Fate of the Tyrant (The Eoriel Saga Book 3)

by Kal Spriggs

  “I need distance. I need to be able to take actions without being too close to judge whether I'm making them because they're right or because I want them to be right,” Kerrel said. She met Hector's gaze and saw every bit of the hurt and pain she'd expected. Ancestors, she thought, I wish this wasn't so hard.

  “It's over then,” Hector said softly. He looked away, “I understand.”

  He didn't, Kerrel knew. He thought he did, but she couldn't explain it all. The Luciel Order had her oaths of secrecy and loyalty. Aramer's secrets weren't hers to share and even if they were, most of them brought more trouble just in the knowing.

  “I'm going to join the expedition under Sir Harald,” Katarina said. “He's a friend of my mother, so I know he'll take me.” Hector didn't look up. “I'm sorry.”

  Kerrel turned and left. As she closed the door, her last sight was of Hector staring at the fire.

  ***

  Epilogue

  Duchess Katarina Emberhill

  North Hills Village, Duchy of Masov

  Feast of Attar (Attar First), Cycle 1000 Post Sundering

  The ceremony had ended and now Katarina was both ruler of Masov and a married woman. Every part of her had been given to duty... and now she had to do what was best for the Duchy.

  Every part but one, she thought as she hid a pleased smile. Neither she nor Aerion had slept much over the night.

  The survivors of the assembled armies had celebrated the end of the fighting with a feast and celebration, one which she suspected would go long into the night. It was the first official day of spring, a time that was supposed to be about spring planting, fertility, and new beginnings. She hoped that this would be a new beginning for them all… a new chance at peace.

  “Lord Hector of Longhaven, please step forward,” Katarina said. It was time to get some of this over with.

  Hector wore a resigned and distant expression. “You have admitted to insurrection, murder, and treason against the Duchy of Masov. Normally the penalty for those crimes would be execution, dictated to the Traitor's Death.” Hector didn't so much as flinch at her words, though she did see his gaze flit over to Aerion and his missing right eye.

  “Yet given the circumstances of your crimes, I feel that some clemency is in order,” Katarina said. “Therefore, I offer you a choice: join in the Order of King Gordon's quest to restore the Starblade... or accept exile to Naram’s Tower.” Naram’s Tower was a military outpost south of the Lonely Isle. Duke Peter and his ancestors had often offered criminals and disgraced noblemen the opportunity to serve there in exile.

  Hector's face went blank. “That is... quite the set of options you have given me.” He looked at Knight Captain Harald who gave him a nod. She had discussed the option with him earlier in the morning and while he hadn't been exactly eager to have him, he had admitted that a man of his abilities could be useful. “I trust I have some time to decide?”

  Katarina gave him a nod, “You have until Knight Captain Harald departs. After that, if you remain here in the Duchy you will be executed. I also strip you of your titles and lands. You are now Hector Emberhill... no more, no less.”

  Hector gave her a nod as she acknowledged his bloodline. It was a small thing, she knew, but it was all that she could give him. She couldn't trust him here in the Duchy, too many of his supporters would seek to return him to power, even if he didn't go against her himself.

  “You may go,” Katarina said. “Gerlin… that is, Cyryl Emberhill, step forward.”

  Her scoutmaster stepped out of the crowd. “You are the son and heir of Hector, which makes Longhaven yours to inherit. I name you Baron of Longhaven and subject you to the duties and responsibilities thereof, as long as you swear to obey me and serve your people in good stead.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Gerlin said. She didn't miss how he had adopted the older term, much like some of Grand Duke Tarken's men. I suppose I'll have to put up with that, especially if they do succeed in restoring the High Kings, she thought. “Thank you, Baron Longhaven, you may step back.”

  She pulled a scroll from next to her. “Now, it has come to my attention in my research over the winter that there was once a Barony of Watkowa.” She held up the scroll, “an old line, of Starborn nobility which goes back to the times of the first High Kings.” Her gaze went to where the notables of Watkowa Village stood in a cluster. “The last Baron of Watkowa died during the reign of my great-grandfather and at the time, due to raids along the north coasts and the fall of Taral, there was never any push to appoint his heir to the post. However, the line still continues. Thanks to birth records, I've been able to trace that lineage to the current times.” In fact, it was something she had checked and triple-checked.

