Chronicles of Osota - Warrior
By Michelle Magly
©2013 Michelle Magly
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Editor: Kellie Doherty
Cover Design: Michael King
Back of the Book
Alina knew that one day she would return to the heartland of Osota, even after eleven years of isolation. But how could she know her return to the capital would coincide with the arrival of young Warrior-in-training Senri?
Beautiful and strong, Senri makes for a pleasant distraction from Alina's troubles. But as the prospective ruler of a nation, Alina can hardly devote time to pursuing a romance. As a new threat looms over the kingdom of Osota, she is left with little choice but to turn to Senri for help.
Dedication
For my partner, for my friends, and for my grandfather. He did not live to see this book published. I like to think he would have been proud, despite his distaste for fantasy novels.
Chapter One
ALINA ALWAYS KNEW THEY would come to collect her. She saw the soldiers marching along the western cliffs, small black dots against the snowy landscape. The wind blew so hard that she feared one of the stragglers might be gusted off the mountainside.
The wind no longer bit into Alina like it did when she first arrived. The years had thickened her blood to withstand most of nature’s lashes. She closed her eyes and inhaled, embracing the cold. The approaching soldiers posed no threat. No one had attempted to assassinate her in the eleven turns she had spent on the mountain, and everyone agreed no assassin would come in another eleven. She looked back at the stone keep, her home since she had been nine turns of age. It stood tall and crumbling, more worn down than when they brought her here as a girl.
She watched the men approach the fortress. She had imagined the scene so many times as a child, but now they were here. She turned and went back to the keep without a word. The wind pushed harder, sending snow biting into her skin. She blinked against it, her breath catching in surprise.
The guard on duty saw her approaching and ran to her assistance. “My lady,” he called. He draped what he could of his dark blue cloak over her. Alina pulled the cloak around her and they walked up the keep steps. “You should not be out in this weather,” the guard yelled over the wind. They reached the doorstep and together forced open the large oak door. They ran inside before the winds forced it shut again.
“I was on my way to the stables,” she said, running a hand through her windswept hair. The brown strands clung to her eyelashes. “I wanted to see if my horse was up for a ride, but these winds are too strong. Send someone to finish preparing my horse,” she ordered. “I want to go out after the winds die down.”
“Going for a ride this afternoon, my lady?” the guard asked. She nodded, more caught up with her task at hand. The soldiers were here and that meant she would be leaving. She walked to her room and searched for essentials. Small and unremarkable, her lodgings were like the possessions she had been provided. She had hardly anything worth packing. As she rummaged through her things, the keep’s steward knocked on her open door. Alina turned and smiled at the old woman. “There you are, Greta. You can help me pack,” she said.
Greta walked inside and stared at her with wide eyes. “By the Almighty, my lady, you are far too old to pretend someone has come to fetch you. We have received no news of a caravan coming, no word from Osota.”
“A detachment of soldiers are approaching right now,” Alina said. “You should receive notice any minute.”
True to her word, a guard’s voice rang through the keep, shouting, “Steward, Councilor Velora has arrived!” Greta’s eyes widened and she hurried off to receive their guest rather than assist like Alina asked.
“It’s not like he’ll come inside or anything,” she muttered. Alina had very little to pack in the way of possessions. The room held her clothes and a few personal items she had initially brought to the keep. The dresses she had here wouldn’t be acceptable, and she could acquire better attire later. She dug out a travel pack to store her most valuable items in. Alina grabbed a thick book by her nightstand and eased it into the main compartment. She then opened a drawer in her desk and shoved documents and charts in to rest against the book. Buckling the flap, she opened a drawstring pouch attached to the side. She filled it with coin and a sack of runes and pulled the string tightly shut. Her jewelry came next. She tucked the rings and necklaces into the concealed pocket within her dress. Alina picked the second-to-last item out of her jewelry box, a decorative signet ring, and slid it onto the middle finger of her right hand before she pulled on her travel gloves.
The last item in the box lay in a hidden pocket. A thin silver bracelet made of strands intertwining with one another, creating a never-ending spiral—her mother’s bracelet. You can’t take it, she thought. She trapped the bracelet between her thumb and forefinger and rubbed the flexible threads together. This was the one thing she had allowed herself over the years. The one risk. If she returned home, though, she had to leave it behind. People would recognize it eventually, or a nosey politician would go digging through her things. The capital was much less forgiving than Eastwatch Keep.
She had prepared for this. Alina took the bracelet to the roaring fireplace in her room. It was not nearly as hot as a forge would be, but the delicate chain would warp beyond all recognition. She had no other choice. Tossing it into the fire, she turned away. Her chest tightened. She ignored it and crossed the room to put on the rest of her travel clothes. She had to fight not to look back at the flames.
