Wrath of Lions
Page 1
BY DAVID DALGLISH AND ROBERT J. DUPERRE
The Breaking World
Dawn of Swords
Wrath of Lions
Blood of Gods (Fall 2014)
ALSO BY DAVID DALGLISH
The Shadowdance Series
A Dance of Cloaks
A Dance of Blades
A Dance of Mirrors
A Dance of Shadows
A Dance of Ghosts
A Dance of Chaos
The Half-Orcs
The Weight of Blood
The Cost of Betrayal
The Death of Promises
The Shadows of Grace
A Sliver of Redemption
The Prison of Angels
The Paladins
Night of Wolves
Clash of Faiths
The Old Ways
The Broken Pieces
Others
A Land of Ash (compilation)
ALSO BY ROBERT J. DUPERRE
The Rift
Volume 1: The Fall & Dead of Winter
Volume 2: Death Springs Eternal & The Summer Son
Others
Silas
The Gate: 13 Dark and Odd Tales (compilation)
The Gate 2: 13 Tales of Isolation and Despair (compilation)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2014 by David Dalglish and Robert J. Duperre
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by 47North, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and 47North are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781477817957
ISBN-10: 1477817956
Cover Illustrated by Mark Winters
Map Illustrated by Paula Robbins & The Mapping Specialists
Library of Congress Catalog Number: 2013916731
To Morgan, Katherine, Connor, Tristen, and Legacy, because your fathers are weird and you love us anyway.
CONTENTS
ASHHUR’S PARADISE
NELDAR
CAST OF CHARACTERS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
EPILOGUE
AFTERWORD
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
ASHHUR’S PARADISE
NELDAR
CAST OF CHARACTERS
ASHHUR’S PARADISE
ASHHUR, God of Justice, creator of ASHHUR’S PARADISE
—AHAESARUS, Master Warden of the west
—GERIS FELHORN, a boy 14 years old
—JUDARIUS, a Warden of the west
—CLEGMAN TREADWELL, master steward of ASHHUR
—AZARIAH, a Warden of the west, brother of JUDARIUS
—ROLAND NORSMAN, his confidant, 21 years old
—JUDAH, a Warden of the west
—EZEKAI, a Warden of the west
—GRENDEL, a Warden of the west
MORDEINA
BENJAMIN MARYLL, first king of ASHHUR’S PARADISE, 15 years old
HOUSE DUTAUREAU
ISABEL DUTAUREAU, first child of ASHHUR
—RICHARD, her created husband
—ABIGAIL ESCHETON, their first daughter, 71 years old
—TUROCK ESCHETON, her husband, 39 years old
—their children:
LAURIA DAGEESH, daughter, 24 years old, wife of UULON
CETHLYNN, daughter, 22 years old
DOREK, son, 19 years old
BYRON, son, 18 years old
JARAK, son, 16 years old
PENDET, son, 8 years old
—PATRICK, their only son, 66 years old
—BRIGID FRONIN, their second daughter, 63 years old, wife of BAYEN
—CARA, their third daughter, 62 years old
—KEELA NEFRAM, their fourth daughter, 59 years old, wife of DANIEL
—NESSA (deceased), their fifth daughter
—HOWARD PHILIP BAEDAN, master steward of the house
THE KARAK DESERTERS
—PRESTON ENDER, brother of CORTON, leader of the deserters
—EDWARD, his son, 17 years old
—RAGNAR, his son, 16 years old
—BRICK MULLIN, a boy from NELDAR, 19 years old
—TRISTAN VALESON, a boy from NELDAR, 14 years old
—JOFFREY GOLDENROD, a boy from NELDAR, 13 years old
—RYANN MATHESON, a boy from NELDAR, 16 years old
—BIG FLICK, a boy from NELDAR, 17 years old
—LITTLE FLICK, a boy from NELDAR, 15 years old
KER
HOUSE GORGOROS
BESSUS GORGOROS, second child of ASHHUR
—DAMASPIA, his created wife
—BARDIYA, their only son, 87 years old
—KI-NAN RENALD, his friend and confidante
—GORDO HEMPSMAN, a man of KER
—TULANI, his wife
—KEISHA, their daughter, 7 years old
—ONNA LENSBROUGH, a man of KER
