War of the Fathers: War of the Fathers Universe: Volumes One - Three Box Set (War of the Fathers Series Box Set Book 1)

by Dan Decker

  “Arrest this man,” Jorad said, in between heaving breaths. “He tried to kill me.” Trying to assassinate a man with dogs was a strange thing to do, but Jorad needed to remember that even though this was his land, people here did things differently than he expected.

  “Why did you do that?” Asked a red-haired guard who had approached without pointing his spear at the man. “You’re not supposed to harm them.”

  Jorad turned on him. “How did he slip past you with three dogs?”

  “We let him through,” the guard said flatly.

  Jorad brought his sword to bear on the man. “Come again?” His sword moved towards the man’s belly of its own accord, and Jorad was hard pressed to keep it from sliding into his stomach. He’ll need a trial.

  “Please, sir.” The man swallowed. “This is just part of the hazing. You can kill the dogs, that’s fine, but you’re not supposed to harm anybody.”

  The blood which had been pumping through Jorad’s veins froze as he looked at the pale man. “Hazing?”

  Chapter 19

  It was almost dark when Daen reached the landing and turned the corner, but that just helped him identify the faint glimmer of light coming from up ahead. He held his sword to the side, to keep from accidentally knocking something over and alerting the others to his presence.

  While the upstairs study was cluttered, it was at least organized with paths that allowed for movement. Even though some of those were tight, there was always a way forward. That wasn’t the case here. Semal hadn’t taken the time to order the clutter. The only saving grace was that the piles weren’t stacked as high, allowing him to step over most of them.

  It was slow going as he shuffled towards the light and he stopped when his foot hit something hard. He felt with his hands to determine how high it was and stepped over. It was made from metal and seemed heavy, but he hadn’t the slightest idea what it could be.

  As he moved, he became aware of an ongoing conversation but couldn’t make out any of the words until he’d worked his way around a corner and could see what was happening.

  Lear stood beside a lantern on the floor that was next to a pile of books. While Daen doubted the guard had done this on purpose, the books served to shield much of the light that would have given Daen a clearer path forward.

  “Where is it, old man?” Lear held his crossbow pointed towards Semal’s chest.

  “I never made such a thing.”

  Lear frowned. “If you lie again, this bolt will go into your leg. Now, where is it?”

  Semal sighed in seeming defeat. “I never kept a specific journal, if I had I would tell you. I’ve learned so many things, how could I possibly record it all in one place?”

  Lear scowled, lowering the crossbow until it was pointed at Semal’s leg. Before he could pull the trigger, Linel emerged from the dark, swinging her sword. Lear was too quick for her, bringing up his crossbow to catch her blade at an odd angle that minimized the impact of the blow. The bolt slammed harmlessly into the ceiling.

  Lear dropped the crossbow, which snagged her sword, taking away any advantage Linel had gained in the surprise attack.

  Daen was already running by that time, leaping over a stack of papers and knocking them over as he landed. He bounded over a pile of books and landed on a pottery vessel, wincing at the sound. Lear didn’t turn, so perhaps he hadn’t heard.

  By the time he had closed the distance to the others, Lear had his sword out, and Linel had freed hers from the crossbow. She attacked, and he parried. Semal hadn’t been idle and had crawled to the crossbow. By the uncertain way he held it, Daen could tell it had been years since he’d last touched one.

  Semal had fulfilled his requirement in a Radim army, just like every able-bodied man, but once he’d finished his commitment, he hadn’t sworn the oaths.

  As Daen slowed, looking for a way to attack Lear without increasing the danger to Linel, he touched Semal’s shoulder.

  “We’ll take it from here,” he whispered, moving past Semal and closing in on guard. Daen wasn’t above stabbing Lear from behind—traitors didn’t deserve proper formalities—but he wanted to take the man alive if he could. Between Linel and him, it should be possible.

