Red Knight of Ocix

By Roman Dufrene

After a thousand years of uneasy peace, evil is stirring in Ocix.

Morgan, a dark wizard long believed to be nothing more than myth, has captured a young fairy mage named Lars Springtree. Morgan is confident the fairy is key to obtaining the Jubilation Stone, the greatest magical artifact the world has ever known.

Hawthorne, Morgan’s personal bodyguard and champion knight, has always served the wizard faithfully, but a recurring dream causes him to question his loyalty. When he’s given a grisly order, Hawthorne is forced to make a decision that has the potential to save Ocix . . . or destroy it.

Everything rests on the shoulders of Piper Locks, a teenage girl in the small village of Darnyle. Piper wants nothing more than to be a hero, and spends her days fighting local bullies, much to the chagrin of her father. One day, her simple life is shattered and Piper is given the opportunity she’s always wanted, but being a hero is harder than she could have ever imagined. Dangers unlike any she’s seen before haunt her every step and any mistake could mean death. Does Piper have what it takes?

Inspired by elements of Arthurian mythos and gothic fiction, Red Knight of Ocix is a fun fantasy adventure that explores growing up, friendship, and what it means to be a hero.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roman Dufrene
• Release date: Apr 7, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310612404

Roman Dufrene

Roman Dufrene is an author from Seattle, Washington. After graduating from the University of Washington with a degree in Creative Writing in 2012, Roman began work as a freelance writer and editor. In 2015, he started work on his debut novel, Red Knight of Ocix, which he finished and published in April, 2016.Roman is an Eagle Scout and great lover of nature, as well as a voracious reader and avid gamer.

Book preview

Lars Springtree skipped along a winding path through Brewer’s Wood. The tiny fairy smiled as the early beams of morning sunlight flitted through the branches above his head and warmed his fuzzy ears. Lars whistled happily. It was going to be a nice day for walking. A heavy sack full of food and drink was slung over his shoulder and he carried a small, sturdy walking stick in his free hand, which he used to keep from losing his balance on the uneven, wooded path.

Lars was a palomino fairy—a woodland creature that looked a little like a person and a little like a rabbit—with shining golden fur and a cream-colored tail that was little more than a bob of fluff. He was small, even by the modest standards of fairies, and had to hop onto his tiptoes to pick huckleberries from the scrubby bushes that lined the path. Juice dripped onto his fingers and he licked them clean before wiping them dry on his clothes.

His outfit was nice, but nothing extraordinary. He wore a water-stained blue cloak, loose-fitting tunic, and trousers that had patches on both knees. His mother had dressed him, giving him garments that would be comfortable to travel in. Dangling from his neck was a citrine pendant. It was exquisite in every way, and not something one would see on many fairies, if ever at all. The smooth orange gem—which he kept meticulously polished to better reflect the sunlight—was wreathed by coils of hand-wrought silver. Lars occasionally fiddled with it as he walked, enjoying the pleasant warmth of the metal against his stubby fingers. Of all his worldly possessions, the pendant was without a doubt his most precious. In addition to being beautiful, it was one of two objects that marked Lars as an apprentice mage. The second was not nearly as pretty to look at; it was a crude, hand-carved summoning flute that Lars kept in his travel sack so as to not bother him while he walked.

Both the pendant and the flute bolstered his burgeoning abilities as he studied the arcane and mysterious with his master, Revias Brightwood. The flute helped him conjure objects out of thin air and summon help when needed. Eventually, with greater control, it would let Lars travel to distant lands if he chose to do so. In contrast, the pendant served as an anchor for enchantments, which helped keep Lars focused whenever working magic. The pendant could also be a reservoir, storing excess energy. By making sure to channel a bit of his leftover power into the citrine every night before bed, Lars ensured that he could always cast big spells in an emergency.

