Fire And Ice (Book 1)
Page 1
For my family
In each of us there is a world of our own making.
Cover created by Thaihieu Blair
The Characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission.
Fire and Ice
Copyright ©2012 by Wayne Krabbenhoft III
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1479352799
ISBN-13: 978-1479352791
FIRE AND ICE
By Wayne Krabbenhoft III
Book One of the Sword and the Rose
In
The Saga of the Great Wars
Prologue: Fire from the Sky
1 Guests
2 A Blue Scarf
3 Enemies
4 The Celebration
5 A New Sword
6 To Westland
7 Four Days
8 The Mountain and the Hawk
9 Hidden Snares
10 Conversations
11 Under the Trees
12 A Meeting of Minds
13 Waking
14 A Promise Made
15 Arencia
16 Into the East
17 Returned in Honor
18 Sun Day
19 Into Hiding
20 To the Wizard
21 A Night in Lornth
22 The Return to Crecy
23 Tears of Joy
24 The First Healing
25 Passage Home
26 First Day of Winter
27 Succession
28 Secret Departure
29 A Piece of Silver
30 The Fisherman’s Rest
31 A Glimpse of the Future
32 Advantage of Surprise
33 Finding the Way
34 Ice
35 Herrinhall
36 Final Preparations
37 The First Battle
38 The Rose of Summer
39 Heading South
40 Betrayed
41 Converging Forces
42 A Day of Blood
43 The Tower Top
44 Fire and Ice
*Notes on dates:
(FF)=From the founding of Ithan: Dating did not come into use until the third century of the Empire. Istius Suban begins recording the events as the empire expanded. To do so Istius created a calendar, using the founding of the city as the first year.
(YV)=Year of the Vusaari: As Mon Vusaar emerged from the Great War as the most powerful kingdom in the west, the desire to escape anything connected to Ithan permeated the land, as well as a wish to create an impressive culture of their own.
1 (YV) = 1561 (FF)
(YS)=Year of Summer. Like Mon Vusaar had with Ithan, Summerhall needed to break away from anything connected with the Vusaari. Eros, son of Soros, had a new calendar commissioned after his father’s death.
1 (YS) =1252 (YV) = 2814 (FF)
Important Dates
* The new year begins with the spring
C-400 (FF) Midians arrive in the west/ Holdon’s Keep built/Ithanians driven out of Midia
1 (FF) City of Ithan founded -decree ‘Empire without end’
187 Arencia founded
201 Loss of Legions in Ne’emen (only attempt to conquer Anagassi)
235 Battle of Ma’avar (Ithan’s decisive victory over western Karands)
480-500 Ithan invades Midia/ Sun Plain brought into Empire
501 Arryvestra founded
1380 Empire reaches greatest extant under Calimus
1433 Soterides Gratus writes prophecy
1539 Start of the First Great War
1555 Battle of Alum (West victorious)/ War ends
1557 City of Ithan sacked by Northmen under Volfgaard / Karands revolt from Ithanian rule
1 (YV) Mon Vusaar made capitol of mountain kingdom
1-110 Midians fight wars to liberate Midia from Ithan
52 Mon Tyelin founded
55 Mon Vusaar extends control over modern Holdon (all but Holdon’s Keep)
60 Delios founded as capitol under the Sundarrions
61 Arryvestra defeats Legions of Ithan to win independence
110 Last of the Ithanians driven from Midia after battle of Alth
155 Vusaari defeat alliance of Aracone, Ebbenese, and Sidon
309 Ithanian invasion of Midia defeated (battles of Kartuum and Holshire)
468 War between Vusaari and the North (slaying of Suevyl One-Eye)
499 Karands defeat Ithan to win freedom
1248 Start of Second Great War
1250 Companions formed, Battle of the Field of Despair (Midian kings killed), Gethmon Derosian named Defender of Southern Gates, Mon Ebal Falls (Envin Tallistar killed)
1252 Fall of Mon Vusaar
1253 Battle of Tyelin, Battle of the Therendelle (end of war)
1 (YS) Midian Alliance formed by Soros Sundarrion (Sun Plain, Aracone, Ebenesse, Sidon), Eros born with the mark of the sun
4 House Volton wins civil war (Voltia joins Alliance)/ Taragosa enters Alliance
4-7 Soros in the east
6 Great Purge
7 Soros returns, Gethmon ends purge
15 Soros dies, Eros crowned High King
16 Troubles start (Voltia and Aracone raid neighbors)
17 Eros issues first call to war to end the violence
18 Order of the Knights of Soros founded, Troubles ended
20-22 War with Ithan (Ithan attacks new Alliance)
188 Suitors’ war (For the hand of princess, heir to Summerhall)
296 Second war with Ithan (The Trade War-for control of the narrows)
343 First war with the North (Northmen take Marchland)
550 Brothers’ War
551 Battle of the Red Hills (end of war)
552 Founding of Westland and Grendin
641 Second War with the North (North of the red hills lost to the Northmen/ Marchland retaken)
645 Northwatch founded
707 Ithan attacks western Karands
708 Battle of Yerema (Midians defeat Ithan, stop Ithanian expansion in Karanda)
720 Shiomi invade Voltia (Volton besieged, Carrington falls)
721 Battle of Kingsgate (Midians defeat Shiomi)
725 Corianus of Voltia invades Daes Shael (Corianus’ Folly)
761 Third war with the North
995 Stemis and Oran in Karanda- meet Miko
1004 Battle of Breton’s field (Shiomi defeated)
1007 Anya of Tyelin dies from illness
1008 Crecy falls to the Shiomi Coran goes to Summerhall
1014 Coran knighted (returns to Tyelin)
Prologue
Fire From The Sky
Stemis Sundarrion paced the distance between the long, heavy dining table and the stone lined hearth in the middle of the night. The room was lighted by candles burning in sconces on the table and mantle. His bare feet were wearing out a path in the blue carpet spread out over the polished stone floor. He walked between blue cushioned chairs and a sofa of the same color as he stood vigil for what was happening on the other side of the closed wooden door to the bed chamber he shared with his wife.
