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

by Kel Kade

  “Hope?” Fierdon growled. “What hope is there? He is destroying this kingdom. Even if the dukes combined their might—which will never happen—and managed to prevail, too much damage has been done. He has angered our allies and prodded our enemies. I fear that before a Mulnak sits the throne, foreign armies will be overrunning the palace.

  Adsden said, “If not for the knowledge I bear, I would concur. The battles between opposing powers will rage across this once great kingdom, and they will not end until there is nothing left to desire.”

  Fierdon fisted a gloved hand and nodded once.

  Adsden added, “But there are rebels.”

  Fierdon scoffed. “The rebels have been around for years—a bunch of common thugs, brigands and bandits, using rebellion as an excuse to take what they want.”

  “For some,” Adsden conceded. “For others, they are potential. Have you heard of the True King?”

  Fierdon’s face screwed up in disgust. “Everyone has. It is a sham. Bordran never mentioned choosing an heir besides his own son. I doubt he could see the savage inhumanity behind Caydean’s icy eyes that were otherwise so like his own. Fathers are like that. So long as the son looks the part, they will excuse anything to preserve the family name.”

  Adsden tipped his goblet up, which prompted Fierdon to do them same. He said, “I hear Tieran Nirius was last seen in the True King’s company, and he was very much alive. Rumor has it the True King is protecting the Wellinven heir. It seems odd to protect the person most likely to succeed Caydean upon his death if this Dark Tidings truly hopes to claim the throne. The strikers seem convinced—at least some of them. More importantly for us, the Raven has declared his support for the True King.” Adsden set his goblet on the table beside him. “I cannot say why—perhaps only to vex Caydean. His machinations are a mystery to me. The Raven gets what the Raven wants, though, and the Raven wants you.”

  “Me? What does this Raven want with me?”

  “Again, I cannot say. He has extended to you his protection. You need not risk the return to Atressian. You are welcomed here, with us,” he said with a nod toward Attica.

  “I would stay here? Hiding in an abandoned warehouse?”

  “Well, it is hardly abandoned, but I agree that it is not one of our nicer establishments. We move the guild house every so often to throw off Caydean’s spies. Oddly, they have had little interest in us. It would seem strange for a king to allow thieves and deliverers of death and destruction to run rampant in his kingdom, except that Caydean seems to thrive on such chaos. What I do not think the king realizes, though, is how organized we truly are. We are no longer lawless mongrels fighting each other for bones. We serve the Raven, and the Raven has an agenda. You can help further that agenda.”

  “What agenda is that?” Fierdon asked with skepticism.

  “We each receive orders related only to our particular functions. Perhaps the Raven has confidants who are privy to his designs, but I suspect only he knows what he is doing. Regarding you, our orders are to extend an offer of friendship and mutual advancement. If you reject the opportunity to participate, then we are to provide you with whatever you require for your journey. Of course, we expect that you will remember our generosity in the future.”

  Fierdon’s expressions were difficult to interpret with the way his waxy skin twisted around his orifices. His eyes held a healthy suspicion, however, which Adsden thought reasonable. Such an offer never would have been extended to the son of a duke before the Raven—not without a fantastically profitable deal, anyway. The younger brother, Hespion, had been involved in unscrupulous dealings with former Guildmaster Urek, but those had been arranged by the previous Marquis Addercroft.

  “You said ‘participate.’ What am I expected to do?” Fierdon asked.

  “You may be as involved as you wish, in whatever way you consider useful; or, you may sit here drinking and relaxing until the war is over. The choice is yours, but I cannot tell you the details of our mission until you have agreed.”

  Fierdon glanced at Attica, who smiled and winked at him. He said, “My father has always depended on me to be the voice of reason in Hespion’s ear. My brother no longer listens to me, though, and I do not see a place for myself in his household once Father passes. At home, I am ridiculed. I am not permitted to participate in important occasions and events. I wish to feel useful, to be welcome. Despite my appearance, I am an intelligent man. I know that you and the Raven have an agenda, and that your attitude toward me is defined by that agenda. If I am to be regularly treated with this kind of respect, then perhaps the Raven’s agenda should be my own.”

