Sins of a Sovereignty (Amernia Fallen Book 1)

by Plague Jack

  “Even if he does, I don’t know what I’ll do. I have no right to lead these people. I don’t think I ever did.”

  “Sure you do,” said Shrike. “At the very least you’ll help Roselock and the rest of the Hunt negotiate peace like you had planned.” A piece of cloth was shoved into Shrike’s mouth from behind.

  “Salus wants the both of you gagged,” said Mordigan as he tightened the knot around Shrike’s head before doing Evrill’s. “Now, keep quiet—I want to watch the fight.”

  The two knights stared each other down through their visors and circled each other carefully across the snow. “Let the duel begin!” shouted the lead guardsman.

  Pendragon ran forward, faster than anyone his age had a right to move. He brought his sword down over his head with a strength that could cleave a man in half. Quick as an arrow even in armor, Salus twisted to the Dragon Knight’s side and thrust forward with his claymore. Pendragon raised his shield and Salus’s claymore bounced off in a spray of sparks.

  Salus is fast, thought Shrike as steel clashed on steel. But Pendragon is an artist. Every move Pendragon made was graceful, as if he knew everything his opponent had planned.

  Salus growled, a deep guttural, animalistic growl, as he swung his sword with all his strength. Pendragon was a master of the shield just as he was the blade, and Kaevin’s craftsmanship was proving its worth. The snarling dragon on Pendragon’s shield seemed to hunger for sword strikes as Salus threw everything he had at Pendragon.

  He’s playing the defensive, thought Shrike as Pendragon narrowly avoided a sword swing. Waiting for Salus to tire so he can easily make the killing blow. A good idea.

  Pendragon failed to dodge Salus’s next slash, which clipped through the chain mail in the exposed joint of Pendragon’s armor. Blood spurted out of the wound and painted the snow red. The Dragon Knight scarcely seemed to feel it as they dueled. His green eyes were wide with a calm, controlled wrath.

  “Who do you think you are?” asked Salus. “Do you know how long I’ve been planning this? The hell I’ve been through to get here?”

  “Do not speak to me of hell,” said Pendragon as he smashed his shoulder into Salus with a weight that sent the elf spilling backwards into the white snow. He was quick to find his footing again, and parried a blow from Christopher that made a notch in his claymore and sent sparks flying. The Dragon Knight’s black blade shot forward again and landed a cut just below Salus’s pauldron.

  Yes! Shrike cheered in his head as the Arrow Lord’s blood melted snow as it landed. Salus is slowing.

  “Monster!” shouted the Arrow Lord. “Would you deny these poor people justice?” He raised his sword back up in retaliation, and thrust five feet of metal forward. It slid along Pendragon’s chest with a sickening screech before wedging itself between pauldron and breastplate. Blood ran down the side of Pendragon’s pale green plate.

  The Dragon Knight howled in rage and pain as Salus rained down another strike. Sparks flew from Christopher as Pendragon’s loyal blade left another thick crack in Salus’s weapon.

  Come on, old man, don’t you die on me, thought Shrike as crimson ran down Pendragon’s armor. Salus had gained the advantage, and Pendragon seemed weighed down by his sword and shield.

  “Stop blocking!” shouted Salus as another one of his strikes landed on Pendragon’s shield. “Stop dodging,” he howled, as Pendragon narrowly avoided his blade. “Just die.”

  Pendragon’s horned helmet made him look like a monstrous devil as he lunged forward. “Not yet,” said Pendragon, hacking with his sword. “Not until I’ve righted my wrongs.” Christopher met Salus’s claymore, and the two knights came together as they pushed their weight against each other. Pendragon might have been more fatigued, but he still managed to hold off Salus with only one arm.

  “Is that what this is about?” hissed Salus through his helm. “Your guilt?”

  “No,” bellowed Pendragon as his metal dragon visage head-butted forward, smashing Salus’s helmet with such force it crumpled inward and Salus fell back. “It’s about doing what’s right!” he said, swinging his sword down with a mighty force. Volcanite steel clipped the eye slot of Salus’s helm and sliced downward as the elf fell back in shock. A crevice opened in Salus’s armor, revealing a coat of mail as Pendragon’s black blade traveled downward, through gorget and breastplate. Salus pulled his claymore to his chest in an attempt to block Pendragon’s assault. Another swing from Pendragon broke Salus’s claymore in half, and the sharp end spun until it embedded itself in the earth. The Dragon Knight pulled the chain Kaevin had placed on the back of his shield.

