Snowdrops and the Night Warriors

By Zee Gorman

Nikolas is a warrior and military leader hardened by the trials of his time. Having led countless battles against the Dark Followers, he is popularly recognized as a hero in the Altethlon Federation he serves. He is often called upon by the Queen to fulfill dangerous missions. He has never failed her.

This winter he is summoned again, only this time he is wanted for his body - to help produce an heir to the throne. The problem: He is deeply in love with Ximia, a princess warrior of the Ubion Kingdom, whom he has promised to see this winter and when he does, he plans to propose marriage.

Determined to tell the Queen about his true love, he sets out to the Palace of Eternal Light, where Queen Isolda, the highest ruler of the Altethlon Federation, resides. When he arrives at the Palace, what awaits him is nothing like he expected. The revelation of a long-held secret shatters his very faith in the regime he serves. But despite all his doubts and qualms, he has to answer his call of duty.

As events unfold, to be put to trial are only his combat skills and his strength, but also his heart and his soul – even his humor, for he finds the only help in an odd character with queer ways. As his enemy shifts its face and grows exponentially in power, he is running short of time and out of options.

. . .

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zee Gorman
• Release date: Sep 26, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466014961

Zee Gorman

Zee Gorman was born and raised in Southern China. Her love for fiction began at a very young age. By the time she started high school, she had read every single novel from the neighborhood novel rental. She then proceeded to seek out every foreign novel she could lay her hands on. She went on to College to study English and later took a career in teaching. Her passion for language and literature eventually led her into writing. She has written short stories, poems, and essays, and is mildly published in China. When she came to United States to further advance her education, she discovered the magical power of an entirely different kind of language - the computer language. That led her into a life-long career in information technology. And yet the writing bug has never left her ...Today, Zee Gorman lives in Northern California with her husband and her daughter. She is and will continue to be an IT manager by day and a fantasy fiction writer by night.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Nikolas had no desire to open the rawhide pack he held in his battle-scarred hands, even though he knew it contained a letter from the Queen.

One of the hunting groups found the Estentaia courier lost in the snowstorm. They brought him back to the small hunting cabin and he demanded to see Commander Nikolas for he must deliver the letter from the Queen to his hands and his hands only. Now the young man was comfortably wrapped in a wool blanket. A mug of steamy broth had stopped his violent shivers and returned some color to his cheeks. His feet, suffering from severe frostbite, still badly needed treatment. The hunters had gone to fetch a medicine man, leaving the two of them alone in the cabin. A single heating crystal was shimmering in a fire pot in the corner. The storm raged outside but the cabin was warming up.

Are you not going to read the letter, Commander? the young man asked anxiously. Nikolas approximated that he was a Midlander barely twenty years of age. Must be a new recruit – an unseasoned young lad eager to complete his mission, he thought.

I am. He smiled understandingly as his callous hand touched the thin leather strap tied around the pack. The knot would not loosen - it was damp from melted ice. He pulled out a small skinning knife and cut it apart easily. He shook the pack a few times to remove the remaining water drops. Then he wiped it carefully with his sleeves before he flipped the lid open.

I hope the letter is not ruined, the young lad said nervously as Nikolas slid the parchment out. All the way I made sure it stayed dry, until I was too cold to think straight. Then I don’t quite remember what happened . . .

It is not ruined, Nikolas said as he unfolded the letter carefully. Should I tell him that I do not need to read the letter to know what the Queen wants? He flattened the parchment as he glanced at the content. It was as he expected.

Good, good, the lad said with relief in his voice. Nikolas met his sincere smile with a controlled one of his own, realizing that he was held captive by the lad’s sense of duty until he read the letter, word by word.

He surrendered.

