Samhain Publishing

One warrior, one sorcerer, and a legacy that will change their lives forever…

Secrets of Socendor, Book 1

In the world of Socendor, humans are forbidden from using magic and elves keep their distance.

Kalen Ysindroc has risen far from his humble beginnings as a blacksmith’s adopted son. Now the king’s general, he investigates reports of magic-wielding half-human, half-elven lithings sighted along the kingdom’s borders. It would be a lonely life, if not for the company of his best friend and long-time elven lover, Micheil Theirauf, the king’s sorcerer.

An attempt on Kalen’s life makes it clear to Micheil that there’s more afoot than random breaks in the land’s defenses. His lover is plagued by dreams no human should endure, and Micheil’s probe into Kalen’s subconscious reveals a past neither of them expected. And a future Kalen can’t escape.

Suddenly, everything Kalen never knew about his life is laid bare. A father possessed of terrible magical power. A half-brother who could be the family Kalen never had—or the catalyst that will rip Micheil out of his life forever…

This title was previously published but has been revised.

Copyright © 2010 Mychael Black
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

Micheil watched Kalen’s chest rise and fall with every breath. Kalen slept deeply, possibly already dreaming. Micheil smiled. Perhaps this would be easier than he had expected. He moved closer to Kalen and felt himself settle within the general’s mind. Snippets of Kalen’s dream came to Micheil then.

Fire. And smoke. Deep crimson red. The brilliance of a newly struck fire. And death.

“From the depths of the earth and the sea,

From the endless skies and the mists of time,

I call thee, beasts of fire…”

An unseen force threw Micheil to the ground. When he rolled over, the sight that greeted him nearly stopped his heart.

Kalen stood on a hilltop, his arms raised to the swirling forms above him. In and out of the voluminous clouds, great beasts flew. Fiery plumes of red and orange surrounded the behemoths, and their obsidian scales glimmered in the silver moonlight as it cascaded down onto the valleys and hills below.

Then Kalen turned. The green depths of his eyes blazed with an internal fire as his gaze settled on Micheil.

“You are in danger,” Micheil warned after several moments of silence.

“Aye,” Kalen said with a slow nod. “As are you. You are mine. And for that very reason, you will be hunted.”

Micheil sat bolt upright in his bed. Sweat beaded on his skin and trickled slowly over his face. The chill of the room pierced him, yet it did nothing to cool the fire within. Kalen’s fire. But how? Kalen Ysindroc had no such magic within him.

“Sweet Malin, save us.”



Kalen woke with a start, drawing his knife as he scanned his darkened tent. Seeing nothing amiss, he collapsed onto his bedroll and stared up at the low canvas roof above him. It had only been a dream.

“General Ysindroc!”

Kalen shifted his gaze to the closed flap of his tent, the tent which doubled as his command center. “Come in.”

The flap lifted and his senior captain, Josiah Petiet, stepped in, letting the flap drop down behind him. “Sir, our scouts have reported suspicious activity over the hills to the west. I’ve sent Kears and his men to investigate.”

Kalen nodded and sat up. “Very good, Captain.” He leaned on his hands and closed his eyes, letting his head fall backward as he sighed. “Still five days from Sonana and the trouble has already begun.”

“Shall I send word to King Andrion?”

“No. I need more information to determine whether this new development is a threat or not.”

The captain sat and eyed Kalen curiously for a moment. “Permission to speak freely?” Kalen nodded and Josiah sighed. “Kalen, what is it? Something’s troubling you.”

Kalen fell back and stretched out. “I had a dream that greatly disturbed me.”

Josiah lifted a graying eyebrow at him. “A dream? Not much disturbs you. Must have been quite a dream.”

“Micheil came to me in it,” Kalen said. He closed his eyes slowly as he tried to focus on Micheil and not the creatures he had seen in his dream.

“A dream with Micheil disturbed you?”

Kalen could almost hear the chuckle that his captain held back. The notion itself was an amusing one, but Kalen shook his head. “It wasn’t his presence that disturbed me—it was the presence of dragons.”

Josiah remained silent for several minutes. Kalen noted the furrowing of the man’s silvering eyebrows. Pale blue eyes peered at him, a quiet unease within their almost gray depths. Josiah opened his mouth to speak then closed it once more as if thinking better of it.

“Yes?” Kalen asked him quietly.

“I just wonder if perhaps the tales of the mountains might have played a part in your dream,” Josiah ventured.

“Perhaps. I haven’t been near the mountains in some time.”

“Have you had such dreams before?”

Kalen shook his head. “No. I suppose you’re right, however. The rumors and legends must be to blame.”

Josiah nodded and started to speak, but stopped as one of the scouts entered. “Yes? What is it, Riley?”

The scout saluted the two men and bowed his head briefly. “We have a prisoner, sirs. We captured him just over the hill. He was alone.”

Kalen narrowed his gaze. “Who is he?”

The scout seemed nervous for a moment. “He would not give us his name, sir, but he is…a lithing.”

Josiah and Kalen glanced at each other, and Kalen’s thoughts echoed those he saw within the captain’s eyes. When he turned his attention back to the scout, Kalen nodded.

“Very well,” he said as he stood. “Bring him here.”

“Sir, are you sure that is wise?” Josiah asked him.

“Are you questioning me?” Kalen gave him a stern glare and the captain lowered his gaze immediately.

“No, sir,” Josiah said quietly. “You heard the general,” he told the scout. “Bring the prisoner.”

The scout disappeared out of the tent and returned a moment later. Behind him, two men dragged the limp body of a lithing between them. They dropped the creature and backed away. Kalen stood before the lithing and lifted its head with the blade of his dagger. Black eyes full of hate stared up at him from under ropes of braided black hair.

“Who are you?” Kalen asked.

“At least I know who I am.”

Kalen pressed the blade to the lithing’s throat. “I have no time for riddles. Why are you here? How did you get here?”

The lithing laughed. It was a sound that sent a chill straight through to one’s bones. “I have come with others,” the lithing said, “to search.”

“Search for what?”

A slow smile spread across the lithing’s mouth, baring sharpened teeth. “For the true king’s lost son.”

Kalen froze as his blood ran cold. “Breasal,” he whispered.

“Aye, you know of this king,” the lithing said. He seemed unmoved by the dagger’s precarious position.

“King?” Kalen said, bringing his attention back to the lithing. “Andrion is the true king. Breasal was a murderer. Nothing more.”

“Perhaps.”

Kalen started to speak, but a quick movement from the lithing stopped him cold. Kalen dropped to his knees, blood seeping through his shirt. A single sword stroke from one of the guards beheaded the lithing. Josiah caught Kalen before he could fall.

“Medic!”

Kalen squeezed his eyes shut as Josiah ripped open his shirt. Kalen hadn’t felt the touch of a lithing blade in ages, but he remembered enough to know this one was different. His skin burned where the lithing stabbed him, but, deeper still, Kalen sensed the blackness of the creature’s magic seeping into his body.

“Micheil. I need…Micheil,” he gasped between breaths.

“Send word for the king’s seer at once!” Josiah shouted. “Why Micheil?”

Kalen fought to steady his breathing. The black shadow moved slowly over his side, tightening his lungs as he struggled for air. “Dark magic,” he panted. “Micheil…is an elf.”

“What?” Josiah started to jump to his feet, but Kalen grabbed his tunic and held him.

“Tell no one. Micheil Thierauf is everything to me.”