by P D Ceanneir
THE RAWN CHRONICLES
BOOK THREE
THE ANCARRYN
AND THE QUEST
P.D.CEANNEIR
This novel is entirely the work of fiction.
The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are
the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is
entirely coincidental
This edition 2014
1
Copyright © P.D.Ceanneir 2014
Set in Times New Roman 12 pnt
All right 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, recorded or otherwise, without the
prior permission of the publishers.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not
by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or
otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent
in any form of binding or cover other than that which it
is published and without a similar condition including this
condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
To Matty and John,
Thanks for reading the first book, and liking it.
Also, a big thank you to Cary for helping out a fellow M.I.B.
And to Dale. Life is a long road. Nevertheless, keep fighting; you still have many miles to go.
Also by P.D.Ceanneir in the Rawn Chronicles Series
Book One: The Orrinn and the Blacksword
Book Two: The Warlord and the Raiders
Principal Characters in Order of Appearance
Vanduke-King of the Roguns, first of that name
Havoc De Proteous Cromme-Crown Prince of the Roguns
Magnus Cromme-Carras Knight, Master of the Rouge and Havoc’s half-brother
Ness Ri-Consul to King Vanduke and member of the Ri Order
Tia-Havant Priestess
Serena-Havant Priestess
Powyss of the Hoath-Commander of the Raiders and Paladin-knight
Whyteman-Major/Boughman of the Eternal Archers and Paladin-knight
Little Kith- Raider Captain and Paladin-knight
Hexor-- Raider Captain and Paladin-knight
Foxe- twin brother of Hexor- Raider Captain and Paladin-knight
Furran- - Raider Captain and Paladin-knight
Velnour—Major of the Raider Heavy Horse and Paladin-knight
Linth- - Captain of the Eternal Archers and Paladin-knight
Felcon- - Captain of the Raider Dark Company and Paladin-knight
Mactan- Banner-Captain of the Raider Dark Company and Paladin-knight
Jericho-Major of the Raiders/Tattoium Militia Division and Paladin-knight
Mad-gellan- Nithi Lord of the Kelang and Paladin-knight
Eleana-Lady of the Rouge, wife of Magnus
Ciriana-the Prophet
Lady Vara-Former Queen of Sonora and Havoc’s aunt
Lord Rett-the Red Duke, uncle of Magnus
Soneros Ri-Consul to Queen Nieve and Chief Historian of the Tower of Sooth, Member of the Ri Order
Barnum-Atyd of Balael-consort to Queen Bronwyn of the Falesti.
Bronwyn- Queen of the Falesti
Bleudwed/Mulvend- the Countess of Haplann
Cinnibar-Queen of Sonora, Havoc’s great-great aunt
Kasan Cromme-King of the Vallkytes and Havoc’s uncle
Molna-Queen of the Vallkytes and Roguns, Havoc’s mother
Mad-daimen-Nithi Warlord, Overlord of the Wildlands
Raimen-brother of Mad-daimen
Lorth-Eldest son of Raimen
Larsen- Youngest son of Raimen
Tygen-Uncle to Mad-daimen and Raimen
Shanks-Prisoner in cell 42, formerly known as Baron Telmar
Lord Udren-Champion of King Kasan
Morden-Atyd of Triel, elder brother of Whyteman
Lord Sernac-Master to Cinnibar and a mysterious and powerful Ri
Danyil- Captain of the Cybeleion
Gunach-Dwarven Master Smith
Maleene-Leader of the Wyvern Filial
Jilkyn- Wyvern Filial and sister to Maleene.
Debbdil-Wyvern Filial
Sir Colby-Carras Knight
Dolment-Master of Ifor
Prologue
Dreams are always the best way to unlock the dark hidden memories in one’s mind. King Vanduke knew this, but it did not make the pain any more bearable.
He remembered the battle. Saw the enemy Berserkers charge into his father’s small force, and his father fall from his horse. He witnessed the life cut from the De Proteous by several arrows and the ten yelling swordsmen that surrounded him.
Vanduke was young then and the battle was long ago. He remembered ordering the survivors into a protective circle around the fallen De Proteous and the subsequent struggle of the outmatched fight that followed. His small group surrounded, with no chance of escape, but they killed many of the baron’s men, almost as many as their own fallen numbers.
Until only one remained. Himself.
This was why the Rawn Scholars called this moment in history as the Battle of the Single Survivor.
Vanduke vividly recalled the piles of dead that encircled him. Some of them were the enemy and some his own bodyguards. Steam escaped their open wounds in the frigid early spring air. His father lay at his feet, armour scarred with blood-fringed cuts from the sword slashes he received and the four broken arrows in his back.
How could the baron have his best friend killed? Truly, his madness was complete.
Then the enemy dispersed and the baron came alone. Madness in his eyes, Pyromantic Fire sparking over his hands as he approached and Vanduke knew that the end had come. He was not strong enough to defend himself against such power. He sheathed his sword.
