The Valiant King: An Epic Fantasy Adventure

By Richard Fierce

The threads of creation are fraying.
Aramis is betrayed by the Prophet of Edria and finds himself imprisoned. When the Prophet finds the location of the next item that Mordum's follower's seek, he forces Aramis to retrieve it. Yet Aramis has his own plans and finds unexpected help, and disasters, along the way.
Talvaard is at war with the tribal elvish invaders. Garrick, newly crowned king, must find a way to end the war and restore the peace he has worked so hard to achieve. When he reveals the Mark he carries, he encounters mixed emotions - and not all of them are favorable.
Admidst it all, the usurper of Oakvalor's throne - Aramis's brother - also desires to find the items for Mordum's return. His dark past, and the wicked company he keeps, reveal why he hasn't been seen for years. His ties to the kingdom are deep and he has no intention of releasing control.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dragonfire Press
• Release date: Jul 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9781947329171

Richard Fierce

Richard Fierce is a fantasy author best known for his novella The Last Page. He's been writing since childhood, but became seriously vested in it in 2007. Since then, he's written several novels and a few short stories. In 2000, Richard won Poet of the Year for his poem The Darkness. He's also one of the creative brains behind the Allatoona Book Festival, a literary event in Acworth, Georgia. A recovering retail worker, he now works in the tech industry when he's not busy writing. He has three step-daughters, three huskies and two cats. His love affair with fantasy was born in high school when a friend's mother gave him a copy of Dragons of Spring Dawning by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman.  

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

A light breeze blew in from the east, causing Garrick’s cloak to stir slightly. He closed his eyes and breathed the cool air in deep then exhaled slowly. He opened his eyes and saw the sun was just beginning to rise, bathing the dark sky in soothing reds and pinks. The beauty of the heavens was almost enough to forget reality.

Almost.

Garrick turned his gaze to the fields outside the castle. As far as he could see, makeshift tents blotted out the scenery. Here and there he could pick out movement among the camp as they slowly awakened.

He considered, as he had many times since their arrival, why they were here. Thousands of them, slowly encroaching into his kingdom. From the corner of his eye, he noticed one of his scouts approaching.

My Lord, the man said as he drew near before dropping down on one knee.

Please rise, Garrick answered, turning away from the elvish army. What do you have to report?

Their numbers are growing. More elves show up every day. We haven’t been able to get close enough to find their leader’s tent yet, but we are working on it. It’s not easy to slip past their guards. Magic and whatnot.

Garrick nodded. I understand. Do the best you can. That’s all I ask. He turned back to the fields. After a few moments, he realized the man was still standing there. He turned to him, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

You didn’t dismiss me, my Lord.

My apologies, Garrick replied. He nodded toward the elvish army. Why do you suppose they are here?

The scout shrugged. I’m not sure. Perhaps they want their land back.

Excuse me?

You know, from the old stories? Supposedly the elves lived in these lands before humans pushed them into the desert. Maybe they want their land back. The man shrugged again.

It’s definitely something to consider, Garrick said. Thank you. You are dismissed. The man bowed low and left.

Garrick rubbed his chin as he considered what the scout said. Perhaps the man was right. It had been a long time since he had heard those stories of history. Was there truth to them? He didn’t know. He would definitely need to research it.

An explosion shook the ground beneath his feet.

And so it begins again, he muttered. It had been two weeks since he arrived, bringing fresh reinforcements to help stem the tide of elves overrunning his cities. They were using their strange magic to create holes in the walled cities, enabling their warriors to storm through and massacre his people.

After three cities had fallen, he mustered as many men as he could and made his way to the battlefront. He’d sent runners to the outer cities, calling on his generals and their men to follow suit. They were slowly starting to arrive.

Once he had witnessed how the elves were getting through the defenses of his cities, he had placed archers on the walls and ordered them to cut down the elves rushing the walls.

And it had worked. The elves finally stopped trying to breach the walls. The last two days had essentially been a stalemate with neither side attacking the other. Garrick ran to where a group of soldiers had gathered.

What’s happening? he asked.

One of them rushed the wall, but Tarn here shot him down right before he hit it.

Excellent job, Tarn. Was it just the one?

Yes, sir.

They’re testing us, probably to see if we are still paying attention, Garrick said.

That’s what we were thinking, sir.

Keep me posted. If anything happens, I want to be alerted immediately.

Will do, sir.

Garrick left the wall and headed down the steps, walking toward the main keep. The generals who had arrived late last night were supposed to be gathering there now. A messenger waved him over.

There’s a battalion roughly a mile out, he said breathlessly.

I appreciate the update, Garrick said. The messenger sprinted off, likely to deliver more news elsewhere.

He entered the keep and made his way to the appointed room. Silence ensued and everyone in the room bowed as he entered.

Thank you for making haste, Garrick said. Please be seated. After everyone had found a seat, he also took a seat and then briefed them on the current situation.

