Vengeance (The Blood Trail Chronicles Book 1)

by Tara Brown

  "Very well. Let’s go to the courtyard and end this. We will make certain the guards in the yard and all of the soldiers and peasants are actually dead. I will have my captain call my men off and send them to the ships. No one will be the wiser as to who they belonged to. The golden armor belongs to a nation I visited once. No one will know it was my army. When they are gone, you free the soldiers that were drugged last night from the basement. We will tell them of the brave fight you and your king both put up and of the ambush we have all suffered through."

  "Where is he?" Roland sounded hollow, like his heart. “Where is my father?”

  Herrick laughed, making my skin flush with anger. "He's probably still in his bed. He has to look natural. I am assuming he had a very good last night. My mother was grateful for the chance to be the one to poison him. She does love her dramatics."

  "Yes. Well. It's done, he’s dead, and I am king now. I want my brothers unharmed, and you may take Amillia with you."

  "Your brothers are in the basement with the army, all having been poisoned with a sleeping drug at the festival last night. My army moved everyone in the silence of the night."

  Roland's voice turned to ice. "Before we free anyone, we must kill anyone who knows anything. I have to be the hero not the saboteur."

  "Your mother knows. I suspect your grandmother. I have kept them separate of everyone else. It was said she had taken Amillia out of the castle before the feast even started. No one has seen Amillia, but your grandmother was caught with your mother, trying to escape."

  "Yes. Kill them both. We can’t risk them telling anyone we worked with your father on this." His words would haunt me forever. My grandmother had suspected and tried to save me. Not just from marriage but also from being murdered or savagely raped by the madman in the room. She saved me from my own flesh-and-blood brother.

  How could he? How could Roland kill our parents?

  I stayed perfectly still for a moment and then crept under the window to my own bedroom door. It was still locked so I jumped in the window quickly, skidding across the floor to my huge bed. I pulled the long box out from under it and dragged it to me. I lifted the lid and swallowed hard.

  The master trainer of the guards and army was a man from lands far away from ours. He had learned to fight with two thin swords. It was like nothing anyone from our country had ever seen before. He tried to teach the men, but they scoffed at the two thin swords. They liked the broadsword and the feel of the heavy metal.

  I, however, adored them. They were light but deadly. He trained me every day.

  Realizing he had died bravely in the yard, ambushed by my brother and my betrothed, I found the oddest taste in my mouth as I pulled on the belt he had given me with the double sheaths. I wanted revenge.

  I stood and stuffed the gleaming silver swords into the sheaths.

  I wasn't sure of a plan or where to even start. But killing my brother seemed like a brilliant idea. I just needed to find the rest of the family first, including my mother and grandmother.

  I turned to leave but stopped when I saw my reflection in the mirror. Filthy face, boys’ clothing, pale strawberry-blonde hair in a bun, and bright-green eyes full of tears. It was no wonder they didn’t recognize me in the streets. I didn’t recognize me. It was much worse than normal.

  The door was kicked open just as I jumped out the window.

  “Stop!” Herrick’s voice screamed into my room.

  Turning back, I caught a glimpse of his face. I nearly laughed that he thought I would stop. When I didn’t stop, he climbed out after me. I could hear his clumsy footsteps on the tiles. I ran along the roof with Herrick, the mean and nasty version of him, hot on my tail. Fighting on the roof was a poor choice, and I needed to find my mother and grandmother, not be delayed by dying on the roof as one of us or both of us slipped on the tiles.

  Fortunately, he didn’t know the roof like I did, but he was fast and angry even if his footsteps were clumsy. I prayed he would lose his footing but he didn't.

  In a moment of panic as I neared the edge of the roof, I whistled.

  I had trained Artan for years with my whistle. It always brought him right to wherever I was.

  Just as Herrick’s fingers grabbed at my arms and shirt, I jumped to the next level of the roof. I landed hard, losing tiles and slipping while trying to get my balance.

