The Lost Keep

By Charles Embrey and Larry Elmore

  A terrible fall has taken the life of his queen and left the king to raise his newborn daughter. The years have past and now it is time for the Princess Abigail to wed and insure the stability of the throne. In a proud, but inebriated, moment King Zahn foolishly compares his daughter's beauty to that of the Olympian goddess

• Language: English
• Publisher: GreyRealm Publishing
• Release date: Jun 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798986421032

Book preview

The Lost Keep

The Lost Keep

By

Charles Embrey Jr.

GreyRealm Publishing

This book is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, and incidents are a work and products of the author’s slightly twisted imagination.  Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, alive or dead, is purely coincidental.  No animals, mythical, imaginary or otherwise, were harmed or mistreated in any way during the writing of this book.

The Lost Keep

Copyright ©2022 – Charles Embrey Jr. All rights reserved.

Cover Artwork Copyright© 2022 Larry Elmore

ISBN: 979-8-9864210-0-1

All rights reserved.  This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without consent of the author.

GreyRealm Publishing

Hawesville, KY

To my loving Wife,

Barbara,

And my Children

Mandy, Anthony and Charlie.

Thank You for Never Letting Me Grow Old.

Foreword

Fantasy, to me, is a magical word.  It means, no boundaries, let your imagination take you wherever you want to go.

We can do that through the arts...drawing/painting, writing, music...all the arts.  As a child and now as an adult, I continue fantasizing about most everything, I can't seem to shut it off.  For example, I see a really interesting tree and almost instantly I am fantasizing about it. I imagine it in a dynamic environment, who or what may live in or around this tree, is it a magical tree?

And always, in my imagination, a story starts to form.  This process happens every time I am painting for myself or when a client has given me enough freedom to set my imagination free.

Fantasy is imagination!  There are no boundaries, and I personally hate boundaries.

But there are certain laws of nature that we must live with.  I feel that humans have always tried to get around those laws and have found creative ways to do just that.  I feel that fantasy comes first, then we find a creative way to bring this fantasy to life so that we can share with others, and through the arts we find a way.

Larry Elmore

Fantasy Artist

Prologue

Eternal night ruled, and all was black on a bitterly harsh frozen world inhabited only by giant, savage beasts that called themselves Titans.

From where or whence they came, they did not know, or even care.  It was as though they had always just existed and for as long as they had existed, they had wandered this pitch-dark, starless, frozen, harsh wasteland.

They endlessly warred one with another out of sheer boredom and, at times, madness.  Battles were swift, fierce, and magical, with the ever-present darkness occasionally broken by flashes of lightning or fireballs hurled between combatants.

The largest and strongest of the titans was Kronos.  As the battles raged, Kronos became infatuated with the flame of the magical fireballs and the light it brought.  During a rather intense battle, he managed to capture the flickering, hot flame and hold it captive in a stone vessel he called a forge.

Flames given off by the forge provided light and warmth to the titan’s world.  Curiosity and fascination of their now illuminated world provided a respite to their incessant fighting.  During this peace, offspring were born and given a chance to grow without the plague of war.

Kronos’ peace time first-born son, Zeus, was vastly different physically and mentally from his father and the other titans.  The youngster and his brothers, Hades and Poseidon, were dreamers and less barbaric.  They contemplated a future and envisioned the greatness that could be theirs if they could but control their confrontations. Zeus gave great thought to the future of the titans or the Old Ones as he called them and to the newer gods of his generation.

Zeus’ own son, Hephaestus, discovered he could use the heat from the forge and ore from the earth to fashion metal. Imbued with magic, this metal could be used to fashion wondrous tools and weapons. Zeus saw a new future on the horizon for the titans.  A bright burning chariot was built by Hephaestus, and Zeus created flying horses to pull it.  The sun rose for the first time when the titan, Helios, took the reins and made his maiden westerly flight.

The fiery chariot introduced widespread warmth and light over the frozen wasteland.  The ice abated and the world was born anew with growing lush, green, unspoiled lands.  Thrilled with the new blank canvas, the gods took turns creating and filling it with wondrous creatures, both large and small, timid and dangerous, magical and non-magical.

The gods became great beings of magic and physical might as they walked the land for centuries, entertained, but unchallenged by the creatures that inhabited every valley, mountain, meadow, and grove.  Their vast powers could raise a fierce tempest or calm a stormy sea with a simple wave of their hand.  These immortal beings shared rule of the sky, land and sea but alas boredom, jealousy, and a lust for power drove them to again war among themselves.  Though unaffected by time or disease, these beings found that they were capable of harming, or even killing, one another.  Many fell battling in the new wars and were lost forever.

