The Undying Champions
Book One of The Eternal War
By Brennan C. Adams
brennancadams.com
© Brennan C. Adams.
All Rights Reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions, contact:
[email protected]
Cover Art by: Rachel Bostwick
ISBN: 9781521356364
This book contains strong language, graphic violence, and sexual innuendo. There is no explicit sexual content.
Acknowledgements
Dedicated to my spouse who put up with my months of distance and singular obsession. Thank you for your patience. I’ll try not to get quite as sucked into the next
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Interlude I: Hope
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Interlude II: The Experiment
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Interlude III: Despair
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Epilogue
Chapter One
The fight ended much more quickly than I’d expected. Maybe he was finally as weary of our pointless struggle as I was, but I doubted it. He enjoyed the game too much.
As he slumped over the fatal wound I’d inflicted, he laughed, blood mixed with saliva bubbling on his lips.
“Why do you keep doing this?” he asked manically, smiling that characteristically demented grin. “You know I’ll return given time.”
Why didn’t the sight of his face raise my ire anymore?
“As you should know that I’ll be here waiting to put you down,” I answered him dispassionately.
I twisted my sword and shoved him off with my boot. His crazed laughter faded into a death gurgle, the light vanishing from his eyes. With a sigh, I tossed my blade to the blood-soaked ground and advanced on the recently deceased tyrant’s massive throne.
Outside, the sounds of battle drew closer. When the commander of the rebel forces saw his overlord inexplicably dead on the stone floor, he would almost certainly claim the kill as his own. And that was fine by me. I settled comfortably into my age-old enemy’s latest seat of power and mimed raising a glass in toast to him.
“To the coming years of peace. May your return be long delayed.”
My head bumped against the cool metal of the chair, and I let my hand fall to the armrest. Inevitably, the backlash came. The flames engulfed me, and I barely contained my screams before my body collapsed into ashes.
The day began with such promise.
The sounds of sizzling meat and clinking dishes dragged Raimie from his dreams, and he yawned loudly before licking his lips in anticipation. Breakfast on the table before he’d woken? His father was certainly expending a lot of effort today.
He swung his legs over the bed’s edge and stretched. The sun’s rays struggled to pierce the gloominess of his room, and cringing with anticipation, Raimie peered out the narrow slit of his window to check the sky.
For as long as he could remember, the small farm Raimie knew as home had persisted under perpetually low-hanging, gray clouds that loved to dump rain on those who chose to live beneath them. Clear skies overhead came with such rarity that their occurrences numbered maybe once or twice a year, but perhaps today would be… yes!
Raimie silently cheered at the view of a gorgeous, cerulean expanse. Only a few white puffs of smoke marred that perfect blue. Food on the table and ideal weather? Maybe today wouldn’t be as horrid as he’d anticipated.
Raimie ruffled his hair into some semblance of order and hastily donned his musty clothes from the day before. The new breeches hung loosely from his hips and dragged along the floor, but Raimie didn’t mind. He’d have room to grow. His threadbare tunic itched against his chest, and he cinched it tight with a short, fraying rope.
The door to the kitchen loomed before him, and he silently breathed his daily prayer.
No mistakes today. I will be perfect and perform exactly as expected. The façade will NOT be broken.
He remembered to apply a smile before yanking the door open.
The smell of cooking meat rose beckoningly to his nose, and Raimie paused to breathe it in. A stout man with cropped, drab hair turned frying bacon and potatoes over the flame of the modest kitchen’s wood burning stove. Looking over his shoulder, Raimie’s father grinned, a twinkle in his muddy, brown eyes, and beckoned his son forward with a fork.
“I was wondering when the racket would wake you. It took longer than I thought!”
Raimie hurried to snatch the utensil from his father.
“If you don’t pay attention to the food, you’re going to burn it again.”
He flipped the bacon, satisfied that the strips were only just beginning to brown. His father opened his mouth to retort, but must have decided to hold his tongue as he shook his head and wandered to the table.
“So,” he began instead, “how are we celebrating your birthday, son? We could go to the falls for a swim since we’ve been blessed with such wonderful weather.”
“Spring only just arrived, dad. I doubt the water’s warmed enough for a dip. Besides, I wanted to start on that sheep pen we’ve been planning, and after that, a hike to the road might be in order. Maybe a merchant will pass through our deserted section of the forest today. Alouin knows we need the supplies,” Raimie replied as he transferred the bacon and fried potatoes to a clean plate.
He let the stove fire die behind him.
“I appreciate the effort, dad, but this is wasteful,” he gestured at the plate of food as he sat. “Today isn’t that special. You should’ve saved the last of the meat for your birthday or for when Eledis adds another year to his growing repertoire.”
