DRAGONDARK ARCHIVE TRILOGY BOOK 3: THE WHITE ORB (Preview)

BLACKSTAR PRODUCTIONS proudly presents a sneak peak of the third installment of the DragonDark Archive Trilogy, The White Orb!

The cricket squirmed in the pair of tweezers pinching its leg. It dropped into the bowl of glowing green liquid, sizzling and causing the contents to turn clear.

"Perfect," Grettal said, "now to just add a tiny pinch of sugar and--"she sniffed the jar that held the grayish-brown powder and made a terrible face, "dehydrated gnome turds." She shook her head to make the smell disappear and stared at the powder with distrust. It was bad enough that gnomes didn't exist in Nerin Toth, but the fact that she had to drink powdered poop of creatures that didn't exist made the situation worse.

"It better work this time," she softly grumbled.

Swirling in the bowl, the ingredients were stirred around. Satisfied, the old woman walked out the front door of the old tiny shack in the middle of the El Tomathian capital, Peregren. It was a sunny day and oddly warm for the last day of the autumn season. Citizens of the city walked up and down the street going about their daily business. Grettal looked at the bowl dubiously. The last time she tried the concoction her dreams were haunted by silence and one lone cricket chirping its sad song all night. When she woke from the dream one lone cricket was chirping its sad song. All. Night. Long. This problem lasted for a month. Grettal got very little sleep and the few hours each night felt more like a waste of time to her than it felt like rest. She couldn't stand to go another month without any sleep. She sniffed the bowl and made a terrible face once again. She shrugged and brought the bowl to her lips, drinking it down until it was empty. Grettal wiped the strange mixture from her mouth with the sleeve of her dark midnight-blue robes and stood, waiting.

She watched a tall human running from an angry dwarf, laughing. He chased the man down the street yelling about staying out of his chicken coop. A knight stood watch nearby for pickpockets. Grettal saw a group of people bartering at a fruit stand.

"Nothing's happening," she said in disappointment looking down at the empty bowl in her hand. "I just drank gnome shit. Again."

Turning and storming back to the front of the shop, she had a sour look on her face and was not to be tested, but then, something happened. She stopped in a state of surprise.

"Ah, there it is," she smiled, feeling a tingling sensation over her entire body. She turned away from the shop and returned to her spot in the street. The old woman jumped straight up into the air vanishing out of sight instantly.

Within that same few seconds, she had landed back on the ground from a distant place up in the clouds and walked back into the shop smiling with confidence. Her long silver and white hair showed her age as much as the lifelines of wrinkles on her face did, but she felt as if she were half her age. She tossed the bowl back on the shop counter with a satisfied look and pulled another bottle of the strange glowing green liquid off the shelf full of oddities behind her. Pouring the liquid into the bowl, she grabbed another cricket from the tiny thatch cage on the counter. She held it up in front of her nose glaring at it and then dropped it into the bowl getting the same sizzle and clear liquid result. Shaking her head trying to get the smell of gnome dung out of her nose, she mixed the powder into the clear water again. Under the counter, she pulled out a basket of corked glass bottles. Smiling at finally having the chemical reaction she was looking for, she reached under the counter and pulled out a large piece of papyrus, ink, and a quill to make her for sale sign. 

"Jumping Potions. Half off this w--"she was saying out loud as she wrote, but her old and worn hand holding the quill began to shake.

"Dammit," she grumbled, putting the quill aside and holding her hand in frustration.

The door to the shop opened.

"We're closed. Go away," she said, inspecting the liquid in the bowl. She turned and grabbed the powder and stared into the jar as well.

"I'm not here to shop."

Grettal glanced up from the jar and glared at the man browsing the shelves of rat tails and magic rings.

"Zet," she said with disdain and a snarl.

The tall, husky man faced her. His beard was full and the gray in it showed more than the red did, just like his hair he wore long and pulled back into a braid. He sported a black leather wardrobe that looked charred and burnt and wore a massive two-handed sword in its scabbard on his back. 

"I'm looking for my brothers," the god of evil, fire, and nightmares said as he approached the counter. His blue eyes hinted at a threat.

Grettal stared back with disdain, "Why aren't you in your orb?"

