Anãrren Gifted: Mentor's Legacy

By Christopher C. Dimond

Rescue the princess, save the kingdom. Why is it never quite that simple?

 

When Tiryon summons Roen to help him rescue a neighboring kingdom’s princess, Roen doesn’t hesitate. But when they finally find the princess, Roen learns there was far more at stake than he’d realized, and the princess isn’t alone.

 

Worse still, the kidnapping was itself just the prelude to a war that soon engulfs not only the neighboring kingdoms, but also Tyshone itself.

 

As Roen and the others struggle to hold back Moyaki and his Grey Brigands, Roen must once again grapple with a terrible choice—how far is he willing to go to stop the man who has killed so many? And are his own gifts finally strong enough to face the man who killed his mentor?

 

Find out now in the thrilling series conclusion, Anãrren Gifted: Mentor’s Legacy!

 

Mentor’s Legacy is the action-packed conclusion of the sweeping, four book Anãrren Gifted sword and sorcery fantasy series. If you like loyal heroes, detailed fight sequences, and redemptive story arcs, then you’ll love Christopher C. Dimond’s character-driven tales.

• Language: English
• Publisher: UDW Publishing
• Release date: Oct 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781948619288

Book preview

Prologue

EXCERPT FROM ROBERT JOHN LOCKELY’S AN ACCOUNT OF THE FALL

Fire hailed from above. Lightning arced from the cloudless sky. Torrents of light and power roiled through the soldiers gathered before them.

It was chaos and destruction.

It was war.

And Killian hated it.

He stood before the battlements of Arryés to the southwest of Ãrrénsia. This was where General Sagrin had ordered the remaining Light Guard to make their stand to save the Anãrren Empire against the common army massed against them. But even with the combined might of so many kingdoms, Killian worried it would be a slaughter if they launched their full force against the small fortress city.

A crack of thunder sounded in the distance, marking the firing of another ballista.

The Anãrrens didn’t use ballista from atop their battlements. They didn’t need them.

Ahead of him on the battlefield worked two of the last complete battle groups—a cluster of eight Anãrrens weaving absolute destruction on the common army before them. And just like the battle upon the wheat plains, here there was no contest. The battle-trained Anãrrens with their mighty gifts simply demolished each wave of common soldiers thrown against them. But they were still vastly outnumbered, and so the enemy forces swept around their flanks, encircling the fortress of Arryés.

Yet Killian didn’t pay the foot soldiers much attention. He was on the field for other reasons. And then he spotted what he feared, a large, wheeled structure with an armored roof and a metal-plated log suspended from solid timber supports. It was a battering ram, constructed in the forests surrounding the city, and it was escorted by a small cluster of men rushing it into position against the fortress’s eastern wall.

Killian broke into a full sprint as he dashed past nearby soldiers who tried to stop him. Some attacks he parried, others he just threw back with a blast of power from his gifts.

When a group of archers some distance from the ram spotted him, they turned in unison, readying their bows. Killian braced himself, preparing to answer their onslaught in kind—but he didn’t have to. A cluster of flying con’sydairs swept in at the archers, their small claws slashing at the drawn bows and nocked arrows, even as their broad, leathery wings wreaked havoc beating against the archer’s heads. The archers ducked and cowered against the onslaught before their formation broke and they scattered.

Killian would have given his thanks to the conjurer directing the con’sydairs, but in the chaos of battle, he had no way of knowing who had saved him. Besides, there were other things to worry about, a point punctuated as the fortress walls received another devastating blow from the massive battering ram.

With his way clear, Killian finally approached the large A-frame structure protecting the ram itself, and three of the soldiers crewing the device leapt forward to stop him, while the remaining three set to heaving the ram back to deliver another blow.

Killian dodged the first man’s swing and then parried the second’s lunge. The third soldier, he simply counterattacked with his preferred lateral slip-strike before she could ready her swing, knocking the soldier back and away with a powerful blow to her armored stomach. Then Killian spun back toward the first two and unleashed a blast of power, knocking them off their feet and giving Killian a moment to sprint at the ram. Before the remaining crew could draw their swords to stop him, he leapt amongst them, ignoring the soldiers altogether as he whipped his Anãrren sword through the air in another swift lateral slice at the closest of the stout ropes suspending the ram from its thick frame.

The rope held, but only barely.

Killian lashed out at the closest soldier with a side kick to the chest and then spun and slashed at the rope again. This time his slip-strike cut through, and the rear quarter of the massive ram dropped to one side, causing the entire structure to groan and shift as the ram pulled it off balance.

