Kira (Yden Trilogy, Prequel), page 1
Cover
Title Page
Kira
Prequel to the Yden Trilogy
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S.G. Rogers
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Idunn Court Publishing
Copyright Information
Kira, Copyright © 2014 by S.G. Rogers
All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.
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This book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.
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Idunn Court Publishing
7 Ramshorn Court
Savannah, GA 31411
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Published by Idunn Court Publishing, November 2014
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This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this book can be reproduced or sold by any person or business without the express permission of the publisher.
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Published in the United States of America
Editor: Kathryn Riley Miller
Cover Design: S.G. Rogers
Interior Book Design: Coreen Montagna
Glossary
Aion—eye-on
Cheernaught—cheer-not
cygard—sigh-gard
Dorsit—door-sit
Efysian—eff-e-see-in
Gnoam—nome
Hafne—haff-nee
Hyrn—hern
Isore—i-zore
Kira—kir-ah
Kysandra—kiss-an-drah
Lianyn—Lee-an-in
Mandral—man-drall
Moala—mo-all-ah
newtic—new-tick
Patnik—pat-nick
porcinian—por-sin-ee-an
puleden—pull-eh-den
Quixoran—kickz-or-an
Rampen Szul—ramp-in zool
Reye—ray
Solegra—sol-eh-grah
spyrrow—spy-row
Tyrg—teerg
Wyckcrest—wick-crest
Yden—ee-den
Ylan—ee-lann (local pronunciation is lann)
Yrth—earth
Chapter One
The Invasion
AS TEAMS OF PULEDENS hauled carts westward through the mountain pass, the creaking of the wagon wheels echoed off of granite cliffs. Two men on horseback led the small convoy into the gathering twilight. As they crested yet another rise, Mandral reined in his horse and gave his companion a withering glance.
“Wizard, I’m beginning to think these Cyclopes don’t exist.”
Patnik chuckled. “Of course they do, Warlord. They’ve been following us for the last hour.”
Mandral scanned his surroundings, but saw only hundreds of boulders.
“Why don’t they show themselves?”
“They’re in plain sight, if you know what to look for.”
The wizard fashioned an everlasting orb of light between his hands. When he sent it aloft, a deep rumble began, like the sound of an earthquake. As Mandral peered out over the cold, windswept landscape, boulders began to move closer. The illumination from the everlasting orb revealed the enormous creatures at last—largely naked even in the freezing cold. Twice the size of men, with pus-filled lesions over their bodies, the Cyclopes surrounded the wagons and fixed Mandral with their single eyes.
“Show no fear,” Patnik murmured.
“Watch yourself, wizard,” Mandral said. “I don’t need your advice, just your magic.”
He rode back toward the wagons, loosened their covering tarps, and flung them aside. In one wagon, jugs of ale were stacked in neat rows. In the second, piles of animal skins along with dried meat, bags of salt, and baskets of vegetables formed a tempting display. As the Cyclopes pressed forward, the warlord unsheathed his sword and swept it in a warning arc. The creatures hesitated.
“I bring gifts and an offer. Who speaks for the Cyclopes?”
A brutish hairy creature pushed his way to the front of the crowd.
“Keep your offer, human. We’ll take the gifts.”
A frenzy ensued as the Cyclopes nearly tore the carts apart in their zeal to grab what lay inside. Mandral was obliged to gallop to a safe distance clear of the fray. Patnik had a worried expression as he joined him.
“My apologies, Warlord. I’m afraid the Cyclopes aren’t used to dealing with humans.”
“All will be well.” Mandral smirked as he sheathed his sword.
“Perhaps you should keep your weapon at the ready. Even a shield spell won’t hold these brutes back forever.” He gulped. “In fact, we should depart with all due haste. After the carts are empty, the Cyclopes may attack.”
Unconcerned, the warlord made no reply. When the jugs of ale were uncorked and the Cyclopes drank freely, he gave a satisfied nod.
“The Cyclopes are mine.”
The wizard gasped. “Is the ale poisoned?”
“Naturally. It’s a rather devious concoction which brings about euphoria, followed closely by an overwhelming sense of devotion. Amongst women, it’s mistaken for passionate adoration.” He paused. “There is no cure.”
Moments later, the Cyclopes rushed toward Mandral, with outstretched hands. Patnik flinched.
“Show no fear, wizard,” Mandral drawled.
One by one, the Cyclopes sank to their knees, including the hairy Cyclops who’d spoken. Mandral’s lips curved into a smile.
“My name is Warlord Mandral.”
The name was slavishly repeated by the Cyclopes, like a mantra or a prayer. Patnik chuckled and slid the warlord a silent look of admiration.
“I’ve come to invade Nomad Territory.” Mandral paused for effect. “And you’re my army.”
Chapter Two
Sparring
GANT FINALLY BROUGHT KIRA down with a scissor tackle. As her upper back slammed into the hard dirt surface of the forest floor, an invisible iron hand seemed to grab her lungs and squeeze. Unable to breathe, she curled up into a fetal position and gasped for air. Gant lay beside her on the ground, his eyes closed.
