by Jenny McKane
THE REBEL QUEEN
Anasta Chronicles
Book Three
JENNY MCKANE
Copyright © 2018
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
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
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter One
Vyheim Castle, Far North, in the realm of Agnoria
The guardian looked over the mountains, to the east, from the fortress atop the castle. The temperature had lowered considerably since he had climbed the rickety stairs to set up watch for the night. His breath fogged as it left his body, and he stamped his feet to keep the circulation going.
These night watches were always the worst at Vyheim Castle, especially at this time of year when the Long Cold was about to descend on the Far North. He had been stationed here for over a year now, and he still hadn’t gotten used to it. All the guardians were given regulation cloaks—made of thick pelt—to try to combat the temperature, but they made little difference as the night wore on. It was a battle to even stay alive. He would pray to see the first rays of the sun climb over the mountains. It meant the watch was almost over, and he could descend those stairs and crawl into bed after a hot breakfast.
It was lonely too, stationed up here—although he and the guard who patrolled the walls would often convene to try to get through the night.
He smiled now, as the guard walked up to him. It was Anders. He was a good sort; easy to pass the time with.
“Homme!” Anders called, as he approached. “Lucky you, having first watch tonight! They say that the temperature is going to descend into the minus and beyond.”
Homme frowned. He didn’t want to be reminded about how cold it was going to get tonight. He wasn’t just on first watch; he was doing both shifts. They had been understaffed since all the trouble had started in the Outlying Zone.
“So be it,” he said sourly, staring at Anders. “What about you? Are you about to be relieved, or have you just started?”
Anders smiled, blowing his breath into his hands. “Just started, my friend,” he replied. “All set for a long night.” He touched his sword, which was sheathed securely on his left side. “What did you think of the meeting today?”
Homme frowned again. “What is there to think? We just follow our orders, as always.”
Anders stretched, staring out over the darkening mountains. “They are trying to keep our morale up,” he said. “But I know the truth. I have a friend, who was stationed in the Outlying Zone. He has told me of what really went on there.”
Homme stared at him levelly. He shouldn’t ask; they weren’t supposed to gossip. He was supposed to just accept everything that his superiors told him on face value. It was the way that the Grey Guards had been trained. Accept orders and ask no questions. But so many rumors were swirling around the situation in the Outlying Zone that his curiosity got the better of him.
“What did your friend say?” he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. It didn’t do any good to betray emotion, even with someone you thought you knew well, like Anders. You never knew when someone would report you if you said the wrong thing or acted the wrong way.
It was just how things were in Agnoria. You had to be cautious—all the time. Friends could become enemies and enemies could become friends in a heartbeat. Everyone looked out for themselves. It was a matter of survival.
Anders stamped his feet. “My friend was part of one of the patrols that recently went in there,” he replied. “The Interior of the Outlying Zone was compromised apparently.”
Homme frowned. “The Interior?”
“Yes,” Anders replied, turning to look at him. “Don’t you know anything of the geography of the place?”
“Not really,” said Homme, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve never been there.” He had heard whispers about the Outlying Zone; some said it was full of magic and strange creatures.
Anders sighed. “You should pay more attention,” he said shortly. “You never know where you are going to be stationed, or what information may be useful.”
Homme shrugged again. “Go on, anyway. What happened to The Interior?”
Anders smiled. “Some of the rebels got in there,” he whispered, glancing around to make sure they were alone. “They destroyed a tower, where the power was centralized. And you know who they say it was?”
Homme stared at him. “It wasn’t them, was it? The outlaws that the whole realm is searching for?”
Anders nodded. “Yes. The mighty Gwalen, who escaped execution, and the two guardians, who turned to the rebels. Avalon Lund and Everard Varr.”
Homme gasped. “They made it into the Outlying Zone? How is that possible?”
Anders shrugged. “They have made a laughing stock of us,” he said bitterly. “There has never been a higher price on the heads of any outlaws as there is for this band. You saw all the wanted posters?”
Homme nodded. “How could I not see them? They are everywhere. In every village, over the whole of Agnoria.”
Anders stared out over the mountains again. “The realm has been in lockdown,” he said. “And still they managed to escape. They have caused so much trouble in the Outlying Zone.” He turned back to Homme, lowering his voice. “My friend, who has just been there, says it is chaos, and there is a very high chance that there will be an attack on Agnoria because of it.”
Homme scoffed. “I highly doubt that. Just because they have secured the Outlying Zone, doesn’t mean they will make any inroads here. The realm is highly defended.”
“You really don’t understand, do you?” said Anders, staring at him hard. “Are you one of those people who don’t believe?”
“Don’t believe what?” Homme stared at him.
“The animals,” said Anders, his eyes darting around nervously. “You must have heard the Stromel folktales about them, surely?”