Aside from the usual greeting and formality of the Queen speaking to a provincial leader, it spoke of a grave matter concerning the fate of the Federation that must be related in person. It urged him to make haste and be prepared for a prolonged stay. In essence the summon letter was no different from the two previous ones this year. The Queen’s demand was the same: Report to the palace immediately. But the tone of this letter was a bit more urgent . . . or desperate. Instead of important, she had chosen the word grave; instead of discuss, she had said relate. Then she had preempted him with a warning of a prolonged stay. He read the letter again to gauge the Queen’s mood and therefore, what she might do with him when he arrived at the palace. Would she again engage him in lengthy discussions of state and provincial affairs that would best be discussed with her cabinet or small talks about the cultures of different regions? Would she insist that he be treated to the luxuries of the palace? Would she entice him to stay for just another day, and then another? Or would she simply make the demand that was so obvious to both of them? He hoped she would. Then he could officially turn her down. Thus far she had chosen to resort to only her persistence and persuasiveness, as if she knew that using her power would achieve nothing.

Frowning lightly, Nikolas folded the letter back up in his hands.

Commander . . . the lad spoke immediately, without missing a beat, Are you setting out to Estentaia soon?

Was he? The Queen had summoned him. He should obey her order unconditionally and report to the palace, as he had done for the past sixteen years. That was what he should do. But the summon order could not have arrived at a worse time: He had a different promise to fulfill this winter – one that he would not miss for the world.

Are you, sir? The lad pressed.

Of course, he answered despite himself, I’m planning on it, yes. Yet he was plagued by his doubts. How could he find a way to fulfill both duties? He sighed. It was not like him to be indecisive like this. Peering at the courier’s eager face, he realized that he needed to put this lad at ease before he hurt himself with his nervousness. He slipped the letter into his pocket and put the pack down on the bench.

Is there anything else, soldier? he asked, nudging the blanket tighter around the lad’s feet.

Pardon me, sir, for I may be speaking out of turn, said the lad, But please make haste and help the Queen. Folks are saying that you are the only one who can help her.

What?! His eyes bored into the lad. How could anybody know what the Queen wanted of him? Certainly she had repeatedly summoned him into the palace, and expressed her desire to him in the most subtle ways. At times she had seemed to be in deep distress and it was laid plain on her face that he could release that distress by simply reading her mind and giving her what she wanted. She had never outright demanded it.

At the age of sixty-one enjoying a youthful look of a thirty-year-old, the Queen was still childless and therefore her throne had no rightful heir. That was an unspoken concern for the cabinet and the court. Common folks had certainly gossiped and speculated, but for a courier to plead for his involvement in a matter of such sensitivity and privacy was simply . . . outrageous.

Oh no, certainly I’m not implying that I know the content of the letter, the lad added hurriedly, I did not even peek when I thought I was going to die in the snow. It was my first time serving the Queen but I know my boundaries. I just know it must be very important if the Queen has sent me out to you at this time of the year.

No worries . . . Nikolas said, his heart settling back to where it belonged. He listened to the wind and the snowfall outside. It was taking an unusually long time for the medicine man to arrive. He pointed at the lad’s feet and asked, How are your feet feeling?

They feel fine. Thank you, sir, the lad answered. Then, as if he was unwilling to leave the topic about the Queen, he continued. I know the Queen is in trouble, sir. She needs your help. The letter is marked urgent, but I am fifteen days late in getting it into your hands. I . . . I have failed the Queen and I have failed you. He lowered his head.

It was not your fault. It was the storms and the snow.

Aye, terrible, terrible storms held me up on the plains. But being on the road is my job and I am supposed to know my job. I missed the last cargo ship by two days. So I walked. I followed the river but then I got lost. I am not supposed to get lost. Now the Queen must be worried sick . . . He shook his head as his tears began to flow down his cheeks.

Nikolas placed a hand on the lad’s shoulder and said, I understand. I shall be on my way by dawn and I should be in Estentaia in eight days. Then the Queen will know that you have completed your mission. He looked at the lad warmly. Look, you have acted bravely. There were unforeseen circumstances. But you delivered the letter, didn’t you? You’ve done well. Now, don’t worry one bit and just rest until you are cured. I’m sure everything will be fine. The Queen will be fine.

Thank you, sir! A grateful smile came to the lad’s teary face.

Indeed. That was what he should and would do. There was no telling if Estentaia was in real danger. How could he second guess the words of the Queen? But what about Ximia? A different voice spoke inside his head as he thought of how the year had dragged by after Ximia’s departure, and how the wait had finally come to an end. His heart began to pound and he felt light-headed. That was what the thought of her always did to him: It electrified him. The second moon of winter was when they had promised to see each other again. But how could he be in two places at once?