  The dragon on Pendragon’s shield roared hungrily forward. There was a click as a burst of fire erupted from its jaws. Snow melted beneath Pendragon’s feet as his shield breathed a cone of flame at the Arrow Lord, who twisted, to jump out of the way. Salus was too slow and screamed in surprise as the flames struck him. Salus held up an arm to protect his eyes as his right pauldron and gauntlet began to glow with a dull orange heat. He fell into the snow, which evaporated into steam as he landed. “You cheated,” he shouted, frantically removing the armor covering his burning arm.

  “Well, that was unexpected,” said Pendragon, approaching Salus and pointing his blade at the elf’s neck, where his steel gorget was torn open.

  “You fucking cheated. Guards, kill him.”

  “No,” said the guard. “The duel is not over until someone is dead.”

  “But he cheated!” said Salus.

  “Hardly,” said Pendragon. “We never set any rules. I haven’t cheated. Looks like I’ve won.”

  “Pendragon didn’t cheat,” said the lead guard while the Wild Hunt’s supporters booed.

  Shrike smiled at Evrill through his gag. Now Pendragon can kill Salus and I can leave Amernia and never look back. Everything’s going to be okay.

  “Wait!” screamed Salus as Pendragon raised his sword. “My arm’s burnt, but I can keep fighting! Let me change weapons! Let me get something lighter, and I promise I can still deliver justice!” The crowd let up a roar of approval and excitement.

  “That’s fair,” said the guard. “Salus is permitted a weapon change.”

  No, thought Shrike. Put him down—do it now. Don’t let him change weapons! He shouted through his gag, but he was just one scream in a crowd, and Pendragon paid no notice. Salus nearly slipped on the ice as he stood on rocky legs. Carefully he favored his right arm as Dr. Hemlin walked across the clearing carrying one of Evrill’s rifles in her arms. Oh gods, he doesn’t know what that is. None of them do. Run, you fool! he tried to shout. Evrill, too, tried to warn him, desperately calling through her gag to no avail.

  “Just give me a second,” said Salus through gritted teeth, holding the rifle with his arm, cooked pink and red.

  “What is that?” asked Pendragon. “Some kind of crossbow?” he laughed. “Better get a headshot, boy, because I’ll cut you down long before you reload.”

  There was a pause as the guard let the anticipation build and the snow blew gently from the mountainside. “Let the duel begin!”

  Pendragon pushed forward with the strength of a dragon. His wounds would not keep him from his target, nor would the ice trip him. There was a bang and a puff of smoke from Salus’s firearm, followed by another. Bang. Sparks flew as bullets cut through Pendragon’s armor. Blood spurted from holes in his left greave and Pendragon fell to the ground, dropping his sword as he fell.

  The crowd gasped in shock, and Shrike screamed in fury through his gag. He could see that Evrill was crying freely now, her tears running down her face and soaking the gag that ran across her cheeks.

  Pendragon did not scream or call out as his blood leaked onto the snow. “You said I needed a headshot?” asked Salus, taking a step closer.

  “What is this?” said Pendragon as he tried to find his feet despite the holes in his leg. “What have you done?”Bang went Salus’s rifle as another bullet went through Pendragon’s knee and exploded out the other
side. The Dragon Knight roared in pain and fell onto his back as a circle of red began to expand beneath him. He pushed himself up with his arms as Salus walked closer. “No.I wasn’t supposed to go out like this,” said Pendragon. “Not at the hands of a tyrant.”Bang—a bullet sent blood spraying from Pendragon’s shoulder, where Salus had stabbed him. Desperately Pendragon reached for Christopher, who was just out of reach. The Arrow Lord took another step forward. Bang. The rifle shot through Pendragon’s wrist just as his hand was closing around his sword. Pendragon fell back onto the snow, stone, and dirt. “I tried everything,” said Pendragon in agony. “I wanted to save the world, gods forgive me.”

  Salus smiled.

