The Sorceress of the Five Crowns: The Chronicles of Tralia, #1

By Anita K. Mills

Royal kidnappings, dark magic, and an untrained sorceress.

 

Kathryn, the next Sorceress to the Power of Light returns home to find the heirs of Tralia missing. Her journey home is wrought with danger. Gifted the Tralian Book of Magic, Kathryn must find the magic within and a portal to expedite her trip to stop the dark from spreading over the land. While maneuvering through the Southern Mountains, an evil half-elf attacks the group. Will the Five Crowns come together and help the young sorceress to protect Tralia?

 

Medrith, the Sorcerer of the Dark, seeks revenge on Kathryn and her family in hopes to rule Tralia. Can the dark's new weapon complete the revenge he seeks?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anita K. Mills
• Release date: Aug 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201526955

Anita K. Mills

Anita started writing back in the early 1990s when she was diagnosed with fibromyalgia and her first novels have taken over twenty years to write. She loves writing and hopes it continues long into the future with plenty more adventures for her characters. She says, Fibromyalgia does not hold me back; if I can, I will. Anita lives in Nottingham, Great Britain, and enjoys visiting new places, meeting new people and visiting family. Follow her at: https://www.facebook.com/anita.mills.33 Website: https://blakemanbooks.weebly.com https://YouTube.be/F4KtPER25oQ

Book preview

Chapter 1

Going Home

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Kathryn had been sitting on a cliff top for the last hour looking out at the rolling, white, crested waves of the great ocean, that were sometimes blue and at other times a murky-grey, depending on the weather. It stretched as far as the eye could see, and with only one small island a few miles away, it looked a desolate place. A sailor’s life was a solitary life, but her life, she smiled, was definitely on dry land. Her head turned and gazed down at the village. What a contrast, she thought.

Today the sea was a murky-grey, but on this side, it’s a large sprawled out mass of various sized thatched roofs of mostly mottled-grey and gold on patches of greens, greys and browns, with many misshapen windows that glisten in the mid-morning sun. These structures dotted the valley floor.

She had been here all her life, but she knew something was about to change and this would be the last look at a place called Meadowholme, her home, where she had not only grown up, but had been happy.

A screech, a long, drawn-out noise, a warning disturbed her thoughts. Kathryn placed her hand across her brow, shielding her eyes from the brightness of the sun as she looked up and saw two large, dark-feathered birds come at each other. One clearly ignoring the warning as claws outstretched before them, each determined to take the other out. An eagle and a falcon, both adults, both males and both experienced at protecting their territory.

After the first screech, the attack was silent, each concentrating on its next move. Circling in flight around an invisible pole, they darted in and out, trying to find an advantage. A strike from one caught its target across its left shoulder, causing the second to take a breather, its wings beating backwards as it moved out of the other’s path. Pressing its advantage, the slightly larger of the two moved aggressively on. The eagle shot out its large, talon-claw and caught the second one with another blow. The black falcon felt the skin tear; breaking the silence, he screamed in terror and pain as he spiralled down towards the ground. The eagle pursued its quarry, catching it before it hit the ground about twenty feet from her. The eagle landed neatly and made a meal of its attacker.

How sad, thought Kathryn, but that’s life and death for anyone and anything. There’s always something bigger and stronger than you and if you encroach on their territory, they will have you for its first meal of the day.

A shout drew her attention away from the gruesome scene. Karen waved and Kathryn waved back before running down the hill to meet her also tall, blond friend. Karen was a year younger and her hair was very curly. Many people over the years have taken them as sisters, though they were second cousins and inseparable. Kathryn often dragged her friend into many odd adventures as they were growing up. Now she wondered if she could drag her away from her home and her beloved parents to strangers.

Kathryn was thoughtful as together, arm in arm, they walked through the crowded market place. Karen pointed out things at the stalls she had seen earlier, ‘oohing and aahing’ as she went by. They passed the newly built well in the village square that Karen’s father helped to build three summers ago, and following the only road that led out of the village, they went home to Meadowholme Manor.

The feeling that she felt all morning, she knew, was about to become solid. There were two grey stallions tied to the hitching post in the stable yard that the stable hands were brushing down; Thomas smiled a greeting as they went by, then continued his work. The girls giggled as they saw his muscles ripple beneath his shirt as he brushed the back of the darker horse.

