The Endonshan Chronicles Book 5: Invasion

By Cy Bishop

Four years ago, the Hranites breached the Wall and marched on Kenara, beginning a long and painful occupation. Korel, an Elf living on the edges of society, is determined to turn that around. He works to spark a revolution, fancying himself the hero to save all of Kenara.

Instead, a few humiliating false starts land him with an unexpected group of allies and a new mission to march across the breach into Ebrun, land of the Hranites, and rescue their captured leaders. Despite the eagerness for the task his new comrades show, he can't help but feel some doubts about some of his allies, particularly a wild Tulvan who seems of questionable reliability.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cy Bishop
• Release date: Mar 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370885329

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

Endonshan Chronicles Book 5

INVASION

By Cy Bishop

Copyright 2018 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

269 years before The Division

Chapter 1

Korel moved stealthily along the alleyway, watchful and alert, ready to spring into action at the first sign of Hranites. They would pay for what they’d done. He would be the spark to ignite the revolution to drive the monsters out of Kenara.

His stiff leather jerkin smacked his ear. He cringed and rubbed it, wishing he’d managed to get his hands on some armor that actually fit. At least the greaves and bracers weren’t too far off. And the mask wasn’t bad, though it fit too tight on top and too loose on bottom. And it had three patches.

He looked like a clown.

No, he couldn’t think like that. Korel shook his head and refocused. The too-large jerkin would make him look bigger, more intimidating. He hoped. Or at least the dark of night would hide the fact that his suit of armor was put together of whatever random pieces he could find.

Besides, the important part wasn’t his gear, it was his goal. It had been four years since the Hranites breached the Wall at Luvis, a smaller city just a couple days southwest of his own larger trade city on the main road, Emerton. The invaders somehow made it to the palace and captured the entire royal family—Princess Koleatara, her husband, and their three children. The resistance hadn’t lasted long after that, and no one wanted to try an uprising for fear of what the monsters would do to Princess Koleatara and her family.

But Korel knew the truth. The Hranites claimed they still held the family captive, but had done nothing to prove it for the last two years in a row. Obviously they’d killed the royals and pretended they still lived to keep their control over the Kenarans.

He was going to change that now. He darted from one alley to the next, creeping his way along and doing his best to ignore the loud jangles coming from the chainmail no long properly attached to the armor covering his thighs.

As he took on his campaign against the wicked Hranites, their commanders in their Tower would be forced to prove to the people the royal family was still alive—which of course they wouldn’t be able to do. And then everyone would know the truth and take up arms. He would be the symbol of revolution, the fuel to the fire, the—

A flash of movement caught his eye, and he backpedaled to stop before crossing the next road. He flattened himself against the wall and listened, heart pounding. A couple of voices joked coarsely, sounding for all the world like a couple of drunks stumbling out of a tavern. Hranite drunks.

Korel grinned. It was a small start, perhaps, but he would gain momentum from there. Even these two drunkards would be enough to send a clear message: the people are no longer afraid to rise up.

He drew in a deep breath and spun around the corner, both swords drawn and ready. Stand down, evildoers! Your wickedness will no longer…

His voice disappeared as a half-dozen Hranites turned to face him.

One began to laugh, then another, then all of them. Laughing at him.

Korel’s body froze in place. He’d been a fool. In his eagerness, he’d failed to peer around the corner to verify their numbers.

What was that, boy? the biggest of the Hranites growled around a throaty, derisive laugh. The lean, gray-skinned man hefted a mace, his smirk unsettling in the nearly skeletal face, his sideways eyes flashing with eagerness for a fight. The others around him drew their own weapons.

Korel’s legs finally responded by bolting in the opposite direction. The Hranites roared behind him, their pounding footsteps in pursuit.

Panic and shame competed in Korel’s mind. He took a corner, then another, but couldn’t shake them. He dodged down an alleyway and crouched in the shadows, away from the homes lining the street and the lights glowing from their windows. With any hope, he would simply disappear in the dark of night. He realized he still clutched his swords and carefully slid them back into their sheaths, making only the faintest whisper of a sound. Leaning back against the wall, he worked to control his breathing. He had to stay quiet. Silent. Undetected in the night.

Boy, a rumbling voice beside him greeted.

He yelped and jerked upright. The Hranite leader smirked again, two of the others flanking his sides.

