The Endonshan Chronicles Book 2: Sanaraheim

By Cy Bishop

On their pilgrimage to Innsbrooke, honorable Elf Mikell’s greatest concerns are shielding his wife Mara from magic and keeping his harrowing memories of the Hranite war buried where they belong. But when the kingdom of Kenara’s beloved Princess Tashan is proclaimed murdered by those same Hranites, Mikell and Mara suddenly find themselves caught up in a political plot that threatens to thrust all of Endonsha into chaos.

Despite all reservations, Mikell finds himself joining the unlikeliest band of “heroes” on a quest to uncover the truth behind Tashan’s death... if she was truly murdered. To his dismay, a magic user named Ari joins their company, threatening to corrupt his innocent wife with her teachings.

Somehow, Mikell must find a way to trust Ari’s help while also keeping her evil magic, and the ghosts of his past, from destroying everything he loves.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cy Bishop
• Release date: Aug 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370708987

Cy Bishop

I enjoy life in the Pacific Northwest with my family and a constantly excited, thick-headed black lab. I obtained a degree in Counseling Psychology from Northwest University in Kirkland, WA, which I use to create fully dimensional characters with unique personalities and quirks. When not writing, I can usually be found reading, watching movies, or wasting entirely too much time on the internet.

Book preview

The Endonshan Chronicles Book 2

The Sanaraheim

by Cy Bishop

Copyright 2016 Cy Bishop

Smashwords Edition

With special thanks to:

God, my patient family, Google,

and Jessica Dodson for the fantastic cover

Table of Contents

Start of Book

Pronunciation Guide and Glossary

About the Author

321 years before The Division

Chapter 1

Mikell gripped his wife’s slender arm, holding her protectively close against the crushing masses around them. She clung to him in turn, struggling to keep her footing as the mob swept them along. He ignored the angry shouts crackling through the air. His every sense was tuned to their surroundings, allowing him to split his focus between two objectives.

Objective one, keep both of them upright. A daunting task; very few people in the mob paid enough attention to their surroundings to notice the two short Elves. Their focus was entirely on their outrage as they rushed through the street toward the Meeting Hall. Objective two, find a way to a safe haven from the raging chaos around them. Equally difficult, given that he couldn’t see more than a couple feet in any direction. It was a sea of chests and furiously waving arms. He dodged one of those arms, pulling Mara a safe distance away, and nearly ran into someone else.

Mara’s grip tightened. I can’t see anything! She had to shout to be heard above the throng.

He couldn’t either. Hold on, raisa-me. The female honorific of endearment was almost drowned out by the chaos around them. He pulled her tight in front of him, jabbed his elbows outwards, and shoved his way past a handful of people before a couple of massive Nims blocked any further progress. The two men, raising their sloping foreheads and curveless noses skyward to join in the screaming as if they could somehow be heard from the Hall, probably wouldn’t have noticed the Elves even if they hadn’t been looking upward. Mikell bit back an utterance of frustration. He had to remain calm. It was his job to get his wife to safety. Losing his temper wouldn’t help that aim.

He caught a flash of buildings between marching limbs to the right. We’re almost there. He hoped he’d been loud enough to be heard. Slowing slightly, he let the Nims get past and then ducked into the space behind them. Few people walked closely behind a Nim’s lanky legs for fear of being kicked. Fortunately, these two seemed to have their limbs well enough under control. Enough for Mikell to dart across to their other side, past a Kadrian with flaming red hair, and almost to the edge of the street before being blocked once more by a handful of younger Nim men, all wearing ill-fitting armor and running in a tight line that might have looked like a formation if one didn’t know anything about military tactics. The fools were looking for trouble and were more likely to be sent running back home to hide under their beds.

But now Mikell could see the street’s border more clearly. He tugged Mara tighter against him before a burly woman shoving past them knocked her down, then craned his neck to see what was ahead. Store, store, tavern—there, an alley. Perfect. The crowd moved fast. He’d have to time this carefully. As closely as the Nim wanna-be-soldier boys ran to each other, he’d probably have to push Mara through one gap and then jump through the next one after her. He just had to hope the alley was clear.

The alley drew nearer as the two of them jostled one way and then the other, doing their best to avoid being knocked down and trampled. He got a glimpse of it just ahead. It looked empty. He gripped Mara’s arms. I’ll be right behind you, he promised, then pushed her through. She stumbled past the Nims into the alley, then spun around to watch him come through. He saw his opening just as glass shattered somewhere back the way they’d come.

Glass shattered from every direction. His heart thundered in his chest as he flung himself out of bed, sword already in hand.