"Is your hearing finally starting to go old woman? My brothers. Where are they?" Zet demanded. Grettal knew Jaysil had the red orb, the home of the god of justice and knowledge, Noron. She also knew Jaysil held the yellow orb, the home of the god of love, happiness, courage, honor, and virtue, Tanlaura. The teenage wizard named Jaysil held two of the most powerful objects in all of Nerin Toth.

"I don't know where your brothers are. Leave," she ordered the dark evil deity.

"You hag. Were it not for your staff, I would take you to the underworld to Hades myself and leave you to rot. Where are they?" he demanded.

"I don't know. Now leave," she said with a stern glare at the large man and then shot a glance at her plain wooden staff leaning in the opposite corner of the shop.

"Easy, easy," Zet said, his hands raised as he backed off, also noticing the staff. 

The plain wooden staff flew across the old dusty magic shop into Grettal's hand seemingly of its own will. Grettal held the staff and snarled at the deity, "Leave."

"I'll be back. Be my brothers or not, they are at war with me," he said, but then stopped himself and smiled, "and your friend who knows where they are was warned of what is to come." He opened the door and left. Grettal flinched at the door clicking shut wondering about Jaysil and the two orbs that held Zet's brothers.

DRAGONDARK

Archive Trilogy - Book Three: "The White Orb"

by Craig DeBoard

copyright 2018-2025 Craig DeBoard. All rights reserved.

Chapter 1

Lessons

"They say that the universes all intersect with one another, much like a scarf made of different colored threads. Each color goes about its way much like each universe, but they touch and weave in and out of each other's existence, creating the garment as a whole. Were even one universe to falter, the entire scarf would unravel," Maron the Wise, also known as Maron the Brave, Maron the Blue, and Maron the Ancient said.

The four students sat diligently at their desks taking notes from the master of the mage school in Port Skell, when one of them sniffed the air.

"Smells like stale water," the student noticed.

Jaysil materialized in the front of the class next to Maron, surprising the students. Maron stood at the front of the room to instruct but was speechless as his former student appeared. The young master wizard, Jaysil, sported a purple mohawk that matched his purple eyes and wore a blue cape over his dark leather pants and tunic. He carried a satchel on his shoulder that held his most prized books and components for spells and the red orb. He also had the yellow orb-topped cane once owned by Captain Beerbeard.

"Master Jaysil. You made it," Maron the Astounded said with relief. 

Jaysil eyed the old wizard with arrogance, "As if there would be any other outcome? I can only stay for a moment, Maron."

Maron's eyebrows raised, "It is that bad then? Students, if you would, please return to your quarters and do a light study this evening on both the mathematics of vampirism and flying carpets--"

"There's no need for them to leave," Jaysil interrupted as the students stood. They stopped and looked to Maron for instruction. "They will be playing a part in the war that I have failed to prevent," he said.

"Would this be the impeding god war you mentioned during our telepathic communications?" Maron the Inquisitive asked his former student.

"The same," Jaysil confirmed. The young teen wizard raised the yellow orb-topped cane. The gore and blood that covered Maron and the students from Jaysil's body appeared instantly as his body exploded into a gruesome giant mess that covered the room. The students screamed in fright.

"He didn't bite anyone, did he?" Jaysil asked, walking from the back of the room, pulling his red cape around him as he walked to the front where Maron stood splattered with blood next to the gore that had once been the imposter Jaysil. The other Jaysil had worn the same clothing, sounded the same, and even carried a duplicate yellow orb-topped cane.

"Master Jaysil?!" Maron the Confused said in surprise. The students all splattered with blood were terrified and silent, never taking their eyes off the teenage wizard with the mind of a master sorcerer.

"His name wasn't important. His kind is called Vamesh. Many call them Civil Agents of the Blood," Jaysil said looking at the pile of flesh and blood remnants that once looked just like him.

"But vampires don't exist?" Maron the Skeptical questioned his former student Jaysil. 

"They aren't vampires," Jaysil explained, "They're worse. They're humans who can go out in the day, eat garlic, and visit even the holiest of places with nothing harmful befalling them. However, they're still addicted to blood, much like the creatures of legend. They are our worst nightmare come true: wizards who dabble in blood magic."

"I see. Thus the duplicate appearance of you. But the tomes of the Arcane Sanctuary prohibit anyone from studying the ancient and evil arts of blood magic," Maron the Worried said, quickly walking to the classroom door and locking it. The four students in the room all looked at each other in concern.

