Edgewind: Chronicles of Nahtan: Book 4 (The Herridon Chronicles) Read online

  Edgewind

  by: DL Kramer

  Copyright © 2015 by D. L. Kramer All Rights Reserved

  Cover Art Copyright © 2015 Roman Hodek

  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.

  Published in the United States of America

  The complete list of Herridon titles available from D.L. Kramer:

  Mo'ani's Way - Book 1 Chronicles of Nahtan

  Halona's Way - Book 2 Chronicles of Nahtan

  Nahtan's Way - Book 3 Chronicles of Nahtan

  Edgewind - Book 4 Chronicles of Nahtan

  Olorun - Book 5 Chronicles of Nahtan

  Basiyr - Book 6 Chronicles of Nahtan

  Herridon - Book 7 Chronicles of Nahtan

  The Second Sentinel - Book 1 Chronicles of Mehlis - (Mature themes and content) -coming soon

  The Kamiri Born - Book 2 Chronicles of Mehlis - (Mature themes and content) - coming soon

  Nahtan: A Character Study (short)

  Other titles available from D.L. Kramer:

  Bloodlust

  Son of the Despot (short story)

  Contents

  Prologue - "This makes seven auctions"

  One - "Because Lady Bavol is here"

  Two - "You think he's dying"

  Three - "What about the prophecy?"

  Four - "He knows there is a power"

  Five - "Where should he start?"

  Six - "Has he changed their fates?"

  Seven - "And your sword can stop a god?"

  Eight - "You can be such an arse"

  Nine - "Hath thee a place we can talk?"

  Ten - "He will not change"

  Eleven - "Find out anything you can"

  Twelve - "Bring us there and back safely"

  Thirteen - "Just like your son"

  Fourteen - "You need to trust us"

  Fifteen - "Keep an eye on Rial for me"

  Sixteen - "Let me take her"

  Seventeen - "Why was Yenene so upset?"

  Eighteen - " You only have one other son"

  Nineteen - "What lies within you?"

  Twenty - "One of us will be dead"

  Twenty One - "Did he threaten Valry?"

  Twenty Two - "We shouldn't talk here"

  Twenty Three - "She keeps 'em to 'erself"

  Twenty Four - "Don't kill him"

  Epilogue - "It won't kill you"

  Prologue - "This makes seven auctions"

  The simple, common folk in the small villages never paid Rial heed, so he was certain no one knew he was out lurking around their tiny farms and homesteads. The night air was warm and humid against his skin as he crept through the tall grasses. He didn't care so much if any villagers spotted him, it was the renegade church guards and auction masters he didn't want seeing him.

  While most of the villagers knew that the BishopLord had been overthrown and they were now under the rule of the new King of Herridon, Rial had found few that even knew where Herridon City was, let alone what their king's name was. There was no governor here now, and Rial doubted there ever had been. Valin Hold was closest--though still three months travel--so the southern villages' protection was up to him until Nahtan saw fit to make changes. While Rial wouldn't turn from the duty, he also disliked it since it kept him away from his own people.

  The other nobles had returned to their holds well over three years before, seeing their jobs completed when the garrison was routed and the BishopLord dead. Of his army, Rial had sent all but a few back to Valin Hold. Remaining behind, he intended to make sure the slave trade was indeed gone. The business had been lucrative for the BishopLord, church guards and auction masters. Even with the BishopLord dead, Rial doubted such men were willing to become upstanding citizens. There were even the one or two who had risen to new positions of power here.

  He watched as three more shadowed figures slipped past the guard and through the low barn's door. Rial dropped his hand to his sheathed dagger, his fingers tracing the design on the gold hilt. Turning away from the slight breeze, he whistled, the notes indistinguishable from the song of the bush-dwelling birds of these southern villages. Two like whistles answered him, and he silently crept forward.

