Defenders of The Sacred Land: Book One of The Sacred Land Saga
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Authors: Mark Tyson
Tags: #Fantasy
Dedication and acknowledgements:
Chapter 2: The Tiger’s Head Inn
Chapter 7: The Vale of Morgoran
Defenders of the
Sacred Land
Mark Tyson
Shadesilver
Publishing
Copyright © 2014, Mark E Tyson
Editing by Courtney Umphress
Book Design by Shadesilver Publishing
First Shadesilver Publishing electronic publication: March 10, 2014
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via internet or by any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictionally and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States by Shadesilver Publishing 2014
Paperback:
ISBN: 13 – 978-1497308947
ISBN 10 - 1497308941
Dedication and acknowledgements:
This book is dedicated to my loving parents: Gene and Linda Tyson
I would like to acknowledge the many people who helped me write this book along the way:
Ruth, Rowdy, Brandie, Eldon, Kim, Courtney, Kylie, Marty, Michael, Steve, and the many others that have made contributions to this work
Chapter 1: Lady Shey
Dorenn Adair could not turn away. Her facial expression pleaded with him not to let her fall, but he felt her fingers slipping from his. His footing abruptly failed him, and her hand slipped from his grasp. He watched in horror as she fell. The black-shadowed creatures screamed for her blood as they pulled her down through the tree branches. Their ugly, leathery wings thrashed in the nearby leaves. He hesitated, his mind in a fog; then remembered who he was, what he was. He concentrated from the depths of his soul to call forth the essence of all things around him. He let the power of life and existence penetrate him. It infiltrated his mind until he felt he could no longer contain it. He thought of her in a safe place and released the energy.
A whoosh of cool air washed over him as he opened his eyes, searching for the faint light of her disappearing into his force of will. The light bathed her in a brief, pale glow. She no longer fell and the creatures, realizing their prize cruelly stripped from them, screamed in frustration before they regrouped and began climbing back up the huge tree trunks to the platforms above, transfixed on Dorenn. Horrified, he tried to summon essence again but he could not. Dorenn stood panicked as the creatures reached the platform. Frantically, he searched for his sword,
Dranmalin
. The creatures reached him with their hideously long claws and began tearing at his face.
“Dorenn, Dorenn, wake up! You are having a nightmare.”
Contorted in a low scream, he rose out of bed and grasped his face, expecting to find bloody gashes but found none.
“Dorenn, it’s me. It’s Tatrice.”
A relieved calm washed over him as he focused on her familiar face.
“It was horrible. I dreamed of those black-winged creatures again.”
Tatrice sat back away from him on the bed. “Oh, and of the girl too? Did you dream about her again?”
Dorenn nodded and then shook his head at Tatrice’s reaction. “What would you have me do?”
“You have been dreaming of this same girl for months now. It’s a bit unsettling.”
“How can you be jealous of a dream? I suppose you would have me dream of you instead.”
“Yes, certainly, why not me?”
“They are only dreams, Tat.”
“I’m sure you could find a way to get rid of them if you tried hard enough.”
“I will never understand you.” He cracked a playful grin. “Now get out of here so I can get out of my nightclothes.”
“I’m going.” She took two steps toward the door then plopped onto the edge of his bed. “I hope you remember you promised me a picnic today. You haven’t forgotten, have you?”
“No, Mother prepared us a basket.” He squinted at the morning light creeping up into the window. “Hey, it’s barely morning. What are you doing here so early?”
“I am helping your mother in the kitchen for breakfast. The inn is full, remember?” She got up from the bed and headed for the door. “Your father asked me to wake you. He’s in the stores.”
Dorenn moaned. “He is going to have me moving ale barrels to make room. By the gods, how much more space does he need to clear? I will be glad when these soldiers get to the mountain outposts.”
“Stop bellyaching.” Tatrice winked at him as she closed the door behind her. Dorenn shook his head and searched the floor for his tunic and trousers.
Lourn, the innkeeper of the Tiger’s Head Inn and Dorenn’s father, was busy moving small wooden crates around the sizeable storeroom located in a cellar adjacent to the kitchen.
“I am here, Father,” Dorenn announced.
The big man jolted. “Oh, Dorenn, you startled me.” He rubbed his hands on his already dirty white apron.
“Sorry,
Father.”
“No matter, I have a job for you this morning. You know Fadral, the new peddler, don’t you?”
“Aye, I have talked with him several times.”
“Good, good. Well, with all this new business, I have run out of salted pork. I do not usually like to buy meat from peddlers because of the quality,
but this time I have no choice. I have instructed Durn to butcher four hogs, but I need to feed my guests in the meantime.” He moved another crate. “Fadral doesn’t come to Brookhaven today, and he won’t be out this way for two more days. I need you to ride out to the Brass Buckle in Soldier’s Bluff. Fadral should be there around the same time you arrive, so see if he will sell you some pork. If not, then find Marna at the Sea and Ale and ask if she will sell you some of her stock. I just need enough to last until Durn can get the new meat cured.”
“I doubt Marna will part with her stock, Father, her inn is just as busy as ours.”
“I am only asking you to try, Dorenn, no harm in asking her.”
“No, sir.” Dorenn suddenly remembered his promise to Tatrice.
“Father, I promised Tatrice a picnic today.”
Lourn continued to lug around the crates. “Take her with you. You can stop at Ashonda’s pond on the way back. Our stock will last until you return.”
“When will Durn have the wagon ready?”
“No wagon. You can take Old Blue and the good saddlebags.”
“What about Tatrice?”
“She can ride with you. Don’t tell me you don’t want to be snuggled up close.”
Dorenn grimaced. He certainly did not mind but found it disconcerting his father mentioned it.
Lourn chuckled at Dorenn’s reaction.
“All right, just go on and find Tatrice. I last saw her in the kitchen. Oh, and when you talk to Fadral, make sure he has enough salted pork on his wagon for his trip out here in a few days just in case he needs to stock up in Symbor.”
“Aye,
Father.”
Dorenn left the storage room trying to think of a way to make a trip to pick up salted pork sound appealing to Tatrice so that he could avoid the inevitable chastisement for cutting their time together short. He had little choice when it came between obeying his father and spending time with her. He had to go find Fadral, but his wish would be to stay with her. After all, what young man would prefer work to spending time with a beautiful young woman at a picnic? He rounded the corner into the kitchen, still without a thought of how to explain the situation to her, and found Tatrice kneading dough at the counter.
“Dorenn, there you are. Your mother prepared a wonderful picnic basket for us with roasted chicken, Blackberry tea, and apple pie.”
“Where did she get the apples?” It was all he could think to say.
“Preserves, silly.”
“Oh yes, how silly of me.”
“Don’t poke fun at me, Dorenn Adair,” she scolded.
Dorenn breathed in, gathering his courage, and then decided to be out with it.
“Tat, my father has a chore for me.”
She smacked the lump of dough with her fist.
“On our day? The day we have been planning for a month? How long will this chore take?”
“You have not let me explain.”
“What is to explain? You have a chore. There is always a chore. Are we still able to go on the picnic?”
“I have to go to Soldier’s Bluff and—”
“Soldier’s Bluff! Forget it then. We will have to figure out another day to spend time together. I remember a time when you wanted to be in my company.”
“Tat, please, not the ‘no time together’ speech.”
He knew he was saying the wrong thing even as the words left his lips but he couldn’t stop himself. “My father has given me permission to bring you along. He said we can stop at Ashonda’s pond on the way back.”