Sword of Victory Read online

  Sword of Victory

  Weapons of the Gods Quartet

  Book 1

  By A.B. Keeton

  Sword of Victory

  COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Andrea Keeton

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including any information storage and retrieval systems, without the author’s written permission.

  This story is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental, and not intended by the author.

  Cover Design by Canva

  Dedication

  To Big Red & Papa Bear for being my biggest supporters and my biggest inspirations.

  To Ernie for being the best big sister. “No one else on Earth.”

  To Nate for teaching me how to fight.

  And to Krissy for being my best friend and partner in crime, the Gus to my Shawn, the Merlin to my Arthur, and the Doctor to my River Song.

  I love you all so much!

  Acknowledgments

  This book has been a labor of love for me and has taken years to work up the courage to publish. I’m still terrified, but thanks to the support and encouragement of some pretty amazing people, I’m finally getting it out there.

  So to Dr. Mark Watney and Dr. Chad Gaudet, both of whom I studied with at Sterling College, thank you so much! Dr. Watney encouraged me to write in the first place, and constantly challenged me to improve, while Dr. Gaudet’s passion for history inspired me to explore the myths and legends of different cultures. I’m thankful that I had the opportunity to learn from you both.

  I’d like to say a special thank you to Vivian Nida who edited my first draft and who has been so supportive of my writing for years! I appreciate it more than I can say. I feel so blessed to have you and Dr. Nida in my life!

  Finally, I’d like to thank my family. I don’t know what I would do without the love and support you all give me. I hope you all know that I don’t take it for granted.

  Mom and Dad, thank you for not freaking out too much when I told you that I didn’t want to be a doctor. That instead, I was going to be a writer. Looking back, that has to be one of the most important moments in my life because you both loved and trusted me enough to help me live my dream. I love you and you complete me!

  PROLOGUE

  The bells rang out.

  Three times the sound echoed across the hills. High, sharp, and clear.

  Despite the clarity of its call, it was not the call that most were accustomed to. It was not the sound that rang out at mid-day and then again dusk. It was not the merry song that had become so much a part of daily life that it eventually became unnoticeable. Indeed, there was something darker about its cry today.

  For some reason, this sound signaled the coming of grief and loss. All who heard the bell’s cry would understand that death had come to Eire. This time, the bells wouldn’t go unnoticed.

  Edana ignored the horrible sound as she sat and stared out over the hills of her father’s land, running her hands through the lush green grass as she did. For miles in every direction, that same lush, green sea of grass rolled on interrupted only by the darker green of the trees and a great stone protruding from the highest hilltop.

  She knew it was the Hill of Tara, just as she knew there was something missing from the rest of the scene.

  Where was her home? The large stone and wood buildings that made up the city were gone. Where were her friends? Her family? She thought these questions in the same way she often heard children asking why the sky was blue. Mere curiosity. It was strange though. Edana knew that she should be feeling something, yet she experienced only numbness.

  It just didn’t seem to matter.

  The place where the city of Tara once sat was now empty. The seat of the High King of Eire was gone. The citadel that had stood in the city’s center for hundreds of years was now gone. The small buildings and shops that surrounded it were gone. Nothing was left. Not even the people. There were no laughing children playing in the place where the square had once been. No merchants selling their wares.

  The only thing that remained was silence.

  It was then she became aware of a faint, strange humming that filled the air. She turned her head, trying to locate its source. It seemed an impossible task. The air around her was saturated with the sound. The humming enveloped everything her mind took in.

  She saw smoke on a distant hilltop and rose, the white of her dress fluttering in the wind, her long, black curls dancing. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized there was even a breeze.

  The emotion she hadn’t felt before now flooded her. She had to get there. She ran toward the smoke, lured by the gray tendrils rising into the blue sky. As she drew closer to the hill, she noticed that the humming grew louder, deeper--the sound at once, haunting and beautiful. As it did, her fear and elation grew as well. How both emotions could be drawn out by the peculiar sound, she couldn’t say. Instinct, she would later think.

  As she came to the top of the last hill, she found a small campfire surrounded by four men. She stopped. It seemed the world was gone and only they remained. Normally, she wouldn’t risk approaching anyone she didn’t know--her father had always preached caution--but she needed answers. Caution would have to wait.

  Three of the men stood as she approached. One, tall, with dark hair and even darker eyes, stepped back, separating himself from the others, to lean against the white stone.

  Funny, she hadn’t realized until that moment that the smoke and the stone were so close together. And what were these men doing here? The stone was off-limits. Only a few were allowed to touch it. It had been the law of Eire since the first in the line of kings had penned the laws of this country. The Code of Kings still existed to this this day. Yet, here they were. Who did these men think they were?

  As if reading her thoughts, the dark-eyed man smiled and touched the Stone with a gentle brush of fingertips, the caress possessive and sweet. Immediately, the humming took on a deeper timbre.

  The stone! She thought dumbly.