The cabin door flung open and a large figure came into the small space with flurries of snow and ice. The man shut the door quickly, blocking the shrieking wind outside. He took off his heavy jacket and his hat.

Chief! Nikolas stood up and greeted him.

How’s the courier? asked the old man as he walked over.

He squatted next to the lad and opened the case he had brought with him. He produced a jar with a wide mouth and set it down alongside the courier, and then he rolled up the blanket and exposed the young lad’s bare feet. Nikolas knelt down and helped him with the blanket. The lad’s feet looked like deformed potatoes, swollen and darkened. The Chief pressed on a few spots and said, Alright, I think we can save those toes. He opened the jar and began to apply the herbal paste to the lad’s feet.

"The Lukkai medicine man is nowhere to be found, so they went to the village for me, said the Chief, I brought a sleigh so we can take him back to the village. Then he looked at the lad. You feeling alright, son?"

I am very well, thank you, Mr. . . .

Chief. He is the tribal chief, Nikolas said.

Thank you Mr. Chief. I’m sorry I am so clumsy, not knowing the ins and outs of this continent . . . said the lad as he watched the Chief curiously.

Nikolas put on his coat and hat. Chief, I have to go back to the bungalow to pack.

Pack? The Chief stopped his work and turned to look at him. Packing for what?

Queen’s summons. I have to be on my way by dawn, said Nikolas, tightening his belt.

The Chief stood up and observed Nikolas’ face. He gazed at him for a short moment and squatted back down to his work. I’ll see you in the bungalow, before you leave.

Aye, Chief. Lad, you are in good hands, be well, he said and turned towards the door.

Commander Nikolas? the lad spoke again.

Yes? He paused and turned back around.

It’s a real honor to have met you.

Likewise, lad, He smiled. Now, you get better and get back on the road soon!

Yes, sir!

By the time they helped the courier settle down in the village, it was midnight. Inside the bungalow, Nikolas buzzed around collecting his necessities as the Chief puffed his pipe next to the fireplace. His face was gloomy and he hadn’t said a word for the last half candlestick. Finally he broke the silence with a sigh.

How much hay must a tribe stock up for a winter?

Nikolas paused and smiled. Raised by the old man, he was all too familiar with this motto of the Vokkosh tribes.

Just enough, he said, giving the perfect answer to the old man.

How long have we been integrated with the Federation?

Sixteen, almost seventeen years.

The Chief banged his pipe against the hearth to remove the old ash, stood up, and walked to his old jacket. He searched but did not find any tobacco. Nikolas reached up to the top wall shelf and found a block of tobacco. He sat down and began to grate it, and then he grabbed a small chunk and handed it to the old man.

Sixteen years, the old man echoed. And then he continued, First we redeemed your citizenship. Then our trade groups were granted a protected pass through the Queen’s territory. And then we got our own trade tents in Estentaia’s marketplace. That wasn’t enough. We got help from Grenyseum in building some of the best fishing boats and processing plants. . . . Vokkosh has prospered. Its population has doubled. The fishing village is now like a small town. Don’t you think this is enough?

I do, Nikolas said, running his hunting knife on a piece of sharpening leather.

Then what else do you seek? The old man turned sideways to look at him straight in his face.

Nikolas knew where he was going with this. He paused and said, Chief, I seek nothing. But I owe a duty to the Queen . . .

You owe a duty to Ximia! You can’t make her wait any longer. Eight years. That girl suffered for you for eight years. She came all the way here for you, son. And you sent her away . . . Nikolas was about to say something but the old man did not let him. This winter, you will be a responsible man and you will go to her. And you will propose and make her whole. If you are traveling tomorrow, Sweriek is where you will go. It is as sacred of a promise as your duty to that Queen of yours . . .

Chief . . . Nikolas finally had to interrupt. I’ve told you many times. I did not send her away.

But did you propose to her when you were with her?

I . . .

