Other Titles
By
Calle J. Brookes
Paranormal
Dardanos, Co.
The Blood King
Awakening the Demon’s Queen
The Healer’s Heart
Once Wolf Bitten
Live or Die
The Seer’s Strength
The Warrior’s Woman
The Wolf’s Redemption
A Warrior’s Quest
The Wolf God & His Mate
Out of the Darkness
Dardanos, Co: The Adrastos
The Outcast
Romantic Suspense
Watching
Wanting
Second Chances
Hunting
Running
Redeeming
Coming Soon
A Warrior Blind (Dardanos)
Revealing (PAVAD)
Calle J. Brookes is first and foremost a fiction writer. She enjoys crafting paranormal romance and romantic suspense. She reads almost every genre except horror. She spends most of her time juggling family life and writing, while reminding herself that she can’t spend all of her time in the worlds found within books. Calle J. loves to be contacted by her readers via email and at www.CalleJBrookes.com.
To my daughter, always.
The Outcast
Calle J. Brookes
Springs Valley, Indiana
The Lost River Literary name and imprint are the sole properties of independent publishers Calle J. Brookes and B.G. Lashbrooks. They cannot be reproduced or used in any manner; nor can any of their publications or designs be used without expressed written permission.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, or locations, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Copyright © 2014 Calle J. Brookes
Cover by B.G. Lashbrooks
All rights reserved.
ISBN-10:
1940937302
ISBN-13:
978-1-940937-30-4
The Outcast
A
DARDANOS, CO: THE ADRASTOS NOVEL
Book One
Chapter 1
WAR came. Like they had predicted it always would. She had no real choice, did she? Her people were being forced out of their homes, she would go with them—she would lead them. There was no other option. The only real choice she had left was in what she could carry in a bag on her back.
She wouldn’t let any other questions run through her mind. Like where would the people go? They were so outnumbered, they had no true defense in this war. Her people, the lost of the House of Amyenka, were mostly women and children.
They were already refugees when the orders of the goddess had been granted.
Three hundred Dardaptoans, all under the age of one hundred, with more children than grown men and women, all poor, all hungry, all so pitiful. And they were all hers.
She was one of the lucky ones, though she did not feel it so. She at least had more than a single change of clothing, had some coin of the human world—had some food. So many of the children she knew were so hungry. The females of her people did the best they could to gather enough for the children, but the world in which they lived was so inhospitable to the young of their Kind.
Havalana Amyenka shoved what little possessions she had into the bag she had sewn with her own hands more than a decade ago. A book of her people’s histories, a doll her mother had given her before her death, her spare vestis and pardus, and her spare shoes. Her coin purse, she tucked deep into the pockets of pardus she wore. That was something she could not afford to lose.
She did not know where the goddess’s edict would find her people, and she would need something with which to barter—or buy what they needed.
She stepped outside the small wooden structure that had served as her home for the last two years. It had no frills—why would they be needed in this world? —but it had served her well these years.
But she had learned long ago not to develop sentimental attachments for personal things.
Her home was no bigger than any of the others in the small village. She was no different than those who chose to follow her, after all. She was deserving of no special treatment, though sometimes the people tried.
She was an Amyenka, after all. And these people had been trained from birth to follow an Amyenka. Even when that Amyenka was bad. Evil, as her brother was.
The people she led were gathering in the center of the village. It was there she headed. One hundred seventy-eight children, eighty-three women, and forty-nine men made up her tribe, and Lana was responsible for every single one. She did not take that responsibility lightly.
She also did not dare show her fear. She nodded at the five people who she considered her top advisors. They stood waiting for her decision, though most of the tribe understood that the only choice that they truly had was to follow the edict of the goddess’s emissary.
Lana planned to implore that goddess directly. Her people could not go unprotected from her brother in a new world.
He would strike them all down, even the youngest infant, for their leaving his tribe. Her, he would stake out in the midst of everyone to watch as she slowly bled to death for her treason.
This was after he spent days torturing her.
She had no illusions of brotherly love from him. If Ragner spotted her, she’d be dead. Period.
Chapter 2
MARCOS Adrastos swung the blade he carried, deliberately catching the light so that it reflected amongst the people of his tribe. “I say we stand and defend our world and our home. How can we do else?”
The Wolf before him glared. “You can do no else than follow the goddess responsible for your very existence. She has ordered it, and even a warrior such as you must obey. Seek you special dispensation to bend the rules? What make you special?”
“I am a warrior, as you say, wolf. I can fight to defend. I do not cower in the face of vague threat.”
“It is not vague threat. It is a certainty. War comes to this world, and with the humans we must take extra care to prevent discovery. My female has decreed her people join her in our Levia, and so that is where you shall go.”
