by Rachel James
Rivalyn
The Forgotten Kingdoms # 3
Rachel A. James
Copyright © 2019 by Rachel A. James
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Scripture quotations taken from the Holy Bible, King James Version. Public Domain.
ISBN: 9781699020555 (Print)
Edited by: Rachel Skatvold
Cover photos: Boiko Olha/Shutterstock.com
Published in the United Kingdom.
www.rachelajames.com
For the glory of God
Contents
Prologue
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
17. Chapter Seventeen
18. Chapter Eighteen
19. Chapter Nineteen
20. Chapter Twenty
21. Chapter Twenty-One
22. Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Rachel A. James
The Land of Holmorra is divided by many kingdoms and there is unrest among the people. Shieldok warlords, known for their violence and tyranny, dominate the South, whilst the Wealdfolk occupy the North.
The Kingdom of Rivalyn has not had a monarchy for over twenty years, not since Dyrah seized control of their lands. Some Wealdfolk fled to the Great Forest, but, over time, Rivalyn came to have an understanding with Dyrah’s king, Eadward, and they enjoyed a period of peace.
However, Dyrah is now under threat. The three kings of Shieldia want total control of Holmorra and amidst such uncertainty, tension is at its highest…
Prologue
Niall clung onto the makeshift raft with weak arms. He’d been travelling like this for days. He was weak, so weak. And tired. Had he even slept? At least the storm had settled, and the sun beat down on his back, warming his body a little. Where had everyone else gone? Were they all dead? Mayhap he was. He certainly didn’t feel alive right now.
Through half-open eyes, he glimpsed a splash of yellow and green. Was that land he’d just witnessed?
His mind willed his body to jump off and start swimming toward it, but for some reason his arms and legs didn’t want to move.
His eyelids fluttered. He had to stay awake now that he was so close.
Another flash of colour caught his attention as a small boat came into view.
His eyes grew wider at the sight of a dark-haired woman swimming toward him.
“Are you hurt?” she asked as she came within reach.
He opened his mouth to talk, but only a raspy noise escaped him.
“Odi, come quickly, this man is injured.”
The man rowed nearer. “Help him into the boat. Are there any other survivors?”
“I cannot see any more. We should get this man some help. We can take him to Cynehofa and have him treated there.”
Niall cleared his throat. Where were they taking him? He had to get back to Angularem.
The woman pressed her finger to his lips. “Shh, rest. We will tend to your wounds.”
He tried to speak but his voice refused to comply. But as they neared the shore, recognition dawned on him. He had reached the Kingdom of Dyrah.
Chapter One
Alys clutched the side of the wagon as it sped across the countryside. She glanced back at the palace.
“My lady, get down!”
Her heart pounded as the left wheel jutted over a small boulder. She closed her eyes, her head spinning at the day’s turn of events. So much had changed, but there was little time to process it.
Arrows whizzed through the sky, one catching the hem of her dress. She gasped, hitting the fabric to squash out the flame.
The driver yelled to hasten the horse’s pace and pulled at the reins, veering off to the right, managing to miss the next attack aimed straight at them. He turned the cart toward the woods, leaving the road.
She swallowed, looking at the narrow depth between each tree, and hoped he had an accurate skill at steering. “Where are you taking me?”
“The nunnery—it’s not far.”
She nodded, out of habit, although she knew he did not see her. She exhaled and sat straighter as the wagon slowed its pace. They followed the woodland path which led to Knotting Abbey. Alys’s hands began to shake. Would she be safe? Even here?
The man brought the horse to a stop, jumped out, and scooped her up. She almost protested but grimaced as a shooting pain ran up her entire side.
“Open the gates,” he commanded.
The tall wooden palisade widened, and several nuns rushed to their aid.
She shut her eyes momentarily as her head spun. They took her to a small chamber, at the rear of the building. They stripped her tunic away from her body, and she screamed out as a hot iron scorched her skin. The smell of her burning flesh was too much.
She awoke again. How long had she passed out? The overcrowded room filled with ladies tending to her. She struggled to maintain consciousness, but she needed to make sense of it all. The pain to her side was immense, and she turned her head away. Alarm filled her when she spotted a tall dark figure loitering in the doorway.
He stepped backward, and the light from the fire caught his features. Crystal blue eyes stared back at her. It was the servant who brought her here. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember the day’s turn of events. He had been there, all along.
One Day Earlier
Another carrier pigeon flew into the dovecot, and Niall carefully retrieved the tiny message from around its ankle. He opened it with trepidation:
Glad you are still safe. All is well here. Some travellers from Shieldia arrived recently, and there is talk of overthrowing Eadward, so please be careful.
