The Steel Lord: Book 01 - BannerFall

by Jason McWhirter

  Welcome to…

  BannerFall

  A storm of change has blown in from the South, ushering in the conquering army of the Saricon horde and their frightful war god Heln. Tall and powerful, their spirit and bodies born for war, the Saricon have swept all before them and now locked their cold blue gaze upon the lands of Dy’ain and the Kul-brite steel trade. For whosoever controls the precious metal of the Lords shall possess the power and wealth to reign supreme over all the lands of Corvell.

  House Dormath, the rulers of Dy’ain, prepares for war. Their elite Legion, long-standing protectors of their land and Argonian faith, hoist shield and sword in defiance of the mighty invaders. But how can even the fearless Legion stop the Saricon where so many before them have fallen to their blades? Two religions, two separate ways of life, clash in an epic battle fueled by conquest and self-preservation as two young men, born of contrasting worlds and forged in violence and war, converge to become House Dormath’s last hope.

  Jason L McWhirter

  A Twiin Entertainment book

  Books by Jason McWhirter

  Cavalier Trilogy

  The Cavalier, book one

  The Rise of Malbeck, book two

  Glimmer in the Shadow, book three

  The Chronicles of Corvell

  Steel Lord Series

  BannerFall, book one

  The Banner Lord, book two

  Non-Fantasy

  The Life of Ely

  Published by Twiin Entertainment

  www.twiinentertainment.com

  Copyright © Jason L. McWhirter, 2014

  Library of Congress

  All rights reserved

  Cover art by Luis Gama

  All other art by Jason L. McWhirter

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored electronically, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to everyone who has helped me pursue my dreams. In summary, that would be my parents, my brother and sister, my wife, my teachers, my friends, and all my fans who share a love for reading and stories, and who have been my inspiration for creating tales of fiction. Thank you all very much.

  I would also like to thank the creative team behind one of my favorite old school martial arts films, Master Killer, for giving me some of the training ideas in this book.

  The Lands of Belorth and Corvell

  BannerFall

  The Chronicles of Corvell

  Book One of the Steel Lord Series

  JASON L MCWHIRTER

  Prologue

  5090, 14th cyn after the Great Change

  The cold night was dark, oppressive even, the blackness thick like oil. Clouds like coal covered the stars and even the intense glow of the moon could not penetrate them. It was a perfect night for shadows, the darkness welcoming them like a mother’s open arms.

  Thalon, veiled in the night, pushed more energy into his arms and hands, reinforcing his muscles and concentrating much of it in his claws as they penetrated the hard stone wall. The city of Eltus was like any other major city, the royal palace being located somewhere inside, protected by its own set of walls. As Thalon had moved through the shadowed alley ways, silently, like a dark fog in a starless night, his hood pulled low over his face, he had tasked energy from people that were still out walking the streets, filling his tarnum, his center, with aura energy. Now, as he climbed the steep palace wall, gliding effortlessly up the stone surface, he slowly released that energy into his extremities, his black claws strengthened by the energy he wove around them. Slowly his shadowed form worked its way up the wall. He wore black leggings and a black tunic under charcoal gray leather armor. And strapped to his back was a short sword, slightly curved, and sheathed in black leather.

  Thalon was not just a skilled swordsman. He was also an Aura Mage. Thirty years ago he was on his way to being one of the top swordsmen in all of Layona. He had joined the king’s army at the age of sixteen, and by his twenty first birthday there were few who could best him with the blade. But his military career, and nearly his life, had all come to a grinding halt when his secret had been exposed. His king had discovered he was an Aura Mage. His powers, known as the Way, surfaced late in life, when he was twenty, a handful of years later than adolescence when it typically manifested if one was so gifted. He was in battle, fighting for his king, when he was stabbed in the side by a marauding nomad whose armies often ventured into Layona for plunder. He thought himself dead, until he suddenly felt a wave of hot energy wash over him, and crying out he pushed the energy away, blasting the nearest nomads off their feet with an intense explosion of air. Not knowing it at the time, he had tasked energy from the warriors and sent it rushing back at them, the shockwave powerful enough to not go unnoticed. He had survived the wound, only to suffer more at the hands of the very person he had sworn to protect; his king’s royal house. When they found out that he was an Aurit, one gifted in the Way, they had killed his father and mother, as well as his sister, and they had nearly killed him. But thanks to the help of several of the soldiers, he had escaped.