The riders were expecting to leave soon, and Kathryn knew she would go with them. But who were they?

They crossed the courtyard and Kathryn looked up at the four-towered, two-story house with its six large sash windows that glowed in the midday sun. Would she ever see the place again? She shivered before she entered the large, black door behind Karen.

Inside the oldest part of the manor, where the families of the Lords of Meadowholme had lived for centuries, was the present lord. Samuel, Karen’s father, who, along with two other men, were waiting for them to enter. One man faced the stone fireplace, in which the logs lay waiting for a light. The other stood behind the long bench near the square bay window. Though neither of these were grey, they were not young either, but the elder one was more use to the open road. His skin was like leather, hard and had seen many a hot, Tralian sun. The younger was more inclined to be on his feet as proved by his continual movement; he certainly was not used to a saddle. A willowy type of man, though not thin. Grey eyes and black hair and swathed in brown, making his complexion darker.

Kathryn did not know them, yet the elder was very familiar.

Ah, Karen, Kathryn, the voice was Samuel’s. He sat in his favourite chair behind the old oak writing desk that stood on the other side of the room.

The two girls greeted him with a smile before reaching for him. Both kissed the broad shouldered, but almost bald, man, in his late fifties, who had got up to receive the greetings.

Kathryn, my dear, these men are from Centra. Samuel sat back down as she turned to face the two men.

You’ve ridden far, she responded. Why?

This is Lord Mendin, your uncle, and he is here to take you back, replied Samuel.

Then something is wrong! Kathryn felt the blood drain from her face.

Why would you say so, child? asked the high lord with concern.

He was tall, a darker blond than either Kathryn or Karen, and was still good-featured for his age. He reminded her of the old picture she had of her father that was drawn by a minstrel that had visited the manor many years before.

I have known things since childhood. Things no one else can explain, things I cannot explain, she replied solemnly.

There is much I need to speak of, he replied in the same way. His blue eyes held hers for a second or two, but within those seconds, she saw plenty, including a deep sadness. He broke the contact and turned away.

But on the way, there is little time, he finished.

Kathryn nodded and turned away. The girls left the men as they went upstairs to find the Lady Margaret.

Kathryn said her goodbyes and thanked the Lord and Lady for all they had done for her and, most of all, for allowing their daughter to accompany her back to the castle that would be their new home. Samuel nodded with tears in his eyes and hugged her closely one more time. She left Karen with her parents as she went to collect her things.

They were on the road within the hour, and Kathryn rode alongside Karen. Mendin was astonished; females he knew took more than a week to prepare, and a wagonload of stuff usually said so. The girls just smiled. This was not the only time his late brother’s child would astonish him.

Kathryn did not say that they had packed days before and only needed a small box. The other box had already left for the capital and other things they could buy in the capital later when and if she needed them.

By dusk, they had ridden far, well into the tall grassy hills, and here they made camp. Within moments, there was a fire and a half-prepared rabbit waiting to be cooked.

Tell us, Uncle, asked Kathryn. She watched him as he set the stick to the rabbit and placed it near the fire. What’s wrong?

Over the last three ten-days things... He paused, shaking his hands.

He is unsure of what to tell me, Kathryn thought. Let me, she softly interrupted, looking into the flames. Collwyn worries, about what? she mused, more to herself than the other three as though in the fire’s light it was giving her answers, War, across the great sea, the Adamas of the Western Isles are causing trouble again? She looked at her uncle for confirmation, he nodded, yet she thought there more still, his eyes saying more than words. She looked into his soft blue eyes before saying, More though?

His astonishment did not register as she cocked her head on one side out of habit. He nodded again, and she continued, staring back into the fire. Someone, someone of the dark, she added quickly as the thought just came. What is he up to? Cannot see, but why has the Sorceress not responded?

Mendara is too ill! was the shocked reply.

Kathryn blinked hard. What? When? She had not seen or heard that her great aunt was even feeling unwell, though well into her nineties. She wasn’t sure how old her great aunt really was. Her aunt must have her bad days though. She had not spoken magically to Mendara for a ten-day, but why hadn’t she told her? Kathryn shook her head.