NELDAR
KARAK, God of Order, Divinity of the East, creator of NELDAR
VELIXAR (formerly JACOB EVENINGSTAR), First Man of DEZREL, High Prophet of KARAK
—OSCAR WELLINGTON, captain in THE ARMY OF KARAK
—MALCOLM GREGORIAN, captain in THE ARMY OF KARAK
HOUSE CRESTWELL
CLOVIS CRESTWELL, first child of KARAK
—LANIKE, his created wife
—LORD COMMANDER AVILA, their first daughter, 73 years old
—JOSEPH (deceased), their first son
—THESSALY (deceased), their second daughter,
—MOIRA ELREN, their exiled third daughter, 53 years old
—UTHER (deceased), their second son
—CRIAN (deceased), their third son
HOUSE MORI
SOLEH MORI (deceased), second child of KARAK
—IBIS (deceased), her created husband
—VULFRAM (deceased), their first son
—YENGE, his wife, 34 years old
—their children:
ALEXANDER, son, 19 years old
LYANA, daughter, 17 years old
CALEIGH, daughter, 13 years old
—ORIS, their second son, 67 years old
—EBBE, his wife, 27 years old
; —their children:
CONATA, daughter, 10 years old
ZEPPA, daughter, 8 years old
—ADELINE PALING (deceased), their first daughter
—ULRIC (deceased), their third son
—DIMONA, his wife, 42 years old
—their children:
TITON, son, 21 years old
APHREDES, son, 20 years old
JULIAN, son, 17 years old
—RACHIDA GEMCROFT, wife of PEYTR, 52 years old
VELDAREN
KING ELDRICH VAELOR THE FIRST, second king of NELDAR, 38 years old
—KARL DOGON, the king’s bodyguard
—PULO JENATT, captain of the palace guard
—JONN TREMMEN, palace guard
—RODDALIN HARLAN, palace guard
—JOBEN TUSTLEWHITE, priest of KARAK
—LAUREL LAWRENCE, councilwoman, 22 years old
—GUSTER HALFHORN, elder councilman, 78 years old
—ZEBEDIAH ZANE, councilman
—DIRK COLDMINE, councilman
—WALTER OLLERAY, councilman
—MARIUS TRUFONT, elder councilman
—LENROY MOTT, councilman
THE MERCHANTS
—ROMEO CONNINGTON, high merchant of RIVERRUN
—CLEO CONNINGTON, high merchant of RIVERRUN
—QUESTER BILLINGS, Crimson Sword of RIVERRUN
—MATTHEW BRENNAN, high merchant of PORT LANCASTER
—CATHERINE, his wife
—their children:
MARGERY, daughter, 14 years old
ELLA, daughter, 12 years old
RHODA, daughter, 9 years old
CATTIA, daughter, 4 years old
RYAN, son, 2 years old
—BREN TORRANT, his bodyguard
—URSULA, house maid
—PENETTA, house maid
—LORI, house maid
—PEYTR GEMCROFT, high merchant of HAVEN, husband of RACHIDA
—TRENTON BLACKBARD, high merchant of BRENT
—TOD GARLAND, high merchant of THETTLETOWN
—TOMAS MUDRAKER, high merchant of GRONSWIK
THE ELVES
THE DEZREN
STONEWOOD
—CLEOTIS MELN (deceased), former Lord of STONEWOOD
—AUDRIANNA, his wife
—their children:
CARSKEL, son, 182 years old
AUBRIENNA (deceased), daughter
AULLIENNA, daughter, 13 years old, betrothed to KINDREN THYNE
—AAROMAR KULN, protector of LADY AUDRIANNA
—NONI CLANSHAW, nursemaid of AULLIENNA
—DETRICK MELN, brother of CLEOTIS, acting lord of STONEWOOD
—ETHIR AYERS, confidante of DETRICK
—DAVISHON HINSBREW, confidante of DETRICK
DEZEREA
—ORDEN THYNE, Lord of DEZEREA
—PHYRRA, his wife
—KINDREN, son, 17 years old, betrothed to AULLIENNA MELN
THE QUELLAN
—RUVEN SINISTEL, Neyvar (King) of QUELLASAR
—JEADRA, his wife
—CEREDON, their son, 96 years old
—IOLAS SINISTEL, cousin of RUVEN, member of the TRIAD
—CONALL SINISTEL, cousin of RUVEN, member of the TRIAD
—AESON SINISTEL, cousin of RUVEN, member of the TRIAD
—AERLAND SHEN, chief of the EKREISSAR
PROLOGUE
Oris Mori stood at the edge of a pond deep within the forest behind Mori Manor and watched the water ripple as he threw small stones into it.