  Thirty years of moving from town to town, hiding as an outlaw, sometimes begging and stealing, tasking energy from others, while trying to survive, had transformed him into something different, a being that no longer resembled his former self. Since he had never been taught about his power, he was forced to learn how to use it on his own, by trial and error. And much of it had been error. He hadn’t been warned to avoid negative energy, and over the years he had used too much of it. The constant use of these negative energies had changed him, both physically and mentally. The mental changes were subtle, and so gradual that he didn’t really realize he had intrinsically changed. To him, he had always been this way. But it wasn’t true. He hadn’t always been a killer. Circumstances had dictated his hand, forcing him to make difficult decisions, decisions that led him down paths that were slippery with his victims’ blood. And how he hated the nobility, the people who changed his life, the aristocrats who tried to stamp out the Way in anyone other than the royal houses.

  Thalon’s physical transformation was not nearly as subtle. He had morphed into something quite different. The years of using negative energies had altered his body. His fingers had grown longer, and his nails had become claws, curved like those of a cat, and capable of rending flesh. His face had changed shape as well, becoming more elongated, with enlarged eyes, and iridescent lavender pupils that enabled him to see more clearly in the shadows. His skin had become pale, almost translucent, and his once thick and lustrous dark hair had completely fallen out, exposing his smooth bald head that resembled a large egg. But despite his age, he had also become faster and stronger, the continuous use of aura energy strengthening and enhancing his musculature.

  In the years he had spent moving from town to town, city to city, he had occupied his time spying, killing, and adapting. And over the years he had met others like him. They sensed his power, and were attracted to it. They saw they were not alone; they needed something to give them hope. He had done that, uniting them as friends, but more importantly giving them purpose. They had become known as the Shadows. Their name was whispered in dark alleys, eventually gaining such an ominous reputation that few believed them to be real. A child’s song
was even created, the words whispered to scare little ones into being good.

  The Shadows, black, pull you deep

  The Shadows, thick, don’t fall asleep

  The Shadows, kill, don’t you weep

  The Shadows, real, creep, creep, creep

  But they were real. And tonight King Kaleck and his family would know this truth.

  Thalon pulled himself over the battlement and onto the narrow walkway. Hiding in the shadows, he concentrated on his tarnum, using the last of the remaining energy for his next spell, one that had proven useful time and time again. Manipulating the energy, he coated his body in it, weaving the magic into an outer shell identical to his surroundings. He had become invisible. Quietly, he raced along the top of the wall, heading for the stairs that would lead to the castle courtyard. From there, it was just a matter of time before he would be in the king’s chambers.

  On the roof, a small dark figure dropped down from the night, gliding silently to land softly on the clay tiles. Lyra released the energy of the fly spell, flipping her short compact bow from around her back and nocking an arrow. She had not perfected the fly spell and it still felt very strange, but she was better than Thalon, which was why he was entering the castle a different way. The spell created a spinning vortex of air on which she floated. Maneuverability was tricky, and it was pure luck that she landed as gracefully and silently as she had. Like Thalon, Lyra’s petite form was clothed entirely in black. The hood of her cloak concealed her angular but feminine face, which was framed by short silver hair cut like a boy’s. Besides the bow she held in her hand, she also carried two long knives strapped to each hip.

