My Name is Ruin

  Imprint: Independently published

  ASIN: B084H5HTV2

  ISBN: 9798609462145

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, places, interactions, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously unless otherwise indicated. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. All Rights Reserved. 2020.

  To my family: My wife, Julette-Marie, and my daughters, Amina Francesca, Katrina Fai, and Ana Bettina –for all the support and joy you have given me.

  To my sisters – for being so supportive.

  To my readers: Kindle readers of the series and those at the website where the first drafts of this continuing story were posted – for the encouragement and constructive feedback.

  Copy Editor: Annie Jenkinson at www.just-copyeditors.com

  CREDITS/ATTRIBUTIONS

  (Image modification / alteration by the writer)

  Cover Image by Lothar Dietrich at pixabay.com. Free for commercial use. All other design elements by the author.

  Inner cover image – used under license from Shutterstock.com.

  Tower base image – by Dean Samed at deviantart.

  Wolf pack base image – by comfreak at Pixabay.com.

  Katar base image – by Saad Akhtar at Wikipedia.org

  Nakh image – by worldantiques posted at Wikipedia.org

  Sword base image – by J.S. Klingemann at Pixabay.com.

  Map created using Inkarnate software (under license).

  End chapter image – licensed from Shutterstock.com

  Smoky ball image – by Uki 71 at Pixabay.com

  Ghouls – by Yuri B at Pixabay.com

  Demon salamander – image licensed from Shutterstock.com

  Demoness – by Enrique Meseguer at Pixabay.com

  Contents

  Introduction

  1 Arrival of a Dark God

  2 Bandits and Graverobbers

  3 A Demon to Command

  4 Choices

  5 Mad as a Desert Bukavac

  6 When a Demon Sings

  7 Yuyukkhūra

  8 Fish and Assassins

  9 Kattari and Nakhs

  10 Servants of the Blood Moon

  11 More than Mortal

  12 Wolves

  The Map of Encratas

  13 The Kingdom of Farel

  14 Dark Restlessness

  15 The Stones of Muraybet

  16 The Oracle of Shinar

  17 How to be a Wanted Man

  18 Damned Mountains

  19 Demonic Gauntlet

  20 A Mass of Death

  21 Samandar

  22 The Great Hunt

  Epilogue

  LORE and DEFINITIONS

  About the Author

  Next in the Series

  Thrown into a world unknown and unfamiliar, what Hatu remembers are only two things: that he was a dark god, and his name meant ruin and devastation.

  Time to remain true to himself.

  1

  Arrival of a Dark God

  He had been blasted with fire and lightning,

  struck down by massive bolts of force, thrown to turbulent blade winds,

  driven to searing pits of magically created magma,

  and even forced down into the crushing depths of the sea.

  Yet he survived.

  HATU WAS VIOLENTLY TOSSED and crushed against the seemingly ephemeral walls of a dark, yet glowing tunnel of force. He remembered it was a spell. Magic of such magnitude that to cast it, it took the combined strength of his enemies all gathered together. And notwithstanding his extensive precautions, it took him by surprise.

  Inwardly, despite the wrenching pain and the waves of agony pummeling his mind, he laughed. The miserable bastards had to combine their forces just to deal with him. All their magic was not enough to tear him apart. The hungry ether would have to wait for his dark, dire spirit.

  Yet the entire episode galled him.

  He had been blasted with fire and lightning, struck down by massive bolts of force, thrown to turbulent blade winds, driven to searing pits of magically created magma, and even forced down into the crushing depths of the sea. Yet he survived. Battered, wounded, and diminished. But still existing. Standing. Not in a literal sense, of course; he had to force himself to a kneeling position after that last assault – a massive weight of force intended to crush him into a gooey, dead mess.

  The entire divine assembly had to resort to this cowardly spell and instead, in apparent desperation, throw him out of his reality. But Hatu promised himself that he’d be back. He’d make them all pay dearly for the treachery and wrongs they’d done to him. Even entities he thought weren’t involved in his grudge wars were there on the other side. And to think he scrupulously tried to avoid inflicting his brand of destruction on their worthless domains.

  I’ll be back, Hatu promised himself again. But first, he had to survive whatever was coming. Or where he was going.

  ***

  The dark entity suddenly hit a massive wall of magical energy. Amidst soul-breaking torment, the powerful, propelling spell forced him through the ostensibly solid obstruction. Yet Hatu didn’t cry out in pain. No, he wouldn’t give anyone, or even himself, that satisfaction. But the mortifying torture which threatened to tear him apart in mind and body felt like an eternity.

  Suddenly, he was free. His face smashed against gravel and sand, and the armor he wore painfully pressed against his body, adding to the suffering. His eyes remained closed, and his breathing continued to race in tune with his rushing heartbeats. But the physical and mental anguish now had lessened, and only the throbbing of his hurt muscles remained.

  A massive, hazy fog now clouded his mind. He could feel memories slipping away, and the faster his mind tried to hold onto them, the quicker they disappeared. Calming himself, Hatu tried to focus on what he could recall. Still, even as the mental exercise brought to the fore whatever he could remember, such recollections were swiftly swept away by some unknown force.

