Legends of Ahn (King's Dark Tidings Book 3)

by Kel Kade

  Legends of Ahn

  King’s Dark Tidings

  Book Three

  By Kel Kade

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and events in this novel are fictitious. Opinions and beliefs expressed by the characters do not reflect the author’s opinions and beliefs.

  This book is intended for adult readers. It contains graphic violence, creative language, and sexual innuendo. This book does not contain explicit sexual content.

  Dark Rover Publishing, L.L.C.

  Allen, Texas

  Text copyright © 2017 Dark Rover Publishing, L.L.C.

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system.

  Written by Kel Kade

  Edited by Leslie Watts

  Interior Illustrations by Kel Kade

  Cover art by Chris McGrath

  King’s Dark Tidings Series

  Free the Darkness

  Reign of Madness

  Legends of Ahn

  Kingdoms and Chaos (coming 2018)

  Visit www.kelkade.com

  Available in audiobook 2018

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank my daughter, who has more patience and understanding than should be expected from a child. She is never hesitant to express how proud she is of me.

  The wonderful people at Podium Publishing have provided not only fantastic audiobooks but also encouragement, support, advice, and belief in my abilities.

  My editor, Leslie Watts, excels in making me feel great about my writing, even while correcting my mistakes and offering suggestions. I appreciate her professionalism, positive outlook, and enthusiasm.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Characters

  Definitions

  About the Author

  Note from the Author

  Map of the Souelian Sea

  Prologue

  Rhesh stalked through the corridor with a sense of purpose that could only be bred of deep-seated anger and hatred. The white marble walls were strung with elegant tapestries, floors were adorned with lush carpets, and brightly lit windows were embellished with rich draperies. It was all a charade. Within these walls lay nothing but festering evil wrought of greed and ambition. This house existed for a singular purpose, and that was to consume.

  He rapped on the chamber door without concern for anyone hearing. His father had set him to the task, after all. The door opened a crack, just enough for two large doe eyes to peer out from the shadows. The eyes were filled with fear and distrust and for good reason. Naught but terror sought this boy once having had the misfortune to join the fallen. That is what Rhesh had taken to calling the hostages his father kept, for none of these young ones would ever rise again from the depths of their despair. Rhesh, himself, would have succumbed to the piteous darkness long ago had it not been for his dear mother and her cunning ways. Of course, it helped that he had developed a far greater power than either his father or brother could ever hope to bear.

  “You will come with me,” he intoned, and the boy jumped back in fright. The Gerrand boy always shied away from him. One look at Rhesh’s grey robes with red panels, and the boy looked as if he would bolt. Rhesh could not blame him. Most people feared fire mages—not as much as true battle mages, but fear was fear, and still they cringed.

  The boy bent and grabbed the pack lain by the door. Nothing in the pack had great value, but it was all the boy would probably ever have again, if Rhesh’s father, Lord Carinen, took notice. Luckily for the boy, Gresh Carinen had been busy this past month and had not had time to spend on his pet projects. The boy’s luck had just run out, though. Gresh had sent for the ten-year-old, and Rhesh was beholden to deliver.

  The two walked out to the stables where two horses were saddled and a third was loaded with packs and travel supplies. Rhesh’s horse, Winter, was a beautiful white mare gifted to him by Duke Darning, his mother’s cousin, with whom he had stayed for the past few years—until his father called him home just before the King’s Tournament. That debacle had been a terrible nightmare in itself. Rhesh had finished fourth in the fourth tier finals of the competition; but, of course, his father had not been satisfied. Rhesh had told his father that Swordmaster Moroven had not taught him to duel, but rather to fight—as in the methods used in real battles. His father had many colorful things to say about Moroven, and Rhesh had simply been glad his instructor had not been present to hear them. Then again, if Moroven had been present, maybe his father would no longer be a problem.

  In the end, it would not matter, because Dynen would just take the old man’s place. Rhesh’s older brother was just as bad or worse than his father. He was sick and demented—the kind of man who enjoyed witnessing and inflicting pain on others. It had only gotten worse since the infamous Dark Tidings had easily whipped the arrogant Swordmaster in front of thousands of spectators. Of course, Dark Tidings had prevailed over every one of his foes, but Dynen’s crass words had elicited the wraith’s anger. The shadowed man had made Dynen look the fool.

  Rhesh’s brother would do anything he could to bring down everyone around him, and he reveled in tarnishing anything that was pure. Alon Gerrand was an innocent boy from a good House with good people. Rhesh’s father and brother would make it their purpose to corrupt the boy into becoming just as sick and sordid as they were.