  She reached out slowly, mentally searching for any auras. She sensed one several paces away to her right, and a second one underneath her. Silently she crept along the roofline and peered over the edge to the balcony below. She saw a woman standing on the balcony with her back to her looking over the railing to the palace grounds below. The woman wore a long translucent night robe and her cascading dark hair blew gently in the evening breeze. Her aura was calm, a soft orange. Perhaps she couldn’t sleep, Lyra thought. Lyra tasked a small amount from her, storing it in her tarnum, which for her was located in the middle of her chest.

  Lyra, like Thalon, was also an Aura Mage. She too was untrained, and like Thalon had fled, leaving her home in Gilia when her powers had surfaced. She was a courtesan, or had been. Both her parents had died of a plague when she was twelve, and she found herself alone and destitute, forced to beg and scrounge for food. One night she had attempted to grab a purse from the wrong person, a woman much quicker and stronger than she appeared. She was the mistress of one of Gilia’s most popular houses of pleasure, and she was accustomed to dealing with poor young girls. Lyra was quickly conscripted to work for her. At first she cleaned, ran errands, and basically performed the most menial labor. But as she matured, her unique, rather exotic beauty began to attract the attention of many of the patrons. While some men favored voluptuous, curvy women, others were drawn to the more slender and petite body. And Lyra fell into that category. She was sinewy and strong, her body almost boy- like, but enhanced by the slight curve of her hips and her small firm breasts. Her large lustrous green eyes, high cheekbones, smooth olive skin, and silky black hair that fell to her waist further enhanced her unique beauty. And so, like others before her, she was forced to sell her body to the men of Gilia. But one night, after five years of working at the pleasure house, everything changed. When she was eighteen, her powers had surfaced, triggered by a patron who was known for his sadistic abuse. Before she knew what she was doing, she had tasked his aura energy, releasing it in a burst of flames that erupted from her fingers, completely melting the skin off the side of his face. She knew she had to run. She ran for nearly six years, until the night she had met Thalon. Now she had a purpose, and she, with Thalon’s help, had learned to control her power. But like all untrained Aura Mages, she too had not gone unscathed by using her powers incorrectly. Tasking negative energies from others took its toll on her body. Her once lustrous black hair was now completely silver, and her ears had grown, elongating into sharp points at the top. But it was her striking lavender eyes, no longer green, that had been most affected by the use of negative energies and which drew the most unwanted attention.

  The woman at the railing turned around. It was her, Cassandra Kaleck, wife to Asdar Kaleck, heir to the Kingdom of Kael. Lyra had a clear shot, and there was no way her target could see her in the darkness above. Her only concern was if she had her towd, or aura site, turned on, although there would be no reason to do so at this time of night. Cassandra Kaleck was a powerful Aura Mage in her own right, and she was of noble blood, trained since her Way had materialized. If she indeed had her towd on than Lyra’s aura would light up as clear as fire in the night.

  Lyra drew her bow back, aiming for her throat, an easy shot at this distance. She didn’t want her to scream, and an arrow through the throat would silence any potential outcry. In a flash her arrow flew, slamming into Cassandra’s throat and bursting out the back of her neck. The impact of the arrow snapped her head back and she rocked back on her heals. The torches flanking the door of her bedroom shed enough light on her face for Lyra to see her eyes roll back in shock, just before she stumbled to her knees. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but only a faint choking gurgle emerged as she fell to her side, her blood pooling around her.

  “Cassandra?” a concerned voice came from inside. It must be the other aura she detected, probably her second target.

  Lyra swore under her breath, and drew another arrow just as a shirtless man dressed only in loose white pants ran onto the balcony. As soon as he saw his wife, her blood covering the stones, he spun around and glanced up.

  His fiery eyes met hers and she swore again as she drew her arrow back and instantaneously released. The man was Asdar Kaleck, and he was a powerful Merger. He had clearly turned on his towd when he noticed that his wife had been shot with an arrow.

  Prince Kaleck had no weapon, but he was a trained Merger from a long noble line, and he instantly flooded his own aura energy into his muscles, spinning aside inhumanly fast as her arrow sparked across the stones, ricocheting harmlessly into the railing.

