The Ravenous Siege (Epic of Haven Trilogy Book 2)
Contents
Series Info
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Pronounciation Guide
Map
Preface
Prologue
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
Epilogue
INDEX
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
MORE FROM R.G. TRIPLETT
THE EPIC OF HAVEN
TRILOGY
BY R.G. TRIPLETT
BOOK ONE
THE GREAT DARKENING
BOOK TWO
THE RAVENOUS SIEGE
BOOK THREE
THE COMING DAWN
THE RAVENOUS SIEGE
by R.G. Triplett
Edited by Melody Farrell
THIS BOOK IS PUBLISHED BY LOST POET PRESS
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, 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.
Text copyright © 2016 by Robert G Triplett
Jacket art by Rob Stainback copyright © 2016 by Lost Poet Press
Map art by Rob Stainback copyright © 2016 by Lost Poet Press
Illustrations by Amanda Farrell copyright © 2016 by Lost Poet Press
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Lost Poet Press
First eBook edition.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
www.epicofhaven.com
www.lostpoetpress.com
ISBN 978-1-944470-01-2
Library of Congress Control Number:
2016912076
Lost Poet Press first edition eBook, February 2016
DEDICATION
For the dreams and the dreamers who have tasted the bitterness of exile … this is not the end.
PRONOUNCIATION GUIDE
CHARACTERS
Abaddon (A-bah-dohn)
Ádhamh (AH-dahm)
Aius (AHY-uhs)
Alon (AH-lahn)
Amaian (ah-MAHY-ahn)
Angrah (ANG-grah)
Ardghal (AHRD-gahl)
Armas (AR-mahs)
Astyræ (A-stir-ay)
Bakaren (BACK-ah-rehn)
Benhiram (BEHN-ha-reem)
Blodeuwedd (BLOW-day-wehd)
Brádách (BRA-dak)
Branwen (BRAN-wehn)
Caedmon (CAYD-mohn)
Calarmindon (cal-ahr-MIN-duhn)
Celrod (KEHL-rahd)
Chancellor Chaiphus (KAHY-fus)
Clivesis (CLAHYV-zees)
Črotmir: (CROHT-meer)
Deryn (DAYR-ehn)
Edur (ee-DOOR)
Éimhear (ahy-MEER)
Eógan (YOU-gahn)
Faolan (FAY-ow-lan)
Farran (FAIR-ahn)
Fryon (FRI-ohn)
Goran (GOR-an)
Gormlaith (GORM-layth)
Gvidus (GVEE-duhs)
Haizea (Hi-ZAY-ah)
Harmier (hahr-mee-AYR)
Iolanthe (ee-oh-LAN-thay)
Isme (EES-may)
Johnrey (JOHN-ree)
Julen (JU-lehn)
Kahri (KAH-ree)
Keily (KAHY-lee)
Kemen (KEE-mehn)
King Cascarie (KAS-kah-ree)
King Illium (IHL-ee-uhm)
King Kaestor (KAY-stohr)
Klieo (KLEE-oh)
Linnaea (LIHN-ee-ah)
Llinos (LEE-nos)
Meledae (MEL-eh-day)
Moa (MOH-ah)
Niniané (nih-nee-AH-nay)
Nogcwren (NOCK-ren)
Oren (OH-rehn)
Oskar (OH-scar)
Oweles (OOLS)
Payam (PAHY-yam)
Portus (POR-tuhs)
Pyrrhus (PAHY-ruhs)
Remiel (reh-mee-EHL)
Roshan (RO-shuhn)
Šárka (SAR-kah)
Seig (SEEG)
Shameus (SHEY-mus)
Soren (SOAR-ehn)
Tahd (TAWD)
Timorets (TIH-moor-ehts)
Wielund (WAHY-lund)
Yasen (YEAH-sehn)
Zuriñe (zur-EEN)
PLACES/LANDMARKS/THINGS
Ágoni gi (Ah-GO-neh-gee)
Aiénor (ahy-NOR)
Argine (ahr-GEEN)
Arianrhod (AY-ree-an-rud)
Asier (ah-SEER)
Bay of Eurwen (YOOR-wihn)
Clarus (CLAY-ruhs)
Dardanos (DAR-dah-nohs)
Enguerrand (EHN-ger-uhnd)
Falls of Sarangrael (Ser-ahn-grey-EL)
Fionnuala (fee-oh-NOO-lah)
Gwarwyn (GWAHR-wihn)
Hekate' (Heh-KAH-tay)
Hilgari (hihl-GAR-ee) Mountains
Isle Dušana (doo-SAH-nah)
Islwyn (IH-sehl-wihn)
Itsaso (it-SAH-soh)
Kalein (kah-LEEN)
Maris (MAH-rihs)
Melania (meh-leh-NEE-ah)
Menashe (meh-NASH)
Mount Aureole (AH-rohl)
Petros (PEH-trohs)
River Abonris (AB-ohn-rihs)
Shaimira (Shahy-MEER-ah)
Sleth Aodh (slehth ay-OHD)
Talfryn (TAL-frihn) Pass
Terriah (TAIR-ah)
Viőarr (vee-OHR)
Map of Aiénor
Preface
The need to wish, the desire to hope, and the compulsion to dream—good and honest dreams—is not just for the pure of heart. For within us all, the emigrant and the exiled, the savage and the civilized, the virtuous and the corruptible … there exists a native, instinctual gravity. This primitive force within pulls us all together and points the truest parts of our souls towards the grandeur of the greatest story.
