The Rise of Aredor
Contents
Acknowledgments
Author Links
Dedication
Map
Book One
Book 1 Chapter 1
Book 1 Chapter 2
Book 1 Chapter 3
Book 1 Chapter 4
Book 1 Chapter 5
Book 1 Chapter 6
Book 1 Chapter 7
Book 1 Chapter 8
Book 1 Chapter 9
Book 1 Chapter 10
Book 1 Chapter 11
Book 1 Chapter 12
Book 1 Chapter 13
Book 1 Chapter 14
Book 1 Chapter 15
Book 1 Chapter 16
Book Two
Book 2 Chapter 1
Book 2 Chapter 2
Book 2 Chapter 3
Book 2 Chapter 4
Book 2 Chapter 5
Book 2 Chapter 6
Book 2 Chapter 7
Book 2 Chapter 8
Book 2 Chapter 9
Book 2 Chapter 10
Book 2 Chapter 11
Book 2 Chapter 12
Book 2 Chapter 13
Book 2 Chapter 14
Book 2 Chapter 15
Book 2 Chapter 16
Book 2 Chapter 17
Book 2 Chapter 18
Book 2 Chapter 19
Book 2 Chapter 20
Book 2 Chapter 21
DON’T MISS THE EPIC CONCLUSION
MORE BOOKS BY CLAIRE M. BANSCHBACH
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
The Rise of Aredor Copyright
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Firstly, I would like to thank my sisters, who were the first readers of this story for their encouragement and for their pressure to finish it.
To my sister Sarah, who gave my final version a good once over before I decided to send it to the publisher, it was harsh, but necessary. You made me look good.
To my sister Jocelyn, who fell in love with Emeth and condescended to put her talent to use in illustrating this book—thank you. Your framed artwork will hang in our magical treehouse one day.
To my sister Catherine for working tirelessly with me on developing the pronunciation guide. I sincerely hope someone looks at it and finds it useful.
I want to thank Mary Kaylyn Miller for working patiently with me through e-mail and with my rough interpretations to produce the fully awesome map. It gave me chills to see my imagination on paper.
Many thanks to my parents, who, at first, didn’t know I had written a book, much less sent it to a publisher. They have been very supportive, not just through this process but through my whole life. They are the ones who fulfilled my literary needs by supplying stacks of books for birthdays, Christmases, and just because. Thank you for everything that you have done for me and for supporting this story into the second edition.
And last, but certainly not least, thanks to all the amazing readers who helped me get this book ready for the second edition. I couldn’t have done it without your support and encouragement!
You can find out more about Claire and discover short stories, writing updates, and a fun newsletter on her blog:
www. clairembanschbach.wordpress.com
She loves to connect with readers on
Facebook @clairembanschbach
& Twitter @ClaireMB_Author
where you can find dorky life and writing updates
This book is dedicated to my
sister of a thousand faces and
a hundred names who irritated
me until I finished this story.
Some thanks are in order.
Book One
The Phoenix Guard
Chapter 1
Thump…thump…thump. The boy’s heel kicked the chair as he absentmindedly stared out the window. His paper and quill lay forgotten on the table in front of him along with the lesson he was supposed to be studying.
“Prince Corin!” The sound brought the boy back to earth with a jolt. “I do not think the proper declensions of those nouns lie outside,” the old man said with a stern frown.
Corin glared at Bevan, his tutor, and gave one last rebellious kick to the chair. His older brother Darrin stifled a grin from his place across the room. Corin picked up his pen and began writing, threatening to break the quill pen in the process. At twelve years of age, he hated the long afternoons full of grammar, history, science, language, and math-ematics.
He muttered to himself as he dragged the pen across the page, but not quite loud enough to be heard by Bevan. He was distracted again by a ball of parchment that landed on his desk. There was no movement from Bevan. Corin glanced up to see Darrin grinning and pointing to the parchment.
Corin unrolled the parchment and barely stifled an explosive giggle at the rendition of the fat, grumpy tutor slouched in his chair. The strangled noise alerted Bevan to a new distraction and Corin began to scribble nonsense on his page with a frown of concentrated industry. Darrin followed his example and as soon as Bevan's attention was returned to the book, Corin retaliated.
His sketch was rougher than Darrin’s but still brought out the desired effect. Bevan’s attention was taken from his book again as Darrin became overtaken by a violent bout of coughing.
“Are you all right, Your Highness?” Bevan rose and walked over to Darrin’s desk.
“Um…yes, sir. Something just caught in my throat, that’s all,” Darrin said.
Quick as lightning, the tutor snatched up the paper from under Darrin’s hand. Outrage covered his face. Crossing to Corin’s desk, Bevan knocked aside his hands and rifled through the papers until he found the second sketch.
“How dare you! I shall report this to your father! You shall both be punished!” Waving the papers madly, he strode from the room, slamming the door shut behind him. The boys slouched dejectedly in their seats.
“Sorry, Cor. Bevan looked really mad this time.” Darrin picked at a corner of his parchment.
