A Realm on Fire

By Mark M. Hildebrandt

Gunnr is a Valkyrie, one of those warrior women who glide through the sky on their white winged steeds, golden armor drenched in the blood of their enemies. She despises the Realm, but she knows that within it still lies hope and beauty worth fighting for. Her enemy in the struggle to come is a witch of infamy. A woman vivacious and beguiling, the subject of a thousand books and ten thousand stories.

The Realm is not our world, but it could be. It is beautiful: great rivers, tropical lands, shining palaces and hidden kingdoms. Yet it is ugly: its leaders are blinded by cupidity, the malevolent are powerful, the innocent are trampled.
It is a world inhabited by mortals and by the Gods. Once the divine were simply witches, good and bad, but now they rule everyone and everything. From above, they harvest the adulation of the masses, burnish their egos, and fight tooth and nail for victory in The Chase. But there is danger in their coddled existence. They have lost sight of what matters and with that comes ignorance of the threats hurtling toward their world. Something wicked is coming for them – to take its revenge. It comes for the Realm also.
A Realm on Fire is the first installment of a fantasy tale. In it we will find devotion to die for, tragedy, love and, of course, monsters.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark M. Hildebrandt
• Release date: Jun 13, 2019
• ISBN: 9780646997223

Mark M. Hildebrandt

Mark is based in Melbourne, Australia. He is a father to two girls and a lover of all things fantasy.

Book preview

A REALM ON FIRE

Mark M. Hildebrandt

For Timana, Isla and Amelie.

Published in Australia by Firesword Books

e: [e-mail]

First published in Australia 2019

Copyright © Mark Hildebrandt 2019

Cover design by Aley Faye, alyfaye.com/wordpress/

Interior formatting by IndieDesignz.com

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

National library of Australia Cataloguing

Hildebrandt, Mark M.

A Realm on Fire

ISBN-13: 978-0-646-99722-3

Disclaimer

All care has been taken in the preparation of the information contained herein, but no responsibility can be accepted by the publisher or author for any damages resulting from the misinterpretation of this work. All contact details given in this book were current at the time of publication, but are subject to change.

Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

LEADERS OF THE REALM

Alwyn, elf counselor to the King of the Hidden Kingdom

Angvus MacBaird, aka ‘the Mac’, contestant of Reynes

Arun, elf servant to the Oracle of Farsund

Asta, Nilf healer and daughter of Too Fat

Averley, hand maiden to Princess Wai Wai

Baldur, the first god and a Puritan

Beric, elf servant to Vali

Bully, contestant from Lemuria

Calix, Second Prince of Nilfheim and son of Murad

Celebrun, elf counselor to the King of the Hidden Kingdom

Cinxia, Princess of Coltaire

Danse Merchantine, Commander of the Lemurian Leader’s Guard

Darilla, commander in the Lemurian delegation to the monastery of the Valkyrie

Derik, servant to the Lord Druid

Dina, Dowager Empress of the Realm

Eir, Valkyrie

Fabula, contestant of Hespera

Gertrud, contestant of the Woodlands and cousin to Princess Kiera

Grogan, Nilf warrior and son of Too Fat

Gunnr, Valkyrie

Hando, Puritan God from Lemuria

Hildr, Valkyrie

Hanser Welsch, Prime Lemurian Ambassador to Coltaire

Jonquil Tarsen, Captain in the Coltaire Army

Julian, Caretaker Emperor of the Realm

King Rata, monarch of the Maorilands

Kiera, Princess and contestant of Coltaire

Lachlan Blair, contestant of Reynes

Lady Braggin, Lady of the Merchants Guild of Lemuria

Lord Maddern, Lord of the Farmers Guild of Lemuria

Lotte, Puritan God and Queen of the Kingdom of the Divine

Lucius Geldox, Deputy of the Farmers Guild of Lemuria

Mikael, Emperor of the Realm

Morgan, counselor to the King of the Hidden Kingdom

Murad, King of the Nilf

Paisley, Prince of Coltaire

Prappas the Merchant, lord of Hespera

Queen Kiki of the Maorilands, wife of King Rata

Reika, Crown Prince and contestant of Nilfheim

Rico, Prince of the Maorilands

Sekopi, Maori warrior come servant

Skorm, Druid of the Monastery of the Valkyrie

Svava, Valkyrie

The Earl of Greymoat Sound, uncle to Julian

The High Priest of the Light, counselor to the King of the Hidden Kingdom

The King of the Hidden Kingdom

The Leader, Chancellor of Lemuria

The Lord Druid of the Monastery of the Valkyrie

The Oracle of Farsund

The Sage, Counselor to the Dowager Empress Dina

The Teacher, Malevolent god

Too Fat, Chancellor to the Nilf King

Vali, Malevolent god from Nilfheim

Wai Wai, Crown Princess and contestant of the Maorilands

Xavier Beresford, Deputy Lemurian Ambassador to Coltaire

CHAPTER 1

Gunnr

Titans roared and monsters spat fire like lightning from their mouths as she fought frantically, for her life and for the lives of those she loved most. Then in a flash, it was all gone. Back to the recesses of her memory, to be replaced with smothering black.

The Valkyrie woke with a jolt and gulped oxygen in lumps into her lungs. She was suddenly short of breath and panicked, at the fear that rippled through her body and soul. She did not bother to wonder how long she had been holding her breath in her sleep, now all consumed by what she had witnessed in her dreams. She had seen everyone she loved killed, again. And she saw the Realm drowned in blood.

She brought her hands to her face and inhaled deeply. Gunnr, like all of her kind, had the perishingly uncommon gift of foresight, her dreams giving her glimpses of what was to come, whether she wanted them or not. Usually, it was only events of great significance that forced their way into her dozing head. As if they weighed so heavily upon the future that they reached out into the time before they actually occurred.

More frequently now, they mixed with memories of her past and she knew what that was about. Someone, or something, was attempting to tug at her heartstrings. The lesson was an obvious one. Do not let what happened to you happen to others. Pitiful. If she did not know better, she would have assumed it was one of the Gods in a feeble attempt at manipulation. But none of those fools had a clue what was coming for them.

She detested the divine—all of them, Puritan or Malevolent, for the inhabitants of the Realm were mere pawns to them. Men, women and children all. Nothing more than pieces on the board, to be discarded and used as those on high saw fit. It was their lies that had killed all the hope in her heart.

There was a time they existed to nourish and enrich the world and those around them, but now all they strived for was power, treasure, and the worship of the masses. They had lost sight of their purpose, as they lounged in a bubble of ignorance. Their selfishness made them vulnerable, and with it—the Realm. They thought themselves safe in their high kingdom, where even monsters cannot reach. Safe from swords and spears. Yet they were as oblivious as each other to the real threat. Like crabs in a pot of water with a fire just lit beneath, they were being boiled without knowing they were being killed.

‘Can you not let me sleep in peace?,’ she spoke to the night. If she ever received an answer when speaking to nobody, she would be sure to slit her own throat immediately, she chuckled. Madness was not entirely the preserve of the elderly, but it came close. She would not allow such a fate for herself. She was not a part of her old life anymore, but she was still a Valkyrie.

From time to time, she did wonder who or what force it was that assailed her nights, with visions she did not care for and memories she wished would die. Some overarching force? her dead love? It would be just like him to advocate for the ‘innocent’ and to pester her constantly to rush to their aid. She sighed sadly at the thought of him and closed her eyes. How much meaning had been lost from her life with his death? Too much, she lamented, if not all.

Her hand came to her throat and she realised she was bathed in sweat. Horrified at the clammy touch, she climbed carefully from her bed. She was old now and did not jump from her sheets as she once had. A fractured bone was a death sentence at her age and not for the first time, she questioned the wisdom of her decision to leave her former home in the Kingdom of the Divine. Such thoughts came from time to time, not the least when she looked in the mirror. But living in that place it felt like her soul was being eaten alive.

Gently, she palmed cool water over the marked and wafer thin skin of her face and patted herself down, the uncleanliness reducing to an acceptable degree. The visions always made her feel dirty, like she knew secrets no-one should.

Time ran shorter now, Gunnr could feel the pressure building and events were beginning to roll. Many summers had passed through the Realm since the first vision had come to her, though it felt as if it were the last sunset. Still it made her blood turn to ice, just as it had the first time.

What lay in store for the Realm terrified her. Especially that which did not wish to be seen—the threat that made her shiver despite the heat that was the true ruler of her kingdom. Gunnr had sensed its presence not long after the first premonition came.

Yet she was not afraid to seek it out. Every vision when she felt it, she hunted for it and when she found it, she did not hesitate to try and unmask it, attacking it in her dreams. It fought back, of course, and it was strong—very strong. But it revealed itself nonetheless, by its very presence. It showed its power in its attempt to remain in the shadows. And its evil. Something powerful almost beyond compare, an enemy she had never encountered before and Gunnr had lived longer than anyone else alive.