Homme shrugged. “I try not to listen to such nonsense.”
“It isn’t nonsense,” said Anders. “Only a fool believes it is nonsense. The animals are real, my friend. And the band of outlaws have taken possession of them. The animals are allied to them now.”
Homme laughed. “This is why I usually don’t listen to gossip,” he scoffed. “Creatures allied with rebels?! It is true what the commander says: it is dangerous to listen to Stromel talk.”
Anders sighed. “My friend has seen them, with his own eyes,” he whispered. “So many animals. Some fly in the sky. Others swim in the water. And there are more, who run on the land, just like the horses.”
Homme laughed again. “When I see them with my own eyes, I might believe. Until then, I say it is a folktale.”
“Suit yourself,” said Anders, staring at him. “It is good to be loyal to the Jarle, Homme, but not to the point that you can’t think for yourself.
Not everything they teach us is true, you know. The Grey Book is full of lies.”
Homme stared at him, his eyes glowering. It was one thing to say that Stromel folktales were real. It was quite another to say that the Grey Book was full of lies. Anders should really watch himself. His talk could be construed as treason, and Homme didn’t want to be friends with someone who might be watched. He knew what happened to traitors. He had been assigned to one of the camps before his stint at Vyheim Castle.
“You should continue on your watch,” he said slowly. “Commander Kallio might see us talking, and I don’t want to be reprimanded.”
Anders shrugged, and then he strolled off.
Homme watched him go. Yes, he should not talk to him much anymore. Anders had a loose tongue, and he didn’t want to be associated with him if he was suddenly targeted. It could affect his career that he had worked so hard to build.
The two guardians who had turned rebel were proof enough of how dangerous it was to listen to such talk. Avalon Lund and Everard Varr had been at the top of their class at the Academy, and they had amazing futures before them, but that was before they had been corrupted by the rebel leader. Gwalen, he was called. Homme knew his real name was Skyresh Sakr. A poor Stromel, who had led two elite Grey Guards astray. Homme knew that the woman, Lund, was the daughter of a Minister of the Military, no less.
It showed that even the top brass was not immune to it.
He just had to keep his head low and do his job. Not listen to gossip and stay away from people with loose tongues, like Anders.
***
It was deep into the night. Homme could see a heavy mist descending slowly over the mountains.
He sighed, pinching himself to stay awake. This was always the most dangerous part of the night. His eyes would start to droop, and fatigue would spread over him like a soothing blanket. It took all his effort to stay upright and alert.
He glanced to his left. Anders was slowly walking the castle wall, almost in a trance. He knew the guardian was just as tired as he was. He could see it in the way that his steps grew slower with every patrol.
His old Stromel nursemaid, Katsu, had called it the witching hour. The hours just before dawn, when the world was so deeply still that anything could happen. He had always been wide eyed and scared when she had told him such stories. He had said something to his father, and the next thing he knew, Katsu was gone. His father had told him that she wasn’t supposed to spread folktales, and she had been punished for it.
He still felt guilty that he had told on her. What had happened to the old woman? He had loved her, once upon a time.
He was still picturing her in his mind when it happened. One minute, all was deeply still, and the next, it was as if a fury had been unleashed.
A barrage of arrows rained down. Homme had to duck behind the fortress pillar, his heart beating wildly. They were under attack!
“Anders!” he screamed. He could see the guardian still walking the wall, unaware.
Anders turned at the sound of his voice, not understanding. Homme could see him frowning, about to call back, and then he saw an arrow fall straight and true—right into his forehead. Blood started to pool around the wound.
Anders toppled precariously on the edge of the wall, and then Homme watched in horror as he slowly careered over it, falling with a scream onto the ground below. He could hear the sickening thud, as his body hit the ground.
Heart pounding, he quickly withdrew an arrow, raising his bow into the air. Where was the enemy? The mist had descended, and he couldn’t see anything. He released the arrow, hearing it shoot out into the night sky. Then he took another, aiming wildly. Arrow after arrow. He had no idea whether they were meeting anything, or simply landing on the ground.
An instinct told him to look into the sky. His eyes widened. Surely, this must be some optical illusion? Some trick his fatigued mind had conjured?
A creature was descending towards the castle through the mist. It was gigantic. It had webbed wings, which seemed to span half the sky. It glided perfectly through the air. In its clawed feet, it held a ball of flames, which flickered brightly in the black night.
Homme screamed, scrambling wildly to get down the rickety stairs. He could see men running in every direction. They were under attack from every side. He lost his footing, tumbling down the stairs. When he managed to regain it, he stared around. He could see figures scaling the castle walls.
Vyheim Castle had been breached.
