A Hero Forged in Blood

By B.H. Preston

When tragedy upends his safe, boring life tucked into an obscure hamlet in the wilds of Empyrea, Kaden learns of his destiny as the king of Empyrea. Called to act by a powerful wizard, the fledgling king must traverse unfamiliar lands and tame his untapped power to fulfill his purpose. He must unite the scattered tribes and find the ancient armor and sword, artifacts blessed by Orealus that his father once wielded.

Kaden’s quest to fulfill his destiny takes him through the most dangerous places in the land, confronting vile creatures beyond even those his worst nightmares could conjure. Marauding hoards, wielded by Lucient, a powerful dark spirit that possesses a strong hatred for everything of light and good, want nothing more than to destroy Kaden. To keep himself alive, Kaden must earn trust from unexpected allies, a motley crew comprised of a zany goblin, a distrusting elf, and a motherly fairy. What could go wrong?

Will his cunning wit, determination, and masterful sword-fighting skills — well, they’ll be masterful eventually — be enough to crown him the leader of Empyrea and defeat the evil lying in wait ahead?

• Language: English
• Publisher: B.H. Preston
• Release date: Jan 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9781959096498

B.H. Preston

Bryant was born in 1983 in Harvey, Illinois. Growing up, reading fantasy fascinated him, and he frequented the local public library. While dabbling in a few fields, from website implementation specialist to life coach, Bryant has spent several years writing his first novel.He is the father of a 6-year-old boy and friend to his trusty Goldendoodle. As an avid fantasy reader of J. R. R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings series and C. S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia, he inspires to replicate that level of world-building in his novel.Bryant loves to create an immersive world that readers could be a part of in his writing. When he is not writing, Bryant spends his free time watching movies, listening to music, and playing video games.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

When Kaden woke up to the sweet, aromatic smell of sugary bonberry buns wafting through the air, he knew he had forgotten something special. His mother only baked bonberry buns on consecrated days, days of remembrance, or days of high worship. He lay on his bed, curled up beneath his sleep-warmed blankets, and tried to think of what he ought to be remembering. Was it the anniversary of the Day of Separation? A feast day for Orealus? Or was it one of the unspoken days, days when his mother bowed her head and mixed her tears into the dough she kneaded and shaped, days where a loose word in a sharp ear could bring punishment down on your whole family?

The berries were at their ripest now, and the hot, crisping sugar buns smelled decadent. Kaden’s stomach churned like butter, informing the rest of him that he wasn’t going to be going back to sleep anytime soon. He wanted to force his stomach into silence somehow—waking up in the morning was always hard for Kaden, and the thought of losing precious minutes of slumber to something as silly as a growling stomach irritated him. He turned his head away from the door and toward his open window, where a delicate breeze that smelled of fresh-cut hay pushed the bonberry scent away. The farmy smell carried his mind outside of these four walls, to his sleepy village of no more than four hundred people at the fringes of the kingdom of Empyrea. Within the village of Ashland, rustic homes sat apart from each other on grassy hills. Beautiful rivers streamed throughout the entrenched valleys into a nearby local creek the locals used to fish. Dirt roads dabbled with cobblestones paved the pathways from home to home, each containing a modest garden of spices, fruits, and vegetables. Kaden could hear the animals in the fenced backyards rousing: a rooster crowing, chickens scratching, as well as goats, sheep, and cows bleating. Mmm, that was better. He sighed, twisting a bit to get comfortable as he settled back into his bed. Just a few minutes more…

Kaden! Wake up!

He groaned under his breath, opened one of his eyes, and looked at the sliver of sky through his window. Orange, trending toward pale blue. Ugh, still so early. It was tempting to ignore his mother’s call just for the sake of lying here a bit longer.

Suddenly, four large paws pounded the wooden floor up to his door, which burst open so hard that it slammed against the wall. A second later, a tongue wet with sticky saliva and stinking of stale chicken bones and dirty pond water swept along the length of Kaden’s face. Sniff—slurp—lick!

