The Mercenary Prince (Legends of Windemere Book 9)

by Charles E Yallowitz

  Legends of Windemere:

  The

  Mercenary

  Prince

  Copyright 2015 © by Charles Yallowitz

  Kindle Edition

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review.

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

  Cover Design & Illustration by Jason Pedersen

  Legends of Windemere

  Beginning of a Hero

  Prodigy of Rainbow Tower

  Allure of the Gypsies

  Family of the Tri-Rune

  The Compass Key

  Curse of the Dark Wind

  Sleeper of the Wildwood Fugue

  The Merchant of Nevra Coil

  Dedication

  To everyone who has entered Windemere

  And left their mark upon its soul

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Prologue

  Gabriel stands among the ice floes as the arctic winds whip at his ebony hair and matching cape. He watches a nearby pod of narwhals enjoy a meal of cuttlefish, the curious beasts’ horns puncturing the ocean surface every few seconds. They ignore the powerful being even when he drifts closer and kneels next to the biggest male for a closer look. Impressed by the animal’s unique design, he strokes the rough horn before floating away and searching for anything else to pique his interest. Several miles to the south is a solitary merchant vessel, which is cautiously traversing the northern waters of Ralian. Gabriel smiles at the fear he senses from the mortals as they keep an eye out for submerged icebergs and dangerous predators. Armed warriors stand at the ready with long spears and a caster has two fire wands in her hands, all of them nervously prepared for battle. For a brief moment, the black-armored god is tempted to help them with the coiling Euryic squid that is gaining on the vessel. Remembering the Law of Influence, he lets his attention return to the peaceful narwhals as the distant predator silently reaches for the first set of victims. Faint screams can be heard as the mortals are snagged by barbed tentacles, the flailing limbs eventually tearing a hole in the hull and sinking the ship.

  The God of Destiny enjoys the near solitude of the coastal tundra that has long since lost its original name. The isolation is a relaxing change from Ambervale where he is constantly sensing his fellow deities. With a brief whistle, Gabriel creates a small room in a nearby iceberg and transforms it into a comfortable den. Crimson carpeting sprouts from the ground and pictures of the arrogant god are etched into the walls by invisible chisels. A section of the back melts to reveal a crackling fireplace, which spits out a trio of wooden chairs and a circular table. Cups of hot tea drop from the ceiling and change shape until they stop in the form of sapphire glasses, the lips edged by sparkling rubies. Proud of his simple creation, Gabriel enters the chamber and hides himself from prying eyes by erecting a prismatic gate. To the outside world, the iceberg remains intact and nobody would ever believe that one of the most powerful beings in Windemere is resting within the icy block.

  “Did you know that this region was once nothing more than a chunk of ice that circled Windemere’s Ice Crown?” Gabriel asks as he admires one of his portraits. His alabaster eyes shift to a dull red, the picture matching the change. “When the Great Cataclysm occurred, the iceberg merged with Ralian’s northern coast and bloated until it became the pristine landscape it is today. Every mortal race had a name for it back then, which usually translated to The Intruding Ice. A few battles were fought over ownership, but nobody remembers who won and called the region the Crysvale Tundra. Such a waste of time and life since this place is far too desolate to be of use to any of the civilized races. Perhaps I will let the creative mortal you two share rename this land. He did so well with Gale Hollow that I have had the bards spread the name far and wide.”

  A burst of light erupts from the fireplace, releasing a pair of glowing orbs that hover above the marble mantel. The gold and white globes hesitate for a few seconds before each one moves above a vacant chair. With a rain of shining aura, two figures appear within the seats and accept the warm tea set before them. A horse-headed man immediately changes his drink into a mug of frothy ale even before his armored body finishes materializing. Ram’s short, white mane bristles at the slight wave of irritation he receives from the scowling Destiny God. With a knock on the sturdy table, the War God creates a platter of ribs and cooked chicken as well as a leafy salad that is bathed in dark dressing. Scratching his head and snickering, he drops small tomatoes and several full carrots into the side dish.

  After waving his ethereal hand to create a five tiered cake, the other deity calmly crosses his legs at the ankles and smiles at their host. Ehre the Loyalty God is beautiful with his crystalline hair and pretty face, both giving the male god a feminine quality. The faint androgyny is a trait that his burly, barrel-like torso does not share. He runs a comb through his curly chest hair and cringes as a few knots are found. Cloaked in a delicate, satin skirt that billows in the gentle breeze, his elegant legs and dainty feet continue to confuse those that do not know him. Many of his brethren have compared Ehre to a golem whose creators could not make up their mind as to what they were trying to build. Yet he is one of the most trusted and dedicated of his people, nobody ever having to fear his power unless they betray his friendship.

  “I have to admit that I did not expect a feast,” Gabriel admits while claiming a rib. The sauce-dripping food tastes delicious and it does not leave a single smudge on the god’s gloved hand. “Though I always appreciate when someone else does the cooking. I apologize that this meeting will not be long enough to do this meal justice.”