As she tied her cloak at the neckline, a guard came to room and cleared his throat. She turned. He laid a hand over his heart and nodded in salute.
“My lady, the steward has requested you come outside to accompany her and formally greet Councilor Velora.”
Alina rolled her eyes and grabbed her pack. “Very well,” she said. The guard moved to her side and took her bag from her.
“You are going somewhere, my lady?” he asked.
Alina walked into the hall. “A Councilor is here. Why else would he have come?”
The guard carried the bag as she met Greta by the keep door. They stepped outside into the freezing winds. Every guardsman stood at attention, forming two parallel lines that framed the women as they walked through the courtyard to where the Councilor sat on his horse. The man and horse wore matching blue uniforms, the horse’s saddle intricately decorated with deep blue ribbons and threads of gold with the Councilor’s cloak dyed the same color. It signified him as someone important, though he did not need the cloak for that. With a frown, he peered down at Greta for the first time. His dark bea
rd was well groomed, his face full and healthy, tinged red against the biting cold.
Greta curtseyed. “Welcome to Eastwatch Keep, Councilor Velora. Please, allow us to stable your horse and bring you inside out of the cold.”
The Councilor nodded but did not dismount. “I do not have the time for such pleasantries today. I have urgent business with her Majesty.”
“I beg your pardon, Councilor, but I must inquire as to why you humble us with your presence when her Majesty, Queen Alaina rests in the heartland?”
The Councilor’s gaze flicked from Greta to Alina. She stared back, despite the wind whipping her dark hair about. He looked back to Greta and gripped his mare’s reins tighter. “I regret to inform you of the queen and king’s passing. Their souls rest with the Almighty.”
Greta gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “We had no idea. How long since their passing?”
“Three days’ time. We set out for Eastwatch immediately following their deaths,” he said.
“And so you departed,” said Greta. She looked at Alina. “To retrieve—”
“Her Majesty Alina Alexandria Mura of Osota must return to the heartland.” He eyed Alina. “I have been elected Regent to your rule, your Majesty.”
Alina nodded to the guard who carried her bag. “I am ready to depart as soon as needed.” The guard carried it off to a stable where he could tie it to her horse.
Regent Velora raised his eyebrows. “You are prepared already?”
“There is little to pack after living so…humbly for eleven years.” Alina kept her tone neutral. She wanted the Regent to ponder if it was meant as a challenge.
He inclined his head. “It’s for the better. We need to travel swiftly.” The guard returned with Alina’s horse, a small but powerful mare, mostly white with gray spots smattered across her coat. The leather bag was securely attached to the horse’s saddle. She patted the beast’s neck before pulling herself atop and settling into the worn leather.
Alina looked down at the guards assembled along with Greta. “I’ll remember your kindness in the days to come, Greta
Greta curtseyed. “That’s a pleasant thought, your Highness. I know you never thought life up here so extravagant, but I would not be surprised if you catch yourself thinking back to these days years from now. Until that day comes, I expect you will be too caught up to look back on us.” Greta smiled sadly and backed away. Alina nodded a final time before turning back to the Regent.
“Shall we take our leave?” he asked.
“Yes, Regent,” Alina said. They flicked their reins and spurred the horses on to trot away from the crumbling old tower. Alina allowed herself only one glance back before she looked forward.
***
Senri sat in the middle of a forest clearing, picking at blades of grass while she waited. She sat before an old woman, the oldest woman in their village and their only seer. The seer took deep, shuddering breaths as she withdrew from her trance. The seer’s webbed marks pulsated with the rhythm. One more deep breath and her trance broke. She looked down at Senri. Her eyes returned to their natural, amber color, and the thin, dark lines on her skin marking her seer’s blood faded.
“Well?” Senri leaned forward.
“There is no mistake, child,” Seer Mala said. “My sight shows that you must go to the heartland.”
Senri frowned and leaned back into the dirt, uncrossing her legs and tucking her knees under her chin. “But I’ve never been to the kingdom, are you sure?”
Seer Mala nodded. “Every time the sight comes I see you wandering the streets of the capital dressed as one of the chosen Warriors, Senri. You stand there, as life-like and as clear as you sit before me now in this grove.” She gestured to the surrounding trees. Senri’s village rested nearby in the forest, closer to the base of the mountain. She had made special arrangements to ride out to the seer that day, and she had received the one answer she did not want.
“You must travel to the heartland.” Senri hugged her legs closer to her chest and stared at the ground. Her father told her the seer would not be persuaded, but she had ignored his warning and rode out anyways. After all, this nurturing woman had to feel some sympathy. “My answer upsets you?”
Senri looked up and hesitated. “I…I’m not ready.”
The seer sighed and leaned back, assuming her contemplative pose once again. “I know, I know. So young, only eighteen turns around the sun, yet you are not ill-prepared.”
