Sword of Rage: Reigning Kingdoms, Book 1

by Jennifer Anne Davis

  “I’m here. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Ackley sure thought highly of himself. She stood, ready to go to the guest bedchamber for the night. “Is there anything else you need before I retire?”

  With his hands now clasped behind his back, he continued perusing the room. “I’m going to stay in here and look a little while longer. You don’t need to stay with me.”

  A clear dismissal. “You won’t find anything. I’ve already searched the room.”

  “The back of tapestries or on the rear side of portraits are generic places to hide items of value. Personally, I prefer to hide them behind drawers, especially in armoires. But my favorite is under a floorboard.” He stopped and looked at her. “Did you check under the floorboard?” He pointed to one in particular. One that looked a little worn along the edge.

  “No.” She hadn’t noticed that one before.

  A sardonic smile slid across his face. “Like I said, I’m going to stay in here for a bit. Goodnight.”

  Ackley

  Once Harley left the room, Ackley knelt on the floor. He pulled out his dagger and wedged it between the boards, prying up the one in question. A part of him didn’t want to find anything else. What he’d seen in the office and workshop had been more than enough for him to understand Lyle had been a ruthless soldier, dedicated to his profession, and unyielding. The scary part—Ackley saw a part of himself in Lyle. However, Ackley valued duty, honor, honesty, dedication, and family. He doubted Lyle felt any of that.

  One thing Ackley knew, which Owen did not, was that Idina had written a letter to Russek letting them know Melenia soldiers were in Marsden, leaving Melenia short of men to defend the kingdom. She’d intended for the king to call his soldiers back to Melenia, thus saving her own kingdom in the process. However, Melenia had been invaded shortly thereafter and the entire royal family executed.

  A takeover of this magnitude wasn’t done simply because of a letter his sister had written. There was no way Russek could have organized and executed such a thing so quickly and efficiently. Someone on the inside had been sending Russek information long before the takeover happened. Someone like Commander Beck. But to what end? Ackley couldn’t implicate someone without having evidence. What he feared was that Idina would be the one to take the fall. Which meant he needed to find the letter and destroy it.

  Laying the floorboard aside, he examined the contents beneath. There were two pieces of paper and a bag. He pulled out the papers and unfolded them. The first one was a detailed map of Melenia. Specific cities had been marked. The second piece of paper had a few words scrawled on it. This should be enough to keep you quiet. It was signed with a single letter: C. The king’s name was Coden. That, coupled with the letters Ackley found in Lyle’s office, convinced him that Beck had been blackmailing the king—and Ackley knew why. After setting the papers aside, he lifted the bag out, its contents jingling as he did so. Inside, he found a handful of money. Since he didn’t recognize the currency, he didn’t know the value of it.

  Ackley knelt there, considering his next move. His man should have made contact with Kerdan by now and hopefully had established a time and place for them to meet. If ever there was a time to sneak into Russek and have a clandestine meeting with Kerdan, now was the perfect opportunity since the kingdom was in civil unrest. The problem with his plan—Harley. At first, he considered leaving her with her parents. However, the second he realized the tea was laced with sleeping tonic, he knew her mother couldn’t be trusted. Which left him with the option of taking Harley with him. Traveling into Russek with her would be infinitely more difficult. Although, she could provide a believable cover, an inconspicuous married couple not worth anyone’s attention.

  Going over to the dresser, he blew out the candle and found a comfortable place to sit. It was only a matter of time until someone snuck into the house searching for Harley. Not only had those men followed them, but Lady Mayle had tried giving Harley the sleeping tonic before attempting to get her to spend the night. It was why he wanted to leave the manor so quickly—to get away from whomever wanted Harley. He also needed to come here and investigate before anything could be destroyed. With that accomplished, all he had to do was sit back and wait for the person to come here looking for her.

