by J. C. Owens
It was strange to realize that Anrodnes’s predation so long ago, their invasions, had created a haven of control in the midst of brutal regimes. It made no sense, and yet, by the very nature of their strength and will, they had, in time, created something more than the constant warring and tyranny that had gripped the continent for so long.
Zaran had no illusions about what past emperors had done. He had studied their written works, pored over military history books. He was not proud of what had been done long ago, but he very much believed in what Taldan had plans for. How to move beyond their violent history. It would take Anrodnes out of the past and into a future where they might provide an example of peace instead of a name for war.
In the meantime, Zaran’s forces had tried to help where they could as they came upon the pillaged towns, but there were few survivors, and those that they found often fled, associating them with the attackers. Those few that had accepted their aid had been wild with grief and rage or numb with shock. Several of them had accepted horses from Zaran, so that they, as a group, could ride for the capital far to the east and give word of why the Anrodnes forces were here. After all, it would take very little for Bhantan to blame this upon Anrodnes itself since Odenar—a territory of the empire—was at the center of the crisis.
Zaran could not wait to see Odenar bow to the ground under the wrath of Anrodnes. There would be no doubt in anyone’s minds that Odenar would suffer for this treasonous invasion. They had Parsul imprisoned, now they just had to find the other two brothers who were leading the forces in this brutal attack. How Raine could have been born into the family was anyone’s guess.
One of the Shadows slipped through the tent flap, standing straight in the greater height of the interior of the pavilion. “We have received messages from the palace, my prince.” He held out a scroll. “This is a personal missive from the new Emperor Taldan.”
Zaran felt a pang of longing. He had missed his brother’s ascension, had not been there to support him through the transition.
He should have been there, should have…
He thrust away the longing with stark practicality. Naral was there; he would have Taldan’s back.
He eagerly unrolled the scroll as Gratolin brought another candle close so that he could read in the growing darkness.
Zaran,
I send you this in the hope that it finds you well. We have heard little of what is occurring over there, only that you are pursuing the Odenar rebels into Bhantan. I cannot imagine that they are moving through the country peacefully.
I wish you had been here for the coronation. You were greatly missed by Naral and me.
There have been happenings that you will hear of, and I want to inform you of the truth, not the rumors and wild speculation that will no doubt eventually make their way to your ears.
There was an assassination attempt upon me during the ceremony of my ascension.
Zaran’s fingers crumpled the paper, a snarl of pure rage escaping his throat so that Gratolin and the other two guards leaped to their feet, hands on weapons. The Shadow remained silent and still, dark eyes watching.
“My prince?” Gratolin’s voice brought Zaran back from the impulses that stormed through him, chief among them the need to catch the first ship back home.
“There was an attempt on the new emperor’s life.” The words sounded so banal, so unable to show the scope of what had occurred. He heard the men’s soft curses, but by then he was immersed in the letter once more.
Know that I am fine. I will give you the details upon your return. During the attempt, Antan was killed, and the Illumitae snapped back into me when my first Chosen was slain.
Apparently, my life hung in the balance for some time until a second Chosen was found that the gods accepted.
I am bound to Raine Yoldis. He is my Chosen now.
I know this will come as a shock to you, but he is proving to be far more than we had expected. This will work if we try hard enough.
Raine is aiding me, along with Naral and Isnay, as we search for the truth behind the attempt on my life. It is being dealt with. Do not worry on this. You have more than enough to deal with as you carry out my will in Odenar and hunt down those who have broken our laws, blackened our name.
Raine has insisted, and I completely agree, that we send aid to Bhantan, so I have sent six ships to their capital bearing supplies. Isnay will be on one of those ships as our ambassador. No one else do I trust to speak to Bhantan’s monarch, to try to explain this entire debacle. I pray that he manages to get them to understand.
In the meantime, I am sending additional forces to Odenar to completely retake the country, to rebuild the old forts and ensure that it is well aware of its transgressions. There will be martial law there for a long, long time after this.
This way, you will not have to worry about enemies at your backs.
I wish I could be there with you, brother. I have no doubt that you are doing an exemplary job, but it would be good to fight shoulder to shoulder.
I will do what I can from here.
Blessings upon you,
Emperor Taldan Anrodnes
He slowly set the letter down, his mind reeling from all he had learned. Someone had tried to kill his brother. Was it related to this invasion of Bhantan? More than ever, he wanted to rush back to the capital and stand by Taldan’s side. He knew the Shadows were there, protecting him, particularly Nie and Weis, but…
As well, he worried about Isnay heading to the Bhantan capital, although the man had done much traveling and was probably the most experienced out of any of them.
He leaned back in the chair, glancing over at Gratolin. “His majesty is sending relief supplies to Ferulum, the capital of Bhantan. Isnay will be coming with the ships to begin trying to mend things with the monarch.”
Gratolin almost slumped with relief. “Your Highness, we have so little to give the survivors and nowhere to get supplies. It has worn upon me. Thank the gods.”
Zaran nodded, feeling lighter himself. At last, a glimmer of light in this whole affair.