Only one more rope would finish it. But by this time the rest of the crew were bringing their arms to bear, joined by the other soldiers Killian had passed just moments before. All six of them would be upon him in but a moment.

He was almost out of time.

Taking a breath, Killian tucked his sword tight against his body and held out his left hand, focusing on what he needed. Then he began chanting his control words as flames engulfed his fist. Finally, he unleashed his gifts with a rapid spin, twirling the flaming fist before him and creating an arc of brilliant fire that whirled in the air above his head.

The spiral of flames grew larger, drawing in air from the spin until it took on a life of its own, twisting and twirling as Killian set it upon the remaining ropes supporting the large ram.

The soldiers cried out in fear as they dodged away from the terrible blaze Killian had unleashed. At the same time, the stout ropes crumbled to ash, dropping the back of the ram to the ground. The battering ram’s armored structure groaned and shuddered once more as the blaze spread until even the thick frame supporting the ram ignited.

Suddenly, Killian realized he was standing somewhere he should not wish to be.

Still fatigued from the exertion of creating the blaze, he pushed himself for a burst of speed to escape the flaming ram and then paused to watch as the full structure collapsed in upon itself, providing more fuel to the blaze like an offering at the wall of the fortress city.

But at least Killian thought the wall itself was safe. Unfortunately, he realized the error of his assumption only a moment later when he spotted another battering ram farther down the wall.

Even as he watched, the second ram made another great swing into the fortress’s wall, slamming against the piles of stone and mortar with a terrible crash. Killian felt a sickening jolt watching the impact—judging from the degree of penetration, the battering ram had just broken through the wall.

He leapt to respond, readying his gifts to launch another desperate onslaught. But as he did, he caught a flicker of light from the open battlefield—like a flaring torch held in the middle of a dark field.

A fresh wave of dread roiled through Killian as he recognized the horrible sight. And then he gasped and pitched forward to his knees, once more reliving that soul-wrenching experience of having his gifts torn away.

The fortress’s walls had fallen, and so too had every Anãrren upon the field.

There was nothing left to do there but die.

Yet Killian refused. He had to get away. Even if he couldn’t save the city—couldn’t save his country—he might at least be able to save his family.

He reached for the remembrance featherblade his wife had enchanted for one last reminder of what he fought for. And then he felt a faint touch of what he’d lost—the gifts he’d had for all his life. All he needed was a moment. Just a moment of power for a quickstep and he could be with his wife and children again.

If he had just a moment of power, Killian could save all in the world that really mattered to him.

Afterword By Robert John Lockely

I wish I could tell you the fate of Killian the Anãrren. I wish I could share the details of how and where he finally returned to Ãrrén.

Alas, I am unable.

Though I have extrapolated many of the details presented in this account, it is nonetheless my belief that most—if not all—are in some great portion both true and accurate. Yet even my extrapolation must have limits. Thus, I cannot tell you the fate of Killian any more than I can share the details of what happened to the great Anãrren capital of Ãrrénsia.

However, for myself, I like to believe that Killian persevered in the moment of his most terrible need and was able to return to his family before escaping with them to the far northeast beyond the North River. Though, in truth, I have less than little evidence of this outcome, and I am not even sure Killian would have abandoned his fellow Anãrrens in their most desperate hour.

What I do know is that those Anãrrens who remained were slaughtered while their cities burned. This was the fall of the Anãrren Empire, which was doomed by callous leadership and overconfident hubris. Many brave and noble souls fought in that terrible struggle, but in the end, it was the common nations that prevailed, even against the might of the Anãrren gifts.

Yet perhaps there is a chance that some Anãrrens escaped. It is, therefore, my most fervent hope that Killian and some of his kin did survive. Indeed, I like to think that even now their children’s children might continue their lives in a secret settlement beyond the North River in the otherwise inhospitable far northeast, thereby maintaining the great Anãrren civilization so that they might, someday, peacefully return to their homeland once more.

Chapter 1

An Urgent Summons

…m ight, someday, peacefully return to their homeland once more.

Roen Sumãrren closed the book and felt that odd satisfaction of completion when he didn’t have to slip a finger in to mark his place. Then he shook his head and leaned back against the tree by the small river where he rested a few days north of Almtier.

It had been a couple of years since he’d reread Lockely’s work, and despite the name, it had always struck him as less of an account of the death of the Anãrren race as much as a hope for its future. Even so, he’d forgotten just how inaccurate some of Lockely’s details really were—even setting aside the glorified fight sequences and the fact Lockely always seemed to describe Killian as using a vague but magnificent lateral slip-strike. After all, it should have been clear even during Lockely’s time that some Anãrrens had survived the attack upon their homeland. And more than that, at least some of the cities hadn’t been destroyed at all. They’d been hidden—a crucial difference that had hinged upon one of Lockely’s multiple mistranslations.

