The Kingdom of Malinas

By E.J. Tett

Fifteen-year-old Sorrel returns to her home to find it burned and most of her people taken as slaves by Corrinus, the new ruler of Malinas. She's devastated to find her mother is amongst them and swears to rescue her. But her older brother Leif sends her to seek an army, while he remains with the survivors, teaching them to fight. It hurts that everyone says she's too small and too weak to fight, because she wants so much to be like her dead father - a great warrior - but she does as she's told.

She travels across country with her seer friend and faces many dangers – from mysterious grey wraiths to the crazed follower of Corrinus. She set out to find an army but instead, she returns with a dragon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E.J. Tett
• Release date: Dec 30, 2009
• ISBN: 9781452302591

E.J. Tett

E.J. Tett is the author of young adult fantasy novel 'The Kingdom of Malinas.' She is also co-author of horror anthology 'Casting Shadows' and appears in various other anthologies, webzines and magazines.https://www.royalroad.com/profile/249878/fictions

Book preview

Prologue

The four of them stood and watched as red and gold tongues of flame licked out of the newly split earth. What had once been moorland was now cold stone and even as they watched, more of the cracks yawned wider and the ground fell away into the fire pits with rumbles and belches.

It looks set to consume our new land, brother, Nodin said. The orange light flicked across his features, highlighting and deepening every line on his face. The three star–shaped birthmarks under his right eye, those that set him and his fellows apart from the Lamya, appeared dark and lost in shadow. A wind full of heat blew his long hair from his shoulders and he turned his face from the blaze.

We'll raise great walls of rock, his brother told him, that no flame shall devour.

He nodded, satisfied. Gazing out across the pits of fire, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. A rough beard was starting to form and he remembered he hadn't shaved in days. He felt tired and old and worn.

We can begin to build our kingdom again, said the youngest there. Our people are tired of lying on rock and short, sharp grass. They want a roof over their heads and their King back on his throne. We have crossed the mountains of the Midori. We are safe from the Barbarians now.

We are safe, Nodin agreed, walking away from the flames with his brothers by his side. For now. But I fear the Kingdom of Malinas will always attract evil.

He looked to the sky as if for help. The sun was setting, hidden behind purple–grey cloud. The sky all around exploded with colour and streaks of red shot across the horizon.

Lines of gold – no, the colour was more than gold, it was glowing, shining with brilliance, almost fluorescent orange but much softer – blossomed before his eyes. Yellow, orange, red, gold, the sky was a multitude of colours, as if the sun wanted to put on its final show before the moon took over. And everywhere, in stark contrast with the sky, were the clouds. Huge soft-looking things, deep grey mauve, powerful and forbidding and yet somehow strangely more striking than the dance of colours in the sky. He lowered his gaze and sighed. At his back he could feel the heat of the flames and floating towards him were the songs of his people. They were Elani folk, honest and true.

They sing of Solmerro still, said one of his brothers, standing by his side. Evil chased us from there and yet you think it may still find us here? Surely the Barbarians will not follow us?

The new Kingdom is... He could find no words to finish his sentence. The youngest of the four brothers stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Nodin, he said, his voice soft, my brother, my King. The Kingdom of Malinas will always attract evil. You said so yourself. You are loved no less for it, we all knew the time was right to leave.

Nodin smiled at his younger brother's words and grasped the hand on his shoulder. His brother smiled back at him with flames dancing in his eyes. We cannot run forever, said Nodin. "When the time comes, we must deliver them a warrior."

Chapter 1

"When the Lamya invaded our Kingdom all those hundreds of years ago, it was the King's poet who led the Elani to the Vale after the King was killed." Sorrel whispered to her friend, full of excitement, and ignored her old teacher completely. To her, his voice was just background noise.

He waited and waited and waited, watching as the Lamya built their stone castle, seeing its towers rise over the hill. He never fought back. If it were me, I would've gone back the very next day with an army at my back and—

Miss Sorrel, please do try to concentrate, you'll never make it as a respected Elani Elder if you continue to act like a child. Old Synan, already flustered from an earlier lesson and with a strand of white hair falling in front of his eyes, frowned over his spectacles.

