The Chronicles of Innisfail: Innisfail, #1

By John Schettler

Corporal Wilem Doran thought he was fighting Rommel in Tunisia. He is caught in an artillery bombardment, knocked senseless, and when he awakens, he is ... somewhere else! Found in the heart of a place called Starfall, in the desert of Old Mindemoya, Wilem is befriended by an itinerant trader, Kaspar Jakhad, as his caravan flees before the barbarian Khazar raiders. Yet Kaspar knows this is far more than a raiding party.

  It has been said that everything that is powerful will one day come under siege. In the year 788, as the Emperor in Innisfail makes a power grab for taxes in his outland provinces, the Outlords, led by the Duke Morgin Grenfell, convene a secret and illegal meeting to form a coalition—the White Company. But the squabble between the Empire and its outlands is soon overshadowed by a much graver threat when the Khazars begin a second great migration and invasion that overruns all the desolate south and soon sweeps all the way to the frontiers of Innisfail the Only.

    For the first time in over two centuries, barbarians, march against the empire. They are soon joined by a horrid hosts led by the legendary Black Prince Sonderin and his Brother Luth, with a menagerie of vile creatures unseen by men for long ages. To survive, the Outlords must end their simmering feud with the Emperor and ride east into battle. Yet with his Lee & Enfield SMLE-III rifle and a Bren light machine gun, it is not long before Wilem Doran's amazing new weapons get a chance to make some difference in this war.

   Now, from the author of the long running Kirov Series, comes the opening volume of an epic Fantasy series as broad and detailed as J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, as a great war begins. This is mythic military fiction at its best.

 

The Chronicles of Innisfail

Volume I, The Kinstrife
By

John Schettler

Part I - Wilem
Part II – Lyndra

Part III – The Falconbridge

Part IV – The White Company

Part V – Delling

Part VI – Towers of Stone, Men of Sand

Part VII – Tides of War

Part VIII –Khazars

Part IX – Imperial Designs

Part X– Song of Sonderin

Part XI – The Vile Host

Part XII – The Raedwall

Epilogue – Treachery

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Schettler
• Release date: Apr 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201677107

John Schettler

A prolific writer with 75 books, John Schettler achieved early recognition in winning the Silver Medal for Science Fiction in Foreword Magazine's annual competion, and scoring a 9.5/10 with Reader's Digest for his 5-book Time Travel series opener, Meridian. He went on to author the longest story ever written, the massive 64 volume Kirov Series, also a Time travel Military Fiction and alternate history of WWII. John's latest work is a new Epic Fantasy series, The Chronicles of Innisfail, released April of 2022.

Book preview

The Kirov Saga: Season One

Kirov - Volume 1

Cauldron of Fire - Volume 2

Pacific Storm - Volume 3

Men of War - Volume 4

Nine Days Falling - Volume 5

Fallen Angels - Volume 6

Devil’s Garden - Volume 7

Armageddon –Volume 8

The Kirov Saga: Season Two ~ 1940-1941

Altered States–Volume 9

Darkest Hour–Volume 10

Hinge of Fate –Volume 11

Three Kings –Volume 12

Grand Alliance –Volume 13

Hammer of God –Volume 14

Crescendo of Doom –Volume 15

Paradox Hour –Volume 16

The Kirov Saga: Season Three ~1942

Doppelganger –Volume 17

Nemesis –Volume 18

Winter Storm –Volume 19

Tide of Fortune –Volume 20

Knight’s Move –Volume 21

Turning Point –Volume 22

Steel Reign –Volume 23

Second Front –Volume 24

The Kirov Saga: Season Four ~1943

Tigers East – Volume 25

Thor’s Anvil – Volume 26

1943 – Volume 27

Lions at Dawn – Volume 28

Stormtide Rising – Volume 29

Ironfall – Volume 30

Nexus Deep – Volume 31

Field of Glory – Volume 32

The Kirov Saga: Season Five ~1944

Prime Meridian – Volume 33

Event Horizon – Volume 34

Dragonfall – Volume 35

1944 – Volume 36

The Tempest – Volume 37

Breakout – Volume 38

Starfall – Volume 39

Rhinelander – Volume 40

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WWIII ~ The Next War Segment:

These depict what would have happened to the ship and crew of Kirov if it had not shifted to the past in volume 1 of the series.

Kirov Saga: Season Six ~ The Next War-2021

This is a war based on the current geopolitical structure of our world.

