Prayer: Champion of Light

by C. J. Krüger

  Contents

  Copyright

  Foreword

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Links

  Champion of Light

  Book 1: Prayer

  Copyright © 2016 C.J. Krüger

  Cover design by

  Authenticity Press

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author.

  Thanks for reading Book 1 of the Champion of Light series! If you enjoy Prayer and want updates on new releases, you can find me at the links below or sign up for my mailing list to receive emails.

  Happy reading!

  — C.J. Krüger

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  Chapter One

  Jonathan Wolfe

  (Year 3740)

  I lie on the ground, cold and parched. Blood runs down my leg as my life slips away and my heartbeat grows slower and slower. A man I know falls next to me, his soul gone even before his head cracks against the earth. There is an axe embedded in his armored head, and his eyes are frozen in the panic he felt before his death.

  Is this to be my fate as well?

  With a grunt, I try to move, but it’s impossible. My body and muscles are far too weak and all I can do is stay still as my friends are cut down around me. A bright, white light appears before my eyes, and I know that soon my time on this earth will be over. I accept this fate; I’m in no pain, I feel no anger. Yet there is a deep part of me that rejects this white solace. My body surges and I feel strength return to me for a moment. Even though my mind has accepted that my wound is fatal, my body and soul fight to stay alive.

  The effort it takes to rise to my feet is the greatest I have ever exerted. It’s as if someone has strapped a mountain to my back and the weight is almost enough to send me back to the ground.

  “Move,” I command myself as I unclasp my armor. The steel breastplate falls away and clangs loudly against the ground. I feel momentarily light and free but I have no time to enjoy feeling like a feather.

  The glint of steel catching the morning sun flashes in the corner of my eye and I instinctively duck out of the way. I feel and hear the slice of the blade as it passes over me and cuts the air. I grab the knife on my belt and I thrust toward my enemy, letting instinct guide my hand. I feel the blade slide into him, just under his ribs, and sink deep into his flesh. He gurgles out his last breath before he falls backward. Without thinking, I take his sword and glance around frantically, my heart pounding in my chest.

  “My Prince!” I hear someone yell toward me.

  I whip my head toward the sound, and I feel immense relief when I see Rolf, my ever loyal bodyguard. “Eternal Lights be praised,” I mutter as I shuffle over to him.

  “Your Highness!” Rolf exclaims, joy on his face as he comes to an abrupt stop before me. “Your father feared the worst when the lines broke. I am glad to see you are alive.”

  I wrinkle my nose without meaning to. Naturally, my father is only concerned about my wellbeing in the midst of battle because then his legacy is on the line. Never in normal company. “Take me to him, Rolf,” I say in a heavy voice. “Sound the retreat.”

  “But your father has ordered the—”

  “I don’t care what my father has ordered!” I snap at him. “This battle is lost. I’ll not lose more men trying to defend a city that wasn’t ours to begin with!”

  Rolf nods hesitantly and lifts an ornate ivory horn from his belt. He brings the mouthpiece to his lips and bellows out a long, deep note. The men around us start to shout and I see them starting to flee. As the horn dies away, Rolf grabs my arm.

  “We must leave,” he says, his voice filled with fear. “We don’t want to be here when the Borlesions come.”

  I nod in agreement and grab my side as pain radiates through me. “I’ll need your help, my friend,” I say softly.

  “Of course, my Prince,” he says, lifting my arm around his neck to support my weight.

  We walk as fast as we are able toward the main body of the army. The narrow streets make it difficult to move quickly, but they also protect us from ambush. My men start to circle around us, providing an impromptu honor guard.

  “Get down!” one of the soldiers shouts, and I feel someone push me from behind.

  I hit the ground and feel the air knocked from my lungs. The earth breaks around me and I feel a rush of flames kiss my face. Stone and rock pummel me, and I feel a heavy weight preventing me from getting up.

  “Take the prince out of here,” I hear Rolf say, and feel the weight lift from my back.

  I’m yanked to my feet and I’m struggling to breathe. Looking down, I realize the weight was actually the body of a young solider and it was he who dove on top of me, saving me from the explosion.

  “Someone pick him up,” I say hoarsely.

  “We have to leave,” Rolf says in a firm, agitated voice.

  “He saved my life,” I say through my teeth. “Someone take him back with us. He deserves better than to be a feast for crows.” I know it’s stupid to be sentimental right now, but if I do not act with honor and kindness, even in the middle of war, I really will become like my father.

  My men do as they’re told, though I can see the fear on their faces. They don’t want to be slowed down in such a hostile place, and I can’t blame them. But this is for a fallen brother and we have an obligation.

  We finally leave the city, and I see men and armored horses waiting for us at the gates. I struggle to mount a powerful charger, and Rolf has to assist me. Once I am secured to my mount, we race across the grasslands until we are behind our own lines, where my father is waiting in a royal camp. Thousands of my men are now filtering out of the city and joining us. At a quick glance, I see that most of my army has survived the siege. Thank the Lights for that.

