Ramos

By Brian Darnell

Long ago, before the name Mars was ever conceived, there was Ramos. Humans, dwarrows, Dark Elves, Silver Dragons and other races live in a world that has erupted into chaos.

Karl Crowley—a human Master Hunter of the coastal town of Land’s End—is on a hunting trip with five troublemaking recruits. During the trip, they witness the mysterious murder of a dwarrow child. The dwarrows—a race in long exile underground—retaliate against the humans who they believe are the murderers of their kin. Karl is thus caught in a race against time, as he must reach his people to save them from an army of savage dwarrows none of them knows anything about.

Charles Cavanaugh—an eccentric traveler—arrives at Land’s End with nefarious schemes in mind. Schemes to destroy the people of Land’s End, and to let his minion, the demon-spear wielding Man in Black, loose upon his enemies. The only ones who can stop them are Gabriel and Sarah Lamorre, the teenage son and daughter of the king of Land’s End; Dawn Tisher, a warrior-girl on a mission of honor; and Matt Brant, known thief and alleged murderer. They are all that stand against the coming darkness ready to engulf their lives.

RAMOS is a fantasy novel that will appeal to fantasy readers who enjoy strong characterization, a believable magic system, realistic action scenes, and an involving story told through multiple character perspectives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brian Darnell
• Release date: Feb 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9781465857477

Brian Darnell

Brian Darnell, born in 1978, is an independent writer who is a lover of all forms of entertainment; especially in the fantasy genre. He has grown up in various parts of the United States including the dust bowl of Tulsa, Oklahoma, the snowy wilderness of Ann Arbor, Michigan, and the smog filled landscape of Los Angeles, California. He currently resides in the suburban desert of Valencia, California where he is feverishly writing his new novels. The fantasy novel, RAMOS, is Mr. Darnell's first published e-book and will not be his last. That is if his rambunctious two cats will ever let him get some work done!

Book preview

Ramos

By Brian Darnell

Published by Brian Darnell at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Brian Darnell

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Hunters

Chapter 2: A Traveler’s Tale

Chapter 3: Gabriel

Chapter 4: Dire Tidings

Chapter 5: Shadows

Chapter 6: The Fall of Lamorre

Chapter 7: Flight

Chapter 8: The Spies of Land’s End

Chapter 9: Call to War

Chapter 10: Homecoming

Chapter 11: Retribution

Chapter 12: Blackbane

Chapter 13: Refugees

Chapter 14: The Guild

Chapter 15: Betrayal

Chapter 16: Drakken Hunt

Chapter 17: Bite

Chapter 18: Awakening

Chapter 19: Lost Souls

Chapter 20: Death’s Door

Epilogue

Chapter 1—Hunters

[Winter Season, Date 49 N.O., Sun 1, Location: Land’s End]

At dawn Master Hunter Karl Crowley wearily climbed out of his queen sized bed. He threw back wool covers then planted his bare feet on a cold stone floor.

Another winter has come, he said to himself with disgust.

Karl hated the cold and none more than this sun, the first of the winter season. For six long months, the season would stretch. It would infect the continent of Enron’s east regions with frigid winds, waves of snow storms, and a bone biting cold.

Karl hurried to an oak cabinet standing against his bedroom wall. He opened the cabinet doors and reached inside. He put on undergarments, belted on leather pants, put on a long-sleeved linen shirt, and slipped his hands into leather gloves. The clothes were in the hunter’s color of olive green. The belt held a sheathed knife and tied pouches filled with bowstrings, arrowheads, and other hunting necessities. He last put on thick socks followed by tough leather boots.

Karl went over to his sleeping wife, Rebecca, who had the covers pushed up to her chin. Her red hair was tousled over a perfectly oval face. Karl kissed her on the forehead before leaving.

Out of his bedroom he walked down a stone hallway. He stopped at his son’s bedroom door (a door made of wood planks) and listened for movement behind it.

Damn it, Karl muttered before pounding a fist against the door. John. Wake up, boy! I want you out at those Outer Markers before the sun is half-raised. You hear me in there? After hearing a soft groan from his teenage son, Karl left the door.

