Elizabeth Drakes's Site

Fantasy Romance

Knight

Available for Pre-Order: A Knight’s Redemption

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3d-3

 

What secrets are okay to bury to save the life of a child? A town? A province? And who will pay the price when those secrets are unearthed?

Sir York buried his noble title and his past to join the Knights of Valor. He then accepted the most difficult of assignments to prove his dedication: rebuild the war-torn province of Marren. But the annual harvest is the least of his worries as a powerful and ancient evil threatens to consume all in it’s path, including every soul in Marren. When a beautiful but reclusive mage saves his life, Sir York will do anything to win her help to save Marren. Anything but fall in love with her.

Tessa couldn’t care less about Marren. Or so she tells herself. But they need her magic to survive, and so does Sir York, a man far too handsome, too charismatic, and too blessed by the gods. After all she’s endured, the last thing she needs is to fall in love with someone that will break her heart as surely as he will. Especially if he ever learns the truth about who she really is.

Just when it seems the people of Marren may actually stand a chance, unearthed secrets lead to a dead woman and a holy inquisition. Now, neither Sir York’s blade nor Tessa’s magic is enough to save them all. As darkness descends, Sir York and Tessa must face their pasts and risk everything, including their hearts, before the ancient evil devours them all.

Available for pre-order now!

Short Story: Mara’s First Hellfire

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I sometimes enjoy taking my characters for a spin in the sandbox of my imagination.

I have a character that has been knocking around in my head for sometime. You met her in Knight of Valor, and while I have a hazy idea of where her future takes her, she’s very different from other characters I’ve written. To help me better understand her, I wrote a short story from her point of view.

 

Mara’s First Hellfire

Mara swept the first young Knight’s feet out from beneath him and shoved him hard with her shield. He crashed to the ground, and before he could roll away, she hit his breastplate with her sword.

A second Knight charged her, and she pivoted, letting his momentum in full armor carry him past her. As he tripped over the first Knight, Mara hit his back with the flat of her sword.

Two kill shots.

Both Mara’s.

Anything but a training exercise, and the two Knights of Valor would be dead.

There was laughter and teasing from the sidelines, but a quick look from Mara silenced the other Knights. “How long will any of you survive in the eastern provinces? A day? A week, at most?”

Knight Keenan helped the two younger men back to their feet. “We’re practicing. They’ll get better.”

“But not good enough.”

“Not all of us can be Sir Marcus,” the Knight Mara tripped growled.

Mara pierced the boy with her hard stare. “Sir Marcus spent his life training to fight a lich. You spent yours training to protect the safe streets of Tamryn. The difference shows.”

Knight Keenan cleared his throat. “We’ll keep practicing.”

Mara studied the assembled Knights, her gaze resting on each man in turn. “Anything you face in the eastern provinces will be alive because it’s survived worse than whatever haunts your nightmares. Do you think a wendigo gets knocked down during practice then toddles off to say a few prayers?”

The Knights stared back at her, and several of them were clenching their fists at their sides.

Good. Let them get angry. Better angry than dead. “Next lesson.” Mara motioned to a figure on the sidelines dressed in a plain brown cloak.

The woman walked over to Mara and bowed, then turned toward the Knights.

“Mage Skyla,” Sir Keenan said. “What are you doing here?”

“She’s helping me demonstrate a lesson,” Mara said. “Are your healers out here?”

Sir Keenan nodded toward Knight Matthias, but concern reflected in his pale green eyes. “Is this safe?”

“Less dangerous than sending out half-trained men.”

Knight Keenan glanced at Skyla then stepped back. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Mara glanced back at the woman in the robes. Her brown hair was tied in a simple ponytail, and her large eyes seemed too big for her face. She was easy to underestimate as so many mages were.

“Just like we practiced,” Mara said.

Skyla nodded and walked several sword lengths behind Mara.

“Do you think your Knights can beat Skyla and me?” Mara raised a challenging brow at Sir Keenan. “Or are you going to send them to their prayer vigil and hope Dracor gives them fighting skills?”

