Daegan (The Age of Alandria: A Companion Novella)

by Wylie, Morgan

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Thank You

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Glossary

  What's Next

  About the Author

  DAEGAN (The Age of Alandria: A Companion Novella)

  Published by Red Cabin Publishing

  Nashville, TN

  Copyright © 2014 Morgan Wylie

  All rights reserved. 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 permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events; to real people, living or dead; or to real locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.

  E-book edition 2014

  DAEGAN edited by Christine LePorte

  Cover Art by Red Cabin Publishing

  Typography by The Bookish Brunette

  Symbol by Eden Crane Designs

  To the fans of The Age of Alandria series,

  And especially, to the fans of Daegan,

  This is for you. I hope you understand him a little better after this.

  Thank you for reading!

  A BIG shout out to all those who helped create with me to make this book all it could be!

  My husband and my daughter, for your continued support and patience with me. My husband, for believing in me, creating with me, inspiring me, and cooking for me (ok and the dishes too ;)

  The #LoveWriteCreate crew: Gaby and Kallie, your support, insight, creativity, and all around good times are irreplaceable.

  All my family, but especially my mom and my father-in-law for their “extra eyes” and insights along the way.

  My Beta readers on this project: Tina, Barbara, and Tiff... Thank You! You are part of my team, and I feel blessed to also call you friends.

  Christine LePorte, my editor, thank you for your huge part in this process!

  Ashley at The Bookish Brunette, for your extraordinary talent with fonts, you ROCK!

  Eden Crane Design for your work creating original symbols for this series that I now get to show off :)

  THANK YOU!!

  Prologue

  The Realm of Alandria ~ An Earlier Time

  The ground trembled beneath the carriage and a wide-eyed young boy looked to his mother.

  “What is it? What is that loud noise? It sounds like a storm is coming.” The boy of six clung to his mother’s arm, sitting as close as he possibly could next to her in the carriage. It carried them from where they were settled in the small area of Anise, located on the border of Adettlyn in the territory of Lumari, to an unknown destination.

  “Be still, son. Do not fear,” was all his father said from the opposite bench. His mother worried her fingers together. She was afraid; even in his young years he could sense it. Father continued to look out the window from one side of the carriage to the other. Something was about to happen.

  He still was unsure why he, his mother and father, and his grandmother had to quickly pack their things—not even everything they owned. “Just what is absolutely necessary,” his mother had spoken in a hushed panic. She had quickly rolled a blanket with some food from the little square of space they used for a kitchen. It wasn’t much of a dwelling, but it was home—it was all he knew, or at least all he remembered. His grandmother had told him one day that they had actually moved around quite a bit when he was younger, even when he was a small babe.

  Suddenly, his father cursed beneath his breath, then turned to look at the boy’s mother, grandmother, and finally at the boy. He spoke with quiet resolve: “They are here. It is time.”

  His mother, strong and brave in most things, took a deep breath, holding back the cry that attempted to rise out of her throat. She had been a warrior a long time ago. He knew she was brave, so for this to scare her so much brought an unsettling fear upon him that he had never known before. She grabbed his upper arms with both her hands and looked deep into his eyes to make sure he understood her. “Always know that we love you and will be with you when we are able.” His young mind couldn’t process what she was saying, but the meaning in her tone was definitely not something he wanted to understand. She swept the messy dark hair off his forehead and away from his eyes. She was always doing that, but he truthfully did not mind. This time, however, it felt heavy and final... like it might be the last time she did it.

  His gaze rested on the woman next to his mother, his grandmother who he knew to be quite old, but didn’t look that old to him—not like Arileas or Candor did. They were old looking and liked to tease him when he went to visit. His grandmother shifted toward him quickly with her deep soulful eyes, “You are strong. You will survive. But you will not remember much from your past.”

  With confusion distracting him, she leaned forward, muttering some quiet words, then touched him lightly on the forehead with her fingers and kissed him on the same spot. What she whispered was so quiet it was almost imperceptible, but with the boy’s sensitive hearing—even more so than his grandmother was aware—he was able to make out the word to which he knew no meaning: Tolthinüm. He felt strangely fuzzy for a brief moment; then it was gone.

  His father moved quickly to kneel in front of him, pulling the boy to his knees on the floor of the carriage with him. “Look into my eyes, son. I am proud of you always. Be the man I know is inside you. Be true to your heart. There is much darkness in Alandria right now, and it will get darker for you before the light returns. But remember always: it will return.”

  Even though unsure of all the meaning behind his father’s words, the boy stated forcefully, “I will remember, Father. I will help the light return. I am brave, and I will fight too!” Sticking his chest out, he beat it with his right hand fisted over his heart. He felt pride in his words as only the faith and belief of a child can create.

