The Duke's Handmaid (Book 1 of the Ascendancy Trilogy)

by Caprice Hokstad

  The Duke’s Handmaid

  Book One of the Ascendancy Trilogy

  Part of the Legends of Byntar

  by

  Caprice Hokstad

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright © 2010 Caprice Hokstad

  Cover credit Kat Heckenbach and Grace Bridges

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people except through the Amazon Lending Library. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, magnetic, photographic, audio recording, or by any storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author.

  Buy Book 2, Nor Iron Bars a Cage

  Buy Book 3, Blood and Brine

  ~Acknowledgements~

  I am deeply indebted to Rhoderick C. Hayes, without whom there would never have been a Vahn. Thanks also to the many internet writing friends who helped through the countless revisions.

  The continent of Raeru on the world of Byntar

  ~Translation Note~

  Because many Earth flora and fauna are mentioned in this text, one may be tempted to assume that Byntar is too coincidentally Earthlike. I have simply used English names when the species were at all similar and their differences would not affect the story. Therefore, a Byntarian chicken would not necessarily look, act, or taste exactly like a Terran chicken; the word “chicken” was merely used for simplicity’s sake to communicate a non-flying, domesticated fowl kept for eggs and meat. I have also used standard English terms for royalty (king, duke, prince, etc.) even though Byntarian traditions surrounding these ranks conflict somewhat with those of Earth.

  Where a word has no reasonable English equivalent, I have supplied the Byntarian word. Please be advised that interplanetary translation is, at best, an inexact science, and forgive my clumsiness in its practice.

  ~C.H.

  ~Prologue~

  Byntar is a world of dualities. Two suns, Calla and Cana, rule the days. Guarding the nights are moons Paeva and Pouren. Sentient life continues the duality decreed by suns and moons above.

  Elva derives from the ancient word for “heavens”, since Elva coloring echoes the firmament. Elva hair is black as night, white as stars, or any shade of gray clouds. Gray hair is just as likely on infants as adults, as it has nothing to do with age. Their eyes reflect the skies in all its seasons: black as night, gray as the storms, or blue as a summer’s day. Elva are tall and even Elva ears point heavenward. Strong physiques and ambitious constitutions mark the Elva.

  Itzi means “earth”. Itzi hair is blond, brown, or red, echoing autumn leaves. Itzi eyes are usually brown as soil or green like grassy fields. Blue eyes occur, albeit rarely, in Itzi. Itzi blue is attributed to the sea. Itzi statures are closer to the ground and Itzi ears are round like rolling hills. Being substantially smaller and less intelligent, the docile Itzi are content to keep to themselves and allow the Elva to dominate nearly every aspect of life.

  Choicest of the Twelve Kingdoms is Latoph, lying on the land’s western coast. Continuity of the Rebono Dynasty for the last thousand years has left a legacy of laws and civilization in Latoph which is unparalleled on Byntar.

  Chapter 1

  Twin moons hung in slivered crescents, peeking through the scattered clouds. Fog flowed from the coast in wispy pseudopodia toward the inland woods. Leafless branches cast oddly twisted shadows in the wan moons’ light. Early evenfall should have lent Keedrina more security. It didn’t.

  The shadows plagued her and she was sure she heard voices in the forest. Her heartbeat quickened at the prospect of discovery. If Mother found out, she’d beat her harder than a muddy rug and lock her indoors for several years. Keedrina pressed on through the thickets, resisting the urge to run. Running would draw more attention if she was right about being watched and not merely being paranoid.

  Six months of clever artifice, though rewarding, came with a price. The strain of constant deception wore on Keedrina’s nerves; she’d never meant it to go on this long. She’d only wanted to meet the Elva farmhands that worked the field by her house, to talk to them a little. The reading lessons weren’t even her idea. Botlop had offered when she admitted she couldn’t read the note he brought her.

  She should tell him. Keedrina bit her lip, considering just how to bring it up. She wasn’t who he thought. She wasn’t even what he thought.

