Guardian of the North Read online

  DESCENDANTS OF ROBIN HOOD

  ~ BOOK 1 ~

  Guardian

  of the

  North

  Maggie K. West

  Maggie K. West

  GUARDIAN OF THE NORTH (Descendants of Robin Hood #1) Copyright © 2020 by Maggie K. West.

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  For information, contact the author at www.maggiekwest.com.

  Cover design by Maggie K. West

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2020908070

  978-1-7349447-2-3 (paperback); 978-1-7349447-0-9 (ebook)

  First Edition: June 2020

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Hi Momma and Daddy!

  I love you!

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  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

  PRONUNCIATION GUIDE

  Áccyn-ACK-in

  Ajax-AY-jaah-ks

  Azomien-AH-zoh-mean

  Androuet-AN-droo-et

  Calmier-CAL-meer

  Cloudia-cl-OW-dee-uh

  Ealdra-EEL-druh

  Karalie-k-ay-ruh-LEE

  Khadija-kuh-DEE-jhuh

  Laudius-LAW-dee-es

  Marcrombie -mar-CRAW-m-bee

  Niskian-NIGH-skee-en

  Rangerian-rayn-JER-ean

  Rehynall -REH-nah-ll

  Rowan-ROW-inn

  Guardian

  of the

  North

  PROLOGUE

  A cold breeze rustled through the forest branches. Huddled around a campfire in the darkness, a band of men drank, their long swords resting on the ground. The men’s shadows seemed to leap from the fire to flicker against the trees. Several squirrels roasted over the flames.

  “Hey, Orin!” a tall, scruffy fellow shouted, swinging his wooden tankard. The skinny, teenage boy he was speaking to simply ran a sharpening stone across his sword, saying nothing.

  “Leave the kid alone, Androuet,” another man chided, leaning back against a tree. He took a swig from his tankard and wiped his beard on his sleeve.

  Androuet staggered to his feet, drunk on ale. “Hey, Orin!” he called again. “Why don’t you pick up that lit’le ole blade there and show me what you got!”

  The other man rolled his eyes and turned away as low laughs ran through the camp.

  “Come on, boy!” Androuet seized his long sword and drew it out, splashing his ale across the campfire. The liquid hissed, sending up tendrils of steam. Orin looked up, and his eyes—one blue and one brown—flamed in anger.

  “I’m not a boy,” he growled.

  “Androuet, let him be,” the other man tried again, setting down his tankard.

  “No.” Orin rose to his feet and dropped his sharpening stone. The dark, Damascus of his sword shone in the firelight as though made of molten steel. He took a step forward, to the shouts of the surrounding men.

  Androuet laughed drunkenly. “That’s it, lit’le boy! Come on!”

  Orin clenched his fists. The cold breeze around them suddenly turned hot and whipped up, tearing at the branches above, churning the fire into a swirling inferno.

  “Is that all?” Androuet shouted across the roaring flames. “Do you miss your mummy?” he taunted. “Do you want to go home to your mummy, Orin?”

  Orin clenched his teeth, the flames reflected in his mismatched eyes. He raised his sword, and the hot wind whipped up faster. The trees around him groaned beneath the gale.

  “Ohh, back up, boys!” Androuet smirked at the boy across the roaring fire and threw his tankard to the ground.

  With a shout, Orin sprang forward. The flames parted, and he leaped over the roasting squirrels, swinging his weapon in a wide arc. Androuet sidestepped and caught the blade, throwing his weight against it. The flames roared up behind him. Orin spun and pointed his free hand at Androuet’s chest. A blast of hot wind slammed into the man, tossing him on his back. Orin stepped forward, breathing hard, and raised his sword again, anger flaring in his eyes.

  Then a cry rang through the air, and three men emerged from the trees, dragging a fourth—an Áccyn nobleman.

  “Oh, ho, what is this?” Androuet staggered to his feet.

  Orin took a step back into the shadows. His wind died down around them, the fire returning to a warm crackle. The roasting squirrels were scorched black.

  The approaching men halted before Androuet and shoved the nobleman to his knees. His mottled green tunic was torn and covered in dirt and specks of blood.

  Androuet shouted, much louder than necessary, “Who are you?”

  “Tobias Williams,” the nobleman said quietly, his voice scratchy and dry. One of the men shoved him, so he fell forward on his hands, bound together. “I know where he is,” Lord Williams muttered.

  Androuet drew close, eyebrows raised, and bent down, planting his hands on either side of the lord’s face. “Where who is?” He lifted the man’s chin to stare into his eyes.

  Lord Williams swallowed. “The fourth Wind, sir.”

  Orin took a step forward, dropping his arms. The fourth Wind… This was it.

  “Where?” Androuet demanded.

  The lord did not answer. One of the men raised his sword. “Fort Calmier,” he whispered quickly.

  Only a day’s ride from here, no less. Excitement twisted in Orin’s chest.

  A wide grin spread across Androuet’s face as he stood up. He swung his sword and drove it forward. Lord Williams collapsed at his feet, his lifeblood streaming away.

