Knights Without Kings (Harmony of the Apostles Book 1) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  MAP ARTWORK

  ACT I

  ELYMIAH ARTWORK

  Chapter One - Dancer of the Ruins

  Chapter Two - Augur of Fate

  Chapter Three - The Iron Aegis

  Chapter Four - The Bloodshield

  Chapter Five - The Harlot Queen

  Chapter Six - Mud and Blood

  Chapter Seven - A Queen's Fury

  Chapter Eight - A Silent Respite

  Chapter Nine - Encell

  Chapter Ten - The Gauntlet

  ACT II

  BENDRICK ARTWORK

  Chapter Eleven - Food for Crows

  Chapter Twelve - Child of Duren

  Chapter Thirteen - Prayer of a Maiden

  Chapter Fourteen - A Knight's Vacuous Honour

  Chapter Fifteen - Foreign Exodus

  Chapter Sixteen - Malice or Mercy

  Chapter Seventeen - A Change of Clothes

  Chapter Eighteen - L'amour Impitoyable

  Chapter Nineteen - And the Snake Starts to Sing

  ACT III

  AYDA ARTWORK

  Chapter Twenty - Baptism

  Chapter Twenty-One - Tout Petit Moineau

  Chapter Twenty-Two - Garrulous Bartender

  Chapter Twenty-Three - Gathering of Exiles

  Chapter Twenty-Four - The Ashen Knight

  Chapter Twenty-Five - A Fractured Fellowship

  Chapter Twenty-Six - The Dark Soul

  Chapter Twenty-Seven - Heron Blue

  Knights without Kings

  Harmony of the Apostles Book I

  By J.M. Topp

  All rights reserved. The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Summary: Knights Without Kings is a mature, dark fantasy novel set in a fictional universe depicting betrayal, loss, and sacrifice. Set in a world of dragons, castles, kings and queens; Bendrick Greystonne, Ayda Mudwater, and Elymiah Farnesse fight to keep afloat amidst the bloody end of an age.

  Visit J.M. Topp’s author website at jmtopp.com for more info on upcoming novels and writing blogs. There you can sign up for his mailing list for news, more writing tools, and discounts. Be sure to follow him at his Facebook and YouTube (also J. M. Topp) for cool giveaways and writing videos!

  Copyright © 2017 LaFoyelle Publishing.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9997074-0-1

  www.jmtopp.com

  Special thanks to my friend Anna Beeck, my brother and sister, Josiah and Tabitha who continually inspire me to write, and to Renee Rhodes for bearing up under my pestering to read this book. Thanks to all my ‘beta’ readers. Final thanks to a special person that was always there to inspire the horrid events in this novel. You know who you are.

  And let’s not forget, thank you! For choosing my story as your escape. I hope you find it worthy.

  - J. M. Topp

  Artwork courtesy of Emilio C. Rodriguez.

  ACT I

  CHAPTER ONE

  Dancer of the Ruins

  THE KNIGHT’S BREATH was laboured as wind blew through the ruins, waking echoes from their frozen sleep. Large cobwebs covered in frost swayed back and forth from the tall ceiling as Elymiah Farnesse charged through the forsaken castle halls. Her armoured footsteps echoed through the halls. The once red rugs on the stone floor were torn and faded. Stone and mortar lay on the verge of crumbling. Old, caked mud clung to the walls, giving the castle ruins a chilling and cursed aura. Sunlight poked through the ruinous ceiling, allowing the knight just enough light by which to see through the darkened halls. Elymiah slowed to a walk, trying to find where the beast had disappeared. She strained her ear, controlling her breath, for any sound of movement.

  Nothing.