Five days, replied Mendin. Her handmaidens found her in her bedroom, unable to move, but there was no mark, no reason for her illness. It’s strange, his voice trailed off.

Magic! Kathryn hissed.

Mendin nodded his head sadly. We suspect, he confirmed.

And where is she now? Who is to replace her? she asked, concerned, more for her aunt and brother than for herself.

She is at home, resting, and you are! came the reply as he held out a book.

Kathryn’s eyes widen as she replied, Me! She exclaimed, But I have little magic, and only to heal.

At the moment, but Mendara weakens fast. There can only be one Sorceress of the Five Crowns. She weakens, he stopped and paused for a moment, and there is not much time, he told her.

Kathryn reached out and, with a shaky hand, she took the book from him. What’s this? she asked.

It was the Lady Mendara’s; she sent it to you. It’s the Book of Light. he replied.

Kathryn opened the silver-edged blue book by the silver clasp, but the pages were blank. She gave a wan smile before raising it to her lips and blew gently across the first page. One thing her aunt had taught her.

Slowly, words appeared, yet Karen, leaning over Kathryn’s shoulder, could not recognise them. Old Centran, Kathryn supplied to her enquiry.

You can read that? Karen asked wondering when had her friend learnt the old dead language that looked more squiggles than words.

Do you remember Boadwyn? Kathryn asked.

That old minstrel, Karen’s grey eyes widened as she smiled in memory. Kathryn nodded. That must be ten years or more and he only stayed a couple of weeks. Kathryn’s retention of the old language impressed Karen.

Another week and three days, to be precise, but long enough, while I was in fever, he came and read to me for a week. I asked him to teach me that book of Centran stories and he did.

Kathryn grinned at her blonde-haired friend and Karen laughed, And here I thought you just liked the sound of his gravelly voice.

I did, Kathryn laughed too.

OK, Miss Smarty, what does it say?

Mendin turned the rabbit on the make shift spit and listened with half an ear. Joseph, his companion, saw to the horses, but he listened too.

The book, continued Kathryn, or rather Mendara, is telling me of the old ways. How things used to be and of those who fought the dark. Those that won or lost, passing their knowledge and the lore down to the next in line. There are spells and recipes to help heal the wounded and the sick. She rushed through the book but turning the pages carefully. There isn’t one! she exclaimed with surprise.

One what? asked Karen, puzzled.

A quicker way to get us back to the capital, Kathryn replied softly.

The man behind her almost choked as he heard her words.

Kathryn cocked her head as she looked at Mendin’s travelling companion. Is there a problem, Master Joseph? she asked.

No, milady, he replied, shaking his head.

You have a question then?

The man hesitated, but at Kathryn’s insistence, he spoke. What other way is there, milady? he said, patting the horse.

You mean travel? Kathryn’s blue eyes twinkled as the man nodded.

Well, if I knew the spell, we could fly. The man’s eyes bulged in their sockets. Or, Kathryn continued, knowing the man had seen little magic, we could use a portal. That is quicker and easier. But I don’t know where to find one.

The man shook; Mendin gave a cough. Then, when Kathryn looked, he gave her a warning stare, and she quickly apologised. Magic, Master Joseph is an age-old force, that’s as powerful as the wind, as quick as lightning and as deadly as that crossbow that my uncle carries. It must be respected at all times. It is neither good nor evil, only the user is. We should use it for good to help all of mankind, yet as you know, more use it for the good of the dark one and themselves.

Her three companions made the sign of the goddess as though by talking about the dark and of Shayde, that it could harm them. Kathryn smiled. Come, there is nothing to fear. The dark one is not near and cannot harm you as you know, it takes a man.

Aye, one possessed, put in Medin sharply.

Maybe, Uncle, but still a man. Now let’s eat, the rabbit looks ready.

Later, the girls slept, while Mendin took first watch. He sat close by, looking at his niece over the dying embers of the fire, and remembered how thrilled his elder brother, Richard, had been when Kathryn had been born. Three sons, he said, and not one I can hold for long, now a girl. They had laughed as he refused to give her to the wet nurse, pulling gently at the baby, until his wife had reproved him, and he relented. They broke a bottle open and stayed in the nursery all that afternoon. It had been the last time he had been with his brother- and sister-in-law before they had died.

