Copyright © 2015 by Jaye L. Knight
www.ilyonchronicles.com
Published by Living Sword Publishing
Proofread by Kim Huther
www.wordsmithproofreading.com
Ilyon Map © 2014 by Jaye L. Knight
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the author. The only exception is brief quotations in written reviews.
All Scriptures are taken from the New American Standard Bible, Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. www.Lockman.org
To my King whose ways are higher than my ways and thoughts are higher than my thoughts and who always has a plan and a purpose even in life’s most difficult moments.
Contents
Map
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
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Returning Characters
New Characters
Dragons
Locations
Race Profiles
Ryriks
Talcrins
Cretes
Giants
About the Author
Prologue
The messenger slumped to his knees with a gargled choke. Richard bent closer and gripped the man’s shoulder in a crushing grasp. “You should never have returned with so little information. I warned you once about wasting my time just so you could have a few more pennies to spend in the taverns.”
The man opened his mouth as if to protest, but only a wheezing breath slipped out, and he toppled to the dungeon floor. Richard scowled at his still form. A pathetic waste of an informant. Competent men weren’t easy to find these days. If only he hadn’t lost Holden. He had been one of Richard’s best . . . before he’d turned traitor and joined the rebels. Oh, he’d tried to hide his face during the ambush in Landale, but Richard had recognized him, and someday he would pay for his betrayal.
Richard reached down to wipe his dagger on the dead man’s shirt before fumbling as he slipped it into its sheath. With a curse, he raised his hand and opened and closed his fist. His scowl deepened at the numbness in his fingers that threaded up through his wrist and forearm. One of these days, he would find out exactly who had shot the arrow into his shoulder during the ambush, and they, too, would pay for his continual discomfort. But right now, he had more pressing matters than his growing list of those deserving of his personal revenge.
He left the body in the dungeon for the guards to dispose of, and made his way up into the palace. The halls lay dark and empty at this late hour, but light leaked from under the emperor’s office door. Richard let himself in without knocking. Having grown up in Auréa Palace, he shared a familiarity with the emperor that few had the privilege to claim. They were brothers, almost, thanks to his mother’s fortunate connection with the royal family. If it were not for her efforts to gain him a place as the previous king’s ward, he may never have even reached knighthood—not with his father squandering away his inheritance while Richard was not yet four years old and getting himself killed shortly after.
The creak of the door drew Daican’s attention. He looked up from his desk and leaned back in his chair as Richard approached.
“One of my informants returned from up north.”
Daican’s dark brows rose. “And?”
“He’s hiding out somewhere in the Graylin Valley.”
Now the emperor frowned. “There are almost a hundred villages scattered across that region. He could be in any one of them. He didn’t give you specifics?”
“No,” Richard said in a cold tone.
Daican pushed up from his chair to pace, not as one might in agitation, but more in contemplation. Richard did not move, but his eyes followed the emperor. Finally, he stopped and faced Richard again.
“What about the Scrolls?”
“No word on them.”
Daican glared at some spot across the room, ire now rising to his eyes. “We must find him and the Scrolls. Should either of them fall into the rebels’ hands, it will only empower them. We need to stamp out this rebellion before it grows out of our control.”
“I have other informants still searching. One of them will turn up something.” Richard may have lost Holden, but he still had a few left who possessed the ruthlessness and cunning to get the job done.
Daican returned to his chair, running his fingers along the edge of his desk. “What about the situation in Landale? Has Captain Goler come any closer to discovering the whereabouts of the Altairs and their friends?”
“Not according to my latest reports.”
The captain was about as incompetent as they came. He’d had four months to do his job, and yet hadn’t managed to bring in even one of the rebels. Richard almost scoffed at the memory of the buffoon’s request to be made baron of Landale if the current one proved to be a secret traitor. At this rate, he’d likely find himself thrown out of the army for miserably failing his duties.
Daican’s face matched his sentiments on the subject. “I’m beginning to wonder if Goler is the right man for the job. If he can’t find a group of outlaws hiding out in the woods, I’ll have to send in someone who can.”
Richard flexed his fingers once more. The last thing he desired was to visit that uncivilized plot of land again, except, perhaps, to seek revenge. “Once the hatchlings are ready, it will aid in the search.”
This seemed to put the emperor in a slightly better mood. “What’s their progress?”
“The drake blood has accelerated their growth. We should have a large force ready by the middle of next year.”
Daican shook his head, his eyes going hard. “I want the rebels found before then. Every day, word of their exploits reaches farther across the country and emboldens our enemies. I’ll not have anyone delaying my plans.”
“Of course,” Richard replied. “I’ll have our resources shifted there.” Perhaps he should replace the whole garrison—with Goler the first to go, of course.