Karl appeared in his sparsely furnished living room. He whisked past two sitting chairs, ignored the open kitchen to his right, and went to the front door. He grabbed his green leather coat off a hanging peg. He put on the coat, put on a backpack, and lastly grabbed a strung bow and a case of arrows. Karl was ready to leave on a hunting trip he’d been looking forward to for many, many suns.

The Master Hunter opened the front door and was immediately gripped in cold winter air. The sky was in its pre-dawn stage with the stars above twinkling in friendly gestures. The two-slivered moons bore down their pale light.

Karl closed the door behind him before walking toward the high stone walls protecting the Fortress of All Men. The fortress was the home of his king and best friend, Michael Lamorre. It was also home to the king’s work-retainers, servants, and of course the heir-apparent to the human throne, Sarah Lamorre.

Karl listened to the grunts of guards patrolling the walls tops. He also heard the muttering of posted guards at the front wall’s lowered steel drawbridge. The guards’ stories consisted of having watch-duty since the latter moon. Because of that they’d not been able to participate in the previous evening festivities.

The Festival of the New Order was a celebration of the eve of the winter season: The sun and moon of rebirth, the dawn of a New Order, Season number 49. Those shivering guards—searching for their blood enemy named the Drakken—could only stare with resignation at the moonlit sea surrounding the fortress and town of Land’s End. From the fortress courtyard, they heard lively talk of festival goers, smelled freshly cooked meats, and dryly tasted beer. Karl was confident the guards wanted nothing more than to retire to their beds, so they could forget about the festival they’d not been able to attend.

To the front wall’s left, and away from the lowered drawbridge, sat the stone barrack house designated for the hunter profession. Attached to the barrack was a stable. Karl headed to it while taking in the scope of the town.

Amazingly all was still in town. Karl should have smelled smoke from chimneys, heard women at their chores, or saw men of business setting up shop. Karl understood the festival was a taxing affair, but he hoped his people didn’t forget about preparations for the approaching winter storms. L’eanith—a Protector of the Silver Dragon—told him five suns ago the Plains of Desolation was already covered in deep snow. Because of this early arrival the coming winter would be a hard and long one.

Karl arrived at the open stable. Inside horses talked amongst themselves as they stamped hooves at the icy ground. A young groom bounded out. The boy’s dark eyes shone with excitement.

Master Hunter Crowley, Master Hunter Crowley! the groom Roger sputtered out. I heard about your trip. Are you going to take the boys somewhere secret? Are you going to hunt down a flying Drakken? My father always said you’re the best hunter in Land’s End.

Roger, Karl broke in to the boy’s string of random thoughts, all I need is for you to saddle Streak.

Already done, Roger shot back with pride. Piper, the twins, and the gimp are out at the Outer Markers. Master Hunter Elias left a little while ago. I’ll be right back with Streak.

Roger ran into the stable.

Karl stood where he was breathing in fresh air. A short time had passed before he felt Streak nuzzling her wet lips against his clean shaven face. She stamped her hooves in excitement. She’d been confined to the stable for far too long.

Karl examined Streak to make sure she was ready. He first checked her saddle straps. He next checked to make sure additional supplies were in the saddle bags hanging from her sides. After he had found all in order, he tied his backpack to Streak’s rump, secured his bow and case of arrows, grabbed the saddle’s pommel, and lifted up and onto her.

The Master Hunter sighed with pleasure. Like Streak, Karl had been confined to his own type of stable. He’d been dealing with countless meetings with the king and other Master Hunters. Laborious meetings dealing with new recruits, bedding space, hunting trails, traps to be made, new rules to be implemented, and on and on it went. He was glad the chores were finished.

Karl grabbed Streak’s reigns, turned her away from Roger, and headed for the front wall’s drawbridge. There the Journeymen Road (a wide packed dirt road lined with limestone rocks) began. Streak passed the hunter barrack, gained the road, and went to her right and away from the walls.

