Corran regarded him in silence for a moment. “I’ve killed men,” he said quietly. “I did it because I believed it had to be done. But knowing I could do that... it changes how you see yourself. Even when it is the right thing to do.”
Aiden met his gaze and held it for a moment before looking down. “I’ll have to figure out how to make peace with it. It probably won’t be the last time.”
“Probably not.”
“You’re awake.” Rigan stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame as if it alone held him up. He looked like shit, and Corran had never been quite so happy to see him in his life.
“Sit down before you fall down,” Aiden growled. He vacated the chair next to Corran’s bed, and gestured for Rigan to take a seat. To Rigan’s credit, he managed to cross the few feet from the door to the chair without falling on his face.
“I’ll be back with some food,” Aiden said, giving them both a warning look. “And you’d both better be ready to eat and sleep while you can. I don’t imagine the wagon ride will be pleasant. Mir and Calfon went to see if they could steal us a few more horses.”
Rigan and Corran stared at each other in awkward silence after Aiden left. “Aiden says you did some kind of magic when we were in the wagon. Kept me from dying.”
“Guess it worked,” Rigan said, managing a tired grin. He looked away and the grin faded.
“Yeah, imagine that.” Corran’s appraising gaze took in his brother’s bruises, his pallor, the pinched set of his lips. He realized that Rigan was making the same assessment of him. “What you did in the dungeon, and on the way out of the city, and then saving me... I don’t understand how, but I know it cost you something.”
“You showed up looking like you’d taken on an army singlehandedly,” Rigan replied. “Cost you something, too.”
“How many?”
Rigan frowned in confusion. “What?”
“How many threads of your soul did you use?”
Rigan stared at the floor. “I don’t know. Haven’t figured that out. Even Aiden doesn’t know how to reckon that.”
“Dammit, Rigan,” Corran growled. “That’s not good enough.”
“No,” Rigan conceded, “it isn’t. Maybe once we can stop running, Aiden and I can find something in one of the old books. I’m not suicidal, Corran,” he said, raising his gaze. “But we made our bargain with Eshtamon to avenge Kell and I had my part to play.”
Corran swallowed hard. “He was there. Just for a moment. Did you—?”
“Yeah. I felt him too. But I don’t know how it could be real. We were working a banishing spell. It should have driven off every spirit, even his.” He ran a hand back through his hair. “I hope it was, though. I miss him.”
“Me, too. Think he’ll move on now?” Corran asked, his voice tight as he blinked back tears.
Rigan shrugged. “Maybe. For being undertakers, Doharmu’s acolytes all these years, there’s so damn much we don’t know.”
They sat in silence for a few moments. Corran did not know what was going through his brother’s mind, but his own thoughts were a raw, painful blur. So many people, dead. So much destruction. How did we end up in the middle of this?
“Was it worth it?” he asked finally in a harsh whisper. “Did we do the right thing?”
Rigan shook his head slowly, and Corran’s heart clenched. “I don’t know,” he admitted, staring off into the distance. “I just don’t know. But I think... maybe. Because it wasn’t just for Kell, although that was the breaking point. Our breaking point. But there were Mama and Papa, Jora, all the others, people we didn’t even know who were killed by the monsters or the guards, the Wanderers, the other witches Below... Kell’s death might have been the spark, but the kindling had been laid long ago, was already smoldering.”
“And now?” Corran pressed. “We’re outlaws. Fugitives. Criminals. And while I figure there’ll always be bodies to bury, and we’ll do what we can where we can, that’s not really who we are now. We’re Eshtamon’s hunters, until he decides to let us die.”
Rigan met his gaze. “We’re alive. We’re together. We have friends and we have a plan, maybe even a place to live. A purpose. And I think... I’m all right with that. You?”
Their world had been turned upside-down. When their home and shop burned, he and Rigan had gathered only the essentials and fled. Now, Corran thought, they had done it again, seized what really mattered from the fire as Ravenwood and their past burned to ashes.
“Yeah,” Corran replied. “I am. I really think I am.”
Epilogue
“I HAVE A job for you,” Crown Prince Aliyev said, staring down at the injured, broken man who knelt before him in chains.
“What pleases m’lord?” Hant Jorgeson kept his head bowed. When the jailers came to drag him from the dungeon where he had languished since the uprising, he guessed his execution was nigh. Someone needed to take the fall for the disaster, and Jorgeson had the dubious honor of being the last man standing.
Machison and Blackholt had died in the uprising.
Gorog committed suicide, although reflecting on the details of his death, Jorgeson suspected the Merchant Prince had help. His son inherited the role, duly chastened by his father’s disastrous overreach.
Jorgeson had no way to know exactly what transpired with Garenoth, but Crown Prince Aliyev salvaged the agreement. Jorgeson suspected Kadar and Tamas achieved the improved terms they wanted. One look at Gorog’s shabby heir made it clear at whose expense their turn of fortune had come.
