Broken Rune Staff

Roger Whitmore

Description

Helistra, daughter of Speedwell who is one of four Forestalls who tend the wellbeing of the forests, marries Grimstone, a fellow Forestall. She becomes a mother when their son is born, Tomin.But when Tomin is being taught the ways of the forest, a knowledge she has been denied, a jealousy arises within Helistra, feeding an evil that has always lurked deep inside her that turns into a hatred that sees her kill Grimstone with his own Rune Staff!As she strikes, she breaks the rune staff leaving a piece lodged inside of Grimstone. An explosion of white light turns him into stone and makes Helistra disappear.Years pass by as Helistra grooms the broken rune staff in the dark evil that has consumed her. Her poisoned mind will not rest until the forests and its keepers are totally destroyed!So the paths of conflict and destiny entwine as Speedwell pursues his daughter to make Grimstones broken rune staff whole again to stop her evil, but how and at what cost?

Sujets

• Fantasy (canción de Mariah Carey)
• Fantasy

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 14 février 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781803138428
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 3 Mo

Extrait

Copyright © 2022 Roger Whitmore

The moral right of the author has been asserted.


Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.


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ISBN 978 1803138 428

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Contents
Part I King Wielder
Part II The Ancients







Part I
King Wielder


Chapter I
The wind blew from the North, bringing with it a sudden flurry of snow, the first that winter.
King Rolfe of Tiggannia stood atop the battlements of Stormhaven stronghold, and although he had his fur cloak wrapped tightly around him, the winter’s chill cut through him like a knife, clawing at his body, making him shudder.
His blond hair and beard started to fill with snow, beginning to give him the appearance of a stone statue, but another bout of shivering gave him away.
Reflected in King Rolfe’s eyes was the reason for his early vigil this cold grey dawn. For down below him were the countless campfires of his invaders, the alliance armies of the Kingdoms of Waunarle and Cardronia.
Some of the fires, King Rolfe noted, were still embers from the night, but most had been rekindled, their flames beginning to lick greedily at the snow falling from the cold air. As if with hunger in anticipation of what was surely to come that day, thought King Rolfe distantly.
Staring at the campfires, lost in his thoughts, King Rolfe did not notice Cantell, the King’s protector, join him on the battlements.
“You rise early this grey morn, sire,” greeted Cantell, his words turning to mist as they met the cold air.
A glimmer of a smile met King Rolfe’s lips as he turned to acknowledge his protector. “Ah, faithful friend, I could not rest. I have been watching our enemies stir from their slumbers.”
Cantell could hear the weariness in his King’s voice. As he looked at his King’s face, he could see the strain and sadness etched upon it. A face that was once full of laughter, which now only showed the deep lines of foreboding.
Cantell could see clearly enough what ailed his King as he turned his head towards the campfires. Our fate will be decided this day , he thought.
“You see the urgency with which our invaders busy themselves, Cantell,” said King Rolfe, interrupting Cantell’s thoughts as he kept his eyes cast on the scene below.
“Indeed, sire, they prepare for a final battle,” said Cantell, speaking the remainder of his thoughts to King Rolfe’s nod.
“Yes, the time has come. The beginning of winter’s snow has made up their minds for them.”
Cantell could hear the battle of emotions coming from his King as he spoke, and fell quiet as they both watched the scene below. Losing themselves in the memories of what had passed more than two seasons ago.
The alliance armies of Waunarle and Cardronia had situated themselves along the valley that ran between the stronghold and the small fishing village of Haven. Just enough shelter for them from the now cutting winds coming in from over the Eastern Sea. With the River Dale running through it, Haven had always been a picturesque and peaceful place, that is, until the invasion!
King Rolfe could not see what remained of the village, but he knew it was just a burnt-out shell. Most of the villagers had sought hasty refuge within the stronghold’s thick walls, while others had fled. Some had remained, mainly the old and the stubborn; after all, it was their home. Taking their chances on the mercy of the invaders, but the only mercy they were shown was at the end of a blade! None were spared. Ransacked for whatever could be found, then burnt to the ground; there was nothing left of the once thriving village.
