The Dawn of the End (The Rising Book 3)

by Kristen Ashley

  If they survived, they were released into the Shanty, one class of the varied disenfranchised who existed there.

  The Down was also where the ancient torture chambers were.

  They’d been closed four generations ago after a public outcry became a riot that saw a goodly amount of the city burned, a larger amount looted, and Birchlire Castle had been in danger of both. This, after two young men, neither of them even twenty, were tortured to death for a crime it was eventually proved they did not commit. It was simply the fact that the lord of the manor didn’t like them. Therefore, he’d accused them of a rape that one of his own vassals had committed.

  The Down, after nearly two hundred years of being locked, was now open.

  True would be going there.

  Very soon.

  But not in the now.

  He stopped walking swiftly up the steps and started jogging, hearing the boots of the men behind him striking the stone treads in a quick cadence, following him.

  He ceased doing this when he made the fourth landing, where Carrington was being kept.

  But he did stride purposefully down the hall.

  There was one guard at the top of the steps, two guards at the end of the hall, two at the door.

  One of them moved immediately, putting his hand to his belt to procure the key and open the door.

  True, with his assemblage behind him, stopped at it, and he caught the other guard not at work opening the door, bowing to him.

  “If you bow to me again, twenty lashes,” he spat.

  The guard shot up, and the air in the hall went static.

  “I-I’m sorry, Your Grace?” the guard stammered.

  “You are a citizen of this realm and in service to it. You may salute me as your superior officer. You may salute me as a citizen of this land, and I am in a position of authority. But you do not bow to me. Ever,” True replied.

  The guard’s eyes slid to his compatriot but then he looked back to his prince, nodded sharply, lifted his hand to his forehead and gave a smart salute.

  True dipped his chin, turned his gaze impatiently to the other man who seemed frozen in his duties of opening the door.

  When he caught True’s attention, he swiftly went about finishing his task.

  He threw open the heavy, studded door.

  True strode in, and Carrington, writing something at the table, his iron lit, the room cozy warm, his clothing his own—well-tailored trousers and waistcoat made of worsted wool, shirt of fine linen, what looked to be a cashmere rug thrown about his shoulders (also likely from his own home)—stood from his chair, his lips quirking in a triumphant smile.

  True wasted no time wiping it from his face.

  His knuckles were split and two of Carrington’s teeth were embedded in them before Aramus pulled him off and tugged him away, Apollo Ulfr needing to assist him with this effort.

  Cassius stayed close to his struggling brothers while Mars took position before a prone Carrington on the floor and Frey Drakkar approached the traitor, staring down at him with distaste.

  “This is not you, my brother,” Aramus said in his ear, grappling to keep control of True at the same time Cassius and Mars were positioning to stop Wallace and Luther from assisting their prince in getting free. “Do not allow him to take away who you are. Keep hold, man.” His grip under True’s arms tightened. “Keep hold.”

  It was the last that got through to True.

  He stopped fighting against his friend and drew in a deep breath.

  When Aramus sensed he had control, he let him go and he and Ulfr stepped away.

  True took another deep breath and jerked his head side to side in an ineffectual effort to ease some of the tension there.

  “Aramus speaks true, it’s not you,” Mars stated offhandedly. “But also, he cannot talk if he’s unconscious, and we cannot torture him to any kind of success, again, if he’s unconscious.”

  “Get him up in the chair,” True bit out.

  Wallace and Luther moved.

  Carrington groaned as they did as ordered.

  His face was a mangled mess. His jaw might even be broken.

  True did not call for a physician.

  He moved toward him and stopped.

  True then bent his head to look down at his hand, dug out one, then the other, of Carrington’s teeth and tossed them to the stone floor under the man’s lax feet.

  They made a quiet clatter as they skittered toward his boot.

  Carrington’s head was lolling on his shoulders to such an extent, he did not notice this.

  “Do you know what they do to traitors in the necropolis of Firenze?” he asked.

  Carrington’s swelling eyelids fluttered.

  But his split, bloody lips said, “Long live The Rising.”

  He said this with a lisp.

  True was far from amused or even gratified by the sound.

  Sensing this, Mars got close.

  Cassius did too.

  But Aramus stayed where he was and simply said, “My friend.”

  True drew in another deep breath.

  “You’ll be moved to the Down,” he shared with his prisoner.

  “Long live The Rising,” Carrington replied.

  True crossed his arms on his chest.

  “I see,” he whispered.

  Carrington’s head twitched at this in surprise.

  True moved closer to him.

  Carrington winced as his body braced.

  Cassius and Mars stayed close.

  But True only crouched beside the odious man.

  “My mother told me you urged my father to tax the Go’Doan. With this show of loyalty to them, was that subterfuge?”

  “There are many followers of Go’Doan in Wodell, Your Grace.”

  “And a tax against their religion would not be well regarded.”

  Carrington said nothing.

  But if it could be credited, he smirked.

  In other words, another plan to create dissension and reduce the popularity of the monarch.

  True did not resort to his earlier method to wipe that smirk off his face.