“I’ve never been there,” she repeated.
The seer shook her head and sighed deeply. “It does not matter. You are the most gifted of your age, more master of your technique than anyone here. You are meant to serve a greater purpose. What good does it do to stand around in a forest all day?” Seer Mala stared and lifted an eyebrow as if to challenge her.
“You seem happy to do it,” Senri muttered, turning away from her gaze.
The seer laughed. “Oh child, you do have a point. But mine is the way of someone burdened with the sight.” She smiled and jabbed a bony old finger at Senri. “You are a protector, a Warrior, touched by the Almighty. The trees do not need a defender. This forest is older than our entire village. It knows how to survive.”
“I know, but I thought my skills might be better suited here, training other people and guarding the village. Isn’t that a noble cause?”
Seer Mala frowned. “Yes, Senri, but it is not your cause. It is important that you travel to the heartland. If you stray from this path, the consequences are dire, and not only for you.” She stared at Senri with such seriousness, Senri wanted to disappear into the dirt.
“But why am I so important?” she asked. Her throat tightened, and she had to swallow down a rising lump.
Mala’s hard stare softened and her frown eased. “My dear child, what frightens you so much that you cling to this village?”
Senri took a deep breath and forced herself to regain composure. The last thing she wanted was to discuss her problems with the village seer. “I…” She flung her thoughts to the far reaches of her mind in search of an excuse. “I would miss my home too much.” Not a total lie. Mala still seemed puzzled. She doesn’t believe me. But she did not press the matter. Instead she settled back onto her rock and looked past Senri, out into the trees.
“Whatever bothers you Senri, make peace before this time tomorrow. For that is when the Warriors will come to claim their new protectors and you will no longer belong to this village.”
Senri gulped and bowed deeply. “Yes, Seer.” Her eyes prickled with unshed tears. She took another composing breath before rising and wiping her eyes. “Thank you for your counsel. I must return to the village. We have much to prepare for my departure.”
The seer nodded, but before Senri could leave she said, “Do not be afraid of your potential, Senri.” Senri froze, afraid of what the seer might say to her next. “The Almighty has blessed you with an immense destiny. Move with it rather than away.”
Instead of responding to the seer, Senri turned and retreated through the forest. She found her horse, Stomps, exactly where she left him, lingering under a massive tree and casually eating his way through all nearby grass. The horse looked up as she approached and snorted, flicking his ears. “Well at least this outing was productive for you,” she said, untying his reins. He nudged her with his snout and she patted him gently. “Ready to go?” Senri mounted him and dug her heels into his flanks. They took off through the trees, navigating the familiar path with ease.
They made it back to the village before sundown and Senri corralled Stomps in a large, fenced in field with the other horses. As she approached the main road, the market bustled with people weaving between the small houses, herding animals or carrying supplies. The village consisted of fifteen homes and the household businesses. The major road snaked past, between the heartland and the southern mountains, the latter holding the last few border lands before it gave way to dragon territory. The village would have grown into a major hub if the Kingdom of Osot
a had not banned all contact with the dragons. Senri preferred it this way. She liked the smallness of her village. She liked the scattered trees between houses and pathways. It was quiet, save for the inn on a good business day.
She walked by the blacksmith’s first on her way home. Gustav had told her he had a gift for her. A weapon. Gustav hammered at a molten strip of metal while his young apprentice dangled from the bellows pulley. The boy yanked and tugged at it with no impact. Senri stepped in and helped him pull the heavy cord down, compressing the bellows with a whoosh. She pulled the cord taut, the rope chafing against her calloused palms.
The boy let go and looked up at Senri. “I could have done it myself!” He was Malcor, the local farmer’s youngest son. At thirteen, his limbs had all bone and no muscle.
Senri smiled and released the cord. “You were putting up a good fight there, but the bellows was winning.”
Gustav frowned. “Well if I had more help around here maybe I wouldn’t have to make the kid dangle from the pulley all day.” He still hammered at the strip of metal. “Maybe you should convince one of your brothers to help out here. The oldest one has got at least fifty pounds on you.” He gestured at Senri with a hot pair of tongs.
“Hey, I’m not so little.” She was naturally tall and powerful, but her training assured her strength.
Gustav laughed and picked up the hot metal with his tongs and lowered it into a trough of water. “Easy girl. I know you could lay me flat on my backside if you wanted.” Steam rose up around his arms and he withdrew the glossy dark blade, letting it clatter down on a wooden table. “There we go,” he said with a sigh. Gustav put the tongs aside and wiped his brow. Soot and sweat had mingled to form dark streaks. “Now, why are you bothering me?
“You said you had something for me this morning,” Senri said. She tugged at her cotton shirt. Even with her light clothes, the forge grew too hot.
Warrior Page 1