Fate of the Tyrant (The Eoriel Saga Book 3)

by Kal Spriggs

  On more than one occasion he had found Quinn and the nobleman in discussion over this or that book. The things that Walker would routinely tease the former printer's apprentice about were the same things that Lord Jarek and Quinn would spend hours discussing.

  And as for Aerion... Walker's best friend spent hours in discussion with Lord Jarek. The two of them practiced together, talked tactics and strategy, and their companies often operated side by side... which just meant that Walker had to deal with the worthless nobleman almost as much.

  It didn't help, of course, that Walker didn't dare practice with Aerion or any of his friends, not anymore. After the latest kills, he'd felt stronger and faster. The last time he had fought Aerion, he had broken one of the practice blades and only some quick talking on his part had deflected it into a joke about Aerion's strength rather than Walker's.

  Walker wasn't certain, either, but he worried that Nakkikki had noticed something. The big islander had been quieter than usual around him. Walker had taken to avoiding him, just in case.

  "Ah, First Sergeant?" A voice asked.

  Walker spun, surprised to see Sergeant Millar. "Yes?" Walker snapped, "What is it?"

  Sergeant Millar looked nervous, "First Sergeant, there's a woman here to see you, knew you by name. She says it's important." He coughed in one hand, "She's uh, very good looking and I, uh, think she's here for more than a talk, if you know what I mean."

  Walker's face went blank at that. He didn't know any beautiful women who might come calling. If they did, they probably wouldn't come calling on him. A First Sergeant wouldn't be much of a catch, not when there were officers aplenty, unless...

  His chest seemed to freeze up. My father, he thought, it has to be. There were any number of women that his father could have sent. His first impulse was to run... but where could he run? If his father had found him here, under a false name and hidden in Katarina's army, he could find him anywhere. "Yes," Walker said, feeling as if he spoke from a great distance, "send her to my room, I'll be there momentarily."

  Sergeant Millar turned away and after a moment, Walker descended the stairs down from the tower. He and Aerion had separate quarters, here in this tower, just above the rooms given to their company. Walker had never valued the privacy so much as now. The narrow room didn't hold much. A straw pallet, a wooden chair and a table that held his gear and the packs that contained most of his remaining possessions. He had less now than when he had signed up with Katarina, though he had quite a bit more coin from his pay.

  He valued the friendships he had with Quinn and Aerion, and the memories of Josef more than the coin or the possessions.

  He contemplated how little he had... and how much it would hurt to have it taken away.

  A few minutes later, Sergeant Millar tapped on the door. "Send her in," Walker said.

  The woman who came into his room was nothing if not beautiful. Her curly, brown locks of hair fell naturally in a fashion that probably took her hours to arrange. Her curvy figure practically oozed sexuality in a way that made even Walker's body respond. "Walker," she purred, "thank you so much for seeing me."

  Mari, he thought, of course he would send Mari.

  Walker waited until Sergeant Millar shut the door and his footsteps had faded. "Why are you here?" I could kill her, he thought, dispose of the body, no one would ever know. The aching void in his chest hungered for just that. Yet he knew better. She was here as their father's emissary... killing her would mark him for the most painful death imaginable.

  Besides, of all his siblings, Mari had always been his favorite.

  "Father sent me," Mari smiled in a condescending fashion, "but you already knew that."

  "What does our esteemed father want of me?" Walker asked. "I'm done with him, you can tell him that."

  "Oh, Valdar," she smiled, "you are never done with father. He may decide to allow you to go your separate way for a while, but he will always bring you back into the fold in due time. You know this."

  Walker looked away. He let out a tense breath, "What does he wish of me?"

  Mari gave him a smile and reached inside her bodice. Walker's hands dropped to his blades, but she only withdrew a note. “He only asks one task. Do it, and you will regain his goodwill.”

  Walker took the note. He hesitated as he stared at the wax seal, his father's crest upon it. He had tried so hard to break with his past... yet now it seemed that effort had been in vain.