Ugh, Duke. Kaden rolled away from his enormous, overly friendly dog. Stop it. Duke laid his head on Kaden’s shoulder and stuck his cold, wet nose directly into Kaden’s ear. Fine, he muttered. I’m up. I’m getting up.

He rolled back over and looked at Duke, over two hundred pounds of pure hunting dog which stood thirty inches from paw to shoulder. The boy pet his dog’s thick, shaggy, soft fur of a reddish-brown brindle. The Empyrean hound had long legs and mighty tails, sharp teeth, and talon-like claws typical of the breed. Droopy triangle ears pushed forward, and Duke’s tongue lolled out the side of his short muzzle under his black, twitching nose. Above his master, he danced side to side a little on his front paws, like a puppy. Kaden admired the way the creature’s sparkling brown eyes reflected the light from the window and thought back to the day they met. Four years ago, Kaden found the puppy near Ashland Woods and begged his parents to keep the rare-breed dog. Since then, the two had been inseparable.

Looks like a bear, docile as a hare, was the saying with regards to the breed, and it had undoubtedly bred true in Duke. When he wasn’t hunting or protecting his humans, he was as easygoing as any animal could be.

You’re a good boy, Kaden told his dog solemnly, but your breath is absolutely foul. Have you been rummaging in the burn pit? He pushed his thick wool blanket back, got to his feet, and scratched Duke behind the ears before reaching for the curtain. Ma won’t like it if you spread the trash around again.

Kaden pulled his curtain open and looked out at the morning sky, brightening above the dark blur of the forest. He and his parents lived at the outer edge of the village, one of the closest families to the woods, where the foraging was good, but the danger was a bit higher. Most of the genuinely fearsome creatures, the ogres and giants of lore, had been gone ever since the great wizard Bhalla saved Empyrea from complete ruin after the old king died in battle. Before his death, King Karatheas’s nine united regions prospered until the war. Once their king perished at the hands of the powerful Lucient, the rulers of Nine Pillars fractured the kingdom. Instead of working together, the leaders focused on ruling their respective homelands. Empyrea, a continent named for its kingdom in the world of Sadunia, was a safe place now from what he was told, as long as you weren’t caught worshipping in a way you shouldn’t or talking about the old days as though you missed them. Not that Kaden knew anything about those days—he’d been a tiny baby when the worst of the war broke out. It was a miracle he and his parents had survived.

Kaden sighed. A part of him wished for something more exciting than another day’s worth of chores to do. What was the point of having a hunting dog like Duke if he never got to hunt anything more significant than a rabbit? What was the purpose of all the sword exercises his father made him do if he was never going to wield an actual sword? His father had been a guardsman once before he became a farmer. They went through the drills together, over and over, until Kaden knew them by heart.

He snorted. He could wield a wooden blade with the best of them. It was handy for fending off bad-tempered sows or overly affectionate hounds, but not much else.

Kaden! I won’t be calling you again!

He’d dawdled too long. I’m coming, Ma, he yelled back, pulling on a clean set of the simple, sturdy clothes that were a farmer’s lot—tunic, leggings, and a stiff wool jerkin over the top of it. He slid his socked feet into his boots and made a quick stop at the outhouse before heading into the kitchen, where a pot of cool, mint-scented water was waiting in the corner for him to wash up with. He did his face, then his hands, and glanced in the mirror hung on the wall above the basin, having to squat to see his hazel brown eyes. When he was a child, the mirror rested at a perfect height on the wall. However, Kaden had long outgrown the frame’s position, and the disparity between his height and the mirror’s location only became more evident after his last growth spurt. The villagers often commented on the boy’s height, at least two heads above even the tallest man they all knew. He had the lean muscles to compliment his thin stature, a natural byproduct of hard farm labor. Combing his fingers through his close-shorn, coarse black curls and rubbing a hand over his light brown face, he finally shook off his sleepiness. He turned to look at his parents.