Marcos didn’t have to like it, but he would do it. For even an Adrastos warrior had been trained to follow the goddess of their people. And it wasn’t as if he was truly challenged in this human world any more. Maybe a new world would bring new challenge.
He’d fought every battle he could find in five hundred years, and even for one of his family, boredom with war had taken hold of him. And he knew the same could be said for the fifteen hundred men and women who followed his guidance. They’d broken off from his family line more than two hundred years ago, the old ways of their elders serving them not well at all.
And they had chosen to follow him, the second son of the Adrastos Dhar.
“When is this relocation to take place?”
“In three hours for those going to Levia, and home of the goddess.”
“There is another choice?”
“The demon world of Relaklonos has offered some Dardaptoans sanctuary.”
Marcos hadn’t expected that. Lesser demons had hunted his people for centuries. “Kind of stupid, isn’t that?”
The Wolf god did not like to be challenged, and when he held up a hand, Marcos hit the ground and couldn’t move. “Best remember that you speak to a god, boy. I can kill you without struggle.”
Yeah, Marcos would probably need to remember that. When the hold upon him lessened, he stood. “Relaklonos?”
>
“The new high queen is the Chief Healer of the Dardanos tribe. All Dardaptoans entering Relaklonos are afforded the High King’s vow of protection.”
“The Colorado tribe?” He knew it well. Or he had. His brother was one of the tribe’s highest ranking assholes. And he thought he had a sister there somewhere, too. It was hard to keep up—he had between fourteen and twenty siblings, last he’d heard. And none had been raised by too great of parents, so they weren’t exactly close.
“You know it?”
“I’m related to a few.”
The Wolf god studied him for a long moment. “So you are. Relaklonos would suit your people best. You have forty minutes to gather your people and all that you will need in this new world.”
“Cutting it kind of close, isn’t it?” He’d trained his people in packing light, in be ready to evacuate whatever camp they occupied. But forty minutes was pushing it.
“Take it or leave it.” The Wolf’s expression turned sly. “Unless you choose the world of Levia. No battles have raged there in more than four thousand years…”
“And the rest of the Adrastos tribe? My father’s people? Which world have they chosen?”
“They have not yet been approached, but they are not getting an option. It is Relaklonos for them.”
Bet that would burn the old bastard. His father viewed demons as no more than offal. To be forced to live and fight amongst them would be akin to a sentence in the Three Hells. “Love to be a fly on the wall when that happens.”
“Gather your people. I will escort you through to the demon world. I have business there. Once you arrive, see the High King. He will ask your name, how many people you lead, and will give you direction to the city in which you can set up your home.”
“This is expected to be a long term thing, isn’t it?” Marcos dropped all posturing. Something in the deity’s eyes told him that more was at stake than what had already been spoken. “What is truly going on?”
“A war is coming, a war of many worlds. There is a gathering of the Kinds. Of our best warriors. Many of your people will be needed. Every warrior counts. And must be counted.”
“We will be ready.”
And they would. It was the Adrastos way.
**
Less than an hour later Marcos was in the last place he’d ever expected to be. His people waited on the outskirts of a damned demon castle; confused, but trusting him to guide them well.
Sometimes responsibility sucked.
He’d not been raised to be a Dhar. That had always been his father’s path, and his oldest brother, had Aodhan not abdicated more than four hundred years ago. It had pissed the old guy off to no end when Marcos had thrown it in his face that he would not be staying in South America with his father’s people, either.
The last thing he’d heard his father was still ruling their people in the old ways, and had fathered at least six more sons since Marcos had left. Old bastard would get his heir one way or another.
While Marcos still hadn’t found his female anywhere. He somehow doubted he ever would find her. And if he did, so what? What kind of decent Dardaptoan female would have a crude bastard like him? Even if the goddess stuck them together, his Rajni would probably take one look at him and head for the hills. And he wouldn’t blame her. He wasn’t exactly a model Dardaptoan, by any means.
He’d never tried to be.
He walked with the Wolf god into the castle’s main lobby. People were everywhere. People and demons, adults and children, everywhere Marcos looked there was a body or four. Many were dressed in vestis and pardus, accented with the hasha scarves that denoted just what tribe of Dardaptoan they belonged to. He absently fingered the band wrapped around his own forehead. His hasha was Adrastos turquoise, with a band of black running down the center. Denoting his separation from the main branch of his people. He wore the dishonor proudly.
He didn’t want anyone in any land tying him to the Adrastos of old.
“So where’s this High King?”
“He’s waiting in the people’s courtyard.”
“So what’s this guy like? He some super powerful boogeyman?”
“He is a powerful male. But I’ve met more powerful.”
Sure the Wolf god had. Weren’t the ruling class of demons just as strong as the damned deities of his own world? Somehow Marcos remembered reading that or hearing that little tidbit somewhere. Bet that did burn the Wolf god. Damned dog seemed a bit arrogant.