But as for Lockely’s speculation about Anãrrens fleeing for the northeast, that much Roen knew to be nothing more than hopeful conjecture. Since Lockely’s time, there had been no documented indications that any Anãrrens, ancient or otherwise, lived in the far northeast beyond the river. Marcell’s Legends of the Ancient North covered that myth well, describing the Nomaise expedition that ventured across the North River and into the desolate mountains beyond, hoping to find some remnant or remains of the ancient Anãrren Empire that they might use in their perpetual war against Megairn. Yet the expedition returned with nothing.

Lockely had simply been wrong to assume that only a few Anãrrens survived to escape to the northeast, leaving their destroyed cities behind. Those cities hadn’t been destroyed at all. Roen was sure at least some of them still remained hidden by ancient enchantments. And he was beginning to wonder if the same couldn’t be said of the Anãrren people themselves.

Even so, Roen couldn’t help but feel that Lockely must have had access to some ancient texts that other scholars hadn’t. There were details in his fictitious descriptions that were surprisingly accurate, such as his use of the quickstep as a controlled tool for some few Anãrrens. Or his descriptions of the Light Guard, which Roen now believed to be a poor translation for Nãrrénshí, the honored group of Anãrrens both skilled enough to use talents beyond their given clade of gift and dedicated enough to use them in protecting others.

But what wasn’t clear to Roen was whether the character of Killian was based upon written accounts of a real person—perhaps a Nãrrénshí himself—or whether it was an amalgamation of Anãrren traits used to drive a fictional personal narrative in Lockely’s story. Roen knew Lockely had traveled in the north. Indeed, there was a fascinating account of—

Elliun squealed happily as she dove into the river. Though the waters fed into the Northern Seas a bit farther to the east, where they sat the river was perfect for fishing, a practice Elliun seemed to delight in even if she rarely succeeded. Even so, Roen had to admit as she surged from the water and spun to crouch low upon a rock above a deep pool, she was getting better.

Suddenly her head snapped up and around, looking for something at the same time Steadfast looked up from the patch of grass where he grazed. Just a moment later, Roen heard it too.

Someone was approaching through the dense brush.

The sounds grew louder as the unknown figure stumbled through the foliage and then burst out into the sunlight near the river. With an obvious sigh of relief, the young man paused at the river, and Roen was surprised to note that he wore a Tyshoan military uniform.

But as soon as the young man spotted Elliun upriver, he froze. For a long moment, the dragon simply stared back at him, and then the young man’s hand began to creep toward the sword at his belt.

And that was enough for Roen. I can’t allow you to draw that, he snapped as he rose to his feet. She won’t do you any harm.

The young man spun with a startled gasp. But that’s a—

I know what she is, Roen said, allowing his tone to remain firm but kind. And she’s under my care. So, if you draw your steel, you’ll have to deal with me first.

The young man’s hand froze, and he tossed a disconcerted glance toward Elliun still dripping with water.

I no like him, Elliun commented with an impression Roen assumed she shared only with him. He think that—

Elliun, Roen chided silently, you just startled him, that’s all. And you know we’ve talked about sharing others’ thoughts. Even when you can’t help reading them, it isn’t fair to others for you to share their private feelings.

But he not—

"Elliun!"

Roen sighed as she gave him an embarrassed glance and then returned her gaze to the newcomer.

For his part, the young man was still staring at Roen. Pray, forgive my alarm. I didn’t expect to come across a dragon. He paused, eyeing Roen again, and then he pushed ahead as his words began tumbling over themselves. But are—are you Roen Sumãrren? Friend of Tyshone? When Roen simply nodded, the young man broke into a relieved grin. Oh, that is welcome news this morning! I’ve been searching for you for days now. But I didn’t know where to begin. It feels as though I’ve been all over these wretched mountains.

For a moment, Roen wondered about the young man’s accent. It didn’t sound like most of the Tyshoan accents he’d heard, but then most Tyshoans had lighter accents than Tiryon. Besides, it didn’t seem polite to ask. Instead, Roen just allowed a sympathetic smile. I’ve had my share of time wandering these mountains. They can be difficult, but there’s a road not far from here that makes the journey to Almtier a fair bit easier.

Truly? The young man looked about in dumbfounded bewilderment. At this point I’m not sure I could tell you if I was heading north or south, let alone where any of the meandering roads around here might lead.

Well, I can see you safely back to the road if you need it. But you said you have a message?