  Blood trickled down Elymiah’s arm. She sat hard, leaning against the burned brick and struggled to regain her breath. She dropped her spear-like halberd on the ground beside her. The gash on her left shoulder would become infected if not treated properly. She removed her cracked shoulderplate and set in on the ground beside her. The wyvern had made a hole in her armour when it attacked. It would have to be repaired, if she made it back home. The knight stifled a cough as she uncorked a small blue phial from her waist pouch and poured its clear-blue contents onto the wound. It sizzled on her skin as the liquid made contact with her blood. She stifled a scream and clenched her teeth as the liquid seeped into the wound. Elymiah’s vision began to blur, but she clenched her teeth, forcing herself to remain conscious. For a moment, the knight held her breath, until the pain began to lose its stinging bite. She gasped and picked a bandage from her pouch. The knight unfolded it and placed it on the wound, lightly at first. She twisted the bandage in a knot and tightened it with her teeth. Pain shot through her shoulder and arm once more, but she held it taut. She grabbed a small purple phial from her pouch and put this one to her lips. The knight closed her eyes as she drank the elixir. The pain in her shoulder began to subside slowly. She let out a sigh of relief.

  The knight reached down and grabbed her cracked pauldron. She placed it back onto her shoulder and, with a click, fastened the clasp to her chestplate. She sat for a moment, catching her breath. The knight had lost her enclosed helm somewhere amidst the rubble, but there was no sense going back for it. The knight rubbed her chin against the bear pelt half-cloak she wore around her shoulders. Her blood was matted on the fur.

  A chilling scream echoed through the abandoned halls of the once great castle. The creature was still out there. Sweat collected on her brow, but she wiped it in one motion. Her dull-brown eyes peered through the dimly lit halls. Her hair had been tied into a long brown braid, but strands of hair had gotten loose from the chaos. She put them behind her ear and stared up to the ceiling, calling back her strength. She knew the wyvern was not capable of fire, not yet at any rate because it was too young. Given a few more years, it would grow to be almost as big as a mythic dragon and breathe fire, but not now.

  The knight knew one thing for certain; this wyvern would surely bleed. She glanced at the florescent green blood on her broken halberd. She had been hunting this particular wyvern for three weeks now. Its hunting grounds had been somewhere in the Red Vale, but she had tracked its roost to Khoryl Castle. It was the final trial in her quest for holiness.

  The end was so close, she could feel it.

  The knight struggled to stand and had to use her halberd to help balance herself. She closed her eyes and mouthed a prayer as she stood. From ash, I raised thee. From the dark, I brought thee light. With My strength, thou will defeat daemons and raise My banner above.

  Since she was a little girl, she had been instructed in Oredmere’s teachings. Oredmere was God sent in human form for the salvation of man. He had established Aivaterra as capitol of the Khahadran Kingdom and ruled with great splendor until his disappearance long ago. Elymiah’s religion was the reigning religion in the Khahadran Kingdoms and was the source of true holiness and purity. The only way to perfection was to follow the tenets beset by the one and true god, Oredmere. She was determined to obey them and achieve perfection.

  The knight stood after a few minutes of contemplation and then continued to creep through the halls of the broken castle in silence. The weight of her halberd always brought comfort to her. As long as she had that halberd, she would be able to defeat the beast and finish her final trial. Elymiah glanced at the blades from the corners of her eyes.

  A breath of frigid wind shot through her, sending shivers up her spine. Winter had been well
underway for the better part of three months. If the creature had remained at the Red Vale, the temperature would have been more bearable. It was odd for a dragonling to choose a place so cold as its nest. Elymiah didn’t know much more than what the old texts said of dragons and their distant cousins, the wyverns. However, Elymiah knew that she was doing what had to be done, regardless of the obstacles in her way to achievement, even if it meant hunting in a ruinous and cursed castle. Khoryl Castle had been built on a hill long ago, but the waters of the deep had torn dirt and stone away little by little until the castle rested on no more than a steep cliff. The sound of waves crashing onto the cliffside reverberated through the ruins.

  The knight’s eyes shot up as she heard the raspy scream of the creature echo through the olden corridors. Normally, the wyvern would have been too big to fit through doorways of the castle, but the supports had withered, leaving them weakened. The creature didn’t have much difficulty bursting through them. Suddenly, Elymiah heard footsteps behind her, and she turned, poised to kill.

  The knight relaxed as her shield bearer, Bertrand, rounded a corner with an Aivaterran greatshield in hand. His balding head showed signs of grey bristly hair, and he wore a simple chainmail suit and iron greaves, which clinked and jingled as he walked up to Elymiah. He had a grey rag wrapped tightly around his face.

