Blood-Stained Heir (Ascent Archives Book 1)

by T. Norman

  It was midmorning when they finally made their way to the northern edge of Port Sarim, and there was little traffic on the road. Julia noticed that the guards posted on the edge of town were looking inward rather than out.

  “Hello there!” Rysh called out, getting the guards attention. He waved at them with a friendly smile.

  “Halt!” One guard lifted his spear, temporarily blocking their path. “What’s your business in Port Sarim?”

  Rysh gestured toward Alric and Julia, who were riding on the horse next to him. “This is my father and daughter. Our farm was flooded and I heard there was work available at the harbor here.”

  The second guard laughed. “Well, you heard wrong. The harbor has been shut down for the time being.”

  Alric looked puzzled. “Why’s that? Not enough money being made?” Julia was wondering the same thing. It was suspicious that a port town shut down their harbor.

  “Don’t know and, frankly, don’t care.” the second guard shrugged. “Nothing good ever came out of the harbor.”

  “Thanks, but I think we’ll see what we can find for work anyway,” Rysh said.

  “All right, but if you cause any problems you’ll be hanged on the gallows with the other criminals.” The first guard made the standard threat almost sound like a warning, as if he knew they had ulterior motives in mind.

  As they rode into town, the effects of the harbor being shut down were evident. People walked the streets with their heads cast down in fear. Guards patrolled the streets, and were avoided as much as possible.

  It seemed that whoever ruled this town had put a tight leash on all of its citizens. Rysh found a stable just inside the town where they arranged to keep their horses. It only cost them a bronze per horse; obviously the townspeople had drastically lowered their prices in order to have some sort of income.

  After leaving their horses, they continued to make their way around town, observing the atmosphere as they went. Julia got a whiff of liquor and smoke as they passed a small tavern; she knew there would be plenty more taverns throughout town, where most of the individuals who usually worked in the harbor would be spending their time.

  As they moved closer to the docks they found a tavern by following the elevated voices, which they could hear down the road. The Drunken Moose, Julia mused, that’s an interesting choice of name.

  Rysh opened the door and a wave of heat left the building. They walked inside to a large, crowded room. Julia looked around for an open table, finding the only one available in the center of the room surrounded by a number of other patrons.

  Alric led the way to the table. As soon as they sat down, a young woman came strolling over with a smile on her face.

  “You must be new in town,” she greeted them. “What can I get you?”

  “Three waters,” Rysh ordered quickly.

  “I’ll take an ale, actually,” Alric interjected.

  “Two waters and one ale, coming right up.” As she left, Alric countered Rysh’s look of scorn with a smirk.

  Rysh shook his head at Alric. “Can’t you go into a tavern and not have a drink?”

  Alric cocked his head to the side in mock confusion, “That defeats the purpose of going into a tavern.”

  Julia smiled and chuckled to herself. She and Rysh both knew that one ale was not enough to put Alric off his guard.

  The woman returned quickly, with drinks in hand. “Here are your waters, and here is your ale.” She put her hands on her hips looking at the group. “So where are you all from?”

  Julia thought this woman’s accent was quite strange, like nothing she had heard before.

  Rysh took the lead and spoke up, “This is my daughter . . . Alys.” He gestured at Alric and said, “This drunken fool is my father, Bors. My name is Don, and we’re from Sweetwood.”

  She gave them all a warm smile. “Well, nice to meet you! My name is Nellisa. If you need anything, just ask.”

  Rysh took this opportunity to get some information from the young girl. “Actually, we were looking for work. Our farm flooded so we traveled here hoping I could get work on a local ship. Know of anyone hiring?”

  Nelissa’s eyes shifted toward a group of guards sitting at a table nearby. “Listen, no ships are hiring right now,” she said quietly. “All trade has been shut down, so it would be best if you didn’t go asking around about this. Don’t want the wrong person to hear.” She gestured her head slightly toward the guards.

  Rysh got the message. “Thanks for the heads up, will do.”