  “Commander Samen, please step forward,” Katarina said.

  Samen walked forward hesitantly. “As the direct descendant of the last Baron of Watkowa, his title and lands properly falls to you.” She couldn't help but smile a bit, “I think you'll find that the lands you thought you poached upon were actually yours... I suppose you should levy the appropriate fines upon yourself. I name you Baron of Watkowa and subject you to the duties and responsibilities thereof, as long as you swear to obey me and serve your people in good stead.”

  “I accept, your Grace,” Samen said. “Thank you.” He bowed low and then withdrew into the crowd. She had wished that it fell to Aerion, then she might have had some sliver of reason to name him Baron and then marry him with minimal scandal. It wasn't meant to be, she thought, we had the one night… now I need to move on.

  She turned her attention to Aerion, “Captain Swordbreaker, please step forward.”

  Aerion did so and she had to struggle to keep a serious expression, especially against the pleased smirk that threatened to come through. It wouldn't do to have that expression in public. “Captain Swordbreaker, I understand that you seek to take an oath with the Order of King Gordon, to accompany them in their mission to restore the High Kings?”

  “I do,” Aerion said.

  “Then I release you from my service, with one final command: represent our Duchy well.” He stepped back and as Knight Captain Harald and Katarina had discussed, Sir Harald came forward. “Aerion, please kneel.”

  As Aerion kneeled, Knight Captain Harald extended the hilt of his blade, “Aerion, please repeat after me. I, Sir Harald Erlamar, do solemnly swear to defend the weak and innocent, to do no injustice, to let truth and honor guide me, and to embrace courage. I swear to uphold the tenets of the High Kings and to strive to return justice to this fallen world.”

  After Aerion had finished, Sir Harald gave him a nod, “Arise, then, Knight Errant Aerion Swordbreaker.”

  Aerion did so, “Uh… Knight Errant?”

  “Of course, lad,” Harald said, “we can't have the Starblade carried by just a man-at-arms.” He clapped him on the shoulder, “Now that you're one of us, we'll be leaving on the hour. Hop to it!” Katarina didn't have to hide a smile as the Knight Captain hustled Aerion away.

  “Now, then,” Katarina said, taking her husband's hand, “I believe that concludes our initial discussions. I believe we have a celebration to attend to?”

  ***

  Knight Errant Aerion Swordbreaker

  Aerion froze as he found Quinn and Nakkiki awaiting him near his horse. He saw Quinn's horse behind him and Nakkiki had his warclub over his shoulder with his satchel tied to the end.

  “You can't come with me,” Aerion said. “This expedition is run by the Order of King Gordon...”

  “Nonsense,” Quinn said stubbornly, “I heard this morning that they'll have Captain Kerrel's Flamebrands with them, plus a bunch of other volunteers.”

  Nakkiki gave a nod and then planted a big finger into Aerion's chest. “We go with you.”

  “Look,” Aerion said as he rubbed his chest, “I don't know what my duties will be, if I'll have any time.” He shook his head, “Quinn, you're almost home, Longhaven is a couple days away and you can take your discharge...”r />
  “I got a letter not long after Walker left,” Quinn said. “My mother and father moved to Boir, they're living in Boirton, so there's nothing for me here.” He puffed out his chest, “Besides, what makes you think we're going for you. My master is going with this expedition. He's agreed to teach me so long as I stay with him.”

  Nakkiki gave Quinn an odd look, “Quinn needs to be careful, not end up like dark wizard.”

  “Not a chance,” Quinn said, “I'm not going to dabble in sorcery or anything like that.”

  Nakkiki just looked down at him suspiciously.

  “Well, fine,” Aerion said, “it isn't as if you listen to me anyway. I hope you guys are ready to ride.”

  “We are!” Quinn said, “Well, I am… we couldn't find a horse big enough for Nakkiki.” He gave a sunny smile, “So... where are we going?”

  Aerion cocked his head, “Southwatch.”

