Shadow Bound

By Karli Rush

Two kings, one Seer, who holds the fate of two kingdoms in her hands. Loyalty or love, she must choose, for Alissa can not have both. The King of Anvil is determined to keep an ancient curse at bay, even if it means betraying his own heart for the sake of survival. The King of Ulric has no qualms in pursuing his heart's desire. These peaceful kingdoms stand on the verge of turmoil, betrayal and destruction over the heart of a young Seer. Who will win? Who will survive? Only the shadows know.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karli Rush
• Release date: Aug 22, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301048809

Karli Rush

Karli Rush was born in the heart of the Cherokee Nation and lives in its capital. Her Native American heritage holds sway over her writing in many ways. She has the patience of a brain surgeon operating under fire in a war zone. You can chalk that up to her being the mother of an autistic kiddo. With the passion of a starving artist, she writes. The obsession to tell her tales has led her to write novels in the worlds of Dark Paranormal Romance, Dystopian, and Vampires. She walks in two worlds, one grounds her and the other frees her imagination.https://linktr.ee/KarliRush

Book preview

Long ago…

In a faraway land…

Marcus rolls over in bed in a slumberous manner and opens his weary eyes. The first thing he sees is a beautiful young woman lying peacefully asleep next to him. Her hair is a profound, rich red, and her pale naked skin is as soft as a babe’s skin. He remembers her beckoning eyes were a faint blue as they kissed with passion last night.

He shifts his body to his back and feels the other woman occupying his bed as well. Long, lush blonde curls conceal her back as she stirs, tossing her leg passively over him. A delicate hand of hers roams his bare chest. With one arm resting behind his head, he hesitatingly places his other hand over hers. Tipping his unshaven chin up, he gazes around his bedchamber—the glimmer of a new sunny day beams through the stone arched windows.

Today we will begin our week-long journey to the Winter solstice celebration, also known as the Unconquered Sun festival. It was a hundred years ago that the first festival was held.

The city of Gailanor hosts this festival for two causes. First, and more importantly, the city resides on the boundary of the kingdom of Ulric and the kingdom of Anvil. The city itself is split down the center by the border road, placing half the city in the land of Ulric and the other half in Anvil.

The second reason resides in the origination of the city itself. There was an invading army from the north, rebels mostly. The land being attacked produced an army and two generals who defeated the invaders in a bloody grueling battle that ended on the very spot the city now resides.

These two generals agreed to divide the land, and each became king—King Ulric and King Anvil, hence the kingdom’s names. At the winter solstice, both kings would gather in Gailanor for a weeklong celebration of the Unconquered Sun.

This festival attracts everyone that can come, and at the finale of the festival, all the travelers take gifts back to the ones that could not attend. It is the most celebrated time of the year.

Each king brings the other a gift, and these gifts are exchanged during a ceremony in the town center. All the children form a line from each kingdom, respectively, in front of the kings. The king of Anvil will give gifts to the children of Ulric, and the king of Ulric does the same in return.

The festivities include feats of skill with weapons, riding, and hunting. The royal cooks from each kingdom compete for the best meal, and the children are constantly amused by the dancers, jugglers, and traveling storytellers. Music fills the air throughout the entire festival.

The celebration’s feast is crowned by both kings going on a hunt and bringing back a stag for the main feast. The two kings always strive over who will take down the first stag of the hunt. The hunt itself could take up to two days alone.

I lie a bit longer in my bed while the women pay their deepest respect to me. Enjoying their attention is only a slight distraction. My mood is better than it has been in a long time, although no reason appears for such a change.

My mind meanders over the day’s duties. The journey to the festival is prearranged months in advance, and my most trusted friend and commander of the royal agents and guards, Sir Bartham, never allow a detail to go undone. Startled out of my musings, I catch the maiden’s chin before she plants her pursed lips upon mine. I direct my attention to the young servant that enters.

My Lord, your bath awaits, the young male’s voice announces. The servant boy is about seventeen seasons and is Sir Bartham’s nephew. He will earn his way into the service of the king one day, very soon. Until then, his duties are to attend to my daily needs.

Tybalt, I have no time for that. Take these women and bathe them. I am quite sure you will not mind that duty. I send him a mischievous smirk. He knows the women talk about him and his maturing manhood. They spend countless hours a day discussing what they would do to him if given a chance. Today, I will give them that chance. I tsk the women away, because no woman holds value above my kingdom, my duty, nor myself. Let the boy learn how to please a woman. A good skill to have, and it will keep them entertained. A warm body is always better than an empty bed.

Go, Tybalt, get them out of here, I snap with fake fury. He gently grabs the blonde by the arm, and the other follows. Poor boy, I chuckle as they leave my chamber.

I dress quickly in clothing for travel. I walk to the courtyard and see Bartham barking orders to Quinn, the castle’s guard commander.

The thief that tried to rob the castle last winter while we were gone will try again. This time, catch him. I have use of such a man, Bartham orders.

The commander nods confidently, and slaps his closed fist against his chest in salute, and departs.