  “Well, I better get back to work. Again, let me know if you need anything.” She hurried off as a table raised their empty glasses, rudely beckoning for a refill.

  “She was very friendly,” Julia offered her opinion to the others. She was the most welcoming person they had met so far on their journey. It brought a smile to Julia’s face.

  Rysh nodded his agreement. “Yes, she was. I wish she would have been more helpful in actually getting us a ship.”

  They heard a commotion behind them. Julia turned around to see one of the guards from the table nearby had grabbed Nellisa and pulled her into his lap. She was struggling to get away, but no one made a move to help her.

  Julia turned to see Rysh rise from his chair. He marched over to the guards, tapping the man with Nellisa on his lap on his shoulder.

  “Excuse me, but it seems to me the lady would like it if you let her go.” His voice was stern, showing no chance of backing down.

  The man was obviously drunk, as his head was bobbing from side to side. “Yeah, well, who’s gonna stop me?” he slurred.

  In the blink of an eye Rysh threw a punch, causing the man to loosen his grip on Nellisa and allowing her to go free. The next second the man was on the ground and Rysh was crouched over him with a knife resting on his throat. “I’m going to stop you. I think you’ve had too much to drink. Go home and sleep it off.”

  The other three guards at the table rose from their chairs with their hands on their swords.

  A large man in the crowd stood and addressed the guards. “I don’t think that would be wise. Why don’t you just take Erik back and put him to bed? We all made mistakes tonight, let’s just go home and sleep it off.” Julia was amazed at the stature of this man. He was tall with broad shoulders and a strong, defined chin. She blushed at how handsome he was.

  The three guards looked at each other and nodded. “All right, let’s get out of here.” Rysh stepped away from the man, letting his friends carry him out of the tavern.

  As soon as they left a cheer erupted from within the tavern, with many people patting Rysh on the back and thanking him as he made his way back to the table.

  Nellisa quickly came up to them with a tray full of drinks. “He’s such a pig.” She shook her head in disgust. “Thanks, that was very brave of you.”

  Rysh nodded to her and said, “It’s no problem at all. I couldn’t just sit by and let him do that to you.”

  She set the tray on the table. “Here’s a round on me. Thanks again.” She quickly walked away.

  Alric grabbed a drink from the tray as he finished his first glass. “What happened to not drawing unwanted attention?” Julia could hear the frustration in his voice. She knew Rysh had acted impulsively, but was quite thankful that he did.

  “I couldn’t sit by and watch him abuse her like that. Someone had to stop him.” Before Rysh could continue, the large man who had spoken up walked up to their table. He grabbed an open chair from the table next to them and sat down between Rysh and Julia.

  “Good work back there; the name’s Valcor.” The large man reached out his hand and shook Rysh’s.

  “Nice to meet you, Valcor, I’m Don. This is my father, Bors, and daughter, Alys.” Julia and Alric greeted the man. “Thanks for doing your part to help out; I was not intending on getting into a fight tonight.”

  “I wanted to come warn you, that man you knocked out is Erik Stolle. He’s the captain of the guard in Port Sarim and is known to hold gru
dges. Watch your back.” He spoke with complete sincerity.

  Julia could see Alric was angry, upset with how Rysh had acted. “Thanks for the head’s up.”

  “Next round’s on me,” Valcor said as he stood to leave. “Remember, watch your back.”

  An hour passed with Nellisa slowly sharing more details about Port Sarim. They kept receiving free drinks from a number of patrons, which Alric took joy in consuming. Rysh helped himself to one ale, deciding that was his limit for the evening. Julia drank only water; Valcor’s warning had shaken her. Every time the door opened she jumped, waiting to see who was about to enter.

  As the tavern started to quiet down, the front door flung open and a group of six armed guards marched into the room. After they entered, the whole tavern went quiet. Erik Stolle walked in with a drawn sword in hand.