“I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“Not what I asked.” Mara smiled at the gathered Knights, a taunting expression meant to rile them. “Pick your best seven. If they can get three hits in before I get a killing blow on each of them, your god wins this round, and I will come back and help you train them until the new moon.”

Sir Keenan glanced at the recruits then back at Mara. “You called for a healer. What do you have in mind?”

“Don’t think seven of your Knights can get in three hits?”

“And if they can’t?”

“You owe Skyla and me a hellfire at Ndrek’s bar.” Not that Mara wanted one, but Skyla did if Sir Keenan was buying.

Sir Keenan stared from her back to the recruits. “Seven against you and Skyla?”

Mara nodded.

“Until the new moon?”

Mara nodded again. knowing she had him. He wouldn’t get her help until the new moon, but the young Knights would still learn a very valuable lesson.

“They could really use the practice against someone with your skills. You’re sure Skyla won’t be hurt?”

“It’s not her you should be worrying about.”

Mara fell into her battle stance, and she felt Skyla building the first spell as seven young Knights took their positions opposite her.

Sir Keenan signaled the start of combat, and Skyla let loose with the spell.

A wall of flames scorched the ground and rose up between Mara and the Knights. Mara ignored the fire, ducking her head as she charged through them and hit the breastplate of one of the Knights. Pivoting, she tapped the breastplate of a second before any of them had recovered their wits enough to close their mouths.

The remaining five backed away from the fire and Mara’s blade.

Just as she’d anticipated.

Skyla loosed her second spell, and the ground under the remaining Knight’s feet turned to mud.

Mara charged.

Slamming her shield into the first Knight’s sword, she shoved hard and sent him stumbling back then barreled into the second. Surprise widened his eyes, and when he tried to turn, he slipped in the mud.

Mara slammed his chest plate with her sword, and if it hadn’t been a practice blade, she’d have accidentally killed the Knight. Instead, she sent him into the mud with the first, whose chest plate she’d already hit.

Both young men would hurt, but the bruises would teach a lesson they wouldn’t forget.

The remaining three Knights extricated themselves from the mud as Mara circled around them. She smiled as one tried to flank her while the other two came at her. Sprinting towards one, she used her shield as a battering ram and knocked him to the ground as the second scored a glancing blow against her arm.

She pivoted and knocked his feet out from underneath him them hit his chest plate with her sword. Leaping over him, she tapped the Knight she’d steamrolled to the ground.

One Knight remained.

As he stared at her, black vines shot out of the ground and encased his feet, rooting him.

Mara circled around him, but he couldn’t turn to face her. She came up behind him and tapped the middle of his back.

There were growing whispers that the battle hadn’t been fair. That they hadn’t been warned.

Mara only smiled. “Combat isn’t about fair. Or justice. Or right and wrong. It’s about winning. In real combat, Skyla would’ve been using fireballs, poison clouds, and ice storms.”

The murmurs grew louder.

“You were so focused on me, not one of you tried to stop her. You’d all be dead now because of it. Never underestimate a mage.”

“Good lesson,” Sir Leopold said. “Well done, both of you.”

Mara felt the High-Knight’s faded blue gaze fix on her. She met his stare, her face impassive even as her stomach clenched. Tall and broad, the only thing that belied his age was the silver in his hair and the rank insignia on his uniform.

She wondered again what he’d feel like beneath her.

Stabbing the thought and leaving it to bleed to death, Mara handed her practice sword back to Sir Keenan.

She picked up her sword, inspected it, then sheathed it. “One hit to seven kills. See you at Ndrek’s.”

Sir Keenan nodded then hurried to check on his men.

 

Six Lies about Armor You Probably Believe

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There are lots of myths that surround knights. Many of their stories have turned into legends, and even now, fantasy is its own genre with its own stories.

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I can hear Excalibur calling.

While an author can make up just about any rules for their world if they’re willing to follow them, my stories are loosely based on medieval Europe and Ancient Rome. As such, I do a fair amount of research.

As such, I have learned a great deal of things I thought were true simply weren’t.

