Kingdoms and Chaos (King's Dark Tidings Book 4)

by Kel Kade

  “I cannot sit upon your throne, Moldovan. I already lay claim to three others.”

  Moldovan stood and faced Rezkin, a light of passion in his aged gaze. “Precisely,” he said. “You are no king. You are an emperor—the first emperor to rule multiple kingdoms on the Souelian. My grandson, a King of Ferélle, Emperor of—what will you call your empire?”

  Rezkin backed away and searched the dancing shadows. He said, “It was never my intention to create an empire.”

  Moldovan scoffed. “You expect me to believe that? Prince Nyan was incensed that you stole his bride. When his father refused to hold Ionius accountable, Nyan organized a coup. He has taken half the Jerean army to march on Channería. Since you left, Serret has descended into civil war—something to do with this infamous Raven, who has acquired enough power in Ashai to make things difficult on Caydean and just so happens to support your claim to the Ashaiian throne. You have somehow convinced the Leréshi to name you king and already have deals with Ionius and Privoth to recognize you as king of the mysterious Kingdom of Cael. Even a fool could see what you are doing.”

  Rezkin said, “I have only done what needed to be done.”

  “Which is why you will succeed in the task I have set before you. It must be you. The line of succession is clear. When Caydean took the oaths that secured him the Ashaiian throne, he was forced to relinquish his claim to Ferélle. Thresson is as good as dead. You are next in line. Boulis threatens your claim. He is your enemy. You will kill him and claim your rightful place as king and emperor.”

  Rezkin said, “You can keep the kingdom. I only want the sword.”

  Moldovan grinned. “I am an old man. I have nothing left to lose. I can take the sword with me to the grave. For you, it is all or nothing,”

  “First King of Lon Lerésh.”

  “He is what?” said Tieran, his voice echoing through the warehouse.

  “That is the latest news,” said Captain Jimson. “Rezkin is First King of Lon Lerésh.”

  “Did he kill the queen?” said Tieran.

  Jimson cleared his throat. “No, Your Grace, he married her.”

  Tieran stared at the captain, his heart racing, his mouth hanging open. “That—I cannot—What did you say?”

  “It is all over Uthrel,” said Jimson. “Every sailor, every merchant, every crier and relay worker—they all say the same. Queen Erisial claimed him as her husband and gave him the Leréshi army and navy.”

  Tieran smacked his forehead. “He is infuriating! He cannot just go and marry the Leréshi queen! What of Cael? What of Ashai? What of Frisha?”

  “Ah, well, there is no talk of Frisha, Your Grace.”

  “Will you please stop calling me that? That is what people call my father. You may continue to call me Lord Tieran. No, we have been through enough together, you may call me Tieran, if you prefer.”

  Jimson shifted. “Yes, Your Grace.

  Tieran huffed and kicked a chunk of broken pallet. “What do titles mean anymore? Everyone has gone insane. No one marries the Leréshi queen!” He hung his head and then said, “Is there news of anyone else?”

  “Only a bit of talk about a female knight of Cael. Nothing we do not already know.”

  An inkling of hope entered his mind. “Does he recognize the marriage?”

  “No one seems to know for sure,” said Jimson.

  “Well, let us pray to the Maker that he does not.”

  Beside him, Mage Morgessa said, “I did not think you were much for praying.”

  Tieran said, “If anyone can force a prayer, it is my cousin. Where is he now?”

  “That is also a mystery,” said Jimson.

  Tieran growled. “We need a relay! This is archaic. Our news is weeks old, at best.” He turned to Mage Morgessa. “Are you sure that none of you has the requisite knowledge or power to create one?”

  She gave him a disparaging look. “Lord Tieran, we have discussed this a dozen times. King Rezkin brought the supplies from Serret, but none of us knows how to construct one. Since he knew what items were necessary, he is our best bet.”

  Tieran ran his hands down his face. “If he knows, then why did he not build it?”

  “Well, because he is not a mage,” she said.

  This time he gave her the dubious look.

  She raised her hands and said, “I am only telling you what he told me.”

