Peace, Draida

By Kasey McKinney

Preston Wilton and Emilia Derron are two average kids going through a normal day at their school, in Verroth, Trinada when everything changes. Their life is about to be taken out from under their feet. 

An encounter with Preston's ancestor throws them on a completely new path together. His ancestor is the lone survivor of a massacre and needs the two children to complete a dangerous mission.

Now, they must brave heart-stopping dangers, contemplate new allies, and work together. If they don't, the evil, revenge-set General will get in their way because she feels that they are a threat. But there's more to the General than meets the eye.

Join these two brave heroes as they join forces with unbidden creatures and unexpected martyrs to save their city from destruction. Can they work through grief and anger? Can they put aside their arguments to focus on the more important goal?

Or will their differences cause them to let the whole mission fail?

Peace, Draida is a stand-alone book, a wonderful story for readers that love fantastical tales.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kasey McKinney
• Release date: Jun 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201545321

Book preview

Dedication

For Eliana Anonson, my awesome sister, who inspired me to write this book, and supported me the whole way.

Prologue

THERE YOU GO, BUDDY, the dwarf said, completing the healing spell. Now see if you can fly.

The butterfly gave him a look of gratitude and spread his newly healed wing. He soared up, up, up, into the sky, did a few circles in the air, and flew away.

The dwarf smiled and stood up, waving goodbye to the butterfly. He always felt good when he helped someone or something.

A sudden rustling noise caught his attention, and he spun around, squinting into the dense underbrush.

He saw nothing, so he went on his way back to his home in the woods. He lived in the Wood of Sylvania with his dwarf brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, and all his friends and family. They loved using spells, especially to heal creatures. Sometimes it was a unicorn, sometimes a bunny, and, on rare occasions, a dragon. So far, there had only been one dragon, and when he had tried to say thank you, he had accidentally breathed fire and burnt off one dwarf’s hair.

The dwarf chuckled at the memory as he happily walked back to his cottage. He waved hello to all those he met, for in their woods, they all knew one another.

It was late afternoon, so when he got home, he prepared his supper of tea, squash, and his delicious homemade bread. He ate it while he read his favorite book, The Adventures of Georgina Duppon. He was very intrigued by the part where she and her crew were caught in the storm while on their ship, The Fauncet. He always seemed to be in the story with the characters, and at the moment, he was pretending to be drenched, standing next to Captain Georgina herself, as she shouted out orders in the raging storm. He was hoisting and lowering, throwing and shouting. He was about to be swept overboard, when suddenly, his grandfather's clock struck eleven. He was very surprised that he had been reading for so long, but he desperately wanted to keep reading, and finish the intense chapter.

Trying to stifle a loud, long yawn convinced him otherwise. His eyelids were drooping, so he changed into his night clothes and snuggled down under the hand-sewn, blue and white-checked quilt that covered his bed. His thoughts drifted to the book. The adventure, the danger, the heroism, Georgina . . .

The dwarf was almost asleep when a loud, blood-curdling scream shook him wide awake. He jumped out of bed and cautiously made his way to the window. Pulling away the lacy curtain, he saw dozens and dozens of threatening men on horses, carrying strange torches lit by a menacing fire and curiously made spears. The spears were curved and twisted, not straight, and the fire seemed to burn hotter and with more vigor than normal fire. The dwarfs were running around trying to get away, but all were falling to the spears. He tracked one with his eyes, hoping they’d get away, but sooner or later they were pierced by a long spear and fell dead. Some soldiers poured large cans of oil onto houses, threw their torches to them, and watched them explode into flames. Orange and yellow light was reflecting off of everyone and everything, giving off an eerie glow.

He was shaking in fright, but he knew he must try to get away. He grabbed his black cloak from its peg on the wall of his cottage that he knew and loved, grabbed a piece of bread and a skin of water, and tied them in a parcel. He turned one last time with his hand on the doorknob, and silently waved goodbye to his home, then took a deep breath and opened the wooden door.

