by K. C. Julius
Contents
Acknowledgments
Book I: Portents of Chaos
The Main Characters
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
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Epilogue
Book II: A Realm at Stake
Character List
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
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Epilogue
Book III: Bindings of Peril
The Main Characters
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
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
Book IV: The Wings of Dread
Main Characters
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
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Epilogue
Afterword
Please spread the word!
The Drinnglennin Chronicles
by K. C. Julius
The Drinnglennin Chronicles series is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incident are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2021 by K.C. Julius — Frenchaven Press
All rights reserved.
ISBN
E-book: 978-3-948458-12-6
Cover Art by Gwen Shackleton and Kevin G. Summers
Map © Kevin Sheehan and K.C. Julius
Formatted by Kevin G. Summers
Acknowledgments
The process of creating this book series was a dedicated team effort. I’d like to ac- knowledge the following people (and one hound) for their significant contributions to The Drinnglennin Chronicles:
My beta readers:
Simone Lorentzen, whose enthusiasm for the first draft of Portents spurred me on. Charles Mercer, Selma Kennedy, Janine Hedges, Matt Metcalf, Jane MacPhail, Antonio Rogers, my sisters—Janna and Blaire French—and my brother, Waman French, all of whom encouraged me with their honest feedback.
I offer a special bow of gratitude to my alpha-betas, Liz Smillie and Neil Bantleman, who dedicated countless hours to reading and thoughtfully responding to the manuscripts.
Other friends and family whose support has been heartfelt and ongoing—notably Erin Wolfe, Anneline Klingsma, Greg Johnson, Dörte and Tom Luedecke.
My editors:
Betsy Mitchell, who brought to bear her professional experience from 35 years in the New York publishing world on the work, including pointing out opportunities I’d missed to enrich and enliven the story. www.bet- symitchelleditorial.com
David Gatewood, aka “editor to the stars of indie p
ublishing,” whose sharply observant criticism and unerring eye significantly improved the book and far exceeded the mandate of copy/line editing. A talented writer himself, David offered many well-crafted and insightful sugges-tions to keep the storyline both tight and credible. www.lonetrout.com
I feel very fortunate Betsy and David were with me on this shared journey to see The Drinnglennin Chronicles to its closing line. A huge “thank you” to both of them for their considerable contributions, and for generally cheering me on.
My artists, designers, and more:
Gwen Shackleton, talented artist and lovely friend, whose stunning designs graces the covers of these books.
Kevin Sheehan, the amazing cartographer who translated my scrawled vision of Drinnglennin and the Known World into the marvelous maps found within. www.manuscriptmaps.com
Martina Walther, my extremely patient website designer, who guided me through the trickier technology and helped me create an attractive, easy-to-navigate site for my readers at kcjulius.com [email protected]
Kevin Summers, for his detailed, exquisite formatting and his contributions to the cover design of this omnibus series. www.kevingsummers.com/book-formatting/
Bear, my constant companion and daemon/dog-familiar, without whom I wouldn’t have taken so many walks to keep the creative juices flowing.
All my readers, for sharing in the adventures of Leif, Morgan, Maura, Halla, Whit, and Borne. I’m honored that so many of you connected with these characters and all the others who inhabit the Known World.
Uwe Luedecke, my husband and my best friend, for his steadfast belief in this project every page of the way and for keeping me anchored whenever I felt adrift.
And finally my son, Will Julius, my true north—beta-reader extraordinaire, painstaking content/copy/line editor, artistic advisor, and by far my toughest critic—merits my deepest gratitude. If The Drinnglennin Chronicles serves to delight readers, he can take a goodly share of the credit.
Book I:
Portents of Chaos
by K. C. Julius
Dedicated to my beloved Uwe,
who believed from the very first line
The Main Characters
The Royal House
Urlion Konigur—High King of Drinnglennin
Storn Konigur—younger brother of Urlion (deceased)
Asmara Konigur—cloistered sister of Urlion & Storn
The Tribus (counselors to the High King)
Selka—a sorceress from Langmerdor, present High Elderess
Audric—a wizard, and Morgan’s former mentor
Celaidra—an elven princess of Mithralyn, cousin to the elven king Elvinor
The Northerners
Avis Landril—grandmother of Leif
Leif—grandson of Avis and the late Pren Landril, son of Lira Landril (deceased), apprentice to Master Morgan
Morgan—reclusive wizard of Valeland
Cormac Trok—merchant farmer
Daera—his wife
Maura—their daughter
Dal—younger brother of Maura
Sir Heptorious du Bois—Earl of Windend
Cole du Bois—Heptorious’s son and heir
Borne Braxton—Heptorious’s ward
Maisie—mistress of Port Taygh
Horace—Maisie’s husband, master of Port Taygh
The Midlanders
Lady Inis of Lorendale—widow of Lord Valen, sister of Rhea, cousin of Urlion
Halla—eldest child and only daughter of the late Lord Valen and Lady Inis
Nolan—Lord of Lorendale, son of Lady Inis and Lord Valen
Gray—second son of Lord Valen and Lady Inis
Pearce—youngest son of Lord Valen and Lady Inis
Lord Jaxe—former Lord of Cardenstowe (deceased)
Lady Rhea—Lord Jaxe’s widow, sister of Inis, cousin of Urlion
Whit—Lord of Cardenstowe, only child of Lord Jaxe and Lady Rhea
Cortenus—Whit’s tutor from Karan-Rhad
Wren—one of Whit’s young vassals
Princess Grindasa—matriarch of the Nelvor clan, widow of Lord Nandor Nelvor
Roth—bastard son of Grindasa
The å Livåri
Bria—Halla’s friend
Florian—Bria’s brother
Nicu—informant for Master Morgan
The Elves of Mithralyn
Elvinor Celvarin—the elven king
Ystira—the elven queen
Aenissa—Elvinor’s niece and heir
The Dragons
Ilyria—bronze
Rhiandra—blue
Isolde—silver
Gryffyn—gray
Emlyn—forest green
Aed—red
Syrene—gold
Una—sea green
Menlo—indigo
Ciann—white
Zal—black
Prologue
Smoke.