Six Lies about Armor You Probably Believe

 

1. Men in armor had to be hoisted into their saddles with a crane.

This is absolutely wrong, and people have proven it by wearing period appropriate pieces and mounting a horse without help. My guess is this misconception was started when a scholar lifted the armor a knight wore. Possibly a Victorian scholar as they seem to frequently be at the root of historical misconceptions. Either way, it makes no sense for a knight to wear something into battle that would make it cumbersome to get on his horse. Being mounted was one of the tactical advantages a knight brought over a foot soldier.

2. Men in armor struggled to move.

Actually, a trained combatant, particularly a knight, had no trouble wearing and moving in a full suit of armor. An entire suit of “heavy” armor weighed between 45-55 pounds. This is less than a fireman carries with oxygen gear, and less than what most men have been carrying into battle since the nineteenth century. Furthermore, this armor was evenly spread across the body, rather than being concentrated on the chest as most modern gear is.

3. Plate armor made moving even harder.

Plate armor didn’t impair movement much at all as it was made up of individual elements for each limb, and each of these were linked by movable rivets and leather straps, allowing for unimpaired movement. A man in full plate armor could run, get up off the ground, and mount his horse without help. To put it in perspective, the French knight Maréchal Boucicault, while in full armor, climbed up the underside of a ladder using only his hands.

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Men trained most of their lives to become knights.

4. Only knights wore armor.

Nope, lots of people wore armor. This was war, and most soldiers had some pieces of armor. It’s quality varied greatly, but even foot soldiers had it and wore it.

5. Only men wore armor.

Some interesting stuff is coming out of new grave sites now that we have DNA testing and can use science to prove the occupants are women. Those shield maiden stories appear to be more than just stories. There is also evidence of noble ladies-turned-military commanders, such as Countess Jeanne de Penthièvre (1319–1384). It might not have been common in medieval Europe, but we really don’t know.

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I wouldn’t cross her.

6. Armor was so expensive only princes and the very wealthy could afford it.

Again, not true. Even a common foot soldier had some armor. This idea may come from the pieces displayed in museums. And while it could be extremely expensive (an entire armory of an English knight was the equivalent to about five to eight years of rent for a London merchant’s house, or over three years’ worth of wages for a skilled laborer), not all pieces were. Some could be had for much less, depending on quality. This also does not consider how much armor was taken from the battlefield.

 

Lots of misconceptions abound, as I learned with swords. Hopefully, this helped clear up a few about armor.

 

Cover Reveal!

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Yes, it took much longer than I had planned, but here is the cover for Knight of Valor!

And the link to pre-order it!

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What would it take for you to make the devil’s own bargain?

The vampires hunting Brelynn are the least of her worries. Not even the demons stalking her are enough to convince her to make the bargain. But to prevent her master from capturing her again, she’ll do anything, including make a pact with the King of Tamryn and the Knight of Valor he sends to fetch her. A Knight of Valor that eradicates all that is unholy in his path, including her, if she’s not careful. But he’s the only man that can destroy her master. The only man that can truly free her. And the only man that can win her heart.

Sir Marcus Valerian is the Knight of Valor who slew a lich, freed a nation, and came home a broken man. The Dragon Church wants him to retire. The Tamryn people want him to be their legend. He just wants a purpose again and accepts a mission from the king. The mission wasn’t supposed to involve destroying vampires, demons, and necromancers. But those aren’t the hard part. Reminding himself a man like him can never fall in love is.

As another lich rises, Sir Marcus and Brelynn must decide how much they’ll risk, how much they’ll give, to save the land and for their own chance at love.

Micro Fiction: To the Death

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Filled with the holy light of the gods, Marcus channeled all he was into one final thrust.

The skull stared at him, its ivory bone incapable of showing surprise, pain, or even triumph.

Fear pooled in Sir Marcus’s stomach as failure stared at him.

Then the lich was gone, the light of the Holy Trinity incinerating it to ash.

Marcus fell to his knees, another prayer on his lips as exhaustion dropped him to his knees.