  He scanned the room, his eyes settling on Rysh. Julia could see the rage blazing in them. “You there,” he called to Rysh. “You’re coming with me.” He turned to address the rest of the tavern, his gaze pausing on Valcor. “If any of you try and stop us, I have thirty men outside waiting. If I don’t come out with this man, they’ll burn the whole building down.”

  Julia panicked as she realized the predicament they were in. She looked at Rysh and saw the irritation on his face. He looked at Alric and gave him a nod; they knew what had to be done. He stood from his chair and walked toward the captain.

  The whole tavern sat in silence, wondering whether he was going to turn himself in or attack the captain again.

  Rysh reached the captain and without a word, held his hands forward.

  “Tie him up and let’s go.” One of the soldiers moved forward and grabbed Rysh by the wrists, binding them together with a large rope. With that, the guards left the tavern with Rysh in tow. Julia turned and looked at Alric, shocked.

  “We have to go after him!” she exclaimed.

  Alric shook his head “I’m sorry, but we can’t. Ry—Don—and I made an agreement that if anything happened to either of us we would continue on, no matter what.” Julia’s hands dropped to her side as she grasped the weight of his words.

  25

  Han stood in his saddle, searching the horizon. Since entering the Lost Lands two days prior, they had encountered nothing but sand on their journey. Han was beginning to lose his patience, hoping for something to occupy their attention. The rest of the Black Sons grew equally as impatient.

  “Let’s make camp here. No sense traveling through the heat of the day,” Han called toward his brother. Desert traveling was a tricky task, resting midday in the heat but also making sure to stay warm when the temperature dropped at night.

  Victor rode at the front of the group on his warhorse. He had the same jet-black hair as his brother, common for all Stowens.

  “Do it.” He let Han do most of the talking, even though he was the undisputed leader of the Black Sons.

  “We make camp here,” Han directed the men. “Set up a two-mile perimeter.” He was always prepared for an attack.

  The group broke off in a trained fashion, each man with his assigned role. Han and Victor stood watch over the men as they hurried around camp. They were anxious to get out of the sun, as its heat drained much of their energy.

  “So what do you think Dragon Tower is going to be like?” Han asked his older brother. After they received their mission, they were left with many questions. Victor met with the king on their journey south, but he was hesitant to share all the details of their plan with Han.

  “Cold and dark.” Victor kept his eyes on their men, making sure everything was being accomplished in an acceptable and timely manner.

  Han couldn’t help but take a stab at his brother. “Sounds like your kind of woman,” he joked, letting out a loud chuckle at his wittiness. His brother simply shook his head.

  “I still think you should have stayed back with the rest of our men,” Victor said. “I don’t trust that whore of yours to lead them into battle.” Han knew Victor hated Amalia, but deep down assumed it was pure jealously. Amalia was one of the fairest women he had ever seen, and he knew Victor saw her beauty as well.

  Han shook his head. “I had to get away from the other whores. They kept asking me to be the father of their child, and it was just too much for me.” Han had no remorse over visiting brothels. He thought it was within his right to explore other means of satisfaction.

  Victor pointed toward a man setting up his personal tent. “Who is that?”

  Han squinted, trying to see the man’s face. “That’s Pallius, one of the newest members of our little brotherhood.” Victor put Han in charge of recruiting new men for the Black Sons, and Han wouldn’t have been surprised if his brother didn’t know the names of any of the eighteen men traveling with them.

  “I don’t like him. Teach him a lesson.” Victor was cold and calculating, never missing an opportunity to demonstrate his ruthlessness to his men.

  Han smiled at his brother; he always enjoyed putting on a show. Han jumped off his horse and walked over toward the men setting up the tent.

  “Pallius, can I have a moment to speak with you/”

  Pallius, a large man with a shaved head turned to face Han. He tried to remember where he had recruited the ugly soldier. He smiled as he remembered how he came across this man.

  “What do you want?” Pallius lacked the respect that Han desired. He was going to enjoy toying with him.