Over the centuries, Zeus had become a great warrior.  Waiting for the right moment, he fiercely seized power and declared a truce between his kind.  The Old Ones and their ways were blamed for much of the turmoil, so Zeus separated the gods and goddesses from the titans and banished the Old Ones to a deep dungeon.  Locked deep within the earth, the Titans were all but forgotten.  However, during the final battle, two of the titans, Helios and Prometheus, proved useful to Zeus and were spared imprisonment in Tartarus.

Zeus understood that the truce would be short-lived unless he could provide entertainment for his kind.  Meeting with Prometheus, they discussed their bleak future if they failed to stop the fighting.  Prometheus pointed out that the animals created to inhabit the earth were too easily controlled and their responses were very predictable.  The two decided to create a new being in their own likeness but unlike the gods, this creation would have little magical power and be mortal, like the animals that inhabited the world. The new creature, Man, would have greater intellect than the beasts of the meadow and would possess free will, choosing any path they desired in life.  Meddling in the affairs of Mankind would provide the needed entertainment and sport for the immortals to alleviate their boredom.

Mankind, toys of the gods, in general were not too difficult to manipulate; however, occasionally, great men and women emerged to become the heroes of legend.  Many used the cold steel of the sword to seize power and land, making themselves King.  Some developed evil ways, while others chose the path of good and fought for the weak and defenseless.

From his throne, Zeus maintained a balance of power among the gods and goddesses.  He assigned a sphere of influence over the life of mankind to each, and he established rules to maintain that balance of good and evil.  On Mount Olympus, far from the reach of mortals, the gods and goddesses chose a path of good, or a path of evil but King Zeus always ensured they followed his commands even though some were far from dedicated to following these laws.

And so, the games began.  The immortals, ever watchful of their new pets, sometimes found sport in walking among the mortals in disguise to interfere or interact in their lives.  The truce among the gods is a fragile thing, and Man, often finds himself an unwitting pawn on the chessboard between gods seeking power and influence.

This story is one of mortal heroes struggling to survive in this game of power.  Open hostilities between the gods may be over; however, the more subtle battles are still being waged.  Their pride, vanity, and thirst for power still motivate them to use mankind as weapons in their games. Mankind, however, has become stronger and wiser, and this may serve to make the game even more interesting.

Chapter 1

Hand of Fate?

The young queen was dead.  Whether a cruel trick of the Fates or a result of her poorly balanced, late pregnancy, no one could say, but somehow her foot slipped on the stone steps she had traversed hundreds of times before.

The king, walking just behind her, reached out with his lightening reflexes only to feel his fingertips brush her cloak as she fell beyond his grasp. She twisted her body and reached out towards him as time itself seemed to slow to a crawl. Every line and detail of her beautiful, but panicked face seared into his heart. As her hands found nothing but emptiness for support, her terror filled eyes burned into his soul.

Screams from King Zahn echoed throughout the halls of the castle.  Guards and the king’s physician responded quickly but the fall to the hard stone floor had proven fatal to the king’s beloved.

A knife! shouted out the healer urgently.  I need a sharp knife!

As Zahn, helplessly dazed, sat on the steps with his face buried in his hands, the sound of an infant’s cry broke through to his frantic mind, jarring him out of his nightmare.

’Tis a girl your Majesty! shouted out the physician.  Thou have a daughter.

The king looked up with tear-filled eyes.  ‘A daughter’.  The words should have brought bounding joy to his heart but all he could see was his beloved, laying still beneath a guard’s cloak, her blood pooling in the cracks and crevasses of the cold grey stone floor.

King Zahn made his way down the remaining steps with the help of a strong guard.  His eyes fixated on his queen, willing with all his strength that she would sit up, and this was some terrible dream, a mistake of the gods.  The baby’s cry broke through, and he focused on the physician standing with the crying infant cradled in his arms.

The baby has had quite a shock and has been born a wee bit early, but her cry is stout, informed the healer.  I shall find young Princess Gwendolyn a wet nurse immediately.

Nay, replied the trembling king quietly glancing from his new daughter to the still form of the queen.

The physician looked puzzled, but the king continued barely above a whisper, Aye, friend, pray thee find her a nurse.  I have said no about her name.  I know before, I had chosen the name Gwendolyn for a daughter, but the queen at each moment favored the name Abigail.  The lady is the Princess Abigail.

Bells rang from the towers and the palace was shroud in black as the news of the queen’s death spread throughout the land and the kingdom grieved. Tears flowed like heavy rain as the citizens flocked to the castle to bid their queen farewell.

