Thinblade (Sovereign of the Seven Isles: Book One) Read online

Chapter 7

  Alexander was standing watch in the dead of night. They’d ridden since dawn as fast as Lucky’s wagon would go. It had been a miserable day. The drizzle had started early and was still falling. The wind had blown steadily in their faces all day, and it was cold. Not cold enough for snow, but close.

  His heart ached at the loss of his brother. The hard riding had occupied his mind for most of the day but now he was alone in the dark with nothing but his grief. He stood facing the wind, embracing the punishing cold while tears quietly rolled down his cheeks and mingled with the raindrops falling on his face.

  He felt adrift in a sea of despair. When he wrenched his mind from thoughts of his brother, he was blindsided with stabbing and sudden worry for his parents. He didn’t even know if they were still alive. Lucky told him that a zombie demon couldn’t stand the light of day. That it would have retreated into the netherworld with the first rays of the sun. That was some consolation but not much. He could still see Valentine Manor ablaze when he closed his eyes. His home was gone. His family scattered or murdered.

  Thoughts of his parents led to guilt. He left them to fend for themselves against an unhuman enemy. Despite repeated assurances from Anatoly and Lucky, he felt like he’d betrayed them. He should have stayed and fought. He should have protected his family.

  It was all too much to take in at once. He couldn’t get his mind around the terrible day that had forever altered the course of his life. Too much had happened. Too many terrifying questions remained unanswered.

  Yesterday morning he was the second son of a minor noble. He had a plan for his life. He’d chosen the plot of land where he was going to build his home. He was going to raise cattle like his father had. All he wanted was a simple life. A family. A home. A connection to the land he drew his sustenance from. Alexander wasn’t ambitious. He didn’t need to be. Darius was heir to Valentine Manor. Alexander would have followed his brother anywhere. And now … Darius was gone. Valentine manor was gone. His future was cloaked in darkness.

  His anger began to build again. All this pain for what? Because of some curse cast thousands of years ago. No … not a curse. All of this pain could be pinned squarely on a man who should have had the good sense to die two millennia ago.

  Prince Phane Reishi.

  A gust of wind blew the icy rain into his face. He heard someone stir from under the oilskin tent. Anatoly emerged quietly to take his turn at watch.

  “You are relieved, My Lord,” Anatoly said quietly as he came up beside him.

  Alexander spun and grabbed the big man-at-arms by the coat. “Don’t call me that.” His rage had come quickly and he knew it was misplaced. Anatoly didn’t flinch or resist. Instead he stepped close to Alexander and drew him into a hug.

  He held him tightly for a long moment, then released him and held him at arm’s length by the shoulders. “The days to come will be hard, Alexander. But you must face your duty. Many depend on you now.”

  “I didn’t ask for this and I don’t want it.” His face was a mask of misery.

  Anatoly looked back with the maddening resolve that Alexander knew all too well. “Be that as it may, this is your duty now. You have only one decision to make. Will you accept the responsibility you have been given or will you run from it?”

  Alexander stood silently, tears flowing down his face, and stared back at his old teacher as if refusing to answer the question would negate the reality of the situation.

  “For what it’s worth, Alexander, I already know the answer to that question because I know you, maybe even better than you know yourself.” Anatoly clapped him on the shoulder. “Now go get some sleep. It’ll be dawn soon.”

  They rode hard from dawn to dusk for the next two days and made the outskirts of Southport late in the afternoon on the third day.

  Southport was a sprawling port town on the west coast of Ruatha a couple of days’ ride from the south edge of the Great Forest. It was a major trading hub that shipped the cattle, grain, and corn produced on the fertile plains and grasslands of southern Ruatha to other ports all around the Seven Isles. Goods of all varieties were in turn shipped into Southport to make their way inland along the three well-traveled roads that went north, east, and south.

  Alexander had been here several times with his father and brother to sell herds of cattle and bushels of wheat and to buy wagonloads of all manner of goods needed to run Valentine Manor’s vast estate. He knew it wasn’t a place to let your guard down. It was home to all kinds of people, from reputable merchants, tradesmen and sailors to thieves, con artists and cutthroat murderers. It was the kind of place a person could get lost in.

  The houses on the outskirts of town were mostly run-down and poorly kept. The people who inhabited them were about the same. Alexander checked his sword to make sure it was loose in its scabbard.

  “We should find an inn with a stable where we can have a hot meal and a warm, dry bed for the night,” Anatoly said as he reined in his horse a few paces from the gate. Southport had a wall surrounding the city in a half circle that radiated away from the seaport. It wasn’t much of a wall anymore. There were many places where one could find a way in without passing through a gate, but not with horses, let alone a wagon.

  The disinterested guard came out of the small shack looking annoyed to be out in the rain again. “State your business.” He seemed impatient. The drizzle left tiny dark spots on his damp oilskin cloak.

  “We’re travelers in need of shelter for the night,” Anatoly said from atop his big horse as he flipped a silver coin to the man. The guard caught it, gave the coin a hard look and nodded. “Very well then, be on your way.”