  His eyes grew heavy, a result of having stayed up all last night to guard Harley. As he watched the fire in the hearth, he wondered why Lady Mayle hadn’t seemed surprised to see Harley. It was almost as if she knew she was coming. But Owen hadn’t told anyone Ackley and Harley were going to Penlar.

  He stretched out on the chair, not wanting to get too comfortable as he waited. Sitting there, he had nothing to do but contemplate how Harley connected everything together. The fire crackled. The hours wore on. His eyelids fluttered shut.

  “Ackley,” Harley whispered, her voice like a strand of smoke curling around his ear. She stood in the middle of the bedchamber in nothing but a thin nightdress, the soft glow of the fire highlighting the golden hair hanging around her shoulders.

  Not knowing what to say, he watched as she hesitantly approached, desire flaring within him. When she moved, the nightdress hugged the curves of her body. He wanted to extend his arm so he could touch her, but he was afraid to move and scare her away. When she reached the chair, he spread his legs ever so slightly, just enough for her to stand between them. Her hands pressed against his shoulders, pushing him back in the chair. Then her right leg slid up alongside his left thigh. She did the same with her other leg until she straddled him. Unable to contain himself, his fingers found the hem of her nightdress, slowly lifting it.

  Her soft lips hovered above his. “I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I met you.”

  Ackley startled awake, trembling.

  Sweat covered his forehead and his heart beat frantically. Rubbing his hands over his face, he realized he must have fallen asleep. What a reckless and irresponsible thing for him to do. He stood and went over to the window, pushing the curtain aside and peering out into the dark night. Nothing moved below. Before he’d come inside, he’d set a few traps just in case he fell asleep. The last thing he needed was someone taking him by surprise. So far, none of his traps had gone off. Regardless, something had woken him.

  With a dagger in hand, he put his bag over his shoulders and crept out of the bedchamber. In the hallway, he stood listening. Not a single sound or creak. Everything felt too still. He slowly made his way to the room Harley was staying in. Pushing open the door, he peered inside. Darkness greeted him. After a minute, his eyes adjusted and he stepped into the room.

  Uneven breathing came from his right, about fifteen feet away. “Harley?” he whispered, knowing she wasn’t asleep by the sounds she made.

  “Yes?”

  Hearing her voice eased a bit of his building tension. “Something isn’t right.” He felt stupid being so vague. However, he’d learned through the years to always trust his instincts.

  “I know.” She sat up in bed.

  “Get dressed. If you have pants, put them on. I’ll be waiting right outside the door.”

  “I’d prefer if you stayed in here with me.”

  With the dream of Harley fresh in his mind, he had to take a slow breath, grounding himself in reality. Her request meant she was afraid to be alone—nothing more.

  In the shadows, he could just make out her body sliding out of bed. Curling his fingers, making two fists, he turned his back. With his dream still fresh in his mind, the feel of her bare skin against his hands was almost tangible. He needed to clear his head. If he wanted to make it out of this alive, he had to be sharp.

  While she changed, he considered where he’d set the traps: near the front and back entrances, near two of the larger windows, and a handful around the perimeter of the house. Since none had gone off, he didn’t think anyone was inside yet. However, he couldn’t be certain.

  “Okay,” Harley whispered, coming to stand alongside him. “What do you want to do?” She slid her bag over
her shoulders.

  The fact that she’d been packed and had clothes readily accessible spoke volumes.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” she whispered.

  Instead of answering, he leaned in close to her right ear. “I don’t know for certain if anything is amiss.” Her hair smelled of lavender.

  “I agree with you, something feels wrong.”

  He hesitated a moment before righting himself. Their eyes locked. Originally, he’d intended to interrogate whoever was out there. However, with Harley standing before him, her eyes scared and trusting, he knew his focus had to change. Getting her safely off the property was now his primary objective. Then, once she was in a secure location, he could come back.

  Since Harley had pants on, traveling would be much easier. He withdrew one of his daggers. Reaching out, he found her hand and placed the dagger on her palm, closing her trembling fingers around the hilt.

  “We’re going to try and sneak out of here without anyone seeing us.”