  "You little bitch!" he seethed as he too jumped and grabbed again. His fingers gripped into the back of my shirt and pulled me back.

  The tile cracked and let go beneath me, sending me down, face first, into the roof with him on my back. I flopped about, trying to get up as he pushed my face down, smashing my lips into the rough tile. He ripped at my shirt, baring my back to the cold wind.

  "I will have you bound and gagged until I break you like a horse." He licked along the back of my neck. The stink of his breath caught the cool breeze, making me gag and giving me strength I hadn’t expected to find.

  I rolled him off me, but he scratched and pinned me again but this time only my lower half. I was able to get my head up.

  "It's true?" His words were breathy. “You will be a good wife, Amillia. Whether in a cell or by my side, you will marry—” His words cut off.

  I looked back at him and followed his line of sight. His face was frozen with fear.

  Artan landed on the roof beside us, breathing hot, angry air on Herrick with a growl.

  Herrick trembled, but his fingers still bit into my skin. Artan grabbed his arm with his talon, flinging him off me. Artan swung a talon at him again, scratching along his legs.

  Herrick screamed like a little girl, nearly losing his balance. Unfortunately, he managed to grab the roof ledge and hang on. Artan jumped up, showering us both with hot air from his massive wings.

  It was enough for me to scramble away. I ran along the roof, sending tiles shooting. Artan flew alongside me, watching me with his green eyes.

  When I met his gaze, I knew what he wanted. I closed my eyes and jumped hard. I landed with a thump on his hard scales. My fingers scrambled and gripped as I slid a bit.

  The push from his massive wings almost knocked me off, but I clung to him.

  I held tight to his neck and looked back at Herrick. He was screaming on the rooftop, bleeding from his leg.

  “I need to go find my mother, Artan. I need to go find her.” I slapped hard on his neck but he didn't turn around. He flew in a circle around the castle, letting me see the invasion of the golden army. The full scale of the invasion.

  I hadn’t expected there to be so many. I had assumed the ones dead on the grounds were the majority of them, but Herrick’s father’s army was huge and actually filled the woods on the other side of the castle from our cave where they hid. The entire forest glittered with golden soldiers. He had three times what we had in the basement. My father’s army mostly stayed at the borders, split in sections to defend what was ours. Only the king’s guard and a small pocket of our actual army were in the castle. And those that were there were unconscious in the dungeon.

  I closed my eyes, realizing what had happened and what was left of my options.

  My brother had betrayed the entire kingdom, killing peasants and guards and our parents because he wanted to be king. A title he would have had if he had only waited for our father to die naturally.

  He had helped Herrick sneak the golden army in, but how could he have done it without the other kingdoms knowing about a massive army?

  Herrick had said ships. That meant a port city. The kingdom next to ours had a port city. Would they have betrayed my father to help Herrick’s?

  I lifted my hand and pointed. “That way, Artan.” I would find the ships and I would find the answers I needed, and eventually I would find a way to avenge my father, mother, grandmother, and my Maddox.

  We flew for a long time.

  When we landed, it was raining. Artan was invisible. He put me down on a small street in between two tall buildings. It was like nothing I had ever seen.
It was narrow and cold and damp. It was a city—something my father went to frequently but something my mother avoided at all costs. My brothers had been to cities but my mother had never let me come with them.

  The stone ground was wet with puddles from the rain. I took the red cloak from Artan’s grip and pulled it around my shoulders. It was too long for me but I didn’t care. It should have come only to my thighs to be in fashion, but it hit mid-calf because I was short. It was almost long enough to conceal my swords.

  I wondered how I looked, walking down the alley alone in a red cloak with the tips of swords dangling from the bottom of it.

  I wondered how, not if, I would get the revenge I so badly wanted.

  Chapter Seven

  Watergate City was exactly what it sounded like. It was the gate to the sea—a port town in a kingdom called Marana. In the daylight it was also like nothing I had ever seen, with huge rows of houses and many markets. The first fortnight I got lost several times trying to find an inn that didn’t seem suspect or hazardous to my safety.

