Elmetia (The Forgotten Kingdoms Book 1)

by Rachel James

  Elmetia

  The Forgotten Kingdoms # 1

  Rachel A. James

  Copyright © 2014, 2019 by Rachel A. James

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Originally published by Prism Book Group as The Forgotten Princess of Elmetia, 2014.

  This edition published by Rachel A. James as Elmetia, 2019.

  ISBN: 9781798949849 (Print)

  Cover photos: Julia Shepeleva/Shutterstock.com

  Published in the United Kingdom.

  www.rachelajames.com

  For the glory of God

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Chapter One

  2. Chapter Two

  3. Chapter Three

  4. Chapter Four

  5. Chapter Five

  6. Chapter Six

  7. Chapter Seven

  8. Chapter Eight

  9. Chapter Nine

  10. Chapter Ten

  11. Chapter Eleven

  12. Chapter Twelve

  13. Chapter Thirteen

  14. Chapter Fourteen

  15. Chapter Fifteen

  16. Chapter Sixteen

  17. Chapter Seventeen

  18. Chapter Eighteen

  19. Chapter Nineteen

  20. Chapter Twenty

  21. Chapter Twenty-One

  22. Chapter Twenty-Two

  23. Chapter Twenty-Three

  24. Chapter Twenty-Four

  25. Chapter Twenty-Five

  26. Chapter Twenty-Six

  About the Author

  Also by Rachel A. James

  The Land of Holmorra is divided by many kingdoms and there is unrest among the people. Shieldok warlords, known for their violence and tyranny, dominate the South, whilst the Wealdfolk occupy the North.

  However, the Kingdom of Dyrah, now led by the Shieldok King Eadward, seeks northern control. One by one, Wealdfolk kingdoms are falling, but King Cedric of Elmetia refuses to surrender…

  Prologue

  The Kingdom of Elmetia

  Teagen scrambled under the table as the first fire-drenched arrow shot through the sky. Within seconds, thatched rooftops blazed and smoke bellowed throughout the palace. Frantic screams replaced the joyful music playing moments before.

  “Princess,” Teagen’s nurse hissed from behind a wooden bench. “Are you injured?”

  “Nay.” She cast a wary glance as the battle unfolded before her. “What’s happening? Are they Shieldoks?”

  Her nurse stretched her arm over and stroked her hair. “Aye, Princess. Seem to be from Dyrah. Now stay put here while I find your brother.”

  Teagen flinched. “Don’t leave me, Esma, please—Niall will be with Papa. They’ll be safe.”

  Esma’s face paled. “I hope not, lassie. For your brother’s sake, I pray he’s not.”

  What could she mean? Was Papa in trouble?

  She jumped out from her hiding place. “Then I’ll come with you—”

  Esma pushed her down firmly. “Nay, ’tis not safe. Whatever you do, do not let them capture you, understand?”

  She nodded, dumbfounded as Esma disappeared.

  Grabbing the bottom of her long silk dress, she covered her face in an attempt to subdue the nausea that welled within. She wouldn’t look. She couldn’t. Where was Papa? She needed him right now, to hold her, and keep her safe.

  “Teagen.”

  A wave of relief washed over her. “Papa!” Teagen ran toward him, tears threatening her eyes.

  “Shhh, lassie.” Her father scooped her up and headed for the kitchen.

  He opened a small stone cupboard and placed her inside.

  “Stay in here, do you understand? Do not come out until your brother gets you.”

  “Please don’t leave me, Papa. Everyone keeps leaving me.” She tasted the salty tears that streamed her face.

  Her father stroked her cheek. “Oh, lassie, I love you so much. You know this, don’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “Now be a brave girl and stay put.”

  She gave her father a lingering hug and breathed in his comforting musky scent, averting her eyes from his bloodstained tunic. As he shut the cupboard door, the sound of the latch closing sent shivers through her body. The darkness did not mask the coldness of the damp stone walls, or the stale air which stifled her breathing. A sob lodged in her throat. I need to be brave for Papa.

  Muffled sounds from outside grew louder—the clash of iron on iron, the collapse of buildings, and cries for help.

  “King Cedric is dead!”

  Teagen stopped breathing. It could not be true.

  “And what of the rest of the family?”

  “Not yet found.”

  “We do not leave until they are dead. Burn everything, and gather the survivors—we’ll take them to the slave market.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, closing out the fuzzy sensation that threatened to overtake her.

  Please, God. Nay. There surely must be some mistake.

  Teagen could wait no longer. Despite her father’s strict instructions, she pushed open the door and fell on the kitchen floor. She gasped in a huge breath of air and scrambled to the doorway. Soldiers littered the outside, and in the centre stood the Dyrahn king—Eadward the Tyrant. Her stomach lurched as she saw the remains of her father’s body.

  Oh, Heavenly Father.

  She collapsed to the ground. If her father was dead, it meant her brother Niall would likely be too. She studied the hem of her fine tunic and caressed the intricate beading Esma had sewn on the day before.