Volume 41 – Homecoming

Volume 42 – Kill-Chain

Volume 43 – Twilight’s End

Volume 44 – Resurgent

Volume 45 – Deep Blue

Volume 46 – Ice War

Volume 47 – Eagle Rising

Volume 48 – Tangent Fire – Bridge Novel to 2025 War

Kirov Saga: Season Seven ~ The Next War-2025

War in the future that arose from the altered History of WWII

Volume 49– Condition Zebra – War in Med+Indian Ocean

Volume 50 – Able Sentry – Iraqi Invasion of Kuwait & Saudi Arabia

Volume 51 – Able Fire –Counterattack: Iraq, Arabian Sea, Aden

Volume 52 – Far Horizon – Gulf of Oman – Hormuz - Malacca

Volume 53 – Firedrake – Battle for the Sulu Sea

Volume 54 – Alpha Strike - Luzon & Tsushima Strait

Volume 55 – Jericho – Tushima, Goto Islands, Siberia

Volume 56 –Whirlwind – Okinawa, Miyakos, Goto Islands

Kirov Saga: The Final Season

Volume 57– The Mission – Saving Sergei Kirov

Volume 58 – No Man’s Land – Battle of Cambrai & Jutland

Volume 59 – The Space Between – Raptors discovered

Volume 60 – Coming Through – The Raptor War

Volume 61 – Queen’s Gambit – Strange Far Places, The Ice Man

Volume 62 – Sea Lions – Operation Seelowe

Volume 63 – The Last Sortie- Kirov vs Kido Butai

Volume 64 – Journey’s End - Series Finale

The Chronicles

of Innisfail

Volume I: The Kinstrife

By

John Schettler

Dramatis Personae

The Characters

A brief note on pronouncing names and places: pronounce every syllable, and vowels are often long. See examples below in (Parens).

THE HOUSE OF GRENFELL:

Morgin Grenfell, Duke of Rhaingoll – Strongest of the Outlords of the Empire, Morgin finds himself at odds with the Emperor in a border dispute involving the Falconbridge. He is the leader and organizer of the White Company, a loose confederation of five outland provinces west of Innisfail. Characters serving the House of Grenfell include:

Magister Athelward – Librarian of Dinorwick.

Lady Carolyn – Wife of Duke Morgin

Lord Gunnick, A master of arms in Rhaingoll

Lord Halgerd, A master of Arms in Rhaingoll

Lord Harding, A minister of the House of Grenfell.

Lord Rachlin: (Rake-lin, not Rach-lin) 1st Mark of Rhaingoll, a chief advisor and closest friend of Duke Morgin.

Lord Reginald, Chosen to serve in Rachlin’s place as 1st Mark

Captains Symon, Hudd, and Drystan of the House Guard

ANTAGONISTS:

Lord Morfa – Baron of Garlingwark and unaffiliated with the House of Grenfell, Morfa is shunned by Morgin and not invited to join the White Company. A jealous rival of Duke Morgin who becomes a pawn of the Emperor.

Lord Habrock (Hay-brock) of Gwimalden– A dissident and troublesome Lord, with divided loyalties.

Lord Baldrick – A pawn of the Empire, Baldrick is sent to contest the ownership of the Falconbridge, and test Duke Morgin’s resolve.

Lord Sonderin – Formerly Lord Erkenwald of Nefalia, slain in battle in the first age and carried off to the Underworld by the Morlich. There he was returned to life by the Witch Queen, and renamed Sonderin, the ever burning fire. He fled from the Underworld to the distant lands of the south and now seeks his vengeance on the ancestors of those who first killed him.

Luthgondriel or more simply Luth – another High Dreadlord, Brother to Sonderin, thought to be a survivor of Old Mindemoya, and a practitioner of Dark arts.

Morwenna – Witch Queen of the Underworld, a powerful Necromancer, and keeper of the dead.

THE MEMBERS OF THE WHITE COMPANY:

King Erik of Bomark, leader of the high plateau that shields Rhaingoll and other provinces from invasion, Bomark is instrumental to the defense and a central member of the White Company.

Lord Gorling of Penfro, one of the first outland provinces to come under pressure from the invading Khazar barbarian hordes.

Duke Morgin Grenfell – Duke of Rhaingoll – founder leader of the White Company.

Lord Halkin of Haerlaw, a smaller province bordering Rhaingoll.

