King's Blood: The Fallen, #1

By K.N. Nguyen

If you could gain the power of the gods by drinking their blood, would you do it? What if it cost you your mind?

Years ago, Alverick, member of the King's Guard, took the risk. For him, it worked and he was blessed with the earthy powers of the gods, but it came at a cost. As the years passed, he's come closer and closer to losing his sanity. 

Now that the city of Pharn is threatened by a young upstart, he struggles with his duty to protect his people against the enemy, and himself.

However, the gods can't be separated from their blood forever. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: DragonScript
• Release date: Jul 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781949322019

Book preview

I

Sleep.

How could it be it so elusive? All he needed was a few hours of deep sleep, but alas, it seemed to escape him this night. With a deep sigh, Alverick turned onto his side and allowed his tired thoughts to wander. Images from earlier in the day flooded his mind’s eye. Flashes of fallen bodies, eyes staring unseeingly into the horizon, pushed their way to the surface of his thoughts. A number of friends fell in battle. Cries of agony accompanied the visions, echoing in his brain. With a groan, Alverick worked to focus on pushing the memories aside and direct his thoughts towards more relaxing musings.

Ghan’s mercy, it just doesn’t get any easier. The screams… the fear… it’s always the same.

Only Alverick’s fast reflexes honed through years of combat in the Royal Army and his skills as an Avalanche, a mage of earth magic, helped him to survive. Now, if he could only find respite in sleep’s sweet embrace. Opening his eyes, Alverick watched the rosy light of dawn stretch across the sky. The night is lost. I guess I might as well get an early start and make my way back to Pharn. Pulling his traveling cloak over his head to hide his tattooed face, Alverick picked up his sword as well as one of his fallen comrades’ swords before beginning to walk down the road.

The miles passed slowly, but the scenery blurred. Trees dripped with the dew of the early morning and the air held a crisp bite. In the eastern borders of Zanir, the land lay mostly undeveloped. The only souls who may have seen the lone, cloaked figure walking in solitude were the families living in the isolated cottages that dotted the forest. Alverick paid no attention to his surroundings. Instead, he let his mind focus inward, reliving the horrors that haunted him.

◆◆◆

Alverick ambled along with a group of six soldiers through the northeastern corner of the land of Zanir. Raucous laughter broke through the idle chatter as the new recruits joked amongst themselves. A burly man with a scar across his cheek ushered the youths half-heartedly. Alverick hung back with his friend and leading commander, Bannen. A Royal Guardsman and veteran like Alverick, Bannen handled the training for the new recruits in the king’s Army. A stern man lacking any magical skill, Bannen boasted the title of one of Zanir’s champions.

As the troops marched on, conversation shifted to the job at hand: bandits at the spice mines.

Is this something that we should be expecting more of? Jonah asked.

Of course not, the burly man replied. Zanir hasn’t seen war since before you were born, pup. He shook his head at the lad.

Hektor, don’t talk down to Jonah, Bannen, said. Addressing the young soldier and his fellow recruits, Bannen continued. We’ve rarely had to deal with bandits or waymen, but thanks to the discovery of the spice mines, there’s been an increase in merchants from the other lands of Corinth. This in turn has led to an increase in robberies.

Luckily for you, Alverick added, these types of assignments are perfect for your training. As Bannen has taught you, never take a situation at face value. Always expect the unexpected. There could very well be more men than we anticipate.

Vigilance, Bannen finished. That is key if you want to stay in the King’s Guard.

Will there be any magi? Philip called out.

Unlikely, Hektor replied. I’ve been with the Guard for fifteen years and haven’t met one. Other than Al here, he said nodding towards Alverick.

Alverick smiled sheepishly, wiggling his tattooed fingers at the recruits. As an Avalanche and practitioner of Earth magic, his tattoos were thick and bulky, like the trunks of trees. Occasionally, sharp, jagged tattoos made their way between the thicker ones, marking him with some Spark capabilities.

Don’t lower your guards, Bannen replied. Al may be one of the few magi who are trained in martial combat in Pharn, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t others out there. The Woods of Lingora is home to a small group of magi who are actually trained for war and sell their services. You don’t want to run into those mercenaries.

The three recruits continued on in silence for a while.

Oh, come now, Hektor grumbled, trying to break the tension. Bannen, don’t scare these boys. We all know to be on alert, but you don’t need to scare them on their first mission.

The group continued on in silence, but the tension diminished. Pockets of conversation started to break the quiet.

Bannen, is your brother ready to move up to the King’s Guard? Alverick asked.

Oh, Brody has his hands full managing his princess. Lowering his voice conspiratorially, Bannen said. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but he seems to be having trouble with not mixing work and pleasure.

