The Protectors of Kahite, page 1
The Protectors of Kahite
Marie May
Austin Macauley Publishers
The Protectors of Kahite
About the Author
Dedication
Copyright Information ©
Acknowledgement
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
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
About the Author
Marie May is from the UK, specifically Kent but resides in Bath. She has a BA (hons) degree in primary education and early years. In her spare time, she is a chaotic baker who lives with her three equally chaotic friends. She also tends to inadvertently rhyme all the time. Her passion for writing came from a very vivid dream which stemmed from her hot chocolate addiction.
Dedication
In loving memory of my grandad, Alan, who will always be remembered as the man who spoke little but touched so many hearts.
Keep busy, fix everything that’s broken or wonky and rest or garden in peace.
Love,
Marie x
Copyright Information ©
Marie May 2023
The right of Marie May to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781398487642 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781398487659 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published 2023
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®
1 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5AA
Acknowledgement
My first and ultimate thank you is to my first reviewer and best friend, Katie, and my girlfriend Kara who spent many nights looking after me when the inspiration to write hit, and encouraging me when I got knocked down.
And a special thank you to Kara, who has the most elite map drawing skills unbeknownst to us all.
Thank you to my friends who listened to me and believed in the idea and promised to buy copies, of which I am going to hold you to 🌝.
Thank you to my parents, Simon and Anita, who taught me the importance of reading the fine print and challenge me to be my best.
To my remaining family, thank you for the unwavering support and advice on the rollercoaster of writing a book.
To the editors and publishers who took a chance on a first-time writer, with a big dream and countless questions—the biggest thank you, for I would never have gotten the opportunity otherwise.
To the fans and readers, thank you for buying the book and making a young, student author’s dreams come true, and I hope you enjoy.
Chapter One
The Gods. A story foretold for centuries. Norse, Greek, Egyptian mythology all have different versions of a similar story. The Kahitean Gods are no different. The legend of the Kahitean gods starts with Cylix, God of the Seas, and Raelle, Goddess of humanity, King and Queen of the Gods and Protectors of Kahite. They fell in love, the kind of love foretold in stories and legends, the unconditional love that can create lightning bolts and move mountains. The kind of love that is the greatest power on the planet, and one day, the love they thought they had only for each other had grown, for they had twin boys, Kristján and Azezal. It is thought that the love they had is what was strong enough to overcome the challenges for a baby that they so longed for. Their love was so powerful that the first and only twins were born to the Gods.
Every generation of gods were destined to be a Protector of Kahite and are born to one of the eight kingdoms, Salbajour, Jonssen, Logahborugah, Kiva, Reistara, Barammur, Almdalir and Solaris. But only one of the twins can be the Protector. The boys grew up in the glow of their parents’ love—but love is not what blossomed between them, for tension grew as they both knew only one could be the Protector of Solaris, their kingdom. When the Gods became of age to marry, they both discovered they were in love with Elara, the goddess of fate. For being the goddess of fate, it is a tragedy she could not foresee her own, for Elara had fallen for Kristjan, the god of war. This charged the tension between the brothers, as hate began to grow in Azezal. Raelle could sense the growing hatred in her son and being the goddess of humanity, knew in her heart that he was not right to be the Protector of Solaris. So, the decision was made; King Cylix and Queen Raelle chose Prince Kristjan; they also declared that for his actions, Azezal was to be stripped of his god status and prince title and banned from Solaris.
Outraged by the rejection of his love and by being shunned, Azezal took his sword and drove it into his mother’s heart, for she was the one who took away his power. “You see, mother, love does not make you powerful, it makes you weak.” As Raelle died in the arms of Cylix, Kristjan and the Solarian troops forced Azezal back, causing him to retreat. Azezal vowed vengeance not just on Elara, Kristjan and Solaris but all of the other Protectors of the eight kingdoms and then vanished.
Consumed with grief, King Cylix passed on his gem weapon to Kristjan, saying he would need it now as King of the Gods. Kristjan noticed a second too late the dagger in Cylix’s hand. Cylix rammed the dagger into his own heart, to match his wife, and joined her in Valhalla.
“Please take your seats, and put on your seatbelts and prepare for descent.”