  She stiffened. If they discovered her true identity as the king’s daughter, she, too, would be slain. She had to get out of these clothes. Her eyes rested on the dead bodies piled up outside the kitchen entrance and her heart broke as she spotted one of her friends lying on the ground. She kept low, reached out and pulled her friend further inside the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry, Hilda,” she whispered to the girl, “but I’m going to need your clothes. You won’t have use for them anymore.” She closed the girl’s eyelids, said a quick prayer, and removed the simple tunic and redressed her young friend in her own grand attire.

  She ran out of the kitchen and toward the oak tree at the top of the hill, knowing she would be seen. She perched under a sloping branch and gazed out—her entire world ablaze. Soldiers rummaged through the dead bodies looking for valuables to keep for themselves. Teagen covered her ears as cries penetrated the night. Curling herself into a ball, she cradled her arms around her knees and rocked herself back and forth, watching her kingdom fall. They were coming for her. It was simply a matter of time. To survive this night, her identity would have to be forgotten.

  Chapter One

  Eight Years Later

  Huntenham, The Kingdom of Dyrah

  Teagen shivered uncontrollably, although not because of the cold. The smell of musty, stale dampness conjured up myriad memories she tried to keep locked away.

  “Hilda? Are you down there?”

  Teagen fumbled in the darkness, grabbing hold of the shelf, and edged her body toward the entrance. “Aye, I’m in the wine cellar.” She shook her head with annoyance. Eight years as a slave in th
is household and she still was not used to her false name.

  “Landsakes, Princess. Do you have yourself a death wish?”

  Teagen shielded her eyes from the intensity of her friend’s lantern as she came closer. “Lily!”

  “Whsst. ’Tis nobody around to hear.”

  She let the matter drop. All of the captives from Elmetia knew her true identity, but it would take a mere slip of the tongue...

  “What are you doing in the dark, climbing these old shelves? Why, you might fall and break your neck.”

  “Her ladyship requested I fetch the best wine for tonight’s feast. Only she did not mention their location being in the farthest cellar possible.”

  Her friend dropped the lantern to the ground and gave her a hand down from the rickety ladder. “You didn’t think to bring a light?”

  Teagen shrugged. She would have, if she’d have known whereabouts she’d end up. Besides, she desired above all else to conquer her fear of dark, enclosed spaces. “What is it, Lily?”

  “Her ladyship wants you to prepare her bedchamber. She is fractious this night, I’ll be warning you. Do not do anything too untoward...you’ll not wish to be in her bad graces.”

  “Aye, it will be a trying eve, to be sure. Very well, Lily, I’ll get to it at once.”

  Thankful for the crisp breeze blowing as she stepped outside, Teagen headed for Lady Edrys’s chamber located on the west part of the estate. She glanced around the modest Dyrahn lands belonging to Lord Kenric and his wife. Almost a palace to them, but a prison to her nonetheless.

  She knocked on her lady’s chamber door and waited for a reply. Satisfied it was unoccupied, she proceeded into her master’s bedroom. How strange...the fire is lit...

  She pushed the thought aside, headed to Lady Edrys’s clothes chest and pulled out her best eventide dress. It would need some airing and a damp cloth to clean it a bit.

  A sudden crash to the ground sounded from behind her. Teagen spun around and gasped. “M’lord!”

  At first, she thought him dead, but as she leaned over the motionless body of her master, his breath irked her face. Aware of another person’s presence, she looked up. Standing above them was one of the slave girls, her tunic ripped at the shoulder.

  “Oh, Gwyn, did he force himself on you?”

  The girl’s left cheek appeared grazed, and her eyes bloodshot. “Aye, he tried. I was going to let him do it, only I...I...”

  Teagen ran to her side and coaxed her out of the chamber. “Run along and get cleaned up. You'll need to change your tunic. I’ll see to the master.”

  Gwyn nodded, but her gaze lingered over Lord Kenric. “You’ll not tell, will you?”

  “It’s not your fault, Gwyn. I could take the matter to her ladyship—”

  “Nay! Tell no one, please, I beg of you. He’d sooner be rid of me than risk shame upon his name.”

  Teagen chewed on her lip. Kenric needed to be confronted, but to go against the girl’s wishes...“Very well, you have my word. Now wheesht, get to it before he awakens.”

  At the sound of Kenric’s groaning, Gwyn scooted down the flight of steps.

  “Why, that little wench!” growled Kenric.

  Teagen took a deep breath and turned to face her intimidating master. The man was not one to stand up to.

  “She hit me,” he whined.

  Teagen picked up the damp cloth she had planned to use for Lady Edrys’s dress and wiped away the bloodstain from her master’s face. “I’m sure she had good reason, m’lord.”

  He grabbed her arm until it screamed with pain. “You defend her behaviour?”

  Tears threatened, but she held her gaze. “I do not advocate yours.”

  “Well, I am your master—you do not have to.”

  Teagen shuddered with fright as the chamber door banged open.