The man started. Of course. How could I forget? Then he straightened and his voice took on a formal air. Noted Roen Sumãrren, friend of Tyshone, Prince Tiryon of Tyshera has called for you. The Kingdom of Rayeth has attacked Beraisia, Tyshone’s neighbor to the east, and now Prince Tiryon is bound for a dangerous mission. And he needs your help.

The news that Tiryon needed him pushed Roen into action. He and his new companion traveled quickly once they reached the road later that day, though the young Tyshoan still struggled to keep up even with Steadfast carrying his gear as well as Roen’s. And between his winded breaths, the young man had little more he could share. Only that his name was Allen and that he’d been sent from one of the Tyshoan garrisons farther north with the message for Roen.

Given the general lack of detail and the great distance Roen would need to traverse to reach Tyshone, he decided it was better to push their pace even harder.

They were still a few hours outside of Almtier when Elliun slowed on the road ahead of them and sent Roen an impression of people waiting just around the next bend.

Roen sighed. This was not what he needed.

They came around the curve in the road and found exactly what he’d feared—a trio of rough-looking men standing to one side waiting to ambush travelers. They grinned as they spotted Roen and Allen, and judging by the assortment of weapons they brandished, they weren’t just being friendly.

Allen quickly fumbled for his sword, but Roen just placed a hand on his shoulder.

You’d best let me handle this, he said before stepping forward. Just stay with Steadfast. You too, Elliun, he added when the dragon moved to stand beside him.

I help, she said, keeping her gaze locked on their ambushers. They not much.

But Roen shook his head. You’re still not old enough.

No, I is, Elliun countered. I want help you.

Roen spared her a quick glance and the ghost of a smile. Right now, you can help me most by keeping yourself safe. I’ll handle this.

Elliun gave him one last longing glance and then lowered her head in a nod of assent.

Just watch after Allen for me, Roen whispered before advancing once more.

The three men were still eyeing the dragon warily, but their gazes turned to Roen as he drew closer.

We don’t want any trouble, Roen said. But I really can’t leave you to bother others on the road like this.

And what are you going to do about it? growled the larger man in front, though he did glance nervously at Roen’s sword. Then one of the other men hurried to his shoulder.

Ain’t he the one thems was talking about?

The larger man scowled at his companion. What?

Look at his eyes! He’s that Anãrren theys was talking about. Grexs and Feth ran into him a few months back. And Connax last year.

The larger man looked back at Roen with a newly haunted expression on his face. I ain’t as weak as Connax.

Roen stepped forward again and shifted the grip on his sword’s sheath, loosening the ancient Anãrren blade without yet drawing it. As he’d hoped, the gesture attracted the attention of all three highwaymen. As I said, I can’t let you harass people on the roads. If it’s food you need, there’s plenty to share in Almtier, assuming you’re willing to work for it. But if you think you can just take what you want, then you’re about to learn a difficult lesson.

The largest man in front growled something and then lunged with a rough swing. But it was both slow and sloppy. Roen dodged back and responded with a negligent flick of his sword. It wasn’t as fast or elegant as a true Tyshoan sheathed guard, but it was more than enough to slice the tip of his enchanted blade through the other man’s wrist.

The highwayman yelped and dropped his sword, pulling his hand away to look at the gash, but there was no wound since it had already been healed by the blade’s enchantments.

He is, he is! the second man squealed. I tolds you! Just like Feth said!

The larger man eyed Roen with a strange blend of fear and anger.

Roen simply lowered his sword. I don’t want to fight you. And there are plenty of ways to earn an honest living if you’re just willing to put in a little effort.

Before the largest of them could answer, the other two were pulling on the back of his shirt. Come on, Mergs. Let’s run whiles we can!

The trio vanished into the woods a moment later, but Roen took some hope from the fact that Mergs had left his sword behind. Maybe that represented a first step toward rejoining society.

Either way, he’d warn Matron Mersiah about the three. He was sure a few guards from Almtier could handle it from there. He sheathed his ancient blade and turned back to his Tyshoan companion, who was watching in wide-eyed awe.

How did you do that? I didn’t even see any blood!

Roen gave him a wry smile. I’ll explain it on the way. If we hurry, we should be able to reach town by nightfall.

The sun was still setting as the growing city of Almtier came into view. Approaching from the north was one of Roen’s favorite routes, since it offered a spectacular view of the complex wharf network that had grown so extensively in the years since Roen had first suggested they build a dock large enough for a Vailliel trading ship.

Upon entering Almtier itself, Roen soon spotted a familiar figure walking along one of the streets at the edge of town.

