Blood-Stained Heir (Ascent Archives Book 1)

by T. Norman

  “Dorian is right. Twenty men will be slaughtered immediately.” Lord Redwind agreed.

  “I agree that twenty is not a strong-enough force, but if that is all we can do, then we must go forward with the plan.” Master Puck spoke slowly, attempting to calm the group down.

  “We just have to send the right men for the job.” Lady Allison folded her hands, calm and collected as usual.

  “We will gather a force of twenty men for you to guide across the Skirling Mountains.” Allister sat up straight, demanding attention from everyone gathered. “Would you like to discuss your payment?”

  Brandel shook his hands and head. “Oh, no, that isn’t an immediate concern. We share a common enemy; it is in our best interest to assist you in this time of need.” Zaren suspected ulterior motives, but kept his suspicions to himself.

  “Very well, you may leave us. We will gather our men for your journey.” Allister waved for Brandel to exit. Zaren opened the door as Brandel rose from his polite bow and turned to exit.

  “Your Majesty, twenty men? That’s a fool’s game!” Dorian was still upset.

  “I am well aware of what might happen. You do not need to tell me,” Allister barked back. “As Lady Velmar said, we just need to send the right men for the job.”

  “Your Majesty, who did you have in mind?” Lord Redwind squeaked.

  A smile came across both Allister and Allison’s lips. I don’t like that look, Zaren thought. “Master Puck, send for my cousin. Tell him to gather nineteen of his best men and make their way here immediately.” The Black Sons. Zaren knew of their reputation as a group of ruthless men. Their leader, Lord Victor Stowen, rose to his position after the battle of Skirling Pass, when he killed Dusseldorf’s king, Arturious Rawson. It was said he formed his group from escaped criminals, thieves, murderers, and anyone else he could find to do his dirty work. They weren’t a part of the Royal Army, and answered only to Lord Stowen.

  “As you will.” Master Puck rose to leave the group, giving a quick bow to King Stowen.

  “General Tenue, Lord Redwind, prepare our caravan to return to Andarok.” The two men nodded their consent and rose to exit. “Lady Velmar, whatever forces you can spare, have them ready to march in a fortnight. We will leave shortly after that.”

  “As you wish, Your Majesty.” She inched closer to Allister as she said, “You don’t have to worry about the girl. Captain Sharpe is a capable man and he will find her.”

  Allister stood to exit. “I would be worried about him if I were you. It will be in your best interest to ensure he doesn’t fail. Remember, have your men ready in a fortnight. I expect the girl to be here waiting for me.” Allister gestured for Zaren to follow him as he left the room.

  Zaren followed Allister as the king walked through the castle, heading back toward the gate. Despite his strength and ability as a fighter, Allister was a paranoid man and had fears of being stabbed in the back, hence Zaren’s role shadowing his movements. The few people they encountered bowed and quickly stepped out of King Stowen’s way, whether out of respect or fear Zaren was unable to tell.

  At the castle gate their small caravan was waiting, with General Tenue and Lord Redwind already on their steeds. Allister and Zaren mounted their horses with the help of a stable hand, and the group left the castle in almost complete silence. Fifty men rode at the front, followed by General Tenue and Lord Redwind. King Stowen and Zaren rode behind them, with the rest of the Royal Guard following. The carriages and wagons came next, and fifty more soldiers took up the rear.

  In a hushed voice, Allister spoke to Zaren. “Do you trust them, the Del Brotherhood?”

  Zaren hesitated before answering. He wanted to give an honest answer, for the king trusted him as a brother, but he didn’t want to upset his king, either. “I’m not sure,” he finally said. “It seems strange they want nothing in return.” He hoped vagueness would suffice.

  “I agree. They’re planning something, but at the moment it doesn’t matter; we have to move forward with the plan.” Ever since the battle of the Skirling Pass, King Stowen had been planning how to defeat Dusseldorf for good, knowing the constant battles along the mountains would get them nowhere.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “I need you to go to Mohrr and make sure my son is ready. If all goes according to plan, he will be ruling Dusseldorf alongside his new bride, and he needs to be prepared.”