  It was for this reason Rhesh was to bring the boy to their northern holdings near Braeby. Gresh was now a member of the Council of Lords and held the title of duke, even if he did not have actual possession of the duchy. The old dukes held their lands with the strength of arms and righteous indignation. According to the laws of Ashai, King Caydean did not have the right to displace the dukes without a significant reason and the vote of the Council, the rightful Council, not Caydean’s construction; but Caydean was not playing by the rules. He made his own rules. Fortunately for the dukes, Caydean had alienated General Marcum and replaced the highly decorated war veteran with the idiot Lord Abrigan, whose older brother was also newly raised to the rank of duke. Lord Abrigan had no military training or experience, and his campaign against the three remaining rightful dukes was completely ineffective. The army had made no headway in claiming any of the dukes’ heads or their lands.

  The fire mage led the boy out of the Carinen estate and through the city of Kaibain. They left the city through the Northern Gate and then continued north. The journey to Braeby would take several weeks and the road would be rife with bandits and other hazards. No one had questioned Rhesh when he claimed no need for an escort, though. The bandits would have to be idiots to mess with a fire mage. In truth, Rhesh was not so confident. He was not a fully trained mage. He was not even a journeyman. He was just an apprentice who probably would never get the chance to complete his training under Caydean’s rule and his father’s machinations.

  The horses plodded north until the city walls had disappeared. To get to Braeby, they would head northwest straight up the Lorelis Trade Route through C
heswick and beyond. With this in mind, Rhesh turned the horses east. Their true destination was a very, very long way.

  Chapter 1

  The ship lurched, throwing Rezkin to the tilted planks. He twisted to the side, just missing a blade that sank deeply into the wood where his chest had been. His opponent released the trapped blade, choosing instead to attack him with fists and feet.

  With a malicious growl, Malcius threw himself onto the downed wraith, taking advantage of the swordmaster’s misfortune, a stroke of luck he would probably never have again. Straddling the younger man’s torso, Malcius reached for Rezkin’s throat, but the warrior was undaunted. Rezkin thrust his hips upward and grasped Malcius’s arm, twisting it as the man tumbled from atop him. Malcius struck the deck with his face, his arm wrenched behind him. He could not move unless he was willing to break, or at least dislocate, his own arm.

  “I concede,” he muttered into the grimy, salty boards.

  Rezkin released his hold and stepped back, allowing his friend to regain his feet on his own. Malcius scowled as he rose, shaking his arm to loosen the tension.

  “I thought I might have had you when you fell,” he grumbled.

  Rezkin shook his head and said, “It is true the fates occasionally deal us an unfortunate hand, but we must learn to combat it with speed and focus.”

  “Yes, yes, speed and focus. So you have said,” Malcius spat as he retrieved his sword. “Palis was fast and focused, and it did not save him.”

  Rezkin’s gaze turned to the deep blue and grey waves bobbing and rolling over the distance. Smaller ripples danced across their surfaces, reminding him of the breeze blowing over the hills of golden grasses back in the land he called home. Distance-wise, Ashai was not so far from their present location, only a few weeks by ship. He would not be returning anytime soon, though, and it felt so very far from where he had last fought beside Palis. Rezkin realized, now, that Palis had been his friend and was the first one Rezkin had lost. When he thought of the fallen hero, he felt a tightening in his chest and his stomach soured. He told himself the feelings resulted from having failed in his duty to protect his friend, but he was concerned that he was failing in other respects. He needed to be more diligent in avoiding emotional attachments.

  Turning back to Malcius, he said, “Palis was not fast enough. You will become faster. Then you and I, together, will reclaim our home and bring justice to Palis’s killer.”

  Accusation was heavy in his voice as Malcius said, “You told me that Palis’s killer was dead.”

  “I was speaking of Caydean, of course,” Rezkin replied. “It was by his orders that our Ashaiian brethren attacked us. They sought only to do their king’s bidding.”

  The two men were interrupted by a soft voice at the steps to the lower deck. “If you gentlemen are ready, lunch is served.”

  “Thank you, Frisha,” Rezkin replied, turning to the young woman. Frisha nodded and then walked away without a backward glance.

  Noticing the awkward exchange, Malcius remarked, “She is still upset over Palis’s death.”

  “It is more than that,” Rezkin observed. “She barely speaks to me, and when she does, it is always formal and distant. She has not smiled or laughed since that day, at least not with me.”

  “Perhaps she blames you,” Malcius suggested, the edge returning to his voice. “I admit that I blamed you at first. Sometimes I still do.” He sighed and begrudgingly added, “I do realize, however, that it was my brother’s choice to do what he did. He was his own man, not a child to be coddled.”

  Rezkin knew that Frisha’s behavior was due to more than just Palis’s death, though. “She does not blame me for killing Palis. She blames me for killing Rezkin.”

  Malcius viewed Rezkin askance. “What do you mean?”

  “The Rezkin she knew,” he clarified. “Or thought she knew.”

  After two weeks of confinement on the ship, Frisha still had not confronted Rezkin about the revelation that he was Dark Tidings and the one referred to as the True King. Considering her generally amicable nature, her aloofness was disconcerting.

  “Yes, it came as a shock to all of us,” Malcius snapped. “Even I continue to have feelings of betrayal for your deception.” His eyes momentarily flashed with fury.

