King of Blades

  King of Blades

  Ryder Bailey

  © 2018 Ryder Bailey

  All Rights Reserved

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except in quoted segments for review purposes, without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and events portrayed are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  1

  The heavy spring evening rain drenched the city of Ryal as a dark, cloaked form moved quietly through the streets. Llyr didn't mind the rain, even if it did soak through his cloak and clothes and make him shiver. It also kept people from noticing him as he made his way along the slick cobbled street to the castle.

  He knew his former master had died somewhere in or around this gods-forsaken city only days ago, and the thought filled him with something close to giddiness. His death meant Llyr was the new glorious weapon of the true Master.

  Varin has failed me. Now it is your turn to take up the battle. Go to Ryal.

  Llyr looked up at the castle looming ahead. Obscured by the sheets of rain it should have looked ominous, but to him it looked like a promise of glory to come.

  I will send you the tools you need when it is time.

  He thought about the royal family living inside that castle. They were probably feasting or drinking or having sex, blissfully unaware that their indulgent lives would soon be over. Surely they assumed that the danger had died with Varin.

  Llyr would be the one to bring about their downfall, and he could hardly wait.

  "That castle will be my reward," he whispered to himself.

  Grinning, he pressed on.

  ***

  Jaimathan, Crown Prince of Algoma, did not enjoy it when his mother called him to her office for private meetings. The meetings were never about anything pleasant: raiders from the Alta Mountains attacking villages, pirates on the Corintha Sea, earls going mad and holding entire towns hostage – thankfully that had only happened once – and the question was always, "What would you propose we do?"

  But this meeting was different. Queen Cyra wasn't asking for her son's opinion on any issues.

  "Phelin is asking for whatever aid we can give," she explained. "I'm sending you to them."

  Jaimathan tried not to look surprised. "Just me? What can I do?"

  Cyra rubbed a hand over her tired face. "I will also be doubling the garrison at the watchtower across the river from Ryal. You need to learn how to use this magic of yours and Lord Shelton believes he can help. He also believes, from what I've told him, that if you can learn your magic by the time you need it, you may be able to aid them greatly. Phelin is an important ally. If they fall to Dyrai, we will be helpless to keep ourselves out of Emperor Kemale's control. I'm not certain why he seems to think you're what they need, but I feel I should trust the Wielder of the Violet Power."

  Though the thought of finally mastering his mysterious magic was a relieving thought, Jaimathan was still puzzled. "I thought they were just in a civil war. Why do they now feel threatened by Dyrai?"

  Cyra sighed. "I'm not sure I fully understand, but I was told Kemale gave weapons and magic to the rebellious lord who started the war, and had planned to take over control once the country was in the lord's grasp. I'm sure you will be given more details on the situation when you arrive."

  That still didn't explain much. "And what if we get attacked?" Jaimathan questioned. "Why won't I be needed here?"

  She gave him a slight smile. "We have not been threatened. There is no reason to believe Kemale wants to invade us while his eyes are on Phelin. Not yet, at least. He thinks he's already weakened Phelin, so he will attack there first. And if we are attacked we have our full army at the ready. We haven't just fought another war and lost hundreds."

  He finally nodded. "Just me, though?"

  "Arin is already instructing Braith to go with you. Fae and the children will be safer here. Leave tomorrow at dawn. It will take at least fifteen days to reach Ryal, but they believe they have that much time, hopefully months. I'm hoping you can find the training you need before everything comes down on you, as well."

  He nodded again, reluctantly. "Very well."

  The office door banged open and Jaimathan stood quickly, one hand on his sword hilt out of habit more than true concern. Into the office marched Fae, his wife.

  "I will go," she declared.

  He started to argue but she cut him off.

  "I won't stay here. My place is with you." She crossed her arms as she came to stand before him. "You never know when you may need my family."

  Behind him, Jaimathan heard his mother sigh. "You're right, Fae. I hadn't even considered that."

  "How will you reach your father from Ryal?" Jaimathan asked.

  "Take one of the messengers with you," Cyra suggested. "But no more. We don't need a great group of people traveling across the countryside to Phelin. It would attract too much attention and make people concerned. That's why you will be traveling unannounced."

  Jaimathan nodded. "Understood."

  Cyra waved them toward the door. "Go prepare so you can leave at dawn. See me again tonight."

  As soon as they were in the hallway Fae spoke again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overhear. I was looking for you to ask what we were doing for your sister's birthday celebration."

  "Don't apologize," he assured her. "I didn't want to go without you anyway. I don't know how long I would be gone."

  "I only worry about leaving the children."

  Jaimathan grasped her hand as they walked, thinking of their five-year-old son, Klent, and their one-year-old daughter, Sayla. "They'll be fine here. This is the safest place for them. But you're certain you want to leave?"

  She nodded. "If you need my family, I can't send them to you, I can only ask them to come to me."

  "And your father will send help if we need it?"

  "If I ask, and he receives a welcome from the king of the land they will be entering."

  "Do you know much about the culture of Phelin?" he asked as they descended a flight of stairs.

  "No," she admitted. "Algoma is the only country we trade with, and only because we share the same lands."

