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Unity: Krinics Series: Book 3
Unity: Krinics Series: Book 3
Unity: Krinics Series: Book 3
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Unity: Krinics Series: Book 3

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Allanna Alill eludes the Rawyn assassins and returns to Krinics. Upon her return she must assume the throne as empress. She must win the hearts of the Krinicsian people while adapting to life on Krinics.

Yet, Menga and his forces have been watching and waiting for their chance to strike at Allanna. Now she must find a way to cement her role as empress and foil Menga's plans for her of becoming his new Sema.

Allanna must rely on her wits and ingenuity to ascend to the role destiny has fated for her.
*****************
"I am trying to say that in the absence of Pe'Anitia and Snique that there is no leader of the Krinicsian people. By law, it falls to the next living member of the royal family," Vulgus says.

A spark of understanding appears in Tobias's eyes. "You mean Allanna is the next living member of the royal family, which means she is..."

"The next empress," Vulgus completes Tobias's sentence.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMar 12, 2018
ISBN9781939870469
Unity: Krinics Series: Book 3
Author

Steven Eutsler

Steven Eutsler grew up traveling around America always being the quintessential new kid. In his travels, he met a vast array of people and their cultures that have molded him into someone who looks at the ordinary and extraordinary with a unique eye for detail. He served in the U.S. Navy and held various jobs that varied from milkman to electrician. He graduated from Penn State University with a bachelor’s degree in secondary education, focusing on history. His work as a middle school and high school teacher reinforced in him the importance of looking at life in every conceivable way. An outside-the-box-thinking teacher, Steve would show students a new way of learning that was unique to them. It is a lesson he conveys through his writing. A science fiction and fantasy fan from early childhood, Steven has developed his imagination and storytelling while integrating his love of history into his tales. He has been writing for his own love of storytelling since he was fourteen and for twenty-two years has been honing his imagination and storyteller’s voice. Steven lives with the love of his life, Lori, in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and is father to three wondrous children. Together they love to travel and experience what the world has to offer, and he infuses his experiences and inspirations into his writing.

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    Book preview

    Unity - Steven Eutsler

    UNITY

    Krinics Series: Book 3

    Steven Eutsler

    Published by Foremost Press at Smashwords

    Copyright 2018 Steven Eutsler

    To my brother, Chris.

    You have always been and

    will always be in my heart.

    In all things, it is better to hope than despair.

    - - Goethe

    If I can’t do great things, then I’ll do great little things.

    - - Martin Luther King, Jr.

    When we seek to discover the best in others, we somehow bring out the best in ourselves.

    - - William Arthur Ward

    Cast of Major Characters

    A’lozza’h: Akha’Zette leader of the Red Cliff tribe

    Allanna Alill: A spirited and headstrong eighteen-year-old woman

    Brother Carvel: Monk who lives in the citadel of Ma’lig’nha

    Dazok Cosad: Fearless Krinicsian warrior and Snique’s best friend

    Fazza’h: Leader of the Akha’Zette living on the island of Krinics

    Haleigh Alill: Allanna’s mother and world-renowned archaeologist

    Kazza’h: Leader of the Akha’Zette on the island of Manus

    Kazo: Captain of the Southern Krinicsian Cavalry

    Menga: Leader of the Ventus Ambularus

    Pe’Anitia Lozanna: Empress of Krinics

    Racha: Rawyn Elder and Seer

    Riah: Rawyn leader

    Rajah Alill: Allanna’s father and world-renowned archaeologist

    Razo: Captain of the Western Krinicsian Cavalry

    Skeena: Rawyn scientist working in the Ventus Ambularus

    Snique: Krinicsian warrior

    Tobias: Orphaned boy living in New York City

    Ventus Ambularus: Group of Rawyn working directly for Menga

    Vulgus: Commander of all Krinicsian military

    Yadda’h: Sister to Yadot, and daughter of Fazza’h

    Yadot: Brother to Yadda’h, and son of Fazza’h

    Yo’ah: Prophet and brother of Fazza’h

    Unity:

    The state of being joined as a whole.