  “No!” shouted Pendragon, with the fury of a god.Bang. The bullet burst from the end of Salus’s rifle and rocketed through the air. It found its target and went through the eyehole of the Dragon Knight’s helm. Pendragon’s green eye burst as the bullet traveled through bone and brain before finding metal. The back of Pendragon’s head and helmet exploded, dirtying the snow behind him with gray matter spliced with bone flecks.

  There was an eerie silence as Salus dropped his rifle and walked over to the corpse of the Dragon Knight. Red blood poured from Pendragon’s eye socket and ran down his face, staining the knight’s white beard with blood. His other eye stared up with a dead defiance. “There’s your headshot,” said Salus, planting his boot on Pendragon’s face. He gripped Pendragon’s dragon-faced visor and, after straining, tore it from the knight’s armor. Salus held it gently with both hands as he inspected it like an art dealer would before making a purchase. He ran his fingers over the horns that curled skyward, the long snout and the fresh hole in the back.

  “Victory goes to the Arrow Lord,” said the guardsman, breaking the silence with his declaration.

  “Victory goes to me,” said Salus, tucking Pendragon’s helm under one arm. “Which means Evrill’s fate has been decided.”

  Shrike shot Evrill a mournful look as Mordigan dragged her before the crowd. She had stopped crying and put up no fight. “You already got your last words,” said Salus. “Be thankful. Last words are a luxury few get.” He drew a knife from his belt. “By vote Harpy’s Point has sentenced its duchess to death!” said Salus. “I will carry out this sentence.” He held his knife high above Evrill’s head as he gripped her hair.

  Shrike looked away as Salus brought the knife down with a sickening thwack. It only took him two blows to remove the Duchess’s head, and her body fell sideways, pumping blood onto the snow.

  Evrill floated downwards into an icy land of serene blue. She landed on her feet, as the horizon glowed with a sourceless light. Cambrian was waiting for her patiently, floating on feathered tentacles. His presence washed over her in a calming wave, distancing the pain of her betrayal and murder. “Evrill, my dear,” he began, extending a prosthetic of broken seashells. “That was not the end I would have chosen for you.”

  The former duchess held a hand to her throat, feeling the jagged scar where she had been decapitated. “I would have preferred something quieter,” said the Duchess.

  “You were a species far too rare amongst humans,” said the god, his voice echoing in her head. “Both in your idealism and your integrity. You did not deserve to be disgraced and brutalized.”

  “So you were watching?” asked Evrill.

  “I am always watching the Amernians,” said Cambrian. “They are all my children, as they are born of my land. I have the power to return you to life, Evrill. It’s an offer I will only make once. You will be marked by me, and you will be an instrument of my power.”

  “You would send me back as a sorcerer?” asked Evrill.

  “Precisely,” said Cambrian, floating forward as if he were underwater. “I would give you the power to exact revenge upon those who have wronged you.”

  “No, thank you,” said Evrill, shaking her head.

  “No… thank… you?” repeated Cambrian, physically recoiling from the Duchess’s refusal. He swam around her, his tentacles encircling the Duchess. “Why do you refuse me? Do you not understand how precious this offer is? How few get this chance?”

  “I understand it,” said the Duchess. “And I thank you. It was evil that killed me, evil and hate. I don’t blame those who voted against me, but to return to life…” She paused to think. “They will regret my death in the dark times ahead. Maybe it will take months, or years, but they’ll regret it. My death was horrible, but what are a few horrible moments in a life filled with joy? I loved, I built, I helped people as much as I could, and like everyone, I experienced loss and heartbreak. There are many people who don’t get to experience any of the wonders I have. I think in spite of everything the world is better for having had me. If you were to bring me back to life it would cheapen my death, and how is Amernia to learn if it doesn’t make mistakes?”

  The god stopped circling as he listened to Evrill’s words, and he again returned to float before her. “If that is your wish I cannot force you. Do you truly wish to die?”

  “Yes,” said Evrill. “I have just one question before I go.”

  “Go on.”

  “I never had a child,” she began. “There was one who I always cared for like he was my own. His name is Calcifer. When I last saw him he was angry and desperate for vengeance. Does he live?”

  “He does,” said the god.

  “Did he do the right thing at Norfield?” she asked eagerly.

  “No…” said Cambrian. “Now go before the Huntsman tries to claim you.”

  “Pity,” said the Duchess as the ice below melted and the water boiled beneath her. It was comfortably warm as she sank below its surface and her soul dissipated, atom by atom, into the universe.