  “Think of these as gifts to soften the blow,” Ehre says in a voice that is both deep and enchanting. He pulls a bowl out of the table and fills it with salad before shredding a piece of chicken over the greens. “We are aware of your looming request. Unfortunately, our hands are tied by the law. All of us must remain loyal to our one rule even when it pains us to do so. All I can suggest is that you have faith in this mortal.”

  “That is a surprisingly well-rehearsed response for a spontaneous meeting. I only contacted you an hour ago,” the Destiny God mentions, his eyes boring into the other deity. “Is there something that I do not know and you wish to share, Ehre? Is somebody spreading information behind my back?”

  “Yes, and I can assure you that it is being done for your own benefit,” the God of Loyalty says while his finger becomes a glistening fork. He savors the bite of food and nods his head to the War God who is taking the entire top tier of cake. “I can already see Zaria’s name on your lips, but it is not her that spoke with us. Your wife has been telling others that you are not yourself. Dear Ambr
osine feels trapped by the loyalty and love that she holds for you. The two emotions appear to be at odds. So she came to me for advice, which is when she told me about your desire to break the Law of Influence and manipulate Delvin Cunningham away from his current path. I know the two of us rarely see eye to eye, Hell Lord, but I cannot allow you to act so rashly. I am sure my companion agrees with me.”

  Ram snickers in agreement and pats the hilt of his broadsword. “I was surprised you would attempt such a negotiation, youngling. You have always been able to work within the flexible window that destiny grants you. I hope this does not mean you are losing your edge or sanity. Many gods are worried that such an intrusion would be the beginning of a terrible event where the mortals turn on us again. I find such an idea ridiculous, but I admit to being concerned. Tell us what has you worried and the three of us should be able to create a solution that does not result in your sealing.”

  The iceberg shakes as Gabriel hums his anger away, cracks running along the walls to reveal a churning storm pulsating within the icy core. The roaring maelstrom dies down and the crevices vanish, returning the small chamber to its undamaged form. A burst of flame sputters from the fireplace to spark against the prismatic shield, but that is the last anyone sees of the Destiny God’s frustration. With a friendly smile, Gabriel cuts a piece of cake for himself and drops it on a glass plate. He takes his time enjoying the moist dessert and gestures for his companions to continue their meal while he organizes his thoughts.

  His original plan was to gain the support of the others in his request to break the Law of Influence. With more than one god agreeing to the decision, the intrusion would be seen as a necessary act. Now he can only accomplish such a feat by force and the idea of shattering several alliances does not sit well with him. A sigh of defeat slips from Gabriel’s mouth as he notices the apologetic spark in Ehre’s amber eyes. For a brief moment, he wonders if the cake is enchanted and he is falling under the other deity’s spell. Holding back a chuckle at such a ridiculous idea, he finishes his piece and pushes his plate to the side.

  “Thank you for being honest and looking out for me, which is a sentiment I find incredibly hard to say out loud,” the Destiny God admits as he takes a sip of tea. The chocolate and strawberry flavor of the cake still strong in his mouth, he cannot resist taking another slice of dessert. “It would appear that the final run of this prophecy is making me act and feel more . . . human. I find these emotions are becoming harder to control after so many centuries of being a wall of calm. Zaria claims it is a sign that this can go no further than these champions, which is why I am worried.”

  Ehre reaches across the table to pat the stronger god on the arm, an act that earns him a wide-eyed gaze from Ram. “Unlike the two of us who were born gods, you still hold pieces of the mortal coil within your heart. That can never be erased, so do not feel shame for being what you are. As far as Delvin Cunningham is concerned, I am confused on why his situation vexes you. After all, you are the one who pushed events in this direction with those toys and made sure he heard what people thought of him.”

  “Not to mention you told all of us to enjoy the show,” the War God interjects before finishing his drink. He notices the tension in the black-haired man’s muscles and picks up the brief scent of sweat before it vanishes in a puff of wind. “I know there are things happening within the Yagervan Plains, but the young man has the power to handle those threats. He merely has to be awakened, which I trust will happen. Then again, I wonder if you fear a miscalculation that has doomed your success. Are you hiding something from all of us, youngling?”

  “I am always hiding things, old mare.”

  “Yes, but this time you are doing a terrible job of it.”

  “It is nothing I cannot handle.”

  “Then why invite us with the hope of redirecting a champion?”

  “Flea-ridden nag.”

  “Now you are being childish, youngling.”

  Gabriel reaches out to touch the bronze frame of one of his portraits, which shows him as a young warrior. There is no god-like shine or arrogant sneer within the picture, his mortal expression nothing more than a grim stare. Standing next to him is another raven-haired man with a grin that teases anyone who looks directly at it. The features are smudged as if the artist ran their thumb around the face, leaving only the mouth. The other warrior is clothed in black leather armor and wields a longsword that is dripping with blood, a pool spreading around their feet. The portrait changes as the blue-eyed man puts an arm around the young, pre-ascended Gabriel and squeezes as if they are close friends. With a melodic curse, the Destiny God melts the painting and scowls when his old ally’s grin lingers on the ice.

