The Emerald

by Bob Nailor

  The Emerald

  by Bob Nailor

  Book One in the Shiyula Realm series

  Dedicated to my writer friends, especially

  Dave Kish and Garry Ward who gave me

  Insight, Perspective, and Inspiration.

  A special thanks to Joette Rozanski who

  read and suffered through the original.

  Book cover by Sheri McGathy and Bob Nailor

  Visit Sheri: http://coverdesign.sherimcgathy.com

  © Copyright 2019 Bob Nailor

  ISBN: 978-1-61877-169-8

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means: electronic, mechanical or otherwise, now known or hereinafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or by any known informational storage and retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission from the author.

  Discover other titles by Bob Nailor at

  www.bobnailor.com

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One ~ The Prisoner

  Chapter Two ~ The Escape

  Chapter Three ~ Inn At Bashiwa

  Chapter Four ~ Plots

  Chapter Five ~ The Dancing Dragon

  Chapter Six ~ The Chaos Of Plans

  Chapter Seven ~ Temple Of Hagontha

  Chapter Eight ~ Eve Good Plans Change

  Chapter Nine ~ To Zornal, Maybe

  Chapter Ten ~ Longrel

  Chapter Eleven ~ Escape In A Storm

  Chapter Twelve ~ Island Of The Lost Souls

  Chapter Thirteen ~ Kiss Of The Lost Souls

  Chapter Fourteen ~ The Lost Souls

  Chapter Fifteen ~ Mersayn

  Chapter Sixteen ~ Atchel

  Chapter Seventeen ~ Plots

  Chapter Eighteen ~ Back On Track

  Chapter Nineteen ~ Zornal

  Chapter Twenty ~ Zornal's Temple of Hagontha

  Chapter Twenty-One ~ The Chaos of Hagontha

  Chapter Twenty-Two ~ Ballec

  Chapter Twenty-Three ~ The Sacrificial Dinner

  Chapter Twenty-Four ~ Yendisa's Sacrifice

  Chapter Twenty-Five ~ The Holy Father

  About The Author

  Bibliography

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Prisoner

  Jewyl shivered, a chill curling down her spine. The massive oaken doors before her were closed, yet she could hear the mumblings of voices, and the sound of music from the other side. She glanced once more at the clothing she'd been forced to wear: light brown with three large emeralds, and a smattering of other gems. She loathed the implication it indicated. If the fabric had been pure white, and the three main jewels rubies, the servants who dressed her would now be dead. In no way would she wear a wedding or betrothal gown, especially as a prisoner. Jewyl inhaled deeply, and waited, the chains which bound her, heavy and silent.

  "Bring her in!"

  Jewyl cringed, yet tried not to show it. She despised the man and now, his bellowing voice demanded her attendance in the Grand Hall.

  The heavy doors glided open on their bronze hinges allowing the music and babbling voices to gain clarity and volume. She hesitated, and was quickly urged by spear point to move forward. Jewyl strutted into the chamber, her head held high, ignoring the chains on her wrists and the shackles that bound her feet. The room's torchlight glinted off the gold threads of her gem studded garment. Her green eyes flashed, taking in every aspect of the chamber, including its occupants who now huddled in whispering clusters as she moved toward the throne where Lord Azre sat. She despised his leering at her.

  Attending guards loomed over her on each side, holding the ends of her wrist chains securely in their strong hands. Their grunts kept tempo with their lumbering strides. Their heavy leather boots pounded on the marble floor in complete contrast to the long, rattling chains Jewyl dragged behind her sandaled feet.

  Lord Azre sat sprawled on his throne, slightly turned. He studied her from atop the dais.

  "Jewyl, your very being exudes your namesake." His deep voice resonated throughout the hall. He waved his hand to dismiss the guards, his bare-chested muscles rippling in the action. The guards immediately dropped the chains, the metal links clattered to the polished floor. They stepped away from their prisoner.

  "You flatter me, Lord Azre," Jewyl replied softly, and pushed a stray lock of red hair behind her ear. The chain attached to her wrist pulled closer. A large gaudy earring glistened in the torchlight as she bumped it with a chain link.

