Sitnalta: Sitnalta Series Book 1

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Dedication

Chapters

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Epilogue

About the Author

Pandamoon Publishing

Sitnalta

By

Alisse Lee Goldenberg

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

© 2013 by Alisse Lee Goldenberg

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Pandamoon Publishing. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

www.pandamoonpublishing.com

Jacket design and illustrations © Pandamoon Publishing.

Pandamoon Publishing and the portrayal of a panda and a moon are registered trademarks of Pandamoon Publishing.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

Edition 1.01, 2016

ISBN-10: 991213130

ISBN-13: 978-0-9912131-3-9

Dedication

This book is for my dad: The man who reads and edits everything I write before anyone else, and the man who wanted to name our dog Najort.

Prologue

Princess Learsi stood at the entranceway to the great hall. She looked around at the hundreds of guests who had arrived for the celebration. She felt faint and short of breath. Her nervousness was threatening to overwhelm her. Every bone in her body was telling her to make a run for it, but she knew she could not do that. If she ran, she would bring ruin to her father and his kingdom. As the dutiful daughter she was, that was something she just could not do to him. On legs that were threatening to give out, she took the first few steps forward down the aisle. Left together, right together, left together, right together. She had to keep reminding herself to breathe, but the pearl-embroidered bodice she wore was tied far too tightly for the breaths to be anything but shallow. She peered at the hordes of people around her, as they whispered and wondered at her beauty.

Her long peacock-blue hair, pilled high atop her head, symbolized an ancient and royal house, while a lace veil concealed her dark amethyst eyes. Her lithe, graceful figure was the envy of countless women, and even her apparent nerves did not mar the tall, confident posture of her back.

Learsi remembered back to the months before this fateful day, when her father came into her chambers grinning with delight. She was thrilled at seeing him so happy. He had been close to illness with the stress and fear of the previous years. Their kingdom was a small one, and suffering from poverty. That day, he had come to her to announce that he had wonderful news. He had secured a match for her. Not just any match, she was to wed the King of Colonodona, the largest and wealthiest kingdom in the known world. This match would save her parents' small kingdom with all their financial troubles and outside threats from Colonodona. Princess Learsi had accepted the news with the calm submission expected of a princess. She knew what this match would bring to her father’s kingdom. He would have enough gold, jewels, and influence to pull his kingdom out of its recession. But on the inside, she was quaking with fear. She had heard that King Supmylo of Colonodona was much more than a tyrant; he had the reputation of behaving like an ogre, treating people with cruelty and disdain. He cared more for his fortune, and his ability to control all around him, than for anything else. In the entire world, there was no one crueler. His kingdom lived in fear of his foul moods, for when they occurred, which was often, many lives and limbs were lost. Learsi suspected he only wanted her for her looks, and she was not far off the mark. Despite the fact that she grew to live in dread of her upcoming marriage, however, she did not protest the match. She had been raised to obey her parents, and she did so in every aspect of her life. She loved them too much to hurt them by protesting.

She had not met her future husband before her marriage, and still clung to the hope that the stories she had heard of him were just that—stories. Surely no one could be as cruel as he was rumoured to be.

That day, as she walked down the aisle, she glanced at her husband-to-be. He stood well above everyone else in the hall. He was solidly muscled, which made him appear to be taller than he actually was. His eyes were steel gray, and he had a broad back. His large, domed head was bald, and he had a fringe of slick black hair that was gathered in a ponytail, and tied back with a black satin ribbon at the nape of his neck. A matching beard and mustache outlined his face, and his thin lips were pulled into a smirk. Learsi saw that his clothes were impeccably tailored, and of the latest fashion. His very person was neat and well groomed, but he had an aura around him that drew shivers from all who stood nearby. He gazed down upon her as if to say, I own you.

King Supmylo stood at the altar, leering at Learsi. Her stomach turned at the thought of calling this man husband. She peered at her father, who appeared to be bursting with pride, so she continued the march, finally taking her place next to Supmylo at the alter. For her, the rest of the ceremony passed by in a blur. She did not even realize it had ended until well after the crowd’s cheering had ceased. Only then did she realize that she was now Queen Learsi of Colonodona, wife of King Supmylo.

~ ~ ~

Far away from the castle was a cave, tucked away in a forest glen. It was the most secluded place in all of Colonodona, which made it an ideal home for the cave’s sole resident. His name was Najort, and he was a troll. He was short, and powerfully built, with a mop of unruly brown curls. No one could mistake the strength in his large hands. His face, though fearsome to behold, appeared as if a sculptor had been unsure of how to mold his clay, and had given up part way through the project. But the troll's eyes were warm and kindly, as was his heart. Unfortunately, for Najort, no one ever got past his misshapen face to see his eyes.

On this night of Learsi's wedding to Supmylo, Najort was sitting in the entrance to his cave being lulled to sleep by the peace and quiet, when all of a sudden he heard footsteps, and they were coming towards him. This was an unusual sound in his hidden glen. Najort pulled himself to his feet and looked around in confusion. Who would be coming here? No one ever came to this part of the forest, he thought. Najort was unsure of what to do. Were the footsteps friendly? If not, what would he be able to do?

Najort was no fighter—of that he was certain. He decided to try talking to them.

