my plants of insects
, he thought, not for the first time.
But spell casters are notoriously expensive.
Daniel thought back to the one he had encountered in the town near his farm a couple of months ago. He had walked the two hours down the road to the town of Acron to stop at the Trading Post to buy a new pulley mechanism for his well, and instead he had found the inn and tavern beckoning him.
He had stepped inside the gloomy tavern and made his way past older patrons drowning themselves in ale at dirty tables. It was only just past noon, but by the looks of the men, they had been here for hours. He knew many of them, for they were a small community and many simply nodded at him as he passed. He knew them, but not enough to speak to them. Truth was, he had always been an outsider in town and in the region. He approached the bar and the man on the other side started to pour him a warm ale without prompting. He slid the ale over to him in a heavy and chipped ceramic stein.
"Two coppers, mate," he said without making eye contact.
Daniel fished out two coppers and dropped them on the bar. "Thanks." He grabbed his stein and took a sip. It was weak, warm, and far too hoppy for his taste. He grimaced and forced himself to swallow the bitter brew. The bartender grinned and winked at the expression and moved away to the other end of the bar, grabbing a cloth, and wiping a wine glass clean.
Daniel turned himself around and put his back to the bar and tried to relax. The walk to town had been hot and dry, and he wanted nothing more than to chug back the bitter ale. But the two coppers were an expense he could barely afford, and he would make this beer last and remember it for weeks. And he still had to purchase a new pulley mechanism for his well and wanted to pay cash rather than increase his credit with the trader. Which meant this was the only ale he could afford. He took a sip and winced. Despite the taste, he debated buying another ale and forgetting about the well. He didn't mind the extra effort of hauling buckets of water up by hand from the well depths. He was a strong and muscled man, with blue eyes and a tan, and more than capable. He shook his head.
Dammit, the well has a broken pulley system and I can't stand things not working properly. I want it fixed. No more ale.
Daniel looked around to clear his mind and worries. Despite the bright summer day outside, the lighting in the tavern was terrible due to all the dirt and smoke residue covering the insides of the front windows. The bar he leaned against went half the length of the back wall, farthest from the door. Behind the bar was a door leading to the kitchens. On the wall to his left was a door leading up to the inn where anyone could get one of the four rooms the inn boasted. Four large pillars held up the ceiling and a large round fire pit sat central to the room with a heavy stone chimney rising up through the roof. Tables and chairs filled the space. The floor was composed of roughhewn planks worn smooth in places to mark the passage of many feet. Sawdust was spread liberally across the floor to soak up spilt beer, vomit, and sometimes blood from fights. It was an ugly tavern, but the only one in the town of Acron for the likes of him.
With little else to do, Daniel observed the patrons. He knew three or four of them well enough by sight. They were mostly farmers like him, in town to sell their wares and maybe pick up supplies. Daniel was easily the youngest of them all. He had arrived in town at age eighteen.
That was seven years ago
, he realised with a shock.
Owning a farm had been the only thing he could think to do when he arrived. Farming didn't require a lot of knowledge, and he was easily strong enough for the work. He had taken what wealth he had and bought the rights to turn the land from the town representative for the King. The town had not thought well of him at first. But he had proven his worth over the years with hard work and always paid the King his due. This year he wasn't certain he could pay the levy and provide the crops he owed without starving this winter. And he wasn't alone. Crops were failing at an alarming rate.
Daniel came to Acron after his parents had died in an orc raid in a remote town near the Wilds. He blamed his father for their deaths. There had been no reason for his father to have tried to raise a family in a town by the Wilds, regardless of what wealth he chased. The orcs came and raped and pillaged, and in large numbers. Half the town had perished before the garrison had forced them away. Daniel had only survived by being knocked unconscious by the filthy orc who had broken down their door. He had been left for dead and woke to find the butchered corpse of his father. He had been partially eaten.
His mother had suffered a worse fate. Daniel didn't like to dwell on the image of his mother's prone body lying on her back on her bed with her clothes torn off. Grief welled up strong and sharp, and Daniel stifled a cry and raised his stein to his face to hide his grief. His loss was as fresh as the day it happened.
His thoughts were interrupted when a high-pitched, nasally voice called out from behind the central fireplace of the tavern. It had been an oddly irritating kind of voice and whoever had called out was hidden from Daniel's view, which bothered him. He glanced at the bartender and saw the brief look of first surprise and then distaste that crossed his face before he poured a cup of wine. The bartender came out from behind the bar and disappeared behind the fireplace before returning. Daniel noticed a few of the farmers frowning at the back corner before returning to their ales.
Curious to see who had annoyed the bartender, Daniel slid down the bar until he could see who it was. At first, he could see nothing, but he knew something was there. He blinked and then he saw, like clearing a fogged window. There, seated at a table in the back corner, was a man dressed in a very expensive robe. Daniel recognised what he was at once: a spell caster. He looked every inch the spell caster. He wore a robe, and he had placed a pointed hat on the table next to him. More importantly, next to his cup of wine, was a book he kept one hand on. Daniel knew it was a book of spells. A powerful and dangerous kind of book. It almost had an aura around it.
Something about the man bothered Daniel, but his first thoughts were of the insects plaguing the area. Cinch bugs infested all the fields around Acron. He had tried all the secrets farmers knew to rid himself of them, but nothing worked. He had already lost half his crop, and his future was looking bleak. A spell caster could easily rid his farm of the bugs. Maybe this man would be willing to help. To help Acron and the other farmers.
Daniel was a good farmer, surprising even himself. He almost preferred this life over the one his father had planned for him. He had spent his childhood and early manhood working in his mother's and father's apothecary shop in the capital city of Whitehaven. It had been prosperous. That was why moving to the Wilds had made no sense to Daniel. His father argued all the plants he needed were in the Wilds, and he refused to spend any more coin on dried herbs purchased at the market. He said fresh was always best, and he felt he could make more coin providing potions and unguents from the source rather than losing money buying the expensive ingredients.
And he died for those beliefs
, Daniel thought.
And mom. She never wanted to leave the city. But she went anyway.
He tore his eyes from the spell caster when the door to the tavern swung open and two men entered. They stopped in the entrance and looked around, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the gloom. The spell caster saw them and called over to them.
"Jason, Brian. Over here," said the spell caster.
Daniel watched as the two men followed the voice through the bar. One was clearly a mercenary of some sort. He was massive, standing well over six feet in height. He wore a mail hauberk over a leather gambeson. Over his left shoulder and strapped to his back was a massive, unsheathed sword with a large handle. He wore a full helm which he removed, spraying sweat everywhere to the annoyance of a few patrons. He wore a large leather backpack, bulging with contents, slung over his right shoulder. Around his waist was a strange belt carrying small metal vials of varying colours. He wore thick leather boots, and ornate metal bracers covered his forearms. He looked dangerous, but the smile he wore put Daniel at ease.