  She crouched at the edge of the wood to allow the pounding in her chest to subside. Warily, she glanced over her shoulder. No one had followed; nothing seemed awry. She inhaled deeply, stood, gazed one last time at the forest, then turned and stepped into the clearing. Keedrina sat on a weathered bench in an abandoned gazebo and lit three votive candles, sheltering them from the wind in clay cups. This meeting spot was far enough from home that Mother had never caught her and Botlop likely assumed the nearby farm was her family’s. Keedrina never disabused him of that notion.

  She looked up and scanned the darkening horizon. Botlop always came as soon as he finished work. Throughout the summer and harvest it had been light at this hour, but the days grew shorter as winter impended.

  Botlop waved as he approached. He was lean and vigorous; wisps of curly black hair dangled over his brow, his buckskins an inch too short for his legs. Keedrina waved back, then checked her dark brown braid as she lowered her hand. It was still pinned over her ear. He arrived and flashed a winning smile. His gray eyes sparkled in the candlelight. Keedrina smiled, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of what he carried.

  “Well, Keedrina, you’ve read just about everything I can lay hands on. This is the last book I can find.”

  Though she longed to read more, Keedrina found herself strangely relieved. She still hungered as much as ever to learn about the intriguing yet forbidden Elva. Maybe if they limited their clandestine meetings to once a week, she wouldn’t feel so guilty. She’d have to find a way to dampen her mother’s growing hopes that she aspired toward the magehood. Using communing with the Wood Nymphs as an excuse to leave the house every evening had created an unexpected backlash in that respect. But could she continue to deceive the young man who’d been so patient with her?

  “Thank you, Botlop. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for all your time and trouble to help me.”

  Botlop sat and scooted close to her on the bench. “Maybe now you’d let me meet your parents?” He took her hand. “I’d like to ask them if I could court you, Keedrina.”

  Her jaw dropped. She looked down at her feet as she disengaged her hand from his. Even if she loved him, even if she were old enough, it would still be impossible. “B-Botlop? I c-can’t.”

  He sighed. “What is it? I’ll have land one day. I’d take good care of you. I thought you liked me.”

  Of course she liked him—as a teacher and a friend. But that wasn’t what he meant. She weighed using her age as excuse, but that would have led to her secret. If she were Elva, sixteen would be old enough to marry. Somehow, the secret she had minutes earlier hoped to disclose now seemed cruel to consider divulging. She took a quick breath. “I like you, Botlop, but I’m really not worthy of you. You don’t know anything about my family. I’m sorry. I never dreamed you felt this way. I didn’t mean to mislead you.”

  Botlop fumbled with the tattered book. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came. Suddenly, he stood and turned, scanning the farmlands. Keedrina looked up, startled by his abrupt rise. He set a staying hand to her arm as she began to stand. Keedrina frowned. She heard nothing but the wind sighing through bare
branches. She searched the shadows but found nothing amiss in the encroaching night.

  Botlop suddenly bolted, issuing a warning as he ran. “Stay here.”

  Keedrina was bewildered. Why would he run off like that? Surely it wasn’t because of her awkward rebuff? She kept her seat until she heard something—far off screams and unintelligible commotion. Keedrina stood and ran after Botlop.

  She could hardly see the ground in front of her, but the further she ran down the dirt path, the more her dread increased. As she passed a line of trees, she saw her farmhouse in the distance—on fire. Fear for her family flooded her mind. Horror quickened her footsteps to a frenzied pace.

  When she finally approached her burning home, she had no breath left. Keedrina expelled a nearly voiceless “Mother!” as she staggered to a halt. Her neighbors’ frantic shouts drowned out her cry. She could see a line of them passing wooden buckets up from the stream, water sloshing. She shouted again, but no one noticed. She surged toward the blazing structure.

  Two strong hands caught her shoulders. “Stay back! There’s no one in there,” Botlop said.

  Keedrina pulled away from him, searching through the faces of the onlookers and down the line of bucketeers. Botlop followed, trying to calm her with soothing tones. “You’ve lost your way in the dark, Keedrina. This isn’t your house. Itzi live here.”