  “Oh,” Quinn said, his smile vanished, replaced by a worried expression. “Wait... did you say Southwatch?”

  Aerion laughed as he mounted and rode away. A moment later he heard his friends follow behind. He couldn't admit it, but he felt better for knowing they'd be there with him.

  ***

  Duchess Katarina Emberhill

  With the formal ceremonies done, Katarina had retired to a more private setting within the tavern in North Hill Village to discuss matters of state.

  “If you’ll secure the Ryftguard,” Grand Duke Tarken said. “We can continue to develop trade between us and hold Staven Hennings out of the Boir Sea. He can still send privateers up along the Haunted Coast, but it’s a far longer journey and more treacherous as well.”

  Katarina nodded. The combination of the variety of jagged reefs and the rough seas made the Haunted Coast one of the most dangerous shorelines in the Five Duchies. Thousands of ships had been lost along the coast and even the local fishermen and merchants frequently lost vessels there. The protections of the Shrouded Isle made for added danger as well, for Noth’s defenses didn’t differentiate friend or foe. “That shouldn’t be an issue. Our ships will coordinate patrols in the north with your forces, so that we keep the Armen from reaching us in force in the future.”

  He nodded, then he looked over at the Iron Wizard seated next to him. “That reminds me of a small matter,” the Grand Duke said. “At the Armen port of Arkavar, Hector recovered one of Boir’s iron-hulled ships. Of course we’d like that returned. I can send a recovery team to Longhaven, where he’s had it towed and we can have her out of your harbor in a few weeks, I expect.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Katarina said. “In fact, I must mention that Lady Lindsee, who I believe is Staven Hennings’ wife, brought a number of weapons and some equipment to Hector with an offer of alliance. Hector has turned all of that over to me, it is positioned at Longhaven, where we intend to mount it aboard the Duke Peter.”

  The Grand Duke stared at her, “That ship, the Eiserne Frauline, is the property of the Grand Duchy of Boir…”

  “It was the property of the Grand Duchy of Boir,” Katarina replied. “It was captured by the Armen, sunk at Arkavar, and then salvaged with a massive amount of effort by the Duchy of Masov.” And from what Hector had said, slave labor by Armen captives, but she wasn’t going to mention that just now. “We have just spent some time discussing alliances… it would be rather inconsiderate of you as our allies to deny us potential weapons which would greatly improve our ability to defend ourselves.”

  “All products of the Iron Wizards are property of the Grand Duchy of Boir,” Grand Duke Tarken said in a flat voice.

  “Except those you export,” Katarina matched his tone. In this, she agreed entirely with Hector. “A true friend and ally does not deny his allies the ability to defend themselves. The Armen have two of such ships, your renegade Admiral Hennings has a dozen or more… and we’ve heard rumors that the Darkstar Kingdom may well have ships of similar capabilities. Do you think I should give up a weapon of such importance when your nation can produce more?”

  “You can’t properly operate it,” the Iron Wizard seated next to Grand Duke Tarken said. “My lady, even the simplest repairs might cause dangerous build-ups of power, could endanger any crew aboard. It would require an Iron Wizard to properly repair and operate the vessel.”

  “Master Mondragon is correct,” Grand Duke Tarken said, “this is too dangerous.”

  “Then give us an Iron Wizard,” Katarina said. She saw him hesitate. She almost dared to hope that he would do just that… but then his face went stern again.

  Grand Duke Tarken shook his head, “No, there’s too much risk. We are allies now, but who is to say about ten cycles from now… or a hundred? The Iron Wizards are our advantage and I’ll not give that up, not when their secrets can protect my people.”

  “Their secrets are a risk to my people,” Katarina said. But she could see that he had made up his mind. Well, she thought, there are other wizards, even if Cederic is leaving to join this quest of Sir Harald’s, perhaps I will find a replacement.

  “Perhaps we should discuss coordination to support our allies in the Duchy of Taral?” Katarina asked. Gwendolyn Wallace would head south in the next few days, along with some others of Hector’s former mercenaries who Katarina had extended her offer of support… mostly because it meant removing armed warriors from her lands and sending them where they might do some good. In all probability, they might reach the Ryftguard around the same time as Sir Harald moved his forces into Taral. There’s going to be a great deal of fighting there in the spring, she thought.

