Queen Of Knights Page 40
When Gwendolyn and Miles parted, they turned to face Saladin again. What they saw caught them unprepared. Saladin was kneeling, his head bowed before Gwendolyn.
Then Gwendolyn heard the voice of the old one echo in her mind. Throughout the breadth of the land, greatness will follow, and kings will bow low before the issue of Kildrake.
***~~~***
OF SIGNIFICANCE
On August fifth, seven thousand Moslem warriors led by Saladin attacked Richard Coeur de Lion. The Christian knights battled heroically, and held off wave after wave of Saracens. At the proper moment, Richard led his mounted knights in a charge against Saladin. There were only fifteen knights who followed Richard, but they were mighty fighters, inspired by the mightiest of English kings.
Richard and his men fought gallantly, wreaking havoc through the width of the Saracen line. Richard was like a man possessed, going to the aid of any knight who needed his help, while battling the Saracens in deadly combat. Then, suddenly, Richard's horse was killed from under him, and he was on the ground, facing the wrath of the entire Saracen army.
Before a fatal blow could be landed, a Moslem knight galloped through, stopping before Richard, and offering him the reins of a fine stallion. When Richard was mounted, the Saracen spoke.
"The horse has been sent by Saladin, who knows the truth of chivalry."
Richard rewarded the Saracen knight and then returned to the battle.
One month later, a five-year treaty was signed by Richard Coeur de Lion, and Saladin.
Who is to know? Who is to judge why Saladin, when victory over Richard was ensured, held back his forces and gave the gift of life to the only man he had never been able to completely defeat? Could he have been remembering a time when another knight had done the same for him? Could he have been remembering long flowing hair the color of wheat and moonlight?
But all of that is fantasy….Isn't it?
David Wind
Chestnut Ridge, N.Y.
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From the author
Dear Reader,
Thank you for your support! Without you my stories would sit on a bookstore shelf, a warehouse, or in a database somewhere in a ‘cloud’ waiting for you to find them. I don’t write because it’s a job, I write because it’s my passion. I hope reading and enjoying the worlds created by writers is your passion.
I hope as well, you have enjoyed Queen Of Knights, as much as I did writing it, and I would love to hear from you about your reading experience.
If you like this book, and would like to lend me your support and help spread the word about Queen Of Knights, please tell a friend and share it with the world by writing a review. Nothing fancy, just tell the world what you think—even just a sentence or two would be appreciated.
Reading your reviews, and receiving emails from you, means a tremendous amount to me. I have included below, some convenient links for you.
Thank you for taking the time to read Queen Of Knights,
David
Click here to write a review on Amazon.
Click here to write a review on Goodreads.
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About the author
David Wind
When my first novel was published in 1981, I had no idea where I was headed. Since then, I've published thirty-five novels, thirty-three of them with traditional publishers, but in 2007, I decided I wanted more freedom than the traditional publishers would allow and began a new phase in my life as an Independent Author.
I live and write in a small village about thirty miles upstate of NYC, and share my house with my wife, Bonnie and our dog Alfie, an apricot poodle. Our three children have ventured out into the world on their own (or so they think). Our son Zach works on the CBS show 48 Hours. Our daughter Devon, her husband Russell and my grandson Sawyer live in New Jersey where Devon teaches Special Education. Alana, our youngest daughter, is a Pastry Chef in San Francisco.
In 2008, I published Angels In Mourning, my 'homage' to the old time private detective books of the 50's and the 60's. I used to love to sneak them from my parents’ night-tables and read them as a young boy. Angels, is a modern day take on the old style hardboiled detective. In April of that year, Angels In Mourning won the Amazon.com Book of the Month Reader's Choice Award.
My Fantasy, Queen Of Knights, reached #2 on the amazon.com bestseller lists for historical fantasy and medieval fantasy, and my sci-fi of parallel worlds, The Others, received wide acclaim.
I am currently working on the third volume of the Tales of Nevaeh. Volume II will be out in the late spring.
My novels have been translated into 11 languages and published in 15 countries.