  I had not been lucky in my pursuit of shelter and had slept on the streets since arriving. The familiar sound of talons scratching rooftops in the rain was the only thing stopping me from running from the city screaming, if I could even find a road out.

  I was beaten down and exhausted as I reached a hand up to the door of the last inn, The Inn of Her Lady's Grace. I had tried all of the others but they required payment in advance from a girl as filthy as I was.

  I pushed in and stepped up.

  "You don’t want to sleep there, my dear," an old voice spoke softly.

  I glanced over at the snaggletooth old lady next to me and frowned. "What business is it of yours where I sleep?"

  She grinned a hideous smile at me. "Well, the rain won't last past dinner and the next three days will be sunny. Your pet won't be here if you need him." She pointed to the roof above me.

  I looked up. He was still invisible in the drizzle.

  I shrugged. "I don’t know what you're talking about."

  "Your friend on the roof told me to tell you not to be so stubborn and to find shelter out of town."

  I gave her another look. "You are more than what you seem."

  She curtsied. "Likewise, my child. Now follow me out of the city." She turned and hobbled down the strange road.

  "Thanks anyway, but I think I'll take my chances with the inn."

  I kept my fingers on the door for a moment. I knew if Artan sensed it was okay, it probably was. But I also knew she could be lying. In the fortnight since I had come, the rain has ceased a few times, though not for long. Artan might have been seen in the sky above the clouds. She might have cast a glance at him at some point.

  She looked back at me and nodded. "Very well, child." She left and I stayed with my uncertainty. "See you soon." She chuckled. I shook off the unsettling feeling she gave me and looked back at the inn.

  Instantly, the warmth of the fireplace blasted me as I stepped into the inn. It was much fancier than the inn in Midland, a town south of our village. Dark-red furniture and decorations made from thick fine furs and silk were everywhere. There were dozens of small tables filling one whole corner of the massive inn. It had the luxury of my castle, not an inn. The smell of mutton attacked my nose. I licked my lips and looked around.

  To my right was a large wooden desk with what I assumed was an innkeeper sitting at it. I smiled at her. She didn't smile back. She looked old and tired, and I was obviously not what she wanted to see in her inn.

  "Can I help ya?" Her eyes were filled with doubt. Like she was answering her own question.

  I held my chin high and smiled. "One room, please."

  She tilted her head and held a hand out. "I need the money in advance."

  “You must have it in advance?” I asked, annoyed that I didn't have money. I never needed money in my kingdom.

  Her stare sharpened. “Aye.”

  My shoulders slumped and turned away. She said something cruel about urchins but I ignored her. I didn't know what an urchin was, but I knew she had offended me. It was in her tone. I wanted to force her to give me a room but I didn't. I stumbled back to the alley, defeated, and pressed my back against the cobblestone, letting the drizzle soak me further.

  I could hear him. It made me smile.

  I looked to where his warm breath was and smiled. "Did we come here by mistake, Artan?" I whispered.

  His face nuzzled against mine.

  The heat was comforting.

  I never knew what being alone was.

  Not until that moment.

  The feeling of his warm face against mine washed all the alone away. It didn’t matter what I wanted in the world. It mattered that I had a friend. An ally.

  My spoiled, cushy, and ridiculously easy life was suddenly staring me in the face, laughing at me. It didn't matter how strong I was or how good of a shot I was, because I had no money and no way of getting any. My only hope was to join the city guard, but without someone to recommend me to the job, that wasn't going to be an easy task.

  I let myself drown in the puddle of my troubles for a moment until a noise drew my attention down the alley.

  I dropped my hand and glanced at a man walking with two women on his arm. He wore fineries and had a booming laugh. The women giggled along with him and took turns stumbling with their silver cups. They ignored the rain, like they were better than it or too drunk to notice it.

