The Red King

By Austin Boucher, Michael Morgan and Jessie Morgan

Mute mercenary Fereya and his youthful companion Mirsa agree to help defend a village from an invading horde of pagan barbarians. However, they soon uncover a mysterious cult operating within the village centered around an apocryphal figure known as "The Red King". Now they must expose this murderous cult even as the winter snows bring the invaders to their very doorstep.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781387991839

Book preview

The Red King

Fereya Book 1

Written By

Austin T. Boucher

Illustrated By

Jessie E. Morgan

ISBN: 978-1-387-99183-9

Imprint: Lulu.com

To the memory of

Grandpa Mark

For all the great stories you told me, for your constant encouragement, and for showing that life offers adventures beyond the pages of any book if we only have the courage to live.

1

The Taneeso stalked low through the sallow fields of tall grass, an obsidian dagger clenched betwixt his filed teeth, gazing hungrily at a distant hillock topped by a towering walnut tree.

Beneath the gold and bronzed leaves, a maiden with strawberry blonde hair stood upon her toes to pluck walnuts from the lowermost branches. Were it not for the direction of the wind, she couldn’t have mistaken the acrid stench of blood and decay which permeated the pagan’s armaments and painted flesh.

By the time she caught the glimmer of the setting sun upon his obsidian dagger, the heathen had closed enough distance that he had no fear of her flight to the village some four miles downland. Through the stalks, he plunged like a rabid dog, pinning her beneath him and stifling her cries with a gaunt hand while his other hand tore at her velvet garments with the chiseled blade!

The girl knew by the clawing of his knobby fingers and the hungry light of his milky irises set eerily into bulging, black sclera precisely where the savage’s intentions lay. Her flesh crawled, and she flailed, screaming and clawing, tears streaming from her eyes as she felt herself pinned beneath him. The beautiful scenery about her now loomed in cruel mockery as he leaned in, his fetid breath fanning her delicate skin.

Then, as suddenly as he was upon her, he vanished—jerked back like a slingshot!

She gazed dumbstruck at the orange sky now darkening to an angry shade of red. She lay rigid as she heard the brief struggles of the Taneeso cut short by a sickening crunch, and then all was silence.

The once soothing wind now chilled her to the bone, and its shrill whistle through the tall grass screamed in her ears.

A dark silhouette loomed suddenly over her. She blinked, and it now knelt over her, revealing a dirty, petite face with large, blue eyes gazing through windswept, golden brown locks. Of all her myriad, frenzied expectations, a young girl was not among them.

The girl smiled soothingly and lifted the maiden to a sitting position, Fear not, Miss. Thou art safe. The stark confidence of the newcomer’s voice had an instant, calming effect.

The maiden gazed forward and shuddered at the sight of the Taneeso’s crumpled body faced towards the tree trunk, which was smeared with dark blood. Then her eyes traced upward to the towering figure looming above the corpse, clad in leather and with long, vermillion locks flickering like tongues of fire in the breeze.

Who … she stammered, Who art ye? Whence came ye?

Mirsa lifted her gently to her feet, I am Mirsa Beldyn, and this is my guardian, Fereya. We art but landless wanderers who came upon thee in thy plight and sought to act. Art thou well?

The girl was rigid with shock as her eyes flitted wildly betwixt her saviors and the corpse of the man who only seconds ago had tried to ravage her. Her body trembled, and she tried to speak, but her lips could only produce sputtering sobs.

Mirsa gripped her shoulders firmly to steady her, gazing into her eyes, Peace, milady. Art thou hurt? Is thy home nearby?

The girl steadily regained her composure, breathing slowly and finding her voice, I-I am from the village of Cicereon … a good three miles hence. The Taneeso hath harried us lo these many moons. They burn our crops and poison our wells, and the women of our village art prey to their insatiable lust! She spat