The Turner Chronicles Box Set Edition

by Mark Eller

  Aaron smiled in sad memory as he recalled leaning over his dying friend. He had never before felt so helpless, but then Heralda laid her hands on the girl. Kim's torn shoulder sealed, and then her ribs and the leg. Heralda's worried expression spoke her doubts about Kim's bullet torn belly. Blood poured from it. Entrails spilled free. Heralda lost her strength before she could do more than push the entrails back into the wound.

  When she collapsed, Aaron despaired. Then a small form wormed its way through the crowd. A tiny version of Zisst stood beside Kim, its teeth buried in her flesh. The animal's throat pumped. Kim's bleeding slowed, and she passed into a coma.

  The next day Heralda, strengthened by rest, once again laid her hands on Kim. Like with Felicity Stromburg, Heralda's healing couldn't complete, fighting against Zisst's potion. It was good enough to keep Kim alive until time completed her recovery.

  Thinking of the little animals made Aaron smile. One had become three, but they refused to answer to any name but Zisst. This made things confusing until Autumn started calling them Daddy's Zisst, Missy's Zisst, and Kim's Zisst. The animals seemed agreeable to the compromise, and it straightened matters out for the humans.

  By the One God, Aaron reflected, the turns his life had taken were confusing. In just a few months he had gotten married and became an emperor. Only time would tell how good an emperor he would be, but his marriage was already determined. Despite their best intensions, he and Melna wouldn't fall in love. They were friends, lovers, and partners, but they were not in love.

  Time wouldn't change that. Melna claimed she was having too much fun being an empress to be disappointed. Between them, she and Aaron already had plans. As the newly created Trade Minister of the Chin Empire, Roger Linley had already formed a freight company to bring goods into Chin. Melna and Aaron had decided they would build cities. They would hire experts in a multitude of trades and apprentice Chins to those experts.

  It would be a very strange empire, Aaron reflected. Emperors normally took taxes from their subjects. Since the Chins had nothing to tax, financing the empire would fall on Aaron. A quick trip to N'Ark and a talk with a very pregnant Amanda Bivins proved he had more than enough to fund his plans. Missy had been correct. Aaron's interests were pulling in more money than the entire economy of some small countries. And it was only growing.

  Before leaving he named Amanda his Minister of Finance, an office she would occupy while never stepping foot inside Chin. Aaron figured it wouldn't matter since the Chins provided none of the money. Amanda had the skills and the personnel to do the job in N'Ark. Missy would be Amanda's representative in place, and Jeffries would be an emergency backup. For her part, Missy was agreeable, but she wanted a fancy title. Aaron suggested Vice-Minister of Finance. Missy suggested 'Her what holds the Purse Strings' would sound better.

  They reached the encampment, or what was left of it. Chin oxen were staked everywhere. Packs were being fastened to their backs. The main tent had been broken into dozens of parts, and those parts were loaded onto dozens of oxen. A large section of the compound was empty except for litter. Looking around, Aaron felt momentarily confused until Ard Chuk stopped him.

  "They left while you were gone."

  "Who left?"

  "My brothers, Clack, and his supporters. Clack cursed you for a coward, and he cursed the holy woman because she wouldn't repair his hand."

  A refusal with conviction, Aaron remembered. Clack's wrist had been shattered by Kim's last bullet. Infection soon set in, and Clack's hand was amputated. His bitterness over the loss was equaled only by his anger at Kim's survival.

  "Your uncle went with him," Aaron noted. "Why are you still here?"

  "My brothers also left. They are wrong. Emperor Klein named you because you are the man for the job. Even so, you are a stranger to us. My uncle thought we had been betrayed. I do not. I think Emperor Klein loved us so greatly he sacrificed his son to our need."

  "There will be war," Aaron said. Despite everything, there would be war. The thought made him sad but didn't fill him with despair. He was an emperor now and touched by the Divine.

  "There will be war," Ard agreed,"but Clack will not sway so many as he thought. The Holy One has gone out to the tribes. Even now she heals our ill and injured."

  "She's only one woman," Aaron reminded.

  "She is the Messenger," Ard said reverently. His expression changed. "The assassin needs to be dealt with now."