Corin gave a glum nod. “Do you think Father will be very angry?”
Darrin shrugged. “I just hope he still lets us go to Lynwood with him.”
“That wouldn’t be fair! He promised we could go!” Corin exclaimed.
A gloomy silence prevailed in the room as the boys contemplated their punishment. They did not have long to wait before heavy footsteps announced the arrival of their father. The door swung open and King Celyn strode into the room followed by an agitated Bevan.
“It’s outrageous, sire! This is not the first time that they have mocked me! I demand that they be severely punished!”
Darrin and Corin could not help but exchange sly grins at their tutor’s discomfort. It did not go unnoticed by their father and he waved a hand to silence Bevan. “Peace, Bevan! Leave us, and I will deal with my sons.”
With a highly satisfied air, Bevan left the room, shooting one last murderous look at the boys before shutting the door. Only the presence of his father prevented Corin from sticking his tongue out after the tutor.
Celyn crossed the room and sat down in the armchair. He held the sketches up in his hand.
“Have you anything to say for yourselves?”
The boys shook their heads.
“Bevan is your tutor, and as such, you should give him proper respect. Although I do admit these are remarkable likenesses,” he said.
Startled, Corin looked up to see a twinkle in Celyn’s deep blue eyes.
“You’re not angry with us, Father?” he ventured.
Celyn chuckled. “I suppose I should be, but Bevan takes himself very seriously sometimes.”
“So…are you going to punish us?” Darrin asked.
“You are both to apologize to Bevan, and then you are excused from lessons for the rest of the day,” their fa
ther decided.
The boys did not wait for him to change his mind. They dashed from the room, promising to find Bevan and apologize.
King Celyn leaned back in the chair and sighed. Bevan would not be happy with the “punishment,” but they were just boys after all. He could remember tormenting his own tutor when he was their age. He considered finding someone else to teach the boys. Bevan’s complaining grated on his nerves, especially when he was dealing with more important affairs of Aredor. He would give more serious thought to it tonight. Maybe his wife would have some ideas. Reluctantly, he rose from the chair and strode from the room; the duty of kings called him back to work.
* * *
“C’mon, Martin!” Corin shouted. “Race you to the river!”
A young boy about his own age sprinted beside him through the east gate of the castle and across fields until they came to the river that was more like a stream that ran across the open plain. The boys frequented the stream to play in the shallow water or to cross over to reach the training grounds of the warbands.
Corin and Martin arrived together, panting from their run. Their attention was soon taken by a frog that hopped out of the shallow water. After a few minutes, they gave up trying to catch the slippery creature. Corin flopped down on the bank and stared at the distant mountains.
“What do you think lives in the mountains?” he asked.
Martin propped himself up on his elbows. “I don’t know. Someday, when we’re both famous warriors, we can go explore. Father says they’re too dangerous for young boys.”
“Psh! They only tell you that so you don’t ever go look,” Corin scoffed. He took strongly after his father, inheriting his blonde hair and the same piercing blue eyes. Between him and Darrin, he was the more impetuous, though tempered by a strong battle sense that had been passed through the generations.
The son of Celyn’s most trusted general, Martin was just as reckless as Corin. The boys had been friends through thick and thin, getting each other in and out of trouble since the time they could walk. When they reached the age of fourteen, they would begin their training together. That day was an event much longed for. Then they would be able to join the ranks of men that trained across the river. And one day they would each command a warband as a prince and as a captain.
“Did your father say you could go to Lynwood with us?” Corin found a stray stone to throw into the river.
“No, he said he’s not going along this time. The king wants him to stay at the castle.” Martin found another stone for him. “But he said he’d make it up by taking me with him when he goes to Castle Martel in a few weeks.”
“Lucky,” Corin grumbled. “I hardly ever get to visit the coast. The only time we get to see Tristan and Trey is when they come here.”
“They’ll all come to the Autumn Festival though,” Martin pointed out.
“Good, we can beat them at the races this year,” Corin said. Every year at the festival, young boys raced their ponies bareback around the training grounds. And this year, Corin and Martin were determined to beat the two brothers from Castle Martel.
“It’ll be our last year to race ponies. Next year we can finally race horses,” Martin said. “Father is giving me the new colt from Braith. I get to train him all by myself.”
Corin made a valiant attempt to smother his jealousy. Training was a big responsibility; the colt would become Martin’s first warhorse.
“Come on, I’ll show him to you,” Martin said. The boys hopped nimbly up from the bank and tore off in a full-out race back to the castle.
* * *
Corin snuck up the stairs to his room. He had a few minutes before being called for dinner. He rounded a corner and encountered his mother.
“Corin! What happened? You’re filthy!” Queen Elain asked.
Corin shuffled his feet awkwardly. “Well, Martin and I went down to the river and then to the stables. After that we met Bran outside, and we might have gotten into a fight.”
Queen Elain sighed. “What will I do with you when you insist on dirtying and tearing all your clothes?”
“I’ll try to do better, really I will!” Corin promised her. The queen looked into his earnest blue eyes and sighed again.
