Steel and Valor: An Epic Military Fantasy Novel (The Silent Champions Book 3)
Page 90
The Palace was a flurry of activity, servants and Ebonguards rushing up and down the halls, doubtless hastening to carry out the Prince’s commands. Going about the monumental task of restoring order to a half-destroyed city.
Aravon felt a stab of envy as he stepped into the lush gardens and saw Prince Toran sitting at a stone table beside his wife, Princess Ranisia, and his son and daughters. That sight, those simple moments spent together after the harrowing ordeal they’d just survived, twisted the dagger in his gut, made his decision even harder. But he steeled his resolve; for the sake of the Princelands and his family, he had to go through with the mission.
The sparkling sunlight rippling on the ocean’s surface shone through gaps in the trees. Icespire Bay was once again empty—the Eirdkilr-crewed Jokull longships had disappeared into the night while Aravon was busy liberating Icespire. Clear blue-green ocean spread out to the north, east, and west, the endless expanse broken only by the single long, dark line of the Deepshackle. That massive barrier would remain raised for a while yet, doubtless until the Prince felt certain the Eirdkilrs posed no more threat.
“Ahh, Captain Snarl.” Prince Toran’s voice drew Aravon’s attention back to the gardens. “I was hoping to speak to you.”
“And I you, My Prince.”
Prince Toran turned to his wife. “If you will indulge me, darling of my heart—”
“Go, Cedenas!” Princess Ranisia gave her husband a dismissive wave. Her eyes—a green as vivid as the grassy lawn spreading out behind her—fixed on Aravon. “But be certain to tell him the reason behind your actions.”
“Of course.” Prince Toran placed a kiss on his wife’s hand, straightened, and turned toward Aravon. “Come, Captain Snarl.”
Confusion furrowed Aravon’s brow. Princess Ranisia had looked right at him, spoken as if she knew who he was beneath the mask. More than that, her words to the Prince left him confused.
Prince Toran led them a short distance away from the stone table where his wife and children sat, to the shade and privacy of a stand of towering oak trees, and turned to Aravon. “I owe you an explanation about your wife.”
Every muscle in Aravon’s spine stiffened. “Explanation, sire?”
“Yes.” Prince Toran’s expression grew solemn. “I’ve been…availing myself of her help on certain matters of state that require a more delicate touch.”
Aravon’s eyes narrowed. What in the bloody hell is he talking about?
“You were at Lord Virinus’ fête the night of the assassination attempt, correct?” Prince Toran raised an eyebrow. “Masquerading as the Steel Company, I believe.”
“Yes, My Prince.”
“Which means you saw her there. At my request.”
Aravon’s confusion only deepened, but he held his tongue. The Prince had, after all, promised an explanation.
“You spoke of Lord Eidan’s treachery, and your man here—” He gestured to Colborn. “—filled me in on the details. Everything you uncovered from Silver Break, Gold Burrows, Rivergate, Steinnbraka Delve, and your visit to Lastcliff. The evidence that hinted at Lord Virinus’ treason against the Princelands, his relationship with the Shalandrans, and, most important of all, an arrangement with the Eirdkilrs.”
Aravon inclined his head. “Yes, sire.”
Prince Toran drew in a long breath. “When last I saw Duke Dyrund, he alerted me to the presence of a traitor among the highest-ranked in Icespire.” His expression grew severe, his eyebrows knitting together. “Let’s just say that I’d suspected Lord Aleron Virinus’ duplicity for quite some time. Part of why I permitted him to ‘convince’ me to send his son along with the Duke. “
Aravon’s eyebrows shot up behind his mask.
“Men who feel in a high position of power tend to grow overconfident in their dealings, especially when they believe they are secure in that position.” Prince Toran gave Aravon a sly, knowing look. “I pretended to turn a blind eye to much of Lord Virinus’ actions—including his dealings with the Shalandrans—in the hopes he’d reveal himself as the traitor.”
That revelation stunned Aravon. He’d had no idea the Prince was digging into the matter himself—Duke Dyrund had only spoken of handing the hunt for the traitor off to Lord Eidan.
