StormborneLore

Tag: warrior exile

  • The Chronicles of the Gold Ring

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring

    Acrylic painting of a Roman soldier with red shield and spear, artwork by StormborneLore (Emma Hewitt, 2025). Symbolizes the fall of Taranis Stormborne and the transition from Celtic Britain to Roman Britain in The Chronicles of the Gold Ring."

    Chapter Thirteen – The Shattered Circle

    The circle of stones stood under a bruised sky. The thirteenth stone, already cracked from the battle at Emberhelm, seemed to strain against itself as though it knew what was coming. Thirteen seats. Only twelve filled.

    Taranis Storm to his outlaws stood at the centre. His cloak was damp from rain, his wrist still bandaged from the Hill of Ashes. Around him, the brothers of the Ring shifted like wolves uneasy in their own skins.

    Drax spoke first. “The Black Shields raid in your name. The people whisper of you, not of us. The balance is broken.”

    “It was never balanced,” Taranis replied. His voice was low, bitter. “We bled for fields that gave us no bread. Rome takes salt from our earth while we quarrel. If I raid, it is to feed our people, not to wear a crown.”

    Lore’s eyes flicked to the sky. “And yet the crown follows you, brother. The omens have turned. The storm no longer waits.”

    Then Rayne stepped forward, the firelight showing the sly curve of his smile. “No storm lasts forever. Some of us have chosen survival.”

    From the shadows came the tramp of iron boots. The air filled with the rhythm of Rome square shields, horsehair crests, iron blades that gleamed even in the grey. The circle of stones was surrounded.

    Draven’s face went pale. His lips moved as if to speak, but no words came.

    “You led them here,” Taranis said.

    Rayne did not deny it. “Our people will live beneath Rome’s law. Better chains of iron than graves of ash.”

    The thirteenth stone split with a sound like thunder. Dust trickled down its face. The Ring was broken.

    Battle erupted. Drax drew steel, Lore called fire from the runes, Aisin shielded the cradle where Caelum slept. Nessa’s blade sang bright before she was dragged into the fray, her cry lost in the clash.

    Taranis fought like the storm itself blade flashing, shield breaking, each stroke cutting down another soldier. But for every man he felled, three more closed in. Nets weighted with lead tangled his limbs. Chains of iron bit deep.

    He roared once, a sound that shook the stones. Lightning split the sky as if the gods themselves mourned. Then the Romans dragged him down. His black shield shattered under their boots.

    “Take him alive,” the centurion barked. “Rome has use for beasts like this.”

    When the fighting ended, the circle lay in ruin. Smoke curled from broken fires. Brothers lay wounded or scattered. The thirteenth stone was nothing but rubble.

    Taranis, Storm of Emberhelm, was shackled in chains and marched south along the salt road. Behind him, the old world fell silent. Ahead lay the lash, the arena, and the roar of foreign crowds.

    He lifted his head once to the sky and whispered through bloodied lips:

    “If I must fight, let it be as storm, not as slave.”

    The storm rolled east with him, into Rome.

    © StormborneLore Emma Hewitt, 2025. All rights reserved.

    The Library of Caernath

    Stormborne Arts

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Twelve

  • The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Nine.

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Nine.

    Bread for Blood

    The night was raw and sharp with frost, the air thick with the scent of pine and woodsmoke drifting from distant hearths. Taranis rode ahead, the black shield strapped to his back catching what little moonlight broke through the bare branches.

    Behind him, the Black Shields moved like a shadow given form. Seven riders their shields painted black and marked with the storm-sigil in dull grey ash. Among them, Brianna kept pace, her raven-dark hair bound in a warrior’s braid, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

    Their target lay where the old trader’s road bent toward the river. a Roman supply convoy, fat with grain, salted pork, and amphorae of oil. The guards wore the same polished arrogance as all Rome’s men helmets gleaming, spears upright, their march a perfect, disciplined rhythm.

    Taranis raised his fist.
    The forest seemed to hold its breath.
    Then his hand dropped, and the night erupted.

    Arrows hissed from the treeline, felling the lead guard before the others could shout. Brianna’s blade flashed as she rode through the side of the column, cutting down a soldier who tried to raise his horn. Taranis slammed into the rearmost wagon, sending it lurching into the ditch.

    The fight was short, brutal.
    When it ended, the snow was churned with blood and the mules stood trembling, steam curling from their nostrils.