Sorrel glanced at her friend sat by her side and then sheepishly at the old man. Sorry, Synan. She sighed and scribbled down some notes in her book as he continued his teachings from the book of 'Rules of Trading.' Maybe I don't want to be an Elder, she muttered, fidgeting uncomfortably on the furs. They made her legs itch.

Synan stopped, a finger raised to wag at her. "Miss Sorrel, as the daughter of a healer it is your duty to become an Elani Elder, like it or not. Isn't that so, Little Cloud?"

Little Cloud, as Synan's grandson, was also bound to become an Elder. He shrugged and grinned at her. Sorry, Sorrel. He's right.

She pulled a face and struggled to her feet, dumping her notebook on the floor. I knew you'd take his side. Well I don't have to sit here and listen to you both. She stomped out of the little wooden hut where Synan held the lessons, shielding her eyes from the sun as she went.

Little Cloud hurried to his feet and followed her. Sorrel! Wait! he called, half-stumbling out the door to reach her.

She turned and glared at him. Then she sighed and sat down on the root of the old beech tree that lent its shade to the little cabin. Synan didn't come after them and she imagined he was glad of the break. What am I going to do, Cloud? I don't want to be an Elder. I don't want to learn about diplomacy and etiquette. I want to be a warrior like Leif. I want to fight the Lamya for our Kingdom! It's been too long. The warriors of old didn't lose their lives for us to cower in the Vale.

She folded her arms around her knees, frowned thoughtfully and listened to the sound of River Pinn burbling past the hut. Sometimes, she felt as though the river was mocking her. It was so calm no matter what was happening around it.

She sighed again and peered over the riverbank and into the water. Her reflection stared back at her.

She looked younger than her fifteen years, with her pale skin and thin, boyish face. Her short hair was dark and scruffy. Wild, her mother always described it - like her.

Sorrel smiled to herself. Wild! And yet she wasn't allowed to train as a warrior. It was because she was too small - she knew that.

She lifted a hand and touched her single star-shaped birthmark under her right eye, then reached forwards abruptly and disrupted her reflection.

Sorrel?

These marks, she said, turning to Cloud, they're what make us different.

Cloud reached a hand to his cheek and his fingertips brushed his own three stars.

But I only have one! I'm one step away from being a Lamya.

Cloud grinned at her. Now you're being dramatic. His pale eyes twinkled. All this talk of warriors! I'm not cut out to be a warrior. My Dad said I'm more of a farmer like he is.

Sorrel gave him a playful nudge. She knew he was right. Although he was taller than she was, he was certainly no more notable; he had short neatly trimmed mousey hair and a rounded friendly face. He was very un-warrior like.

She grinned at him. That's 'cos you've got no drive or determination like me! I want excitement and adventure, and—

And everything else besides, it seems, Cloud said. Whereas I'm just happy for a quiet life, relaxing in the Vale and minding my own business.

And what if the Lamya come again? she asked, leaning forwards and absently pulling out chunks of grass. And take over our Vale like they took our Kingdom? What if they come for us? I don't like that new leader of theirs. He's worse than any of them.

Little Cloud batted at a bee as it buzzed around his face, and shrugged. The Lamya haven't bothered us for years now. And they wouldn't dare enter the Vale anyway, he said, not with our warriors to protect us. They'd have to be mad.

She shook her head, folded her arms into her lap and sighed. She had a bad feeling about the whole thing – a strange twisting of nerves in her guts. If only someone would listen to her! The Kingdom of Malinas will be great again someday, Cloud, she said quietly, and it won't be the Lamya who make it so.

Chapter 2

Corrinus stopped his horse in front of the castle and pushed the hood of his robe back from his face. The great stone castle of the Lamya stood tall over the rest of the Kingdom of Malinas. With its many turrets and towers and spires, it was so high that the very top was enveloped by a cloak of angry dark clouds. The only things higher than the castle were the sloping green mountains of the Midori rising in the north, in whose shadow the Kingdom lay.

The horse shifted its weight beneath him and Corrinus dismounted. He handed the reins to his aide and walked towards the door.

From a distance, the stonework of the castle appeared red or orange, lit by firelight, but on closer inspection one could see it had been built of cold grey stone and the dark shadow of poison ivy was starting to creep up the walls. Corrinus loved it – loved his ancestors for building the place there and letting the old Elani castle on the moors fall to ruin.

