Thorn's Princess

N. Bruce D.

Description

The people of the Forest Kingdom of Ferinatia are alive with excitement and delight as Princess Ranee of Ebrinatia arrives with her family and nobility for the first meeting with her betrothed, Crown Prince Jarel Whitethorn, the Summer Prince and future king of Ferinatia. Hawthorn, the servant to the royal healer, is neither excited nor delighted and his apprehension grows when he meets his future queen, and his fears are then compounded when unknown men attack him in their attempt to kidnap the crown prince. Then when the princess disappears and the alliance between the kingdoms is threatened, Thorn heads out in pursuit, unprepared for the journey he has begun through strange and perilous lands.

Sujets

• Fantasy (canción de Mariah Carey)
• Fantasy

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Date de parution: 08 janvier 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781528963008
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

T horn’s P rincess
Book One of the Breaking World Chronicles
D. N. Bruce
Austin Macauley Publishers
08-01-2021
Thorn’s Princess Thorn’s Princess Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17
D. N. Bruce lives and works on the south coast of New South Wales, Australia. He splits his free time between Christian activities, time with friends and family, occasional computer games and movies, and writing.
For the one who gives me strength, whom I will never forsake
Copyright © D. N. Bruce (2021)
The right of D. N. Bruce to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, 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.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528920155 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528920162 (Hardback)
ISBN 9781528963008 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2021)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
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E14 5LQ
Chapter 1
The leaves of the ancient trees blew in the dawn wind as the young man flew through the forest. One of his soft booted feet pressed against the thin branch to alter his flight as he flew smoothly between the leaves and branches. His other foot touched a thicker branch of an ancient tree and angled his flight as he rose up through the tall trees. Thorn flew smoothly between the trees as he touched a branch and rose up turned and stretched out one hand and a long green ribbon stretched from within his wrist towards a higher branch of the next tree. It wrapped around the branch for just a moment and pulled taut before it released and retracted instantly into his wrist again and provided enough lift and momentum to fly him gracefully onwards, his rapid gait and agile reflexes flew him through the forest faster than the swiftest horse or forest animal.
The soft green and brown patterned leather armour he wore over tailored black silk clothing created a blur as he swept rapidly through the forest. Green, brown, black and red markings of the hunter covered his face, and he had a silver line above his right eye, with an ornate leather helmet with a three-leaf plume stuck out the top, the uniform helmet of the Forest Flyer, the honoured noble guardians of the forest kingdom of Ferinatia.
The trees widened out and he angled towards a branch, and struck it with more force and shot into a spin and saw several other flyers in pursuit through the forest far behind him. He came around into sight of a series of targets, each target painted like three leaves with the stems that met in the centre. As he spun through the air, his hands came down and a wooden shaft sprung from his left lower leg scabbard in the grasp of another green prehensile ribbon, the feltar, as it was called, was a short flat shaft of wood, no longer than his forearm that was bound in leather and laminated leaves. His hand closed around it and bow arms instantly sprung from either end of the feltar, connected by an elastic bowstring that stretched between them and produced a very small short bow that due to its complex construction was as powerful as any long bow.
In the same moment, a short arrow sprung out from his right leg quiver, no longer than his forearm and held by another green prehensile ribbon. In the one move, the ribbons from his wrists spiralled along his arms and added their strength, as he knocked and drew back as the arrow telescoped out and lengthened to three times its length, light green fletching fanned out of its end and the arrow tip sharpened into a target tip. He aimed for barely a moment and fired, and in barely a heartbeat sent four arrows towards the leaf targets in quick succession. The first arrow hit its target perfectly and contracted to its original length to create a hammer effect that drove the point even deeper into the target’s wooden backing. Before the other arrows struck their targets, Thorn swept around and released his feltar as it drew back into its leg sheath on an ankle ribbon. He shot onwards through the trees and picked up his pace, as a coloured silk ribbon flew towards him in the grasp of the other ankle ribbon.
