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The Wars of Arnith ~ Book Two of Brother Betrayed
The Wars of Arnith ~ Book Two of Brother Betrayed
The Wars of Arnith ~ Book Two of Brother Betrayed
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The Wars of Arnith ~ Book Two of Brother Betrayed

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After the journey through Arnith, the three princes return to a troubled land. The skirmishes with neighboring tribes turn into full out war. The loyalty of the brothers will be tested, as the seeds of doubt and distrust grow from within.

Book Two of Brother Betrayed, best selling fantasy by D. M. Raver
Prequel to the Flight Moon Seres:
Fire Born (Now available)
Fate of Fire (2017)
Converging Flames
Fate of Fire

LanguageEnglish
PublisherD. M. Raver
Release dateDec 28, 2016
ISBN9781370887774
The Wars of Arnith ~ Book Two of Brother Betrayed
Author

D. M. Raver

Fantasy author for over twenty years, D. M. has a passion for writing and literature. Her first novel, Brother Betrayed, is the prequel to the Flight Moon series, published 11/11/11. Fire Born and Fate of Fire are the first books in the series. Upcoming books are Converging Flames and Wild Fire. Other works include: City of Silver - a dystopian fantasy about a young girl with the power to save a dying city. The Enchantress - an arabian fantasy about a woman, some toys, and an intelligent white tiger. Deep Dark Waters - a collection of poetry Dying to Live Again - a contemporary fantasy

Read more from D. M. Raver

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    The Wars of Arnith ~ Book Two of Brother Betrayed - D. M. Raver

    WARS OF ARNITH

    BOOK TWO OF

    BROTHER BETRAYED

    PREQUEL TO THE FLIGHT MOON SERIES

    D. M. RAVER

    SECOND EDITION

    © D. M. Raver 2015

    ISBN-13: 978-1522949015

    ISBN-10: 1522949011

    No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed without written consent from the author.

    Brother Betrayed is original published work by D. M. Raver.

    First edition printed in 2011

    Front cover is original, commissioned artwork by Walt Barna

    © D. M. Raver 2011

    Includes preview of Fire Born by D. M. Raver

    © D. M. Raver 2014

    FOR MY SIBLINGS

    YOU MADE ME BELIEVE IN MYSELF

    CHAPTER ONE

    WARS OF ARNITH

    I must confess it, as I have confessed so many other things to these bound pages. I fear for Arnith. Our list of enemies is growing. They are coming together with common purpose against us. Has Arnith been too bold to attempt to join all of the human realms together? Our allies are growing thin, our armies are diminishing, and there is more talk of war with the tribes every day.

    Perhaps it is foolish of me to speak of such things. Of course… how many cycles has Arnith existed with the threat of war, and nothing truly ever comes of it? How many generations have lived, seeing times of war and times of peace pass by? I just can’t help feeling that… something dark looms on the horizon. My feelings are so strong, perhaps childish. Is that all it is? Still a child wishing for comfort, reliability, surety? That I am still just a child in this world and I do not understand the unfolding of events, the passage of history.

    How can I feel this way? Listen to me! I’m babbling on about the perspective fates of our time, and even if something, I strain to write the word, terrible were to happen… we would survive. We would live. History would continue. Arnith would continue. So why worry over it? War will happen if it happens, and who am I to prevent it?

    Great skies… I just still feel I must do something. It swells inside me. I feel we could choose a better path, a safer path. Feelings… Fears. I suppose they will pass as my maturity develops.

    For the three brothers,

    Syah, Prince of Arnith

    Seeming aware of its post, the large, decorated steed raised its head and shook its long, silken mane as it overcame the summit. Intricately designed leather and metal links draped and wrapped its muscular form, slid over sinuous muscles that twitched, responding to the nudge of the reins. The steed’s mighty head rose, gazing out onto the landscape below, listening to the other horses stop beside him.

    The enemy camps over there, sire, a soldier interrupted the silence. They gazed across the hills, finding thins columns of lazy smoke cresting the hills in the distance.

    Have they advanced? The king queried as he advanced his mighty warhorse a few paces, taking in the vast scene below.

    No, your majesty, they have sent scouts outside our camp but have held their position, the soldier answered.

    So, Algoth said and peered beyond hills and through trees, into the mind of his enemy, they finally have a show of courage and stand their ground.

    Do you wish to sound the attack, sire? the soldier questioned, but the king did not answer. He lowered his gaze to the camp of men at the base of the hill below them, studying it.

    No. These Marrians will simply flee again. Since they have grown bold and attempt a military tactic, with shall show them how ruthless true military can be. This is our chance to extinguish this rebellion once and for all. The king turned his horse and met eyes with his son. We will not attack them, yet. Let us amass a force that they would not be able to flee from. He turned to the soldier. Send word to Commander Lenpece, General Jartrin and Luthrie. They are to gather their squadrons here. The king looked back to the thin smoke rising above the trees in the distance, betraying the men camped below. We will surround them. Within ten setting suns these rebels will wake to find they are outnumbered, their cause is lost, and they will be forced to finally surrender.

    Will you lead the battle, Father? Oman asked him.