  Lyra followed the path of her arrow, leaping to the balcony below. She landed hard, rolling forward to lessen the impact, dropping her bow and drawing both blades simultaneously. She came at him quickly, knives flashing left and right. Prince Kaleck spun and danced, expertly evading her blades, his right hand flashing out and striking the side of her face. The enhanced power of his attack was so strong it spun her body sideways so forcefully that she knew she was in trouble. Despite her skill, she would not be able to defeat a trained Merger of noble lineage in hand to hand combat. It didn’t matter that he was weaponless. She needed a new plan. Lyra shook the pain away, drawing on the energy that she had taken from the princess before her death. She faced the advancing prince and pushed her blades forward, concentrating on the energy and molding it to her will. A wave of wind gushed forward, violently shoving the prince backwards until he hit the railing. He growled in a fury, both hands desperately gripping the railing to keep himself from being blown backwards into the night.

  She had only enough energy left for one violent push, so as he hit the railing she threw one of her knives. Prince Kaleck saw the knife coming, but if he let go of the railing he would be blown backwards. Lyra saw the fear in his eyes as he recognized his predicament. He tried to let go with one hand to block the knife, but, despite his enhanced speed, he wasn’t fast enough. The blade slammed into his throat as the last of the wind launched him off the balcony, disappearing into the darkness below.

  I hope Thalon finishes quickly, Lyra thought, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before one of the palace guards found the bodies. And she was vulnerable now, as she had no more energy to enact the fly spell to escape. The plan had been to kill them both in their sleep after she had tasked their auras, and then use that
energy to fly away. She needed to find a guard, anyone from whom she could task energy, so she crept silently into the room for just that purpose.

  Meanwhile, Thalon had made his way through the various halls without incident. The spell he was using didn’t make him completely invisible; it simply altered his appearance by manipulating the light. It was almost like a reflective shield, the energy of the spell mirroring the surroundings. It worked nearly perfectly when one was standing still as the energy weave around the body could more easily match the surroundings. But, when moving it became less effective. If he moved too fast, it was possible for them to see a blur, or a glimmer of movement, so he moved slowly and deliberately, evading the guards and making his way closer to the king’s chamber.

  Getting to the anteroom that led to the king’s personal chambers posed his first problem. The door was closed, and likely bolted at this time of night. Besides that, Thalon knew that there were at least a few guards stationed there, guarding the only entrance to the king’s room. He had a simple plan, he just hoped it worked.

  Reaching inside his tunic he produced a small bag containing a handful of metal balls. Then he knocked on the door. He heard footsteps and then someone fumbling with the door, which opened a few moments later.

  A young guard looked right at him, but saw nothing, his invisible form pushed against the stone wall. Then he tossed the metal marbles down the hall. They landed about five paces in front of the guard and rolled across the stones, occasionally banging together.

  “What is this!?” he gasped in surprise as he stepped through the door and into the hallway. Thalon slid silently through the open door into the anteroom as the guard stepped further into the hall, trying to figure out who had thrown the balls.

  The anteroom was clearly a guardroom. Along the wall was a rack of weapons, several swords, four crossbows, bolts, four spears, and a few axes. Two other guards were sitting at a table playing some game of dice. The room was small; the size of a bedroom, and luckily for Thalon the other entrance was just a rounded arch leading into another hallway. Thalon ignored the guards as he tasked their energy, creeping silently by them through the opening and down the shadowed hallway until he came to a large oak door. It was locked, but Thalon didn’t think that would pose a problem. He looked back, seeing shadows in the guard’s room and hearing muffled voices as they tried to figure out what had happened. Just as he was about to remove his lock picks, a guard walked down the hallway carrying a lantern. It was the same guard that had opened the door, and obviously he was on alert, puzzled and concerned about the strange appearance of the metal balls. His first instinct was to look in on his king.