Someone slammed into Mikell. He staggered back into the present in time to see the alley vanish behind him. His disorientation opened the door for panic. Mara! He had to get back to her. He had to be sure she was safe. He spun and shoved his way upstream, fighting what anyone else could see was a losing battle as the crowd mindlessly dragged him along.

He tried to shove past a mass of a man, desperate to gain some ground. The man shrugged him off like an insect. Mikell’s feet caught, and before he could find his balance, he landed heavily on the rough cobblestone, his sword pinned beneath him. Feet bore down, ready to crush him under the weight of the mob.

A firm hand caught his arm and yanked him upright. He saw a wild tangle of bright red hair. The Kadrian, one of the people he’d passed in the crowd. She didn’t speak or even look back at him, instead sailing through the crowd with an effortless fluidity, seeming to be propelling another Elf in front of her while she towed Mikell along behind. She wove her way back and forth upstream faster than seemed physically possible, him stumbling along to try to keep up.

He had just managed to find the rhythm of their dash when she darted sideways, giving him one more mighty yank. His feet wheeled, his arm stung, and then he was in the safety of the alley. Mara clung to his side, allowing him to catch his balance and comfort her all in the same move.

Are you hurt? She leaned back to look him over, then resumed her desperate clutch. I was afraid I’d lost you!

I’m fine, he reassured her, instinctively taking in his surroundings. The alley was clean enough for its type, surprising for being adjacent to a tavern. No exit out the other end. The feeling of being trapped crawled under his skin.

Mara looked to the other side of the alley. Thanks to...

The Kadrian leaned against the tavern wall bordering the north side of the alley, catching her breath. She waved and puffed, glancing up at them with green eyes set against a white background. It still disturbed him the way other races’ eyes had white parts around the outside and dark parts on the inside instead of being all one color, like Elf eyes. Ari, she said, pronouncing it with a heavily flipped r sound. Pleasure to acquaint.

A round-faced Elf leaned against the wall beside her, just as out of breath. He must have been the other Elf the Kadrian had pulled out of the crowd.

Mikell straightened, feeling distinctively out of sorts. It was the job of a man to keep the women around him safe. Women were far too valuable to be placed in a position where they could become hurt. It felt wrong to his very core that he had been rescued by a woman when it should be his job to do the rescuing.

Mara’s grip on him tightened. Thank you so much, she addressed Ari. He was amazing, getting me to safety, and when he nobly pushed me clear of the mob before we could be swept away again, I was afraid I’d lost him. We’re grateful for your assistance.

Her words soothed him somewhat. He had kept his raisa-me safe, and that was the important part. And if he’d been killed by the crowd, she’d have been abandoned alone in the middle of a foreign city. All had been for the best. He managed a curt nod. Thank you.

Of course. Ari straightened, having caught her breath. She was willowy and tall, not unusual for a Kadrian. High, almost pyramid-shaped ears. Luminous green eyes, wide in shape with thin pupils. Flat nose. Just like any other Kadrian. Aside from her tangle of red hair, little stood out about her appearance except perhaps her nose, which seemed abnormally large for her face, or for a Kadrian in general.

The Elf still puffed at her side, but was slowly recovering. Mikell realized the man was significantly taller than average, his head nearly reaching the Kadrian’s shoulder height even from his slightly bent position. Whew! the man wheezed. I didn’t think we were gonna make it out of there alive!

Ari looked amused. You have so little faith in me, Tor?

A renewed roar of fury rose from the mob still streaming past. Mikell pivoted so he stood between them and his wife, but no one paid any mind to the cluster of people taking shelter in the alley. All their focus was on their destination.

In truth, if he’d been there alone, he’d have been right in their midst. Mara had requested a visit to Innsbrooke for their sessen, the traditional one-week trip to celebrate their union one year after their wedding. Neither of them had known until they reached their nation’s capital city that it was in turmoil. Princess Tashan, ruler of all Kenara, hadn’t been seen in weeks after leaving for what was supposed to be a brief excursion, and enough time had passed that the official claims that all was well no longer soothed the population. People had come from every nearby city, village, and outpost for news. Even last evening, when he and Mara arrived at the gates, he could feel the undercurrents of barely suppressed distrust and anger.

He’d planned on leaving the city before things became out of control. Too late for that. If it wasn’t for his duty as a husband, he might have gone with the crowd to see what the High Lords had to say about the princess’s whereabouts, but he had to stay at Mara’s side and ensure her safety at all times. Which meant moving away from the mob, not with it.

Tor’s voice drew Mikell out of his thoughts. Isn’t this crazy? Everyone’s so mad! If they could just figure out where the princess is, then everything could go back to normal. I like it when it’s normal. Then we can just relax, and if we want to walk across the street to the baker to get a pie, we can just walk across the street to the baker and buy a pie. No angry mob. He stared at Mikell. Do you like pie?