It was fully aware of the real game. More—it was the puppet master. It knew the stakes and it knew the fate hanging over everything. It wanted its revenge.

She knew what it was, for nothing else in the Realm’s history was that powerful. It was supposed to be dead and when the fact it was not became known it would be causing a certain few gods more than a little distress.

That part gave her some satisfaction, she did not care to deny it. The gods deserved nothing less than death and a painful one would be preferable.

You would derive satisfaction from seeing them burn?

Your sisters too?

The rest of the Realm?

‘Be quiet!,’ she snarled in answer to the bleating of her conscience.

She had no wish whatsoever to be drawn into the fight. She was content in her new home, far from the ugliness of the Realm.

Stepping out of her tent, still dressed only in her white cotton nightgown, the night air was cool but dry, as it always was in this vast desert. The sand felt comforting to her touch, the opposite of how it would feel when the sun rose in the sky. There was a light breeze tonight and she let it wash over her and it calmed her. Above her, the fractured moon was aglow and the night lights shone especially bright—it was one of the things her husband had regaled her about when they had first met. Diamonds in the sky, he had called them and he had not lied, the dark truly sparkled here.

Far to the east, she could just make out the white-capped peaks of the Dragon’s Teeth Mountains through ageing eyes. The gargantuan mountains were hard to see during daylight, the sun’s heat shimmering off the baking sand turned the skyline into a blur. But in the night, the rays of the broken moon reflected off their snowy tips and they showed themselves. Gunnr began to think again on what nagged at her soul.

She decided she would stare at the night lights a while longer, until her composure was regained, then she would write down and draw everything she had seen, again. Experience had taught her it was best that way. If she returned to her sleep she would inevitably forget something and though she cared not at all for the Realm or the gods, she was also wise.

It was the flipside of old age, her youth was withered but her experience of life was without parallel. She knew better than to deal in absolutes where such matters were concerned. The chances of her sending salvation to those she hated was close to non-existent—close.

Then there was the fact that whatever attacked her conscience would likely go into overdrive, if she resolved entirely to let the Realm dangle in the wind and perhaps she was not yet prepared to endure that. Or perhaps, in the very deepest corner of her heart, the possibility it was one of those she loved reaching out to show her the way, to save her soul, to let her know they were still with her, lent her comfort. Childish thinking, she scolded herself. Yet even she was not hard enough to put that impossibly thin chance at risk. At least not yet.

CHAPTER 2

Averley

She was chasing the pretty white butterflies. Her arms were stretched out before her excitedly, as she followed their haphazard path and she chuckled delighted, as they danced the field beside her parents’ hut.

The day was bright and the air was warm in her home village of Puekone, on the banks of the Slidr River, in the Maorilands—the kingdom of the Maori. Her father was repairing the thatch of their cabin roof and her younger brother was feeding the horses. Her mother was washing clothes and her flaming red hair, so like Averley’s own, was reflecting the glow of the sun.

The fluttering creatures drifted toward the edge of the woods and she decided it would be a good idea to follow them. One landed on the trunk of the tree where her Dada had built her hiding place. It was hollow and he had carved out a peephole for her to keep watch—her special place where she kept her treasures.

She did not hear the thunder of the hooves at first, preoccupied with far more important matters. It was her father’s shouted warning that drew her attention. ‘Raiders!’ Then her mother screamed her name and that of her brother and she had startled in fright, for she knew that tone meant something bad was happening.

Only then did she realize from where the danger hailed. She saw them and heard the roar of their horses as they battered the trail. Everyone in the village was running and everyone was screaming.

Her mother picked up her brother and hugged him tight, just as her father came out from the shelter, with his sword and shield. He said something to her mother, who hesitated and looked around, still clutching her brother close. Again he spoke, angrier this time and she ran inside their hut. Averley had wanted to run to them, but she stayed back. It was the horses. She knew to keep away from horses, especially when they were moving fast.

She should climb inside her hiding place.

The thought came to her and she did exactly that.

She hid in the tree and looked out the peephole. A man on a horse swung a sword at her father. Her hands came to her mouth and her heart froze as she sensed the danger to him, not understanding why someone would want to harm him.

The rider turned and came again, only this time her Dada swung his sword and the man fell, holding his leg. Then other men on horses came. Her small legs were pumping up and down on the spot in fear, as she watched the horses bang into him, again and again.

‘Dada,’ she screamed as he fell to the ground.