“After Sammael recruited you to his special company—” A smile broadened his handsome face and a twinkle shone in his dark brown eyes. “I quite like the name Grim Reavers, by the way. It has a certain ring to it!” He gave a dismissive wave. “But that’s neither here nor there. The point is, when Sammael turned you into the Princelands’ silent champion, he suggested that I also bring into my confidences a highly intelligent, capable young woman who had recently fallen on hard times. The loss of her husband and the deterioration of her father-in-law’s health. A woman that most in Icespire would never see as anything more than a grieving widow.”
The words sent a tingling down Aravon’s spine.
“And, as Sammael predicted, she has proven most capable.” Something akin to amazement echoed in Prince Toran’s voice. “It was she who uncovered Lord Virinus’ connection to the Brokers, thus explaining how Aleron had siphoned off substantial revenue from under my nose.”
My Mylena? She’d always been a highly intelligent, insightful woman, but to think of her as a spy working for the Prince boggled his mind.
Prince Toran’s eyes darkened, his expression turning grim. “Had I known it would turn her into a target for Lord Eidan’s wrath—or his vengeance against you—I would have done far more to keep her safe, as I promised you and Sammael. I thought keeping my distance would allay suspicions of her involvement in my affairs. A mistake I will not make again.”
He gripped Aravon’s shoulder. “I swear to the Swordsman that I will personally see to their safety and wellbeing, even if that means bringing them here to the Palace.”
Gratitude swelled within Aravon’s chest. “Thank you, sire.”
Of course, Mylena would be the one the Prince calls! The thought flashed through his mind as he swept a deep bow. He should never have been surprised—she’d always been the brains of their marriage, as well as the beauty.
“You spoke of the Brokers, sire, and their involvement with Lord Aleron Virinus.” Aravon met the Prince’s gaze levelly. “I believe it is best you forget that they had a connection with his duplicity.”
Prince Toran’s eyebrow rose a fraction. “Is that so?”
“It is, My Prince.” Aravon nodded. “And perhaps you might find some way to show your gratitude for their assistance in the defense of Icespire. After all, it was only because of them that we got enough civilians to Azure Island before the bridges came down.”
“Then I have a great deal to show gratitude for.” Frowning in thought, Prince Toran folded his arms and tugged at his beard. “I will see to it that they are suitably lavished with Royal appreciation.”
“You are most generous, sire.” Again, Aravon bowed. Gengibar Twist had kept his end of the bargain, so Aravon owed the Brokers that much.
Prince Toran turned to look out over the bay, and silence descended over the three of them. Aravon exchanged a glance with Colborn. The Lieutenant shrugged, but said nothing. He had come as Lieutenant to Aravon’s Captain, the silent, supportive second-in-command until his input was needed.
Long seconds passed before Prince Toran finally spoke. “I never saw it, Aravon.” He shook his head. “Never saw the treachery, right up until the end. He was the one to suggest Duke Dyrund as the envoy to the Hilmir. Volunteered his own trusted men to go with Sammael, set every detail of the plan in motion. All the while, concealing his true intentions from me."
“From all of us, sire.” Aravon drew in a long breath. “He’d have been one hell of a mummer, Your Majesty. He kept a perfectly straight face when I told him that we’d come to Icespire hunting a traitor, that someone had killed Duke Dyrund.” That still stung—like the Prince, Aravon felt as if he should have seen the signs. But years as a soldier and officer had taught him that h
e couldn’t let guilt or feelings of failure stop him from carrying out his next mission. “He fooled all of us. But, by the Swordsman’s grace, we stopped his treachery in time.”
“In time.” A bitter tone edged Prince Toran’s words. “Reports are still coming in, but it’s estimated that casualties number upwards of thirty thousand. Half the city set to the torch or turned to rubble. The People’s Markets, Littlemarket, Portbay, the Glimmer, and three-quarters of the Outwards, destroyed overnight.” His expression deepened to a scowl. “We could have stopped it sooner.” His fists clenched at his side. “By the Swordsman, we should have stopped it sooner!”
“No sense wrestling with ‘what ifs’, sire.” Aravon tried to sound reassuring—that struck him as profoundly odd, considering that he spoke to the Prince. “As the Duke always said, ‘Clinging to the past only drags a man down; looking ahead shows us the best path to choose’.”
“Wise man, our Duke.” Sorrow darkened the Prince’s eyes. “He will be sorely missed. Your father, too.”
