Ashes of Dearen: Book 1

by Jayden Woods

  *

  Picard and Richard approached the Royal Chambers with ten hordesfolk.

  It only made sense that their father had made his way to Fayr’s chamber. After all, Leonard had seemed fond enough of Richard’s suggestion to fuck the princess and then marry her—who wouldn’t be? Such action could also take care of the khan family’s passes and allow them to stay in Dearen for as long as they wished. Therefore, it was the most likely place to find the khan himself.

  Moreover, Picard hoped to find Sean here, as well.

  The Wolven said he would go and speak to the princess in order to learn more about the dungeons. Then he disappeared. Now where, oh where, had he gone?

  “Let us pass,” growled Richard.

  Standing before him, six Dearen guards trembled in their boots. Their chubby leader, Sir Gornum, struggled to endure Richard’s glaring gaze.

  “Th-the princess says no one gets through,” burst Sir Gornum. “And I do believe your passes expired. Reeve Lyndor has the list of people who can stay. If you’re not on it, then you must leave the palace immediately.”

  Richard responded by drawing his sword. The scrape of the broad steel against its scabbard rang through the hall like a rusty church bell. Gornum’s eyes doubled in size.

  “This is unheard of!” cried the Master of the Royal Guard. “You can’t attack the guards of Dearen!”

  “Fuck yes I can,” said Richard, and swung his sword.

  Sir Gornum was fortunate in his ability to dodge quickly, or perhaps just the response of his limbs to his own surfeit of fear. In any case he scrambled away before Richard’s blade could nick him. Instead, the steel sank into the neck of a guard standing just next to him. The less fortunate fellow let out a stubbed cry before he lost the strength to speak, and fell to the ground leaking blood.

  Richard lifted his sword to swing again.

  The remaining Dearen guards squealed and ran in terror.

  “Don’t let them get away,” said Picard. And the hordesfolk obeyed.

  Picard watched in fascination as the Vikand warriors sprang to action. Their leather fittings creaked and stretched to the strain of their heaving muscles. Sun beams splintered off their waving weapons. They far outnumbered the Dearen soldiers, but they pursued the pathetic souls with all their might and fervor. Picard had not witnessed such excitement since leaving Vikand.

  How drastically things could change overnight.

  Two of the Dearen guards fell quickly to Vikand weapons. The hordesfolk continued thrusting and stabbing long after their victims fell vanquished. Crimson blood streamed out and tarnished the perfect silver stones of Dearen palace. Sill the Vikand soldiers hacked at the bodies. Blood-lust gleamed in their eyes. All their feelings of anger and hatred, which had slept within them since entering Dearen, now fully reawakened.

  Picard and Richard stood and watched the show with sheer wonder on their faces.

  “Over there!” Picard pointed excitedly. “One of them is hiding behind that column!”

  The hordesfolk ran at the Dearen and attacked him from every direction. He didn’t even have time to scream.

  Soon, five corpses littered the hallway and its adjacent gardens. It appeared that Sir Gornum had escaped for the time being. No matter: the hordesfolk returned with dripping swords and leering smiles. They panted for breath—not from exertion, but from the strength of their own excitement.

  “Well done, men.” Richard’s eyes glittered with the same realization as Picard. “Now let’s find Father.”

  They continued into the Royal Chambers.

  Now that their appetite for a fight had been whetted, however, they found little to oppose them. The Royal Chambers were vacant—completely so. Hordesmen barged through doors and into bedrooms. But no one was inside. Richard himself tried to kick down the princess’s door. He found that someone had already damaged the door frame.

  “Look.” Picard pointed to the floor. “Blood.”

  Everyone stepped back to search the ground beneath their feet. The streaks and drops of blood had been smeared by wet rags, and in some places covered with carpets. But the evidence remained, dark and crusting.

  Some of the hordesfolk drew circles with their fingers and muttered a quick prayer to Friva. Now that they were looking for it, they found signs of blood everywhere, starting in the princess’s bedroom and streaking far down the hall.

  “What the fuck?” said Richard.

  Picard stepped into the princess’s bedroom and looked every which way. The bed was strewn apart, sheets pouring onto the floor, pillows ripped open. Fallen candlesticks and vases suggested quite a struggle.

  “I think Father was here,” said Picard. He regarded his brother warily. “How many men do you think he brought with him?”

  “I don’t know.” Richard scratched his raggedy hair. “Four, maybe? Five? I know Reinar and Gully went with him, at least.”

  “Hm.” Picard’s hand twitched restlessly. “Could that be their blood?”

  “But how?” Richard’s hand squeezed the pommel of his sword. “Who here would kill them? Who here would dare oppose Father?”

  Picard knew that Princess Fayr would dare to oppose the khan; she had made that clear enough in Friva’s Hall. But she could not have killed the khan and four men—if that’s what had happened. And if it did ...

  A little shiver went through Picard’s body as his eyes settled on a piece of metal on the floor. Without a word, he went to pick it up. Then he stared down at it in a daze. The jewel-laden metal caught the light from the window and cast rainbow shards throughout the chamber.

  Richard’s face turned white. “That ... that ...!”

