The Blade Heir (Book 1)

by Daniel Adorno

  "I am very grateful for your friendship, Violet," he said, glancing down at her blue eyes. She forced a smile, but it quickly faded as he held her gaze. He drew closer to her and their lips met. Violet's shoulders and neck tensed up initially, but she did not withdraw from his affections.

  The tender moment in the moonlight was cut short by the snapping of a twig nearby. Silas reached for his blade and rose from the ground to guard Violet from the unknown prowler. An arrow whizzed by Silas' ear and pierced the ground near Naomi's head, rousing her from a peaceful slumber. A familiar battle cry from Draknoir warriors filled the chill night air followed by more arrows.

  "Violet, find cover!" Silas shouted as he sidestepped between the trees in the copse.

  Violet ran to the nearest tree and pressed her back against the trunk, seconds before multiple arrows sunk into the bark. Naomi ducked behind a pair of bushes as another volley of arrows flew through the copse. Four Draknoir ran into the campground with swords drawn, and Silas immediately lunged his sword at the closest one. The blade sunk deep into the reptilian warrior's ribs causing the shocked Draknoir to tumble forward. Silas pulled the blade out and quickly decapitated the downed warrior, then swiped wildly at the next Draknoir who parried his advance with a serrated blade.

  As he exchanged blows with the Draknoir warrior, the other brutes targeted the women. Silas blocked several of his attacker's swings and waited for the Draknoir to provide an opening through an ill-judged thrust. With a quick jab of his blade in the creature's exposed thigh, Silas sent the Draknoir reeling and used the opportunity to plunge his sword through the warrior's back.

  He quickly turned at the sound of Violet shrieking and saw her fall on the ground at the feet of a Draknoir warrior wielding an ax. Silas sprinted toward the Draknoir, tackling him before the brute swung his weapon down. They both hit the ground hard, but the dark creature scrambled to his feet instantly and thrust the elongated tip of the ax at Silas' back. He rolled to his side, avoiding the sharp tip of the ax as it poked the dirt.

  Before the Draknoir pulled the ax out of the ground, Silas swung his sword upward and severed the warrior's scaly forearm. The Draknoir roared in pain, holding his bloody stump. Silas stood up and thrust his sword, but the wounded Draknoir dodged the attack and raked Silas' face with his claws. Silas fell to one knee, reeling in pain from the gashes on his cheek. The warrior lunged at Silas with jaws open, ready to bite his face. Silas blocked the beast's bite with his gauntleted forearm and slipped his blade beneath the Draknoir's armor and into his belly. The attacked made a gurgling noise and grew limp.

  Silas pushed the dead Draknoir off and spun around to face Violet; she was laying on her back, crying softly as she clutched her bloody arm. Silas ran to her side and tried to examine the wound, but Violet clutched his wrist tightly.

  "I'm fine, go help Naomi!" she yelled, pointing toward her friend.

  The last Draknoir warrior was attempting to slice Naomi in half with an enormous scimitar, but the petite young woman was surprisingly agile and managed to parry her attacker's every move. As Silas approached the skirmish, he saw Naomi wielding an unusual weapon in her hands. Upon closer inspection, he realized the weapon was an elvish glaive with blades on each end. Naomi twirled the glaive skillfully and swiped at her opponent, but her attack missed and left her vulnerable. The Draknoir grabbed the top of Naomi's head and jerked it backwards, preparing to slit her throat with the scimitar.

  Silas pushed his sword between the Draknoir's shoulder blades, feeling it pierce through the attacker's chest. The Draknoir shoved Naomi to the ground and whirled around to face Silas with the blade still stuck in his chest. With a wide sweep of the scimitar, the warrior attempted to cut him in two, but Silas ducked beneath the strike and charged the Draknoir. His advance was thwarted by the attacker's well-timed kick to his chest. Silas crashed to the floor, unable to catch his breath before the Draknoir towered over him. The beast held the scimitar high for the final blow, but Naomi jumped onto his back and drove a curved dagger into the Draknoir's jugular. Silas watched as their attacker sunk to his knees and muttered curses at them before collapsing on the ground.