  Tieran noticed an anxious young man hovering a few paces behind the mage. He recognized the young man as one of Frisha’s assistants, but he could not remember his name. “You. What do you want?”

  The assistant bowed low and then said, “Your Grace, Trademaster Moyl requests your signature on the final proposals for the Aplin wine deal with the merchant’s guild in Uthrel.”

  Tieran sighed and waved a hand at the young assistant as he looked at Jimson. “See? Frisha was supposed to be taking care of this. It was her idea, and she is more adept in trade regulations than she claims.” His voice rose as his frustration mounted. “But she ran off to be with Rezkin, and he married the Leréshi Queen!”

  A woman was suddenly at his other side. He had not seen her approach. “Your Grace,” said Lady Gadderand. “I am quite good with trade. I have run my house’s affairs for some time since my dear husband passed away. I would be happy to assist—”

  Tieran smiled, but he felt no relief in her offer. “Thank you, Lady Gadderand, but that is not necessary. I will handle it.”

  The woman barely flinched from the rejection, which only made him more suspicious. She said, “It is most considerate of you to see to these matters, which are far below your station, in Lady Frisha’s stead. It did surprise me when I heard she had gone after him. I mean, she had expressed her concerns—”

  “You spoke with her,” said Tieran.

  “Oh yes, at length. She was very upset and confused. I tried to offer counsel, but she would not be reasoned with. I cannot imagine what might have made her think to follow him.” She smiled anxiously as she glanced at the others. “Oh, I apologize. My concern for Lady Frisha overtook my sense for a moment. I should not speak of such things in public. Please do keep me in mind if you decide you have more important matters to which you must attend.” Before Tieran could respond, she said, “Did I hear you say that King Rezkin is wed?”

  Tam dozed with his back pressed against the hull. Scant light streamed in from the gaps in the planks above, so he could not see the men and women who shared his fate. He could smell them, though. He, and probably everyone else, had long since given up on dignity. There were no privy breaks. Once a day, they were forced to muck their own filth and carry it up to the deck where it was thrown overboard. In the weeks, or months, he had been on the ship, he had considered following the waste into the sea on several occasions. Others had apparently had the same idea, though, and after the first few jumped, the slavers started chaining them in pairs. Apparently, it was much harder to convince a stranger to end his life at the same time as you.

  While they were below deck, the chain that linked him to his partner by shackles around their necks, was fed through a loop on the hull. It was impossible to lie down, but they realized that if one of them stood, the other could lean forward enough to hold his head in his hands while resting his elbows on his knees. The major disadvantage was that if the man standing fell over or passed out, the other would be yanked rather hard by the throat. One man had actually died from a crushed airway, and Tam had chided himself for his envy. In truth, he did not want to die, only he was not sure he could stand living any longer. His head throbbed almost constantly, and he suffered from several nosebleeds per day. He noticed, though, that when he sat in the dark with no distractions, his mind settled to give him enough relief to feel his hunger and thirst. Still, he knew that without the help of the healers that he had been promised, he was doomed to a painful demise.

  “I think we’ve stopped,” said his partner, Uthey. Uthey had been a mercenary from Gendishen. His company had been wiped out by drauglics, and th
e slavers had discovered him unconscious on the side of the road. They had decided to capitalize on the find.

  Tam roused from his half-dream state. “Stopped?” The hull struck something. The ship rocked, and then it struck again.

  “That sounds like a dock,” said Uthey.

  Since Uthey was now sitting up, Tam could sit on the bench. “I am filled with both dread and relief. Where do you think they took us?”

  “Couldn’t say. I lost track of the days. Maybe the Isle of Sand.”

  “It’ll be harder to escape from an island,” said Tam.

  Uthey chuckled. “You think to escape? You’ll be dead before you take three steps as a free man.”

  “I’m not without skills.”

  “And neither are they. If you decide to escape, do it when I am not tied to your neck.”

  Tam coughed, feeling a tickle at the back of his throat that he knew was blood, since he did not have enough saliva to wet his tongue. He croaked, “You can die a slave if you want, but someone will come for me.”

