Into Exile: Teutevar Saga

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Into Exile: Teutevar Saga Prequel

Copyright © 2016

♠ Derek Alan Siddoway ♠

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the Derek Alan Siddoway. Thank you for respecting the author's hard work.

Permissions can be obtained through d_sidd@undauntedauthors.com

All characters, places and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to real places, events, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

First Edition, Ebook

Published March 2016 by Derek Alan Siddoway

Editor: Kelsen Kitchen

Description

Widowed. Hunted. Exiled. From the ashes of destruction, a saga begins.

When her country is conquered and her lord husband slain by his best friend, Guinevere, Lady of Athel, has only one thing left to live for: her young son Revan. Forsaking vengeance to honor her husband’s last wish, Guinevere flees with Revan — the last heir of the Teutevar line. Exile, however, will not come easy. Pursued by ruthless invaders and a wilderness full of bloodthirsty savages, Guinevere’s only allies are a loyal spearmaiden and a deranged mountain man. The Lady of Athel may not fear death, but should she fail, Athel’s last hope falls with her.

Into Exile is an introductory prequel that takes place before the events of Out of Exile in the world of Teutevar Saga. Fans of Joe Abercrombie’s Red Country and Miles Cameron’s Traitor Son Cycle will enjoy the Teutevar Saga and its unique blend of traditional medieval fantasy in a gritty, American Western landscape.

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Into Exile

For as much as she stumbled, she's running

For as much as she runs she's still here

Always hoping to find something quicker than Heaven

To make the damage of her days disappear

Just like Guinevere

— Guinevere, Eli Young Band

Chapter 1

Athelon burned.

The Lake of Mirrors, true to its name, told the tale. Its endless, dark depths danced with the reflection of fire cutting through the smoke hanging thick on the water. Guinevere gritted her teeth and dug her paddle deeper, the canoe slicing through the reflected destruction with each stroke.

With each pull she repeated the same line over and over in her head: Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t look back.

Over half a mile from the island, the booming sound of siege engines could still be heard pounding the slopes of the mountain city. In every direction around them, mini flotillas of canoes, barges, rafts and sailing boats formed a spotted inferno, their occupants shrieking and splashing into the cold embrace of the lake.

In the front of the canoe, Reginleif matched paddle strokes with her old friend and liege lady. In between pulls, the two Valkyries peered through the haze, searching for any sign of enemies. About halfway to the shore, they’d passed unseen thus far. Arund’s soldiers were focused on the docks where Mathyew had sent more defenders than could be spared to clear a path for Athelon’s citizens to escape the island.

But the White Knight had the island and most of the lake shore surrounded. Instead of fleeing to safety, the Athelings were slaughtered like sheep.

A part of Guinevere hoped she’d die with them. Better to fight here than run like animals and be captured on the shore.

Revan’s whimper broke Guinevere’s dark thoughts, her last beacon of light in the smoking darkness. Ash rained down on them, mixing with the tear streaks on her son’s face.

Where father? he asked, clutching her leg.

Guinevere wondered the same thing. Where was Mathyew? Was he drawing his last ragged breath on Athelon’s cold stone, his last thoughts of his son and wife? Or did he still fight against the man he’d once considered a brother, defying the White Knight until the end?

Guinevere bit back a knot in her throat. It wouldn’t do to let Revan see her crying too. To let him know the hopelessness they faced was even more real than his two-year-old mind could imagine. She swallowed her welling emotions and put on a calm face, never breaking her paddle strokes. Had her son been any older, he would have known what she said next for the lie it was:

We’ll see him soon.

Regg glanced over her shoulder and shot Guinevere a long look before turning back around. The sheen of fire flickered over the water and the chaos of battle reached a new pitch, the scents and screams washing over them like a wave of destruction.

And Athelon burned.

They made the shore unseen by Arund’s soldiers. Looking and listening for patrols on the shore, Guinevere and Regg unloaded their packs of supplies and buckled on their weapons. Throughout it all, Guinevere refused to look back at the mountain. It wasn’t until one hand gripped the pommel of her sword and the other clutched a spear, that the Lady of Athel looked back on her home for the first time.

Athelon’s slopes blazed like the molten fires legend said once poured from the extinct fire mountain — belching chaos, eating everything in their path. The pines roared and, in the haze-shrouded orange glare, Guinevere imagined hordes of soldiers swarming across the island to wherever Mathyew made his final stand.

Guinevere’s grip tightened on her weapons until her hands ached and tingled. It was against everything she stood for — a Valkyrie spearmaiden running from battle. For the hundredth time she wished she was fighting beside him. Mathyew Teutevar, Lord of Athel and his wife, Lady Guinevere, making a final stand together.

Guinevere.

Reginleif’s voice cut through her mistress’s brooding and Guinevere turned to face her friend. Regg recognized the look in her eye, the look of a Valkyrie spearmaiden thirsting for battle and she gave a small shake of her head, nodding toward Revan.

We’ve got to go.

The raging bloodlust drained from Guinevere, leaving her hollow and cold once more. She nodded, the numbness in her hands spreading throughout her body. While Regg picked up Revan, Guinevere gave one last look over the canoe to make sure they’d taken everything. She placed her foot on its nose to shove it back into the lake. Mathyew’s sacrifice meant nothing if the White Knight’s patrols caught them.

Guinevere’s leg froze and she looked down at the rough dugout canoe, her last connection to Mathyew.

Guinevere!

The urgency in Reginleif’s voice pulled her back once more. Patrols roamed the lake, looking for Athelings. They had to go. Adding another vow of vengeance against Arund the White Knight, Guinevere gritted her teeth and pushed the canoe away as hard as she could, sending her despair into the lake with it. She watched the craft float into the fire-painted water and turned away again.

Don’t look back.

Up ahead, the cliffs loomed dark and ominous — the black, foreboding rock swallowed the flames rolling off the mountain in the middle of the lake. The cliffs, equal parts ally and enemy. To climb them could prove disastrous even in daylight, for those who didn’t know the secret paths.

Thanks to the pyre that was Athelon, they needed no torch and Guinevere found the stair in the cliff side without too much trouble. She led the way, climbing hand over hand in the steepest parts, ignoring her protesting muscles and the dragging weight of chainmail, weapons, gear and provisions. Regg followed close behind, cradling Revan in her arms, whispering in his ear whenever she could spare a breath.

When they finally reached the hidden ledge, Guinevere shrugged the load from her shoulders and sat down, breathing hard. While Regg dug them a cold meal out of one of the packs, the Lady of Athelon stared out over the lake even though she’s told herself she wouldn’t while climbing the cliffs.

Revan sat down in her lap, aware that something was wrong but too young to understand what. To him, their journey was little more than a trip into the woods. Even with the fire on the mountain and the adult’s tension, she knew Revan thought his world would be normal again in the morning. For him, Mathyew was a night’s rest away, instead of eternity.

I did good, he told her after a long minute, his small amount of patience exhausted. I climbed the last part all by myself, Regg didn’t even help me.

Guinevere didn’t hear him. Dark water and flaming destruction filled her green eyes.

Momma? Revan tugged on the front of her shirt, but his mother never wavered.

All I see is fire.

Guinevere.

I should have stayed, we could have burned together.

Guinevere!

Regg’s commanding tone broke Athelon’s spell. Guinevere drew a shuddering breath and turned to look at her friend, blinking

Sorry, lost in my thoughts, she muttered

Regg gave her a long look, the kind only a childhood friend would be forgiven for. We need you here, she said in a gentler tone. What are your plans for morning?

Guinevere shifted Revan and stood, dusted herself