The sorrowful king only found solace in the presence of Abigail.  Sitting on his throne he was sullen and withdrawn but when the baby was brought in by the nurse, the dark clouds would briefly lift.  He would sit for hours rocking the baby and telling her stories of her lost mother.  The first few weeks were the hardest, but the baby’s first smile began to mend the king’s shattered heart.  Zahn resolved that since his child was cheated to never know her mother she would surely never be neglected by her father.

Weeks became months and seasons changed.  Abigail grew from a baby to a toddler under the watchful eye of her protective father.  Every evening, before dark, the pair would make a mini pilgrimage to visit the queen’s tomb.  Even at her tender age, Abigail could feel her father’s pain as he cried and spoke to her mother, as if she were there listening intently.  He spoke quietly and lovingly to his queen of Abigail’s growth and antics. 

It was bittersweet each day for the guard captain as he watched over the king and tiny princess while they walked slowly hand in hand to the gravesite, but even the hardened warrior was moved to tears the first time he saw the princess pat her tiny hand on the king’s back as they sat and asked him not to cry.  The young girl smiled warmly and softly spoke, It will all be well now, Papa.  Thou should not weep.  Mother and I want thee to be happy.

The months turned into years and the king’s eyes always lit up as the young, blonde-haired, blue-eyed princess came running into the throne room.  The monarch always had time to hear of her horseback riding lessons, training in etiquette and duties of the court.

Of all her activities, the horseback riding lessons quickly became her favorite as it allowed her to escape the confines of the palace and travel into the wooded countryside.

Her riding instructor was a pleasant, but direct, woman with dark hair and tense lips that rarely smiled and the sojourns into the countryside would have been far less enjoyable had it not been for the Captain of the Guard that accompanied her whenever she was away from her father.  The man was quite jovial and sometimes difficult to imagine as a formidable warrior.  It was on an early afternoon ride, during a leisurely stop at a fresh stream, that she realized just how formidable he could be.

The ride had begun for the princess as any other, with the instructor correcting her form and criticizing the placement of her hands on the reins.  The captain then spoke up, Oh, come now.  I have been riding for many years and hold mine own reins exactly like that.  The horse always goes where I want, and I haven’t fallen off in years.  Well, at least when ale isn’t involved. He then chuckled loudly and gave the grinning princess a wink.

The teacher, far from amused, tightened her lips even further and sneered at the captain.  Sir, the king has instructed me to teach his daughter to ride as a refined lady and not some boorish brute.  I am sure that had he wished the latter, he would have hired you to teach her.  The captain chuckled again with a halfhearted apology as he rode ahead to scout their route.

At the stream, all was quiet and peaceful.  The princess and her teacher rested on the grassy bank while the horses drank from the sparkling water. Without warning, the captain dove to his right just as an arrow flew past his head. Five armed highwaymen charged into the clearing only to meet the captain as he leapt to his feet while drawing his sword.  The large warrior proved to be much faster than the robbers anticipated.  The first bandit to meet the captain brought his sword down with the force of both hands only to find the warrior sidestep the blow while whipping his sword upward.  The force of the opposing blows amputated both of the highwayman’s arms at the elbows.  Blood spurted into the air and the bandit’s screams panicked his companions.  Two of the remaining four could be heard crashing through the woods as they retreated.

The last two bandits fought as best they could against the skilled warrior as their grievously wounded companion thrashed about on the ground.  The robbers were far outmatched by the captain and at the end, it seemed as though the warrior was enjoying the opportunity to wet his blade.  After the last bandit fell, the captain walked calmly over to the armless man still threshing on the ground.  He pinned the man tightly to the damp ground with his massive boot.

Who sent you? demanded the captain.

The wounded man was crying on the ground and looked to the captain with painfilled eyes.  ’Twas John’s idea.  I swear to thee.

John?  Who is this John?

Thou have killed him.  He is the one with the brown hair.  He thought we could demand a ransom.  We wouldn’t harm the princess.

That may be so, but thou had nary a problem with sending a shaft at mine own head!  The captain drove his sword through the bandit’s heart granting him a quick death.

Looking to the princess and the riding teacher huddled together by the tied horses, the captain wiped off his blade on the highwayman’s cloak and returned it to its scabbard.  We best be going before the other two regain their courage.  I will send guards back to retrieve the bodies.