Alverick gasped in mock surprise.

Word has it, he continued, that the princess has a sweet spot for him as well. Poor Brody doesn’t seem to notice anything though. The only thing he seems to notice is Averna’s overt flirting.

Alverick laughed at the statement. Anyone who fails to notice Averna must be blind.

Ghan knows you didn’t miss her signals, Bannen said with a wink.

Lowering his head, Alverick struggled to find a response. Seeing his friend’s reaction, Bannen instantly regretted the jab.

Oh, Al. I’m sorry. But it’s been five years. Sooner or later you’ll need to move on from Caitlyn. It was a mistake. By Aria’s grace, you Snapped after draughting that Spark when we ran into the pirates.

Hey, you two, Hektor called back. How far from the border are these damned mines?

We should be there within… the… hour… Alverick replied.

Stopping in his tracks, Alverick stared ahead, unsure of what bothered him.

Noting that his friend stopped, Bannen dropped back while Hektor and the three recruits continued on ahead. What’s up, Al?

I don’t know, he replied. I feel vibrations in the earth. There’re people ahead, but I can’t tell how many. They’re moving slowly.

Travelers stopping?

Not sure.

A low rolling fog started to creep towards the two.

Should I call them back? Bannen asked.

Yes.

Hektor, men, Bannen called. Return.

Bannen, Hektor snapped, the sooner we get to the mines, the sooner I can get home. Jaste promised me a week off and I need a good binge.

Philip turned towards his officers, sweat beading on his brow. Sir, may I trail behind? I’m not feeling that well.

Heh! Getting cold feet, eh son? Hektor teased.

Face paling, Philip stammered, No, it’s just that I –

Shuddering, Philip dropped to the ground, convulsing.

Ghan’s mercy! Bannen cried.

Everyone rushed to the fallen soldier. Everyone, but Alverick. The fog’s getting thicker… he muttered.

Another voice rang out, snapping Alverick from his concentration. Jonah stood, shaking, face pale and sweaty.

What in the hell is going on? Hektor asked, his voice edged with panic.

Fog in the middle of the day. Sweating, convulsions… My skin tingles.

It’s a Plague! Alverick shouted. There’s a Plague. They have a mage!

Jonah, face pale, stood rooted to the spot. Xander, the remaining recruit, tried to draw his sword with shaking hands. Philip foamed slightly at the mouth and continued to spasm on the ground.

Form up, Bannen ordered. If they’re working with a mage, then we must assume that they’re trained fighters and not just brawlers.

As one, seven men dropped from the trees, surrounding Alverick’s party. Alverick noticed that one had intricate tattoos that spread from his right hand up to his shoulder. Their fine lines and delicate swirls marked him as a Plague, a practitioner of biological magic. A low-hanging fog radiated from his feet. Alverick gritted his teeth. An ugly fight lay ahead. Plagues could manipulate poisons, inducing sudden fevers. Those of great skill could even bring about an epidemic.

Looks like we found the source of our problems, a sweaty and pale Hektor said. His sword arm twitched slightly, causing him to grimace.

I’m surprised you’re still standing, old man, a blond man sneered. The derisive man stood in front of them, topless, showing off his well-muscled torso. He too bore tattoos; his sharp, jagged tattoos wrapped up his arm and extended onto his chest.

A Spark, Alverick murmured.

Co-Commander, Xander stuttered, there’re two magi.

We can see that, Alverick thought. We’re in trouble. The Plague is bad enough, but now a Spark?

Al! Bannen cried, his voice carried a hint of panic.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Alverick noticed that Jonah’s knees threatened to buckle, Xander and Hektor looked fatigued and the ring of seven inched their way closer to his forces.

What can the pale one do? Bannen looked fatigued, but still managed to stand strong, sword drawn.

Sparks manipulate the electrical currents in their surroundings. Be alert.

Well, well, the Spark said. It looks as though we have someone who knows a thing or two about magic. Too bad, you won’t be around to tell everyone what you saw.

As one, the seven lunged at the five standing soldiers of Zanir. Alverick, Bannen and Hektor dodged the attacks, parrying the strikes and landing small blows on their attackers. Jonah managed to evade the strike, but tripped, barely keeping himself upright. Xander, suffering from the poisonous fog, stood frozen, unable to move due to the paralyzing effects. Eyes wide with fright, the poor boy could do nothing to stop his attacker from landing a solid blow to his neck. Crimson sprayed and the youth’s knees buckled. He dropped to the ground without uttering so much as a scream. Philip, unconscious on the ground, was put out of his misery.

