Blade Asunder Complete Series Box Set

by Jon Kiln

  “Any questions?” asked Badr al Din with a warm smile.

  “Um… who owns the villa?” asked Arexos uncertainly.

  “The man who owns this villa, and the man who now owns you, is Qutaybah, one of the most powerful men in Vandemland.”

  “And this is his home?”

  “One of his homes!” laughed Badr al Din. “He mainly uses this villa as a hunting lodge, so he may come and stay for a few weeks at a time, often bringing a lot of people with him that he will entertain. He’s not here at the moment, but we are expecting him to arrive in the next few days. That is why we have had to increase the staff in readiness. That is why we have bought you.”

  “Oh, I see…” Arexos said stiffly. “Are you a slave too?”

  “You’re very inquisitive for a young boy!” chortled Badr al Din. “Yes, of course I’m a slave. Almost everyone in Vandemland is a slave of some sort. Only the noble families are free citizens of these lands, the rest of us all belong to them. You my dear boy, as a slave captured from a conquered people, are the lowest status level of all slaves, the lowest of the low.”

  “But I’m not from a conquered people!” protested Arexos. “I’m from the Kingdom of Palara. Vandemland hasn’t conquered Palara.”

  “That is of no importance,” dismissed Badr al Din. “You were sold in a slave market by slave traders. That means you are a conquered slave, the lowest of the low.”

  “Were you a conquered slave too?”

  “No, indeed I was not!” snorted Badr al Din. “My family were shepherds on the grasslands owned by Qutaybah’s family. I was very fortunate to be selected to join the household staff. Only tradesmen and merchants are of a higher cast than shepherds. Now enough talk, let’s get you bathed and dressed in some fresh clothes. You may be a captured slave, but you at least need to look a bit presentable.”

  Arexos meekly followed Badr al Din, who led the way into the bathing room attached to the sleeping quarters for the slaves. It was a simple but functional stone pool of hot water with jugs of cold water filled from a nearby aqueduct.

  “How does it work?” asked Arexos, looking at the bath in confusion.

  “Take your dusty clothes off, rinse the dirt off you with the cold water, and then you soak your body in the warm tub, and then before you put your robes on you apply this oil to your skin,” explained Badr al Din patiently.

  Arexos sniffed at the jug suspiciously. “What’s the oil?”

  “It’s just almond oil. It’s good for your body, keeps you healthy. Hurry up now, we have chores to do!”

  Arexos quickly stepped out of his clothes, sluiced himself with the cold water to wash the dust and smell of the slave market away, before sliding into the warm water of the bathing pond.

  “Oh, this is nice…” sighed Arexos appreciatively, suddenly forgetting the stress and anxiety that had been overwhelming him as the warm water soaked his tired body.

  “Come on now, you’re not here to enjoy yourself!” scolded Badr al Din, holding a cloth out to Arexos so that he could dry the water from himself as he emerged from the bath. “Smear the oil onto your skin and put this robe on. This will be what you wear now that you are part of the staff here at Villa Salamah.”

  30

  Zander pushed his chair back from the table and threw his cloak around his shoulders. “Right boys, let’s saddle up and get moving.”

  It had been a hearty lunch at The Bull’s Horn inn and a good chance to refresh the horses after their ride this morning from Castle Locke, but every minute was precious if they were going to be successful in their search for Princess Myriam.

  “Sir, the attack on Athaca that the innkeeper was talking about, do you think that has anything to do with Myriam?” asked Aban, one of Zander’s men.

  “It’s about the only lead that we have so far. We might need to take a gamble on it. It would certainly help to narrow our search as it would place her somewhere between Athaca and here.”

  “But she wouldn’t be traveling on the main road,” chipped in Yasir, another of Zander’s men, as they rode along. “So she’s either gone north into the farmlands that lie towards the coast or she’s gone South into the Cefinon Forest.”

