Sovereign's Wake

  Sovereign's Wake

  Title Page

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Sovereign’s Wake

  In the Absence of Kings – Book One

  By: Lee LaCroix

  Act One

  Chapter One

  In a different time, there was a forest that was as deep as it was plentiful. Inside those woods, a house stood that was built from the same kind of trees that surrounded it. Around that cabin, the horizon was covered in all directions by the dense limbs of outstretched timber and leafy thicket. Although the canopy was lush and green, the sun and the stars could still pierce its ceiling. The boy’s first memories were of the light of sunrise beaming through the window to draw him from sleep.

  That boy, Novas, possessed deep green eyes as verdant as the wild around him. His windswept, chestnut hair fell down his head and face to his firm jawline. For as long as he could recall, Novas was always dressed in clothing coloured in the browns of earth and the greens of trees.

  In his youth, Novas rose with the sun to walk with his father among the shaded paths. Like his father and his father’s father before him, Novas was shown the ways of the wild and the ways of man. He was taught that the land was just as alive as he was. Novas was entranced by the dawn and the early morning birdsong that brought forth the unfolding of leaves and the waking scenery of forest life both floral and animal. He learned the names of the lively birds above him and the swift beasts below him. The boy became acquainted with the multitude of greens and the creeping tangles of the forest floor. He tasted fruits and berries and picked herbs and roots that could be used for nourishment or remedy. Novas learned to swim in the series of waterways made up of brooks, streams, and small rivers that were carved across the land.

  His father encouraged the exploration of his quiet home, but the man warned him, “Take care to stay within the borders of the wood. The peace that exists between the trees and leaves does not extend past where they end.”

  Although the boy accepted his father’s words, Novas searched the forest in vain; he was unable to recognize that harmony without ever knowing its opposite.

  When Novas grew older and stronger, his father, Garreth, introduced him to the bow. He had seen his father explore the woods with the large, curved object before, and the boy examined its parts. However, he had no idea of its purpose. With his bow drawn, Garreth knelt down beside his son and asked him to watch with careful attention. Novas looked up at his father whose shoulder-length, light brown hair moved like wavering branches in the wind. Novas shared his father’s linear jawline, but Garreth had shallower cheeks and a more chiseled chin. Garreth’s gray eyes were fixed on the target and steady as an approaching storm.

  The bow creaked with tension as Garreth drew the arrow back, prompting Novas to examine the bow. Novas watched the curvature of its frame, the way that the arrow fit into the scheme, and the position of his father’s hands. While Novas was focused on his inspection, the bow snapped free, and the arrow had vanished. Before Novas could turn his head, the arrow quivered in the center of the target and then was at rest. Novas’ eyes widened as he had realized how this tool was used. In his curious manner, Novas thought it peculiar that the bow allowed him to stick pieces of wood into targets. He wondered what the point was.

  Like sprinting, climbing, or swimming, the practice of archery was an interesting novelty and a new routine for Novas. Garreth could only chuckle as the bowstrings bit at his son’s fingers or snapped asunder due to the boy’s inexperience. Garreth lifted the bow from the dirt and carried it to the cabin to be restrung while Novas fetched the scattered arrows. When Novas had the bow returned to him, he found it bent in accordance with his strength, and his arrows finally found their mark at last. Later that day, when the beginner target had splintered into pieces due to his son’s improving aim, Garreth pointed out the marks he used to maintain his own skill. With the inclusion of those farther and higher targets, Novas practiced with a sense of challenge and reward. When he was satisfied that his son could use his bow well enough, Garreth decided to include him in the hunt.

