Gathering Storm (The Salvation of Tempestria Book 2) by Gary Stringer (howl and other poems .txt) 📕

Gathering Storm

The Salvation of Tempestria

Shifting Stars

Gathering Storm

Gathering Storm

The Salvation of Tempestria

Book 2

Gary Stringer

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, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2021 by Gary Stringer

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.

First paperback edition May 2021

Cover Design by BespokeBookCovers.com

ISBN 978-1-8382777-2-7 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-8382777-3-4 (eBook)

Published by Gary Stringer

TABLE OF CONTENTS

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

A sneak preview of the sequel to Gathering Storm

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The Council of Wizards was in crisis: wizards were going missing.

There was no obvious pattern relating to faction, power, ability or involvement in Council affairs, so there was no way of knowing who might be next.

Exactly when this started, gentle reader, it was difficult to say. Missing people were an unfortunate fact of life, in ways both ordinary and extraordinary, such as demon attack. These disappearances were different, however. It wasn’t always possible to determine precisely where they were when they disappeared, but where it was possible, investigations revealed an energy source of higher planar origins.

This was new: beings from the higher planes had never before shown any interest in taking mortals. They were often collateral damage, caught in the crossfire, but never deliberately attacked. If that had changed, and the shadow warriors were now kidnapping innocent Tempestrians for who-knew-what purposes, what could be done about it?

My mother, Catriona, already knew Aunt Dreya’s views on the matter. She had shared her intention to kill Daelen StormTiger not long after Cat had moved in, and current events, more than two years later, as the Tempestrian chronometer flies, compelled Catriona to share something that had been puzzling her about it.

“Why Daelen, specifically?” Catriona asked her. “Why not Kullos, or that other one…the dark clone. The one that looks a bit like Daelen but isn’t…has anybody heard that one’s name, by the way?”

“Not that I know of,” Dreya replied. “Anyway, what do you care which one I kill?”

“I don’t, especially,” Cat shrugged. “They’re all about as dangerous as each other, as far as I can tell. They’ve got no business fighting their war here, and I’d be quite happy to be rid of the lot of them. Which is precisely why I ask the question: Why Daelen, specifically? Why do you care which one you kill?”

Dreya frowned. She’d never really questioned it. Daelen was a self-proclaimed Protector and seen as a hero to many, trying to save them from Kullos, who was generally viewed as the villain. Recently, though, there had been growing, popular support for the reverse sentiment. Dreya the Dark agreed with Catriona that there was little basis for either view, but that only further highlighted her question. Surely it wasn’t a matter of killing Daelen because of his hero image or because he was famous. Those were not worthy motivations for Dreya the Dark. Yet, something was nagging in her brain, almost like a voice, her own voice, telling her he was the one she should go for. It was important.

‘Kill Daelen StormTiger,’ said the voice, ‘and take his power.’

The voice kept telling her to ignore the reasons why, but that wasn’t how Dreya operated. She didn’t do random violence. She didn’t attack without cause.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, finally, “and I don’t like that I don’t know. If I didn’t know better, I might suspect some kind of mental attack or a post-hypnotic suggestion, but my shields prevent any such thing.”

Her shields were intact. From the day Dreya claimed the Tower, the only magical signature that had ever passed through her defences, apart from Catriona’s, was her own. Still, the point was chiefly academic for the foreseeable future. Dreya knew she wasn’t ready to take on a being from the higher planes. Not yet. Besides, she didn’t even know how to find them if she wanted to. Nobody knew where the shadow warriors went, between battles. Dreya suspected the answer lay on some other world, but her best efforts to probe the cosmos with her magic had so far failed to prove their existence.

“Anyway, it’s a moot point at the moment,” Dreya told Cat, dismissing the issue. “After all, it’s not as if Daelen StormTiger himself is going to come knocking on my door.”

Cat laughed, “That’s true.”

And so, she let the subject drop.

Returning to their original topic of conversation, Dreya needed to share some news that she knew Catriona was not going to like.

“Cat,” she began, “I just came from an emergency Council meeting.”

“I know,” Cat nodded, “you told me this morning, remember?”

“Yes, but I didn’t tell you why it was called.”

“About all those wizards disappearing, I presumed.”

“Yes, but the situation’s got even more serious for your faction in particular, though it affects everyone, really. Cat, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but the latest wizard to vanish is Mistress Justaria.”

For one of the Triumvirate to disappear was a severe blow to the whole magical community. If Daelen or one of his kind were proved to be behind it, that could be seen as nothing less than a declaration of war.

Catriona liked Mistress Justaria. The leader of the Red robes of Balance had been fair-minded at Catriona’s Conclave, and the druidess had always taken to heart the conversation they’d shared afterwards. Justaria had been absolutely right that the college was entirely the wrong place for her, and in many ways, her encouragement to seek knowledge elsewhere was a key reason why she was now living and working in the Black Tower. More than that, she felt she owed an enormous debt of thanks to