The Traitor's Daughter

by Claire Robyns

  COPYRIGHT

  The Traitor’s Daughter

  Kings and Traitors Series

  Book 1

  Published by Claire Robyns

  Copyright © 2018 by Claire Robyns

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or resold in any form or by any means without permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations for non-commercial uses. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author.

  All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to people, living or otherwise, is purely coincidental. If real, names, places and characters are used fictitiously.

  My father was a good man.

  A wise man.

  He was also a traitor, though let’s not forget who betrayed whom first.

  Ten years ago, a blood feud divided the ruling houses of the Silver Valley Kingdom. Rose fled to the mountains with her father and their small band of loyal followers, and they’ve survived there ever since. But the new King, once her childhood friend and now her sworn enemy, has decided to reunite his kingdom and flush out the rebels.

  To save her people, she must betray her father.

  Outsmarted and defeated, Rose is forced to return to the castle under impossible circumstances. War is coming, the King claims. She can’t imagine from where. The Silver Valley is the last haven of mankind, protected from the toxic radiation by a shield, and all his mountain rebels have been subdued. One thing she knows for certain, she will do whatever it takes to be more than just a pawn in the dangerous games played by Kings.

  - 1 -

  Before me stretched a vast, barren wasteland, dust and rock and nothing.

  My gaze lifted into the distance, to the bluish outline of another mountain range. Much higher than this mountain that was my home. That far-off craggy outline reached up and up and faded. It was impossible to tell where the blue of the mountain ended and the blue of the sky began.

  I sighed, went down on my haunches and dropped my stare from the blue nowhere.

  The whole of Scotland lay beyond those mountains, and a whole world beyond that, but most, if not all, of it was inhabitable. The Silver Valley had been our home for one and a half centuries. A haven of green earth sunken into the scarred ruins of all else. Shielded from the nuclear fallout by an invisible dome that some said was born of magic and others insisted was based in science. Ringed by a wall of rocky mountain that was seamless except for the chasms through which the river cut. My gaze tracked that meandering ribbon of water, across the flat landscape until it disappeared in the haze of distance. There must be other survivors out there, buried in bunkers beneath the ground or tunnelled deep into mountains somewhere, but it was impossible to imagine. When I looked out into the nothing like this, it felt like we were the last, the remnants of humanity.

  The sound of rocks crumbling from behind pushed me slowly upright. I had nothing to fear up here. I glanced over my shoulder, and sure enough it was only Markus pulling himself up over the edge.

  He made quite a sight, white linen shirt and tanned leather pants, choppy dark hair and warm brown eyes. His strength, skill and trustworthiness had earned him his place at my father’s side, now my side these past six months.

  “You found me,” I called out as I turned back to the sweeping view. “Can it wait a few minutes?”

  “I wish the answer to that was no.”

  I raised a brow at him as he came to stand beside me.

  He gave me a grim smile. “It would be nice to face a problem that could be resolved so quickly that a few minutes would actually make a difference.”

  “Well, aren’t you a fountain of reassurance today?” I mocked, but took the minutes anyway, my gaze settling into the distance again. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  “Scorched earth littered with the bones of the dead?” he murmured doubtfully.

  This planet had once supported ten billion people. Could it really all be gone? The people? The land?

  As a child, I’d entertained many fantasies to the contrary. I’d made elaborate plans in my head to hike down the mountain, to prove there was no invisible wall that both protected us and would cut me in half on contact, to cross the mirage of wasteland into flourishing pastures and a bustling, overpopulated world.

  But in the end, I was my father’s daughter. He had been a strong man. A good man. A wise man.

  And a traitor, of course, although in my opinion that was right up there with all his better qualities. I’d been eleven years old when we’d fled the castle with his loyal men and their families, taken shelter here in the mountains.

  I stepped out from Markus’ touch on my shoulder. My father had also been a fierce leader and he’d taught me well. My position might have passed down to me on his death six months ago, but it was not undeserved. My people respected me, depended on me. I’d been born into that duty and there was no escape, not even up here on my plateau.

  “So?” I looked up into Markus’ serious gaze. “What’s the latest crisis?”

  “The river level dropped again during the night.”

  I grimaced. “It must be some kind of obstruction upstream.”

  “I expect so.” He scrubbed his jaw. “I’d like to take some men and check it out.”

  “I’ll go with you.” My hand went to the hilt of the sword strapped at my hip.

  Markus saw. “Expecting trouble?”

  “Aren’t we always?”

  He inclined his head, grinned, and waved me on ahead of him to descend the cliff to the wide walkway cut into the side of the mountain about halfway down.

  I called two of my mountain warriors to me as we passed the watch station. Every man on this mountain was a fighting man, willing and able to defend our home, but my carefully selected handful of warriors went above and beyond that. Markus. Liam. Gavin. Lilliana, the only fighting woman amongst my people besides me. And more recently, David. Safe-guarding this mountain was their primary duty, their only duty, our first line drawn in any conflict. I wasn’t actually expecting trouble, but riding deeper into the King’s land always came with risk.