David’s Links
David’s Amazon.com Author’s Page
Twitter: @david_wind
Facebook: authordavidwind
David’s website: http://www.davidwind.com
Goodreads Authors Page
Available Novels by David Wind
Born To Magic, Tales Of Nevaeh, Volume I
Queen Of Knights
The Others
The Cured
Angels In Mourning
The Hyte Maneuver
A Conspiracy Of Mirrors
As Peace Lay Dying
Co Op
Shadows
And Down Will Come Baby
Short Stories
The Guardian At The Edge Of The World – Published in André Norton’s Witch World 2 anthology, TOR Books
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For more information about David Wind, please visit http://www.davidwind.com
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A Special Preview of the New Series
Tales Of Nevaeh
Volume One:
Born To Magic
Available February 5, 2015
From Amazon.com
Available for Pre-Order
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The Tales Of Nevaeh
Volume I
Born To Magic
By
David Wind
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Copyright © 2015 by David Wind. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact David Wind.
ISBN-10: 0990003531
ISBN: 978-0-9900035-3-3
First Edition February 2015
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CHAPTER 1
Nevaeh: 5267
DESPITE THE HEAT of the summer sun, the deep forest was cool. From a distance, the crackle of a branch stepped upon by a large animal drifted to her. The breeze rustling through the tree leaves cooled the sweat beading young Areenna’s brows. She was on the last day of the traditional cleansing period before her fourteenth birthday. She had spent the time wandering the forests, adjusting to the changes within her body and her mind—changes that had begun weeks before with her first flow of blood, and had increased a hundredfold in the past days.
Her mother had explained—not for the first time—how the final five days leading to her return home would be among the most important days of her life. During these days, she would find her aoutem, her object of guidance. For some it was a bird, for others an animal. Her mother’s aoutem was a gorlon, a four-legged huntress of incredible strength. “Remember,” Her mother had said in parting, “be vigilant, always, for you do not choose an aoutem, it chooses you.”
There would also be changes in her body, her mother had warned. In their maternal line, it would most likely be a darkening of her skin from its almond shade to a deeper pale brown hue. Conversely, her mother had added, there could also be a lightening of her dark blonde hair.
In the branches high above her, she sensed something watching. Looking up, she spotted an unusually large treygone guarding its nest. The silver feathered male bird, lethal to any animal unfortunate enough to weigh less than its own twenty pounds, stood guard over two hatchlings.
Areenna sensed the treygone knew she posed no threat, yet it watched her closely.
Before Areenna could take her second step, a shock tore through her head. She stumbled and fell to her knees. She clutched at her head, fighting off the lance of pain that burned into her. A scream built in her throat, but died, unable to pass her lips while she stared helplessly at the giant treygone falling from its high perch to the forest floor.
A bolt had pierced its body and driven into one of the two hatchlings. How is this possible? Hunting was not permitted on this portion of the lands. Not a hunter…a poacher.
From above and behind came a scream unlike any she had ever heard. She looked up at the sapphire sky from where the sound had come. Between two tall trees, a magnificent cinnamon and black female treygone appeared, its triangular head pointed at a spot twenty paces from where Areenna knelt. It was the mate of the treygone just killed, the mother of the hatchlings, and the hunter of the family, and its rage tore through her mind like a brand.
Turning in the direction the bird arrowed, she spotted the poacher sitting in the joint of two large braches, his crossbow already set with a new bolt. He was looking up at the charging treygone, its wingspan nearly blocking the sun. In that instant, Areenna acted without thought.
Raising her hands toward the hunter, she allowed her pain at the male’s death to create a storm within her. An explosion of heat spread through her and her hand glowed white. As she was about to let free, the weapon her mother had trained her to use, a command within her mind stopped her.
The sensation lasted but an instant, yet it was time enough for the hunter to release his bolt, and for the bird to strike the hunter. A second blast of pain tore through Areenna’s heart and head when the two met. The hunter shrieked as the bird hit him and buried its talons into the unarmored flesh of his face. Locked together, they fell the thirty feet to the ground.
They lay still at the base of the tree. Areenna saw from the angle of the poacher’s neck that it had been broken in the fall. The treygone’s breast had been pierced by the bolt. Its gasps for breath were forced.
Areenna fought to rid her mind of the pain she knew was coming from the huge bird. She staggered over to them and scooped the treygone to her. Despite its weight, she held it gently, looking to see if there was a way to remove the bolt and save its life.
