The Stolen Prince (Blood for Blood Book 1)

by K. L. Gee

  The keeper smiled. The tattoo on his forehead indicated him as a Keeper of the Present, a man who kept records of important meetings, duels, war campaigns—essentially everything to do with the day–to–day life of the Alem. Kara leaned in to hear this keeper’s response. “Perhaps you should ask the Keepers of the Past, who would know far more on that subject.” He bowed politely and turned away.

  “If I may say something,” a cool, thin voice came from behind Kara. She glanced back and saw Rangi. He was a Su with piercing blue eyes the color of a glacier at moonset. He was Father’s most loyal Su advisor. If the Su had ranks similar to the Alem, Kara thought, he would be the highest among them.

  “Of course, Rangi,” King Arden said. “Enlighten us.”

  “The Terra have the power, but it is a weaker form, just like that of the Su,” Rangi’s voice sang gently, a perfect example of self–control and poise. “The superiority of the Alem is clearly the Master’s blessing, for they do not need to store their source. Air is all around them. Perhaps the Terra are human, but their place should be serving the Alem, just like the Su.” Rangi smiled then, a perfectly warm and subservient smile. “But because they do not choose this right path, they must be compelled to serve like beasts, as slaves.”

  King Darr roared. “Here! Here! You have a wise man in your midst, King Arden.”

  Rangi bowed to King Darr respectfully. In response, the coastal king took a bite out of a pig rib. It dribbled down his cheek, and he smiled from the joy of it, pork sticking out of his teeth. Kara noticed Prince Sesto betraying an emotion of disgust toward his father. It was gone as quickly as it came.

  King Arden stood, throwing his cape back and resting his hand on his sword. He peered coldly into the eyes of his guests. He doesn’t trust any of them, Kara thought. She wondered if her father’s training had made her just as distrustful. King Arden clapped his hands for everyone’s attention. “Enough of philosophy. It is time for a history. Family and allies, our next course.” King Arden threw his arm out, pointing toward one of the main entrance doors. “May I introduce the most talented man in the citadel, our truthsinger.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Skeet watched the groups gather into a large cavern within The Drums for the great council. All who gathered sat in large circles with the chiefs sitting at the head. Fires burned throughout the domed cave, casting everyone’s figures in multiple shadows against the wall. Each of the chiefs had a second standing behind him, acting as a bodyguard or avenger if the discussion threatened a duel between leaders.

  He could see Gage sitting with the other guardians in a group by themselves. They sat apart from their tribes, to both show their position as the trainers of warriors and also their standing as childless men. A dark thought passed through Skeet’s mind. Sometimes he felt that Gage’s disapproval of him addressing Hakon as his brother had to do with the fact that Gage never had a family. Gage wanted Hakon to be cold and separate—less sentimental. It had been their mother’s death that had prompted the changes, when Gage had found Hakon crying. Hakon had said something to Gage then, something Skeet had not heard, but it was enough for Gage to kick Hakon out of the home. Since that time, he no longer ate with them or slept under their roof.

  They still all treated him like a brother, despite Gage’s instructions. Skeet’s father was just too kind to leave the poor boy alone. Skeet could see that, over the years, it had hurt Hakon, and Skeet had always thought it was cruel of his uncle and guardian.

  Where was Hakon?

  Skeet looked around, unable to see him anywhere. He hadn’t been there at the morning meal either. Perhaps he is still outside, fighting a tiger or something, Skeet mused. He turned his attention to the proceedings, hoping Hakon wouldn’t be too late.

  A chief from the northern tribes was standing and stepping forward to the fire. Skeet thought he looked familiar. “Terra! People of the earth! We arrive united, one people. One people against the Alem!” A slow and solemn chant spread around the large domed cave, and then the northern chief began speaking. The debate had begun.

  Partway through the chief’s speech, Skeet suddenly saw the resemblance. The chief from the North was Windfather, the father of the Three Winds. Skeet smiled a malicious grin, staring at the stone–faced siblings who sat a distance behind their father. They were famous among the other tribes because all three, Jocki, Bavol, and Tadi, had the power of porting. Many children among the Terra were born with the power, but it was rare to have an entire family to have the gift. As Skeet turned his attention back to the heated discussion—it became clear that Windfather’s tribe were the main antagonists to the Kaldin tribe’s mission.

