Spotlight On:
The HANDS of RUIN
by Dylan Lee Peters
Blurb:
In a lakeside village amid the forests of Ferren, a young girl has been
disfigured by a dark and mysterious presence. Only zul masters—those who
use a mystical red dust called zulis—have the skill to vanquish such
nightmares, and so now a master must be chosen.
On Earth,
fourteen-year-old twins, Zigmund and Zerah, are sent to live with their
uncle, Rainart, after their parents’ untimely deaths. Rainart is an
abrasive drunk with a limp, and a secretive past. Yet, his secrets
quickly come to light with astounding tension as the twins learn of his
time in a land far away, and his possession of a mysterious and powerful
red dust.
Book one of The Hands of Ruin begins a saga of two
worlds and the individuals who bind those worlds together. It is a story
both visionary and deeply emotional, rife with action, mystery, and
vivid imagination. Blending fantasy and science fiction with passion,
morality, and drama, The Hands of Ruin has all the makings of a true
epic.
• • •
Excerpt:
Ah’Rhea
sat high above the valley floor, amid the stillness of the land. The
warm breeze moved gently against the thick black curls of hair that fell
down across her chest, and it carried the
sweet vanilla scent that came from the chasm in the valley floor. She
set her dirty hands in her lap, closed her bright-green eyes, and enjoyed the moment of tranquility. Aside from the touch of the breeze and the warmth of the sun, she was alone.
It was
evening in the valley of Ferrenglyn, and the sunset made the red-brown
rock walls of the cliffs below Ah’Rhea look as bright as the embers of a
dying fire. She was as still as a
statue, and her skin—colored so similarly to the rock walls below—was
glad for the warmth of the setting sun. An evening like this always
brought memories of him, and she needed these last moments of sun to get her through the chill of a lonely night.
Ah’Rhea
sat still for a long time, her legs folded beneath her, eyes closed,
face to the sun, until the last sliver of molten orange fell beneath the
horizon. The wind picked up and now brought
with it the cool promise of night, so Ah’Rhea rubbed her dry hands
together, stood, and looked down on the deep, dark chasm in the valley
floor. She felt the cracks in her hands as she stared. Years of working
with the zulis that came from this valley and from
deep within the chasm had made her hands coarse. She sighed, pulled her
crimson shawl over her head like a hood, and turned away from the
valley. It was time to return to her cave.
The
long slab of rock she had been perched on was not far from the entrance
to her home, but really the valley and the high cliffs around the chasm
were all a part of Ah’Rhea’s home. Her cave
was merely her personal space. It was modest in appearance but a
fine place to keep vigil over a sacred land. Her cave was something she
cherished. Ah’Rhea Eneoh, a great zul master of Ferrenglyn, had earned her cave in the cliffs.
Those
who did not understand the ways of Ferrenglyn might find a cave to be an
ill-fitting home for such an accomplished and esteemed woman. However,
the entirety of Ferren held Ferrenglyn to
be sacred land. Ferrenites often made pilgrimages to the Temple of Origin,
located in the village that closely bordered the valley. It was how
they paid respect, and part of that respect was to leave the zul masters in peace. It was seen as
taboo to visit a zul master uninvited, even for those who lived
in the village of Ferrenglyn. The cliffs, chasm, and valley were the
spiritual foundation of a people. The zul masters who lived in the caves were the sentinels that watched over
that heart.
Ah’Rhea had trained with zulis for years to hone her skills. Countless hours of work and introspection had shaped her life until she was worthy of the title “zul master.”
It was a goal she had pursued ever since early childhood. It was a
singular focus, a yearning in her heart, and she had almost completely
ignored the temptations of life in order to achieve that goal. Now, she
lived a life of honor but also a life of seclusion.
The zul masters could live with one another if they should choose. Yet most lived a life dominated by solitude.
