by Drae Box
Broken Crown
Drae Box
Rodaki Entertainment
The Common Kingdoms Series
The Royal Gift
Threat
Shotput of Power
Broken Crown
Daggerless (releases December 2019)
Become an beta-reader and get some of Drae’s future releases for free (when ready).
Releases expected in 2020 include:
Forged in Magic
Scarab’s Ink (working title)
Dax the Dragon Master
To become a beta-reader, head to draebox.com/tckreaders
Contents
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
Epilogue
About the Author
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Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Read More of Daggerless!
Chapter One
Raneth
It was the lack of ravens and crows that caught Raneth’s attention. This doesn’t feel right, he thought, observing the black smoke curling around his girlfriend’s village. He stood outside the east gate of the small settlement, his back stiffening as he resisted the urge to shiver from the morning’s cold breeze. He ignored the grey and black ash in the air and on the ground as he stepped past the outer defence wall. He prowled past the twisted shape of the metal gate that had protected this entrance and hesitated at the mouth of the inner wall where it gave way to a clearing in the village. Directly opposite him was a street of burned houses and to his right was a small, mostly undamaged hospital. On the left side of the clearing, a wide path curled along the side of the wall, without any additional buildings to call its own, though the ends of multiple streets touched it. Between Royal Official Raneth Bayre and the first of those streets were the burned husks of ten bodies, too badly burnt for carrion birds to even bother to feast on them.
Oh-oh. Raneth glanced over his shoulder towards Dagger Bearer Aldora Leoma, his girlfriend. She was standing at the outer wall, waiting for him to give her a sign that it was OK for her to come to his side. She’s going to be devastated, he realised as he shook his head, letting her know not to join him yet. At her feet, the Prince of the Cats, who had accompanied them to Newer, sat waiting in unusual silence.
Looking upwards, Raneth realised that there was no sound at all coming from the village, except for the soft crackle of fires that had yet to die down. How did this happen again? The royal official crept to the side of one of the bodies and squatted down to inspect it. He couldn’t tell if it had been a woman or a man; whatever had burned them had been incredibly quick and unnaturally hot. Common Gift of Fire, perhaps, he reasoned, knowing that those who mastered the Common Gift were able to increase the heat of the fires they produced. He hovered his left hand over the body, feeling for any hint of warmth from the remains, but there wasn’t any. It’s been a while since this happened. The fires should have been put out by firefighters from nearby settlements by now, so why haven’t they come to help? What happened whilst we were in the Newer Kingdom, and why didn’t we hear about it?
As a precaution, Raneth glanced around to make sure nobody was creeping up on him, before continuing his observations. The body had a small blade attached to its hip on what remained of its belt. A legionary’s sword. This person was full-time army. He carefully prised free the hexagonal tags from around the dead person’s neck. He wiped the soot from their surface and read the rank and legion. 413. Third Legion. Fairly new recruit, otherwise his tags would have been rectangles like mine, but larger. Hexagonal tags were introduced last year for the Royal Giften Army. Poor sod.
He stood up and walked the short distance back to the inner wall and Aldora, with the cat at her feet.
“Aldora, Cray sent help this time. There’s some army here.”
“I should have been here,” she uttered, her brown eyes sparkling with tears that had yet to be crushed against her eyelashes. “I could have held them off with the Dagger. I shouldn’t have gone to Newer with you to find the Shotput of Power.”
Raneth eyed the gold blade of the Dagger of Protection in Aldora’s hand. It’s not her fault she wasn’t here with the village’s Weapon of Protection when they needed it. It’s mine. He gently took hold of the side of her face with his calloused hand.
“This isn’t your fault, Aldora. You’ve left the village with the Dagger before and nothing happened. This isn’t your fault.”
“But…” Aldora’s lower lip quivered as she looked past Raneth to the street opposite the gate. “It’s too quiet. There’s no way anyone is still alive here.”
The royal official slipped his hand into Aldora’s. “There’s no carrion birds either, which means there’s no bodies for them except those scorched by gift-fire. I think your villagers are probably safe somewhere, your family especially, A. Don’t forget, your sister is a royal official and her husband has the gift of materialisation. There’s no way they didn’t get out. We should head to the palace and find out what happened.”
“We have to check my family’s OK. Can we go to my house and make sure? And the refuge? Maybe they and the other villagers are waiting for someone to tell them it’s clear to come out.”
I suppose that’s possible, decided Raneth as he watched Aldora chew at the inside of her left cheek. Please don’t cry, sweetheart. Her brown hair was a mess from their flight back to the Giften Kingdom from Newer, and having carried Aldora and Pedibastet whilst in griffin-form, Raneth’s body ached with the urge to find somewhere quiet to catch up on his sleep. Gotta sort this out first before we can get any sleep.
“Yeah, we can check,” promised Raneth.
