Mountain Knight: Mountain Lords

By Avery Christy

Areth Adelbern, Imperial Knight and son of a Lord, comes home from war, his heart filled with grief and his only desire to seek peace. But he returns to find his homeland on the brink of its own war as a ruthless enemy rallies an army for conquest.

Areth's family is powerless to stop it. Do or die, Areth must race against time to create an army, and survive both foes and his own mistakes to save his homeland and those he loves.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Avery Christy
• Release date: Oct 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223288527

Book preview

Mountain Knight

by Avery Christy

Mountain Knight

Copyright © 2022 by Avery Christy

First paperback edition February 2022

First eBook edition October 2023

Notice of Rights

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—withoutthe prior written permission of the author or publisher, except in thecase of brief quotations embodied incritical articles or reviews.

Book Design by Sunflower Creations

Front Map by Joshua Hoskins

Cover art by Coverquill

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental or a product of the reader’s imagination.

Published by High Mountain Books

For

Bill, who began it

Brenda, who fed it

Kristen, who believed in it,

Rose and Corrin, who live it.

Tracks in the Desert

Home

Shadow over the Mountains

Storm on the Horizon

In Need of a Bath

A Joyful Moment

In the Hall of the Mountain Lord

To the Wolves

War Council

A Heap of Ruins, A Haunt of Coyotes, A Desolation without Inhabitants

Cold Rings

Hiring a Dragon

Avoiding the Dragon’s Burn

A Bargain with the Serpent

Until We Meet Again

And the Trumpets Will Sound

Dodging the Boar

Onward

The Pains of Mistakes

Healing

The Battle of Longvale

Home Fires

Heaven Suffers Violence…

And the Violent Take It

Areth’s Story

Battle for Crow’s Nest

Crows Remember

Rock Gap

Kroam and Raywa

Conversations at Stone Wall Inn

The Final Battle

Epilogue: So We Part Ways

Tracks in the Desert

T

he blazing summer sun baked the arid land and all that walked or crawled on it. Passing through tall, yellow grass that crunched under their horses’ hooves like dried hay, a squad of ten riders rode at an economical trot southward. They did not wear uniforms but rough, undyed cotton tunics, vests, and pants similar to what the locals might wear. From a distance, they might have been mistaken as cattlemen. But from closer, their disguise would have been revealed, for their skin color was not as dark, and their horses were better quality than the local stock, and they bore half-hidden weapons which no local could afford.

The riders were led by a woman, whose blonde hair was cut short and tucked under a man’s wide-brimmed hat to shade from the sun, and her clothes were typical of a man’s, but her gracile features and beauty could not be hidden. At her hip, she wore a beautifully crafted long knife, with a bear of carved and smoothed black quartz set into the pommel.

​The riders approached a pair of buttes on a dusty road running between them. Perched on the taller butte was a small fortress with a skinny watchtower on top. Details of the fort were hard to discern from a distance, as it was made of the same dusky basalt that capped the buttes. But the sharp eyes of the woman scanned the fort for signs of life. Reports said it had been abandoned.

​The woman called a halt. She scanned the rugged desert around the fort. Nothing was present except for some grazing prairie goats.

​Not wishing to tarry long in the open, the woman and her riders resumed along the road. A path snaked up the butte from the road to the fort’s small gate. The woman and her riders angled for the path.

​Again, they came to a halt. Something had given the woman pause. Had she heard something? Seen something? Or perhaps intuition gave her warning. Whatever it was, her horse danced as it sensed the unease of its master.

Then the trap was sprung. Uniformed riders on smaller horses—five times as many—sprang from behind the second butte. They rode fast and from a direction that did not allow time or space for the scouts to make it to the fortress. The woman and her riders turned back and rode hard to the north. But, from a gulley the scouts had not seen from the road, additional armed riders burst forth. Cut off from the south, and now from the north, the woman led her riders west into the open grasslands, setting the prairie goats dashing away.