Streak entered the town of Land’s End. Karl again searched for signs of life. Most of the one-story stone, brick, and log homes had light shining through their windows. Other homes had lazy lines of smoke rising from their chimneys. In the sky he noticed the absence of stars and moons. Dawn’s morning light had quickly overtaken them.

Karl glowed with freedom as he left the town. Once he was past the last set of buildings he rode up a rise covered in wild grass, withered flowers, and old tree stumps. After gaining the rise’s top, he saw the land ahead flat and covered in tough brown grass. His attention focused on the approach of two stone towers. One tower was at the right of the Journeymen Road the other at its left. Streak went off the road and headed to the right hand tower.

The two towers were named the Outer Markers. They were designed as lookouts for enemies and a border for travelers to Land’s End.

Karl’s hunting party and a steel clad knight stood in front of the right hand tower. The knight raised a greeting fist at Karl.

Hello there, Master Hunter Crowley, Knight Rugar said in a boisterous voice. Good sun to you. What a cold one it is.

That it is, Karl replied. He brought Streak to a halt before getting off her. Rugar came up to Karl to shake his gloved hand.

Knight Rugar said, The boys told me of the trip you’re taking them on. If you don’t mind my asking, where will you be going?

Karl examined the line of four trainee boys standing not far from him. He noticed them straining with anticipation to hear his response.

Master Hunter Elias and I plan on taking them to the Grasslands. There we should find some deer and bears and maybe even a moss-elk.

The boys audibly groaned with displeasure. Karl knew their hopes of tracking down Drakken vanished. They should have known they were too young to be put in such danger. If the trainees wanted to become hunters of Drakken, they needed to learn first the fundamentals of the profession they'd chosen.

In the coming suns, Karl hopefully thought, they’ll learn. I have to believe they will or this trip will be for nothing.

Knight Rugar interrupted his thoughts. "Elias said he’s already started on the path. He said if you don’t find him in the coming suns he’ll eventually be, ‘walking over water’. Whatever that last means, I don’t rightly know."

Karl knew his partner’s code. Thank you, Rugar. What he told you is a code, for a place he might be at. Well, I’m sorry I didn’t see you at the festival. The moon must have been a long one for you.

It was. Right now I just want to return home for a hot meal.

I’m sure Britta has it ready for you. Plus the next watch isn’t far off.

Whispers started breaking out between the four boys. Karl gave them a perturbed look. Rugar understood Karl’s expression. The knight went to the Outer Marker entrance to allow the Master Hunter time with the trainees.

The first boy Karl studied was Piper Grist. Piper had freckled skin, a thin form, and short red hair. Piper was dressed—like the other boys—in a trainee hunter’s uniform. He wore soft-soled brown slippers, cotton brown pants, and a leather belt holding a sheathed hunting knife. The rest of the outfit: a short-sleeved gray tunic, brown coat over the tunic, and a leather pack on the back. Piper wore a mischievous grin always speaking of trouble.

Next to Piper were the twins, William and Wicker Banner. The twins were mirror images of the other. Karl liked the black haired, black eyed boys. Both would become exceptional hunters because of their strong builds, growing height, and nimble hands and feet. The only problem was they couldn’t make decisions without the other concurring.

Last in line was Benny Talbot. Benny was a boy with a cloud of rotten luck. He was also known to the boys as, the gimp. Not only was he slow and oversized, he was also a dreadful thinker. To become a hunter you needed sharp wits and quick hands. Benny had neither. What he had was courage. He had a will unlike any person Karl had ever come across.

Karl was satisfied with the boys dress and manner. He decided it was time to tell them his plans for them.

All right, younglings. The time for play is over. As you know, this is the first time I’ve been allowed to oversee you. You four are seen as the weak links in the hunter training process. You have glaring faults. What those are, I’ll determine and fix. We have eight suns to accomplish this. It won’t be easy for you. I set a fast pace and—

Good morning to you all, a well-mannered voice interrupted Karl’s speech.

The boys looked past Karl. During this he silently berated the stranger for interrupting him. Karl turned to face the stranger. He saw a man riding a large white horse. The horse had a commanding build covered in a lather of sweat. It was also without a saddle.