  “Yes, that’s true, Yasir,” acknowledged Zander. “I can’t imagine that she will have gone into the forest though. There’s no way that she could navigate her way through that, so my guess is that she will be trying to pass through the farmlands without drawing attention to herself.”

  “But sir, remember that the innkeeper spoke of brigands. It almost sounded like a gang of some sort. Perhaps she isn’t traveling alone, perhaps she is with companions? In that case, a group of them is more likely to attract attention in the farmlands, and she may have someone with her that knows the forest, which would make that a safer option.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it like that. We could try splitting up so that we try and cover both scenarios, but at this stage I’d prefer us to stick together, if possible. The trouble is, if they’ve gone into the forest, they really could be anywhere, and the Duchess’s visions of water don’t seem to be helping us, unless she was perhaps referring to the River Walsall at Athaca?”

  “So what are your orders, sir?” Aban was eager to proceed.

  “Let’s take the first path into the forest that we can find,” decided Zander. “I’m not sure where this search will take us, but we’ll just need to keep trying to gather information as we progress. Yasir, you and Najid ride ahead and scout us a path off this road and into the forest.”

  Yasir and Najid spurred their horses on and cantered away. Zander studied the road ahead and the trees that were becoming thick on each side of the road. This main road led to the town of Athaca, across the River Walsall. It then went all the way across the Kingdom of Palara to Castle Villeroy, becoming the main east-west transport link for the country. From Athaca north to the Damatine Sea, the main transport link was the River Walsall, which carried timber and goods down to the port of Brammanville where the Kingdom’s fleet was harbored. The east/west road effectively bordered the Cefinon Forest which lay to the south of the road, thick forest all the way to the foot of the Basalt Mountains.

  Zander was not looking forward to entering into the forest. He had heard stories, fairytales mostly. There were legends of wild beasts, monsters, and tribes of untamed men who did not bow to the laws of civilized man. He hoped that somewhere in that forest was Princess Myriam, and that somehow she was still safe.

  “Do you know this forest at all, Karam?” Zander asked the man riding beside him. Karam shook his head. Karam was one of Zander’s most ferocious fighters. A mute, his tongue had been cut out as a child. “The stories… do you believe any of them?” Karam shrugged his shoulders.

  “You’re not scared are you, sir?” asked Aban.

  “Not scared, Aban. Not scared, just a bit curious. Plus I don’t really like surprises.”

  At that moment, Yasir and Najid came galloping back towards them.

  “We need to get off the road now, sir!” shouted Yasir. “A large company of soldiers from the Kingdom of Palara, coming this way! Follow me, there’s a path into the forest just ahead!” Zander and the others quickly broke into a canter and followed Yasir off the road and into the forest, along the small dirt path that soon seemed to be swallowed up by the surrounding trees. “They have dogs with them, sir. Let’s push in deeper as quickly as we can. We don’t want to give them any reason to follow us. We’d be outnumbered if things got a bit sticky.” They spurred the horses on, dodging low-hanging branches and vines as they sped along the forest path.

  “We don’t have a lot of daylight left.” Zander and his men slowed their horses into a more sustainable speed. “We should think about making camp for the night. What about this clearing up ahead? Karam, you’re in charge of finding some food. Yasir and Najid can take care of the horses, and Aban and I will get a fire going. We’ll need to set a watch through the night.”

  Zander’s men quickly set about t
heir tasks, securing the horses, and gathering wood. It wasn’t long before Karam returned with enough pigeons to feed them all, expertly dressing them and skewering them on sticks so that they could be roasted over the coals of the fire. As night fell, they quickly made their beds and tried to get some sleep.

  Zander took the first watch, sitting by the fire and silently observing the dark forest that surrounded them. The rustling in the branches, the impassive trees, the gnawing sense that someone or something was watching their every move troubled him.

  31

  “Nearly there!” shouted Clay, chief of the Lake Men, turning back over his shoulder to smile encouragingly at Myriam, as the small boat sped across the still waters of the lake. Myriam nodded, and pulled her cloak tightly around her shoulders. As the boat rounded a tree-covered promontory, Myriam gasped as an enormous city came into view. Hundreds of elaborate wooden houses, built on stilts out over the water of the lake.

