Ghost of the Erlyn
©2018-2020 CJ AARON
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Contents
ALSO IN SERIES
Prologue
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
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Epilogue
FROM THE PUBLISHER
ALSO IN SERIES
About the Author
ALSO IN SERIES
A TRIBUTE AT THE GATES
FULCRUM OF LIGHT
GHOSTS OF THE ERYLN
Prologue
The heavy oaken door closed with a thundering boom. The reverberations echoed around the great hall, paying homage to the finality of the act. Lord Eligar sunk into his cushioned chair with a profound sense of relief that the day had at long last reached its close. He leaned back, crossing his right leg over his left, his fingers closing longingly around the stem of the newly filled goblet of wine. He lifted the glass to his nose, gently swirling the deep red liquid; closing his eyes, savoring the complex aromas that flooded his senses.
Fay Eligar routinely made himself available to hear the complaints and petitions of those who lived on the lands that fell under the dominion of House Eligar. It was a habit instilled in him since his youth, an inheritance from his father's rule.
The great hall was a spacious chamber; its high vaulted ceilings supported by thick columns, evenly spaced along both walls. Light shone through the narrow, stained glass windows. Their vibrant colors danced along the walls and floor as they caught the rays of the setting sun.
A large, beautifully carved, wooden desk dominated the front left corner of the hall. It had been his home for the balance of the day. To his left, on a raised dais at the end of the room rested a massive, ornately carved and decorated throne.
He wrinkled his nose unintentionally at the sight.
He hated that chair.
Hated looking down on those who sought him out for whatever reason. It wasn’t the petitioners he despised—it was the groveling and disconnect that it created. His father had imparted him with a valuable lesson before his untimely passing.
Look someone in the eyes on their level and you’re bound to hear truth with much less delay.
He could still hear the booming voice of his father resound through the hall. His mood had blanched as the day grew late. Lord Eligar looked with trepidation at the disarrayed stack of parchment to his right, yet it was the small missive lying face down on the desk in front of him that caused his consternation. The day’s requests had been mild if not boring in their tedium. As was the new norm over the previous moons, however, reports of mild aggression at their borders had increased steadily.
With a sigh, he flipped over the parchment in front of him. Though his eyes had catalogued every word already, he carefully scanned the brief document.
Dearest Lord Eligar,
The Honorable King Lunek the Third again wishes to express his deepest condolences at the loss of your tribute and soldiers. He hopes you now understand the importance of leaving the transport of the tributes from their unmolested security of The Stocks in the hands of the prescribed guards. The Harvest is to be a joyous occasion for the Blessing of the King is not a gift bestowed without due care and the utmost reverence. He fears that the sanctity of the event has been forever marred by your selfish acts.
After careful consideration, in light of recent events, however, your petition to attend the upcoming Deliverance has been denied.
As to the matter of your accusations regarding the hostilities at your borders, the King has found them baseless. The insinuations that either House Sarnac or the Royal House are involved are meritless and an insult to their honor. Complaints of this nature will no longer be tolerated and will cease immediately.
Furthermore, the King maintains that it is your family’s continued reluctance to house larger contingents of Royal Troops in your cities that is the root cause of the hostilities plaguing your unfortified borders. It is his sincerest hope that you reconsider these requests for the safety of the citizens of Damaris residing under the protection of your House.
Lord Eligar tossed the missive to the side, sending it spinning off the edge of the table. His exclusion from the Deliverance was neither unexpected nor unwelcome. In truth, he had no interest in participating. The request was merely an added effort