  He paused and stared at the statue for another moment. Then, he said, “I accept your proposal.”

  “Welcome to our family,” Adsden said. His smile slipped away, and his eyes spoke promises as he caught Fierdon’s gaze. “No one leaves the family—not alive.”

  Attica leaned forward and stroked Fierdon’s arm. He jerked with surprise but did not pull away. “Will your skin take ink?”

  “I do not ink,” he said with disgust.

  Attica chuckled and pulled up her sleeve to reveal the black Diamond Claw tattoo. “I meant regular ink.”

  Adsden exposed his own tattoo. Both had been modified recently. The symbols of their respective guilds were now clutched in the talons of a black raven.

  “I am to receive one of those?” Fierdon asked.

  “Of course,” Attica said. “You are family.”

  A fire lit in Fierdon’s eyes, and he looked to Adsden. “What is our mission?”

  Adsden smiled and said, “We are thieves. We are going to steal something.”

  “What are we to steal?” Fierdon asked.

  “People,” Adsden said with a grin.

  “I was betrothed.”

  “Betrothed?” Tam asked.

  Ilanet nodded and hurriedly added, “Yes, but no longer.”

  In her mind, she told herself she knew not why she had said it but, in truth, she did. She wanted Tam to know that she was not a child. While she was not ready to consider marriage, she felt comfortable with Tam. Over the course of the week that they had been on the ship, he had always treated her with deference, and she knew he would never act presumptively. The Raven—or Rezkin—had said that he would not marry her and neither would he sell her. She knew it would be impossible for her to marry a commoner, but Tam was not just any commoner, and she was not much of a princess. If he was truly Lord Rezkin’s best friend, then maybe?

  After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Tam said, “But you’re too young.”

  “I will be of age next year,” she said. “It is not uncommon to make these arrangements early.”

  “So I have heard,” Tam muttered. “Is that why you are here? Did you run away?”

  “Well, yes—and no. I am not so eager to wed, and my betrothed was”—she tapped her lip as she searched for the word—“insufferable.”

  “You two didn’t get along?”

  “I did never speak with him,” she said, “but I did hear him speak to other people. He is terrible, and I wished for a younger man.”

  “Why would your parents want you to marry someone you don’t like?”

  Ilanet gathered her hair again, drawing it over one shoulder. She had never worn her hair loose before, but some of the other women on the ship did so often. Somehow, it made her feel free. She was free to choose how to wear her hair, and no one would scold her for her unkempt tangles.

  “My mother died. I was very young. My father did not marry again. He had … how do you call them? Other women?”

  “Mistresses?” Tam said uncomfortably.

  “Yes, mistresses, but he sees them for only servants. All women are servants to him. He does not care for me.”

  She glanced at Xa, who was standing several paces away pretending he was not listening to their conversation. He flicked his fingers in the way that meant he had erected a sound ward. She was fascinated with the silent method of communicati
on she had witnessed between Rezkin and Xa or the strikers. Xa was not a striker, though. He was not even Ashaiian. She wondered if they were using different signals in the same way that they spoke different languages.

  “He’s your father,” Tam said. “I’m sure he cares—”

  “He tried to kill me.”

  His head snapped up, and he looked at her in alarm. “What?”

  Ilanet kept her gaze on the rolling sea. It was soothing and mesmerizing—when it was not making her ill. She blinked several times to clear the moisture from her eyes. She told herself it was only the salty breeze that drew the tears because she would not cry for that horrible man.

  She took a deep breath and said, “He thought it would give him a political advantage. He wished to blame my death on my betrothed so he could blackmail the man’s family. A stranger saved me, and he arranged for Lus and me to escape with all of you.”