He accelerated up towards the canopy rapidly until the trees were a blur of green and brown as they raced past on either side of him. Thorn flew through the forest, up out through the canopy and at the last moment sent all four ribbons towards branches ahead of him, and shot forwards through the leaves into the bright early morning light above the canopy. He rose up into the sky like a fired arrow and arched over as silk gliding flaps sprung out between his arms and legs, and he angled his flight path round towards a taller rise of trees ahead of him. Below him, the wide-open outer flyway that ran around the tree city of Ferin was full of people who had gathered to cheer the flyers, and he heard shouts and cheers as he shot through the sky over them. He focused on the city rise and the enormous trees that rose up in the centre, the balconies and buildings of the tree city barely visible through the leaves that shaded them.
His silk gliding flaps snapped back into his flight armour and he stretched out to decrease wind resistance as he sped across the outer city and slowly arched over towards the inner-city trees. He focused on a distant tree and his wrist ribbons shot from his wrists towards the canopy ahead of him, stretched to their limit, and wrapped around one of the upper branches of a tree. Instantly they went taut and he held on as they drew him through the air even faster, and the ribbons vibrated with the strain as they contracted and then drew into his wrists as he sped towards the tree.
Thorn burst through the inner-city canopy rapidly and spun around the trees in a rapid flight as all four ribbons shot from his wrists and ankles to alter his trajectory through the balconies and homes built into the trees around him. He shot down through the very tall forest city, changed into a rapid spiral, decreased his momentum, dropped into a spin, and struck the ground in a combat landing, in the exact centre of a large circle of people.
The Ferinatian forest folk around the circle gasped and cried out at his sudden arrival and glanced at each other, and towards the timing water clock built into the crystal wood statue of the First True King of Ferinatia. He stood up and gazed around the crowd and beyond them to the tall polished wood statues of the greatest heroes of the Kingdom, many of whom were his own ancestors. He casually stepped forwards and retrieved a coloured silk ribbon from a post. He walked towards the displeased looking man at one side who wore a gold embroidered mantle. The King of the forest kingdom of Ferinatia gazed down on the sixteen-year-old boy in frustration and shook his head in annoyance. Thorn dropped to one knee before the King and bowed his head, then casually pulled eight other coloured silk ribbons from within his armour and draped them across one arm to display them.
Several other young people including one without a helmet dropped down through the trees and landed in the circle, all of them looked at Thorn with frustrated annoyance or outright anger, especially the one without the helmet. A moment later, a group of six adult flyers dropped down and landed behind the youths and moved around them and approached the King, and lined up with patterned arrows in one hand, and each of the six men raised the other hand to display four light green leaf fletched arrows.
‘So, Hawthorn wins the Championship,’ High Lord Whindeles said with an amused grin as he stepped forwards through the crowd, ‘again.’
Another young man dropped down through the trees and walked forwards to stand beside the young flyers.
‘I’m sorry, Father,’ the young man called Penias said as he stepped through the crowd with some wound up silk rope in his hand and met the displeased gaze of the King and bowed his head, and then the gaze of Lord Tillan who controlled the contest, ‘he tied me up and left me hanging.’
‘Once again Hawthorn disrupts the championship,’ Lord Tillan said as he stepped forwards towards the King in annoyance, ‘Majesty, I must protest.’
‘Prince Jarel, could you not obey this one order,’ the King said and then turned to look at Penias and at the rope in annoyance, and then stepped forwards and pulled the helmet from atop Thorn’s head, and tossed it to the youth who didn’t have one. The King glanced at Penias who looked about to make an excuse, and then sighed, then waved a hand to dismiss him.
Thorn met the King’s gaze and brushed a hand through his ruffled hair. He adjusted the position of the single green leaf that was tied in there to mark his sixteen years, not yet an adult but no longer a child, his face and hair coated in the painstakingly prepared war paint of a forest hunter, something he had put extra effort into getting right today, even if he wouldn’t admit it. He glanced from the King to the two young princes beside him. The nine-year-old twins, Prince Iril and Prince Aril of Ferinatia grinned broadly as they met his gaze, and their younger sister little Princess Sireen smiled from where she stoo