The Black Forest (The Keeper Series Book 2), page 1
The Black Forest
P.S. Whytock
The Black Forest by P. S. Whytock
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2023 by Phoenix S. Whytock
Library of Congress Control Number: TXu 2-436-031
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means. Including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review or certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
First edition Sept 2024
Character art: Madeline Drury
Cover/Interior design: @Designsbycharlyy
Map art: Saumya Singh @saumyasvision
ISBN 979-8-9871341-4-6 (Hardcover)
ISBN 979-8-9871341-3-9 (Paperback)
ISBN 979-8-9871341-5-3 (E-book)
Contents
Pronunciation
Pronunciation Cont.
Map
Character Art
Dedication
Prologue
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
17. Chapter Seventeen
18. Chapter Eighteen
19. Chapter Nineteen
20. Chapter Twenty
21. Chapter Twenty-One
22. Chapter Twenty-Two
23. Chapter Twenty-Three
24. Chapter Twenty-Four
25. Chapter Twenty-Five
26. Chapter Twenty-Six
27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
28. Chapter Twenty-Eight
29. Chapter Twenty-Nine
30. Chapter Thirty
31. Chapter Thirty-One
32. Chapter Thirty-Two
33. Chapter Thirty-Three
34. Chapter Thirty-Four
35. Chapter Thirty-Five
36. Chapter Thirty-Six
37. Chapter Thirty-Seven
38. Chapter Thirty-Eight
39. Chapter Thirty-Nine
40. Chapter Forty
41. Chapter Forty-One
42. Chapter Forty-Two
43. Chapter Forty-Three
44. Chapter Forty-Four
Acknowledgements
Pronunciation
Places:
Dauðinn: Doi-th-inn
Meaning: Death
Origin: Old Norse
Dyagin: Die-a-gin
Álfheimr: Alf-eh-mer
Meaning: Land of the Elves
Origin: Old Norse
Bel’onc: Bell-on-k
Thórsmörk: Ther-sh-mork
Meaning: Thor’s mountain
Origin: Icelandic
Eldur: Elled-dish
Meaning: Fire
Origin: Icelandic
Nal’lian: Nall-ian
Pronunciation Cont.
Names:
Hazen: Haze-en
Savven: Sav-ven
Brean: Bri-een
Lithônion: Lith-on-nee-in
Néefar: Ne-Far
Tatius: Ta-tee-us
Udiya: You-dee-ya
Naleen: Nall-lean
Ezra: Ez-ra
Nazar: Naz-are
Levina: Leh-veen-nah
Laudin: Lah-din
Valdren: Vald-ren
Forndýr: Forn-dry-er
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the women.
The women who fight, who survive, who live, who thrive.
To the mothers’ who have tasted loss, fought death, and still raised their children with a smile on their face and love in their heart.
To my mother.
This book is for you.
Prologue
234 years after Balwin
Black clouds billowed through the treeline of Álfheimr, city of the light elves. Ash rained down like dark snow as bodies burned, and the flames overtook the fields that lay beyond the forest.
Savven, High Fae Prince of the Elves, stared past the trees, watching, waiting. Moments trapped in numb silence, his breath even, his heartbeat calm. A thin blade lay in his tight grip, ready.
Then they came. The second attack of the Dökkálfar, the Dark Ones, the fallen of his kin, rolled through the black ash. With a loud cry, he lunged forward, meeting them halfway, and sparks danced as metal met metal in a deafening ring.
The Dark Ones swarmed around him, slamming his body back and knocking the breath from his lips. His blade came up, slicing through flesh and bones. Blood splayed across his face, his black hair whipping through the air as he spun around the falling body.
A snarl ripped from his throat as he bared his teeth at the arrow aimed for the space between his eyes, and he leapt forward, his blade cutting through the archer with ease. Death came swiftly with every swipe of his sword. Blood drenching the earth in a downpour, he and his kinsmen cut through the mass of defiled elves, reaching the forest’s edge as the last one fell.
Beyond the moor sat hundreds of Dökkálfar, bloodlust clear in their hungry eyes. They stood, waiting, watching them as the rows of the fallen shifted with the desire to attack.
Savven’s blue eyes scanned the rows until he found him. Nostrils flaring in rage, he watched the face of one he used to call friend.
Ezra stood amongst the chaos and death, the look of a thousand demons behind cold eyes. A sinister smile graced his angled features, his black eyes staring at Savven from across the sea of burning bodies.
Savven felt something deep within him stir, a sadness creeping up from behind his rage. Baring his teeth angrily, he pushed it down, drowning the unwanted emotion.
“They will all fall, Savven.”
The words were barely registered over the noise of the Dökkálfar, but Savven heard them, nonetheless.
Savven’s grip tightened around his blade. “We shall see.”
Ezra’s eyes turned black as he raised his hands slowly, and from the ground, dark shadows whispered out from the grave beneath them.
