Bloodborn: Battleborn, #0

By Paul Sating

Sometimes, the enemy comes from within.

 

Heliran Andel is the greatest fighter her village has ever seen. A warrior with a cause. A hero of the people.

She has shielded the village from dreadful beasts, cursed skeletons, and the desert's feared Scorpion Riders who terrorize. But she's never had to protect the village from its greatest threat. A threat from within.

The village leader sends warriors on reckless raids. They fight hopeless battles. Mothers and fathers, daughters and sons, pointlessly lost. No one stands in her way. No one ever has. No one could.

Until Heliran.

Peaceful intervention has failed. Wars still rage. Scorpion Riders threaten the helpless. Warriors are dying. Greed pushes the village to the brink and only Heliran can lead them away from the darkness.

 

Will she do the unthinkable to save a people?

SERIES, IN ORDER:

Bloodborn

Fireborn (Battleborn Trilogy)

Rageborn (Battleborn Trilogy)

Battleborn (Battleborn Trilogy)

King Of Bones (Bonebreaker Trilogy)

War Of Bones (Bonebreaker Trilogy)

Breaker Of Bones (Bonebreaker Trilogy)

Bloodborn is the book 0 in the Battleborn Series. Begin the full adventure with book 1, Fireborn. Fans of The Witcher, Conan the Barbarian, and authors like George RR Martin, Robert Jordan, Joe Abercrombie, Andy Peloquin, Jacob Peppers, David Estes, AC Cobble, D.K. Holmberg, Christopher Mitchell, Jonathan Brazee, and T.C. Edge will enjoy the Battleborn series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul Sating
• Release date: Jun 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215969663

Book preview

1

HELIRAN

Heliran Andel screamed.

She didn't want to show anyone in the stuffy tent any weakness. The gods demanded it. Aabiku, the god of fertility, taunted and teased. Weakness leaked. They saw. A single grace was her sword sister's absence. Far away from Olma-Ka on a mission, she would not see Heliran's shame. A mercy. Her teasing would have been relentless. The warrior Heliran had been mentoring over the past three sun cycles, Nydera Alethero, was outside the tent keeping the curious away. A slip of canvas separated them, but Nydera would never mention Heliran's scream of agony. She was descent. A woman of value.

Get it out! She gritted her teeth, snarling at Ittaniera, Olma-Ka's milk mother. The message wasn't for the woman, but to the life rolling inside her. The baby promised to be a handful when he entered the world by the way he fought her. The spirit of the desert people was strong in him.

The milk mother, half again as old as Heliran, didn't seem bothered by the woman's tone or insistence. In response to the warrior's command, she smiled, lowering her eyelids as if dealing with a child. This will pass.

Not quickly enough, Heliran said.

I would think Olma-Ka's fiercest warrior could endure something as simple as child bearing, Ittaniera said. Especially since that warrior has already bore one child.

So, the gods weren't alone in their teasing. The milk mother suddenly found a sense of humor too? Did she not understand how stubborn this child was?

Too hot, tired, and uncomfortable to play along, Heliran said, This isn't first time the gods cursed me with a son. But this one— A sharp pain stopped her mid-sentence. She winced, grabbing her side.

Kavon, her mate, rested his rough hand atop hers. His eyes quivered. He shouldn't be showing fear in front of another, milk mother or not. Had they been alone in the tent he wouldn't lose status. But the milk mother was watching, and tending, and waiting. As was their older son. It was for him Heliran held her tongue.

Ittaniera sighed as if displeased. Would you like something for the pain? I can—

No, Heliran cut her off, flicking her hand. I'm fine. I just want this brat out of me. I swear, he's going to fight the entire way. As stubborn as his father.

Kavon nodded proudly. A sign of a strong son.

"How do you know we're having a son?" Heliran asked.

Kavon's face scrunched. You said so yourself, love. Have you changed your mind?

My body. She grunted at another kick. So I say what I want and change my mind as I see fit. But even I don't speak with assuredness, so you'd be wise not to. At least not until this raging beast joins the world.

Underneath her pain, she was vaguely aware of Nydera saying something about 'the table' from the other side of the canvas.

No time to concern herself with that chatter. After this baby finished kicking and thrashing his way into the world, she would ask. Until then, no talk or thoughts about the Paramount's business.

Ittaniera snickered. I'd listen, Kavon. She'll be out of that birthing bed soon enough, and when she is, she'll make you answer for any words you speak here.

May my lips be burned by the sun if I say anything wrong, Kavon said, chuckling and turning to his other son, his first-born with Heliran, but fourth boy in total. Kavon only made sons, it seemed. He tussled the boy's long black and tan curls. What do you think, Nevilan? Do you want a little brother or sister?

The first-born son pulled away from his father's hand. Doesn't matter.

Even through her discomfort and the distance separating them, Heliran swatted at her son, missing him by six hands. Still, the gesture got the reaction her exhausted mind and body desired. The boy's hazel eyes dropped to the rug, and his light brown skin paled by a shade.

Let's get you more comfortable, Ittaniera said.

Heliran scoffed. Let's get me some mead. Three or four goblets would be a good start. That'll help me get comfortable. I swear. He's as big as an aqrabuamelu.

"So it is a boy!" Kavon slapped his hands.

Are you disappointed? Ittaniera asked.

He shook his head. Not at all. Would have enjoyed having a daughter to teach the arms to, but I can teach a boy just as well.

