A Darker Shade of Sorcery - - (leveled readers .txt) 📗

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A Darker Shade of Sorcery

The Realmers- Book One

By William Collins

Copyright 2016 by William Collins. All Rights Reserved.

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Terms and Conditions:

The purchaser of this book is subject to the condition that he/she shall in no way resell it, nor any part of it, nor make copies of it to distribute freely.

This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and co-incidental.

Related Novels:

Moonlight War- Act I

The Realmers Series- Book 2

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01HLGKL9U

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01HLGKL9U

Moonlight War- Act II

The Realmers Series- Book 3

https://www.amazon.com/Moonlight-War-Act-Realmers-Book-ebook/dp/

B01MUH7NED

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Choo Choo Your Food

The Realmer Chronicles- Book 1

https://www.amazon.com/Choo-Your-Food-Realmer-Chronicles-ebook/dp/

B072DR7DYY

Dead Heat

The Realmer Chronicles- Book 2

https://www.amazon.com/Dead-Heat-Realmer-Chronicles-Book-ebook/dp/

B071DVBGWT/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

Subscribe to my mailing list for updates on the Realmers Series and to be the first to know when a new book drops. 

http://eepurl.com/cgghgL

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PART ONE

Magic Rising

To whichever race you belong, orc, elf, human or other:

You are now a Venator.

Welcome to Veneseron Fortress, school for Demon Hunters.

Your job is to travel through the many realms on missions we

assign you.

Your tasks may range from preventing goblin abductions,

capturing wild dog-dragons and calming down drunken yetis, to

the more serious threats of shadow-drinkers, noble gliders and any

Moonlight races gone rogue. Of course, your most important

purpose will be battling demons and the Dark-Venators.

Here at Veneseron we will train you to use enchanted weaponry,

from Spellzookas to elemental grenades. And wield whatever form

of sorcery you possess, from Curse Breaking to Creature

Summoning. All so you may save countless lives against the

eternal evil.

Enjoy your stay.

(P.S. Please specify at the front desk whether you’re arriving by

Airship, Alien craft, Bubble-sphere or other means.)

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Veneseron Fortress welcome note

-Written by Padrake Poniferous, Master of Illusion.

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Chapter 1- Imagined Worlds

You should never have let her die.

Evan Umbra tried to ignore his thoughts as he walked back from school.

Water bled from a bruised sky, soaking the streets as gusts of wind shoved him with cold hands. Cars groaned along the roads and a church bell pealed, but the heavy rainfall smothered most of the city sounds. It beat down mercilessly, turning his brown hair black as the strands stuck to his face like leeches.

Evan looked behind him on instinct. Paranoia had been a constant ghost at his shoulder since the first attack. He didn’t see them, but they could be near. Evan tensed, ready to run at the first sign.

You should never have let her die.

Stop it! You couldn't have done anything. It was always going to happen one day, but why so soon?

Last night had been bad. He’d distracted himself all day with school, but now the nightmare wouldn't stop replaying in his head. Maggots had taken up residence in one of her eye sockets. The other eye stared at Evan in accusation.

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In the dream he was back in the front room, staring at Gran in her beloved armchair. The cloying stench of death made him gag.

“Why,” his grandmother had croaked. “Why did you let me die, Evander?”

“Gran,” he'd cried. “Gran, I'm so sorry.”

The carcass cackled, its black tongue lolling. “You were never good enough, boy.

I'm glad I'm free of you now. You're pathetic, worthless. Even your own parents didn’t want you.”

“Please Gran, I…”

She’d risen to her feet, stretching out one rotting hand.

Evan had screamed as talons clawed out chunks of his chest, and he woke up trembling.

He wished he could seize the recurring nightmares and rip them into pieces. If he'd just been there, he could've called an ambulance. He could've…

She’d died five months ago and he still missed Gran terribly. She was the only person he'd ever loved and the only person who'd ever loved him.

Evan took a deep breath and composed himself as he crossed the road, leaving one grey street and entering another. He missed the countryside, but being dumped in some obscure part of London was the least of his problems.

His nightmares had gotten worse since the murder. Death follows me like a hunter, he mused, picking off everyone around me until I’m the only one left.

The children’s home was still reeling from Pete’s murder one week ago. No body had been found, but there’d been a huge amount of blood in Pete’s bedroom. Pete’s room was also right next to Evan’s.

The orphanage staff refused to tell the kids anything. They’d surmised that Pete was killed and his body deposited somewhere. Police were still looking for a missing

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person, but everyone said there’d been too much blood for someone to survive. No one was allowed in the room, of course. But two days ago, Evan glimpsed through a gap in the door what looked like claw marks on the wall.