You did not, son. You did not. The Chief sighed. You never had a mother. It is not your fault. But you haven’t the faintest idea of how women think. The fact that you did not propose was what sent her away. He stopped Nikolas from speaking once more and grabbed his shoulders with both hands. You listen to me on this. If you disappoint her again, you will lose her. You lose her for the last time and you will never get her back. This is your last chance. And let me tell you, if you disappoint her again, she won’t be the only one that won’t forgive you. Do you understand?

Nikolas had no choice but to nod.

Sweriek. That is where you are going tomorrow, the old man said authoritatively, watching Nikolas who was inserting the flying daggers one by one into the slots on his belt.

I’m going to Sweriek, I promise, but only after I have reported to the Queen, Nikolas said. He stood up and hung the belt on the wall, together with his uniforms.

I neglected to tell you, said the Chief, not in a bit surprised by Nikolas’ answer, that being late is as good as being a no-show. It’s been a year since she left. You can’t be too early, but you can be too late. You have one month at best.

And I will make it in one month, said Nikolas.

The Chief looked at him hard. Then he said, It is not my place to question your business with the Queen. I understand that you want to do well by your parents. You have talked about honor. I understand honor. I have just one thing to say: It is the people who choose their rulers. If a ruler abuses her power, and the people do nothing, then they deserve to suffer. It’s as much your duty to serve your queen as not to serve her when she’s out of bounds. No queen in the world should put her needs before those she serves.

Nikolas nodded genuinely. I understand, Chief. I’ll keep that in mind.

The Chief stood up and threw his jacket on. You get some sleep. I’ll prepare your horse for you.

Nikolas watched him walk out of the room. He blew out the lamp and slowly undressed. He lay awake for a long while in the dark. The Queen’s beautiful and ageless face flashed in his mind. Her calm and soft voice rang in his ears. Their long and slow conversations whispered in the depths of the cold night, like a bright candle shining in a patch of dark. Her aura was remote and aloof, and yet it also carried a tint of warmth that drew him in. He had to admit that somewhere in his heart, there was a soft spot for her. In a way, he was thankful that she had not asked him the obvious question and thus saved him from having to bear seeing her reaction to his inevitable answer. But on this trip, he really needed to end this unhealthy entanglement, one way or another.

When he finally closed his eyes, he had made up his mind. He would rush to Estentaia, report to the Queen, give her the whole story, explain to her why he could not stay for long, and then make a dash to Sweriek.

Chapter 2

Bella was agitated. And Nikolas could feel it.

It was a long but easy ride from the mouth of Vokkosh River to the dock at Harden. They had been on the plains for three and a half days. She had been more than accommodating to his need for speed. But as they drew closer to Harden, she picked up a fretful mood for no obvious reason.

What is it, girl? He stroked her neck as they followed the cart road up a mount. She pricked her ears and gave him a snort in answer.

He eyed the ominous gloom gathering in the distance.

It’s just a storm. We have been in storms, he said with a soothing voice. It did not ease her edginess. At each turn of the trail, her muscles tensed and she blew hard through her nostrils. He scanned the landscape and all he saw were gentle slopes covered in lush grass all around them. Patches of harvested fields lay bare in the weak afternoon sun. He saw nothing wrong except for the storm clouds gathering above the horizon right where the Estentaia Channel should be.

And some storm clouds they were - rolling and churning in all shades of gray, they were devouring the sky piece by piece. He couldn’t remember ever seeing such vile clouds like those before him. But Bella still should not fret - Northland horses were not easily frightened. Did she see something he could not?

He continued to urge her on, comforting her every now and then by patting her neck and uttering soothing words. If they kept to the same pace they would reach the town by nightfall. And if they were lucky they might even get to Harden before the storm hit the prairie.

A farm appeared not far from the trail. Wedged between two rolling hills were clusters of willow trees. He slowed her down to a trot and turned off the road.

Certainly they could afford a short break after all that rush.

A thin creek lined the bottom of the hills. He dismounted and led Bella over to a narrow opening in the woods. There he stopped and unloaded his travel bags from her back. He combed her mane as he handed her a few carrot sticks.

