by J. C. Owens
Table of Contents
Cover
Table of Contents
Look for these titles from J. C. Owens
Title Page
Copyright Warning
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
About the Author
Coming Soon
Also by J. C. Owens
More Romance from Etopia Press
Excerpt from An Outlaw’s Captive by Xander Tracy
Look for these titles from J. C. Owens
Now Available
The Anrodnes Chronicles
Dark Rain (Book One)
Coming Soon!
A Night of Rain (Book Two)
The Taken Series
Taken (Book One)
Out of the Darkness (Book Two)
The Wings Series
Wings (Book One)
Wings 2: Dominion of the Eth (Book Two)
The Tarsus Series
Tarsus (Book One)
Fire and Ice (Book Two)
Wishes
The Ice Prince
Betrayal
The Falling
Soulseeker
The Chosen
Dragon Forge
Siren’s Call
Farfall
The Emperor’s Wolf
Dark Rain
The Anrodnes Chronicles Book One
J. C. Owens
Etopia Press
Copyright Warning
EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Published By
Etopia Press
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Dark Rain
Copyright © 2018 by J. C. Owens
ISBN: 978-1-949719-17-8
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Etopia Press electronic publication: December 2018
CHAPTER ONE
Raine
Raine stood at the prow of the ship, one hand clenched tight in the rigging, cloak held snugly around him against the spray. The ship might be large, but it battled the strength of the north wind, prow rising high on each wave, then tilting sharply into the trough behind.
The motion had the majority of the passengers huddled below the deck, but Raine sought this last small amount of freedom.
Ahead, almost mythic in the haze of brutal weather, the city of Persis, capital of the Empire of Anrodnes, loomed large, and larger with each passing moment.
His possible future. His doom.
He blinked away salty wetness, unsure if it was the spray or his own emotions. He thought he had left tears behind in his own country, in the vales of green, the lush fields, and deep, mysterious jungle valleys.
There was no way but forward, despite his despair.
His brother had seen to that all too well.
As though the very thought had conjured him, a hard hand grasped his shoulder, squeezing brutally until he flinched. Raine bit his lip against the pained cry that fought for release.
“I don’t think flinging yourself overboard is the answer, Brother.” Parsul’s tone held cold mockery. “You are worth far too much for that.”
Raine took a shuddering breath as the grip was released, though the hand remained, ready to inflict yet more pain if Raine should rebel. Raine stole a quick glance at his brother. Whereas Raine held the fine features of his late mother, with curly black hair and green eyes, Parsul was all their father, brutish, thick-boned and broad-shouldered, with a square-jawed face, thinning brown hair and dark, malicious eyes.
“There is no hope of that, is there? Not with your hounds on my heels.” Raine gestured abruptly and with bitterness to the two large figures, standing but an arm’s length away. Since Parsul had come up with this plot and dragged them to Anrodnes, he’d had guards watching Raine constantly.
Parsul laughed, a grating sound that made Raine grimace. He kept his gaze upon the approaching landfall, refusing to hold his brother’s gaze and see the gloating there.
“You act as though this is such torture,” Parsul said, “yet you will be the hero of our country, your name a blessing in the temples.”
Raine curled his lip, fingers turning white where he held the rigging. “You are too confident, Parsul. I have to be chosen. There is no surety of that. The imperial heir will have many men to choose from. He may well take another as his bondmate.”
He could only hope for such an eventuality. Then he would not be marooned in this harsh, hostile land, a pampered toy in a tyrant’s hands. Although even being a tyrant’s plaything might be better than enduring his brother’s cruelties.
Parsul’s hand tightened brutally, making him buckle under the pressure so that Raine tried to twist away. His brother caught him by the shirt front, jerked him close as he hung helplessly in the powerful grip, his smaller form struggling without hope of release.
“You will play your part to perfection, or you will suffer for it. Is that clear?”
Black spots begin to dance before Raine’s eyes as his tunic collar cut off his air. He tried to nod, his mouth opening but only a choking gasp emerged.
His brother cast him to the deck contemptuously. He huddled there, gasping for air, head bowed. Parsul kicked him hard enough to drive him several inches across the soaked boards, but Raine hardly felt the pain through the struggle to breathe.
“You are the key to the approval we need for our entire endeavor in Bhantan. You will be the salvation of Odenar. A small sacrifice to make in the scheme of things, given the riches and strength we stand to gain. You will seduce the imperial heir, get him to agree to my plan or I will sell your skinny ass to the nearest brothel. Am I clear?”
