The Bloodsayer

By R.S. Neaville

A tale of epic fantasy! Lef Maresco, a young man of humble birth has been revealed as the new Kiros Conflicti, the Lord of Battles. He alone has the right to wield the Risen Blade. As he leads his army against dark forces in the Eastern Kingdoms in an attempt to restore the ancient dream of Nurea one of his newest allies falls under attack from the west. The Kingdom of Almare is invaded by a long silent enemy known as the Westerlings, brute beast like creatures who have returned to steal the souls of men. With the Lord of Battles at war in the east all that stands between Almare and disaster is a small garrison of soldiers in Alderfale. As hope of reinforcement dwindles a stranger steps forward, a thief in a stolen Almaren uniform: A man who earns the name of Bloodsayer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R.S. Neaville
• Release date: May 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310112874

R.S. Neaville

R.S. Neaville is a Christian Writer and Bible teacher. He lives in Dallas Texas. Though he does not host his International Radio Program any longer he does continue to write and teach over the internet to thousands. He is currently writing a Fantasy novel titled "The Risen Blade".

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The Bloodsayer -Stealing Victory

Published by R.S. Neaville at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 R.S. Neaville

The Bloodsayer

Stealing Victory

By R.S. Neaville

Prologue

In the history of ancient Nurea and the Eastern Kingdoms as they have come to be known, there are many stories about great heroes and terrible villains. There are legends of Kingdoms that rose and fell and rose again. Most of these tales of old center themselves around the exploits of the Kiros Conflicti, the Lord of Battles.

The Lord of Battles was once a man known to all as Baldowan the Great. In ancient times it was he who established true government and justice ending the cycle of violence and destruction brought by warring clans and warlords. He conquered all never losing a single battle. It was also he who taught men they could live together in peace and share the good of the land. King Baldowan's efforts brought a thousand winters of peace.

Upon the old King's death the Sword of Legends he used to forge his kingdom of Nurea was found broken at his side. The sisters of the Conventia Nor gathered its pieces and placed it in the Devoted Sanctuary where it became a venerated relic. Thousands came to visit it at the Pentis Mal which translated from the old tongue is the Five Spires in Massek Por, the home of the convent of the Sisters of Healing. The Conventia Nor was left the task of guarding the peace by Baldowan because they alone had the power to speak reason to men. At Baldowan's behest they sent envoys to every ruler and noble house to act as counselors and diplomats. For a millennium they held to their sacred pledge and so peace continued.

It is said that the blood of the convent weakened over a number of generations and so less and less women were found to hold the gift of speaking reason to those who craved power. At the end of nearly a thousand winters of peace, greed and ambition brought war and rebellion. The Kingdom of Nurea which meant united, broke apart to become many lesser kingdoms. Soon only a small portion of Nurea remained, guarded by the heights of the Sheets mountain range. Even so the light and hope of Nurea was not extinguished completely. Soon after the Kingdoms of men went once more to war another man arose, a Nurean farmer named Tolas Arunas. He became the first of many like Baldowan to once again fight to restore what had been lost. The blade that had been broken was magically restored and so a new Lord of Battles fought for the people against the dark forces that kept them divided. Even the Felina Tor Natur, the High Guard of the Lion, Baldowan's personal guard, joined Arunas. His efforts brought three more centuries of peace. Thus began a cycle of heroes who would rise from obscurity, bring stability and then the blade would break and they would fall soon after. They would appear when destiny decided they were needed. None accomplished what Baldowan had but each one faced the evil of their day before the blade broke. Soon after the sword broke most of these young men died. The sisters always gathered the shards of the blade and sent them back to the Pentis Mal. The cycle continues. Every few hundred winter's a Lord of Battles comes forth, the blade is restored and the Felina Tor Natur declare for them. The High Guard of the Lion has remained as an elite fighting force for thousands of winters for two reasons: To keep the light of the hope of Nurea's restoration burning, and to serve the Kiros Conflicti when he comes.