  “First off, you will address me as ‘sir.’” The other soldiers had stopped their work to observe the confrontation. It was exactly what Victor had wanted to happen. “Secondly, I wish you would have spent less time plowing farmers’ wives and more time learning how to put up a simple tent.” Han chuckled at his pun. Pallius had been arrested after raiding and killing northern farmers. He was caught enjoying the fruits of his labor.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Pallius spat the term of respect at him. “Maybe I should be put on patrol instead of tent pitching, then.”

  Han grabbed an axe sitting nearby and tossed it to the soldier. “Prove it to me.” Those who were assigned to patrols had to be skilled fighters, as they were often the first line of defense.

  Pallius lifted the axe, weighing it in his hands carefully. Han turned to his brother, who gave him a nod of approval.

  A group of soldiers had gathered around the two men, watching expectantly as the men sized each other. In a blur, Pallius charged at Han, swinging his axe wildly. Han sidestepped, dodging the blow, without removing his hands from his hips.

  Han shook his head. “You really need to be more creative than that.” Pallius turned, his face burning bright red in fury. He charged again, but this time used quick swings to keep Han on guard.

  Moving as fluidly as a river flowing around rocks, Han stepped from foot to foot, making it seem effortless as he dodged swing after swing. Pallius showed signs of fatigue as he let the axe swing lower and lower.

  Han decided it was time to have some fun. Instead of dodging Pallius’s weak swing, he stepped down on the axe, pulling it from his hands. In the same motion, he drew one of his swords from his back and held it at Pallius’s throat.

  “Are you tired already? I was just starting to have fun.” He smiled at the man. Han knew Pallius was used to facing untrained farmers, not soldiers bred for battle, as he was. Han kicked his axe back to the man.

  Han began swinging his sword left and right in fluid motions, knocking down Pallius’s guard every time he managed to raise his axe to block the swing.

  Han had yet to break a sweat as he pushed the man back. Feeling bored of the repetition, Han feigned a right swing, instead jabbing his blade forward. He felt it sink into Pallius’s flesh.

  The man looked horrified as he dropped his axe. Pallius fell to his knees, clutching at the wound to his stomach. “You stabbed me!” he yelled at Han.

  “Be thankful I only stabbed you.” Han turned to his brother, who gave him another nod. “Now pick up your axe and come at me. I’ll be nice and fight with m
y left hand.” Han tossed his blade to his off hand.

  Pallius struggled to his feet, and with one hand holding his side, with his free hand he struggled to lift the heavy axe. Raising it to his waist, he dropped it under the weight, weakened from his injury.

  “Here, try this.” Han drew his second sword and flipped it so the hilt faced Pallius, tossing it to the ground in front of the wounded man. Pallius hesitantly picked up the sword, testing its weight. We winced as he gave a practice swing, feeling the burning sensation in his side.

  Han beckoned Pallius forward. “Let’s not keep everyone waiting.”

  Pallius made a feeble swing at Han, leaving the blade well short of his target. Han simply shook his head at the man kneeling in front of him. Pallius was exhausted. He threw the sword forward, giving into defeat.

  “You win,” he said. “I’m not ready to be on patrol. I’ll go back to setting up tents.” He bowed his head in defeat.

  Victor spoke up for the first time since the whole encounter started. He addressed everyone who was watching the fight. “I will tell you this once: we do not accept failure,” he instructed. “If you are assigned work, I expect you to complete it, no questions asked. If I tell you to jump, you ask how high. If any of you disagree with my command, it will be the last disagreement we ever have.” He looked down at his brother and nodded.

  Han smiled as he turned toward Pallius, who still knelt a few feet in front of him. “I’m going to give you a little advice: never surrender.” Han walked toward Pallius and lifted his second sword from the ground. He placed his two swords diagonally on Pallius’s shoulders. “It makes you look weak.” He saw the realization dawn in Pallius’s eyes as in one swift motion he drew his swords across Pallius’s neck, severing his head from his body.