His mother, Lydia, sat by the wood-fired oven, her dark brown eyes monitoring the bread inside of it while she heated more water for their morning blackroot tea on top of it. Her tight black curls, tickling her shoulders, framed her dark brown face. Her lips were pursed with annoyance—probably from having to yell for him twice—and her free hand smoothed out the worn blue linen of her skirt over and over again. That was a sure sign she was worried and trying not to show it. But why was she nervous? Did it have anything to do with why she was baking bonberry buns?

Kaden’s father, Daneyel, had his pocketknife out, and his sharp, dark brown eyes watched as he whittled another peg for the chair he’d been building whenever a lull in the farm’s activity let him work on it. His thick, black kinky hair kept its shape even as he moved his head over his work. The knife looked comically small in the man’s massive hands, which fit well with his impressive physique built from years of farm work. The tendons of his biceps worked subtly under dark brown skin. One more leg and the chair would be complete. It was a man’s chair, broad-seated and high-backed, and Kaden knew his father meant to give it to him at his upcoming birthday when he officially came of age.

A chair. Wonderful. What else could I possibly want?

An instant after he had the thought, he felt guilty for it. Kaden had more than most. When so many other children had lost theirs during the war, he had parents. Kaden had a warm, loving home and had never known great hunger or desperate need. He sat down in his child’s chair, chastened, and accepted a mug of tea from his mother. A fresh bonberry bun followed it, and he bit into it gleefully, closing his eyes as the hot, sweet jam inside soothed his rumbling stomach.

Wha’s duh occshun? he asked around the mouthful of bread and jam.

Kaden, his mother said with a sigh. Swallow, then speak. You’re not five anymore.

No, he was three times that—but the bonberry buns were such an exceptional food, he felt like a gleeful child every time he got one. He swallowed, washed the bite down with a gulp of tea, then said, What’s the occasion?

His parents exchanged a look. There isn’t one, his mother said after a moment. Not really. Bonberry season is peaking, that’s all. The Fraynes had some extras from their patch and offered them to me. She looked a little longingly at the empty jar by her foot. I wish we had a patch of our own, but we’re a bit far from the right kind of trees for that. Bonberry briars were parasites, only growing around the thick roots of oak trees. A few of the villagers had an oak on their land, but most didn’t.

I could always go foraging for some, Kaden offered. Suddenly, it seemed like a marvelous idea, lifting a weight off his shoulders that he didn’t even realize he’d woken up with. We spent all day yesterday setting the hay to dry in the fields. Now that that’s done, surely today is a good day for a bit of time in the forest. I know where a whole grove of oak trees is, Ma! I could take your basket and bring back more bonberries than you’ll know what to do with.

We’ve got the sheep to see to today, his father interjected.

The sheep will still be there tomorrow, Kaden said, trying not to sound like he was begging. The bonberries might not be. The shortness of their season and the lengths that birds and beasts went to get them off the briars were legends. Kaden wasn’t overly fond of sticking his hand into a bush covered with thorns, but he was even less enthusiastic about settling into another twelve hours of farm chores on a beautiful day like this. It felt like it had been ages since he’d been in the forest.

Daneyel, Lydia said softly. Something passed between his parents, some silent conversation that Kaden couldn’t quite understand for all his trying.

Half a day, Daneyel said a moment later. If there are any bonberries left out there, they’re best gotten in the morning before the birds peck them to pieces. But, he added earnestly, you take Duke with you. Keep your eyes open for tracks, and if you see any signs of something dangerous, you—

Head home right away, I know, Pa, Kaden said, standing up so fast his little chair rocked on its feet. A half day will be plenty of time. I know just where to go!

His mother got up from her seat by the oven and walked over to one of the extended wooden shelves above the counter. The shelves were even too high for Duke to get at. She grabbed a weathered basket, laid a clean rag in the bottom of it, and took it over to the oven. She plucked two more bonberry buns out of the heat with her fingertips, then set them in the basket. The sugar sprinkled over the top was dark and glittering, and Kaden’s mouth watered. Provisions, she said with a bit of a smile as she handed it all over to Kaden.

Thanks, Ma. He leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek and was startled when she pulled him into a hug so hard, he felt his ribs protest. His ma didn’t give hugs like this very often. What was going on today?