  His father placed the palm of his hand affectionately against the boy’s cheek. “I know you will.” His was the warm expression of a proud parent. Suddenly serious again, he instructed the young boy, “There are Alandrians coming for us. They are bad, and you must escape! For now you must run, but we have filled you with all the information you will need to know when the time is right.” He paused, looking up at his wife for a moment with sadness in his eyes. He grabbed the boy, hugging him tightly to his chest. “We cannot go with you. We will distract them. When the carriage stops, there will be a large grouping of foliage. You will jump out and hide there until they are all gone. You must remain hidden and quiet—no matter what you see or hear. Do you understand?” The boy nodded, reluctant and full of fear, but obedient nonetheless.

  “One last thing...” His father pulled off the treasured ring that he never removed from his hand. It was large, a man’s ring. His father had told him how his father had given it to him and that it was symbolic of their family. “I’m giving this to you. It is now yours
to keep safe. I must ask that you keep it under the glamour that has been placed on it. That is for another time.”

  The boy wore a chain around his neck with some silly trinkets that he had found, things that only he had found value in. His mother grabbed the chain, adding the ring to it, and replaced it around the boy’s neck.

  Everyone appeared to be calm, but the boy could see the shiny droplets of sweat beading on his father’s forehead and the vein in his mother’s neck beating extremely fast. He wished he understood what was going on.

  “It is time. Hurry, son. You must go... I am sorry this is how this has turned out. You will make a better Alandria.” His father spoke with unshed tears in his eyes as he hurried the young boy out the now open carriage door.

  “Wait!” his mother whispered on a choked sob. “I love you, my son. This is not goodbye forever.” She gave him a tight hug, then turned quickly away from him as tears began to stream down her cheeks.

  His grandmother simply nodded to him and gave him a little wink. He saw the bush and jumped out of the still moving carriage, landing with a roll that put him precisely under a thick section of shrubbery and small trees, enough to hide a small child.

  The carriage moved past him at a slow crawl. The thundering sound the boy had heard before grew louder and louder. Even the ground rumbled under his still form curled in on itself under a bush with tiny thorns he tried to avoid. Dodging the pricks kept the tears from forming and his mind off his parents leaving him behind.

  Closing in on his position was an envoy of steeds draped in colors of blue with the circular crest of the Ferrishyn proudly imprinted upon them. These were horses from Feraánmar. The boy was of the Ferrishyn line and knew he would one day be one of their warriors. His father had told him it was in his creation to be such. He awaited the day he would proudly bear the marking of a Ferrishyn just like his father. When he had asked his father why they weren’t living closer so he could train with the warriors, his father had simply told him that it wasn’t safe there at this time.

  He did not yet know why, but seeing the beings on the horses as they approached closer to the carriage, the boy sensed something very dark surrounding most of them. The horses they were on were very large with big eyes and long wavy manes and tails. Eyes of fire and the smoke coming out of their nostrils would cause the bravest of souls to be intimidated—except the boy knew them to actually be quite gentle. There were often horses in a stable near where they had been living. He would sneak into the stables and spend time in there with the beasts trying to get them to know him and be comfortable with him. The boy dreamed of riding them someday. Finally, the stable horses let him get close enough to pet them. Then he and his family had to leave.

  Just as the horses were passing him, he realized he couldn’t quite see who their riders were due to his angle on the ground and the fading light of day. Still, he watched unmoving as a couple of the riders drew alongside the carriage, causing the driver to steer off to the side and come to a complete stop. He spoke with the rider, who was most likely an Elf due to his pointy ears. It was only a brief moment before the rider strode back to the group.

  The boy wished he could hear what was being said. They were much too quiet. Among the riders, there were a couple Elves, one who looked quite young; however, their faces were all obscured. Then there were about three of what looked like Ferrishyn warriors along with another being who was very athletic, but the boy wasn’t sure what race he belonged to. There was also a rider completely and mysteriously covered by a cloak. He couldn’t see the face, but by the small form he wondered if it might possibly be a woman. The way the others surrounded “her” and looked to her, he’d say that she was in charge of this group.

  Two of the riders dismounted from their steeds, approaching the carriage door while drawing their weapons. Why would they draw weapons for Mother and Father? Panic stirred wildly in the boy’s chest. What can I do? I promised Father not to move. He had been taught loyalty and the code of honor of a true warrior very early on by his father. To his frustration, that honor through the voice of his father circled over and over in his head instructing him to stay where he was until it was safe to come out.

  He was ripped from his thoughts by the vision of his father stepping out of the carriage and his mother following shortly behind. His father stood proud and brave as the man confronted him. His mother stood close to him holding his hand, but she, too, looked confident as she shook her head in response to something the Ferrishyn was asking her. He was a strong man, built like a warrior, and wore tarnished golden arm braces, a breastplate, and short boots laced up over his brown linen pants. He also had a large broadsword strapped across his back. The boy closed his eyes, straining to hear what was being said, and to his surprise he started to make out some of their words.

