Legends of Elysia, page 1
Legends of Elysia: Assassins
Yuri Jean-Baptiste
Also By (D2D)
Elysia
Chronicles of Elysia: Rebellion
Legends of Elysia: Awakening
Chronicles of Elysia: Apprentice
Legends of Elysia: Assassins
Alterra Universe
Lightforge
Lightforge: A Light in the Darkness
Metamorphs
Metamorphs: Return of the Legion
Metamorphs 2: Ripple Effect
Metamorphs 3: Fallout
Metamorphs 4: War of the Deus
WarloX
WarloX: Child of Destiny
WarloX: Child of Darkness
WarloX: Child of Madness
While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.
Copyright © 2023 by Yuri Jean-Baptiste
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Cover designed by MiblArt.
Contents
Dedication
Foreword
Elysia World Map
Part One: The Child
A Holy Abomination
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
A Queen Divided
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Part Two: Monsters in the Night
Hard Lessons
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Pariah
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Why We Fight
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
The Pursuit of Justice
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Part Three: Assassins of the Rose
The Vow
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Assassins Unleashed
Chapter 1
Afterword
This book is dedicated to God, above all else, my wonderful wife, and two incredible daughters. Welcome to the world Nevaeh…
Foreword
Thank you so much for taking the time to read Legends of Elysia: Assassins, the next chapter in my epic fantasy series! I hope you enjoy the wonderful adventure that awaits you in this breathtaking new world, and I encourage you to dive into the other books of this expansive universe once you’ve finished! Please make sure that you also check out the other novels in the superhero universe of Alterra with my critically acclaimed series, Metamorphs.
Please don’t forget to leave a review for this novel! I can’t stress enough how important it is to leave reviews as this is the lifeblood for indie authors like myself. Social proof is massive when it comes to new readers and the main deciding factor on whether a new reader will take a chance on an author. Please take a minute to review, even if it’s just through the star rating, as it will help bring more fans to the YJBLiterary Metaverse! You can also sign up for the newsletter to get access to your FREE copy of my prequel! Thank you all again, and see you at the finish line!
-Yuri Jean-Baptiste
Newsletter link: YJBLiterary
Part One: The Child
A Holy Abomination
Year 740; Maha, 77th of Jhiemue
Chapter 1
The Emortan scanned the dense foliage, his head on a swivel. He wiped the cold sweat from his blood-stained forehead. The movement caused a fresh wave of pain to flood the creature’s brain, and he whispered a curse at his foolishness. His frantic flight through the wilds had caused him to forget the large open wound sitting above his right brow. His thoughtless action forced the wound to open further, and a trickle of silver blood passed down the corner of his eye.
Tebril shook his head, recalling the narrow miss that had occurred while guiding his mount through the tall, untamed grass of the Hallowed Plains. He and his fellow trackers had been in hot pursuit of their target when the Human vermin ambushed them. Twenty strong they were, clad in military garments of deep red. They had fought like men possessed. In any other circumstance, Tebril and the other four trackers would have overpowered the Humans, slaying them before they could even beg for their miserable lives. But these were no ordinary men.
Tebril had never ventured this far into the West before, and when he had received this assignment, the Emortu had hoped to capture the target long before they strayed this far into enemy territory. Khanta had never openly declared itself against the rule of Vehdite, but the relationship between the Rose City and King Jaheem had been strained ever since their senator rejected passage of the king’s emissaries at the start of his reign. While admitting Vehdite’s dominance over the Hallowed Plains, Hamed of Khanta had declared his intention to continue leading his people, refusing to bow to Jaheem and declaring himself “lord” of the Western capital.
It still shocked Tebril that such insolence was not dealt with at the time. Yet, having heard tales of the famed Rose Guard and the mighty Hamed, the Emortu understood why Vehdite allowed such a concession. The men of the West were hardy folk, more difficult pests to deal with than their Eastern counterparts. Igniting another century-long war was not something the Fallen wished to pursue, and the entire West would join behind the insolent Khantans if it came to that. In his endless wisdom, Vehdite deferred, preferring to poison the West from the inside out while he gained influence over the stubborn Humans.
Unfortunately, while the other cities around them crumbled beneath the Downfalls’ influence and the subtle pressure from the East, Khanta remained steadfast. They were the last great Human settlement determined to die on their feet. No, Tebril was not pleased to discover their target had brought them so far West, and his fears proved valid when the Rose Guard ambushed their pack.
Tebril had just picked up the scent of their prey when Laele crumpled to the grass beside him. Tebril had turned around in time to watch the scarlet arrow explode from the tracker’s forehead, halting the Emortu in her tracks and preventing a death scream from reaching her throat. The four remaining trackers had raced to their mounts and were preparing to escape when a well-placed tomahawk caught Ilgil between the collarbone and throat. To his credit, the Emortu had pressed on for several meters before the blood loss caused him to fall from the saddle. Their enemies showed no mercy when trampling his body beneath their stampeding hooves.