The man on the horse wore black, silver tipped boots. He also wore satin black pants, a white satin shirt with emerald cufflinks, over the shirt a dark blue vest, and a black cape hanging over his broad shoulders. The man also had black hair with streaks of silver shooting throughout it. The hair was cut at the neck and combed tightly back. The man’s pale face consisted of small black eyes, a pointy nose, thin eyebrows, and rich red lips.

The man’s black eyes of coal stared down at Karl. Karl stared back. He stared long and deep into those black eyes. In moments, he saw nothing else but those eyes. It almost felt as if he were being hypnotized.

The man reached down from the white horse with a clawed hand. The man took his hand and punched it through Karl’s chest. Karl didn’t move nor did he feel pain. Blood spurted around the edges of the hand now inside his chest. He felt fingers grasp his beating heart, rip the organ from its place, and take it from his exposed chest. Once in hand the man raised the beating heart to the blue lit sky. He lowered it to an open and fang filled mouth. The fangs bit hard into Karl’s heart.

I say good morning to you, Karl, the man’s voice interrupted his maddening vision.

Karl rapidly blinked to clear his sight. He brought himself back into the here and now. Beads of nervous sweat decorated his face.

You’re Karl Crowley, are you not? the man asked. I believe you’re a Master Hunter. You’re the one King Lamorre relies on to tell him what happens in these parts. I’ve also heard you've got a keen eye and a sharp mind. Do you see things in me you don’t like? Is that why you’re looking at me so strangely?

No, no, Karl hastily replied as he wiped the sweat off his face. I…I was just taken aback by your style of clothes and your riding bareback. I rarely see a bareback rider. Karl felt out of place. He felt as if he were babbling.

Ah, then I’ll forgive you for your lack of reply, the man said. Well, before I leave, do you think you can introduce these fine boys to me?

Karl felt uncomfortable listening and talking to the man. He did have to admit the man dressed well, and did seem to have the right manners.

So what’s not to like? Karl asked himself. The vision I had answers that! Visions looking and feeling real doesn’t happen every sun. Actually, they never happen. This means somehow, someway, this man has something to do with it. How’s it even possible? Humans can’t use magic.

These are trainees, Karl replied while tuning out his churning thoughts. I’ve been tasked with showing them how to be a true hunter.

That’s a very noble exercise, the man replied. Those who’ve gone before must always teach the young. I hope you boys listen to your teacher. He knows what he’s talking about.

Running feet was heard. Karl turned to see his son running to the group.

Ah, the man said, I thought someone was missing.

John Crowley’s features were much like Karl’s. He had brown eyes, a round face, thick eyebrows, slim muscular build, and short brown hair. His strongest feature was a bold nose. His weakest his mother’s soft skin. He was wearing the trainee hunter’s uniform.

John stopped in front of his father. He started in with his predictable excuses. Father, I apologize for being so late. Mother. She woke up when I was about to leave. She wouldn’t let me go until I ate breakfast. I tried to stop her, but she insisted.

Hush up, John, Karl curtly replied. He would reprimand the boy later. Right now he wanted the man on the white horse away from them. His disturbing sense of wrongness grew.

The man said, Karl, you've got a fine boy there. He is truly your spitting image. I must apologize, but it’s time for me to go. I have an important matter to bring to your king. It was a pleasure to meet you all. Especially you, Mr. Crowley.

The man’s bare, left hand descended. His pale nails expertly groomed. Karl reluctantly took the hand and shook it. The touch didn’t last long. Karl trembled in relief.

It was a pleasure to meet…. Karl remembered he’d yet to ask a name.

My name’s Charles Cavanaugh. Hopefully we’ll see more of each other when you return. When that time comes I’d like to hear how your hunt went.

Not if I can help it, was Karl’s first thought. Hopefully by the time we return this Charles Cavanaugh will be long gone. If not I’ll have to send the Spies of Land’s End out to watch him. Maybe even search his room for anything incriminating. Something’s terribly wrong with this man and I want to know what it is.

