Strayborn Read online

  StrayborN

  Draev Guardians

  (book one)

  by E.E. Rawls

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Strayborn (Draev Guardians, #1)

  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

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Epilogue

  Extra Bites

  STRAYBLOOD

  DRAGONS & RAVENS

  About the Author

  Other Titles by E.E. Rawls

  Review

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  Available for FREE only at

  www.eerawls

  STRAYBORN. Copyright © by E.E. Rawls 2019

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover art by Curlyhair Nadia

  Associated logos and art are trademarks of E.E. Rawls. Draev Guardians and all related characters and elements are trademarks of E.E. Rawls.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Summary: Cyrus Sole, a half-human girl with weak wrists discovers she can manipulate metal, but then has to flee when the Argos Corps are sent to kill her... Aken-Shou, the last Scourgeblood, discovers he can create lava, and something more dangerous... The Draev Guardian Academy is their only sanctuary. But training to become a Draev won’t be easy. Cyrus has to hide her human side, as she gets placed in Floor Harlow with the outcast students. And with creepy Corpsed on the prowl, and whispers of her possibly being a reborn Princess, both she and Aken find themselves caught in a web of secrets, racial tension, and an old legend with enemies that could spell their untimely demise...

  ISBN: 978-0-9985569-0-1 paperback

  978-0-9985569-1-8 hardback

  [1. Fantasy. 2. Coming of Age—Fantasy. 3. Ability—Fiction. 4.Orphans—Ficiton.

  5. Magic—Fiction.]

  https://eerawls.com/

  Printed in the U.S.A.

  First printing in October 2019

  Dedication

  To my grandmother who encouraged me,

  and my mother who supported me

  IF YOU MADE IT TO THIS page, congratulations. You get a cookie.

  Will I tell you who I am? No.

  Maybe.

  If and when I feel like it.

  But until then, I’ll let you work your brain muscles and figure it out for yourself. All you need to know right now is that my account of this tale is factual and thoroughly researched to the best of my superior ability.

  I was there to witness many of these events first-hand. And for those events which sadly lacked my humble presence, I was able to interview and record the words and thoughts of those who were.

  But first, before you continue reading, if you are one of those humans from Earth, then there are a few things you must know.

  You’ve probably forgotten the existence of the Altered in your world—select humans whose genes were altered during the first age. You might know them as fae, goblins, elves, vampires, kitsune and other such names. They once shared Earth with normal humans, such as yourself, until prejudice and fear forced many of them to leave.

  They left through one of several hidden portals, and came into a new world: a world similar in size and atmosphere to Earth—a second Earth, you could call it, where they were able to thrive. It is also important to note that a few human outcasts snuck in among them.

  As the races flourished, and countries and nations developed on the new planet Eartha, among the most powerful became the Vemparic Empire and the Xotiph Human Kingdom.

  The humans had discovered a great power, known as the Pure Light, and their royal line, the Swans, guarded it closely while their kingdom prospered.

  But one day, when a new Pureblood came to rule the Vemparic Empire, he desired to steal this great power from them—and there was only one Swan princess left who could stand in his way. This day became known as The Disaster, the day when the world was forever changed.

  If reading the prologue is depressing, well, that’s the point. But the real story begins with a little redhead girl on planet Eartha, who has a sense of humor and a bad case of messy hair, and a boy with big dreams, who are about to be caught up in the old legend that surrounds the Pure Light...

  Prologue

  The Disaster of 0 AD

  The Swan Princess staggered back, not wanting to believe the sight before her eyes. “You...you killed him!” she cried.

  The Pureblood Emperor turned a cold smirk up at her, his clothing stained, chin and cheek spattered red. A bloodied sword clattered from his grip to the floor, to rest beside a lifeless body. His blue eyes were cold flames, a twisted soul craving power. There would be no end to his thirst for bloodshed, no end to ravaging the nations and tearing the world apart. He had become a ruthless being, so unlike the person she once knew.

  “He was in the way,” the Emperor’s chilling tone replied.

  The Princess trembled, knees ready to buckle beneath her. “He was your best friend... Why would you do this?” she screamed. “How could you betray us!”

  “Best friend...as were you, once,” he murmured, though more to himself than to her.

  Two guards came rushing through the broken down doors of the sacred room, their swords raised. The Emperor smirked, and with his bare hands seized both weapons by the blade. He threw the swords back in their faces and in an instant had them both gripped by the throat.

  They screamed as the color and life drained from their skin, until their bodies were no more than shriveled, lifeless husks. When he released them, they collapsed to the floor as bone and dust.

  The Emperor faced the Princess once more, and step by step he drew nearer across the holy room.

  She glanced over her shoulder to the sacred pedestal where the Pure Light hovered, floating like a swirl of white swan feathers—the great power that was her sworn duty to protect.

