Good afternoon everyone, and welcome to Novel November! Everyday I will be posting an EXCERPT, not the full chapter of my novel I am working on in this month! I hope you enjoy, and if you want to read the full chapters, join my Patreon. ENJOY!
Chapter 1
“Shit, shit, shit.” Freylik knew not to be out this late, but at that moment it was the last thing he should have worried about.
The snow beneath his feet slowed his drunken steps, even with the mead thoroughly coursing through his veins, he still felt the night’s icy grasp. What did that old bastard at the tavern say? Follow the brightest star? Freylik looked high above him. “Fuck.” Only the dense trees that loomed high above heard him speak, their thick snow covered furs blocked the night sky from view.
“Everything is fine.” The disheveled man hiccuped the words to himself. “Boy do I hope so…” Freylik pressed on, as lost as the night was cold.
He would be the first to admit that he was in no way successful in life. Since being a young boy his father would fight with him to train in the family business of trading. Freylik hated it, the inventory, the building clients, the need to do work. Wenches and ale didn’t require that, no they just needed coins and he had plenty of that. With Freylik being the only one born to his mother, his family’s wealth went to him upon his parents death years prior. From that point his days were spent pint to pint and woman to woman. The man’s mouth salivated at the thought of a pint of ale and roasted goose. I need to find a tavern soon. A hiccup of vomit trickled down Freylik’s unkempt beard. If he had cared for it, he could have passed for quite the handsome man. His thick red main and beard garnered plenty of attention, when they were clean.
The smell hit Freylik first, a smoldering fire danced on his nostrils. There was a rot to it, but any sign of warmth was welcomed. A chill ran down the man’s spine, not of cold, but of a dread that began to form in his gut. He knew he was lost, but the silence of the snow was off, it seemed unnatural, something was quieting life. He begged not to be right.
Ignoring his sober thoughts, he searched for the fire that was creating the scent. Othen’s balls, I hope this isn’t a fever vision. Freylik was well past the point of dehydration and having replaced his waterskin with more ale was a poor idea in hindsight. Rounding a rather large tree Freylik’s answer stared him in the soul.
The monstricity stood, the height of a grown woman, its eyes empty save for a glowing flame from within its skull. Whether it was his alcohol soaked brain or his dehydration Freylik saw a beauty to the destroyed being before him. The molten soot covered skin seemed to rest above veins of fire, it’s figure was the only resemblance of a person that Freylik could see. Of course it’s a Runewraith.
Freylik turned to run but stumbled. Whatever great idea he had followed his face into the snow covered ground. Get up! Get up! The world rocked on its axis as Freylik forced himself to his feet, through wobbly legs he broke into some sort of a run. A horrendous screech ripped from the mouth of the demon behind him as waves of heat buffeted his sides. The fireballs didn’t catch as they landed, but the steam and smoke worked against him as he tried to see where he was running. Had the trees not been playing a cruel joke on him, the moon’s light would have easily illuminated the forest for him. But that was his life, full of others inconveniencing him, at least that’s what he told himself. A fireball too close for his liking snapped him out of his trance.
“Fuck you bitch!” Freylik’s slurred words were empty as they fell upon the already consumed woman. A flash of blue ripped from his eyes as he turned to face the Runewraith. Come on, come on.
The drunk reached down and threw snow into the air, as he did tendrils of ice leapt from his hands and enveloped the flung snow. Daggerlike shards hurled through the air and impaled the hellish attacker. To his dismay, the counterattack barely slowed the Runewraith. Her molten encrusted body of hatred burned with fire. He took off once more, the reality of his death began to play in his mind. No, not like this. Not covered in piss and shit. Othen, I promise to never touch another tankard if you get me out of this. He was running, his legs screamed in protest, but surprisingly, Freylik forced himself to run. He couldn’t win a face to face fight, the man’s Flicker was too weak. His mother had told him that he was born under the rare wolf moon, but without any training he might as well have been born under an empty moon. Just run, I have to just run. He hoped that the beast would tire or grow bored, it was all he had left to hope for. Lost in the forest with a life full of nothing. That’s my tale.
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Kris Writes Worlds 
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