Who-who’s there? he stammered. He got no response. He decided to try again, only louder. Who is out there? he called.

A human figure stepped out of the darkness. Najort could see that it was tall and thin with a head covered in close-cropped silvery hair. His face was clean-shaven, and he had a hooked nose under a pair of steely eyes. Najort was fearful of this man, and he knew the man could see that.

Calm yourself, said the stranger. His voice was soft in contrast to his appearance, and Najort could feel himself relax in spite of his every instinct. I do not intend to harm you. I come in search of a favour.

Najort reclaimed his voice. A favour—of what kind? Why should I grant you a favour? I have no idea who you are, how you know me, and how you know where I live. I will grant you nothing until I have my answers.

The man smiled. Yes, of course. You have every right to be suspicious. I will answer you. As to who I am, I am Kralc, the Wanderer, and procurer of magics. I know who you are because I have always known. I spend my life searching for pure souls, and yours is the purest I have seen in a long time. That is why I have come to you to ask this favour.

In spite of himself, Najort was curious, if not the tiniest bit flattered. And what pray tell is this favour? he found himself asking.

In response, Kralc pulled a pouch off of his belt and handed it to Najort. This is the favour. I want you to guard this with your very life, if need be. Many people are going to want this, and I need it to be where no one will ever think of looking. That place is with you.

Najort held the tiny pouch in his enormous hands. He looked at it in confusion. What is it?

Inside, you will find a coin–a coin with phenomenal power. It will grant the holder any wish his, or her, heart desires. But in the wrong hands . . . Kralc shrugged. I trust I can count on you to do what is right.

I swear to you, my Lord, I will protect the coin, Najort told the wizard. I will do what is right. I will not use the coin for my own benefit.

I know you will not do so.

Najort looked quizzically at Kralc. How do you know this for certain?

I told you. I spend my life searching for souls such as yours, replied Kralc. And with that, he turned and vanished into the night, leaving Najort standing dumbfounded at the mouth of his cave clutching the small velvet sack in his hand.

~ ~ ~

One year later . . .

King Supmylo could not stop pacing. The Queen had been in labour for hours. Did it always take so long? He was not truly worried about her—he was merely impatient with the desire to see his son. He never liked to wait for anything and the birth of his heir, his firstborn son, was not something he wanted to have to wait for. The fact that this was out of his hands—that he had no control over the situation—frustrated him to no end. He could not wait to see his child. His wife’s fine looks, combined with his physical prowess would certainly be a sight to see. His son would certainly be a formidable ruler. Supmylo would see to that. He would mold his son to be fearless, reckless, and above all things, a strong pillar of strength. With Learsi's looks and brains, coupled with Supmylo's ogre genes, their horde of boys would be a force to be reckoned with. He would raise him in the same fashion he had been raised: with a firm hand, a strong sense of discipline, and warlike precision. His father raised Supmylo to believe that strength was everything. If your people did not fear you, you were a weak leader and ripe for the picking. He had taken every lashing, and every word and lesson to heart. He would treat his son the same way his father had treated him.

He remembered the day his father had died. How he had sat at his side, feeling his father’s great strength leave him in waves. His father had gripped his hand tightly and told him that he had seen his true destiny. Supmylo was to be the King of the most powerful land ever known. His wife would be from the oldest royal bloodline, and his child would do great things. This was the day that child was to be born.

Pacing up and down the castle halls outside Learsi's door, Supmylo wrung his hands, growling under his breath. What was taking his wife so long? It was bad enough that she’d taken ill during the last months of the pregnancy—but now she was taking her sweet time delivering his child. It was not fair!

Finally after what seemed like centuries to the expectant father, the midwife exited Learsi’s chamber. She was a tiny, woman named Aud. Supmylo could see she was pale, her graying hair was escaping its bun, and her features were drawn with exhaustion. She hesitantly walked up to the King holding a little bundle in her arms.

Sire? Aud asked nervously.

Is it over?

Yes. But I am sorry.

What for?

Well, I am not sure how to say this—you do realize that it was a difficult pregnancy for your wife, and the labour . . . she trailed off.

Supmylo was losing his patience. What the devil are you trying to tell me, woman? Out with it! he bellowed.

The bundle in her arms began to squirm in fear at the sound of his voice. Aud clutched it closer to her breast to protect it from its father. I am trying to say, Sire, that your wife unfortunately did not survive the labour. She died in childbirth. I am sorry, but the Queen is—dead.

Supmylo waved the comment away. The child, however, is not.

Yes, Sire. I am glad to say that before the Queen died she delivered a healthy baby girl. It was the Queen’s dying wish that the baby be named Sitnalta, after her grandmother, I believe she said.

Supmylo stared in horror at the bundle. A girl? No! How could his wife betray him like this? A girl! There was no way that the child his father had foreseen was a mere girl. This was not possible! This was his one chance to make his father’s words come true, and he could feel it slipping away.

He glanced at the midwife in disgust. A girl? Are you saying that my wife gave me a daughter? That deceitful woman gave me nothing but trouble all through our marriage, and after that, she had the unmitigated gall to leave me with—a daughter? He jabbed his fist towards the baby, "Take that wretched thing out of my sight. Find someone in the castle