What has brought them to our doorstep? Rycroft, one of the generals, asked.

That is the question, isn’t it? Garrick motioned to one of the guards standing nearby. The man came over and unrolled a map that was on the table. He placed four small stones onto the map, one at each corner.

This is a map of the area. Our position is marked with the green square here, Garrick pointed to a spot on the map.

Our enemy encampment is here in red. The last two days have been silent. Before that, they had men rushing the walls and using their magic to blow holes in the stone. Our archers put a stop to that.

He ran his finger from the enemy camp north to the Deadlands. This is the route they are taking to arrive here. Every day more of them turn up. The curious thing is that they are all men.

What do you mean?

Garrick looked to Rycroft. The man was intelligent when it came to tactics on the battlefield. He was one of the few who had given him a run for his gold when he was working to unify the generals. It seemed so long ago, but only a few months had passed since Garrick was crowned king.

They are all men. No women or children are among the camps. Curious, is it not? Some of the generals muttered to themselves.

Where do you suppose they are? Garrick asked.

Perhaps they are still in the Deadlands? again, Rycroft answered.

Perhaps. Assuming they are, who do you suppose is protecting them?

Again, murmurs filled the room.

If all of their warriors are coming here, it seems likely there is no one protecting their women and children. Which opens a possibility of us ending this battle, or at the very least, postponing it long enough for us to rally more soldiers here.

What are you suggesting? Caidan, one of the younger men, asked.

Garrick rose from his chair and clasped his hands behind his back. His eyes looked from one general to the next, moving around the table and finally stopping at Rycroft.

I am suggesting that we send a contingent of men into the Deadlands to find their women and children.

Instead of the murmuring, there was only silence. Make no mistake, I am not proposing that we massacre them. We are not barbarians. But I believe if we can find them, we can use them to our advantage.

Caidan ran his left hand over his bearded face. What’s the plan, then?

I need a volunteer to take a few men and follow the route the elves are coming from. You’ll need to act as scouts. Follow the trail and find their source, or at the very least one of their camps. Ensure there are women and children, then send one of the men back here with the location. I’ll dispatch soldiers during the night and the scout will lead them to the camp.

What then? Rycroft asked.

Then, depending on the situation here, we’ll decide what our next move is. I understand you’ll all need time to think it over. Take the rest of the day and sleep on it. I’ll need to know who is volunteering by tomorrow at first light. Are there any questions?

Yes, Caidan said. We know their men have magical tattoos. What of their women? Do they have them as well?

That we are unsure of, Garrick answered. I have scribes searching every library for information on our enemy. That is one of the questions I am looking to have answered.

What other information are you looking for?

I am looking for the truth, Garrick said. I’m sure you all know the stories.

What stories are you referring to? Their magical prowess? Their deadly homeland? Their—

Where they originated from, Garrick interrupted Caidan. I’m talking about the stories of where they came from. There are some stories that say parts of Talvaard and parts of Oakvalor used to be home to the elves until humans pushed them into the desert.

Those are childish fairy tales, Caidan scoffed. They’re used to scare children into obedience. His next words were said with a mocking tone: ‘Do as you are told so the elves don’t come for you and drag you off into the Deadlands as punishment for their banishment.’

Perhaps you are right, Garrick replied. And perhaps you are wrong. We don’t know if they are fairy tales or if they are historical truths. Until we do, I suggest everyone keep an open mind. Suppose it is true. Suppose that our ancestors did indeed push them into the desert. Why do you think they would be here, after all this time, attacking our cities?

Revenge? Rycroft suggested.

Precisely. What if they have come to take their land back?

That’s preposterous! Caidan barked.

Is it? Garrick asked.

You’re serious? Caidan said, seeming to realize that Garrick was posing a genuine theory.

Absolutely. Keep an open mind. Your people are pushed from their homes. They are possibly struggling to survive in a foreign land. Eventually, they grow in strength and they are constantly reminded of what happened to them. What do you think it would lead to?

I suppose it’s possible, Caidan confessed hesitantly.

That’s all I’m suggesting, Garrick replied. That it is possible the stories are true. And if they are, I don’t see this being a short battle.

You think this will turn into a siege? Caidan asked.

No. They will not stop until they succeed. I am sure this will turn into a war.

The generals exchanged looks.

That’s all I have for now, Garrick waved dismissively. I ask that you all meet here again in the morning. Until then, see to your men and get what rest you can. Dismissed.

Garrick turned and left the room, likely leaving his generals confused. He tried not to let it bother him. He was just as confused about the motive of the elves himself.

He noticed soldiers running toward the northern wall. Shouting filled the air. He stopped one of the men running by.

What’s going on? he demanded.

The elves, my Lord! They’re rushing the walls again!

Garrick dismissed the man with a nod and ran toward the stairs leading to the battlements. He bounded up the stairs two at a time and rushed to the wall. Down below, a group of elves were running toward the castle.