  “That’s terrible!” said Tam. “I can’t imagine … I mean, I don’t even want to think about how horrible it would feel to have my own father betray me like that. I’m so sorry, Lady Netty.”

  Ilanet turned to Tam. “I should like to wait a while before marriage, maybe five or six years.”

  Tam smiled and said, “I think that sounds like a good idea—for you, I mean. Not that it’s any of my business.”

  “What about you, Tam?” Ilanet asked.

  “I haven’t thought about it, really. I don’t have much to offer right now. Mostly, though, I kind of feel like I’m just starting this big adventure. It’s frightening, and I feel horrible about all the terrible things that are happening. I don’t even know what has become of my family. I guess I feel like I shouldn’t even be considering starting a family in a time like this.”

  Ilanet frowned and then smoothed her face out of habit. A lady should always remain composed and never don unattractive expressions. “I read a book about a war that lasted over a hundred years. Well, the book was not about the war, really. It was about horses. But, the war, lasted over a hundred years. It lasted such a long time, that these horse breeders created a new breed. The new horses had greater endurance, and they were bigger, stronger, and more aggressive than the others. The book claimed that it was because of this new type of horse that the war finally ended.”

  “That’s really interesting. I’m kind of surprised that you are interested in wars and horses, though.”

  Ilanet laughed. “I cannot say that I was interested in the book. I read anything that was available. I like learning. I like horses, too, even though I have never ridden one. They are majestic animals.”

  Tam ventured, “Yes, but … I’m not exactly sure what this has to do with the previous conversation.”

  “Oh, I apologize. Sometimes my mind makes … um …connections, and I forget others cannot follow. I am thinking that if a war can last over one hundred years, you cannot afford to wait until it is over to find happiness. People must keep living and find love where they can. They must enjoy what happiness is to be had.”

  Tam was silent for a time. Finally, he said, “I think your father made a big mistake in undervaluing you. You’re an intelligent lady, and I imagine you will do great things as you get older—that is assuming you don’t end up with someone who treats you like he did. Ah, sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “No, I appreciate you saying it, Tam,” Ilanet said with a smile. She laid her hand on his where it rested on the crate that served as their seat. “It means much coming from you.”

  Tam was not sure why it meant so much coming from him, but he was glad to see Lady Netty smile. Now that he knew the source of her melancholy, he completely understood. Over the past week, she had been friendly and smiled often, but the cheer never reached her eyes. They always held sadness, a look that was shared by most on the ship. Loss and betrayal were a commonality among the passengers, and Lady Netty’s had been most personal.

  Tam looked up as Frisha approached. She had also been making friends with Lady Netty, taking the younger girl under her wing in hopes of making her feel more comfortable on a ship full of strangers.

  “Hi, Netty,” Frisha said as she sat down to Tam’s other side.

  “Greetings, Frisha.”

  “Oh, right. Greetings,” Frisha said.

  Lady Netty had been helping Frisha to become more ladylike, and since she never acted condescending or judgmental, Frisha had been open to her assistance.

  “We were just discussing the value of pursuing relationships during a time of war,” Tam said. “Relationships in general—not one between us, I mean, of course not.” Tam could feel his face heating, so he quickly moved on. “Lady Netty is wise beyond her years.” To Lady Netty, he said, “You kind of remind me of Rezkin, you know.”

  Her eyes widened. “Me? No, I am nothing like him.”

  “You say that as if you don’t like him,” Frisha said, leaning around Tam to see the other girl.

  Lady Netty shook her head and said, “No, I do not dislike him exactly. I am afraid of him. I am sorry. I do not wish to say more for fear of offense. I know you are close with Lord Rezkin.”

  “No, it’s okay,” Frisha said. She looked at Lady Netty thoughtfully, and Tam wondered what silent communication was happening between the two women. Whatever it was, it had somehow passed through him without pause. “You’ve seen it, haven’t you? The emptiness.”

