The Three Kingdoms: The Sons of Freedom

By Kevin R. Esser

I wrote this novel as a hobby when I was 15 years old in high school.
“The Three Kingdoms: The Sons of Freedom” is the first of the three-part legend of Caradorian Caracross, a knight of royalty who sacrificed everything to protect his land and people. The tale starts when Carador returns home from vacation in the west, only to find his beloved homeland in the kingdom Androuge destroyed by a ruthless beast that has terrorized the people in the land of Earacill for the past millennium. The hero sets out accompanied by seven others to destroy the beast and free their people so that they may live in peace at last. Unfortunately, this is only the minimal threat that they must confront, as the greater enemy of Earacill awaits them far down the road. They will soon discover that Earacill holds more secrets than either side could have ever imagined...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 21, 2018
• ISBN: 9781387825783

Book preview

The Three Kingdoms: The Sons of Freedom

THE THREE KINGDOMS

BOOK I: THE SONS OF FREEDOM

BOOK II: THE SHARDS OF THE CROWN

BOOK III: THE SINS OF THE FATHER

KEVIN R. ESSER

Copyright © 2018 by Kevin R. Esser

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover art design by Saikono

https://saikono.deviantart.com

ISBN: 978-1-387-82578-3

Content ID: 22933293

Ordering Information:

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Orders by U.S. trade bookstores and wholesalers.

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FORWARD

I wrote this novel for anyone in the need of self-motivation and determination to succeed in life, and not give up on their very dreams just because things look bleak. Even when odds are against you, there is always hope.

A picture containing text, map Description generated with very high confidence

MAP OF EARACILL

THE SONS OF FREEDOM

BOOK I

PROLOGUE

How far would you go to save the world? This was a question I once asked myself upon seeing the very world I lived in, torn apart by war, a war that has torn through these great lands for its entire existence. It was a war that I had for so long envisioned an end for all my life, just to see the freedom and valor which we so righteously deserved.  Well the answer to that question lies in the tale, of which, the intricacies and details I am about to impart upon you.

My story will take us back during the start of the Third Century, the Century of War in Earacill. The eternal struggle against the malicious Saratrox, and his venomously evil host of Sarugs. You would have certainly known him; we all knew him. He became infamous by his limitless cruelty, and most evil of seduction. He was well known for the very own crown that had betrayed him, to which he had destroyed the crown and hid its shards deep within the early dark and perilous caverns, of which became appropriately named the Cave of Anlaw.

However, more so, he was known and hated for his corruption of the vast hosts of innocent men that, by force, of his demented will to take up arms against their very brothers of flesh and blood! It was with this wicked host, and his cruel ambition, he had almost destroyed the world we knew.

Moreover, who could forget the wicked beast, known as Arush’n’aug? Surely, you knew of the great dragon that roamed in our lands before the time of Saratrox? That horrible menace, which itself was considered our greatest threat to our freedom, our sovereignty, and our very lives?

My tale begins just before the beast’s third attack upon my hometown of Seragone in the kingdom of Androuge, back in the year 2935. Yes, I was an eager Hero-knight back then, in my youth driven by a distinct sense of cockiness, to which I may have been so foolhardy as to take on such a threat, with a naive disposition.

This is my story of the Three Kingdoms, and how they survived during the Century of War, to become what great civilizations they are now….

-Caradorian Saladar Caracross, 2965, the Third Century-

Death was the shadow, which followed ever diligent. Preventing it seemed impossible, yet deep in their hearts, the two allied armies of Earacill mustered together enough courage to fight and keep their fellow man alive. Even in the face of certain death, the morale of the two armies remained unscathed. They stood gallant, waiting for their enemy’s next attack...

The dark red sky overshadowing the battlefield briefly flashes bright as lightning cracks through the clouds, followed by a thunderous booming sensation which shook the earth below abruptly. The standard issued steel armor worn by the soldiers illuminates an unnatural bright red from the flash. Some of the men have a feeling of uneasiness begin to overshadow their conscience, to little avail.

Watch out! a soldier from the eastern kingdom of Androuge shouted to a fellow knight. Although this fellow knight was not just another volunteered enlisted patriot, or a drafted peasant sent to war by the High Council, no, this was a Hero-knight, the title given to the highest ranked soldier. On top of that, this Hero-knight was in command of the assault and oversaw his countrymen, this was the highest honor a knight could be offered. In a monarchy ruled without proper royal authority, there is no king to command his troops, therefore the High Council would issue this honorable authority to the soldier they see fit with the proper leadership and combat skills.