Lord Weymund of Pendryl Ivanfelling, a rich outland province.

THE DWARROWKIN: A hardy people skilled in mining, masonry metal working. Called Dwarves by other men because of their short stature, they were sundered in the kinstrife of ages past, where Lord Hornbori quarreled with his brother, Lord Gherin, over which should ascend to the leadership of all the clans. Hornbori left, taking half the Dwarrowkin south to found Delling, while Lord Gherin remained in the far north at Irondale. Dwarrowkin characters include:

Frey son of Frost, adopted son of Lord Hornbori & appointed Lord of Irondale upon Gherin’s death.

Lord Gherin of Irondale (Deceased)

Lord Hornbori, of Delling

Grisnir, adopted son of Lord Hornbori appointed heir of Delling

Lothar the Brave – who took the scepter of Irondale to the Underworld. (Now called Lothar the foolish).

Olif, Lori and Tobin, traveling companions with Frey

CLAN LEADERS OF IRONDALE:

Alestar – Magister of Irondale, presiding over official matters and rites of ascension.

Alegog, Mith, Dunnu, Kep and Finn, and others, Clan leaders of Irondale, the latter a cousin to Frey.

Faelgir, (Fail-gear)- Steward of Irondale

Rinngale, a faithless rival of Frey who believes he was passed over for the throne of Irondale.

TRADERS & MERCHANTS:

Kaspar Jakhad (Ja-khad) – A caravan trader caught up in the impending Khazari invasion.

Sachi – Kaspar’s trail scout and chief of security.

Argo – The porter master of Kaspar’s caravan.

Ari – a train boy in Kaspar’s employ, serving as a runner and messenger.

William (Wilem) Doran – A stranger taken in by Kaspar’s train in Old Mindemoya.

Captain Miche Ryal – hired by Kaspar to captain his ship, Starseed.

Lieutenant Jimmal Rheen – 1st officer on the ship Starseed, a Brig.

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THE BARBARIANS: of Gorgessa and the Khazars

The Shon Malak, aka The Jade – leader of the Khazari Horde invading at Lyndra and Glynwood

The Shon Ganem – Leader of the tribes of Gorgessa invading Elcanar, Druim-Fadah, Penfro and Rhainnith.

General Alisander – A General commanding troops in the city of Salonketh, a reserve Khazari force.

Prince Asfan Murad, of the Gorgessen Guard Cavalry.

LORDS OF THE EMPIRE OF INNISFAIL & OTHER MINOR PROVINCES:

Emperor Alcandryn II (Al-can-drin)– Emperor of Innisfail in the capital city of Rammath-Innis.

Lord General Aldridge - Commander of 2nd Legion of Innisfail

Captain Arbane – Commanding a squadron of Frigates

Baron Vlad Balorak- Lord of Wyddfallen, an inner province in fealty to Innisfail. (Mentioned but not appearing)

Lord Baldrick - Commander of 3rd Legion of Innisfail

Lord Bregund - Lord of Elcanar Province.

Lord Brondir – Of the small border land of Druim-Fadah, a traitor to the realm, he had supplicated himself to the Shon Ganem of Gorgessa.

General Scion Cross – A General commanding a Legion of Innisfail.

Lord Durward of Ermenrich, a wealthy outland province unaffiliated with the White Company.

Commodore Ellinore – Commanding Concord, a ship of the line.

General Embergrim - General in the Imperial Army of Innisfail.

Lord Arken Glynn – Of the Tamargin Island Marines.

Lord General Gunnar – Commander of 1st Legion of Innisfail.

Lord Haldane – Brother to Duke Morgin and Lord of Rhainnith, an inner province in fealty to Innisfail. Haldane is not affiliated with the House of Grenfell or the White Company.

Lord Huldra of Rhainnith, The Mayor of the city of Caithness, capital

of Rhainnith.

Lord Landon of Ivinghelm Province, unaffiliated with the White Company

Lord Rathinwilde – Imperial Ambassador

Admiral Rhayd (Raid) – Commander of the Navy of Innisfail.

Lord Rogmar – Commander of the 2nd legion of Innisfail.

Commodore Alyster Rolland, Imperial Cloud Ship Fleet

Lord Weymund, 2nd Mark and Lord of Pendryl Ivanfelling.

