Arcane Rising
The Darkland Druids - Book One
Nicole R. Taylor
Arcane Rising (The Darkland Druids - Book One) by Nicole R. Taylor
Copyright © 2020 by Nicole R. Taylor
All rights reserved.
This book is written in British/AU English.
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.
www.nicolertaylorwrites.com
Cover Design: Pixie Covers & Nicole R. Taylor
Edited by: Silvia Curry
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
The Darkland Druids
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About Nicole
NEXT: Arcane Spirit
More by Nicole
1
Gordan Quarrie had been fighting out of control bushfires for close to two months when they finally came.
He was riding on the back of the backup tanker from Lidcombe—a suburb west of Sydney—when he saw it lingering amongst the charred eucalyptus forest.
Leaning out the window, he looked back at the shadow. It’d been years since he’d caught the scent of them and this time, they were closer than ever.
Thumping his fist on the side of the truck, he called, “Can you pull over here?”
“Here?” The driver eased up on the accelerator and pulled off the road, the truck’s wheels bumping over the uneven ground beside the bitumen. He turned in his seat and peered at Gordan, his protective helmet askew on his head.
“The front is still a click away,” the man beside him said.
“I want to check the containment lines,” he told the crew.
“On your own?” the driver asked. “We’re not supposed to go solo.”
“I know, but there’s another unit up there.” He tapped the walkie in his coat pocket. “I’ll radio.”
He leapt out of the tanker and sent them on their way. Checking for traffic in both directions on the highway, he legged it across and into the already burned fire field.
No matter how many seasons he served, Gordan was always startled by the lack of traffic where there would usually be a stream of holiday makers heading to the Blue Mountains.
Today, the road had been closed on either side of the range and nothing was getting through, save for those fleeing the fire front and the firefighters rushing towards it.
He adjusted his coat, cursing as his slick fingers rubbed against the inside seam of his gloves. The gear they had to wear was thick and cumbersome, and he sweated like a pig, but it protected his skin from the radiant heat—which was much more of a risk than open flame or stray embers.
In the distance, about half a kilometre away, he could see the telltale flash of yellow and red—the back-burning crew checking their containment line.
But between him and them, he saw the shadow waiting.
Their luck had finally run out. It’d been quiet few decades, but deep down, he knew it was only a matter of time before someone came looking. She was too important for them not to. In a world where creatures of power were desperate for domination, they’d never be safe. At least, not for long.
The creature flashed through the charred trees, leaving glowing footprints in its wake. Embers flared and he cursed. It was an elemental solider, its power unhindered now that the Witches had allowed the way to their twisted realm remain open.
Human in shape, its soul was nothing but fury. A shadow of the world it had once come from, the solider was a pawn in an ancient war for dominance that would likely rage for all of time. A war that would continue to claim innocent lives, no matter the consequences. It was a tale as old as the hills—the never-ending cycle of violence. The lust for power through dominance was a corruption he could never stomach.
Gordan knew it was an idiot move coming out here to face it, but if he hadn’t, it would have followed him to the front where he wouldn’t have been able to stop it from killing him and the others on the Lidcombe crew. Then, with him out of the way, nothing would stop it from finding Elspeth.
He wouldn’t let it happen. He couldn’t.
“Your time has come,” the solider said, the words dripping from its blackened mouth. “Where is the girl?”
“Go back to your master and tell them she doesn’t belong to anyone,” he snarled. “She is not theirs.”
Its black eyes began to glow—crimson at first, then bright orange as the temperature rose around them.
Flame flickered, emerging from underneath the already charred surface layer of the burned undergrowth, and the creature drew the embers into the air. They began to swirl, gathering more sparks, and a front erupted with a loud woosh.
Gordan held up his arm to shield his face, calling on his Colours to deflect the radiating heat.
“You can’t have her!” he shouted over the roaring flame. “You hear me? You can’t have her!”
The creature stalked towards him, pitch-black and menacing, unafraid of Gordan’s power. “She needs to be with her people, fealltóir,” it rasped, speaking in a stranger’s voice. “You can’t hide her forever.”
“You can’t have her,” he snarled again. “You can send all the soldiers you want, but I will be there to stop every one of them. Every failed attempt will leave you empty-handed and another of your evil kind sent into the void.”
The creature stood before him, twisting with flame. “Is that so?”
The screech of sirens broke through their tense stand-off and they both looked into the smoke at the same time, both with different intents.
Through the haze, Gordan could see a crew of firefighters race towards him, hoses in hand with the truck creeping behind. They were trying to save him, dumping a torrent of water on the approaching flames, but they couldn’t see the enemy hiding within the firestorm.
Blue and red lights flashed through the haze as he shouted for them to stay back, but his cries went unheard. His radio chirped—the desperate calls distorted by static.
The fire roared