  The sound, the beautiful sound, was coming from the stone! And now, with the large, dark-eyed man touching its surface, the stone seemed somehow--content, as if it were indeed secure under the man’s control.

  The dark-eyed man continued to smile, his dark locks tossed about in the breeze. He was dressed in black breeches and a loose black tunic that he didn‘t bother to belt. He appeared to be the stone’s antithesis, though they seemed made for each other somehow.

  Edana shook her head but continued her approach, pulled closer by some unseen force. Her eyes never wavered from the man and his stone until two of the men shifted to block her path.

  They were nearly identical to the dark-eyed man, save for the color of their eyes and the weapons they held. Both stood well over six feet in height, dressed in the green and brown of forest workers.

  Looking at them didn’t bring forest workers to mind. Everything in their bearing told her these men were soldiers--elite soldiers if their weapons were any indication.

  The man on the right carried a large sword. It was the most beautiful weapon she had ever seen. It was clearly meant for fighting, rather than decoration, though it was obvious that its owner took great care with its condition. The polished blade gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight, highlighting small circles embedded in its steel surface. Edana remembered the blacksmith telling her that the circles were a result of a technique the old masters had used to create their weapons. Not many of this caliber existed anymore. The only noticeable adornment on the sword’s surface was a small emerald on its hilt.

  Edana was somewhat surprised at how closely the man’s eyes mirrored the color of the gem. She couldn’t shak
e the feeling that the sword was made for this man. Or was it the other way around?

  The man on the left carried a spear, also beautiful in its simplicity. The shaft was made of a dark wood she didn’t recognize. The spear’s point was covered in small, strange writing, interrupted by another emerald. It was the writing more than the jewel that grabbed her attention. It wasn’t Gaelic that much she was sure of. But it was so familiar.

  You know this, her mind whispered. The answer was shadowed on the edge of her consciousness. What could it be?

  Both men continued staring at her with cold, hard eyes. Neither said a word. They didn’t need to. Their silence told her all she needed to know. They would use their weapons at the slightest provocation. Best to avoid that if at all possible.

  The man who remained seated had his head lowered. Long blonde locks hid his face from her gaze. He was busy stirring a large, black cauldron, his attention never shifting from his task. The cauldron’s contents smelled delicious, causing her mouth to water. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten. She wondered what the hulking twins would do to her if she moved toward their dinner.

  “Mo leanbh,” the dark-eyed man said, drawing her eyes back to him. He was every bit as large and dangerous looking as the others, even with the kind smile he had on his face. “Do you know who we are?”

  Edana shook her head, too stunned by the sound of his voice to speak. Beneath his words, she could detect a humming resonance similar to the song of the stone.

  “I am Fal,” he said. “Nuada, Lug, and Dagda,” he pointed to his companions. His smile widened as Edana’s jaw dropped open.

  It seemed her previous fear had been warranted.

  “I see that you know of us.”

  Edana merely nodded. This couldn’t be happening.

  “You may speak to me leanbh. My brothers and I are here for you, after all.”

  “Ehm.” She cleared her throat as if the action would somehow put words into her head. But really, she thought, what do you say when you come face to face with the gods? Perhaps the obvious was the best course to take. “I don’t understand. Why are you here for me?”

  “Your home is in danger.” His foreboding words were softened by the kind smile on his face.

  She looked around pointedly. “My home is gone.”

  “This is not what is, only what could be. Your home is safe in this moment, but it will not last.”

  “Why not go to my father, then?”

  “Ah,” Fal said, sympathy in eyes. “You heard the tolling of the bells. We both know that the duty must now be passed on. You are next.”

  Edana shook her head, trying to deny what she suspected was coming next.

  “Your father is dead, leanbh. Until the next leader can be chosen, the responsibility falls to you.”

  Child, he’d called her, and not for the first time. The tears were gathering in her eyes. Did he use that term because her father once had? Ever since she could remember, her father had only called her leanbh when she was in trouble. Was she somehow in trouble with the gods? Even the fear that thought inspired couldn’t suppress the grief coursing through her. Tears were now streaming down her cheeks, but a small part of Edana knew that if her father had truly sailed through the gates to the Isle of Man, then she must take his place-- or at least help her mother-- until the next leader could be chosen.

  Her father would expect it of her.

  If it were true, if her father was truly gone, then she had a duty to her people. That was one point her father had stressed since the day she was born.

  “Duty,” he’d said, “Must flow uphill and down.” Meaning, she’d come to learn, that if the weak must rely on the strong, then the strong were required to protect and care for those who relied upon them.

  Child or not, she was still her father’s daughter, she told herself. Until the next leader could be chosen, she would be one of the strong. She would do what was required of her. Grief would have to wait.

  Edana straightened her spine as she focused on Fal. “I‘ll do what I have to.”

  Fal smiled and laughed merrily. “There is fire in you, leanbh. You will do very well, I think.”

  “What would you have me do?” Edana asked.

  “Danger approaches Eire. There is one who seeks to take everything from you and yours.”