A coach accident, he had been told, but no one could say how. For weeks, he questioned, shouted and even bullied people for answers, but he got no further than young Collwyn had. Kathryn had been in the castle with her nurse, so was uninjured. He remembered he had been the one that had taken her to Lord Samuel, who himself had just become a father. Though the new king protested, Medin knew it was for the best, even if it had been Mendara’s suggestion. When he returned, he made his home at the castle and watched over his nephews until Kerwyn, the youngest, was eighteen. He then went back on the road, watching and listening as he visited all the watchtowers in Tralia. He looked over at Joseph and wondered what he would have done if he had not asked him to come along. Very lonely, he thought, and shook his head.

For the next four bells, he sat and listened to the wind in the grasses as he mused away the time in remembering. Over the years, he had missed his brothers more. Richard had been older by two years, but they had been inseparable, along with Robert, who now lived in Somerland. Though, he mused, he was alert to anything out of the normal night sounds.

Joseph took over for the second watch and stirred up the fire as his Lord settled down. Nothing disturbed his thoughts either, and he kept them well away from magic.

By dawn, they were on the road again.

At noon, they walked the horses and Kathryn saw the change in her uncle. There was something she could not fathom out. Something that he was not telling her. Uncle? she asked lightly.

Kathryn? he replied in the same tone, climbing back into the saddle.

Tell me more, she requested, as she followed his action.

You tell me, he grinned.

You hide something behind your smile, she frowned before turning her horse in his path. She suddenly saw his alertness.

Kathryn, he urged, keep riding.

Kathryn knew the tone. An order; she obeyed but released her senses to scan the surrounding area. Something she had done since childhood. There were five and to the side behind the next hill, and they were not coming for tea. By a flick of her thumb, Kathryn released her bow of its confinement, followed moments later by the arrows.

Mendin nodded at the bow. Can you use it? he asked as he withdrew his sword stealthily.

Aye, we both can, Karen answered for them both.

As she notched an arrow, Kathryn remembered the first man she had to kill. It was the year of the war with those from the sea, the Adamas. She and Karen had helped the villagers protect not only their lives but also the failing crops. The blight had hit hard and fast for all the lands. Men all over Tralia and beyond were hungry and would kill for food. She also remembered that it had been a long time before she could pick up her bow again.

Kathryn quickly refocused as they came at them with a yell. Five men dressed in black and with hoods hiding their faces. They rode forward, all riding black horses. Joseph moved to the far side of the other three, his hand resting lightly on the saddle. Though he kept Kathryn and Karen behind him and his Lord just to his side, he kept out of the line of sight. He sat prepared if any approached them. Karen watched and wondered why he did not help his lord.

Mendin took on the first two by sword, clashing steel against steel, back and forth against his two opponents. The metal rang loud and clear for all to hear as he parried blow after blow, swinging his own attack between theirs, cutting and slashing, trying not to get caught by the oncoming blow.

Both the girls let their arrows fly, hitting their targets in the chest. Putting one into the next two and one each into the last.

Mendin dispatched the first and a moment later, the other one, and watched them land on the ground almost together. Making sure there were no more, he climbed off his horse and went to check they were dead. They carried no identification, no colouring to say where they were from. He wore the black and blue of Tralia and a band of red around his arm, the markings of a soldier in the Tralian Army and the red of Centra. These wore no markings of any kind, unless being all in black was their colouring, he wondered, as he searched them and wondered why they carried no coin.

My Lord, we should go while there is time, said Joseph softly, looking around. Mendin nodded. He clucked to his horse and, as the horse trotted up, he too looked around before he climbed back into the saddle. The horses galloped, moving out of the hills and into Longmoor Valley towards the mountains, and only stopped when the horses needed to rest.

As they walked, Karen asked, So, Master Joseph, you don’t fight?

Not with sword or bow, milady, he smiled.

Then with what? Karen stared at the man, narrowing her eyes.

Kathryn watched. Karen did not suffer ridicule and today was not a day to mock her.

I fight, Milady, with a staff. It was then he produced a long stick beneath his saddlebags.

Karen's brows grew together tighter. That thing! she exclaimed. It was her turn to mock.

Kathryn intervened. I have heard of such a weapon. The men at arms practice with them at Solent Watchtower.

"You speak truth, but not just at Solent. All the watchtowers’ soldiers use