  While he had always had meat to fill his stomach and furs to keep out the winter cold on his bed, Novas was unaware of where these items had come from. His father had spared him from the truth as long as he could, for Novas was still known to laugh as he sprinted down paths in chase of rabbits or foxes. One day, Garreth handed Novas the boy’s bow and a handful of arrows and asked his son to follow him down the shaded paths again. As they continued along, Garreth strode down the path while Novas savoured the warm breeze of the summer day. They emerged through a break in the trees to an open meadow that revealed a stream and a field of thick grasses. On the far end of the opening, the brown, white, and red feathers of the boisterous turkey shot up over the field. Like he had practiced sneaking up on the woodland creatures before, Novas followed his father towards the gaggle without making a sound. When they were in clearer sight of the group of seven turkeys, Garreth took up his bow and readied an arrow. Novas glanced at his father and then towards the turkeys. Again, the arrow was gone before he could blink, and its presence was replaced by the rustling of bodies in the grasses and a screech the boy had heard before but had never seen.

  Novas had an ominous feeling inside his stomach as he followed his father towards the place of struggle. Novas looked at the turkey that was now still on the forest floor and the arrow which protruded from it. The absence of its sound, movement, or essence made him fearful. He became perturbed by the blood, ruby red in the sunlight, that began to pour from the turkey, reminding Novas of his own injuries. A deep horror rumbled through Novas as he imagined the life that once was and the nothingness that now pervaded; an existence void of heat, of pitch blackness, and deeper than eternal sleep.

  “This is the way of the wild. This is the way of man, Novas. This is how we survive,” Garreth explained as he placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.

  Something grew hard inside of Novas’ chest, and he thought he would never look at the woods the same way again. He looked up at his father with red, empty eyes.

  “Many beasts of the wood make the same exchange as we do. Some die so others may live. The forest provides for us in ways we cannot. Our home is not only beauty but also bounty,” Garreth informed his son, who stood nodding his head.

  Garreth picked up the turkey by its talons and carried it back to the cabin with his son in tow. While the bird made for a filling meal that night, Novas would neither eat nor live the same way again.

  Chapter Two

  Bothered by the still and silent terror that it wrought, Novas adjusted to the idea of the hunt with the passing of time. In the beginning, ending life had disturbed him. Eventually, he changed from acts of lamentation to the giving of thanks. He treated the fallen with respect and thanked each animal for the gift of life that had been taken so his would proceed. He knew his life would continue so much as his prey were a source of nourishment. Novas tried to uphold the balance of life and death with responsibility; his mournful heart and hollowed stomach would allow nothing less.

  With the introduction of the hunt, Novas began to understand the practice with his bow. The hunting of animals was a manner of skill. To Novas, the way the animals stood, moved, and hid was emulated by the variation of targets at d
iffering vertical and horizontal distances. Even though he saw the application of his skills in the act of the hunt, he could not bring himself to recognize it as anything other than a practice of survival.

  When they hunted together, Novas found himself fascinated by his father’s natural skills. His son noticed Garreth’s knowledge of herblore; his agile strength that commanded swiftness, momentum, and force; and his ability to imitate the wildlife of the forest, which allowed him to reproduce bird calls and travel unheard and unseen over beaten animal tracks while they tracked and hunted. Garreth was not a mimic of nature; he embodied it. He showed an expertise in the life of the forest and the keen mind of a hunter. With these guidelines, Novas began to shape himself into the man he wished to become.

  Novas was hiking around the northern borders of forest, looking to find some boar, rabbit, or deer for supper. He hiked on an animal trail that weaved north alongside a wide stream. As the boy journeyed along, frogs and muskrats dove from the shady shore into the murky water. He found himself at the northern border of the forest where golden hills were flecked with the browns and bronzes of shrubbery and wild brush. Far fewer trees populated the area, leaving sparse amounts of shade in the well-lit plain. The northern horizon rose to hills and mountains on its western side and continued to blue expanse to the east. Although curiosity drove the boy as he glared towards the horizon in search of wild turkey or plains hare, it was a familiar sound that caught his attention and broke the forest’s harmony.