  In the dim light from the moon, he saw two of his Mo'ani warriors moving forward at the same time. They converged on the barn in silence. When Rial was close enough, he pulled his dagger, flipped it around and threw it at the burly man standing guard outside the door. The dagger flew true, hitting the man in the throat and silencing any warning he might make. One of the Mo'ani reached the guard and finished him, pulling Rial's dagger out and across his throat--nearly cutting the man's head off--before he pushed the body forward onto the ground.

  Rial stepped up beside the door, taking his dagger back from the Mo'ani. Nodding, he held up a hand as he listened by the door, waiting for any sign that this was another illegal slave auction. Within seconds, he was rewarded with the familiar grumbling of the one-eyed auction master's voice.

  Rial turned away from the door and the three crept silently back to the farm road. He knew when the traders found the body of the guard, it would shake them up, and he would hear more talk of the mysterious spirit haunting the auctions for the next week.

  "This makes seven auctions so far this month," Rial noted. "And three different auction masters."

  "We don't have enough men here to clear them all out," one of the Mo'ani said. "And it would be over half a year before we could get news back to Herridon and the king could have an army here."

  Rial nodded. He'd have kept his own army behind, but their red cloaks were too noticeable and they wouldn't be able to gather the information they now had. The few Mo'ani he had here were enough to get what he wanted. After considering his alternatives, Rial made his decision.

  "Go back and tell the others to get ready to return to Valin."

  "You're staying here alone?" the other Mo'ani asked.

  "No," Rial's voice was thoughtful. "I'm going to get a gift for our king to let him know how his homeland is looking." Turning on his heel, he walked back toward the barn, leaving his men to look at each other.

  One - "Because Lady Bavol is here"

  Nahtan waited patiently while Yenene unwrapped his wrist and pressed her fingers into the underside of his forearm. The throbbing pain turned to a sharp jolt and he had to stop himself from pulling his arm away.

  "I think you found it," he commented, brushing dark strands of hair from his eyes as she smiled her apology at him.

  "I wish you'd listen to me and change your weapon of choice," Yenene responded. She set the cloth wrapping by the archer's brace. Tucking loose strands of her fine black hair behind one ear, she then scooped a daub of liniment from a bowl on the table. Careful not to apply much pressure on the aggravated nerve in his wrist, she began massaging it in. Rest and some precise exercise to strengthen the muscles had helped some, but the damaged nerves would likely plague Nahtan for the rest of his life. Yenene did what she could now to help ease the pain and inflammation they caused.

  "Then I'd have to learn how to use a shield," Nahtan pointed out.

  "A shield would keep it protected," Yenene returned.

  "Good shields also weigh more than his sword," Bear said from his seat by the door. He was examining a quiver of arrows, checking the points and fletching on each one. "So you'd just be getting mad at him for that before long."

  Yenene spared Bear a glance. "And you're not much better, Se
wati," she lectured. "When was the last time you inspected any soldiers?"

  Bear paused, then shrugged and smiled at her. "Yesterday afternoon," he responded. "There were three out of uniform and four missing. One missing guard later returned from helping brace up a retaining wall along the south side before it fell in on a shop." His smile grew at Yenene's exasperated sigh. "The other three had left earlier in the day to repair a supply wagon coming in from Corydon Hold."

  Yenene turned back to Nahtan's wrist, shaking her head.

  "Speaking of other holds," Nahtan looked to Bear. "Adie is bringing Valry back from the Stronghold today. I'm riding out to meet them, were you going?"

  Bear nodded and pulled another arrow from the quiver. "I can go get her if you have things to do here."

  "Why do you think I'm going?" Nahtan asked. "If I have to listen to one more trader rant because I'm requiring inspections of their packs and wagons, I'll start having you shoot them."

  "I think that would make them call you a tyrant," Bear noted. He set the quiver aside and leaned back in his chair after straightening the brightly colored woven vest he wore. His hair, as fine and black as Yenene's, fell to his elbows.

  Yenene finished with Nahtan's wrist and began wrapping it again. "Now I'll tell you again, give it some time to heal between your fights," she instructed. "And if I catch you in the training yard without your brace again, I'll order you to bed for a week."

  "You sound an awful lot like a mother," Nahtan pointed out.