Did I push you too hard? he asked. Indeed they had covered five-day’s distance in three and a half days. Bella’s stamina did not seem to run short, even though she was not quite her normal self. She chewed on the crispy snack and seemed to be temporarily satisfied.

He needed a splash of water over his face. It was the coldest season here in West Dancers Plain, but it was still too warm for the Northlander in him. He let her loose and walked over to the creek. She followed quietly behind him. The cool water felt good on his face.

Suddenly she bucked and cantered to the side. Something had spooked her. Nikolas ran to her and grabbed the reins. Shh . . . What is it? He sharpened his senses and looked around him. A few twigs moved lightly in the air, disturbed by the approaching storm. The ground was covered with dead branches and rotten leaves. A few stems stood near the creek, as though someone was about to clear this area to build something and then abandoned the project. The water of the creek was a bit full and cloudy for the season. It was quiet except for the sound of wind.

Right before his eyes, the land darkened. He looked up and saw the storm clouds had caught up to the sun. The air felt thick as it was compressed by the heavy rain clouds pressing down from the sky. They would be caught in the storm before they could reach Harden.

Nikolas placed the backpacks back on Bella and secured them. Alright Bella, we’ve got just a little ways to go. And I need you to be with me. He traced his hands from Bella’s right front hoof to her shoulder muscles. Then he did the same to her left side. Holding tight to the reins, he whispered into her ear a single sentence. She began to paw her hooves on the ground.

Nikolas leapt onto the saddle and Bella dashed out of the wood like an arrow, charging into the colossal blanket of darkness wailing, biting and clawing at them. Nikolas gasped. If evil had a form and a voice, this would be it. Suddenly a net of electric sparks exploded around them. Closely following it the deafening sound of thunder pierced through the air, as though the sky was shattered into a million pieces. Bella’s muscles tensed but under his battle order, she was unstoppable.

And the storm behemoth gladly devoured them.

The fat raindrops beating on them quickly turned into tumbling water columns whipping them from all sides. The trail disappeared. In fact, the land and the sky disappeared. He could see nothing but flying dots of rain; he could feel nothing but rain beating on his skin. Bella held up like a Northland horse should, galloping forward following the shape of the rolling slopes under her. Nikolas clung to her as if he were her very soul, guiding her with his touches.

They battled the storm for just half a candlestick, when suddenly, as fast and fiercely as it had swallowed them, it spit them out. They found themselves in the bright, warm sunset of a clear sky. Nikolas looked back to see the storm recede rapidly behind them, heading to pummel the other parts of the plains. Bella slowed down a bit, as if she could read his thoughts. He had her come to a full stop, just so he could check everything. They were drenched but everything was in order. He climbed into the saddle and they continued on. The storm seemed to have cured Bella’s edginess. Good girl, Nikolas said encouragingly.

As they climbed over the last low ridge of hills, they could see Estentaia, majestic and lonely, slowly rising up alongside the glittering waters of the channel. Black dots of houses began to appear along the coast. The town of Harden was just ahead. Before they reached the bottom of the hill, the first curtain of nightfall began to spread. Estentaia’s cityscape emerged from dusk’s purple haze. The bold and lively architectural outlines of the Palace of Eternal Light would shame the best builder in Vokkosh for a thousand years. And the clever arrangement of external passage ways weaving around the complex structure would mesmerize the most sophisticated eyes. The Torch of Life, a thin needle-like light tower atop the middle giant, began to dominate the darkening sky and the dimming landscape with five light beams, four over the ocean in each direction and one pointed to the sky. Built in a semi-translucent granite-like material that could no longer be found or made, it had stood centuries of abuse thrown at it by the elements, serving as a symbol of faith for the Light Followers.

Nikolas was used to the awe that the sight struck in his heart. After all, he had approached this remnant of the last civilization countless times, on horseback or on sea vessels, at night or in daylight. But this time he felt different. As a trained warrior and a military leader, he never doubted his purpose. He was born into a war-torn world, hardened through ordeals and trials, man-made or inflicted by the harsh elements. War had been the core of his whole being. But now he began to question if this was all what he was, a fighter for the Light Followers and a protector of the Children of The Creator. It was no longer enough for him. He wanted more. He wondered what it was like before the