Alert and focused, the fully armored Hero-knight responded to the warning issued by the knight. He looked straight forward, fixing his gaze upon a host of about two dozen enemy soldiers appearing from the black steel gates of the dark fortress of Aussarok. These soldiers, in relation to their whole army, were completely unarmored, dressed in a tattered and often torn black garb, this was their traditional raiment, and each wore there garb differently. Some men would wrap their face up entirely, others not at all. These soldiers had no proper uniform, their army had neither formality, nor any strategy or order. They are mindless brutes, with no conscience or soul, commanded only by the tyrannical Dark Lord Saratrox.

They are known only as Sarugs and each of them being over two hundred years old, cursed with immortality to forever be slaves to Saratrox. He had manipulated them to kill on sight, and being now long mindless slaves, they have no choice but to follow any order he commands. Their current assignment through their slavery: obliterate Earacill.

These Sarugs were each armed with a long sword, every blade appearing dull, and the steel had become worn from the slow decay over the past two millennia. Their faces are gray, years of rotting flesh, the natural skin tone they once had had all but faded. Their blackened eyes had no life left in them whatsoever, lifeless zombies if you will.

The host of these Sarugs had locked their gaze onto the him and they at once sprinted towards him. The noble Hero-knight charged out in front of his men and was prepared to counter their attack. They would not expect such a swift and cunning opponent to put them out of their misery on this hour, let alone singlehandedly. Their quick and deserved death would come if they dare challenge him.

They were once men, normal citizens from towns or cities, where they once lived back in their old land. They used to have a reason for living, they could have been great warriors or inventors, men of prosperity. Although now the Lord Saratrox had drained all the virtue, they once had out of them. Hate and sorrow was all they had left to feel, remembering the great suffering they experienced, they could never forget it. Now they are dead inside, they deserve death, and to be out of their desolation, and solitude.

They stared darkly into the knight’s grim eyes. They once had clean and healthy skin, their vice had taken that out of them too. Gray and rotting it appeared now, their eyes, black and corrupt like the Lord himself.

The Hero-knight made the first move, he swung his sword at the first two he saw, beheading one, and cut across another’s neck. A few more came upon him, five to be precise. He quickly ended their reign without even breaking a sweat. His tactics were high, he fought using combos, and he studied the Sarug’s fighting style.

One more Sarug came, this one had a bow. He fired his bow upon him, although he quickly deflected the arrow from piercing him. The archer shot again, and parallel to before, the Hero-knight blocked the arrow using his own sword as the shield. Three more Sarugs approached, and he fought them swiftly, and they fell to the Earth.

The Sarug armed only with the bow fired at him once more, and this time, to his advantage, he missed his target. The Hero-knight grinned and threw his sword into the archer’s chest, the adversary fell. The Sarug, and equivalent to many before him, was now free of their misery.

Carador! yelled Alos, a friend of the Hero-knight from Androuge. We must fall back! Our casualties are too great, the enemy reinforcements won’t cease. We are being overrun!

No! cried Carador as he continued his duel with more Sarugs. Not yet! Victory still lies within our reach, we need to push through! The battle before them erupted with more sword fighting and cries of death.

Carador threw himself upon a group of advancing Sarugs, protecting his fellow soldiers. Alos and others joined him. They began killing a large amount, clearing a path.

A loud, high-pitched cry of morale breaking and fear inducing decibels emitted above the black clouds of Aussarok. The armies of Androuge and Faradown quickly stared up to the sky in fear, knowing where the sound had uttered, and out of the dark clouds appeared a large black figure. Everyone knew what it was, was Saratrox’s greatest warrior, the Great Black Dragon known only as, Arush’n’aug.

The army assumed this was the end of the battle. The great dragon soared down from above and breathed a great flame at the army, many fell in a heartbeat to Arush’n’aug. The host of Androuge panicked and began to retreat, although Carador himself stood his ground, hoping to do some major damage to one of the two enemies.

Sarug archers moved forward, firing a cloud of black arrows at the fleeing soldiers, striking many. Carador heard a sudden cry. He looked downward and saw that Alos stricken with a black-feathered arrow, directly in the chest. Alos still grasped for life, coughing for air. Carador knelt beside him. He plucked out the arrow that had pierced Alos. Carador was going to speak but. Alos died there instantly.