While she struggled to find a way to save it, the treygone looked at her. Its eyes, black circles buried within cinnamon feathers, stared up at her. Again, something tugged inside her mind, and she knew it was the treygone.
She was not surprised by this, even though it had never happened to her before. For years, she had listened to the stories of people who had become paired with treygones. Then she remembered her mother’s parting words to be watchful when she had started this becoming walk.
Sadness for the treygone weighed heavily on her. The bird had prevented her from using her powers to stop the hunter from shooting it, but she knew why. Treygones mated for life. When one mate died, the other found a means to follow its mate. Today was no different.
But the hatchling…what about the baby?
The answer came as a gentle tug in her mind, not the forceful scream of moments before. She shook her head, trying to understand how this was happening when the bird’s chest gave a final rise and fall, its large head falling backward.
Areenna walked to a small clearing where she scooped out a grave and placed the mother within. She returned for the male and the hatchling, brought them to the open grave, and laid them next to the female. She filled the grave with loose earth and used a star shaped stone she’d uncovered in her digging to mark the grave. When she finished, she climbed the tree to the nest.
Carefully scooping up the remaining hatchling, she cradled it to her chest and returned to the ground. She held the cinnamon, black and silver hatchling against her for warmth and started homeward, leaving the poacher to his reward…dinner for the scavengers.
Why was this happening on the day before her fourteenth birthday? Areenna wondered while she hummed a soothing melody to the hatchling.
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5271
“There is no choice.” Cupping the sides of his head, the High King of Nevaeh held himself as if trying to ease a headache of astonishing proportions.
“There is always a choice.” The High Queens’s voice was as soothing as was the hand stroking his back. While smaller than most men of Nevaeh, the king was broad across the chest and shoulders, narrow at the hips with powerful legs and arms. Yet none would have pictured him a king for his size combined with the delivery of his words served to make him appear slow-witted. He, however, was far from slow-witted. He considered every word he spoke carefully before allowing it to pass his lips.
His special combination of strength and intelligence had allowed him to defeat the sorceresses controlled and led by the Masters of the Circle of Afzal—the leaders of the shadowy empire across the sea. These witches had held Nevaeh in virtual slavery, using the fighting between the ten dominions to keep their Dark Masters’ strength high—for they fed not upon earthly food, but by keeping the rulers of Nevaeh at each other’s throats, living and growing in the power created by the dark energies born from the fighting.
By defeating the Afzaleem, he became the first person to unite the dominions of Nevaeh under a single rule while at the same time denying the Circle their Nevaen puppets.
The king lifted his head to look into the gray eyes of his mate. “There is no choice,” he repeated. “We must keep the trust and willingness of all rulers to allow themselves and their families to be led rather than forced.”
“There are still those who resist what we do to help them,” she said.
“No, it is because those few have no faith in me,” he whispered. While his words were simple, they were true.
“Perhaps…Yet I know there will be one who comes to your aid, when the time is right,” she whispered. “I have foreseen it in my dreams, My Lord. You have changed much since you became high king and you ask the people to do the same. And remember, what follows this change is what you seek to guide, not the change itself. The rest will take more time than you and I have, which is why you must wait for the right person.”
“How long is the wait? We both know the situation grows dire. The lords of the ten will start feuding again as the remnants of the Circle try to rise. The Afzaleem are all but dead. But we know the Circle will find new vassals to fill with darkness…if they have not done so already. Soon there will begin fighting. The people will be easily swayed should the dark power find a way to regain a foothold…and such can only happen when dominion fights dominion. They almost won, and they will try again—they will never stop. How long must the wait be?” he repeated, not seeking an answer but putting forth the question to the very air itself. “Days? Weeks? Years?”
In from the window floated the voice of their sixteen year old son, Mikaal, as he trained for combat in the courtyard below. “This person will come. It will not be…overly long, my husband, my…Lord. It will happen—perhaps not in the way you think it should, but it will come about the way it must.”
To order Born To Magic, Click here:
Table of Contents
Prologue
Book I
Chapter Six
Book II
Book III
From the author
About the author
Available Novels by David Wind
ing books on Archive.