  Daen slid forward, his sword at the ready. Linel must have spotted Daen because she was doing her best to avoid moving to either side to keep Lear unaware of Daen’s presence until the last possible moment.

  That was one thing he’d gained from having spent so much time sparring with her, the ability to read her movements as quickly as understand her words. It was the small things that let him know what she was doing. Like the way she’d avoided looking his way. Or the small thin line her lips always made when she thought she had the upper hand.

  Lear spun when Daen jabbed his sword into his lower back, turning what could have been a damaging blow into something far less. The man didn’t cry out even though some blood trickled down onto his pants, but not as much as it would have been if Daen had done severe damage. Lear backed into an old bookshelf, so laden with books poking out in every possible direction that the only reason the shelves hadn’t broken was because of support from the books underneath. Lear maneuvered until the bookshelf was between him and Linel.

  Daen didn’t hesitate as he attacked, his sword a blur while Lear brought up his own to meet it. Linel came around from the side, but Lear had plenty of warning because she had to wind her way through all the antiquities to get to him.

  Lear pushed against the bookshelf with his shoulder but was unable to make it move. After wedging a hand behind the bookcase, he succeeded in getting it to topple forward. Linel danced back out of the way, just as it came crashing down. The clutter between him and Linel cut her off from coming in that direction.

  Daen had stepped to the side while it fell but renewed his attack. As they traded blows, Daen angled to get closer, and his foot slipped on a loose piece of paper he hadn’t noticed. He went down on a pile of books. Terror filled him as he sprung to his feet, expecting Lear’s sword would skewer him at any moment.

  Instead of attacking, Lear had run, snatching the crossbow from Semal as he did. Daen pulled out a dagger and flung it, moving mostly on instinct. He didn’t expect it would hit the man. Lear shifted as he navigated the clutter and the dagger went point first into a pile of books.

  By that time Daen was moving again, chasing after. When Lear got to the end of the hallway, he spun on his heels, brought up the crossbow, and fired. Daen dove for cover behind a pile of pottery but realized Lear hadn’t been aiming for him.

  Semal must have loaded the bolt before Lear took it back, Daen thought as Lear chuckled before disappearing around the corner.

  The heat of the chase was so much on his mind that Daen didn’t stop to wonder what Lear had been aiming for, he was back on his feet and already at the corner when Linel called out.

  “He’s going to need help!”

  The words froze his feet to the ground as he looked back and saw that the bolt had taken Semal square in the chest.

  “Nine burning fires,” Daen said as he returned to them.

  Semal wasn’t likely to survive. It wasn’t just the amount of blood he was losing, the bolt had gone right into the middle of Semal’s chest.

  Hurriedly, Daen reached for it, but Linel stopped his hand. “Removing it will kill him quicker.”

  Semal grimaced. “Daen, my boy, it’s up to you. You must defeat the Kopal.”

  The words barely registered as Daen focused on the bolt. There must be something they could do. Daen wasn’t about to let Semal die, they needed him too much in the days ahead.

  “Grab his feet, I’ll take him under the arms—”

  “No!” The word was loud and surprising, coming from a dying man. “There are important things you must know.”

  “A healer lives a couple houses down.”

  “I do have a journal. Everything I could prove about the Hunwei is recorded there, the Kopal too. I buried it beneath the sarcophagus.”
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  “Let’s go.” Daen carefully shifted Semal so he could put his hands under the old man’s armpits.

  Semal grabbed Daen’s hand with surprising strength, but it fell limply off a moment later. “You must find Adar Rahid and give him my journal. There is information he will need if we’re to have any hope of defeating the Hunwei. He should have sent Jorad back by now, I don’t know why he hasn’t. I sent people after them, to a place called Neberan. If they don’t return in a few weeks, look there first.”

  “Neberan?” Daen had never heard of such a place. Why would Adar be there? He didn’t want to waste time explaining Jorad had already returned. “I’ll do it, can we get moving?” The puddle of blood was growing larger, making Daen’s chest go cold.

  He will live. He must live.

