The World of Samar
Box Set: Volume Three
Volume 6 - 8
ML Hamilton
authormlhamilton.net
The World of Samar Box Set: Volume Three
© 2019 ML Hamilton, Sacramento, CA
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed by a newspaper, magazine or journal.
First print
All Characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This box set is dedicated to the avid fantasy readers for whom there are never enough pages. May you find hours of entertainment within.
“Fantasy is hardly an escape from reality. It’s a way of understanding it.”
~Lloyd Alexander
Table of Contents
THE SCIONS OF ELDON
PROLOGUE
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
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
EPILOGUE
THE WATCHERS OF ELDON
PROLOGUE
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
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
EPILOGUE
THE FOLLOWERS OF ELDON
PROLOGUE
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
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
EPILOGUE
THE SCIONS OF ELDON
World of Samar: Book Six
M L Hamilton
authormlhamilton.net
The Scions of Eldon
Copyright © 2015 M L Hamilton
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 without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed by a newspaper, magazine or journal.
Second print
All Characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This novel is dedicated to those readers who have been with me through both the tragedy and joy of this epic series. To my family, thank you as always for your constant, unwavering support.
May Eldon’s light shine brightly in your lives!
No love, no friendship can cross the path of our destiny
without leaving some mark on it forever.
~ François Mauriac
PROLOGUE
The sun shone through a gathering of soft, white clouds and the wind blew lazy ripples across the waters of the pond. Spring had come to the desert, making flowers bloom on the once barren sand. A faint sprinkling of green blanketed the water’s edge, providing enough vegetation for the small, grey rabbits to feed and multiply and frolic for a few weeks before seeking cover in the tangled vines beneath the thorn bushes that grew on the west side of the pond.
Kalas sank to his knees beside his sister near the water’s edge. He peered around her shoulder to see what she held, then cast a look behind him where Inara, their nurse, sat on a blanket, knitting. He wasn’t worried about Inara, but the woman standing beside her, their tutor, could be a witch when she wanted. Presently, Madam Trollick was occupied by the masterpiece she was painting on her easel. Kalas didn’t think she would even notice what her two pupils were up to for some time.
He turned back to his sister and smiled as Tyla combed her fingers through the silky soft fur of the small rabbit she’d called to her only moments before. She sat in the grass, her dress balled up in her lap, providing the rabbit with a soft cushion upon which to sit. As she stroked it, the rabbit closed its eyes and became very still, its nose twitching.
Tyla lifted her gaze to her brother. “Isn’t he sweet, Kalas?” she said.
Kalas nodded, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t want to frighten the bunny. Tyla returned to petting it, trilling deep in her throat to assure it she meant no harm. Kalas studied his sister’s fragile features, the glossy black curls that fell far down her back and the darkness of her skin against the grey of the rabbit’s fur. Tyla was only five, but she showed signs of being a beautiful woman when she grew up. Not only that, but she had power. Calling wild animals to her was only one of her many gifts – she could do other, darker, more frightening things.
Kalas closed his eyes and exhaled, bowing his head. He didn’t want Tyla to know how much he worried about her. He was only eleven himself, but he had spent very little time being a child. These stolen moments with Tyla were all that he could claim…that is, all that he could claim now. He forcefully shoved those betraying memories aside.
“Do you want to hold him, Kalas?” she asked, starting to lift the bunny.
“No,” said Kalas. “You hold him. I’ll just pet him.” He reached out and ran his fingers through the animal’s fur. It was quite possibly the softest thing he’d ever felt.
Tyla’s emerald eyes searched his face. He knew she could read his thoughts, but he was Stravad enough to feel it when she did. Kalas hated having his innermost feelings being shared by another, a fact he made quite clear to his sister. Loving him as she did, she forced herself to control the impulse, but he knew it was hard for her. From the time she first learned to talk, she’d been bombarded by other people’s thoughts and feelings. For a long while, she couldn’t be in a crowded room because the sensory overload was unbearable for her. Gradually, she’d learned to block it. Now they sometimes used Tyla’s gift to their advantage, but that was only on Humans and only in the greatest need.
Kalas himself had no inclination toward any special power. And truthfully, he was just as grateful
that he didn’t. He knew he didn’t look as Stravad as his sister and that was a benefit in a kingdom like Sarkisian where Stravad were mistrusted because of their uncanny abilities and the ancient wisdom that marked the race. Kalas had never been certain of his future, Rarick was unpredictable enough to keep him guessing, but he knew that being Stravad would make everything more complicated, and having power the like of which Tyla exhibited…well, he knew it was a difference that would never be forgotten.