​The chase continued mile after mile. Horses on both sides tired and stumbled. The land stretched away without sight of a place to make their stand. One of the horses stumbled, casting its rider. The woman turned her horse and galloped back to collect the fallen man, as the enemy gained.

​The woman’s horse, exhausted and bearing two riders, could not carry them much further. A bare rise in the land offered the only opportunity to make a stand, and the woman directed her riders to circle on the high ground.

​Positioning the horses as shields, the woman and her small troop waited.

​The enemy riders closed within range of their small bowcasters. Their skill and aim were poor, but they had the advantage of time and numbers. They circled the top of the rise, round and round they rode, firing their darts wildly.

​Horses danced and screamed as darts filled their hides, then fell from blood loss and exhaustion. The woman and her riders used their few bows to claim casualties of their enemy, but they were few, and the enemy many, and their primitive defense dwindled rapidly.

​The woman and her riders lay prone behind the fallen horses, waiting for their enemy to draw close. For reasons unknown, they did, and the battle turned into a close-combat fight.

​It did not last long.

Map Description automatically generated

Home

A

reth Adelbern bolted awake from his bedroll. His rapid breath fogged on the pre-dawn air. His brow was damp, and his heart hammered in his chest. He tossed aside his blanket and sat up. His traveling companion, Gremand, looked up from stirring the coals of the campfire. Rations warmed on a flat rock next to the bed of coals. Another nightmare?

​Areth grunted.

​Well, you’ll be home soon. A good bed, hot food, and familiar faces will have you forgetting all that soon.

​Areth did not reply. The wind whistled through the pine boughs overhead, likely giving fuel to nightmares. He brought his hands up to wipe his face and discovered his sweaty hand gripping the long knife. Areth rose from his bedding, returned the knife to his belt. He scooped up his wool cloak and wrapped it around his shoulders as he strode from camp.

Areth angled through pines and barren aspens toward a meadow, his boots crunching through hard snow. While spring had arrived in the lowlands, winter still clung to the high peaks and granite faces of the Gray Mountains. Morning mist filled the canyons between ridges, and dark clouds crawled from peak to peak, veiling and unveiling the mountaintops. A stray wind chilled Areth’s exposed skin and stabbed through his cloak. Despite the clouds, Areth could see beyond the mountainous landscape to where the valley broadened, and forest gave way to grasslands and fields. Where the two rivers met was the sprawling village of Velta, and the round castle of Kairos Keep at its northern edge.

The sight of home brought forth comforting memories of his family, and times past. In this moment, the thoughts of returning home were first made real, and his expectations seemed on the edge of being tangible. Seeing home, he yearned for the comforts he remembered, for the food, roaring fires on cold winter nights, his old bed, watching from the battlements the sun set on the mountain peaks … and he missed laughing with his family.

​Camp’s packed, Gremand announced, clapping gloved hands as he looked down the slope over pine forests shrouded in cold mist and the valley floor dotted with meadows below.

Areth blinked in surprise. Already? He wondered how long he had been standing there.

Gremand shrugged. So, this is the beginning of your family lands?

​Areth nodded, looking north with Gremand, That’s Velta valley, the heart of Adelbern County. There lies Velta, and Kairos Keep at the north end of the town. Halfway between us and the town is the Rock Gap Fortress. I doubt we see another soul until we reach it, though we might run into a patrol. Areth did not elaborate. His jaw tensed.

You expecting trouble? Gremand asked.

​Not really. It’s too early for traders to risk this road—spring blizzards can be sudden and deadly. Bandits know this as well.

​Gremand looked to the scudding clouds, thick with moisture.

Areth turned toward camp.

If not bandits, then what?

​Areth paused, turning again to look over the valley, It’s been a while since I’ve been here, as you know. Will they recognize me? And if not, it could be trouble. No one who has proper business would be out here.