  “We still have our windship there,” Grand Duke Tarken said. “With the signifier there, we can coordinate…”

  ***

  Eleanor

  Eleanor reined her horse in next to Aramer, “You should shave that beard, and it’s not fooling anyone.” As he moved a protective hand to it, she continued, “Well, did this go as planned?”

  He waggled a hand, “Better in some ways, worse in others.” He put his hand up to stroke his beard, as if to reassure himself that his disguise was still intact, “Though I didn't expect Harald.”

  “Whenever things start going well, he always turns up to make a mess of them,” Eleanor said with a grunt. She nodded over at where her son approached the column, accompanied by his two friends. “I tried to get away from all this for his sake, and now I'm caught up in it again and my son too. This had better work.”

  “I has to work,” Aramer said. “Besides, we've got one of Noth's disciples: a Shrouded Wizard!”

  “About that,” Eleanor smirked, “you might want to check with him, but it sounds as if he came without his master's permission.”

  “Wait... what?” Aramer's eyes went wide. He started to ask a question but Eleanor put her boots to her horse and left him sputtering. It was good to upend the spy's world now and again, it kept him on his toes.

  She pulled her horse alongside Hector. She hadn't been surprised to see that he had chosen to accompany the expedition. Even a doomed effort like this is better than a cold, miserable rock on the North Sea, Eleanor thought. “Hector.”

  He looked over at her and quirked an eyebrow, “I don't believe we've met.”

  “We haven't,” Eleanor said. “I'm Eleanor.” She extended her hand and a moment later, he clasped it. He seemed impressed by the strength of her grip. He doesn't know the half of it, she thought.

  “I just wanted to make something clear,” Eleanor said. “Your mercenaries killed fifty-three people from my village. While we're all pretty sure that Grel and Covle Darkbit were working for other people, in my mind, that doesn't clear you of the responsibility for their actions.”

  Hector's eyes narrowed, but he gave her a nod.

  “My son is here on this damned-fool expedition,” Eleanor said. “I'm here to make sure he survives it. If I think for an instant that you'll put his life or the lives of anyone else here at risk, I'll kill you. I won't give you warning, I won't give you a second chance. Do you understand
?”

  Hector's eyebrows went up, “I do.”

  “Good,” Eleanor said. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to help Harald managed this expedition or we'll be side-tracking to rescue every idiot with a bandit problem from here to Marovingia.”

  ***

  Seraphai, Consort of Andoral Elhonas

  Fortress of Armak Zhul, Noriel

  Feast of Attar (Attar First), Cycle 1000 Post Sundering

  Seraphai lay naked atop the mound of furs, her room stiflingly hot compared to the aching cold without. While parts of Noriel had begun to thaw, here in her master's icy fortress atop Noriel's tallest mountain, spring would never truly come. The icy wind howled and the stone of the fortress quivered with the gusts.

  Seraphai pushed her consciousness outwards. Her mind went into a realm of darkness and light, where her room was but a balcony that looked out upon another world.

  In the shadows on the edge of the real world, Seraphai communed with her master.

  “It is done,” she said. “Your Herald has fallen.”

  “As expected,” Andoral Elhonas responded. “Tell me, did he succeed at all?”

  “No,” Seraphai said with not even a sliver of regret. Xavien had been a flawed tool from the beginning, stolen as he was from their enemies. He served the same purpose as an old sharpening stone used on a blunt blade. He was there to bring it to an acceptable edge and then discarded. “The bearer chose duty over selfishness... and Hall Prakka chose to give up his power in the face of such threats.”

  “Interesting... Your read of the bearer was accurate, it seems you took his measure well when you encountered him at Entraluri Mitsa.” In this realm midway between the physical and spiritual, he was a looming, dark presence, his handsome face hidden in shadow. She longed to see that face again, but she knew that to manifest himself with such strength would draw too much attention. “So the southerners have been strengthened. No doubt they think they've won a great battle.”