“Savven, the King is the only one strong enough to fight Ezra’s power.”
Savven glanced at Lithônion, his closest friend. Blood trailed down the side of his face and arms, worn scars marking the cords of muscle along his bare flesh. His armour gleamed under the burden of battle. Lithônion’s green eyes were serious as he watched Ezra with familiarity, an unknown emotion passing over his gaze fleetingly.
“Ezra wants the throne,” Savven stated. “If he takes it, that will be the end of us all.”
Lithônion pursed his lips at those words. “I never took you as a coward, Savven. Your father surely isn’t one.”
Savven gave him a hard stare. “Watch your tongue, Lithônion.”
“Adanessa!” Lithônion’s voice barked out the command with ease, his eyes on Savven as a lithe female ran out from the ranks behind them.
Her white-blonde hair shone against the flicker of fire in the fields, pale green eyes staring at Lithônion and Savven, waiting for their command.
Savven took a deep breath, calming the growing anger as he glanced at the royal messenger. “Adanessa, bring word to the King; he is needed on the battlefield.”
Adanessa glanced at the chaos around them quickly, her head jerking in a quick nod. “Yes, Your Royal Highness.” She left on fleeting feet. Disappearing into the clouds of soot that rolled through the forest behind them.
The darkness around Ezra grew into a large wall. The wind pulsed like a heartbeat and roared in their ears in a deafening crescendo.
Lithônion and Savven faced off against the wall of demons, their faces hardened, eyes burning.
With an angry shriek, the darkness dispersed and shot towards them in the form of a thousand black arrows.
Savven shielded his face as the demons enveloped him. When he opened his eyes, he was alone. The world around them was darkness; he couldn’t hear or see any of his kinsmen. Lithônion had disappeared, and Savven was left in the shadows.
His breathing was shallow in his ears, a thundering beneath his feet his only warning, and he brought his blade up. The Dökkálfar came at him from all sides, all at once. He pushed them back with the quick jerk of his sword, deflecting the hazardous blows bearing down upon him.
Then they were gone. Those who came fell to the ground, their blood soaking the earth. Then, all was silent again. The darkness parted for only a moment, but at that moment, Savven saw him. Ezra. Standing alone in the field, the barest hint of a smile on his pale face before he vanished. Misting into the air around them.
Savven felt it, the knowledge that he had fallen for the trap. He stumbled back, tripping over a body, catching himself. Ezra had drawn them from the confines of the city walls, taken their resources, and covered them in an impenetrable barrier that separated them.
With no one watching the city walls, they lay bare, ready for the taking.
“Savven!”
He heard his name faintly through the thick black fog. A hand reached out from its depths and pulled him from the darkness.
“Savven!”
Savven cleared his head, his eyes focusing on Lithônion. “How did you escape?!”
“We need the King, now!”
Savven glanced back at the field, knowing he wouldn’t find Ezra. “It’s too late,” he muttered. “Ezra knows the city is defenceless! I need to warn them!” He didn’t wait for Lithônion’s reply. Sprinting through the treeline towards the city walls.
Adanessa felt the forest walls concave around her as darkness rolled through the tree line, licking at her heels. Her hair whipped through the air, glancing over her shoulder and letting out a cry as the black clouds began to envelop her.
The world went dark, and a chill ran through her body as she stumbled in the sudden abyss. Her knees crashed to the ground, tormented cries echoing through the shadows around her.
Her breathing became shallow, feeling her way around the darkness, small whimpers of terror slipping past trembling lips. Her fingers touched something wet, and the metallic scent of death reached her nostrils. Adanessa’s eyes strained against the shadows, and she saw the outline of one of her own. Dead. His eyes were open and void of light, he was staring blankly at her.
Adanessa let out a startled scream, seeing her hand lying across his open torso. She threw herself back, stumbling against another body. Jerking away, she searched the shadows, looking for help. She didn’t dare call out for fear of the Dökkálfar hearing her.
The screeches of the fallen surrounded her as the darkness grew. Sudden movement passed her in a blur, and her breath caught in her throat.
She tried to walk forward quietly, her hands in front of her. The forest became deathly quiet, and a cold chill ran up her spine. Ceasing her movements, she turned slowly, her breath heavy in her throat.
The face of a bloodied banshee stared back at her, inches from her face. Its black eyes and sinister smile watched Adanessa with hunger.
She felt her heart stop as she stared at the dark creature.
The banshee let out a sudden piercing scream, grabbed Adanessa by her throat, and threw her back.
Ice filled her veins as she was tossed aside with ease, her body slamming into the base of a tree. Black dots appeared in her vision, but she forced herself to stand. Bracing against the tree, she pushed herself up, the banshee letting out a cry. Terror filled her, and Adanessa sprinted through the forest, the bodies of her kin beneath her feet.
She finally screamed, “Help!”