“I miss him still,” said Alexander from beside him.
Oris turned to gaze at the boy, a near perfect mix of his parents. He had Yenge’s thin nose and kinky-curly black hair and Vulfram’s broad shoulders, rigid jaw, and soulful hazel eyes. Alexander’s hands were also like his father’s, thick fingers meant for gripping a sword’s handle. Oris stared down at his own hand as he bounced a stone in his palm. The flesh was scarred and rippled, forever misshapen by the fire that had charred his body, leaving him in constant pain. Once those hands had been perfect. Once they had been just as strong as Vulfram’s had been, which was quite strong indeed.
He let out a sigh.
“I know,” he told his nephew. “I miss him as well.”
“Will they send his body soon?” Alexander asked. “It has been six months. Mother promised they would send his body. All of their bodies.”
“In time, son. I’m sure they will send them in time.”
It was a lie, of course. Months ago he had learned of his family’s horrible fate in Veldaren, the capital city to the northwest. His brother Vulfram, accused of murder, had been killed by the Final Judges; and then his other siblings, Ulric and Adeline, and his parents, Soleh and Ibis, had been executed for treason and blasphemy. As proof, the courier had presented Oris with a swathed package along with his letter. Inside was Vulfram’s sturdy hand, severed at the wrist and blackened with rot. Still affixed to the pale index finger was a ring adorned with the image of the leaping doe, the sigil of House Mori. Oh, how Yenge had wailed. She’d held the severed hand to her chest, her tanned cheeks streaked with tears, pleading with the courier, “This isn’t true—tell me this isn’t true!”
But it was.
That had happened in autumn, before the worst winter in recent memory had flung its chill across northern Neldar. Oris should have gone to the capital then, he knew, to try and convince the king, Highest Crestwell, or even the Divinity himself to let him bring the corpses of his loved ones home for burial. Instead he had stayed in Erznia, doing his best to comfort his sister-in-law, no small feat considering she’d already lost her daughter Lyana to the Sisters of the Cloth. His lips drooped into a frown, his scarred flesh crumpling almost audibly. Winter had come and gone, and by now it was too late to hope for a burial. The sight of rot and bone would only make their losses worse.
“Why didn’t Karak come to see us?” asked Caleigh.
Oris glanced at Vulfram’s youngest child, who was squatting beside the pond. The bottom ridge of her heavy woolen smock was smeared with mud. She was only twelve, yet she’d experienced as much pain and loss as Oris had in his sixty-six years of life.
“He will come,” replied Oris.
“Does he still love us?” the child asked.
“Don’t ask that,” snapped Alexander. “You’ll end up like Lyana.”
Oris silenced his nephew with a look. “Of course he still loves us,” he told Caleigh. “We are Karak’s children. He will always love us.”
Her eyes gazed up at him, full of grief and skepticism.
“But Father was Karak’s child too. And Grandmeem and Papa and Uncle Ulric…”
“Yes, Caleigh, but what happened was…complicated.”
“How?”
“Stop asking questions!” her brother shouted, suddenly losing his temper.