  Naomi retrieved Silas' sword from the Draknoir's body and handed the blade to him. He glanced up at her and realized her head was no longer covered by the headscarf. Naomi's hair was dark and long, flowing down beyond her shoulders, but the most striking feature of her uncovered head were the pair of pointed ears clearly visible in the moonlight.

  "You're an elf?" Silas said, standing up.

  "Yes ... I am," Naomi said, looking away. She turned around and pulled her headscarf from the dead Draknoir's claws.

  Violet walked up to them slowly, holding a rag to the deep cut on her left arm and looking rather pale.

  "Are you all right? Let me see that," Silas said, reaching for her arm.

  "I'm fine, Cutter, really. I've already added some salve to the cut," Violet insisted, grabbing hold of his hand before he could examine her wound again. She squeezed his hand gently and smiled momentarily before she saw the cuts on his face. "Those look awful, Cutter! Here let me get some salve and wrappings."

  "It's just a few scratches, Violet. I've dealt with worse—I'm more concerned about you and Naomi right now," he said, looking over to Naomi. The elf had reapplied her headscarf and busied herself with packing her weapons away.

  "Why didn't you tell us you were an elf?" Silas asked.

  "I didn't see how it mattered on our present errand," Naomi replied while tying her leather sack tight.

  "It doesn't, but I'm curious as to why it needed to be a secret. What do you have to hide?"

  "Cutter, please—" Violet interrupted.

  "Did you know she was an elf?" Silas turned to Violet.

  Violet sighed and averted her eyes, "Yes, I did."

  Silas frowned. "I don't understand the secrecy. Am I missing something here?"

  "I'm not the only one here with a secret, Cutter," Naomi suggested, shooting an accusatory glance at him.

  She was right. He had not told them about his royal parentage, which was likely the reason for the Draknoir attack tonight. But did Naomi know he was the prince of Aldron? And if so, what else did she know? He was unsure if he could trust her, but he could not hope to keep his secret much longer with each passing day bringing them closer to Aldron.

  "You're right, Naomi. I have also been hiding something," Silas said, swallowing hard. "My true name is Silas Dermont, son of King Alfryd Dermont of Aldron."

  Violet's eyes widened and she stepped back, staring at him as though he were a strange creature to behold. "You're the ... prince of Aldron?"

  "I am," Silas replied. He turned to Naomi, who did not seem the least bit surprised at the revelation. "How did you know?"

  "You and your father visited my homeland several years ago. We met briefly, but you seemed preoccupied and uninterested in idle conversation at the time."

  "I'm sorry, I do not recall this meeting. Where is your homeland?"

  "Numa," Naomi said, lifting her chin slightly.

  Hearing the name of the last elven kingdom in Azuleah brought back a flood of memories for Silas. Two years past, King Sikahr had invited his father and him to visit Numa in order to negotiate a trade agreement between their kingdoms, but the whole affair turned out to be a ruse. Sikahr was a paranoid monarch. He suspected an imminent threat to his rule from those in his inner circle and desired Aldron's military aid if an insurrection occurred. The false pretense of a trade agreement was concocted to divert attention from the Numan king's supposed rivals, but it only succeeded in further straining the weak relationship between Numa and Aldron. King Alfryd was furious at Sikahr for the deception, and their heated exchanges were often mediated by Silas, which proved to be an exhausting chore. The only bright spot of the entire trip was seeing the ancient elf city with all of its regal trappings and splendor. He never ventured beyond the walls of Sikahr's palace during his stay, and he could not remember meeting any elves besides
Sikahr and his immediate family: Queen Vilina, twin Princes Alamgir and Balbir, and ... Princess Avani.

  Silas scrutinized Naomi's face and suddenly remembered her. "You're the missing princess—Avani Rubiwind!"

  "Yes," Avani replied. "I was wondering when you would remember me, Silas."

  "We only met briefly, and as you said, I was preoccupied. Our fathers were having petty disputes at the time, and I was tasked with keeping the peace."

  "As was I," Avani said firmly. "My father couldn't fathom why King Alfryd would not agree to a military alliance after being duped by the false hope of a trade agreement. He never looks beyond his own self-importance."

  "My father is equally guilty of that," Silas admitted. "Kings tend to view themselves with higher regard than they should, especially in the company of other royals."