  Bertrand bowed sharply before her.

  ‘Apologies, Elymiah. I thought I had lost you.’ Bertrand spoke through his rag. Bertrand had been Elymiah’s mentor when she was assigned to him as a child. He had taught her basic arithmetic and logic, all within their holy Aivaterran standards. Now, almost twenty-two years later, Bertrand was her shield bearer, a faithful slave and friend.

  ‘It got your shoulder, did it?’ Bertrand looked at her cracked pauldron. Elymiah nodded and knelt for him to inspect it. Bertrand set her shield down and unclasped her shoulder plate, lifting the bandage and studying the wound.

  ‘I believe the wyvern is in the western tower. I pierced its neck, but its scales are hardened, and now my halberd is useless,’ Elymiah said as she turned the weapon in her hand. The pole itself had intricate runes of many blessings carved into its hardened steel. Elymiah held the halberd by the brown, beaten leather grip wrapped around the middle of the weapon. The blade of her halberd had been caught in-between the beast’s scales. The wyvern had snapped at the blades and torn them from its neck, cracking the winged halberd.

  ‘Remember what I taught you, Elymiah?’ asked Bertrand, lifting an eyebrow.

  Elymiah twisted the halberd in her hand, testing the weight. She glanced at Bertrand, and he took a deep breath. ‘It does not matter what weapon you use if it is not used in anger,’ he said, tailoring his tone to that of a teacher. ‘And what does this mean, Elymiah?’

  ‘It means if I am patient and with sound mind, I can kill this cursed beast even with a broken halberd.’

  Bertrand smiled and nodded. ‘This is a perfect weapon to finish the trials, Elymiah.’

  Though it was cracked, light danced off the sharpness of the tip. Elymiah knew that it had to be used as a spear now. She bit her lower lip as she stared at the cracks. This beast wasn’t making it easy. A long and angry shriek echoed through the castle once more. She grimaced as Bertrand tightened the bandage. He nodded in approval and handed a thin cloth to Elymiah. She wrapped the rag around her face, tightening it until it hurt.

  Elymiah and Bertrand continued through the empty halls of the ruinous castle, following the screams of the beast. Boiled leather body bags littered the floor. Corpses had been stashed in small cages and strung about the ceiling long ago. Nothing was left inside them except the skeletons of the damned of ages past, who stared at the knight and her shield bearer in silence. Elymiah and Bertrand stepped around and over the tar-crusted sacks. She looked up at the ceiling, eyeing the cages warily. They swung slowly in the breath of wind that came from the sea. Elymiah could not even imagine the ill-luck in Khoryl Castle’s history. She shivered at the dark that hung over the castle ruins like a dark cloud.

  ‘What happened here, Bertrand?’ Elymiah asked, looking down from the ceiling and walls. The events that took place at Khoryl Castle were the fuel of legends. Elymiah wasn’t sure what to believe. She stared at the black bags lining the sides and corners of the long and broken halls. Bertrand kept in line behind her and whispered cautiously into her ear, almost as if he might revive the daemons by simply uttering their story.

  ‘Khoryl Castle was the bastion of enlightenment and progress for nearly a century, until a dark creature found its way through the darkest dungeons. At first, it would only eat scraps from the high lords table that were dumped into sewers and underwater byways. But, as years passed, it would lure the occasional dog or overtly curious child to its death. The tenebrous creature grew and grew and finally emerged from the dungeons with a taste for flesh and blood. It had a dozen spider-like legs, and it was winged, but not like a dragon. Not many accounts were written about the beast, but what we know is that it breathed a blue flame. We also know that it was ultimately defeated. The battle at this castle lasted mere hours, but countless people were consumed in defense of the stronghold. Yet the people were victorious, and they praised Oredmere in joyous celebration. They burned the body of the beast in His honour. But in doing so, they released the plague it held within.’ Bertrand paused. ‘The plague spread rapidly, causing black boils and wounds on skin that bled without end. All of Khoryl Castle’s inhabitants, including the Duke and his family, were subject to an inquisition by the Hallowed Masters. Sin was the reason for the creature’s appearance, and the castle’s people were adequately punished. Despite the Duke and his people’s heroic victory over the evil daemon, there still was evil in their own hearts.’ Bertrand looked up at the ceiling as a tremor shook the cages above them. ‘It is odd that the wyvern chose to make this particular castle its nest. Perhaps there is a curse on this castle, luring evil creatures to this place.’