Perhaps a mile into the chase, they caught up with Dilwae. She was hewn down from her saddle by a bear of a man with a large afro and thick beard. He bore a long red cloak and seemed too commanding a presence to be a simple foot soldier. His steed was immaculate, and he handled the enormous beast with a grace that would put most Emortuus to shame. His greatsword flashed bright in his meaty hands, and he overtook the female Emortu in seconds. He had released a satisfied grunt once his sword found the back of Dilwae’s neck, and he cleaved through the Emortu as if pruning a twig.
The gruesome sound had caused Tebril to look back and identify the source of the commotion. The decision both cost him and saved his life. Tebril had just enough time to see the arrow aimed at the back of his skull, and he jerked to the side. The dart passed across his forehead, leaving a bloody, painful gash that sent him reeling. Tebril lost control of his mount and scrambled to regain hold of the reins. A subsequent arrow came his way, this time sinking into the thick black hide of his Askhest. It punctured the monster’s lungs, and the creature careened to the side, pitching both saddle and rider through the dense patch of grass beside them.
Tebril had landed several meters away, crashing through the brambles and thickets before settling upon his side. The Emortu had suffered a broken arm and several shallow scrapes, but by the favor of Vehdite, he still drew breath. Tebril regained his composure before attempting to move, hoping his stillness would lull his enemies into thinking he was dead.
Lying on the cold, hard soil of the field, Tebril listened for any approaching soldiers riding in his direction. The dying screams of the final tracker, Tymre, reverberated in his ears several seconds later. Tebril held his breath, unwilling to move until he was sure he was safe. It appeared the warriors were converging upon their last kill, as they now spoke openly to one another. The soldiers congratulated one another as they boasted of their skill and where the corpses might be found. Tebril’s cunning was rewarded when he heard a man mentioning his passing.
“…caught that ugly bastard right between the eyes from thirty yards. Struck down his hideous beast right after.” Several chuckles ensued.
The Emortu smiled at his fortune as he flipped over to his belly. The tracker started his crawl through the thicket, careful not to give himself away. With vegetation this large, finding his body would be difficult once they took the time to survey the area around his Askhest. Tebril aimed to be long gone before they suspected he had gotten away.
Several minutes later, Tebril reached the edge of the wilds and scrambled into the valley below, crouching low to avoid detection. There were several hills nearby that might provide adequate cover. Perhaps, even a cave, if he was lucky. Tebril took a few steps toward the nearest hill when a faint scent grabbed his attention. The tracker halted his advance, and his eyes widened. He
The target was close.
Through some stroke of fortune, the Emortu had stumbled upon the female’s scent. The trail of his prey was unmistakable, made even stronger by the smell of blood that mingled with her sweat. She was injured, and even more satisfying than that, she was scared.
Tebril salivated at the thought of his potential kill, and his eyes darted across the valley toward the nearest hill. Yes, just around the curve of the rising mound. Tebril’s hypersensitive vision distinguished the narrow hole that served as the cave’s entrance. As with most caves in this region, it likely served as the home for some subterranean beast or Forsaken One. The tracker had even come across former Haranaen dwellings from ages past, when the First Four lived in peace among each other. The cave would prove an excellent place to capture his target and recover until the Khantan forces vacated the area.
Tebril took a step toward the hill when a sharp, burning sensation flashed across his right ear. The Emortu cried out as he clutched his wounded ear. Silver blood spilled onto his hand. A steel dagger had sunk into the soft earth several feet away, and the Emortu’s blood glittered along the blade. Tebril spun around and unleashed his dagger, fury overriding his survival instincts. The tracker prepared to exact his revenge on the culprit. It surprised him to find a Human woman standing a few feet away.
She was fair to look upon, despite her Human features, yet there was a bitter hardness to her that rivaled even the Emortu people. Her eyes were cold, and her expression remained stoic even as Tebril snarled at her in disgust. She did not wear the trademark crimson cloaks of the Rose Guard. She donned a dark grey coat of fur that hung loosely over her chainmail shirt and armored legs. How she had snuck up behind him was a mystery, but judging from the missing dagger along her belt, Tebril surmised she was the culprit who had struck him. His pale face flushed beneath the moonslight, and the tracker vowed to make the woman pay for her insolence.
“You’re a far way from home, ghostface,” the woman stated in a proud voice. “Don’t you know your kind is not welcome in these lands?”
“You dare speak to your masters in such a way?” Tebril growled, spitting at the ground before her feet. “I shall have your tongue for thinking you can address me with such disrespect!”