  His eyes darted to me as they neared. He looked me up and down and scoffed. "This city has gone to the dogs." The women sniggered again.

  I looked down. I let myself show my shame. I let him believe his words had hurt me.

  They were lost in their world as they passed me—the dog. I waited until they were out in the busy streets and then walked amongst the people scurrying about their business. I stayed within a few yards of the wealthy unkind man. His actions had stirred a bit of a plan in my mind. It was against everything I believed right or just, but nothing in my past weeks had proven to me a just life was worth having.

  Both his hands rested on the backsides of the women. He touched two at once, two women. I knew what they were. Not because they looked it, but because they allowed it. Whores, something Roland had called me once or twice. I had forced Michael to tell me what they were. And seeing it there, I knew, the women were whores.

  The master trainer’s voice rang through my mind. Always watch a man to determine his character. His words will surely try to lead you to one conclusion, but his actions will lead you to the truth. People show who they are.

  The man was selfish and greedy. He didn’t want just one woman. He wanted two. He wanted more of everything, and yet took the time to scoff at a poor homeless person. I could do nothing to him nor for him, therefore he had no reason to mock me, and yet he did. I would bet my right arm that his riches were new. His mannerisms and class were common. He was newly rich and no doubt had gained it from swindling someone.

  I felt no remorse for what I was about to do.

  I followed him in the dark through the crowds until he stumbled up a short flight of stairs. He laughed, joked, and scratched his portly belly as he turned the key and shouted obscenities into the open door.

  I looked to the narrow alley between his home and the next one and slipped through the crowds, to whom I was no more than a young beggar boy in a dirty red cloak.

  I entered the alley and walked hunched over, encouraging any eyes watching me to see the pathetic starved child I was trying to be.

  At the back of the house, I felt the heat of my friend. He nudged me, knocking me slightly. I reached for him.

  "I wish it would quit with the rain. It's annoying that I can't see you. I'll be right back. Meet me out the window," I whispered and pointed to the second story of the house. He nudged me again. I was sure he was trying to convince me against what I had planned, but he could not. I was hungry and cold and desperate for a bed.

  I grabbed the small servants’ door and
tested the knob. It clicked open. I looked around and slipped in the door, closing it and pulling the cloak back. My fingertips grazed the hilts of my swords as I listened. The laughing was coming from the stairs.

  I slipped to the front of the narrow house, rifling through his jackets at the door. I pocketed the petty change and locked the front door before tiptoeing up the stairs. I nearly jumped when reaching the top of the stairs.

  A plump older woman was sobbing on a large seat under the lone window at the back of the hall. She was such a mess that she didn’t turn to see me. I snuck through the hall and entered the bedroom across from me. I pulled my hood up and ducked my head slightly. It mostly covered my eyes and face. I pulled my swords and took a deep breath.

  I had a sickening feeling that the plump lady was his wife. I had only intended to rob him, but the way his wife cried was shameful. He brought other women, whores, into her home. My anger, and no doubt instability, prevented me from seeing straight. I combined my pain with hers.

  Images of my own betrothal ending up that way flitted through my mind.

  Had I not run for my life, I would have no doubt one day been a plump, desperately sad woman being cheated on in my own home. In my own bed.

  Taking more deep breaths, I readied myself.

  I told myself Herrick and the fat man were the same. They were the kind to take what they wanted and have no care for whom they hurt. I couldn’t help but wonder what the sad plump lady was like as a girl. Did she love him more than anything? Like how I loved Maddox? Did her father force her to marry the fat man, the way Roland tried to sell me? The image of the golden-armored soldiers and the red cloak with the sword in the back filled my closed eyes.

  My trainer's words drifted through my mind. Training to fight is much different than killing a man. The skills may be there, but the ability might not.

  In the pause of the moment, I pondered my abilities.

  My heart was cold and my tears were dry. My love was dead. My family betrayed by its own. Yes, I suspected I might have it in me.