The Spirit of the Realm Read online

  The

  Spirit

  Of the

  Realm

  THE SPIRIT OF THE REALM

  Book one of the Chronicles of Sodervia

  Copyright © 2021 by Rachel L. Brown

  Book cover art copyright © 2021 by Rachel L. Brown

  First Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in review.

  ISBN: 978-0-578-85231-7 (paperback)

  ISBN: 978-0-578-85232-4 (epub ebook)

  All characters, places and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real places or real persons, living, dead or undead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Printed and bound in the United States of America

  Published by Rachel L. Brown

  500 E Whitestone Blvd #1272

  Cedar Park, TX 78630

  www.rachellbrown.com

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  1 | The Fisherwoman

  2 | A Birthright Lost

  3 | The God of Justice and Mercy

  4 | A Fish Enters A Viper Pit

  5 | The Marshmires

  6 | A Broken Land

  7 | The Blood Oath

  8 | Magic and Mercenaries

  9 | The Vestral and the Boar

  10 | The Rite of Choosing

  11 | The Tournament

  12 | Seeds of Rebellion

  13 | Whispers of Peace

  14 | The Agreement

  15 | Devastation And Revelations

  16 | Ashes of Peace

  17 | A Brewing Storm

  18 | The Rite of Attunement

  19 | A Stone of Secrets

  20 | The Battle of Oddlehill

  21 | The Prince’s Choice

  22 | The Coronation

  Glossary

  Pronunciation Guide

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  1

  The Fisherwoman

  THE KING WAS DEAD.

  Emira sighed as she entered the harbor. They had replaced most of the multicolored banners and flags with the black and white colors of mourning. The change mattered little to Emira; she had never met the man. The nobles would be the ones in the temples in their silken mourning garments, while the rest of the country carried on in sackcloth.

  She watched sailors on a trade ship ten times the size of her own boat, take down the colorful sails that had been painted with a sea griffin stretching its wings. Her sail was a patchwork of colors. She would have to change it soon or she would suffer the wrath of the Vestrals.

  “Looks like we’ll be spending more time at sea, eh, Vaste?” Emira said to her owl while he jabbed his beak into his wooden perch. Vaste’s head snapped up, his attention focused on something in the sky. Before Emira could figure out what he was looking at. The bird tried to fly over to a small pile of canvas strewn on the deck, but was yanked back by the short leash tethering him to the perch. Emira scurried over to him and offered a piece of stale meat to soothe him. While the anxious bird ate, she turned her attention to the sky searching for any signs of a sea griffin.

  A scream echoed from another ship. A huge beast dove from the clouds, the front half of its body was that of a silver eagle with wings that had a silvery-bluish hue to them and feathers that resembled scales. The back half was that of a lion, its fur was also silver. Its long tail danced behind it with a spear-like point on the end. The beast’s front talons opened and closed as it curled its back paws up toward its belly. It was moving to kill.

  “Sea griffin!” The sailors screamed as a warning bell sounded from the town’s watch tower. Dozens of arrows and spears flew into the sky, none got close to piercing the creature.

  Emira ducked down and grabbed her trident. Her heart raced as she watched the silver winged creature fly around the harbor, its screeches echoing across the water.

  “Goddess of the Sea, do not let me die in front of the docks!” Emira shouted into the wind. The griffin turned its head towards her. The vivid yellow eye widened then narrowed as it locked onto its prey. With a flap of its enormous wings, the griffin sped toward Emira’s small boat.

  Emira gripped her trident, but it was too late for her to dive into the water. The beast drew closer, another flap of its wings sent out a blast of wind, knocking her onto the deck of the ship. Her grip on her trident loosened, and the weapon flew out of her hands. The sound of metal clattering against wood filled the air.

  Cursing under her breath, she rolled onto her side and grabbed a large fishing spear. She threw it as the griffin opened its talons. The griffin swiped at it and the spear fell into the ocean.

  The griffin swung its tail towards her, she rolled again and tugged at a barrel full of fish. The runes etched in the wood flared and the magic in them fought to keep the barrel upright.

  “Gods, just this once I need you to fall!” Emira shouted at the barrel. Her screams were useless as the magic held the barrel in place.

  The griffin turned and used one of its talons to grab Vaste. The owl let out a few shrieks of defiance and struggled to free itself from the griffin’s talon.

  Pieces of wood shot into the air around her, she raised an arm to shield her head. When she lowered it, Vaste’s perch was in shambles. A couple gray feathers drifted down onto the deck, the bird was gone and a swordfish she couldn’t fit into a barrel was also missing. Rage filled her, and she grabbed another spear, flinging it after the griffin who disappeared into the clouds.

  “Why couldn’t you have just taken the bloody fish!” Emira screamed and kicked a piece of broken wood off the boat.

  Once she calmed down, she steered her boat over to a narrow dock tucked away from the bigger ships. One would be hard-pressed to call it a dock, the decaying timbers had more holes in it than her fishing nets. The other rickety boats secured to it looked as if a fair breeze would send them all adrift.