T.
Niall frowned. Couldn’t his sister be a little more specific? That the Dyrahn king was in danger, was no secret. The Shieldok kingdoms to the south always looked for ways to conquer Dyrah and therefore gain control of the entire north. Still, what with the negotiations taking place this eve between Rivalyn and Dyrah, he didn’t like the sound of Teagen’s warning.
He would not write a response just yet, as he needed to do a little more investigating. Slipping the small piece of parchment into his belt, he returned to the stables. Praefect Druce had just arrived and would need his horse tended to.
Niall glanced to the modest entourage behind the praefect, comprising what he presumed to be his daughter, her attendant and several guards.
He kept his head low, glad for the long hair and beard to disguise his features. King Eadward never recognized him, thankfully, allowing Niall a chance to remain in the background and glean information of vital import. The shipwreck of many months before proved a Godsend. Niall’s mission was simple. Discover what was happening in the mainland, and take back his kingdom, Elmetia.
But Holmorra had changed. The Shieldoks from the South
were tyrants compared to Eadward, and their hunger for more land and power was ever increasing.
He helped Alys down from the wagon.
“Thank you,” she said and gestured toward the chest tied securely to the cart. “Would you take our possessions to our chambers?”
She gave him a kind smile, her hazelnut eyes exuberating a deep warmth to them.
“Of course, my lady.”
Niall picked up one of the trunks and shifted it to his shoulders, keeping his head down as he bypassed King Eadward welcoming guests. After he set it down, he paused for a moment to stretch out the kink in his neck, but at the sound of voices he withdrew himself to stand quietly by the door. Queen Wynflaed promptly rounded the corner, with the praefect’s daughter at her heels.
“You and your father are in your usual chambers—I hope they will suffice. You have a little time to freshen up before we sup. If there is anything you need, just ask one of the servants.” Wynflaed took hold of Alys’s hand and hesitated.
“My Queen?”
“Alys, I...”
She frowned. “Aye?”
The queen shook her head. “It’s naught. My nerves, ’tis all. I suppose I am not accustomed to entertaining.” She forced a smile and exited the chamber without so much as casting Niall a glance. Upon her exit, Niall seized the opportunity to slip out and get the other chests on the cart, taking a further two to her ladyship’s quarters, and another to her father’s.
As he put down the baggage, the praefect addressed him. “Please, take this note to Lady Alys at once, and then, be so kind as to fetch us some wine.”
Niall bowed his head and took the letter, curiosity piquing his interest. As he left the praefect’s presence, he opened the paper. It was written in Old Wealdic, not the common Holmorran language.
I fear we are in danger. Meet me in my chamber immediately.
Niall refolded the message, slightly alarmed. He scoured his surroundings to look for something out of the ordinary, but everything seemed to be in its place. The guards patrolled the wall and the four towers, as usual.
The gate opened once more, to Shieldoks from the south, judging by their distinguishing fur cloaks which adorned their shoulders. He hadn’t been aware they were coming today. Had they been invited?
Niall hastily returned to Alys’s chamber and handed the note to the handmaiden. He then headed to the kitchen for refreshment. An odd request, considering they were due to sup shortly, but, after such a long journey, they may indeed need some wine.
The kitchen was a bustle of chaos. “What is going on?” he asked one of the hands.
“Haven’t you heard? We are to host the three kings of Shieldia, and all that goes with them. Cook’s out of her mind. They’ll likely go through a winter’s worth of provisions if their reputations of feasting are anything to go by.
“All of them? What of Cwenland?”
“That, I don’t know,” shrugged the girl. “Just got a lot more chopping to do. Now I’d best get on.”
Niall thanked her and went into the cellar to fetch Druce his wine. Did the praefect know about this? It would be reason enough to cause him trepidation. The South coveted Rivalyn’s territories—they had for centuries.
He knocked on the praefect’s door before entry. Alys and her father sat on chairs by the fire. Druce gestured toward him, and Niall poured them both drinks. He was just about to leave when they started speaking in Wealdic. Did they think he could not understand them?
Druce leaned closer to Alys, and in a hushed tone said, “On our journey here, you asked me again about your real parents.”
Her eyes widened, and she nodded stiffly.
“I fear I must tell you, for our circumstances have changed, and I can keep it from you no longer.”
She hesitated and placed a trembling hand on top of the other. “My mother and father...they were important people?”
Druce wrinkled his brow. “How do you...?”
“I suppose, I’ve always sensed that I was different, somehow.”
Niall busied himself in the corner of the chamber, decanting the wine into a jug.
“You are the daughter of King Lamorak and Queen Aloedia.”
