Dark Sculptor: Dark Sculptor Novel 01 Read online

  Dark Sculptor

  Dark Sculptor Novel 01

  Author: D. R. Rosier

  Copyright 2018. This is a work of fiction. Names, Characters, Places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Afterword:

  Other erotic fantasies by D. R. Rosier:

  Non-erotic Fantasy titles:

  Book Description

  Chapter One

  The blaring of my phone alarm was obnoxious. I blew out an annoyed breath as I reached above my head and patted the small table until I found it, and then turned it off. The glare of the fluorescent lights above me was blinding as I opened my eyes, and my back had a twinge in it from sleeping on the cot. At first, I was confused as to why I was there, instead of at home in bed.

  Then it all came rushing back, the accusations, the anger, and the argument, which all ended with Cynthia walking out of the door and out of my life yesterday morning. When my shift was over at the hospital last night, I couldn’t bear to go home to a dark apartment without her in it.

  I’d like to say it was all her fault, but really it was neither of us. She’d claimed I worked too much, and didn’t pay enough attention to our relationship. It was even an old argument, we’d been having it for months, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. Not for another year or so.

  I was a second-year resident at John Hopkins, and planned to go into research medicine when I’d finally gotten done with the crazy schedule a resident has to deal with to get board approved. Once that happened, I’d have a lot more time to spend with her, and even time to start a family.

  At least, that had always been my argument.

  We’d had hopes and plans, our whole life together had been mapped out, but we’d grown apart the last couple of years since I’d earned my diploma and been accepted at one of the best hospitals in the country for my residency. It wasn’t her fault, or mine, just life, or so I told myself.

  She hadn’t cheated, she wasn’t even a bitch, she just… stopped loving me. How the hell did that even happen? So many memories, and so much time, down the drain.

  I rolled off the cot that which was up against the wall, and snatched my phone off small wood stand above the head of the cot.

  No messages. More specifically, no messages from Cynthia. The false hope in my heart died. I’d wanted to fight for it. I had no choice but to finish out my residency, just six more months, then we could fall in love again. I knew her better than I’d ever known anyone, and was sure with a little more time in our lives we could have made it work, but she’d been tired of fighting for it, tired of fighting for us.

  I still loved her, and I was sure we could recapture that spark if we tried.

  “Good morning Doctor Cook,” a pleasant and questioning voice said behind me.

  I turned, “Sandra, good morning.”

  Sandra was one of the nurses on staff, one of the better ones, and they were all competent. She was quite attractive with short honey brown hair that rested on her shoulders, big brown eyes, and an athletic body that told me she ran every day and hit the gym often. Her face was cute, with a tinge of alluring impishness I’m sure she’d used to reel in many a man.

  I’d been dodging her subtle advances for months, all to be faithful to a relationship that was falling apart, doomed even. Even now I wasn’t interested, not really, at least not my big brain, but she was very nice to look at.

  She looked at the cot, which was mussed and obviously slept in, and tilted her head in a way that made alarms go off in my mind.

  “Everything alright, Doctor?”

  I cleared my throat at the predatory and intuitive gleam in her eyes. Okay, maybe subtle had been the wrong word to describe her advances.

  “Just fine Sandra. I need to go get ready for my shift.”

  Why was it, I felt like a gazelle being hunted by a lioness as I grabbed my bag and headed for the showers. Worst of all, for the first time in six months, I wondered if I shouldn’t let her catch me. I pushed that out of my head, and the guilt that came with it. It’d been less than twenty-four hours since Cynthia walked out my door.

  After my shower, Dr. Newell took us around on our usual morning rounds. He hardly ever called on me anymore or questioned me for my opinion, and when he did it was usually because he wasn’t sure of a diagnosis himself. He knew I always knew the answers. That wasn’t arrogance, I was just the guy everyone else hated in school, the one that could read something once and never forget. It was still hard work, but I never had to study as much as the others in my class.

  Which ironically, had left me plenty of time to pursue and woo Cynthia, until my residency started.

  Point was, I was able to drown in the misery that was my life, as I only paid half attention.

  Of course, I didn’t know everything, because doctors didn’t know everything. I was intuitive with the knowledge I applied to heal and treat my patients, but I was still just human. Regardless, I’d been told more than once I had uncanny intuition, and when I ordered tests, most of the time the true problem was revealed. Even in modern times, being a physician was just as much art as it was a science.

  The thing I found hardest about my job, was to distance myself from the patient and suppress my natural empathy, which is one of the reasons I planned to go into research medicine. The other was my almost intuitive grasp of genetics and DNA, I already had a few ideas of my own, and wanted to test them out. That was the dream for me, finding true and lasting cures, instead of merely treating symptoms.

