Gerall’s Festivus Bride
Rebekah R. Ganiere
Gerall’s Festivus Bride © 2018 Rebekah R. Ganiere
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are fictitious and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Gerall’s Festivus Bride © 2018 Rebekah R. Ganiere
ISBN: 978-1-63300-046-9
Cover art by Rebekah R. Ganiere
vwzdesigns.com
Dedication
Contents
Newsletter
Fairelle Map
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Jak the Giant Healer
Thank You
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Prologue
Pereum, Fairelle Year 200
In the year 200, in the city of Pereum, the heart of Fairelle, King Isodor lay on his deathbed. With all of Fairelle united under his banner, his four sons vied for the crown. One by one the brothers called forth a djinn named Xereus from Shaidan, the daemon realm, to grant a single wish. But Xereus tricked the brothers, twisting their wishes.
The eldest wished to forever be bloodthirsty in battle, and was thus transformed into a Vampire. The second wished for the unending loyalty of his men, and was turned into a Werewolf. The third asked for the ability to manipulate the elements of Fairelle; he became physically weak but mighty in magick, a Fae. And the last asked to rule the sea. A Nereid.
When the king died, each brother took a piece of Fairelle for himself and waged war for control of the rest. Xereus, having been called forth so many times, tore a rift between his daemonic plane and Fairelle, allowing thousands of daemons to pour into Pereum.
Years upon years of bloody warring went by with all races fighting for control and eventually the daemons gained dominion of the heart of Fairelle. Realizing that all lands would soon fall into the daemons’ control, the High Elders of the Fae and the Mages from the south, combined their magicks to seal the rift. The daemons were banished back to their own plane, but Pereum was wiped off the map in the process, leaving only charred waste behind forever known as The Daemon Wastelands.
Upon the day of the rift closing, a Mage soothsayer prophesied of the healing of Fairelle. Over the next thousand years the races continued to war against each other, waiting for the day when the ancient prophesies would begin.
Eight prophesies, a thousand years old, to unite the lands and heal Fairelle.
Chapter One
Gerall smiled and ran his blade through the vampire’s neck. Its eyes widened before he turned to ash. Breathing a contented sigh, Gerall coughed. Damn. It had been so long since he’d fought vampires that he’d forgotten to take a step back, so as not to get corpse dust in his mouth. The taste of charred wood coated his tongue, sucking all moisture from it. He tried to spit, but couldn’t produce any saliva.
“Is that all of them?” Jamen called, crunching through the thick leaves toward them.
“I think so,” replied Erik.
Gerall glanced around, and even in the dark, he could make out the bright yellow, orange, and burgundy leaves on the autumn trees. He wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and shook ash from his unruly hair. It had been almost a year since he and his brothers had gone out on the hunt, and if truth be told, he missed it.
Ever since Sage and Snow had taken over ruling Tanah Darah, there’d been little for the brothers to do. While going out and hunting vampires had once been a nightly ritual for them, they now did little more than engage in occasional sport with the dissenters.
The tracking late at night, racing on his steed while the world slept, being with his brothers. Forgetting their fractured family. It soothed his lonely heart.
He didn’t miss the broken fingers or the gashes that needed stitches, having to replace his glasses every month, or living a double life. He missed the camaraderie of his brothers. He missed being together. He missed… His family.
Though life and happiness finally filled the house again, Snow had been gone for well over a year, and no one could replace her. Jamen’s and Flint’s marriages and babies they produced blessed all of them, but things were not the same without Snow and Kellan. Even Dax, Belle, and little Chloe’s absences left a hole.
“I do not understand why they bother trying to come down here and hunt. They know we’ll come after them.” Jamen mounted his horse.
“Guess it’s in their nature. To hunt for food as opposed to have it sitting willingly at the table waiting to be eaten.” Gerall took off his glasses and wiped them on his tunic.
“Did you see the girl?” Erik sheathed his sword and grabbed the reins of his horse.
“No,” replied Jamen. “If she was among them, she fled.”
“She wasn’t.” Gerall wiped his blade on his pants. “There were only five.”
Erik shook his head. “Damn. All right. Let’s head back to the manor house. I’ll clean up and go to Tanah Darah to inform Snow.”
“That vampire girl has been gone for long enough–”
“She’s most likely dead.” Hass and Ian strode to their horses and hopped into the saddle.
“I promised Snow and Sage I would locate the girl. I, at least, need to find out what happened to her.” A hard edge crept into Erik’s voice.
“What does one girl matter?” asked Jamen.
Erik’s expression darkened. “I made a vow.”