​The two men returned to their camp in the trees and mounted their horses. They followed the road as it cut through the alpine meadow, then down as it twisted from the mountain pass into deeper pine forests. Soon they reached the valley floor, where the rutted road with patches of snow followed an icy creek. Whereas snow had retreated from the open meadow, it still covered the shadowed ground of the forest. Misty clouds caressed the tops of the pines, oft dipping low then pulling back to treetop level. Despite the clouds, there was no wind or sound of it, as if the clouds moved of their own volition. The forest was still—not so much as a bird made its presence known. What morning light there was became ethereal with the moving mist, playing tricks to the eye, lending movement where there was none.

While Areth seemed untroubled, Gremand was soon casting about, as if expecting nightmares or attackers in some form to be waiting in the mist.

​You sure there won’t be trouble here? he asked in a whisper which seemed to carry as though shouted.

​It’s been a long time, but I know these lands well, my friend. You’ll have this forest forgotten by midday.

​Silence resumed, and Gremand continued to scan the forest, his eyes darting here and there, and frequently turning in the saddle to look behind. Blasted forest is haunted, he muttered again.

It’s not the forest that is haunted, Areth quietly replied, but us.

They came to a sharp ridge crowned along its spine by a vertical wall of rock. The ridge angled across the valley, blocking passage. A natural gap, roughly fifty feet wide, was the sole means past the ridge. Spanning the gap and controlling passage was the high wall of the Rock Gap fortress. A double-door gate wide enough for a wagon barred the road, and a grilled sluice allowed the creek to flow through. Areth noticed the sluice was partly dammed with decaying logs, branches, and other detritus, forming a pond in front. Along the top of the fortress wall was a crenelated walk with armed guards on watch. The trees had been cleared back to two bow-shots from the fortress.

As Areth and Gremand left the forest cover for the meadow, the guards stirred and gestured toward them.

​Will they put arrows in us before they know who we are? Gremand asked.

​We’ll approach casual and signal as we approach. It’s early in the season, but we might pass ourselves off as traders.

​Is it common for them to keep the gates closed?

​I’m not sure.

​Areth and Gremand stopped short of the barred gates. One of the guards hailed them.

​We are travelers, going for Velta, Areth called to the guards. Gremand sat calmly in the saddle, both hands resting in sight on the saddle horn.

​What business, then? came the challenge.

​We are merchants scouting the trade route before the season’s start. Areth answered.

​The guard turned to consider with his fellow watchmen in a hushed voice.

​Can’t you tell them who you are? We’d be through and have an escort no doubt, Gremand whispered.

​I don’t wish to announce my presence yet. It would not be an escort they give but a parade.

​It’s your homecoming. What’s wrong with a bit of fanfare?

​It would be fanfare I’m too tired to join. I just want rest.

​After some debate and gesturing and several examining stares, the guard shouted down for the gate to be opened, and Areth and Gremand rode through. Behind them, soldiers pushed the heavy gate closed then dropped a thick bar into its braces.

The yard of the fortress was hard-packed dirt. The air smelled of offal and unkept barn. The other walls of the fortress were not stone but the spikes of a wooden palisade. Simple watchtowers formed the corners, and a catwalk ran between each tower along the walls' insides. The inner buildings were also made of rough-cut logs, the bark and wood deteriorating from lack of treatment. A ditch for the sluggishly-flowing creek cut across the yard to exit through the north wall. Two rough lumber bridges crossed the channel. The keep, on the other side of the ditch from the road, was encased in builders’ scaffolding, which had fallen in some places. Cut stones were nearby in high stacks, with tall, yellowed weeds around their bases.

The two men were met by a man so wrapped in a grungy wool cloak that only his long face, turning red from the cold, could be seen.

​Price! the man snapped, sticking out from his cloak a thin, callous-free hand.

​Areth had guessed the man’s purpose and was digging into a belt pouch as he approached. He tossed a silver coin to the taxman, not expecting due return for the large amount.

​Who commands here? Areth demanded.

​What’s it to you? the man grumped as hand and coin disappeared under his cloak.