Be careful, she told him, stepping back and adjusting her shawl around her shoulders.

I will be, he promised, but really, it was just the forest. He would be hiking for less than a mile, and Duke was bigger than any of the animals in there.

What was there to be afraid of?

CHAPTER 2

The forest was called Ashland Woods, although Kaden wasn’t sure why. Did it make sense to name something after ashes when there were none within it? The cursed lands, the areas that had been torn apart by war and burned so fiercely and so deep that nothing would ever grow on them again, those places deserved the name Ashland. Then again, Kaden had been eight when he’d named his dog Duke, and there was nothing incredibly regal about the giant hunting dog. People made funny choices sometimes.

As soon as he crossed the boundary between field and wood, the air took on a different timbre. It was as though the sun shined more brightly, even through the trees, and the air smelled a bit sweeter, less like cut hay and more like the fragrant flowers his mother tended in her garden—tiny white snowdrops, giant red lilies, and purple nettles that looked beautiful but stung viciously. There were no flowers here that Kaden could see, but their scent floated on the breeze nonetheless. The sweetness of it reminded Kaden that he was still hungry, and he bit into another bonberry bun as he worked his way deeper into the woods.

Not many people came into Ashland Woods, not even to collect branches for burning or timber to build with. Local groves were maintained and harvested for that, and during the bad winters when the ice was thicker than the snow and the stores of firewood ran low, grown men drew lots to see which of them would venture into the wood for more fuel. Nothing wrong had ever happened to anyone there, as far as Kaden knew, but he was the only person in the village who ever ventured into the forest willingly.

More bonberries for us, he said to Duke, who gave a gentle woof and forged ahead, breaking a trail through the undergrowth a few feet early of Kaden.

It was hot in here, even with the dappled shade from the canopy overhead. Sweat dripped down Kaden’s temple, and he wiped his hand across it irritably. At least it’s just sweat this time, he muttered. The last time he’d ventured into Ashland Woods, Duke had charged headfirst into a flock of purple-backed pipers. Their flurry of alarmed birdsong had been enchanting, sounding like a hundred tiny wood flutes all playing in time together. The mess they’d left behind as they flew, some of it landing square on top of Kaden’s head, had been a lot less delightful.

Insects buzzed through the trees, some of them settling against bushes and branches, others chasing each other through the air as he walked by. Bright, brilliantly colored dragonflies in jewel tones and metallic shades darted this way and that, nipping up tiny gnats and diving down onto the long grasses to perch and fan their wings. As Kaden watched, a lizard the same color as the deep blue sky popped its frill, masking its beautiful markings with a collar of dull, bark-like camouflage as it readied itself to leap at a ruby-colored dragonfly.

Kaden reached out and brushed the dragonfly away. The lizard settled, its frill retracting as it seemed to glare at him. Sorry, friend, Kaden said with a smile as he passed it, but it’s too peaceful for hunting right now. Perhaps after he’d collected the berries, he’d let Duke go after some of the small game that crept along through the undergrowth—maybe even a boar, if they could find a juvenile. It took more than one hunting dog to safely go after a full-grown boar.

Kaden pressed on absently, his mind distracted even as his body moved with confidence. His stomach growled despite the bun he’d just eaten. Perhaps he should have delayed leaving for some of his mother’s morning potage. It was just soup but heartier and more satisfying than the sweet, delicate bonberry buns.

Kaden was so distracted that he didn’t even notice Duke had gone stock-still ahead of him until he ran into the big dog’s tail. Duke, what— he began, then stopped when he saw what the dog was staring at. Inside a small clearing filled with high, wild grass, fifty feet away, was a grazing binicorn. All his indignation at running into Duke melted away, and Kaden crouched down a little lower as he stared. A binicorn! He’d only ever seen one once before, on the outskirts of the village, and that one had been much smaller. This creature, said to be one of Orealus’s first creations, resembled a stock horse, with a glossy black coat and two long horns curving back from its head. It had dark eyes that gleamed with attentiveness despite its grazing and a long tail that swished side to side, brushing away the buzzing flies. A fresh crunch-crunch sound emanated from its mouth, where it chewed grass with quiet determination.