Time passed and King Kristjan mourned the loss of his family, day by day with Elara at his side it became easier. They got married and had a beautiful baby girl Elerya, he lived in fear that one day his brother would return and exact his vengeance. He was right to be worried, angered at the news that they had an heir to the throne, Azezal attacked the Solarian Palace. He and his forces made their way to Elerya’s nursery, all of the eight kingdoms came to their defence, but it was too late.
“Please turn off all electronic devices and prepare for descent.”
Azezal tried to stab Kristjan’s heart, but at the last second, Elara ran into the path of the blade. She fell, Kristjan had just lost his wife, Elerya lost her mother. The rest of the eight kingdoms banded together and vanquished Azezal’s army, causing Azezal to retreat. Lost and confused with grief, Kristjan made the decision for all Gods to stay and hide in the mortal realm and protect their kingdoms, for fear of another attack. Some believe Kristjan sent his daughter Elerya away to be raised away from the danger, by entrusted human servants but many believe the legends of the Kahitean Gods are just that—a legend. It is unknown if Azezal died from his wounds or if he still hides today, plotting to exact his revenge on the descendants of the…
“Hey! Mum said it’s my turn!” I startled, as a small hand swooped down and deftly swept the iPad away. “You’ve had it for ages,” moaned my little sister Lia. I groaned and relented, giving her the iPad. I am going to have to finish the book on the Kahitean gods later. The pain of having an argument with a six-year-old on a cramped flight is not worth it. Instead, I turn to look out the window, the clouds are thick, heavy with snow, sweeping past the window like overstuffed pillows. Thank the Gods I am almost in Kahite. Freedom to stretch my legs is calling my name and after seven stifling hours, my legs are begging for mercy. The unexpected chain of events that has led me to this new, almost, adventure, had begun just two weeks ago with the news of the sudden death of an unknown relative, a Great-grandfather, and th
Finally, the plane has landed in Kahite, the wheels jolting on the tarmac. Immigration, customs, and then finally into a taxi to the hotel in Solaris. No-one should have to travel with an overly energetic six-year-old sister, parents who are enjoying having a free babysitter, with cousins and aunts chattering loudly after having one too many free drinks—it causes too much chaos. All-inclusive holidays should be illegal, the alcohol consumption of adults on these deals is enough to rot people’s kidneys.
It feels so good to walk again, my legs stretching and cracking after being cramped for so long. The air, piercingly cold under a sky littered with snowflakes which is truly beautiful, is doing little to help my mood.
24 hours later…
The office was small, the lawyer attending to them dour, his face pale and sullen as the sky had been since their arrival. He ushered my family and I in with a curt wave and began the tedious process of filling in the necessary paperwork, which began to feel unsettlingly like an interrogation. My mind drifted away to the story of the Kahitean Gods that I read on the plane here. The heroics and battles felt an infinity away from the dull little office.
I am brought back to the present by a loud thump of stone on wood.
“These,” drawled the lawyer, “are the part of your grandfather’s inheritance left to you. They relate to an old legend apparently, well-known in the village and incredibly still widely believed in this modern era. Stuff and nonsense, if you ask me.”
“What legend? It wouldn’t have anything to do with the Kahitean Gods?” I blurt out, surprised at myself. The damn story will not leave my mind, it’s cemented in there like a movie on repeat. Great, now I look crazy…
“Something like that,” came the brisk reply, of someone who obviously doesn’t want to be here on a Saturday. He folds back the cloth covering the package, unveiling a collection of small rocks. They appear completely normal, nothing out of the ordinary, raising suspicions as to their grandfather’s mental competence. I watch as one by one my family and I stare at each other, all sharing the same thought—he was one stick short of a fire.
“He asked for these to be left to you. He was very insistent. One each, a specific rock for each person.” How can that be? He never met us. How did he know about us if we didn’t know about him?
The lawyer hands out the rocks, names and numbers being checked continuously. ‘This is absurd’ I glower. 900 miles for seven rocks. I could get them at the local park, 900 miles away, back home in Nabaru.
“This one’s yours,” my father says gently, placing it in my hand. It is hard and gritty, a perfect metaphor for this entire trip. I turn it over, running my fingers over its surface, Damn that’s cold.
I focus on my stone, this doesn’t seem right, why would someone, oh not someone, my grandfather, leave us rocks?