MEN OF BOMARK:

Lord Dolfa – Master of Dragonwyk Tower

Captain Dylan - Captain of the Frontier Scouts and Guard of Gallion

King Erik

Fenmark – A General in Bomark

Lord Hard – (Hay-erd) Builder of Hard’s Hold.

Colonel Theo Koal – Of Gallion Tower

Sion Thorpe – Alderman and gatekeeper of Gallion Tower

Lord Thrand – A General in Bomark

THE HIGH MAGES of the ALDERENH

Sencha Windweaver – Wind Elemental

Maelgrinn – Water Elemental

Tal – Fire Elemental

Each bearing one of the ten Gemswords

THE GODS and MONTHS OF THE ALDERENH

Each of the 12 months is named for the gods below.

Donn Rhy (pronounced Don Ree) is the All-Father of the cosmos, sometimes called the Lord of ten thousand lights. First month.

1)  Donn Rhy, The All-Father

2)  Anbiorn, the Sky Father, God of the clouds and sky

3)  Vedar – The Trickster, God of Deception

4)  Lune, The Moon Goddess, also Goddess of Madness

5)  Hemdon, God of Dreams

6)  Hexel, God of Darkness and Night

7)  Angatyr, The God of anger, war, and battle

8)  Tallus, the God of Vengeance, the act of revenge often referred to as The Talons of Tallus.

9)  Aneyar – God of Work, friend of discovery

10)  Waldir – God of the Harvest

11)  Tethar – God of Commerce

12)  Issyl – God of Winter cold and frost

There are twelve months of 30 days each, all named for those Gods in the order above. Each month has three weeks of ten days each. The first week is governed by the new Moon, the second week by the fat moon, the third week by the waning or crescent moon. The last five days of the year are the days of feasting. This calendar dates to the time of Old Mindemoya, the empire destroyed in the first age by the Starfall.

The first day of any month is dedicated to offering and prayers made to that god. The last day is called the day of thanks, where thanksgiving is made to the god of that month for all that was given.

UNITS OF MEASURE:

Mark, (about 1 kilometer) Each hex on the main map is 2.5 Marks.

Kapel (The currency of the realm, pressed in either gold or silver. Gems and pearls are also accepted means of payment)

Coil: A measure of length the distance of a single coil of a rope, about three feet in our system, or one meter.

THE GEMSWORDS:

Powerful enchanted swords, each bearing a gem that designates their ranking. Only ten were forged, listed here with their last known bearer.

Starseed – Holder Unknown

Diamond - Luthgondriel

Ruby – Sonderin, brother to Luth

Sapphire – Maelgrinn, a High Mage

Zircon – Sencha, a High Mage

Topaz – Tal, a High Mage

Amethyst – Duke Morgin Grenfell

Jasper – The Dreadlord Tyranis

Onyx – The Dreadlord Drava

Moonstone – The Dreadlord Esus

Maps can be found on the web site Here:

https://www.writingshop.ws/html/map_room.html

Volume I

The Kinstrife

A kinsman in trouble had to be saved, not blamed...

—Chinua Achebe

The Chronicles of Innisfail

Volume I, The Kinstrife

By

John Schettler

Part I - Wilem

Part II – Lyndra

Part III – The Falconbridge

Part IV – The White Company

Part V – Delling

Part VI – Towers of Stone, Men of Sand

Part VII – Tides of War

Part VIII –Khazars

Part IX – Imperial Designs

Part X– Song of Sonderin

Part XI – The Vile Host

Part XII – The Raedwall

Epilogue - Treachery

Part I

Wilem

But, instead of what our imagination makes us suppose and which we worthless try to discover, life gives us something that we could hardly imagine.

—Marcel Proust

––––––––

Chapter 1

Tunisia, 1943

Young William Doran was a long way from home, but he didn’t yet know how far. His name, Doran, from the Gaelic, had long heralded that he would be a wanderer. He was a fair-haired lad, with eyes as blue as a morning sky, yet he never thought he would find himself in this strange wild land of North Africa, though he was thrilled, and embraced a sense of adventure when he received the news that his unit would join the great General Montgomery for the final push into Tunisia against Rommel. He was with the celebrated King’s Dragoon Guards attached to 2nd New Zealand Corps, and with the mission to go out on a wide envelopment of Rommel’s Mareth Line position in southern Tunisia.

The operation would not be easy, fighting the difficult terrain as much as the veteran Germans Panzer troops of 21st and 15th Panzer Divisions, which had sent Kampfgruppes to oppose the flanking maneuver.