Raine managed a nod this time, letting his soaked hair hang forward around his face, hiding his pain and the defiance that still smoldered like a tiny, fragile flame. All too often his tongue got him into trouble, but Parsul and his two other brothers had made it clear: he either did as they demanded with the imperial heir, or he would suffer as he never had before.
“Good.” Parsul motioned to the guards curtly. “Get him inside. Don’t want him catching ill before the Choosing, do we?”
Raine was hauled to his feet, almost hanging in the two guards’ grips. He did not fight. He said nothing. He had learned the futility of resistance all too well in the years of his brother’s rule.
His brother was the High Lord of Odenar. Raine was the youngest son of the family in their far-off homeland. Sinc
e the war twenty-two years ago, Odenar was only a province of the Anrodnes Empire. Parsul had brought Raine to enter him in the Choosing, a rare event where the imperial heir selected his bondmate before he donned the imposing metal mask of the high lord emperor. Raine wanted no part of it. Like there was a choice for him. He had long ago given up hope of escaping his brother. Why dream of something impossible?
He cast one look over his shoulder at the looming cliffs ahead before they passed below decks.
* * *
The docks bustled with activity, and Raine was hard pressed to stay close on his brother’s heels as they dodged cargo being loaded and unloaded. The harbormaster had sent a runner to the palace, but Parsul didn’t wish to wait. So their group was wending their way through the busy docks.
Parsul was outraged at the lack of consideration for their entourage. No one stepped aside in respect or appeared ready to guide them to the great palace.
Raine watched the organized chaos with wide, fascinated eyes, before glancing up at the massive fortress that loomed above them.
Palace it might presently be, but its history as a stronghold was evident in the vast walls and dark stone towers. Built into the mountainside that sloped down to the harbor, it seemed created from the very cliff itself, strong and impregnable. As though a mighty divine hand had shaped it. A suitable home for the High Lord Emperor and the Imperial Court of the Anrodnes Empire.
Raine shivered.
Raine’s dark mood broke as his brother let out a startled squawk. A small smile dared to curve Raine’s lips as Parsul slipped on wet boards, flailing for a moment before he recovered his balance. Raine was swift to glance down, feigning obliviousness, but seeing Parsul brought down a notch or two lifted his spirits.
He felt Parsul’s fierce gaze on him, judging whether or not Raine had seen his near fall, searching for the slightest smile or amusement on his face. Raine kept his eyes averted, and his expression like stone until Parsul looked away again.
They made it to the end of the dock without further mishap, and it was there that a young man stepped forward and bowed. “Lord Parsul of Odenar?”
Raine’s brother straightened, satisfaction radiating. “I am.”
“Welcome, Lord Parsul. The empire is honored to have such distinguished guests. My name is Isnay Mretom. I have been sent by the Seneschal to greet you and bring you and your people to the palace.” He peered past Parsul and smiled. “This must be the candidate? Lord Raine?”
Parsul put a hand behind Raine and pushed him forward with unnecessary force, almost causing his younger brother to stumble. Raine caught himself, gathering his tattered dignity and bowed in return to the newcomer.
“I am Lord Raine,” he affirmed. Even in his nervousness, he could literally feel that this man was gentle, thanking his odd ability to sense intent. It came in useful at times like these.
“Good, good. You are the last one on the list to arrive.” He cupped a hand around Raine’s elbow and urged him toward an ornate carriage that waited to the left. “I know Odenar is the farthest away from us, and there was some news of a storm that went through the area. I am glad for your safe arrival.”
The cheerful chatter was a balm to Raine’s nerves, along with the sudden realization that Parsul could not openly abuse him with such a witness present. Along with that was the dawning realization that if he stayed here as the Chosen of the heir, he would be free of his brother. Parsul would eventually have to return to Odenar.
What before had seemed exile, now seemed a chance, slim though it might be, for a second life.
His chin came up, his eyes brightened.
Perhaps this would not be quite the horror he had originally envisioned. For the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope. If he played things right, he could finally be free…
The chance of success was slim, but it was more hope than he had held in a very long time.
CHAPTER TWO
Raine
It was far into the evening, long after supper had been served. The guests milled round, some passing the time with conversation and laughter, others with a more practical concept: checking out the competition. Raine lingered nervously with the Odenar retinue, feeling as though a hundred eyes were upon him.
His brother twirled the stem of a wineglass as he viewed the room with narrowed eyes.