He shoveled a forkful of smoky goodness into his mouth. His tongue rejoiced at the saltiness of the bacon, reveling in the taste of a delicacy often dreamt of but rarely consumed.
“I wish your grandfather had never asked you to address him by first name,” Raimie’s father muttered under his breath, choosing to ignore his son’s protestations.
Never looking away from breakfast, Raimie took another bite.
I wish you’d listen to me! he loudly cried in his head. Please, would you argue with me for once?
“I’m sorry that it makes you uncomfortable,” he said instead.
“It’s not natural.”
The bacon which Raimie had found so flavorful scant moments before now tasted like chalk. He swallowed another glob of chewed nutrients with dif
ficulty. After an awkward eternity, his father broke the silence.
“Fine. Treat your eighteenth like any other day if you want. Complete your self-imposed chores and waste this beautiful day that Alouin has given us, but if you insist on pretending this is an ordinary day, then I’m adding another task to your list.
“We’ve nearly eaten through the fall harvest. I need you to check the root cellar and find out what we have left. You know I have trouble seeing in that dark cave even with the aid of a lamp.”
Raimie carefully lowered his fork to his scraped clean plate. Did he open up and share his frustration or bury the ‘inappropriate’ behavior again?
No, if mother had taught him anything, it was how to be the perfect son. His feelings had no bearing on maintaining the façade.
“I’m sure I can handle that,” he teased.
His father relaxed and allowed the smile to infect his own face, and relief blossomed in Raimie’s breast. Smile, laugh, and pretend like you care. Wear a mask to hide your uncertainty, discomfort, and bewilderment, whatever it takes to make those you love happy. These were lessons he’d learned well, his mantra that played constantly in the background of his mind.
Once the obligatory morning ritual was complete, the day progressed without fanfare, much as Raimie had wished. He worked up a sweat with the shining sun’s rays caressing his back, digging holes for the initial fence posts of the new sheep pen. The mindless plunge, lift, and dump of dirt kept him from dwelling too heavily on his birthday and how rapidly time passed, but even with those distractions, the thoughts crept in when he least expected them.
Nine years ago today, life changed irrevocably. Nine years ago today, the event that had strained his family to the breaking point had played out.
Raimie stabbed the ground and fiercely tore through the earth’s resistance. Today was just another day. There was nothing special about it, no matter what the others thought, and soon enough it’d be blessedly over.
Around midday, he stopped for a quick lunch of potatoes left over from breakfast before lofting the shovel once more. It was only after six more holes had been excavated from the unwilling earth that he abandoned his tool and eagerly trekked away from the farm.
After a ten-minute hike, he collapsed into the grass on the roadside, listening intently for the creak of wagon wheels that would signal a merchant’s arrival.
The peace and quiet of the forest were a balm to his near constantly racing thoughts. If he closed his eyes, he could drift in the hazy mind space between wake and sleep, time passing him by unhindered. This was his small gift to himself: a break from the pressures of life.
His only regret was that he hadn’t stopped to borrow a book from his grandfather before coming to the road. He doubted that anything new had magically appeared in Eledis’ collection, but re-reading one of the classics would’ve made a nice distraction even still.
When the sun grazed the tree line, Raimie resigned to the fact that no merchant was coming up the road that day. The worry of feeding the family would have to be saved for tomorrow.
Halfway home, he belatedly remembered his father’s request. He was certain that the cellar hadn’t produced food magically overnight, but there was no harm in completing the assigned task.
He changed his trajectory and before long, stood over the hole leading to the root cellar. Lifting the creaking hatch, he dropped inside, leaving the doors open behind him.
Raimie surveyed the cold cave. It was almost completely barren. A few strips of dried meat hung from one of the floorboard supports of the kitchen above, and barrels of fresh water rested along the edges of the dugout, but that was all there was to see. Raimie rolled his eyes and snatched some strips of meat from the ceiling for dinner, fully prepared to leave, when he noticed a glint shining off of something hidden behind the last water barrel in the far corner.
A ball of metal engraved with words in a foreign language peeked from a brown hemp cloth that had been buried shallowly under last fall’s harvest. The curiosity ate Raimie up inside, and despite a small part of his brain screaming danger, he squatted to take the bizarre ball into his hand. It resisted his effort, stuck to something more buried with the cloth, and he tugged, hoping to force it out.
After two or three good pulls, the buried item burst from the dirt, sending Raimie tumbling backward. He narrowly avoided chopping his face in half with the impressive sword he’d unearthed. Taking voluminous gasps, Raimie carefully rolled over and laid the sword far away before scrambling to his feet.