  "Well, they have a slightly different culture," Jaimathan explained. "The country is led by the Grand King, who has a husband and two wives, the Second King and two queens."

  Fae glanced at him curiously. "Why?"

  He shrugged. "It's their tradition."

  Their conversation was interrupted when Braith walked around a corner and almost collided with them. The sorcerer was dressed in the red shirt and black pants of the Guardians. Braith's red eyes were thoughtful when he saw Jaimathan and Fae together.

  "You know?" he asked.

  Jaimathan nodded. "We're leaving at dawn. Fae's coming with us, and a messenger."

  Braith raised an eyebrow. "I was told it was going to be you and me. Why the change?"

  "We – and Phelin – may need the Shifters."

  ***

  Second King Coulta of Phelin arrived at the office of the court sorcerer and former Second King, Shelton, just as the violet-robed sorcerer stepped away from the white communication crystal in the corner of the room.

  "I just spoke to Queen Cyra's personal sorcerer," Shelton said when he saw Coulta.

  "She's sending aid?" Coulta asked.

  Shelton sat down heavily on a chair by the dead hearth. "Four people she thinks will be able to help us. The prince, his wife, their personal sorcerer, and a courier."

  Coulta felt his heart sink. "That's all?"

  "She's also doubling the garrison at the tower across the river in case we need
them. The prince, Jaimathan, has some strong powers I believe will be useful. It could be a form of Arcane magic, but I'm thinking he may be an untrained Asir. He doesn't have a colored level of magic, and he hasn't been extensively trained by anyone who knows how to train him. Queen Cyra also hopes I may be able to work with him on his magic while he's here, so he can do all that he can." Shelton pointed to another chair and Coulta sat down. "The sorcerer, Braith, is of the red level of magic, one level below violet. It'll be helpful to have him, too, and he's trained. Jaimathan's wife, Fae, is of the Shifter people in central Algoma."

  Coulta hadn't learned many details about any country outside of Phelin since arriving at Ryal only months ago. "Who are the Shifters?"

  "A race of people who can shape-shift," Shelton explained, thankfully not annoyed by Coulta's ignorance. "Each person has a specific creature form. I believe Fae's form is a unicorn. Her father is the leader of the Shifters, Dragon – he goes only by his creature name, I believe because it's a tradition for the leader to do so. Most of the Shifters have common animal forms, but the leader's family have always been filled with magical creatures. The courier who is coming is also a Shifter who will go to Dragon and request his aid if we need it. Fae is coming because she doesn't believe her father would send a full force to Jaimathan without her being with him."

  Coulta nodded in understanding. "Will all of this be enough?"

  It had been a month since Shelton had been sent a magical amulet tied to the Emperor of Dyrai, who was also a necromancer. Destroying the amulet had weakened the necromancer's powers, Shelton had said, but it wouldn't stop the threat.

  Shelton shrugged. "I've also sent a summons out to all available sorcerers and sorceresses who wish to fight with us or do anything else to help. I'm not sure how many will respond to it, but I'm sure many will. All those in the city already have, which is close to three hundred. Others will be coming here to learn and share what they know. Perhaps an army of mages will be able to fight against an army of necromancers."

  "Kemale isn't the only one of them we'll be fighting?"

  Shelton shook his head grimly. "He'll likely have several other, lower-level necromancers leading segments of his army."

  Memories of Varin's army of nearly invincible warriors fighting through horrible injuries that should have killed them came back to Coulta's mind. How could they fight that – or something worse – again?

  Shelton stood and motioned for Coulta to do the same. "Let's work with your magic again. With any luck you may be almost trained before this storm arrives."

  The statue of the late Grand King Deandre was revealed later that afternoon. The full court, comprised mostly of members of the royal family, gathered in the entry hall of the castle where the statues of past Grand Kings and Second Kings lined the walls. The sculptor, a portly man dressed in the common clothes of most merchants and artisans of the city, solemnly revealed the statue by removing a red cape from it.

  It was eery how well the carved marble resembled the late Grand King. Even without color, the life-sized statue on the plain podium looked like it would move at any moment. The eyes were just as piercing as Coulta remembered, the stance both regal and intimidating.

  Coulta hoped the sculptor had been paid a good commission for the piece.

  He glanced at the people around him, and wasn't surprised by the reactions he saw. There were looks of pain on the faces of the former queen, Lady Yvona, Shelton, and Grand King Wildas. Rohan, Wildas's brother and the Prince-General of the Royal Guard, looked grim, as did several of Deandre's siblings. Beside him, Coulta could see that Queen Anil was trying not to cry and Queen Myri was holding her.

  "Will Wildas be all right?" Anil whispered to Coulta and Myri later as they left the hall behind most of the court. "He seems so overwhelmed."

  "He might hear you," Myri warned. "Coulta's magic gave him better hearing, remember? I'm worried, too, but now might not be the best time to make him think he needs to pretend to be happier around us."

  "I didn't choose what powers I gave him," Coulta defended himself in a whisper. "Or either of you for that matter. The magic does what it wants."