  There wasn’t time to explain. She ignored him, screaming for her mother and coughing against the smoke that stifled her lungs. He held her back from entering the inferno. “Please!” she cried in a hoarse voice. She wrestled against him, frantically trying to look at the blaze beyond. Her head whipped back and forth; her hair tumbled about her face. Her rounded Itzi ear poked out.

  Anger and injured betrayal flickered over Botlop’s features. Keedrina was too distraught to worry about him now. Botlop placed his arm around her shoulder and guided her to a clearing, away from the crowds. An Elva healer knelt on the ground beside a short, red-haired woman. Keedrina rushed to her mother and burst into tears. Botlop shook his head, sighed, and turned to join the firefighters.

  The healer’s head jerked up, brows slanting. “Can you not see I’m busy—oh, Keedrina! Thank the Heavenlies you’re safe.” His brows relaxed as he retreated from his protective hover. Mother bled from several chest wounds, her nude body inadequately covered by a grass-speckled cloak.

  Aided by the blaze, Keedrina could see bruises on her mother’s face and rope burns on her throat and arms. She took her mother’s hand and looked hopefully at the healer. She knew who he was even if she didn’t know his name. “You can help her, can’t you?”

  The healer shook his head and replied sadly, “Little one, I have done everything I can, but I cannot fix this.” He touched Keedrina’s shoulder with a bloodstained hand.

  She recoiled from him. “No! You let my father die; you will not let her die too! You’re a healer. Heal her! You must—”

  Her mother’s voice halted her impassioned plea. “Kee...dri...na?”

  Keedrina inhaled quickly. Hope and fear fluttered in her words. “Yes, Mother, I’m here.”

  Her mother tightened her grip. Keedrina broke down in sobs and buried her face against the bloody shoulder. Weakly, her mother gasped, “Tried to stop them... tried to get help... thank the Nymphs you’re safe... my precious, precious... Kee...” She coughed. Keedrina felt a convulsive squeeze of fingers then a sudden relaxation in her grasp. Her mother went limp.

  “No!” Keedrina wailed. “Please don’t leave me.” She drew her mother’s hand to her chest as the tears flowed.

  “I’m sorry. I did everything I could,” the healer whispered.

  She didn’t comfort him with a reply. All she could see was her mother lying in blood, her home engulfed in flames, and her world swallowed up in anguish. She shut the healer out and felt only pain and loss.

  The healer arose, gave her a pat on the back, and walked away. He stopped just distant enough to give her privacy with her bereavement.

  Keedrina wept bitterly until she spent herself. At length, she placed her mother’s hand over her bloodied breast and kissed her cheek. Still sniffling, Keedrina stood and turned away.

  The healer returned and covered her mother’s body. He placed his hand on Keedrina’s shoulder and spoke gently. “Do you want to say goodbye to your sisters?”

  “Them too?” She’d assumed when they weren’t at Mother’s side that her sisters had to be badly injured or dead, but she hadn’t the strength to find out which.

  The healer nodded and gestured a few feet away to two blanket-covered mounds. She followed him numbly, too devastated to think straight.

  He lowered the first rough blanket to reveal only the face. The amber light of the burning farmhouse illuminated bruises on her sister’s cheeks and deep scratches over her forehead and across the jaw. An eyelid was cut and swollen shut. Blood clotted the hair at her temples. Keedrina whispered her sister’s name and broke into fresh sobs. She couldn’t stand to look at the disfigurement. Choking a pitiful goodbye, she pulled the blanket back over the head before moving to the next shroud.

  Afraid to pull the covering away, Keedrina stared at the smallest mound. Tears streamed, leaving tracks in the ash smudged on her cheeks.

  The healer spoke in a kindly tone. “Her face isn’t bad. Go ahead and say your goodbyes.”

  She lowered the sheet and cried, repeating her youngest sister’s name before kissing her cheek and replacing the cover with a whimpered farewell. She glanced at her home, already consumed beyond hope. Keedrina swayed. She felt lightheaded and then darkness swallowed her. Her muscles relaxed and she slumped sideways into oblivion.