  "She'll be dealt with," Aaron agreed. Missy made an unhappy sound, but they had spoken of this earlier and were in agreement.

  "I'm ready," Missy said.

  Ard Chuk led the way to where the woman was tied and guarded. Aaron thought about having them cut her ropes free so she could stand, but changed his mind remembering how difficult it had been to contain her during Kim's duel. She had been surprised when he transferred behind her, but surprise hadn't give him the upper hand. Only the intervention of the elusive Miss Margrave and her ready sling had saved him. The bonuses she and Miss Homes took back to N'Ark had thoroughly impressed them. They would never have to work again, unless they chose to do so.

  "I have a proposal," Aaron told the woman.

  Wearing a calm expression, she pulled herself into a sitting position. The woman was huge, thick through the shoulders and taller than most men. A thin scar ran diagonally across her brow.

  "What do you want?" she demanded.

  "You're an assassin working out of Nefra?"

  "I have already told you this. Don't bore me with pointless repetition."

  Aaron gritted his teeth. "Break your allegiance to the guild and to Nefra. If you swear to serve me for five years, I'll give you your freedom and your life."

  Her lips curved slightly. "Easy enough. For my freedom and my life I swear to serve you in all things for a period of five years. How do you want to do this?"

  Missy sighed. "She's lying. She wants to finish her contract against you."

  "Thank you. " Aaron watched the assassin, sad but resolved. "I'm sorry."

  "You won't escape us," she said. "We accepted two contracts against you. The guild never stops before a contract is complete. We will come at you by the dozens if we need to."

  "I know," Aaron told her. "It's why I have to destroy your guild. " He fastened his gaze on Ard Chuck. Now was as good a time as any to test the man.

  "Execute her."

  Before Aaron took his next breath, Ard Chuk drew his sword and sliced the assassin's head from her body. Looking down at the pieces, Aaron felt regret but no remorse. At one time, he would have fallen into a depression at murdering a woman. Those times were past. That Aaron was dead, killed by a choice of personal destiny. Aaron Turner was now an emperor. He was God touched. Most of all, he knew he was right even if he felt just a little more sullied.

  He would miss the old Aaron.

  Crusade

  The Turner Chronicles

  Written by Mark Eller

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious and are a product of the author's imagination. Any similarity to persons living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Warning: This book contains sexual content, bad behavior, and profanity.

  Copyright © 2012 by Mark Eller

  White Wolf Press, LLC

  Rutherfordton, NC 28139

  Acknowledgements

  There are so many people involved in making a book it is hard to name them all. They are not just those who helped with editing and publishing (thank you Larriane and Brian) but also those who gave insight as to how improve my writing, taught me new methods of presentation, and showed me new ways of viewing the world. I’m not a young buck, well over fifty, but every day I learn, observe, or have something new brought to my attention. Children I raised now teach me. Coworkers with no literary aspirations expand my horizons. People I never met give me ideas through articles or books. Readers and listeners who know me only as a name or voice con
tact me with unsolicited but always appreciated opinions and thoughts. So, thank you Rick and Billy and Teresa and Mary and Kameron and Dani and Emz and Troy and Kris. Thanks Budda for being a larger than life personality like I had never encountered before. Sharon and Rob, thank you. Nikki and Phil, you are both fairly fresh and new, but I’m pretty sure one of Nikki’s runners will show up in a story and perhaps something reminiscent of Phil’s uniquely dry humor. Thanks to everyone else who has voiced an opinion, shared knowledge, or written a review. Most of you know who I mean. Some do not, but I do.

  Dedication

  Crusade is dedicated to you, my readers, who have either contacted me wanting to know what would happen to Aaron next or have written reviews for The Turner Chronicles on Amazon, iTunes, Smashwords, Podiobooks, and about twenty other places, giving me and others your honest opinions. Between writing, rewriting, multiple edits, and yes, creating free audio podcasts, this series has been a tremendous amount of work stretching over years. My reward has been your comments, reviews, and personal emails. My thanks go to you for your encouragement and honesty regarding those things you both liked and disliked. Praise is nice. It makes me feel warm all over. Honest crits are also nice because they let me know what I have done right and what I have done wrong, all of which helps me improve as an author. So again, thank you all. For everything, and if you get tired of reading my words, you can always listen to my voice by running over to podiobooks and grabbing the free audiofiction podcasts of The Turner Chronicles.