Another Shadow entered the pavilion, stepping forward to stand rigidly beside the first. “My Prince. There is a rider at the camp boundary, asking for entrance. He has a child with him. He refuses to identify himself until you arrive. He is being held as we speak.”
Zaran rose to his feet, frowning. He could sense the tension in the Shadow. And if one of the legendary Shadows was uneasy, that didn’t bode well.
It was dark outside, the camp lit by torches placed along the rows of tents. Campfires dotted the area. Men gathered around them, and the night was filled with the sounds of conversation. Occasionally, Zaran could hear the plaintive sounds of a flute.
The men were exhausted. They were pushing hard to try to close the distance behind the Odenar invaders. Both horses and riders were completely done at the end of each day, only to wake the next morning and do it all over again. Zaran knew that they longed for battle, to catch those who had murdered innocents and show them the error of their ways.
Zaran had no plans to curb his troops whatsoever when that day came. They could wipe out the bastards as far as he was concerned. Less trouble for all concerned.
He strode in the wake of the Shadow, several other Shadows pacing alongside him and trailing behind. Always guarding. Gratolin was at his shoulder, as always, with the other two guards directly behind him.
Their entourage gained some attention as men watched them pass, eyes glinting in the torchlight, bowing deeply as they recognized Zaran, their prince, brother to the emperor of Anrodnes.
They passed the heavily guarded area where the horses were tethered to picket lines before they reached the edge of the encampment. A fair number of Shadows had gathered here, no doubt gauging the level of threat that this newcomer might present.
Zaran knew the rider the instant he laid eyes on him. The armor was unfamiliar, and a deadly looking sword hung at his side, but the horse was too similar to ignore.
None of the Shadows now with Zaran had been those who guarded the emperor directly. They had not resided within the palace. They would not know the man.
Zaran felt a shaft of joy, followed by concern. He could not imagine why Hredeen would possibly be here in this place of horrors. He had a young boy along with him as well, and the boy was staring around at the Shadows and at Zaran as if afraid of everyone and everything.
Something definitely was amiss here. Taldan had said nothing of Hredeen leaving in his letter. Clearly, something else had happened…and whatever it was did not look good.
Upon Zaran’s arrival, the man dismounted swiftly, sweeping his hood back. Zaran’s heart lifted at the sight of that familiar face and its otherworldly beauty. He gave a choking laugh of disbelief and stepped forward, pulling the smaller figure into his arms.
“Hredeen! By the gods, it is you. What are you doing here? Did Taldan send you?”
The brief flash of pain that crossed the concubine’s face made Zaran pause as he stood back and took a better look at Hredeen’s features.
He was much thinner than Zaran remembered, a stark difference in two months. The darkened patches below his eyes spoke of sleepless nights and near exhaustion. Zaran frowned, looking closer, worry beginning to eat at him. He saw a concerning lack of life, of hope, in those amazing eyes. Something he had never seen in Hredeen before.
What, exactly, had happened? He intended to know the truth, but this was not the place for it. “Come. We will get food into you and—”
Hredeen held up a hand. “I can’t. I brought Cermin here as the only safe place I can think of. I would be grateful if you could care for him until you can get him back to his people. As for me,” there was a grim slant to his lips and a bleakness in his expression, “I’m going hunting.”
“Why are you here in Bhantan?” Zaran asked more softly this time, holding one of Hredeen’s hands tightly. Something was truly wrong. His concern deepened as he looked the concubine over, his gaze settling on the man’s blade. “Why aren’t you in Persis with Taldan?”
“I revealed who I truly am when I killed Taldan’s attacker at the ascension. He cast me out.” The concubine gave a pained laugh, the sound harsh against Zaran’s nerves. “Rightfully so.”
“Who you are?” Zaran questioned, his stomach clenching.
Those familiar eyes, so haunted now, regarded him for a moment before Hredeen smiled, the expression holding nothing of amusement.
“I am Hredeen Leesian, sixth level assassin from the War Guild.”
Several of the nearby Shadows immediately thumped their chests with a closed fist and bowed their heads. Hredeen nodded back, but there was no more life in him than before. Instead, he watched Zaran, a resigned air about him as though he believed this would change Zaran’s opinion of him.
Zaran frowned before the expression cleared away, realization coming to the fore. “You were sent to protect Taldan. Your kind, your masters have visions of the future. Did they foresee this assassination attempt?”
“You, as always, are swift to see things that others miss. You are correct, my prince, if I may still call you that.”
Zaran yanked him forward into another hug. This time, Hredeen was not stiff and silent in his arms. This time he melted against him, soaking in the acceptance when he had clearly expected a completely different response.
“You fool,” Zaran whispered against his temple. “You saved my brother. You think I would turn you away for that?”
“I lied to you all, concealed who I was for years. Taldan cannot forgive me.”
The pain in those last few words tore at Zaran.
“He couldn’t have been in his right mind,” Zaran huffed.
Hredeen attempted a smile, but it fell flat, turning into a grimace. “Perhaps. My mission there is done now…”
Not willingly, Zaran guessed. But why was he in Bhantan? Had the War Guild sent him?