  This wasn‘t exactly a new concept. She had watched her father deal with more than his fair share of angry nobles and corrupt warlords. Now, in this moment, Edana felt like she could deal with them too. “I won’t allow anyone to take anything from me and mine,” she said hotly. Just the mere thought had her clenching her fists against the anger coursing through her. Was the loss of her father not enough? Did they think her heart would be too broken to fight back?

  If so, they were wrong.

  Fal nodded sadly. “Before you can save your home and your people, you must first leave them.”

  “Leave my home?” she asked, incredulous, too surprised to hold on to her anger. “You just told me we were in danger, and now you want me to leave everything I know? How can I leave my home knowing my family and friends will be in danger?”

  “Not to worry, the danger will follow you. To take what is yours, it must find them first.”

  The man was speaking in riddles. Maybe this was the way the gods spoke. If so, it explained why people were so often confused about their beliefs.

  Edana shook her head again. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry some more. Oh sure, some unidentified danger is going to follow you around. Nothing to worry about, though. She raised her hands and let them fall to her sides again. Maybe arguing with the gods wasn’t the wisest thing to do, but she needed answers. “I don’t understand,” she enunciated. “What danger? And find what first?”

  “I can’t tell you any more about the danger. You must learn that for yourself. But the ‘them’ I am referring to is not a what. It is a who.”

  More riddles, she thought.

  Fal stepped forward and laid a hand on Edana’s cheek. As he did, the stone began to hum louder and louder until it seemed she would faint from the oppressive beauty of its song.

  “You must find us, leanbh, my brothers and me. But I must caution you. If we are not found, Eire will be lost to you. If we are not found, Eire will be lost to us as well.”

  Just another loss on the horizon. Tears filmed her eyes once more, and Edana struggled to hold them back. “But how am I supposed to find you?” she asked.

  “Look to the Druids. They will give you aid.”

  “The Druids,” she began, confused. “I thought they were gone. No one’s seen them in years.”

  “No, they would not leave their home. People have not been looking in the right places for them. Find them. Find us.”

  The doleful ringing of bells drowned out her next words. This time, the sound seemed to pierce her heart so that she doubled over with the pain of it. Now that its meaning was clear, she was no longer able to ignore it.

  Edana did the only thing she could. She lowered herself to the ground and wept.

  When she was finally able to lift her head, the sun was gone and her world was dark. Fal and his brothers were gone, as was the fire and the cauldron--as if they were never there.

  Instead, she sat alone on the hill with the stone monolith twenty feet away and now eerily silent. She brushed the tears from her cheeks and rose.

  Even in the absence of sound, Edana found herself drawn toward the stone. She placed one foot in front of the other, slowly trying to make her way to it. Fascination and fear ran side by side in her. Its song had lured her in, but its silence was equally mesmerizing.

  There was an indrawn breath, a shocked sound, from the other side of the hilltop.

  Edana jerked her head up, startled that she was no longer alone. He stood perhaps ten feet from the stone, hand outstretched, mirroring her own position.

  She couldn’t make out his features clearly. She had only the impression of angry golden ey
es that seemed to glow in the darkness…. Wolf’s eyes, she thought, even as she began to sprint the short distance to the stone.

  Everything in her told her to get to the stone. She knew that she needed to reach it before he could.

  The man apparently had the same idea as she did.

  They touched the stone in the same moment, but were thrown backward by the concussion of sound that emanated there. The world was now an explosion of sound.

  Edana landed on her back but managed to rise up to her knees despite the weight the stone’s song pressed down upon her. What she saw amazed her. The surface of the stone itself had now changed. A blinding halo of light surrounded it, pulsing with each changing note. It was beautiful. Unbelievable.

  In the center of the Hill of Tara in the region of Meath, the stone of Fal was singing. The song was both beautiful and terrifying--a thousand voices ringing out in one song. Harmonies and melodies twined together to form words her mind couldn’t understand but that her heart and soul seemed to ache for.

  Edana saw that the strange man was struggling to his feet and seemed similarly awestruck. As he tore his gaze from the stone, their eyes met.

  The bells rang out again.

  ******

  Edana jerked awake. Her heart was racing while tears of both wonder and sadness stained her cheeks.

  The bells rang out their sad song. This time, their meaning was unmistakable. The king was dead.

  Her father was dead.

  Edana buried her face in her hands and wept out her broken heart.

  ******

  Phelan sat up in his bed, rubbing his calloused hands over his face, the stubbled contours of his jaw scraping against his palms. He couldn’t muster the energy to untangle his legs from the disordered bedcover.

  It was only a dream, he assured himself. He had nothing to worry about. Yet his heart was pounding, spreading the echoes of wonder and anger through his body and mind. He had not been alone on that hill. One moment he had been approaching the silent stone, and the next he had been racing the girl across the hilltop. Her long black locks stood out against the white of her dress. Her blue eyes had been every bit as desperate as his own.