A story
Of songs and prose and tales of great courage,
Of beauty and rescue and longing hearts,
Of deeds done well and passionate embraces,
Of vanquished enemies, victors, and victorious graces,
Of mercy and magic and merriment made,
Of darkness defeated, and dawn's glory displayed,
Of legends and lore and the most lucid of dreams,
Of redemption and re
ward, and of restoration at the end of all things.
By their very nature, our weary and wounded hearts cannot help but hear the whisper that beckons us to revel—indulgently and yet profoundly—in the light of something much bigger than ourselves. It is in these epic reveries and poetic rebellions that men may, daily if we dare, glimpse the reflections of both our former and our future glories.
Prologue
The hooves of the pale, speckled gelding pounded the stone pavement with anxious urgency as both horse and rider wove through the streets of the city's square.
"Come now, boy!" the rider shouted to his steed. "We cannot be late for the council of the elders—not when we have such news to bring!"
The young man's long, dark hair whipped and bounced in the rhythm of the horse's gait. Kemen willed his mount to move faster and faster until finally they arrived at the grand Palladium at the heart of the city of Asier. He leapt from the panting horse, running with great haste up the winding stone steps until at last he reached the House of Wisdom, which overlooked the square of the river city. As he strode in through the great entrance and past the ornately sculpted vases and luxurious muslin curtains that flowed lazily in the breeze, his broad chest heaved as his lungs gasped for air. Kemen felt it out of place to disturb the serenity of the Palladium with his desperate panting, but this noble House of Wisdom was at a great altitude, and he had not ascended its stairs with such urgency in a long, long time.
When at last Kemen reached the middle chamber of this great structure, he paused at the curtained entryway, trying to catch his breath and compose himself before he slipped into the gathering. Inside the chamber stood the elders of Asier, already engaged in a heated debate. Kemen eased into the room and pulled the curtain closed behind him.
"What would you have me do? Huh?" Julen, Lord of the amber city asked with great anger in his voice "Abandon all that we have labored for? Give up all that our fathers and their fathers before them gave their backs and blood to build?" The questions echoed off the high pillars that surrounded the room.
"The other tribes and townships are moving southward, seeking solace in the light of the sorceress," said Soren, chief of the watchers. "My sentries and scouts have seen many a banner displaying fealty to her as they journey through the Greywood."
"Nonsense! Why would they trust the sorceress? That is both folly and madness! How do we know that it wasn't she who poisoned the great tree across the sea to begin with?" the white-bearded Zuriñe argued.
"What does that matter now, Zuriñe?" Bakaren said dejectedly. "You know the truth as well as I do. The light we have come to rely upon will not last forever. This first dimming is only a sign of things to come ... her offer is one that we cannot simply ignore!"
"That is exactly what we should do. Ignore it altogether. The Asierian people have little need for trade or wars or alliances. We are a self-sufficient people and we can continue to provide for ourselves right here along the River Argiñe!"
"But what if what she offers is true? What if it is the answer to our worried prayers?" Bakaren asked as she wiped away the tears from her wrinkled face.
"They are all lies! All nothing more than tricks of her conjurings!" shouted the appalled Zuriñe. "Mark my words, that ... that Raven will have the whole world kneeling before her, and then she will pluck out their eyes with her damned poisoned beak, all without a word of protest!"
"Let them kneel! Let the blind fools kneel if they like ... but we will not," Lord Julen said between gritted teeth as he pounded his gloved fist upon the carved, wooden table. "Our walls are strong enough, and the Giver of Light has given us plenty to live by."
"But what happens when He takes away His light for good?" Kemen asked aloud, interrupting the heated argument. "What if there is no more light?"
The room went quiet at the asking of the most terrifying question of all.
"This darkening is not the first one our people have endured. When the Jacarandas were stolen from Aiénor, our world lost its brilliance forever. But there was always the bright amber and silver light across the dark waters of the Itsaso to hold our deepest fears at bay," Julen said steadily.
Kemen spoke up. "But now … now it would seem that the Giver of Light is removing his gift from this world, and perhaps it would be prudent if we were not so exposed to the impending darkness."
"What do you mean ... boy?" Julen asked with great suspicion.