  He broke the wax seal and then read the note. As he did so, his face grew hard.

  Walker looked up, “He is serious?”

  “Of course,” Mari said. “No other agent was in position to so perfectly infiltrate Lady Katarina's forces. What he asks is simple enough. Do as he has said and you will be placed in a position of trust and given freedom to run Father's interests here. I've even been instructed to report to you from now on... if you carry out your instructions.”

  “And if I don't?” Walker asked.

  Mari gave him a pouting expression, “Valder... that would not be the best decision. If you don't carry out your orders, Konstantin will be placed in charge of this operation.” Walker grimaced at the mention of that name. Konstantin was one of his father's favorite tools. “I needn't explain why I won't detail his orders, but I will say that one of them is to break you.”

  Walker glared at her, “That would take more effort than you might think.”

  “If you seek to test that theory, by all means, disobey our father,” Mari said in an equally harsh voice. “Otherwise, I would advise you to make the best of a bad situation. Cut your losses, make peace with father, and enjoy the freedoms he will allow you.”

  “And betray my friends,” Walker muttered.

  “You have no friends,” Mari hissed. “There are people who trust this appearance, but they don't know the real you. Only your family knows you.” Her expression went gentle, “Please, Valdar, you were always my favorite, don't make me do this to you.”

  Walker closed his eyes. Her kindness after the rebuke almost made the decision for him.

  Yet he thought of Aerion’s easy smile and Quinn’s awkward laugh. He thought of how much he missed Josef’s goofy smile… and how Aerion would take such a betrayal as Walker’s father asked of him.

  Without realizing it his hands had clenched into fists. The note crumpled in his hands, the rustle of the thick parchment loud in the confines of the room. Walker looked down at the crumpled note and then up at Mari. “No,” Walker shook his head.

  For a moment he saw sadness --genuine sadness-- on his sister’s face. The moment passed and she gave him a level look. “You know what this means, Valdar. Everything that happens from this moment onwards you bring upon yourself.”

  Walker shook his head, “Get out.”

  Mari gave him a single nod. “I’ll see you later, Valdar.”

  Walker almost plunged his dagger into her back as she walked away, yet he didn’t have the heart to do it, not to his favorite sibling. Somehow, he knew that was why their father had sent her.

  As the door closed behind her, he reached into his pack and drew out a bottle of wine. With little effort he ripped the cork out, tipped his head back, and started to drink it down.

  I won’t let him manipulate me, he thought. Yet even as he thought it, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was exactly the outcome that his father had expected.

  ***

  Lady Katarina Emberhill

  Ember Castle, Duchy of Masov

  6th of Shallob, Cycle 1000 Post Sundering

  Katarina nodded to two of her guardsmen as she stepped into the great hall. She could see Bulmor's disapproving scowl and she didn't need to ask the cause. While he seemed relatively pleased with her guardians fighting skills, he had cautioned her that they weren't properly trained for the duties she'd assigned them.

  He wants me to reinstate the Ducal Guard, she thought, yet how can I do that when I'm not the Duchess, when Hector holds the Ducal Blade of Masov? The very idea seemed
presumptous to her. For while she held Ember Castle... without the Blade she had no full mark of approval. Lawfully, she needed to be selected by the eligible nobility and to receive the approval of her ancestors by drawing the Ducal Blade.

  She knew that others of her line had taken emergency measures without such approval. Duke Anhar had marshaled an army after the defeat of his father and the loss of the Ducal Blade to a massive Armen invasion. Her own father for that matter, had assembled an army of mixed household levies and mercenaries to combat the Aktan of the Black Fortress, while his father, Duke Krystyn, had been Aktan's prisoner.

  Yet those had been situations where the lineage and passage of power were otherwise transparent. There had been no pretenders to their authority, merely external threats who needed to be dealt with. How could she call up the Duke's Guard when she hadn't demonstrated her authority to that extent?

  For that matter, some part of her felt that if they had not come forward and volunteered, then she wouldn't want to draw them into this fight anyway. For that matter, she thought, there's what Hector's mother told me to consider.