Charles Cavanaugh shooed his horse forward. The horse galloped off to Land’s End.

Master Hunter Crowley, Benny said with despair in his voice, I don’t like that man. I saw something. I—

Piper jovially broke in. Ha, ha. The gimp is actually thinking for once. Benny, you’re an overgrown slob who shouldn’t think. It might hurt that small pea you have in that melon of a head. Mr. Cavanaugh was more than civil. In my opinion, he was a true gentleman. What do the rest of you think?

The other boys nodded in agreement. Karl knew the boys weren’t looking closely enough. They didn’t see what was underneath the man’s well-mannered ways. For now, he’d let it go. They had more than enough important things to do.

All right, enough of this, Karl abruptly said. I want you all in a straight line behind Streak. If I see you waver in your run, or fall back to a measure of space I deem unfit, I’ll be that much harder on you. Trainees, fall into line.

Karl hefted himself back onto Streak. He looked out over the open countryside while smiling at the welcome sight. He dug his heels into Streak’s flanks to send her galloping off. He looked behind to see the boys running in a straight line. Karl knew the sun was going to be long and hard for them.

Karl didn’t return to the Journeymen Road. If he did it would take them south and past the eastern shores of Lake Taria, the Lumber Yard, and sharply west to the farming villages of Hador and Dormoth. The party instead skirted the land at a southwest angle. They’d soon see the north side of Lake Taria and the forests, hills, and valleys that followed. The sun of a new hunt truly began.

Darkness fell quickly when the hunting party stopped for the evening.

While setting up camp, Karl thought about how proud he was of the boys. They’d not complained once about the constant running and hiking. Even with that, Karl did find weaknesses in them.

Piper tended to kick rocks when he was bored of running. William and Wicker held hands at times. Benny became distracted by flying bugs. Then there was John. When the party took a break, Karl heard and saw John’s wearied breaths. He also saw his feet covered with blisters. John Crowley should not have blisters, he should not be tired.

The boy’s body is weak when it should be strong, Karl kept telling himself. Why hasn’t he been properly training these past seasons? Doesn’t he care if he becomes a hunter? Doesn’t he want to follow in my profession, my father’s profession, as it is his birthright to do? The questions made Karl seethe with anger. At least now I’ll be able to fix what’s wrong with him. Hopefully I can make John see becoming a hunter is what he’s born to do. At least he’s trying.

Karl knew all the boys were trying. Overall they were a good group. Even with their teachers’ warnings about their mischievous ways.

Karl thought about something else. He thought about why his long time hunting partner, Elias Kahn, hadn’t been found. Elias left his trademark signs on trees and in bushes. He still hadn’t appeared. Karl assumed Elias was hunting something large. If he were he wouldn’t appear for at least a couple suns, and most likely at the place he told Knight Rugar earlier that sun.

After camp had been made—consisting of a small fire, bedding laid out in a circle, and beef jerky and water quickly prepared and eaten—Karl stretched out under his wool blankets. He then lifted up his lit wood pipe and began smoking it. The boys, once under their own blankets, fell fast asleep.

With the crackling fire dying down, the cold of the moon slid its icy fingers under Karl’s blankets. He cursed as he shivered.

How warm my bed would feel right now, he kept thinking. How warm Rebecca would be lying next to me.

A vision of Rebecca’s face swam before his eyes. The vision was seen in his tobacco pipe’s lifting smoke.

The smoke first outlined his wife’s head and hair. It then zeroed in on her features. Her large eyes spaced close together, pug nose shaped like a cat’s, and a smile full of perfect teeth. Rebecca’s face swam away. The smoke re-formed into a miniature version of her whole body.

Rebecca was naked and dancing. Karl watched her smoky hips sway back-and-forth. Her elbows fell seductively on her translucent waist, hands rubbing down her thighs, up and down. Karl was lost in the dreamy sight.

Rebecca swayed to her own silent music. Her mouth was open with eyes shut. Then, and without warning, her eyes bulged out. Her hands stopped rubbing and instead violently grabbed at her breasts. Rebecca screamed into Karl’s mind. She tore off her breasts before punching through her chest with both hands. From out of her chest she presented her beating heart. Her heartbeats pounded into Karl’s mind.

