by L. R. Flint
Copyright © 2014 L. R. Flint
All rights reserved.
DEDICATION
Though he never got the chance to read it, Chapter Thirty-Four I wrote specifically for one of my favorite people ever—who was also one of my first proofreaders. He suggested that I add a little action to that general area of the story and so, became the inspiration for the Champion of the Lost Village. Vielen Dank, kleiner Bruder!
CONTENTS
Acknowledgements
Zuri Jaun
1 Broken Bones
2 Departure
3 Dreams and Visions
4 Foreign Land
5 Visitor
6 Desert Rain
7 D. I. D.
8 The Hunt
9 Mistakes
10 Ogrish Encounter
11 Flight
12 Reunion
13 Wizard’s Words
14 Duel
15 Change of Plans
16 Pleasantries
17 In Passing
18 The Sea
19 Eguzki Desert
20 Attacked
21 Extra Baggage
22 Demon Lord
23 Undesirable Company
24 Leave-Taking
25 Caernadvall
26 Escape
27 The Council
28 Scouting
29 Interruption
30 Jeul Derin
31 Council’s Meeting
32 Travels and Feasting
33 Trees with Anger Issues
34 Champions’ Duel
35 Mountains of Ice
36 Behemoth
37 Frozen Wasteland
38 The Well
39 Family
40 Death of a Friend and Enemy
41 Funeral
Pronunciation Guide
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Yep, it's that redundant section for thanking all the great people who didn't murder me out of annoyance while I sat brooding at my computer, or when I terrorized them for opinions…
I really am thankful to my family, though, for being guinea pigs with reading—and having read to them—my book, and especially my mom for doing some editing (excruciating stuff, that).
I'd also like to thank my various other editors and proofreaders, even though one only lasted through the Prologue. The excuse was getting married and having a lot less free time… Lame. (I approve though, don't worry.)
I would most like to thank all of the amazing authors whose literary masterpieces planted in me an indestructible love of reading. Thank you, and keep it up (if you're still around).
P.S. Here’s to all the crazy friends who wanted to be mentioned in my book. There’s too many of you, so I’ll just give you all a ‘thanks’ for…whatever. You’re awesome and crazy—but that’s why we’re friends!
ZURI JAUN
Cool ocean spray glistened in the bright sunlight as it arced, caught in a lively breeze and fell back toward the ocean, much of it coming to rest on ship decks and the bare backs of working crewmen. The loud shouts of command from captain to crew could be heard, gusted on the wind from ship to ship, as many a Captain attempted to keep his vessel a safe distance from the others as they maneuvered about the docks. The occasional outburst of anger could be heard when captains of the larger, double-masted ships rebuked the foolish masters who brought their smaller crafts alarmingly close in an effort to depart the bustling seaport as swiftly as possible.
One of the recent arrivals was a ship of a slender and beautiful make, its white hull and deck shone like pearls and the furled sails were made of gossamer strands like those of a spider’s web. Because of the ship’s slender design it looked less than seaworthy when compared to the strong crafts made by men, but the enlightened mind would know that this vessel—made not by men, but elves—could withstand the beating of even the harshest and most terrible storms that the depths of the sea could brew. The wind gusted again, bringing another wall of sea spray and lifting the banner of the foreign ship, revealing the insignia of an ambassador of the dark elves, a peaceful nation inhabiting the enormous Southern continent.
The crew and passengers were disembarking, hired hands transferring the precious cargo of gifts and personal effects onto a small caravan of wagons. The captain left his beloved ship in the trusted hands of the dock master, paying in advance for the first week that they would be indulging in his services, and then the ambassador and entourage were guided from the docks and along a stone paved road that wound through the grassy foothills between the city and the citadel where the palace was located. White turrets and spires rose behind the towering citadel walls; every surface reflected the dazzling light of the noonday sun and nearly blinded any who tried for too long to gaze upon it. The enchanting build of the palace told of elven influence, a gift from the native wood elves.
The Lady Ambassador was the first of many guests to arrive for the upcoming festivities surrounding the wedding of the newly crowned King Markel, Lord of Zuri Jaun. She would eventually be joined by various dignitaries and persons of importance from the many intelligent races, their invitations being granted on either individual consideration or diplomatic insight. Though the King would not be marrying into another race, his union was of great interest to the other nations; thus far he had been a great and kind ally and had made recompense for any unanticipated wrongdoings, so the disposition of the second ruling entity was of great importance. As Queen, the woman’s influence could build or destroy relations between the various kingdoms.
~ ~ ~
King Markel threw open a large set of heavy oak doors and walked into the richly decorated chamber that served as a waiting room for any important persons who awaited an audience with him. The King sighed, glad to find the room empty; a quiet moment alone was a rare commodity and had been for a few years, ever since the title of King had been conferred upon him and with it, a multitude of responsibilities. The peaceful moment was disturbed as a shadow moved at the far side of the room. “Who is there?” A pale hand was lifted to remove the hood of a weatherworn cloak and a handsome elven face was brought to view in the dim light as the intruder stepped forward. “Eder?” Markel exclaimed joyously. “Where have you been, old friend?” A broad smile spread across his face as they embraced.