“Stay down, Kira,” Gant muttered. “I’m done.”
His attempt to rise was futile. A moan escaped his lips, and he collapsed into a heap. Moments later, the trees overhead began to rain Nomads. The young warriors knelt next to Gant and felt for his pulse.
“Is he all right?” Kira managed.
“Just passed out,” Aion said. “He’ll be all right in a few minutes.”
Kira’s lungs finally eased their spasms, and she managed to draw a deep breath. “Doesn’t anyone care about me?”
“No,” Hyrn said.
General laughter followed his remark.
“You train too hard, Kira Szul,” Aion said. “The Nomads aren’t under attack and there’s no threat of war, so why do you take it so seriously?”
She raised herself up on her elbows. “Training isn’t supposed to be a game!”
“Nothing’s a game to you,” Lane said. “You wouldn’t know how to have fun even if you tried.”
“Not every contest needs to be to the death,” Hyrn said. “Gant may have won the match just now, but he nearly killed himself doing it.”
As if he’d heard his name, Gant began to stir. The three Nomads hauled him upright and practically carried him through the forest on their way back to the encampment. Lane and Aion shot level glances at Kira as they went, which didn’t escape her notice. She made her way to a downed log and sat, waiting for her lungs to fully resume their normal function.
By any estimation, her friends’ lack of concern for her wasn’t fair. Before Gant had fainted, he’d left a bruise the size of Nomad Territory on her thigh. He’d also nearly dislocated her shoulder, and her ribs were sore from where he’d landed a brutal side kick. All those injuries were in addition to a myriad of scrapes she’d sustained from sticks, stones, and pinecones as they grappled across the forest floor. Admittedly, her injuries mightn’t have been so severe if she hadn’t pushed him so hard, but as Rampen Szul’s daughter she couldn’t afford to slack off.
When Kira wiped sweat from her face, her fingertips came away bloody from a cut on her scalp. She groaned as she remembered—too late—her elder sister’s birthday celebration that night. Nothing she ever did could please Kysandra on a normal day. If she couldn’t get cleaned up before her sister noticed, a fresh volley of criticism would ensue. Since they shared a tent together, the chances of escaping her sister’s pointed scrutiny were slim.
On her way back to the Nomad encampment, Kira spied several young men in a clearing, laughing and talking as they tossed knives at a target. Her stomach contracted when she noticed a shock of blond hair; the young warrior Reye was among the group. His handsome face and athletic frame had earned him a reputation among Nomad women as a desirable marriage partner…yet he continued to elude capture. At only fifteen turns of age, Kira was still too young to contemplate marriage, but privately she’d admired Reye along with the rest. She’d had few opportunities to talk with him, but now was her opening. Her
“So, Reye, which girl are you escorting to Kysandra’s party?”
“Must I choose only one?”
Raucous laughter greeted Reye’s flippant response.
“I heard Kira Szul is in need of an escort.”
The words sounded innocent enough, but Kira detected an undercurrent of mockery.
“Ha! You take her.” Reye lifted his hands, as if in fright. “I’m too afraid.”
“Oh, come now. She’s little more than a child.”
“She always looks like she wants to kick someone’s teeth in. Besides which, I prefer my women soft, with curves.” He pantomimed an hourglass figure with his hands.
“If it’s voluptuous you want, choose a nymph.”
“Again, must I choose only one?”
More laughter ensued. Stung, Kira faded back into the shadows. Her throat closed up as she felt the full impact of Reye’s scorn, and moisture filled her eyes. Until now, she hadn’t realized she’d become a topic for ridicule. Her vision blurred with tears as she stumbled along the path toward her tent. Before she went in, however, she tried to compose herself. If Kysandra knew she was feeling vulnerable, no doubt she’d go for the jugular.
Olive green, fuzzy mountain-spider silk fashioned the walls and peaked roof of the tented dwelling, which provided ample shelter from the wind, rain, and occasional frost. Kira passed through the opening, hoping Kysandra was elsewhere. Her sister sat at her dressing table, unfortunately, arranging her hair.
Kysandra caught sight of Kira in the looking glass. “You’re filthy!”
She examined her reflection. Her puleden-leather breaches and dragon-hide tunic were smeared with mud and grass stains, and leaves were sticking out from her tightly braided hair. Only her full lips and the unusual violet color of her eyes gave any hint of the girl hidden underneath the dirt.
Nevertheless, she shrugged. “I was sparring.”
“You always look like that!”
“No, I don’t.”
“Maybe you’re not always as dirty, but you always look like a boy. If it’s not sparring, it’s fighting with swords or throwing knives or axes or insults.”
“We’re Nomads. That’s what we do.”
“Nonsense. You’re the Nomad Chief’s youngest daughter, not his son.”
“I know, but I have to train harder to get respect!”
“It’s not working, and it’s obvious to everyone you’re trying too hard. You should hear how people talk about you behind your back.”