  “I think we’re safe for now,” I say softly, slowing the charger’s pace. My ribs and body ache more from riding the charger than from my wounds, but I do my best to steel my mind against the discomfort.

  “The camp is just ahead, my lord,” Rolf says, hesitation in his voice. “But your father is going to—”

  “You let me deal with my father,” I say firmly. “His damn quest for glory is going to be the end of us all.”

  As we approach the camp, there are sounds of soldiers scuttling around frantically. My father steps out of his pavilion, his royal guard trailing in his wake.

  I lift my head and wipe the blood from my face, making a feeble attempt to look presentable. My father’s face is emotionless as he approaches me, and he says nothing for a moment.

  “You come back empty handed,” he says finally in a flat tone, his stoney eyes narrow and filled with contempt.

  “I come back with my life and the bulk of our army,” I retort. “The Borlesions knew an alternate way into the city and got behind our lines. We never stood a chance.”

  “So I noticed,” he says, his lips pursing in contempt. “I wasn’t aware I raised such a weak and stupid son. Did you not check for such breaches in our hold?” He looks away, putting his palm against his face. “This is my fault. I should have listened to my generals when they said you weren’t capable.”

&nbs
p; The temptation to reach for my sword is overwhelming. It’s all I can do not to cut him down. “This was a foolish war in the first place!” I say, my nostrils flaring and my fist clenching. “And I didn’t ask to be put in command. Don’t patronize me by pretending that this was one of your tests.”

  “But it is, son,” he says, reaching out to touch my face. “And you’re failing it.”

  I curl my upper lip and turn my face away from his touch. “You would have me charge the line again?”

  My father’s lips seem to smirk before his face returns to its usual hard and empty disposition. “I would have you do whatever it takes to achieve victory.”

  “Then I will do this my way,” I growl and walk away. My feet falter and pain shoots through my body. I nearly fall to the ground, but I feel Rolf there to steady me. “I’m alright,” I say, patting him on the shoulder. “Go get the men ready. At nightfall I’m going to order another attack.”

  “But sir, you can’t go back out there,” he tells me, his face lined with worry.

  I feel my father’s eyes burning holes into the back of my skull. “I’ll have the healers patch me up and rest until it’s time. Go, Rolf,” I tell him softly, and begin to walk towards my own pavilion. A pair of guards stand outside the tent, pikes in the ground and looking very imposing. “Summon a healer or two to tend to my wounds,” I say as I step past them and into the large tent.

  It’s a large area, filled with unnecessary decor. Even in the middle of a war, my tent looks opulent and like a stately office. Too tired to focus on my disdain for the ridiculous interior, I walk over to my bed and fall onto it without undressing. Either the healers will manage to tend to my wounds or I won’t wake at all. Either way, I am too exhausted to care before sleep takes hold of me.

  * * *

  I pace back and forth in my pavilion, raking my brain around an insane plan. It’s unheard of, and breaks every strategy that has been used in a thousand years of recorded history. Even the Elves would not be so audacious. “I’m going to destroy the Borlesion army without losing another man,” I say finally, turning my eyes to Rolf, who is sitting at a table in the center of the room, poring over a large map.

  “What?” he asks, his voice cracking. “How?”

  “I’m going to use fire to destroy the center of the city. The rest of it will crumble into the Bore River, along with all the men garrisoned there.”

  “It’s impossible,” Rolf says, shaking his head and dismissing my plan. “Fire can’t break stone. It can’t be done.”

  I pat my oldest friend on the shoulder, my lips pulling up into a smirk. “With a little bit of magic, anything can be done,” I tell him, glancing down at the map.

  “Magic is for tricksters and Elves,” Rolf says, grimacing. “And we want nothing to do with those.”

  His words cause a pang of irritation to run through me, but I force it aside. I can tackle that issue after I’ve won this battle. “Do you remember that powder we found as children?” I ask, attempting to get the conversation back on track. “When we left it out in the sun it caught fire and destroyed the container it was in.”

  Rolf nodded. “And left a hole in the earth where it was, too. Why—” he starts to ask, but I can see the realization strike him. “You have a method to use it?”

  I nod. “I’ve never tested it before, but I’ve been trying to turn the powder into a weapon. I call it a Dying Star.”

  Rolf seems impressed by what he’s hearing. “And how do you intend to use them to destroy the canals?”

  I trace my finger across the map, following the Bore River along its path under the city. “The Borlesions use this city to refine almost all of their grains, and they use the power of the river to churn their mills. I plan to float a fleet of Dying Stars down the river. They will be stopped by grates along the canal that they use to filter trash that might damage the mills. We’ll send another one with a long rope that is on fire, and wait for it to explode, setting off a massive explosion near the city center.”

  “Like the death of a star,” Rolf murmurs, his brows furrowing in concentration. “Will that be enough to break Therras?”

  “I also want to destroy Terra Dam, further up river. The water will rush into the city without mercy and sweep it clean.”

  “But that will also make the city unusable for us, my prince,” Rolf says, running his hand over his chin. “Your father won’t be pleased by that.”