Mikell was entirely unsure how to respond. The man was like a puff of dried weedstalk carried this way and that by the wind, looking big but with no substance. Mara seemed to be resisting a smile.

Tor continued his prattle before Mikell had to figure out how to answer. Oh, look, I think the crowd is thinner. I’m gonna try to get that pie. See ya! The crowd didn’t look any thinner than before to Mikell’s eyes, but he wasn’t going to object to the bothersome man’s departure.

Before Tor could plunge back into the mob, Ari caught his arm, a mild scold in her expression. Tor, give it back.

He blinked at her, his face the image of falsified innocence. What?

She raised an eyebrow and held out a hand.

He grinned sheepishly and pulled a bracelet out of his pocket. I’m just making sure my skills stay sharp. You know, just in case.

Mikell’s brain made the connections as Ari put the bracelet back on her wrist. Thief! He reached for his sword. The instant the street is clear, I’m taking you straight to the guards!

Tor’s eyes widened, but Ari waved a hand. It’s nothing to worry about, tabe-ro. Tor and I are old friends. It was simply a bit of mischief on his part with no harm intended.

Mara’s tightening grip on his arm, combined with the ego-soothing effect of hearing the honorable title directed at him—even from the mouth of a non-Elf—tempered Mikell’s reaction some. He still kept a wary eye on the wastik of a man.

Tor’s eyes remained wide. I didn’t mean to scare you. I mean, not like I jumped out and said boo, but scared you like you thought I was doing wrong. Not that you were scared of me, I mean, but like you thought—

Three men burst free of the mob into the sheltered alley. Mikell spun to assess the potential threat. Two city guards supported an injured third between them. One glanced over them, his eyes stopping at the Kadrian as he helped lower the wounded man to the ground. Ari, good. We need your help.

What happened? Ari crouched at the man’s side, opening a waterskin hanging from her etched leather belt. Water droplets flew upwards from its mouth and coated her hands like gloves.

Red flashed through Mikell’s vision. Magic user. Mara’s soft hand covered his with a flash of warmth before he realized he was gripping his sword again. He took a deep breath to chase away the shadows of the past and strode forward. Step aside, magic user. We have a true healer present.

Ari looked startled, then nodded and moved back. I’m glad. My skills are enough to do in a desperate situation, but no match for a healer’s work. The water spiraled off her hands and back into the waterskin.

It’s good they have your help when a healer isn’t around, then, Mara said with a polite smile before she knelt beside the guard and placed her hands over his wounds, her eyes closing in a peaceful expression. Mikell did his best to ignore the sick taste in his mouth and positioned himself at an angle where he could both protect his wife and keep an eye on the magic user.

You don’t like magic? Tor asked. Why not? Magic is awesome. I wish I could do magic. I’m always watching Ari and thinking if I could do that, then—

Tor, Ari said quietly.

What? The Elf stared at her blankly. She only shook her head in response. He still looked puzzled, but mercifully kept his mouth shut.

Mikell felt the tension through his arms and shoulders and tried to force himself to relax. It was hard while standing just paces away from a magic user. He had a few choice words he could say to answer Tor’s questions, but he didn’t trust himself to keep his language proper in front of his wife if he opened his mouth.

I can understand why you might have little love for magic users, Sir Elf, after what happened to so many of your people, one of the guards said, but I can assure you, Ari is a true servant of Innsbrooke. We have relied on her aid many times, and she has always proven herself loyal, honorable, and noble.

You flatter me. The Kadrian smiled.

Mikell felt his jaw getting just as tight as his muscles. He kept his teeth clenched. He wasn’t interested in the blind fawning of some piffling guard.

Mara opened her eyes and sat back, looking tired but pleased. I’ve done what I can. He will need rest, but he’ll be back to his duties before long.

Thank you, the first guard said, but Mikell was already helping Mara to her feet and pulling her along toward the street, which was finally clearing. He glanced around to make sure there wasn’t another wave on its way. Seeing none, he strode out, Mara’s arm tucked closely in his. They would return to the inn, collect their things, and leave this wretched city at once.

Tabe-me, please slow down.

The strain in her voice cut through his ire. He slowed his pace and examined her. She looked drained. He’d forgotten how much her work took out of her. Forgive me. I didn’t mean to rush you. Is there something I can do to make you more comfortable?

I could use a quiet place to rest for a while. And perhaps something to drink?

The thought of lingering grated on him, but he exhaled, shifting his thoughts away from riotous mobs and vile magic users. His duty was to his wife. If she needed rest, he would see to it she got rest. He smiled and covered her hand with his own. Of course.

