The Sword and the Sylph (Elemental Series)

 

 

The Sword and the Sylph

 

By

 

Elizabeth Rose

 

Copyright © 2013 by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik

 

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarities to actual organizations or persons living or deceased is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever without the author’s written permission.

 

Cover by Elizabeth Rose Krejcik

Cover image provided by Shutterstock.

E-books by Elizabeth Rose
:


Lord of the Blade


Lady Renegade


Lord of Illusion


Lady of the Mist

The Caretaker of Showman’s Hill


Doubting Thomas


Luring Levi
(Coming Soon)

Curse of the Condor

Familiar


The Pandora Curse


The Oracle of Delphi


Thief of Olympus


Kyros’ Secret

One Red Rose


The Dragon and the Dreamwalker


The Duke and The Dryad


The Sword and the Sylph


The Sailor and the Siren
(July 2013)

 


(Legacy of the Blade Series)


(Tarnished Saints Series)


(Greek Myth Fantasy Series)


(Elemental Series)

 

Elizabeth’s author page

Elizabeth’s Website
(Elizabethrosenovels.com)

Table of Contents:

 

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

Chapter22

Chapter23

Chapter24

Chapter 25

From the Author

 

Chapter 1

 

 

Sir Braden of Manterra stood upon the peaks of Mount Calila with the duke, Lord Wolfe at his side. The winds picked up around them as he opened the lid of the stone urn that held the ashes of the late Earl Clive.


Lord Wolfe, are you certain you would not like to be the one to scatter your uncle’s remains to the wind?”

“Nay, Sir Braden. My uncle w
as an evil man and the cause of many sorrows as well as the deaths of many who didn’t deserve to die. You scatter the remains. Since he was like a father to me after the deaths of my parents, I feel I owe this to him. But I still cannot forgive him for the things he’s done, especially for the death of my wife’s mother. You do the deed, Sir Braden, as I cannot bring myself to do it.”

“Aye, my lord,” said the Sir Braden, stepping to the edge of the cliff and turning
over the urn, allowing the dead man’s ashes to scatter on the breeze.

As soon as the ashes were emptied from the jar, the wind picked up, flapping
both their long cloaks behind them. Sir Braden’s long, walnut hair lifted into the air around his shoulders, and he quickly pulled it into a queue and tied it back with a leather strip he took from around his wrist. They turned to leave without a word, but a whirling sound made him stop and look back.

“My lord!” He called out, not able to believe his eyes. The wind picked up the ashes, swir
ling them around, forming a whirlwind towering up into the sky.

“What the hell is that?” grumbled Lord Wolfe, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the odd occurrence

“Almost as if the man is rising from the dead and still creating an imbalance in nature.”

“If he rises from the dead, I’ll be the first to strike him down,” said Wolfe.

Braden thought he saw something move in the shadows and squinted, trying to see into the distance. Then the whirlwind stopped as suddenly as it started, the ashes falling down the side of the cliff.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” said Wolfe. “Somethin
g about this place gives me an unsettled feeling deep in my gut.”

“Aye, me too.” Sir Braden followed
behind Lord Wolfe, but stopped dead in his tracks and turned around quickly. He thought for a mere moment he saw a flash of colors – yellow and white from next to him. He also could have sworn he felt someone touch him on the shoulder as well. The smell of lilacs clung to the air though it was near autumn and the spring flowers had not been seen for months.

He looked around, getting the odd sensation of being watched. His hand went to the hilt of his sword in precaution, though he did
not get the sense of danger. Curiosity and intrigue coursed through him instead. His eyes scanned the top of Mount Calila but no one was there.

“Sir Braden, if you’d like to stay and admire
the view I would leave you here. But my new bride awaits me back at Castle Manterra and I have no desire to stand atop a mountain with the cold wind whipping around me. After all, I have a warm meal as well as a warm wife awaiting me back home. Now are you coming or not?”

“Aye,” he said, slowly turning back to follow. But something about this place intrigued him, and he couldn’t help but feel that this wasn’t th
e last visit he’d be making to the top of Mount Calila.

 

* * *

 

Portia-Maer watched as the intruders descended her mountain. They’d never even known she’d been standing right next to them the entire time. She was an elemental of the air and could command the breeze as well as rain and snow. She’d also inherited from her late Fae mother the gift of invisibility. However, her father’s human blood running through her veins made her power of turning invisible unstable. If she concentrated, she could stay hidden from sight for long periods of time. But once she was distracted, her power faded in and out.