The sound of steel meeting flesh echoed through the white marble halls from the battlefield. Those who stayed behind to guard the palace borders ran towards the burning chaos. Walls threatened to crumble at their feet as they shook, tremors running through the earth.
The dwarves of Zarren brought axes and shields to the battlefield as allied reinforcement. Those left behind stood ready within the palace walls, waiting for the dark armies to invade the territory they protected—the only land yet to feel the grasp of death and know the weight of dead bodies covering its ground.
Savven pushed past scattered dwarves, leaping over a fallen pillar. He spotted a familiar head and called out, “Mirima!”
Spinning around, one of his own turned at his name, bow in hand with arrows sheathed at this side.
“Savven, what is it?” Mirima questioned hurriedly, securing a new string to his bow quickly before lowering it to his side.
“The King and Queen, where are they?!”
Mirima pointed behind Savven. “They’re coming.”
Savven whirled around and saw them, his parents, walking towards Mirima and him. Their battle armour gleamed under the light of torches set in sconces on the walls; their pace was quick but controlled, and their expressions masked. Savven nodded his thanks to Mirima and ran to their side.
“You’re needed at the front.” His words were hurried as he glanced over his shoulder in caution, half of him expecting Ezra to appear. “Adanessa was sent to give—”
His mother frowned. “We have not seen Adanessa.”
Savven tried to suppress the warring emotions that raged inside him, but his attempts were feeble. They had been naive enough to fall for Ezra’s trap. Death was imminent now, and Savven knew his parents needed to leave if they were going to survive. “Then it is too late. You must leave! I cannot allow Ezra to take the throne and you as well.”
“Enough, Savven!” his father ordered in an imperious tone that Savven knew too well, his emerald eyes flashing in warning. “We will not leave. I will go to the front if I’m needed there. That is my duty as their king!”
A violent tremor shook the palace, and all movement ceased. Voices went silent. The ground lurched again with a loud crack, and a billow of thick dust rolled through the hall.
Savven felt his heart jump, his breathing coming in quick bursts. “The walls have been breached!”
The momentary stillness exploded into shouts and hurried footsteps as those left took their positions and readied their weapons. Savven turned to his parents and gently took his mother’s hand. Familiar icy blue eyes boring into his deep blue. “I beg you—take the west tunnels to the shores of Ligorin. I cannot allow Ezra to take you. I could not bear it. Our people need you alive.”
They were alone in the vast hall. Casvara turned to her mate and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Nydeth, perhaps we should. Our people will understand.”
“Perhaps they will, but I will live with the shame of it. I will not cower.”
“There is no shame in following commands. Savven will guide our armies. You have trained him well. He has guided our people before. Have faith that he will be victorious.”
The elder closed his eyes, a hardened look falling over his features. “No, I will not leave our people for slaughter. Until my last breath as king, I will stand with them.”
Savven felt his jaw clench with unwanted sentiments, ignoring them as he gave a barely perceivable nod. “Very well, follow me.”
He led them down the twisting halls, away from the main corridor that had been attacked, to the hidden east passages that would take them to the forest’s edge.
Nydeth stepped around Savven as they approached a marble wall. Waving a hand over the bare wall, he whispered a single word in their ancient language: “Geyja.” A crack formed in the marble as a doorway appeared. It opened to worn stone stairs consumed by shadows, leading down into the tunnels below the palace.
“Your Majesties!”
The three turned to see a dwarf running toward them, his barrel chest heaving, his stocky frame covered in dripping sweat and dried blood. “They’re coming!”
“Who?!” Savven demanded as his parents started for the entrance.
Gasping for breath, red in the face, the dwarf crouched low, with white knuckles gripping his axe. “The Dark Ones! They’re coming from the east; they’re coming by the tunnels! One of their spells countered ours and struck the ground, collapsing it. They found it! Found them!”
“Savven!”
Savven turned to see the enemy step out from the shadows. No. Not an enemy, but someone he knew. Someone who had crafted the sword on his hip. Laudin, the Blacksmith of the High Fae, grinned through the shadows, eyes black as night. Held in his grip was a taut bow and an arrow flew out from the darkness before he disappeared into shadows.
“Run!” Savven cried out, turning to the dwarf quickly. “Tell the others what has happened! We need reserves at every tunnel entrance! May the Gods help us!”
The dwarf saluted, striking his fist to his heart, and ran back where he had come, his lumbering footsteps echoing in the hall.
Casvara took Nydeth’s arm as he reached for his sword. “Come, we must go now!”
The Dökkálfar fell from the shadows, and Nydeth brought his sword around quickly, cutting through the mob of fallen elves. When there were no more, Nydeth turned, grabbing his mate by the hand, and they ran from the infected tunnels.
A single arrow hissed through the air quietly, and just as they reached Savven’s side, it pierced Casvara through the heart in one deadly blow.
Time seemed to stop. Mute silence settled in as they stared in horror as blood bloomed like an unwanted flower across her chest.