"They do, but the laws of the tomes have not been enforced for more than one hundred years," Jaysil said, "which is why I'm here."

Maron carried a grave look of concern, "What would you have us do? I have long since learned to trust in my greatest pupil."

"We must all travel to the Minotaur military city of Azerath in the El Tomathian lands. They are the only ones who practice blood magic and may have the answers we need to avert the impeding god war we will all face. The students will have to join us. Leaving them here in Port Skell alone with nothing but pirates won't be good for any of them, or you, which is why I'm here. Things have become worse," Jaysil said.

"Can we clean up first? You made quite the mess," Maron said looking down at the splattered blood covering his blue robes and wiping a bit from his face. 

"Be quick. Someone else is waiting to meet with us," Jaysil said, annoyed by the delay.

"Another like us who lives within the magic?" Maron asked.

"No. This is someone who offers--physical protection," Jaysil said.

****

Erron Stairin stood near the front gate of Port Skell waiting for Jaysil. The front gate of the pirate city on the eastern coast wasn't like the front gate of Peregren, the capital of the El Tomathian lands to the west. Peregren was much larger and was built up the side of a massive cliff face with a moat around the bottom where the front gate sat. While the upper half of Peregren was populated by wealthy dukes and lords and castles and shops, the lower half was dirty and poor with rogues and criminals lurking around every corner. The downtrodden and destitute, as well as refugees from smaller nearby villages made up most of the people in the lower half of the city with sickness and death being the topic of the day. It didn't help that the lower half of Peregren was where the moat and front gates to the city were. Gates that held back thousands upon thousands of undead zombies all demanding dominance over the living flesh that they craved. Nearly all of the distant pirate city of Port Skell was much like the lower half of the faraway capital of Peregren. Crime, gangs of pirates and thugs, and brothels filled the pirate city controlled by no one else but pirates. As for which pirates were in charge, that all depended on who wanted to fight for the position. If a pirate decided they wanted to be mayor, they were mayor until another pirate came along and disagreed. The politics of Port Skell were simple and uncouth, but they worked for the port city that was primarily made up of rope bridges and thatch buildings that rested on the palmed beaches of the Ulmeer Gulf.

Looking from the sea-faring vessels that sat on the water to watch the sky as different sky-ships, hot air balloons, and blimps made their way to and from the port city, Erron decided he had waited long enough and turned to leave from the agreed-upon meeting place. 

"You should not doubt my magic," Jaysil said. The teenage wizard was confident and arrogant before. No longer shrunken to only 8 inches tall and finally fully restored to his normal human size, Jaysil's attitude was unbearable. He magically appeared in front of Erron alongside the other spell-casters with a teleportation spell leaving a smell of stale water in the air. 

"Are we leaving or not?" Erron said walking past Jaysil, Maron, and the four apprentice mage students. 

"Well he's rude," Serel said, as the wizards followed Erron through the city and across the winding rope bridges over the shores and sands of the Ulmeer Gulf. The town of Port Skell was a maze of rope bridges and piers that led from one building to another, all of which sat anywhere from a few feet off the sand of the beach, to high in the air built on stilts fifty feet up in some places. She gave the man a disgruntled look as he walked ahead of her and the others through the pirate city.

"Quiet. If he works with Jaysil, he is likely dangerous," Maron the Experienced softly said to Serel. She pursed her lips and remained silent. The woman was in her late 40s with long dark brown hair and a braid on each side. Wearing blue robes like all who agreed with the Mage Academy's tenets, hers being a light sky blue, she carried a plain silver staff. 

"Perhaps he's just impatient," another student said. Weston, an older man with thinning hair and a limp was armed with a staff, his made of cedar wood. He also carried a plain burlap sack. His robes were a blue like all academy mages, royal blue, with a dark midnight-blue cloak.

"He doesn't do well with other people. He lost his family when the plague struck," Jaysil said to Weston.

"We've all lost family," Weston said with a snort of disertion.

"Not the way he lost his. Let's say, it wasn't quick," Jaysil said.

"And he will escort us to the Ruins of the Arcane Sanctuary safely?" Maron the Cautious asked his former student.

