The Chronicles of Kale: Dawn of Retribution (Book 2)

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any means, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the publisher.

Copyright © 2012 by Aya Knight

Published in the United States by

Silver Knight Publishing, LLC. (PO Box 721254 Orlando, FL)
SILVER KNIGHT PUBLISHING, knight helmet logo, and associated logos are trademarks of
Silver Knight Publishing, LLC.

ISBN-13: 978-1-938083-15-0

ISBN-10: 1938083156

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended solely to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. All other characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

Cover art by: Diego Jose

Map art by: Ariana Fauzi

Author Photo by: Aimee Carey

Dedication

To Manon, for making this adventure possible. Thank you for always being so supportive. To my mom, who has always been a best friend, and so much more.

Hiro and Ryu, you brighten my life, even on the darkest days. I am so privledged to be your mom. Thank you for making me complete.

Prologue: A Careful Plan

T
he rapping of her nails filled the circular tower room. Footsteps could be heard approaching from the steep corridor, which placed a childish grin upon the woman’s weary face.

“Had you taken any longer, I might have considered feeding you to my pet.” The woman spoke as she caressed a hunched grey creature that sat loyally by her side—its mouth dripping with the desire to rip the man’s flesh from his body.

“My sincerest apologies, Mistress Morgatha. The task was more difficult than anticipated to obtain what you desire.” The man bowed humbly, his greasy brown
hair falling loosely upon his sunken cheekbones.

“Give it to me, you worthless maggot!” Morgatha snapped as her eyes flared with anger.

“Yes, Mistress.” The man quickly retrieved a vibrant yellow root from his inner pocket. “For you.” He once again bowed, extending his arms toward her.

Morgatha swiped the root without regard and turned to face a large stone cauldron.

“For years I have awaited this moment.” Her purple lips quivered with excitement.

The liquid below her bubbled and snapped as she dropped the root into the concoction. In an instant, the deep green contents began to foam as orange smoke rose toward the tall ceiling. Morgatha’s draping indigo gown fluttered violently as a forceful wind circulated the room.

An eerie cackle escaped her mouth as she tossed her head back with rejoice.

“You foul, inferior peon—you’ve done it!”

Though her words were demeaning, the man smiled as though he were a puppy being praised by its owner.

“Saldin, the moment has come,” Morgatha spoke in a dark tone. “With this,” she handed him a small vial of liquid, “you can complete your quest.”

     Jedah’s skin was stiff and dry from the cold, the frostbite along his forearm seared in pain as he slowly shifted his body—a prisoner to the thick steel chains which bound each of his limbs in place. His pupils focused as the sizable blue gate clanked open. A tall, slender frost elf strode gracefully toward him. The elf’s cold, emotionless white eyes remained locked on his own.

“Come to do away with me yet?” Jedah forced a snicker.

“You do not deserve the pleasure.” The frost elf’s voice was monotone and deep. “Eat.” He forcefully lunged a wooden spoon, filled with a green broth, toward Jedah’s blue-tinted lips.

As fast as the broth entered his mouth, Jedah spat the contents onto the elf’s pale blue robe. “And if I don’t? Bind me as you will, but you cannot command what I do. You will not break me so easily, worthless grunt.”

“You will eat.” The frost elf’s words were short and hard.

The lengthy needle pierced Jedah’s skin with ease, gliding under his chilled flesh, releasing fluids into his system.

“Your meal.” The elf’s lip tilted upward in what could have been a smile of satisfaction—the first sign of emotion Jedah had seen from their kind since his arrival two months ago.

The frost elves had taken measures to ensure the temperature within Jedah’s chamber would remain miserably cold, yet not enough to kill, and to offer him just enough nourishment to keep him alive. It was a slow torture as King Valamar had decreed.

As the frost elf strode across the room to exit, Jedah exhaled, leaving a mist-like fog in the wake of his chapped lips. The former general’s body once again grew limp, allowing the weight of his thinning torso to dangle at the mercy of his steel wrist cuffs. At the sound of the gate closing, Jedah glanced toward the roof of his chamber. A small iron grate lay secured in place fifty feet above, letting in the smallest amount of sunlight which taunted his lack of freedom.

“How long must I wait?” His jaw tightened in frustration.

As the sun descended beyond the opening, Jedah could see the picturesque orange and pink hues fill the sky. Yet, unlike most who would welcome the momentary serenity, Jedah grinned, reminiscing of a night when he bed a mother of three before having each child slaughtered for not welcoming his command over their small village. The sky’s blend of color on that very day was much like the sight he saw above.

As his sinister mind wandered through memories, a single brown feather drifted down from an opening in the grate.

“Idiot birds.” Jedah mumbled before raising a dark brow.
Wait a moment—there are no birds of such color on this frozen waste of land
.

His eyes shot up, homing in on the location from where the feather had fallen. Nothing. No movement or sound aside from the usual hissing of icy wind.

He returned focus toward the single feather which remained stationary on the ground before him.

“Something is amiss…” His eyes further investigated his surroundings.

Flap
.

Jedah unmistakably heard the sound.

Flap
.
Flap
.
Flap
.

A brown hawk tucked its wings, barely fitting between a narrow gap in the iron bars. It shot down. Fast. Heading directly for where Jedah hung.

Jedah turned a cheek, preparing for the impact. Moments passed and he felt nothing. He glanced back to see that the hawk had stopped and was flapping heavily in place before him.

“Is this another method of torture?” Jedah spoke without fear or concern.

The hawk struggled to lift its talons, still mid-air, when Jedah caught sight of it—a tiny vial of blue liquid.