The two ladies didn’t have to be told twice as they were in the saddle and on the trail before the captain could untie his steed.  The captain chuckled to himself as he noticed the teacher’s lack of criticism regarding Abigail’s riding form.  A mile down the trail, the trio slowed to a walk.  Abigail rode up close to the captain.

Do you believe that we art now safe? she asked cautiously.

Aye, milady.  They were amateur kidnappers.

How did thou dodge that arrow?  Did thou see it in flight?

Nay, I only wish I could be that quick.  I heard the bowstring twang.  That is one reason I know the bandits to be amateurs.  They did nothing to silence the bow.

Abigail was amazed.  I apologize Captain.  I never have thought of thee as such a skilled warrior.  I must admit that I have never witnessed such a battle.

I will wager that thy father has never told thee of our younger days when he and I rode together into battle many times.

Abigail looked shocked.  Her father never really spoke about his past.  She had never considered that he had actually used the sword that hung at his side.

I was with your father when he met your mother.

The princess’ eyes grew wide.  Please sir, tell the tale.  Mine own father has never spoken of these things.  I fear it pains him to look into the past.

The kingdom here was untamed and in turmoil. What is now the palace, was inhabited by a necromancer.  Thy father had only enjoyed sixteen summers when he organized many of the young men into a fledgling army.  We spent many nights vanquishing the skeleton warriors the necromancer had sent out to plague the villages.  One night, thy father’s pulse was quickened by a woman’s scream.  He disappeared into the darkness before we could catch up to him.  We then heard the sound of battle as thy father was pushing through skeleton after skeleton to rescue a young lass trapped on a tree limb.

Mine own mother?

Aye, princess.  ‘Twas thy mother.  The king had dispatched all the skeletons and was helping her from the tree when we finally arrived.  The two just stood there looking at each other in the moonlight.  We escorted the lass back to her village and to her worried father.  It was the very next day that the king returned to the village to speak to her father again and plead for her hand.

The captain noticed a tear rolling silently down Abigail’s smooth cheek.  My apologies, princess.  I have upset thee.

Nay.  I am not upset.  I just did not know.  It is so good to hear these things and to know what my parents were like before…

The accident?

Aye, captain.  Father never speaks of these things, but it does help me to understand.  I thank thee.  Did my father defeat the necromancer?

Oh, princess, that is a story for another ride.  But I remind you that it is thee that now lives in the palace, the captain laughed out loud, and the trio spurred on to the castle gate.

Even as the years passed, the king and Abigail made their daily walk to visit the grave, but the conversations had grown more positive and upbeat.  Abigail spoke to her mother as any daughter normally would.  She had grown to love the woman she only knew through her father’s stories.

Chapter 2

The Future

King Zahn had had the queen’s throne removed from the great hall shortly after her death making it well known and understood that no future queen would ever sit by his side, but in honor of Abigail’s sixteenth birthday, he had a throne designed for the princess.  The princess’s throne was sat in a place of honor to the king’s right on the step below his throne.  It became her duty to hold court with her father each day and serve the citizens of the kingdom.

Each afternoon the king and princess would hold court in the throne room.  They received visitors from distant lands and settled land disputes between citizens.  Abigail watched and learned the ways of the court and on a few occasions held court and ruled in the king’s absence as he left to go riding or hunting in the nearby woods.

Abigail noticed her father’s absences becoming longer and more frequent. He was becoming distant, even when sitting near her on his throne.  What is troubling thee, Papa? she asked one afternoon.

The king sat quietly for a moment, ’Tis nothing.  I am just becoming more reflective in my advancing years.  Truth be told, it was not the king’s advancing years that were on his mind.  It was Abigail’s age that was concerning him.  She would be turning eighteen in a few months, and it would soon be time to approve of a suitable husband.

Abigail laughed, Thy advancing years?  Papa thou art a terrible liar.  What is troubling thee?  Is this something we should talk over with Mother this evening?

The king smiled warmly, We have always made our wisest decisions with her counsel.

That evening at the marble gravesite, Zahn took his daughter’s hand.  I remember, he said quietly with a slight break in his voice.  I remember as if only yesterday, walking slowly, hand in hand, as we came here to visit thy mother.  We had to walk slow because your toddler’s legs were too short and unsteady to go fast but thou were already too independent to allow me to carry thee.

Abigail looked to her father to see a tear fall from his cheek.

Time has passed so quickly and now mine own little princess is all grown up.  It seems that only a short time ago, thou were telling me about your first dancing lesson and now it is time for thee to be married.  Thou shall one day take this throne as queen.  A husband to rule with thee would be most helpful.  Thou art more than capable of ruling alone, but I have found that being alone is a terrible thing.  I was blessed by the gods to not lose both you and your mother in that horrendous accident.  Having you with me has helped me to carry on.