Korel spun the opposite direction to find the remaining three blocking his escape. He was trapped.

So, the Hranite said in the gravelly voice so typical to their kind. He leaned in, his sideways eyes narrowing in a disconcerting way. You want to finish what you were saying?

I… Korel’s mind raced. There had to be some way out. Three in front, three behind. The leader would be the biggest challenge, so he should go for the ones behind.

The leader caught the front of Korel’s jerkin and yanked him forward. I said, you want to finish what you were saying?

Korel’s arm swung without conscious direction, and his elbow connected with the Hranite’s skeletal jaw. The grip on his armor released as the tall man reeled backwards.

The others shouted, all lunging forward.

Korel ducked under two of them, letting them tangle into each other. His short Elf height was a benefit at times. One left behind, two in front. He lunged toward the last one behind him at the same moment the woman charged. He skidded and rolled into her legs, then came up on the other side and dashed away.

He heard them shouting. They wouldn’t be far behind. He scrambled around one corner after another, then realized he was getting close to the Great Forest surrounding the city. Pausing, he glanced back. Voices echoing through the streets told him they were still in pursuit. His best chance was to lose them in the trees.

Korel had to slow down significantly to safely navigate the forest. The Hranites would have to slow down even more; they would hardly be able to see at all in the darkness there, not to mention that they weren’t familiar with the rootwork the way he was. He would lose them in moments.

He hoped.

Light beams flashed behind him, and he swallowed a curse. They had the special lanterns with them, the ones that used mirrors to direct the light. The darkness was no longer an advantage for him. Louder shouts told him he’d been spotted.

He sped up, kicking off a large root for extra speed. His boot, sturdy but loose, shifted. He landed flat on his face. Scrambling over himself, he made it back to his feet and bolted again, but something slammed hard into his back, knocking him flat.

The hefty jerkin hadn’t been enough to keep the air from being sucked out of his lungs. He pushed himself over, trying to regain his breath and get his thoughts back in order.

A punishing kick caught his side. Come now, clown, the Hranite jeered, entertain us.

Another swung a chain-mace squarely into Korel’s stomach, making him grunt in pain and curl in on himself.

Korel struggled, trying to get his feet, trying to see an opening to grab a leg and bring one of them down. But each time, someone else would lash out before he could make any progress. Within moments, there were no more taunts, no more pauses, nothing but a steady stream of violent attacks.

They were going to beat him to death.

He couldn’t breathe. It felt like everything and nothing at once. The world moved around him in nauseating swirls.

Something changed. Dim awareness floated in and out with a vague understanding that the attacks had stopped. There were fewer Hranites. And then the remaining few were running, shouting words that swam into clarity, Tulvan! Tulvan! A face loomed over his, shadowed and fierce, just before he passed out.

* * *

Warm daylight soothed Korel’s body. He stirred and immediately regretted it. Everything hurt.

Be still. A woman’s voice, flat but with an odd sense of authority.

With a groan, he managed to shift his position enough to see who was there. A Tulvan woman sat beside a tiny fire, occasionally stirring the contents of a little metal pot. Her near-feline face was streaked with scars and dirt, making her look even more ferocious than her kind typically looked. One of her high, pyramid ears had a chunk missing, furthering the effect. Her eyes roved the environment around them, shifting from one area to the next, never looking his way.

Korel couldn’t stop staring. A Tulvan? He’d thought they were all dead. Since they were the strongest people in all Kenara, the Hranites had targeted them specifically. The fact that she was still alive suggested she was as wild as her appearance made her look.

What are you going to do with me? he finally asked.

Her eyes briefly flicked in his direction before she resumed her constant scan. The tea will be done shortly. It will give you strength to return to your home, so long as you go straight there.

You’re letting me go?

You’re not my prisoner.

He felt tension in his chest loosen, reminding him of how badly he hurt. He winced and sucked in a breath, which hurt even more.

Be still, she repeated.

He obeyed this time. Lying still let him take in more of his surroundings. It was hard to tell in daylight instead of the dark of night, but it didn’t look like the place he’d been attacked the night before. They were still in the forest, though. Trees swayed overhead, birds chirruped, and his armor was gone.

He blinked in a sudden panic and raised his arms to his face. He yelped in pain and froze.