She was in there right now with the midwife, and Gelarus. He wanted to be in there himself. He felt like he should be in there. The sounds of her yelling from the pains of giving birth permeated even the heavy oak of the door. Perhaps the midwife was correct and it would be better if he remained out here. His pace quickened.
He reached the hearth and turned around
to complete another circuit when something caught his eye through the thin, golden curtains blocking the windows. He thought he saw lights. Pushing aside one of the curtains he looked out over the island city of Summerhall from his position on an upper floor of the palace. The plethora of lights shining from windows and lantern-illuminated street corners below was not what made him look. In the distant night sky, above the dark outlines of flowering trees lining the horizon, paths of fire streaked down from the heavens. Hundreds of flaming objects fell against that ebony backdrop in a fiery rain to the left and right as far as the glass allowed him to turn his head and see.
Stemis stared in wonder at the foreign sight, and with a little fear. What portents could such an event indicate? From what he knew, such a sight had only been seen once before, in the middle of winter two years ago. It had also been at night then too. He remembered being awakened from sleep by a frightened wife and dragged out to a balcony where he saw the falling fire far to the north. It was much closer this time, and much more ominous. The same questions and theories would be tossed about around dining tables and in taverns the same as last time. Stemis feared that he might know the truth of it, and too many others might as well.
Another long scream jolted him away from the window. He watched the door anxiously as silence followed. Then there was another cry, the sound of a child in its first moments of life. A grin came to his face without his knowing it as he stood frozen, waiting. Time crept by and his smile slowly faded as worry intruded upon his thoughts. Worry for the welfare of the child and for his wife was foremost in his mind, of course, but another problem was there as well.
Ever since the son of Soros was born every heir to the throne of Summer bore the mark of the sun. It was a sign that this person was destined to rule the Alliance of Midia. For a thousand years it had held true and he could not be the one to break it. It was a point of distress for all who held the throne, because if the child did not come the Alliance would be shattered and civil war would be the result. He was only twenty-three, but had been married for five years. They had been trying and hoping for five years. An heir should have come by now.
The door opened and he took several steps towards it as the white haired and bearded Gelarus emerged with something bundled up in blankets in his robed arms. Stemis peered into the coverings to look upon a baby’s pink skinned face. The child’s eyes were opening and closing as they adjusted to the light of the world for the first time.
“Is he all right?” Stemis asked putting a loving hand to the babe’s bald head.
“She is fine,” Gelarus stated confidently.
He looked up quickly and the grin returned. “She? That is wonderful.” Seeing the child he was having a little trouble thinking clearly. “My wife?”
“The Queen is well. She wishes to see you.”
“And I her.” Now the other worry. “But the child? Is she the one?”
Gelarus carefully turned the baby over so that they could both see the back of her neck. Just below the neckline was a small birthmark. It was a circle with wavy lines issuing out from it no bigger than the tip of his finger. It was the mark of the sun.
“The heir to Summerhall,” Gelarus announced, turning the child back.
Stemis reached out to take his daughter from the tall, bearded man. In that moment everything was perfect. His child was born healthy, his wife was well, and an heir had arrived at last.
Giving up the baby, Gelarus glanced to the window and then went closer to look outside. Moving aside the curtain he watched the fiery display unmoving.
Stemis went to stand next to him. The child saw the lights falling from the sky and her little eyes opened wide and the fingers of one hand clenched. “What do you think it means?”
The Wizard of Summerhall did not reply, but stared out the window in a thoughtful silence.