Then they were all hitting him—they were hurting him. Unable to watch anymore, she squatted lower in her hiding place, instinctively making herself smaller, her hands covering her eyes as tears flowed down her cheeks. ‘Dada!’ she sobbed.

Then time jumped forward and she could see again. They had stopped hitting her Daddy and had moved away, but he was still lying on the ground, all red. The soldiers were burning everything and they were hurting lots of people. One of the men set fire to her hut and it started to burn.

The fire took hold. Then, to her shock, something burst out of its straw walls. It was the shape of a person and, after a moment’s wide-eyed stare, she recognized the stumbling form of her mother. She was on fire, with her brother still held in her arms.

Her mother and her brother were on fire! At that realization she became hysterical. She screamed and screamed for them and her chubby arms flapped around her, as she watched them fall to the ground, rolling, still burning—her mother clinging desperately to her brother as Averley continued to look on, horror-struck.

Eventually her mama could no longer rise, only crawl. Sluggish, fatigued movements, and everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Her mother slumped to the grass one final time atop her brother and they moved no more. But the flames kept licking at them, not yet finished with their task and Averley screamed one last time.

She awoke from the memory with a gasp, bolting upright in her bed and hyperventilating. Her night dress was damp with sweat and her hands were at her mouth, as they had been that fateful day.

She did not know how old she was when the marauders had come and did not remember how long she had stayed in that tree, too scared to come out. More warriors and horses had come later, with colored flags and she had been terrified of them also. They had discovered her hiding place eventually, and her, trembling in dread. But they belonged to the king and she had been brought to the royal palace in Kainga, where the Maori queen had taken an instant liking to her. No-one else from her village had lived to see out the day, none of the adults and none of her friends. She was of an age with the queen’s own daughter, Wai Wai, and the two of them had become inseparable from the day they first met.

The nightmare of her family’s killing had not troubled her sleep for many a summer, but it came clear again now. The village had never been rebuilt, for no-one wished the effort when such risk existed. It had been one of the first attacked by the raiders, one of countless to come.

Over time, the raids grew more and more frequent and more and more bold, until the Maori population that had once lived all along the great river’s banks had been forced to concentrate in larger towns, finding refuge behind high walls. But the marauders still came. Attacking travelers and merchant caravans journeying between regions and even venturing deep into the Maori heartland.

The towns fortified their walls, the populous prayed desperately to the Maori gods for aid and King Rata sent out waves of patrols to hunt them. But the killers kept coming and whenever the kingdom’s troops came close to locating their prey, the enemy would melt away, only to resurrect themselves later in some other tragic setting. There were not enough soldiers to protect the people along the entire river and the attacks had even spread northwest to the diamond and coal mines, disrupting trade and revenues and stretching the Maori army ever thinner.

The monarch had been pleading with the young Caretaker Emperor, Julian, and his mother for summers to send reinforcements. While Maori ambassadors had been protesting the suspected involvement of their Lemurian neighbors to the royal court in Rivers Mix for more than a decade. All the complaints were, of course, met with official denials from the Lemurians and blame hived off to independent raiders. Few in the Realm regarded that story as likely, but the reavers were never so kind as to leave behind proof of their origins.

A gentle knock sounded against the heavy wood of her cabin door, it opened slightly and a strong hand holding light appeared.

‘The bad dream?,’ came her friend’s voice. Averley nodded in reply. A tall figure entered, came to her bed and climbed in beside her. ‘Do not worry, one day I will find those scum and they will suffer for what they did.’

‘That will not bring back my family.’

‘I am your family now, sister.’ The Maori Crown Princess and contestant took her in her arms and held her tight. The horror of her family’s murder had been relived every night when she first came to the palace and her friend had always been there to comfort and was so again now.

The royal contestant had ever been fearless in Averley’s eyes. Though they were of similar age, the princess had always seemed far older and wiser. Averley did not like to appear weak, it was not the Maori way, but she had no control over the screams that came with the dreams.

She tried to alter her thought train in an effort to compose herself. ‘When do we arrive in Rivers Mix?’

Wai Wai smiled brightly. ‘Rico says a dozen days more sailing.’ Wai Wai’s brother was two summers younger than the princess and despite being their junior, he watched over them like a hawk. His protective instincts had endeared him to Averley long ago. The thought of him calmed her and the nightmare reluctantly began a retreat into the recesses of her mind. ‘Then we go to conclave in the Monastery of the Valkyrie and from there into the Tropics, where a monster awaits my sword.’