Lars was as proud of the pendant and flute as he could be. Growing up as the smallest and weakest of eight koovbo—the fairy term for children—he’d worried about his future constantly. He came from an old and respected family of silversmiths and soldiers, after all, and neither of those occupations had room for weaklings. However, the day he earned his pendant and flute—the first in his family to do so in four generations, mind you—his worries vanished. According to the examiner who tested Lars and gave him the pendant, young Springtree was gifted in the ways of magic and had a bright future ahead of him as a mage. Naturally, Lars’ mother and father were very proud.

His reason for being in the forest was simple. Two nights before, a massive falling star streaked and burned through the sky before landing somewhere in Brewer’s Wood. Every fairy in Maplehill—the trading village where Lars and his family lived—took notice. Falling stars, meteors, were made out of a precious rainbow-colored metal, one that was stronger and easier to work than steel. As such, it was prized by smiths and merchants alike.

Craving adventure, Lars decided to go into the woods by himself in order to collect some fragments from the meteor’s crash site. When he first proposed the idea to his parents, they refused to let him go alone. The woods were a dangerous place, they said. Lars would not be deterred though; he wheedled and whined until he convinced them that his magic would keep him safe from trouble and they finally agreed to let him go, so long as he returned in a few days.

The first day or so outside Maplehill had been great. Lars woke up as late as he wanted to and ate whatever he wished. When he got tired enough to do so, he slept beneath the stars, conjuring a soft blanket with his flute to keep himself warm. However, another day had passed since then, and the excitement of an adventure was wearing off. Lars found himself wishing that one of his brothers or sisters had come along with him. He was getting lonely and would have liked to have someone to talk to. Despite that, Lars trekked on, determined to make the most of his adventure into Brewer’s Wood. Who knew when he’d get another opportunity like this one?

A small orb of magic fluttered in front of the fairy. It was a basic dowsing spell he’d cast that morning, and it bobbed in the direction of the fallen star’s landing site.

Roughly twenty feet down the path, two plump blue birds skipped back and forth on the skinny branches far above the fairy’s head. They noticed Lars coming and called out to him in nature-tongue, the language of woodland animals. Being a fairy, Lars could understand them easily, though a human would have heard nothing but chirping.

"Chirp! Hello friend! What brings you into our woods, our woods?" they warbled at him in their sing-song voices.

Lars smiled up at the birds and gave them a friendly wave.

Hullo birdies! I’m here because I’m on a quest to find something special. Seeing their confused expressions, he elaborated further. Did either of you see the shooting star a few nights ago? I think it crashed nearby.

The blue birds looked at one another and chirped back and forth in rapid nature-tongue. Lars had a good ear for the language—he suspected his magic was partially responsible—but they spoke too quickly for him to follow. Thankfully, the blue birds only kept up such a pace for a short time. Eventually, the larger bird peeked down at Lars and bobbed his head up and down in a clumsy but polite nod.

"Chirp! We saw it, saw it! Saw a big ball of red and blue fire streaking through the sky! Terrible noise! It hit the ground a little ways from here. It was near the swamp, but all the trees in the forest rocked and shook, rocked and shook."

Craving company, Lars shuffled his feet on the ground and shyly asked: Would you two help me look for it? I’ve been traveling by myself for some time and I’m getting a bit lonely.

The blue birds conferred once more, but this time it was the smaller one who answered. My mate and I would be happy to go with you, but we will not enter the swamp. It’s too dangerous for us. There are too many predators, too many predators.

After an invitation from Lars, both birds fluttered down from their branch to perch on their new traveling companion’s free shoulder. Lars beamed at them. Thanks for coming along, he said cheerfully. If we’re going to travel together, we should be properly introduced. My name is Lars Springtree. I’m from Maplehill. What are your names?

The smaller blue bird squealed, suddenly mortified. She bumped her head into her mate’s wing, chirping fussily. What an embarrassment! How could we have been so rude as to not introduce ourselves, introduce ourselves? My name is Berrybeak; my mate is called Seedfeather. We are happy to meet you, Lars Springtree. We’ve lived in these woods for as long as we can remember, but we haven’t talked to many fairy folks before today, before today. Please forgive us!