  Mordigan pulled the gag out of Shrike’s mouth as he stood before Salus. “Going to kill me, too?” asked Shrike, staring at Salus with pure hatred.

  “It’s tempting, Mr. O’Connor,” began Salus. “We have everything we need from you, and to be honest I really don’t like you. But at the same time, you helped us take Harpy’s Point. Now the Wild Hunt controls the north. Death hardly seems fair.”

  “What, then?” asked Shrike. “Are you going to keep me as your personal torture slave?”

  “Now, now, Mr. O’Connor, I’m no monster.”

  “So you keep saying. I don’t think you understand what the word means.”

  Salus stroked his chin. “What to do, what to do with the dwarf.” He thought for a moment. “I can’t ransom you back to the Queen. I don’t want you spilling your guts to Roselock. I tell you what I’ll do. There is a prison off the coast of Azmire—they call it Tilucan. I presume you’ve heard of it?” Shrike glared back, his gaze unbreaking. “So you have! I take it you know its reputation?”

  “Men have been known to kill themselves rather than go to the Tilucan. Anyone who goes, goes there to die. There is no way out.”

  “Exactly,” said Salus. “I think it would be a nice place for a man like yourself to live out the rest of his days. Don’t you?”

  “I’ll escape,” said Shrike.

  “You can try,” said Salus. “But few ever have.”

  “Then I’ll be one of those few,” said Shrike. “And wherever you are, Salus, I’ll find you. Whether you’re hiding from Queensguard in the forests, or crowning yourself king, I’ll find you, and I will make you suffer for what you’ve done here today. It might take years. You might be a fat old man by then, with a happy wife and plenty of children. You had better not be, because if you are I’ll impale them for you to find, just as I did Darius. And you know what? I’ll do it with a smile on my face just knowing that I’ve caused you hurt. And when I come for you, you’ll be so stricken with fear that it will run brown and vile down your leg. When I’m finished, death will be a sweet mercy, better than the feeling of sex or heaven.”

  Salus laughed as if Shrike had just told some grand joke. “You are very brave, little dwarf. You will fail on your mission, just as Pendragon did. Just as Roselock
will and all the others. And if you seek revenge I promise I’ll be waiting, with weapon and army ready.”

  Chapter 13

  You don’t know her, Clark. She has this way of looking at things, like a hawk eying a mouse. Her advice is always ruthless and efficient and worst of all… good. She gives damn good advice. A teenage girl is Amernia’s greatest asset. As much as I hate to admit it I feel like a middleman between her and the country. I now know why people say the Van Canns have steel in their blood.

  —King Gabriel to Clark Pendragon

  Gabriel took a long swig of wine, and when it ran red down his chin he went back for more. “You’re a bit…” he began before wiping the wine from his face and trying to focus. “You’re a bit younger than I usually…”

  “Shh,” Minerva whispered as she pulled him to the bed. They fell clumsily onto the sheets and Gabriel dropped his wine bottle, which burst as it hit the floor.

  “I know we have to,” Gabriel continued. “But if you’re not comfortable we could just tell everyone we consummated. They aren’t going to check. I would know—I’m king.”

  Minerva climbed on top of her drunk new husband, straddling him with slender white legs. She placed a finger over his lips. “I am ready,” she said, letting her scarlet hair down. It wasn’t a lie; her entire life had been preparing for this moment… she was a princess, after all. Her fingers fumbled at the buttons on Gabriel’s shirt. He had a handsome body, built and scarred from battle. “What’s this?” she asked upon seeing the pendant hanging in the middle of his chest. A golden eye stared up at her on a chain of black spiked metal.

  “Nothing,” said the King, removing the amulet and placing it on the bedside table. “Just a trinket.”

  She giggled. “You Amernian men are so weird. In Vaetor a man wouldn’t be caught dead wearing jewelry. People might think he was… you know. Not into girls?” said Minerva, as she raked her nails down his chest.

  He was hardening beneath her and she could feel his cock rising between her legs, although still separated by fabric and a leather belt. She kissed him before he could speak again and the rest of their clothes came tumbling off. Their sex left the young Queen sore but satisfied as she curled up against her husband’s chest. She was happy to be married, out of Vaetor, and far away from family. Together they drifted into slumber.