  The commonly held opinion was that Lord Hector Kail was the illegitimate son of Lord Mikhel, Duke Peter's deceased brother. It seemed, however, that Halyna Kail had not been Lord Mikhel's mistress... but the secret lover of Duke Peter. That made Hector her half-brother... which in turn meant that his claim to authority held a level of validity... even if he didn't know it.

  The armsmen who had survived Lord Hector's rise to power, as well as the descendants of those who hadn't, wouldn't understand it, but they would probably feel conflicted. The ties that bound her family to theirs might well call them to support Hector, especially since he was the eldest child of Duke Peter. For that matter, it was probably why he was able to utilize various runic artifacts and heirlooms as well as the Ducal Blade itself. He had the right bloodline and he had a claim to it... even if he didn't know it.

  It isn't his claim I've contested, Katarina thought, it is his methods.

  Katarina continued forward, down the length of the great hall, nodding in turn to the guards chosen to secure this place, the central seat of authority here in the Duchy of Masov. At last she came to the far end, where her father's throne sat, a heavy, granite seat, carved from the same stone that made up the rest of the fortress. A heavy black cloth lay draped over the throne, a sign of mourning for her father, the first time he had been properly honored.

  Katarina walked up the steps to the throne and then, on the step just below it, she paused and gave a deep bow. In a voice that wasn't meant for the living, she quietly said, "I'm sorry, father, that it has taken this long. May your spirit rest in peace."

  With that, she turned and then took her seat in a small chair that sat one step down from the Duke's Throne. "I am ready," Katarina said in as commanding a voice as she could manage.

  At the far end of the hall, the doors opened and the first group of petitioners came forward. The Duke's Justice was supposed to be a final fall-back, for when someone could not otherwise receive attention for a wrong done to them. Here, in front of the Duke's Throne, a petitioner could ask the reigning Duke or his appointed heir to hear their complaint.

  It was something that had not happened since her father's death. It was one more thing that Hector hadn't done. It was something that Katarina had dreaded... not because of the burden, but because she knew that for many of these cases, there was little that she could do. Most of the listed complaints she had seen came back to crimes that Hector's men had committed, often with his blessing or backing. Women raped, families turned out of homes, livestock slaughtered in the fields... the list was lengthy already and only held those who had already come to Castle Ember to state their case.

  It made Katarina wonder that even if she won this war... would she be able to heal the Duchy's wounds?

  ***

  Earl Joris of Olsztyn

  "You are certain that your little concoction will work?" Lord Joris asked of his son.

  "Yes, father," James responded, his tone bitter. "I've used it before, silencing that merchant who said you'd cheated him on the shipment of coal."

  "Which one?" Lord Joris snapped. "The fat one or the foreigner?"

  "Uh," James frowned, "The fat one, I think. The other one I just had Captain Wulk stab in the back and dump in one of the old mine shafts."

  Lord Joris nodded slowly, "I remember now. It took him a few weeks to die from that poison, didn't it?"

  James nodded eagerly, "Very painful. His family spent most of his fortune trying to ease his pain."

  Lord Joris scowled, "It better be painful. That common-born bastard. How dare he make me look the fool!" The base peasant's little company had stood against the mercenaries who had forced his infantry into retreat. Worse, the stupid bitch Katarina had stood by her commoner officer against him. The embarrassment and loss of honor demanded some action.

  I wonder how much truth is in the rumors that she pines after the one-eyed freak, Lord Joris mused. Certainly the peasant boy had risen quickly through her ranks. It certainly upheld his own belief that women were too weak-willed to properly rule. He just was glad that she was under guard, otherwise he was certain she would have run off and rutted with the low-born peasant.

  He shuddered as he thought about that kind of thing. His son was set to marry her, after all. If he had any proof of such a thing, he would have broken off the betrothal. In fact, he would have had plenty of just cause in declaring her unfit to rule. Not that he planned to do that just yet. No, best to let Katarina deal with Hector and grow complacent and then deal with the slut.