  A far-off noise repeated like an echo and could be heard further east. Novas returned to the cover of the forest and navigated his way towards the sound as straight as he could. Minutes later, the boy arrived at the top of a hill overlooking a tall valley near the edge of the forest. At the woodland’s end, he caught glimpse of large horses and a giant wooden cart with sizable wheels used to travel over the craggy plains. Never before seeing such sizable animals, Novas stood agape at the labouring animal that from ear to hoof must have been taller than him or his father. However, that place was not exactly where the sound was emanating from, and the boy continued on. Novas crept closer to a divide in the trees to inspect the situation further, and then he came across an unusual sight.

  Garbed in ash-stained cloth and black leather, an assortment of men laboured without rest in the forest below. Some of the men had unkempt beards, and others had longer hair, and there were men who were bald or tattooed. Five men went about their work hacking away at the trees, rending them into smaller logs, and transporting them to the cart on the edge of the forest. Novas had never seen men other than his father; to see such unusual figures filled him with equal wonder and concern.

  His second thought, his first to the nature of these men, was to tell his father of these new visitors as fast as he could. Novas crept away from the worker’s camp before beginning his hurried journey home. He came upon his father stripping the feathers from wild game when Novas returned, and the exhausted look on the boy’s face piqued Garreth’s curiosity.

  “Racing the squirrels again, have you?” queried Garreth with a hearty chuckle.

  “There are men in the woods! Men who are large and dressed in black!” Novas yelled forth, scattering the perching birds.

  The father’s eyes widened as he stood, and he peered into the forest.

  “They were cutting down trees and storing them on a huge crate! It was tied to a huge animal! I have never seen man or beast like that!” Novas explained.

  The boy’s fervent energy turned to nervous anxiety as Garreth’s face turned rigid and stern, and the man disappeared inside the house. When Garreth returned, Novas noted the large, shining object that his Father carried. Its blade was far longer than the hunting or skinning knives that they used, and he had never seen it before in his life. Novas wondered where it had come from. Along with his bow, the man set out in the direction given to him by his son.

  “Stay here, boy,” Garreth commanded as he strode into the forest’s depths.

  Novas began to protest, but a stern glare from his father silenced him and prompted him to stay. After Garreth disappeared into the brush, the boy started to become impatient, so Novas walked to the edge of the cabin’s clearing and looked into the woods to see his father’s journey. When Novas was sure he could not be seen or heard, the boy raced towards the logging site. At one or two points in the run, he was sure he could see his father again, so he dropped onto the forest floor and waited for silence.

  From the continued sound of chopping throughout the forest, the boy could tell that the men were still hard at work. When Novas arrived at the area, he found a place of covering within a tall brush and peered through the vines. To the east, the boy spotted his father and hid himself as not to be seen.

  Garreth appeared and stood in a clearing on top of the valley. With his bow and his blade slung across his back, Garreth raised his hands and called down to the workers.

  “You down there! What business do you have in these woods!” Garreth bellowed.

  The workers stopped their labours and brought their attention to the man on the hill. A tall man with a sharp beard stood up from his place on a stump to address him. He had seemed quite at ease and in rising up had formed a scowl on his rugged face.

  “We have been charged by the Queen and Company to harvest these trees for the prosperity of the great city of Amatharsus and the kingdom of Malquia,” the man replied in a jesting tone.

  A murder of crows cawed overheard while the sun cast their grim silhouettes on the ground.

  Garreth stood for a moment and responded, “I must ask you to cease your work and return to the city. As steward of this forest, the King has entrusted in keeping the beauty and wellbeing of its stock intact. I cannot allow you to proceed any further!”

  The crowd of shaggy men looked about each other and then burst into raunchy laughter.

  “The King? The King is dead!” the man bellowed with a hearty laugh.

  The forest became still with silence as if all the life in the forest had felt the weight of the man’s statement. As these revelations were thrown upon him, something inside Garreth became like heavy stone.

  “The Queen demands these goods for her kingdom, and no one of this land can deny her Majesty!” the speaker explained, his bellowing as brash as his laughter.