Kaden knew the binicorn had seen them, and he also knew it didn’t consider them a threat. Why should it? Inside the woods, it was king—too large to make easy prey and too fierce for most to even try. He reached out and patted Duke’s back and felt the hunting dog quivering. No, boy, Kaden said softly. Not this time.

After a second, Duke subsided, and Kaden got both of them back on the path to the bonberry patch. They’d be fortunate with a binicorn in the area if there was a berry untouched at this point.

They got to the stand of oak trees a few minutes later, and to Kaden’s surprise, the bushes were primarily untouched. They must have just become ripe—unripened bonberries were so sour that even the birds avoided them unless they had no other choice, but the moment they turned…

Kaden reached out and plucked the nearest round, bluish berry hanging from a stem within easy reach. He popped it into his mouth and closed his eyes as the sweet, bright flavor burst over his tongue. Perfect. His ma would be pleased. He set to work picking the berries, wincing whenever a thorn caught the back of his hand. He should have grabbed his leather work gloves out of his room before he came.

Far too often, you don’t think before you act. That’s a risky habit to get into, son. Kaden could practically hear his father repeating this tired criticism. Hardly a day went by when he didn’t hear some version of it from the man, or more rarely, from his mother. Kaden pressed his lips together hard and slowed down a little in his picking. If he came back with scratches all over his hands, his father would look at them and shake his head, and his mother would sigh and fetch her ointments to keep them from infection, and Kaden would feel like a child again instead of nearly the man that he was.

The difficulty was proving to his parents that he didn’t need that sort of coddling anymore. What were a few scratches, after all? And why should he have to ask their permission to go into Ashland Woods when he was already taller than his father? Regardless of his upcoming birthday, they didn’t treat him like a man, and until he did something to show them that he was as solid and capable as they were, they wouldn’t.

What would he even do? There was no one to fight now that Empyrea was at peace, there was nothing he could build that his father couldn’t build better, and he wouldn’t risk setting Duke on any big game for fear of the dog taking an injury. Even now, alone in the forest where most villagers didn’t like to tread, Kaden still felt like he was being humored.

Remember to go no farther than the oak grove, his mother had cautioned just before he set out. Wilder things can happen beyond that boundary.

She’d given him that warning before but had never explained it. What sort of wilder things? he’d asked.

Mind your mother, his father had snapped from the doorway like he was a little child.

Back home, Kaden had been too eager to set out into the wood to complain, but with time to think about it now, he felt frustrated, even angry, at their treatment of him. Mind your mother, he muttered under his breath. "What sort of man gets scolded to mind his mother?" It was as though they didn’t really want him to grow up. Yes, he was an only child, and he knew his parents loved him—too much, perhaps—but, like it or not, they would have to begin treating him like an adult after he turned seventeen. He would get a plot of land, make his own home, tend to his own fields…

Or leave the village altogether, set out along the trade road, and find a bright new future for me! That was Kaden’s secret desire, the one he didn’t dare speak of to his parents because he knew what their reaction would be—sheer horror. People didn’t leave the village—no one had left since the great war. His mother said it was a safe haven in a land of turmoil. Why would anyone want to go?

Distracted by his thoughts, Kaden almost didn’t notice when Duke suddenly began to growl. He glanced at his dog, surprised—Duke was a well-trained hunting dog, and he didn’t bark when he spotted prey and simply went still. Whatever this was, it was something he didn’t like.

Kaden put down the basket of berries and moved over beside his dog. What is it, boy? he asked, peering into the trees. He couldn’t see anything unusual out there. More thick undergrowth, more insects were buzzing by, more small creatures rustling through the…

Huh. Actually, there weren’t any tiny creatures moving in the bushes ahead. Not a squirrel, not a rabbit, not even a mouse as far as one could hear, and that was strange. They should be waiting in droves at the edge of the oak grove, desperate to get their greedy little paws on bonberries. Instead, there were… none. None at all.