  "When will you do it?" Earl Joris asked impatiently.

  "I'll, uh, have Captain Wulk slip it in his table's wine bottle during the feast tonight," James said. Probably best, Earl Joris nodded, that they use the cutout. Captain Wulk's company had been the one to retreat, so no one would look too closely if they caught him, he had plenty of reason to hate Swordbreaker. "If the whole table is poisoned, then it will be less likely anyone will realize who we targeted."

  "I like that," Earl Joris nodded. Since Swordbreaker normally sat with his sergeants and some of his other base friends, it would remove a number of the vermin. His eyes narrowed as he thought about who else often shared the officer's company. Lord Jarek, he thought, a smile growing broad on his face, oh, that would be perfect... especially with how his older brother is a mental incompetent. To think he had been disappointed when he first heard that Maximillian had survived the fall.

  That worked out ever so perfectly, Earl Joris thought with a wicked smile. He'd seen the boy climbing by chance, of course, but it had only taken a bit of effort to be in position to give his rival's son a push... Baron Eliasz was never the same afterwards, he thought.

  His son stared at him uncertainly. Then again, it wasn't as if Earl Joris had ever told anyone about what he had done to young Maximillian. Nor, in fact, did his son understand what a benefit it would be to murder Lord Jarek. Earl Joris would be able to marry off one of his neices to the half-wit and then he could control Zielona Gora.

  It would be the best form of revenge, particularly if he also took over the entire Duchy, managing Katarina from behind the scenes.

  "Make certain that Captain Wulk knows the price of failure," Earl Joris snapped. "And if he does get caught, make certain he doesn't survive to talk."

  "Of course, my Lord," his son smirked. Joris didn't want to know the details. After all, it was yet another cut-out, just in case his heir was caught.

  Speaking of cut-outs, he thought. "How goes your communications with your half-brother?"

  James' smirk congealed. "Slowly, father. He doesn't trust me and the information he's asked for so far would be very damaging if Katarina learned of it."

  Earl Joris sneered at that, yet he couldn't argue. Katarina's spymaster had baited his ally, Baron Marcel, perfectly. She had exposed him and stripped him of his title for treason, implicated by the very agents of Hector who had off
ered him amnesty. Not that Joris pitied the man. Marcel had betrayed him every bit as much as Katarina. In fact, some of the lands he had reqested in payment were those that Joris laid claim over.

  The spineless worm deserves to die for that, Earl Joris thought, if only for his incompetence. Katarina had postponed final determination of Baron Marcel's fate, but Joris doubted she would be particularly lenient. In her situation, he would have already executed the nobleman.

  She'd put up some pretense of rule of law. Whether anyone really believed such platitudes, Earl Joris couldn't say. In any case, he took it as another sign of how unfit she was to rule.

  But she could wait. Dealing with Hector was his first priority. Well, he thought, Hector is the main priority, but first there's a peasant who needs to be shown his place.

  Earl Joris's smile returned as he thought of the over-sized peasant screaming in agony.

  ***

  Sergeant Millar

  Sergeant Millar smiled as the woman stroked the inside of his thigh. "Miss," he said, "I've told you, I'm on duty right now, but just wait a few hours..."

  "I can't wait," she said in a sulky tone. "I need you now."

  Behind him, Sergeant Millar heard one of his squad give a chuckle. "Sergeant, maybe you should go with her. We can guard the gate just fine for a few minutes."

  Sergeant Millar scowled over his shoulder, "No," he said. "Captain Swordbreaker assigned us to this post, we'll hold it till we're relieved." He turned back to face the woman, "Miss, I'm sorry, I'd love to, but..."

  She leaned forward, her face pouty, "You should have listened to your men. Then I wouldn't have to do this."

  Sergeant Millar gave a gasp as he felt a sharp pain in his groin. A moment later, he felt a wash of hot blood spray out. He fumbled to draw his sword even as he dropped to his knees in shock. Her dagger drove through his eye and then into his brain before he could shout a warning.