There was truth in what Kysandra said, and it hurt. Kira turned her back to hide the moisture rimming her eyes. With a sound of disgust, her sister stormed over to a wardrobe, pulled out a lace-edged garment, and tossed it onto Kira’s bed.
“What’s that for?”
“It’s to replace that stupid combat binder you’re wearing. From now on, you’re to look like a girl. Take a change of clothes down to the hot spring and scrub before anyone sees or smells you. And let your hair down for Solegra’s sake!”
Ordinarily Kira would be inured to her sister’s harsh assessments, but Reye’s comments had already opened a wound. Feeling ill-used, she gathered her things together.
“Oh, and Father has invited some guests to my party. You’re to wear a dress.”
“Who are the guests?”
“Warlord Laramy and some of his soldiers. Although I’ve never met the man, I’m told Laramy is not altogether ill-favored. I intend to marry him, if possible.”
At the hot spring, Kira stripped off her clothes, loosened her tight braids, and dove into the pool. Since men were required to bath in the river on the far side of the encampment, she was assured of privacy. The crystal clear water was warm enough to release curls of steam into the air, and Kira felt her muscles relax and her aches lessen. She rubbed liquid soap into her scalp and skin, letting the clear water carry the bubbles away. The fragrant lilac soap was her own concoction. Infused with various essential oils, it left her skin and hair clean and allowed her to comb her hair afterward without snarls.
Once she’d scrubbed away the dirt and blood, she floated on her back with her eyes closed and tried unsuccessfully to forestall a crushing sense of loneliness. Although she’d devoted herself to training as a warrior her entire life, she’d begun to chafe at the role. Lately, she’d begun to notice men and to wish they’d notice her. But I’m a warrior, and the only thing I know how to do is to fight.
Never before had Kira felt the lack of maternal guidance so keenly. Kirana Teryn Szul had died giving birth to her, so Kira had no memories of her mother whatsoever. She pictured the small painting of her mother next to her bed. As a child, she used to talk to the image when nobody was around and wish her mother would respond. Eager for advice about men, Kira would have even welcomed the counsel of a water nymph at the moment. The few nymphs who’d lived in the hot spring had decamped for the river, however, when they realized where the males could be found. Usually she avoided the flirtatious nymphs, but they did have a knack for displaying their charms. Although she wasn’t about to prance around stark naked, she could stand to make a few changes. For one thing, she could wear her long dark hair loose and unbraided. Furthermore, Kysandra was right; she didn’t have to wear her combat binder all the time. Her sister had given her a binder designed to enhance her blossoming femininity instead of hiding it. Reye was a lost cause, evidently, but he wasn’t the only handsome Nomad warrior in the Territory. Perhaps she could also learn to conduct a pleasant conversation about something other than swordplay or combat.
An unfamiliar masculine voice shattered her reverie.
“Are you a water nymph?”
Startled, Kira jackknifed under the water and came up for air as far away from the voice as possible. Unfortunately, the pool was surrounded by ten soldiers on horseback, each equipped with swords, chain mail, and leers.
“You’re the prettiest nymph we’ve seen yet.”
“Come on out and talk to us, little one.”
Just then a warrior appeared astride an enormous charger. “What’s happening here?”
“We’re talking to a water nymph, Warlord.”
Warlord Laramy!
“She’s no nymph. The girl’s a Nomad, and we’re intruding on her privacy.” Laramy smiled at Kira and bowed his head. “Please forgive our bad manners, but we’re looking for the Nomad encampment at Wyckcrest.”
“If you take the path through the woods, you’ll reach the encampment in ten minutes.”
“Thank you.”
As Laramy spurred his charger forward, he gave Kira a lingering glance. When the soldiers finally disappeared beyond the tree line, she let out the breath she’d been holding. Nevertheless, she didn’t fully emerge from the water until her fingertips and toes had shriveled.
She left off her combat binder and donned the new one, reveling in a newfound freedom of movement. After dressing in a fresh pair of breeches and a blouse, she combed her hair, letting the sunshine dry her wavy, waist-length mane. As she worked, she couldn’t stop scanning the forest for the reappearance of Laramy’s men. She’d let down her guard by coming to the hot spring without a weapon. From now on I won’t bathe without a stiletto strapped to my thigh.
Lane was pacing out front of Kira’s tent when she returned. He gaped openly at her unleashed hair and figure.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I almost didn’t recognize you with your hair down and everything. Um…your father has sent for you. He’d like you to greet a visitor.”
“Warlord Laramy?”
“How’d you know?”
“I met him and his party as they rode in.” Kira paused. “Look, please tell Gant I’m sorry about our sparring this morning. I took it too far and I regret it.”
Lane nodded. “I’ll tell him. You know, you really need to learn to relax.”
“Yeah. See you later.”
Kira stashed her belongings and walked toward her father’s tent without delay. Inside, Rampen Szul was enjoying a mug of ale with Warlord Laramy and Kysandra. Her father did a double take when she appeared.
“Ah, come meet our guest, Warlord Laramy. He and his men will be staying with us for a fortnight. Warlord, this is my youngest daughter, Kira.”