  “No one has been sanctioned to leave this area. Where are you going?” the Ferrishyn asked.

  “We did not realize this road was off limits. My new bride and I were just out for a romantic ride from the village. Apologies, we will be headed back to the village then,” the boy’s father responded with a slightly inclined head in a submissive stance.

  The man stood poised with his legs braced apart and his hand lightly resting on the hilt of his sword, ready at a moment’s notice. A second man, an Elf, approached behind him with one hand holding the bow that was braced over a shoulder and the other hand free and ready to pull an arrow out of the covey across his back. Both men looked tense. What do they want? The horses behind them seemed agitated, stomping and snorting while they waited.

  “Is it just the two of you in the carriage?”

  Both nodded in confirmation. Where is Grandmother? The boy looked about, concerned.

  “I will need to search it,” the big, muscled Ferrishyn stated flatly as he walked past them and leaned into the carriage’s open door. Obviously, he found nothing else.

  His father spoke. “Why the extra patrols on these roads, sir?”

  The man looking at him with a curious gaze was just a little bigger than his father, both with similar builds of the Ferrishyn warriors, though his father was hiding his warrior attire under the glamour portraying him as a thin, younger Elf in traveling clothes. “Where have you been hiding? Do you not get the news where you dwell?” The man noticed that his father’s expression did not change. He went on, completely unaffected by what he was about to say, “The King, Queen, and Princess of Feraánmar have been slain in an uprising during the peace agreement.”

  There was a gasp from his mother, and his father’s expression went from quizzical to concerned.

  “But that’s not all. Oh, no, not all indeed. Prince Brandt and King Ryek of Adettlyn have gone missing and are both presumed dead as well.” He looked around as if concerned that someone might hear him then whispered, “We are trying to help restore the balance and police the areas while there is unrest. We’ve got new leadership set up in place to govern that territory until everything is settled.”

  “And Adettlyn?” his mother asked.

  “From what I’ve heard, there is a brother to the king who will be sitting upon that throne.” The big warrior had his arms crossed but picked his teeth with one of his hands. Deciding he was finished with questions, he moved past them to look in the carriage once more before bellowing back to the envoy of horse and riders. “It’s just the two of them. There’s no one else. I don’t think this is them.”

  Just Mother and Father? I do not understand. Where has Grandmother gone? The boy strained his eyes, looking for any sign of his grandmother.

  The cloaked warrior barely even acknowledged the Ferrishyn, but stared straight ahead with a deathly gaze, searching for something in the man and woman standing by their carriage waiting for permission to leave. “No, there is something hidden here. I can almost see it.” A woman’s voice.

  “Like a glamour?” The tall skinny man who must be a shifter spoke for the first time.

  The woman turned her intense gaze to him, conside
red his words, and ran her long red nail sensually across the man’s cheek. “Yes, exactly. A glamour... I can’t see what is beyond it, but I can almost see the residue of a magic constructed for a glamour.” Then she turned back with a knowing smile toward the man and woman.

  His mother turned her head to gaze directly into the eyes of the woman on the horse. There was a spark of arrogance in his mother’s eyes that told the woman to try something if she dared. The woman hidden beneath the cloak spoke to the Ferrishyn. “Find out where the whelp is.”

  The boy had to cover his mouth so he wouldn’t make a sound. She knows about me. How? He watched the man with the broad shoulders and the big muscles walk back to his parents, strength in his stride. Straining his ears, he heard him again. “Where’s the whelp?”

  Confusion clouded his parents’ faces. “We do not yet have offspring.”

  The man hollered back to his mistress, “They say they don’t have any young ones.”

  He knew his parents were trying to hide him, but still a pang shot through his chest at their denial of his existence.

  “Ask them again politely, Frent,” the woman said with deathly sweetness.

  “My lady believes you are...mistaken. I will ask you again. Where is your child?” His posture was tall and unyielding. His arms crossed over his chest and his stance was wide.

  “She is mistaken. We do not know what you or she is speaking of. We would like to be on our way now,” his father answered with apparent frustration.

  The big oaf of a man turned back to his lady and shook his head. The boy watched as the woman slid down from her horse—the only solid black one in the bunch—and began to walk slowly toward his parents. Upon reaching where they stood, she paused, looking them each over hungrily, causing uneasiness in her prey as was her intention. She cocked an eyebrow in their direction. “So I am mistaken, am I? No little one dependent upon you then?”

  “No, my lady.” His father tried to use the term that her men had used. “It is just the two of us. We would be happy to be out of your way and head back to our village...with your permission,” he added.