He looked around, considering the options. Their inn would be the ideal, but it was too far. They’d walked halfway across the city in hopes of seeing the Meeting Hall before the unrest forced them to leave—a hope that was dashed by the angry mob. This area seemed safe enough now, though. Only a few remaining stragglers worked their way through the street, trying to catch up with the masses ahead, and there was no sign of that magic user or her thieving friend. The tavern bordering the alley they had sheltered in would do. He held the door for her and followed her in.

NO! Get out! A burly Nim woman with her hair pulled up in a bun that could only be described as formidable shook her finger at them, her sloping forehead lined by her scowl. I’ll not have a single one of you rabble-rousers in my tavern! I run a peaceful establishment. You take your riots somewhere else!

Mikell returned the scowl. We have nothing to do with those canker-goads. My wife and I came here for our sessen, not to flail about in the streets like senseless animals.

The woman eyed him. You picked a deuce of a time to visit our city.

We could hardly be expected to know what was happening here when we set out three days ago, he retorted.

She glared a moment longer, then relaxed, rubbing the spot where the bridge of her nose might have been if she wasn’t a Nim. True right, friend. My apologies. We’re all on edge, what with the princess being missing and all the scuffle-bus in the streets. Come in, sit. I make a mean Elf-leaf tea, if you favor. On the house.

He highly doubted any non-Elf could make a decent tea, but nodded his thanks and escorted Mara to a relatively private table in the corner, holding her chair before sitting opposite her. The Nim brought them some bread and two steaming mugs in short measure. The name’s Teylan. Let me know if you need anything else.

As it turned out, Teylan’s boast proved true; the tea was almost authentic. Mara leaned back in her seat, a faint smile on her face as she savored the drink. It’s like home.

Nearly, he agreed. The room was warm with a quiet murmur of conversation blending into the background. The bread, soft and flaky. The tension in his body finally subsided.

The door opened. Ari and Tor walked in, bringing the tension back along with them. His fingers tightened on the mug. Mara followed his gaze, then put a hand over his. Please, let’s ignore them. We don’t have to let them disrupt our time.

He would have preferred to make a hasty exit, but one look at her face told him that she still needed more time to recover her strength. He exhaled. For her. Of course, raisa-me. Relax. Enjoy your tea. He was rewarded with a smile lovely enough to melt the hardest heart. Rioting fools and magic users couldn’t ruin his day with her at his side. He caught her hand in his and kissed it, gaining an even larger smile.

Teylan reappeared beside their table moments later, unloading hearty bowls of an unfamiliar, steaming mess that smelled amazing.

We didn’t order any food, he said, though thinking that they should have and he should pay for it rather than worrying about whether they’d ordered or not.

Courtesy of the Kadrian over there. Teylan jerked a thumb toward the other corner. Ari, you met her?

His fingers tightened once more at the thought of taking charity from a magic user. His indignation battled ferociously against his stomach and the look on Mara’s face. She was hungry too, and just as drawn to the luscious smell.

She said she offended you and wished to help improve your day. The Nim tavernkeep shrugged. Ari and Tor come in here all the time. I’ve known Tor to get under the skin, but Ari’s never been one to angerfy folks. It’s what she said, though, so here’s the food. Enjoy.

Now he was even more torn. If he accepted the food, would the magic user take it as a sign of acceptance and peace? He wanted to upend the bowl on the floor at the thought. On the other hand, it smelled too divine to be wasted in such a manner.

Please extend our thanks to her, Mara said, already scooping up a large bite. The decision was made for him, then. He would eat for his wife’s sake. She needed nourishment after such a trying morning, after all. He dug in.

They had nearly finished the delectable meal when a Kadrian man trudged through the door, slumped so low in his walk he looked as if he was melting. He dragged himself to the bar and onto a stool. Teylan plopped a drink in front of him without being asked. Here, friend. You need this.

What happened to you? a man nearby asked.

The man hauled the cup to his lips and drank with effort. I was at the Meeting Hall. The tavern fell quiet. None of them had any love for the rioters, but all wanted to hear what had happened.

Well? Teylan prompted. What’s the news?

The princess… He drew in a ragged breath. The princess is dead.

A moment passed in stunned silence before everyone spoke at once. What? Impossible. That can’t be right. How could this be?

Mikell almost stood and grabbed his sword. If an army gathered to bring justice on whoever did this, his name would be first on the roster.

Rising above the chaos came the thunderous sound of Teylan clearing her throat. She glared across the silenced crowd before turning her attention back to the man. "Start at the opening, friend. What did