Chronicles of Myr

By G.J. Wyrd

“Times of peace are only times to plan the next war” (King Regaris). Decades have passed since the last Great War. Tensions brew as a body washes ashore outside a large keep, rumors abound of assassination. Brutal animal attacks and kidnappings send worry across multiple kingdoms. An ancient enemy watches from the forests of the North. War is on the wind, and only a few may be able to stop it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9781647018269

Book preview

Chapter 1

Free Thrane

The sun was setting over the port town, seabirds in the distance cawed as they flew out for an evening meal. The smell of potted meals and taverns warming up wafted in the air as the last of the day’s merchants closed up shops. The Thranian market had closed, and ships had been docked for the night.

The light faded as the sun sank below the horizon to the west of Thrane. One or two more ships were coming in for the night and tying up at dock. Sounds of bustling crew and scraping hulls scraping wooden piers filled the air for a short while. The remaining few people on the streets meandered to the local taverns or to their small stone and wood homes. The southern section of the Isle of Thrane, Free Thrane, was a peaceful but poor town. No good reason to be out after dark, unless you needed the dark.

Now, was the time to strike. Bondyr knew that if he and his compatriots were going to eat, they had to move. The three young Thranians moved stealthily through the brick-stone streets toward the southern port of Thrane. Bondyr, a man of twenty years, tall, rugged with a hard scarred jaw from a poor man’s life, led the trio. His ragged black hair waved gently against the breeze.

Jaz, eighteen years, shorter than Bondyr, and tough as stone, followed closely behind him. Shortened rust-colored hair and stubble accosted his features. Jaz acted as the muscle of the group, and the heart, really.

Lastly Ghalia, nineteen years, lithe and silky, moving through the dusky dark with ease. Her thin frame hugged by tight clothing was easy to miss in the shadows. Her hair tied in a knot behind her ears. They had all grown up on the streets of Thrane’s Lower Peninsula.

Every day in Free Thrane was a struggle. The island had little farmland, and anything of high worth went to the Blackstone. The Blackstone stronghold to the North had a garrison positioned at the port, but in times of peace, guards grew fat and complacent. It had gotten easy to sneak in and out undetected. Bondyr crouched behind a nearby crate, holding up one hand, signaling to the others. They followed suit, holding positions behind him.

Night had fully fallen, and the last of the merchants headed into town for the night. Bondyr was confident that tonight would be the night. They would finally have a good meal. Jaz and Ghalia had chosen to follow him. Friends for years, parents lost to the sea or lives in labor to the city, or the keep to the North. Together they had formed a little band of miscreants without a name as of yet. If you were to survive in Free Thrane, you needed friends.

Free Thrane was a haven for small groups, as well as larger gangs. With only a few house lords and a Blackstone legion to keep order, the town’s well-being fell to its people. As this happened, many of the youth found themselves involved in one group or another, in order to survive. The three thought it best to rely on one another. Moving through the port stealthily, they spotted a target.

The ship ahead of them laid empty of occupants. A small merchant fishing vessel that would surely have some food stores on board. A Blackstone guard who barely fit into his stunning black uniform patrolled the dock. Even an out of shape guard could easily dispatch them with a pistol bolt or well-placed long-sword swing. Bondyr motioned for the others to hold while he moved.

Crouching, Bondyr moved as quickly as he could toward the ship. There was a clear porthole access just out of reach of the dock. He could ease down into the water and into the porthole. That would allow him time to browse what remained on the ship before morning offload. A small satchel slung over his shoulder would fit three or four nice-sized fish.

The guard turned to walk back toward his patrol spot. Bondyr crouched behind an ale barrel a moment before he would have been spotted. He leaned his head back trying to calm his breathing before he returned his gaze toward the dock. The guard had stopped his patrol and turned his attention to a disturbance in the water, the sound of sails rippling fluttered from the darkness.

A new ship could be seen coming toward the dock. It waved black sails, which it pulled down as it entered the docking area. The ship flew no flags other than the black sails that were now hidden. Pirates, Bondyr thought to himself. He stole a glance back to Jaz and Ghalia, who had peeked from their spot and noticed the same.

The guard meandered over to greet the passengers as they slid the gangway onto the dock. Two men walked down the ramp. One in shadowy black plate armor, almost too dark to see at night if it wasn’t for the stripe of crimson red crossing the chest, a Blackstone general, an older man by the look of the greying hair shortly cropped.