  “Now, be a good little princess and hand me,” the Emperor growled, “that power.”

  Cheeks damp with tears she could no longer feel, she turned away from him, wincing against the pain. With what strength she had left in her feeble body, she scaled the stairs, racing toward the sacred pedestal and its ethereal light, her scarlet hair fluttering back from her shoulders.

  “NO!” The Emperor’s shout rang out and his footsteps charged up after her, striving to stop her before she could take hold of the Pure Light first.

  The floor quaked suddenly and fissures separated the tiles, as if the ground were crumbling beneath them. Chaos roared beyond the room’s grand windows, shaking the walls.

  The Princess panted, her hand stretche
d out. Desperation filled every fiber of her being as her hand reached up toward the glowing power.

  Her finger brushed it.

  Her palm wrapped around it.

  “That power is mine!” the Emperor screeched, catching up to her.

  The Pure Light awakened, casting rays as bright as the sun over her and filling the room.

  All the world around them disappeared into white. The floor, the decorative columns, the vaulted ceiling, and her own legs beneath her disintegrated into the ethereal, blinding light.

  The Emperor’s hand reached out to grasp her arm as he crouched within reach, staring up at her through wild, glowing eyes before he, too, was overcome and vanished into white nothingness.

  He ceased to be. She ceased to be. The world forever changed...

  The Emperor comes

  King of Evil awakes

  Who will win,

  Whom shall the world take?

  There awaits the guilty throne

  Crown of Pureblood borne alone.

  Will it save or will it kill?

  Hatred longs to have its fill.

  Beware the cloaks of night descend

  A shifter seeking for revenge

  Behind young faces monsters lie

  Twisted secrets, the Impure Nights.

  Arise, three Ghosts of distant past

  Save us with the Pure Light vast,

  War has begun, the dice are cast

  The Swan must live, or none will last.

  For good or evil is yet to be seen

  The one who wills to destroy the king,

  Yet if a change brings hearts to unite

  Only then may Eartha stand and fight.

  Crown of Pureblood borne alone

  There awaits the guilty throne.

  The Emperor comes

  King of Evil awakes

  Who will win,

  Whom shall the world take?

  —“Song Of The End”

  Prophecy, 1st Oracle

  Part 1

  Cyrus

  Chapter 1

  2,008 Years Later (2007 AD)

  Seven-year-old Cyrus Sole picked up the white swan feather, twirling it. This week was going to be a bad week, she could tell. Her stomach always got uneasy when something unpleasant was about to happen.

  “Don’t mess with my feather collection.”

  Cyrus put the feather down, picked up the brush instead and combed it down her older sister’s auburn hair. Heily sat admiring herself in the metallic mirror, and adjusted a clip once Cyrus finished.

  “Your hair’s so pretty, long n’ soft. Wish mine was, too,” said Cyrus.

  Thirteen-year-old Heily chuckled. “It is rather nice, isn’t it? All the boys compliment me daily,” she said with a pleased blush.

  When Cyrus’s downcast face reflected in the mirror, Heily turned on her rotating chair. “Don’t go getting all depressed, Miss Cry-a-lot. Not everybody is meant to have hair like mine.”

  Cyrus glanced away, scanning Heily’s modern room, which had all the latest fashion and tech that Elvenstone Town could offer. “I know,” she replied. “I just wish I was pretty—a little pretty. Anything besides this.” She gestured to her short, bright-as-cherries hair and simple face. “So kids won’t say I look like a boy, all the time,” Cyrus added, and grimaced down at the floor, her small feet shuffling.

  “Well,” Heily thought for a moment. “Growing your hair out sure didn’t work.” A giggle slipped free as she recalled Cyrus’s hair poofing like a deformed tomato. “Ahem. Sorry, but it really was the funniest thing I ever saw. Your hair grew out instead of down.”

  Seeing the pout on her step-sibling’s face, Heily calmed her mirth. “You’re just a child, Cyrus. I’m sure your hair will change once you hit puberty. But it’d help if you dressed up more nicely: a touch of lipstick, a cute dress, and not to mention if you behaved more like a girl, instead of frolicking about in the dirt. What do they call that game? Longball—ugh!” She sniffed. “Only rowdy boys play such games. Seriously, act more like a girl. Not some tomboy.”

  “You’re saying I shouldn’t be me anymore?” Cyrus folded her arms.

  Heily shrugged. “I’m just trying to help. Do you like kids making fun of you and calling you Cherry-top and Tomato Boy?”

  Cyrus stuck out her lower lip. Some other humans had red hair, and they weren’t teased. But she knew her hair wasn’t the real reason kids teased her.

  “You wanted advice, and I gave it. Now go do what you want,” Heily said and stood, stretching her arms and smoothing her skirt before heading out the door. “Don’t forget to wash the dishes! It’s your turn, and it’s starting to stink in the kitchen.”