  Keep those reviews coming. I appreciate them all, the good, the bad, and everything in between.

  Mark Eller

  Prologue

  Maldane, Nefra's Tyrant, knelt before Iruptk's queen and silently cursed a fate which gave her a mere seven Talents when Sarena possessed them all.

  Looking up to where the queen sat lazily on her throne, seeing an exotic beauty of mixed blood, she fought back an urge to verbalize her curses.

  To curse Sarena was to die.

  Maldane silently raged against the unfair balance of power. Unfortunately for her, fair did not matter, not when Sarena possessed more Talent, not when she held more political and military power. Because of this, Maldane left her comfortable palace two months earlier and rushed to Iruptk's throne on Sarena's orders, bringing no more than a handful of retainers with her. Of those, only her guard captain, Eldrach, upheld her honor in this meeting while Sarena surrounded herself with fawning guards and slaves who answered her every whim.

  Two of Sarena's slaves stood as naked guardians on either side of Maldane, another cause for anger. They stood, while Maldane kneeled. Worse, she knew at least one of those slaves had been deliberately chosen with insult in mind. The slave to her left, little more than a boy, watched the floor tiles with rapt attention. The female slave, however, was another matter. Tall and regal, the woman owned more beauty than any other woman Maldane had seen during her long life. She possessed alabaster skin, a slim waist, and luscious hips. Long, dark hair cascaded down to frame breasts so sensuous Maldane ached to press her lips to their nipples, and that made her want to vomit. How dare this child display her perfection before an old queen whose dugs had lain flat and empty for decades! How dare Sarena put this woman before her! The slave's youthful vitality and extreme beauty were twin exclamation points to Maldane's sagging flesh and wrinkled skin. This was Sarena's way of insulting while delivering a message, the Tyrant knew. If Sarena chose to use her Talent, she could easily return youth and beauty to Maldane.

  But she would not.

  The bitch.

  Stirring, Sarena smiled, but her smile held no humor. "Our fiction is over."

  "What fiction?" Maldane asked, feigning confusion but fearing the answer.

  "It has been my pleasure over the years to pretend we are equals," Sarena explained. "After all, we are both rulers. We both possess Talent Stones, yours in a ring and mine set beneath my skin. However, political concerns insist the time for our pretense is over, at least in private. You are not and never have been my equal. Nefra is half the size of my Iruptk,its population only one quarter as large, and your Talents are limited. As proof, look at yourself. After only a few hundred years, you already appear old."

  "I am old," Maldane admitted while nervous sweat trickled down her sides. "Old doesn't mean useless. We've worked well together before. We can again."

  Sarena delivered a slow nod in acknowledgement. "Our fiction served its purpose. It led others to forget I gave you your throne. It made them miss how powerful I truly am. It also gave me room to form secret pacts under the guise of trade agreements, using Nefra as my spearhead. Even so, my patience is finished and so is the charade. Feel fortunate my patience has not worn thin with you. Your assassins failed. Repeatedly."

  "Yes," Maldane admitted, "as have yours, and Halimut's, and a number of others."

  "But yours were the first. Yours started our feud with Turner. If not for your actions, he'd not have given us a second thought. Now, because of your incompetence, we are all at risk."

  "He's only one man with a broken empire," Maldane protested. "We are seven kingdoms united."

  "Only one man with a dysfunctional empire," Queen Sarena agreed. "Only one man with resources and finances which put ours to shame. He is only one man who seems to always come out on top no matter what forces combine against him. Take no reassurance from him being only one man, and take no comfort from his empire's internal strife. Turner's difficulties have continued for merely three years. I've no doubt they'll continue several years longer, but unless steps are taken, he will prevail. When he does, his eyes will turn to us. I don't want this, Tyrant, not when he has a united empire, unlimited funds, and a Talent Stone of his own."

  "No," Maldane agreed, shuddering despite herself. Turner had proved troublesome when only a private man. He would be frightening as the undisputed emperor of a warrior people.