  “I’m claiming regent,” he said softly.

  Carrington’s mangled face managed to show some shock before he blanked it.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he replied.

  “You did not wish that, but I see it doesn’t alarm you,” True remarked. “What will alarm you is that I will claim regent for only a very short time. That time being as long as it takes for the papers to be drawn up and my father to sign his abdication.”

  Carrington jolted in his chair.

  He hadn’t expected that.

  True felt no pleasure at his surprise.

  None at all.

  “These papers will be ready on the morn. They’ll also be signed on the morn. And then I will have all clear rights, claims and powers over this land,” True told him.

  “That doesn’t matter either,” Carrington returned.

  “You are so sure?” True asked.

  “I am very sure, Your Grace,” Carrington replied, a definite smirk now lifting his bloodied lips.

  “Well then,” True said on a sigh as he straightened from his crouch, “we shall see. But on the matter of you, there have been a number of changes.”

  Carrington lifted his chin. “I do not fear the Down.”

  “You won’t be there long,” True shared. “And I imagine you suspect that. Thus, I can understand why you would not fear it. However, with all clear rights, claims and powers over this land, I can make any number of decisions. Indeed, all of them. Including the one I make in the now. You are found guilty of high treason against the Kingdom of Wodell.”

  “I’ll have my tribunal,” Carrington stated calmly.

  “You…will…not,” True bit.

  Carrington stilled completely.

  Brilliant.

  Now he had the man’s complete attention.

  “You studied extensively in Go’Doan. Do you remember what hap
pened in olden times when a man was found guilty of high treason in Wodell?” True asked.

  Carrington began to squirm in his chair.

  He knew.

  “Drawn and quartered,” True told him regardless. “Hanged, almost until dead. Publicly. Then I’ll have your cock severed from your body. Publicly. I will then have your bowels spilled from your gut. Publicly. And as you are there before all, spread open, spilling out, emasculated, I’ll have your head. That’s the last you’ll experience. But now you’ll know your dead body will be quartered, the parts taken to the four corners of this city, set out, and what is not torn away as naught but carrion will be left to rot. Your head, however, will be on a pike affixed outside the window to my mother’s bedchamber.”

  “You cannot do that. That practice was outlawed—” Carrington began.

  “We have not had an incidence of high treason since then, or at least not one instigated by someone not of royal blood. Now, we have. And as I will soon be the law of the land, I’m making it not outlawed any longer.”

  “I did not bear the bow that killed your mother.”

  Rage burned in him at the reminder of just some of the massive amount he’d lost that day, and True couldn’t hold it in check.

  He backhanded Carrington so hard, the man nearly toppled to the floor.

  He then got it in check and shared, “As supreme ruler of this land, I’ve decided I don’t fucking care.”

  True turned on his boot and moved to the door but stopped as both the guards there saluted him.

  “Take him to the Down,” he commanded. “Relieve him of his clothes. He wears commoners’ prison garb. Broth and bread once a day. No butter. No meat. No coffee. No milk. Half carafe of water a day. Half a candle a day for light. No books. No papers. No exercise. No visitors. No talking. If a guard responds to him, relieve that guard of his duties, that being his employment with the Royal Penal Guard, and assign another who will not break this order. He does not leave his cell and put him in the smallest one we have. Am I understood?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “And see to this immediately,” True went on.

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Then send a guard to his home,” True continued. “Strip it of all his possessions. Claim them for the crown. At the exact hour my mother lost her life this day, tomorrow, I want everything burned that can be burned. Anything of worth can be liquidated, the proceeds divided between the Royal Service Infirmary and Our Lady the Queen’s Orphanage, after ten percent is deducted to be donated to the Temple to Wohden.”

  “At once, Your Grace.”

  “And last, you do not have to handle him gently,” True finished.

  The guard he was addressing smiled.

  He was either loyal to True, loyal to Mercy, or what being one or the other actually meant.

  Loyal to Wodell.

  “You cannot do this!” Carrington called agitatedly as True began to leave the room.

  He turned back. “This was your mistake, Carrington. For you put me right where I am. And I can.”

  With that, True moved out of the room, his group coming with him as Carrington shouted, “I will have a tribunal! You cannot prove a thing! I demand to speak to the king! You cannot prove—”

  He was silenced abruptly. Clearly, True’s final order had been carried out with due haste.

  There was silence until they reached the ground floor.

  As they made their way down the long hall to the opposite tower, Mars fell in step beside him.

  “Farah,” was all he said.

  True felt his mouth tighten before he forced it to relax in order to reply, “You saw yourself it was a flesh wound. The arrow went through, easily broken at the head, the shaft removed without further damage. When I left, it had been cleansed, stitched, and her arm has been put in a sling. She was given a sleeping draught. The women are with her.”

  Cassius fell in step on his other side.

  “Sir Alfie.”

  At that, pain raging along his spine, through his gut, in his heart, so intense in all places, it drove up his throat, True stopped dead and looked into Cassius’s eyes.