  He finally realized what was happening to him. Hatu was intentionally being emptied of what he could remember. The exile doubted if it was his enemies, they were too weak to cast such a spell across dimensions. It must have been that massive obstruction through which his passage had been forced. No other conclusion came to the dark god’s mind.

  Hatu struggled mightily to retain what he had left. What he could remember. But to no avail. At the end of several minutes of mental struggle, all he had left was his name, a faint memory of what he once was, and that his name meant ruin and devastation. His armor, which gleamed with power when he arrived, had become a faded and ordinary version of its former glory. All the damage which had been kept at bay when he smashed into the barren ground came back and the gear now displayed the harm which magic had held at bay.

  At that moment, the notion of being among unfriendly and lethal entities entered his awareness. One really couldn’t blame Hatu. Thrown, or rather pushed, through a magical veil, an experience which felt like being shredded to pieces, and then finding solid ground, with his powerful senses relatively oblivious to his surroundings, the dark being could be excused for feeling threatened. Being a paranoid and suspicious entity also helped in arriving at the immediate conclusion that he was probably surrounded by enemies.

  He forcefully dug into what remained of his will, wrenched what magical energy was left, and then released it in a cloud of repulsion. A second, much larger dust storm marked where the
exile arrived. Sand and stones swiftly flew outward from his location, leaving a shallow depression with Hatu in the middle.

  The dark being stood up shakily. Casting the spell drained him, magically and physically. Swirling dust obstructed Hatu’s sight. Surprisingly, his body was still whole, and his right hand continued to grip the battle hammer – he expected to be missing an extremity or two. A quick inspection of his body and he was shocked to see red blood flowing out of numerous cuts and wounds.

  Did they turn me to a mortal? The furious thought rose swiftly in his mind. A fit of abruptly awakened anger made him instinctively strike the ground with whatever strength he could muster. A loud boom rang throughout the landscape. Numerous long fissures appeared from the point of impact. Then he noticed that the handle of the battle hammer had lengthened to accommodate the overhead swing.

  I still have some magic, thought a relieved Hatu. A quick glance around the area revealed no enemies. All his efforts had been directed against nothing.

  A swift examination confirmed that indeed, he still had magical power. Greatly diminished for some reason, a mere shadow of the mighty power he once was. He consoled himself with the thought that it was acceptable given the circumstances. Magical power could be increased.

  But having a mortal form greatly disturbed him. No, disturbed was too weak a word, decided Hatu. He was raging mad. Yet true to his nature, it was a cold and calculating fury. He never was one to lose his wits about him. Creating ruinous devastation was far more effective and wide-ranging when done methodically.

  A quick magical exercise immediately healed him of his wounds. Healing only took a small amount of power, unless the injuries were severe or life-threatening. His body still ached though, and a vague recollection of being thrown through a stormy, unforgiving gauntlet came back. With it, a hazy memory of his enemies. Yet efforts to remember more were fruitless.

  Hatu put such concerns aside when he noticed that the dust storm was dying out. A quick glance at his rear revealed nothing except more of the obscuring dust. As the dirt cloud slowly receded, he could see the outline of a tall object before him. The being stood where he was, waiting for better visibility. No telling what was lurking ahead. The disturbances he had created were sure to attract attention from anybody in the vicinity.

  A tall, imposing stone obelisk-like structure standing on a small rocky ridge greeted him. It was evidently not man-made. Hatu could make out the marks of erosion which had scrubbed out the softer material surrounding the tower of natural rock. As he gazed on the lonely landmark, alone in the middle of what appeared to be a vast, desolate plane, Hatu sensed a few embers of magical power.

  He glanced back again, looking back to where he was thrown from, and then returned his gaze to the natural formation. A magical anchor, Hatu surmised. One which attracted the power of the spell which drove him from his world. The process must have drained the energy of the landmark. Yet, the observation gave him hope. Where one magical artifact existed, more could be found.

  A predatory grin appeared on Hatu’s face when he realized the implications of his observation. All he needed was to grow in magical strength, mighty enough to force an opening back to his world and retain enough power to crush his enemies. He had already found the anchor in this world. One which was apparently connected to his reality. It was a start.

  ***

  So, this is how it means to be mortal, reflected Hatu. He could feel the scorching heat of the dry plains on his skin, the uncomfortable tread of his armored boots on the gravel of the uneven plains, and the stifling air which filled his lungs.

  With the air of the barren expanse now cleared, he could see the faint outlines of mountains in the distance. The rest of the vista presented a never-ending stretch of flat terrain, broken by rocky piles. A distant desert gave off a shimmering haze of deadly heat. Hatu had no other option but to head for the heights.

  But first, he had to make sure the stone monolith would be found again. Concentrating, the exile released a considerable amount of magical energy toward the rocky formation. It greedily accepted his offering, and in the process, was marked with Hatu’s brand of ownership. Unless a stronger power came along, the natural spire would remain his alone.

  Yet, that exercise of power finally weakened him, forcing Hatu to stop and rest. But he could feel the ambient magical energy reviving and refilling him. Magic, as a force of nature, seemed to be the same across the multiverse of dimensions. But it was the first time he had experienced such a weakening for what he would usually deem as a minor exercise of magical power.

