All the King's Traitors

by Keylin Rivers

  All the King’s Traitors

  Highwings Book One

  Keylin Rivers

  Astre Encre

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Thank You

  Acknowledgments

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © Keylin Rivers, 2019

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Development Edits by Amanda Feeney

  Copy Edits by Amanda Feeney

  Proofreading by Jessi Elliott

  Cover design by Damonza.com

  Formatting by Damonza.com

  Map by Jessica Khoury

  978-1-9990088-1-9 (Paperback)

  978-1-9990088-0-2 (Hardcover)

  978-1-9990088-2-6 (Ebook)

  First edition, August 2019.

  Published by Astre Encre.

  https://www.keylinrivers.com

  https://www.facebook.com/authorkeylinrivers/

  https://www.youtube.com/keylinrivers

  https://www.instagram.com/keylinrivers/

  For Elton John. Just in case this book happens to take off and you see it. I’m dreaming big here.

  Chapter 1

  Burrath, 1st Day of the Month of War, 1105 After the First Fall

  The cold wind prickled Vallich’s face, leaving behind a bitter sting as he trotted through the village on horseback. With each step forward, ice shattered beneath the hoofs of his grey steed. He had nearly fulfilled his mission.

  A gust of wind funnelled between the decrepit village huts once again. The sting was worse this time, but he didn’t mind. Vallich liked the cold. It meant he was far away from Azul, far away from him. Vallich’s boyish face distorted into a scowl as he clicked his heels back, encouraging the horse to press onward.

  The village was desolate, completely void of anything living. The United Azanthean Army had laid waste to this town months ago. It was apparent that none of the Northerners had decided to return once the army had retreated to the southern front. The village remained uninhabited—or so the army thought.

  Vallich remembered the moment he was called upon for this mission, right after he ascended as the God-King’s heir. Azanthean spies, who had infiltrated Burrath, had heard rumblings. They believed that the Grand-Leader Elect of Burrath was running his strategic operations from this village. The God-King could have sent his armies. Instead he sent one boy—Vallich.

  Unfortunately for the Northerners, Azanthean intelligence had been right. Vallich pulled on the horse’s reins, pausing for a moment. The sounds of the wind hurtling through the town only amplified Vallich’s dread. He laid the reins on his horse’s back and looked down at his bloodied hands and clothes, growling. He hated what he was chosen by the skies to do, but he had no choice. He could not disobey the God-King.

  He had run into several guards on the outskirts of the village. It was likely that they were elite soldiers, or trusted advisors, of the Northern Grand-Leader. People the Grand-Leader trusted. Vallich had made quick work of them.

  His blood boiled at the memory. These had not been the first men he killed. Vallich had been made to kill countless times before, all by order of the God-King. What made him most angry was that with each kill, it mattered less. The first time he had taken a life, he was distraught. He quickly discovered that that attitude would not be tolerated in Azul. So he learnt to hide his emotions. Now, the deaths he caused mattered little to him.

  And that made him furious.

  Vallich picked up the reins and gently clicked his heels on the horse. They trotted towards the few remaining huts at the end of the row. He could have sworn he saw smoke billowing out of a chimney when he was fighting the Northern guards earlier.

  As he approached the last hut, he swung his leg over the side of his filly and hopped off before she’d even come to a stop. He walked next to his charcoal steed.

  “Shh, Arion,” he said, placing the palm of his hand on her long face. “Stay here.”

  The beast stilled as Vallich marched towards the door. He grabbed at the pouch fastened to his belt, pulling out a small stone, and clutched it tightly in his hand.

  Vallich’s entire body became increasingly tense as he neared the door. He inhaled, readying himself for what could be his final fight.

  This might be his greatest challenger yet.

  And even though it angered him to be here on Apollyon’s bidding, Vallich did love a challenge.

  With one long exhale, he barged through the door.

  The door blasted open, slamming against the rickety wooden wall. A young, angry looking boy charged in.

  He was covered in blood.

  This was not what Wolfmere had expected. He wrangled in his gasp, before his opponent knew that he had been caught him off guard.

  Wolfmere lifted his chin as the boy drew his blade with one hand. The child was tall, maybe just a few inches shorter than him, but his face was young. Just a few years older than his own daughter.

  The boy’s arm twitched and Wolfmere’s eyes flickered to his adversary’s hand. He was clutching onto something. Wolfmere knew exactly what it was.

  The war-child stormed across the room and pressed the tip of his sword directly on the centre of Wolfmere’s chest.

  “Are you Wolfmere?” the boy asked.

  “I am,” Wolfmere said.