William, or Wilem as he was called by his mates, marveled at the arid terrain all around them, more rugged and wild than anything he had seen thus far. The land rose to form flinty ridges and serrated terraces, crowned with the remains of ancient fortifications, with flagstone walkways behind low stone walls braced by stolid square towers. Many had been there for over a thousand years, silent sentinels over empty land, and Wilem knew that his was only one of many armies that had made this march over the centuries.

They eventually pushed out, his Bren carrier bouncing along the rough ground, up towards Ksar Rhilane and heading for Bir Soltane. Once they got beyond that, they would find another road and fight their way towards El Hamma, which was well behind the German Front line defenses on the coast to the southeast. It was March of 1943, the endgame in North Africa finally underway. Wilem was thrilled to be a part of it, until the artillery fire began falling—sizable rounds forcing their way through the intense blue sky and then crashing down around them, kicking up the sandy soil. He never knew whether it was better to keep moving under such an attack, or to stop and hold his position along with his breath, hoping that no round would chance to find the spot where he stood.

The fire intensified ahead of him as they trundled along. Then the Bren carrier hit a rock and took a wild jolt. He saw the Bren gun lifted right off its mounting and flung away from the vehicle. The ready bag went with it, but the Sergeant gave it no mind, yelling at the driver to veer left away from a stand of large boulders ahead. The artillery fire kept coming.

For infantry, it was shrapnel that did most of the killing and maiming, not direct hits from the shells. His Sergeant raised an arm to call the halt. The Bren carriers were open topped vehicles and the danger of getting clipped by shrapnel was too great. Time to halt, take cover beneath the carrier, and hug the barren ground for dear life. Wilem leapt out, rifle in hand, and as he did so a round fell close—and exploded. Both Wilem, and the Bren carrier reeled. Blown off his feet onto the ground, he fell into darkness. Before it enclosed him the garish sun seemed green, its light surrounding him with a scintillating aura. Then all was black as the desert night.

Starfall, Old Mindemoya

The next thing he remembered was waking up, his cheek resting on the hot sand and broken stone of the desert. He felt a hand on his shoulder pulling him over. He opened his unfocussed eyes and perceived the brown sun-drenched face of an older man, his head wrapped in a white turban cloth, his eyes in shadow under heavy brows. The man was speaking in another language, but Wilem understood everything that was being said to him.

Ho there lad, are you alright? What in the world are you doing out here? The older man hastily examined him, noting that there was no bleeding, and that limbs, neck, and head were uninjured. The round had lifted and overturned the Bren carrier, interposing it between his body and the blast. The vehicle had taken the brunt of the force, shielding him from serious injury, yet there was no sign of it now. He was bruised from the violent fall onto the rock-strewn ground, but he would not notice that until later that night. The man gestured to several men who then lifted Wilem from the field and gently placed him in the back of a wagon.

It took some time before his senses came to him, but eventually he came to full consciousness and gathered his wits. He eased himself up on one elbow, getting a brief glimpse of the column he was in, but there was no sign of the battalion or his mates—not a Bren carrier or truck anywhere to be seen. Instead he saw a line of well-laden wagons, men on horseback, and a long string of camels loaded with bales of cloth and bundles. Those must be local tribesmen, he thought. They often followed the army, nibbling at its flanks in the hopes of trading for something desirable or selling some of their goods to the soldiers. Other times they were scavengers, preying on the fallen like jackals, and some were thought to be spies for the Germans. The battalion officers had nothing to do with them, shooing them off at gunpoint if necessary.

Wilem was glad they had found him. But what had become of his battalion? Surely that artillery barrage, as intense as it was, could not have done in the entire unit. Where were they? Why would they allow these local tribesmen to just carry him off? These were likely Tittawin locals, indigenous to southern Tunisia, itinerate traders and nomads, just one of the many branches on the Berber tribal tree.

The sun was low, and now he saw that the point of this laboring column had turned, describing a slow circle in the lee of a high grey escarpment. The rock there was broken and burned from some great trauma. The column was using its own wagons as a laager and it all soon came to a halt. Men leapt from the wagons as the heavy-set man in the white turban issued commands. The men, some porters, others train guards, heeded his commands as if he were a Colonel in the Dragoons, and the whole column established itself with military efficiency.