  Her shoulders bowed and then stiffened. "I don't want it either, but we've other pieces in play, more subtle pieces. Given time they may come through."

  "Are you willing to risk everything on one play?" Sarena asked. "I'm not, and so I've set a new game in motion, one with no apparent connection to us. I've put a Stone in the hands of a Talented fool after giving him a few empty promises. Several member states in our alliance assigned him watchers. You will do the same. Give him any assistance required and allow your people to follow him without interference. Am I clear?"

  "Yes," Maldane answered, although the word burned her tongue like acid just as the slaves standing to either side rubbed against her nerves.

  The male slave stood properly, head bowed, eyes closed, but the female slave's algae green eyes stared down on Maldane. The Tyrant seethed at the slut's disrespect. If this were her court…but it wasn't so she dared do nothing.

  "May I ask where you obtained a Stone?" she asked softly, fighting to hide her ire and fear. "I've searched for a spare and found none these last sixty years."

  Sarena grinned, and this time her smile appeared genuine. "Turner's Talentless lawyer sold it at auction. My agents intercepted the buyer before she and the Stone bonded, but this is not your concern. Your concern is to prepare the ground inside Nefra. Grant your people freedom to follow my plan, and think about the Assassin's Guild. Its failures have drawn too much attention, and Nefra is seen as its most bold sponsor. Consider making changes."

  "I will," Maldane meekly agreed, fuming inside, silently vowing she would never again leave her seat of power and to hell with Sarena's superior forces. Nefra's beloved Tyrant would die of old age in only a few short decades anyway. If Maldane were to die, better to do so with dignity in war, taking her entire nation with her.

  "I appreciate your cooperation." Sarena gestured toward the slaves standing beside Maldane. "As thanks, choose one of these as my gift."

  Still on her knees, Maldane studied each slave in turn. The male appeared properly obsequious. The female, however, did not. Indeed, the slut dared turn her naked back on Maldane,
displaying smooth skin begging to be stroked.

  Her own back, Maldane remembered, had not been smooth since her first whipping when still only a slave's child.

  "Her," she said, nodding toward the female. "I want her.

  "She is yours," Sarena agreed. "Do with her as you wish so long as she remains alive. Remember, I'll allow my presents to be broken, but never discarded."

  Studying the slave's flawless skin, Maldane smiled. "Eldrach."

  "Tyrant," he answered.

  "When we are in our quarters, flay the skin from her back. Go deep. To the bone.

  "Yes, Tyrant," he answered.

  Maldane felt pleased. The slave still did not cringe, but that was fine. She had plenty of time to learn.

  Chapter 1

  "Get the stringer up now! Team Two is riding your behinds, people. Get it up!"

  "Stringer's rising, Lorn, get yourself in position. This here is going to be tricky."

  "Not the easiest thing in the world, building a university and city from scratch," Mister Grebfax, Aaron's site overseer and personal friend, commented.

  "No," Aaron Turner answered as the stringer was hoisted into position. "It isn't."

  He looked around, gauging progress. So far there wasn't much to show for the large amount of money spent. His capital city presently consisted of a ten block grid-work of roads, a handful of houses, three business buildings, a framework for the Chin Higher University of Learning, and the unrealized plans for a series of dorms. At least he liked his chosen name for the university. It made a person think of scurrying students, solemn professors, and long held traditions. Of course, there were no professors or students, and the only tradition currently formed was one costing him massive amounts of money.

  Aaron smiled wryly. Inside Chin, costing him money was not unusual. Expenses on this project were six times higher than they would have been almost anywhere else. Large price tags were just about the only thing a person could expect when every scrap of material except rock had to be imported. Then there were the workers. None were native to this land. The Chin Empire claimed a great deal of land and cattle, but no skilled builders. To the Chins, woodworking mostly consisted of what they could do with a stick and a knife, and Aaron figured he knew why. Not one tree he had seen within a hundred miles was straight enough to form a decent two-by-four. In fact, it took an exorbitant amount of work to create something as simple as a spear shaft or arrow. As best Aaron could tell, this section of his empire claimed sixteen different tree species, all of which produced great firewood and lousy boards.