  “Right now, I don’t care,” I say firmly, and reach down to roll up the map. “You saw how many of them there are. We’d lose most of our men just trying to get near the city. It’s too well defended. This way, we destroy their major source of food production and a bulk of their army. And we will suffer minimal losses. My father will just have to deal with the destruction of the city. His goal is Boria anyway.”

  “And what of the civilians living in the city?” Rolf asks, his eyes downcast and his voice soft.

  “Well, I didn’t tell you this before,” I say hesitantly, “but I sent a warning before our first attack and most of the civilians fled the city.”

  “That’s why they sent so many troops here,” Rolf says, putting his palm against his face. “And it probably cost you the city in the end. If we had just attacked swiftly, word wouldn’t have gotten out and we’d have been able to reenforce the garrison more securely.”

  A sigh escapes my chest and I nod. “I know, but I wasn’t about to put thirty thousand innocents in front of a sword. Besides, they had the alternate way into the city. We’d have been gutted in our sleep. In the end, this will work better.”

  Rolf takes a moment to choose his words. I can see the conflict between his loyalty to me and loyalty to my father brewing behind his eyes. Finally, he salutes me and straightens his armor.

  “It’s as you say, my Prince,” he says firmly. “Victory for Kal-Gora! Today shall be the day the Borlesion Empire crumbles into nothing more than ink on the scrolls of history.”

  “If my father has his way, it won’t even get that honor,” I say sadly as I rub my hand over my side. The pain is less now that the healers have seen to me, but I still don’t feel completely like myself. “Go get the men ready, but don’t tell them the plan. I want to keep the Dying Stars a secret for now.”

  “Yes, sir,” Rolf says, snapping another salute before departing from the pavilion.

  Night is starting to fall over the land. Sol-theron, The Indomitable Sun, paints the sky with his holy flames. Reds and purples and indigos dance across the horizon, forming strange, unique patterns. I find comfort in its splendor. No matter what ugly and awful things we mortals do to one another, Sol-theron will be there with a gift of pure beauty for any who stop to look.

  Soon, I will have to put insanity into action, and my choice might forever leave this land in my father’s control. Do I really want this? My father is a monster and a tyrant. Should I stop him? But he’s my father and my king… and I want him to love me.

  Eternal Lights, guide me. Please.

  Chapter Two

  I feel like a jagged knife is being twisted in my gut. I had expected my father to lambast me for my plan, but instead he was pleased. He told me that he was proud, and the sick, almost loving smile he wore chilled me to the bone.

  I have always wanted my father’s approval, but to get praise because it is my intention to destroy an entire city is greatly disturbing. This is all wrong, I think to myself, trying to shake the feeling away.

  A man grunts as he carries a heavy, black ball with spikes running over the outside and a long white rope protruding from the top. It’s the final Dying Star, meant to ensure that the others detonate properly. The others have been floated down the river in little boats, and some have been gathered upriver by the Terra Dam.

  The dam is a true marvel of our world, but it’s also a liability to the Borlesions. The rage of the Bore is trapped behind its giant stone walls, and if it were to be released all at once, the massive flood would sweep everything away in its fury.<
br />
  “I’m going to oversee the destruction of the Terra,” I tell my captain.

  “Yes, sir,” he replies, snapping a salute. “This is a genius plan, sir. Those damn pigs will drown.”

  My nose wrinkles and I force myself to hide the disgust I feel in my stomach. The Tomes of Light tell us that killing is wrong, so what the hell am I doing? My father told me and the rest of our people that this was the will of the Lights, and it was the duty of Kal-Gora to spread the Lights’ will.

  This is all wrong.

  “If anything goes wrong, send a runner,” I tell the captain as I turn to depart.

  He acknowledges my order and I go to find my charger. He’s tied up in the stables, lazily grazing on the barley fed to him earlier. I can see in his eyes that he misses the fields back home, where he has room to run and plenty of grass to feed on.

  “It’s alright, Connal,” I tell him as I run my hands over his strong, muscled body. “We’ll be home soon. And then I can take you on a proper ride.”

  He nickers in approval and I ruffle his mane. “I know you hate it, but we have to go back into battle.”

  His head turns to the barding, hung up by his stall, and he nickers in disdain. I chuckle and nod in agreement. I hate putting armor on as well, but it’s a necessity. “At least you look really gallant in it,” I tell him, my lips pulling back into a grin.

  This seems to appease him, and I laugh, thinking how terribly vain he is. I exit the stall and order a stablehand to put the barding on before going to my pavilion. Inside is a new set of full plate armor, the older set lost in the middle of enemy territory. My family’s royal crest, a wolf’s head adorned with a golden crown, is stamped into the chest plate.

  “I’m ready,” I say into the darkness.

  A servant comes out from the shadows. I’m always aware of their lack of presence. It’s as if they are invisible, but that void is blinding. The man is tall and thin, and I can see the lack of life in his eyes. The spirit has been beaten out of him, and my heart aches to see him move in obedient silence.