All this lay heavy on King Rolfe’s heart, forever gnawing at his conscience. Though there had been over nineteen summers of peace throughout all of Northernland, he should have taken more notice of what was going on around him. Signs were there in the neighbouring kingdoms, but he had ignored them. Through his ignorance, his people had suffered terribly and were still suffering.
He had not listened to his advisors of the build-up of forces in Waunarle and Cardronia. For all intents and purposes, he thought Cardronia was going to attack Waunarle, or advance into the Kingdom of Balintium, with Waunarle being aware of this and readying itself.
He would have been ready to help if either had happened, but to combine their armies and attack Tiggannia! Never! How wrong he had been, how stupid!
When he was told of King Taliskar of Cardronia’s treacherous accusations of him being solely responsible for the deaths of the royal family of Waunarle, he had merely shaken his head, not wanting to hear such tales.
“What would you have me do? Do battle with them on a lie! On hearsay!” he had ranted.
“Is this not final proof enough to suspect him of trying to join forces with Waunarle with the aim of making war against us, sire? We must be ready!” they had warned him. He could still hear his advisors’ words of warning being shouted at him, faces turning red at their King’s blindness.
King Rolfe turned his head and troubled mind from the campfires to look out along the great arc that was Stormhaven Bay, its sands stretching as far as the eye could see.
Normally, the waves would crash on its sands, chasing each other freely along its length, but through the snow, King Rolfe could see the waves divide and fall as they hit the alliance warships that still littered the bay.
How many had appeared that day? Thirty? Forty? It did not matter now as he thought of that fateful day when Tiggannia’s shores became stained with the blood of the fallen.
A shout had gone up and all had looked out towards the Eastern Sea. They must have come around the Isles of Kesko to keep their distance; otherwise, they would have been spotted from Broken Point, he thought for the umpteenth time.
He had decided to meet his foe on the shoreline as they landed. A breeze had sprung up from over the land and so gave favour to his infamous Tiggannian bowmen to launch a hail of fire arrows into the alliance warships before they reached the shore.
So with his army he had readied himself. Rather one decisive battle than suffer a long, slow demise under siege, so he had thought.
Messengers had been sent out to the Kingdoms of Balintium and Silion in the slim hope of help, but he knew in his heart there was small chance of that.
After all, Silion was a kingdom of farmers with no wish to fight, and with his advisors warning him about Taliskar’s treacherous remarks about him, Balintium would not risk lives on someone they were unsure of. No, they were on their own.
So he had waited on the shore with only one thought; that by the end of the day, that slime King Taliskar would be resting impaled on the end of his sword!
How strange those last moments were before the battle, where so many would meet their fate. How still it had all felt, his soldiers quiet in silent thought of their loved ones while the waves from the Eastern Sea were gently breaking over the shore, washing the sand.
No birds could be heard singing; they seemed to have sensed what was on the way with the breeze whispering past King Rolfe’s ears, seemingly warning him as it did so, here comes death! Beware!
Then suddenly they could hear the shouts of defiance from the alliance warships. If King Rolfe had had any doubts about who his enemies were, then this was the time they revealed themselves to him in plain sight.
For there were the two flags of the Kingdoms of Waunarle and Cardronia flying side by side on one of the nearest warships.
The Tiggannian bowmen had let loose their fire arrows to rip through the sky in whistling death. They had some effect, but not what King Rolfe had hoped for, as the warships’ sails were lowered and oars taken up.
Another rain of arrows was let loose upon them, and another. The warships had returned fire as soon as they were near enough against the breeze.
The shouts of the alliance soldiers were heard, sounding as if they had worked themselves up into a frenzy, ready for battle.
Then there they were, jumping ship and running headlong into them. Axes and swords held aloft, ready to slice the nearest Tiggannian. Easy pickings to begin with, but they just kept coming and coming. How many there were on those warships King Rolfe had no idea, but the battle was soon in full cry.
Metal on metal mixed with the shouts and cries from both armies had filled the air. King Rolfe’s sword swirling like a whirlwind with no time to think, just kill. He knew death, but the sound of ripping flesh and shattered bone made him shudder inside.
The battle had raged on until his attention was drawn to the horizon,