“If the emperor only wants a pretty face, you would win above any here, but it is said he values intelligence, personality, and talent.” His glance at Raine was scathing. “None of which you possess. It will come down to you making yourself noticeable, sexually available. The best we can work with.”
Raine gritted his teeth, eyes fixed upon the ornate marble floor. He could not refute the words, much as he wished to. He did not count himself intelligent, his personality was vague at best and downright scattered at worst, and talent… What talent did he possess?
None that stood out. His passion was history, architecture. Other people saw those as dry, boring. The other candidates seemed so much more accomplished. There was a famous dancer, a well-known painter, and a published poet among many. Listening to the conversations around him, he heard that there was a healer of high repute, a mage of considerable power, and a prince from the northernmost territory. Raine? What did he have to offer the heir to the empire?
Tomorrow was the first division of the candidates. Of the forty-eight presently here, the number would be halved, twenty-four would go on. Within a week that would be halved again. The chances of him making it even past this first hurdle were abysmally thin.
“Candidates!” The call muted all conversation as people turned to view the man standing in the ornate doorway that led past the great hall.
Flanked by two large and formidable armored guards, the man held paper in his hands. The cultured voice, crisp with the northern accent, held a brisk, no-nonsense tone. “I will call you by name, and you will pass within the emperor’s private hall. No retinue, family, or companions will be allowed within.”
Without delay, he began to call out name by name in alphabetical order.
Parsul gripped Raine’s elbow painfully, leaning close to hiss in his ear. “Play this well, little brother, or I will see you pay.”
“Lord Raine Yoldis of Odenar.”
Raine felt the press of eyes from all over the room, and he straightened, shaking off Parsul’s grip with a sharp sense of glee. For this time, at least, he would be free. Head held high, he made his way across the vastness of the hall. At least he had the ability, long honed, of keeping a calm, expressionless mask in place.
The man nodded to him, marked off his name, and one of the guards gestured that he should proceed through the door.
The others who had preceded him were milling around in confusion, some in groups, others alone.
Raine glanced around the space, awed by the sheer beauty of the hall. Much smaller than the great hall outside, it held design elements that caught his eye. In complete fascination, he walked to the nearest pillar, laying gentle fingers upon the black marble. There was no way to tell its age, but the palace itself was rumored to be several thousand years old. His attention veered to the floor, made of mosaic panels with incredible detail. He squatted down, viewing each panel with ever-increasing interest. It became evident the panels told stories, history most likely, most martial in nature. There were several depictions of an armored man surrounded by luminous blue light, the legendary “magic” of the emperors.
Raine’s people held no such magic, and having never encountered such a thing, he was somewhat skeptical of the truth of the matter. He was extremely careful to keep that disbelief to himself. Odenar, a conquered country, was beholden to the Anrodnes Empire for its very existence. Those who showed the smallest resistance or rebellion found themselves hunted by the Shadows, the emperor’s ever-loyal bodyguards. More than one rebellious country had discovered the Anrodnes Empire’s wrath, and the others learned swiftly what was and was not accepted. Although Odenar was an imp
erial territory far from the capital city, and they had not felt the weight of the empire’s control for many years.
For the most part, the empire was content to leave the lands they had conquered to their own devices, their own culture and way of life, imposing laws and taking taxes, but allowing each to have its own court of vassals under the emperor’s control. Therefore there was an uneasy, but mostly peaceful coexistence. If you did not rouse the dragon, you could go about your life with minimal concern.
Raine ran a slender finger over the portrayal of blue light, wondering…
Rising back to his feet, he ignored curious stares from the others. His behavior was being noted and commented on, as it was back at home. He always seemed to stand out in ways that brought him negative attention.
He wandered here and there through the hall, viewing art and sculpture and ignoring the other candidates. People held little interest to him, except perhaps for their potential as adversaries.
Conversations rose and fell around him, some voices filled with nervousness, some with arrogant certainty. Some men stayed silent, merely watching cautiously, circling the others in a mirror image of Raine.
Raine knew that he might not have any hope of being chosen, but at least he had experienced this wondrous room in this amazing palace. This was a place he knew he would be walking in his dreams as his mind reveled in the memories he was making right now.
He would never forget these awe-inducing sights and for that little miracle, if nothing else, he was grateful.
* * *
Zaran
Second Prince Zaran stood in silence, watching the candidates through the ornate screen with intense, cold judgment. Naral, the head of palace security and the Imperial Heir Taldan's closest friend, stood beside him, pen in hand, silent.
Within moments, Zaran had picked out several unsuitable candidates, and Naral wrote them down with patient precision.