The High Keep

Fantasy Author – David Lawrence

Audiobook Excerpt

A few minutes of the Hyrde audiobook.

The Nomun magelord Ameldian is engaged in a ‘descent’. Few can enter the netherworld the Nomun Brethren call ‘The Deep’. Fewer still can tolerate the place long enough to gain anything from a descent.

Victory over trials in The Deep gains a magelord a prize: a strange trophy in the form of a quartzite rock. Winning these unlocks otherworldly powers; ones that men like Ameldian can put to use in the mortal world.

The Hyrde audiobook is now available. Narration by the talented voice actor Poppy Royana.

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Ameldian stared at the crystalline, rock-like object. The prize was unrefined yet striking in appearance. There was a deep shine upon it, as if it had just been drawn from a pool of water. The quartzite prizes from the Deep were always coloured. This one was mostly black, with dramatic violet striations.

It floated in the air an arm's length from him, bobbing slightly. Perhaps an unseen denizen of the Deep held it out? Ameldian liked the idea that his reward was being presented to him, offered like war tribute from the defeated to the victor. All other prizes he'd claimed in the Deep had appeared half-buried at his feet, their shine marred by the dust of the barren ground.

There was no grovelling in the dust today.

Ameldian reached out and touched the object. The fulfilment of his singular vision and purpose was now at only arm's length too. That in itself made him tremble with anticipation. Not having to stoop low to take his reward made the moment sweeter still.

Greyson flinched. He couldn't be sure, but he didn't think he had fallen asleep. He'd heard movement from within his master's chamber. Listening for a few moments confirmed to him that Ameldian was indeed now fully present. The waiting was over.

He stood, pressing knuckles into the soreness of his lower back. He tucked the book away. Re-arranging the long robe that draped over his cottoncloth tunic and wiping his palms over his hair he stepped to the door. He cleared his throat and knocked lightly.

“Enter,” came the reply after a short pause.

Ameldian's response sounded wearied, as it always did after a descent. But when Greyson saw his master's face he knew that all had gone well.

The servant stepped into the chamber, closing the door behind himself. He usually bowed first, but his eyes darted to the large threetiered iron rack set against one of the walls. A new prize sat in one of the claw-like cradles, central amid dozens of other glinting fist-sized quartzite rocks. The rack's final cradle to be filled. The new one dominated the rack, the largest and most remarkable looking of them all.

All had gone very well.

Greyson realised he was staring at the object. He turned to his master and gave a conspicuous bow. Ameldian met his earnest gaze with the usual air of indifference. Greyson did not mind; it was not personal. The Drysten was the same with everybody. A satisfied smile shifted across Ameldian's face. He gestured to the iron rack, inviting Greyson to see, then turned to a small table, poured water from a pewter flagon into a cup, and drank it all down without pause.

The servant folded one hand over the other and walked over to the rack of quartzites, like a priest approaching an altar. Each lustrous rock was unique. That they would be considered beautiful or precious beyond the walls of the Nomun abbey was doubtful. They were too crusted and misshapen. Their value resided in what they bestowed upon anyone able to win them out of the Deep.

Greyson stood before the new addition and stepped closer. His mouth dropped open. Most of the rocks on the rack were knobbly with quartz, blistered with thick clumps of those small shining spikes. The new one was a sleek obsidian wedge with half a dozen or so facets that gleamed like wet slate. It looked like a huge spearhead whose maker had left it half-finished.

Greyson gasped, but not merely in awe of its unrefined beauty. A sudden awful weight came over his chest. No, in his chest, upon his heart. As if it were straining under a dragging force that sought to pull it downwards and out of his ribcage.