  The stable was a shallow cave with a small grazing patch out front. A grubby face peeked out from the cave entrance as we approached. Peter, the stable keeper’s six-year-old grandson.

  I paused to ruffle his crop of blond hair. “Shouldn’t you be practising your numbers and letters?”

  He looked up at me with his cheeky smile. “I know all my numbers.”

  Laughter rumbled from the shadows. “Aye, that ya do, lad.” The grey-whiskered stable keeper stepped forward to greet me. “Anna ain’t feeling herself today. I said I’d keep the boy with me.”

  “Is everything okay?” I asked, instantly worried. Anna wasn’t due for another month and childbirth was dangerous enough without going into premature labour.

  “Just exhausted, more likely,” he said gruffly, lowering his gaze fondly to his grandson. “Naught that a day free from this rascal won’t cure.”

  “Will ya be taking Arandite out?” Peter chirped in with that vibrant energy. “Can I saddle her? Can I?”

  “You may certainly help me,” I told the boy, slipping my hand into his. “Come on.”

  - 2 -

  I knew little of the old world and its end. All just stories passed down through the generations. The global catastrophe. A nuclear winter. The scope of irresponsibility was unimaginable and the details were either never known or long lost. Why would man make weapons that could destroy the only habitable planet in our solar system, and then be stupid enough to use them?

  My father had known more than most, I believed. My blood l
ine was the High Chancellor, our power second only to the King…until the treachery that had sent us fleeing to these mountains, that is. But although my father had schooled me wisely in his shadow, he’d been miserly with the details of our history.

  “The past cannot be undone, Rose,” he’d always told me in that soulful voice, “and we have to live in the now.”

  The miraculous shield protected the Silver Valley from the toxic fallout and it was a blessing that the River Grodden had its source deep in the mountain behind the castle, the water untouched from the cursed land beyond. The river ran the full length of the kingdom before cutting through the chasm near our caves and provided us with vital water for drinking, bathing, for our small vegetable gardens scattered on the slope.

  The River Grodden was our survival, our existence, not just for my people but for the entire kingdom and seeing how low the level had dropped as we cantered alongside the bank instilled dread inside me. A fallen pine? Debris clogged around a shallow bend? I didn’t think so.

  We rode in silence out of habit. The pine forest packed close to the river’s edge and it could be crawling with the King’s men or scouts. We’d covered less than two miles when I heard the sounds, the hum of voices and the thudding, scraping, brushing noises of activity. I had a dappled view of the river directly to my right through the press of trees, but little else.

  I raised a hand to halt our small procession and pulled at the bit, bringing Arandite to a halt as I slung from the saddle. Markus dismounted with me and we handed our reins up to David and Lilliana.

  “Stay mounted and keep alert,” I told them. “We may need to depart in haste.”

  “It sounds like they’ve set up camp,” Markus said in a low voice as we slipped through the trees.

  Soldiers? Hunters and trappers generally travelled alone and they’d never make such a ruckus.

  I sent him a grim look, said nothing as we reached the bank. I wrapped myself around a thick trunk to peer upstream.

  A camp of sorts, only much, much worse. There were at least twenty men up there, labourers from the look of their rough hemp tunics. Axes falling on bark, logs being pulled onto a growing pile, a couple of fires going with large black cauldrons hanging in the flames. All overseen by a handful of the King’s men, easily identifiable in their black pants and wine-red cloaks.

  My gaze skipped from the clearing to the water, to the bend in the river, and the hairs prickled on the back of my neck.

  “They’re building a bloody dam,” Markus muttered.

  The structure was well under way, vertical poles anchored in the river bed to secure the logs being roped into position. The fires, the cauldrons, tar for sealing the wood and rope. This was no temporary, makeshift measure.

  I thought of the volume of water usually carried through the chasm and beyond the mountains. “The King has lost his mind. The river will overflow its banks.”

  “Not necessarily.” Markus fell back and looked at me. “There are two subsidiaries farther upstream that flow out and more that pour into the lakes.”

  I took another quick look at the dam in progress. We needed that river and we couldn’t relocate. The craggy slopes and narrow walkways of our mountain gave us an incredible defensive advantage. Attackers would be forced into single file in some places, vulnerable while scaling sheer cliff faces in other, making easy pickings for my archers and swordsmen. If the King ever launched an attack, it would be a bloodbath for his people with no guarantee of victory no matter how many swarmed us. On low ground, however, we’d never stand a chance.

  “He’s flushing us out.” Cold fury washed over me, creasing into every inch of my skin. “This is a declaration of war.”

  “Things have been quiet too long,” Markus said in that low, controlled voice. “It was only a matter of time before he showed his hand.”

  “Let him build his dam and we will tear it down.”

  “He’ll rebuild it.”

  “And we’ll tear it down again and again and again,” I vowed.

  “We have thirty fighting men, Rose, the King has many hundreds.” Markus rubbed his brow, his jaw clenched. “We’ll run out of men long before he does.”