"No one could get us there safer," Jaysil said as he pulled the Book of Eboni out of his satchel. The ancient tome was not a magical spellbook but was instead a book of history about a faraway land that was believed to exist somewhere across the Onsagulut Ocean. Jaysil could easily teleport via the red orb to his destination, but he knew he wouldn't be able to face what he had to face alone, and Maron and the students of the Academy were the only ones he could go to for help. He needed the ruins within the sanctuary to be able to teleport all of them across the ocean. Teleportation was Jaysil's forte' but such a great distance was beyond his or Master Maron's abilities.

"Perhaps when we arrive at the sanctuary we can discuss finally relocating the academy back to its rightful home?" Maron said softly to Jaysil so the other wizards wouldn't hear. 

"I have only explored the lower few floors," Jaysil said trying to hurry after Erron and not wanting to discuss the matter.

"I understand, but with the recent storm event involving King Kargin's new ally, this strange blue-skinned man called Surge, the people of this city have--" Maron was interrupted by a pirate hitting him with his shoulder as they passed on the rope bridge, "--developed a disliking of our kind."

"It is to be expected that the sailors and men of the sea would no longer trust our kind, Maron. You could not allow them within the Academy when that Grimm storm hit these shores. The pirates of this city would have plundered every ancient artifact and tome within, yes, but they were also fighting for their lives. Many of them died," Jaysil said.

Maron hurried as did the other wizards trying to keep up across the bridges through Port Skell. "I know, but we could not just allow them in," the older wizard, Maron the Mature with long graying hair and a beard said, standing by his decision.

"Welcome to the old ways, my former master. There was a time when the public reviled our kind because of the magic itself. Be glad they despise you over such a simple misunderstanding now. Centuries ago you would have been viewed the same way these pirates view the undead today. Disposable," Jaysil said.  

"The idea that they believe our magic protects the city from the zombies isn't working as well as it once did. Soon we will no longer be viewed as the source of protection from the undead by the pirates. Where they at one time held a superstition of how powerful our magic was, they now spread rumors of it being the cause of the Grimm storm that killed so many of the townsfolk," Maron said, pulling his hand from one of the rope railings and frowning at the seagull poop he had just grabbed without noticing.

"What is at the top of the towers could kill the students," Jaysil said, not liking the idea of other wizards wandering about through the towers of the sanctuary he had gained so much knowledge from. He shrugged, "But then again if we don't survive this, it won't much matter. Now will it?"

"I suppose not," Maron said.

"You say that as if we are children playing simple card and hat tricks," Serel said as she walked behind the two master wizards listening to their conversation.

"You will wish they were mere cantrips should you venture those spires!" Jaysil turned and pointed at Serel, "I have met demons in those towers who feed on magic and when the magic is depleted, those demons are still hungry!"

Maron and the other students stopped in surprise at Jaysil's anger. Serel felt nervous facing the younger, yet far superior and more experienced teenage master wizard. Ofan, another one of the students gave a nervous laugh, "Perhaps if we didn't use magic we--"

Jaysil turned and began following Erron again spitting on the ground at Ofan's idea. Maron and the other students hurried to catch up.

"Master wizard, I don't mean to say it isn't dangerous, but we are more than capable of casting magic spells beyond simple cantrips," Serel said trying to hurry after Jaysil. She felt she had overstepped her bounds with the younger yet far more experienced Jaysil, but still felt the need to defend her position.

"And that is where you fail, student," Jaysil said, "You simply cast magic spells whereas I live within the magic, no, I breathe the magic. The magic haunts my dreams like a succubus mistress seeking a dark love. I walk with the knowledge of mages from thousands of years before recorded history began who gave their lives for the art, and I walk with the power of literal gods behind my arcane castings. I barely survived the first few floors of those towers. When we arrive at the sanctuary none of you are to stray. To do so would be like walking into the home of death itself."

Everyone was silent. Jaysil's description of the Ruins of the Arcane Sanctuary left them stunned. Finally, the fourth and final student spoke up. "At least it doesn't have a magical forest protecting it," Dorron said.

"Be thankful for that. The elves of Kell Va' Renn have a haunted forest already. I watched a tree eat a man," Erron said.

****

The group followed Erron down a small set of wooden steps from the bridges to the sand below and found themselves at the gates of the pirate city.  Four pirates stood guard at the tall wooden gate that opened to the Black Desert. Palm trees and other fauna crowded the area near the gate.

"No one leaves," one of the pirates said.