Have a taste, my dear, Rebecca mentally said to him in a mocking tone. It’s not as bad as you might think!

Nooo! Karl shouted as he flung the pipe out and over the fire. With undergarments on he jumped out of his blankets.

What was that? he said aloud as he glanced around in fear. The boys moved in their sleep but didn’t wake.

Why’s this happening to me? Karl asked himself. Why am I seeing these visions?

Karl paced the camp’s fringes. After calming down he returned to his blankets to bury himself in their warmth. His mind probed at every question, every possible answer, and found none to explain what was happening. Maybe he was gaining magic powers like the elves. After all, the elves were born from humans.

Karl gave up thinking about it. He was going to block it out until he found Elias. Maybe Elias would have the answers he couldn’t find.

Karl stretched out under his covers as calmness filled him. He closed his eyes for the rest of that moon.

* * * *

Some time ago the animals of the forest watched six invaders make camp. They watched the invaders go to sleep. Now the animals were gone. They escaped from some physical darkness they wanted no part of. The physical darkness originated from within a figure and the demon-spear it held.

The figure was the towering Man in Black. He stood within the edges of the camp studying the sleeping humans. A few paces away from them he saw a pipe on the ground. After picking up the pipe, he strode past the fire to the old sleeping hunter and put the pipe back in his backpack.

The Man in Black straightened. He held his long-shafted demon-spear in his right gloved hand. He methodically rotated his eyes to each human on the ground. The Man in Black’s smile grew long and deep. His white teeth glowed from the light of the two moons. Once done with his examination he clutched his demon-spear more tightly. He held the demon-spear and the demon-soul trapped inside it. The demon-soul, Ikata, was the master of his thoughts and soul.

Blood will soon run, Ikata mentally pronounced, in the Man in Black’s mind. A mind filled with mammoth banks of unmoving fog. A fog so thick it covered up all his memories.

Blood will soon run so I can feast on more souls, Ikata chanted again, and again, and again.

The Man in Black’s smile grew until it went no further. His gloved hand gripped the demon-spear’s shaft until he couldn’t feel it. Ikata—a dark spirit with mental chains clasped around his soul—chanted on until the sun peeked itself over the horizon.

Chapter 2—A Traveler’s Tale

[Winter Season, Date 49 N.O., Sun 1, Location: Land’s End]

Sarah Lamorre—the princess of the humans of Land’s End—stared back at her blue eyes. She sat in a wicker chair, before her oval mirror, which was locked into place on top of her redwood dresser. With the help of her brush, she methodically combed out thick tufts in her blonde hair. Sarah stared into the mirror, combed her hair, and wished for past suns filled with the sounds of war.

A full season passed since the organized assault against the red-scaled Drakken. At that time, 48 N.O., the savage beasts made another attack on Land’s End. The Drakken took twenty human lives and scores of livestock. The most life lost since her people planted roots on Enron’s northeast region. Sarah’s father—Michael Lamorre—was devastated and angered by the news. He didn’t think long about what to do. He and his council made plans to exterminate the beasts. The extermination was named, the Drakken War.

Those past suns of preparation were full of an intensity that boiled in Sarah’s blood. Hearing cursing men, clanging iron, and creaking wagons were enough to make her salivate. Those were times when she truly learned. Not with memorizing the new alphabet, how to write, or going over the seasonal calendar. Times of war prepared her to be a true queen.

Sarah put down the brush then stood up. She felt her white dress against her cool skin. The dress covered the tops of her shoulders and left her pale arms bare. Across her heart was pinned her only piece of jewelry. It was a well-sized brooch in the image of a butterfly and covered in rainbow colored gems.

Sarah was ready to leave her tower room in the Fortress of All Men. She opened her door before walking out onto a stone landing. On slipper covered feet, she went down winding steps lit by smokeless elf lamps placed in the walls. Sarah reached the tower’s bottom, went through a door, and stepped into the fortress kitchen.