Still shaking her head, Berrybeak ruffled her feathers and avoided eye contact with Lars. The fairy gave her a gentle pat on the head.

Don’t worry about it, Lars reassured her. I don’t find you rude at all. The matter settled, Lars resumed his trek, keeping a good pace along the forest path. The trio exchanged jokes and small talk until the sun was high above their heads. Hours later, Lars was beginning to slow down. He’d walked many miles already that day, and was tired and footsore. Berrybeak took notice of his waning enthusiasm and got his attention.

We should stop for a little while, little while, she chirped.

Seedfeather affectionately nipped at the corner of Lars’ ear. I agree. You look like you’re going to fall over any second, any second.

Lars nodded, thankful for their concern. He slowly lowered himself onto an especially soft-looking patch of shady grass beneath an oak tree that towered nearby. Berrybeak and Seedfeather hopped down from their perch on his shoulder and started poking around the ground with their beaks for worms while Lars opened his sack of supplies and rummaged around for a snack of his own.

Finding what he wanted was tougher than it sounded; the sack was so crammed with provisions it was almost bursting. Worrying that her smallest son was underfed as it was and afraid that he might not be able to fend for himself in the forest, Lars’ mother had packed as many supplies as her prodigious skills allowed. Somehow, probably as the result of motherly magic that Lars could not comprehend or ever hope to emulate, she managed to fit enough food in the sack to last for more than a week. There were handfuls of blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, chestnuts, hazelnuts, baked pumpkin and sunflower seeds, pretzels and even a few small, smoked fish. Lars had also seen her stuff in two loaves of home-baked poppy seed and honey bread and several small canteens of lavender tea. In comparison, Lars would have considered himself lucky if he’d gotten two lunches and a dinner inside the same space.

Since his throat was scratchy with thirst, Lars reached for one of the canteens first. He popped it open, taking several greedy gulps. The delicious tea ran down his throat and rested in his stomach, immediately refreshing him. Sighing with contented relief, Lars wiped his mouth clean with his cloak. His mother would have scolded him for such a thing and told him it was poor manners, so Lars felt a rush of childish glee in the act. Grinning mischievously, Lars took another few sips of tea and wiped his mouth on his cloak again. His thirst slaked for the time being, he replaced the canteen’s lid and lay back to nibble on some food.

That feels better, he squeaked, munching on a handful of salty pretzels.

On the ground next to him, Berrybeak and Seedfeather didn’t seem to be having much luck hunting worms. They bobbed and poked at the ground, but they had yet to find anything to show for their efforts. Feeling pity for the blue birds, Lars scooped a handful of berries and seeds out of his sack and put it on the ground near his friends.

Have these instead, he told them. I have plenty of food, so eat until you’re full, okay?

Berrybeak and Seedfeather trilled in delight and dove onto the food. They gobbled noisily, snapping up the offering in a few bites. Their enthusiasm prompted Lars to give them a second helping, and then a third portion after the second disappeared. For such small creatures, the blue birds sure could eat!

Feeling full and safe, Lars and his companions decided to take a short nap in the pleasant shade of the oak tree. Lars snored gently beneath the hot sun, his mouth open and the air whistling through a tiny gap between his front teeth. He was perfectly content like that for some time.

An irritatingly-persistent breeze woke Lars and his blue bird friends. The sun was far away now, floating just above the edge of the horizon, and the air was much cooler. Chilly, in fact. Lars let out a squeak of despair and scrambled to get back on the road. He hadn’t meant to sleep the day away! He hurried to clean up and pack the rest of the food that was still out, shoving it into the sack and pushing it down until everything fit. The sack bulged and strained, but it closed. Lars slung it over his shoulder and got walking with the birds perched atop his head between his ears. As they traveled, Lars couldn’t help but think that the journey felt different. Instead of laughing and talking as they had that morning, Lars and the birds traveled in near silence. Lars suspected that the reason was that his friends were nervous about getting closer to the swamp. He wondered what sort of predators lived there, and if they ever had a hankering for fairy. Hopefully he wouldn’t find out.