​It’s a sorry state this place has fallen to, the men as well, Areth nodded his head to nearby guards, idly huddled about an open campfire. Their clothes were soiled and stained. A few wore fur coats; the fur was matted. Areth was almost sure he could smell their odor at this distance.

​Begone! the tax collector snapped. Or I’ll see your collection’s enough to put this place right again. And with that, he turned and limped back to a nearby shack, muttering under his breath.

​The two exited through the north gatehouse and continued down the road. As they rode, they passed the occasional lone farm with fields for grazing or fields plowed and planted. Families out working stopped their labors for a moment to watch the two men ride past. A mile further, Gremand spotted a thin tower atop a spindly butte coming into view over the ridge.

​What’s that?

​Eagle’s Roost, a watchtower. On a good day with a looking glass, you can see ten miles from up there. They use mirrors to signal the keep of anything suspicious.

​Gremand looked about. They were still in the narrow, wooded valley, almost to the point where it opened into the broader Velta valley and could see the lazy trails of smoke from the village ahead rising over the treetops. You’d need more than a clear day to see anything moving in this land, even from there. It’s all forest and ridges.

​It’s a distraction, Areth replied shortly, not wanting idle talk. There are other watchpoints, ones that cannot be seen. But an enemy wouldn’t know that and see only the tower.

​Gremand nodded. The two fell back into silence for the remaining distance to Velta.

​The town of Velta came into clear view as Areth and Gremand rode from forest into wide open pastureland. The small river they had followed held several water mills along its banks before disappearing into the town. And several taller wind-powered mills dotted the landscape around the town, their tall blades slowly turning in the breeze. Between these tall buildings were small family farms with plowed fields and pastures for grazing, with families at work around their humble homes and barns.

Those were built by my grandfather, Areth said idly, indicating the two kinds of mills with a head nod. Under his leadership, the industry of the county was greatly improved.

And its income, I suppose, Gremand replied.

Not enough to make anyone rich, but good enough income from feeding distant cities.

Velta did not have a protective wall or other barriers, allowing the road from the mountains directly into the widely spread village. Most homes were small, of one or two rooms, and made of either logs and daub or mortared river stones, with terracotta roof tiles. Many homes had adjoining wood post corrals and small barns also of logs or river stones. Villagers were about their daily tasks—hauling various burdens or herding livestock—paying little notice to the two riders.

Areth led Gremand down the main avenue past stables, shops, market stalls, and quiet taverns. A variety of smells mingled in the air: the sweet smell of bread from a bakery, the reek of a tannery, and the smells of stale beer and roasted meat from taverns. A few trade wagons, which Areth guessed to have come from the plains-roads, for he had seen no signs of passage along the mountain pass, were parked along the main avenue.

Before the two men passed the last of the village, Kairos Keep came into view over the rooftops. Kairos Keep was a circular-shell keep with a square gatehouse on a motte, surrounded by a wide, flooded ditch. Banners hung limply above the battlements, where watchmen paced lazily.

Areth and Gremand continued north out of Velta and past a few plowed fields on either side of the road toward Kairos Keep. The men turned left and rode across the wooden causeway and through the open gate to the yard, unchallenged. But entering the yard caused a mixed reaction in the keep’s denizens. Guards at the gate, who had not challenged at first, now scowled and approached. A young man who had been soaping saddles in the stables by the gatehouse jumped up and ran into the central building.

​Not much of a homecoming, Gremand grumbled, just loud enough for Areth to hear.

​It’s been seven years since I was home. I doubt they recognize me, Areth quietly replied as they dismounted.

​They often let strangers ride in?

​Maybe we’ve become too accustomed to military precision.

​One of the gate guards hailed them. Areth did not recognize this man or any other he had seen. The condition of the guards here was little better than that of the Rock Gap soldiers; at least they had bathed recently, if their smell was any indicator.

​I am Areth Adelbern, Areth announced loudly, his voice echoing from the yard’s curved wall. Inform my father, Lord Adelbern, I have returned home.