The other man was a ragged, bearded man with two bolt pistols on his hip. Looked like he could have been slightly older than Bondyr, but age was hidden by a scraggly beard. An oversized jacket hung loosely from his shoulders.

Captain Darnest, I trust our meeting will be held in confidence. You know what must be done.

The pirate captain replied with a spit before Aye. Luckily, you pay well for your requests. You know, the White Keep won’t have this. There will be war. It will come for us all.

There will always be another war, Captain, said the Blackstone as he stepped closer. There will be blood, and pain, and all of that, of course. However, once the Blackstone Kingdom rules all, things will be different. No more false promises, no more mistreatment of our people, or yours, Captain.

The captain hung his head and laughed. He then turned and walked back to his ship. I will do my part, General. May we both be here to see the end of it.

The gangway was pulled in, and the ship casted off. The general turned to address the guard who appeared dumbfounded by the events and what he just heard. The general placed a hand on the man’s shoulder.

General Stix, evening, sir, the guard said with a shake in his voice.

I trust you heard none of the conversation that just occurred.

The guard nodded.

Good man, said Stix. He patted the man’s shoulder as he walked past him.

The guard took a breath of relief as the familiar click of a trigger release going off filled the night air. The guard crumbled, a split-second look of fear in his one remaining eye. A bloody steel pistol bolt now protruded from the other eye socket.

Bondyr shuddered; he knocked into a box and stumbled. He ran before he could think; instinct and fright kicked in. His breath had only a second to grow to a rasp before a sharp pain pierced his shoulder, then his leg, and a yelp escaped his lips. Two bolts had pierced him, one lodged in his leg, sticking through the skin. Fighting for breath and composure, he stumbled into a stack of boxes, spun, and fell from the dock.

The dark churning waters consumed him. His vision grew dark as pain took him away. General Stix stood upon the edge of the wharf searching, waiting. Once he was satisfied, he returned to the guard’s body and pushed it into the water. He took one more look around the dock, turned, and strode off into the night.

Ghalia and Jaz sat in stunned silence, shaking. Once they were sure the Blackstone soldier was gone, they rushed to the edge of the wharf. The dark sea rolled in and out, frothing a color so dark they couldn’t tell what might have been blood and what was not.

Bondyr, Ghalia called in a loud whisper from bended knee, a tear falling into the water.

Jaz placed a hand on her shoulder. We have to get out of here, Ghal. He’s gone. We will be too if we are caught here. Jaz pulled her away from the edge.

The two half ran, half stumbled away from the wharf. A few tense moments later, they burst through the door of their hovel. Just big enough for three people. Jaz stood hands on table, knuckles growing white, breathing heavily. Ghalia sat staring out the window into the night.

What do we do, Jaz? asked Ghalia.

Not much we can do. He is gone, and we will walk the shoreline in the morning. Maybe we can find him and at least lay him to rest properly. Jaz moved to his small cot. No one saw us, so we should be safe. We need to try and sleep, figure out our next move tomorrow. I promise you, Ghal, we will find a way to make this right.

What do you suppose that soldier was doing with the pirate? asked Ghalia.

Not sure. Saw ’em talking, but only Bondyr was close enough to hear. Fucking Blackstone, they are a curse on us all, said Jaz angrily as he punched the wall beside the cot. I’ll run that damn soldier through myself.

The division accord, signed at the end of the last War. It designated the southern end of the island as Free Thrane. The one thing the Blackstone Kingdom demanded was rights to use and guard the southern port. With this and other wordy language they had choked most of the wealth from the island, making Free Thrane dependent upon their neighbors to the North.

Gods forsaken Blackstone, murmured Jaz angrily.

Ghalia let the air hang a little; a sniff came from Jaz’s cot. Best to leave it alone, she thought. There would be time for revenge. Now was a time for grief. Not sleep, not hate, just grief.

Chapter 2

Dawn Keep

Lady Liana Warhem leaned out over the balcony, staring at the sunrise. Her flowing dark blonde hair blowing slightly in the breeze. The very image of royal beauty. Life had grown boring in times of peace. Though raised to be a warrior in secret, women were not seen as fighters, but her father had insisted. She enjoyed some peaceful moments like this. The sunrise from the upper balcony of Dawn Keep was like no other view in the kingdom.

The sunrise was one of her favorite moments from a young age. Growing up in relative safety and high culture within the keep, she made time to enjoy the beginning of each day when she could, especially lately upon returning from married life. After what had happened, she was thankful for a new beginning, especially one each day.