Arrows whistled through the air, some striking the ground around them. A few of them hit their mark and the elves staggered and tumbled to the ground. Caidan and Rycroft came and stood on either side of him, watching the spectacle.

I thought they stopped attacking the walls with the archers up here? Caidan asked.

They did, Garrick answered. I don’t understand this foolish move.

The remaining elves stopped their approach and began lifting their fallen comrades. Garrick assumed they were going to remove their bodies from the battlefield. Instead, the elves used the bodies as shields and continued their trek toward the castle.

Take them down! Garrick shouted.

More arrows filled the air. The few elves remaining were quickly killed and a cheer roused from the archers. Garrick watched the encampment. There was no reason to celebrate.

The elves had proven somewhat intelligent in their attacks against the walls. It seemed out of place for them to attack now, knowing their warriors were at the mercy of his bowmen. An unsettling feeling crept into his stomach.

Something’s not right, he muttered.

What’s that? Rycroft asked.

Something’s not right. They wouldn’t attack like this. Not with the archers up here. His mind began racing through scenarios. He looked toward the archers and whistled. One of them jogged over.

Captain, have some men sweep the walls. Tell them to keep their eyes sharp.

The man nodded and left, his pace much faster than before.

What do you think they’re doing? Caidan asked.

I’m not sure, but I think they’re creating a diversion.

As if to prove him right, a horn sounded from the eastern side of the castle. Garrick sprinted in that direction, Caidan and Rycroft following close behind him.

Before they were halfway there, an explosion sounded and the castle walls shook violently. Garrick leaned up against the outer wall to keep his balance.

They’ve hit the wall! he shouted.

As soon as the shaking settled, he stood up straight and continued running to where a crowd of archers had gathered. He reached the area just as they let off a volley of arrows. Garrick looked down to see a charred spot on the wall and the body of an elf lying nearby.

He got right up to the wall before we knew he was even approaching, one of the bowmen said. We hit him right before he made it.

Garrick saw a small group of elves approaching slowly. There, he said, pointing to their position.

They’re out of range, but we’ll hit them hard as soon as they get close.

Garrick nodded and watched their advance. Why aren’t they running? he asked to no one in particular.

What do you mean? Caidan asked.

They normally rush the walls. Why are they walking?

Everyone remained silent. After what seemed like an eternity, Garrick heard the captain shout an order.

A stream of arrows whistled through the air. Garrick squinted his eyes, thinking he was seeing things. It looked as though the arrows had bounced off the elves.

What happened? he asked.

I’m not sure, Rycroft said uncertainly, also squinting into the distance.

Draw! The captain shouted beside him. The archers knocked their arrows to their bowstrings and pulled the strings back.

Loose!

Another torrent of arrows showered down among the elves. They were still too far away to be certain, but Garrick again thought the arrows had fallen harmlessly off them.

Someone get me a spyglass, Garrick ordered. A moment later the Captain handed him one. Garrick pulled on the end of the spyglass, extending it as far as it would go, then placed it to his eye and located the elves.

Draw! Loose!

He watched carefully as the arrows descended upon them. This time, there was no mistaking it. The arrows were bouncing off them.

Impossible, he breathed.

What is it? Caidan asked. What’s happening?

Garrick handed him the instrument. The arrows … they’re, they’re ineffective, he said, not wanting to say it aloud. Caidan used the spyglass and watched as another volley of arrows filled the air.

By the Divines, Caidan whispered in awe. They’re bouncing right off them!

Draw! Loose! the Captain shouted again.

Garrick considered telling them to hold their arrows, but he wasn’t sure if that was the right decision. If it were some sort of spell, would it eventually wear off as the arrows continued to hit their invisible shield? He looked to the captain and could tell he was thinking the same thing.

Keep firing, Garrick commanded. The captain nodded.

What does this mean? Caidan asked. I’ve never seen anything like this.

Neither have I, Rycroft chimed in.

Garrick remained mute. He didn’t know what it meant, and he didn’t like it. The tattoo on his forearm began to itch. Subconsciously he rubbed at it. It was covered by a thin piece of material that looked like his skin and was held in place with sticky resin. Besides that, it was hidden beneath the sleeve of his shirt.

What is this threat, Mordum? He prayed mentally. He glanced at his generals from the corner of his eyes. No one knew he was a follower of Mordum. Not a single soul. Not even his wife knew. He despised keeping secrets from her, but this was different. This could destroy everything he had worked to build and protect.

He turned his attention back to the elves. They were much closer. He didn’t need the spyglass now to see that the arrows had no effect. He watched as the arrows struck the elves innocently and then fell to the ground like twigs.

They looked different from the other elves. There was something odd about their skin color. Garrick frowned as he studied them.

And then he realized the danger. Located in the center of the group of elves, hunched down and hidden by their odd skinned brethren, were more elves. Just like the