Red Knight Novels & Stories

“Keep the line crooked. Kings hate untidy pictures.” General Kael rode with the easy grace of a man who had never been told no by a mirror. His horse was a gray gelding with a scar down the flank and manners better than his rider’s. Kael wore armor that had never seen a pageant, dull steel, practical buckles, no flourish, but over it he had thrown a cloak of wolf-fur dyed a tasteful night. On his head no crown, only a band of black leather set with a small iron sigil: a crescent cracked in two.

Gavin frowned. "He said we're just going to find the princess." Their eyes widened when they heard. "Princess?" They asked at the same time, Gavin nodded. "I'll explain later, but what does that person say that you just have to play to find Sera?" Zera said. He was really confused and didn't think that the people he met earlier were willing to kill. Nash and Clayton looked serious. "You are wrong Zera. This game he is talking about is not only about finding her, this game is about killing." Clayton said. Zera gulped at what she heard and the men clenched their fists.

“Who presents this newest member to the pack?” Richard asked as he stood on the dais. The pack members were all seated at the tables and I stood next to Kiran. “I, Kiran Sinclair, Alpha of the Southern Alaskan Pack,” he answered. “Present your member to the pack,” Richard said to him. “I present Levi Montgomery Sinclair, son of Georgina Sinclair, taken at the age of two and raised human and unaware, born of the Southern Alaskan pack under Female Alpha Georgina Sinclair,” Kiran said.

“The Crimson wolves have always been in the FireHeart pack, because their flames and uniqueness comes from the same flames that emanate from the crimson throne.” “Can I ask a question, Doctor?” Minister Blackthorn asked suddenly. “You may.” “You spoke about survival of the fittest, how sure are you that the crimson rogue we showed you is not actually a crimson wolf but a generated one?” “The eyes,” Doctor Monroe said, his smile stretching. “The eyes never lie. A crimson wolf is made crimson because of its distinctive red color. This distinctive color is shown both on the fur, the eyes and hair. They have a characteristic pale white skin like snow. That is the characteristic of a crimson. If

Others close in from behind, but I’m locked on the horrors in front. “I am Chernobog,” the bone giant growls. “I am Sekhmet,” the lioness hisses. “I am Hel,” the half-skeletal woman says, her teeth clicking as she speaks. “We wanted you to know who’s sending you to your death.” Gods of death and destruction. Fantastic. They unleash their powers. Chernobog conjures spears from thin air, growing larger as they hurtle toward us. Sekhmet cups a sickly green mist in her palms—pestilence, thick and oozing.

"One." Tegan shifts back into reality with his hand gripping the hilt of his blade. A faint glow of purple envelopes within the incased suit of metal but his eyes never leave the fleeing pirate. Salavanta races across the rooftop of the animal hide building. The point of her sword trails along the wooden roof which makes a dreadful sound that surges through the stale air. The metal on bark reverberation catches the attention of the town folk. The comer attire of the people has fainted color robes unless they were selling out of a stall or market, those people wore shirts and pants with a cloth material that is loose on their bodies. The women wore the robes but some of the business owners wo

“Yes, he needs us. For now. What happens to us when he no longer needs us??? What have you gotten us into?!!!” Before I could say anything, several Lycan knights – dressed in black head to toe, appeared. In the light, their armor glistened with SCALES???? What was that???. These looked like dragon scales. Is the Dark Lord working with dragons??? And if so, does First Dragon know of this??? The knights, whose faces I could not see, looked extremely intimidating. I could not tell if they were all male warriors, as most looked almost identical. Standing over 6.5 feet, their long muscular bodies were adorned with various swords and daggers, some other interesting weapons I had never seen. Each h

It was the design that had thrown him. “Has my mark healed enough to see what it is?” he asked her curiously. She tilted his head and inspected his neck. “It’s healed perfectly,” she replied, her brows furrowing. “That’s weird, right? Doesn’t it take longer?” “It usually does. Yours has completely healed too, but with Maeve I guess that’s normal for you. What does mine look like?” “It’s white, the same colour as Drew’s knight-bond,” she said, glancing at her wrist, then looking back at his neck, perplexed. “It’s a crown though.”

“Are you a knight?” The innkeeper cast a glance over his shoulder at the gathered menfolk, who were all keenly following the conversation. I was glad I was not the only person to think he looked like one. “A mage,” Rivyn sat back on his chair. “Though I have competently wielded a sword on occasion,” he added in such a way that I knew with certainty that he was as much a knight as he was a mage, despite his demurring. The innkeeper agreed with me, his expression avid. “A mage knight,” he said. “That’s exactly what we need to kill this dragon.”

Valen rumbled. Confused, I thought he’d spoken to me, but then I saw Konah, covered in dark yellow scales, not quite golden in color. He, too, wore only pants. How the hell were they doing that? “He is yours,” Konah agreed and my delirious mind wanted both of them to keep speaking so I could bask in the richness of their voices. Not helping brain!