He started running, colliding with other panicked guardians. It was chaos. The quadrangle was suddenly illuminated, as the flying creature with the ball of flames flew over them. It unleashed its weapon, which smashed into the ground, sending flames flying in every direction.
Homme watched in disbelief. A guardian had been hit. He watched as the man ran screaming, his body on fire, until he fell to his knees, consumed. The flames had hit the inner buildings, as well, setting them alight.
He ran faster than he had ever run in his life, desperately searching for cover. There were barrels in a far corner of the quadrangle. Might they offer some cover? He could catch his breath and decide what to do from there.
He sprinted towards them, but then a figure stepped in his way. A tall figure, dressed in the garb of the Stromel of the Far North. The man had longish brown hair, tied back. The sides of his head were shaved. Homme could see the veins in his neck bulging beneath strange circular blue tattoos. He held a sword aloft.
Homme stopped so suddenly he almost fell. He grappled for his sword, unsheathing it in the nick of time. He raised it, ready to battle for his life. All around him, he could see men doing the same. The castle was overrun with the rebels.
The swords met, and they fought. The man was strong and well trained. The moment that Homme thought that he had the upper hand, the man would counter move swiftly.
As he fought for his life, he could see other winged creatures descending onto the castle. There were so many that he lost count. All of them carried balls of fire in their black claws, dropping them randomly as they drew close.
It was like a vision of hell. The castle was burning to the ground.
Sweat ran into his eyes, as he fought. Then, he heard his Commander’s voice, screaming into the mayhem.
“Retreat!”
The man he was fighting heard the command, too. Homme could see his eyes glitter in triumph, almost iridescent in the darkness. He had the most vivid blue eyes that Homme had ever seen, almost other worldly.
Homme lunged, managing to scrape the man’s arm. He cursed but didn’t stop. Homme could barely believe it. It was an injury that would have caused any other man to drop to his knees in pain, but this man kept battling.
It was useless. He would never get the upper hand. If he stayed here, he was going to die. A thick wall of smoke was rising all around him, and he started to cough violently. He could see other guardians running for their lives, out of the burning castle.
He turned and followed them. It would have been satisfying to have killed the man, but he wasn’t stupid. As his commander always said, it was sometimes wiser to retreat and live to fight another day. All the guardians were obviously thinking the same thing. They couldn’t win.
They were outnumbered, for one. More rebels streamed into the castle, scaling the walls, but also blatantly running through the burning gates. The flying creatures had set the place on fire. It was going to burn to the ground very soon.
They needed to get out and regroup.
He ran for his life, into the snowy wilderness outside the boundaries of the castle. He ducked as arrows whizzed all around him.
And that was when he saw it. The vision that would stay with him for as long as he lived.
It was another winged creature, but this one was different. Instead of webbed wings, it was covered in brown feathers. It was not quite as large as the other creatures, but it was still formidable, gliding through the air toward the castle.
A woman sat on its back,
crouched low. Homme could see her long, brown hair flying in the wind behind her. She held a sword aloft, ready to battle. She was dressed in black and had blue patterns roughly painted on her face.
Homme gasped, resisting the urge to fall to his knees in front of the vision. It was terrifying. It was magnificent. The creature descending into the flames with the woman on its back.
He thought that he had never seen anything so beautiful in all his years. If he hadn’t been running for his life, he could have stayed there forever, watching it. Spellbound.
But he was running for his life. With difficulty, he tore his eyes away from the vision and kept sprinting through the snow. His lungs felt like they were about to burst, but he didn’t stop—not for a moment.
Eventually, he collapsed onto the ground. He dared to look back. Vyheim Castle was gone. High flames danced into the air, so high that they almost touched the moon. Villages would see it from hundreds of miles around in every direction.
The destruction of the Northern stronghold, the impenetrable castle that had stood for centuries guarding the Far North was wiped out in an instant. The attack had been so sudden and so forceful that they had never stood a chance.
Homme sat up slowly. It was freezing out here. He needed to find somewhere warm and safe to hide until daylight came. How he would find any fellow guardians that had survived the carnage was beyond him at this point. Yet, it was something that he could figure out after a few hours of rest.
He scoured the terrain, searching. He was just about to give up and simply collapse onto the snow again when he spied a small overhanging ledge. He stumbled towards it, almost falling in the heavy snow.
Yes. It would do. He crawled underneath it, shivering violently. Adrenalin had warmed him as he sprinted for his life, but now the coldness had overtaken him again.
He probably had a higher chance of dying from exposure than injury out here. It was a wild, untamed place that they would only venture into in groups of two or more—usually. And now, he was alone and forced to survive.
He crawled behind a large boulder, wrapping his cloak around him. He shivered, again, his teeth chattering. All he wanted was for sleep to take him under and give him some respite from his ordeal. But how could it…when he could barely think with the cold?