Warrior

Table of Contents

A uthor’s Note

Glossary of T erms

Prologue

C hapter 1

C hapter 2

C hapter 3

C hapter 4

C hapter 5

C hapter 6

C hapter 7

C hapter 8

C hapter 9

C hapter 10

C hapter 12

C hapter 13

C hapter 14

C hapter 15

C hapter 16

C hapter 17

C hapter 18

C hapter 19

C hapter 20

A uthor’s C ommentary

A uthor’s Biography

Copyright © 2011 by Violette

Dubrinsky (Library of Congress)

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E d i t o r :
Erica

Langdon

(Erica

Langdon Editing Services)

Cover Artist:
Renee Flowers (Renee

Flowers Deviant Art)

Any resemblance of characters to

people, living or deceased is

unintentional.

All

trademarks

herein are the property of their

respective owners and used only for

the sake of creating a believable

work of fiction.

Author’s Note

Thank you so much to those who

have continuously requested this

story, and who’ve waited patiently for

me to decide how to distribute it back

to the public. I couldn’t ask for better

readers, and I am thrilled to get this to

you.

This

story

was

originally

published in 2005 in segments, and is

finally available in its entirety. A very

special thank you to Erica Langdon,

my wonderful and talented editor,

who took my vision and helped me

make it better, and Renee Flowers,

who captured the heart of the story in

a beautiful cover that brings a smile to

my face every time I see it.

Warrior
is the first in a trilogy series

featuring

the

three

Lytherian

princesses: Jaisyn St. Ives, Isolde St.

Ives, and Mathilda St. Ives. The other

two stories are in progress.

Glossary of Terms

Old Lands:
a desecrated woodland

area

rumored

to

have

housed

ancestors

from

each

of

the

surrounding kingdoms

Lytheria:
the largest kingdom to the

East of the Old Lands

Royal Family:
St. Ives Dynasty

Mitherie:
the largest kingdom to the

West of the Old Lands

Royal Family:
Kataral Dynasty

Morden:
the largest kingdom to the

North of the Old Lands

Royal Family:
Mor’an Dynasty

Sul an:
the largest kingdom to the

South of the Old Lands

Royal Family:
Shadid Dynasty

Prologue

The Eastlands,

Lytheria

It was a dreary day in Lytheria.

Unlike the long and bright days in

which sunlight and soft winds graced

the people with their presence, this

was one to be blanched at.

As Jaisyn St. Ives sneaked along the

graying stone walls of the inner bailey

and into the stables, she decided the

goddess Lyria was showing anger at

the people’s situation. Rain such as

she’d never seen, coupled with harsh,

biting winds, pelted against the metal

armor and helmet that covered her

body. Her cape clung wetly to the

metal breastplate that covered her

torso, at times obscuring the light but

deadly broadsword that swung from

small hips. In her sixteen years of

existence, this was the worst weather

she’d ever experienced.

Taking a breath to calm the

fluttering of her heart, Jaisyn entered

the stables and made her way to Ajax,

a magnificent, midnight black stallion

her father had purchased from

Mitherie, their western ally. A few

stable hands turned to her, but

thankfully,

with

the

commotion

around them, they saw what she

wanted them to see: an armored

warrior heading for his battle horse.

They dismissed her without a second

glance, returning to their pressing

tasks of caring for the worn-out

horses, and supplying fresh mounts

for the soldiers who needed them. In

the background, a long line of women

trudged

along,

carrying

wooden

buckets of water they’d drawn from

the well supplied by Lytheria’s fresh

springs, water that would be needed if

the castle were to come under siege.

Lytheria was in the midst of a war

with Morden.

Located to the east of the Old

Lands,

razed

and

desecrated

woodlands rumored once to have

housed the ancestors of the people

from all kingdoms, Lytheria was

known for its gentle weather and

scenic landscape. Grassy hills and

deep valleys were among its many

attractions, coupled with tall waterfalls

and wide streams.

Pelting rain and thunderstorms were

things to watch in awe, omens that

spoke of their Goddess’s rage.

Morden, not unlike its Eastern

counterpart, was a kingdom with a

strong army and great wealth. The

difference however, lay in their

ruthlessness. The kings of Morden

had all been raised as warriors, and all

rode under the fear-inducing red-and-

gold banner of the Wolf. Both

kingdoms had survived for centuries,

ruled by their respective royal

families, and had had little contact

until recently. It had been generally

accepted that the kingdoms of the

various regions respected boundaries.

Morden

secured

its

Northlands,

Lytheria the east, Mitherie the west,

and Sulan the south. None of the four

powerful kingdoms had attempted to

breach any other, until now.

By demanding the allegiance of the

smaller kingdoms around his territory

and ruthlessly conquering if no such

allegiance was given, Vulcan Mor’an

of Morden had recently named

himself High King of the North. Once

the north was secure, like the greedy

tyrant he was, the
high king
turned

his attentions to the East, and began

demanding the very same allegiances

from some of the kingdoms there.

Jaisyn’s father, King Wilhelm St.

Ives of Lytheria, had been called upon

by Fardan, a small eastern kingdom

being slowly engulfed by the Wolf.

Wilhelm had decided to lend a portion

of his army to Fardan, not just to get

Vulcan out of the Eastlands, but to

ensure the stable buffer between

Lytheria and Morden.

Instead of chasing the Wolf away,

Wilhelm’s actions enraged him more.

Although it took longer than expected,

Fardan

eventually

submitted

to

Morden. Lytherian soldiers, some

wounded, others weary, and more

than a few dead, returned to their

homeland with the belief that it was

over. No more than two weeks later,

an emissary arrived with a parchment

addressed to Wilhelm. Jaisyn had

watched her father’s face lose its

coloring before he’d summoned his

advisors and the rapid whispering had

begun. She later found out what the

whispering had been about. Lytheria,

for the first time in ages, was going to

war.

The snorting of a horse pulled Jaisyn

from her thoughts. Ajax stared down

at her with flared nostrils and

intelligent eyes. She’d ridden him

numerous times and knew from

experience

that

he

could

be

temperamental. Even as good a rider

as she was, Jaisyn had found herself

face down in soft hay the first time

she’d climbed onto his back. Still, he

was strong and fast, and she would

need a powerful steed for what she

planned.

“You need ’elp wit’ ’im, Master?”

one of the stable boys called out to

her. She started violently, and thought

over the question. Vaulting onto Ajax

was difficult enough when she wasn’t

wearing what felt like three stone of

armor.

Clearing her throat, Jaisyn mustered

the deepest voice a sixteen-year-old

girl could. “Aye.”

“Aye, Master, I fetch ye the block.”

As he set out to do her bidding,

Jaisyn glanced around once more. No

one was staring at her oddly, and why

should they? Although just past her

sixteenth year, she stood at five feet,

seven inches, and with the amount of

chain mail, protective leathers, and

metal armor covering her body, there

was nothing feminine about her

physique.

She was the oldest, and before

Stephen had arrived, her father had

indulged his desire to have a son.

When Wilhelm realized his daughter

had no interest in wooden dolls and

the dainty little dresses fashioned for

them, he’d given her a blunt stick and

used his own practice staff to play

‘battle’ with her. Against the wishes

of

her

mother,

whom

Jaisyn

remembered as being a proper lady,

Wilhelm had commissioned a small

wooden sword for her. Even after

Stephen’s birth the king still indulged

Jaisyn’s use of the sword, and

noticing her mastery of it, allowed her

to practice with his squires.

Her mother disapproved, especially

as Jaisyn was being groomed to be a

queen someday, and it was unheard of

for a lady of her ranking—a royal