  But on that day, it was really hard to care about any of it. I just wanted the woman I loved back, and went through the motions. I didn’t make any foolish mistakes, but my attitude was lackluster at best, and far away at worst. At the end of the day, I decided to go home and face the empty apartment, when all I really wanted to do was bury my head in the sand. Perhaps it made me a coward, but I feared if Sandra caught me sleeping here again, she’d pounce for the kill.

  My chest ached as I left the hospital, got in my car, and headed for home.

  The apartment was even colder than I’d imagined, lifeless, and after eating a can of tomato soup I collapsed into the bed. Even after the usual grueling double shift, I tossed and turned for a long time before I was able to go to sleep. In truth, I wished to be anywhere but there. All her stuff was gone giving the place an abandoned feeling, but her scent was still in the sheets, and in her pillow. I felt like my heart was torn in two.

  I just… wanted a different life, wished and desired to have the one I had planned. To heal people, and live with the woman I loved
. I was in short, feeling very sorry for myself.

  As I look back on my strange life, I wondered if that strong wish and desire wasn’t partially to blame for it all…

  Chapter Two

  My hand spastically slapped across the front of my face in a panic, as my eyes snapped open and I sat up.

  My first strange thought, was why was there an old man in my bedroom, and for all that’s holy why had he been slapping my face to wake me up? Then I looked around, and a deeper confusion set in as my heartrate took off like a gazelle.

  The walls and ceiling were stone, and there were several lanterns hanging on hooks for light. The floor was stone as well, except various throw rugs and thin carpets that covered the natural walking areas. There was an elaborately sculpted wooden table in the room, and crude wood bookcases against the wall that looked to have seen better days. It was then I noticed I was laying on the floor, inside a chalk design.

  The old man had a beard, was wearing dark blue robes, and had a wide smile on his craggy face.

  “My apologies young healer for frightening you, I’m afraid the spell I used is rather abrupt. I’m High Mage Councilor Irwin, advisor to King Hanson, and we need your help.”

  Psychotic break, had to be. Cynthia left me, and the guilt and anguish had been too much for my stressed mind. Probably punishment for being tempted by Sandra so soon, I knew she’d eat me alive, but that didn’t sound so bad to me a few times yesterday.

  I took in a deep breath, and then coughed at the nasty smoke scent in the room. My eyes teared, and I rubbed them. It felt real, not like a dream, which was crazy.

  “Sorry, did you say you were a mage?”

  The old man smiled, and nodded wisely.

  I sighed, closed my eyes, and laid back down on the stone floor.

  He asked curiously, “What are you doing?”

  I replied, “Suffering hallucinations from a psychotic break. I’m sure I’ll wake up soon, you seem nice enough and all, but I can’t afford to go crazy right now.”

  He sighed, “Oh dear, do you come from a non-magical world? How did this happen?”

  The old man started to mutter under his breath, I kept my eyes stubbornly closed.

  At least, until he finished, and my whole body started to tingle. My eyes snapped open and I glared up at the old man, I felt violated, and not in a good way.

  He said, “You are a healer young man, an especially powerful one. You may not have had magic in your world, but in this one you hold the power over life and death.”

  Right. Magic, I could heal people with magic. At least it was consistent with my ambitions, I’d always wanted to heal people, but the magic angle was strange. I’d never been one for fantasy, even as a kid I’d been reading science journals, not science fiction or fantasy. I felt around on the floor, and concentrated, trying to feel my bed. Was I awake and hallucinating, or was this some kind of dream? It didn’t feel like a dream though, the floor wasn’t perfectly even, and quite uncomfortable.

  I sighed, no bed. I needed answers, and to prove something inconsistent, maybe that would break me out of this psychosis. It was a disturbing thought though, I’d never shown any signs of mental instability, and while more painful than I could express, losing Cynthia shouldn’t have caused this level of dissonance in my mind.

  “How did I get here?”

  He said kindly, “Please, get up, the floor must be uncomfortable. There’s food and drink over on the table, and I shall explain.”

  Well, at least my hallucination was polite, if a little too medieval.

  I sighed, sat up again, and stood. I was in boxers and a t-shirt, and I gratefully pulled on the crude breeches, tunic, and sandals the mage handed me. The room wasn’t cold, not with a fire in the fireplace, but I felt far less exposed being dressed.

  I walked over to the table, sat down at one of the elaborately sculpted wooden chairs, and then took a deep breath. The nasty oil scent was still there, but the food smelled pretty good. There was a platter of cooked meats, and what looked like sweet potato and corn all mashed together. I cautiously put some on my plate, and tried a bite. Not bad, and it had some spices I didn’t recognize. Which was troubling, because how could I hallucinate new spices?

  He cleared his throat, “I am the mage advisor to the king, who is very ill. The king himself is an accomplished healer, but unfortunately, a healer’s magic doesn’t work on him or herself. The spell I used was designed to summon a healer, the king’s health has taken a turn for the worse I’m afraid, and we need your help.”

  I shook my head in disbelief, “Aren’t there other healers in this land?”