  Cassius read what he saw in True’s and whispered, “Fuck, True.”

  “He will never walk again. I suppose, as the arrow struck the spine low, and he still has use of his arms, he has some hope of some semblance of a life, perhaps siring a child, getting himself around. But he’s in agony. And when his pain fades, I am in no doubt he will ask for the Soldier’s Poison. And I must make the decision if I’ll grant it to him.”

  All the men got close.

  But Cassius repeated, “Fuck, True.”

  True looked to Mars. “I was told my father dove under the pew.”

  “Do not think of these things in the now, my brother,” Mars said quietly.

  “Mars, did…my father…dive under…the gods-damned pew?” True gritted.

  “Yes,” Mars answered.

  “He did this while Alfie rushed to protect her and any life he would accept was taken from him, but not in that moment. He does not die knowing he served his realm. He makes the decision to die, thinking he failed his queen.”

  “Do not think of these things in the now, my brother,” Mars bit. “You will have vengeance. Your man will have vengeance. You will see to it. And if you don’t, I will.”

  “As will I,” Cassius said.

  “As will I,” Aramus added.

  “You’ll have my dragons,” Frey declared.

  “And you’ll have my wolves,” Apollo finished.

  He looked amongst them.

  Then he looked to Wallace and Luther.

  Wallace looked grave.

  Luther looked murderous.

  True again turned and moved to the door that would lead them down.

  They were at the bottom level, three floors under the earth. True knew this because he’d ordered them there. But even if he didn’t know, the amount of guards at that landing and along the hall would have proclaimed it.

  Nearly every one of the archers in the temple had been subdued after they’d let fly their arrows, either by wedding attendees, or by the palace guard that had been set to protect their king, queen, prince and his new princess.

  One, however, had broken his neck after falling down a stone stairwell while attempting to flee.

  Nineteen men were held down in that reopened torture chamber, the largest room of the lot.

  And True made his way there.

  The door was opened for him and the others quite a bit faster than the one they’d been through to visit Carrington.

  What he saw when he entered the large, musty room was not the dust and cobwebs.

  It was further not Gal and Brix, his gnome spies, who he had not seen since he and Farah had visited the Doors some weeks before.

  It was also not Princess Serena of the Nadirii wearing her Nadirii tunic, leg casings and moccasins with the band proclaiming her royalty wrapped around her forehead. A broadsword was at her back, one dagger in her belt, her arse planted on top of a rickety table, legs crossed in front of her, currently engaged in daintily cleaning her fingernails with the tip of her other dagger.

  He also did not see Mars’s Trusted, Chu, standing near her wearing his Firenz leathers with the Trusted’s black mantle edged in green and red at his back.

  Nor did he see the dozen guards patrolling between the men who were stripped of anything but their underpants, on their knees spread wide on the cold stone floor, their arms tied at the back of their heads with a rough rope that also was tied around their necks.

  He saw that there weren’t nineteen of them.

  There were twenty-one.

  Mars didn’t miss this either, thus he asked his man, “And who are our added guests?”

  “They’re the Go’Doan priests we caught with the missives I sent the message to you about. Sadly,” Chu resolutely did not glance at True, “we deciphered their message too late.”

  Mars let his breath
out his nose and the sound reminded True vaguely of an angry bull.

  “You tried to warn us,” True said to Serena.

  She was watching Chu talk, but when he spoke, her gaze came to him.

  “Your guard is good, True,” she replied, shocking him by speaking complimentary words, the first he’d ever heard from her lips. “They wouldn’t let me anywhere near, and I was in disguise, so they had no idea who I was.”

  “They were not good enough,” True returned shortly.

  “Do not do that,” she said softly, shocking him again with her tone before she jerked her head toward the men on their knees on the floor. “These arseholes are sneaky as hell. It’s going to take breaking one to know what we face. And further, it’s important you understand you will not be the only one who lives the rest of your life with their failure. They will too.”

  They will too.

  Was he talking to Prince Serena of the Nadirii?

  He had no time to process what appeared to be a colossal change in her.

  He simply lifted his chin and said, “Thank you. You tried to save my mother. And for that, I will forever be grateful to you.”

  She blinked, now experiencing her own shock.

  She then looked to Chu, as if he could translate a foreign tongue she’d never heard.

  Chu shook his head once, an indication they’d speak later.

  She accepted that readily, sheathed her dagger, hopped off the table and crossed her arms on her chest, ready for True to get on with it.

  True turned to do just that only for Gal to speak.

  “We have failed you too.”

  He looked down at the gnome. “And how did you do that?”

  “We did not discover the plot,” Gal replied.

  “Neither did I, or any of my men, or my mother, all of whom were aware there possibly was one, even if we couldn’t imagine she’d be the target,” True pointed out.

  “We’re better than all of you,” Brix returned, and he was not bragging.

  This was true.

  “And although I’d like to see what happens next to these bastards,” Brix jerked his head to the side, “I want more to get back to it. So you have our apologies for our failure. They are heartfelt. And now, we will help you seek vengeance.”