Be at peace, Alos. Away from here and our suffering, said Carador standing back up. He shed a tear.

Retreat! yelled Carador raising his sword above him, and looking around at all the warriors, he was in command of the remaining soldiers of Androuge. Retreat! he yelled again, viciously attacking more Sarugs, easing their retreat, and at the same time avoiding Arush’n’aug and its great fire.

The host was retreating. They had too. There was no other way. In return, the golden light of day would never shine on them again, and they would all but perish from this world…

PART I

* * * * * *

THE RISE OF A HERO

"The days in Earacill grow dark.

Two great threats endanger the world and all in surrounding.

Earacill needs a savior whom can stop these threats.

And bring peace back to the land…"

CHAPTER  I

* * * * * * * * * *

THE WEEKEND IN FARADOWN

One year later.

"Checkmate! announced a Squire of Androuge proudly as he pushed his Bishop chess piece a step forward, trapping his opponent’s Queen in its final position, leaving the opponent in utter disbelief. Well, Carador I believe we are evenly matched now, for you had bested me yesterday, and today I claim your victory. I propose during our third match, we shall discover the true chess champion," boasted the young redhead.

The opponent cracked a smile, well, the competition was certainly there, a fine match indeed. I thank you for a fine challenge, Sarford, said the Hero-knight to the Squire.

Sarford gave a short nod in acknowledgement. The very same, Carador, he said as he reached his right hand over the small oak table towards him, and Carador met with his left.

Carador released his grip and looked out into the distance above the snowcapped white mountains of Androuge, where he observed a glorious orange sunset over them. Well, the hour grows late, the sun is setting, and nightfall is imminent.

Aye, Sarford nodded. It happens too early if you ask me. All I desire is a couple more hours of daylight and I would be content. He let out a sigh as he picked up one end of the chess table, opposite to Carador’s, and returned the table through the fifty-foot Great Gate of Androuge’s citadel: Seragone, in which they held their competition. They placed the table down inside the courtyard slowly.

What say you to a rematch, the same time tomorrow? asked Sarford.

I’ll be present, said Carador confidently.

Not to worry, I’ll go easier to match your skill, no need to feel deterred. Remember, you had defeated me yesterday, you have plenty of skill in you.

He laughed. Deterrence is for the weak, Sarford. I will see you at dusk! he pointed one finger at him while taking a step back.

I will be looking forward to it, he replied with a nod of acknowledgment and began to turn his back but still had some boast in him he needed to release. As you well know, Carador, Sarford added before Carador could even depart. I will be proclaimed master of chess in all of Androuge. Everyone will know me as an ordinary Squire who had bested a Hero-knight of Androuge… Twice! Sarford stated boldly, placing a fist upon his chest. Well, in chess at least, I’m not quite prepared to challenge you in combat. He lost his boast.

Carador cracked a smile, well, only time reveals all, don’t let your overconfidence get the best of you, it may come crashing down, said Carador with a wolfish grin, and Sarford smiled nervously.

Without another word, Carador turned his back to Sarford to take a moment to admire a radiant orange sky of beginning nightfall, only to have the tranquil scene be abrupted by an unknown soldier’s blunt voice.

Lord Caradorian! Caradorian! yelled a knight of Androuge, before him.

Carador took one step towards him, yes?

This was sent to you from King Faraduel of Faradown, announced the unarmored knight breathless, handing him the sealed letter. It was in a teal colored envelope, crumpled and slightly torn. The knight was dripping with sweat and panting for air. He sported brown leather armor, a chainmail cuirass underneath, and a sheathed steel long sword at his right side. This was standard attire for off duty Seragone knights.

Breathe, Soldier. Unless this is an emergency, there is no need to exhaust yourself.

Yes, Sire, he promptly replied and took a few deep breaths.

Carador opened the letter and glanced over it. Sarford curiously stepped over to him, and Carador read it aloud:

Carador,

As you very well know, my Birthday is in two days. I would be honored if you can make the time to travel to Faradown for the weekend. I feel it would be an excellent time for us to catch up on current affairs, for we have not had the pleasure to communicate in person for a few seasons.

If you have previous engagements or are unavailable, I understand to the fullest. If you do intend to arrive, however, please leave as soon as you receive this invitation, for the road ahead is long, and Vialo and I would expect you just before tomorrow evening. This message should arrive to you at six. I certainly hope you will be able to make it.

