Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Map
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
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Glossary
Second Son Preview
About the Author
KING’S WARRIOR
BOOK ONE OF
“THE MINSTREL’S SONG”
JENELLE LEANNE SCHMIDT
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
KING’S WARRIOR
Copyright © 2012 by Jenelle Leanne Schmidt
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 0-9884512-0-4
ISBN-13: 978-0-9884512-0-9
www.stormcavestudios.com
DEDICATION
To my family: you are my biggest fans, and the source of my greatest inspiration. Without you, Brant would never have been more than a farmer, restricted to the first chapter; Kiernan Kane would have just been a wandering bard; and the world of Aom-igh might never have existed... there certainly would have never been a sequel.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I want to thank my dad, for giving me the idea in the first place, for being my biggest fan and my toughest critic, and for always believing in me. Thanks for being my content editor.
My husband, for letting me spend countless hours editing and re-writing, and for never once failing to believe that I would succeed.
Shannon, for the hours you spent correcting my punctuation errors, my capitalization inconsistencies, and various other mechanical errors. Thanks for making the work fun, too!
Angelina, for the beautiful cover you designed, and the hours of work that went into getting it just right.
Grant and Evan, for all the time and effort you’ve put into the “business side” of publishing and marketing a book.
My mom and sister for being my “cheering section” and leaving me notes of encouragement as this process has unfolded.
I love you guys all so much! Thanks for being my “team.” This book would not exist without all of you.
Prologue
Graldon, King of the dragons, mighty lord of the skies over Aom-igh, handed the golden sword to the mere man who stood before him. “This one thing will I give thee.”
His voice thundered eerily in the huge cavern, resounding off the walls and shaking the floor. The words sounded strange coming off his tongue, for dragons are not accustomed to speaking with men. The Dragon Tongue, or Old Kraïc, is an old language; it is the language of the sea and the land that existed at the beginning of time and remained unchanged throughout the years, unlike the language of men, which changed and developed countless times and continues to do so. Dragons understand and can speak the language of men, but they scoff at it for it is a young and uneducated language. Its sounds are not nearly so grand as those of Old Kraïc, which has a melody like the waves rolling on the shore and the thunder rumbling in the sky and the earth shaking as it splits.
The man knelt down before the great dragon and held the gift in his hands reverently. “I thank you for this, at least.”
The huge, green-scaled dragon gazed at the human before him coolly, but his golden eyes shimmered with something like laughter. “Thinkst thou, little one, that I care so deeply about the affairs of men? Thinkst thou that I would come to thy aid and breathe fire upon thy enemies for thee, vanquishing them? No, in the way of my ancestors before me I, too, shall let thee fight thine own battles.”
The man before him remained silent, as is proper and courteous before the dragon king. Although a king in his own right, Llian knew better than to anger a dragon. He sighed, his shoulders hunched and his form bent. His head sank lower, and his face crumpled. His people now faced the greatest threat that their land had ever seen. The dark sails of Llycaelon had been spotted a few weeks ago, but they had not come in force. Instead the enemy had crept in quietly and secretly in small groups, attacking outposts and then fading into the shadows. Fear reigned throughout the countryside and King Llian had come to the dragons in desperation. And here King Graldon was refusing to come to his aid.
“But Aom-igh is your home too. Will you let it be overrun by these Dark Warriors?”
“Thinkst thou that we myth-folk care which human rules other humans? Should I come running to thee whenever a young dragonling challenges my authority?”
Llian blinked, “Is that what you think this is?”
“If thou canst not defeat thine enemies, then thou shouldst not be king.”
Llian stared at the floor of the cave, an angry flush rising across his face. He felt like a young boy who has just been reprimanded in front of all his friends for something he did not do.
“We have our own problems, human,” Graldon said, his voice quieter. Llian looked up in surprise, meeting the great dragon’s eyes and seeing there a kinship he had not expected. After a moment, he nodded. This, he could understand. He too, had needed to deal with rebellions and would-be usurpers, and this he read in Graldon’s eyes. The dragon king was not telling him that he would not help but rather that he could not help.
“However,” Graldon continued, “I tell thee this: the Fang Blade is no ordinary sword. Its deadly blade was formed from one of my own great teeth and the handle was created from one of my own silver scales, and in its forging it was imbued with dragon magic. It will serve thee and thy descendants and it shall neither break nor rust as other swords do. But know this as well: the sword has a will of its own, and it does not grant its holder magic, but only brings out what is deep within him already. An evil man can do only evil with the Fang Blade, but a man of noble character and a good heart shalt be able to do mighty works with that sword in his hand. Be careful of whose hands thou dost allow the blade to fall into once thou art done with it.”
The man before him rose and seemed a little more satisfied. Graldon laughed, a mighty and terrifying sound coming from between those powerful jaws.