Oran stepped out onto the narrow balcony at the Keep at Tyelin. The ground rose in steep hills that bordered the small valley. Far to the south he saw the glowing fire in the sky. It was still cold here at the edge of the mountains so his breath steamed the night air. This was the second time he had seen such a sight and was glad that it was not as close this time. He still remembered the flaming stones as they fell to the snow covered ground around the Keep, steam rising from where they impacted. A couple of houses had caught on fire too. Luckily, the firestorm ended so that men could go outside and put out the blazes before they spread to a neighbor’s house. They could have lost half the town otherwise.
“What is it?” A sweet sounding voice called from inside causing his heart to race and his mouth to quirk into a smile as it always did. A moment later a brown haired woman with a flawless face appeared on the balcony and came to stand next to him. She saw the sky as she pulled her robe about her tightly with both hands. She glanced at his face and saw the worry that he felt. “Do you think it means something?”
“I hope not,” he replied, and wished fervently that it was true.
“Papa.” A little boy in a white night shirt came out on the balcony, walking on unsteady legs. Little Coran was only two years old and still learning to talk. Oran scooped him up into his arms and Coran giggled. “Papa!” he cried loudly, causing Oran to wince, and pointed at the red streaked sky. “Fire!”
“Yes. Fire,” Oran told his son.
Under a rain of fire shall they be born,
Pawns of fate in their destinies,
Bringers of hope in a time of despair.
One shall sit upon a throne of fire,
The other shall wield a sword of Ice.
Hearts as one,
Minds as one,
United against the Destruction.
Soterides Gratus 1433 FF,
From the Third Prophecy,
Also called the Prophecy of Fire and Ice
Chapter 1
Guests
The horse’s breath steamed the cold mountain air. Its rider wore a thick, dark cloak to ward off the chill as he scanned the gray, overcast sky that darkened towards the west. To the north and east the outline of white peaked mountains was obscured in the clouds. The man raised his chin and sniffed, then sighed despairingly. The breeze carried with it the spicy scent of pine and the clean, cold promise of snow. Winter had yet to relinquish its grip on his home. The tall young man with short dark hair turned his horse with a light tug on the reins back the way they had come. The trail he followed was mostly clear of snow as it gradually descended from the ridge top. The weather had grown increasingly warmer with the approach of spring until a cold wind had started in the night before. There would be no leaving for him today.
The weather suited Coran’s mood perfectly, and it also made it worse. After finishing his training and studies, his father had sent him back to Tyelin to refamiliarize himself with their ancestral home. It was not the same place he remembered from his childhood. Then it had been warm, safe and loving with his parents who had a spirit that could not be broken. Until his mother died, then it turned into a cold, empty building of stone. That’s why, ten years before, his father had packed them up and left for Summerhall, where his best friend from youth, King Stemis, accepted him as his adviser. That's where Coran had been treated as family. Stemis was like an uncle and Queen Anne had mothered Coran outrageously. Margery, who was almost the same age as him, was the sister he never had. Then there was Katelyn. He could never figure out exactly where she fit in the whole thing. She was two years younger and as different from her sister as night is to day. Where Margery was beauty and grace, Katelyn was skinny and awkward. Margery inherited the golden hair of her mother while Katelyn’s was as dark as night. Coran missed them most of all. Where they were was home to him, and he had been gone for over a year. The path left the trees and leveled off as he reached the dirt packed road and left his thoughts behind. He followed it west until it met the turnoff to Tyelin.
At the crossroad he saw about forty armed men in uniformed cloaks of dark green and yellow shirts over their armor. They were evenly disp
ersed fore and aft of a white coach with gold trimmed shutters and door. One of the windows was open, and an older woman with light brown hair was talking to one of the soldiers who had a red plume protruding from his rounded helm. Soldiers eyed Coran warily from their saddles as he passed, yet made no move to bar his way. He noticed three stars on the chest of one man and knew them to be guardsmen of Westland, the Kingdom to the west. As he came alongside the coach Coran got a better look at the woman. He recognized her despite the new wrinkles that hadn’t been there before, and the fact that he had only met her once when he was a boy.
“You there,” the guard with the plume called to him, breaking off Coran’s scrutiny. “Are you from around here?” He sounded unsure how to address him, and Coran realized his cloak hid his clothing. With a slightly worn cloak and well-kept mount he could be taken for a well off man or a poor lord.
“I am. If you need any help you only have to ask.” Coran’s polite response, yet lack of any deference confused the man even more. The woman was watching him curiously, but didn’t speak.
“We are on our way to the river, but are unsure of the weather.” The man pointed to the west where the darker clouds were approaching. “We need to know if we should seek shelter.”
Coran nodded with understanding. “It’s a good thing you asked. You wouldn't have made it half way before the snow stopped you. These spring storms can be severe.” He turned to address the woman for the first time, giving a half bow from the saddle. “I can only offer my humble accommodations, but I would be honored if you would stay with me, your Majesty.”
Queen Caroline of Westland appeared amused rather than surprised. “And whose accommodations would I be accepting?”
“Forgive me,” Coran apologized. He opened his cloak enough to reveal a silver hawk imprinted on his black shirt. “You probably do not remember me, Coran Tyelin.”