  Yenene gave him a deliberate look. "I'm just repeating what your mother has told me," she responded, her voice serious.

  Nahtan was careful to hide his smile. He'd quickly learned not to argue with Yenene when she was repeating things Jensina told her. He'd have accused her of fabricating many of her statements, but knew better. Yenene had been reluctant to accept her role as Jensina's priestess, and only mentioned the goddess so directly when it was something she couldn't ignore. Yenene's abilities as an advisor were as valuable to him as Mo'ani's or Lord Bavol's, and he didn't want her angry with him.

  "I'll be more careful, I promise," Nahtan responded dutifully as Bear chuckled.

  "Good." Yenene stood and gathered her things. "Because Lady Bavol is here, and I expect she's got news of some sort."

  Nahtan turned when someone knocked on the door, this time not bothering to hide his smile. He and Bear had learned quickly that Yenene didn't always realize some of the things she said. Most of the time, she was aware she had spoken, but not aware of exactly what she was saying.

  "Come," he called, sighing. In the three years since taking the throne, he still wasn't used to everyone waiting for his command to do something as simple as walking into a room.

  The door opened, letting in one of the castle guards. While Bear chose to rarely wear his armor, the guards kept theirs shined to perfection. Red surcoats with Nahtan's coat of arms embroidered in gold threads hung over their armor and under their three quarter length red wool cloaks.

  Several Mo'ani warriors from the different holds had accepted commissions to remain at the castle as guards. Their red cloaks were always a comfort for Nahtan, reminding him that he had once stood within their ranks, and was still accepted by them for his skill with a sword.

  "Lady Evaine of Bavol Hold to see you," the guard announced.

  Nahtan's smile grew when Evaine appeared in the doorway. Yenene nodded to Nahtan and slipped past the guard and Lady Bavol, disappearing into the hall.

  "Thank you," Nahtan dismissed the guard with a nod and stood to greet Evaine. She swept into the room, the green velvet of her dress tipped with gold in the morning light. Holding her hand was her daughter, her blonde hair falling in ringlets to her shoulders. "Evaine," Nahtan greeted, then turned to the little girl and bowed his head to her. "Taleise."

  Nahtan offered Evaine a seat as Taleise giggled and hid behind her mother's skirt.

  "A bit far to come for a social visit, isn't it?" Nahtan asked Evaine as she sat in the offered chair and pulled Taleise onto her lap. Yenene's suggestion that Evaine brought news prompted his statement. Evaine wasn't against suddenly appearing at the castle for short visits, but he figured it would be more than that this time.

  "Especially since there's nothing social going on," Bear added.

  "I'm sure we could stir up something, Sewati," Evaine smiled at Bear. "You just have to know where to look." She turned back to Nahtan. "Our visit is somewhat social, though we're also here for diplomatic reasons."

  "We?" Nahtan asked. "Is Taleise taking on matters of state now?" Taleise giggled again and turned her head towards her mother's shoulder.

  Evaine stroked her daughter's hair. "Soon enough," she assured him, then paused, her eyes growing serious for the slightest moment. "You know Matthios hasn't been well."

  Nahtan nodded and resumed his seat. "Arlend mentioned it when he was here last week."

  "Now that he's seen the Archbishop dead and you on the throne, it seems all those ailments he ignored all his life are catching up to him," Evaine continued. "He's spoken at great length with both Arlend and Tonek about stepping down, but neither of them want to be Bavol's lord." Evaine's voice grew pained. "He's asking for your intervention. He doesn't want Bavol Hold seen as reflecting her lord's state of health. He can't run it anymore, it's just too much work for him."

  Nahtan nodded and brushed the hair from his eyes. "It should be Arlend's, he's the oldest," he said slowly. He turned to look at Bear. His friend met his gaze and shrugged in response.

  "I'm not going to argue with Tonek," Bear said. "He's even bigger than me. I don't care if I am the captain."

  Nahtan sighed and turned back to Evaine.