Do you think you will catch that thieving mouse this year? I ask as I summon a kitchen girl ambling across the courtyard.

Food, young one, and hurry, Bartham’s groaning stomach is giving me such a pain to my head. She bows and hurries off.

You’re in a jovial mood today, m’lord. He inclines his head to me.

Tis the season, is it not? You know I enjoy this festival above all others. My gift this year to King Landalin will be one that even he must acknowledge as splendid.

My Lord’s ability to conjure such exquisite things is truly a gift, especially when your trusted advisor has not a clue as to how, when, and where these items are gathered.

I sense a touch of jealousy in your tone, Bartham. Wish to know my secret do ye? I would tell you, my trusted advisor, but then, with great sadness, I would have no choice but to remove your head and that I can not live with.

Our laughter shatters the stretch of the silence. We walk toward a table overlooking the bountiful garden. Food is immediately placed and arranged as we approach.

Gestures and bows of reverence from my subjects are never something I demand. I have only come across one person that refused to bow. I laugh quietly to myself as I sit down to dine with that very person.

Bartham, we are all in order? I inquire as we begin to eat. Boiled eggs wrapped in slices of pheasant, sliced pork, bread still hot to the touch all fill the table along with fresh fruit and wine.

The advantages we have over the borderlands to the north are that our winters are not always ice-incrusted hazards to survive. Each fifth year though, the winter winds bring a cold to this land that can seem never-ending. The four years before are spent preparing. This is the second year in preparation.

Your stores are full, shipments from the sea arrive weekly, and the forest has never seen such game, he says through bites of his third egg.

Eat well, my friend. The royal chef has now gone into hiding, planning his festival meals, and we shall not taste his fare till the festival feast.

The food disappears quickly between Bartham and me. The stables are the first stop on my quick survey of the activities here. Once the guards and royal court are both in order, then we shall depart.

It takes but a fleeting moment to realize all is efficiently done. I gracelessly head back to my bedchamber, banish all the servants, and then wait quietly to see if anyone lingers. On the far wall above the great stone-grey fireplace is a life-size painting of King Ulric. Another painting shows my father mounted upon a white steed, raising his arm in triumph with the sword of mercy waving high.

I walk to the side of the fireplace, and placing my hand over an innocent-looking x carved into the pillar, I whisper, "jus soli aperire."

A mist escapes and swirls around the carved x, followed by a scraping sound as the wall next to the fireplace begins to slide inward, revealing a hidden narrow staircase. The staircase steps are slick and wet from moisture and cannot be walked upon in such a state. Below an unlit torch post is adorned with another x, which I avoid and slide my hand farther down to a straight line resembling the letter I. Placing my hand over this and I whisper again, "jus soli tenus." The wall slides back in place as the steps straighten, allowing me to walk up.

Yes, I know tenus means down, but what good is a secret word if it is nothing but misleading.

Atop the spiraling stairs is a chamber known only to me and past kings before me. Their greatest treasures are kept safe here. These treasures are personal to each king, and the collection is beyond indescribable. I place my hand over a stand in the center of the room. The smooth marble stone is black with red and white veins running through its core.

The stand appears empty, but again I speak, "Ostendo." For a second time, mist swirls around my hand, and my gift to King Landalin appears. I place the gift in a gold-trimmed box with a lock of magic and silver. On the opposite side of this chamber is another secret staircase leading to the great library. The secret entrance here is above the main floor in the corner where I have set aside for my reading purposes only.

Chapter Two

City of Gailanor

We soon set out, leaving the castle and parading through the town as we depart. The mountains at our back keep good weather in front of us as we make haste to Gailanor. The music drifts along with our caravans, and the storytellers are busy practicing their tales. We keep a good pace and have no disruptions. The journey will take just three days of traveling if all stays well.

The long days pass, and we soon approach Gailanor. This city resides in the forest-covered foothills of the Anora mountains. We round a bend in the road, with weeping trees bordering my vision. I behold the enchanted city of mystical powers and ancient traditions. The cobblestone streets begin miles outside of the city, and the evergreens are abundant like no other place in either land.

We draw near the city with an edge of excitement as if the crackle of lightning hums in the air. Trumpets ring out, and heralders disperse through the city to announce our arrival. What a grand time this is. Life has never been better.

It is still morning, m’lord. If King Landalin has arrived, then the Solstice hunt may begin today, Bartham declares as his grey stallion prances in pace with my own.

I should hope King Landalin will find time to pull it out long enough to hunt a stag. If his will be known, he would rather do both together. I laugh at the thought of Landalin making time with a woman and trying to sight his bow while riding that great white warhorse of his.

My eyes would go blind from such a sight, m’lord. Bartham laughs with me.

Send a messenger to him announcing our arrival and see if the hunt will be today, I order.

Aye, m’lord, I will send a dispatch to him at once.

Good, I will be in the palace hunting up some of that famous Gailanor wine.

My King has the finest priorities, Bartham shouts as he spurs his horse into a gallop.

Two bottles of Gailanor wine and one hour has passed when the Anvil king’s messenger arrives. Of course, he sends a woman, a very robust and beautiful creature indeed. The man is shameless with his harem.