As soon as he stepped a little farther from the bonberry bushes, a new scent caught Kaden’s nose. He closed his eyes and inhaled the savory aroma of a roasted hen. Someone was out there, then, someone cooking up a meal in the middle of Ashland Woods. Who could it be? Surely not another farmer, he told himself—Kaden knew his fellow villagers, and nobody would waste a morning making a meal in the forest when they could be eating one faster at home before getting back to work. It had to be a stranger.

Kaden’s heart beat faster with excitement. A stranger! He hadn’t spoken to anyone outside of the village in over a year, and the last person of any genuine interest had been the traveler who’d rested briefly at his parents’ house when Kaden was only twelve. He didn’t remember much about the man, just that he kept his cloak pulled tight around his head and shoulders and hadn’t bothered to give anyone his name. His parents hadn’t demanded it either. They’d just exchanged wary glances while bringing the stranger a bowl of stew and a pint of beer. Kaden knew his father had spoken with the man once he was done eating, but he hadn’t been allowed to stay and listen—instead, Ma had sent him to the garden to pick carrots. Carrots! As though carrots were more important than hearing about the outside world!

His stomach growled meaningfully, almost louder than Duke. Shush, he told the dog. We should go find this person, speak to them. He rubbed a hand over his middle. Perhaps offer to share a meal. After all, he had a heaping basket full of bonberries to offer. That ought to buy him at least a leg of the chicken.

Duke snarled, and Kaden shushed him harder. Stop it, he said. Just because we don’t know them, there is no reason not to be friendly. He started forward, careful to avoid the plants with the most burrs—he didn’t want to show up at a stranger’s campfire looking like a bumpkin with seeds sticking out of his leggings. The smell of meat grew stronger with every step, and after less than five minutes of walking, Kaden found the little campsite. It was empty, and although the bird spitted over the fire was roasted to perfection, no one was there to enjoy it.

Perhaps they stepped away for a moment, Kaden mused, even as Duke growled harder than ever. Be quiet! he added in annoyance. His stomach rumbled harder than ever. Maybe just a wing, he told himself as he stepped toward the makeshift firepit. He got to within grabbing distance and—

Something snapped beneath his foot. Before Kaden knew what was happening, a net descended from above, trapping both him and Duke beneath its heavy strands. He fell to the ground, spilled bonberries crushed beneath him as he collapsed onto his side.

Breathless and too stunned to struggle, Kaden suddenly heard a deep, malicious laugh begin from somewhere close by.

It didn’t sound human.

CHAPTER 3

The laugh began as a rumble and rose to a shrill, malevolent cackle, half a dozen voices creating a cacophony Kaden couldn’t escape. He craned his neck as best he could, trying to turn his head toward the noise, but whoever was laughing, they were all behind him. Or they had been, before—

A stumpy pair of thick-soled boots that stank of poorly cured leather appeared right in front of his face. Look what we have here, the owner of the boots said with a low, grunting chuckle. A long, skinny stick of a human boy. Convenient, that.

All that time watching the village wasted, another voice complained. When all along, we could’ve simply baited the trap with a bit of freshly cooked meat!

But is it the right boy? someone else asked. It ain’t like the Great Lord gave us a picture to know him by. How are we supposed to tell one human’s spawn from another? They all look alike to me.

A moment later, a face took the place of the boots, its owner bending down with a grimace on his huge square face. Large, fox-like ears poked out from either side of the malicious green face. Green… green? Kaden’s mind raced as he tried to make sense of what he saw. Was this… could this be a goblin? From Kaden’s disadvantaged position, he counted at least six of the beasts. What were goblins doing outside his tiny, insignificant village?

A heavy hand smacked him across the back of the head. Pay attention, boy. Nearby, Duke began to growl, fighting at the hold of the nets to get at the creature that was harming his human. Shut that dog up! the goblin shouted before turning back to Kaden.

Look at me, the goblin said. And mark me well, lad—if you try to lie to me, I’ll start by breaking each one of those long, stick-thin fingers of yours. Once I run out of fingers, I’ll start in on your toes. And if I get bored and decide to cut them off instead of breaking them, well… He shrugged. It’s all the same to me, ain’t it? Now. What’s your name?