  “Who? Who will come for you? These men take people no one’ll miss. If they took you, it’s because you were alone.”

  “I was alone for a reason. My people will come for me.”

  “Even if they do, they’ll not find you. It’s not as if the slavers record names and log where you go. If anyone has the will to track you down, the slavers’ll know your value. Your friends’ll have to pay a fortune to get you back. I doubt you’re worth it.”

  Tam tried to lick the salt from his lips, but his dry tongue only scraped against the cracks. He said, “I am not you.”

  “No, you are delusional. At least I accept my fate. I could’ve been torn apart by those lizard monsters, but instead I’ll die at the hands of men.”

  “They are monsters, too,” said Tam.

  “True, but they’re monsters with the keys,” said Uthey with a shake of his chains.

  The grate over their heads was pulled back, and a dark silhouette blocked the sun.

  “Yer comin’ out now,” said the man over their heads. “Give us any trouble, and we’ll make sure ya don’t die quickly.”

  “Monsters,” Tam muttered.

  Yserria blinked as the wind whipped across her face. She looked up at the overcast sky, sighed heavily, and then met the woman’s gaze. “No.”

  “But he is a good man, and he speaks Ashaiian. You see? I have taught him. He even has a touch of the talent.”

  “I have no desire to claim your son, Matrianera Wolshina.”

  Wolshina clasped her hands before her. “I have saved for this day. I will make you a generous offer.”

  Malcius said, “Is she offering to pay you to claim her son?”

  Yserria scowled at him. “It is a dowry.”

  The woman nodded as she pointed to a young man hovering at the edge the encampment. “He is handsome and strong.”

  Yserria could not deny the truth of the woman’s words. The man was tall with broad shoulders that supported a well-defined upper body, but he kept his hands in his pockets as he hung his head, only glancing at them occasionally. Looking back at the woman, Yserria said, “Why is he over there? Does he not wish to be claimed?”

  The woman fervently shook her head. “No, no! He likes you very much. He is shy. He has difficulty meeting new people, especially a matria of your standing—or is it matrianera?”

  Yserria crossed her arms. “It is neither. I am a Knight of Cael, and I have no intention of claiming anyone.”

  The woman glanced at Malcius. “But, did you not challenge the echelon for this one?”

  Yserria pursed her lips. “Yes, but only because she forced my hand.”

  “Thanks for that,” Malcius muttered. “You were perfectly willing to claim Palis.”

  Yserria rounded on him. “Palis was worth claiming!”

  Malcius clamped his mouth shut, glanced at the matrianera, and then stalked off toward the tent. Yserria’s blood was boiling. She was angry but not at Malcius. She should not have been so rude to him. She knew he was mourning Palis more than she, but he had been haranguing her ever since Palis’s death, and she was tired of the incessant guilt.

  Wolshina hesitantly said, “This Palis is another consort?”

  As she watched Malcius’s retreating form, Yserria replied, “Palis was his brother. He died protecting me.”

  Wolshina glanced at her son. She bit her lip and said, “If you become echelon, will you stay?”

  “No, I serve the king as a member of his royal guard. I go where he goes.”

  “Then, you will need more protection and someone to keep your house.” The woman nodded in the direction Malcius had gone. “I do not think he will do this for you.”

  “I am capable of taking care of myself,” said Yserria.

  The woman smiled. “I am sure you are, but everyone needs support.” She moved a little closer and lowered her voice. “My son, he is strong and a hard worker, but … he is not aggressive. He is not a fighter. This is why I think you will be a good match. You do not need a fighter.” Her gaze flicked to the other people who stared out of curiosity but were respectful enough to keep their distance during negotiations. “If he stays here, someone will wish to claim him for champion. He will lose, and he will get killed. Please, I know you are at war, but he will be safer with you than he will be here.”

  Yserria schooled her features out of respect for the mother’s plight. “I am sorry for your troubles, but I will not be guilted into making a claim. This is the fourth time someone has approached me with such a request.”