The leader, which Wilem now took to be the Chieftain or Train Master of this caravan, looked his way and approached the wagon. Wilem was laying on burlap bags that smelled like sorghum, taking in its earthy sweet aroma, and it began to make him hungry. He noticed a leather flask of water beside him, and he took it up and quenched his thirst. He was sore in a few places, but no bones were broken. He had taken no shrapnel, and felt lucky to have survived.

There you are, said the Train Master. Feeling better I hope? Once again the speech Wilem heard was unfamiliar, but the meaning of the words was completely clear and understandable in his mind.

Where is my unit? he said and was taken aback. He heard himself speaking foreign words, but he knew exactly what they meant. How was he able to speak this man’s tribal dialect? The King’s English was all he had ever known, yet he could communicate with no difficulty in a language he knew he had never learned.

Unit? What is that? We found you alone, just lying there, face down in the desert. This is no place for a man alone—dangerous and cruel, this land. Are you saying you were with others?

Yes—the British Army. Kings Dragoon Guards!

The man cocked his head to one side. An Army? What? Dragon guards? He could see this man had the look of a soldier about him. With plain khaki colored clothing, an odd-looking helm and some kind of strangely fashioned spear.

"No dragons here, lad, and for that you can count yourself lucky. But this is Starfall, the heart of the old desert in Mindemoya, and these are bad times, so how do you come to be here? Ah, excuse me sir, I have forgotten my manners. I am Kaspar Jakhad, Train Master here, a trader out of Salonketh. We should be on the road up to Elcanar City, but not now, no, not with the Khazars on the move. Bloody Khazars would have a grand feast if they came on my train, and we’d be lucky to live out the rest of our days as slaves. So I took to the open desert, and seeing as though I have only come here once before, I wanted to see the center of it all again, and look for Starseed.

The center?

This is Starfall, the place where it came down—the rock that felled Old Mindemoya, kings, princes and high lords all, save one or two that were not in country. See that dark ridge yonder? The man pointed, his arm moving in a wide circle around them.

See how it commands the horizon on every quarter? That’s the edge of the big hole in the ground the cursed thing made when it fell, and when it did, this place was so hot we’d be burned to hell if we were here then. Look around you. See how the ground glitters with the sunlight? It melted sand and stone when it fell, and then, over the long decades, the wind had its way with what was left, and polished it as fine as the best gems you’ll ever set eyes on. Starseed they call it, and you’ll be lucky if you ever set eyes on the like again. To be frank, the only way I could convince my men to come this way was the lure of Starseed.

Kaspar stooped and grasped a fist full of sand, letting it sift through his fingers to leave a few larger stones. Most of this surface stone is small—just pebbles, but dig in the right place and you can find it the size of an egg—heartstone—not made like the smaller stones, but from the heart of the thing that fell here—very rare. Tonight the men will have free rein here to go and find all they can carry, and by the Gods, they’ll be rich men for it, well paid for their long labors, as I promised them. Even the pebbles are worth as much as gold. If you’re feeling up to it, you might wander about yourself—but not too far. Stay close to the laager. There’s still plenty on the ground, even after men have had more than two centuries to pilfer it all. It’s still here, as you can plainly see. Dig a bit and you’ll find the larger seeds.

Starseed, said Wilem, not fully understanding the bizarre description Kaspar had voiced.

"Aye, comes in every color of the rainbow, one of the rarest gems in the all the Alderenh, except here, right in the center of Starfall crater, the one place it can be found—the only place it can ever be found, unless you buy it, or steal it, from someone who first found it here. Is that why you were out here? Doing a little prospecting, were you?"

Prospecting? Not at all. I tell you I’m with the King’s Dragoon Guards, British Army, and we were out after Rommel. Don’t tell me you never heard of him.

Rommel? Dragon Guards? British? No lad, I’ve never heard of any of that. None of that in Salonketh either, just bloody barbaric Khazars and we were lucky to slip away before their war bands came off the ships for the march. They’ve come again—another great migration they say, all in their black-sailed ships. That’s the only army in these parts, and it’s on the move, heading north and east, which is why we’re not on the roads—too dangerous. Just the same, I couldn’t come this way without stopping here. Dangerous as it may be, this is the one place the Khazars won’t come tonight. For them it’s haunted ground, the land of the Jinn, and those savages won’t come near it. We should be safe here tonight. Tomorrow I’ll head east to the city of Golocha, and then we’ll take the road from the Elcanar crossing up the Eldarhorn and on into Glynwood or perhaps east into Lyndra. Green lands there, well-watered, and lovely people too, unless the Khazars get to them. Once we get there, I can sell off at Lyngecel. Marvelous city there. Have you ever seen it?