  Her hand gently rested on his chest, freezing him in place. “There’s a servants’ passageway that no one knows about. We could use that. It’ll take us out to Lyle’s workshop.”

  The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Ackley could almost feel a presence around him. “Does the passageway go between the walls?”

  Harley nodded.

  There were people in the servants’ passageway right this very minute—he was certain of it. Without uttering a single word, he curled his fingers around Harley’s wrist, leading her from the guest room. They had to get out of there. Quickly. Most likely they were outnumbered, and there were probably more men outside waiting for them. How could he have let this happen?

  They needed a distraction. “You’re not particularly attached to this house, are you?” he asked, releasing her wrist.

  “I hate it.”

  That was all the answer he needed. He’d ponder her response later, when he had more time, because he was fairly certain Harley’s relationship with Lyle had been one of abuse instead of love or respect.

  Ackley ran back to the master bedchamber, Harley right behind him. When he got there, he grabbed a blanket, wrapping it around his hand and arm. Then he reached into the dying fire, gingerly picking up a log. He pulled it out and tossed it on the bed. The flames fluttered, almost dying out. He was about to get another log when a small flame licked out, sliding over the blankets. The fabric erupted in bright flames. Rushing over to the vanity, Ackley snatched the chair and smashed it against the armoire. Picking up a handful of the pieces, he went back to the bed, sticking the ends of the splintered wood into the flames. He waited for them to catch. Once they did, he hurried from the room, Harley following at a safe distance. Thick, black smoke filled the air. As he sprinted down the hallway, he tossed the lit pieces into the rooms, aiming for curtains and beds. When he reached the top of the staircase, he waved Harley past him, then flung the last piece down the hallway.

  The sounds of men yelling and pounding came from within the walls. Without looking back, Ackley took the stairs two at a time.

  Since the roads were probably being watched, their options were limited. “Do your neighbors have horses?”

  “The neighbors to the east have several roaming in their pen.”

  “Get us to the eastern most window.”

  Instead of questioning him, she took off running. Ackley followed close behind. Footsteps pounded on the floor above them. They didn’t have much time.

  “In here.” Harley shoved a door open, and they entered the dining room.

  Ackley rushed over to the window, looking outside. Not seeing anyone on the property, he grabbed one of the dining table chairs and smashed it against the window, shattering the glass. Then he yanked the curtain down, putting it along the opening so Harley wouldn’t cut herself.

  Going feet first, Harley climbed out of the window. She remained next to the house while Ackley jumped out. He scanned the area again, still not seeing anyone.

  “Let’s go.” They sprinted across the field, heading straight for the neighbor’s property about a quarter of a mile away.

  Shouts rang out behind them. Ackley glanced over his shoulder. Flames shot out of several windows, the glow illuminating a few people in the house and several running around the perimeter of it.

  “Faster!” he said to Harley. They were about halfway to the wall separating Lyle’s property from the neighbor’s.

  The distant whirl of an arrow flying through the air caught Ackley’s attention. Without thinking, he flung himself at Harley, knocking her to the ground. She yelped in surprise. The arrow struck the ground next to them, less than a foot away.

  “Stay low,” he ordered. “Head in a zigzag pattern as you make your way to the wall.”

  Harley nodded as she crouched on the ground.

  “Go.” Ackley turned back to search the house, trying to find the archer. Based upon the trajectory of the arrow and how it landed, he suspected the shooter was level with him—whether that was from outside or inside the house, he didn’t know. But at least the archer wasn’t on the second floor looking down on them. If that were the case, it would make dodging arrows infinitely more difficult.

  An arrow came at him, landing four feet away. He didn’t think the archer could see him now that he wasn’t moving. Hopefully the shooter wouldn’t see Harley. Making a quick decision, Ackley jumped to his feet and ran toward the wall, making sure to sprint in an erratic pattern, trying to draw attention away from Harley and to himself. Another arrow soared through the air, landing behind him.