  The dock groaned when she jumped onto it, and a large piece of wood splashed into the water. She flinched when a boat broke loose and started floating into the harbor.

  “Emira, what did you do?!” Aldred, a young fisherman, exclaimed and rushed past her. Curses streamed out of his mouth as he plunged into the water. Once Emira saw he could make it onto his boat, she turned her attention to tying her boat onto the dock.

  “Gods above Emira, you’ve been gone for nearly a week!”

  Emira looked up from the rope to see her cousin glaring down at her. She stifled a sigh as she stood and gestured toward an overstuffed barrel.

  “You’re starting to sound like my mother, Rupert. I had to go further up the coastline,” she eyed a small group of people passing by the docks. They looked at her fish barrels with hunger in their eyes, though they looked well fed.

  “Oi, got any free fish love?” One of the men shouted and patted his belly. “I’ve been feeling mighty famished.”

  “Are you a famine-struck?” Emira replied.

  “No.”

  “Then you can pay for your fish at the market like everyone else!”

  They glanced at her fish barrels, then back at her when she reached for her trident. Rupert laughed when they hastened away from the docks.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “You do realize that you look like a sea witch, your hair is all over the place. Even I would be scared of you.”

  “...Rupert are you going to help me with the barrels? I need to get back to my parents, I’m sure they are worried.”

  “You could have sent
your owl,” Rupert said and hopped onto the boat.

  “And leave me out there with no warning signal a griffin was about to attack?” Emira shook her head and gestured to the broken perch. “He saved my life; a griffin attacked the docks.”

  “Poor Vaste, he didn’t deserve that fate,” Rupert said as he picked up a small feather, “and that’s the third griffin attack this week.”

  “Third? They used to stay away from the docks!” Emira said, watching a young boy walk past them. His tattered clothing did little to mask his frail frame. He resembled a walking skeleton more than a living person. It was likely he was either a beggar or a famine-struck, but unlike the men from earlier, he clearly needed food.

  Emira grabbed a large fish from a barrel and tossed it at him. The fish hit the ground with a thud. The boy stared at it and then, faster than she could blink, he snatched the fish and ran off towards the forest that lined the coastline.

  “You’re welcome!” Emira shouted after him, wincing when a sharp pain radiated from her right shoulder.

  “Are you all right?” Rupert asked while he checked her shoulder.

  Emira waved him off. “I’m fine, it’s nothing that time won’t mend.”

  Rupert inspected a few barrels of fish, humming his approval on most. But he frowned when he peered into one barrel and pulled out a small silver fish. “Why in the names of the Gods are you fishing for these tiny little scraps?”

  “I learned from the harbormaster that someone in the Vestlig Isles claims they heal the Shivering Fever,” Emira said. She snatched the fish away from him and flung it back into the barrel. “Don’t worry, it was not the only fish I caught.”

  Rupert rubbed his forehead. “Your parents are managing well with their illness. I have been applying the proper herbs each day and making the offerings to the God of Healing. I cannot keep them from worrying you are going to end up like your former betrothed.”

  “You could come with me, having another set of hands would help ease their minds,” Emira said and set a barrel onto the dock. The wood groaned but held steady.

  “Heavens no, I would rather skin a snake than throw myself at the mercy of the Goddess of the Sea. Why don’t you take a few of those poor famine-struck?”

  “They always end up getting seasick and I end up having to cut the trip short. It’s often easier to feed them and pray the Gods will have their crops grow again next year.” Emira had taken many a desperate soul out to sea. Only for her to end up coming back to shore with an empty net and a deck full of vomit.

  “Ah, perhaps the Gods will smile upon our new ruler and take away this blasted famine.”

  “Has the Spirit’s Chosen been revealed?”

  “No, they haven’t been announced, we would’ve known by now if it was the King’s son. Maybe the Spirit chose a baby?”

  “The Spirit didn’t choose the King’s son?”

  “If it chose him, we would have known of it by now,” Rupert said and pushed a barrel onto the dock. Emira glared at him.

  “Careful with that! I can’t afford another barrel!” she snapped. Rupert gave her a remorseful look.

  “I’m sorry, let’s hurry this up so you can go home. I’m sure your parents will be overjoyed to see you.”

  “I’m sure they will, but first I must get that healing potion made.”

  LATER THAT MORNING, after she’d sold her fish and gotten her potion, Emira left the lively marketplace and headed out of town. After spending days alone on a boat, being around a large amount of people was overwhelming.

  Her home was a modest wood and stone structure, one of ten for the other families who also provided fish for the markets. The houses surrounded a courtyard with a well at the center. The small community lay just outside the town walls, so there was no protection from the famine-struck who wandered around their homes begging for scraps. What was once an area that brought comfort was now a constant reminder of desolation.

  Emira clutched the small bag she had with her as she fished out a coin to give to the man who was pacing in front of her home. The man smiled before he sprinted away; a small group of ragged children ran after him. Once she was confident she wouldn’t be followed, she entered the house.

