The Lamtin Star

Drops from the Kingdom

Book Two

The Lamtin Star

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2014 Larry Itejere

Drops from the Kingdom Copyright © 2014 by Larry Itejere.

This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

For information contact; address www.larryitejere.com

Cover design by Stephen Beckstrand

Book design by Larry Itejere

ISBN: 978-0983882916

Acknowledgement‏

******

Every fire as you know begins with a spark. That spark for me began with a statement from my sister in-law Lacey. Why don’t you put it on paper… she said. If it wasn’t for her this book or the Drops from the Kingdom series wouldn’t exist.

I would also like to thank my wife and kids for their support. To my in-laws Lacey and Dawn Martin thanks for your suggestions and review. To my friend Stephen Beckstrand who helped me in creating the cover and map, thank you.

I would also like to thank everyone that has helped in making this book a success. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have in bringing the story of the people from the four kingdoms to you.

Prologue

New Recruits

The radiant beam of a new day stretched over the frozen Kadan River. Its rays trailed through freshly laid snow that hung loosely over towering trees that hid what lay below the forest. As the light continued to illuminate the sky, it moved over an open patch of land. In the spot, several thousand army tents were pitched half-buried in the snow.

A breeze moved through the camp, sending loose flaps fluttering against the wind, their sound rising and falling with each gust. In the brief silence that followed, you could hear a different sound. It was faint, coming from within the tents—the snoring sounds of people asleep.

A soldier dressed in thick leather and a steel breastplate stepped out from one of these tents into the frosty morning, and even though it was a cloudless day, the air held no warmth. Others soon followed as more soldiers appeared from underneath their tents. The camp slowly came to life.

Behind the trees outside the camps perimeter soldiers with weary faces began to emerge. They were greeted with a warm meal while tents around them were beginning to be dismantled in preparation for their march north.

Freshly laid snow crushed under the feet of a man who made his way in the midst of all this activity. He moved with an air of indifference in the bitter cold. His autumn russet cloak was the only thing paying attention to the breeze that occasionally sent it flapping behind him, revealing his short sword. The weapon had the markings of an Ackalan, who were men bound to no king or land, but the man’s eyes did not have the signature ring of silver.

The man stopped in front of a tent that looked similar to every other one in the camp, except this one had two men sitting at its entrance.

Come in, Captain! a voice from inside the tent instructed. The captain tugged on his shirt to straighten it before lifting the tent flap to step in.

Inside, a man dressed in a green tunic of pure silk stood on the opposite end with his back turned to the captain, packing. What is your report?

The captain watched him tuck what looked like a scroll of paper into his saddlebag. To most people it was a simple question, but it carried a different weight coming from an Anamerian—a man gifted with the power of foresight.

The snow might slow us down a bit, but the men are ready.

Good, the Anamerian said sounding content.And how are our new recruits? The Anamerian picked up his cloak and quarterstaff and turned to face the captain. The left side of his face showed scars on his cheek that were still healing.

They are being divided into groups now. While the weather is a minor inconvenience, it will allow us to evaluate each man before we begin proper training on our next stop.

There is an area bordering Wylan several hours from Ovayian. Let your men know we will be setting camp there.

In thinking about the area around Wylan—which was a death trap for those without a guide. It still amazed the captain after all these years how the Anamerian seem to know exactly where they should be. Ovayian, however, was going to be one of their major recruiting areas on their way to Ditra-Veshine. After a year of planning and over two years on the road with the Anamerian gathering recruits, they were finally heading to one of the larger cities.

They had only been able to recruit a hundred and fifteen men from the last town they visited, and almost lost Gaid’dum’s linked Watcher.

In order to rule and control the people, Gaid’dum’s men select a person, known as the Watcher, in every city and town under his control. The people are summoned to what is known as the viewing; there is a huge town gathering, so everyone knows who has been chosen to be the new watcher.

This person, chosen by force to wear the Watcher’s ring, completely loses themselves as they become bound to it. The physical manifestation of the rings power is almost immediate once it rests on the finger of its new host. They become pale as they are slowly drained of their life essence. Privately the victim’s family, mourn their loss.

Information gathered over the years show that when one of Gaid’dum’s watcher dies, their body disappears like smoke with the wind. The town is immediately quarantined until another is chosen in their stead. A week before the new watcher is announced a ceremony known as the Night of Cleansing is performed. No one speaks of that night even though everyone knows what happens. The children that are absent the next morning are evidence of the unlucky few snatched away by the watcher guards known as Zarnites never to return. These children are somehow used by Gaid’dum to satisfy his non-human followers.

Seeing the scars on the Anamerian’s face took the captain back to that night.

They had left in small groups, not wanting to draw attention with the number of towns folks they were able to recruit, splitting into two groups. As planned, the group with the captain was the last ones to leave, after the Anamerian. Under the night sky, the captain and those with him made their way along a narrow stretch of footpath in Tannum.