  “I am Vallich. By order of the God-King, Apollyon, you are to return with me to Azul, Capital of Azanthea, to await execution at the hand of the King himself.”

  Wolfmere hesitated. This was Vallich? Wolfmere had heard stories of Vallich: whispers of the power he could wield, the terror he instilled on the front lines, and of his recent ascension to heir to the throne of Azanthea. Soldiers who faced him in battle and lived to tell the tale were petrified. In the tales, they spoke of his youth, but he never expected that King Apollyon’s chosen heir was a mere boy.

  This changed things.

  Wolfmere calmly brushed the tip of the sword aside with the back of his hand. “There is no need for that here.”
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  Before Wolfmere had even finished moving the sword Vallich jutted his clenched hand in the air and his grey eyes glossed over white.

  As soon as Vallich’s hand was up, Wolfmere felt a searing pain in the centre of his back. The familiar warmth of trickling blood followed. Wolfmere grunted in pain as he took a step forward and whipped around to face the source of the pain.

  “So the whispers are true, Diamond-Wielder,” Wolfmere said, facing the thin diamond spear Vallich had conjured out of thin air. It was hovering at the height of his chest. “How interesting.”

  Vallich remained silent.

  “How did you get your Godstone?” Wolfmere asked.

  Another searing pain came from his back. This time, though, Wolfmere knew what it was. The feeling of Vallich’s steel blade edging around his fresh wound made him squirm.

  “Turn around,” Vallich said. “Face me.”

  Wolfmere felt Vallich pull the sword away. He obeyed the boy and turned to look directly into Vallich’s blank eyes.

  Vallich pressed the tip of his sword to Wolfmere’s chest. The boy’s eyes were still glossed over. He moved the hand clutching the Godstone backward, and Wolfmere could feel the diamond spear press into his back again.

  “Now listen closely,” he said, “because I hate repeating myself. King Apollyon—”

  “He is not my King,” Wolfmere said. “Burrath is not a part of Azanthea, nor will it ever be.”

  Wolfmere watched as Vallich’s demeanour shifted. The boy’s brow furrowed and his face became even more tense. To Wolfmere’s dismay, Vallich was smirking, maybe even smiling. Perhaps there was no saving this monster.

  “You’re not really in a position to say otherwise right now,” Vallich said.

  Wolfmere’s eye widened at Vallich’s vicious smile. This child was teasing him. “You do not want to play with me, boy,” Wolfmere said.

  “Fine,” Vallich said. “I really was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this …”

  Wolfmere felt both the sword and the diamond spear start to pierce into him. No matter how monstrous this boy was, he didn’t want to hurt a child. But the fate of Burrath rested on him. He had to get away.

  Wolfmere reached out to his Godstone with his mind, channelling its power.

  He was ready to fight.

  Two thick chunks of ice blasted up from the ground, sending Vallich stumbling backward in shock. The first one shot up behind Wolfmere, sending his diamond spear hurling towards the ceiling. The second flew up directly between the two of them. Wolfmere was able to conjure the ice so quickly that the sheer speed of it sent his own sword flying from his hand.

  Vallich’s heart began to race in anticipation; he was hardly ever caught off guard. He hadn’t even seen Wolfmere reach for his Godstone. Had it been in his hand the whole time? Or did he miss something?

  More ice pillars began to shoot up from the ground, completely surrounding him. He skirted towards a space away from the ice, only to have another ice pillar shoot up inches from his face. He spun around—all his possible escape routes were quickly closing in with ice. He sprinted across the small space towards another opening. Another pillar of ice was conjured, this time coming down from the ceiling, closing him in.

  Vallich stood in the centre of the ice pillars, eyeing his options. His breathing was fast and heavy. He had never crossed paths with anyone who could conjure their Godstone element so effortlessly and in such quantities. Most Wielders could not conjure at all, they could only control what was already there. But this ice was appearing out of nowhere.

  Another pillar went up. Sweat was beading on Vallich’s brow. Even just conjuring a few diamonds at once was enough to exhaust him. How was Wolfmere doing this?

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” Wolfmere said.

  Vallich could only see the shadow of his enemy circling his enclosure. He gritted his teeth. There were only three small openings left. He had to get out.

  “You’ll have to kill me!” Vallich shouted.

  “I know this isn’t you.” Wolfmere’s voice was distorted from beyond the ice. Vallich stalked his enemy’s shadow, watching intently for any openings. “This is what Apollyon made you.”

  “You don’t know me,” Vallich said.

  “You’re right,” Wolfmere said, “I don’t, but I do know Apollyon. I know how he manipulates people into doing his bidding. I know he has his ways.”