  She stood proudly in the center of the chamber and continued to nonchalantly examine the assembly: a cluster of women in the right corner, gathered nobles to left of the dais, plus other assorted members of the court who huddled near the walls to view her. She silently counted the number of guards she could see: one near the throne, another at each corner of the dais, another couple at the side entrances and although she couldn't see them, the two who had escorted her had to be behind her somewhere, perhaps no less than a mere ten feet away, plus two more who had opened the massive doors which she was sure were now closed.

  "My dear, you are a vision." Lord Azre straightened on the throne then leaned forward, placing his chin to rest in his uplifted hand. "Truly a rare beauty to behold." He slowly stroked his chin, massaging the short-cropped beard as he took in her loveliness. "I see you come to me wearing three jewels. Are you offering me your mind, your heart and your soul in a contract of marriage?"

  "What you see is nothing more than what you requested of your handmaidens." Jewyl lifted her arms, dragging the attached chains which sprawled across the floor just a little closer to her. Cold metal whirling in the air is a weapon, she thought. She covertly assessed the chains. "Your servants put these garments on me at your request." She shrugged. "I had nothing to do with my appearance. I am nothing more than a canvas for your handmaidens to paint upon." She cocked her head to the side then slowly bowed. "I come offering you nothing, most assuredly not my mind, my heart or my soul in ceremonial marriage apparel." She dropped her hands to her sides in a complete bow. "I am but your humble prisoner."

  Once more she lifted her head and stood before him, glaring defiantly, her whole body tightly set, ready to spring into action at any point. A plan of escape hadn't fully developed, but escape was the goal.

  Sweat beaded on Lord Azre's brow below the simple band of royalty. He slowly tugged at his beard then shifted in his chair, throwing his fur robe to the side to reveal even more of his muscled upper torso. He leaned back in a sprawl on the throne and swiped his hand across his forehead, wiping the sweat away. Lord Azre turned to glare at the young servant girl who slowly swayed the large feathered fan above him. A well-timed cock of his eyebrow with a narrowing of his eyes, the maiden immediately increased her endeavor to cool him.

  Lord Azre turned his attention once more to Jewyl. "What would you have me do?"

  "I told you, I am your prisoner." She shrugged. "What do you wish of me?"

  "I offer you freedom." Azre threw his hands into the air.

  "Freedom?" Jewyl queried.

  "You continue to refuse my marriage proposal — to become my queen. Would that not be freedom?"

  "I wouldn't call your offer a means of freedom," Jewyl replied. "Marriage? For me, that would be a living death. Is that your idea of freedom?" She shook her head. "I shall pick my own husband, if and when I find him. I am not a prize to be won or captured." She threw back her head, and the jeweled comb fell from atop her head. Set free, her long, red locks cascaded down her back. "I am Jewyl, the Princess of Shiyula." S
he took a deep breath. "I have no regard for your purported authority."

  "Shiyula?" Lord Azre eyes widened. "There is no Shiyula. It is a land of legends. It doesn't exist. I am the ruler of Dianiya. I am the Dragon God Incarnate." A curl of the lips attempted a smile. "Tell me, Jewyl. If you are truly the Princess of Shiyula, where is your sword of authority? Where is the Sword of Shiyula?" He leaned toward her. "I see no proof."

  "Dianiya was a regency, a mere monarchy." Jewyl stamped her foot on the floor, the chains clinking loudly to emphasize her action. "Dianiya, Abriela, and Meisa all paid homage and tribute to Shiyula and to its ruler, my grandfather, King Asthral. Your father's father paid obeisance to the King of Shiyula. In the battle, when the three lords betrayed my grandfather, the Sword of Shiyula was lost."

  "How old can you be, Jewyl?" Lord Azre examined his prisoner. "Younger than me, for sure, and I don't remember Shiyula. There was no Shiyula in my childhood; it was but a word never to be spoken on the threat of death."

  Jewyl fumed in silence. How could she explain what her mother had taught her of the treachery? Of how the sub-lords of Dianiya, Abriela and Meisa, together raised up against her grandfather, killing him? Vaela, her grandmother, pregnant with her father escaped the castle before the siege. She went into hiding, living with a friend in the distant village of Eichla.