  He leered at Abigail and her long blond hair when they rode by. Alexander relaxed his focus to look at the guard’s colors. He saw a mix of lust, greed, and petty selfishness, but no threat. He returned a hard look and the guard pretended to take a sudden interest in his reports.

  They passed through the gate and into the city to the sucking sound of horses’ hooves in muck. The place stank of manure and human waste. Alexander kept his guard up and his pain at bay. Anatoly’s words from a few nights ago nagged at him again and he pretended that he hadn’t yet made up his mind, but somewhere deeper he knew that he had.

  As they made their way through the sea of buildings toward the center of town, Alexander caught a glimpse of something on one of the rooftops but it was gone behind a brick chimney before he could make out what it was. He shook his head as he recalled his father’s words: “There are strange things in the big city, best to leave them be and attend to your business.” Good advice, but something about the thing bothered him. It looked almost like a tiny man with wings.

  Alexander allowed himself to relax his guard once they were in their room at the inn with the door firmly locked and barred. He reminded himself to be grateful for the small things as he took a seat at the long table occupying the center of the main room. It was a simple table with simple chairs. Abigail was ladling thick stew from the heavy iron pot that had been sent up from the kitchen.

  “Thanks, Sis,” Alexander smiled up at her as she placed a heavy wooden bowl in front of him. Lucky sat across from him and rubbed his hands together at the prospect of a hot meal. He looked tired but despite his fatigue, Alexander could see the light of genuine joy in his eyes as he took a chunk of warm bread and slathered it with rich yellow butter. Alexander had always envied Lucky’s ability to put his troubles aside when presented with a good meal.

  “The room is secure and easy enough to defend if need be.” Anatoly took a chair next to Lucky and put his short sword on the table, nodding his thanks to Abigail when she placed a steaming bowl in front of him.

  The aroma of the stew triggered Alexander’s hunger. He poured himself a flagon of cider while Abigail dished a bowl of stew for herself. She took her seat next to him and he raised his glass. Lucky stopped short of his first bite, looking almost sheepish.

  “May the Lord and Lady of Valentine Manor fare as
well as we do this night.” Alexander’s toast was simple but heartfelt. All raised their flagons.

  They ate in silence. Everyone was hungry and glad to have a hot meal in a warm and dry room. The past few days had been cold, wet, and filled with fear. They didn’t know if they were being pursued but could only assume that they were.

  After they had eaten their fill and the kitchen staff had cleared the table, Anatoly secured the room again. He bolted the door and checked the windows in the main room and the two bedrooms to be sure they were secure. Lucky followed after him and sprinkled a silvery dust on the windowsills and at the base of the door.

  Alexander gave him a quizzical look. Lucky responded with a wink and said, “Just in case.” He always had some potion, powder, or salve for nearly any situation.

  “I’ll stand first watch,” Anatoly said in spite of his obvious exhaustion.

  Lucky shook his head, “Nonsense. We have more need of sleep than we do of a guard. The room is secure and the entrances are spelled. No one will get in without me knowing about it.”

  Anatoly frowned and looked to Alexander.

  Alexander suddenly felt very tired. He’d always looked to his father and brother to make the decisions. He never realized what a burden it must have been for them. After a moment he nodded, “I agree with Lucky. We all need a good night’s sleep.”

  Anatoly frowned, “Very well, I’ll sleep on the couch; it’ll certainly be more comfortable than the floor and I can keep an ear on the door. Besides, I don’t fancy sharing a bed with Lucky,” he added with a brief grin as he unrolled his bedroll on the oversized couch.

  Alexander was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Abigail was breathing deeply in the big bed before he’d even stripped down to his nightshirt. Despite his worry, he slept soundly without any dreams.

  He woke with a start. It felt like only a few minutes had passed since he’d lain down. He rolled over and looked at the window to see that the sky was just starting to glow with the coming dawn.

  Then the layer of dust Lucky had sprinkled on the windowsill pulsed brightly. Alexander sprang out of bed and drew his sword. He heard a scuffle coming from the main room before he made it to the door.

  He burst into the large room to see Anatoly holding a smaller man down on the table with the point of his long dagger at the man’s throat. Without a glance toward Alexander he barked, “Bar the door!”

  Alexander slammed the door shut and threw the bolt as Lucky emerged from his room holding a brightly glowing glass vial high in his left hand and a long knife in his right. Abigail stood in the doorway to their room dressed only in her nightgown but with her short bow in hand and an arrow nocked and ready.

  Anatoly growled into the sudden silence, “How many men do you have with you?”

  The man pinned to the table sputtered, “No one else … just me … don’t kill me … I’ve come to help you.” His words tumbled out quickly.

  Anatoly grunted, obviously not convinced.

  Alexander relaxed his vision. What he saw surprised him. The intruder’s colors were those of a good man, perhaps even a fiercely good man. He saw loyalty, reverence for life, and courage. He also saw that the man was telling the truth.

  “Anatoly, let him up,” Alexander said quietly. Anatoly looked to him for confirmation. He nodded slowly. “It’s okay … I don’t believe he’s a threat.”

