The Trials of Boy Kings (Chosen King Book 2)

Book summary

Two young kings, bound by destiny and divided by oceans, must confront ancient secrets and a rising threat. As a shadowy leader unveils a powerful weapon, both kings navigate treacherous alliances and unravel hidden histories, striving to overcome their enemies and reclaim a legacy long obscured.

Excerpt from The Trials of Boy Kings

Chapter One - Monsters 

The monsters were getting out of hand.

The large watership bobbed in the gray day, as the waters mesmerized the man standing on deck. The cold wind swirled around his muscular frame, and played with his beard. Bare chested, he refused to let the cold touch him.

He willed it away.

“A fin, two hundred feet off deck, father,” said one of the crew rushing up to him. The man knew this was the first time the boy had been on a large watership, the youngest son of an important man from the inner council.

The older man patted the young man’s face that held only the wisp of a beard. “Let’s go kill it.”

The young man smiled and yelled to the crew. “Long boats at the ready!”

The man smiled as he saw the crew begin to lower the long boats. Just like the legends, he thought. He jumped into one of the three boats as the winches lowered the narrow wooden vessels into the waters.

The man shouted, “Are you ready to reclaim your place in history?” the six men on his boat cheered as the man spoke. “Our ancestors hunted these monsters back in the mists of time. Now they have returned. Let’s send them back into legend!”

The crew of young men cheered louder. They treated the man like a god. That worried him. The old superstitions must die for us to finish our work, thought the man. Best to show them that I am a man, and that a man is more than any god ever could be.

He couldn’t tell his crew that he had other reasons for killing these beasts. Three of his airships had gone missing. That was not a coincidence. All of them had been lost over the waters, no survivors.  I will not let these things take my ships one by one, he thought. It’s time to fight.

He had trained the young men himself. Getting this close to a dangerous monster in the open waters required teamwork. He had grilled the men for weeks before they made this journey. Rowing, rowing, and rowing again in unison until they could not lift their arms. To train men to think as one, to have one goal, you had to break down their bodies first. Isn’t that what Ollander used to say? The man shook off the rhythmic rowing that made his thoughts wander to his old friend. The friend he was forced to kill.

The man cranked the device. His thinkers said the creatures must be attracted to the sound of the airship’s rotators. Trunculin has written of similar problems. But of course we are both liars, he thought.  

To the man, the sound that the device made was different than the noise of the rotators, but before he had a chance to decide if it would work, a Jhalgon fish erupted out of the water to the right of their boat. Its leathery wet wings pushed it straight up into the air. The waves made by the monster rocked his boat and the boats just twenty feet away. The beast was massive. He had read the reports and interrogated those that spotted them. But to see a sixty-foot monster lunge straight into the air was a marvel. The men were all frozen with shock. They look more like boys than ever.

The monster arced, and the man realized it was coming down. It opened its massive jaws to reveal its three rows of teeth. Each tooth must be bigger than my hand … but his mind turned to the other boat. The seawater falling from the giant fish rained on the second boat, but they realized what was happening too late for them to get away. The monster landed on the second boat, and the beast forced the longboat under the waves before the wood snapped under the pressure. 

The shock of the impact felt like a tidal wave as the two other longboats fought to stay upright. A circle of red emanated out from where the beast had gone under. Fragments of the broken longboat, no bigger than the size of a plate, floated and rode the waves. Luckily, the red was the only part they saw of their fallen friends. The rest must have gone under, or been swallowed by the beast.

The two remaining boats continued to bail the water out that had lapped over the sides. The man stood up, grasping the giant metal spear. It was longer than the man was tall, but he stood straight, feeling the cold metal slick with sea water. He stood on sure legs, riding the rocking motion, scanning for any sign of the beast.

“Fin!” A man shouted from the other boat. The man smiled until he realized it was not headed for his boat. No, monster, come for me. He realized what his face must look like as he glanced at the young man with the wispy beard, his face horrified and desperate. But when he saw the bare chested man looking at him, the young man’s face changed to a hardy resolve. He bailed the water faster.

The fin came up from the water, parting it, standing five feet above the waves. The man cranked the machine again, imitating the sound of the rotators from the airships. The top of the beast crested the water with a gray hint of its enormous frame just under the waves. It didn’t change direction, still headed for the second boat.

“Damn you!” the man shouted. “Men, row!” he commanded, as the young men rowed directly into the path of the fin. The man ignored the terror that gripped his crew, and raised the long metal spear. The three hooks came to a steely point with a rope firmly tied to the end.

Water sprayed as the boat rocked. The fin rose with the beast, and the wings threw sea water at them as the monster went up. The second boat was still its target, and the man realized it was only jumping his boat to get to the other.

The beast rose higher, using the giant wings to help arc its body. Just before it was directly over their boat, the man flung the spear at the belly of the Jhalgon. It struck the beast and the hooks went deep. The man held fast to the rope, ignoring the burn of the rope as it slid through his hands. Before his hands felt they would catch fire, he grabbed the rope firmly and was lifted off the boat.

Hurt, the beast changed its angle and missed the second boat. The beast hit the icy waters, the man following. His bare chest exploded with a thousand needles as the beast dragged him down. Already fighting for air, the man strained his muscles and forced himself to climb along the rope towards the beast. It was dragging him ever deeper, but he ignored the pressure building in his head.

Hand over hand he pulled himself along the rope until he finally reached the beast. He groped for his short knife, fearing he had lost it. One hand held the rope tightly as he fumbled to find the knife, ignoring the pains in his chest. He finally found the blade and jammed it into the beast. He jabbed again. Over and over again he stabbed at the monster while warm blood flowed past him. The beast bled as he was dragged deeper into the quickly darkening deep.