The streets were empty, as usual, things being what they were now in most towns and cities under Gaid’dum rule. The smell of burning wood filled the air from chimney tops as the ground was beginning to glisten with fresh frost on a path once cleared by foot traffic. The captain turned at the next side street and stopped. They spotted him just as he did them— Zarnites.

"Everyone stay back," he whispered.

In the cover of night, he could see five of them dressed in their white tunics and shimmering brass headgear that covered half their face. The insignia of the Watcher’s ring was boldly imprinted at the heart of the uniform and clearly visible on their red cloaks that hung loosely over them.

"You, there," One of the Zarnites beckoned.

"What to do?" he thought. There was no place for him to hide so many people if he moved back, with the exception of Herz and Kaylam. They were Ackalans and could disappear almost in plain sight. Hunted in all the land as conspirators to the demise of the Kingdoms, anyone found harboring an Ackalan was arrested and tried for treason.

The captain bowed his head, his shoulder slumping as he reached for the weapon underneath his cloak—a short sword given to him by his mentor a long time ago as a young orphan. He knew it was going to be a challenge talking these men down without any bloodshed, but he was ready.

As the captain drew close, he spotted a smaller figure between two of the Zarnites walking up to him—something he’d missed.

The absence of light had obscured his view at a distance of the person wearing a ring that glowed like hot coal on its pale finger. The Watcher, the captain realized and he released his weapon. They were now in real trouble.

How do you deal with a creature that normal weapons are useless against? The only way he knew to deal with a Watcher was to separate the ring from its finger—an undertaking more easily contemplated than feasible.

"You know the consequence for breaking curfew," one of the Zarnites said as he walked to the side of the captain, who kept his head down. His eyes stayed on the Zarnite’s shadow on the ground.

The captain felt a cold hand land across the side of his face sending his head swaying from the force. He made no sound, straightening his head while still looking down.

"We have a silent one here, the Zarnite said with mock severity, and do I sense defiance?" He moved to strike the captain with his hand rolled into a fist.

There was a loud thud and the captain was almost pushed down by the Zarnite who suddenly slumped on him before dropping to the ground. He heard something zip through the air just before it struck the Zarnite. Another was already in his place, blade drawn, ready to bring down the captain as the other Zarnites turned, including the Watcher.

A man, who in the dark appeared to be covered in a black robe with a blue gem glowing underneath his garment, snatched a quarterstaff from the air and brought it down like a boomerang in front of him.

The Anamerian, the captain thought as he pulled out his short sword. He deflected the blade of the Zarnite, whose face could not hide his surprise at the captain’s quick motion. The Zarnite spun his sword once to set it in front of him and then moved to take the captain while his companion and the Watcher went after the Anamerian.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted both Ackalans with him go after the other Zarnites.

For a short period, the echoing sound of clashing steel broke the once-silent night as the Zarnite tried to end the captain’s life. They moved back and forth briefly before the captain pulled the Zarnite in, and in a single motion, broke the man’s arm at the elbow. The Zarnite staggered backward as his sword slipped from his grip and before he could retreat, one of Ackalan’s throwing knives suddenly protruded the Zarnite’s skull, and he dropped to the ground.

"Let’s go," the Anamerian said, eagerness sounding in his voice as the Ackalans dragged the limp body of the Watcher by the shoulder, with his feet trailing behind him. We need to go back and find a place where he can be held safely for a while. The Anamerian walked past the captain, who now saw that the finger with the Watcher’s ring was gone. Actually, not just the finger, but the hand from the wrist, and there was no blood.

In the dim light, he could see cuts on the Anamerian’s clothes, some areas damp with his blood. Two lines stained with blood ran across his cheek, which he did not seem to notice.

"He will not survive long without the ring; most likely a month, but see that he gets food and water," the Anamerian instructed the men charged with caring for the Watcher in an underground cellar. And let the others know they have nothing to fear.

It had been a week since that incident, but soon it would all be over, the captain thought, as he heard the Anamerian ask that he walk with him.

They stepped out into the frosty morning, with most of the camp ready to go. There was about a half a foot of new snow at the camp, and men stopped briefly to look at them as they walked past before returning to their tasks.

The same two seemingly ordinary men—at least from their appearance, who had been seated at the Anamerian’s entrance walked a few feet behind them. However, if you were to look closer at their faces—more particularly at their eyes—there was a silver ring that marked these guards as no ordinary men.

Once we arrive at our next site, send for those who will be coming with us. Nothing will be left to chance this time.

Of course, the captain replied as their horses were brought to them. Let everyone know we head for Ovayian, the captain said to one of his men. They waited for the word to spread around and watched as the men gathered and began to move out.

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I could not have wished for a better day, the Anamerian thought as he