She
’d almost been distracted by the handsome knight with the long hair lifting in the breeze. If she hadn’t regained her concentration, she would have been discovered. He was very handsome. His face was noble, his body strong, and his eyes were the bright blue color of the sky she knew so well. She had the odd sensation she’d seen him somewhere before but couldn’t remember where or when. But he intrigued her more than any man she’d ever met. She’d heard the other man call him Sir Braden, and she couldn’t help but want to know more about this knight.


Portia-Maer,” came the shrill voice of her wretched stepmother over the hills. Portia materialized when Otillia, Countess of Calila rode forward atop a horse accompanied by a castle guard on each side of her. The woman had eagerly wed her father just after the death of Portia’s fae mother. ’Twas only a year ago, and though she was well beyond the age of needing a mother, her father was convinced a female presence in her life would be beneficial.

“I am here,” she called out, not w
anting to give away her whereabouts, but knew her ailing father’s life depended upon it. Her father, Magnus, Earl of Calila, hadn’t been the same since the day of her mother’s death. If Portia’s ability to heal with a mere kiss hadn’t dissipated the same day her mother died, perhaps she could have healed her father by now. She knew he had many inner wounds from previous battles, but she still felt he ailed more from a broken heart than any physical injury.

“Your services are needed anon,” said the woman.

“My father?” she asked, hoping she could try to heal him again. Or if not, just be by his side to comfort him and lift his spirits. It had been a long while now since her father had called for her. But her hopes were dashed and her heart sank at the woman’s answer.

“Nay. Leave him be as your presence only seems to upset him. What I need
you to do is to sneak into Banesmoor Castle and tell me exactly where their defenses lie as well as any of their weaknesses.”


You are planning to attack them again?” she asked, hating the way her stepmother had made her use her elemental gift of invisibility for less than honorable purposes lately. “My spying has already proved of no use, as we were not able to overtake them these past few times on the road.”

“This time would be different,” she assured her. “We would not stop them on the road, but rather surprise them in their own surroundings.”

“Why would you even want to attempt this?” she asked the countess. “Their troops outnumber ours and their castle is twice the size.”

“Lord Solomon of Banesmoor has never been our ally
.”

“Neither has he been our enemy,” she eagerly pointed out.

“’Tis time Calila expands its holdings,” she said. “I’ve heard it said much wealth and many fertile lands are under Lord Solomon’s control. This mountain is cold and most our wares have to be brought in from the coast. ’Tis a steep climb to Calila and our coffers would be full right now if we had a better way to acquire what we need.”


I don’t believe stealing what we need is the solution to our problems. You may not like this mountain but remember it is also a natural defense against any enemy,” Portia pointed out. “That is the reason my father built this castle atop the mountain in the first place.”

“Nay, he built it per your mother’s ridiculous request to stay near the sky. Now
as acting ruler of Calila in your father’s place while he is . . . indisposed, I command you to do as I order.”

“I want to see my father,” she told her. “I need to know that this is his order as well.”

“There would be no visit to your father’s bedside until after you’ve brought me the information I request.”

Portia did not like the whole idea, but knew the countess would do anything in her power to keep her away from her father. She’d turned invisible several times and
sneaked to his bedside to be with him, but this was different. Her stepmother knew her weakness and recently put her father in an underground chamber, moving him from his solar.

Now
Portia’s life was at stake every time she went to visit him, as being locked inside the earth was what could kill an elemental of the air. ’Twas exactly what had killed her mother the day she fell down the well and stayed undiscovered for two days time.

Portia
needed to be out in the open and free. She needed to be able to breathe. She had a fear of enclosed small spaces and rightly so. If she wanted to see her father again, she had no choice but to go as a spy to Banesmoor.

“I would go,” she announced, already regretting it. “But when I return I demand to see my father.”

“You would make no demands on me, Fae. And if you ever decide to talk to me that way again, I’ll lock you away so deep within the earth that you’ll never again see your precious sky.”

The thought of that sickened Portia, and she
already felt trapped being under the control of her demanding stepmother and not being able to see her father. She had to do whatever it took to get things back to the way they once were. She accepted the horse the guard offered and headed down the mountain and across the moors toward Banesmoor to do her infamous deed.

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