“Thou would have more from me?” he asked. “Thou thinkst to command the King of the dragons? Thou thinkst to ask for yet more on top of this great gift that I have granted thee?” He eyed the brave man before him who neither cowered nor shrank at his words, and a deep respect for this man filled Graldon’s dragonish heart as he spoke again. “Well then, King Llian, one more thing shall I grant thee - perhaps you will scoff at this as well, but I warn you, the word of a dragon is not to be taken lightly. I promise you this: if Aom-igh is ever in such need again, the dragons will not hesitate to come to thy aid.”
❖ ❖ ❖
The great wizard, perhaps the last of the great wizards, stood looking out towards the sea. His stormy gray eyes were bright with unshed tears as he watched the waves rolling in and out. His king was dying at last. King Llian had earned his rest, but he would be sorely missed.
“Scelwhyn,” the king’s voice was growing weaker but his strength of will was stron
g as steel.
Scelwhyn turned away from the window and attended his king. “Yes, your majesty?”
“One last thing, I would ask of you,” King Llian said. “I would ask you to look into the mists of the future and tell me if there is any chance that the darkness will ever return to our land. If our enemies in Llycaelon will never return, I want the sword destroyed so that it will never fall into the wrong hands. But if it will be needed again by our people, then I bid you hide it somewhere where it will be kept safe until it is once more needed to protect and defend.”
Scelwhyn nodded, and then he fell silent for a long time, searching. At last he spoke. His voice was shaky and it seemed to echo, but the words were clear. He said:
When day is swallowed by night
And the wanderer takes the road
And the flame once more
Burns bright:
The youth will arise,
The sword will awake,
The dragons will fly
And the enemy break.
King Llian listened hard and then he fell back upon his bed, “Then hide the sword well, my old friend,” he whispered, then he breathed his last and flew from this life, the life he had lived so well and fought for so bravely.
So died King Llian, ruler of Aom-igh, slayer of the Dark Warriors, holder of the Sword of Light, and the one who spoke with Dragons as an equal. In life, he was a noble man who loved his people and fought on their behalf. In death, he was surely welcomed home by Cruithaor Elchiyl.
-From the diaries of Master Scelwhyn
Penned in the year seven thousand one hundred eighty-four
chapter
ONE
She felt the horse beneath her tense, muscles coiling, and leaned forward as together they leapt the fallen tree. They flew through the air and landed cleanly on the other side. The sound of pounding hooves filled her ears as they continued cantering down the road. Kamarie filed the fallen tree in her mind, tucking its location away. She would have to remember to tell her father about it; King Arnaud liked to keep the roads around the palace clear, especially the roads leading to Ayollan.
Kamarie urged Tor to go faster, wrapping strands of his silvery-gray mane around her hands. She was late, and Darby would be worried. She had not meant to wander so far from home on her daily ride, but her tutors had been particularly demanding that morning and Kamarie was frustrated. Why was all this so hard for her? The niceties of court etiquette gave her fits, politics was slightly easier, and history was one of her best subjects, but today she had been unable to grasp even the simplest of her lessons. And so, at her first opportunity, she had slipped out to saddle up Tor and go for a ride to clear her head. They had wandered through fields and over streams, chatting with the occasional farmer or merchant who happened to be passing by, and Kamarie had lost all track of time. Now the Dragon’s Eye was beginning to set and the chill of evening hung in the air. Her sable hair streamed behind her as Tor carried her at a gallop back to the palace. A fork in the road appeared before her; without hesitation, Kamarie chose the left-hand path, despite the fact that it would take her through the forest. The roads were safe, and although the forest was dark and sometimes sheltered rogues, she was not concerned. The forest road was the shorter route. And the sword at her side was not merely for show, after all.
When Kamarie reached the stables, she threw Tor’s reins to a stable-boy - something she never did - because if she took the time to care for the horse herself she would miss dinner all together.
“Princess, where have you been?” Darby sighed, as Kamarie entered her rooms. The elderly woman wrinkled her nose. “You smell like the stables again. I have been looking for you everywhere.”
“Relax, Darby,” Kamarie smiled. “There’s plenty of time before dinner.”
“Not if you don’t hurry!” The gray-haired woman ushered the princess across her grand bedroom to the smaller room where her bath had been drawn up and waited, the water quickly growing cool. “You need to wash that smell off you and then I’ll work on your hair. You really don’t have much time.”
When Kamarie emerged from her bath, clean and smelling of roses, she was dressed in a sapphire gown that matched her eyes and had been made from the finest satin in the realm. Darby sat her down in front of her mirror and fussed over the princess’ long, dark hair, combing, pinning, and arranging, all the while clicking her tongue disapprovingly. Kamarie smiled at her reflection, her blue eyes twinkling mischievously.
“Who is our guest of honor tonight, Darby?”
“Prince Elroy of Roalthae, Princess, as you would know very well if you paid better attention to your schedule.”