Your Majesty, King Landalin of the great kingdom of Anvil, welcomes your arrival with open arms and awaits thee at the hunting grounds. If your Majesty is so inclined, he welcomes you in joining the Solstice hunt.

We arrive for the hunt with our complement of guests. About twenty in all join this royal event. King Landalin is a healthy muscular man and only one season past my own, which is twenty-five. Although I am taller and can move faster than he, it would still be a great battle if such an event would ever happen. I feel self-confident that my fighting skills outmatch his, but alas, he believes the same.

Looking as fit as ever, Marcus.

Aye, Landalin, and I see your hunger for conquest is still as strong as ever.

Tis but one life we are given at a time. I intend to fill this one with as much as it will hold.

Good to see you, my friend. Shall we begin the hunt, for an entire city awaits our return?

Trumpet the start, Landalin’s bellowing voice rings out.

Trumpets sound, and horses launch toward the northern woodlands. The woodlands are scattered with open fields, and the flowing streams are plenty. If I am of any account, I believe the hunt to be a short one.

An hour into the ride, I notice tracks of a large stag. The tracks sink deep into the soft ground. I veer off the main path and begin ascending up a steep grade. Atop the hill stands one of the most majestic stags I believe I have ever seen. It snorts at my approach but has yet to move.

A sudden snap from a branch from the side brings the stag’s head around, and I see Landalin bearing down on the creature. Landalin narrows his gaze, and the stag does something I have never witnessed in all my life. It shakes its massive rack at the oncoming warhorse and rider and launches itself. After two quick strides, the stag crashes into the horse. I have no shot for the kill, and I’m positioned at a steep incline that my horse will not make quickly.

Landalin’s horse is knocked down but unharmed. Landalin tumbles backward and takes an antler to his upper shoulder. This beast has a spirit to live like no other I have seen. It thunders past Landalin, who has rolled upright holding his shoulder and cursing with his loud bellows.

He leaps back upon his horse. He spins and charges again after the stag. This chase will be nothing less than epic, and I urge my horse to clear the ridge. I now have a perfect view as the stag and king dance the dance of the chase.

The woods will slow the king down, Bartham calmly says as he rides up.

Care to wager on that, or do I not pay you enough? I remark without taking my eyes off the scene below.

My golden dagger says the stag gets the best of him, Bartham states with conviction. And when I win, m’lord, I wish to have an answer to one question.

An answer against a gold dagger? Hmm… I stroke my chin in thought and reply, It is a fine dagger. Done. I show no hint of curiosity in my voice. We both start riding so as not to lose sight of this beast against beast competition.

The stag turns and doubles back which almost works, but I know King Landalin. I have known him since we were children, and I know the look I saw in his eyes. The stag was his, and he would not be denied. The death of this hunter would be the only thing that would save the stag. And so it continues with the stag tearing through the woodlands again and leaping over fallen trees with great beauty.

Landalin possesses this crazed look, showing no signs of becoming defeated. I have seen less blood on a man after a slaughtering battle. Landalin leans forward and comes within a stone’s throw from the stag. He lets an arrow fly, which must have been painful with a wounded shoulder, but he never demonstrates a hint of agony. It hits the mark solidly, and the stag goes down.

Swiftly he dismounts from the horse before it even comes to a halt, drops to one knee. And grabs a knife tucked inside his leather boot and approaches the stag. Clearing his throat, he begins speaking the ancient words, On this day of death, we are honored by your sacrifice. May your rebirth be a celebrated occasion, and with a new life, your greatness in this one life will follow.

Chapter Three

The Seer

I walk briskly along the winding cobblestone path. My king and I have finally arrived at the Winter Solstice celebration. I promised Lord Landalin that I would not reveal my true self. It required numerous persuasions and my solemn vow to him. He is not a man to be crossed. His temperament is as vast as the ocean and just as fickle.

My Lord came to me on my eighteenth celebration and granted me the right to attend the Winter Solstice festival. I have never been allowed much time away from the boundless castle where King Landalin rules over the land of Anvil.

It has been my home since I was thirteen seasons old. Lord Landalin and his men found me deep in the forest, quite far from a burning village. The village was once my family’s home until they were slaughtered and burned alive by rebel raiders.

My mother crawled through the heavy smoke-filled house to help me through a small window.

Her last words to me were, "Run… run my daughter and never look back."

I made my escape into the forest, but my heart was completely consumed by pain for the loss of my beloved mother and father. The tears blinded my way, and I wandered endlessly through bone-chilling nights. The long lost days swept by, and I found myself athirst and hungry. As a young witch, I knew what plants I could eat and which would do me harm. I foraged for food and fresh water, but weakness and utter grief rapidly brought on my collapse beneath an old oak tree. I had given up all hope.

King Landalin of Anvil, along with his best men, came across me as they returned from a campaign and were journeying home. They noticed the smoldering village. The king took me in, saved me, and gave me a new home and a new life.

At the time, I knew little about just how important I would