  He means for me to play babysitter. So be it. “I understand.”

  “I know this isn’t what you want. You’re a soldier and you want to fight, but this is for our future. I need you to do this, and there is no one else I trust.” Allister smiled at Zaren. “Don’t stay long; I want you to meet us at Daleon with whatever men you can gather up from Mohrr. I mean to attack with our full force.” Allister wanted this war over; he wanted to rule all of Draxos. “Expect us at Daleon in just over a fortnight.” Zaren nodded his understanding. Though this wasn’t his choice of plan, he knew his role.

  As Zaren turned to ride off toward Mohrr, Allister called to him, “Zaren, when you come to Daleon, bring my son.” With that, Zaren turned and rode east toward his mission.

  7

  Rysh and Gant sat in the woods a hundred yards from the entrance to Rushton. They had made it to the town the night before, but decided to camp in the woods on the outskirts until morning so they could be fully aware of what they were getting themselves into. Guards were posted outside the gate, but the gate was closed, a sign that made Rysh uncomfortable.

  “My guess is that they’re monitoring who comes in. They’ll be looking for us,” Rysh said. Their plan required them to get a ferry from Rushton down to Sapphire Lake, where they would need to find a large fishing boat to continue on their journey.

  “Is there any way we can sneak in? We don’t know that they’re looking for us. Maybe they’re having problems with bandits?” Gant, always thinking, was trying to figure out a way to turn this situation around.

  “We need a ferry, but we also need to stock up on supplies.” The question is, how are we going to do it? Rysh and Gant rose from their position and went to rejoin the group.

  “What did you see?” Bors had all but stopped his drunken farce, instead bringing confidence and leadership to the group.

  “They have guards posted outside the gate, and it’s closed.” Rysh responded.

  “Is there another way in?” Gayle leaned against a tree, a splint on his knee. He still couldn’t walk that far, but he was becoming more mobile in the five days since the attack.

  “I think a small group should go in first, scope out what’s going on. If it’s safe, then we can send for the rest.” Rysh knew that was the best option. He turned to Mic, to see him nod his agreement. Silent as always. Thanks, Mic. He nodded in return.

  “You and I should go in first, pretend to be father and son. It would draw the least attention,” Bors suggested. Rysh nodded his agreement.

  “I think I should come with you.” Lori had been quiet at the beginning of their journey, but had started speaking up more and more; now she wasn’t afraid to voice her opinion. “Two armed men are going to appear threatening. Take a woman along and it makes us less of a threat.” Lori proved a good point. “Also, you two can focus on finding us a way out of here while I get the food and medicine we need.” Rysh was hesitant but agreed with her assessment.

  “All right, Lori you’ll come with. Let’s get going. I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to.” Rysh, Bors, and Lori grabbed their packs and made their way out of camp.

  “Dad, be safe,” Gant called out to Rysh.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got these two to watch my back.” Rysh smiled back at his son.

  As the group found the road leading into Rushton, they noticed a wagon pulled by an old couple down the path from them. “Let’s stay back a ways and watch to see how those two are greeted,” Bors suggested.

  To their surprise, when the wagon reached the gate the guards and the couple sp
oke, but no weapons were drawn nor was the wagon searched. They simply shook hands, opened the gate, and closed it after the couple was through.

  “It might be safe here after all,” Rysh proposed optimistically.

  As they approached the gate the first guard called out to them, “Hello there, what brings you three to Rushton?” The second noticed the weapons on Rysh and Bors’s belts. He slowly moved his hand to the hilt of his sword, trying not to draw attention to the movement.

  “Our father is dying of old age, and his last wish was to travel to the sea. We thought maybe we could find a ferry to take us to Sapphire Lake.” Rysh knew the best lies held a little bit of truth.

  “He’s not sick, is he?” asked the second guard, taking a step back.

  Bors gave a wild cough. “I sure hope not!” He gave a wicked smile.

  He’s enjoying this too much, Rysh thought with annoyance.