  Elymiah turned her head slightly as she listened to her shield bearer’s story. Her heart silently prayed for those poor souls. The number of bodies astounded her. Packs of rats still fed on the abandoned bones even now, almost ninety years later. Elymiah walked down a corridor to a subsection of the castle; she knew not exactly where. Her greaves clanked against the stone steps as she descended into what looked like a small kitchen. She almost tripped over a small bag and stopped to look at it. The cloth container had been torn, and two child-like skeletons lay within, embracing each other. Dirt lay caked upon their bones. They stared solemnly up at her with mouths wide open. Elymiah looked back at them in silence.

  ‘It wouldn’t do to dwell on this. We have a task to complete,’ Bertrand said, clearing his throat. Though a slave, he always brought logic and reason to Elymiah’s mind. Her trials had been made easier by his presence. Not only that, but he was a comfort in her times of sadness and depression. Often, he would make analogies to warriors and knights who had completed their trials before her. He would point to their darkest moments and remind Elymiah that Oredmere was on their side.

  Who could possibly be against me?

  Elymiah, knowing Bertrand was right, gathered her thoughts and continued through the kitchen. Pots and pans remained where they had been set long ago. Dust left a thin layer on the brass and stone. Elymiah tightened the wrapping around her face. Even though reports said that the plague had dissipated, it was wise to use precautions.

  A loud roar echoed through the halls, shaking dust from the rafters above. This time it was louder and closer. A few frozen cobwebs crashed to the stony floor. The supports had been weakened since this beast had chosen the castle as its roost. Walls had cracked. Brick had crumbled. If the wyvern persisted with its screams and bursts of anger, the castle might even collapse entirely. Elymiah held her cracked halberd in one hand. Bertrand handed the shield over to her. The weight of it always gave Elymiah a sense of protection. She held it high over her chest and advanced through to a palisade with Bertrand close beh
ind. Elymiah ascended a string of steps and noticed a large courtyard at the end of the hall.

  Suddenly, the giant horned wyvern crashed through the roof behind them. It landed on the ground and shook its head, tossing loose tile and stone from its scaly neck. Its black wings were folded into its arms, and the horn on its snout glowed red. It glanced up at Elymiah and Bertrand and stood still for a moment before them. The wyvern’s lips curled slowly, baring its teeth. Its black scales gleamed as green blood trickled down its neck. The creature hurled a high-pitched scream and charged at the knight and shield bearer, crashing through the halls, breaking down beams and broken walls. Elymiah and Bertrand turned around and rushed through the doorway and into the giant courtyard, then turned back to face the vehement beast. The wyvern crashed into the courtyard closely behind them, tossing brick and snapping its jaws furiously. The hall behind the beast collapsed, throwing dust into the air, but the wyvern didn’t seem to notice. It glowered at the duo, baring its jagged rows of transparent razor teeth at Elymiah and eyeing the halberd cautiously. It snarled and snapped, knowing the damage it could do, and it screamed once more, vibrating the scales on its neck. Elymiah and Bertrand grimaced at the shrill noise, but they held their ground. Elymiah advanced at the wyvern with shield raised.

  ‘You cannot win,’ said Elymiah through clenched teeth, ‘Oredmere guides my weapon.’

  She pointed her halberd at the creature, throwing diagonal attacks at its head. The horned wyvern snarled at Elymiah and took a step back, stretching its coal-black wings. It craned its neck and coughed twice. A small puff of embers spun from its open jaws. Elymiah’s eyes widened as she saw the ashes shoot from its mouth.

  ‘Elymiah, it can breathe fire,’ Bertrand warned over the screams of the wyvern. It wasn’t supposed to do this at its young age. Elymiah clenched her teeth, knowing that she had to strike first before the wyvern could attack with fire.