  Harley reached the wall about thirty feet away, panting.

  More shouts rang out. Ackley peered over his shoulder. Flames now engulfed the roof, the entire area around the house alight from the fire. Five men were headed straight for him. He’d hoped to escape without having to kill in front of Harley. For some reason, he didn’t want to spill blood before her.

  Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen tonight.

  Facing his oncoming attackers, Ackley palmed a knife in one hand, his short sword in the other. Tilting his head to the side, he stretched his neck, preparing for battle. As he always did before a fight, he slid on his mental armor, zeroing in on his attackers. Nothing existed but those who wished to harm him. There would be nothing but killing blows if he wanted the two of them to make it out alive. Strike hard and fast.

  The closest man appeared to be five foot seven inches, a hundred and seventy-five pounds. Ackley aimed his knife, counted to three, and threw. The man collapsed to the ground, the knife protruding from his neck, blood spurting out.

  One down, four to go.

  Not wanting to lose any more weapons, he’d have to get a bit more creative. Zeroing in on the next two, Ackley saw the one on the right lift his longsword. That was a mistake. Ackley turned, ramming his short sword into the man’s exposed stomach. As he did so, he used his momentum to kick the other one’s head, knocking him down. Withdrawing his sword, he lifted it, plunging it into the one who’d fallen to the ground.

  Three down, two to go.

  The last two had almost reached him. Yanking his sword free, he twisted and sliced his attacker’s neck.

  Four down, one to go.

  Where had the last man gone?

  Ackley turned in a slow circle, searching for the last of his five attackers.

  Dread filled him. He knew, before he spotted him, that the man probably had Harley. When he faced the wall, he saw a man standing there, his arms around her. In the shadows, Ackley could just make out the knife placed at her neck.

  “Stay where you are,” the man said. “Drop your sword and get on the ground. Put your arms above your head so I can see your hands.”

  Ackley chuckled, the sound menacing in the dark night.

  “Do as I say or I’ll kill her,” the man snarled.

  “What makes you think I care about the woman,” he said nonchalantly, buying himself some time. The man was a head talle
r than Harley making him six feet exactly, about one hundred and ninety-two pounds. Since his neck was hidden by Harley’s hair, Ackley would have to find another way to kill him.

  The man took a step forward, keeping Harley in front of him as a shield.

  Shouts rang out behind Ackley. More men were coming, which meant he was out of time. Sliding a dagger from his sleeve, he kept his eyes focused on the man. Once the dagger was in his palm, he flung it at him. The hilt hit his forehead, momentarily stunning him. Ackley withdrew the knife from his boot, throwing it. It struck the man’s arm holding the knife against Harley’s neck. When the man released her, she turned and rammed the dagger Ackley had given her into his stomach.

  The man snarled and went to withdraw the dagger, now covered with blood. Harley dropped to the ground, giving Ackley the opening he needed. He ran at the man, grabbing hold of the hilt and twisting it. Then he shoved the man away. The metallic smell of blood hung heavy in the air.

  Seven men were running toward them, about thirty feet away and closing in fast. “Get over the wall. Now.”

  Harley clamored to her feet, then crawled over the wall.

  Ackley grabbed his weapons, then climbed over after her. She was already sprinting alongside the wall, headed straight toward the forest, a good forty feet away. He took off after her, wondering why she hadn’t gone for the horses. It would be easier to lose the men on horseback than running around dense foliage.

  They reached the tree line. “There’s a river not far from here,” Harley said, breathing heavily. “I keep a boat there. We can use that to go downriver.”

  Another flipping boat? He cursed. At least it wasn’t the open water of the ocean. A river he should be able to handle. “Don’t you think the horses would have been faster and easier?”

  “By the time we reached them, mounted, and got out of a locked pen, the men would have been upon us.”

  “I can pick a lock in two seconds.”

  “It doesn’t matter!” she said a little louder than necessary. “It’s too late for the horses, so stop arguing with me.”