Blood-Stained Heir (Ascent Archives Book 1)

by T. Norman

  "You know you bite your nails when you’re nervous?" Valcor asked Julia.

  She caught herself biting her nail as he spoke. Gingerly she lowered her hand to her lap, continuing to wait.

  Julia jumped up in surprise as she saw Gant running down a road toward them. She waved in excitement, beckoning him toward their raft.

  "Gant, over here!" she called out, forgetting the plan to keep a low profile.

  Gant turned and waved behind him. Rysh, Mic, and a man Julia didn't know came running down the road behind them. As they drew closer, she noticed the blood on all of their clothes.

  "Are you all right?" she asked Gant while the group climbed aboard the raft.

  He nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. Where are Alric and Nellisa?"

  Valcor and the unknown man embraced. "Cal, where are the others?" Valcor asked.

  Cal shook his head. "I'm sorry, Valcor, they didn't make it," he said. Valcor grabbed the man's shoulder, giving him a nod.

  "I'm thankful you did."

  Mic pointed down the road they just left. "We've got company."

  Julia looked up to see a troop of guards marching down the road. Erik Stolle marched at the front with a larger man next to him.

  "Missing someone?" Erik called out. He waved at his troops. They parted as two men brought forward Alric and Nellisa, their arms bound by ropes.

  Rysh drew his sword and stepped off the raft and onto the docks. "Get out of here, now," he ordered Valcor.

  "No, I'm not leaving Nellisa behind." Valcor rose from the raft, joining Rysh on the dock.

  The strange man stepped forward, addressing Valcor. "Come now, Valcor, I know this was all your doing. Turn yourself in and no one has to get hurt."

  "Do you take me for a fool, Gregor?" Valcor drew his long sword. "Let them go or you die." The cold look on his face sent chills down Julia's spine.

  Realization dawned on Julia as she realized who the man was: Lord Gregor Cread was known throughout the land as a fierce and ruthless soldier.

  "You had your chance." Lord Cread turned toward Nellisa and in one swift movement drew his war hammer and swung it in a decisive blow. Nelissa’s body fell forward as her head crushed under the weight of the massive weapon.

  "No!" In a mad rush, Valcor charged at the line of soldiers. Rysh ran at his heels, Mic following close behind.

  Gant drew an arrow and immediately began firing. Cal stumbled off the raft, picking up a sword from the first of Valcor’s victims, showing obviously weak from his imprisonment.

  Julia could see that her friends were outnumbered. If they lost this fight their mission would be over, so she charged after her friends, picking up a short sword from one of the fallen guards.

  28

  The clash of swords and screams of dying men filled Rysh’s ears. His arm stung, but he kept on fighting through the pain. Valcor had taken down a handful of soldiers on his initial rush, trying to reach Lord Cread. Rysh followed behind him, but was soon surrounded by soldiers.

  Rysh felt a bump at his back. Turning quickly to strike, he felt relief as he saw Mic standing with his back toward him, fending off soldiers from behind. Rysh turned and continued the struggle.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Rysh saw a man charging at Mic. Rysh turned quickly to stop the foe. In an instant, Rysh saw the man fall limp with an arrow protruding from his shoulder. Glancing toward the docks, Rysh saw Gant give him a nod.

  As the crowd broke to flee from Gant’s arrows, Rysh saw Valcor and Gregor Cread engaged in combat. Nearby, Alric had picked up the sword from a fallen soldier and was fending off three soldiers with his hands still bound.

  “Get everyone back to the raft; I’ll grab Alric and Valcor,” Rysh called to Mic.

  Rysh rushed forward to assist Alric. A flash caught his attention, and his instincts led him to dive out of the way of a deadly swing. Rysh rolled into the fray, rising to a knee to find himself staring into the face of Captain Stolle.

  “Look who we have here.” Erik wiped blood from his mouth. “I’m looking forward to finishing what we started.”

  Rysh lurched forward, attempting to catch Erik off guard. The trained soldier parried his blows effortlessly. Rysh could feel exhaustion settling in, starting to take its toll.