Hunters had broken into the Lord Mayor’s palace, committed arson and murder, and some of them lived to escape. Jorgeson’s failure would be a cautionary tale for generations to come. “How badly do you want vengeance on those hunters?” “With all my being, sir.”
Jorgeson could feel the weight of the Crown Prince’s attention on him. Evaluating. Calculating. Maybe even wagering with himself. “You’ve failed me badly. I should have you killed as a warning to others.”
“Yes, m’lord.” Jorgeson could make no other response. ‘I’m sorry’ seemed woefully inadequate.
“Yet before this… debacle… you served admirably. You can’t redeem yourself; you know that. I can’t reinstate you. Who would trust you, when you failed so… memorably?”
Jorgeson tried not to wince at Aliyev’s words, but he could not dispute them. He had gone to help the guards fight back an altercation in the street that night, a riot he now realized was a distraction to the real threat. No apology sufficed.
“I can give you a chance to be useful,” Aliyev added. “To win your freedom and your life. I will supply the weapons, men, mages, and money you need. You’ll have to leave the city, but if you achieve your goal, I’ll know.”
Jorgeson bit his lip, willing himself to stay still, afraid to look too hopeful, too desperate. Aliyev deserved his reputation as a hard son of a bitch, not known for second chances. Whatever might be offered would come because it suited the Crown Prince’s needs, not out of any sort of mercy. And Jorgeson would accept whatever Aliyev gave him, because dead men could not be choosey.
“How may I be of service, m’lord?”
“I need to know what Itara and Sarolinia are up to,” Aliyev said, and Jorgeson looked up with surprise.
“M’lord?”
“Our spies suggest that they’re plotting, planning a move against us, but we don’t know what. Maybe you can learn something they can’t.”
“I will not fail you.”
Aliyev’s bitter grimace suggested that Jorgeson’s promise was already too little, too late. “Find the hunters who broke into the palace. We know two of them were Valmondes. Shouldn’t be hard to identify the others by who’s gone missing. We need to make an example of the hunters, keep the commoners out in the village from joining up. Hunt them. Punish them. Kill them.”
“And if I am successful, m’lord? What then?”
“If you succeed, I will not do the same to you.”
Acknowledgem
ents
Thank you, readers! Because you read, I write. Whether you’re just discovering my books or whether you have been with me from the start, I deeply appreciate each and every one of you.
Many thanks also to my agent, Ethan Ellenberg, and his team. I appreciate everything you do.
Lots of gratitude and appreciation for my editor, Jon Oliver, and the whole Solaris crew, including Ben Smith, David Moore, Rob Power and all the other folks who work hard to make my books a reality.
Big thanks to my beta readers: Vikki Ciaffone, Trevor Curtis, Nancy Northcott, Jean Rabe, and of course, Larry, Kyrie, and Chandler Martin. Your input helped a lot!
Conventions are the heart of the sci-fi/fantasy community, where readers and authors meet. Thank you to Arisia, Illogicon, Ad-Astra, Capricon, Mysticon, Awesomecon, Capclave, Marscon, Lunacon, Chattacon, Libertycon, Ravencon, Balticon, ConCarolinas, ConGregate, Dragon*Con, Atomacon, Philcon, World Fantasy, Contraflow, Confluence, Origins Game Fair, GenCon, and the Arizona and Carolinas Renaissance Festivals who always make me feel at home and who have welcomed me as a guest author—as well as the new conventions I have yet to experience. I am very grateful for the opportunity to be part of convention programming, meet wonderful people and give back to a community I truly appreciate.
Thank you to my Thrifty Author Publishing Success Network Meetup group, an awesome group of writers. We have so much fun and have all come so far.
Many thanks also to my author, artist, musician, performer and reader convention friends and Renaissance Festival regulars who help me survive life on the road, to the fantastic bookstore owners and managers who carry on a valiant fight on the front lines of this crazy publishing industry, and to my social media friends and followers who are always up for some online mayhem.
And most of all, thanks to my husband, Larry Martin who plays a huge part in bringing all the books and short stories to life. He’s my best first editor, brainstorming accomplice, proof-reader extraordinaire, and now official co-author of our steampunk series, Iron & Blood: A Jake Desmet Adventure. The books wouldn’t happen without him, and I’m grateful for all his help and support. Thanks also to my children, who are usually patient with the demands of the writing life, and for my dogs, Kipp and Flynn, who are experts at dispelling writer’s block. It takes a village to write a book, and I am grateful to each and every one of you!