“You two don’t need me for this,” stated the tabby-and-white cat at their feet. The Prince of the Cats swished his black tail once against the ground, sending a small cloud of ash and dust into the air. “I will go ahead to the palace and make sure Cray is aware of the amount of damage,” he added.
Raneth watched the cat prowl down the street opposite the gate, the same street that Aldora’s family lived on. “Be careful,” he called.
Prince Pedibastet paused and looked at Raneth over one of his white shoulders. “I’m not an idiot.”
After checking Aldora’s home and the village’s refuge, and finding both empty, Raneth held Aldora’s hand as they walked the beaten path to the palace. Aldora had taken the same path from her village to the palace four years before to report the last attack on the village and the theft of the Dagger of Protection.
“That’s twice now the Dagger’s not been around to help the village when it needed it,” stated Aldora as they walked through Little Wood, the only feature other than grass between Brown Buzzard Village and the royal palace. “I should never have taken it with me. I should have left it with Haethowine.”
I doubt the village leader would have done much with the Dagger even if she had, thought Raneth. “That still doesn’t make this your fa
ult, OK? You’re the Dagger Bearer, not the village’s prisoner. You’re allowed to leave and still carry the Dagger.”
Aldora frowned up at Raneth.
She’s clearly going to keep disagreeing with me on that. Fine.
Raneth inspected the path they were following, looking for any signs that others had walked the same way recently. There were a few footprints caught in the dirt, some more defined than others due to the rain that had taken place the night before. None of the branches that were low to the ground on either side of the path had been snapped. He smiled when he spotted a fresh cat paw print in the dirt.
Stepping clear of the trees, Raneth caught sight of the palace and quickened his pace. It was a small, white mansion rather than a typical palace, with twelve square windows across the front, and two window impressions above the open front entrance, which held no door. Instead, three white stone steps led up to a gaping corridor, which would lead them to the double doors of the throne room. Raneth hesitated at the steps. Prince Pedibastet sat on the top step, his black tail curled around his back legs and its reddened tip dangling off the edge. He looked up at Raneth and Aldora.
“All the doors are locked, even the kitchen door, and nobody responded to my meows.”
As a royal official serving his kingdom, Raneth knew that wasn’t normal. Peering down the corridor, he spotted the absence of Rikward, the royal official who was charged with protecting the throne room’s entrance during the day.
“Are you sure you meowed loud enough, Your Highness?” he asked.
Pedibastet flicked his tail as his white ears twitched. “Yes. I did the long yowls that you humans hate.”
Nobody can ignore those for long. Raneth glanced at Aldora to see her chewing at the inside of her cheek again, looking at him hopefully. He gave her a smile, trying to make her feel better, even though his stomach was starting to knot.
“Let’s take a closer look,” he suggested, stepping past the cat and into the corridor.
At the bronze-painted double doors, Raneth carefully ran his hands over the stone wall to the left, where Rikward normally stood with his water bottle. No stone gave at his touch. “I had hoped one of these would open to reveal a spare set of keys or something,” said Raneth, resting a hand against the door. “Without my lockpicking kit, I don’t think we’ll get in.”
“Uh, Raneth?” voiced Aldora softly. She nodded towards the doors. “Your hand.”
Raneth frowned and looked. The door was glowing softly around his hand. He snatched it back and rubbed it against his top.
“That magic is far older than two hundred years,” stated Pedibastet as the rest of the door began to glow. “I doubt it will make your magic allergy flare up.”
“Habit,” muttered Raneth, eyeing the door suspiciously. “I know the palace was the first of the Creator’s buildings,” he stated, referring to Giften’s best-known sorcerer and the one who had made the six Weapons of Protection for the original Giften villages, “but I don’t know what exactly it’s capable of other than protecting anybody of Giften royal blood inside its walls, or those who marry into it.”
“Why is it locked up?” asked Aldora. “Without Rikward to let people in?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Raneth. “I don’t think this has ever happened before. Even the kitchen side door is usually unlocked so Pedibastet and Alagar can use it whenever they want.”
The glow was turning the double doors a soft red, and as Raneth, Aldora and the Prince of Giften’s Cats eased back a step, the four locks on the door snicked.
“It just unlocked for you,” murmured Aldora, “because of your blood.”
Raneth rubbed his hand against his top again. “It’s been two hundred years since Bayres married into the royal family. I shouldn’t be counted anymore. That’s such a security risk,” he grumbled, though he tried the door handle anyway. The latch released at his touch and he eased the door slowly open. “Cray?”
“You’re not too distant if you still have a claim, idiot,” stated Pedibastet, rubbing his body against Raneth’s leg as he walked past.
