Maiden's Saber

by Marion Faith St. James

  The Maiden’s Saber

  Marion Faith St. James

  Published by:

  The Pulliam Chronicles

  Copyright © 2011 by Marion Faith St. James

  &

  The Pulliam Chronicles

  Dedicated to Susan – her essence and beauty is the perfect model for The Maiden Amari

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events is purely coincidental. The characters are creations of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Thank you for purchasing this Book. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed living and writing it.

  Forward by Jack M. Pulliam Jr.

  Author of the Bloodoath Series and Ides of Eternity

  Marion Faith St. James’ compassion extends far beyond the pages of her fantasy novels. Her wonderful gift of weaving a story draws in the reader to feel the unseen magic all about us. One cannot separate the name of St. James from the mystic enchantments that surround us as the two are intertwined in life’s mystery.

  She wrote her first book, “Darkness from The Well,” over two-decades ago. I held the honor of editing a delightful crafted tale.

  Marion hails from a rural Illinois countryside. Her age is a mystery like some of her writings. Ever since she could hold a pencil, she loved to create fantastic worlds where good triumphed over evil—most of the time. There were periods evil gained the upper hand, but not for too long.

  Her favorite author, Andre’ Norton, swept Marion into worlds far greater than the ones she could visualize. This challenged Marion to refine the constructs of her written word; to improve; to grow outside of herself.

  Miss St. James learned early, one does not need to be a geek to like dragons, magic and the long-ago language of the mystical worlds she created. Marion once told me, she had a special place in her musty dry attic where she would retreat in times of intense writing.

  The room at the top of her house built in the eighteen hundreds is filled with century-old books and manuscripts. She will spend hours dreaming and writing. For her, this quiet place in time and space to write is hers alone. It is where she can breathe in the past, and feel as though the ancient words would seep out from the pages of the books and into her soul.

  This fantasy adventure, The Maiden’s Saber centers around three improbable companions. There is Gareth, a rather roughish mountain of a man who once roamed the seas as a sailor. He joined with Natsha, a daughter of the Thieves Guild. Together they formed an unlikely partnership that went about the land of Aventine cutting purse strings and emptying the odd monuments of its treasures.

  Through misfortune or destiny, Gareth awakens the Maiden Amari Djinn, who in turn saves them from the hands of the king’s soldiers. Amari was put in the half sleep of death fifty-years past, by the Blood Druids of Imals. She vows to recover those portions or her memory which has been lost through time. Wielding Katana, one of the legendary magic swords, Amari binds herself to Gareth and Natsha; together they roam the land fighting those who use the dark magic to rule over the innocents.

  They are forced to take sanctuary in the Dragon’s Grave. Trying to escape Amari’s evil sister. Wandering the endless catacombs, they discover another of the fabled magic sabers that only fits Gareth’s mighty hand. Three additional magic swords have appeared in Amari’s visions. Together, these swords will complete the fabled Kcaj Pentadiene. The adventurous search takes the trio into violent lands and confrontations with evils bent to destroy them.

  In their quest, they must evade Amari’s evil sister, leagues of invading armies, treachery; join with new friends, and confront good and dark magic from some unlikely sources.

  There is magic, dragons, Druids and vast realms to explore in this story. Hold fast to something. Ms. St James will pull the reader into the pages and make them a part of the adventure, whether they want to be or not!

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedicated

  Thank you

  Forward

  Chapter 1 – The Lands of Aventine

  Chapter 2 - The Dreamed Treasure

  Chapter 3 - The Dragon's Grave

  Chapter 4 - The Hidden Legend

  Chapter 5 - The Devine Intruder

  Chapter 6 - The Flowers of Fire

  Chapter 7 - The Treasure of the Dungeon

  Chapter 8 – The Maiden’s Saber Re

  Chapter 9 – The Beast’s Sword

  Chapter 10 – The Ring of Labyrinth

  Chapter 11 – The Mistress of Warriors

  Chapter 12 – The Apprentices of Shade

  Chapter 13 – The Goddess’ Omen

  Chapter 14 – The Third City

  Chapter 15 – A Leaf on the Wind

  Chapter 16 – The Greek Amulet

  Chapter 17 – What lies below

  Chapter 18 – The Message of Fire

  Chapter 19 – The Kcaj Reunited

  Chapter 20 – The Frightening Sorcerers

  Chapter 21 – Beyond the Fire Woods

  Chapter 22 – The Lost Legend of Aventine

  Chapter 23 - The Black Wars

  Chapter 24 – The Kingdom of Moons

  Chapter 1 – The Lands of Aventine

  After decades of living under oppressive kings and the Druids, the people of the three realms within the Aventine lands had all but given up on there ever seeing peace, and escape from their lives of servitude. It did not matter who was in authority. With each new evil master…brought their own style of oppression with them.

  A few stout hearted men and women rose up against those tyrants, but if they did not die in outright battles being overwhelmed by sheer numbers, then those poor souls would disappear during the night.