  Lady Netty gazed at the dark blue water as she nodded. “My father is not a good man,” she said, “but always his eyes were filled—filled with anger, mistrust, ambition, and sometimes … what is it? … glee. I suppose I was always in fear of him. His moods changed without warning. Lord Rezkin is steady. I have not seen him lash out in anger, even when it was warranted.”

  “How is that a problem?” Tam asked.

  Lady Netty looked as though she wanted to say more. “We should not discuss such matters. I-I should go.” She stood to leave, and Tam jumped to his feet.

  “Wait. We can talk about something else. I’d like to show you something.”

  She looked at him with skepticism and glanced at Frisha, who also appeared to be at a loss.

  “Great!” he said with a grin. Without thinking, he grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him. After a few steps, he realized what he had done and dropped it quickly. “S-sorry, Lady Netty. I didn’t mean—”

  Netty smiled and said, “It is fine, Tam.”

  Tam happily led the two women to the stall where Pride was kept. The life mages had been doing an admirable job of keeping the horse calm. Even so, Pride protested with snorts and stomps whenever anyone got too close. Tam grinned and held out a hand showing off the horse.

  Lady Netty and Frisha both stared at the beast and then looked to Tam.

  “Lord Rezkin’s horse?” Lady Netty asked. “I have seen him already—from a distance. He looks much larger up close.”

  Tam grinned. “What did they call that new breed of horse in your book?”

  “Cuorstuvor,” she said. At their questioning look, she added, “This translates as, maybe, horse of war.”

  Tam nodded toward the horse and said, “We call them battle chargers.”

  Lady Netty’s face brightened. “This is a cuorstuvor? I have not seen one. I read that they are sometimes gifted to royalty outside of Ashai but are made unable to breed.”

  “This one’s sire was King Bordran’s own,” Tam said.

  Lady Netty drew her gaze from the horse to look at Tam with surprise. “How did Lord Rezkin get the king’s horse?”

  Tam and Frisha shared a look. “Well, that’s still not clear,” he said. Pausing as a burst of short whistles announced the midday meal, he shook his head and smiled. “Time to eat!”

  Tam turned to escort the ladies to the mess and nearly ran into Lus. He had forgotten about the guard and was unnerved that the man had been hovering behind him without his noticing. Rezkin would be disappointed if he knew how oblivious he had been. Lus grinned and flipped a knife end over end in his hand. He c
aught the blade by the tip and offered it to Tam, hilt first. Tam stared at the knife in wonder and then realized it was his own belt knife.

  “Your master will hear of this,” Lus said.

  “Oh, come on!” Tam protested.

  “I am to hear of what?” a deep voice said from the doorway.

  Tam groaned. “As if having the strikers watch my every move wasn’t enough. Now you have Lus doing it too?”

  Rezkin raised a brow. “If Lus is harassing you, he is doing it of his own accord. I suggest you learn to defend against it.”

  “What? But he’s an experienced guardsman,” Tam argued.

  “How else do you expect to gain experience?” Rezkin asked. “If you wait until you meet a foe in truth, you will be dead before you realize your mistake. It is better to do so here, where he knows I will cause him great pain before his death should he kill you.”

  Tam scowled at Lus. “Are you so sure he won’t anyway?”

  Lus glanced at Rezkin and said, “I have no desire to die a meaningless death.”

  “Then I hope my death never has meaning for you,” Tam muttered.

  The man met Rezkin’s gaze and said, “We shall see.”

  A dark shadow appeared to pass through Rezkin’s icy blue eyes. A chill descended in the stall, as if frost had been carried on an absent wind from the great Void itself. Tam shivered and could have sworn he saw his breath in the still air. Wood cracked loudly in the stillness when Pride suddenly kicked at this stall. Lus was the first to break eye contact, lowering his gaze as he bowed toward the silent warrior. Tam sucked in the breath he had lost and glanced back to the ladies. They had moved closer together and were gripping each other's hands.