Hredeen seemed to guess his unasked questions. “The grandmaster has not sent me. Taldan has not sent me. I am here of my own will, until I am recalled. I received orders to return to the guild, but I could not…”
He stopped speaking abruptly as if he feared saying too much…or feared what returning to the War Guild would mean. Zaran couldn’t help but wonder if the man was here hunting his own demons—if this was some way to redeem himself in Taldan’s eyes. Or was he simply here because he was needed?
Hredeen touched the hilt of his sword, his expression darkening as he continued to speak. “The best course of action is to eliminate the two brothers who are leading the Odenar forces. Without leadership, chaos will grip the invaders and they will soon fall apart, perhaps fighting among themselves. After that, I will leave the rest up to you.”
Zaran tried not to sound as surprised as he felt. “You intend to assassinate Laith and Mansin Yoldis? By yourself?”
Hredeen looked him straight in the eye. “That is what I do. That is what I am.”
He returned to his horse and put up his arms to help the boy to the ground.
The child was filthy, covered in soot and dirt, eyes wide and somewhat fixed with shock. A survivor then. Zaran’s heart went out to him.
Hredeen urged the boy forward. “This is Prince Zaran, a friend of mine. He will take care of you, Cermin.”
The boy seemed to rouse somewhat, staring upward at the assassin with fear in his eyes. “You’ll come back? Please?”
Reluctance warred with compassion in Hredeen’s eyes before he slowly nodded. “I swear to you, I will see you after I am done.”
It was clear that the concubine—former concubine—would not have returned if not for the boy’s plea. Zaran could only be thankful that such a pledge had been made. He could not let this man simply disappear out of their lives when he had done so much for all of them.
All of that had not been done only out of duty, that was perfectly clear. At least to Zaran. Obviously, Hredeen had gone further than his orders had required, and Zaran could only be grateful for that as well. That Taldan had driven him away…
Zaran shook his head. He reached out and gently took the boy’s hand, drawing him away from Hredeen.
“Do as you must then,” he said to Hredeen, “but return to us.”
Hredeen hesitated, but looked at the boy once more and finally nodded. “I will, for a short time.”
Zaran immediately began to plan how to keep him here when that time came. He would not let things end like this. If he could only talk to Taldan…
The assassin bowed deeply before leaping upon his horse.
“Blessings upon you,” Zaran said softly.
Behind him, the Shadows said in unison, “Good hunting.”
Hredeen nodded to all of them, drawing the cowl up to shadow his face once more. “Blessings.”
His eyes stayed locked upon Zaran for a moment more, then he turned his horse and they were gone into the darkness beyond the camp, swift hoof beats slowly dying away.
Zaran stared after him before looking down at Cermin. The boy watched Hredeen’s departure with wet eyes and clenched fists.
Zaran gently turned him around and began to guide him back into the encampment.
“Let’s get you fed.”
CHAPTER THREE
Raine
Raine read the report that Taldan had handed him and swore. He tossed the parchment to the table and rose to his feet to pace, nothing of his usual hesitance evident. He hadn’t been sleeping well, and he couldn’t stop worrying about Taldan. He only wanted Taldan to be happy, to support him in all he wished to change in the empire, to be a good Chosen for the new emperor. But ever since Raine had come to Persis, nothing had seemed to go right.
His brother Parsul was in chains for treason against the empire. His other two brothers had led an invasion of a peaceful nation…and the reports sent back by Zaran painted a dark picture. Raine knew he wasn’t responsible for his brother’s crimes, but he felt deep shame and guilt all the same.
I
t frustrated him, appalled him, that this could be happening, that his own flesh and blood could willfully plot such an attack.
“Parsul will be executed. Publicly,” Taldan said, effortlessly reading his mind and emotions through the bond of the Illumitae. The new emperor’s words were completely flat, toneless, as he spoke from where he stood by the windows in his private study, arms folded over his chest, staring outside where rain was falling in a steady stream over the window panes. “When Zaran catches up with the other two, they will die as well.”
Raine closed his eyes, wondering what was wrong with him that he couldn’t find the smallest thread of regret that his brothers would die. His emotional isolation from them from the time of his childhood under their cruel predations left him no feeling but relief. Was he wrong to feel that way? Surely there should be more of a bond of blood, a feeling of sadness, of regret. Instead, he felt grimly satisfied that the world would be free of three warped, cruel individuals. Perhaps it was the fault of his father, perhaps that of his grandfather. Whatever it was, the result had been madmen.
His direct line would end with him, and he was perfectly content with that. The name of Yoldis would go down in history as tainted and vile. He would be the last to bear it.
He could only hope that through his own actions, his own decisions, that he could atone for some of the sins of his brothers and the harm they had wrought.
Raine paced in silence, fighting back the words that wrestled for escape. Taldan seldom had patience with ranting. His own method of cold, calm musings was far from Raine’s understanding, although of late, Raine had sensed the rising turmoil inside the emperor. He felt Taldan’s struggle to keep himself calm, detached, emotionless.
Was that Raine’s fault? Were his emotions interfering with Taldan’s iron control?
Raine had to take a deep breath and force himself calm again. Taldan was the emperor. Raine was merely the Chosen. He needed to have faith that Taldan had things under control. He needed to focus on being the best Chosen he could be.