-Lord Faraduel-

Carador put the letter down and focused his gaze towards the horizon. He located the sun, which was accurately six inches above the summit of Mt. Stager. As Lord Faraduel predicted, the letter had arrived on time.

The King of Faradown, Faraduel Sildorian, Carador’s old childhood friend. Both Caradorian and Faraduel had come from royalty, and their friendship was destined. The Caracross and Sildorian bloodline have had a long history of fighting side-by-side against Arush’n’aug and Saratrox. The two kingdoms have kept peace with one another since their inceptions in the First Era.

Faraduel received the nickname, The Dragon King, from his own kin and friends. He received this profound and almost controversial name for his fixation of dragons. He most admired Arush’n’aug, not for its deeds, but for what a magnificent creature it proves to be.

Carador turned to Sarford. Well, my friend, it seems that I must depart before the hour draws too late. Farewell, Sarford, he said walking off, but not before laying a hand briefly on Sarford’s shoulder.

Farewell, Carador! I feel that next week will be a sounder time for chess, finished Sarford, as he turned around and walked south towards his village.

Carador dashed into the main hall of Seragone, his quarters branched off to the right. The halls of Seragone were chiseled from stone, each arch and pillar defined to the highest detail, chiseled down and smoothed to emulate steel. The glossy stone helped reflect torch light and would keep the room illuminated always. The floor of the hall was stone as well, but not as defined such as the walls and ceiling are. The floors were covered in deep red rugs that bore the silver sword of Androuge.

The main hall was occupied with residents conversing blissfully. In Androuge, only the wealthy and royalty are gained access to the great hall limitlessly, with exceptions for special occasions, meetings or weddings. Hero-knights and Paladins are gained access to the great hall as well as own private quarters in the citadel. At all times, eight Paladins guard the great hall, three on both the left and right side, and two at the door.

Carador made his way past most of hall’s residents but stopped in his tracks as one middle-aged woman approached him with a basket in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other.

Hail, Carador! Where are you off to in such haste? she asked almost excitedly. She had quite the optimistic tone to her voice.

Carador smiled It’s very lovely to see you, Merriam. Never a day goes by that you show age.

Merriam’s cheeks blushed red, and you have only aged into a respectful young man.

Alas, duty calls, Lord Faraduel requests my presence in the west. I must depart at once as to not disappoint my old friend. Take care, Merriam! He bowed politely and went forth.

Godspeed, Carador! He heard behind him.

He took his first right down the hall and entered the fifth room down, his own. Without a moment’s hesitation he gathered his supplies, knowing full well what he would need for a weekend away. His stonewall room was kept orderly and mostly cleaned, castle servants and maids kept every room within the walls as clean as possible.

After packing a change of clothes, he retrieved his old, yet faithful, steel long sword, as well as a red journal with the title faded from age, and some rations for the road. He threw his pack over his shoulder and bolted out of Seragone.

Caradorian Caracross is in his mid-thirties, thirty-five to be precise, and is the only descendent of Caragorian Caracross, the former fifth and last King of Androuge, and Morwen Caracross. Other than Faraduel, who respects Carador’s wishes and keeps his true destiny silent, none are aware that Carador is the son of former King Caragorian. If they knew the truth, he would have been already crowned king. Except for Faraduel, all who knew the truth about him are all but deceased. After his parent’s death, Carador went into exile to forget his past, and when he returned, he kept the truth about himself, silent, none ever expected any royalty from him. He feels that he does not have the responsibility or leadership to control a kingdom, especially in these dark times. He wishes to remain a Hero-knight of Androuge, nothing more.

His armor was of a dark, slate gray color, the color of Triton, which is known as the strongest armor forged in the world. Triton armor was protective, although it is vulnerable to damage, hardly anything has successfully penetrated it. Only high-class soldiers have the honor to wield Triton, since it is such a rare ore to mine, and Triton is mined in the Black Mountains in the Aussarokian territory. The Dwarfish populated Manor Mines contain Triton as well, however, negotiating with the Dwarfs to purchase some, does not come easily. He wore a maroon cape, tattered on the bottom, from miles of trekking, this cape symbolized a Hero-knight from lower class knights. His helmet concealed half of his face. Carador’s hair was long and wavy, dyed a dark blond shade, and whiskers of a darker color protruded from his face. He has a fusion of green eyes, with a hint of blue, appearing silver. His build was of fair strength, he had prepared his body daily, all in preparation for when the