  “There is one more thing.” Semal licked his cracked lips, each breath more ragged than the one previous. “This last part no one else can know, not even Linel.” Semal turned to her. “My darling.” He wheezed for breath. “Give us a moment.”

  Linel was surprised at the request, and for a moment Daen thought she meant to stay, but she gave the old man a kiss on the forehead before moving away.

  Even though she could handle herself, Daen was happy she’d gone in the opposite direction Lear had gone. When they went back up the stairs, they needed to go together so they could both handle whatever might await them.

  “Is she gone?” Semal asked, his voice fading fast.

  Daen looked at Linel who was far enough away to be out of earshot, particularly as Semal’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Yes.”

  He took a long breath and let out a raspy cough. “Adar Rahid is your father.”

  At first, Daen thought Semal must have lost his mind, confusing him with somebody else, but the man’s face was as alert as one could be while on death’s doorstep. While his voice was weak, his eyes were clear, the intelligence obvious.

  “That’s not possible.” Daen shook his head, he’d never known his parents, and while he had sometimes dreamed they might be people of note, he’d never once thought of something like this.

  As much as Daen might want to think his father was somebody important, he loathed the idea of Adar’s reputation becoming further damaged by this wild claim.

  “No, no, no,” Daen muttered to himself as the full impact of Semal’s words hit. If it was true, he could never tell a soul.

  Abel’s contempt for full-blooded heirs is hardly a secret, what will he do about an illegitimate heir?

  “It’s true, my boy.”

  Daen frowned, unable to resist asking his next question. “Did you know my mother too?”

  “I did.” Semal closed his eyes. “You’ve much to live up to.”

  A moment passed in silence.

  “Why tell me this now?”

  “Make a claim if you can’t find Adar or Jorad.”

  Daen choked. “An illegitimate heir making a claim?”

  Semal’s eyes opened slowly, they were starting to glass over. “Jorad is your full brother. He could have easily been in your shoes. She had to make a choice, a terrible, terrible choice.”

  If it hadn’t been for the fact that these were Semal’s dying words, Daen might have laughed.

  Perhaps I’ve been wrong to think him partially sane.

  “Adar will be convinced. Tell him you’re the answer to the question Nelion refused to answer.”

  Semal closed his eyes while Daen looked back at Linel, hoping she hadn’t heard any of this. These wild claims could never be repeated to another soul.

  My life wouldn’t last longer than a dry shirt in a bonfire if word got out. Melyah, maybe it is best if I leave in search of Adar. Not to tell him this wild story, but to take him the journal.

  “Who else knows?” Daen asked.

  Semal didn’t answer, his eyes opened as the glassy look of death washed across his face.

  Daen looked up when Linel touched his shoulder. She tried to give him a comforting smile that he was unable to return. He had yet to tell her about her father.

  He sighed.

  So much death.

  Chapter 20

  I wonder how Jorad is doing? Soret wondered. She and Xarda had climbed to the top of Xarda’s apartment building to watch the sunset, traveling up more stairs than Soret had thought possible to exist in one place. She’d lost count of the number of flights. Knowing how high they’d climbed should have prepared her for the view from the top, but it did not.

  When she’d first stepped outside, and onto the roof, she’d frozen, afraid that the strong wind might blow her off. When Xarda had walked out without hesitation, Soret had swallowed hard and followed, wrapping the light shawl she’d donned and wishing she’d worn her coat instead. Xarda had asked if she’d wanted to change and Soret had said no.

  That was a mistake, Soret thought, realizing that Xarda had known what it was like up here. I should have known something was up by the direct question.

  Xarda. Usually, the woman just said what she wanted without much thought beforehand, but she wasn’t quick to move to violence. Soret thought back on how Xarda had been careful to assess the situation when Jorad had been arrested in Neberan. Soret had been positive Xarda was about to start slashing throats to free Jorad, but then she’d let them take him without escalating the situation.