  “Did you hear that, Orin?” He turned around to face the young man, his eyes alight with the fire of the hunt. “The North Wind is revealed.”

  Orin smiled in glee, despite his fury toward Androuet. East Wind—the Ealdra Princess—was securely hidden away. And the third… He glanced sideways at another young soldier in a mottled green tunic who was tied to a tree at the edge of the clearing. The lad’s mismatched, angry eyes watched them over his gag. The faint whispers of his West Wind power drifted around Orin, raised by the soldier’s fear.

  “Come on, boys!” Androuet shouted to the rest of his band of men, raising his red-stained sword, “The last one’s ours!”

  CHAPTER 1

  I pushed myself off the ground, wiping a streak of blood from my stinging mouth, grunting at the pain. My sparring partner, Nicolas, advanced.

  I spun my sword in my hand and stepped back, bracing myself. Nick lunged forward. I swung my blade up, knocking his weapon away. I spun, and our swords clashed. His flew from his hand and landed in the dirt. He took a step back.

  I grinned. “Ha! Third time’s the charm.”

  He smirked, then slammed his hands together, a
nd lightning arced up his arms, flashing in his mismatched eyes. I dove aside as a bolt of lightning shot from his outstretched hands. It hit the dirt with a resounding boom!

  “That’s cheating!” I shouted, rolling to my feet. “Use swords, Nicolas!”

  “Well, you aren’t fighting a regular soldier, Jackson.”

  A blond boy leaning against the fence shouted from the sidelines, “You dropped your sword, Jack. You’re dead!”

  I cut him a look. “You can shut up.” He grinned back.

  Nick straightened his leather jacket, picked up my sword and offered it to me. I glanced at the blade, making sure there wasn’t any of Nick’s lightning sparking up to the hilt. I grabbed it and leaned back, bracing myself for a sudden attack. Lightning arced up his blade, and he flashed a smirk.

  “You can shut up too,” I snapped, and lunged.

  His blade caught mine in a shower of sparks. He ducked and slashed. I deflected the blow. Tingles of electricity shot up my arms, making me lose hold of my weapon again. I tripped and landed flat on my back. The air rushed out of my lungs.

  “Wow, such grace,” a voice said. “He’s doing great, isn’t he, Natanian?” Through my suddenly blurred vision, I saw a girl our age, wearing her sandy, brown hair in an intricate braid, step up to the fence. She propped one foot up on a rail, leaning forward to watch.

  The blond boy beside her responded, “It makes you wonder how he’ll handle his power.”

  Nick laughed, moving toward me. I rolled over, gasping for breath.

  “Awesome,” I muttered. “I have a whole audience.” I coughed.

  Nick’s blade suddenly came down. I kicked out, hitting his leg. He staggered back, limping a step on his bended knee. I snatched my sword out of the dirt and slammed into him with a shout, throwing him to the ground. His blade flew from his hand. I leveled mine for his throat, planting my foot on his chest.

  He raised his hands in surrender. “Not bad.” Thin lines of electricity curled around his fingers. He grinned.

  “Don’t—” I warned. He clapped his hands around my shin and I cried out, falling back. “You…” I cursed. Natanian and the girl laughed. Nick pushed himself to his feet, brushed off his leather jacket, and held out his hand.

  “I don’t trust you.” I shook my head and groaned, painfully pushing myself to my feet. “Just wait until I get my power.”

  “I hate to break it to you.” The girl shrugged. “But I don’t know how much North Wind is going to do against Nick’s lightning. No matter how strong it’ll be, he’s still going to kick your butt.”

  “First, you can shut up too, Kara.” I pointed my sword at her. “Second, that’s right.” I swung the blade back at Nick. “You wait until tonight. I’m going to kick your butt.”

  “That’s not…” Karalie trailed off with a sigh.

  I staggered a bit and propped myself against the fence next to Natanian, who was grinning in amusement.

  Just then, a man stepped out of the archway into the courtyard. “Jackson?” It was Ajax, Captain of the Guard. His face was dark, his forehead creased in worry. He wore a dark green suit.

  I sheathed my sword, still holding tight to the fence. “What is it?”

  Nick’s Master, a fellow named Bancroft, stepped up beside him. His graying hair was pulled back in a ponytail, his arms folded over his chest.

  Captain Ajax straightened his sword belt. “King Rehynall requests your presence.”

  “Me?” I glanced at Nick, whispering, “This isn’t another one of your secret plotting meetings, is it?”

  Nick shook his head.

  “And Nicolas,” Ajax added.

  “Uh-oh,” I muttered.

  “Immediately,” he insisted.

  I glanced at Kara and Nick. “Pushy much?” I laughed under my breath.

  “Jackson,” Master Bancroft chided.

  Kara waved me forward. I swallowed nervously and tried a step. My right leg gave out under me. I grabbed hold of the fence post to keep from tumbling into the dirt.

  “What happened to you?” Captain Ajax asked.

  I pulled myself up with a grunt and slid between the rails, getting my balance. “He did,” I answered shortly, nodding at Nick.

  Bancroft smacked a gloved hand into the boy’s head.