“It has been far too long,” the elf, Eder, said.
“I always knew the sea would lure you away,” the King pardoned.
“And steal my heart?” They walked through the single door and into the office chamber and Markel retrieved a bottle of old wine from behind a row of shelved books. “I hear I am not the only one to have had his heart stolen, though,” Eder teased.
“Yes, I meant to send for you, but no one seemed to know the direction in which you were headed.”
“No fear. An event such as this spreads fast as a mage’s fire and I felt entitled to invite myself.”
After that their conversation turned to years gone by, recalling simpler times when the two had plagued their now deceased parents with mischief and dreamed of leaving together to find adventure and great fortune. As the hours drifted on toward evening a servant boy interrupted their reminiscing, informing the King that he must prepare for the evening’s revelries.
“Wait, boy.” The servant turned back to his master, bowing his head and fretting over what he had done wrong. “Escort my,” the King chuckled at the description that followed, “shoddily clad guest to a good room—if there is still one to be found.”
The boy inwardly sighed as he bowed, saying, “Yes, Majesty."
~ ~ ~
A trumpet sounded two hours before sunset, announcing the banquet being held in honor of the Lady Lorea, soon-to-be bride of the King. The guests made their way into the enormous banquet Hall and were seated by serva
nts along the tables laid out on the floor, though those who were the King’s favorites, or whose stations required the courtesy, were seated at the high table on the dais. Eder found himself seated at the high table next to another childhood friend, a centaur called Argider, who had been named Captain of Zuri Jaun’s armies after the passing of the previous Captain.
Argider’s trumpeting voice broke through the clamor of conversing guests as he raised his wineglass to make a salute to his King. “Here we gather as friends and allies to honor the glad union of His Majesty, our King Markel, to the beautiful Lady Lorea of the race of men.” He paused for the guests to applaud their agreement of the Lady’s beauty. “To the Lord and Lady,” he exclaimed as the praised two entered the room, followed by their personal assistants. Argider raised his glass higher before bringing it back to his lips as the King and his fiancé walked triumphantly down the path toward the lighted dais. The gathered guests shouted the Captain’s last words with gusto and sipped their glasses of wine, but did not seat themselves until Markel and his Lady had done so.
As the centaur’s comment had suggested, Lorea was indeed beautiful, even in comparison to the elves and other fair-folk. She had the soft and pale complexion of someone who had spent many days indoors under the instruction of tutors, but her eyes held wisdom and her warm smile spoke of kindness. Her hair was golden brown and the braids that held the voluminous silken threads from her face were interwoven with white flowers.
Once all had been seated, a line of servants entered the room bearing silver platters filled with a variety of meats and aromatic dishes. Goblets of wine were refilled as the dishes were introduced with a flourish. Music soared sweetly into the room from the instruments of renowned minstrels and lent a temporarily calm tone to the mood which—as the wine poured freely into the deepening evening—became increasingly boisterous, as did the music.
After the meal the guests who had not drunk themselves to sleep were invited to join in dancing, or merely conversing with other guests if their level of inebriation inhibited brisk movement. During the festivities, Eder was introduced to Lorea and her father, an old man named Josu who could rightly claim no royal blood, but who was well known amongst the majority of scholarly circles. When his daughter was whisked away to make the acquaintance of some other important entity Josu stayed behind to further learn of Eder. It soon became apparent that the man had known the elf’s own father well before his death and after that the two easily found many things to speak of.
“Ah, Eder, I would like to introduce you to this lovely Lady,” Josu announced as a dark, entrancing, elf maiden approached. Eder bowed as he took the Lady’s hand and kissed it.
“You have traveled a long distance for this occasion,” he murmured.
“As have many others.” She gave a graceful wave across the room, offering the faces of foreign dignitaries and species of distant lands.
“My daughter and I lived amongst the dark elves for many years and Lorea was befriended by this enchanting beauty. She has now become the Ambassador between her people and your friend Markel.” Josu turned to the ambassador. “Lady Nahia, this young man is Eder, an honorable prince amongst the light elves.”
“You flatter me, Sir,” Eder protested.
“If she got to know you I believe she would find this to be true, and much more besides.” He winked at the Lady before turning and disappearing into the crowd.
“I take it you know the King well?”
“Yes. We practically grew up together.” Eder then began to recount memories from his childhood; the Lady became his delighted audience and he the enthusiastic storyteller.
~ ~ ~
During the time that the ambassador was in Zuri Jaun she and Eder became close and when the time came for her to leave he accompanied her and took the opportunity to meet the race that was akin to his own. While on the Southern continent the two fell in love and were married, after which they returned to Eder’s homeland, though Nahia did not at that time resign from her station as ambassador. When they reached Zuri Jaun on the return to Eder’s home, they found that Lorea was with child and it became obvious that she had been a great blessing to the human kingdom, for relations between them and the other peoples had grown stronger—if nothing else.