The screams were much louder out in the open, and the houses in flames seemed to burn brighter. The dwarf ran with all his might, trying his best to keep to the shadows. He dodged a spear here and ducked under a torch there. He shielded his eyes from the burning light of a house in flames and a sudden, awful thought occurred to him. He looked back at his cottage, and his horrid thought became a reality. His lovely cottage, which he had built himself, had had a torch thrown to it and was burning fast, the flames licking up all his memories.

He shuddered and turned back to running. He eventually got out of the clearing where the cottages stood, and was now in the dense part of the wood. He dared to stop running and simply walked at a fast pace.

He walked and walked for hours, until at last he came to the outer edge of the wood, just as the sun was sending its first rays into the world.

Far off in the distance, he saw a castle. I’ll go there, he thought.

But try as he might, he couldn’t fight against his tiredness. The dwarf collapsed against a tree, and fell into a restless slumber.

Chapter 1

PRESTON, YOU’RE LATE again. Ms. Cherret had her hands on her hips, and everyone in the 7th grade class knew that the drawn, tight face meant that the teacher was mad.

Preston had run in five minutes after the bell and now shifted uncomfortably under the stare of his class. Sorry, Ms. Cherret, he mumbled, looking at the black-tiled floor. I was just-

I won’t accept another excuse from you, Mr. Preston Wilton. This is the fourth time in one week that you have been late. Ms. Cherret interrupted, wagging her skinny finger. She was a thin, very red-haired, middle-aged woman who did not like to be crossed. First your dog was sick, then you couldn’t find your backpack, then you slept late. I don’t want to hear this new excuse. Take your seat, Preston, and open Tasdiss Spells to page 74.

Preston, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy of 13, sulkily slid into his seat next to Ive Sellmen and opened his book. Ive was very popular in the 7th grade class at Lylian School of Magic in Verroth, Trinada, and liked to bully the not-so-popular kids.

Late again, huh Preston? Jeered the shaggy, black-haired boy. Why were you late? Too scared to come back to school with the cool kids?

Preston was used to Ive’s bullying and ignored his teasing, as he’d learned to do for the last two years at Lylian. He didn’t care if most of the kids were cool kids, he liked learning spells and magic to use for everyday purposes (such as the spell to open closed things, which he used for pickle jars).

Ive sneered and turned to his spell book as Ms. Cherret read in her squeaky voice.

After what seemed like forever, the bell finally rang, signalling the end of the school day. Books closed, the class began their conversations, and Ms. Cherret shouted out spells to work on at home as they filed out the wide doorway.

Hey, Preston, said a girl’s voice beside him. That was quite the lesson today, wasn’t it?

Hey, Em, Preston recognized his best friend Emilia Derron’s voice, but didn’t even turn to look because he had a great deal on his mind.

Not getting an answer to her question, the pleasant, pretty girl repeated, Preston?

Preston looked up, a little startled. Oh, sorry, what was the question?

They had been walking down the halls, where the walls were covered in windows and tapestries of princes and princesses, kings and queens, unicorns, wizards, and dragons. Lylian school was named after the first wizard, Lylian Winter, the greatest wizard who had ever lived in Trinada, their world. Lylian had been very fond of all people or creatures, hence the tapestries.

All around were open doors leading into the bright, sunny courtyard. There were a great many doors because Lylian School was an old castle, long ago deserted during an attack by the enemy country of Draida. Draida, however, had been overthrown by Verroth, the childrens’ country, and it’s neighboring alliances 125 years ago, so worry was gone of Draida ever attacking again.

Emilia and Preston both had no friends before attending Lylian, so when they had begun their first year, they had instantly become good friends. Two years later Preston had caught on to magic very quickly, but although she was very good at spells, Emilia doubted herself when it came to magic.

Okay, Preston, I’ve known you long enough to know that something’s wrong. What made you late this time? Emilia asked Preston, pulling the sleeve of his blue school coat so as to lead him out a door and to a bench in the courtyard among a bed of lilies and daisies.

Preston shook his head as if to clear it, sat down on the wooden bench next to Emilia, and began.

"Well, as you know, my family has the blood of our ancestors, the dwarfs. But one thing about the dwarfs is still known by hardly anyone except their family line. They were excellent at spells and