Truly,
solitude was something Ah’Rhea liked, something she had always
preferred. She felt silence had its own sound, and she regarded it as
sweet. Even as a small child, she would sit
alone, playing quietly with no one to watch her. She could play that way
for hours, to both the relief and dismay of her parents. A child that
required so little attention was both a blessing and an oddity. However,
there was never any reason for Ah’Rhea’s
parents to be concerned. Their child was merely content to be alone. The
absence of other people never made Ah’Rhea feel lonely. In fact, only
the absence of one particular soul had ever made her feel loneliness,
and if it were not for him, loneliness might
be an alien concept to her completely.
Ah’Rhea
couldn’t help but think of him now as she entered the darkness of her
cave, the night gathering outside, and lit a candle set on a small
table. She traced her hand along the rough wall
of her home as she made her way to rest on her velvety mattress. Then
Ah’Rhea sat on the soft mattress for three long minutes before sighing
and resigning herself to the inevitable. She pulled his letter out from
underneath her bed. She had kept it there ever
since she had received it. It was the only good-bye she had received on the day he had left. Ah’Rhea reread the letter on nights like this, when the evening sun felt like his hand against her cheek, when her dry eyes yearned for the moisture of
tears, when her chest clenched tight with secret sadness and begged for release.
Ah’Rhea took a pinch of zulis from the wooden box beside her mattress. The box was divided into
sections, each containing a different herb or spice. She then took a
pinch of cardamom and
combined it with the zulis. She rubbed the spices in her hands and blew
the combination into the flickering flame of the candle. The candle went
out immediately, but the spices filled the air and expanded above
Ah’Rhea, each individual speck glowing like a
star in the night sky. They rose into the air and spread, finally coming
to rest on the ceiling of the cave. They gave the cave light, as if a bright moon were shining down. It was well-enough light to read the letter by, but
it was not so much that she would not be able to sleep, and she knew her zul would wear off after a few hours.
She opened the letter, which was folded in quarters. The rough and resilient parchment was pale in the light. A few small rips frayed the edges of the letter, and
some of the script had been blurred into watery blotches from tears past. It didn’t matter whether her
tears had blurred the words; every one of them was as familiar to her
as her own name. The parchment smelled like him, or at least Ah’Rhea
believed
it did. She read the words again as fresh tears grew at the corners of
her eyes.
My Dove,
There
is a hollow within me I can no longer ignore. It has been inside of me
as long as I can remember, since I was a child. I am sorry I am telling
you of it only now. I’m sorry for a
great many things.
Throughout
my life, I have been vexed by a question: What is more cruel, to hide
what is inside of me from the ones I love or to let them know me
completely and see what I truly am?
I had
always answered the question by choosing to hide what is inside of me,
hoping a change would come, hoping the hollow within me would go away.
Alas, it has not, and I have slowly come to
terms with the fact that it never will. As I look down at the stained
lines of my hands, a constant reminder of our years together, I realize I
had so much more hope for my life, and for yours. Hope was my first
mistake, but not my gravest.
I
count my gravest mistake as the time I spent with you. I understand how
harsh these words are, but their truth is not diminished by their
cruelty. I have lied to you that I am a strong man,
and I have lied to you that I am a good man. There are no such things as
good, strong men. Not in this world or any other. Please believe me
when I tell you that. It has taken me a very long time to accept it. I
am sorry for you that I did not understand it
sooner.
I
cheated you of time. I have robbed you of the most precious commodity
that exists. I tried to fill my hollow with your love, but it could not
be filled; I tried to hide from it in your
arms, but it would not be eluded. There are no things I can say to right
what I have done, nothing I can do to give you back these years, but I
can stop taking from you. I choose to stop today. You have seen me when
the shadows fall over me. You have stood
with me in that darkness, allowing me to tear you apart as I tore
myself apart. No more. I know this last action of mine will hurt you,
but that pain will go away. You must erase me from your mind.
You must release me from your heart.
I am lost.
—Orman