  “You have always relied too much on the boy in your plans,” Windfather now said. He turned to address Gage and Tip specifically. “Yes, he has grown with you, learned the ways of the Terra, however blasphemous. It’s a sweet story, but he is still King Arden’s son. His own father would have us murdered like beasts.”

  “The boy knows who he is, Windfather.” Gage now stood. “He knows what he has been intended for.”

  “Do you forget the legends?” cried another guardian, stepping into the light of the flame next to Gage. “It would be dangerous and unwise to ignore their warnings…” His eyes passed over the entire council “… and promises.”

  A heavy silence followed. Another chief stepped forward. “It is a great burden to put on a boy of eighteen. The fate of two peoples. How can we trust him?”

  Gage took in a slow breath before answering. “We have watched him. We have shown him we are human while his father thinks we are barbarians.” Gage paused, glancing at the faces gathered. “We would not have let him come this far in our training if we did not trust him. If his nature was like his father’s… he would not have continued to live among us.”

  Skeet was glad Hakon was not there to hear this. Did Hakon know that the family that took him in could have killed him? That as much as he was sheltered by the Terra, his brother was always at their mercy.

  This was a revelation for some, and the whisperings among the different tribes grew louder as they debated amongst themselves.

  “When will we avenge our fallen?” Windfather stepped forward to speak again, breaking through the noise. “We are stronger than our enemy! We have more zippers and porters born to us each year while their powers dwindle. Our hunters are trained by guardians and the Master of the earth…” he paused to bow to the guardians, “… while the Alem grow weaker. We have burned their villages and freed thousands of slaves!”

  A mixture of shouts sounded, of both approval and disdain. Skeet felt a surge of pride for his own recent, successful raid. Windfather was a powerful persuader. If only he were on our side, Skeet thought.

  Windfather continued. “Only their men fight, when even our girls know how to gut a leopard with daggers. We are stronger than them. It is winter in Atmen. Now is the time to strike with our spears! Avenge our fallen.” He gestured to the walls, and all eyes followed his gaze.

  Silence spread across the dome. Windfather was pointing at the names of the dead carved along the walls. Some were fresh. Some were deeper than others, where the carvers had carved their names in deeper for each year they were gone. The names of their dead loomed around them, seeking revenge. Regardless of his upbringing, Skeet believed Windfather. What he said was true. They were a strong people—no longer ignorant of their enemy or complacent as people of the plains. They were people of the Desolate Mountains and Forest. Hardened and fierce.

  Skeet’s father coughed in the silence. All looked at him attentively.

  “Yes, Windfather. The Terra are a powerful force when we are united.” Tip waited, casting his eyes upon the other chiefs. “Yet how long have we wasted time, slaughtering each other instead of facing our blades against the real enemy?” His eyes were fiery, even angry. Skeet was sure there were men in the hall that Tip had faced in battle before. “We have the same purpose. We will not fight against the Terra but for the Terra. Let u
s agree on that at least.” There were many nods. “Then we must ask, what are we seeking?”

  “Peace for the blood of our mothers!” someone shouted. Many called out cheers in response. This was a quote all fighters knew. Revenge. Blood for blood. Skeet knew it was true, and he wasn’t sure how his tribe would avenge all the blood spilt if they wanted peace. Was it possible to avenge his mother’s blood in some other way? To be patient?

  “Yes,” Tip said. “But why do we avenge them? What has been taken from us?”

  “Our land!” another answered the chief.

  “Our children!”

  “Our food!”

  “Our very lives!” Windfather added, making no effort to hide the bitterness from his words.

  “Yes,” Tip nodded. The other chiefs grew excited… Was the Chief of Kaldin actually suggesting war? “We must not let the blood stain our eyes so much that we may not see.” This was a common warrior theme—without eyes you were nothing as a zipper or vanisher. It was both literal and figurative. You did not want to become blind in battle by your opponents’ blood, but you also did not want to become so consumed in fighting that you lost sight of where you should go next. Both could be distractions.