  If one gave thought that perhaps man swept away those rebels, then the telltale signs left would have spoken of battle and blood. If it were the Druids or their followers, no sign or spoor was left to tell the deed. It is said; magic wooed those rebels to serve the dark ones and their even darker magic. The unlucky captives served as ransom to the Druids host of unholy gods. The Druids believed that if a life of a man was given in sacrifice, the attention of their immortal gods will favor them.

  With unrest and fear—heroes are born. Cast from the flames of battle and treachery the Maidens of the Djinn were born. Two pure daughters, Amari and Urel thrust into this world, destined as defenders and warriors. They were the pride of a witch mother and a true Knight from the land beyond the Narthex Mountains. They quickly grew to womanhood and well versed in the arts of spells and high magic.

  Together and acting as one in battle, they fought against all manner of darkness and mortals. Each held a sword forged in the light of the fabled red moon that shone only once according to the writings of man. Behind the myth was the notion that the Goddess Aurelia had a hand in the creation of these enchanted sabers.

  Each sword chose its master and would serve no other. The sisters would travel through villages and hamlets, fighting oppressors and using their healing magic on the infirm. Their white magic spells brought a bountiful harvest to the land. No one dared to confront them or the people they protected.

  The power was too great for the one call Urel to control. Her weakness of spirit turned to greed; hungry for still more power. She went from serving the light of the world to a servant of darkness and evil. Abandoning the Djinn name of her kin, she chose Irgini, which in the language of the Druids means Sister of Death. She served the Blood Druids and became their High Priestess. Her power became mighty. However, no matter how powerful she became…her magic was limited and weak in comparison to what Amari wielded.

  Amari held Katana, the Fifth Sword of The Kcaj Pentadiene and master of the other four sabers. Three other
Red Moon Swords lay hidden or lost in time. The hands who wielded those mighty blades are dust now, their heroic tales all but forgotten, except by the very old.

  The blades still exist as no power in this or any other realm can destroy the charmed metal. Legend has it that any two of the Kcaj Pentadiene together can point to the other three. As each sword joins the circle, the power is magnified with the others. Those that stand as one to fight with any of these blades in their grasp cannot be defeated by mere men. Even magic can be thwarted and turned on those that cast spells. The third sword deemed Pyrestorm can call upon fire. That sword swings on the belt of Urel.

  Alas, Amari and her band of righteous warriors are gone now. A great battle in the Fire Woods of Aventine was the last crusade anyone ever saw or heard of the Witch Maiden. Some say she killed hundreds of Druids during two full days of fighting. A lone fighter escaped to carry the tale that the Druids were defeated and the Maiden Amari fell in combat. She was never seen again. It has been over two-thousand sun rises since that great battle.

  It was around that time the same end claimed the pixies, trolls, hobgoblins and other mythical creatures. Even the dragons thought to exist ages ago were not spared from an early grave.

  Partly obscured by the presence of a layer of unmoving clouds, the Land of Aventine is surrounded by tall mountains on all sides. The naming of Aventine, the settling and origin is a mystery lost in time. It has been eons since the full light of the sun has touched this land. The cliffs and peaks are unclimbable from both without and within the long-dead volcano. The center of what is left now holds the secluded and fertile lands and the three kingdoms of Erydda, Oniarith, and Ocayjan. At a tenuous peace with each other, they have joined forces to stay the advancing hordes of Gastalon invaders.

  A single pass is the only corridor into the valley. Guarded by over one-thousand armed warriors, mostly archers, it is heavily fortified and the narrow gap is easily defended. Attackers would have to move through in single file, where they were easy targets for notched arrows. The brittle bones of many who have tried to breach the passage lie as a carpet that men walk on.

  Isolated and inhospitable, the mountains are a stone forest, with razor-sharp vertical rocks towering a thousand feet. Many have tried to scale those knife edge peaks only to die. The skeletons of a few are seen; impaled and bleached white, the flesh consumed by all manner of birds and scavengers. The inhabitants of Aventine call it Cragismore Keep, “where one cannot climb.”

  Away from the mountains, the earth is rich in vast farm lands and lakes. Small villages and towns appear throughout. The villages consisted mostly of farmers and their families; living in a village for mutual protection. They venture out with caution to work the fields and bring the harvest back to the community.

  High spiked wooden fences surround a majority of those little stretches of managed plots. Sharpened stakes facing outward and along the top of the barrier are meant to keep out not only human, but beasts as well. Not all the farmed land is protected in such a way. Only the brave will take a plow and work those plots. A farmer and two of his kin will go out each day when the rains stop to till the earth and sow. Of the three, one will stand guard with spear in hand and sword at his side watching for danger, while the others work with plow and hoe.

  The larger villages are protected with high fences as well. Inside the barrier, sheds made from stone or wood; barns and houses form a circle about the village center. Traveling merchants from the other kingdoms will make a monthly visit to barter and exchange the wares they carry. There was a time before the pass was closed, that travelers and merchants from other lands over the mountains and sea would make Aventine a regular stop on their trade routes.

  The three kingdoms coexisted, but any wrong move would bring about battles, and death to hundreds. As the Land of Aventine grew, so did the people with new laws and new kings to pay homage.