  “This is Halawa!” beamed Clay, gesturing expansively.

  Myriam looked around in awe. “I had no idea it would be so big.”

  “Yes, this is our main city, our main settlement.”

  The boat was soon pulling smoothly into dock against one of the many wooden pontoons. Clay was met by a small retinue, who appeared to be household staff. He held out his hand and assisted Myriam to step from the boat onto the pontoon. “Come, my home is this way!”

  As they walked along, Clay was warmly greeted and welcomed by everyone who observed their approach. It was clear that Clay was a popular leader of the Lake Men. The wooden walkways that they followed led them towards a large building, long and low in its construction. As they walked towards it, the doors swung open.

  “Here we are!” smiled Clay, encouraging Myriam forward as he acknowledged the members of his household that were bowing in greeting, showing the appropriate respect to the chief of the Lake Men. “Let me introduce you. Everyone, this is Princess Myriam from the Kingdom of Palara. Princess, this is my sister, Lisl, and her son, my nephew, Linz.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” greeted Myriam politely.

  “You are most welcome in our home,” bowed Lisl. “Please, join us for refreshments by the fishpond.”

  Myriam followed Lisl who led the way through what Myriam assumed would be a palace. Clay’s home was constructed of wood and it was a big open space. There didn’t really seem to be any rooms or internal walls. There were some small partitions and curtains to create privacy or screen off certain sections, but as a home it seemed more like an enormous hall, quite different to Castle Villeroy where Myriam had grown up. The fishpond that Lisl had referred to was an intriguing space within the palace. There was a large round hole in the floor through which the water of the lake lapped quietly. There were seats around the hole and Myriam could see large, brightly colored fish swimming slowly around in the pond.

  “I’ve never seen fish like these,” admired Myriam. “Can they not swim away into the lake?”

  “We have created a cage beneath the water so they can’t really swim away,” explained Lisl. “Plus we feed them so well that I don’t think they would go anywhere even if there was no cage.”

  “What sort of fish do you call them?” asked Myriam, intrigued by their bright colors, long whiskers, and sharp teeth.

  “They are Polopon fish. Don’t put your fingers in the water as they are quick to bite. Beautiful but deadly, like so much in this world.” Myriam drank the tea that was poured for her and ate some of the smoked fish that had been prepared. She looked across at Linz, Clay’s nephew. He seemed quiet and reserved. She thought perhaps he was just shy.

  “How old are you, Linz?” Myriam asked, trying to make conversation.

  “Thirteen.” He was barely able to meet Myriam’s gaze.

  “One day, he will be chief of the tribe,” beamed Clay, proudly slapping Linz on the back, seeming to cause him further embarrassment.

  “You have no children of your own?” Myriam asked Clay.

  “No, I have never married. I always seem to have been too busy to find a wife, but I am happy for my nephew to continue the family tradition and keep our tribe strong and prosperous.”

  “What are you doing here?” asked Linz quietly, shyly looking up at Myriam.

  “There is trouble in my Kingdom. I am in hiding with my companions and I’m afraid that we stumbled upon your lake by accident.”

  Lisl looked across at Clay in alarm. “You have companions?”

  “They are being held securely by the fishing fleet,” soothed Clay.

  “Please, will you release them?” Myriam pleaded. “I am worried that they will be hurt or mistreated, or that they may try and escape.”

  “It is really for their own protection that we are holding them there,” replied Clay. “Our laws require that any outsiders who enter our lake must be immediately executed in order to keep our existence secret, in order to keep us safe. If we brought them here to Halawa, I would have no choice but to order them to be killed. By keeping them with the fishing fleet out near the mouth of the river, we can avoid drawing too much attention to them, for a short time at least.”

  “Why have you brought me here then? Don’t the laws apply to me also?”