Alys blinked, and her voice became strained. “They had no child.”
“That is where you are wrong. Aloedia carried you in her belly but secluded herself to Castraholm. The kingdom was in a fragile state, and knowledge that Lamorak and Aloedia would have an heir put considerable risk to you.”
“I thought they died in battle!”
“They came under siege, but not before Aloedia gave birth to you. To ensure the kingdom’s longevity, and your safety, she placed you in my charge, and should she die, I was to raise you as my own.”
Alys’s face paled, and her mouth dropped open. “You are saying, I am a princess?”
“Not only that, but the rightful heir.”
“We have no throne.”
“No one sits in it, you are correct. But its throne awaits you, and I believe we are nearing the time for you to arise.”
Alys stood abruptly and circled the room. She crossed her arms to still the shaking. “None of this makes sense. Why now? Why keep this a secret from me all these years?” The confusion and anger did not escape her tone.
“Because I fear, if we wait any longer, the Kingdom of Rivalyn will be entirely taken over by the Shieldoks. We must meet with King Eadward and renegotiate.”
“But why didn’t you tell me? I can keep secrets, as well you know.”
Druce pulled her into his embrace. “For purely selfish reasons, child. I cannot bear anything happening to you.”
A sob escaped from Alys. “Then, why this very moment? What is the urgency?”
“The kings of Shieldia are here, and I fear they are up to no good. We must strike now before it be too late. Make yourself ready, daughter, for we go to Eadward.”
Before the opportunity came to converse privately with Eadward, the king summoned them to the hall. It was majestic on all accounts. Alys sat around the grand trestle table in the centre of the room, away from her father, and instead, between the two brothers, Wilhelm, the king of West Shieldia, and, Osgar, king of the South. Then, looming over her and far too close for her own comfort, was Bordan, their father, high king of all Shieldia. Their presence was foreboding, and Alys steadied a trembling hand as she reached for her drinking horn.
What was her father thinking, allowing her to eat amongst these wolves? She’d listened to stories of the three kings slaughtering anyone who displeased them. They had obtained their power through fear alone.
“’Tis wonderful that your daughter can join us this eventide,” began Eadward, “although I am curious why you brought her to our meeting. What concern is she with matters of Rivalyn?”
Alys swung her gaze toward her father, and firmly but subtly shook her head. Please, Lord, let him not announce anything now.
Druce stared back at her with hesitation. “This...is not my daughter.”
Eadward lay down his knife and leaned back. “I beg your pardon?”
“That is to say...the reason I asked her here to sup with us this eve, was to introduce Rivalyn’s h—”
Alys pushed back her chair and grabbed the jug. “Shall we have more wine?” She shot her father a pleading stare. Couldn’t he tell this was dangerous? She moved over to Eadward and Wynflaed to pour them a drink. “Please, allow me to serve you.” She passed the king his goblet. “What my father means to say, is that I wish to discuss with you how I might assist Rivalyn better, in your stead. I have some ideas, on how we might reunite the Wealdfolk...” She paused as the king started to choke. He dropped the cup to the ground, deep red wine spilling. The king looked up at her, confusion displayed in his eyes. He collapsed to the floor. The queen screamed for help, as the king’s life drained from his body. Alys glanced from Eadward to Wynflaed, and the vessel in her hands.
“She did this!” growled Bordan. “She’s tried to kill us all!”
She shook her head and staggered backward—the wine falling from her grasp. She turned to her father, whose stare moved from the dead king to the fearsome Shieldoks.
He withdrew his sword. “Run, child. Now.”
It was a matter of seconds but seemed like a lifetime. She hesitated. She had been sword-trained, but she was no match for the three kings. No one was. Not even her father. But she trusted him, so escape she must. She picked up her skirts and headed for the door.
“Seize that girl,” shrieked the queen, as she cradled Eadward in her arms.
Alys grabbed the spear from the soldier standing at the door and pushed him away. The other guard was not so easily fooled and swung his weapon at her. She vaguely felt the slice to her side but didn’t have time to nurse her wound. She sped out of the hall and staggered toward the stables. “Help me,” she pleaded with the stable hand. Without a word, the man picked her up and flung her in a wagon. He jumped up on the wooden seat and took the reins. Voices behind them grew louder.
“Yah!” shouted the driver, and the contraption jolted to an immediate start.
The warning bell sounded, and the gates began to close. Her man struck the whip, and the horse picked up its pace.
Alys held her breath as they drove through the gate with mere feet to spare. Arrows started flying from the towers. God help them. She would die for a murder she did not commit. And what about her father? What would they do to him?
She was completely helpless.