  “Very well, just make sure he doesn’t go coughing on everything. Might get people worried.” With that the guards let the three through the gate, shutting it behind them.

  Once they were in town, the threesome realized why the gate was shut. The houses toward the edge of town were burnt, ruins left in their places. They moved toward the center of town, where there was significantly less damage. As they passed a group of men, Rysh moved closer.

  “What happened here?” Rysh inquired of the men.

  “Mathox. A group of them came out of nowhere and attacked,” one man answered.

  “It was a bloody massacre,” replied a second. “We’ve been taking in all kinds of folk from the country, looking for safety.”

  The Mathox are getting bold. Rushton was a lot farther from the Skirling Mountains than they normally traveled. “I’m sorry for your loss. Would you by chance know of any ferries heading west?”

  The men looked at each other. “There’s a few left in port,” the first man said, “but most took off right after the attack. They don’t think we’re safe here anymore.”

  “Thanks, we’ll go take a look.” Rysh and the others left the men to continue their work. Out of earshot, Rysh said, “We need to get the others. They aren’t safe out there in the woods with Mathox around.” He was beginning to worry about Gant and Julia.

  “I can go get them,” Bors volunteered. “If I come across anyone, I’ll just play drunk.” A hint of a smile was visible through his burly beard.

  “I’ll start to gather up supplies,” Lori said.

  “All right, I’ll go to the port and find us a ride out of here.” With a plan in mind, the three split off in different directions. As he moved toward the docks, Rysh was overwhelmed with the smell of something rotting. Out of the corner of his eye he sensed movement from an alleyway. He turned his head to investigate, but the alley was empty. I’m being followed. Rysh could feel it in his bones. Something wasn’t right, and he had felt it for over a day now. He kept moving toward the docks, glancing over his shoulder as he went.

  He eventually came to the docks, where he found one ferry tied up to the pier. “Excuse me, sir,” Rysh called to a thin, gray-haired man leaning against the tiller. “Would your ferry by chance be available for rent?”

  The man sat up with a jolt; he had obviously been asleep. “Who’s there? What do you want?” He spat as he spoke. Just what we need, another drunk.

  Rysh moved down the dock toward the man. “I’m looking for a ride to Crestbrooke. I thought maybe I could purchase a ride down the river.” Rysh knew sailors worried about two things: money and ale. It seemed like this man had plenty of ale, so Rysh knew his mind was set on money.

  “How many are in your lot?” The man seemed interested.

  “Seven,” Rysh quickly responded. “A dog, as well.”

  The man scratched his chin. “Are you able bodied?”

  “Three of us can pull oars, if need be.” He wanted to keep Gant on the lookout as they made their journey.

  “Two silvers each for those who can’t work, one each for your three who can, and a bronze for the pup.” The man was charging double what Rysh had expected, but they needed this ferry.

  “Two of them are children, they should be half.”

  “Fine. Nine silvers and one bronze, aye?” The man might have been a drunk, but he knew his math.

  “Aye, four silvers now, the rest once we are all on board.” Rysh reached in his pocket and handed the man the money. “We’re buying some supplies at the moment. When can we leave?”

  The man looked at the position of the sun. “Can you folks be ready by midday? We got a lot o’ light left today and I would like to take advantage of it.”

  “We can do that. We’ll meet you back here.” Rysh turned to leave, but he hesitated. “What’s your name, by the way?”

  The old man smiled, “The name’s Limmey. What about you, stranger?”

  “Rysh. It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Limmey.” Business completed, Rysh left the dock to find the others. As he moved through the nearly deserted town he saw movement on his right. This time he didn’t look, instead slowly lowering his hand to his hilt. He rounded a corner and sprinted into the next alley.

  He stood waiting for his shadow to walk by, but after a few minutes he surmised he must have been imagining it. He turned to continue on his way when a hand grabbed him by the throat and pinned him against the wall with the cold metal of a machete against his throat. He found himself staring into the face of a man with light brown skin. Rysh tried to struggle for his sword, but his arm was pinned behind his back.