  The woodsmen continued to scoff and returned to their work, ignoring the shady figure on the hill. The hunter turned red-faced but shortly regained his composure.

  “This is your final warning. Cease your work and retire from the woods,” Garreth shouted.

  The workers ceased their labours, looked up at the man, and hauled up their axes in their hands. The speaker withdrew a serrated dagger from his belt, locked eyes with Garreth, and then plunged it into a nearby log with resounding force. The anger that glared from the man’s eyes was words enough. Garreth walked out of the clearing and up the valley until he faded from Novas’ view. The boy continued to watch the workers as they spat insults at the one who tried to distract them from their work.

  All became as it was before Garreth had arrived. The sharp barking of the black birds could not disturb the woodsmen from their work. The men remained monotonous until one of the workers dropped his axe and began to choke and keel over. His struggles and collapse on the forest floor brought his crew’s attention to the arrow sticking out of his neck and the blood that flowed from it without end. They looked around the forest in surprise and fear, pointing to the clearing where the stranger had stood but no longer did. After inspecting the death of their fellow, the four men proceeded up the hill with their axes raised.

  The men had just begun their ascent out of the valley when another arrow whistled by. A tree root tripped the arrow’s target and ducked him under the arrow’s lethal course. The woodsmen were spurred into a rage and bellowed as they ran up the slope in the direction of the arrow’s origin. With their gallop, posture, and war cries, Garreth could only assume these workers had seen the bloody rigours of battle before. As th
ey neared the clearing of the valley, the next arrow did not fail to find its mark and plunged into the heart of one of the woodsmen. As the fallen woodsman tumbled back and rolled down the valley’s slope, one of the men caught sight of Garreth. With a crooked grimace across his blood-red face, the logger pointed his dirty hands at Garreth and began to charge.

  Sensing he had little time left for his ranged attack, Garreth readied and let loose an arrow. It spiraled as it flew away, missing a vital target, but crippled one of the woodsmans’ stride by hitting the front of his leg. Leaping out of the bush, Garreth unsheathed his blade, which reflected the rays of light that poured through the canopy. Two assailants still remained stalwart in demanding the death of the boy’s father and charged forth red-faced and frothing.

  Garreth sized the men up a final time and slowed his breathing, watching the flow of their movements and the weight of their weapons. As the woodsmen drew close, the hunter delivered a swift kick to the stomach to the first attacker, causing him to fall back onto the ground. The second man charged in with his axe raised and ready to cleave the hunter’s skull in two, but Garreth countered with a shoulder butt to the man’s chest and grabbed for the axe’s pommel with his other hand. The boy’s father attempted to wrest the axe from the man, but the logger’s two-handed grip was too strong, and the attacker threw off the hunter and regained his balance. The woodsman raised his axe again for a powerful downwards stroke. As the man let fall his weapon, Garreth raised his blade in defense. The father loosened the tension of his sword, and he stepped to the side as the axe head slid down the sword’s length. As the axe struck hard into ground, Garreth continued his sideways motion and spun, delivering a decapitating blow to the woodsman.

  Before the head had rolled to the floor, the hulking mass of the other woodsman slammed into Garreth, knocking him off balance and onto the leafy floor. The frenzied ringleader yelled and attacked with his hatchet and dagger, careening the blades towards Garreth without caution or mercy. Garreth winced and felt his lungs buckle as the dagger slid past Garreth’s blade and sliced into his arm, prompting Garreth to unwind a solid fist into the woodsman’s temple in response. As he gained a small quarter of breathing room during his attacker’s daze, Garreth delivered a kick to the woodsman’s shins and rolled over onto his knees, attempting to regain his balance. As the ringleader began to recover, the crippled woodsman had overcome the pain in his shin and trudged towards Garreth with seething breaths screaming between clenched teeth. A hatchet flew towards the hunter, so Garreth had no option but to fall onto his back again. As the ringleader charged Garreth to land a finishing blow, the hunter brought up his sword and impaled the man in his haste.