He paused with his hand on the door and turned to look back as his aide led the horse away. There were many pathways to the castle, all rough and crumbling and all suspended above the deep fire pits that would gurgle and shoot up into the sky without warning. Most of these paths were narrow, some dead ends and others had crumbled completely, falling foul of the fire forever burning beneath them.

Great red stone walls, carved with dragons and other oddities, flanked the pathways. In some places, the paths and walls joined so there were corridors of solid red stone, where the fire pits were unseen yet could still be felt as a fierce heat beneath.

It made his heart glad. There was nowhere else better protected or grander in the whole of the Kingdom. Only the most powerful of the Lamya dared go there – Corrinus himself and his closest aides. The people of the towns feared magic had a hand in shaping the landscape and avoided it at all times.

Smirking, Corrinus entered the darkness and let the door close behind him. The towns and barren scenery that made up the rest of the Kingdom lay just to the west of the castle – another barrier should anybody attack.

The towns themselves were full of shabby buildings, uncomfortably close to each other, many with broken windows and dingy brickwork. The streets and dank alleys that lined the towns had cobbles in the nicer parts and dirt, mud and dust in the others. But Corrinus could change everything. He could make Malinas great and its people love him.

He knew he was to be the greatest leader ever to have lived – the idea obsessed him. His people would worship him and soon, he would become the first Lamya King.

Flushed with his own importance, he climbed the stairs to meet with his aides.

#

Corrinus strode around the darkened room listening as his aides discussed the problem of the failing crops out in the fields. He stopped by the window, his thick velvet cloak coming to an abrupt halt behind him as if it were a living being, and he stared out at the sky. One of the fire pits erupted, sending flames shooting high into the sky and he stepped back.

Pain pierced his eyes, those pink eyes of his. Light almost blinded him. Squinting, he turned back to the room –

its single candle on the table lighting up the faces of the four aides - and coughed importantly. The aides were silent in an instant, knowing he wished to speak.

Bad crops, skinny cattle, weak slaves, poor pathetic Lamya people. He spat the words, enjoying the way his aides cringed as he walked past. His voice grated, as if he had a permanent sore throat. And what have you come up with, my faithful aides? You have a solution for this problem, yes?

There was no answer.

He sighed. No. You disappoint me once again. Zev!

A huge, brutish-looking man with a squashed face, hands like spades, and broad shoulders, stepped from the shadows. The aides appeared visibly shocked and Corrinus knew they hadn't known the man had been in the room.

This man, known only as Zev, was his very own personal guard, a man he'd discovered terrorizing Lamya on the streets of East–Town before he had taken him into his command.

The aides looked from Zev to Corrinus, then back to Zev again. One of them spoke up, his voice nothing more than a frightened whine. My lord, we have one idea! Please...

Corrinus held up his hand and the aides each blew a sigh of relief as Zev stepped back into the shadows. Yes?

The aide – Corrinus searched for the man's name, Jonjo, perhaps - looked down at the table and scratched his hands as he answered his leader. There is just one type of person who can grow crops as well as the Elani folk could, my lord.

Yes?

Jonjo gulped. Uh, the Elani folk, my lord, we need them. He fell silent, waiting for a response.

Corrinus stared into the shadows and ran a hand over his chin. It had taken the idiots how long to come up with that idea? He'd thought of it months ago. The Elani? he mused. Yes...

But they would never help us, my lord! Surely—

Silence. Corrinus walked over to Jonjo and gave one of his rare smiles. He leaned close to the aide's ear and yelled into it, "Idiot! Of course they won't help us! We don't ask for help, we're the Lamya, if we want something we take it! He stood up and patted the shaking man's shoulder. Relax. Breathe. I will look after you."

The aides visibly relaxed as he seated himself at the table. Elani slaves, he said, folding his hands carefully in front of him. That's what we need. And why just make them work in the fields? We can have them everywhere, working, doing our jobs. Making our towns richer. Ha ha! Yes.