About the Author
Gail Z. Martin is the author of Scourge: A Darkhurst novel, the first in a brand new epic fantasy series from Solaris Books. Also new are: The Shadowed Path, part of the Chronicles of the Necromancer universe (Solaris Books); Vendetta: A Deadly Curiosities Novel in her urban fantasy series set in Charleston, SC (Solaris Books); Shadow and Flame the fourth and final book in the Ascendant Kingdoms Saga (Orbit Books); and Iron and Blood a new Steampunk series (Solaris Books) co-authored with Larry N. Martin.
She is also author of Ice Forged, Reign of Ash and War of Shadows in The Ascendant Kingdoms Saga, The Chronicles of The Necromancer series (The Summoner, The Blood King, Dark Haven, Dark Lady’s Chosen); The Fallen Kings Cycle (The Sworn, The Dread) and the urban fantasy novel Deadly Curiosities. Gail writes three ebook series: The Jonmarc Vahanian Adventures, The Deadly Curiosities Adventures and The Blaine McFadden Adventures. The Storm and Fury Adventures, steampunk stories set in the Iron & Blood world, are co-authored with Larry N. Martin.
Her work has appeared in over 35 US/UK anthologies. Newest anthologies include: The Big Bad 2, Athena’s Daughters, Heroes, Space, Contact Light, Robots, With Great Power, The Weird Wild West, The Side of Good/The Side of Evil, Alien Artifacts, Cinched: Imagination Unbound, Realms of Imagination, Clockwork Universe: Steampunk vs. Aliens, Gaslight and Grimm, Hath No Fury, Journeys, #We Are Not This, The Baker Street Irregulars, and In a Cat’s Eye.
Find her at www.GailZMartin.com, on Twitter @GailZMartin, on Facebook.com/WinterKingdoms, at DisquietingVisions.com blog and GhostInTheMachinePodcast.com, on Goodreads https:// www.goodreads.com/GailZMartin and free excerpts on Wattpad http://wattpad.com/GailZMartin.
THE CHRONICLES OF THE NECROMANCER
BOOK ONE
THE SUMMONER
The world of Prince Martris Drayke is thrown into sudden chaos when his brother murders their father and seizes the throne. Forced to flee, with only a handful of loyal friends to support him, Martris must seek retribution and restore his father’s honour. But if the living are arrayed against him, Martris must learn to harness his burgeoning magical powers to call on different sets of allies: the ranks of the dead.
The Summoner is an epic, engrossing tale of loss and revenge, of life and afterlife – and the thin line between them.
“Attractive characters and an imaginative setting.” – David Drake, author of The Lord of the Isles
THE CHRONICLES OF THE NECROMANCER
BOOK TWO
THE BLOOD KING
Having narrowly escaped being murdered by his evil brother, Jared, Prince Martris Drayke must take control of his magical abilities to summon the dead, and gather an army big enough to claim back the throne of his dead father.
But it isn’t merely Jared that Tris must combat. The dark mage, Foor Arontala, has schemes to cause an inbalance in the currents of magic and raise the Obsidian King...
“A fantasy adventure with whole-hearted passion.”– Sandy Auden, SFX
THE CHRONICLES OF THE NECROMANCER
BOOK THREE
DARK HAVEN
The kingdom of Margolan lies in ruin. Martris Drayke, the new king, must rebuild his country in the aftermath of battle, while a new war looms on the horizon. Meanwhile Jonmarc Vahanian is now the Lord of Dark Haven, and there is defiance from the vampires of the Vayash Moru at the prospect of a mortal leader.
But can he earn their trust, and at what cost?
“A fast-paced tale laced with plenty of action.” – SF Site
THE CHRONICLES OF THE NECROMANCER
BOOK FOUR
DARK LADY’S CHOSEN
Treachery and blood magic threaten King Martris Drayke’s hold on the throne he risked everything to win. As the battle against a traitor lord comes to its final days, war, plague and betrayal bring Margolan to the brink of destruction. Civil war looms in Isencroft. And in Dark Haven, Lord Jonmarc Vahanian has bargained his soul for vengeance as he leads the vayash moru against a dangerous rogue who would usher in a future drenched in blood.
“Just when you think you know where things are heading, Martin pulls another ace from her sleeve.” – A. J. Hartley, author of The Mask of Atraeus
Soldier. Fight slave. Smuggler. Warrior. Brigand Lord. You may have encountered Jonmarc Vahanian in the Chronicles of the Necromancerbut you don’t really know him until you walk in his footsteps. This is the start of his epic journey. A blacksmith’s son in a small fishing village before raiders killed his family, Jonmarc was wounded and left for dead in the attack. He tried to rebuild his life, but when a dangerous bargain with a shadowy stranger went wrong, he found himself on the run. Gail Z. Martin returns to the world of her internationally best-selling books with these thrilling tales of adventure and high fantasy, collected together here for the very first time.
Scourge Page 54
