Memory of War
by M. Lynn
Copyright © 2017 Michelle Lynn
Edited by Patrick Hodges
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, media, and incidents are either products of the authors’ imagination, or are used fictitiously.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
About M. Lynn
Also by M. Lynn
Chapter 1
War had a unique rhythm, an unforgettable sound. The drumming of one’s heartbeat. The clash of swords. The soft whistling that preceded a magical blast. It was a series of staccato notes Marcus Renauld would never be free from.
And the screams. He closed his eyes and sucked in a chest shattering breath as he saw them.
The world lay before him, nothing but ash. Smoke still billowed from the few buildings left standing, curling up towards the brilliant sky to avoid the horrors below.
He picked up his two small battle axes and slipped them through loops on his belt as he walked through the ruins.
Three days ago, the village had been attacked. It wasn’t the first village to be lost to Dreach-Dhoun and it wouldn’t be the last. War was a never-ending reality for those living in Dreach-Sciene.
There’d been a time, many centuries ago, when the two kingdoms had been united as one. When Dreach was split, so too were the people.
Exhaustion tugged at Marcus as he ran his hands down the padded leather armor. His father gave up trying to force him into chain mail years ago.
“My Lord.” Two guards approached Marcus. They didn’t bow as his position as prince demanded. He’d refused to allow such shows of acquiescence on the battlefield.
“Report.” Marcus began walking down the debris-covered road.
The first guard, Roman, stepped up to walk at his side. “We have final estimates. Three hundred dead. One hundred and fifty-eight missing. Thousands now homeless. There was one section of the town that made it through unscathed. We’ve set it up to help the injured.”
Marcus scratched his jaw. “Shelter won’t be a problem. I brought fresh troops that will be able to use their magic for that.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Marcus looked at the guard, noting the way his eyes turned down towards the large circles underneath. The people who’d been here when the dark army showed up were burnt out. Magic took time, depending on one’s strength of it, to be restored. He glanced around. It wasn’t helping that the land nearby had been drained of magic.
It was all part of Calis’ plans. As prince of Dreach-Sciene, he wanted nothing more than to see them all suffer.
“Roman.” Marcus put a hand on his shoulder. “Go in search of some green earth. It will rejuvenate you and then get some rest. I brought an advance force, but the army should arrive within the day and will take over from there.”
Roman gave him a grateful smile and walked off. The guard who’d been following them left as well.
Scrubbing a hand along his jaw, Marcus made eye contact with each person he passed. His father would flay him for roaming the village without a guard, but he trusted his people.
This village lay in the realm of the Duke of Isenore, but Lord Eisner was nowhere to be found. It didn’t surprise Marcus in the least. That man and his son were not to be trusted. Maybe his grandson and granddaughter would fare better.
Releasing a long sigh, he continued his examination of the devastation.
“Prince,” a voice called from further down the road.
“Coille,” Marcus boomed back. Since he was a boy, Adrian Coille had been his greatest friend. As the son of the Duke of Aldorwood, he was also one of his most important allies and subjects.
Adrian’s face was grim, his mouth turned down into a severe frown. Marcus had seen him grin the entire duration of a battle as he hacked his way through hordes of enemies, so the frown was a rare sight.
This war was changing them all.
It’d been three years this time. The war came in cycles, stretching back many years before they were born. It would stop and begin anew on a whim.
Marcus clapped him on the shoulder. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“I was leading my men on a patrol along the edges of Isenore when I heard. We made it just as the Dreach-Dhoun forces were retreating, but the damage was done.”
“Why were you patrolling near Isenore? I had you stationed along the forest roads since we learned of their use by Calis.”
Adrian jerked his head to a man Marcus hadn’t noticed. “Marcus, meet Lord Yaro.”
“I wish it were under better circumstances, Your Highness.” Lord Yaro put a hand on a young boy’s shoulder who squirmed beside him.
“As do I.”
Adrian ran a hand through his hair. “Lord Yaro has kept me apprised of the situation here in Isenore. Duke Eisner has been receiving messages from Dreach-Dhoun.”
The words ripped through Marcus. He couldn’t take anymore setbacks, and yet it seemed like all they’d been experiencing for months. They hadn’t had a win in a long time.
A growl ripped from Marcus’ throat. “I’m going to gut that spineless man.”
The boy let out a yelp of fear and all the anger faded from the prince. He sighed and focused on the child. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
The boy trained his eyes on the ground. Marcus lowered himself into a crouch to peer into the boy’s face. “What’s your name, son?”
His lip quivered. “Wren.”
“Well, Wren, I’m Marcus. And don’t you worry, we’re going to win this fight.”
Marcus straightened and met the eyes of the two battle-weary men in front of him. “I want a contingent of men sent to Eisner’s estate. Drag him here if you have to. He must answer for his crimes. Bring that worthless son of his, but leave the children. This is not yet their fight.”