    Yes, Algoth answered, smiling, but let us return to the castle for now. If their troops hear rumor that the king camps near their station, it may spook them to flee prematurely.

    The eldest prince nodded and they both turned their steeds back down the hill.

    The stone and floor of the large hall echoed with the clangor of metal footsteps, of armor and equipment casually discarded as the warriors entered.

    Bariff, a round of drinks for the finest soldiers in Miscia! the king ordered and a servant bowed and left the dining room. Seven cycles of squabbling with these dissenters is finally at an end, the king declared and seated himself at the head of the table. I can already feel the victory at hand. Imagine it men, a land with no raids, a people at peace without the threat of attack. The king stood, making the officers around him start as they began to sit. Call for the minstrels! Let them serenade us with ballads of conquest and triumph, the king strode across the hall, ordering the walls and columns of the castle. Wake the cooks and the servants! Tell them to prepare a feast worthy of last meal for an army. We shall fill our bellies with the hunt of the forest and our hearts with the songs of ages.

    And what has permitted the king to recapture his youth and exuberance? a voice beckoned softly from the door, yet its sound flowed through the room like the splash of a brook through a silent forest. Its familiarity turned the king but did not alter his energy.

    Ah, my queen, how suitable a moment for you to join us, the king said, meeting her with a quick step. Come, my love, he sang as he took her hand, let me tell you of a great worry that will be lifted off of your kingdom’s shoulders. The king took her in his arms and danced her around the table, as if the minstrels already began to weave their songs through the expectant air of the hall.

    His majesty has found the cycles time has stolen from him, the queen said. She laid her hand on his shoulder and motioned for him to stop. But I have not. She met his eyes. Though tired, there was still a smile in them. Shall we join your men? she questioned with a gesture to the table where the commanders and knights sat turned towards them.

    Yes, he replied, settling, come rest. We will await the feast as I tell you our plans to rid us of these raiders forever.

    Are they preparing to surrender? the queen asked and sat beside dark mahogany chair of the king.

    Algoth paused, looking to his officers. They put themselves into a position that will force them to surrender. They have hung their defeat out like a ripe apple, he explained, holding out his hand, and soon we will pluck it from the branch, and savor the taste.

    And the outlying villages that have been under raids, how are we protecting them?

    Wiping out this force will eliminate any future threat of raids or attack. Their militia will be non-existent.

    That is indeed worth celebrating, my love, the queen conceded then, laying her hand on the king’s thick arm. So where are your sons to share in it?

    Oman has been dispatched to retrieve them, Algoth explained.

    The queen nodded, lowering her head. The king watched her rub her arms and grasp them tightly against her chest. His gaze remained on her a while, waiting for her to return it, but her eyes rested, unfocused on the table.

    Nasen, stoke the hearth, the king ordered a general near him.

    And what of the other tribes? Will you focus efforts on neutralizing them soon? the queen asked with awareness of the king’s concern but not responding to it.

    The Marrians and Rognoth being defeated may send a warning to them. Resisting the power of the Arnith kingdom will only bring them suffering. The king stopped and gestured to the princes when he noticed them enter. When the western border is secured, Arnith can continue her expansion of the crude tribes of Miscia.

    Like the Dikartians, Oman added as he sat across the table, their retaliations and rebellions have become quite a nuisance.

    Cities and shipments being attacked is more than just a nuisance, the queen cautioned, her tone soft but her words striking.

    They paused, absorbing her statement.

    Oman has explained that we plan to ambush and eliminate the eastern tribes, Syah stated, leaning forward to meet his father’s gaze. Having one less front to fight will prove easier on our armies.

    I hope so, my son, the king replied.

    The same wood. The same thickness, smoothness, and deep veins like wind-worn gorges across arid lands. The same smell. Thick and warm and sweet of hay. The same sounds. Of rustling thatch, the shift of hooves against the dirt floor, the subdued complaints and conversations of the horses. But the air was different, still, the place was different. Once it had been his, but now… he was a visitor.

    And where do you find the horses you train? The woman asked and Fasime turned to her with a start, remembering her.

    Different places, he answered, patting the side of a grazing mare as they passed her. Mostly from the surrounding villages.

    I imagine it is difficult to decide which ones you will bring to the castle, the woman paused, allowing her host a moment of thought as he gazed at all of the horses in the stable.

    Not really, he answered, stepping to a stall, see this young gilding? I spotted him at a farm to the south of the city. He was thin and lazy, his owner readying to hitch him for the cart, but I saw something else in him. I knew he could be a soldier’s steed, if he was well trained.

    It is so interesting what you do with them, your majesty. These horses are lucky to be able to serve you, she said as she moved closer to him, loosening some dark brown hair.

    I make their destiny to be of battle, he said. Because of me they will know war instead of fields and sweet clover. I’m not sure how lucky, as you say, that truly is.

    The woman didn’t respond, set back. She sighed and joined the prince at the gate of the gilding. I’m sure the adventure of serving you is better than mundane captivity.

    Fasime grasped the familiar wood, but in his mind were distant, obscure thoughts. She waited for him to reply, but stepped away form him after a time, doubting his preoccupation would allow him to remember her.