Marcos liked him.
“So, do I need to bow? What’s the protocol for meeting a demon king? His female? A prince or princess?”
“Treat them with the respect you’d show a dhar and dahn.”
“And if I don’t?”
“There are flesh eating demons on this world. I’m sure Malickus could find some to introduce you to if needed.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He’d killed a few dozen of those flesh eating demons in his day. He wasn’t eager to fight them again.
“Here.” The Wolf pushed open the heavy doors to a small courtyard. There was a crowd gathered by a grotto. A small dais was nearby. A male demon sat upon it, a blonde female at his side. The king and queen of Relaklonos?
There were other people on the dais; a big blue creature the size of Ohio, and a chestnut-haired woman dressed in the white of Dardaptoan royalty.
The guy—high king? —stood when the Wolf god approached. “Lupoi.”
“Malickus. How fares your family?”
“Quite well. Yours?”
“Beautiful.”
The blonde female spoke, and Marcos confirmed she was Dardaptoan by the tell-tale hiss through tiny fangs. “And my daughter and grandchildren?”
“Cathdun has started to crawl this week, dear girl. His sister and mother do well. Jierra wished me to convey that she and the babes will be visiting at this week’s end. Now she is busy with her school.”
“Thank you.”
“I have brought you some more Dardaptoans to take census of.”
“More?” Malickus asked. “We are up to nearly one hundred thousand of Gaian Dardaptoans, and nearly thrice that of Evalanedean. I am not sure that Thrun or Galaosis can support too many more at this point. We must need build a third city.”
“We’ll do what we must,” the queen said. She was a small woman for a Dardaptoan and quite beautiful in an ethereal Dardaptoan kind of way. She had a small babe strapped to her chest. As did the dark-haired woman at her left. “Who accompanies you?”
Marcos stepped forward. “I am of the European tribe Adrastos.” He bowed a short quick bow. “My lady. Thank you for this… honor… of allowing my small band of Dardaptoans into your world.”
“Adrastos, say you?” She looked at the dark-haired woman before looking back at him. She studied him for the longest moment. “Yes. I suppose you are.”
“Well, we’re the disowned band of Adrastos, to be honest.” He grinned. “I struggle to follow the rules, especially when they are archaic or ridiculous.”
“This a lifelong problem of yours?” the dark-haired woman asked. “How many belong to this disowned branch? I knew not that there was a European tribe of Adrastos.”
He looked at her and grinned. “We move around a lot. My people number close to fifteen hundred.”
“Which Adrastos are you?”
“Marcos, second son.”
“Yes, you certainly are.” The woman stood and passed the babe in her arms to the big blue demon. She stepped off the dais and walked toward him. He studied her. She was taller than most Dardaptoan females. Her hair was chestnut, much like his own.
The hasha around her waist was turquoise—and not black banded. He was related to her, then. And with her dressed in white, probably quite closely. That only left a handful of possibilities. Adrastos lines did not often spawn a female.
And the sword she wore at her side was very familiar to him. He held out his hands in a typical familial greeting. “Little sister. You’ve changed much. Wh
at has it been, four hundred years?”
“Give or take. Hello, Marcos. I pray you’ve fared well these last centuries?”
“It looks as if you have.” He had not seen his little sister—the only one he’d ever met—since he’d accompanied her and their parents to a wild Colorado town four hundred and two years ago. He’d only met her once before that day, as well.
Had he not been such a screw up back then, he’d have kept the girl with him, instead of dumping her off on their elder brother. Whom she had never met.
“I have indeed. Aodhan, as well.”
“How is big brother?”
“You can ask him yourself. He’ll be joining us shortly. He went to help with the relocations of some Asian peoples.”
“And the babe there? Niece or nephew?”
“Thas. He is almost four months old. Tell me, your Rajni?”
“Still free of me. Somewhere.”
“It is our family’s fate to wait long for our mates.” She looked over her shoulder. The big blue beast stood and walked toward them. He put a hand on Aureliana’s shoulder and she leaned into him. “We’ve been together a short while ourselves. Ren, this is my second brother Marcos. Marc, this is my Rajni, and brother of the king, Renakletos. And our son, of course. Our daughter plays with the other children in the nursery. You can meet her later. And Aodhan’s Rajni waits inside. She is feeling a bit unwell this day.”
He bowed to the blue demon, a Warrior. A warrior demon brother-in-law. He hadn’t expected that. “So have Mummy and Daddy relocated yet? Heard they are headed this way soon.”
A small flicker of emotion hit his sister’s eyes. “I believe that is one of the tribes who will be coming this way. Nalik has gone to bring them here.”
The Outcast Page 1
