Damiynn
Fantasy Author
This should be it, just look over see if anything is missing. This is from second book so if it doesn't introduce someone it is because they already have been in the first book. Thanks all.
Pain wracked the knight champion as he slowly pulled his body out of the icy water and onto the frozen shore. Blood ran off his back forming a murky pool under him. Gasping, he coughed up bloody froth from his burning lungs.
Bertravis Liolbane wasn’t sure why he was alive. Lifting his face out of the mud, he stared forlornly back in the direction he had came. I should have stayed, he thought miserably. My King and Queen died and yet I still live.
Flexing his fingers into white hot fists, he wished he had his swords. One had broken while cutting the ropes to his Queen’s barge that carried away her and the dead twin heirs. The second, he had given to King Dorian in his desperate attempt to buy them time to escape from his brother’s men.
If he had either he could end his disgraceful life, dying in the mud like he deserved. Although he had tried drowning himself, somehow he had been washed up here.
As King’s champion, he had sworn to protect the royal family no matter what the cost and had failed. Vivid images of their deaths flashed through his mind, showing every gruesome moment. Why did I survive! The thought haunted his brain.
Glancing up river, he saw a body floating face down. Is that the Queen? His fear filled eyes fixed on it, he realized, it’s one of her maids. Even though he knew his queen was dead, relief surged through him.
The arrow sticking out of his shoulder cut deeply and he nearly passed out from the blinding pain as he struggled onto his hands and knees. After being shot by his cousin’s hidden archers he had received a brutal beating. Gunther, he was sure, had intentionally cracked his ribs with his iron shod boots.
Five generations of Liolbane’s, including his damned cousin, had served as the personal protectors and champions to the royal bloodline. Never had any failed. Until today.
Choking back a sob, he knew he would be remembered as the first.
Maybe, thought the knight champion bitterly, one of the children lived, but he doubted it.
Bertravis had watched his Queen die after he had fallen on the stone docks. The arrows had struck her in the chest with a sickening sound. He could still here them striking her body. He could also hear the splash of the baby falling out of her arms, tumbling into the swirling current of the underground chamber’s river.
In a crumpled ball at the edge of the docks he had watched the second boat carrying the other newborn away become engulfed in flames.
In his head, now, he heard the third sound that echoed throughout his soul. The second baby never stopped screaming in the burning boat as it was swept out of the underground chamber.
A ragged sob tore through him. He had failed in his promise to keep King Dorian’s family safe. By allowing the Queen and her newborns to be killed, he couldn’t ever return to the palace. He could no longer be the Proctor of the Krannion order or champion to the king, because on his watch the royal family had died, killed by the King’s brother. He was now a disgrace to the other Krannion knights still serving honorably.
Being alive with the King’s brother, his cousin, and their personal wizard, Cyadine, plotting against him also posed a danger to his wife and lands. He couldn’t allow harm to come to her. He had to leave.
King Dorian, Queen Ellanor and their children deaths had also killed something inside him. Disgraced or dishonored knights who broke or betrayed their vows were allowed three ways of killing themselves with honor. He had no swords.
He couldn’t die in combat because there were none present here to kill him. That left slavery. He could die fighting in the pits.
Pushing past waves of pain sweeping over his body, Bertravis Liolbane staggered upright studying the dark sky and surrounding landmarks.
A billowing black cloud hung over something on the other side of the river. Desperately brushing mud matted hair out of his eyes with a bloody hand, he blinked away the river water. Looking out again, he saw the burning remains of a boat.
He saw no movement in the smoldering remains. He must have been mistaken. With a heavy heart Bertravis dismissed his surge of hope. For a moment, he thought he had seen a figure clutching something staggering out of the flames.
Now he knew where he was. Kallamar sat at the juncture of three rivers and he was on the Andulin, which flowed south until it reached the Eversea Ocean.
South is good, he thought sadly, tearing his eyes away from the burning remains. South will take me far from here and not bring any danger to my wife. In the south I can receive the death I justly deserved.
The port city of Cor lay in the marshlands where the Andulin ended in a thousand branching streams and the Eversea Ocean began. It was far enough away that Gunther’s men wouldn’t find him until he was dead. Cor was also a den of thieves, slavers, and cutthroats where, despite having a Highlord Captain, only gold really set the laws.
No one there would question why he wanted to sell himself into slavery. The slavers would happily clap him into chains thinking he meant to really fight.