In the kitchen, Master Cook Linda Carmen drank from a stout mug. She watched the other cooks with a keen eye for perfection. Linda—a bony woman with swaths of gray in her dark hair—caught Sarah in her brown eyes.

Sarah, girl, the Master Cook said with a tinge of urgency, your father’s been asking for you. Your maid can’t be found, and we weren’t sure you slept in your bed. I talked to everyone in the fortress, and no one saw you leave the festival. I assumed you found yourself a companion. The last was said underneath a mischievous grin. Sarah was not only surprised by the words but mad too.

The idea of being regarded as some easy woman sickens me, she told herself.

Miss Linda, Sarah calmly replied, I’m not one of those girls at Barnaby’s Tavern. I don’t go throwing myself about to any man in town.

Of course, my princess, of course. I apologize for suggesting you find yourself a man.

Please tell me, why didn’t someone check to see if I were in my room?

Princess, you know we can’t do that. Only your maid is allowed up there.

Sarah should have known. As the princess, she had certain rights others didn’t. Her privacy was one of them. Only her maid, Mirabelle, was given the right to disturb her while in her bedroom tower.

Has no one seen my maid? she asked. Are you sure she’s not in her own room?

She isn’t, the Master Cook replied. I believe Miss Mirabelle was seen at the festival carousing with a man. But this isn’t what you should be worrying about.

What should I worry about?

Your father wants you in the throne room. A new traveler arrived.

Sarah’s attention perked up. A traveler? Why didn’t you say that to begin with?

Sarah swept past the Master Cook and through the bustling kitchen. She navigated past tables, chairs, and scurrying cooks. At the kitchen’s end, she pushed through a swinging door, to then enter, a hallway. Sarah walked down the hall, swung through another door, and entered her family’s immense throne room.

The throne room was brightly illuminated by elf lamps. The lamps were placed every few feet in the middle of thick stone walls.

The throne room’s main entrance (two tall doors of lead) was closed. Two guards protected them. A red carpet stretched from the entrance, down the room’s middle, and ended at steps leading to her father’s throne. The gold throne rested on a blue tiled dais. Two other thrones—smaller in size and made of silver—were below and to the right and left of the dais.

Sarah saw her father and an unknown man talking. King Michael Lamorre sat in his gold throne. The unknown man stood in front of the blue dais.

Sarah adjusted her dress, checked the clasp of her brooch, and stepped forward. She stopped a few feet from the thrones while listening in on what was said.

Michael Lamorre said, Mr. Cavanaugh, I’m pleased you were able to meet my most trusted advisor. Karl Crowley’s not only a skilled hunter, but keeps me posted on events occurring outside Land’s End.

I’m sure he does the man smoothly replied. For the brief time I met him he seemed to be a very dangerous, intelligent, and honorable man.

I’m glad to hear it. Let’s move on to another topic. You’ve been one of the few humans to live in the elf capital of Elrian. I’m interested to know what the elves moods are; especially toward the Dark Elves.

Your majesty, I don’t really know. During my time with the elves I found them to be a close-mouthed group when it comes to their dark children.

Sarah’s father finally took notice of her. Why hello, he said to her. It’s good to see you up and about. Was Mirabelle found?

No, father. Sarah turned her attention to the man. Hello. I’m sorry I was late in greeting you.

No, my dear, the man replied in a friendly tone. That’s quite all right. Your father told me of the grand party your people had this past moon. Your tardiness is understood. May I take your hand, so I can lead you to your throne?

Sarah couldn’t get over how charming the man was. Of course you can. I’m sorry; I didn’t catch your name.

It’s Charles Cavanaugh.

Mine is Sarah Lamorre.

A pale hand with well-groomed nails met Sarah’s own. In the light of the elf lamps, she caught the sparkle of an emerald clasped at one of his shirt cuffs. She envied his exquisite taste in jewelry. She also noticed he wore silver tipped black boots. He also wore a black cape. His pale, unblemished face had a bright elegance to it. His crisp black hair, lined with silver streaks, accentuated his oval head.