“You would have my blade before you even attempted such a foolish desire,” the woman countered with a grim smile. “I recognize no master on these Plains besides the true God of Elysia. You and your people have no sway in these lands or in my heart. You’ve overstepped your boundaries and encroached upon the land of the Freedmen. As a result, you must pay the penalty for such a gross violation. Lay down your weapon and surrender, or I promise you will lose much more than just an ear.”
“Your words don’t scare me, dog,” Tebril scoffed. “Before you threaten me, think about improving your aim. I might have reconsidered my stance had you not missed from a space of ten yards.”
“I didn’t miss.”
Tebril narrowed his eyes, and his vision went red at her implied insult. The Emortu refused to accept that she had spared his life, and he was determined to show her the errors of her brashness. While he was no soldier, they trained Tebril enough in the ways of the blade that he could overpower this feeble creature without difficulty. No sane man engaged in a battle against an Emortu one-on-one, especially not a woman. He would silence her bold talk soon enough.
Tebril stepped forward, blade at the ready. He lunged with the unnatural speed and agility of his kind. The motion was a blur to the eyes of most Humans, difficult to track until it was too late. But it soon became clear that this was no normal woman.
The female’s left hand flew to her hip before Tebril had taken his second step. Tebril saw the silver glint of steel as she prepared to remove her sword. The tracker’s lips curled into a sneer, recognizing that her movements would be too slow. By the time her sword was ready to strike, Tebril would firmly plant his dagger inside her skull.
So focused was he on the sword arm, Tebril failed to notice the woman’s right hand rising from her side. The Emortu didn’t spot the dagger hidden beneath her sleeve until it was halfway through the air. Tebril panicked and tried to adjust his speeding body to evade the blade. However, the woman hadn’t misspoken about her accuracy. The tip of the dagger plunged into Tebril’s left eye, blinding the Emortu and sending shockwaves of pain reverberating within his skull.
Tebril’s head rocked back from the blow, and for a moment, he forgot about his desire for blood. A cold realization flooded his body as he scrambled to recover and avoid a certain end. Half-blind and stunned by the pain, Tebril stumbled to a halt and prepared to retreat. There was still a slim chance he might escape.
That thought, along with any other Tebril hoped to complete, was cut short from existence. The woman’s sword swept across the Emortu’s neck.
Tebril would never find out what became of his target or how close he had come to discovering an earth-shattering revelation. What he came to find, however, was to never underestimate the skill and power of a woman possessed. Particularly, one who sat upon the Western throne.
Layla Ndasi was cleaning her blade along the grass when she heard the approaching hooves behind her. She turned to find her squadron moving in on the bloody scene. One man still held her horse’s reins while the others looked on in approval at her handiwork. The broad-shouldered man bent low in his saddle to return the beautiful beast to its rightful owner, and Layla nodded to him in gratitude.
“Thank you for watching Grace while I was busy handling this filth,” Layla said, stroking the dark mare. “Though she would have loved to join me, I couldn’t risk our friend slipping away.”
“Not a problem,” the man replied. “It was fortunate you picked up on his movements before it was too late. Another few seconds and he would’ve been hiding amongst the hills. Besides, we both know Grace enjoys my company over yours.”
“Stick to battlefield tactics, General Nazir. Your attempts at jest are as pitiful as your skills on the dance floor.”
“Now you’re just being petty,” Nazir remarked with a roll of his eyes. “There are still bruises on my feet from our previous attempt, and I’m sure the healers have given up hope of me ever recovering. They still believe my wounds resulted from being trampled by an Aurox as opposed to an uncoordinated queen. How I can still manage on the battlefield is nothing short of a miracle.”
Layla tried to hide the smirk edging on the corner of her lips. That damned man always seemed to know how to make her smile, even amid grim business. He wasn’t lying either. He had a way with horses and a knack for dancing. Unfortunately, Layla’s grace on the battlefield had never translated to the dance floor, resulting in several uncomfortable moments for those determined enough to court her. These days, she subjected only Nazir to such torture. Thankfully, the two had been friends for so long Layla could easily ignore his teasing. His comment regarding her newfound station, however, remained a sore spot.
It was less than a week since her father’s passing, and Layla Ndasi hadn’t officially claimed the title many had already begun to call her. Even hearing it from Nazir’s lips proved difficult, and it threatened to erase the smile from her face. Not that she didn’t desire to inherit the mantle. After all, Layla had been preparing to claim the throne since she was just a little girl, barely able to hold a sword. She wished to lead her people, to guide them to better days than those her father and ancestors had endured.
But the thought of Senator Shakir Ndasi no longer being there was a wound too deep to bear. She had loved her father dearly, and as his only child, the senator had invested much in her upbringing ever since his wife’s passing. She would be the first woman to take charge of the Western lands, and he very much desired to set her up for success. Whether it was including Layla in the daily meetings with their advisors or the personal training she received on how to handle a blade, Layla was deeply involved in the court from the moment she could hold herself upright. Everything Layla was, she owed to her father.