K-Kaden, he stammered, too shocked to even think of lying. Kaden Sheppard.

Eh, just some peasant’s name, one of the others said in a disappointed tone of voice. Reckon we should just cut this one’s head off and be done with ’em. We could make a raid into the village, check for—ow! Why’d you hit me?

There are six of us and over a hundred villagers, you damn fool, one of the other goblins snapped. "I don’t care how useless they are, give a hundred humans pitchforks to hold, and at least one of us will run straight into them—probably you, daft as you are." A second later, a thud and Duke’s rising snarl suddenly became a whine.

The goblin in charge hit Kaden across the head again. What did I tell you? Eyes here, lad. Kaden shuddered, unable to control his reaction to the creature in front of him. The goblin’s eyes shone like lanterns in the low light of the forest, and his nose was one big scar slicing from just above the brow until the slash bisected a nostril at the bottom.

Not pretty, am I? the goblin asked with a grin that displayed a mouth full of black, pitted teeth. You wouldn’t want to look anything like me, would you, eh? A nice young human like you, all that smooth skin, those nice straight bones of yours. Let’s keep everything the way it’s meant to be, boy. Now tell me, Kaden. He leaned in close enough for Kaden to smell the dank, rotten smell of his breath. What do you know of King Karatheas?

Of all the questions Kaden could have expected, this was at the end of the list? K-king Karatheas? he blurted. I know very little, only that he died years ago—fighting against Lucient, the Great Deceiver— He stopped as the goblin hit him on the head yet again. The pain made him cry out, and that got Duke going again, snarling and writhing so hard that the big dog managed to get his paws under him and press the net up a bit.

Watch your tongue when you speak of our noble lord, boy. And kill that damnable mutt already! the head goblin shouted over his shoulder. With the net lifted a bit, Kaden managed to turn his head, and he watched in horror as one of the other goblins, wiry and hard looking, pulled a long, curved blade from a sheath at his back. He stepped toward the net, raising his sword high for a killing blow.

No! Kaden begged. Please, don’t! The goblin just laughed and lifted the sword higher, took one more step and—

—he tripped over the butt of a long spear that suddenly appeared on the ground in front of him. His slash went awry, slicing through a chunk of the net but missing Duke entirely. Duke forced his way out of the rent in the long, solid strands and snapped at the sword wielder, startling him so much he fell to the ground.

Kaden saw Duke’s hindquarters bunch as the dog readied to attack, and he knew he had to stop him—they were too outnumbered, Duke would only be killed. No one could take on six goblins at once and win. Go! he screamed at his dog. Duke whined and turned his head to look at him. "Go!"

Kaden knew the dog didn’t want to leave him, but obedience to his master won out, and a moment later, the hunting hound ran into the woods, baying as he went.

Curse you, Runtling! the goblin leader snapped. What were you doing with that spear?

I’m sorry! a little goblin cried out, and for the first time, Kaden saw a member of this savage company that didn’t scare him. The goblin known as Runtling couldn’t be even four feet tall, and his head was so large, his ears even more enormous, that he looked like a child. I was just trying to push the beast back. I didn’t mean to get in Narf’s way!

Get after the dog and silence it, or I’ll spit you on the end of your own spear.

The little goblin made an eep sound, then darted into the underbrush, vanishing a second later.

Told you taking him on was a bad idea, didn’t I? Narf groused as he freed himself from the nets he’d fallen into. "Told you that, but no, it was all, ‘Oh, Petey’s useless, but he’s the king’s son, taking him on will win us favor.’ What kind of favor will we win with Lucient, do you think, when we come back empty-handed because Petey can’t—"

"Shut it, Narf. The goblin leader turned back to Kaden, no more grin on his face—instead, he looked grim as a pallbearer. No more delays. We seek a boy in your village, sixteen years old. He would be a foundling, no true child to his parents, someone who doesn’t look quite like them even if they’ve claimed him as their own. Do you know of such a boy?"