“Yes, sire.” Aravon swallowed the lump that rose to his throat—the time for grieving had passed. “And what of the Eirdkilrs who fled? Did you send word to Duke Olivarr to set the Westhaven navy out to hunt down their ships?”
“Dispatched two hours ago on my fastest horse.” The Prince gave a low, rumbling growl of frustration. “Without Lord Eidan’s network of spies and his Enfields, we are relying on old-fashioned foot and horseback to send messages.”
“We will rebuild, sire,” Aravon replied simply.
“Indeed.” Prince Toran nodded, yet his expression remained grim. “And in part, we have Lords Eidan and Virinus to thank for that.”
That took Aravon by surprise. “What?”
A hint of savage triumph cracked the Prince’s face. “I had my people ransack the mansions of our dearly departed Lords Eidan and Aleron Virinus. There was a substantial amount of gold hidden in both.” He reached into his robes and drew out a small wood-and-metal object. “Then there was this.”
Aravon’s eyes went wide as he recognized the insignia etched into the brass on the base of the wax seal stamp: eight radiating rods formed into a cross and saltire. “The carbuncle!”
Prince Toran stared down at the seal. “The ancestral insignia of Lysekel Eidan, first noble of House Eidan. Once, a mark known to all on Fehl. It was changed by Prince Denever Toran after he recruited his friend as his spymaster.”
Aravon sucked in a breath. No wonder no one knew about it! That particular secret had been buried more than four hundred years ago.
“It’s still hard to believe he would do such a thing.” Anger clouded Prince Toran’s face, his eyes growing dark like a storm-tossed ocean. “Turn his fury and hatred over his brother’s death into a desire for vengeance against the Princelands. Rather than taking it out on the ones who actually killed Enthrak, he joined them.”
“Anger and hatred can mess with a man’s mind, Your Majesty,” Aravon said. A fact he knew all too well. “Inflict scars that twist and warp instead of strengthen.”
“Indeed.” Prince Toran inclined his head.
“But he had one thing right, My Prince.”
“What’s that?” Prince Toran cocked an eyebrow.
“He knew that to end this war, he had to destroy the seat of the Princelands’ power.” Aravon gestured to the Prince. “You.”
Prince Toran’s expression darkened.
Aravon pressed on. “So I plan to take a page from Lord Eidan’s book of tactics and turn it against the Eirdkilrs.”
Prince Toran’s eyes flew wide.. “You mean—?”
“Yes, sire.” Aravon straightened, squared his shoulders. “With your permission, I intend to lead my Grim Reavers south across the Sawtooth Mountains, where we will find and execute Tyr Farbjodr. And, by the Swordsman’s grace, put an end to this war once and for all.”
End of Book 3
----
The Silent Champions return in:
Courage to Sacrifice (The Silent Champions Book 4)
A suicidal mission. An impossible hunt for the enemy. A company of elite soldiers willing to risk it all.
Captain Aravon has accepted one final challenge: cross an entire continent to kill Tyr Farbjodr, the commander of the Eirdkilrs.
His mission leads through enemy territory, across the towering Sawtooth Mountains, and into the harsh tundra of the icy Wasteland in search of his target.
Hunted by savage foes, with only his small band of soldiers for support, it’s a race against time to put an end to the Eirdkilrs’ leader before he unleashes a devastating new attack that would destroy everything he’s fought and bled to protect.
With everything on the line, can Aravon and his Silent Champions withstand the full might of their cunning enemy to save their kingdom one last time..even if they have to sacrifice their lives to succeed?
Courage to Sacrifice is the fourth book in the epic Silent Champions military fantasy series. If you like heart-pounding battles, clever strategies, and emotional stakes that will tear at your heart and soul, then you’ll love Andy Peloquin’s warfare masterpiece.
Buy Courage to Sacrifice for a desperate gamble to save a world or die trying!
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Pronunciation Guide
Daellausa – DOLL-owz-ah
Hefjakumbl – HAFF-yah-KYOOM-buhl
Bani – BAHN-ih
Purssetja – Purse-EHT-yah
Lidheima – Leed-HAYM-ah
Valdrskip – VALD-skeep
Flodvord – Flawed-VARD
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