One of the aides, a man seated next to Jonjo, cleared his throat and prepared himself to speak. Corrinus glared at him. Ahem, my lord? The Elani may be peaceable folk but they have warriors. My lord, I have heard stories about Elani warriors.

There was a murmur of agreement from the other aides, but Corrinus raised his hand to silence them.

Stories? What stories? He shrugged, dismissing the idea. I have heard no such tales. These people are living practically on our doorstep and have not once tried to fight us. We will replace each and every Lamya slave with an Elani. Yes, arrange a group of slavers. They will leave for the Vale tonight. Anyone who resists, warrior or no, will be killed. They should never have stayed so close. Zev!

The guard was instantly by his side.

Corrinus smiled as Zev leaned in to hear his command. See to it that the Lamya slaves out in the fields are dealt with, he said, his voice low. Release them, kill them, whatever. Go.

As Zev and the aides filed out of the room, Corrinus blew out the candle and rubbed his temples. He didn't like the light.

Chapter 3

Large hessian tents were everywhere in the wood, dotted through the huge oak and beech trees that protected them from all winds and weathers. Elani traders from Bramshire had visited the Vale the day before and the furs and hides they had brought with them were hung over lines tied between the trees, ready for the people to put them to use.

Outside each tent, a small pile of firewood was neatly stacked, and hanging from a pole a lantern glowed, to show others that the occupants were home and welcoming.

Sorrel lit the lantern outside her home as evening approached and warmed her hands by it for a few seconds before going inside.

The tent was one of the smaller ones, cosy and warm. Her mother, Helena the healer, was sitting by the stone stove making soup while her brother Leif sat at the table carving a walking stave from a yew branch. He looked up as she sat down, sweeping a fall of dark hair from his eyes. Old Synan told us about your outburst in class today, he said.

It wasn't an outburst, she replied, indignant, it was a moral objection.

Leif frowned and put down his knife. To what? To being privileged enough to be taught to become an Elder? What's the matter with you?

Sorrel's mother looked up from the soup but stayed silent, allowing Leif to deal with her.

No, she said, I was objecting to the fact that you all presume I'm to become an Elder, when I don't want to be.

Leif folded his arms and studied her face. And what do you want, Sorrel? he asked. No wait, don't even answer that, we all know the answer.

She stood up, unable to stop herself. I want to be a warrior! she cried. A warrior like you are, like Dad was! Why is that so much to ask? She stared at Leif and then at her mother.

Sorrel... tried her mother, raising a placating hand. Please try to understand. We don't want you to get hurt. You're very precious to us.

There's no point trying to be reasonable with her, Leif said, his eyes not leaving Sorrel's. She won't listen, she's too stubborn like her father was.

A flare of anger rose up inside her. The tears welled up in her eyes as she glared at her brother, her cheeks felt red-hot. "Our father! she yelled. She slammed her fists down on the table. How dare you speak about him like that? He died protecting us, Leif, or have you forgotten that?"

Leif opened his mouth to answer but she threw her arms in the air and stormed out of the tent. She stood outside brooding, her arms folded and her back to the tent. She could hear Leif's weary sigh. "Sorrel... Mother, I'll have to go after her."

Send Little Cloud, said her mother. She listens to him. Please, Leif.

She didn't wait for her brother to leave the tent and see her standing there. She ran through the wood.

#

Slavemaster Noan and a party of fifty Lamya rode down the hillside into the Vale on black horses. He halted and held up his hand to silence the group. Horses snorted and stamped the ground. Within seconds, his keen eyes had picked out the lantern lights shining from the woodland. Noan's lips twitched into a grim smile and he held his sword aloft. The others followed suit. There was total silence for a brief moment and then he lowered his sword, giving the signal to charge.

#

Helena looked up from stirring the soup as a scream cut through the night air. She pushed herself to her feet and dashed from the tent, heart pumping. Sorrel!

Everything was quiet for just a moment and then more shouts, another scream, hoof beats. People ran at her from the trees and past her, their faces pale and panic-stricken. She jumped back as a man on a huge black horse charged by, running his sword through the side of the tent. She gasped in fright and covered her head with her arms.

Helena! Here!

She looked towards the voice, her neighbour and friend White Cloud huddled with his wife Rebecca beneath another ruined hessian tent a short distance from where