    “Take the lot,” Taranis said. “Every last sack.”

    The Shields loaded what they could onto their own wagons, but instead of retreating into the forest as usual, Taranis turned his horse toward the lowland villages along the marsh. They moved in silence, the wagons creaking under the weight of Rome’s stolen bounty.

    The first door they knocked on belonged to a bent-backed widow with two hungry children. Brianna handed her a sack of grain without a word.


    At the next farmstead, a half-crippled shepherd received a barrel of salted pork. By the time they reached the edge of Emberhelm’s border, half the load was gone.

    The rest, Taranis delivered at dawn to Lore’s men at the southern watch, and to Drax’s quartermaster in the hills.

    When Brianna caught up to him by the river, she frowned.

    “You give more than you keep. That’s not how outlaws survive.”

    Taranis shrugged, eyes on the water.

    “Then I’m not an outlaw. I’m a storm. Storms take, but they leave the earth ready to grow again.”

    She studied him for a long moment before nodding once.

    “Then let’s see how long the earth lets you live.”

    © 2025 Emma Hewitt. All rights reserved.
    This story and all characters within the StormborneLore world are the original creation of Emma Hewitt. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or scholarly works.

    The Library of Caernath

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring… Chapter One

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Two

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Three.

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Four.

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Five

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Interlude.

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring. Chapter Six

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Seven

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Eight

  • The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Eight

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Eight

    The Shadow Raid

    The forests north of Emberhelm were not empty. They whispered in the cold leaves rustling without wind, branches creaking as if bearing witness.


    Every step of Taranis’s horse cracked frost from the dead undergrowth, and in the darkness, unseen eyes marked his passage.

    The Black Shields had grown in only a handful of days. Seven now a band stitched together from thieves, deserters, exiled warriors, and one woman with hair like raven feathers whose blade was sharper than her tongue. She called herself Brianna , and unlike the others, she did not flinch when Taranis looked at her.

    They camped in the hollows where no light could reach. They moved before sunrise, leaving only cold ashes behind, and they spoke little, except for the soft murmur of plans and the low hum of old battle songs.

    Their first strike had been for food.
    The second, for vengeance.
    The third would be for a message, not just for them but the starving.

    Bryn Halwyn a hill fort the Romans had claimed but not yet reforged in their own style. Its high earthwork walls crouched like a sleeping beast above the winding road. That road was crawling now with supply wagons, the torchlight of the guards bobbing like fireflies in the mist.

    Taranis’s voice was a low growl “Shields black. Faces darker.”

    The Shields moved as one, melting into the tree line. Arrows hissed from the dark, the first taking a Roman through the throat before his shout could leave his mouth. The second dropped a driver from his cart, spilling barrels into the mud.

    Then came the torches. They arced through the air, their fire licking greedily at wagon covers, rope, and dry straw. Flames climbed fast, reflected in the wide eyes of panicked mules.

    Taranis was already moving.
    A shadow at the edge of the firelight, blade flashing, he cut through the first guard and didn’t stop. The air stank of blood and burning oak. The Romans shouted in their clipped tongue, but their formations shattered in the chaos.

    By dawn, the road was empty but for the smell of wet ash and a single storm-sigil burned deep into the dirt where the wagons had stood.


    When they were gone, the crows came, hopping between the blackened wheels and picking at the dead.

    That night, beside a hidden fire, the Shields feasted on stolen bread and salt pork. Kerris leaned across the flames.


    “What now?” she asked.

    Taranis stared into the heart of the fire until his eyes stung.
    “We keep going until there’s nothing left to take. Or until they come for me.”

    Kerris smirked. “And if they do?”

    He smiled without warmth. “Then they’ll find the storm waiting.” he replied with a grin

    © 2025 Emma Hewitt. All rights reserved.This story and all characters within the StormborneLore world are the original creation of Emma Hewitt. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or scholarly works.

    Futher Reading

    The Library of Caernath

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring… Chapter One

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Two

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Three.

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Four.

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Five

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Interlude.

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring. Chapter Six

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Seven

  • The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Seven

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Seven

    Ash on the Bridge


    The morning after the storm was silent, but for the river.


    Its grey water curled slow beneath the bridge, licking at the stones as if to wash them clean of the night before.
    It could not.