“And what about your vow as Lord?” asked Jamen. “Tomorrow is Westfall day. The first day in the week-long Autumn Festivus. You need to meet with the magistrate. With enemies all around meaning to undermine our position, we need to be present more than ever.”
“I’ll go.” Gerall slid his sword into its holster. “I need to go into town anyway to pick up a few things. Jamen, Scarlet, Flint, Zelle, and the children can accompany me. It would be good for Westfall to see how our family has grown. Let them know that we aren’t going anywhere.”
“What?” said Ian.
“We’re not invited?” asked Hass.
Erik nodded. “Gerall’s right. He can go in my place, and the rest of you can enjoy Festivus. I’ll head back out to find the girl and will return within the week.”
Jamen shook his head. “You and your damned honor.”
“I call the bath when we get back,” said Hass.
“Not if I get there first,” replied Ian.
The two kicked their steeds and sped off.
Gerall smiled to himself. He missed this.
The group piled through the solar door to the manor house and the smell of beef stew and warm rolls struck Gerall. He gave thanks f
or Zelle and Scarlet and the way they cared for all of them, though they didn’t have to.
“How did it go?” Flint entered the solar, carrying his daughter Lucia. Without his glasses on, his sight was all but nonexistent. But over the passing months, Gerall had seen Flint become more and more comfortable without it. Flint knew every inch of the manor house and rarely bumped into anything anymore. Especially with Loca always hovering around or perched on his shoulder.
Gerall’s gut clenched, and he studied Flint’s face, but there appeared to be no resentment at Erik telling him to stay home instead of joining them on the hunt.
“We got rid of them,” said Jamen.
“Did you find that girl?”
“No,” replied Erik. “I need to see Snow and find out what we do next.”
Flint nodded. “Before you do, there’s someone you need to see.”
The brothers looked at each other.
“He’s waiting in the dining hall.”
They walked with Flint through the front hallway.
Erik pushed open the door and Gerall’s brow furrowed.
“King Adrian.” Jamen advanced and offered Adrian his hand.
The wolves never left Wolvenglen to go anywhere but Volkzene. For Adrian to visit, meant the news couldn’t be good.
“Is something wrong?” asked Erik.
Adrian stood, towering over all of them except Flint. “One of my wolves has gone missing.”
“Missing?” asked Gerall.
“His name is Fendrick. He went out with his children to play in the woods, and the children came back, but he did not.”
“Is it possible he ran off?” asked Flint.
“No. Fendrick isn’t like my other wolves. He’s… unstable. His only pleasure is being with his wife and children. He would never leave them.”
“I remember him,” said Jamen. “Hanna’s husband. Tall, thin man. Eyes like a cornered rabbit.”
“Yes. And if you remember, I couldn’t send Hanna with you to help Scarlet’s aunt because of his instability. He would never leave of his own accord. And especially never leave his young. It’s not possible.”
“What can we do?” asked Erik.
“I tracked his scent to the edge of Westfall, but then I lost it.”
“He came here?” asked Flint.
“Not of his own accord.” Adrian ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t want to cause any problems, but I would like your permission to search Westfall. Not intrusively, just look about the town and see if I can pick up a scent.”
“Of course,” said Erik. “Anything you need.”
“Would it be all right if I spent the night with you?”
“Our home is your home,” said Jamen.
Adrian nodded. “I thank you.”
“Why don’t we get you something to eat? Tomorrow is Westfall Day, and there is going to be a festival. All of the town folk will be out. It will help you blend in better.”
Adrian nodded. “Again. I thank you.”
“I’ll be heading to Tanah Darah within the hour,” said Erik. “I’ll let Sage and Snow know of the missing wolf in case they’ve seen or heard anything.”
“Come on.” Jamen clapped Adrian on the back. “Let’s get you fed and find you a bed.”
Adrian strode out with Jamen.
“First a vampire missing, now a werewolf,” said Erik.
“Whatever is going on, it can’t be good,” replied Flint.
“It’s got to be connected to the murder of the doctor and his wife and Scarlet’s aunt. And the conspiracy against us being the ruling family of Westfall,” said Gerall.
“Sir Malcolm and his sons aren’t back, are they?” asked Flint.
Gerall shook his head. “No. Someone would have notified us if they’d returned. And Jamen would have mentioned it.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions quite yet,” said Erik. “I’ll go to Snow’s. You lot go with Adrian to town tomorrow. Feel things out. See what you hear. Hass and Ian can even ride by Malcolm’s to make sure he, Edward and Lyden haven’t returned. But if this is connected to the death of the doctor, and Scarlet’s aunt, it can’t be good for any of us.”
“Agreed,” said Flint.