  Erik saw Rysh weakening and took his chance to strike. Rysh tried blocking his blows, but his movements were significantly slowed. Erik swung a deadly overhead blow, pushing Rysh farther back. Rysh felt pressure beneath his foot as his ankle twisted and cracked. He collapsed on top of a bloody body.

  “You call this a fight?” Erik laughed at Rysh. “You can’t even stay on your feet.” Rysh lifted his sword in defense, but the man kicked it effortlessly out of his hands.

  Rysh looked up at the man, knowing he could be facing his death. Erik lifted his sword to deliver a killing blow. Before he could strike, someone else crashed into the man, causing him to lose his balance and his weapon.

  Alric rose from the ground, blood dripping from the wounds on his body. He kicked Erik’s sword to his feet. “Unlike you, I enjoy a fair fight.”

  Erik cautiously picked up his sword, never taking his eyes off of his opponent. He smiled as he noticed that Alric’s hands were still bound together.

  “Sounds fair to me,” Erik said as without hesitation he dashed forward, trying to use speed to outmaneuver Alric.

  Rysh was shocked at how fast Alric moved. His movements were fluid and completely under control, compared to the rough and uncontrolled blows now coming from Erik.

  The sound of marching caught Rysh’s attention. He turned and looked up the road to find another group of soldiers marching toward the scene.

  “Alric, we need to go,” Rysh said as he struggled to stand. “We’ve got company.”

  Alric glanced in the direction of the road, seeing the soldiers. Erik saw the lapse in concentration and decided to strike. To his surprise, his sword met the resistance of Alric’s blade. He looked into the old man’s eyes, seeing the fury in them.

  Alric flicked his wrist, throwing Erik to the ground. He followed it immediately with an upward slash.

  Erik dropped his sword and held his face in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

  Rysh was on his feet now, and began to hobble toward the docks. “Valcor, come on!” he called. Valcor and Gregor had dropped their weapons and were fighting with their fists. Both men were beaten bloody, but neither was giving ground.

  They had little time. Rysh looked toward the dock and gave his son a nod, pointing toward Gregor.

  Gant nocked an arrow and let it soar through the air. It found its mark in Gregor’s side seconds after its release. Gregor fell back in shock, holding his side in pain. In that moment, Valcor saw the group of soldiers nearly upon him. He turned and ran, picking up his sword along the way, and joined Rysh and Alric heading toward the dock.

  “Cal, get ready to cast off,” Valcor called out to his sailor. Cal was bloody and wounded, but he went about his task without objection. “Mic, get on that oar and be ready to push us off.”

  The raft inched away from the dock as the ropes were loosened. Alric put his arm around Rysh, helping him limp down the docks.

  As they reached the boat, Rysh lunged forward, throwing himself on the raft. Alric jumped on behind him. Valcor gave the raft a shove with his foot, and then vaulted over the gap onto the moving boat. He picked up the second oar and began pushing them out of the harbor.

  “Let’s hope we don’t weigh this thing down too much,” Cal commented.

  The soldiers still on the dock called and shouted to the moving raft.

  The full moon guided their way as they rapidly pushed out of the harbor mouth. “Alric, Rysh,” Valcor called out. “Grab an oar, each of you, and help us along.” Rysh rose without question, joining in propelling their raft to freedom.

  Gant stood at the back of the raft, occasionally firing arrows toward the men running along the docks.

  “Everyone hold on tight, if we hit this barricade I don’t wa
nt anyone falling overboard,” Valcor said. With so many people on the raft and the tide beginning to lower, all they could do was hope they would make it out in one piece.

  Rysh fell from his seat as the raft hit the barricade, halting its progress.

  Valcor grabbed him by the arm, helping him to his feet. “Everyone with oars, go to the back. We have enough tide to push our way through.” Mic and Alric shuffled toward the back, long oars in hand. All four men simultaneously pushed their oars off the sandy bottom in an attempt to bypass the barricade.

  Rysh took a moment to look up at the men gathering on the dock. Gregor stood among them, crossbow in hand. Realizing the pending attack, Rysh called out a warning to the others. “Everyone down!” Rysh lunged at Gant, who continued to fire arrows at the soldiers. His momentum pushed them too far, missing the raft and falling into the ice-cold water.