Blades clanged together as Alverick watched the scene unfold, as though he were detached from his body. He saw Xander and Philip struck down, and within his stomach, a familiar rumbling stirred within, one that he’d worked hard to suppress for the last five years. Dodging out of the way of a bandit’s sword, Alverick reached out mentally into the earth, searching for loose tectonic plates deep within. The ground began to shake, throwing two of the bandits to the ground. Trees began to groan as their roots strained in the soil.

Avalanche! the Spark cried. Damn!

Working quickly, Hektor and Bannen dispatched several of the bandits, leaving the Spark, Plague and two remaining opponents.

The blond Spark stood staring at Alverick, hand clenched in front of his chest. Alverick watched as tiny currents of electricity formed in the Spark’s fist. A cry from Hektor sounded in the distance, but Alverick ignored it as he pulled at the surrounding trees. As the Spark’s ball of energy materialized, Alverick gave one final tug and pulled a nearby tree hard enough that it fell to the ground, causing the Spark to curse and jump out of the way, losing his electrical energy in the process.

Another cry sounded in the distance, bringing Alverick back to the fight. Bannen, covered in blood pulled his sword from the Plague’s chest. Scanning the area, he noted Hektor on the ground, eyes staring unseeing into the distance and a deep gash in his neck. The remaining bandits and Jonah lay strewn on the ground.

Al! Where did the Spark go?

Looking around frantically, Alverick could not find the blond man. To me! I can’t see him, but I can track him through the earth’s vibrations.

Bannen made his way towards Alverick, twitching slightly from the effects of the poison, when suddenly Alverick felt the currents around him move against their normal flow. Reaching out into the earth once more, Alverick felt the surface for any vibrations. Light waves moved slowly around the trunk of the fallen tree mixing with Bannen’s stronger ones as the soldier approached Alverick.

Mind fuzzy from the poison and a slight red haze at the corner of his vision, Alverick struggled to read what he felt in the earth.

Why now? I thought I beat the Snap last time.

Al!

Bannen’s voice sounded so far away.

Strong pulses in the earth made their way towards him, while softer ones neared the corner of the fallen tree.

Bannen’s pale face closed in on Alverick, sweat pouring from his brow and struggling for breath. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

A shock of blond hair emerged from behind the tree, ball of electric energy flying from his hand towards Bannen.

◆◆◆

With effort, Alverick pushed away the memory in a haze of red. The death of friends always felt like his fault. He should have been able to keep his soldiers alive. I would’ve thought that after dealing with the pirate rebellion five years ago things would be a little easier to handle… But Bannen… Why him?

Bannen had been Alverick’s mentor and close friend for twelve of Alverick’s twenty-five years of life. Bannen began training Alverick from the age of thirteen in armed combat, helping him work his way through the King’s Guard, before Alverick split his time with training under Bannen and studying in the Mageri, the school for magi. The two had hunted with the king; side by side, they fought with Jaste against pirates on the Isle of Corin. Luck always favored them until that day in the woods. This time Bannen could not outrun fate; Czand, the god of battle, did not offer his protection to Bannen in the in the woods the other day. An unlucky combination of poisoned fog and a well-timed shock caused the veteran’s heart to spasm, then cease to beat.

Travel safely through the Halls of the Fallen, my brother.

Though he’d lost many friends over the years, Bannen’s death proved be the hardest to accept. The two shared a bond that usually could only be shared by brothers.

By Aria’s grace, Alverick swore.

Jaste did not anticipate Zanir’s bounty to be tainted with the appearance of rogue magi.

As he replayed the battle in his mind’s eye once more, Alverick remembered one particular moment during the fight that gave him pause. As Alverick plunged his sword through the Spark’s chest, the man choked out, wide-eyed, Czand’s damnation will fall down on you! Swordbane, son of Xan, will engulf Zanir and choke the life out of her people.

Who is this Swordbane, son of Xan? The leader of the clans of Xan is the Great Heart, lifebringer of the land. Could this be just the mad ramblings of a dying Spark?

Sparks commonly grew unbalanced as their skills grew. The highly chaotic nature of their magic caused them to loosen their grip on reason and follow the ever-changing currents of the world. But this rang false. As he lay dying, his eyes were panicked, but lucid, and did not appear to be too unbalanced, like those of his skill level typically were.

Ruled by warlords, Xan was governed by the champion of each clan. Until recently, no man succeeded in uniting the warring tribes like the Great Heart, a man of humble origins named Ras. He assigned each clan champion a special place in his court. They became his Eyes, Ears, Mouth, Hands and Feet, while he became the Great Heart, located in the very center of their realm.

Alverick halted as he realized that the old Great Heart may be dead. A new challenger to the sovereign title of Xan had emerged, and just played his hand.

Jaste will need to be warned. This is more than just minor banditry in the spice mines.