Oris whirled, his misshapen hand grabbing the boy by the lapel of his surcoat. He pulled him in close, and though Alexander was nineteen and strong as an ox, he was helpless in Oris’s clutches.
“Mind your tongue,” he growled into his nephew’s ear, “or I will mind it for you.”
Alexander sniffled, then dropped his head in submission.
Releasing the boy, Oris stepped toward Caleigh and lifted her from the muddy ground, wrapping her up in his arms. She pressed her face into his shoulder but didn’t shudder, didn’t cry. She simply allowed him to hold her, like one of the dolls his wife, Ebbe, had made for his daughters when they were born. He wished he could remind the child how much wonder there was in the world, how their lives were gifts from Karak. The Moris were one of Karak’s First Families. Their god would never bring undue hurt to them, he knew that.
At least, he had once known that. So much had changed over the last few months: the treasons for which his beloveds had been executed, the ever-growing army, the destructive attack on Haven, and the bloody clash between the brother gods. All of it had powered the tongues of merchants, bandits, and
smallfolk alike. Keeping his surviving family calm and united had proved a near impossible task. The events had cast a pall of sadness over what had once been a sparkling outpost of Neldar.
“I wish Julian was still here,” whispered Caleigh.
Oris nodded. Julian had been Ulric’s youngest, a merry lad with an odd preference for dolls over swords and shields. He had been close to the girls—Oris’s as well as Vulfram’s—but Ulric’s widow had taken her three boys in a fit of grief, leaving Erznia during a raging winter storm. Oris feared the worst for them. Yet another loving soul gone, yet another beloved family member taken away, making a place that had once seemed safe feel anything but.
“We will see them again,” he said, keeping his voice low. He heard Alexander grunt behind him—the youth’s failed attempt at hiding his sobs—and Caleigh leaned back in Oris’s arms.
“In Afram?” she asked, her young eyes sparkling with hope.
Oris chuckled. “Hopefully sooner than that, sweet pie,” he replied. “But yes, if we never again see them in this life, we will most certainly greet them in Afram.”
If we can find our way through, he thought, but did not say.
Seeming to accept that, she once more rested her head on his shoulder.
A thick layer of clouds passed over the sun, and Oris released his niece, stretching to his full height. A strange feeling came over him, like an invisible phantasm whispering into his ear, and he shuddered. He turned to look at Alexander, and he could tell his nephew felt it too. The young man stared around wildly, his fingers playing across the hilt of the shortsword hanging from his belt. A wolf bayed, and the sound was far nearer than should have been possible. A fifteen-foot wall of pine and steel encircled Erznia. The only way a wolf could get inside was if someone let it in.
Then the beast howled again, and Oris realized it was no wolf.
Another sound emerged beneath the howling, a muted bang and clank that reminded him of the time he’d taken a tour of the Mount Hailen Armory in the far north.
Swords.
A queer sort of panic surged through him. Grabbing Caleigh’s hand, Oris ran toward the Manor through the cover of the trees. Alexander fell in step behind him. Oris’s lungs, scarred after inhaling copious amounts of smoke while foolishly rescuing three whores from a burning brothel in Veldaren, no longer worked as well as they should. After a few paces he was breathing heavily, his pulse pounding in his ears, his heart about ready to give up on him. The sound of clattering steel grew louder in his ears.
But his heart did not give up, and he was very much alive when they neared the end of the wood and the rear courtyard of Mori Manor. It was empty, nothing but a flattened, pale green lawn populated by a few scattered goats. At the end of the courtyard rose the manor itself, a boxy construction of elm, pine, and oak that stretched a hundred feet in either direction. Despite its size, it was a simple construction, all earthy browns and deep burgundy, its great slanted roof spackled with tar and clay, seeming to mist beneath the overcast sky. Alexander began to push toward the manor, shoving aside vegetation, but Oris stilled him, pressing his palm against the young man’s chest. Alexander’s eyes were wide with the same terror Oris felt—a terror that grew as strange voices emerged from the other side of the manor.