  Rysh held tightly onto Gant, pushing their way to the surface. As he swallowed a mouthful of water, Rysh struggled for breath.

  “Gant, are you okay?”

  Floating next to him in the water, Gant pointed past his father. “Dad, the raft!”

  Rysh turned, fearing the worst. To his surprise he saw the raft floating past the barricade and into the open waters. The moonlight illuminated the scene enough for Rysh to make out one body lying still on the raft while the others rowed, the high tide taking them out to sea.

  “Come on, we need to catch them!” Gant began swimming as fast as he could toward their friends. Rysh forced himself to swim through the searing pain from his ankle. As they reached the barricade, they realized the tide had dropped making it impossible to swim over the barricade. Gant dove underwater, scanning the area below.

  Rysh floated, waiting and worrying for his son.

  “Dad,” Gant called out a few yards east of Rysh. “Over here, there’s an opening we can get through.”

  The chill of the water was making Rysh’s body go numb. He couldn’t feel his legs and he knew that he had to keep moving. Rysh swam over to his son and grabbed his shoulder.

  “Gant, no matter what, keep going.” Rysh looked his son in the eyes as he spoke. “If I fall behind, don’t come back for me.”

  Gant shook his head. “I’m not leaving you behind. We need to get moving.” Without another word, Gant dove underwater.

  Rysh took a large breath and followed his son. He felt the sting of the salt water as he opened his eyes. From the surface, the water resembled never-ending darkness. Rysh was amazed that once underwater, the moonlight reflected off the surface and guided their way to the opening in the barricade.

  Once past the obstacle, Rysh pushed himself toward the surface. As he caught his breath, Rysh stole a glance behind him at the soldiers. Men were on the walls, pointing and shouting toward the open water. It appeared to Rysh that they didn’t see him and Gant, but were instead focused on the raft nearing the ship.

  Rysh turned, looking for Gant, seeing his head breach the water farther in front of him. “Gant,” Rysh called out as he approached his son, making him aware of his presence. “Let’s go.”

  Together, the two swam with all the energy they had. The cold consumed them, stiffening their movements. If they stopped moving, they wouldn’t be able to regain their momentum.

  To Rysh’s surprise, when he finally looked up again, the ship was closer than he had expected. The lowering tide was helping them in their journey to the anchored ship as it pulled them from the harbor.

  The raft was nowhere to be seen, but a group of men were on the edge of the ship pointing and yelling at each other.

  Rysh tried to continue swimming, but exhaustion had set in. He could see Gant swimming farther and farther away, unaware that Rysh could not keep going.

  The moon was starting to fade as Rysh let his body relax. He had no will left to fight. He started to feel warmer and warmer the longer he floated helplessly in the water. Rysh closed his eyes, giving in to the motion of the current.

  Rysh opened his eyes to a strange sound. He was still floating in the water, but he could make out something moving toward him. He opened his eyes farther, trying to see what was keeping him from his slumber.

  To his amazement, he felt arms wrap around his body and begin to pull. He could hear words, but was unable to understand them. He struggled to turn and see why Gant had come back for him.

  After a few yards, Rysh was able to turn and see the man dragging him through the water. He recognized the strange man, but couldn’t put a name to his face. All he knew was that the face made him angry, though he couldn’t understand why.

  A ship came into focus as the man pulling him grabbed a rope that had been lowered into the water. He let Rysh float as he moved around him, tying the rope to his waist. Before Rysh was pulled out of the water, the man moved to face him.

  The moonlight shone directly over the battle-scarred face in front of him. “Haul him up,” the man shouted to the people on the other end of the rope.

  Rysh came to his senses and let rage consume him. He knew that if he was able, his hands would be around the man’s throat—the throat of the man who threatened his son, the same man who killed his friend, and the same man who destroyed his home. He struggled, racking his memory for the name of this man he loathed.

  Carn.

  29

  The horns sounded, signaling the arrival of the king and his army. Zaren made his way to the battlements to find Dirk standing and observing the progression of soldiers.