    Rawyn belief that the embodiment of all races living on Krinics will rise and bring them together in harmony.

    CHAPTER 1

    Nudge

    Washington D.C., August 31, 1916 . . .

    The sun slowly crests the horizon. Its rays of light cascade over the city. The withering shadows reveal a line of Mack cargo trucks. Engines are silent as they rest on a road next to a small marsh. Exhausted from their predawn journey, the drivers sleep in the cab of their trucks. Eighteen flawless, white rectangular stones rest on the open trailers of each truck. The stones are dimensionally identical: six feet in length and three feet both in height and width.

    A solitary figure stands at the marsh’s edge. He watches the sun peak above the horizon. The faint light of the morning exposes his short, sandy brown hair. The cuffs of both his tan trousers and dark brown jacket are rolled up to accommodate his short stature. I always find myself reborn with the sunrise, he muses.

    Gravel shifts behind him as a second man approaches. It’s a beautiful sunrise, don’t you think, Mr. Velle? asks the man. His Tennessee accent seeps into every syllable.

    It is indeed, Mr. Haut, replies Mr. Velle. Any sign of the foreman? The tall marsh grass rustles in a wafting breeze. A gull calls to its mate in the distance.

    Nuthin’ yet, but he did say he’d be around near sunup. I’m sure it’ll be any time now. Mr. Haut looks across the marsh at the partially constructed monument. Mr. Velle, what do you think about this whole building a monument to such a man? I mean, there are a lot of people where I’m from that hold bad feelin’s against the idea.

    Mr. Velle looks at the partially constructed monument. Honestly, Michael, I have not given it much thought. All those years ago, my family lived far from here. In fact, I only recently came to the United States.

    Michael Haut draws a deep breath. A myriad of aromas infuses his nostrils. Pardon me for sayin’, but I don’t hear an accent when you speak. You sound like an American to me. Where are you from?

    A tiny smile creeps across Mr. Velle’s face. My dear Michael, I come very far from where we are standing right now.

    Are you Irish?

    No, my friend, but I do come from an island.

    Got to be English. I knew it. There’s somethin’ proper feelin’ about you. Definitely must be English, Michael says with satisfaction. You’ve done a good job gettin’ rid of your accent.

    Mr. Velle smiles kindly. He does not wish to destroy Michael’s feeling of accomplishment. How can I explain the truth to him, even if I wanted to?

    A small engine rumbles and interrupts Mr. Velle’s thoughts. The duo turns as the Chevrolet Series 490 passes the line of trucks. The car comes to a stop before them. A man steps from the car. Long legs carry him the few remaining feet.

    Morning, gentlemen. Which of you is Mr. Velle? The deep tone of the man’s voice is an unexpected departure from his tall, slender appearance.

    Mr. Velle steps forward and extends his hand. Good morning. I am Carl Velle. It is a pleasure to finally meet face to face.

    Likewise. I want to thank you for everything you’ve accomplished. When our initial supplier backed out, I thought we would have to postpone the groundbreaking on the next portion of the monument.

    I am glad I could be of assistance. I obtained the stones you needed for the monument from two different locations. Are you certain we brought enough stones? Carl asks.

    The foreman looks at the line of trucks. If my math is correct, then yes. It’ll still take several years to complete.

    Carl looks at the marshy landscape before him. My associate, Mr. Haut, will help you finalize everything. Carl checks the time on his pocket watch. My apologies, but I must catch the westbound train.

    The foreman shakes Michael Haut’s hand, then turns back to Carl. Heading to the West Coast?

    Not quite that far. My destination is Minnesota. A rumor of a group of similar stones on a small island piques my interest. If the report is true, then they may be of use in future projects.

    Sounds like no rest for the working man, the foreman responds.