Kalas should have been immensely relieved by this lack of distinction, but it was little comfort to him. There were only two people in the world he loved – his nurse, Inara, and his sister. Of the two, Tyla was more important by far, and so any relief he might have felt was quashed under the growing worry about what would happen to his sister when she came of age.
“What have you got?” said a nasal voice that made him flinched. He glanced over his shoulder and watched their tutor approach, her steps short and violent, kicking up sand as she went.
Kalas turned back to his sister and nodded at the rabbit. “Let it go! Hurry!” he urged.
Tyla’s expression shifted from rapture to heartbreak in an instant, but she set the bunny on the ground beside her. The little animal paused, looking up at her with liquid brown eyes, but it didn’t hop away. It had been enjoying the attention too much and hadn’t sensed the impending danger yet.
“Tyla!” said Kalas urgently.
She made a shooing motion with her hand, but the rabbit only hopped a few steps beyond her, staring back. Kalas jumped to his feet and spun to meet the tutor, blocking his sister and the rabbit from her approach. He knew that the older woman would try to kill the little animal if it didn’t hop away, and then Tyla would be devastated.
Madam Trollick was a stern spinster with short, wild hair that spiked from her head. Kalas had always thought she looked like a porcupine he’d seen in one of their school books. Her nose was hooked and her eyes were too small for her other features. She always carried a riding crop in her hand and Kalas had felt the sting of it more times than he cared to remember. Presently, she had traded her paintbrush for the crop and was smacking it against her leg as she stormed toward them.
Kalas looked beyond her shoulder to where Inara was climbing to her feet, but Madam Trollick was on him before Inara could intervene.
“Was she holding that filthy beast?” she demanded.
Kalas glanced over his shoulder and saw his sister kneeling beside the rabbit, trying to urge it toward the safety of the thorn bushes. Huge tears were already welling in Tyla’s eyes and the little rabbit had frozen in terror, unable to run.
“It’s just a bunny,” he said, facing their tutor again.
Madam Trollick’s eyes widened. “Is that any way to address your superior, boy?” Kalas started to respond, but she struck him on the shoulder with the crop and tried to shove him out of the way. “Get back! I’ll show you what should be done with filthy vermin!”
Kalas stumbled, but he threw himself in front of her. He’d seen her kick one of the castle puppies and knew the little rabbit couldn’t withstand such a brutal blow. At his movement, the rabbit bolted, racing for the cover of thorns. Madam Trollick faltered and glared down at Kalas, then she raised the crop, prepared to backhand him across the face.
“No!” came Tyla’s cry.
The tutor’s eyes shifted to her. A moment later she lurched away from the boy with a guttural scream, her arms waving frantically in the air. Inara staggered to a halt, meeting Kalas’ stunned gaze.
“Get them off me! Help! Help!” cried the tutor, tearing frantically at her clothing and her short, spiky hair. “Get them off!”
Kalas and Inara both turned at the same moment. Tyla knelt in the grass where the rabbit had been, her eyes narrowed on the tutor, their emerald depths glowing with inner light.
“Stop, Tyla!” shouted Inara.
Tyla blinked, then dropped her head in submission.
Kalas looked back at Madam Trollick. She had stopped clawing at herself, but she was huddled over, cradling her riding crop against her bosom, her breath coming in a sobbing pant. Slowly, she lifted her head and glared at the three of them. Tyla scrambled to her feet and ducked behind her brother, her little hands grabbing his arm.
“That child’s possessed!” said the tutor, pointing her crop at Tyla.
Kalas could feel Tyla trembling at his back and he shifted to block her.
“No, she isn’t!” cried Inara. “She was just trying to protect her brother!”
Madam Trollick turned her glare on the nurse. “I tell you that child is an animal herself and should be locked away where she can harm no one! If you think I won’t report this to Lord Rarick, you have another think coming!”
“Wait, please!” said Inara, taking a step after the tutor, but the woman spun on her heel and started back for Stronghold.
Inara lowered her head and shut her eyes.
Kalas glanced at her, but his attention was focused on the tutor’s retreating back. No good was going to come of this. Behind him, Tyla pressed her face into his side, her grip tightening on his arm.