  “I always hated marching in formation.” Zaren could see the stress on Dirk’s face as they young prince spoke. Ever since Allison revealed more details of his father’s plan, Dirk had been on edge, anticipating the arrival of his father. “It looks like he’s brought men from Gold Pass and Vendos with him.” Dirk brought a hand up to deflect the glare of the sun, attempting to get a better view of the soldiers. “Are those soldiers from Mordin?”

  Zaren followed suit, searching the soldiers’ flags. “Good eye.” He was impressed with the boy’s knowledge of smaller castles.

  Before the soldiers reached the walls of Daleon, a group of horsemen rode out from the thick of the march to take their place at the front. Zaren knew this would be the king and his closest advisors.

  The castle walls shook as the gate opened to welcome the king. Without so much as a glance, the king and his men rode through the castle walls into the courtyard beyond. Stable hands were upon them immediately, taking hold of the reins, allowing the riders to dismount.

  Dirk continued to gaze at the soldiers marching. “When I’m king, I will ride at the front of my men, not hide in the middle like a coward.” Zaren turned to the young prince as he spoke. He could see the anger and frustration in his eyes.

  “The king chose to ride in the middle where it is safe in case of an attack,” Zaren explained.

  Dirk shook his head. “He was riding through his own lands, and he feared an attack? That shows how weak he is.”

  Zaren put his hands on Dirk’s shoulders, forcing him to look him in the eyes. “A good warrior knows to always expect an attack, because the moment you let your guard down, that is when they will come.”

  Dirk shrugged out of Zaren’s grip, turning and walking down the battlements. Zaren simply shook his head and followed Dirk.

  The king called a meeting of his generals and advisors to take stock of the situation and to continue onto the next step of his plan. Even though Zaren wasn’t a general, he was the head of the Royal Guard and had a place in a meeting of this magnitude.

  Zaren followed Dirk as he entered the large chamber. A long wooden table sat in the middle, with only a few seats around it occupied. At the head of the table sat King Stowen, with General Tenue to his right and Lady Velmar to his left. Next to Lady Velmar sat Brother Greydel and Captain Jonas. Across from them Zaren recognized Master Puck, but the two younger individuals sitting next to him he had not met. The boy was thin with a pale and sickly look to him. The girl had the same dark hair as the boy, but her skin had
more color to it. Zaren couldn’t help but admire her beauty.

  All the heads in the room turned to Zaren as he stood in the doorway staring. He quickly turned and shut the door behind him. Dirk took his seat at the opposite end of the table from King Stowen, making sure to put enough distance between him and his father. Zaren took his place standing slightly off to the side and behind Dirk’s chair.

  Captain Jonas stood to welcome everyone. “I would like to formally welcome His Highness and this small council to Daleon.” He beckoned welcome with his arms as he spoke, sitting down afterward with a loud grunt. Zaren tried not to let a smile escape as he found Jonas’s frustration at having to entertain the small council amusing.

  “Thank you, Captain Jonas,” Allister spoke calmly and clearly as always. He made sure to avoid the burning gaze of his son, however. Allister went around giving introductions of all the individuals seated. Zaren ignored the names until it came to the unknown woman. “This is Lady Amalia Stowen. She has brought her men from Gold Pass while her husband is away.” She gave the group a smile, batting her eyelashes.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.” She turned and looked directly at Zaren. Giving him a small smile, she turned back to the rest of the group.

  “Welcome.” Allister ignored her charm, moving on to finish the formal introductions. “This is Lady Stowen’s brother, Sir Tyrell Inglest, who has brought his men from Castle Mordin.”

  Tyrell sat, stone-faced, declining to say anything. Zaren was amazed at how different he appeared from his sister.

  “Lastly, we have my son, Prince Dirk Stowen, here with us as well.” Allister gestured toward his son, sitting across from him at the table.

  “Thank you, Father.” Dirk nearly spat the last word out, struggling to hide his frustration.

  Allister shot his son a look of disapproval.

  General Tenue stood, unrolling a map and laying it across the table. “We are ready to move our forces into position. Captain Jonas, what do your scouts report of enemy movement?”