With renewed vigor, Alverick doubled his pace in hopes of making it to the palace within the hour. If he hurried, he would make it back to King Jaste before breakfast.

Ghan’s blood, this has turned into a damned mess, Alverick swore. Checking Bannen’s sword strapped on his back before beginning his travels home, he adjusted his hood to make sure that it covered his face once more and broke into a brisk jog.

If a new ruler surfaced, it would not do to have a scout mark him as a threat. He would not be able to hide his tattooed hand, but Alverick could make sure that the tattoos on his face remained concealed.

All magi started with a small tattoo in the center of their palm that slowly grew to cover more of the body as they gained knowledge and skill. While being chosen to practice magic was unwonted, it was not uncommon that when someone saw a mage, the tattoo would wind around their forearm. Usually, these were the tradesman and women who honed their skill on the side to better their craft. As magi grew in skill, their tattoos would grow from their hand to cover more of their body. In very rare instances, a mage may be able to study two or more styles of magic, resulting in their tattoos covering a large portion of their body.

Alverick happened to be one of these powerful magi.

His mind still clouded in a fog, part Plague-induced and part the result of his previous brush with almost Snapping, Alverick tried meditating to help calm his mind. As he traveled, he tried to recall one of his early lessons from the Mageri.

The most common magic styles are Earth, Water, Biochemical, Fire and Electric, more commonly known as, Avalanche, Stream, Plague, Flame and Spark. Wind magi, or Tempests, are far less common due to the side effects that accompany their skills. Each style comes with a distinguishing tattoo design.

Though their personalities are erratic, Flames do not suffer from the mental instabilities that Sparks and Tempests do… A practiced Tempest’s mind is as fluid as the wind and constantly changing. If they are not careful, their mind will be lost to the power of the wind and it would be near impossible to recover mentally.

The litany calmed him and Alverick started to feel a little better. Ever since the battle ended, his mind swam with the consequences of his actions. If only Bannen could see me now, he thought ruefully.

In order to grow in strength, two methods could be used. The first is to spend years in study and practical applications in the Mageri located in Zanir, before moving on to utilizing the skills from those years of study to make a living. Some go on to apply their skills as healers, while others apply their skills to their trades. This method of study causes the growth of the tattoo to occur at a slower pace but allows for total mastery. A person could spend their entire life in study and occasional application to reach a moderate skill level.

The second, riskier way one could grow in strength is by taking the blood of another mage into their body, known as draughting. Just as when one is tested to see if they had the potential to learn magic, blood from one mage can be transferred to another. This method is uncommon, but not unheard of, as the mage would have to kill his opponent before transferring the blood to his body. Continuing his journey towards the capital, Alverick mused at his life’s decisions. This wasn’t the first time that he draughted his foe after battle.

Hopefully I won’t have to draught again.

On several occasions, Alverick draughted his fallen enemies in order to grow considerably stronger in short periods of time. His most recent use occurred after the death of Bannen. In his grief, Alverick cut the enemy magi and let their blood flow with his. Draughting never was a quick affair, but a glance at the spot where he buried his fallen comrade made the process easier.

Once the transfer is complete, it could take hours before the tattoo showed any growth and days before the full effects of the transfer completed. Anyone who didn’t know Alverick wouldn’t be aware of the transfer; only those who knew him would notice the neck and facial tattoos and be able to surmise what had taken place, since the growth would be too drastic for normal training. Alverick also draughted the Plague. Waste not, want not.

However, using a blood transfer came with risks. The risks were not as great as when one chose to receive their first taste of the holy blood, but they were there nonetheless. Draughting a Tempest or Spark caused part of the mental instability that came with their magic to be siphoned off and transferred to the receiving mage. Continued draughting of Tempests and Sparks carried the potential for passing on the complete mental issues that were the cost of being an electric or wind practitioner. Although Alverick had draughted a Spark on two prior occasions, he questioned the wisdom of doing it with this one, especially one so powerful. Alas, the power outweighed the risk and he went through with the transfer of the Spark along with the Plague.

The rosy light of dawn crept across the sky as the city of Pharn, capital of Zanir, came into sight. Chickens stirred from their slumber and bakers already bustled about making bread for the day. Caer Grey, her worn stone walls covered in ivy, could be seen nestled against the Res Mountains. The bright red tiles of the merchants’ shops surrounding the keep looked like a field of geraniums engulfing a rock. A clear stream ran through the Res Mountains, winding lazily around Pharn, before disappearing into the King’s Forest.

Unlike most lands, Zanir did not have a castle proper. Instead, a series of keeps lay strategically placed throughout the land and inhabited by the various members of the Grey family. Jaste, being the eldest son, inherited the Jewel of Zanir, Pharn. It was known as the city of scholars. The city