Glynwood? Lyndra? No, can’t say as I’ve ever seen them. Are they back in Algeria?

Where’s that?

Why, it’s the only thing east of here that I know—Algeria, then Libya, then Egypt. Those I’ve seen. Came all the way from El Alamein with Monty. Wilem smiled with pride, grateful to be a member of Montgomery’s army.

Libeeah? Eee-jipped? Never heard of them. This is Old Mindemoya, the ancient empire homeland of the Mindemoyan Kings—until Starfall. That put an end to them with one big bang. Knocked down cities, walls, temples, shrines, and fortresses alike, and buried the rest under hundreds of feet of red-hot sand and ash. It’s taken centuries for the winds to expose the ruins again, the old stone forts along the king’s road to the Elcanar River. No Algeereerah in these parts, and no Libeeah or anything else you mentioned. North lies more desert, until it finds Salonketh, the grand city-port where I formed this caravan. South is Elminad, and Radnor on the river. East across the Elcanar you come to North Ashedon, the better part of Ashedon I might add. The rest is as bad as all this. Then comes the inland Sea. Don’t you even know where you are lad? Where did you start from to come here?

I told you, I was at El Alamein in Egypt with Monty for the big fight there. Then we damn well chased Rommel a thousand miles here to Tunisia.

Tune-eze-ia? Never heard of that. This is Mindemoya, how many times must I say it? Are you sure you haven’t taken a knock on the head? And who is Rommel? Who’s Monty?

Wilem gave the man a frustrated look. In spite of the fact that all the words passing between them were unlike anything he had ever heard, Wilem knew they were speaking a common language, though how he knew it he could not fathom. But common tongue or not, they were speaking past one another. Wilem had never heard of Old Mindemoya, or any of those other locations. He knew nothing of Khazars, unless it was just another Berber tribe out raiding. And this man said he had never heard of Rommel or Montgomery!

Look here, he said, exasperated. "I don’t know what’s going on now, or anything at all about this Starfall, or any of the places you mention. I’m Corporal William Doran, King’s Dragoon Guards, and how many times must I say that? Have you seen any more of my battalion? I was with several hundred men out here!"

No kings here now, lad. They’re all long gone, and no dragons here for guarding either. So you look up at the stars tonight and just be thankful for that. We’ll have dinner up in an hour, and I’ll get you some of my best teas to clear your head. Then get your rest and a good night’s sleep. We’ll have a long march tomorrow to Golocha. Now if you’ll excuse me. I must set the camp. I’ll send my train boy, young Ari, to check in on you. If you need anything, he can fetch it for you. The man proffered a slight bow, and was on his way, soon shouting at the cameleers as they unloaded their beasts and set the cargos down on the glittering ground. Starfall, thought Wilem. Starseed. Where in bloody hell was he?

As disoriented as he was, Wilem was at least thankful he had not been injured, with no cuts, broken bones or bad bruises. It was the impossibility of his present situation that upset his rational mind. To ground himself, he studied the landscape around him, seeing the dark rise of the high rim of the crater in all directions. To the southeast, there was a cleft in the rim, as if a giant had cut through the rock with a mighty axe. He reasoned the crevice was the exit from the crater, and he would see that borne out the following day when the caravan mounted to continue its journey in that direction.

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Chapter 2

That night the stars above were completely unfamiliar. He had always longed for the adventure of finding himself lost in a wild land, which was part of the lure he had followed when signing on for duty in the colonies as opposed to the home guard the previous year. All the colonial brigades and divisions were seeded with British regulars, and his recon battalion was a typical example. Though Kaspar had told him they would not be bothered by the Khazars, he was nonetheless alarmed as he looked up at the night sky and observed shadowed forms gliding over the crater or flitting across the fat milk-white moon.

While they ate supper Kaspar told him it was the second week in the month of Angatyr, God of War and Anger. Fitting he said, for war was what was coming, whether the men in the north knew this yet or not. Kaspar knew it. He had seen it forming all over the south as the Khazari hordes mustered.