  “It’s the Khan’s Collar.” Picard turned it between his good and broken hand, feeling little pricks of pain creep up his wrist. “It appears to have been ... ripped off.”

  “How ... ?” Richard’s muscles rippled up and down his arms as he mimed wringing someone’s neck. “Who ... !”

  “Easy now,” said Picard. He reached for a pouch of safra in his tunic and ate a little pinch. “We don’t know what happened to Father yet—only that his collar was torn off. Which does suggest an unusual amount of aggression, as well as ... strength. I can think of only one person with the strength to do this, and I happen to know he passed this way last night.”

  “WHO?!”

  “Our Wolven friend, of course.” He tapped a gloved finger against his chin, then smiled at the wonder of it all. “Although I’m not so sure he’s our friend anymore.”

  Richard yelled and kicked a chair across the room. It cracked and spat splinters. “I’ll rip his eyes out!”

  “A word of advice, brother: don’t attempt that until we know exactly what happened.”

  “Where is he?” Richard had not heard Picard’s advice. Instead, he lunged forward and grabbed Picard by the tunic. For the second time that day, he shook his brother about. “Where is he?”

  As Picard’s teeth clattered in his skull, he wondered for a moment what he could do about it. At least with safra in the air, Picard had not had to put up with this treatment from his brother. Richard’s anger needed to vent somewhere, and physically. Picard just needed to channel that anger away from himself.

  He was still pondering this conundrum and getting shaken about when a yell in the hallway stopped Richard cold. He dropped his brother and returned his hand to his sword. Everyone turned to the doorway of the princess’s chamber, where sounds of a struggle grew louder. Three hordesfolk heaved through the opening with a struggling young man caught between them.

  The victim was of the Dearen variety, slender but soft from lack of muscle. Fear distorted the effeminate features of his face as he thrashed against his captors.

  “Please, please!” The fellow’s voice screeched unpleasantly in Picard’s eardrums. “Please don’t hurt me!”

  Picard straightened his tunic, recalling that he’d escaped a similar predicament just seconds ago. “So long as you do as we
say, we won’t hurt you—much.”

  A hordeswoman demonstrated by sliding a knife through the Dearen’s hair. He had long silky locks, which he clearly cared for dearly. “No, please! I’ll do as you say!”

  “Who are you?” asked Picard.

  “M-my name is Jeevu. I’m … I’m just a harpist!”

  “A harpist who roams freely into the Royal Chambers?” mused Picard.

  “I play for the princess sometimes! That’s all!” A hordesman jabbed him and he squealed with terror. Tears streamed from his eyes. As he felt them on his cheeks, his fear seemed to multiply. “Oh Friva, what is going on? What are you doing to me? Please, please … make it stop!”

  Picard’s smile stretched so wide his cheeks ached. This was very interesting, indeed. He walked closer to the weeping Dearen and reached out to collect the tear on his glove. Jeevu thrashed and goggled at the distorted hand in terror. “What you feel is called fear,” said Picard. “You feel it because for the first time in your life, you’re not breathing safra. The Haze has vanished.”

  “Oh gods ...” Something like a moan escaped Jeevu’s throat.

  “How does it feel?” Picard leaned closer, breathing deeply of the fellow’s scent, as if he might smell the fear. Alas, his senses were not so sharp. “Tell me how it feels.”

  “Tell us where Father is,” said Richard, and kicked the fellow in the stomach.

  The harpist coughed and gagged and took some time to recover. “I don’t know!”

  “Perhaps we should clarify.” Picard leaned back, seeing that his brother would allow no time for leisure. “Our father is the khan of Vikand.”

  “Friva help me, I don’t know where he is! I swear it!”

  Richard prepared to kick him again, but Picard stayed him with an upraised hand. “Perhaps you didn’t see our father,” he verified. “We can accept that. But have you seen anything else around here since last night? Anything that might be of interest?”

  “Um … um ...”

  Picard motioned to one of the hordesfolk. “Incite him, why don’t you.”

  Jeevu yelped as a blade tickled his chin. “I saw … I saw Prince Kyne!”

  “Oh!” Picard swayed forward. “This is good. When? Where? And why?”

  “He, uh ...” Jeevu gulped, his throat bobbing against the knife. “He walked away from here around dawn, with a man. I didn’t see who … he was hunched over, carrying something large. I didn’t really pay much attention. I only came here this morning because when I awoke, I felt, I felt ...”

  “Sad? Worried? In pain?” Picard leaned closer.

  Richard reached out and grabbed Jeevu’s hand. He pushed back the wrist until the harpist yelled for mercy. “Tell us everything you saw, or I’ll break your fucking bones.”

  “They … they argued, before that. I could hear their voices carry from the princess’s chamber. I think it was Kyne, and Fayr, and the man.” Jeevu trembled from head to foot. “I didn’t want to interrupt them. I felt … I felt afraid, I suppose, and I didn’t know why. I knew that something terrible was happening. I think they argued about ... a key ...”

  “Go on.” Picard’s breath stopped.

  “And then Prince Kyne left with the man I mentioned, and the princess went elsewhere. And I stayed here, hiding, because … because I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “I see.” Picard pulled back, shivering with glee. “Never fear, Jeevu; you did very well, indeed.”

  13

  Key