  Then he felt the burning sensation on his skin inflicted by the heat of a merciless sun. Everything that he had felt and experienced so far finally knocked off the hinges of the door of an unconsciously maintained denial. The exile looked at himself again, examining every exposed muscle, the way his body functioned, and how magic interacted with him. The cold reality tore apart his arrogant misconception.

  I am human? With magical abilities, yes. Still, truly human? pondered Hatu with a growing sense of dismay. The bastards won after all? Was I wrong in assuming I merely had a human form in this world?

  Immediately, he dropped his hammer. Hatu’s right hand transformed into a wide, pointed blade, and without hesitation, struck at his own exposed throat. It sliced smoothly through the skin and buried itself halfway up his skull. Red, copious blood sprayed all over the ground and drenched his armor. He fell into the ground with a crash.

  ***

  For the second time that day, Hatu again opened his eyes while lying on the ground. The only difference being the absence of a swirling dust cloud. He could smell the metallic tang of blood. His blood. The dirt around him was soaked with it. But he wasn’t dead.

  Ah, immortality. I am still a deity then. Diminished, probably under a curse, but still a dark god. All I have to do then is climb from this pit in which they have imprisoned me. A sly, underhanded trick. They’ve got more brains than I thought they had, smiled Hatu grimly. I’ll have to remember that little stunt.

  After a few minutes, he trudged forward, leaving behind a trail of dust and footprints. Hatu felt weaker than before. The dark god considered the implications of his present state. Every time he died, it was evident that such an unfortunate event would have an effect on his essence – he would further be diminished, making it more difficult to return to his former strength. He didn’t appear to need food or water, but it could also be that those bodily requirements hadn’t made their presence felt.

  Damned magic, there’s always bound to be a compromise somewhere, thought the deity. His humanity was already making itself felt. The dry heat was beating down on his head, and his armor was getting extremely uncomfortable. With a thought, the armor changed into a dark brown hooded cloak, protecting his head from the merciless sun. Then an expression of his magical will turned his battle hammer into a greatsword. Fighting in the open called for more than a smashing weapon. A lighter one capable of slicing through enemies would serve him better. The involved distance might prove counterproductive for a solid, melee bludgeon meant for close combat. Magic had its uses, but sometimes, one had to enjoy the feeling of wreaking death on a personal level.

  It was a tiresome walk. Hatu tried moving in energy form, but the magic wouldn’t respond. Weak, he concluded. Walking in faster and magically assisted strides worked, and even though a resulting breeze arose, it was too arid and hot for his taste. He finally settled for an invisible, magical cover for his head and a cooling effect on the atmosphere ahead. It was a constant drain on his energy, but the deity didn’t mind. There was no way he was traveling in parched and hellish circumstances.

  A cloud of approaching dust caught his attention. It was man-made, and examining the spectacle, he could see it was a mounted group of men. They were armored in a patchwork of mismatched protective gear and were riding fast toward him. He smiled. His profile must have stood out against the desolate, flat landscape. They were the first mortals he would encounter
in this strange place, and he looked forward to meeting them. They were men, even if they were obviously bandits.

  Hatu halted where he was and waited for the welcoming committee to arrive. Nearing his location, the band split into two, each group moving to a flank. It was evident that they intended to surround him. He wanted to show a panicked face, but his inner nature got the better of him. He grinned in anticipation. The bandits surrounded him as he expected, with menacing, pointed spears. A large, burly man clad in fur armor barked something at him.

  Hatu didn’t understand the language. He could have used his magic but deemed it a waste of energy. Talking to dead men was useless. But the tone was unmistakable. It was hostile, barbaric, and arrogant. A mortal used to being obeyed. The dark entity quickly laughed, unable to prevent the mirth from sprouting forth. He moved at the same time. They were simpletons, the dark entity concluded, but he only needed one.

  In the blink of an eye, nine men were decapitated where they sat on their saddles, their blood adding color to a monotonous landscape. A tenth lost both arms and a leg and fell into the ground screaming. Hatu had always thought that the sounds of pain and dying were always an excellent accompaniment to any plan to inflict terror and shock. The man would die in a few seconds anyway, but his screams already served their gruesome purpose.

  The dark entity ended the encounter with the leader’s head grasped in his hand. The formerly arrogant fellow had found himself kneeling on the ground beside his horse, with Hatu’s gauntleted hands holding him in place. A series of guttural sounds erupted from the bandit, noises which the dark entity assumed to be pleas for mercy or something similar. Instead, he looked at the bandit leader’s eyes. Creating the first of one’s minions was always a moment to remember. Hatu had his sentimental moments, and this was one of them.

  A surge of energy flowed through the hand which held the bandit in place, and the man’s pupils suddenly became quiet, and his pupils turned white. The skin took on a tinge of gray, and Hatu could see that the bandit’s physique took on additional bulk. He removed the hand, and the former bandit stood up and gave him a bow, bent at the waist. Hatu looked at his new creation. After a few seconds, he shook his head.