Shortly before the royal child was to be born, Queen Lorea fell sick and steadily grew weaker as the days wore on; her condition continued to worsen until the day the child came, at which point she was so weak that she could not move from her bed or even feed herself. Though the people prayed that the Lady would be well, it was rumored that one member of the royal family would be traded for another.
~ ~ ~
Eder stood next to his lifelong friend as they looked out over the battlements of Zuri Jaun’s castle. The sea before them was being tossed about by worried winds; it seemed as if even the elements kept bated breath as two lives hung in the balance. The elf had brought an entire council of wizards with him to ensure that Lorea’s soul would stay in her body if it were possible. The wizards’ presence had a calming effect on everyone, but the King could not help being racked with worry. His forehead was creased with lines and his lower lip was clamped between his teeth.
“Markel, she will be fine. Those are some of the finest mages my people have to offer.”
Markel sighed and looked into his friend’s steady gaze. “I know.” He turned back to gaze at the broken waves of the dark sea that could be spied through a low break in the land. “I cannot help but feel a deepening fear that something will go wrong. It is like nothing I have ever encountered before and it fills my heart with dread.”
All emotion left Eder’s face as he worriedly glanced at the tower where the birth was currently taking place. Never had he heard such fear in his friend’s voice, nor seen such terror in his eyes. He did not feel that he could reassure his friend again and merely placed a hand on his shoulder, clasping it tightly so Markel would not notice the shiver he felt rolling down his spine. They remained in that position, lapsing back into the silence they had kept for some time.
“My Lord,” a voice called across the courtyard and the two swung around to face the messenger. “Hurry.”
The King raced down the spiraling stone stairs, his friend not far behind him and they came to a stop before the smiling messenger. “You have a son,” the young man announced, and as a joyous smile spread across the King’s face, his fears were forgotten. “The Queen wishes to speak with you.”
Eder sighed in relief as they followed the servant up another flight of stairs and to the chamber where the Queen waited. Nahia joined Eder without the room, but Markel was ushered in to see his wife and newborn son. “How is she?” Eder queried.
“She is still very weak, but is pleased beyond words. The child is strong and healthy.”
“Good.”
Within the room Markel knelt at his wife’s side, grasping her hand and stroking his son’s plump cheek. “You did it,” was the first thing he said, tears of joy now falling unashamed down his face. “Oh, Lorea, I love you so much more than I could ever hope to express.” The woman smiled weakly and clasped his hand as tightly as she could.
A trembling gasp escaped the Queen’s lips as she whispered her husband’s name. “Love your son as a father should and make sure that he knows I love him, though I am not with him.”
“No. Lorea you must not say such things.” Markel’s face was again torn with worry as he grasped the woman’s hand with fervor.
“You have a great heart and the kindest soul I have ever known. Be strong for our son and do not change,” Lorea pled, the life visibly fading from her eyes.
Markel looked at the mages; a raw and blind look of terror filled his eyes. “Save her,” he hissed.
“I—I mean—our spells are having no effect,” the youngest elf stuttered, dropping a small vial as he jumped, startled by the King’s beastly stare.
The King turned back to his dying wife and pled for her to stay.
“I love you,” s
he whispered.
“You will not leave,” he shrieked.
“Marko. Name him Marko,” she whispered and closed her eyes, falling into a sleep from which she would never wake. Markel knelt there in silence, his lips curled into a snarl and the muscles along his jaw pulled tight. He buried his face on Lorea’s unmoving chest and shook as he was overcome with an anger he could not tame.
One of the healer women in the room gathered the child in her arms as he began to wail, as if he knew what had happened to his mother and what was happening to his father. Another of the healer women ushered the uncomfortable elves from the room and they gladly followed her bidding. After seeing the mages’ faces, the elven couple did not need to ask what had happened and Eder pulled Nahia close, comforting her as her tears began to fall. “She would not stay,” one of the mages said simply and Eder nodded once to let the elf know he had been heard.
“Thank you for your efforts. You may leave now.” The mages bowed and left down the stairs that the King had so eagerly climbed only minutes before. A horrendous yell—of anger, hate, and dark fury that had been twisted and bound together in the deepest forges of a human soul—was ripped from the King’s lungs. A moment later the heavy oak door was torn from its hinges and Markel threw it across the hallway where it shattered against the stone wall.
The wretched sight of the King struck fear in Eder’s heart and the awful strength that the man had just displayed worried him, for such a feat was unnatural for a human. Markel stumbled forward and collapsed on his knees, clasping his head as he leaned forward, moaning like some wretched creature from the Abyss. Nahia slipped around him and into the room where the shocked healer women were gathered protectively around the newborn Prince. The women were relieved to see someone else and handed the child to Nahia before racing from the room as if their lives depended on it, as they very well may have. The elf held the human child carefully as she walked to the bed where her friend lay lifeless.