  "I suppose that's true," Avani said, looking down at her packed belongings.

  An awkward silence passed between them and Violet finally spoke. "We should go. More Draknoir could be headed this way."

  "You're right, Violet. We cannot stay here tonight," Silas replied, glancing at the rag on her arm, which was now thoroughly soaked in blood. "Forgive me; this is all my fault. The Draknoir must have been trailing me from Ithileo. I should have been more vigilant to keep you both safe."

  "You could not have known they were following you," Violet replied. She briefly met his gaze, but turned away to check on Homer.

  He felt a pang of regret for keeping his secret from Violet. She had saved his life, and yet he still hid his identity from her.

  "We should move deeper into the woods to a more secluded area. I can guard the camp for the rest of the night," Avani offered.

  "All right," Silas agreed.

  Avani picked up her sack and started for the dense forest beyond the copse at the foot of a ridge.

  "Wait," he said. "Why have you left your home and disguised yourself as a lowly blacksmith in the middle of nowhere?"

  Avani did not face him. "I was called to be a blacksmith, and my father did not agree. That is all I will say on the matter." She continued toward the forest without looking back.

  Silas crossed over a dead Draknoir and approached Violet, who was rubbing Homer's nose gently. "I'm sorry, Violet," Silas said.

  "Sorry for what, my lord?" Violet said, her back stiffened a bit and she squared her shoulders.

  "I am sorry for all this," he replied, gesturing at the mess of bodies and weapons around them. Silas grabbed her hand and held it gently. "I'm sorry for not telling you who I really was. I owe you a great debt, and I should have trusted you."

  Violet pulled her hand away and glared at him. "You lied to me, Cutter...or Silas—whatever your name is!"

  Silas rubbed the back of his neck. "Violet, I—"

  "I don't want your apologies," she interrupted. Her furrowed brow softened briefly and she opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself. "It's late and we need to rest, my lord," she finally said. Violet grabbed Homer's reins and led the horse out of the copse toward the forest, leaving Silas to himself.

  Silas watched both women fade into the darkness as he grabbed his belongings and trailed behind them. He couldn't believe the unexpected turn of events this night had taken. His amiable relationship with Violet had changed drastically in the course of an hour and timid Naomi turned out to be Numan elf princess. Their journey to Aldron had also become more perilous now with the Draknoir pursuing him. But how far would the Draknoir be willing to chase him? They were nearing the borders of Joppa, and surely Memnon would not be foolish enough to send his warriors so deep into hostile territory. The Draknoir leader was becoming more brazen, and Silas feared the worst if Aldron did not mount a massive attack on Nasgothar.

  Despite his growing concerns, Silas found himself more preoccupied with Violet. The single kiss they shared had revealed a longing in his heart he did not know was there. War had torn at his life since his youth, and he knew little else, but he longed for something beyond the battlefield—he longed to love. Violet had awakened him from a long slumber, and he'd hurt her in return. Somehow he needed to make things right and become worthy of her love again.

  TWENTY-ONE

  A Dark Errand

  Two days had passed since Rebecca Ravenmane had arrived in the port city of Tarshish from her long trek through the Onyx Mountains, Ithileo Forest, and the great Dulan River. The journey had exhausted her, but she did not have the luxury of time to rest. Her old tutor, Rekk, had always said, "Rest is for the weary, and a weary spy is better off dead." Old Rekk always had a way with words, and under his tutelage, Rebecca had become a very competent spy and assassin. She was closer than ever to avenging her mother's death. Rebecca could still hear her screams.

  Rebecca and her mother were traveling by wagon on the Barren Road, heading to their cottage in the Golden Plains when three hooded men walked out in front of them. Rebecca's mother refused to give up their belongings to the bandits and tried to fend them off, but she was stabbed to death before Rebecca's eyes. She fled into the woods near the road when the men turned to kill her next. After running for what seemed like an eternity, her pursuers lost her in the underbrush, and eventually they turned back to the wagon. Wishing to see her mother one last time, Rebecca sneaked back toward the road and waited for the thieves to gather their plunder before she walked out from the cover of the trees. From a distance she witnessed something she would never forget. The three hooded thieves took off their dark cloaks and revealed their vivid blue and white uniforms underneath—the standard colors of Aldronian soldiers.