‘Take my life now, Telmar, as you took your friends,’ he had said, his voice breaking with emotion as he pointed towards the body of his father. ‘Burn us both, so my ashes mix with my fathers.’
That was as far as his memory went. For decades, blackness blocked any fragments of the aftermath he had left. However, for the past two years another recurring nightmare haunted his sleep, induced by the events on the bridge after the terrible Drakken was defeated. The night he looked into the face of the strange being known as the Blacksword.
The dream, or lost memory, showed the handsome Telmar standing in front of him, but the baron’s mood had changed to anguish as he recognised the body of the senior Vanduke De Proteous Cromme, his closest friend from his days in the Rawn Academy. He released his hold on the Pyromantic energy that was building up in him and stomped towards the younger Vanduke, seizing his head with both hands at the temples. Vanduke felt the pain instantly as the Thought Link flowed through his mind and the baron’s instructions saturate his psyche. He saw that the baron was afraid, but not of what he was, but what was going to happen. He was afraid of the future and he needed insurance.
The information that the baron forced into his mind was distorted and surreal, alien, and fearsome. Something was very, very wrong.
Then, when it was over and the pain subsided, the young prince looked up into the mad eyes of Baron Telmar and saw they were as black as the night.
Just like the eyes of the Blacksword.
Just like the eyes of his son, H
avoc.
He screamed.
Part One
The Rite
Of
Ancarryn
“Dragons have twins inside them.
If you don’t believe me
Then look into
Their eyes”
The Dragor-rix
By Herodotus
“The great pall of smoke that issued out of the Criab Arena was a testament to the anger of the Pyromancer. The Rite of Ancarryn was at an end.”
Excerpt from The Reign of Fire
The Life of Baron Telmar
By Opeac the Historian
“Warriors of the Age, Loosen your pride. Fear the Blade!”
Excerpt from the Chant of the Dead
By Leif Eriksson
Chapter 1
The Canndali
These are the tales of the My’thos. The old gods. The ones who were here before all others. Though they are long passed into legend, their influence on the world is still strong. They watch, they manipulate and they are the hands of fate upon the lives of the unwary.
Of the tales, there are many. Of the players, they are watched. Of the acts, they are played out and scrutinised.
Therefore, we begin. Somewhere amongst the myriad of stories, there is a beginning of sorts...
…The Vallkyte messenger was slightly apprehensive as he entered the main gates to the town of Caphun. He received looks of distain from the locals. Nevertheless, they left him alone to carry out his work.
As he nailed up the posters on the walls and lantern posts to the main carriageway of Tallyus Street, he began to draw a crowd. The onlookers asked him questions, but he merely shrugged. His task was to nail up the posters by order of his king, not to issue a verbal proclamation. He could not have answered anyway because of the small iron tacks that he held in his mouth, which were turning his lips black.
He left the questioning populace to talk amongst each other as they read the contents of the poster and went to the stables to purchase another horse; the last one was fatigued from the long journey across the Dulan Plain. His day was not over and he had another long journey ahead of him.
He re-saddled his new horse, a grey mare, and gratefully left Caphun before the sun rose towards its zenith. He headed west to the Pander Pass and onto Aln-Tiss beyond.
Mayor Helmond himself that brought the messenger’s poster to the attention of Regent Morden some hours after the messenger had left.
‘Surely King Kasan is not serious!’ said Morden, as he read the edict on the sheet of parchment.
‘In my experience, my friend, you should never underestimate a Cromme. Even one as tyrannical as Kasan,’ Helmond smoothed a hand over his bald head as he looked out of the window.
‘But the Rite of Ancarryn has not been seen as a spectator sport for over fifty years! Why start it now?’
‘We are at peace, my Lord; it is a good a time as any.’
Morden pondered the fact of the Ancarryn’s revival as he scanned the poster again. Had Kasan changed his ways?
‘I must take this before the countess,’ he said, ‘it will be of great interest to her.’
“By order of the King Kasan of the Vallkytes,
The High Council of Nobles, Parliamentary Lords and Burgh Lords of Dulan-Tiss in this day 12th of Jithi 3034 Years of Ascension
Hereby reinstates the
Rite of Ancarryn
On the forthcoming spring equinox
All champions and contenders welcome”
Bleudwed, the Countess of Haplann, read aloud the proclamation on the poster. Morden noticed a slight wrinkle on her brow as she read it; it gave her pixie-like face a cute, yet vulnerable look. However, the regent had come to know this young girl well in the past two and a half years and vulnerability was not part of her character.
He had to admit to himself, when he had first met her, that he had taken a strong fancy to the beautiful blonde haired blue-eyed girl. Even though, for the past few months, he had been married to a girl of his own age from Caphun and she was expecting his first child. He hoped it was a son.