Roen? Matron Mersiah commented in surprise. I didn’t expect to see you back here for another month. She cast the young Tyshoan beside him a suspicious glance. I trust everything is well?

Roen gave the matron a warm smile in greeting. Well enough. Still no luck in the search, but I’ve received a message from Tiryon that I’m needed back in Tyshera.

The matron nodded. Then you’ll be needing your boat back. Nahria has taken good care of it—she’s getting to be just as skilled as her father these days. I expect she’ll be ready to take over for him in just a few years.

Roen smiled at the news, and not just because he’d left his small Tyshoan craft in Nahria’s care. He’d known she was becoming a skilled shipwright, and there was certainly plenty of work with the city growing as quickly as it was.

I hope you’ll at least consider staying a day or two before you set out, Matron Mersiah added. I can think of a few people who’ll want to see you while you’re here.

Roen frowned as he glanced at Allen. I’m not sure we have time. But it’s already too late to leave today, so at least I’ll stay through the evening.

The matron nodded. I suppose that will have to do. I’ll tell Nahria to prepare the boat and let Kacie know you’ll be here for the evening.

Elliun sent them all the impression of a wide dragon grin. No need! I already tell her.

Roen laughed when he realized he should have expected no less—Elliun and Kacie had been close since Elliun was little, so they were always eager for a chance to visit.

She already has bed waiting, Elliun added before giving Allen a pointed glare. But only space for one.

Roen frowned but before he could answer, Allen held up both hands. Oh no, I won’t be an imposition. I’m sure I can find a suitable tree outside of town to set camp for the night—the light knows I’ve had my share recently. I can meet you here again in the morning.

For a moment Roen found himself distracted by the strange saying, but then Matron Mersiah scoffed.

Everyone is welcome in Almtier, and if you’re traveling with Roen, then you can be sure there’s a bed waiting for you. Come along with me. We’ll see Steadfast stabled, and then you can sleep in my main room.

Roen smiled as Allen gave him a confused glance and then collected Steadfast’s lead so he could hurry after the stern matron before she had reason to press the issue.

Well, I suppose we should go find Kacie before it gets dark, Roen said to Elliun.

Elliun agreed with an enthusiastic little hop.

How are you feeling? Roen asked after Kacie and Elliun had concluded their joyful reunion. They sat together while the dragon scampered about playing with Kacie’s children, and though she couldn’t watch them, Kacie’s head followed their movements as she listened to their cavorting.

After a moment, she shrugged. I’m fine, really. A little tired, but that’s to be expected. Ratchan hasn’t been sleeping well, so I’ve been trying to comfort him.

More nightmares?

She nodded. He was there when his parents died. I can’t imagine what that must have been like for him. He doesn’t talk about it much, but I can tell.

Roen sighed. There were still far too many of such stories in the north for his taste. But it didn’t seem to matter what he did, there were still more who needed help. At least Almtier was making progress establishing itself as the capital of the region while offering aid and support to those in need—as had Kacie and Nahria, who’d begun adopting children only a year after their marriage.

How is Nahria?

Oh, she’s well. Working herself too hard, I think. But she does it out of passion and determination.

That’s what Matron Mersiah said. I hear Nahria’s almost as skilled as her father these days.

Kacie smiled, and though it was small and tired, it beamed with pride. And she still finds time to take care of me and the children.

Roen laughed. From what I see, you’re doing plenty of that yourself. His expression settled into a warm smile, and though Kacie couldn’t see it, he hoped she would hear it in his voice. You’ve done a remarkable job here. And I don’t just mean taking in orphans as you have. After what you’ve lost, I’m glad that it hasn’t stopped you.

Kacie smiled again. Well, I think I’ve lost a fair bit less than some people imagine. Besides, Elliun shares plenty when you two come to visit.

He frowned. What do you mean?

Kacie cocked her head to the side in confusion. You mean she hasn’t told you?

At first, Roen just shook his head. Then he added, No, she hasn’t mentioned anything about it.

Kacie’s turned toward the door where the dragon was prancing about with Kacie’s children on her back, as well as a few others who’d come to play when they heard Elliun was in town again. I can always tell when you’re coming to visit because Elliun begins sending me images—sometimes just sights of the mountains or the glittering sea. I’m not sure how far she can project them, but it’s usually a day or two before you arrive. And while she’s here, she allows me to see the world through her eyes—my children, my wife— She turned back to Roen. You. She turned back to the dragon with a sweet smile. She knows what I lost, and so shares what she can. Not to replace it, I think. Just to be sure I don’t have to forget.

Roen felt an unexpected bursting of pride. She never mentioned any of that to me.

"Then I suppose she didn’t think it mattered. But it means the world to me