  “Hey!” Nick flinched and rubbed his head.

  “We discussed not using your power as a joke on another person, Nicolas.”

  “Yes, Master.” He scowled and folded his hands behind his back meekly.

  “Have fun, Your Royal Highnesses!” Natanian piped up, sweeping an arm in a mock bow.

  “Don’t plot any secret missions without me,” Kara added, tossing her braid over her shoulder.

  Nick and I followed Master Bancroft and Captain Ajax out of the courtyard. I glanced back over my shoulder, butterflies swarming in my stomach. Natanian had turned away, but Kara gave a wave, standing with her hand on her sword hilt, watching us go, her clear, mismatched eyes bright in the sunlight.

  “Quickly, Jackson,” Captain Ajax whispered urgently. “We need your focus.”

  He led the way down a long, stone corridor toward a heavy, oak door at the end that marked the entrance to the throne room. I had often passed this door, sneaking as close as I could without the guards shooing me away.

  “But, what—?”

  The Captain cut me off. “This is a dark matter concerning you.”

  I swallowed. This time when I approached, the guards gave a short bow and stepped aside. I was crossing into forbidden territory.

  CHAPTER 2

  King Rehynall and his advisors stood up from the oblong table before me. The king’s crown glinted in the sunlight streaming through the window behind him. Captain Ajax took his place at the table.

  “I’ll be waiting outside,” Bancroft whispered. Nick gave a short bow to his Master, and the door swung closed behind us with an echoing bang-g-g, making me almost jump out of my skin. I dropped into a quick, low bow.

  “Take your seat,” King Rehynall ordered.

  I swallowed, “Yes, Your Royalness.” Nick nudged me. I straightened up and followed him around the table to a pair of empty seats across from the Captain of the Guard, who pulled his own chair in and smoothed his green suit, leaning forward.

  “They aren’t going to eat you,” Nick whispered with a grin.

  I suddenly realized I was following very close to him. I laughed nervously, pulled out a chair, and sat down hard—a little too hard. Half-grimacing, I leaned forward and folded my hands on the table, just like Captain Ajax was doing. Nick sat next to me and nervously spun his dark titanium ring around and around his finger, the thin, jagged stripe of silver flashing in the torchlight with every round.

  King Rehynall spoke. “Jackson!”

  I jumped in my seat, rubbing the crick out of my neck. I tried to put my smile back on my face, but failed.

  King Rehynall lifted one corner of his mouth before his serious expression returned. “There is no need to be nervous around us.”

  “Yes, Your Majesticity.”

  “‘Lord’ is fine, Jackson.”

  “Right.” I cleared my throat. I was gripping my seat so tightly that my knuckles were getting white. I let go, trying to relax.

  “Down to business,” Captain Ajax said. He sat back, glancing at me.

  “Of course,” King Rehynall replied, the light shining off the shards of emerald in his crown. Then he addressed me. “Tonight is your Manifestation, Jackson.”

  “Oh, I know,” I blurted out. “You don’t need to tell me. It is mine.” I took a deep breath. Talk slower, Jack, I scolded myself.

  “Dillon did not come back.”

  My stomach dropped. I sat back, clenching my hands in my lap.

  “That makes two Wind Rangerians who have gone missing in the last three months,” Captain Ajax said, glancing at me.

  “Not counting the Ealdra princess,” King Rehynall added.

  “For all we know, she could be behind this
.”

  “That means…” I swallowed. “I’m the fourth.” I looked around the table. The butterflies in my stomach suddenly turned cold. “Are you going to tell me what happened to them?”

  “We aren’t sure.” Captain Ajax looked up. “We’re suspecting a rogue group of Hunters, but we do know Orin was part of it. And he’s Ealdra. Which makes us suspect they may be behind it.”

  Nick stopped spinning his ring and looked up at the king, daring him to challenge his heritage. I edged away from him as the electric energy began building around him, the way it always did when this subject came up around the castle.

  King Rehynall looked right at him. “The Ealdra attacked our palace in Scotland.”

  My head whipped around. It felt like someone had just slugged me in the stomach. “But I thought the feud between us was over,” I muttered. “My Grandpa Tyler—”

  “So we thought,” King Rehynall agreed. “Years of peace. And now this.” His eyes fell on Nick. All the advisors were leaning forward, watching my best friend carefully.

  Nick spread his fingers on the table and stated very calmly, “I don’t know of anything the Ealdra could be planning, or of anything they might be looking for.”

  “But you are—” the Captain of the Guard started.

  I widened my eyes at him, trying to get him to shut up. Too late.

  Nick shot to his feet. “I know what I am!” he shouted. “How many times do we have to go through this? Do you doubt my allegiance?”

  Thunder rumbled through the throne room. King Rehynall stood up.

  “Hey, Nick, chill out,” I whispered.

  He sat down hard beside me.

  “We do not doubt you, Nicolas,” the king said slowly, his voice strong. “But you must understand the position we’re in.” He exchanged glances with Captain Ajax and sat down. “With Jackson’s power about to manifest, the last thing we need is for this band of Hunters to find out about where he is.”