“You’re too much like your father.”
Corin couldn’t hide a grin. He’d gladly take any comparison to his father.
“It won’t be long before I’m worried about you hurting more than your clothes…” His mother sniffed.
Corin stared down at his boots. She’d been this way when Darrin had started training, but he’d be careful. When he looked up again, her smile was back.
“All right, go change and clean up. Don’t be late for dinner!”
Corin arrived in the great hall just as the meal was beginning. He slipped into his place at the high table with his family, tugging on his younger sister’s hair as he did so. Amaura made a face at him, and he stuck his tongue out in return.
“Father said he might get us a new tutor!” Darrin whispered to Corin.
“Really? Who?” Corin grabbed a slice of bread.
Darrin passed him a plate of meat. “I don’t know. He said that Bevan might start teaching Amaura instead.”
“I hope he does,” Amaura said. “I like Bevan, and I don’t see why you two are so mean to him.”
Corin looked at her, aghast. “You like him? How is that even possible?”
“He’s always very nice to me.”
“That’s ’cause you’re just a little girl, and you don’t see him all the time,” Darrin said.
“I am not little!” Amaura exclaimed.
“You’re ten,” Corin pointed out.
“Yes, and you’re only twelve,” Amaura stuck her nose in the air and began eating very primly. The boys rolled their eyes and tore hungrily into their food.
Queen Elain looked down at one of the lower tables and noticed Martin sitting with his family, looking freshly scrubbed and clean.
“Did you decide on a tutor yet?” she asked Celyn.
“I think so,” the king replied. “I heard about the fight already. Don’t worry. I’ll see what Ivor can do for them.”
“Ivor? Are you sure, Celyn?”
“Yes, he can keep them in line. I think the boys will respond better to his teaching.”
“Have you told them yet?” Elain asked.
Celyn shook his head. “No, they’ll find out tomorrow. I confess I do want to be there to see their faces.”
* * *
The next day, the two young princes trudged unwillingly up to the school room. Opening the door, they stopped in shock. Instead of Bevan, another man stood at the window. He wore a leather tunic and vambraces over a blue-and-black uniform. Tall and muscular, he could easily carry the large broadsword that leaned against the wall. Corin recognized him from the training fields.
“Ivor?” Darrin asked in astonishment.
The warrior bowed. “Your Highnesses.”
Corin stared wide-eyed at Ivor as he sat at his desk. “Where’s Bevan?”
“Your father decided that Bevan’s time would be better spent in the library and archives as well as teaching the Princess Amaura,” Ivor replied. “He asked me to come teach you a few times a week. If you two are ready, we might as well get started.”
From the very beginning, Ivor did not approve of the lessons Bevan had given them. He tossed aside the papers filled with math problems to be solved in terms of apples, sheep, and cattle and began asking the problems in numbers of supplies for armies, warhorses, and enemy soldiers. Problems that had proven difficult before were now solved easily by the boys. He took maps off the walls and spread them on the table and told them of the different countries in Cimbria, their people, and customs.
“Corin, what can you tell me about Gelion?” Ivor asked.
Corin studied the map for a minute. “They are a trade country,” he began hesitantly.
“Yes, and what special privilege do they enjoy?” Ivor prompted.
Ivor nodded. “Gelion controls the Masian Sea with their merchant ships. Mostly they trade with the southern countries, Calorin and Argus. The southern lands are always trying to fight a war with someone or expand their territory, but they wouldn’t dare attack Gelion because they depend too much on the trade.”
“Have you ever been to the South, Ivor?” Darrin asked.
“Once, a few years ago when the king visited the Calorin Sultaan,” Ivor said.
“What was it like?” Corin traced across the Masian Sea to the borders of the southern countries.
“Hot and flat. I will say one thing for them: they breed the finest horses I’ve ever seen. Now, did you two know that there are two heroes with your names?”
And so the lessons continued with the boys’ attention completely captured by Ivor. The hours of lessons were no longer dreaded, and they learned quickly, much to the delight of their parents. Then finally, the much anticipated day came, and Corin and Darrin set out with their father to visit Lynwood Keep.
Chapter 2
Lynwood Keep was situated in the northwestern part of Dunham Forest. It sat close to the southern border of Braeton and the eastern border of Durna. Dunham Forest spread across the western half of Aredor all the way to the Grey Cliffs by the Masian Sea and extended unbroken throughout much of Durna. A visual boundary had been cleared between the two countries, running seven yards wide and extending the length of Aredor from the cliffs to the northernmost corner between the two countries.
The garrison at Lynwood Keep was comprised mostly of foresters and rangers that patrolled through Dunham, watching the boundary and keeping it cleared. A few times a year, King Celyn would visit his outlying forts to make sure all was in good order. He had decided to let his sons accompany him so that he might begin to show them how to keep an outpost organized. Besides that, they had been begging for months to go along on his next trip. A fast rider could make it from Kingscastle to the Keep in less than a day, but it took them almost two as they collected other reports from smaller forts on the journey there.