The latest of these Lords of Battles is a young man named Lef Maresco, a Fisherman's son from Far Cowldon. He has taken the Blade of Baldowan which is now called the Risen Blade and has begun the task of ending a war that threatens all of the northern provinces of the Eastern Kingdoms. While he fights one of his newest allies to the far northeast, a kingdom known as ancient Almare, has problems of its own. Beasts known as Westerlings have crossed the Cloudy Lake from The Valani'sar mountains in the west. For the first time in two hundred winters the Westerlings have come looking for souls. The Westerling Watch on the far border in Almare has become complacent. They are not ready.

Chapter One

"How does a Lord become a Lord? By birth or force of arms it makes no matter, but only the heart can award nobility." - Quote from The Knights of Devos Lar - Sir Ammon Lear, The 3rd Era, Nurea Proper.

Donis Kathearn looked over his haul from the Pickled Rabbit once he was well out of the village of Conza. The merchant he had been trailing for near a full ten-day turned out to be a bigger thief than Donis. The sack the merchant had guarded so carefully was nothing more than a wad of vintage breeches wrapped around a circle of paif-bread along with a few copper shinnies. He stared at the paltry loot and suddenly his look of consternation changed to a toothy grin and he gave a sudden slap to his knee. He had to give credit to the man. He played the role of a rich merchant well. Things are bad when the thieves take to robbing each other! Are there any rich men to be had or are we all just thieves chasing after one another? He wondered.

Donis plopped his frame down on the ground and tore off a chew of the paif-bread with his teeth. He sat in the grass and considered his next move as he struggled through the dry loaf without as much as a gulp of water in his skin to wash it down. He knew that going back the three leagues to the village of Conza would be foolish. It would be a different matter if the village was not a way station for the Westerling Watch, the Almaren border guard. In another village he would go back and either threaten the merchant with exposure or even make league with the man. He judged this situation the same as he would when stealing a horse. If the horse belonged to a tinker or even a farmer he would risk it. If the mount was that of a noble or a soldier the risk was often too great. Some men had longer arms than others and Donis Kathearn made his living on the calculation of one's reach.

After finishing off the paif-bread the thief decided it was time to head a bit further east where the soldiers of the border watch were not so thick. Donis knew that there were villages there still yet to be graced by his presence and particular talents. Even if a town or village was full of nothing but poor farmers and woodsman the local tavern or public house was always welcoming of a weary traveler, especially one who claimed to have been set upon by brigands on the road. There would be at least food and drink for a few days. Even if the locals were suspicious they would still show a grudging hospitality until they reached any kind of judgment regarding his story. Donis never lingered in such an environment long. Vill Naturs, also known as village guards, were seldom trained soldiers but their experience with wandering footpads and others of his ilk was growing.

Donis rose to his feet having discarded the merchant's sack and its contents with the exception of the shinnies and set across the meadow that led to what he judged was an easterly direction through the beginnings of a forest in the distance. He avoided the road so to also avoid any soldiers he might meet there. The wary thief faced the prospect of venturing into a part of ancient Almare with which he was unfamiliar. New surroundings brought with them new opportunities, true, but they also often brought new dangers with them. A good thief never asked a question that he didn't already know the answer to. New territory meant leaving the comfort of knowing what would happen next and Donis was unsure of his readiness to do what it takes to learn the ins and outs of a new frontier with a new set of rules. This would mean pushing himself to near starvation working at whatever small odd job came his way, not venturing to take so much as a shinny or even a hen's egg until he was sure of the lay of the land. He would have to suffer while taking the time to learn the answers to those questions that had yet been asked. Donis was a disciplined thief. Only disciplined thieves lasted in his profession. Only fools took shortcuts that relied upon stealth and chance alone.

As Donis reached the canopy of the forest where the grass of the open meadow disappeared he stopped to straighten his clothing and to pull the spear-burrs from his trouser legs where the high grass had