  She remembered crying there in the forest alone for hours as the corrupt soldiers packed all of their clothes, jewelry, and food in sacks. They scurried off with her mother's horse carrying the spoils, laughing at their victim's misfortune. The lifeless eyes of her mother were forever burned into Rebecca's memory that day. Grief-stricken, frightened, and alone, her only recourse was to run. She ran far to the east—far away from the cold corpse that used to be her mother. The way back home was unknown to her as a child, and even if she knew it, no one was waiting for her to return.

  During those first few days of running, she learned many things about survival. She learned how to forage for food: eating insects that dwelled inside logs in the forest or catching rodents that disturbed her sleep at night. Looking back, she recalled how primitive her efforts were, but as time passed she became more proficient in her methods. While searching for food along the banks of the Feilon River one morning, Rebecca came upon a Draknoir encampment teeming with warriors. She thought the end of her life had surely come when the lizard-like beings surrounded her, but she was surprised to find another human was among their company—an older man with graying hair and a hooked nose. He told her she was safe and no harm would come to her.

  The man's name was Rekk, a spy employed by the Draknoir. He expressed more kindness to her than anyone she'd ever known, treating her as a father would his own daughter. Rekk had once been an illegal trader on the Sea of Lagrimas, importing Draknoir goods to spies and black market merchants in the cities of Aldron, Tarshish, and Haran. When the war with Aldron began to escalate, Rekk gained a promotion as a spy for his loyalty to the Draknoir horde. He always told her the money was good and that the Draknoir offered the one thing no man could ever give him—vengeance. Rekk's family were once nobles in the Court of Gilead, but they were exiled when Rekk's father was charged with treason for actively pursuing a peace accord with the Draknoir. Rekk's father hung for the crime, and his mother was left impoverished to care for four children in the foreign province of Ragnara. Rekk despised the royals of Aldron since—convinced that his father's dream of peace with the misunderstood Draknoir was the right course.

  Rebecca came to share this dream since she equally despised the Aldronians for murdering her mother and destroying her life. As an adolescent, she embraced the Draknoir's customs and traditions from her surrogate father and eventually became a spy herself. She was taught how to gather infor
mation from the towns and cities she infiltrated, concealing her identity and searching for secrets in the most detestable of places. Rekk taught her most of his trade, but after he died, she learned much more from the best tutor among the Draknoir—Lord Memnon.

  After losing Rekk, Memnon recognized the talents of his elite spy's adopted child. The charismatic Nasgothar leader trained her in concealment and the arcane arts, making her a vicious threat against the Aldronians. He nurtured her hatred and desire for vengeance, teaching her to wield her anger as a powerful weapon. In time she became more than a spy for the Draknoir, but also a formidable assassin—the best in Memnon's employ. It was the primary reason for her appointment to Tarshish. She was uniquely gifted to assassinate a high-ranking official like Baron Stendahl.

  Rebecca had spent the past two days gathering information in Tarshish, and her findings were quite interesting. Rumors of a military retaliation by King Dermont were running rampant in many circles. A few unscrupulous Aldronian soldiers were keen to share information with her informants for the right amount of coin. Apparently, the King believed his son had escaped the attack in Ithileo and had sent scouts to the areas near the Dulan to find him. The same soldiers believed a massive offensive led by Baron Stendahl was likely to follow. Trusting her intuition, Rebecca would relay the information quickly to Lord Memnon, but first, she needed to know Stendahl's whereabouts. Only one person in the city knew the answer, and luckily, she had enough solidi in her coin purse to pay the greedy rat known as Durgan.

  After grabbing a meal at a local tavern in the evening, Rebecca made her way to the docks on the eastern shore. Tarshish's streets were rank with homeless beggars and urchins looking for charity. The night air reeked of rotting fish from the wharf nearby, forcing her to hold her breath. It was just past the ninth hour of the night, an inconvenient time for a woman to be wandering the streets. She caught a few stares from both drunken and sober men that revealed more of their intentions than she wished to know, but she was no simple village girl. She knew what they wanted and desired to take by force if the opportunity arose.