Berrybeak and Seedfeather’s sullen mood was contagious. Lars caught it too, moping as he plodded along. There was a change in the air, though it was tough for him to identify the cause. Something evil weighed on his thoughts; and he got the feeling that he was being stalked by a creature he couldn’t see. His invisible follower was patient, undoubtedly waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Lars didn’t like it and constantly checked the trees and bushes next to the road, fully expecting to see a hulking monster waiting to pounce. Thankfully he never did.

The sky above was clear and free of clouds, but the hairs on the back of Lars’ neck prickled the same way they did in the moments before a lightning storm. Nervous, Lars toyed with the citrine pendant, finding a small measure of comfort in the familiar buzz of magic inside the crystal. I’m safe as long as I have the pendant, Lars thought. If there was an emergency, he’d just tap into its deep reserves of power and teleport home with a few notes from his flute. Bam. Safe in the blink of an eye.

The swamp is just past that hill up ahead, Seedfeather told Lars. There’s a river that separates it from the rest of the woods, so you’ll have to find a way across, way across. Berrybeak and I will accompany you until you get to the other side, but then we’ll leave you and return to our nest.

Lars nodded solemnly and scratched his ears. The thought of being alone once more wasn’t particularly attractive, and Lars wished that the birds would stay with him. However, he forced himself to smile awkwardly to hide his disappointment so as to not make Seedfeather and Berrybeak feel guilty about going home.

I understand, Seedfeather. I wouldn’t want either of you to put yourselves in danger. You’ve been great company and I’m glad that you two came this far with me. If the shooting star crashed in the swamp the way you think it did, I’ll find it without much trouble.

Closing his eyes, Lars dowsed for the meteor once more. The little orb bounced and jigged; it was close. Before Lars could get a better idea of its exact location though, a disconcerting presence touched the corner of his mind. It felt like a clammy hand. Lars jerked his consciousness away from it and stopped the dowsing spell. That was strange. I’ll try it again once I’m in the swamp, he thought.

Just over the hill Seedfeather had indicated, Lars got his first real look at the swamp. With it came an awful smell that made the fairy queasy. Lars wrinkled his nose at the musky reek and winced at the sudden humidity. He didn’t like humidity much, it made his fur frizzy and wild.

The river separating the swamp from the rest of the woods flowed quickly. The cloudy water crashed against tiny, moss-covered stones that barely poked out above the surface. Though the river didn’t look especially dangerous, it certainly presented a problem.

It’s too deep for me to cross on foot, Lars murmured. He scratched his chin thoughtfully, trying to come up with a way to safely reach the other side. On top of that, swimming won’t work either. The current is too fast; I’d be swept away before I even made it halfway.

Biting his nails as he always did when faced with a difficult problem, Lars looked around for something he could use to ford the river. Flying around his ears, Berrybeak and Seedfeather tried to offer advice, but since they had never known a world in which they couldn’t fly over any obstacles in their way, none of their suggestions were particularly helpful.

Jump as far as you can, Berrybeak suggested. The wind will catch you and carry you the rest of the way. Lars didn’t have the heart to tell her the wind was nowhere near strong enough to carry a fairy—even one as small as him—across such a wide river.

Seedfeather recommended that Lars try building a set of artificial wings out of tree branches, claiming that the leaves are just like feathers if you think about it. If only that was the case, Lars thought wistfully.

His mother and father had raised him to always be polite, so Lars earnestly thanked his friends for their suggestions. They were doing their best, after all. However, Lars couldn’t help but wish that their ideas were more practical.

There’s got to be a way to get across the river, the young fairy adventurer told himself. I guess I’ll just have to think about it a little bit harder.