​Areth suspected the stable boy had already run to deliver the news, though how the boy had known him, he could not guess.

The two guards shared a look of surprise. One of them gave a small bow. Yes, my lord, the other man said with a slight stammer, and he hobbled toward the same doors as the stable boy had passed through. Another stable boy emerged to lead their horses and mules away.

​In moments Lord Jalek Adelbern came through the wide doors. His trimmed beard and mustache were split by a broad smile, and his arms out for an embrace. The prodigal son is home. We shall feast in your honor tonight! he proclaimed.

​A step behind Lord Jalek followed Beraney, close to Areth’s age, plump and matronly, and seemingly a younger copy of the older woman behind her.

​You’re home! exclaimed Beraney. She rushed ahead to embrace Areth, bringing a smile to his face for the first time in many months.

​Our hero has come home! his mother, Serah, cheered. She, too, embraced him, sweeping Beraney into her arms as well.

Areth’s father, too late for a hug, stood beaming off to the side. This is a great occasion, he smiled. He turned to Gremand, who stood off a few paces, taking in the keep as he removed his heavy cloak. Thank you for bringing my wayward son home safe, said Lord Jalek, extending his hand.

Gremand was evidently taken back by Lord Adelbern’s hand—a rare gesture for a noble to offer a commoner—but replied, Lieutenant Gremand, my lord. Well, not a lieutenant anymore, Sire. It is I who am indebted to young Adelbern, my Lord. He saved my life, twice, during the second siege of Burque Fortress.

Jalek nodded. He turned to regard his son.

We have so much to tell you! Beraney bubbled.

I am glad you are home, son, Jalek stepped in front of her to clap his son on the shoulder. Your letters were few.

Letters are as hard to get through sieging armies as food and medicinals, father, Areth replied, looping an arm around plump Beraney and hugging her to his side.

Three other people emerged from the keep. First was Armath, who bore a striking resemblance to Areth, but younger and less weathered. While Areth was slim and muscular and his hair touched his shoulders, Armath was stouter, in good shape though with evidence of living a softer life; and his hair was cut short and chin clean-shaven.

​Of everyone, Areth’s brother brought him the most joy to see. They embraced and clapped each other on the back.

​Meanwhile, another young man and a young woman, both with dark brown hair almost black, approached. Areth paused as a look of confusion crossed his face.

​Jornath and Kreesa are here as well, Armath explained, noting Areth’s expression.

​Lord Draam is also with us, Beraney added.

​What’s the occasion? Areth asked.

​Been gone so long you’ve forgotten what time of year it is? Jalek asked, then supplied, It is the spring festival. They are here as our guests.

​Kreesa stepped forward and gave Areth a kiss on the cheek, In truth, we’ve been guests a bit longer than for the spring festival.

​We can talk more about that later, Serah interrupted. I’m sure he’s exhausted from his travels and sleeping on the ground who-knows-how-long. Let’s draw him a bath and let him rest before supper! And a bath for his man, too. Serah said the last as a command as she turned to nearby servants, who had approached unnoticed during the reunion.

Shadow over the Mountains

E

vening still came early this time of the year, more so as the shadow of the Gray Mountains fell over County Adelbern. With it came wonderful smells from the kitchens—roasting meat, sourdough bread, onions and chiles frying in tallow, and the tangy smell of pickled foods. Areth’s stomach growled, reminding him he had not eaten since early morning while breaking camp and his meal had been the same pickled eggs and dried meat of the past three days.

​Areth went through the gallery and down to the Lord’s Hall early. The hall had always been the center of activity for the keep. With a feast imminent, it was bustling with servants. He could not find his family members, who were likely dressing, and he could think of nothing to occupy his time. Or perhaps there was too much to occupy him and all of it unstructured. His home had become a foreign environment to him, and its rhythms unfamiliar. For years his days had been the regular, ordered rhythms of military life. Now he was left to his devices, and he was surrounded with a flood of things sparking memories of his life before the Legion, a life that seemed to have been lived by another man.