  "All right," he nodded his head. "Lord Bavol has done everything I've asked him to, making a decision on this won't even begin to repay him. Can he travel?"

  Evaine nodded her head, then smiled. "He's barely half a day behind me," she answered. "Taleise and I rode ahead while Arlend and Tonek stayed with him. They should be here well before nightfall."

  "All right," Nahtan said. "I'll have rooms prepared for you all. I'm meeting Adie and Valry when they come down this afternoon, but we'll probably be back before Matthios gets here."

  Evaine nodded her head. "Thank you," she said, standing.

  Nahtan nodded as he stood, his decision already made in his mind. He knew what Arlend and Tonek's arguments would be, and he had to agree with them. They were both soldiers, not diplomats. Arlend's rank of lieutenant of the Bavol Mo'ani gave him more authority, but it was his skill as a soldier and warrior that earned him respect from the Mo'ani. Tonek received his respect by the simple matter that he was extraordinarily strong and there were few people who could stand against him for long. Bear was one of the few Nahtan had seen leave the training yard without help after matching off against him.

  "You may not thank me too much tonight," Nahtan pointed out to Evaine. "Bavol will have a new lord, even if I have to knock someone in the head."

  "Better make sure you have your sword with you," Bear pointed out, picking up the quiver and standing. "You don't do very well without it."

  Nahtan gave him a deliberate look. "Did I ask for your advice?"

  Bear chuckled as he opened the door for Evaine and Taleise. "Do you ever?"

  Evaine smiled at Nahtan. "I'm sure my lord will abide by any decision you make."

  "It's not him I'm worried about," Nahtan said. He leaned over and held out an arm to Taleise. She came to him and he picked her up, then offered Evaine his other arm. With Bear behind them, he escorted them into the hall.

  Seeing them to a room and requesting rooms prepared for Arlend and Tonek, he and Bear left the castle after pausing by Nahtan's room for his cloak and sword.

  "So who are you going to put in charge?" Bear asked, nodding to the two guards who stepped forward as they left the castle's courtyard. The guards stepped back to their posts as they walked past. He pulled his fine black hair into one hand and tied it with a narrow strip o
f leather.

  Nahtan shrugged and swung his cloak out and over the two-handed longsword on his back before clasping it. The gold embroidery around the hem glistened against the red wool in the mid-morning sun. With Kile gone, his cloak was now the only one in the Mo'ani's ranks to bear the embroidery--testament to his training by Mo'ani himself. "Who were they all deferring to when Lord Bavol was sick before?"

  Bear raised an eyebrow at him, then let out a low whistle. "You think they'll accept it as a permanent situation?"

  Nahtan shrugged and when he spoke, his tone was firm. "Do you think I'm going to give them a choice?"

  Bear chuckled as they turned toward the stables.

  They were still several yards from the corral and stable when Nahtan felt the familiar nudge of Renato's mind. The young stallion was anxious to get out of his stall for a run and wanted to make sure Nahtan knew it.

  As he pulled open the stable door, a nicker from Chase greeted them. Bear stepped to the big horse's stall door, rubbing his greying nose as Nahtan walked back to Renato's stall. The sleek black head of the Dweller's horse appeared over the door, one black eye pinning on Nahtan. With a heavy push forward, he pressed against his stall door and tossed his mane.

  "All right, I'm coming," Nahtan told him, pausing to lift Renato's tack from a hook on the opposite wall. Renato shifted his weight anxiously as Nahtan unlatched the door. Reaching out to the horse's mind, Nahtan assured him they were leaving the stable. As he had been trained, Renato stilled as Nahtan buckled the bit and bridle on him, then ran his hand down the horse's sleek neck.

  Renato's breeding was as perfect as Tyran's had been. Every line of him spoke perfection, but where Tyran had been gold and flaxen, Renato's coat was pure, silken black. Jerai and Siara had presented Nahtan with Renato as a gift almost two summers ago. Renato was the firstborn of their new herd, and both his dam and sire came from proud lines. Barely over four summers, the horse was as energetic as Chase had been in his youth--though not nearly so mischievous.