    No echo of the townspeople’s workings rose to the forgotten eastern tower, a sentinel over the city as Syah imagined it. He could see their forms, distant and unconcerned... a woman entering a house, merchants and patrons conducting dealings in the streets. He saw suggestions of the gatehouse keepers surrounding the city and the guards along the walls. He knew that in the streets, among the hovels and shops and workhouses, beside the gatehouses and stables and guard posts, the lulling, calm noise of the city penetrated. But the tower was far above it, its unsealed casements only whispering of distant winds.

    Syah sensed a peace upon the city as he gazed out upon it. They lived so content and comfortable as if they were all in the world and winter never settled on their hearts. He shared their peace, sitting within the neglected casement, but the caress of the cool wind was a beckon for the unsettled strife in his soul. He raised his gaze, past the guarding walls of the city. Past the outlaying fields and trees surrounding it. Past a blur of hills and forests, deeper and deeper into the distance. On the unknown horizon, the limited view of the limitless expanse.

    His mind journeyed into the vastness beyond sight, into the unknown futures and actions of others. He remained for as long as his body could tolerate his mind’s brooding, till it had to stand and act. The tower returned to the silence after the thud of his footsteps had faded below it.

    The hallways of the castle were then the corridors lacing through his thoughts. The maze continued, but the prince knew his destination, and it would arrest as well as his feet. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him in hopes of blocking the webbing confusion of passages out of his consciousness.

    Good evening Prince Syah, a voice welcomed him as he entered, dispersing the disorder in his mind. Syah turned to its owner, seeing a scribe, several of the scribes, looking up to him with warm expressions. Welcome and service were on their faces, but something more. It was a gratitude for releasing them from the ordinary life of the city and ceaseless copying of standard texts.

    Good evening, Syah replied as he joined them. How goes your studies?

    Very well, sire, a woman answered, we think you will be pleased.

    Syah nodded. I have something else I would like you to converge on, he stated and had their complete attention. I would like you to begin searching for military tactics, weapons or machines other races may have used. Perhaps we can find something useful in these records of the past.

    The apprentices absorbed his request a moment. Sir, one of them began, do you still wish us to research myths and beliefs of the ancient races?

    The prince was aghast at how easily the question was given. His reply wouldn’t be so simple. Focus on warfare, weapons and possible devices, he decided to say, but still note anything else of interest you find.

    The apprentices nodded, watched as Syah lifted their notes, and then bowed to him as he turned to leave.

    "No, there will be an excess of troops to the south if we send them there," resonated from an open door down the hall from him. The voices were faint, almost indistinct, but his brother’s accents were as clear as if they were beside him. His feet moved to supply the faces with the conversation he heard.

    Then here, come down from the northern basin, another voice added, Fasime.

    Yes, but they will need to avoid the Marrian scouts in the area.

    Syah finally obtained the threshold and sighted his two brothers standing together over a table and maps.

    What are you doing? the youngest asked and they glanced at his slender form joining them.

    We are planning the remaining squadrons’ approach, Oman explained as he studied the map.

    Where are Father and his war counsel?

    Occupied with gathering forces and contacting generals. He left me to oversee the last of the squadrons stationed in the city and surrounding hamlets.

    Syah nodded, looking back to the map. When will they be prepared to attack?

    Soon, I hope, the Marrians may sense a trap, or may lose the courage they have randomly gathered.

    Have the Rognoth joined them yet? It seemed that Father was sure they had combined their efforts.

    Oman shook his head. There has been mention of them, but I believe their men are still spread thin in raiding parties about the area.

    Then shouldn’t we leave some of the squadrons to guard the eastern cities? If we move all of the guards the western cities will be susceptible to attack.

    No, Syah, Fasime interjected as he made a wiping motion towards the map, destroying the Marrian army will eliminate the biggest threat of all.

    Syah paused, contemplating. Both Oman and Fasime tensed at his silence, and the speech they knew was forming.

    Besides, Oman preempted his coming arguments, some troops will remain in all our cities to provide continued protection.

    Syah paused again, changing his direction. He laid his hands on the map and spread it out further, showing both sides of the Arnith kingdom encompassing the known surrounding territory. Look at them all, he stated, motioning to the dozens of black points and letters, indicating the small towns on the borders of their kingdom. I know we have done much to conquer them all, but perhaps they are too far from the capital to protect.

    That is how our kingdom will expand, Syah, Oman countered.

    The youngest gathered his courage in a breath. I don’t understand why we desire to rule them all. They are devouring our resources.

    Fasime laughed a little. They provide us with more resources than they expend. That is why we seek to convert them.

    Arnith is destined to unite the tribes. You know that, Oman added before Syah could rebuke.

    Syah turned to them fully. I think it is a mistake to try to conquer them all. It does not seem like providence to me, but arrogance.

    Oman and Fasime turned to him sharply, and Oman’s face tightened as he grabbed Syah’s shoulder.

    And what would you have us do? Recall the armies at the Dikartian, Marrian, and Rognoth borders? Should we abandon the villages we have freed and retreat to the castle?

    "I just think we are extending ourselves too far to

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