  Ahead of them, Wildas turned and looked back, obviously curious. The black line that twisted from behind his ear to his collarbone was clearly visible. The same vine-like lines covered Coulta's body, the marks of the curse he had been born with. Since his curse had broken during the battle with Varin just over a month ago, the magic that had sustained it had become something he could use and pass on to others, but the amount of magic in him meant that he couldn't control when he passed magic on during intimacy. Anil's mark of the magic looped over her heart, and Myri's wrapped around her right hand.

  "What's wrong?" Wildas asked after he had fallen back to join them.

  "I was just commenting on how tired I am," Anil told him.

  Coulta was glad the curse had been broken, because it would have forced him to tell Wildas that the issue had nothing to do with Anil and her pregnancy.

  Wildas put an arm around Anil's waist. "Will you be all right?"

  Myri snorted. "I've helped mothers with worse troubles than she has. Tea and some rest, and she will be fine."

  "Of course, Healer Myri," Anil teased.

  ***

  The next day the castle began the tournament it would use to select new members for the prestigious Royal Guard.

  "You're certain you want to do this?" Wildas asked as Coulta joined him in his bedchamber that morning.

  Wildas couldn't help but be jealous when he looked at his husband. Coulta was wearing his usual black fighting leathers, an outfit that Wildas knew he was more comfortable in than his own skin, while Wildas was trapped in layers of colorful and almost gaudy velvet and silk. He wondered if he'd ever get used to dressing this way. It had been awful enough as a prince, but it was worse now that he was expected to dress even better by the court's standards. Putting his crown on wouldn't make him any more comfortable either.

  "I'm sure I'm happier with this than you are," Coulta replied with a knowing smile. "I need to thank Yvona for suggesting that I help."

  "I wish she had given me something else to do," Wildas commented.

  Coulta stepped closer and kissed Wildas firmly. "I'm sorry."

  Wildas had to smile. "I suppose I don't envy you that much, now that I consider it. I don't want to spend an entire day sword fighting. Let's go."

  "How exactly does this entire tournament work?" Coulta asked as they left their suite of rooms.

  "Every competitor earns points in each of the events," Wildas explained. "This is the first day, the sword duels. Each entrant scores points based on how long the duel lasts and how many blocks and attacks they make. Points are deducted for unnecessary pauses, so no one can extend the time without fighting. Each entrant is then ranked at the end of the day. Tomorrow will be the archery test, then the mounted test to determine how well each entrant can fight on horseback, then the weapons-free hand-to-hand combat, then a footrace, and finally a written test about the laws and procedures of Phelin, which tests how well each entrant can read and write as well as how well they understand what being a member of the Royal Guard entails."

  Wildas sighed as they moved down the stairs at the end of the passageway. "We usually only need a few new members every year, but because of the conflict with Varin we need fifty-four new members to fill the places left by those who were killed or had to retire because of their injuries."

  "How many entrants are there?"

  "Last I heard from Rohan there were just over one hundred."

  "And why are the entrants fighting Yvona, Rohan, and me?"

  "To make it more difficult," Wildas said with a smile. "Intimidation in a sense."

  They joined the others outside the throne room. Anil and Myri were planning to watch for most of the day with Wildas, and already wore their slim crowns. They also wore red gowns that were similar to each other but far from identical. Shelton was dressed in one of his ceremonial r
obes instead of his usual, plain violet robes. Wildas wasn't sure exactly what the difference between the two styles was, aside from the sleeves being longer on the ceremonial one. All he knew was that they looked different, somehow. Maybe it was magic. He also wore a twisted gold and black cord across his body, to signify his position as the former Second King. Anil and Myri didn't wear cords, and neither would Wildas. The crowns were enough.

  Yvona was dressed in chainmail and pants, a sword at her hip. The only thing that showed she was part of the royal family was the leather breastplate she wore over her mail that was dyed red and embossed with the rearing Steed of Ryal, much like Coulta's black leathers were. Beside her was Prince-General Rohan in his red Guard uniform.

  Star, Wildas's youngest brother and his personal attendant, stepped forward with Wildas's crown and placed it on his head. Ralix, one of Wildas's cousins and Coulta's personal attendant, went to Coulta with his crown, which was slightly smaller than Wildas's and only marginally different in style than Anil's and Myri's.

  "Until you're at the arena," Ralix explained when Coulta gave him a skeptical look.

  Coulta nodded and bent to allow Ralix to put the crown on his head.

  They all made their way outside to the arena where the duels would take place. A crowd of supporters of entrants or just curious onlookers had already gathered to watch. There was a raised platform at one end that looked down over the arena and held several seats, four of which were simpler replicas of the thrones inside.

  Coulta stepped aside with Yvona and Rohan and handed his crown back to Ralix. Wildas tried to suppress a smile as he heard the murmurs that broke out when the crowd realized that Coulta was to be one of the champions. They had all expected Yvona to fight, but Coulta, being the Second King, was a surprise.

  Wildas took his seat on the platform with Anil and Myri seating themselves on the identical seats to his left. Shelton sat behind them with the two ladies-in-waiting, Dala and Marla, and a few of Wildas's other siblings. Ralix placed Coulta's crown on the seat to Wildas's right, then took his own seat behind them with Star.