  She hung her trident next to the doorframe, beside her parents’ tridents. Theirs had dust piling up on them. She would have to clean them later; they didn’t need the Goddess of the Sea to turn her wrath upon them.

  The primary room was spacious, serving as her bedroom, kitchen and eating area. A large bucket sat on top of her small bed in the corner. Water was leaking out of it. A storm must have passed through recently and flooded the house.

  The rushes squished under her feet. Emira suppressed a curse as a rotten smell permeated the air, the stench became stronger with each step she took. She would have to clear out the rushes before nightfall. While Rupert was good at caring for people, he was rather inept at caring for anything else.

  She entered her parents’ bedroom; the vile smell lingered in there. Thankfully, the rushes here were dry.

  Her parents lay on their small bed. The straw stuffed inside the cloth mattress was peeking out. Her father was fast asleep, but her mother opened her eyes when Emira rested a hand on her forehead. Both were ice cold, and their skin had a grayish tone to it. The Shivering Fever still had a firm hold on them.

  “Gods save us, you’ve returned,” her mother said, her voice strained and quiet. Her eyes widened when Emira held up the vial.

  “I have brought a new tonic for you and father to try,” Emira said, pouring a small amount into a wooden tankard. A sweet scent filling the air as she mixed it with a small amount of water. Her mother grimaced when Emira held the cup up to her.

  “It smells too sweet for a cure.”

  “Mother, please try it,” Emira said, trying to keep her expression from souring.

  “If this doesn’t work, you must swear this is the last one you are going to try!”

  Emira smiled. “I swear.”

  While her mother took tentative sips, Emira’s father opened one eye. At the sight of Emira he sat up so fast that water sloshed out from her mother’s cup and onto their faces.

  “Emira! You’ve returned!” His voice was also strained. He wiped the water from his face and tried to wipe it off her mother’s, but she smacked his hand away.

  “Yes, and I have a cure!” Emira held up another cup. Her father looked at it with the same weariness her mother had. Though he didn’t voice any objections when he grabbed it.

  “Drink up and get some more rest. I will clean the rushes and make us all some fisheye stew.”

  She needed to get out of here before they started asking her questions about her time at sea.

  “Emira, you must tell us of your trip. Did you run into any pirates?” Her mother asked when Emira neared the door.

  “No, but a sea griffin made Vaste a snack,” Emira said. Her parents’ faces crumpled with worry.

  “Gods above Emira, stay home where it is safe,” her father said.

  “Hush now, I’m the only one who can keep fishing! How would we continue to live if I stopped?” Emira asked, but her parents didn’t answer as their eyes drifted closed. The alchemist had said this would happen. Emira hoped they were right. She prayed the Gods would heal them quickly, she hated seeing them confined to their bed.

  ONCE SHE HAD CHANGED into the itchy sackcloth she would have to wear until the new rulers coronation. She spent the rest of the morning cleaning out the rushes. It was the easiest task she had to complete before nightfall. The roof was another matter, parts of it had been blown off in the last storm. Normally, she would have gone to one of the neighbors for help, but every house had suffered the same fate. Some were even worse for the wear and had lost their roof.

  She thought about asking the famine-struck to assist her, but they were too weak to help with this type of work. It was hard for her to be mad at them, most were farmers who lost everything when their crops failed. They wandered the kingdom s
earching for food and shelter. They were a harsh reminder of the damage the famine had brought upon them all.

  With or without help, she couldn’t leave the roof in shambles. She grabbed an old sail and did her best to patch it. A temporary fix, but at least she wouldn’t have the morning dew dripping on her face.

  It was times like these she missed Thomas the most. Emira pulled out the small ring she had found in the wreckage of his ship. The metal was rusting, and soon the sea would claim it. If he were here, she wouldn’t have to go out to sea alone. He could have helped her with the house. But the Goddess of the Sea had decided he would be better off at her side.

  Such was the life of one who lived at the mercy of the Goddess. It would do her no good to curse the one who gave her food to feed her family.

  A loud banging drew Emira from her thoughts. A man in an ink-black cloak was hitting the small bell that hung from the roof of the well. It was only used by the town crier when he had news. Two triangle shaped runes, one upside down and the other upright, were embroidered onto his cloak. Those were divine runes, used by the Vestrals who served the God of Justice. Not a God who was concerned with the lives of fishermen.

  “I must speak with the leader of the fisher folk!” the man shouted.

  Emira had never seen him at the town’s temple, but then again, she had never gone to that God’s shrine.

  Old Harbspy shuffled out of his home and over to the cloaked man. The Vestral started to shout at him, his words were lost to the wind and Emira strained to hear.

  She slid off the roof when a group of men bearing tridents surrounded the pair. She considered grabbing hers, but she figured there were enough people around to keep the peace.

  “...she has been at sea for over a week,” Old Harbspy was saying as Emira walked over to the group. The runes on the Vestral’s cloak glowed and shifted from their dull silver to a bright purple.

  “Then get someone who-” the Vestral paused when he noticed the runes on his cloak. His gaze swept over the other fisherman until it rested on Emira. His dark silver eyes had a faint glow about them.