“I will go myself, my lord,” Lord Yaro vowed. “I will take my best men. While I am gone, my estate is at your disposal. It’s only a few miles east of here.” He left to attend to his preparations.
“Is the army behind you?” Adrian asked.
“Yes,” Marcus replied.
“Good. My scouts tell me that Calis’ has camped his troops just across the border. They’ve been waiting for you to arrive.”
“Rest up, my friend.” Marcus brushed his hand over his battle axes. “For soon there will be a fight.”
* * *
“I don’t understand why I’m here.” Marissa Kane paced the length of her father’s tent. Beyond the thin fabric lay an entire army.
“Prince Calis wishes for you to be at his side,” her father replied as if it wasn’t the most ridiculous thing in the world.
“I don’t want to be at that man’s side.”
“He is your prince. You are a general in the man’s army. Treat him with respect.”
She grunted and flopped down on the bed in the corner. “If you’re so interested in licking his boots, his tent is nearby.”
“That is enough.”
The commanding voice he used on all other
s had no effect on her. She knew what a coward he truly was. The Tri-Gard was supposed to have no role in the battles between the kingdoms. Her father, Ramsey Kane, was one of the three who had untold power. They were the magic keepers, protecting the balance and keeping the earth in order.
Old Briggs was in camp as well, but he was a prisoner of Calis. Lonara Stone, the third member, would no doubt appear soon to remove her counterparts from the evil grasp of the prince.
There, she said it. He was an evil man. She had known him her entire life and there was no doubt he loved her.
But she could never love a man who kept his dungeons as full as his bedchamber. Who used his magic only for ill.
Her father sat next to her on the bed and took her hand in his. “You could expect no better match than a prince, daughter. If you were to refuse him, who knows what he would do. I fear for you.”
Words clogged in her throat, so he continued, “I love you very much, my precious girl.”
She jumped to her feet and charged from the tent before she broke down completely. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
She wasn’t opposed to fighting, but she didn’t want to fight for Calis. Not this war. It had gone on long enough. Five days ago, he’d burned an entire village. Women and children were being held prisoner. Others had been killed in an instant.
None of it was right.
Not Calis.
Not her father.
White-blonde hair caught her eye, and she wiped away the tears before approaching the girl. Lorelai looked up at her with the innocence that only the young possessed in this world. She shouldn’t be there either, but Calis insisted on a show of family unity. Lorelai’s mother was his sister. Even their old father was present.
“Hi, sweetie.” Marrisa reached out to graze her cheek.
“Ri.” Lorelai lunged and hugged her around the middle. “I told them I didn’t want to be with anyone but you.”
“Who did you tell?”
“Calis.”
Marissa snorted. That couldn’t have gone over well. He already didn’t approve of Marissa’s attachment to his niece.
“Come on, Lorelai.” She held out her hand. “I’ll bring you back to your tent.”
The girl’s tiny palm slipped against hers and she went along without protest.
“My mom is having one of her days.” Lorelai’s voice was so small, Marissa had to resist the urge to hug her as they continued on.
‘One of her days’ meant she wasn’t completely lucid. Lorelai’s mother was a seer. When the sight was held by a person of strength, it was a great asset. For others, the constant visions – especially in times of devastation – could destroy them.
Marissa pushed the flap of the tent aside, ignoring the guards stationed outside.
Lorelai’s mother sat at a table, with her head in her hands.
Marissa released Lorelai and went to place a hand on the older woman’s back. Her head shot up and her eyes widened upon seeing Marissa.
“I’m just bringing Lorelai back.”
“Lorelai?” she asked.
Lorelai laid on the bed and curled in on herself as her mother tried to remember who she was.
Marissa shook her head. “Lorelai, you can stay with me tonight if you’d like. Your mother is not fit to care for you.”
The woman mumbled something as Marissa picked Lorelai up and walked to the door.
“Marissa Kane.” The voice had an eerie quality that made Marissa turn. “Guard well my child, for you will not live to see your own grown.”
Lorelai burst into tears. “Mom, stop.”
Every nerve ending in Marissa’s body was on high alert as the word ricocheted through her mind, unable to take hold. She didn’t have kids. She shook her head. Half of what the woman said was gibberish.
Setting Lorelai on her feet, Marissa pushed her hair out of her face and strode from the tent. You will not live to see your own grow.
As the meaning sunk it and grew within her, it threatened to pull her away. A tiny hand in hers squeezed and brought her back to the present.
A horse charged through the camp, it’s hooves pounding into the earth, and Marissa yanked Lorelai out of the way.
They’d just reached her tent when a voice was amplified over the camp by magic. “Tomorrow is a great day for the future of Dreach-Dhoun. Camped across the border is what remains of the Dreach-Sciene forces. We can defeat them once and for all. Be prepared. At daybreak, we ride.”