​The long table in the hall had been set with plates, mugs and utensils, but so far bare of food and drink. He stuck his head into the kitchen, where delicious smells made his stomach growl ferociously and his head swoon with hunger. The younger cooks giggled, and the Mistress of the Kitchen scowled at him until he left.

So Areth took a random seat and waited as guests arrived. The double set of doors at the end of the hall were open to the yard. Areth could see many had arrived but were idly standing in clusters, engaged in conversation. He wondered what he would say to people who had become strangers, or to his family of his life lived in a foreign land. There was not much he felt like recounting to anyone, let alone to them. Having no answer to his dilemma, he turned to investigating the hall to see if it had changed.

​A great hearth dominated the exterior stone wall—the exterior walls of Kairos Keep were thick stone, and interior walls and floors were wood. Large beams formed the skeleton of the angular, vaulted ceiling two stories high to mimic the ceilings of cathedrals or the great halls of higher nobles. A gallery ran along the interior wall, where musicians would perform for feasts and celebrations, though none were present this night. Otherwise, the gallery allowed access to the second-story rooms. Dominating the center of the hall were long tables with chairs carved with bear motifs. Each table had a rearing bear carved into the surface at its center.

Family banners hung from the crossbeams, with those of current and past lords of the Adelbern line displayed prominently down the center. The line began with the banner of his great, great grandfather Jackur, the first county lord who had ruled this land when it was little more than a settlement in vast wilderness and who had built Kairos Keep. This was followed by the banners of his great grandfather, Jareth, and his grandfather, Jarem, then his father’s, which hung over the head of the table, and ending on his own. All bore bear motifs—his grandfather’s a great bear on a white field, and his father’s a fighting black bear on a gold field.

Areth was a knight, but his own banner—a fighting brown bear on a green field—was amongst the lords’ banners. As Areth looked at his banner, he remembered how proud he had felt to earn it. His knighting ceremony, in which he was presented the banner with imagery he had chosen, marked the completion of years of dedicated hard work and training.

Among the banners was Armath’s chosen banner of a silver bull’s head over a silver spear on a blue field—bucking family tradition by not having a bear motif. Areth’s scan ended on his cousin Jornath’s banner hung in a dim corner: a roaring bear on a blood field. Since Jornath’s banner was on display, Areth assumed his cousin had finished his martial training and gained knighthood in the time he was away. Areth determined he would find his cousin and congratulate him.

The guests began to transition from the yard into the hall. Areth’s family members came down the stairs. Quickly the hall filled, and people resumed their conversations on countless subjects, all foreign to Areth. Many guests sought Areth out and happily welcomed him home. Of the guests were a few somewhat familiar faces—mostly county knights with whom he had trained for short periods. These men were knights by title rather than deed. As Areth had learned during his training, few were skilled with fighting, but they had lands and some wealth and could contribute to the county's defense in some fashion.

Areth’s family members, dressed in formal attire, gathered about the great hearth. Despite his arrival around midday, Areth was surprised so many guests had made the feast on such short notice. Areth guessed word must have been sent by riders to summon them. In addition to the county's knights were local wealthy merchants and local officials of both church and state offices. Areth recognized none of them, guessing who they were by clothing and other paraphernalia of their position, and wondered at how so many faces could have changed in seven years.

As he scanned faces, he realized people he expected to see were missing. He looked for Sir Kroam, one of the wealthiest knights of the county and the man who had primarily trained him. Also missing was Sir Bremados the Red Knight, a former champion of the Arena in the capital and another man who had trained Areth. Of all the names to comprise a guest list for this feast, Areth thought they would be at the top.

​Standing next to the great hearth with its fire were Lord Draam and Areth’s grandfather, Lord Jarem. By choice, Jarem had abdicated from the seat of Lord of the County when Areth was a young boy. Areth often wondered the reason, but it was not a story anyone shared with a child. Areth had long dismissed the matter, ceding he would likely never