“No,” Daican stopped him. “Find the scholar and the Scrolls first. Then we’ll focus on the rebels.”
Kyrin tugged the collar of her coat closer to her neck as an icy breeze rattled the stiff branches above her. A shiver crept down her back, but she held her focus on the road below. She swept her gaze up and down the path, scanning the gray forest in between for the slightest movement. The men had found good hiding places, even without the aid of thick summer foliage. Twenty yards downhill, she could just make out the dark brown sleeve of Trask’s coat, but only because she’d wa
tched him hide there. Anyone else, except perhaps Jace, would have missed it.
She rubbed her thumb lightly over the nock of her arrow, already fitted to the bowstring. Something nudged her elbow, and she looked over at Jace, who nodded to the right. Her gaze shifted back to the road, and her pulse quickened. A group of horses appeared through the bare trees. She cast a glance to her left. Kaden’s alert stance signaled he had spotted them too.
Everyone remained perfectly still as the company of eight riders maintained a steady walk toward them. When they came almost parallel to Kyrin’s position, she spotted the captives trudging along on foot between the horses—a man and wife with their young son and daughter—one of the farming families from Landale Village who followed Elôm. Their shoulders were hunched against the breeze. None of them appeared properly clothed for the elements. Goler must have forced them from their home without time to prepare for the long march to the barracks.
Kyrin squeezed her cold-pricked fingers around her bow and held her breath. Any moment now . . .
Trask and Warin broke from the trees with swords drawn, and stood side by side on the road. “Halt!”
At the head of the group, Captain Goler reined his horse to a stop. His hand shot straight to the hilt of his sword, his expression one of pure loathing. “You’ll not have these prisoners this time.”
“Oh, I think I will.” Trask motioned to the forest. Rayad, Holden, Mick, and a few of the other men left cover on either side of the road. “Release them.”
Goler leaned forward and rested his gloved hands on the pommel of his saddle. “They’re enemies of the emperor.”
Kyrin narrowed her eyes. He should be erupting with threats by now. “He’s stalling.”
Her heart rate picked up once more in warning that something wasn’t right. Jace nudged her again and drew her attention to stealthy movement in the trees. About halfway down the hill, between them and the other men, soldiers snuck through the brush on foot. She counted as each one appeared. Five total. No doubt the same number hid on the opposite side of the road. Counting the men with Goler, they outnumbered Trask’s group two to one.
“I won’t stand out here in the cold all day,” Trask said impatiently, his focus still fixed on Goler. “Release them now.”
“No.” Following his refusal, Goler’s men burst from the trees to surround them. His lips curved in a vicious grin. “Surprise. Now, drop your weapons; I’m taking you in.” He leaned forward to leer down at Trask. “And this time, you die.”
He slipped his sword halfway out of the scabbard, but Trask stopped him. “I wouldn’t do that.”
Suspicion bloomed on Goler’s face. Neither Trask nor his men reacted in concern over the ambush. “Why not?”
Trask shrugged, his voice deceptively light, as if speaking to an old friend. “I really wouldn’t want one of my men to have to shoot you. That would just make things messy. It’s too cold to stick around and make sure you don’t bleed to death.”
Goler eyed him, and then shifted to look around at each of the men with Trask—none of whom had bows.
“Oh, I’m not talking about the men you can see.”
The captain’s gaze swung back to Trask then jumped to one of his men who’d been part of the ambush. “Did you see anyone?”
“No, sir.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, sir.”
Goler’s confidence returned. He smirked at Trask. “You’re bluffing.”
Again, Trask shrugged and cast the briefest glance to his right.
The signal. In a smooth, practiced motion, Kyrin drew back her bowstring. In her periphery, Jace did the same. She focused on Goler. He made an easy target, sitting in all his self-importance atop that huge battle horse of his. But she shifted her aim a little, down and to the left. The string slipped off her fingertips.
A split-second later, the arrow struck the ground just in front of Goler’s horse, sending up a little spray of dirt. Jace’s followed. The horse snorted and tossed its head, stepping backward and almost bumping into one of the other horses. Cursing, Goler jerked the reins to get it back under control.
“No one move!” Trask shouted as the soldiers looked nervously into the trees. “The next shots won’t be in the ground.”
Kyrin and Jace had two more arrows nocked and ready in case they needed them, though she prayed they wouldn’t. She’d only ever shot attacking ryriks before. Still, she’d protect Trask and the others if she had to, and wouldn’t hesitate to keep them out of Goler’s clutches. The disturbingly clear memories of her own time in the captain’s barracks left a sensation of cold in her stomach that matched the wintery air.