  "I am who I say I am," Jewyl finally replied. "I am the rightful heir, the Princess of Shiyula. Why would I wish to marry you?"

  "It is your inner quality, your fire that excites my heart." Once more Azre leered at her, his lip curling at the corner in a secretive smile.

  "You are only excited because you can't have me," Jewyl sneered. "I loathe you, and everything you represent." She pulled at the thin fabric draping from her belt, barely hiding her thigh and legs. "You dress me in jewel-trimmed frills. My inner qualities? You jest." She laughed aloud before folding her arms before her and defiantly glaring at him.

  "Those frills are merely garments to enhance your outer beauty, my dear Jewyl." Lord Azre's voice deepened, becoming husky. "Do you not like being desirable?"

  Jewyl glared at Azre. She lifted a chained hand to the emerald gleaming from the gold circlet in her hair. "This is my mind?" She pointed to the emerald at her breasts. "This is my heart?" She gestured to the emerald in the belt hugging her hips. "And this my soul?" She laughed.

  "I prefer my swords and knives." She narrowed her eyes at Azre. "There is comfort in their cold metal, especially if my hand were to be sliding a dagger across your neck."

  A ruckus in the corner caught everyone's attention. The music stopped for only mere moments before it once again began. Jewyl watched the women huddle and scurry in their attempt to cover what appeared to be a mistake. One tall, slim woman with a strange gait caught Jewyl's eye, and she watched the woman move away from the group. This woman carried a tray with a small amount of meat. What caught Jewyl's eye were the two small daggers, standing from the meat, while on each side of the meat, barely staying on the tray, lay swords.

  "Again, I ask you—" Azre stomped his foot to gain her attention. "Will you be my wife?"

  Jewyl turned back to Azre, once more crossing her arms and staring at him. Something niggled at her mind. She frowned.

  The woman moved toward her and danced between Jewyl and Azre, bowing deeply to the man on the throne, all the while keeping tempo to the music. She held the platter up for all to see and continued in a small circle around Jewyl. The woman's movements were far from graceful, but quite agile considering the awkwardness of the item she carried.

  Jewyl's hopes lifted, and then dashed when she recognized the swords and daggers: one set was hers; the others belonged to her companion, Chardo who was currently in the dungeon.

  Only a self-serving fool like Azre would dare to have the enemy's weapons so proudly displayed before them, Jewyl thought. There has to be a way to make this work for me. With a quick flick of my wrist, I can wrap a chain about the woman's neck and have my sword.

  "Be ready," the husky voice of the woman whispered as she leaned in, yet continued to dance about Jewyl.

  Jewyl's brows knitted in a momentary frown. She smiled. The scarf covered the head and a veil hid most of the face, but Jewyl recognized the voice of the man hidden within the female facade. It was Chardo, her companion. What in the name of Hagontha was he thinking? The goddess had best be smiling today on his crazy plot.

  "What do you find amusing, my dear?" Azre's face was strangely complacent, and he seemed not to be concerned. "Care to let me in on the secret?"

  "Marry you? Would you be man enough to bed me and be a husband? Could you close your eyes? Could you sleep comfortably knowing I lie beside you — awake?"

  Azre scowled.

  "Don't get him too mad," Chardo whispered. "A guard comes on your right side."

  "Or would my hands be bound?" She lifted her wrists with the chains up toward Azre. "Treated, no doubt, lesser than a chamber maid or whore?"

  "I told you — not too angry," Chardo muttered and attempted a leap.

  Azre jumped to his feet.

  "Your insolence is dangerously close to treason." He pointed at Jewyl. "They claim The Emerald is a female with flaming red hair, and eyes of the deepest green. Are you she?" He glanced at Chardo. "Who is that clumsy woman dancing with the meat tray?"

  "The Emerald? Treason?" Jewyl yelled with a quick glance at the guard coming toward her. "Has that person ever been arrested or held prisoner? How can I be accused of treason? I am your prisoner! Are not prisoners already treasonous? If I were The Emerald, my dagger's blade would be in your heart where you now stand!"

  "Jewyl!" Azre stepped down from the throne, enraged. "You dare to threaten me in my own castle?"