The second week was the week of the fat moon, and that was so. The moon rose high and bright, its silver light washing through a fall of diamonds and gems in the sky that resembled the Milky Way, but something was wrong in the sky. This band of light was different, and he could feel that variance all around him, in the night, the desert, the smell of the cool air, and mostly in the people he had fallen in with. Even the stars seemed out of place, and he could not find any familiar constellations there. With a sinking feeling, he began to feel he must be off his rocker, or worse. Was he dead? Was this some strange purgatory?

He took out his field glasses and scanned all about him before the sun set, hoping to find some sign of his unit, a truck, Bren carrier or armored car, but saw nothing. He could only reason that he had been left behind, possibly left for dead, and that some wandering tribe of local Berbers had come across him where he fell unconscious, and had filled his head with their own lore and culture, stories of old empires in the sand. But surely the Bren carrier he had been riding in was damaged to a point where it could not motor away, but there was no sign of it, nor any track marks in the desert to show that it had ever been there. To believe this trader that had found him, he was no longer in Tunisia, but a place called Mindemoya. It was a strange, alien landscape, so different from the familiar downs of Yorkshire back home.

He had been an accomplished equestrian in his youth. Much of his young life was spent on horseback in East or West Riding. His early passion for guns saw him hunting in the Vale of York or the North Moors. Back home, the patchwork quilted farmland of the Yorkshire Dales, was ribboned with low stone walls marking the edges of each farm. It was God’s own Country. There were no farms in the middle of all the desolation here, a land that had been hammered by crushing celestial rock, its cinnamon silt blackened by intense heat and fire, the sand and stone melted to glass and polished over long years by the wind. The Trader called it Starseed, apparently valuable, so Wilem resolved to collect some if he could find it in the morning. After sunset, the broad sweep of the crater glittered as the moon cast its light on scattered stones, as if the pallid ground was trying to reflect the greater majesty of the alien starfield above.

He knew that every landscape had its own hidden magic and so instead of trying to make sense of this blighted land in terms of familiar features, he decided to look for all he might learn from this new unknown terrain. He took in the smell of burnt stone and char, edged with just a hint of spice on the night air. The main thing he noted was the awful quiet. There wasn’t a sound, unless it was made by others in Kaspar’s caravan, or the occasional gurgle or grumble of a camel, the bray of a mule. No insects seemed to exist here, nor any birds that sang in the night. But what were those strange shadows that crossed the moon—bats of some kind?

Kaspar sat with him for a while at the evening fire and saw how he took cautious notice of the shadows above.

Night bats, he said, out from the desert caves. Don’t mind them. They might want to feast on the livestock, but not you. It’s the Dragon bats, higher up that might be trouble, but I don’t think they have our scent tonight. They’ve just been dancing with the moon.

Moon dancers, that’s what Kaspar called them, a less fearful name than Dragon Bats. Wilem knew of bats and he also knew of dragons, though Kaspar had made a point to tell him none were near. He had studied old Medieval tales in his youth that sent dragons to roam in his imagination, though he never believed he would ever see such a beast in real life. Yet this man spoke as if they actually existed here!

He thought about the old stories he read—about the Dragons. Nothing about them was good. In the Middle Ages they were associated with treachery, apostacy, or other vices, like anger, lust, and envy. Dragons in Western lore were enormous flying lizards with great dark wings, razor sharp teeth, and heavy limbs tipped with jagged talons that could rip a bull to shreds with one powerful swipe. They were not the flying snake-like creatures of Eastern mythology. Some could be slain by arrows, spears or swords, but others were protected by thick pebbled hide or armored scales impervious to edged weapons.

Kaspar the Trader had confused Wilem’s Dragoons, with Dragons, but what did a Berber Trader know of the King’s Dragoons? What he did seem to comprehend were Dragons, something Wilem would have dismissed as nothing more than fanciful thinking. Strange as it was, this world was similar enough, aside from the gleaming Starseed—only another desert where rock, stone and gravel had eroded to coarse sand. Nothing new in that. Yet it was palpably different and made him uneasy, guarded, and alerted to unseen danger. He kept his bayonetted rifle close that night as he slept on the ground, using his satchel for a pillow, his body covered with a thin ground cloth provided by the Trader. As he lay there he heard a distant rumble, the first time anything had broken the oppressive silence, yet it was faint and far away. He put his ear to the ground, listening. Something substantial was moving on the land, something big, though far away.

That night, Wilem lay awake, looking up at the unfamiliar stars Kaspar had called the