Tales of Winshaew

Tales of Winshaew:

Dominion of Darkness

By Bill Dolack

This book is a work of fiction. The characters are fictional and do not represent any actual persons, living or dead.

Copyright © 2005, 2019, 2022 by Bill Dolack and Ammonoosuc Media Group.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, by photostat, microfilm, xerography, or any other means, which are now known or to be invented, or incorporated into any information retrieval system, electronic or mechanical, without the written permission of the copyright owner.

You may contact Bill Dolack at

bdolack@hotmail.com

Also, check out Bill’s author page on Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/author/billdolack

Prologue

My name is Watchman. I have been here in Winshaew since the beginning, faithfully chronicling the history of this ancient land, yet I have stood apart, watching, but not partaking. I have lived in this mountain kingdom for longer than I can even remember, from the days of old when warmth and sunshine was common, through the terrible years of persecution and poverty, marked by the rule of the wicked Baron Shaevor.

My eyes have seen all that is good and all that is bad, dutifully recording each event on the scroll you are now holding.  This has been my life’s assignment, given me by the Maker.

Read on and discover the people and their story. Let your eyes and mind take you on a journey through the millennia … see the sights, hear the sounds, smell the odors, feel the emotions, and share the excitement of those whose lives make up The Tales of Winshaew.

The Beginning

B

lack storm clouds were gathering once again over the land of Winshaew, a tiny country nestled high in the rugged mountains of the Old World. The foreboding vapors became thicker and thicker, bubbling with a mysterious intensity that troubled the very soul of the land.

As always, the clouds would deliver their full load of wet, heavy snow, driven to frenzy by gale force winds, and burying the land beneath yet another quilt of endless frozen monotony. The storm would pound Winshaew with its unlimited fury for days on end before its strength began to ever so slowly wane. Eventually, the snow would end, and the clouds disappeared from the sky, yet the land remained shrouded in a darkness so real it could almost be felt.

At times, it almost seemed as though Winshaew was like any other country … the snow would begin to melt, sending rivulets of water cascading down the mountainsides.  Here and there, tiny flowers blossomed across the still chilly land, and the sound of bees could be heard as they quickly moved from flower to flower, collecting their nectar before the next brutal storm hit.

And hit, it would, the wind howling at the people as they hid in their homes, crowded around the hearth as they tried to draw a bit of warmth from its flames.

The weather – or, rather, the spirit behind the clouds – was compelled to remind the residents of Winshaew that they were nothing more than fodder for the evil force.

But it was not always so in Winshaew.

In the beginning, even before time existed, there was the Maker, who was all in all. Then, in an incredible act of love, the Maker created. Planets and stars and moons came into being, hung in the unending vastness of the universe, all at His word. Each different, unique, and loved by the Maker.

And there, tucked away in one corner of this limitless creation, was a planet … the planet.

Earth.

The Maker chose this planet, Earth, as His very own. It was here that all He had planned from eternity past would be played out according to His plan.

The Maker’s very hands shaped Earth. He gathered together the waters on the surface of the planet into blue seas, lakes, and rivers, all teeming with creatures of every kind. Then He separated the seas, bringing forth dry land where animals roamed freely, and every type of fruit grew in abundance as food for the beasts of the Earth.

And He picked a spot, a very special dominion, where He raised mountains, green with heather and laurel and clover, and placed here His greatest creation.

Man. 

Calling the region Zmiroen – the ‘Land of Promise’ – the Maker nurtured his greatest work, teaching them His ways, sharing with them His heart.

The days were long and warm, a perpetual summer bringing forth an abundance of fauna and flora. The sun rose early over the eastern peaks, shining golden light throughout every nook and cranny in the kingdom, before silently sliding behind the western mountains late in the day.

It was, to be sure, a land where Earth and Heaven existed together.

In the midst of Zmiroen was a beautiful river which the Maker named Life. The river was fed by a trinity of streams – one named Father, one named Son, and one named Spirit – which converged in this land to create the waters of Life.

It was a garden paradise, a land where the wolf and the lamb would lie down together, both eating the green plants of the world.  Peace ruled in a kingdom of Light, and man and Maker walked side by side throughout Zmiroen.

Then Serpentine, enemy of the Maker, made his appearance in Zmiroen. Once the most special of all the Maker’s creations, a beautiful being who inhabited the heavenlies, he became dissatisfied with his position, and sought to make himself equal with the Maker. Serpentine gathered around him one third of all the Maker’s heavenly host, and a great battle ensued. Banished to Earth for their rebellion, Serpentine and his fallen comrades expressed their unending anger at the Maker by working endlessly to deceive mankind, trapping them within Serpentine’s foul black heart.

One day, the sinister mutineer appeared in Zmiroen, offering the people there even more than what the Maker offered … more knowledge, more power. It was a lie, of course, but it appeared so attractive and enticing.

The Maker has kept great secrets from you.  The Maker fears that you, the creature, will outshine His glory.  And you, oh man, can be as great as the Maker.

Take. Eat.

And the people made their choice.

In that very moment, Serpentine became King Serpentine, ruler of the planet called Earth. And on the day he came to power, the sun hid its face from the land, and bitter cold winds whipped hard across the craggy mountainsides. Summer left – seemingly forever – replaced by an eternal winter as frigid as the malevolent rebel’s black heart.

And now the days were cold and dark, a reflection of the evil that held the country in its taloned grip. The fruit, withered and rotting, fell from the trees. The waves of golden grain were flattened as if crushed by a giant invisible hand. The lamb was now prey for the wolf.

The land became a place of unspeakable evil, home to wizards, monsters, and – of course – the dragon.

King Serpentine chose from among his human followers one so ruthless, so evil, that all hope appeared to be lost for eternity. Control of the land was handed to the wicked Baron Shaevor, a man whose hands were drenched in the blood of many innocents.

Displeased with ‘Zmiroen,’ Shaevor chose for the country the now much more suitable name, Winshaew, which, in the old tongue, means ‘Dominion of Darkness.’

But even in this cold, dark, forbidding place, a flicker of the Light was yet burning. You see, the Maker had known from eternity past exactly what would take place and prepared a plan to save the people of Winshaew from the clutches of King Serpentine and his minions.