He hadn’t known Pete well, he didn’t really know any of the kids he shared the orphanage with, but it was still horrific. It didn’t feel real that someone could be murdered. Evan was terrified; he’d hardly slept since, fearing he’d be killed in his bed too. He didn’t know who or why anyone would murder Pete, and paranoia made him think he’d be next.

Was one of the other kids the killer? One of the staff? Evan couldn’t stop the horrible thoughts boiling in his head.

Stranger still was his dream that night. But he dismissed it for the hundredth time.

You’re way too old to be dreaming of monsters, Evan.

Cruel laughter cut through the air.

He recognised it straight away. His body went cold. He rounded the corner and saw them. Ollie and his mates had a small boy cornered. As Ollie shoved his victim against the wall, Evan saw it was Tommy.

Evan barely knew him, but Tommy was much smaller than him, and right now he was crying in fear.

Ollie and his gang had beaten Evan up weekly since he’d moved here. He didn’t know they had a more vulnerable target too. He couldn’t stand here and watch them do it.

Ollie hadn’t seen him yet. He could turn back round and run. Part of him wanted to. But Evan knew his conscience would never forgive him. He had to help, or at least try. Anger surged through him, burning out the fear. “Oi!”

Ollie and his two mates turned as Evan shouted. He needed to lure them away

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from Tommy, even if that meant getting his own ass kicked. “C'mon then Ollie, you fat pig, I'm right here.”

No one had ever spoken to the bully like that before, but Ollie’s surprise quickly turned to rage. “Get ‘im,” he roared.

As soon as he saw Tommy escape, Evan sprinted the other way, hounded by the laughter of his pursuers. He veered into the nearest alley, hoping to lose them. He soon realised his mistake.

Alone. Cornered. Trapped.

At the alley’s end loomed a metal fence, blocking his escape. Evan knew his chance was slim, but he threw himself at the gate anyway. He scrambled up like a monkey. He was almost there. He was going to make i—

Hands seized him.

One moment Evan clung to the cold metal, the next he was yanked down, and thrown back against the unforgiving steel. Just let it be over quick. His body trembled, and he tasted bile in his throat. The thugs laughed in his face.

“What’s the rush, Ev?” Ollie snarled.

Evan opened his mouth to speak. Ollie slapped it hard.

“What you gonna do, mate?”

Before Evan could reply, the wind rushed out of him as Ollie’s fist slammed into his stomach. He fell to his knees, gasping for air. They were double his size. Evan knew fighting back would make the beating worse. He just hoped that after him, they wouldn’t feel the need to hurt anyone else.

He closed his eyes and braced himself. It would be over quickly. Maybe the pain could distract him from thinking about Gran for a while.

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His head snapped back as Ollie’s fist smashed into his jaw and he slumped to the ground.

All three bullies shouted incoherently. Evan was silent.

Ollie stamped on his hand, a sharp flash of pain. Another punch. Evan saw a faint trail of black smoke snake across the ground. The mist appeared to be coming from Evan’s fingertips. This happened once before, he thought. The punches in his last beating had made him see mist too.

He thought he saw the mist morph into a clawed hand that crawled across the ground, but just as it looked ready to seize Ollie's ankle, the mist dissipated.

Finally Evan's torture came to an end.

“Try that again and we'll kill you. That’s a promise.”

Ollie punctuated his threat with a last kick to the stomach.

Evan covered his face, gritting his teeth and trying not to cry out at the pain.

Their laughter haunted him as they sauntered out of the alley, leaving him curled up in a ball against the cold metal fence.

*

The sleet worsened, turning to hailstones that bounced off the ground like a gang of tiny white frogs. Evan stumbled home, hunched over, face pulled tight in a grimace. The downpour beat against his aching body and the wind crawled across his skin, cold as a corpse’s caress.

He walked through the gates of Helken Place and up the winding path to the drab children's home, stomping up the stairs to his room. He wanted to cry as he closed the bedroom door, but it wouldn’t help. Nothing would.

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He stripped off his school clothes and slumped on to his bed. Just one more year, one more year and I’ll be done with school, free of Ollie. Free of everyone. Evan had to tell himself that, to keep himself sane.

He looked in the mirror to check the bruises. As usual his pale face was marred by ugly abrasions. His left cheek had swollen to near double its usual size. He lifted up his shirt and winced at the discolouration there. Evan told the staff he just kept falling over. They asked questions, but he pushed them away. It would only make things worse.

He would've liked to call himself tall, dark and handsome. Really, he wasn’t much taller than average, his hair was a dull brown, and he wasn’t handsome. At least, no one had ever told him he was. Dark grey eyes, made darker by pale skin, stared back at him miserably. Oddly, tiny red scratches adorned each iris, like