Raneth gently took Aldora’s hand in his and they walked into the throne room. The red strip of carpet that led from the corridor to the three thrones was stained with muddy footprints, which had since dried and clumped on the carpet and its gold thread trim. The white-and-black marble floor looked clean, but it wasn’t shining like it usually did, suggesting that the royal household’s few servants hadn’t washed it today. The tapestries that were normally rolled up and pinned into place by fabric strips above each of the windows to their left were hanging down, revealing scenes of Giften’s past and barely allowing any light around their well-preserved edges, despite the direct sunlight. Raneth carefully inspected King Cray’s throne, but on observing no blood, he stepped past it and peered through the open doorway beyond. Pedibastet joined him.
“I hear absolutely nobody,” stated the cat. “Dare I say it, but it seems the palace has been abandoned.”
“Abandoned?” asked Aldora. “How? No, why would that be, Raneth?”
Raneth glanced at Aldora then shrugged. “I’ve no idea. Something must have happened. It must be related to whatever happened to your village.”
“Do you think the Eastern Barbarians invaded?”
“I don’t think so. They would have had to go through the Newer Kingdom, and we didn’t hear anything about them invading whilst we were there. Whilst I was in my gift-self I didn’t see any invading troops with my griffin eyesight either. Whatever this is, I think it’s a kingdom issue. Something bad enough that Cray, Lemuela and Louise had to leave.”
The royal official stepped into the corridor and tried the blue door on his immediate left. Locked. He peered through the small square window in the door, into Cray’s office. It looked tidy: the shelves of active royal officials’ current records were neatly arranged, and barely any paperwork sat on the table. The one thing that stood out to Raneth in the small room, which was lit only by the soft glow of orange light from a magic dome in the centre of its ceiling, was the coffee cup sitting on the desk. Cray never leaves his cups in there. He’s too afraid of getting spills on the paperwork.
The cat twitched an ear then walked down the corridor with his tail tip slowly flicking. “I said it was empty. Do you doubt my ears?”
Raneth shook his head. “Aldora, you go to the kitchen and grab as many food and water supplies as you can find. Until we know what’s going on, we have to assume something really bad happened, and that we have to rely on ourselves.”
“I don’t like this,” murmured Pedibastet as he poked his head through the kitchen doorway, further down the corridor. He walked back to Raneth and Aldora and rubbed his cheek against Raneth’s shin. “What should I do?”
“Keep Aldora company. Make sure nobody sneaks up on her. I’m going to go and check the other rooms and restock my weapons from my guest room here. Maybe grab some fresh clothes too. I’ll grab some of Lemuela’s for you, A. I don’t think she’ll mind.”
“Thanks,” said Aldora, before following Pedibastet to the kitchen.
Raneth watched them go, then strode to the curling staircase that was tucked to the side of the corridor.
Raneth unlocked his allocated room in the palace, slipped his keys back into his pocket and opened the door. Exactly how I left it, he thought as he stepped through. His bed was in the centre of the square room, made up by the head servant Leal. The dark wooden chest at the bottom of the bed was still firmly in its usual spot; it was exactly the same width as the double bed and its black iron padlock refused anyone entry. To the left, the door to the en suite bathroom was open, so Raneth prowled over and peeked inside. The barest twitch of a smile appeared at the corners of his mouth when he observed that nobody was standing there waiting to stab him with a toothbrush. Turning his back to the bathroom, he went over to the walk-in cupboard on his left and stepped inside; he plucked a navy blue royal official rucksack off the floor. I’ll have to order a new
one if I lose this spare. He checked that the inside seams had some of his small, white griffin feathers sewn into them – they would prevent the rucksack from vanishing when he used his family’s blood-gift to form into his griffin-self – and then he slung it onto his back. Fresh clothes next.
As he was rummaging through the chest of drawers by the door for a few pieces of clothing, he spotted a small gold sphere with a matching chain tucked into his underwear drawer. He pulled the Giften device free and held it in his hands. I haven’t used this thing since I was eleven. He lifted the grebunar to eye level, noticing the small swirls in the gold of the sphere. He squeezed the ball in his fist and thought of King Cray. The grebunar vibrated in his hand and Raneth splayed his fingers, but it didn’t lift into the air like it usually would, nor did the swirls across its body turn a soft blue like they should if the magic technology powering it flared up and connected with Cray’s. Cray’s not answering his. I bet he forgot to take it with him. He shoved the grebunar into one of the square pouches flanking his belt buckle.
The royal official quickly changed his underwear and pulled on a fresh uniform, before moving over to the wall opposite the bathroom. He kicked at a piece of skirting that jutted out underneath a painting of his mother. The wall clicked and gave a low hiss, before half of it swung slowly open, away from the corner of the wall, revealing Raneth’s personal stash of weapons. He replenished his weapons belt to have six throwing daggers, a throwing star in each of the square pouches either side of his belt buckle, and a backup dagger in his left boot. He drew his sword from his belt and quickly inspected its length for any blemishes that suggested he should temporarily shelve it and grab one of his others, but he was content enough to slip it back into his belt. The last thing he grabbed was a fresh set of lockpicks, which he tucked into one of the pouches with his throwing stars.