The man had done all he could. He let go of the rope and used the last of his strength to push up to the light. He had no air.

No, this is not how I die.

It was getting harder to think. The cold felt like knives going deeper and deeper, aiming for his heart. Still, he moved his legs, pushing towards the light. Just when he thought his muscles would fail him, he felt the precious air fill his lungs.

His ears were filled with the sound of water, like the sea had invaded his mind. As he took his second and third gasps of air, he finally heard the cheering. The two boats were far away from him, but the shouting was fierce.  

It stopped abruptly when the beast appeared again.

The fin shot straight up out of the water, not far from the man. The man groped for his knife, but realized he had dropped it while searching for air and light. The fin bobbed up again, then slowly rolled to one side. The leathery wings splayed out on either side of the beast, which bobbed with the waves and was surrounded by the red draining from its wounds. The blood reached the man and warmed him.

The great cheers got louder and became a chant. “Father! Father! Father! Father…!”

The man smiled.

Yes, my children, let’s begin this new day with blood.

Chapter Two - Visions 

Firstcouncilor Trunculin and King Asa had returned from the mess they left in the kingdom of Thure. Loren and the Thurian merchant Denogg had escaped, gone without a trace. Trunculin had put Asa in his chamber under his loyal guards. They had been orders not to hurt him any further, unless Trunculin gave express permission. Better to rule the boy by fear. He knows what I’m capable of now. He won’t get out from under my thumb again, Trunculin thought as he stared at the mystic.

The mystic sat in the small room, eyes closed. After all these years, Trunculin was still uneasy around them. He wondered if the feeling would ever go away. Trunculin looked back at the mystic. His eyes were open now, staring. The mystic did not speak.  

After a long moment, Trunculin could not bear the silence, “Well…?” the mystic said nothing. Trunculin asked, “Why were you so hard to reach?”

The mystic answered in his own time. “I had business elsewhere. You are not the only kingdom that concerns us.”

Trunculin knew this was true. He had been around long enough to see the secret hand of the mystic guild do its work. “Fair enough. When can you begin with the boy?”

The mystic stared. “I have questions.”

“Questions? About what?”

The mystic Valren said, “Since Gordon collapsed, things have gone badly for you.”

“That didn’t sound like a question,” Trunculin rubbed his forehead. The mystic stared. “Gordon and his uncle escaped. Brenddel was nearly killed tracking them down. My new alliance with Thure is gone. Then Gordon died. Then I found out Mantuan and Gordon are alive after all. But wait! Gordon has been taken, and Mantuan has stolen one of my airships. Yes, mystic, you could say I’ve had better times!”

The Mystic stared.

“What about the boy?” asked Trunculin.

“I am not someone you can intimidate, firstcouncilor.”

“I know that,” said Trunculin. “I … I regret my tone. You and your guild have been very helpful to me. I haven’t forgotten that. But how do my troubles change anything with my new boy king?”

“Because I will not help you control this king.”

The words were like a slap across Trunculin’s face. He managed, “How can that be your decision? You have …”

“I know what my guild has done for you. We are turning our eyes to other matters.” Valren stopped speaking, but this pause seemed different. He was not staring at the firstcouncilor, but almost through him. Trunculin had never seen the mystic behave this way.

Before Trunculin could ask if he was alright, the mystic’s face changed. His features seem to melt into a mask of pain, then he screamed.

Trunculin didn’t know what to do. He expected guards to rush in, but realized frantically that he never kept guards around when he saw the mystic. Trunculin put his hand out to him, but the mystic was now looking around the room like he wasn’t there. He didn’t scream again, just kept looking everywhere in the room, his face frantic and worried. Trunculin realized he wasn’t really in the room.

He was inside a vision.

“No!” Valren shouted, but no words came out. He was standing on a ship. The sky was dark, but it was daytime. The darkness came from great black clouds. No, not clouds. They were silver and black and instead of water, they rained destruction. So many arrows. The great kingdom was falling. All around him, waterships were sinking.

Then he was under the water. He was one of the old ones now, the Jhalgon. He was looking through the eyes of the great finned beast. And all around him the sea roiled with his siblings. He crested the water to see the other great kingdoms fall, one by one. First Artoth, then Thure. The kingdoms were all on fire. The banners with the triangle and thirteen longknives fell to the water. Two shadows appeared, as though the sun was extinguished from two different directions. He looked out through his Jhalgon eyes, to the enormous black and silver clouds that weren’t clouds. But now he could see they were enormous airships, the new monsters in the world. His head split with a terrible sound he could not extinguish. And the mighty Jhalgon were afraid…

Valren was back in the small room, Trunculin’s hand on his arm. Valren pulled his arm away from Trunculin’s cold hand. The firstcouncilor saw the look on his face and was deeply concerned. He had never seen a mystic have a vision. “Valren, are you …?”

The mystic seemed to recoil at the words, rubbing his arm where Trunculin had touched him. He saw the look on Trunculin’s face and regained his composure. Valren’s face returned to his unreadable mask. “I am fine firstcouncilor.”

“What did you see?”

“I don’t know…” his tone changed, “…I’m sure it was nothing. Visions happen on their own time, the reasons never immediately clear. I’m sorry you had to see it.”

Trunculin began, “What was …?”

“I must go,” said Valren. “I can’t help you with the new king. I have other matters I must see to.”

“But, can’t you at least stay for …?”

Valren left without saying another word. He closed the door, leaving a baffled Trunculin alone. Valren walked away from the room, rubbing his arm again. I see you now firstcouncilor, he thought. And for the first time that Valren could remember, he felt the icy hand of fear.