Averley laughed at her friend’s jesting hubris. ‘It is probably in the east somewhere.’

‘Lying girl!,’ the princess sent a mock punch toward her and they wrestled momentarily. They had been play-fighting since they were small, but now their frolicking was interspersed with the motions of those who knew how to kill. Averley was a mere handmaid—a servant, but as the two of them had been inseparable throughout their lives, they had attended the same lessons and few were trained in the arts of mortal combat so well, as the two young women who laughed themselves to sleep that night.

CHAPTER 3

Vali

Vali’s excitement grew as the marauder came toward the horror-struck girl, sword in hand and the still-warm blood of her father dripping from its tip. A pretty one she was. He giggled uncontrollably as the unfeeling warrior took a clump of her hair in his fist. The Malevolent god licked his lips as the soldier pierced the sweet brown flesh with the blade and she bled out while he shivered in excitement. The night’s entertainment over, he turned his mind to other matters.

Vali had been but an ambitious boy when he first arrived at the Nilf royal court, but he knew he could go far. He had been discovered by the Teacher and from time to time he wondered what would have been if a Puritan god had unearthed him first. But he never lingered long on that subject, for that would have been a fate worse than death.

Vali was not possessed of great strength or speed with a sword, his tattoos were rough and he was far from a handsome face. But for as long as he could remember he could see the thoughts of others and that was a weapon more powerful than any steel.

Slowly, he had made his way through the ranks of the Nilf hierarchy. First in the village, then in the service of the local lord, and finally the royal court. He remembered the day he had first been presented to the great king, Thorne. The man was the very definition of a Nilf warrior: imposing, aggressive, violence boiling just below the surface of his coarse exterior. He was a man filled with unbridled ambition and possessed of a mind prepared to tread on everything and everyone to get what he wanted.

Thorne had dreams of conquering the Realm. Vali could have read that easily enough without dipping into the man’s head and that had excited the young god-to-be, with the opportunity it presented.

It did not take him long to make himself indispensable to the king’s plans. Naturally, the monarch was surrounded by other zealous warrior-lords, but those saw no threat from the little prophet from the villages. Their thoughts were easily read and any malicious actions against himself readily prejudiced—then he took their power.

Together, he and Thorne had conquered every sea, every kingdom and defeated every army placed in their way, then ruled the Realm with an iron fist.

Those had been wonderful times. Victory after victory, all conquering power and his success had grown to become legend in the history of the Nilf. The seer from the village who became the right hand of the greatest warrior in their history, then a god. Then it all came crashing down.

Thorne’s demise had been orchestrated by his enemies here in the Kingdom of the Divine and from then the fervor of his people’s worship had begun to fade. There were even those who dared think of him as weaker than his Puritan enemies. Then there was this place, this gilded prison. No god may leave the high kingdom, that was the law. Vali wished to feel the sand of a beach between his toes once again, to walk a new trail, to take a peasant’s face in his grasp as they begged for his mercy. Freedom, Vali wanted for his freedom back.

And he would have it. That and the glory too. The winds of change were turning in his favor once more.

Vali stood and walked out the open arches of his palace, high in the rarefied air of Mount Axis. There, beneath him, unfolded the Realm, each village lit up like a distant speck in the night. Rivers Mix lay directly south, its lights making the horizon glow. Beyond that lay the plains of Coltaire he had crossed in shining victory all those centuries before.

He could feel the thoughts of every man and woman in all the lands stretched out before him, if he wished, but tonight his focus was singular He reached out for the mind of one of the biggest obstacles to his ambitions, the Maori crown princess. She was one of the contestants groomed from birth to play the greatest game, the Chase for the Crown. Dubbed the ‘royal contestant’—one of two in the Realm to have that distinction and he would see both their bodies ground into the dirt.

Hate began to well as he reached for her thoughts, for he hated all that defied him with a passion and everything that threatened his lust for conquest—risking the very meaning of his existence. It was time for her death.

Wai Wai

The Maori fast boats were still well away from their destination when they heard the first cheers wafting on the breeze. Wai Wai was as excited as she had ever been. The journey from Kainga seemed slower than normal, a reflection of her impatience and her anticipation.

She had been to Rivers Mix many times, but its sheer size and bustle always found her in a pleasant mood. They had first caught glimpses of the sun’s footprints reflecting off the great palace only a handful of leagues from Kainga. Like a pinprick of light on the far horizon, drawing them in.

Now she, Rico and Averley stood on the bow with the other Maori contestants, as the sails