  Cyrus watched Heily go, eyeing the tight waist of her dress, wondering how a person could breathe in such tight clothing. Were some girls born without lungs?

  Cyrus chewed her lip. She liked games, liked being outdoors. It was fun. She didn’t want to wear dresses and makeup every stinking day. Maybe once in a while, but not like Heily did.

  Sigh. But how nice it would be to get the positive attention perfect Heily constantly got? Endless compliments about what a “wonderful young lady Heily was growing up to become.” Then those same people would turn and see Cyrus and then quickly pretend they hadn’t—because she was a half-blood.

  Dad never said it out loud, but it was clear he loved Heily more. And Step-mom Narcissa made no effort to hide her favoritism—Heily was her real daughter, after all. A bitterness hung unspoken between the woman and Cyrus, and for more reasons than just that Cyrus wasn’t biologically related.

  No one liked Cyrus because her real mother had been a vempar—the race humans hated, the enemy they’d spent hundreds of years fighting. Vempars were strong, and they preyed on humans and other races in order to quell their hunger.

  Elvenstone was a risky town to live in, up here in the northern most reaches of the Human Republic of Xotiph, the closest town to the border that met the Vemparic Kingdom of Draeth. Elvenstone was a human outpost, in a way, to monitor the vempars’ movements and make sure borders weren’t crossed.

  Most people in town wanted nothing to do with Cyrus, even though she had taken after her dad’s human genes. To look at, she was practically human—no fangs, no bat ridges in her ears, no Healing capability. But the blood of Mother flowed somewhere in her veins, and that was enough for the townspeople to shun her.

  Mother... Cyrus could barely remember her, except that she’d had beautiful long, wavy hair the shade of scarlet roses, and that she’d loved Cyrus very, very much. Much more than anyone had since.

  Mother had died when she was two years old, found murdered. They suspected it to be the work of other vempars, but in a world where people disappeared often, nobody bothered to investigate. It left Cyrus feeling only half of a self, the vempar half of her an unknown and foreign gray area.

  Why did Mother have to die? Where was she buried? There was no grave in Elvenstone, and no one she asked would talk about it.

  Cyrus chewed her lip as she studied her reflection in the mirror.

  Maybe tomorrow she should try doing what Heily suggested...

  NEXT MORNING FOUND Cyrus paused at the front door, the outside world of Elvenstone just beyond waiting to laugh at her.

  She had on a cute blue dress, a touch of makeup colored her cheeks and lips, hairclips held down unruly curls. She felt ridiculous, like a ladybug trying to pretend it was a fairy! But if it could make people treat her better, then...

  “If you keep standing there, you’ll be late for school,” Narcissa reprimanded from across the kitchen.

  “Give her time, Mama. I dressed her up myself. And I must say, for a child, she almost looks pretty!” Heily wore a satisfied smile, as if she’d managed to create something from what had once been a mud pie. “Don’t be shy! Go out there, and do your best to act lady-like.”

  Heily shoved Cyrus out the doorway and onto the white paved street.

  Cyrus panicked, looking frantically
about at a passing bicycle and the haze-trail from a cargo carrier’s engine. Heily followed her out, saying something about making sure Cyrus wouldn’t chicken out and run back home.

  Heily’s friends arrived a few seconds later, all lip gloss and glittery fabrics. They giggled at the new sight of Cyrus for several torturous moments, before stealing Heily away and leaving Cyrus to follow in their wake. The older girls chatted, gossiped and giggled, fast forgetting about the tag-along child on the walk to school.

  What were they always giggling about? Cyrus pouted, watching them disappear over the street’s slope. Alone, the air felt nicely quiet around her...until three teenagers zoomed past on rollerboards, sending up dust that made her nose wrinkle.

  She followed the diamond pattern mosaics that ran along the sidewalk. There were mosaics everywhere in town—rimming streets, fountains, and the walls of structures.

  Terraced hills rose to one side above the town rooftops as she walked, green and pleasant above the red, four-sided roofs and whitewashed walls. She wished she could wander up there among the crops instead of facing people at school today.

  Her nervousness escalated when she finally reached the white columned school, making her feet drag slower than a snail. Kids all around were scrutinizing her new appearance as she passed by.

  Reaching her desk, she sat on the edge of her seat. Children in the room snickered and began whispering to one another. Chins nodded her way, making it obvious who they were talking about. It wasn’t until recess, though, that she really wished invisibility was her superpower. Classmates circled her like beady-eyed vultures.

  “What? It’s been a girl all this time? Who knew! Hahahaa!”

  “Who could know, with that silly cherry-top head?”

  “Bhahaa. Cherry-top! Cherry-top!”

  They jeered and chanted, and she pouted back sourly.

  “Can I have some whipcream with that?” one boy joked, scrubbing a hand through her hair and messing it up.