  An audible groan went around the ring. Peace again, they were thinking.

  “We want our land. We want our chance at a life of peace. We don’t want our captured to be slaves or anymore dead to stain this land or these walls. Not until they’ve lived a long life. We must try for this, my brothers. We must try first for this.”

  “You mean the boy,” someone said.

  “Yes, I mean the boy.”

  “And trust an Alem?” Windfather shouted. “You are putting the fate of the Terra in the hands of our enemy’s son.” Skeet could see Gage sighing. Windfather was stirring their opponents up. Murmurs of anger moved across the circle. Skeet grew nervous.

  “I say we need to go to war!” Windfather said. “If we use the boy, then use him to hurt the king.”

  Another guardian stood up, facing Windfather. “You dare to deny prophecy? To ignore legend?” He looked around, eyes meeting the other faces. “There will be the bridge between two peoples…”

  The noise was increasing. Gage and Tip glanced at each other, worry on their faces. Some already had their hands grasping stones and daggers.

  “Let me speak.”

  Everyone looked toward the voice, but nothing was there. Then suddenly Hakon was standing in the center of the circle, before the chiefs and scribes. Skeet was immediately annoyed. What a show off, he thought. Had he been hiding in the shadows all this time?

  Hakon kneeled, putting his dagger to his forehead. His tattoo glistened scarlet and gold in the firelight. Hakon then stood. “Terra people, I believe in your cause. In our cause. Let me go. Let me finally reveal who I am and reason with the king. I cannot see our people die… and I do not want to kill my family before I know them.”

  “This is not about your own desires, boy.” A chief snapped.

  Hakon turned, fire reflecting in his eyes. “I am one of you! As much as you have tried to remind me I am not, I am one of you. I honor the code, I worship the Master, and I honor the earth. I have lived and fought in desolation. I want vengeance as deeply as you do. Let me do this thing for your people, my people. Isn’t this why you robbed me from my cradle? Isn’t this why you took me from my true home?” He turned to look around at all the gathered hunters, guardians, and chiefs. His eyes caught Skeet’s. “King Arden would slaughter you or enslave you, but perhaps his own son can persuade him otherwise. If we have that chance, that chance for retribution without bloodshed, shouldn’t we take it? Let me do the thing you intended for me to do.”

  Hakon barely finished speaking when Windfather turned to him and said, “We did not all agree then of your purpose, and not all of us agree with it now. You may love this people—and as you should. We have raised you. But you are still the son of the Alem, the offspring of murderers and tyrants. You are tainted with the blood of the enemy, and you cannot remove their mark.” Windfather took his hatchet and pointed the tip to Hakon’s tattoo.

  Skeet saw the burning in Hakon’s eyes. His calm demeanor was evaporating in the face of Windfather’s words. Tip quickly stepped forward, taking Hakon’s arm and pulling him back. Windfather smiled. Just like his children, he aimed to provoke Hakon to fight.

  “Then let fate decide!”

  Skeet stood, as the other warriors around him did, looking for the person who called for the duel. This was what they had expected, what they had planned for, but Skeet had held on to the vain hope the tribes would come to an agreement. All the chiefs in the inner circle looked at each other and nodded.

  A tall chief stood. “To go to war immediately or send the boy. These are the choices. Are there any other disputes?” Tip and Windfather eyed each other in silence, and then both shook their heads.

  “A duel of decision!” The shout went up among the youngest hunters, aged twelve or thirteen, always hungry for a fight.

  The tall chief silenced them. “Guardians, who shall fight?”

  Gage stepped forward to put his hand on Hakon’s shoulder. “Hakon will fight, as he should.”

  One of the guardians from Windfather’s tribe stepped forward. “It is our tribe that fights for war. One of the Three Winds should fight for the honor of their father.”

  “I will fight for my father,” a feminine voice said. It was Jocki. She stood among the women old enough and skilled enough to attend these grand councils.