  Only the kingdom of Erydda held a ruling monarch. The other two crowned heads of Oniarith and Ocayjan died mysteriously of diseases. Both healthy and strong, many thought it was the work of witchcraft, as their bodies shriveled before the eyes of those of the court. Erydda’s King Gavin Borin is now ruler over all three kingdoms having claimed the title, “Supreme Ruler of Aventine.” Even though Gavin sits on the throne, all know that Althalos Borin, the king’s brother is the puppeteer. It is his desires, which are made into law. All those that have stood in Althalos path have felt the assassin’s blade. None dispute or dare to voice against him…least they disappear.

  With all the turmoil and unrest, there is a stirring in the land. A new day is beginning, and a new set of warriors is spawning.

  Chapter 2 - The Dreamed Treasure

  The two travelers have been circling their intended target several times—scanning for anyone observing them, and what has their attention. The rutted dirt road that goes through the glen and past the monument is devoid of wagon or man.

  This searching method used many times by the pair, is to go completely around the objective several times. They cautiously approach one of the many stone monuments which are spread around the land of Aventine.

  The size of the weathered shrines varies, depending on either, the reason for its placement or person who lies within. A myriad of stone structures around the countryside can be large as a tall tree, while others are just a rock or two piled upon another.

  The significance of such a structure is to mark a battle fought at that spot of land, or denote a rein of a long-ago king in this realm. As the ages passed and weather wore down the surface of the stone and what was written there…the reason and why were forgotten over time. Life in these harsh monarchies was over sometimes before the coronation seal was dry.

  This one particular stone monument with an obelisk is what the two travelers had cast their eyes. It is rough-hewn rock put together with carved images. Runes were set upon it to ward off evil. Even with massive stones set upon each other, as it rose above the dirt looked hastily constructed. The building of such was governed by the time—where a moon went from wane to full. It is rather a short period to erect an honor place.

  The blood splatter dotting some of its surface that wind and rain could not erase was evidence that slaves were used to fashion it. A mason may have worked the rock into blocks, but others died putting stone upon stone as the telltale mounds of unmarked graves was a short distance away.

  The pedestal was over several meters in diameter, and taller than the man who was now standing there looking across its uneven surface. It beheld tier set with several rows of steps going up to a large four-sided stone cube which sat on the chiseled pedestal. The main part of the monument was cut from a single block of stone. The method used to convey to this spot was lost in time’s passing. It was as big as a barn that houses plow horses.

  The remarkable feature is a tall obelisk with more runes which sat upon square blocks. Going slowly, the two circle the base several times to find the right entrance. Each side of the cube held what looked like a stone door recessed and sealed. Having seen this before…three sides are false and the stone will be impossible to win through.

  The real entrance would be not as thick as the other three. With several strong blows of the battle axe resting on the shoulder of the huge man will cause it to give way, once the entrance is known.

  The woman climbs up the pedestal and runs her fingers over the runes and ancient writings as she passes each section. The big man joins her as she stops at one of the sides. Thinking that she found the proper entrance, the man raises his axe to swing.

  She holds up her hand. This is not the first structure they have cracked and stolen its contents. “Strange, I can see fresh chiseled marks in the stone—we are not the first trying to gain entrance to this unholy sanctuary of the dead! I read the markings and the writings that say…sun and moon, father and mother, brother and sister, life and death.” My gift for solving puzzles ever since I was young did me service as It only took me a few minutes to reason; these words are o
pposites of each other.

  Going around to the other sides, I read the writings on each. They are all the same, except on the opposite side of where I started. This reads death life, not life death. This has to be the way. Having death written first may be this is more of a tomb than a mere monument. Checking all sides again to be certain, I point to what might be the real entrance. I step back as my mighty companion strikes the first blow. The sound is loud and vibrates through the entire monument and into our bodies. As the big man strikes blow after blow, his exposed arms glisten with the sheen of exertion. Finally, the stone gives way and crumbles inward. The dust and smell of old escapes past us as new air enters.

  Setting the axe against the wall, he looks inward and asks his companion. “Natsha, what do you think we will find in there?”

  She peers over his shoulder then fingers the raised writing over the entranceway. “This is one of the larger monuments in the land of Aventine. We waited two full suns watching and noting the king's patrols come and go. I am eager to take what we find. We will only have two turns of the sand glass before the soldiers pass again. These markings do not tell of a king or a royal buried here, so why watcher patrols; unless of course, a great wealth is concealed within its rock walls.”

  “I hate the places of the dead,” I tell Natsha as we enter. “We must tread lightly; else we awaken what may lie within.

  My world started dark and became even darker as my eyes fight to open. Cold stone surrounded my body. I could not move as cloth wrappings held me immobile. The weight of cold steel lies across my body—from neck to knee. My wrapped hands clasped a hilt of a dead sword. Where is my life going? Who am I to lie here as an ageless mummified body? I am in the half sleep of the dead; of this, I am certain—but how? The only sound of life came from a constant banging, as steel hammering at granite. Through the stone surrounding me, vibrations building on vibrations rattle my body with each strike of steel. My mind has no memory of where I am…or who I am.