Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 137958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
It was confounded in arriving at his isle for a wholly different reason.
And if his wife and he, Mars and his future bride, True and his intended, and Cassius and his female warrior did not mate…
They were all damned.
6
The Lore
Frey Drakkar
Adela Tree Glade, Outside Fyngaard
LUNWYN
Northlands
Frey Drakkar stood in the snow, shielded by the elven mist, watching the adela tree before him glow as the diminutive shapes formed at its base, touched it, and grew to human proportions.
He looked to his left at his son, Viktor.
Vik showed no surprise at this magic, not anymore. As the next Frey in line, even if he didn’t hold that Keerian name, his first, as his father did, his son had been attending his meetings with the elves for the last fifteen years, since he was ten.
Frey looked back to the elves who were now standing in the snow, with one having gotten close.
“My lord Frey,” Nillen, the Speaker of the Elves, murmured.
“Nillen,” Frey greeted.
Nillen looked to Frey’s son. “My lord Viktor, my other Frey.”
Vik grinned at the elf. “Nillen.”
Nillen dipped his chin and stated, “Congratulations are premature, but I extend them to you for your upcoming coronation.”
Frey drew in breath.
It was time.
His son was twenty-five.
When he turned twenty-six, he would become King of Lunwyn, taking over for his grandmother, who Frey himself had sat on that throne.
Queen Aurora was still sharp, and as savvy as she had been two and a half decades ago.
But Viktor Drakkar was ready to rule.
This did not mean Frey did not still see him as the dark-headed boy in short pants dashing around the decks of The Finnie with a wooden sword, learning swordplay from Frey’s men…and his own mother.
It was just that now, he was as tall as his father, nearly as broad, the elves attended him, and they both had command of the dragons.
Not to mention, he had his grandmother’s cunning, his father’s strength, his mother’s charm and the loyalty to his country of all three.
So yes, it was time.
Viktor gave a short bow. “Thank you, Nillen.”
Nillen again dipped his chin then looked to Frey, and his expression had Frey bracing.
“I have news of great import,” Nillen announced.
“And I have ears so let us hear it,” Frey invited.
“The Beast rises.”
Frey stared at the elf in his blue cap with its white feather, his icy eyes, his pointy ears, and he could not believe his own.
“Do you mean the Beast across the Green Sea?” Frey asked.
“The exact,” Nillen confirmed.
“’Tis only lore,” Frey stated.
“Regrettably, it is not,” Nillen refuted.
“By the gods,” Frey whispered.
“That can’t be,” Viktor declared.
“I am sorry, my young lord,” Nillen said to Frey’s son. “It can, and it is.”
“It’s been—” Frey began.
“Over three thousand years,” Nillen finished for him.
Vik shifted beside him.
“What magic is this?” Frey demanded.
“We are unsure. He has been a mystery to us as well. We believe it to be a sorcerer, very powerful. So much power, he is hidden. Even from the elves. Feedings, as he did back then when he made the surface, blood, this through sacrifice. Torture, in this case rape—”
“Fucking hell,” Vik bit out.
“Collaborators,” Nillen carried on, “who performed these rituals for centuries, which did naught but stir the Beast. It is this sorcerer, his seed mixed with the blood, torture and sacrifice, that rouses the creature.”
“And you don’t know who he is?” Frey asked.
“We don’t even think he knows who he is,” Nillen answered. “Though we know he does not know what he does. We feel he thinks to rouse the Beast, surface him, and control him. But not even the elves could control that monster. Not the sirens or the fairies or the Green Men or the gods or goddesses of that realm. Certainly not the false gods of the scholars who reside there. And my lords, if he is not stopped, this time, he will traverse the sea.”
“Bloody fucking hell,” Frey clipped out.
“Can it be stopped?” Viktor queried.
Nillen tipped his head to the side. “There is a prophecy. It is our reading the witches of that realm have initiated its commencement. But we fear they don’t understand where the true power lies,” Nillen shared.
“And the true power?” Frey prompted.
“They facilitate the matings of the four most powerful witches of that realm to the four most powerful warriors,” Nillen explained.
“This sounds bloody familiar,” Frey muttered irritably.
“Indeed, but it is not the matings, my lord—” Nillen began.
“It’s true love,” Frey deduced.
Nillen nodded. “The passion they share will surely augment their power, all of them, in the females, their magic, in the males, their strength and invulnerability. But they must come to love each other, Frey Drakkar. Or all will be lost.”
“And what are we to do about this?” Frey asked.
“You command the dragons. If the Beast rises, they will, as ever, be indestructible. But they alone cannot defeat him.”