    Boldolph lay there still, fur wet, eyes closed in the peace of warriors who never feared death. Morrigan was beside him, her flank pressed against his as though she had refused to fall alone.

    Taranis did not kneel. He stood apart, a horn of bitter mead in one hand, the other wrapped around the haft of his spear. His brothers spoke words over the dead the kind of words that should have meant something but the high warlord’s gaze was elsewhere. Past the pyres, past the valley, toward the ridges where the enemy had come.

    The smell of charred wood and dragon’s breath lingered. Somewhere above the clouds, the great wings of Pendragon and Tairneanach were gone to ash or exile. He could feel the absence as a wound.

    When the flames took the wolves, he drank deep. When the ashes scattered on the wind, he did not look back.

    That night, in the hall of Ignis, Lore spoke of rebuilding. Draven spoke of the Ring’s oaths. Drax spoke of vengeance.
    Taranis said nothing until the room had emptied.

    Then, to the empty benches, he muttered, “The Ring is cracked. And cracks spread.”

    Outside, the moon rode high. In its light, a man in a blackened cloak rode from Emberhelm with no banner and no blessing only a storm sigil scratched into his shield with the point of a knife.

    The Black Shields had begun.

    2025 Emma Hewitt. All rights reserved.
    This story and all characters within the StormborneLore world are the original creation of Emma Hewitt. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or scholarly works.

    The Library of Caernath

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring… Chapter One

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Two

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Three.

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Four.

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Five

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring. Chapter Six

  • The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Interlude.

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Interlude.

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  • The Chronicles of the Gold Ring. Chapter Six

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring. Chapter Six

    The Night the Ring Shattered


    The night smelled of rain and iron.

    From the outer wall, Taranis could taste the storm before it broke sharp on the air, heavy in his bones. The valley below was black save for the faint glint of torchlight far beyond the river. The strangers from the ridge had come at last.

    “They’re not raiders,” Drax said, joining him at the wall. “Too few for a siege. Too disciplined for a skirmish.”

    “Too confident to live,” Taranis replied, though the set of his jaw told another story.

    By the time the first horn blew, the outer gate was already under assault. Not a roar of chaos, but the steady, hammering rhythm of a trained force. Boldolph and Morrigan were first to meet them teeth bared, fur bristling, their snarls rolling over the walls like distant thunder.

    Then the sky tore.

    Pendragon and Tairneanach came from the dark like living fire. Wings swept low, scattering the first wave of attackers into the river. For a heartbeat, the night belonged to Emberhelm.

    But then a cry from the inner courtyard.

    Nessa, blade in hand, burst from the shadows. “Caelum’s chamber is empty!”

    Taranis didn’t think he moved. Past the gate, through the melee, cutting down the enemy commander’s guard one by one until steel rang on steel. The man was quick, his armour unfamiliar banded metal, curved like river reeds, not the crude plates of the hill tribes. A shadow of Rome in the making.

    Behind them, the wolves fought on. Boldolph took a spear to the ribs and kept moving. Morrigan’s howl was the last thing many would hear before the river claimed them.

    Inside the sacred circle, Lore’s voice rose over the clash an old chant to bind the enemy’s will. Draven tried to hold the stones, his hands trembling against the carved runes. Rayne was nowhere to be seen.

    The duel was short and brutal. Taranis drove his blade through the man’s chest, wrenching it free as lightning split the sky. But in that moment, the circle of stones shook. One the thirteenth stone cracked down its face with a sound like the earth breaking.

    Pendragon roared once more, then wheeled away into the storm. Tairneanach followed. Neither would be seen again.

    When the gate finally closed, the field beyond was strewn with the dead ours and theirs. Boldolph lay on the bridge, Morrigan beside him, the river taking their last breath.

    And in the quiet after, Caelum was found untouched, but with a strip of strange iron tied to his crib. A mark, a warning, or a promise.

    Taranis stood in the ruins of Emberhelm, rain running from his cloak, watching the storm move east.

    “I will find who brought them to our gates,” he said.

    From the shadows, Rayne’s voice answered, almost too soft to hear.
    “You won’t have to look far.”

    © 2025 Emma Hewitt. All rights reserved.This story and all characters within the StormborneLore world are the original creation of Emma Hewitt. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews or scholarly works.

    Further Reading

    The Library of Caernath

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring… Chapter One

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Two

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Three.

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Four.

    The Chronicles of the Gold Ring Chapter Five