    Perhaps one day I will rest. Carl chuckles slightly. For now, I must be going. Michael, make sure everything is in order, and thank the men. Let them know that I have issued a bonus for their hard work.

    Will do, Mr. Velle. Have a safe journey. Michael and Carl shake hands in parting.

    Carl Velle departs in silence. The two men watch him leave. Seems like a decent man. You know him for a while? the foreman asks.

    He’s great to work for. Michael scratches his head. As for knowin’ him, I just met him three weeks ago when he hired me. No one knows much about him. It’s as if he just showed up out of thin air.

    * * *

    Cinnenka, Minnesota . . .

    One week later, Carl Velle stands on the deck of a small fishing boat. The mainland shrinks from view as the boat heads toward a small island. Cold water splashes over the bow. The resulting mist drenches Carl. The boat’s captain, Robert Niph, stands equally soaked beside him. We will be at the island in about twenty minutes. There’s no dock; we’ll get you ashore using the ship’s dinghy. I hope that will be all right? Robert asks over the muffled roar of the boat’s engine.

    That will be just fine, Robert. I appreciate your efforts, Carl replies over the engine.

    Mr. Velle, I just want to make sure you understand that there is nothing on the island except plants and wildlife.

    I know, Robert. I want to study all that the island offers—plants, animals . . . and any mineral formations.

    Mineral formations? Robert asks. The boat strikes a small wave and both men momentarily lose their footing.

    Rocks, my dear Robert. I am interested to see if there are any interesting rock formations on the island. The boat again drops suddenly as it crests over additional waves. Both men lose their footing for a second time.

    Robert nods as they regain their footing. If you’re looking for rock formations, then you’ll want to walk inland about a half a mile from where you’ll be dropped off. There are about thirty large rectangular white stones. They form a huge rectangle. My son Martin and I discovered them last year when we were hiking on the island. Don’t know how they got there. No one does. It’s a bit of a local mystery.

    A small smile spreads across Carl’s lips. That does sound quite interesting. You say it is about a half-mile inland?

    Yep. If you keep straight from where we put you ashore, then you can’t miss the formation, Robert answers.

    Thank you. I will make sure to keep straight from where we put ashore.

    * * *

    Twenty minutes later, Carl makes his way through the knee-high grass. The grass sways in the cool September breeze. He turns back toward shore. The small fishing boat bobs and rolls with the waves. It is kind of Robert to wait. I wish it was not a waste of his time, but I will make it up to him next time I visit.

    Carl continues into the interior of the island. He arrives at the white stones. They are identical to those delivered to Washington D.C. End to end just as Robert reported. Wild grass grows tall in the center of the rectangle.

    Carl reaches behind his neck. He lifts a slender silver chain over his head. A small silver, teardrop-shaped pendant dangles on the chain. He touches the pendant to a white stone. The stone shimmers with light as energy builds up within it. The light and energy cascades throughout the other stones into a blinding light. Carl shields his eyes from their brilliance. The energy transfers from the stones across the opening of the formation in an explosion of energy. The energy bursts skyward in a cascade of light. A clockwise-swirling vortex of energy supplants the explosion. A cascade of energy and light flows toward a radiant center.

    Carl returns the necklace and steps onto the nearest stone. He jumps toward the vortex. The energy grabs him and pulls him downward. He takes an instinctive breath before he disappears into the vortex. The vortex slows and fades. The wild grass is all that remains, but it is now cut down to the height of the stones.

    Blue hues shift around Carl. They swirl and darken into richer blues. In a dazzling flash of light, the blues give way to maroon and red hues. Swirls of multicolored light vanquish the shades of red. Carl readies himself for a third flash of light and the end of his journey. He closes his eyes in preparation and passes through the light.

    * * *

    The Nelad Plateau on the Island of Krinics . . .

    Carl lands with a slight thud on the ground next to the Barren Basin. He opens his eyes. The light and warmth of the Krinicsian sun douses him. He inhales deeply. The scent of newly cut grass fills his lungs.