  “You assume I mean to engage in open battle.” I whirled away from the tree. “Come, I’ve seen all there is to see.”

  - 3 -

  The main entrance to our home sat halfway up the mountain and opened into an enormous cavern stacked with thick stalagmites that rose from the floor like towers, the ceiling dripped with stalactites, and in some places the two met to form exquisite statues carved by nature’s hand. The tunnels and smaller caves extended deep into the heart of the ridge and we made good use of every nook and cranny. We even had our own brewery and tannery in the upper caverns where large cracks provided natural sunlight and ventilation.

  Outside on the slopes, there were plenty of patches rich in fertile soil for gardens and grazing, wide nooks to keep the goats and chickens penned. What we couldn’t produce ourselves, we raided from the outlying farmlands. All land belonged to the King and I’d never had any qualms about taking from him.

  We’d survived on this mountain for ten years and we’d survived well. The King waved his hand and his will was done, but he would never bring us down. He just didn’t yet know that simple truth.

  I paced my chamber until my blood had cooled, the rage distilled, and then I made my way to meet with Markus and my advisors. The three men were already seated at the chunky table that dominated the Map Room, so named for the canvas map wrapped halfway around the cave’s wall which intricately detailed every inch of the kingdom, including the castle grounds and interior.

  All three rose to acknowledge me.

  I waved them back into their seats. “Has Markus filled you in?”

  “They know about the dam,” Markus affirmed.

  Jarvis stroked his white beard, regarding me in that way he had, eyes narrowed, a deadpan expression that gave nothing away. Lennard was the exact opposite, a man who wore his fierce emotions in the open and spoke his mind bluntly.

  Both had held prominent positions at court, they’d been on the King’s council before they’d turned and fled with my father that fateful night. Their wealth of knowledge and experience was invaluable, and complicated. They were severely disappointed in my father. He’d sired a female instead of giving them a male heir to transfer their allegiance to. Oh, I had their loyalty or they wouldn’t be invited to this table, but loyalty was a fickle thing.

  Even my father had been cautious of his men. “A leader must be backed by power, Rose. The problem with powerful men and women, however, is that they’re always grabbing for more. They must be managed with a silken fist.”

  “We need to act swiftly and cleanly,” Lennard announced.

  I released the heavy tapestry to fall over the entrance for privacy and took a seat at the table. “We need to act cleverly and deviously.”

  Markus poured me a mug of ale and slid it over.

  “Thanks.” I settled back in my chair and set my gaze on Lennard. “What did you have in mind?”

  “We sabotage every effort, ensure the dam is never completed.”

  “The King would increase the guard and keep on increasing it after every attempt,” Markus pointed out. “We cannot win this by brute force.”

  Lennard scowled his displeasure, probably at both Markus and the situation. “Then we win by any means available.”

  Jarvis cleared his throat. “That is another conversation for another day, Lennard.”

  “What are you talking about?” I demanded.

  “A long term strategy.” Jarvis inclined his head at me. “Our immediate concern is water.”

  I sipped on my ale as I considered the undercurrents he’d pushed aside. There’d been many skirmishes in the past, blood shed, lives lost, but they’d been reactionary and not purposely initiated by either party. If the King was changing tactics, openly provoking confrontation, that was something we’d have to think about.
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  But Jarvis was right. The water supply was our top priority. And perhaps the way in which we dealt with this would give the King reason to rethink his new strategy.

  I glanced at Markus. “How long will it take them to build the dam?”

  “A couple of days.” Markus shrugged. “A week at the most.”

  “That’s a short window to concentrate a show of strength by the river,” I said. “But how long can he keep that up? We leave them to finish the dam. Once it is done and the men returned to the castle, we will destroy it under the cover of night, at a time of our own choosing. He will rebuild it, of course, and set up a rotation of guards, but they’ll never know when we will strike and the King will eventually tire of expending his resources to fully construct the same dam over and over.”

  “That is…” Jarvis started.

  “Preposterous?” I offered.

  He gave a slow shake of his head. “Do you know the story of Sisyphus?”

  It was my turn to shake my head.

  “He was a King, too, in Greek Mythology,” Jarvis said. “A deceitful trickster who thought to outwit Death itself. As his punishment, Zeus trapped him in the Underground and chained him to a boulder at the bottom of the hill with the promise that once he’d rolled the boulder over the top of a hill, he’d be free. But Zeus enchanted the boulder and every time Sisyphus got close to the top, the boulder rolled back down the hill and he started all over again, an eternity of frustration and fruitless effort.”

  Markus sat forward. “You’re saying this dam is the King’s boulder and he’ll never give up, no matter how useless the cause?”

  “Sisyphus was condemned to his cruel fate but Nathanial has a choice. He will give up eventually.” Jarvis looked at me. “Your plan relies on us not being forced to act through desperation before we’re ready.”

  “The rain catchments,” Lennard spoke up. “We’ll have to increase the number and size of the barrels. There’d be severe restrictions and it’s not sustainable for long periods, but it should see us through the interim if required.”