  He nodded, but it turned into a head shake.

  “There used to be. I’m afraid we’re almost constantly in a state of war with several surrounding kingdoms. Healers are quite rare, a handful per generation, and I’m afraid ours have been slain.”

  I frowned, “Killed? Why?”

  He cleared his throat, “I assume in your world you use tinctures, and other natural remedies to heal others, slowly over time?”

  I shrugged, tinctures, why not. Modern medicine was a lot more advanced than that, but in the end, I saw no reason to lecture him for hours on modern medicines.

  “Sure.”

  He nodded, “Well in our world a healer uses magic, and can restore the sick or injured quite quickly. In a single night, a healer of your power could restore a full regiment of warriors to fighting status.”

  I frowned, and could see his point. A lack of a healer would severely cripple a kingdom’s ability to defend itself, if wounded soldiers needed to heal the long way.

  I shook my head, “Wait, so you brought me here to heal the king, and then what, do I get to go home?”

  He smiled, “You have my word. We didn’t steal you from your world to support our war efforts, merely to heal the king. What is your name?”

  “You can call me James. But…” I said leadingly.

  I knew there’d be a but, I could see it on his smiling face, and in his brown eyes.

  He sighed, “Healer James, you come from a world without magic, it may take you some time to learn how to wield your magic. I don’t know why the spell chose you, but it would not have if you didn’t have the ability or the desire. I worry for the king’s health, I have him in a stasis spell, but that will only last so long and is dangerous to maintain in the long term. The longer this goes on, I fear the bolder our enemies will become.”

  At least I was creative, when I lose my mind, I go all out.

  He continued, “Your magic will eventually become second nature, like breathing, but the first time is rather difficult.”

  I nodded, “How does it work?”

  He shrugged, “I’m not a healer. I’ve been told once you send your magic into a body, you kind of feel what’s wrong intuitively, and how to direct your magic to fix it. The challenge will be in finding your magic and evoking it for the first time.”

  “A mage’s magic?” I asked curiously despite myself.

  He cleared his throat, “There are many types of magic, and most like a healer’s magic, is intuitive. Like telekinesis, fire, air, earth, water, and pleasure and pain practitioners. There are many others as well, of lesser facility. A mage’s magic is unique however, and takes deep study and understanding of cosmic and magical laws.”

  Pleasure magic? Damn, apparently I was a total pervert when in a psychotic break. And maybe a masochist, pain magic?

  I sighed, again, “So tell me a little bit about this world, while I eat, and then we can see to your sire?”

  This felt way too real, and there was something off with the old man. He’d told me a lot of crazy things, but some of it hadn’t felt… true. I mean, none of this felt real, but I had the feeling he wasn’t being entirely honest with me about some of it. I ignored that feeling however, since I was obviously insane and none of this was real anyway. So what if my hallucination was full of crap?

  He nodded, and gave me a few tidbits while I ate
. The food was incredibly good, and each bite seemed to get better as the subtle spices built up on my tongue.

  “You’re in Malburn, the capital city of the kingdom of Desal, which is ruled by King Hanson, and his beloved wife Queen Gemma. Our greatest enemy is to the west, the Gritor Kingdom, ruled by Arch Mage and Queen, Sera. To the south lies the Tribian mountains. They’re more of a nuisance than a true threat to the kingdom, goblin kind rarely cooperates in large numbers, and even when they do their magic is weak.

  “To the East is…”

  I interrupted, “Wait. Goblin kind? As in goblins, orcs, and trolls and stuff?”

  He nodded with a pleased look on his face, “Just so. To the East is the Great Forest Laya, where the Elves, Dark Elves, and faeries live in separate cities, or conclaves for the latter race. They can be rather troublesome at times, but don’t work together any better than the goblinoid races do. They are far more powerful however, which makes them a much larger threat regardless.”

  I pondered that for a minute, “The north?”

  He smiled, “Ocean. There are islands to the north east, and another continent like ours much further to the north west, but they have not threatened us a long time. We have a strong fleet of ships, along with fishing ships, and merchant ships that trade with those lands.”

  “So, Desal and Gritor have been at war a long time?”

  He turned away, “Many years. Sera is determined to end the royal line and add our kingdom to hers.”

  I asked, “You called her an Arch Mage, what does that mean?”

  He said, “It is rather complicated, as I said earlier, a mage is different from other magical talents. There are six schools of mage craft. Destruction, summoning, illusion, creation, protection, and necromancy. An Arch Mage is one who was mastered all six schools. A master mage is one who has mastered three to five. Summoning is the school of discipline that brought you here from your world.”

  “You aren’t an Arch Mage?”

  He raised an eyebrow, and I blushed.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just curious.”

  He said, “Necromancy is a dark art I’ve chosen not to master, though I am familiar enough with it to defend myself, full mastery imperils the soul. As a result, I am a master mage.”