  Ram and Gabriel are surprised when a javelin of energy pierces the grin. The mouth attempts to scream as it dissolves into vapor and the weapon returns to Ehre’s hand. The crystal-haired god moves his hand over his lips to create an aromatic, burgundy cigar that is already lit. He puffs out a few clouds of sweet smoke that become his symbol of entwined arms with clasped hands. Not wanting his companions to feel left out, he tosses them each a burning cigar that they cautiously put in their mouths. Ram creates enough smoke to cloak his face before the cloud shaped like his head moves away from his face. Gabriel shrugs and joins in the mild fun by creating his rearing unicorn and diving hawk symbol out of the billowing ash that comes off his lips.

  “I truly hate Stephen Kernaghan,” Ehre calmly says before he crushes his cigar in his fist. He lets the ashes fall to the table, the black and white flakes creating a pillar that ends in a solitary ember. “I have seen many disloyal beings in my time, but he is so traitorous that he makes my skin crawl. Even his father remains faithful to those that help him. I will never understand why the son is nothing more than a disgusting parasite that refuses to die. Why would your predecessors create a monster like that?”

  Gabriel flicks his cigar into the fireplace, filling the room with a sweet smoke. “I am not much better than Stephen. To become the god you see before you, I did things on par with my former ally’s sins. I even betrayed him, which makes me wonder if you think disloyalty toward a man like him is allowed.”

  “Not in the least, but you have changed over the centuries. You remain loyal to your wife and those who trust you with the destiny of the world. Stephen has remained a traitorous monster and always manages to find new ways to make me sick.”

  “Thank you for your forgiveness,” the Destiny God whispers while reviving the melted painting. He makes Stephen’s appearance clearer, including a bright pink scar along the man’s neck. “Perhaps I should look at my old ally as the creature I could have become if I never ascended. What are you pondering, old man? I can see your mane bristling and your shoulders are growing spikes.”

  “I decided to take a peek at Stephen Kernaghan and now I know what is going on,” Ram states as his eyes change from gold to a deep brown. He grinds his teeth and taps his foot while carefully watching Gabriel for signs of discomfort. “One of those Gnomish toys enraged him and now he is on the loose. That time-manipulating madman has the chaos elf channeler and is after the other one. I sense that he no longer cares about the prophecy, his father, or anything other than claiming this woman. Is this what has you worried? I can tell you now that Delvin Cunningham cannot possibly defeat the monster you have either willingly or unknowingly unleashed. How many innocent people are going to die before you create someone to put Stephen Kernaghan down?”

  “Delvin Cunningham was supposed to be that someone!” Gabriel replies, his voice shattering the chamber. The three gods stand amid the crumbling ice, none of them noticing the narwhals racing into the distance. “I always knew Stephen would go for a channeler, so I made my greatest creation double as bait. All I ever needed was a weapon. I have already pushed the gypsy in a different direction and the Callindor has gone beyond my full influence. Though he did come close to making Stephen a worry of the past, so I should know not the underestimate him and his reckless behavior
. As for the others, the barbarian did not come out right and Dariana has been a lost cause from the beginning. That left me with one more chance and I did what I could to create a being powerful enough to defeat a Chronos. Not that it has ever been proven that Delvin’s breed could do such a job, but it was the best I could do without crossing the line.”

  “Did something go wrong?” Ehre asks, confused by the other god’s open emotions. Like Ram, he is unused to the Hell Lord being so rattled and fears that a more violent outburst is coming. “Perhaps we should focus our attention more on Luke Callindor since he is the only champion to have ever permanently scarred your old friend. He’s already handled many of the Baron’s agents, so using him to kill another shouldn’t be a problem. Do not mistake my words though. I do believe there is great power within Delvin Cunningham, but not enough to best Stephen Kernaghan.”

  “It might be there or it could have already been squandered,” Gabriel replies while he stares at the remains of the meal. Having fallen into the ocean, several brave fish are already converging on the floating food. “Damn the free will of mortals. First the Callindor rejects most of his power and now Delvin walks away before realizing his potential. While I did plan for that, I hoped for him to get a hint of his true nature. I did not expect Stephen to find the toy and escape his father, but now I need all of the champions together. Though they have very little chance of defeating him at this stage, especially with his current mental state. At the very least, the weak ones would give the stronger ones an opening to strike my old ally down for good. Delvin would be the best one suited to . . . wait . . . Did one of you mention that something is happening in the Yagervan Plains?”

  “There is an upheaval going on there, which I’m surprised to find you are unaware of,” Ram replies as he finishes the rib he is holding. “Then again, the creatures involved are beyond your full reach, youngling. I do not see how-”