  Anatoly grunted again. “That remains to be seen,” he said as he released the intruder while still pointing his long dagger at the man’s chest. Anatoly stepped back and allowed the man to stand while deftly removing the intruder’s knife from his belt.

  The intruder looked straight at Alexander, “You would be Darius Valentine, yes?”

  Anatoly tossed the intruder’s knife away and grabbed him again by the throat. His long dagger pierced the intruder’s tunic right over his heart and he pressed the point against him firmly enough to draw just a drop of blood.

  “Choose your next words very carefully.” Anatoly was in a foul mood.

  Before the intruder could speak, Alexander asked, “How do you know my brother’s name?” Abigail came up alongside him, tension still on the string of her short bow.

  “Your brother … but you bear the mark.” He looked genuinely confused, but only for a moment before a look of sadness came over him. “Your brother is dead then.” It wasn’t a question but a statement of realization.

  Abigail repeated the question with a hard edge to her voice. “How do you know my brother’s name?”

  He looked back to Anatoly who still held him by the throat with a long knife to his heart, then back to Alexander and Abigail. “It’s somewhat of a long story and we haven’t the time at the moment. There is a small contingent of Reishi Protectorate in Southport and they are aware of your presence. They’re searching for you and will likely find you soon. We must flee if you are to have any hope of living through the day.”

  Alexander shook his head slowly. “You still haven’t answered my question and we aren’t going anywhere until you do.”

  The intruder looked at the resolve in Alexander’s face and nodded stiffly. “I could explain more easily if you would kindly let go of my throat.” He forced a smile as he looked at Anatoly.

  Anatoly looked to Alexander, who nodded. Anatoly released him again, still pointing his long dagger at the intruder’s heart.

  The man stood, made a brief show of brushing himself off, turned to Alexander and Abigail bowing deeply and said, “My Lord and Lady Valentine, I am Master Bard Jack Colton and I am at your service.”

  He stood six feet tall and looked to weigh about 160 pounds. He had dirty-blond hair, a fair complexion, and piercing blue eyes the color of the top of the sky a moment after the sun sets. He was altogether too good-looking and possessed a kind of charisma that was a mixture of youthful charm tempered by the confidence of more real-world experience than someone his age ought to have. His clothes were simple and ordinary. His way of speaking and his bearing were not.

  “Since the time of the Reishi War,” Jack began, “the Bard’s Guild has passed the story of the Marked One from one generation to the next. When my father told me the story, I set out on a quest to find the true bloodline, your bloodline, which led me to House of Valentine. When I discovered the truth of your line a few years ago, I moved to Southport so I would be ready when the Reishi Arch Mage awoke.”

  “Stop … you’re rambling. How do you know of my brother?” Alexander was getting mad. “I won’t ask again.”

  Jack glanced at Anatoly who was standing dangerously close with his very sharp long dagger still poised to strike. He took a deep breath. “Darius Valentine was the eldest son of the House of Valentine. Your house has hidden the cursed bloodline for centuries. Your brother was supposed to defeat the Reishi Arch Mage, Prince Phane, and deliver the Seven Isles from a thousand years of darkness.”

  “Darius is dead,” Alexander said flatly. “He was murdered less than a week ago by an assassin.”

  Jack closed his eyes and took another deep breath. “I am very sorry for your loss, My Lord. That sad fact explains the mark you bear on your neck. The eldest son of the cursed bloodline will be marked when the Arch Mage Prince awakes. With your brother dead, the task falls to you.” Jack Colton closed his eyes as if he were dredging his memory. “That would make you Alexander and you Abigail, yes?”

  “You have our names, and much more it would seem. What is your interest in us? Why have you broken into our room and how did you find us in the first place?” Alexander noticed that Lucky had already packed his things and was nearly ready to go. Apparently, he was taking Jack Colton’s story seriously.

  “I found you because I have been waiting for you to arrive since the warning spell alerted the Seven Isles to the coming threat. I broke into your room to warn you of the danger you are in and my interest in you is obvious. I want to be the one to write the songs of your story.”

  Lucky started laughing, “Sounds like a bard to me.
What does your sight tell you, Alexander?”

  Alexander frowned, “It tells me we should trust him.”

  Anatoly frowned too, as he stepped back and shrugged. “Sorry about the nick, Mister Bard …”

  “Actually, it’s Master Bard, but you may call me Jack.” His smile was warm, comical, and disarming all at once.

  Anatoly grinned in spite of himself, “Very well, Jack, but know this,” his grin turned menacing, “if you’re lying, I will kill you.”

  Jack’s expression turned deadly serious. He appraised Anatoly for a moment before nodding solemnly. “Given the nature of the coming storm, I for one, am glad to see that the Marked One has such a devoted protector.” He strolled over to his knife on the floor, retrieved it and returned it to the sheath on his belt. “I’ve also read the stories of Prince Phane … and they still give me nightmares. He must be stopped or I fear the whole world will fall into darkness.”

  Jack took a seat at the table. “The Reishi Protectorate is looking for you as we speak. If we stay here, they will find you. The only question is when.”

  “Very well then, you can finish your story on the road,” Alexander said as he turned back to his room.