He grinned and rubbed his hands together. Lars Springtree always liked a puzzle.

Chapter 2

Three frustrating hours of failure after failure later, Lars crossly believed that getting to the other side of the river was impossible. His attempts to build a makeshift bridge had almost caused him to fall into the river. There weren’t any trees he could make a swing from either; the ones nearby were all too short for him to get enough momentum. With no other options, he begrudgingly settled on building a raft. The process of doing so was painfully slow and tedious. He poked around between the trees on the riverbank, picking up tufts of grass and struggling to weave them into rope. The grass was finicky and Lars’ fingers quickly grew tired as he fought to twist all the strands together. It was infuriating. He’d never had a knack for this sort of thing, and gnashed his teeth or tugged his fur when the ends of his rope inevitably split and frayed. Spitting and kicking at the ground, Lars tried again and again. Finally, the rope stayed together and Lars could actually start assembling his raft.

He looked down at the sticks he’d collected. They were a mismatched bundle of warped and bent pieces of wood. He wasn’t particularly impressed by their quality. One or two of the longer, straighter sticks looked like good raft material, but that was it. Faced with such poor resources, Lars didn’t think much of his chances of crossing the river safely. In all likelihood, his little boat would only float for a few seconds before snapping apart and sinking. Hopefully that’d be enough; if he got close to the other side of the river, maybe he’d be able to jump the rest of the way across.

Behind him, Seedfeather made a noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter as he poked the grass rope lying coiled on the ground next to the bundle of sticks.

You’ll need to be the luckiest creature alive to get across anything bigger than a puddle on something held together with this thing, with this thing! he teased. Lars shrugged.

Maybe. Unfortunately, this is the best I can come up with, he told the bird.

Berrybeak jumped to Lars’ defense. Shame on you, Seedfeather! It’s not like you came up with anything that would work better, work better, she scolded.

Seedfeather trilled and dejectedly looked down at the ground. I’m sorry, Lars. I didn’t mean any offense, any offense, he warbled sadly.

Smiling, Lars knelt down and gave the large bluebird’s head a friendly pat. There, don’t be sad, Seedfeather. It’s okay. I know you didn’t say it to hurt my feelings. Besides, you’re right about that rope. I’ll definitely need a magic pocketful of luck to make it across the river without the raft coming apart.

Seedfeather chirped, looking relieved, and Lars returned his attention to the materials in front of him. He grimaced. He hadn’t even started assembling the craft yet and his hands were already red and sore from the effort of making the rope. Construction was going to be unpleasant to say the least.

Wincing as he picked up the grass, Lars began the slow and careful work of lashing the logs together. His father had taught him how to tie knots, and while he wasn’t particularly good at it, he found it relaxing. Wrapping and tightening the ropes reminded Lars of something he was good at; weaving spells together out of tactile magic. Tactile works were the first spells he’d learned how to make and they were still his favorite. Because of the similarities between the two activities, Lars was able to stay focused. He smiled proudly after the final log was fastened in place.

However, after taking a look at the sky, he decided that he could not cross the river tonight. Because gathering his materials and assembling his craft had taken several hours—on top of the hours he’d wasted trying other ideas—the sun had long since set. Lars was exhausted and needed sleep. It had been a long day. The blue birds were tired too, falling asleep next to one another in a makeshift nest of grass tufts and twigs. I’ve done enough for tonight, Lars thought, lying down on a comfy patch of yellow-green moss next to his friends. Before drifting off, Lars imagined himself saying good night to his family. The mental image brought a smile to his face and he closed his eyes. With his cloak draped over his body like a blanket, Lars fell into a deep sleep.

His dreams that night were troubled. In them, he ran through an endless maze of roots and branches, chased by a stooped figure made of shadows. His legs felt as heavy as stone as he tried to escape, and his pursuer got closer with each step. Thankfully, before it could grab him with its white, mottled hands, Lars was woken up by an insistent Berrybeak.