‘This is a very shrewd move from Kasan,’ said Bleudwed, ‘seems innocent enough, but on the other hand, it could be seen as a political sideline to consolidate powerful nobles into his favour. Many of them will attend the Ancarryn.’
‘How could he do that, my Lady?’ Morden frowned at her cryptic comment.
‘You have to look beyond the original concept and see the reason for starting an old sport that has been defunct for fifty years.’
He nodded. Not only was the countess beautiful, she was also very clever. In the years after the liberation of Aln-Tiss and the triumphant victories of the De Proteous, Bleudwed had shown an aptitude for negotiation and was fast becoming a political whirlwind in her own right.
She had used her noble power to bring the leading Consuls of both the Roguns and Vallkytes to a table of truce. However, bringing Lord Ness and Lord Saltyn together to negotiate peace was like drawing teeth (Saltyn Ri had tried to murder Ness Ri at the Battle of Dragorsloth) the Rogun Consul was usually a forgiving man, but the act of betrayal from a fellow Ri was too much for him to bear. The Atyd Morden asked Soneros Ri to act as a buffer between the two. The Ever Living One’s presence was a mollifying influence on the two men and helped the countess to use her charm and skill to organise peace terms between the warring factions.
The Civil War would have dragged on for several more years if both the Rogun and Vallkyte kings wished it, but the losses that both sides had endured meant a modicum of common sense would have to prevail. When the Countess of Haplann offered to negotiate peace terms for both sides, King Vanduke and King Kasan agreed to her involvement. Both kings saw her as neutral presence and this helped her to swing the peace talks into political overdrive as she organised a pact between all the high-ranking nobles and finally got them all to accept the neutrality of the county via the Treaty of Haplann.
Under the Regent Morden, and later Bleudwed’s, rule of Haplann the small county had flourished; the expansive mines reopened and were producing tons of gold, nickel and iron ore. The crop fields were already vast, covering the shallow fertile valleys and wetlands, consistently growing more corn and barley than the county could use. So the surrounding towns and villages relied on Haplann’s produce. Even the larger citadels bought from Haplann.
The other money earner for the countess was the Firelands. For years now nothing could grow on the Pyromantic burnt ground since the time of the first civil war against Baron Telmar. Nevertheless, Morden had now come to realise that the countess had a stubborn streak and would never give up. The fact of a large unfertile area of land in her own county disturbed her and so she ordered her farmers to try to grow anything that they could there.
After many failed attempts over the past year and a half, they found luck with a hardy vine hybrid that made red grape for wine. Soon the whole area was crisscrossed with vineyards and small hamlets for the workforce to make and bottle the wine. The red wine, now drunk throughout the island, was very sweet and very strong. The locals called it Firewine.
The countess found herself in a very strong position. Not only was she a good politician and the richest woman on the island. Everyone relied on her county’s produce. She had fulfilled her plan to keep Haplann independent and neutral, and even raised a well paid and professional army to protect it.
Bleudwed placed the poster on her desk and walked to the balcony. Wind lifted the white drapes that framed the open glass door as she walked through, followed by the Regent.
‘I think a close acquaintance of ours will find the resurgence of the Ancarryn very interesting.’ said the countess.
‘I agree. Prince Havoc was never happy about peace between the Vallkytes,’ Morden mused, ‘he still has many scores to settle and the Ancarryn will prove to be a suitable vehicle to vent his anger on his enemies.’
‘Actually, I was not thinking about Havoc,’ smiled the countess.
The Val
lkyte messenger entered the citadel of Aln-Tiss at noon on the third day, after nearly killing his horse as it ate up the many miles from the Pander Pass. He was apprehensive about nailing up the posters in a city that was once home to the enemy and now bore much animosity towards any Vallkyte citizen even two and a half years into a truce.
He need not have worried. The citadel was deserted.
Only the City Watch, who shadowed his every move, were in evidence as he nailed up a score of posters advertising the Ancarryn in the main streets of the three towns and several on the palace grounds. He thought it unlikely that any Rogun would go to Dulan-Tiss to watch the Ancarryn, even though the articles, stated within the Truce of Haplann, required safe passage for both Rogun and Vallkyte citizens within each of their citadels. He nevertheless followed his orders and hurriedly finished the job, purchased another horse and prepared to continue his journey south to the small villages of the Alniani and Jertiani.
He was about to exit via the east gate when he heard a loud cheer issue from the direction of Carras Isle to the west of the palace. It seemed as if the missing population were all on that small strip of land. Then it struck him, as the large iron gates closed with an ominous finality, it was the summer solstice, the traditional time of the Canndali.
The Canndali, or the making of Rawn Masters from apprentices, was always held on Carras Isle at noon on the summer solstice. Naturally, because of the Civil War, this had not been possible, but now that the citadel was back in Rogun hands it was business as usual and those Rawn Apprentices who had missed out on the Trial by Fire in the past few years were now making up for lost time. As a result, the Canndali intakes had reached record numbers.