I continue and all of a sudden something catches my eye. A dot—no, two, three dots, and a number. 8. I tap Lia on the shoulder, I am ready to seize her rock to investigate further when a knock at the door interrupts all my thoughts.
“Sorry I’m late,” gasped the stranger. “I got held up…”
“Ah Mr Signarsson, I presume?”
“Yes, call me Ezra.”
“Do you have the letter he asked you to read on his behalf?”
“Yes.”
“You may proceed.”
Ezra began, in a steady voice, reading off a yellow parchment:
“My dear relatives, by the time you are reading this I shall be dead, and unable to fulfil my duties. I entrust you with a task that is of vital importance. You will, no doubt, be wondering why I have left you in my will the odd assortment of rocks now in your possession. Keep them. I was always a great believer in the value of puzzles, and so I have laid one out for you to solve. Put your rocks together and go where it leads you. Good luck,
Kristjan
P.s just remember that love is power, and love comes from within.”
“Well, what a load of old bull…”
“CHILD PRESENT,” my Mum yells over her brother Jared—my uncle who has a swearing problem.
“I was going to say what a load of blooming fun!”
“Of course you were, Jared,” Mum replies, rolling her eyes sarcastically.
I am keen to get them back on track, my brain is itching with anticipation. What does it mean?
I need to solve this puzzle. An urge, calling to me to solve this, deep from within.
“Why on earth would the old man leave us a puzzle to solve in order to sort out all of his old junk? What an absolute ars—” Uncle Jared starts.
“He was probably D. R. U. N. K. at the time,” My mother interrupts, spelling out so my little sister won’t understand.
“I’ll have you know he was not DRUNK all the time at all, he was a great man and an important citizen of Solaris. He may have been slightly eccentric and a bit untamed, but you would have known that if any of you decided to visit. Not just to come and collect his fortune which you think you’re entitled to. Just because you share blood did not make you his family, it does not give you the right to criticise his memory,” exclaimed Ezra boldly, barely taking a pause for breath.
I am broken out of my thoughts surrounding the puzzle and I whirl round in an uncontrollable rage. “It is Ezra or whatever your name is, a little bit tricky to visit someone when you have no bloody idea they even exist. Perhaps you should be chastised for failing to keep up correspondence with your great-great-aunt in the foothills of rural Tasmania?”
“What my great-great-aunt Irene? She’s doing well. Thank you for asking. I’ll have to tell her that you enquired about her since you know her so well,” replied Ezra with a smug grin on his handsome face.
“Unbelievable,” I spit out with venom, turning away from him and his smug ass grin. Did I just call him handsome? He is a smug, sarcastic man who is … delectable and handsome, tall, jet-black hair, ice blue eyes clearer than glass, lips that you cannot stop kissing once you start… NO stop thinking about him. STOP staring, stop staring, oh great now he’s noticed your staring and looking at you like you’re a maniac. Smile, jeez woman, smile, show you’re friendly. WOAH too much teeth, too much teeth.
“Uh Aryia?” My sister’s little voice says across the now silent room.
“Yes Lili,” I say, turning my attention to my sister away from the infuriatingly attractive man.
“You know you just said that Ezra is handsome, why are you arguing with him if you think that?’
Did I say that aloud? Blimey now I look even crazier, this vacation is just brilliant. I am having the time of my life.
“I… I did not say handsome Lia, I said he is uh handy, ya know because he arrived at the last minute when we were confused about the rocks, and he helped us out. And we weren’t arguing honey, we just got off on the wrong foot.”
“Your sister is right Lia; we did get off on the wrong foot. But you’re right Chula, she did say I was handsome,” snarked Ezra with a wink to me.
Oh, great now I look crazy, and he knows I find him handsome. Am I blushing? I feel like I am blushing… Blimey, how much did I say aloud? Let’s just focus on working out the rock puzzle.
Chapter Two
We file, with a look of defeat in our eyes before we have even begun, out into the reception area, each carrying our rocks as if performing a peculiar ritual. Ezra follows, much to my dismay, embarrassment, and confusion—he was not given a rock. So why is he still here? It surprises me that he was left out as he’s clearly much closer to our great-grandfather than we are, and he isn’t shy to tell us too. There is a table in the centre of the room, old and rather tattered. We all gather around, as if in a conference, and begin to work on the puzzle.