  With another pensive glance toward her son, Wolshina said, “I will release him to serve in your household. You need not claim him. Just take him with you.” She subtly crossed her wrists in front of her, a pleading gesture. “Please, I will give you his dowry for his care. He will work hard to earn the rest.”

  Yserria frowned and pointed at the man, causing him to glance her way. Their gazes met, and he immediately dropped his head. She said to Wolshina, “As you said, he is a handsome, strong man. He could easily be claimed as consort in a number of houses even if only to breed and care for the young. Why would he wish to become a servant?”

  “Of course, he would prefer to be claimed,” she said, “but he would rather become a servant than a champion. Three matrias have already made offers. All three believe he can be trained for combat. He dreads the thought. I beseech you. I know he is only a son, but I love him as if he were my daughter. I wish for him to be happy.”

  Again, Yserria looked at the shy, young man with golden hair and tanned skin stretched over taut muscle. “A servant?”

  “Yes, a servant,” the woman said hopefully.

  “What is his name?”

  “His name is Japa. He is twenty-six years old, and he has been formally educated. His skills are in farming and irrigation. He does not have enough talent to be a full mage, but his affinities are for water and earth.”

  Yserria sighed. “Very well. If I win my challenge, I will take Japa, as a servant only.”

  Tears welled in Wolshina’s eyes, but Yserria could not tell if they were born of joy or sorrow. The woman grabbed her hands and said, “Thank you! You will not regret this, Knight Yserria. Would you like to meet him?”

  Yserria glanced at Japa. “Not now. I must remain focused. Should I win the challenge, there will be plenty of time later. Besides, I think you will need time to convince your son.”

  “Oh yes, but he will be pleased.” The woman crossed her arms and pressed her forehead to her wrists as she backed away. “We will come to you after your victory. Thank you, again.”

  Yserria returned to the tent she begrudgingly shared with Malcius. Ironically, she had fought to keep him with her. The echelon had tried to make him join her party, but Yserria had insisted he stay with her until the challenge was resolved. The echelon acquiesced, and Yserria wondered if the woman regretted making the claim in the first place. The woman could no longer back out, though, without giv
ing up her seat as echelon.

  As she entered the tent, Malcius said, “Well, do you have another consort? Are you collecting men, now, like the rest of these Leréshis?”

  Yserria lifted her chin. “We have come to an arrangement.”

  “Seriously? You are going to buy that woman’s son to-to what? Be your play thing?”

  “Lord Malcius!” Her indignation felt less feigned than she had anticipated. In a haughty tone, she said, “That is completely inappropriate. Where is your decorum? Since you are as close to family as I have here, I would expect you to defend my honor, rather than besmirch it.”

  Malcius straightened as if remembering himself. “I—You are right. That was uncalled for. I apologize.”

  Yserria gave him a cross nod, then smirked. “Japa is to become my servant, not my consort.” She looked at him sweetly and batted her lashes. “Only you have that privilege.”

  Malcius clenched his jaw and said, “I hate this place. You are supposed to meet this challenge tomorrow. Have they told you what it will be? Are they not required to give you time to prepare?”

  Yserria’s smile fell as her anxiety surged. Her blood soured, her muscles tensed, and her stomach churned. “It is to be a battle.”

  Malcius frowned. “What kind of battle?”

  “A real battle,” Yserria said. “We are in the Third Echelon. The Fourth Echelon is led by Orina Goldren, who had already challenged Echelon Deshari for the marshland along the border. Echelon Orina has agreed to split her forces and attack from two equivalent positions. Echelon Deshari’s champion will lead his forces against one, and I will lead mine against the other. The winner will be whichever of us is successful in defeating Echelon Orina’s forces—or whichever takes fewer losses, if that be the case.”

  Malcius looked at her in disbelief. “That is absurd. Echelon Orina is Echelon Deshari’s enemy. Why would she agree to that?”

  Yserria was surprised by his reaction. “Because it is a challenge. Actually, it is three challenges being resolved at once. The echelons often battle. It keeps their troops strong and experienced. They do not go to battle for the sake of destroying each other’s forces but to determine a winner.”