    Brother Carvel, it’s good to see you again. Did your trip go well? a husky feminine voice asks.

    Brother Carvel, alias Carl Velle, shields his eyes from the glare of the midday sun. The hulking form of an Akha’Zette comes into focus. Brother Carvel’s face lightens. He recognizes Mazza’h, leader of the Akha’Zette.

    Her eyes resemble streaking comets of emerald green, bulbous nearest her nose. They trail off toward the sides of her head like the comet’s tail. The pupils of her eyes are black diamonds centered in the sea of emerald. Mazza’h’s nose slopes downward. Her lower jaw flares outward near her neck. Her skin appears moist and pliable as it stretches across her bulging muscles. Brother Carvel watches as the vines covering her skin pulsate with each step.

    Mazza’h, it is good to see you as well. My trip went very well. Everything is in place for part of the prophecy to come to fruition. A brash smile plays across his face.

    Brother Carvel motions for Mazza’h to walk beside him. Mazza’h walks on all fours instead of walking erect. She moves stride for stride with Brother Carvel. Her midsection sways back and forth with each stride. How soon until the birth, my friend? Brother Carvel asks.

    I expect the birth in the next few weeks. It is the birth that brings me to you. I studied the prophecy of the Divinatum Murum. I learned my children will play a large part in the coming of the key and the darkness that follows. Mazza’h grimaces as her unborn child sways back and forth.

    And you wish to discuss what you have learned? he asks.

    Some of it is troubling to me, Mazza’h answers.

    A horse neighs in a small grove of trees near the Barren Basin. That sounds like Ugo, but I left him at the citadel when I began my journeys. Brother Carvel glances at Mazza’h. An emboldened look crosses her face. I take it by the look on your face that you had a part in Ugo being here?

    Forgive me, my friend, but it is my hope that you would journey with me back to my village. I must admit, I have a number of questions about my children’s roll in the prophecy. I know you do not like to discuss the prophecy. But I have determined my fate. I am to pass on to the next life during birth of my third child. Mazza’h looks into Brother Carvel’s eyes. I would like to know as much as you are willing to tell me about my children’s futures.

    They journey through the grove of trees. Brother Carvel sees Ugo. He is tied to a tree near the beginning of the Converse River. Mazza’h waits patiently as Brother Carvel ensures his saddle is sufficiently tightened. Brother Carvel mounts Ugo. Mazza’h, we have been friends since you were a small child. If it had not been for you, then I would not have survived my first meeting with your father. I will forever be in your debt. I will, of course, answer what I am able.

    The pair silently travels for hours into a thickening forest as they near Akha’Zette lands. Mazza’h’s knowledge of the forest surpasses Brother Carvel’s. She leads him through the thickening underbrush.

    * * *

    The sun drops below the horizon and Ramac hangs silently above them when Brother Carvel speaks, The prophecy says your first child will bring heartache and war. Your second will be instrumental in its ending.

    I know this part of the prophecy. I fear it will mean war with the Krinicsians, Mazza’h adds. She carefully chooses the best path to follow.

    Your fears are well founded, my friend. Both sides will suffer great loss. Their loss will strengthen them against the darkness, Brother Carvel says. He guides Ugo behind Mazza’h.

    Their lives are unchangeable? Mazza’h asks. She winces from her unborn son’s movement.

    All lives are changeable, but not all lives should be changed. They must follow what is set before them for the betterment of the whole, Brother Carvel says with a heavy heart. He laments at what the prophecy holds for Mazza’h’s family.

    Mazza’h stops and Brother Carvel reins in Ugo. I’m sorry, my friend, but with the birth so close I need to rest when I didn’t before, she says. Her breathing is labored. She stretches to her full height of just under twelve feet.

    Perhaps we should rest here for the night. You could use the rest. We can discuss the part of the prophecy concerning your youngest child’s life. Brother Carvel dismounts. He unpacks his bedroll.