Heliran threw her head back against the pillow, arching her back as far as she could. She was remotely aware of the three in the tent watching. When she relaxed and stopped grimacing, no one spoke until she did. If anyone does the teaching, it'll be me. With you, they won't learn which end of a spear to stick the enemy with.

Will you hurry and push that baby out, and stop toying with the poor man? a voice giggled from the other side of the tent flap.

Nydera Alethero. The warrior she was supposed to be training the swords with instead of being laid up in this birthing bed.

Come in here and show your face. Let's see if you can be that brave when you're looking into mine, Heliran said, trying to blow away a thick strand of hair that fell into her face with her latest exertions. The strand was matted to her sweaty skin. When blowing it away didn't work, she released her grip on the blanket long enough to push it with the back of a hand.

A Freed woman's hand slipped around the tent flap fabric and pulled it open, allowing a bright beam of white sun to slice inside. Heliran winced. Ittaniera squinted. Nevilan shielded his eyes.

Close that, the milk mother said with the shake of a head. The woman needs darkness. Well, as much as I can give her during the hottest part of the day.

My apologies for not fitting this around your schedule, milk mother. I didn't chose this time of day or of the sun cycle. Trust me. I'd much rather have done this when the sun sleeps. Or have him go through this. It's his fault anyway. Heliran winked at her mate and blew a bead of sweat off her lips that threatened to tumble into her open mouth.

Nydera stood over Heliran wearing a grin like she'd just gotten away with something. I could pummel you right now and there's nothing you could do about it.

The only time. Heliran panted, seeing a flash of genuine concern on Nydera's face as she checked with the milk mother.

Maybe I should take Nevilan outside, Kavon said, wrapping a protective arm around the boy.

Can I? I want to go to the bathing pool, the boy whined. I don't want to be in here. It's too hot and gross.

Even through her pain, Heliran didn't miss the boy's subtle shift away from his father. This is your brother or sister. You stay.

The boy gave a nasally sniff, crossed his arms, and stomped toward the back of the tent, facing the wall.

Come now, Nevilan. You're about to meet your new sibling, Kavon encouraged. You'll be the one who trains them to become a great warrior, just like you'll be one day.

I don't want to train them, the boy replied with a huff. Training is dumb. Being a warrior is dumb.

Boy, don't talk like that around—

Turn around, Heliran said. She waited, giving the boy a chance to comply before repeating herself. The god of fertility afforded him an extra chance when she sent a wracking bolt of pain through Heliran's spine. After it passed, she growled. Turn around, Nevilan. Greet your sibling.

Kavon was there, smelling of musk and whispering in her ear, Leave the boy be. Save your strength.

I have enough strength for him and this sow who refuses to leave my body.

I know, he said, wiping her head with something wet and cool.

As quickly as a black stinger bug, the chilling sensation was there and gone. She swore she felt hotter than before when he pulled the rag away.

He gave her a smile that calmed the monster raging within, and Heliran felt the rest of Olma-Ka fade away. Someone running past the tent. The sounds of the children playing outside. From across the Circle of Fire, the cooks yelled at each other as they prepared the village's nightly meal. Their aggressive exchange of demands drifted away. Even Nydera's soft encouragement and the milk mother's firmer orders evaporated. Olma-Ka shrunk to the sight of Kavon's light eyes that complimented his soft brown skin.

She bore down.

When the baby entered the world, Ittaniera cleaned him up before handing him to his mother. He was long and as solid as a chimera bone. No wonder he'd given her such fits. She couldn't stifle her pride at how he cried, announcing his arrival. So strong.

Nydera smiled, but not nearly as brightly as Kavon. Heliran was too tired to smile. Her mate would have to do the smiling for both of them. Plus, she was still irritated by Nevilan's pouting. Come here and say hello to your brother.

The boy did, but reluctantly.

What will you name him? Nydera asked.

Gaeron, Heliran said immediately. The name came to her during a mission three moon cycles ago and had stuck.

Welcome to Oltari, little warrior. Kavon leaned forward and kissed his fifth son's forehead. I like the name you've chosen.

You better, because it's not changing, Heliran laughed, pulled in by his eyes, almost the color of diamonds. He leaned closer. She gripped his hair and pulled him closer, kissing her lover. He returned it voraciously before she pushed him away. That's what put me in this bed in the first place. She held out her hand. Help me up.

Uh. Why? Kavon gave her a dumb look, so she took Nydera's offered hand instead.

Because I have to get to the Paramount's table, Heliran answered.

"Work? Kavon asked. You cannot be serious, Heliran."

Absolutely not— Ittaniera began, but Heliran cut her off.

Nydera? Tell them.

Don't bring me into this, the woman she'd trained for sun cycles replied, waving a hand in the air.

You're a Freed woman, Heliran said, only half-jokingly. You of all people understand the need to be at the table.

"You're a Freed woman, probably the greatest warrior in the bunch, the greatest Olma-Ka has seen in a generation, Nydera countered. Of all people, it is you who should understand why we need you at your best. Not sitting at a table listening to the elders argue."

Ittaniera was kindly but firmly pushing Heliran's shoulders back to the bed. And you cannot be at your best if you do not rest.

Sariona moves, whether or not I'm resting. Invoking the Paramount's name did little for her energy.

The leader of the people of Olma-Ka, Olmarians, was a blindly ambitious woman. One likely to lead the small desert village right off the cliffs overlooking the Bitter Rivers if someone wasn't there to keep a close eye on her motives. The Paramount wouldn't wait. Neither could she. Help me up.

Gods woman, let me clean you at least. Ittaniera said, a firm grip on Heliran's ankle.

The tent smelled.