The Elf and the Princess

The Elf and the Princess

The Silent Warrior Trilogy - Book One

Second Edition

Anna del C. Dye

This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described here are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher.

The Elf and the Princess

Second Edition – Revised and Enhanced

All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © 2014 Anna del C. Dye

V2.1

Cover Art by Lois Moore

Illustrations by Carlos Cruz

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

www.annadelc.com

ISBN 13: 978-1499301083

ISBN 10: 1499301081

All Rights Reserved USA

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Books by Anna del C. Dye:

The Silent Warrior Trilogy:

The Elf and the Princess

Trouble in the Elf City

Elfs in a Conquered Realm

Curse of the Elfs

A Royal Elf of Abalon

Shahira & the Flying Elfs

The Roilden Stones of Elf Mountain

And available only as an e-book:

Emerine’s Nightmare

A most thrilling and captivating tale for readers of all ages

Menarm was a great and prosperous kingdom, known throughout the land for its friendly, hardworking people and fair trade. But a bitter struggle of succession between twin brothers left the kingdom devastated, the people divided. Some stayed with Fenil, who had conquered the crown, others followed Renil to the wild lands of the north, founding a new kingdom.

Now Adren, the last princess of the newly vanquished realm of Menarm, finds herself alone in a world where women live in the shadows of men. Not only must she battle her enemies, but also a truth that could obliterate her last hope for happiness and bring dishonor to all those whom she holds dear. On her quest, she finds unlikely allies in a powerful prince and a defiant mercenary, only to be devastated by an ancient and wily elf.

Will Adren be able to survive this final assault?

The Elf and the Princess is a brilliant tale of high adventure, true love and medieval-style warfare between elfs, orks, and mankind. Drawing inspiration from the myths and legends of Europe and from such writers as Tolkien, Anna del C. Dye spins a completely original tale that will leave the readers wanting more.

… Anna del C. Dye has done an absolutely spectacular job at turning this into a book that lures both young and old readers alike. I think I can describe it best by comparing it to Harry Potter. With that series, any age group can read it and fall in love with it. This is the same for The Silent Warrior Trilogy; I loved it, my ten-year-old cousin would love it, and my mother would love it. This alone proves the immense talent of Anna del C. Dye.

– Front Street Reviews

This book is a tribute to my immediate and extended family who encouraged me to set pen to my imagination, to Shauna Dansie and my beloved who take time to edit my works, and to Dad and Monica who are my head cheerleaders.

Also, my thanks goes out to my artist, Carlos Cruz. A special mention goes to Michael Ricks and Travis Emery, my medieval swordsmanship teachers.

I dedicate this book to all of you that enjoy sharing my imagination.

Prologue

Come, My Prince, it’s time for bed," the nursemaid called to Paletin, as she did every night.

The dinnerware had been replaced on the table by metal cups full of ale.

Paletin is twelve years old now, and he will take his proper place by my side, King Rohison intervened.

The king offered the boy a metal cup full of grape juice. It was fermented just right for the king and his father, Rolien. The sweet-tasting drink fulfilled the young prince’s desires.

Thank you, Father, the prince said, as he smiled.

That night a fierce storm brewed outside, and the thunder and lightning threatened to rend the castle in pieces. Paletin’s two older brothers sat by the crackling fire in the dining hall around King Rohison and their grandfather, Rolien.

I have waited many years to be included with the adults in my household, the prince said, taking a place next to his older brother.

Rolien reached for Paletin's black hair and tussled it.

Grandfather, tell us about our ancestors, one of my older brothers asked.

We came from Menarm, an ancient city in the south of Andoriah, Rolien began as his eyes wandered across the fire to somewhere in his mind.

I’ve never heard of the Kingdom of Menarm before, Paletin said.

Loud wind whistled through the closed window in the dining hall, with a scratching tree branch as its background.

And you won’t if you don’t let your grandfather continue, his father told him. Many times it’s better to listen than to talk.

Yes, Father. I’m sorry, Grandfather.

Faraway thunder announced the storm now forming in the lands protected by the castle.

That is where your great-great-great-great-grandfather, Tianon, was king of all the southlands belonging to mankind. Rolien smiled at his favorite grandson.

Menarm was a great kingdom, Rohison added, orange flames dancing on his countenance.

They were prosperous and friendly, Rolien agreed. Its people were hard workers and fair in their treatment of others, which made them known throughout the land. They did business with everyone who came to their city and welcomed them all. There were merchants of all kinds in their land, trading everything you can imagine. That is when… it happened.

Only the downpour of rain could be heard for a long moment, so still were the listeners.

What happened, Grandfather? the curious princes broke their silence, followed by a thunderous booooom echoing in the night.

Your great-great-great-great-grandfather Tianon died unexpectedly, leaving his twin sons to take over the kingdom. The twin heirs were young and their lack of maturity was well known throughout the realm. Nevertheless, they were permitted to fight for the right to be crowned king. Their selfishness caused much pain in Menarm for months. It devastated the kingdom forever, for the people were divided.

Another thunderclap, this time from a bit farther away, boomed, accompanied by the flash of three-forked lightning. Paletin’s quick eyes caught the display through the big paneled window.

One son, Fenil, conquered and won the crown, becoming king of Menarm, Rolien said. The other, Renil, left with his followers to the high lands in the north to build their own kingdom. That is how the kingdom of Renil was born and why we live here. In Menarm, many families were not only separated but also changed forever.

I’m a direct descendant of Renil, then? Paletin asked.

Yes, son, his grandfather answered.

When can we go to Menarm? the prince asked, as more thunder echoed through the hall.

None of us has ever returned to the south after that, Paletin, his father said.

Are we still mad at them? His brows knitted tightly together.

We have stayed apart all these centuries, his grandfather answered, though we hold no grudge against Fenil’s subjects. In fact, some Menarmies live among us today.

We just don’t mingle with them, the prince murmured.

Seventeen years passed and somewhere in the Serra Mountains, in a pitch-black cave, a set of light feet moved quietly toward a figure curled in a bedroll near the fire pit. A loud snore came from the knave that lay there.

Good, he hasn’t heard me, the shadow murmured.

One of the two short swords held by the shadow rose and fell with a mighty swing toward the sleeping figure. At the last moment, the sleeping figure turned over to his left shoulder, and the metal struck the stone around the fire pit, vibrating the would-be attacker’s arm to its shoulder. Sparks flew and rekindled the dry, leftover wood from the past night’s supper, and the renewed smell of burning wood arose. The sleeping figure didn’t blink awake, nor hear the fire crackle.

The new, soft light revealed a small, muscular assailant in dirty black pants and a shirt too big for its wearer. The sleeves became stretched as the wearer strained to strike again, showing a hint of the lean, yet muscular, arms. A small moment later, a loud slap echoed in the cave, as the sword connected with the sleeping figure’s rump, and he sent a fowl scream toward the night sky.

I should kill you for that, Donian screamed and turned the other way, covering his head with the pelt he used for warmth.