  “I have explained my reasoning,” Rezkin replied as he wiped the sweat from his face and neck.

  “I know, and I accept it. It does not soothe the sting, though.”

  “And for that, I am truly sorry, Malcius. I have endeavored to honor my friends, but I must also protect you. Sometimes the two goals are at odds,” Rezkin said.

  “I have never met a man who worked so hard to do either,” Malcius replied. “In truth, I never really think about how I treat my friends. Perhaps you take yourself too seriously.”

  Rezkin turned with surprise. “It is Rule 1, Malcius. It is my purpose for being.”

  “Maybe you should just be yourself,” Malcius said.

  Malcius’s statement frustrated Rezkin more than he thought it should have. Every day of his life had been spent in training to play a role, to be someone else when the need arose. He was everyone and no one. That was his role in life, yet people were constantly trying to push him into only one. It served as more proof that he needed to keep the lives of his individual personas separate.

  After meandering through the maze of ropes and pulleys piled on the lower deck, they ducked into the shady dining area. The mood in the mess was subdued, as usual. People sat around several tables finishing the midday meal. Frisha steadfastly ignored Rezkin as she sat beside her lifelong friend Tam. Malcius took a seat next to his sister, Shiela, across from Tieran Nirius. The reluctant beginner apprentice healer, Reaylin, had been chatting quietly with Journeyman Wesson. Baron Drom Nasque and his son Waylen occupied one end of a second table. Captain Jimson, Second Lieutenant Drascon, and Sergeant Millins from the King’s Army were gathered around the opposite end.

  Though not currently present, most of the baron’s guards had opted to stay with Rezkin’s entourage since they were now considered fugitives, although a couple of them had decided to return to Ashai in hopes of saving their families knowing it was probably a lost cause. Nirius and Jebai house guards were also concerned for their families, but since their houses had been declared traitors, they felt they had no hope of saving their loved ones until they took back Ashai.

  Three strikers were gathered at another table, and Kai could be heard grumbling about the fact that there was no ale to be found anywhere on the vessel. Shezar Olnag and Roark Genring now also claimed Rezkin as their king. He was fairly certain of Kai’s loyalty since it was largely by his influence that Rezkin had landed in his current predicament. The man had ambitions, though, and Rezkin was not certain they were in line with his own. Shezar and Roark had switched sides only after Rezkin had defeated of five of their brethren, so they were at the top of his list of immediate, potential threats. Rezkin’s relationship with the strikers was tenuous as far as he was concerned. There had to have been a reason he was ordered to kill so many of them. While he now considered those orders to be suspect, the fact that he had followed through would not incite loyalty from the rest.

  Rezkin’s friends also would not be pleased to hear of his clandestine activities. The fact that he was the undefeated champion of the King’s Tournament and a rival for the throne had been hard enough for his friends to accept. Tensions were already high. He would probably lose their support altogether if they found out he was the leader of the Ashaiian underworld. Rezkin felt no regret for his actions, though. He was doing what he was trained to do. The others’ opinions were irrelevant.

  Besides the possible enemies in his own camp, there were many others to concern him. If history was an indication of what was in store for the future, it would not be long before the simple state of being Ashaiian was cause for mistrust and even hatred. Every kingdom near the Souelian Sea was after Caydean’s head, but they would not hesitate to punish anyone they could
get their hands on in lieu of the king. It would not matter that Rezkin was in opposition to Caydean. Any Ashaiian would be a target and especially one with a claim to the throne. Now he had not only to defeat the mad mage king, but also prevent the other kingdoms from laying waste to his homeland.

  A shout sounded from outside, followed by thundering footsteps across the deck. A few moments later, Stargazer’s Captain Merk Estadd entered the mess and announced, “Lord Rezkin, we have reached the cove.”

  “Thank you, Captain. Are you certain it is unoccupied?” Rezkin asked.

  “No, my lord, we will have to send a scout to know for sure.”

  “Very well. Have one of your men row ashore with Striker Kai.” He turned to the striker and said, “Scout the cove and surrounding forest. I want to know if so much as a trapper has been nearby recently.”

  Kai nodded and stood from his bench. The captain and Kai left the mess, and Rezkin surveyed the curious faces of his companions. The Stargazer was one of the largest merchant ships that made port in Ashai, and he and his comrades had been able to rescue many people from Caydean’s hostile forces. When the city had erupted in chaos and Striker Shezar’s explanation of the mad king’s plan reached the ears of every tournament spectator, people had flocked to the tournament champion for protection. Most of the refugees were foreigners, but a good number of Ashaiian citizens had ridden his wake as well. In the end, over a hundred refugees had crammed into the ship, in addition to the cadaverous slaves found in Duke Ytrevius’s subterranean cavern.

  The ship’s mess was the largest room on the ship besides the hold that was filled with refugees and supplies, and it had been reserved for use by Rezkin’s companions. It was now his command center as well as a place for those in his confidence to take their meals.