To Chain an Elf King

To Chain an Elf King Atley Wykes Alder Circle Press Copyright © 2023 Atley Wykes All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. To request permissions, contact the publisher at [email protected]. Ebook ASIN: B0BY161VNZ First paperback edition June 2023. Edited by Ginger Kane Cover art by Atley Wykes Layout by Atley Wykes Printed by Amazon Printing Services in the USA. Alder Circle Press P.O. Box 115 Somers, WI 53171 atleywykes.com Contents Dedication Maps of Maeoris 1. Chapter 1 2. Chapter 2 3. Chapter 3 4. Chapter 4 5. Chapter 5 6. Chapter 6 7. Chapter 7 8. Chapter 8 9. Chapter 9 10. Chapter 10 11. Chapter 11 12. Chapter 12 13. Chapter 13 14. Chapter 14 15. Chapter 15 16. Chapter 16 17. Chapter 17 18. Chapter 18 19. Chapter 19 20. Chapter 20 21. Chapter 21 22. Chapter 22 23. Chapter 23 24. Chapter 24 25. Chapter 25 26. Chapter 26 27. Chapter 27 28. Chapter 28 29. Chapter 29 30. Chapter 30 31. Chapter 31 Acknowledgements About the Author Newsletter Signup This book is dedicated to all my fellow nerds and lovers of DUNE. When one desert isn’t enough, here is another to call home. More maps of Maeoris can be found at atleywykes.com Chapter 1 Theron I blinked, sand scraping my eyes as my vision cleared. They’d chained me to the wall in a desert cave. The stone was red, flaking like shale... Was I in the Red Wilds or somewhere near Sailtown? The latter made more sense given what happened with... A wave of heat and ice flooded my veins, and a growl escaped me before I shoved the emotion away. No. I couldn’t think about that right now. I needed to keep my head clear if I wanted to survive this. Light came from a smooth hole in the ceiling above, the hiss of falling sand coming from somewhere nearby as the wind shifted. Earthborn iron rubbed against my wrists, digging into my skin like drukkar claws. I inspected my arms—the wounds were deep, my blood flowing freely onto the sandy floor, forming blackened clumps. My legs were numb, the iron preventing me from calling on any magic to heal myself. I only wore my breeches and boots, the rebels having stripped me of my armor when I was captured. I winced, tasting blood as I sat up, the chain from my manacles clanking. A scrape drew my attention as a Kyrie Remnant stepped into view. I recognized her... Peregrine, the rebel leader I’d met years ago in that warehouse. The night Calyx had died because the slaves had betrayed me. When Striker had—No. Not Striker. Her. Green eyes that flashed with anger before softening in arousal filled my mind before I forced the image away. Don’t think about her. Peregrine sneered at me, her yellow hawk-like gaze glinting with malice. “Well, well. Look what the wind blew in. The War Marshal.” Her ebony skin glimmered in the low light, her mangled wings just peeking over her shoulders. A faint limp hinted at a life of toil in the mines, but it didn’t diminish her towering presence. She wore her braids like a crown, each one adorned with shimmering beads and feathers. She didn’t try to intimidate or deride me as she stepped closer, instead radiating quiet confidence. A leader who had earned her place through years of hard work and dedication, no doubt earning the respect of her followers. This wasn’t good. A corrupt leader could be negotiated with; it was the noble ones that sent you to your grave in a hurry. She circled the cave, studying me with her shrewd, yellow gaze. Finally, she stopped in front of me, her voice quiet but laden with unmistakable loathing. “You know why you’re here. The question is whether you’ll cooperate.” I cleared my throat, my tongue a dry and scaly thing in my mouth. “What do you want from me?” “Where are the speaking stones in the castle?” I ground my teeth, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response. “Thank you.” She laughed then, a harsh sound that echoed off the cave walls. “I was hoping to do this the hard way.” Her hawkish eyes pinned me like a mouse in the open desert. “I want you to see what it’s like,” she intoned, her voice cold as Sithos’ fields. “To suffer at the hands of another. Just like you made so many suffer.” She stepped closer and placed one finger on my chin, forcing me to meet her gaze, her nail piercing my skin. “You can’t escape this time,” she hissed, before turning and walking to a leather bag resting against the wall. I clenched my jaw, determined not to show any emotion or weakness as she yanked on the chain connected to my manacles, dragging me up until I was almost suspended, standing only on the balls of my feet. The rebels despised me for what I’d done—bringing escaped slaves back to be punished or executed by Rhazien instead of helping them reach freedom. After the mass revolt five years ago, all I had thought about was revenge. Wanting only to retrieve my sword and bring Striker to justice. It was only recently that I regretted my actions. When she—No. Not right now. Despite my shame and anger, I kept my expression neutral and refused to react to Peregrine’s taunts. I heard the first lash before I felt it. A sharp sting across my back sent a wave of pain radiating through me. I gasped and clenched my fists, willing myself to remain silent as she raised her whip again. The next blow came fast, this time even harder than the first. I gritted my teeth and bit back a scream, focusing instead on breathing through the agony. She stopped after