  “Then you know it would be wiser to submit now and face a painless death at his hands,” Vallich shouted. Wolfmere was nearing an opening.

  “I cannot do that,” Wolfmere said through the ice. “I will not subject my people to his rule.”

  When he saw the distorted figure come out from behind the ice, he clutched his Godstone tightly, conjured another diamond spear, and sent it blasting towards the figure.

  Vallich heard Wolfmere cry out in pain. The spear had caught him on the back of his calf. He sprinted towards the injured man.

  Vallich grabbed him by the vest and, with all his strength, hurled the larger, more muscular man into the small enclosure. Wolfmere fell to the ground in the centre of the circle.

  Vallich heaved, catching his breath. Then he lunged at Wolfmere, slamming down on top of him. Vallich straddled his chest and began to unleash a storm of punches onto Wolfmere’s face. There was a loud crack and blood began to stream out of Wolfmere’s nose. Vallich continued his bombardment. The metallic smell of blood began to fill the cold air.

  Wolfmere’s tense body slowly became limp, and Vallich knew he should end it. With his remaining energy, he focused on the Godstone clutched in his hand, preparing to deliver the final blow. Just as he was about to conjure a diamond spear, he noticed a small bump on Wolfmere’s chest—a bump that glowed faintly through his shirt. Vallich ripped open the dishevelled clothing to reveal a misshapen lump on Wolfmere’s chest. The skin over it was butchered. Vallich’s jaw dropped: Wolfmere’s Godstone was stitched into to his chest.

  Wolfmere’s eyes shot open. They were completely white, glossed over. Vallich trembled, knowing that meant Wolfmere was connected to his Godstone.

  A loud crack rang out from beside him. Vallich spun around just in time to see a large piece of an ice pillar flying at him from across the circle. The pillar hit him with a force that sent him sliding across the floor headfirst into one of the pillars on the other side. His entire vision went dark on impact and his entire body ached.

  His vision was blotchy when he made his attempt to get up. It was futile. He crumbled back to the ground.

  As the black patches obscuring his vision began to disappear, he could see Wolfmere standing in the middle of the ice circle. He clutched his hand, but the Godstone he had been gripping so tightly was gone. He must have dropped it when he fell. He had to find it.

  Pain stabbed Vallich’s head as he scanned the dirt floor for his Godstone, but there were still patches missing from his vision and his peripheral view was completely gone.

  Vallich rolled onto his stomach and pulled himself onto his elbows. He dragged himself across the floor, hands fumbling in the dirt, desperately searching for his Godstone.

  “Give up,” Wolfmere said, and a boot appeared in front of Vallich’s face.

  Vallich looked up to see Wolfmere right in front of him. The blotches were fading, his vision almost restored.

  “I… can’t,” Vallich whispered. Apollyon would hunt him beyond the known worlds if he did.

  “You can,” Wolfmere said, crouching down so their faces were closer.

  And then, as his vision cleared completely, Vallich caught sight of the distinct shine of his Godstone emanating from Wolfmere’s hand.

  His chest burned with anger. Nobody touched his Godstone—especially not another Wielder.

  “Come with me,” Wolfmere said. “We can show you the way.”

  Vallich smirked. He had killed countless Northerners. He’d been assigned to capture or assassinate Wolfmere, and yet Wolfmere hadn’t killed him. Perhaps this is what the world
was like in the North. It was naïve. Wolfmere was naïve, and it was going to get him killed. Nobody was immune to the God-King’s power.

  Vallich knew what he had to do, but he was still too dizzy to stand.

  “How?” he asked. “Apollyon will find me wherever I go.”

  “We will defeat his armies and restore peace in the North.”

  “How will you manage that? Apollyon’s armies are huge,” Vallich said.

  “You may have the numbers, but we are fighting for something: freedom,” Wolfmere spat back.

  Vallich was still dizzy, but he knew this was the moment. Wolfmere seemed to have let down his guard and the grip on the Godstone loosened ever so slightly.

  In one swift motion, Vallich leaned the weight of his body on his palms and pushed his feet off the ice pillar behind him. He quickly swung his feet around, crashing his legs into Wolfmere’s calf. The Northerner fell to the ground and the Godstone went flying into the air. Vallich leapt up, turning away from Wolfmere. He nearly lost his balance, but he landed on his feet.

  The Godstone was falling. Vallich lunged to get it. He felt it fumble against his fingers, but his perception was off and he reached too low. His face sank as he realized that, in his attempt to catch it, he had knocked the Godstone across the enclosure.