“You’ve finally come.” His eyes lit up as he spoke in a hushed voice so not to rouse the elves he knew were positioned outside the gate.

Using his teeth, and the bird’s strategic movements, Jedah was able to carefully remove the cork from the vial. He instantly tipped his head back, allowing the warm blue fluid to rush down his dry throat. Within seconds of spitting the glass vial to the floor, his body began to burn uncontrollably. He fought the urge to cry out as the pain seared through his limbs.

Suddenly, his hands began to slip through the steel cuffs and he sank toward the snow-padded floor.

“Hisssss.” Jedah shook his head in confusion. “Hisssss!” He could not speak.

As he moved forward, there were no legs to hold his body, no feet, only a long slender body that slithered along the ice. The realization immediately hit him. He had become a snake.

The hawk folded its wings as it targeted the helpless slithering creature. It dove swiftly, gripping Jedah within its razor-sharp talons. The bird soared toward the opening in the grate, just as a mass of frost elves burst through the entrance.

The first two guards held out their palms as aqua bows materialized within their grasp, sending deadly ice-like arrows in the direction of the bird. Their moment of attack had gone as the bird shot through the grate with ease.

Jedah was once again free.

Chapter 1: The Riders

T
he steady rhythm of hooves pattered against the grassy field, drowning out all surrounding noise. Four figures, draped in tattered grey cloaks, rode toward Kale and his companions.

Neelan’s violet eyes narrowed as her hand rose above a shoulder, firmly gripping the sturdy, wooden bow.

Kale’s mind spun; the severity of the situation digging at his rationality. His body temperature rose as the attackers approached. Through their gaping hoods, Kale could see disfigured faces that were undeniably inhuman.

They had long, slender noses and narrow faces which appeared burnt in texture, with scar-like tissue upon tanned flesh.

The menacing eyes of the oncoming riders caught Kale’s attention above all else—red, and full of rage. He knew at that moment, there would be no mercy.

Illadar withdrew his freshly sharpened claymore, protectively towering above Thomas’ limp body.

Kale took a step back, closing the space between he and Neelan to ensure her safety. He could feel his palms growing hot, the thought of Thomas’ incapacitated body fueled his desire to slaughter the humanoids.

Neelan was the first to engage as she launched an arrow toward one of the oncoming riders. Her eyes widened with anticipation as she watched the arrow pierce her targets torso.

A wailing, animalistic shriek filled the air as the creature pulled on the reigns of its horse.

After a momentary pause, the rider regained composure and galloped toward the group—its red eyes focusing solely on Neelan. A darkened hand, bearing five crooked fingers withdrew a thin blowgun.

Kale’s eyes shot up. With mere seconds to react, he shoved Neelan to the ground. “Get down!” he called out, just as a needle-like dart grazed his cheek.

The rider was now close enough for Kale to retaliate. Hungry from their day’s journey and enraged by the unexplainable attack, his sword intensified in temperature. Kale knew to take caution and not exceed what the blade could withstand.

“You die now.” Kale’s voice was firm. He had made a personal vow to do all in his power to protect Neelan for as long as he walked the earth’s soil—he would not accept failure.

The blade entered the rider’s torso before a second dart was loaded into the blowgun. It slid through the creature’s body without resistance, splitting open his skin and allowing innards to cascade from his belly. The blood sprayed across Kale’s face like crimson war paint.

The remaining three attackers immediately tugged on their horses’ reigns, keeping a distance from Kale’s glowing blade. They withdrew wooden blowguns, preparing for another attack.

Neelan, who now stood with another arrow locked onto her target, was prepared to fire when a thundering tremor erupted. Her arrow launched, missing the creature significantly.

“Something is terribly wrong...” She shot a quick glance toward Kale.

“This doesn’t look good, kid.” Illadar spoke, his eyes focused on a nearby hill.

Lined in a perfect formation, were more than a dozen of the creatures. Each of the cloaked riders were mounted upon a black stallion, staring upon Kale and his friends with the same rage-filled, red eyes. They anxiously prepared their attack with an animalistic hunger for death that would not be tamed.

One of the riders closest to Kale began to click his tongue against the roof of his mouth in a rhythmic pattern.

“Teira shank oh re’ latun!” It shouted in a rough, high-toned voice.

The thirteen additional riders began to gallop in a wide circle around Kale and his companions.

Kale could distinctly make out the harmonic whispers as they held their sunken eyes upon him.

“
He is the one—his blood we must take.
”

“If they want a fight, let us give them one,” Kale spoke in a commanding tone, reinforcing his grip on his sword’s hilt.

Kale positioned himself in preparation for an attack, when his vision began to mislead him. The earth looked as though it shifted and, for a moment, the amount of riders doubled. He shook his head as his vision returned to normal.

What was that?
Kale thought as he forced his focus back upon the riders.

Kale, Neelan, and Illadar stood, armed and prepared for battle with Thomas defenselessly between them on the ground. They were completely surrounded with no other option than to fight their way out.

As if telepathically synced, each rider reached within their cloaks to withdraw a wooden blowgun.

If only Thomas were awake, these filthy creatures would all be ash
. Kale pinched his eyes shut as his head throbbed.
Something is definitely wrong with me . . .

Kale fought against the nauseating sensation that began to swarm within his gut. He watched as the creatures loaded each blowgun with a single dart—undoubtedly coated with venomous poison. Without hesitation he placed his own body in front of Neelan’s to protect her from the threat. He raised his sword, hoping to deflect a few of the attacks before they struck.

As the creatures raised the wooden weapons to their lips, a piercing wail filled the air, distracting the riders’ attention as their horses frantically trotted in place.