  She awoke to find herself lying on the cold, damp ground, covered by a rough blanket. The fire no longer crackled. No neighbors shouted bucket brigade instructions. Misty fog enveloped the area, chilling the air and dimming the moons’ light. The covered mounds were gone. For a few seconds, she fancied it all a nightmare. The bitter smell of smoke and the sight of smoldering ruins confirmed the grim reality. Only the henhouse remained.

  The Elva healer spoke softly, “The house is gone. Why don’t you come back to Ny with me and get some sleep? I have to take care of some things early in the morning. You can wash up before we go see the duke.”

  Mother had given the healer the land by their house in payment for attempting to save Keedrina’s father. The healer had hired Botlop and some others to work the field; he only came periodically to check on his crops. Mother had maintained a working relationship with him, selling garments and buying grain for the chickens, but they weren’t really friends. Keedrina had been forbidden to speak to him, as she was with all Elva. Why would an important Elva take an Itzi to his home?

  “I—I have nothing, milord. I can’t even pay you for the care you gave my family...”

  “You didn’t call me.”

  “No, but I did beg you to heal my mother.” It had been more like an order, something Mother said the Elva wouldn’t tolerate from an Itzi.

  “Silla was my neighbor. I don’t know how in Byntar she got your sisters out of there with the wounds she had, but they were both already passed when I arrived. I would have done anything in my power to save your family and I wouldn’t have done it for silver. We’ll catch the filthy knaves who did this. I promise.”

  Keedrina clenched her fists. “I should have been here. I could have helped. They fought all alone...” She trailed off as she realized she’d heard the attackers in the woods and instead of checking the source of the voices, she’d thought only of herself and her secret.

  “If you had, you’d be dead now too, and your mother wouldn’t have had the satisfaction of knowing that she left a daughter. Remember how relieved she was to see you? She had peace, knowing you were all right.”

  Keedrina nodded and drew a deep breath. It now fell to her to bear the responsibilities of an adult. She wiped her eyes with a dirty sleeve. “Where are they? I should bury them.”

  The healer pointed
to his wagon and shook his head. “First I need to see them in the light of day, to see if there is any evidence that will help us catch who did this. Your mother told me just a little of what happened before you arrived. I will bury them once I finish. Right next to Blod.”

  Keedrina nodded her thanks. She knew her mother would have wanted to be buried next to her father, but that land belonged to the healer. She had nothing to offer for such a favor. She was relieved she wouldn’t have to do the digging. Her people didn’t believe in ceremony or funeral. She didn’t need to be present for the burial. Yet, she didn’t have the heart to leave what was left of her home. “I should stay with the chickens.”

  “I’ll leave one of my hired hands. You need to rest and clean up if you’re to come see the duke with me.”

  “Why would the duke want to see me?”

  “We must put a face to the crime—to show him who was most wronged.”

  “What’s the use? I’m just another Itzi to him,” she grumbled.

  “The duke cares about all his subjects,” the healer said, “and he isn’t prejudiced. Come now, I insist. Let Botlop take you into town. You can have the bed in the infirmary adjoining my home. As a guest.” He emphasized the last word.

  She couldn’t use lack of silver again as excuse. Besides, a warm bed was too appealing to pass up. Wearily, she nodded her head and murmured a resigned thanks for the offer. The healer motioned and Botlop appeared.

  Why did it have to be Botlop? Not only did he know about her deception, but she’d unwittingly hurt his feelings. He said nothing as he led her to a horse. She bit her lip, regarding the strange animal. Though she had seen them before, horses were uncommon in rural areas.

  Most farmers preferred koopchuks as draft animals. Koopchuks ate one third more than a horse, but they did at least double the work. The strength of an ox, the stubbornness of a mule, and especially foul dung characterized the stocky breed. The koopchuk’s shaggy fur covered a round body on short, thick legs. As a child, Keedrina had sat atop a koopchuk while her father walked it on close rein. A running horse would be quite different. “I... I’ve never ridden before,” she said.