  Windfather smiled, looking at his warrior daughter. “You cannot, Jocki. You are engaged.” Jocki frowned, sitting back down.

  “Then I will fight.” It was Bavol, the second Wind.

  The tall chief nodded. “Good. In the morning we will have a duel of decision.” A solemnity folded around the room like smoke. No one spoke. All were dismissed except the chiefs and guardians.

  Skeet eyed the Winds as they left. As much as he hoped it wouldn’t come down to a fight, it thrilled him now that it had. Skeet adjusted his spear along his back and grinned. He had his own fight to start.

  ***

  Gage waited for Tip as the others left the council. Tip nodded as he passed, and they moved through the tunnels, looking for a place where they could talk more privately. There was always danger of a vanisher or zipper willing to spy for the highest bidder, especially when tribes were gathered together like this. Fortunately, no great skirmishes had broken out. Yet.

  “I can’t believe the other tribes still suggest killing him,” Tip began. “That would do us more harm than good at this point.”

  “I agree,” Gage said. Hakon had proved himself to be compassionate. There was no need.

  “But the rest of the Terra don’t understand that.” Tip glanced around and gestured for them to move forward. They stepped into the caves that had been converted into a foundry for the war. The sound of burning metal and clanking weapons drowned out the sounds of their discussion. “Gage, I worry that if it hadn’t been for the guardians, we wouldn’t have gotten our duel. I’m afraid our tribe alone still believes in the legend.”

  Gage nodded and leaned in to be heard. “If everything works, Brother, they will become believers soon.”

  Tip nodded, but he still frowned. “Hakon will win?”

  “Against anyone.” Gage looked out.

  Tip looked out, his eyes examining the weapons piling up. “He has yet to fight his own kind.”

  “Yes,” Gage sighed, “and then he will have to adapt and learn fast. I’m sure they will want to kill him more than the Terra do.”

  “Skeet is prepared to go with him.” Tip grimaced. “I don’t like the idea of sending out both my sons.”

  “They will not be going alone. We will all go.”

  Tip nodded, turning pensive. He looked like a man weighed down by the burdens of war and the cries from the unavenged dead. Gage wondered if he looked that way. “We mustn’t lose hope,” Gage said. “Not yet.”


  “I wonder if we did the right thing.” Unconsciously, Tip scratched at the long scar on his neck. It had been eighteen years since the Alem knife had met his throat, but the scar was still dark, a constant reminder of their sacrifice.

  “We tipped the balance. That is all.” Guardian didn’t like to think of the dozens of men who had been left behind to die in the citadel. He wouldn’t allow their deaths to be in vain.

  “Some still think we should have killed the king when there was the chance,” Tip said. “After so much war, I find myself agreeing with them.”

  Gage wondered too about their decisions, doubted their moves. But they were a patient people, and if they failed this time, there would be another time to try again. The legends moved slowly—the way they were meant to.

  Gage voiced the thoughts he had kept hidden. “I’ve been wondering when we should tell Hakon the truth. That ultimately his mission will fail.”

  Tip nodded, his face full of sorrow. “His mission will fail, but he will not fail us. Do not tell him the truth. He must doubt who he is. He must remain humble.”

  Gage nodded, seeing the wisdom of his brother’s counsel. Amidst all the conflict, Gage had always been grateful that over the years, Tip and he always came to a quick agreement.

  They moved away from the foundry toward their tribe’s gathering place. They overlooked their many hunters and boys from their perch on a higher walkway along the walls of the cavern. A small sparring had broken out between the boys and Hakon. Others looked on and laughed, intent on betting for a victor. Gage thought of the families back home, tending to their fires and building what life they could out of the desolation that surrounded them. They had waited and planned and prepared so carefully for these final moments. So much rested on such a young boy.

  Tip rested his arm on Gage’s shoulder. “It will take blind faith, Gage.” He placed his hand on the rock wall beside them—a space that was empty of carvings or drawings. “Blind faith so earth shattering, the power of the Master can’t be denied.”