    I think that stopping for the night would be best. My strength seems to be leaving me more quickly today. Mazza’h sits against a nearby tree. She makes herself comfortable and is asleep within minutes.

    While Mazza’h sleeps, Brother Carvel gathers firewood. He collects berries for their evening meal. Hours pass and Mazza’h awakens to a blackened sky. A crackling fire blazes before her. Past the flickering flames, Brother Carvel’s eyes are closed in meditation. Mazza’h watches his face glow a translucent blue. Brother Carvel’s face glows brighter as his meditation deepens. Mazza’h does not recoil from the sight. She knows not only the man before her, but also the secret within him.

    The glow intensifies as two translucent blue orbs form in front of Brother Carvel’s closed eyes. Their brilliance outshines the glow of the fire. The campsite is washed in blue translucent hues. The orbs bob and dance above the fire. They shift in hue and shadow as they hover about the fire. Mazza’h focuses her mind on the two orbs. She detects fragments of their conversation.

    Mazza’h’s youngest two . . . prophecy’s end . . . when they cross unto the next . . . yet live still among us.

    No words pass between the orbs, but Mazza’h senses their silent discussion. The orbs dance like fireflies on a summer night. Their thoughts linger just beyond Mazza’h’s ability to fully comprehend. She perceives their conversation contains many possibilities. They continue to mesmerize her mind and her physical pain diminishes.

    Slowly the orbs descend toward Brother Carvel. The bluish hue encompasses his face. He absorbs the orbs and opens his eyes. They glow with a blue light. Brother Carvel’s gaze falls on Mazza’h. How are you feeling, my friend? he asks in a rich bass voice instead of his normal tenor pitch.

    The pain is less now. Thank you. Tell your brother thank you too. Mazza’h shifts and takes a handful of berries. I always love to watch the two of you flitter back and forth. It has taken practice, but I can understand some of what you say to each other.

    Brother Carvel smiles warmly at Mazza’h. You have always been very gifted. Your youngest two will enjoy the same ability. Albeit in different ways . . . and I see in your eyes you have a question about your youngest. Brother Carvel slowly eats a few berries.

    How do you always know what I am thinking?

    Many hundreds of years’ practice. Brother Carvel’s voice continues to reverberate. He smiles and places a few more berries into his mouth.

    Mazza’h considers her friend for a moment. May I ask how old you are? The fire crackles and sputters.

    Brother Carvel puts another piece of wood on the fire. A small smile plays across his face. I am much older than I appear, but I am still young enough to know that I do not know everything. Nocturnal birds chirp quietly in the trees above. A shudder passes through Brother Carvel as the being within him relinquishes its control.

    I am afraid, Mazza’h admits quietly.

    The prophecy? Brother Carvel asks as his natural tenor voice returns.

    A single tear glistens in the firelight. I know what the Divinatum Murum says about my youngest child, Mazza’h laments.

    The vessel that is broken will be mended by the light of Theia. Brother Carvel quotes the Divinatum Murum. He continues, It also says that the child ushers your passing unto the next life.

    Several more tears tumble down Mazza’h’s face. Can the prophecy be altered?

    Brother Carvel breathes deeply. It is my sincerest wish that I could alter that portion of the prophecy, but some things cannot be so. The prophecy is like the shore. Some parts are as sand always shifting, and some are like stone and unyielding. Your passing onto the next life, unfortunately, is unyielding. I cannot change this fact.

    I do not doubt that, my friend, but I had to ask. Mazza’h finishes the last of her berries. From what I have learned, I will die during the birth of my third child, she laments.

    I am afraid it is true.

    Then I will make the most of the time I have remaining. Mazza’h’s optimism returns. She stands. Her belly shifts with the movement of her unborn. She quickly sits. I think that I am closer to time of birthing than I thought. I do not think I will be going any further until after the birth.

    Brother Carvel crosses

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