It was dim in the root cellar, the only light shining through the narrow cracks between the floorboards above, but even with the poor illumination, Raimie knew that this weapon he’d discovered was no ordinary foot soldier’s sword. The pommel and hilt were composed of precious metal, and besides the obvious engravings running all over it, two small rubies inset either end of the cross guard. On top of its material value, the sword had been light in his hand, but it didn’t seem like the type of blade that would snap when blocking another weapon’s swing.
Raimie circled his find, observing it from every angle in an attempt to determine where it could have come from. As far as he was aware, his family had never participated in any armed conflict. The farm they called home supposedly belonged to a distant lord, but Raimie had never seen the man, only ever his tax collector, and very rarely had he encountered soldiers. Beyond that, Ada’ir had enjoyed peace for over a century, despite the occasional obligatory rebellion against its Queen. He’d heard rumors when in town of a far distant land in the midst of a vast uprising against an overlord who was demonized as a harsh oppressor, but that conflict was far removed and couldn’t have any impact on the lives of a small farming family in a nowhere, back end corner of a small kingdom like Ada’ir.
If the sword wasn’t a long-forgotten family heirloom tossed aside long ago, it could’ve been stolen, but Raimie discarded that idea almost as quickly as it crossed his thoughts. His family would never do such a thing. Eledis was way too obsessed with staying beneath other’s notice, and his father wouldn’t have anything to do with an act that would violate the tenants of his faith.
If it wasn’t stolen property or an heirloom, Raimie could only come to one conclusion. The sword was a birthday present.
A brief surge of outrage and indignation washed over him. He didn’t understand why, after nine years, his family insisted on changing the rules. This day, out of all the days of the year, was supposed to be ignored. It was an open sore, a well of horrible memories that lurked like a monster under the surface. Any acknowledgment was a painful jab to the wound, an excuse for pain and self-hate to lash out.
After all, nine years ago today, Raimie’s mother had died. And he’d caused it.
With lips pressed into a thin line, Raimie wrapped the sword back in burlap and brushed a fine layer of dirt over it. Marking its concealed location in his mind, he climbed the ladder to the surface and slammed the hatch closed.
“I checked the cellar, dad, and you’re right. There’s hardly any food left, maybe enough to last a few more days,” he said as he entered the kitchen, “but I grabbed some of what’s left for dinner tonig-”
Raimie froze in his tracks. Both Eledis and his father sat around the table, a large slab of cooked roast adorning the space between them.
“I think my meal plans are better,” his grandfather remarked without a fleck of irony.
“Where on earth did you get that?” Raimie demanded.
“I went hunting, of course! You know, that skill we’ll have to rely on in the coming weeks? I don’t know how you two have forgotten it,” Eledis puffed his chest out proudly.
“Yes, Eledis, you’re brilliant,” Raimie praised. “Much smarter than the rest of your family combined.”
He’d tried to strip his words of sarcasm but must not have been entirely successful because Eledis deflated.
“Just because I’m older than the two of you doesn’t mean I’m useless,” he pouted. “Besides, it�
��s your birthday. I thought I’d do something nice for you.”
Raimie’s hands curled.
“Both of you know how I feel about today.”
Eledis rolled his eyes, about to reply, but at the last minute, Raimie’s father interrupted.
“Sit down, son,” he commanded.
Raimie dragged his feet, but he did as he was told.
“Look, we understand that you want to ignore your birthday, that it prompts exceptionally unpleasant memories. I get it. I miss your mother too. But you must understand that celebrating a birthday isn’t solely for you. It’s also a way for those who love you to honor another year of your life. Please don’t deny us the chance to be happy for you.”
“At the very least you could enjoy this meal your father and I slaved over for the last few hours,” Eledis complained.
Raimie awkwardly smiled down at his hands lying flat on the table. How could he refuse now?
“I suppose we shouldn’t let all of this food go to waste but no more surprises, please! No gifts or anything else.”
“But I had a nice, new book for you…” Eledis teased, waggling his eyebrows.
“No,” Raimie asserted. “No gifts. You have to promise.”
The older men exchanged uncertain glances. His father shrugged, and they both nodded solemnly. Satisfied, Raimie reached for the closest plate.
“Thank you.”
The meal commenced without another word spent on the birthday. The family ravenously dug into the roast, savoring every perfectly cooked bite. They spoke of their day and what they’d done with it. Jokes were relayed, quips exchanged, and laughter bounced in the air. Eventually, only bones remained, and Raimie prepared to gather empty plates.
“Sit down!” Eledis exclaimed. “I’ll take care of this tonight.”
Raimie halted halfway out of his chair, hand extended for a dish. He shrugged and plopped back down.
“If you’re so eager to take the work off of my hands, feel free. It’ll give me a chance to speak to dad.”
The Undying Champions (The Eternal War Book 1) Page 1