As Charles led Sarah to her throne, he said, Princess, that’s a fine brooch you’re wearing. May I ask who made it? It looks very much like elf work.

I’m unsure of its maker. I received it from my mother as a family heirloom.

Your mother?

Michael Lamorre interrupted with a sad voice. Mr. Cavanaugh; or Charles I should say since we’ve been rightly acquainted. I neglected to tell you about my wife. Laura died at Sarah’s birth. There were complications the Master Healers couldn’t heal.

I grieve for your loss, Charles sadly replied.

That’s quite all right. Let’s move on to happier subjects.

Sarah lets go of Charles’s hand before seating herself. She had to admit she was taken with him. She was impressed with his words and manners. Charles retreated down the dais’s short steps. He turned to face the king and princess. His black eyes bored into each of them.

Michael Lamorre said, Charles, I’d like to hear what’s brought you here.

Sarah noticed her father was plainly dressed. He wore leather boots, brown pants, and a cotton shirt buttoned up to his throat. His face was clean shaven, his thinning silver hair uncombed.

Charles said, I must first tell you more about my past. My parents were one of the humans who went with the elves and Silver Dragons when they migrated west. I believe it was one hundred seasons ago. During their travels, my parents became respected in elf circles as fine painters. Do you have that profession here, your majesty?

No. Most of our time is spent making the areas around our towns and villages safe for future generations. Painting, singing, instrument playing and writing haven’t grown in stature here as they have in Elrian. Only my son, Gabriel, has found use for the arts.

Ah, the foster child left at your doorstep. I’ve heard him spoken of in your farming villages.

Sarah was surprised. Her father was too. Charles, how did you hear of my son? What is it you’ve heard?

Isn’t he writing a book? A history book.

Yes, he’s writing…something. Let’s forget of it for now.

Sarah understood her father’s quick end to the subject. Her brother’s new hobby had become troublesome for Land’s End. If Gabriel didn’t stop pestering the people with questions about their past (the times when humans weren’t living in the east), he’d soon get himself into hot water. The people didn’t want to be reminded of a past they’d long forgotten.

Charles said, At Elrian, my parents painted numerous portraits for the Guild and their families. But, in time, they wanted to break away from their painter profession. They instead wanted to go out into the world as explorers.

Sarah’s father clasped his hands together. Charles had thoroughly captivated his attention. In her father’s heart, he was an adventurer. If he didn’t have to rule in the name of Lamorre, he would have been out with the mappers inking out the continent. Or he’d be sailing the high seas with the expeditions sent to the north and south poles.

Charles, I do enjoy hearing of people with dreams of exploration. I’ve always felt exploring the world to be a worthwhile experience.

I agree your majesty. My parents did leave Elrian to travel across the continent. They left me behind with an elf couple they were close friends with. Unfortunately, my parents never returned. During my growth, I became a student of the elf schools. And like my parents I entered the painter profession. But I too became restless. At my tenth season of age, I left Elrian.

Sarah was lost with wonder at the tale being told.

For thirteen seasons I hiked, rode, and swam over Enron. I visited the Silver Dragon’s place of rest in the southwest, and the Gnomash in their dank marsh to the southeast. I climbed the Promethei Cliffs, visited the valley of Silden in the Plains of Desolation, and saw other places your mappers and explorers are just discovering. My greatest accomplishment was surviving the southwest. That’s where the great volcano Arcadia is.

Arcadia? Michael Lamorre questioned. I’ve not heard that name, or region, in a very long time. When the elves left us our great king, Anthony Lamorre, made it plain those lands wouldn’t be talked of, written of, or remembered. In our past terrible events took place there.

I understand, Charles replied. Well, in the southwest I found rocky lands covered over with steam and ash. I traveled past the Great Rift, past a chain of volcanoes, and then arrived at Arcadia. It took many suns to climb it. Once at its top I descended into its gut. I walked out onto its silent crater. There, I saw a large crystal shining out with a pinkish light. The elves call this crystal the Majestrix of Light.

What a wonderful tale, Michael Lamorre honestly said. "But what