Bolting upright from his makeshift pallet, the master drew a sharp breath, the faintly acrid air filling his lungs. Then he was on his feet and running, plunging down the spiraling stairs of the tower where he’d hidden himself, all the while praying no one had yet raised the alarm.
The dense silence encouraged him. It was dark as tar—after Vigils—and dawn wouldn’t break for hours. The torches lining the deserted corridors had sputtered out, and the sightless portraits of Drinnkastel’s former royal occupants were hooded in shadow. All the castle slept.
When he reached the north wing, his worst fears were confirmed: the Alithineum was afire. How could this be happening, on the very night he’d planned to spirit the Chronicles away? On the morrow, the book was due to be opened, as it was once every fifty years, to reveal a new prophecy. He had intended for that prophecy to be for his eyes alone.
It might not be too late.
But as he barreled toward the great library, his heart sank. Thick grey smoke curled from under the high brass doors, and even from here he could feel the ravenous heat being held at bay behind the gleaming portal. He raised his staff and bellowed at the fire, commanding it in the oldest of tongues to retreat.
A cold dread crept over him as the fire not only resisted, but roared its rebuff to his assault. He summoned all the power at his command and hurled it at the fire within once more.
Gwarth anfeldyl! Drwy olwen gorweddwich allyn marwyl!
A deafening wuff resounded from behind the archive’s doors, and in the sudden silence, he could hear the tick and groan of the metal cooling. At a word, the doors swung open.
He was dully aware of shouts and the sound of pounding footsteps, but he did not heed them, nor did he cast more than a glance at the charred remnants of a thousand times a thousand precious books. He made straight for the ruins of the pedestal, under whose domed crystal the Chronicles was housed.
Only a silver puddle on the blackened oak marked the place where the tome had rested.
With a hiss, he cast his shadow forward and wrapped himself within its concealing cloak. His fury drove him out of the Alithineum and past the first arrival at the scene of devastation.
When he saw who it was, a grim smile curved his lips.
Perhaps all was not lost, after all.
Chapter 1
Leif
Even before the door closed behind him, Leif regretted leaving Master Morgan’s blazing hearth. Still, despite the gusting wind, he paused to trace the runes etched in the stone lintel over the cottage door.
The sharpest weapon is a finely honed mind.
Leif had once asked the wizard whether he really believed that, to which Master Morgan made his usual response, peering at him from under his bushy grey brows.
“Do you?”
Leif wasn’t sure, so he busied himself with the jumble of b
eakers and pots stacked beside the sink. He knew the wizard didn’t mean to make him feel foolish, but in the old man’s presence Leif was glaringly aware of his own ignorance.
At least he could now read these runes himself; learning to decode such ancient symbols took up the bulk of the time he spent with Master Morgan. Otherwise, he tidied up after the wizard and listened avidly to his stories of the Before, the magical era that had come to a close five centuries ago.
As he hurried down the track toward the gorge, Leif kept his eyes on the patches of pale sunlight that lingered ahead. The tantalizing scent of the warm meat pie the wizard had tucked into his pocket made his stomach rumble, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He resisted its temptation by imagining the look of delight on his gran’s wrinkled face when he presented the pasty to her.
Shadows from the gathering clouds darkened the path as he approached the bridge, the towering pines beyond it swaying and whispering in the fading light. Leif hunched his shoulders against the blustering wind and gripped the ropes that served as handholds. Only when he’d run across the wooden slats and was safely under the shelter of the trees did he release the breath he’d been holding. Master Morgan had repeatedly assured him the bridge was sound, but its swaying and creaking always alarmed him, even though the gorge had filled up over the years with forest debris and was now little more than a deep ravine.
The sun slipped below the mountain’s rise, and he quickened his pace. It was the shortest day of the year, and the light was dying swiftly. The forest path offered him some shelter from the wind, but little comfort—the lingering leaves hung brown and shriveled from spindly branches, and the maples that had blazed red well into late autumn now scratched starkly at the sky.
He marched doggedly along, the duff crunching underfoot, reciting the latest riddle the wizard had given him to work out on his way home.
“Under fire, newly born
Babe at evening, old at morn
Measured hours mark its end
Wind a foe, night a bend.”
“No, not a bend, a friend!” he muttered irritably, for he sometimes had trouble recalling the simplest things.
Before he’d started at the village school, he’d harbored a secret desire to accomplish something extraordinary in life. But from his first day in the dingy classroom, he’d struggled to sit and listen to the droning lessons—and at the end of his first week, Master Warren pronounced him the poorest student he’d ever taught. After that humiliation, Leif had refused to go back, and his grandparents had taken over his education. He stayed close to home, avoiding the other village children, relieved to escape their taunts and the schoolmaster’s cruel disdain.