“Ah yes, Elroy,” Kamarie sighed. “What do you know about him, Darby? I’ve only met him formally, and we’ve never talked. At least he’s a bit older than me, unlike the Duke of Lan-Point.”
Darby grinned at the memory. “That was definitely a surprise.”
Kamarie rolled her eyes. As she neared marrying age, her father had begun receiving letters requesting permission to court his daughter. As the only child of the King of Aom-igh, Princess Kamarie was an ideal match for any nobleman with the slightest ambition. King Arnaud tried to filter out the most horrifying requests, but some surprises still occurred. They had exchanged correspondence with the Duke of Lan Point, a small holding on the southern end of Iolanver and one of the four barrier islands directly to the east of Aom-igh. The duke wrote eloquently and respectfully, so Arnaud and Kamarie had agreed to invite him to the palace for a visit. When he arrived, they had discovered that he was extremely young, no more than five, and that his letters had been written by a well-meaning steward who simply wanted his young duke to be accorded the honor that an invitation to King Arnaud's palace would engender. King Arnaud had politely but firmly informed the steward that in the future he should be honest with his king, as it would save everyone subsequent embarrassment.
“He was sweet, exactly what I would like to have in a little brother,” Kamarie said.
“But not in a suitor.”
Kamarie smiled. “No... well, yes, but fifteen or twenty years older.”
“Well let’s see, what do I know of Prince Elroy,” Darby mused, holding barrettes up to Kamarie’s hair and considering. “Mmmm, he is the ruler of Roalthae.”
“Obviously.”
Roalthae was the largest and northernmost of the four barrier islands that stood directly between Aom-igh and open oceans. The barrier islands had always been friendly with Aom-igh, but they each had their own rulers. Of those rulers, three were married, leaving Prince Elroy as one of the best matches for Kamarie. In Roalthae, the ruler was given the title of “Prince” until he married and produced an heir, at which time his title would be changed to “King.” It was a strange system but one that worked well. As such, Prince Elroy was a worthy match for the Princess of Aom-igh, and it would be an attractive match for Elroy as well, since he would gain a larger throne than the one he currently occupied and could choose to either appoint one of his future heirs as Prince and future King of Roalthae or raise a deserving cousin to that position if he only had one heir. Add to all this Kamarie’s beauty and status as a wife and it was certainly an opportunity that the Prince of Roalthae would covet.
“Well, you know what he looks like: tall, handsome, blue eyes, dark hair, square jaw. He is said to be a fair ruler, although I have heard rumors that he is quite a bit sterner than your father. He keeps his country in line by threat of the sword, if you catch my meaning. However, that could simply be because he has no wife to temper him, and no heir to give him a feeling of security about his position.”
“What about his temperament?”
“I’ve heard he is an amiable man. If he has ambitions he keeps them closely guarded, he didn’t even write to your father until a few weeks ago, and you’ve already entertained dozens of would-be suitors. When I’ve seen him on formal occasions he seems friendly enough, but a bit aloof.”
Kamarie
twisted her mouth in thought. “Well, I just hope he isn’t a complete bore. It doesn’t sound like he’s an ideal match for me, but I suppose I should give him a fair chance. Maybe he’ll surprise me and be an interesting conversationalist.” After a moment she grinned ruefully, thinking about some of the wild stories that were still told about her younger days. “Maybe we’ll surprise each other.”
Darby smiled and patted the top of Kamarie’s head gently. “You will be fine. Remember, your father has given you complete authority over your choice. Even if Prince Elroy is the best match for you politically, if you can’t stand the man you only have to suffer through one dinner in his company. At least, until you are queen, and then it will be your duty to host these sorts of occasions and mingle with your nobles.”
“Thanks for the comfort, Darby.” Kamarie grimaced. Then she stood up. “How do I look?”
“Lovely.” Darby smiled fondly at her young charge. “Don’t worry, I’ll be at your side, as always.”
❖ ❖ ❖
While Princess Kamarie descended the stairs of the palace towards the formal dining hall, far away to the south a young boy sat and watched as the Dragon’s Eye sank down in the sky and kissed the horizon. It had been a long, difficult climb to the top of Mount Theran, but Yole was convinced that it had been worth it. It had taken him nearly a week, but now he rested on the top of the world. It was the most free he had ever felt. He tilted his head back and let waves of cool wind wash over his face. By holding his arms out and closing his eyes, he could almost imagine he was flying. He relaxed and let his imagination take him soaring. In his mind’s eye he could see the village below him; the white fluffy sheep and the sleek brown cattle dotting the fields; he could also see the tiny houses of the peasants who tended the pastures and the animals. With his eyes closed and his mind wandering above the plains, he could almost hear the haunting melody of the pipes played by the shepherds in the valleys.
King's Warrior (The Minstrel's Song Book 1) Page 1