  Soret had been grateful at the time, but considering how things had turned out, perhaps it might have been better if Xarda had killed Thon instead of Jorad. At least then Soret wouldn’t hate Jorad. A part of her still felt guilty for the satisfaction she’d felt while watching him receive his lashes. It had felt like justice, but it hadn’t done much to quench her anger or disgust with him.

  It was less than he’d deserved, but the satisfaction she felt made her feel ashamed. Try as she might, the guilt was still there. Perhaps it was because she realized she wasn’t being entirely fair to Jorad, but he should have known better than to kill Thon.

  Wouldn’t you have felt the same way towards Thon if he’d been the one to live?

  The question bothered her because it could easily have gone the other way. If Jorad hadn’t been able to get one of his daggers, Thon would have killed him.

  “I’ve missed this view,” Xarda said, walking to the edge of the roof and looking out. There was a waist-high protective wall upon which she rested her arms. “And we’re just in time. In a few minutes, the sun will hit at just the right angle to light the Palace, city, and walls.”

  Soret shuffled forward and gripped the wall, trying to not look down at how high they’d climbed but not being able to stop herself.

  “The people are so small!” she exclaimed. “Like little bugs. That horse and wagon looks like a rat with a toy strapped to its back.”

  Xarda nodded. “It’s surreal, isn’t it? This is nothing compared to looking down from the Inner Wall.”

  Soret ripped her eyes away from the ground and looked out at the city. The Rarbon Palace towered over them to the west, reaching higher than a mountain, or so it seemed. It was taller than Vigorock and far more massive. How could people a thousand years ago have ever built something so grand?

  It couldn’t really be as tall as she thought, could it?

  Soret realized that she was gripping the wall and though she wanted to release her grasp, she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. How could Xarda lean so carelessly over the edge? Should the wall break or Xarda lean out too far…

  Soret looked at the ground again. There was no way a person would survive a fall from so high. Better they knock their head on a window ledge on the way down then be conscious all the way to the bottom.

  A moment later Xarda nodded her head towards the palace. “Look at that.”

  Soret gasped. The palace was bathed in the last light of the day, making it glow. Her fear of falling from such an incredible height was momentarily set aside as she took it all in. The moment didn’t last, and the effect soon faded, the building still had light hitting it
, but not to the same effect.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Xarda murmured under her breath, a smile on her face.

  A grin crept onto Soret’s face, but it wasn’t because of the building. She had an opportunity here if she could make use of it.

  “Shame what the Hunwei might do,” she said, making her face downcast and wistful as she stared at the palace. She felt Xarda shift, as the Hunwei penetrated her moment of happiness. Soret stamped down the guilt she felt for bringing out the intrusive thought. Though she was tempted to break the awkward silence, she let it remain.

  Make her speak first. The self-restraint the wait required was difficult, but it was worth it.

  “I just wish Jorad wasn’t our only hope.” Xarda gave Soret a hard look. “Not trying to say he isn’t capable, it just seems as though we’re pinning all our hopes on somebody who’s untested. The way Abel has already manipulated things makes me worried for what Jorad will have to face. I wish Jorad would have kept his fool mouth shut about Adar having him take those oaths. It was hard enough of a sell to get Jorad accepted as who he was, let alone made a general so quickly.”

  “Abel expects him to fail,” Soret said, “that why he’s done what he’s done.”

  “It’s not as simple as that. With Abel, it never is.”

  “I too share your fears,” Soret said carefully, hoping to communicate fear but not give Xarda anything to suspect her ulterior motives. “It’s a big burden to place on one so young. I wish it were Adar instead.”

  That earned an inquiring look from Xarda. “It would be better, I agree, but Jorad is the option we have so all bets must be placed on him.”

  Soret let the words hang in silence as the sunlight disappeared at the base of the tower, the darkness crawling up it like a slow-moving monster that was swallowed it an inch at a time. It was stunning to watch and almost distracted her from what she was doing with Xarda.