Bertravis Liolbane started walking south in slow ragged steps, leaving behind him a trail of blood and tears.
Pain wracked the knight champion as he slowly pulled his body out of the icy water and onto the frozen shore. Blood ran off his back forming a murky pool under him. Gasping, he coughed up bloody froth from his burning lungs.
Bertravis Liolbane wasn’t sure why he was alive. Lifting his face out of the mud, he stared forlornly back in the direction he had came. I should have stayed, he thought miserably. My King and Queen died and yet I still live.
Flexing his fingers into white hot fists, he wished he had his swords. One had broken while cutting the ropes to his Queen’s barge that carried away her and the dead twin heirs. The second, he had given to King Dorian in his desperate attempt to buy them time to escape from his brother’s men.
If he had either he could end his disgraceful life, dying in the mud like he deserved. Although he had tried drowning himself, somehow he had been washed up here.
As King’s champion, he had sworn to protect the royal family no matter what the cost and had failed. Vivid images of their deaths flashed through his mind, showing every gruesome moment. Why did I survive! The thought haunted his brain.
Glancing up river, he saw a body floating face down. Is that the Queen? His fear filled eyes fixed on it, he realized, it’s one of her maids. Even though he knew his queen was dead, relief surged through him.
The arrow sticking out of his shoulder cut deeply and he nearly passed out from the blinding pain as he struggled onto his hands and knees. After being shot by his cousin’s hidden archers he had received a brutal beating. Gunther, he was sure, had intentionally cracked his ribs with his iron shod boots.
Five generations of Liolbane’s, including his damned cousin, had served as the personal protectors and champions to the royal bloodline. Never had any failed. Until today.
Choking back a sob, he knew he would be remembered as the first.
Maybe, thought the knight champion bitterly, one of the children lived, but he doubted it.
Bertravis had watched his Queen die after he had fallen on the stone docks. The arrows had struck her in the chest with a sickening sound. He could still here them striking her body. He could also hear the splash of the baby falling out of her arms, tumbling into the swirling current of the underground chamber’s river.
In a crumpled ball at the edge of the docks he had watched the second boat carrying the other newborn away become engulfed in flames.
In his head, now, he heard the third sound that echoed throughout his soul. The second baby never stopped screaming in the burning boat as it was swept out of the underground chamber.
A ragged sob tore through him. He had failed in his promise to keep King Dorian’s family safe. By allowing the Queen and her newborns to be killed, he couldn’t ever return to the palace. He could no longer be the Proctor of the Krannion order or champion to the king, because on his watch the royal family had died, killed by the King’s brother. He was now a disgrace to the other Krannion knights still serving honorably.
Being alive with the King’s brother, his cousin, and their personal wizard, Cyadine, plotting against him also posed a danger to his wife and lands. He couldn’t allow harm to come to her. He had to leave.
King Dorian, Queen Ellanor and their children deaths had also killed something inside him. Disgraced or dishonored knights who broke or betrayed their vows were allowed three ways of killing themselves with honor. He had no swords.
He couldn’t die in combat because there were none present here to kill him. That left slavery. He could die fighting in the pits.
Pushing past waves of pain sweeping over his body, Bertravis Liolbane staggered upright studying the dark sky and surrounding landmarks.
A billowing black cloud hung over something on the other side of the river. Desperately brushing mud matted hair out of his eyes with a bloody hand, he blinked away the river water. Looking out again, he saw the burning remains of a boat.
He saw no movement in the smoldering remains. He must have been mistaken. With a heavy heart Bertravis dismissed his surge of hope. For a moment, he thought he had seen a figure clutching something staggering out of the flames.
Now he knew where he was. Kallamar sat at the juncture of three rivers and he was on the Andulin, which flowed south until it reached the Eversea Ocean.
South is good, he thought sadly, tearing his eyes away from the burning remains. South will take me far from here and not bring any danger to my wife. In the south I can receive the death I justly deserved.
The port city of Cor lay in the marshlands where the Andulin ended in a thousand branching streams and the Eversea Ocean began. It was far enough away that Gunther’s men wouldn’t find him until he was dead. Cor was also a den of thieves, slavers, and cutthroats where, despite having a Highlord Captain, only gold really set the laws.
No one there would question why he wanted to sell himself into slavery. The slavers would happily clap him into chains thinking he meant to really fight.
Bertravis Liolbane started walking south in slow ragged steps, leaving behind him a trail of blood and tears.
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