  Clay looked at Myriam thoughtfully, glancing briefly at his nephew. “I would like you to marry Linz. I would like you to remain here with us and become part of my family.”

  Myriam gasped and also noticed that Linz had opened his eyes wide in astonishment.

  “But I can’t stay here!” insisted Myriam. “I have to rescue my family and my kingdom. I have to find a way to take the throne to which I am the rightful heir!”

  Clay was unmoved. “But my dear Princess. You must understand that now that you have found us, now that you have discovered our existence, we can never let you leave.”

  32

  “If only there was such a thing as magic,” mused the Duchess D’Anjue, absent-mindedly twisting the thick, solid ring that she wore on the middle finger of her left hand. It had been several days now and still there had been no word from Zander, her chief counsel, whom she had dispatched to search for her missing granddaughter. The Duchess regretted not having been able to spend more time with Myriam, but she had tried to provide support from a distance, sending the learned Leonidavus to the Castle Villeroy to tutor Myriam and watch over her.

  “It wasn’t enough,” muttered the Duchess, scolding herself. When Duke Harald had seized control of the Kingdom of Palara, she had begun to lose hope. “I should never have tried to bargain with that fool.”

  The Duchess prided herself on her diplomacy and her ability to steer powerful men to follow the course that was most advantageous to her, and to her small principality within the Berghein Valley. Alissia was her youngest daughter and the match with Ludwig, the heir to the throne of Palara, had seemed too good to pass up, securing an alliance with her biggest neighbor, garnering the protection of the powerful armies of Palara.

  Alissia had been a smart girl. She knew that marrying Ludwig was the right thing to do. Ludwig clearly wasn’t the smartest of men, but he didn’t seem to be overly violent and he wasn’t unpleasant to look at.

  When Myriam had been born, the Duchess insisted that Myriam be sent to her at Castle Locke, for schooling and tutorship, but Ludwig, King by this stage, flatly refused, demanding that as Myriam was the heir to the throne that she must remain in Palara at Castle Villeroy. Only after much beseeching by Alissia did he begrudgingly accept a tutor from Castle Locke.

  Correspondence with Alissia had been infrequent, and the Duchess had only made the journey to Castle Locke once—for Myriam’s twelfth birthday, an important occasion in the Berghein Valley.

  The Duchess smoothed a gold thread that trailed across her robe as she walked to the window of her study, looking out across the valley below. She had never felt more alone. She had never felt more isolated. Her brow furrowed in thought.

  Suddenly, as if she had reached some sort of clarity or decision, sh
e reached out and rang the small bell that sat discreetly on her desk.

  Her valet opened the door of the study. “Yes, Your Excellence?”

  “Send the captain of the guard to me.”

  The Duchess sat down at her desk. It was a simple design, made from the wood of the walnut trees that grew throughout the Berghein Valley. She picked up one of the scrolls that sat neatly on top of the desk, rolling it out in front of her so that she could study it closely. The Duchess was not a young woman, but her eyesight was still keen. With her index finger she traced the road that led from the Berghein Valley across the Kingdom of Palara, all the way to Castle Villeroy. To the south of the road lay the rich farmland that stretched to the coastline of the Damatine Sea, while to the north of the road lay the Cefinon Forest—the deep dark forest about which so little was known. The Duchess’s concentration was disturbed by a polite knock on the door.

  “Yes?”

  “The Captain of the Guard is here to see you, Your Excellence,” announced her valet.

  “Thank you, send him in,” commanded the Duchess. “Captain Versance, thank you for coming at such short notice,” smiled the Duchess, greeting her captain.

  “I am at your command, Your Excellence,” bowed the captain. “How can I be of assistance?”

  “What is the status of our army?”

  “As we are in a time of peace, we have stood down all but the permanent guards that protect the castle.”

  “How many men could we call up if we needed to?”

  The captain looked concerned. “Are we under threat, Your Excellence?”

  “Answer my questions first, captain,” scolded the Duchess, “and then we will decide whether we are under threat. How many men could we call up if we needed to?”