Inara lifted her head and studied Kalas for a moment, then she came to them and knelt, pulling Tyla toward her. Tyla threw herself in the nurse’s arms, burying her face in Inara’s neck. Inara stroked the glossy black curls and looked up at Kalas.
“He will punish her,” she whispered.
Kalas clenched his jaw and his hands tightened into fists. He’d believed there was a shadow over his heart for many years now. The only thing that kept the shadow from consuming him was Inara and his sister. Nothing else mattered in the world.
“No, he won’t.”
Inara reached out and touched one of his fists. “Kalas, you can’t protect her from everything.”
“I can protect her from this,” he said. “When he asks you, you tell him I ordered Tyla to do it. I made her use her power on the tutor. He knows Tyla will do anything for me. Make sure he knows that I’m to blame for this too.”
Inara’s lips parted and Tyla lifted her head. Her face was streaked with tears.
“Make sure, Inara.” His voice faltered as he thought of what Rarick would do to him. His gaze shifted to Tyla and he forced a brave smile. “It’ll be all right, Tiger,” he said, using his pet name for her. “I won’t let him hurt you.”
CHAPTER 1
The city of Cambia was the most distant from the castle at Adishian. Each of the kingdoms in Nevaisser were spread over great distances, Nevaisser being the largest region on Samar and also the least populated. Even though Adishian was the smallest kingdom in Nevaisser, Cambia was still a five day ride from the city of Adishian at the hub of the kingdom, and another two days from Kazden, the largest city on the eastern end.
Cambia was a small, filthy town with wrenched and broken boardwalks and rutted cobblestone streets where the sewage from the shops and house ran down the gutters in streams. The shops hadn’t seen a new coat of paint since the Second Siege of Dorland began a decade ago and their shelves were nearly bare. Many people would have died of starvation had not Loden, the opulent land far to the east, sent aid. The bitter struggle had cost many lives and yet still showed no sign of abating. The people of Adishian called it Talar Eldralin’s War, after the lord who was said to have begun it more than twenty-five years before, which made the kingdoms in Loden even less inclined to intervene in deference to the memory of the Nazarien leader.
The length of the war created a breed of people in Cambia that held no alliance to any kingdom – truly no alliance to anything but their own pleasure. They took to nightly rampages through the town, creating drunken riots and terrorizing the few remaining citizens into barring doors and windows at night. And during the quiet daylight hours, these marauders slept off the previous night’s bout in the alleyways and parks while the rest of the citizens stepped around them as they trekked back and forth from their homes to market. Many people had left the city and built homes on the outskirts of
Cambia, coming to the town only for supplies.
It was from one of the porches on the outskirts of Cambia that Davo first saw the two strangers approach. He knew they were strangers for they came on horseback – large and well-built horses with flowing manes and tails. Cambia’s horses and mules had all grown gaunt and wispy since the Second Siege began.
Davo leaned forward. He wanted to take a closer look at the horses – it had been so long since he’d seen horses so well groomed and healthy. And the men...
Even Davo could see they were wealthy. He adjusted his glasses to take them in fully. Their clothes were brightly colored and certainly not made of the rough, poorly combed cotton Davo wore himself. The colors drew Davo forward in his chair and caused him to scratch the grey stubble at his chin. He hadn’t seen colors so bright since...oh, he’d never remember when now, but it had been long ago.
Davo waved to them because he didn’t want them to pass by without exchanging a word or two. He hadn’t spoken to another being in a long time. It was so difficult to walk to market and sometimes he was still on the road after dark, which made his heart pound.
The strangers spotted him and were now turning their magnificent horses towards his gate, towards his rusty hinged, hanging weather-beaten gate. Davo ran his eyes along his porch and took in the peeled paint along the floor and the six broken planks in the banister, the cobwebs high in each corner between the house and porch, and then his gaze fell to his own wrinkled hands as they lay against his pale grey trousers.
The horses were at the gate now, he could hear them nicker and one of the men had descended with a hand on the latch. “Hello there,” he said and Davo instantly knew the accent was foreign.
“Hello there,” called Davo and he struggled to his feet, pushing himself from the chair, “Hold on a minute, stranger, ‘til I lift the latch for you.”
He grabbed the cane from the arm of the chair and holding the banister, descended the three warped stairs before the house. The walkway was dry and dust rose from his footsteps. He removed a faded red handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed the perspiration from his upper lip, replacing it in his pocket and shuffling as quickly as he might to the gate.
The World of Samar Box Set 3 Page 1