  “Hilda? What is the meaning of this?” Lady Edrys glanced from Kenric on the floor to Teagen’s bloodstained cloth.

  Kenric staggered to his feet. “I was readying myself to meet with Ryce, when I slipped and struck my face. Hilda happened upon me and offered her assistance.”

  “Ryce the Warrior? What about tonight’s feast?”

  “We won’t be long, merely some business to attend to. When you are done with Hilda, perchance you might send her down to help serve refreshment.”

  “Surely another slave is capable of such duties?”

  “I presumed they would all be busy with the feast preparations.”

  Lady Edrys fluttered her hand in the air. “Very well. Once she has finished with my hair though. None of the others can arrange it quite the same.”

  Teagen bit her lip and closed her eyes. It was going to be a long night.

  An hour later, Teagen locked the door to her mistress’s bedchamber and bolted down the wooden steps. It had taken longer than she had expected. Her ladyship acted whimsical tonight, as was her tendency on the eve of an important feast.

  Men’s low-toned voices echoed through Kenric’s quarters as she arrived at the small kitchen.

  She rarely ventured to this part of the estate, where most of her master’s business was conducted.

  “What do you mean you’re sending me out again?”

  She didn’t recognize the man’s voice, but there was no mistaking the anger. She carried several jugs of mead and hovered outside the entrance, unsure of whether to enter.

  “Ryce, King Eadward has requested you personally handle this.”

  “Nay. We agreed—I’m done. My fifteen years of service ended three months prior.”

  “One more mission. ’Tis all I bid.”

  Teagen knocked and entered Kenric’s quarters. Her master sat at his table, leaning on his elbows, his palms cupping his chin. Another man with shoulder length blonde hair sat opposite.

  Must be Ryce the Warrior—a person to be revered if the common talk proved true.

  Neither one acknowledged her presence as she poured them drinks.

  Ryce ran hands through his hair. “I never asked for this.”

  Kenric leaned back slowly in his chair. “’Tis hardly Eadward’s fault you were forced into the army at such a young age—he was still in exile at that time.”

  “Yet he chooses to hold me against my will? I’m no slave.”

  “One more mission, you have the king’s word.”

  Ryce sighed deeply. “So, what is of such import this time?”

  Kenric shifted forward. “The Elmetian prince has been spotted on the Isle of Lyndisea.”

  Teagen dropped her jug, its contents spilling noisily on the floor. What? She turned her back to the men, mopped the spillage with her apron, and frantically grabbed another to pour new drinks.

  “That’s preposterous.”

  “It is the honourable truth. We always suspected he survived, but until now he’s never been found.”

  Her heart beat painfully. Indeed, the gossip was true. She had to find him.

  “What are my orders?”

  “Eadward wants him dealt with quietly. If the Elmetians discover their prince is alive, it may cause a disturbance. You are to locate Niall and bring him to Cynehofa for execution.”

  Teagen let out a gasp. I must get out of here and fast.

  Her hand shook as she carried the clay goblets over to the men. Kenric glared at her. She hurried her duties.

  “What difference does it make to King Eadward if the prince indeed lives?” Ryce said.

  “Eadward fears Niall will wish to reclaim Elmetia.”

  “This doesn’t sound like a small mission.”

  “Get it done, Ryce, and you’re a free man. You have my word.”

  “I’ll need Sherwin.”

  “Agreed.”

  “And supplies?”

  “They’re being prepared for you as we speak.”

  “You want us to leave soon?”

  “Before first light.”

  Teagen ran outside and gazed into the dark sky. Niall is alive! She’d always known it. She’d heard the
rumours but hardly dared believe them. If Kenric’s words spoke the truth, then there was hope for her too. Could Elmetia rally once again?

  Goosebumps appeared on her arms. If she left now, she’d get a decent head start before Ryce departed. She looked at her simple slave’s tunic.

  She’d need a disguise though. Slaves had been known to be executed if caught fleeing from their masters. She’d have to dress as a lady. She glimpsed across the hall. The momentous feast had now begun, and Lady Edrys would no longer be in her bedchamber.

  It was a risk, but it had to be done. She peered over her shoulder. No one was about. Keeping to the shadows, she headed for her mistress’s room, shuddering at the earlier memory. Another reason to leave. Who knew what Kenric would do to her for standing up to him?

  She ran her finger along Lady Edrys’s finest tunics. Should she? It had been a terribly long time since she had worn material such as this. Nay. She settled for a simple day dress. She didn’t want to draw any attention to herself. The dress was a little longer than necessary, but she lacked time to re-hem it. It would have to do.

  Soon she had dressed and braided her long, ebony hair away from her face. She looked at the ornate dresser and spotted an exquisite dagger with intricate engravings embellished with garnet stones. Why did the object appear familiar? She picked up the weapon and caressed its carvings. Of course, it bore the Elmetia crest! It must have belonged to her mother. How did Lady Edrys come to possess it? Should she take it?

  She ignored the pangs of guilt for stealing such an expensive item and took it anyway.