Goler gave Trask a scathing look before his eyes flicked downward. His jaw went hard. Jace’s arrow was easily recognizable as matching the one he’d had removed from his shoulder just a few months ago. He sent a murderous glance in their direction.
Trask took a step closer to Goler. “Drop your weapons and dismount. One wrong move and you’ll get shot.”
“You won’t kill us,” Goler sneered. “You’re too soft, all of you, otherwise you would’ve just killed me and been done with it a long time ago.”
“We’re not murderers. We don’t want to kill you, but we’ll do what we must to protect the innocent. Now, drop your sword and get off that horse before I order my men to give you another arrow wound to recover from.”
His veins bulging in his neck, Goler refused to move, and sarcasm laced Trask’s next words.
“Come now, Captain, getting yourself injured or killed will only spoil your plans to become baron.”
Goler’s face flushed deep red. Rising stiffly, he swung his leg over the saddle while Trask ordered the other men to disarm. Following their captain’s surrender, they handed their weapons over. Trask walked up to Goler and confiscated the captain’s sword and dagger. Goler leaned in close, and Kyrin tightened her grip on her bow as the man uttered words she could not make out
“But not today,” Trask responded to the obvious threat, and he turned to his men. “Tie them up.”
Warin and the others moved to do so as Trask walked over to the prisoners and freed them.
The man took Trask’s hand. “I don’t know how we’ll ever thank you, my lord.”
“It’s my pleasure, Roland.” He smiled at the man’s wife and children. “You’ll be safe now with us.”
“Only until I hunt you down,” Goler growled. “You can’t hide forever.”
Trask waved him off and led the family away from the road as the others finished binding the soldiers. When they were secured, he walked back to Goler.
“As soon as you work yourselves loose, you’ll find your horses and weapons about a mile up the road . . . just like last time.”
He smirked at this last bit as he turned away, and the captain spat, “I promise you, one of these days you and I will have it out.”
“Looking forward to it,” Trask threw over his shoulder.
Guiding Roland and his family, he and the other men disappeared into the forest. Kyrin, Jace, and Kaden remained in position for another couple of minutes to make sure Goler and his men didn’t work themselves free too soon. When they’d given the others a head start, they rose from their hiding place and hurried to their horses.
The entire group met up again a couple of miles from the ambush sight.
Trask scanned the faces. “Everyone accounted for?”
After a quick headcount, they rode together toward the northern area of the forest surrounding Landale, following a winding route deep into the trees, with the riders behind taking care to cover their trail.
Camp provided a welcome sight as heavy, gray clouds gathered overhead. Kyrin smiled upon arriving. It had expanded in the months since she’d first come here from Valcré after escaping execution for her faith. Ten completed cabins sat nestled in the trees, with smoke rising from every chimney. Trask, upon everyone’s insistence, was given his own cabin to share with the senior members of camp, w
hile those they’d rescued from the emperor’s persecution occupied the others. Tents and temporary winter shelters were scattered about for the rest of the men. It wasn’t what many would think to call home, but it was the best Kyrin had known since early childhood; a place of security after the danger and hardship she’d faced—the memories of which, even now, disrupted her sleep some nights.
At the corral, the group dismounted to unsaddle the horses. Trask led Roland and his family toward the cabins to warm up, but he paused near Kyrin.
“Good work today. You were right.”
She shrugged. The important thing was they all had made it back in one piece, and weren’t dead or on their way to the barracks right now. Every time they faced Goler, they ran that risk. “I knew he’d eventually realize he could set a trap for us with the way we keep intercepting him.”
“It saved our lives.”
“Glad I could do my part.” Kyrin smiled at Roland’s family as they passed by, but grew serious. They would have to be more careful next time. “He won’t fall for it twice, though.”
Trask nodded. “Hopefully, he’ll call it quits for the winter. He won’t want to be riding around much once snow falls.”
Kyrin agreed, and Trask walked on.
Once she finished unsaddling her mare, Kyrin joined Kaden and Jace. “Come on, let’s get warmed up. Lenae will have hot cider waiting.”
Kaden blew on his hands and grinned, his cheeks red with the cold. “Sounds good; especially if there are some of those sweet rolls left from breakfast.”
Kyrin sent Jace a look of amusement. Did her brother ever not think about food?
“What?” Kaden demanded.
She chuckled. “Nothing.”
He squinted suspiciously at her, but their attention shifted as they left the corral.
“That was a good shot today, Kyrin. You sure startled Goler.”
She looked over at Lenae’s son, Jeremy.
The young man gave her a wide smile, apparently forgetting that Jace had been in on the shot too. “You’re probably about the best archer in camp.”
The King's Scrolls Page 1
