The Warriors of Bhrea: The Lost King

Prologue

"I hate this place, Master," Keren said as she leaned closer to the enormous fireplace, trying desperately to warm herself. The fire had been roaring for some time, but the flames barely penetrated the chill in her skin.

Keren and her mentor, Master Adnen, had been stationed for five days at a remote temple in the middle of nowhere. At least, nowhere in the kingdom of Bhrea that Keren cared about. It had been raining for the better part of the night, and a now soaking Keren was huddled by the fire, wrapped tightly in several blankets to get warm. While she had been out keeping watch, her Master had gotten to sit inside where there was a fire and no torrential rain to soak her.

"A Junta warrior does not complain, nor rebuke her orders," Master Adnen chided. Somehow, the Master was not cold, despite the fact that she wore light clothing and sat near the window. She casually read a huge tome with the title Records of Battles During the Reign of Emperor Saranik: Age of Mountains.

Unfortunately, that was about as interesting as the books got here. The temple was ancient—dedicated to Dolan, the god of the lost, the space between reality and dreams, of forgotten things. It was fitting for this temple, crumbling and abandoned to memory, to be the house of the feared god. What secrets lay in its depths? Keren wished to explore more, but she had been ordered to stay within the entrance hall or the grounds outside.

"I'm sorry, Master, but I don't understand how I'm meant to do my duty if I don't know what my duty is," Keren said through her shivers. The carved stone of the temple was frigid against her body where she sat upon the floor.

Adnen finally looked up from her book and turned her amber eyes to Keren. Her lips were pressed tightly together, and at first Keren thought her Master of five years was angry at her. After all, Keren always had a lot of questions, and that was probably why they had been shipped off to nowhere. But underneath Adnen's stern demeanor were misgivings in her eyes—or perhaps doubt.

"Have you heard of the Five Original Masters?" Adnen asked.

Keren fought to keep herself from rolling her eyes. "Yes, of course, Master. When I first joined the sekran. They were all the children of Sarel," she said just as she had many times before when learning the history and scripture of the Junta.

"Not just the children of Sarel, but the founders of the Junta order," Adnen corrected. "Jeseni, a Master of Light...Isana, a Master of Fire...Sorn, a Master of Water...Kalamet, a Master of Earth...and Sjantikar, a Master of—"

"Night. I know, Master. I didn't forget everything from the sekran," Keren said.

Adnen sighed. "We all learn this as the foundation of our order. The Original Masters received their power from Sarel, who was blessed by Joss."

"And all Junta are connected to Sarel's line," Keren added.

"Yes. But Keren, that is not all. What is the highest duty of the Junta?"

"To protect the temples of the gods," Keren answered automatically. This response was drilled into her and every other Junta the moment they were accepted into the sekran.

"Yes, but why?"

"Because if the temples are destroyed, or there are no Junta to protect them, they will be desecrated by those who do not worship, and the gods will favor us no longer," Keren said.

"If that is true, why are some temples abandoned, like this one?" Adnen asked.

Keren paused. She had always assumed that some temples would be left to crumble, but new ones would take their place to continue the duty of worship.