It all became so clear. They’d burned the village to draw the army near. They’d killed innocents as a mere trap.
Turning abruptly, she pulled Lorelai along behind her. “I need …” She didn’t know what she needed, but there was only one place she could go.
Lorelai understood much for a child so young. Marissa followed her towards the edge of camp, where a crop of trees stretched as far as they could see.
The guards made no move to stop her. She’d been leaving camp regularly since they arrived.
Once among the trees, the tension in her shoulders eased as she released a relieved breath. Lorelai sat down, fanning her skirt along her legs as a cool night breeze rustled the leaves overhead.
Running her fingers over the rough bark of a twisted oak, Marissa felt a surge of power strike straight through her heart and the forest came alive. Lowering herself to her knees, she heard the familiar hum that no one else seemed to sense. Only her. Her father called her power ‘Tenelach’. A deeper connection to the earth. All magic came from the very ground, but she felt it speak to her. She was a part of it and it a part of her.
Losing herself in the calming currents of the constant flow of magic, she knew what she had to do.
She would go into battle as the sun rose in the sky. She would do what was expected of her. But she would protect those who could not protect themselves.
Dreach-Dhoun may have been her home, but she had no illusions as to its righteousness. No one was good in war.
She raised a palm to her wild mane as she used her magic to smooth it back into a high tail and climbed to her feet.
“Lorelai, come. I must return you to your mother. It is time I ready for battle.”
Chapter 2
A shadow loomed over Marissa’s bed as her eyes slowly slid open. In an instant, she was awake. With cat-like quickness, she sprung from the low cot and landed in a crouch, one hand pressed against the ground to keep her steady.
The shadow moved into the beam of silver moonlight streaming through the gap near the door and his dark hair shone.
She released a breath, recognizing him immediately, but didn’t relax her stance.
“What are you doing here, Calis?” Her voice was rough.
He smiled, not unpleasantly. There was something about Calis that made Marissa like him immensely. She just couldn’t love him. Not when she’d also seen his cruel side.
“I was up early preparing for the battle and wanted to speak with you before we left.” His voice stuttered with nervousness.
She rose up and stretched her arms above her head to loosen her muscles. When she noticed Calis’ eyes following her every move, she crossed them over her chest.
“Do you always sleep fully clothed?” He raised one perfect eyebrow.
She couldn’t fight the smile that came to her face. “Hoping to catch me in my underclothes?”
A chuckle rumbled from his chest and he looked away.
“I’m in a camp full of the worst kind of men.” She nudged him.
“You mean me?”
“Yes, my prince, you’re the worst slag of them all.”
“Ri Ri, you wound me.”
She laughed in earnest as Calis feigned a knife slicing through his heart. Even in the hours before battle, there was such joy in his eyes.
Her mind flashed to the week before, when he’d led the burning of the village. Yes, she’d seen much hate in his eyes as well. He was such a contradiction. She’d grown up with him, and the only thing she
truly knew was that she couldn’t trust him.
He sat on the edge of her cot and patted the spot next to him. She accepted the invitation.
“I’ve finally done it.” His voice dropped. “My father has agreed.”
Foreboding enveloped her. “Agreed to what?”
“To allow me to marry you.”
A gasp escaped her mouth and her jaw hung so far open it practically dislodged itself.
“I know, isn’t this the best news?”
All she could manage was a tiny whimper.
“Once this war is finished, you and I will take up residence in my wing of the palace. My father is getting old, so it won’t be long before the crown belongs to me.” A hard gleam entered his eyes. “It will be my turn.”
Something in his expression was off and she shifted further away from him.
“Calis, you haven’t even asked me.”
His face softened and he stood. “You would never deny me, Ri. Not after your father has already given me your hand. You will be mine.”
And then he was gone, along with the air in her lungs. She stood, and her legs wobbled beneath her before she crossed the room to the basin and fell to her knees in front of it. Splashing water onto her heated cheeks, she vowed to never give herself freely to the prince of Dreach-Dhoun. It didn’t matter how charming he could be or the glamor of palace life. She didn’t want it. What she wanted was choice. Free will.
Pulling the tie from her hair, she let the red curls fall around her face as she shook them out. She donned a chain mail shirt, its weight pulling down her shoulders, and a black tunic overtop. Her helmet fit snuggly against her hair, a golden piece stretching across her forehead and a long white tail of horsehair flowing from the top.
Reality began to crash in as she strapped her sword belt around her waist. How many people would she be forced to use the blade on? No one was safe in battle.
Today, she would be forced to kill for Dreach-Dhoun. It never got any easier. Glancing around her tent, she made a grab for her bow and then walked out to where the troops were forming up.
Memory of War Page 1