Kemen eyed the twenty-one pairs of eyes of the twenty-one elders, who stared in return with great curiosity, waiting to see just what it was that this young hunter proposed. "What I mean is that we-"
Kemen's words were cut short as a tall, ashen-faced nobleman stepped through the doorway and interrupted the convening council, seizing their attention. "Elders of Asier, my name is Isme, herald of the Raven Queen," he said with slight bow.
"The Raven Queen?" Zuriñe blurted out. "She fancies herself a queen now? On whose authority does she derive such titles?"
"You are most unwelcome, herald of the sorceress," Julen demanded as he stood to his feet, his offense evident to all. "We will have none of your forked-tongued council here, sir!"
"You will count yourself wise to hear the good tidings I have to bring on this dark, dark day, Asierians," Isme continued. "For the Raveness has called forth a new light for all our kind, and we will never have to fear the darkness again. If you lords would but bend your allegiance to her benevolent will, like so many of your neighbors have already done, then you would have this light for yourselves." Isme spoke while staring down the long-haired hunter.
"Bend our allegiance … and then what?" Soren asked. "Gifts—magic or otherwise—do not come without a price!"
"The Raven Queen but offers a new light, a light that needs no flames, no trees, no fickle giver. And it is by this light alone that all who choose will see their destiny."
"And what if we don't take it?" Bakaren asked nervously. "What then?"
Isme looked up towards the ceiling, and a sickly, green glee seemed to burn from deep within his eyes as a sinister grin crept across his gaunt face. The muslin curtains began to whip wildly in the wake of an unforeseen storm. The red-bricked pillars started to shake and rumble, and the very structure that held them all threatened to collapse underneath the intensity of the pressure.
"What is that? What is the meaning of this devilry?" Julen nervously demanded.
The eyes of the council darted back and forth in frightened horror as torrents of pounding wind ripped through the grand Palladium, sending paper and goblets scattering across the tiled floor.
Kemen reached for the arm of his uncle Zuriñe as he whispered his worries against the wind of this witchcraft. "We are not safe here any longer, Uncle!"
"Agreed, my boy."
Isme's eyes burned with a sickly, green fire as he surveyed his terrified audience here in the river city. "A new light has come for us all, on the benevolent wings of the Raveness' good will. It would ... behoove you citizens of Asier to receive her gift; that is, whilst it is still offered."
"Why?" Bakaren asked. "Why is all of this happening? Why is she forcing this … gift … upon every city on the Wreath?" she begged, with frightened tears upon her wrinkled cheeks.
The pounding wind stopped and the ground below their feet shook with a succession of heavy crashes. The herald's smile grew wider and his green eyes glowed all the brighter in the satisfaction of the moment. Kemen held his spear at the ready, trained on the unwelcome servant of the sorceress. Julen reached for his two-handed sword that rested across his table, feeling the same, instinctual response as all who were gathered: war.
"Because ... darkness is coming." Isme's words took a sinister tone as he spoke his farewell. The herald disappeared behind the wind-beaten curtains and then, in an explosion of unexpected fire, the rafters of the grand Palladium burst into flame.
The elders grabbed what they could and fled from the flaming pyre that was once their grandest hall. Smoke was thick upon the evening air, and
the people of Asier ran out from their homes, standing in the streets to watch the green flames consume the revered structure atop the hill. Some of those who witnessed this devilry ran to the aid of the elders and the watchmen, doing what they could to quell the fire that threatened their city.
"We cannot contend with that kind of power," Kemen said to his uncle.
"That is precisely what she wants us to believe!" Zuriñe said as he tossed a bucketful of water upon the unnatural flames.
"Our homes are no longer safe," Julen admitted. "How can our city contend with this ... this damned vile magic?" He spoke with defeat on his face and in his voice as he, too, tossed a useless bucketful of water into the burning hall.
"Why does she care if we take her new light or not? Huh?" Soren asked as he wiped the smoke from his wet eyes. "We have never meddled in the wars of these lands! Never once has Asier given aid to her enemies."
"I fear that evil needs no reason to lust for more power. That is its nature: to reach, to grab, to control whatever the might of its appetite and the strength of its reach can afford to consume," Zuriñe offered.
"Even so ... I would rather see our city burn than succumb to the bite of her ravenous hunger," Julen said defiantly.
"And so you may! Look, it burns even now. What other choice do we have, my lord?" Bakaren argued. "Can't we at least discuss her offer before we surrender all that we love to the flames of her fury?"
The elders watched as their people worked, desperately and to no avail, to put out the green flames that maniacally burned, spreading further and further down the hill and towards their city. All the while, the weight of Bakaren's question hung heavier and heavier about them.
"We could fight her!" Julen proposed. "Stand defiantly, with spears brandished, and choose to defend our freedom."
"Or, instead of watching our sons and husbands fall needlessly, we could receive her gift and forego the impending darkness," Bakaren insisted.
"Fight and die! Surrender and die!" Zuriñe argued. "Neither of these choices are worthy of much thought … if you ask me."