I understand, replied Abigail as she sat looking upon her mother’s tomb.  I know you have been sullen of late, and I have seen the fear and doubt in your eyes.  You may not have lost me in the accident, but I sense you grieve that you will lose me now.  You fear that I will abandon you and you will be alone.  Nay Papa.  This is my home, and I will be this kingdom’s queen, not rule in some distant land.  My husband and I shall be here and hopefully, one day, thou shall have grandchildren to keep thee occupied."

Grandchildren!  The thought raced across Zahn’s mind bringing a smile to the king’s worried face.  Once again, thou art correct, my dear.  He said with a sigh. It is always good to seek Mother’s counsel.  I have someone in mind that would make a good husband and would stand by thy side to rule, once I go to join thy mother in the afterlife.

Abigail smiled, I trust thy judgment.

Zahn’s kingdom of the Grey Realm was vast and surrounded by unsettled lands inhabited by beasts and savage peoples led in small bands by tribal, uncivilized warlords.  To protect the kingdom and its citizens, small castles or fortifications, known as Keeps, had been placed at strategic positions of the border.  The keep at Kaywall was the closest and ruled by one of Zahn’s oldest and dearest friends, Duke William.  King Zahn had always thought of William to be a fair and just man and as luck would have it, he had a son just a year or so older than Abigail. 

The last time Zahn had visited Kaywall, Devin was a strong lad of eleven summers.  He was quite tall for his age and never seemed to run out of energy.  His brown eyes were bright and curious with a hint of mischief.  Zahn remembered him to be quite a horseman, often riding bareback at breakneck speeds through the forest, his brown hair blowing back with the wind.  Even at eleven, he had begun training and was excelling at sword and archery.  Recently, word had reached the king that Devin was now making a name for himself in battle defending the kingdom’s eastern border.

After serious contemplation throughout the night, Zahn presented his thoughts to Abigail as they ate breakfast watching the sun rise over the dense woodland.

As always, the thoughtful, young princess sat quietly as her father presented his plan and thoughts of Devin.  Sipping her tea and looking out at the thick green forest, it was as if the king’s idea had slipped completely past her.  Finally, she looked back to her father and quietly spoke.  Father, you have watched over me mine entire life.  Has safeguarded me and has kept me from harm without any regard for thy own self.  Thou have been my Father, Mother, friend and king.  I know this decision has been well contemplated and I trust thy judgment.

Zahn smiled, I am sure it would have been better for thee to have had thy mother with thee as well.  I am sure she is proud to see the lady thou have become and how wise thou have grown.  I know I have left thee in the past as I have traveled to the keeps, but thou will accompany me next week to Kaywall.  I will discuss the details with Duke William.

A sudden look of panic flashed across Abigail’s rosy cheeks.  Father, what if the duke and Devin decline?

Zahn appeared startled and then began chuckling.  My dear princess, I can think of no reason the offer will not be joyously accepted.  I will inform the staff to prepare for our journey.  Thou prepare as well, and don’t worry yourself over something that will not happen.

Abigail was both excited and nervous as she planned her trip to the outlying keep.  Her father’s protective nature had never allowed her to travel more than a few miles from the castle.  Even then, she was always under the protective eye of her personal guard. She gained comfort that that same protective instinct would present itself during communication with William and Devin.  If her father suspected, even for a moment, that Devin would not be suitable for her, they would return to the castle immediately.

The carriage with its security detail left the castle on a warm, clear, early autumn morning soon after dawn.  By carriage, at a comfortable pace, the royal family would arrive about noon the third day.  Small towns and hamlets along the route would provide rest and refreshment.

At each stop, Abigail found it humbling to see the love the townsfolk had for her father and the excitement they had in meeting their princess, many of whom for the first time.

The next afternoon, as the sun was fast approaching the western horizon, the group entered the large town of Greywood. Word had reached the town earlier that day of the king’s pending arrival.  Townsfolk lined the main road and cheered their king as the carriage passed by.  The mood at the tavern was almost manic as citizens filled the wooden building to near overflowing in hopes of getting a glimpse of the princess.  To the townsfolk’s pleasant surprise, Zahn and Abigail joined everyone in the main room for supper and conversation before retiring upstairs to their rooms to rest.

Abigail was excited the next day to see the white stone walls of Kaywall’s fortifications shining brightly in the noon sun.  The keep stood like a bright beacon against the dark forest beyond its wall and towers.

Trumpets sounded and guards scurried