  “Listen close, Rysh, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to talk,” Rysh was surprised the man called him by his first name. He had an unfamiliar accent. Wherever this man was from, it was nowhere near the Lakelands. “I’m going to let you go,” he continued. “Don’t run or I will have to subdue you. Understand?” His voice was calm but stern.

  Rysh could only nod. He felt the stranger drop his hand from his throat. Rysh gasped for a breath. “So, let’s talk,” he finally gasped. Rysh stood tall to address the man. “Who are you and how do you know who I am?”

  “My name is Apo’k Quilla. I know who you are because I have been watching you.” He put his machete away, easing Rysh’s mind slightly.

  “I know you’ve been following me. I saw you yesterday.”

  Apo’k laughed. “I’ve been following you for longer than you know, my friend.”

  Rysh didn’t let the man play with him. “And since when are we friends? I don’t know anything about you.”

  Apo’k moved closer and said in a hushed tone, “We fight for the same cause. I know who the girl is, I know what you are trying to do with her, and I’m here to help you do just that.”

  “How, may I ask, do you know all of this?” Rysh needed to prove Apo’k was trustworthy before he gave up any information.

  “Have you heard of seers?”

  “Yes, I have, in children’s stories. They’re mythical beings who can see through the eyes of animals from anywhere as long as they have some sort of bond.” Rysh didn’t enjoy the game this man was playing.

  “Though seers are almost extinct, they are much more reality than myth.” Apo’k stepped back from Rysh. “For I am one.”

  Rysh couldn’t help but laugh. “You mean to tell me you can see through the eyes of animals?” By nature, Rysh was skeptical of any claims of magic or sorcery. “Show me, then.”

  “I can’t show you, but I can tell you. I know your wife died during childbirth. I know you’ve been having a hard time raising your son. I’ve seen you practicing with your sword, and teaching your son how to hunt. I’ve seen it all.” Rysh’s hair stood on end, but he wasn’t able to believe the man yet. Nothing he said was specific, and everything was information that would be easy to find out. Rysh needed more proof.

  “Tell me something that no one would know unless they were a seer.”

  Apo’k scratched his chin in thought. “You couldn’t have saved them. They were already lost before the attack started.
They knew where the girl was.” He was talking about the attack on Wayton, Rysh realized.

  “What makes you say that?” Rysh had to give the man credit for what he knew.

  “Because,” Apo’k scanned the ends of the alleyways before he spoke. “One amongst your group is a traitor.”

  8

  “A traitor?” Rysh couldn’t believe his ears. “How is that possible? I’ve known them all for years!”

  Apo’k shook his head in pity. “Many times it’s the people closest to us who betray us.”

  “Who is it?” Rysh demanded. He was furious that his son and Julia were in danger.

  “Unfortunately, that I do not know.” Apo’k held his hands out apologetically. “I heard their leader give the command to leave Wayton because their spy didn’t bring the girl. That is all I know.”

  Rysh’s mind raced. “I’m supposed to be on a ferry with this person.” He tried to come up with a plan to keep them safe until he found out who the traitor was. “I can buy us some time, for now.”

  “I wish you the best of luck. I am needed elsewhere, but I will be watching you closely,” Apo’k smiled.

  “You see through the dog, don’t you?” Rysh could almost see a resemblance between Apo’k and Ros.

  Apo’k nodded. “Very observant of you. My mother was a seer; she was bonded to one of Ros’s ancestors. Our bloodlines are connected.” Rysh was amazed; animal and human bloodlines connected through generations. “I’m sorry, but I must go. Whatever you do, avoid the Long Road. There is too much movement on that road for my liking.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Apo’k gave another devious smile. “My father was a seer, as well. He was bonded to a hawk. In the same fashion, I am as well.”

  “You’re bonded to two animals? I’ve never heard of that before.”

  “That’s because it has never been done before.” Apo’k didn’t speak boastfully, instead saying it very matter-of-factly. “As I said, I must go. If you need me, you know how to reach me.” With that, Apo’k threw his hood over his head and disappeared out of the alley.