Erik gave Gerall a tight smile and then headed out of the dining hall. A flutter of anxiety lodged in Gerall’s gut. What would someone want with a vampire girl and an unstable werewolf? Hell, why did someone want to hurt his family?
“There will be blood,” said Flint, breaking the silence. “I can guarantee you that.”
“Let’s hope not,” replied Hass.
“Because there’s a good chance if that’s true, it’s going to be innocent blood,” finished Ian.
Chapter Two
Gerall reined his black steed to a stop and hopped to the ground in front of the Westfall stable. He brushed the light layer of dust off his shoulders and scanned the street. Every shop window held a bouquet of wildflowers and over every entrance hung a bow of white sage, burdock, and blackberry leaf, symbolizing the cleansing of autumn and soon the slumber of winter. The scent of cinnamon, pumpkin and crisp apples clung to the air.
He smiled, letting the smells and freshness invade him. Seeing the vibrant colors paint his homeland and the happiness and gratitude that people bestowed upon each other in the beginnings of the holiday season, lightened his soul. He prayed the upcoming year would bring with it joy and prosperity to his family, as well.
Behind him, Flint, Adrian, and Jamen dismounted their horses as Hass pulled the family carriage that hadn’t been used in close to five years up alongside. He and Ian hopped from the front and opened the door.
“Lords Gwyn.” A man rushed toward Gerall. “How wonderful to see you. You haven’t been to town in quite some time.”
Gerall tried to remember the man’s name. He had always relied on Erik and Snow to tell him who people were. He could name every flower and fauna in most of Fairelle, yet he couldn’t remember the name of anyone outside his own family.
“Yes, we’ve been quite busy lately.” Flint squinted behind his red glasses and took his son, Marcus, from Zelle’s arms.
Jamen plucked two-year-old Kellan from Scarlet and held his hand out to her so she could exit the carriage. Her form rounded with the new life she carried once more. She swore this one would be a girl, which Gerall knew was Jamen’s greatest hope.
“I heard Lady Snow married a prince from a different kingdom. How nice for her.” The man smiled and took the reins from Gerall, patting the horse on the neck.
Gerall’s mouth dried, but he smiled. “She is quite happy.”
“Wonderful.” His eyes turned to Adrian. “And you must be…”
“This is Adrian,” said Flint. “A distant cousin of ours from the Volkzene area.”
“Volkzene. My, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone from there before. I thought they kept to themselves.”
“We tend to mostly. Unless business pulls us southward.” Adrian scanned the street in broad sweeps as he breathed deeply.
“Well, welcome to Westfall. I’ll take your horse in and get him brushed and fed.”
“The carriage seemed a bit bumpy on the way in,” said Hass.
“Can you find someone to look to the wheels?” finished Ian.
The man nodded. “Of course, M’lords. I won’t keep you any longer. Have a blessed day.”
Gerall waved and stared at the man, hoping the name would cross his mind, but it didn’t. The bell of the town church chimed ten.
“I must go. I’ll be late for the meeting.”
Hass and Ian smiled. “Well, you have fun with all that duty. We’ll think of you while we’re off feasting in the inn.”
“I could go,” offered Flint. “I’ve been doing it for close to a year.”
Gerall clapped his older brother’s large shoulder. “That’s all right. You have fun with Zelle and the children. I won’t be long. I’ll meet you for lunch.”
“You should make it quick,” replied Ja
men. “With Hass and Ian in town, there may not be any left.”
Adrian’s gaze darted back and forth. “I’m going to see if I can pick up the scent.”
“If you do, let us know,” said Flint. “We can’t afford any fights today.”
Adrian nodded. “I won’t do anything without consulting you first.”
Gerall straightened his tunic and pushed his glasses up his nose. He strode from the group and across the dirt thoroughfare toward the magistrate’s office. He abhorred politics. But he abhorred anyone trying to tarnish his family even more, and he would be damned if he’d let anyone harm any of them.
In the short and uneventful meeting, the magistrate handed over the list of town indiscretions he’d taken care of, along with the rents and a short list of people seeking to speak with Erik. They’d gone over the schedule for the week of festivities and then set a date for the next meeting to be before the Yuletide celebration and the New Year.
Gerall strolled from shop to shop, watching as each prepared their wares for Festivus. Browsing the town and being out of the manor house eased his loneliness and made his heart lighter. But as he looked at the faces of the townsfolk, he found himself wondering what they would think of the Gwyn family if they knew all the secrets tucked deep behind the heavy manor doors. Who would still nod, bow, curtsy or send well wishes at the sight of him? And how many would curse them, spit or side with those trying to rip Westfall from their ruling grip? Too many, he feared— too many.
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