The Tulvan crouched at his side and helped him lower his arms slowly. You can’t follow simple directions?

Sorry, he whispered through sucked breaths.

I’m not the one suffering for it.

It took some time to recover from the shock of pain, but he’d determined what he needed to know: his mask was still in place. You took my armor off?

It fit poorly.

But you left my mask on.

It fit fine.

That wasn’t really what he’d been asking, and he wasn’t entirely sure if she knew it or not. I mean, why didn’t you take my mask off? You must be curious who I am to run around, attacking Hranites in a mask.

Why?

Because we need to end the Hranite scourge in our land once and for all! Because—

I meant, why would I be curious? she interrupted.

His face felt hot. Oh.

Silence reigned for an uncomfortable length of time. He finally tried again. What’s your name?

Unimportant.

I’m Korel.

That’s nice.

He frowned under the mask. You’re not a very good conversationalist.

Thank you.

Do you really think that was a compliment? He turned his head to look at her without thinking, and the pain rocked his body once again.

She sighed and moved toward him, this time lifting him partway up. She reached for the bottom of his mask.

He pulled away and almost yelped at the shock of pain. No—no, don’t…

She sighed again. Be still. I won’t look. True to her word, she turned her head away in an overly obvious gesture before lifting the bottom of his mask. He braced himself for the cup to fumble against his face before finding his lips, but she brought it straight to his mouth with no fumbling.

The liquid was almost painfully hot and seared all the way down, but the effects were instantaneous. The pain that had been rippling in strength faded to a faint mumble in the background. He drew in a deep breath for the first time since waking and pulled his mask back into place. It was easy now to support himself, and he eased away from her grip. What is that stuff?

Toxic if you have too much. She took a swig and tossed the rest into the grass.

He recoiled at her warning; he’d been about to ask for another drink. Even more disturbing, he realized he still wanted another drink anyway.

The Tulvan extinguished the fire and stood. Return to your home. If you try it again, I won’t be there to save you.

He wasn’t sure if she meant she wouldn’t be around or wouldn’t bother saving him. He wouldn’t put either past her at this point. I’ll be doing it again, no question.

And you have no fear of what may happen to the royal family.

He grinned, ready and eager to answer that question. That assumes they’re still alive. The Hranites haven’t brought them out for years now. Why? Because they already killed the royal family and are just pretending to still have them alive to keep all us Kenarans under their power. And—

You have proof of their deaths.

Korel’s momentum sputtered. I—it’s the only thing that makes sense.

Or they don’t wish to risk the vulnerability of displaying the family to Kenarans, knowing there’s been enough time for resistance groups to start forming plans.

Her words sparked in his mind. Are there resistance groups? Are you part of one?

No. She turned to leave. I will not help with something that will get the royal family murdered.

Okay, let’s pretend you’re right. Then the Hranites wouldn’t want to kill the royal family because they’d lose their control over Kenara—we would rise up and fight them off, no matter how badly we’re outnumbered here.

She spun on him so abruptly he almost fell over. And how many Kenarans will be killed to punish your attempts at an uprise and prevent any further from developing? How will you feel when your city is burned to the ground while you rot the rest of your life in a dungeon with nothing but the screams of your friends still ringing in your ears?

She walked steadily forward, her eyes locked on his. You are a foolish child. You have no skills to lead any such uprising attempt. You have no tactics. No intelligence. No leadership in mind nor in appeal. Your muscles are lacking, and your fighting abilities will leave you dead within the first three fights, if you’re lucky. Walk away, Korel. Go back to your insignificant life and accept that the Hranites have won.

He could barely speak, his face flushing red and heat pounding in his ears. I—I—I’ll have you know—

But she was already gone.

He scrutinized the area, trying to see which way she’d gone so he could hunt her down and tell her off. A pang struck the back of his neck, reminding him of her warning to go straight home. He cast one last scowl in the direction he thought she had gone, then left his ill-fitting armor behind and hurried back to the city. He would prove her wrong. He would stand against the Hranites again.

And next time, he would win.

Korel worked his way through the forest, aiming south of the city. He was already feeling pangs of pain returning, dull but getting stronger. The path beneath his feet became familiar, and his feet followed without conscious direction.

A lamp hung on a post just at the edge of the forest. He took a careful look to make sure no one was around, then lit the lamp and hurried