Dawn Keep, the Place of the First Sun, as it was known. Sitting on the eastern coast of the continent and was surrounded by huge white granite walls that glistened in the sunlight, it was truly a beacon of hope and light. The walls encased a small village, and some military buildings as well. All made from the same famous salt-granite mined from the caves by the sea.

Ehem…my lady, it is time for your training. Captain Creed, of the Dawn Guard, stood waiting just inside the door. The leader of the keep soldiers was a rugged man, rough-hewn, and long in the years. He motioned a hand for the lady to join him inside.

Lady Warhem let out an audible sigh of disdain but secretly enjoyed the combat training. Though middle-aged and widowed, she remained tough and taught. She allowed the guard to lead the way through the opulent stone walls that started to shine as the sun shone through open air windows.

Down staircases that grew sterner, from carved wood to hard stone as they moved toward the basement. Guards and servants ran throughout the keep, completing their daily tasks. The smell of meat from breakfast wafted through the halls.

The pair continued downward, eventually reaching a room in the basement containing lots of open space and a special beast-skin padded floor for training and easier landings. The lady tied her hair up above her head in a knot and removed her overshirt. This showed her lithe figure dressed in a tighter outfit, just enough movement to allow kicks and throws.

Just as she was almost ready, he struck. The guard lunged at her, latching a hand upon her shoulder. He forced her around, and she brought up a quick knee to his midsection. He recovered quickly, swinging a leather armored elbow toward her face, which she blocked easily. The sound of thudding leather continued as the two traded blow for blow. A block for every punch and a dodge for every kick.

An hour passed, Creed stood leaning against a wall, exhausted. Lady Warhem washed her face in a water basin by the door and redressed. Now appearing as a royal woman once again, she offered him a smile and a nod as he opened the door for her.

The two exited the chamber and walked back up the stairs and out into the warming morning sun of Dawn Keep’s open courtyard. Women sat around the area on stone benches sewing and chattering in their bright dresses. Creed read through a scroll containing news of the kingdom as he strolled behind the lady.

It seems there was a group of rather serious animal attacks near Mountain Foot Keep. Some of the outlying villages apparently. They suspect wolves. Also, the Aeris family was reporting less than usual crop yield this season.

Pity, the Lowlands will suffer. They always do in light seasons. The lady replied as she bent down to pick a flower and hand it to a passing child.

Aye, I’m surprised they have not found a crop to grow in the Lowlands. Too much sand, I guess. Thankfully, we have the sea, replied Creed as he tucked the scroll away in his pocket.

He moved a step quicker to open a door ahead of Lady Warhem. She acknowledged gratefully.

She turned. Creed, thank you. I would be lost without you, she said, smiling.

Creed bowed slightly as he closed the door behind her. Lady Warhem continued onward into an open hall, a large wooden table set in the center. Servants placed food and wine upon the table. An older, grayer, rotund man with a booming voice stood from the table.

Daughter, finally you join us. You know how I love waiting! he bellowed with a laugh.

Father. She nodded as a servant pulled an immaculately carved red wood chair for her. Little brother, how does the morning find you? she asked as she plucked a grape.

I will be better once I am able to hunt again, said the young man from a few seats down.

Gerald Warhem stroked his long beard with callused hands of an axman. Sister, how was your training? he asked with a smile.

Are you still running Creed into the ground? He may have to defend this castle one day. Please, don’t kill him, spouted Lord Warhem, a chunk of meat in his cheek.

It is going well. He keeps up, she acknowledged.

The three exchanged more small talk as they ate. As the servants cleaned up, Lord Warhem motioned for his children to join him in the keep’s council chamber.

They entered and took their seats around the ornate wooden council table. A knock on the door came a moment later. Creed nodded as he entered and took his seat. Lord Warhem remained standing, a contemplative look on his face. The rest of the group waited a moment in silence. Lord Warhem looked in the eyes of each one of them.

Times are troubling. I have received private letters from around the kingdom. As each of you know, we have eyes and ears in most keeps, as I’m sure others have here. Increasing vicious animal attacks at Mountain Foot Keep, crop yield issues, and something else. He breathed deeply. A message by crow yesterday, the body of a Blackstone guard was pulled from the Free Thrane pier a week ago. The man was murdered.

Minor news, it seems, Father, replied Gerald. Wouldn’t you agree, Liana?

Aye, it is not something we should worry ourselves over.

My lords and lady, any time something like this happens, it breeds bad omens, added Creed.

Yes, it sounds as though the Blackstone guard are looking into it as a murder from a rival keep.

"Preposterous, we are not at war. There are no