  "Now!" Jewyl turned quickly to swoop the sword from the tray and retrieve her dagger from the charred flesh holding it.

  "Finally!" Chardo dropped the tray, grabbing his sword and dagger as the platter fell to the floor where he pushed it away with his foot. The tray skittered toward the wall as the meat rolled away, greasing the floor. Chardo yanked away his veil and head scarf.

  Jewyl twirled, slicing left to remove the head of the guard who came up behind her. She quickly turned her attentions to the man on the dais.

  "What are you thinking? Any plan?" Chardo asked.

  "Attack them," Azre screamed from his throne.

  "You looked much better under the veil, Chardo." She watched three guards moving toward them. "Be ready on your back," she added. "Three."

  "Two right behind you, Jewyl." Chardo twirled.

  Jewyl dropped to a stoop, pivoted, reaching out and slicing with her dagger at the ankle of one guard. He roared in pain, but continued the attack. Both guards had their swords up for a downward slice, Jewyl held her sword above her head to ward off the strike. The ring of metal sang as the blades hit and slid along the length of her sword’s blade. Taken by surprise, the second guard faltered. Jewyl lunged upward with her dagger into the guard's stomach. The blade's point held a brief second before the oncoming momentum of the man pushed it inward and upward to his heart. She pulled the bloody blade out. In a sigh of agony, the guard crumbled to the floor. Jewyl forced her dagger between ribs of the guard she'd lamed. He pulled away, nearly ripping the blade from her hand. The guard held his hand over the wound, stumbled backward, slipped on the meat grease, and finally fell to the floor. He wasn't dead, but disabled too much to fight. He crawled away to safety.

  Blood and meat grease now combined to inhibit easy movement on the floor. Jewyl glanced at Chardo who had already dispatched two of the guards and was in an intense sword fight with the remaining guard. Jewyl could see another guard coming up on Chardo's backside. She reached down and grabbed a double bladed dagger from the dead guard's sash. In a flash it headed at the new assailant. He never knew what hit him as the blade plunged into his stomach.

  Jewyl twirled around at the commotion behind her. Two more guards charged forward to attack, but a third guard who had lingere
d in the shadows now impaled them with spears, stopping the two guards in their tracks.

  "I'm Chardo's friend," the guard said while moving to Jewyl's side.

  "He's okay," Chardo yelled while removing his sword from the dying guard he had been fighting. "He's not really a part of Azre's guards."

  Jewyl ignored the newcomer and turned her attentions once more to the dais. Azre was gone. The throne area was clear, the room now empty except the guards they fought. All the nobles had escaped.

  Chardo was at her side. "Well, m'dear," he said. "What do we do next?" He reached over and patted the guard on the shoulder. "By the way, this is Jopab."

  Jewyl scrutinized the newcomer. "How did we gain him?"

  "He was another of Azre's toys in the dungeon," Chardo replied with a smile then shrugged. "Another prisoner."

  "And like the good guy you are, you sprung him?" Jewyl smiled before cocking an eye at him. "For your own purposes? Am I correct?"

  Chardo grinned. "One never knows."

  Jopab frowned then shrugged. "Perhaps we should get out of here? The guards aren't going to wait forever. Reinforcements will be quick in coming."

  "I'm not going to run around with any amount of stealth wearing these cuffs and shackles." Jewyl held up her hands with the dangling chains. She pointed at her feet. "Any idea of how to get these off and get us out of here?"

  Chardo held up a small wire. "This should work." He knelt and quickly wiggled the wire into the key mechanism. The cuffs fell from Jewyl's wrists. Chardo began work on the shackles.

  "We don't have time. Follow me." Jopab pointed at the new guards running toward them, and darted across the room in long strides. He headed for the dais.

  Chardo glanced about the room and stood. "I don't think these are coming off right now." He noted the guards coming at them from the side entrances. "Run the best you can with them."

  "This way," Jopab shouted. "Quick!"

  Without questioning, Jewyl followed Jopab with Chardo quick on her heels, trying not to step on the dragging chains. Jopab slammed his hand on the wall, a door slid open, and before Jewyl realized what was happening, she was scurrying down a dark passageway behind Jopab.