Besieged

Praise for Rowena Cory Daniells

“A fast moving, gripping fantasy.”

Fantasy Book Critic
on
The King’s Bastard

“Rowena Cory Daniells has a splendidly devious way with plotting.”

SFX

“It’s a story of kings and queens, beasts and warriors, magic and religion. If you like any of the aformentioned things, then you’ll probably join me in loving this book.”

Den of Geek
on
The Chronicles of King Rolen’s Kin

“
The King’s Bastard
is a cracking read and the pace never lets up.”

Geek Syndicate

“Royal intrigue, court politics and outlawed magic make for an exciting adventure.”

Gail Z. Martin, author of
The Chronicles of The Necromancer
, on
The Chronicles of King Rolen’s Kin

“Pacy and full of action and intrigue.”

Trudi Canavan, author of
The Black Magician
trilogy, on
The Chronicles of King Rolen’s Kin

“
The King’s Bastard
is a fabulous, rollicking, High Fantasy adventure that will keep you up at night, desperate to find out what happens next.”

Jennifer Fallon, author of
The Demon Child
trilogy

Also by Rowena Cory Daniells

The Outcast Chronicles

Besieged

Exile

Sanctuary

The Chronicles of King Rolen’s Kin

The King’s Bastard

The Uncrowned King

The Usurper

The King’s Man (
ebook
)

Rowena Cory Daniells

BESIEGED

Book One of the Outcast Chronicles

First published 2012 by Solaris

an imprint of Rebellion Publishing Ltd,

Riverside House, Osney Mead,

Oxford, OX2 0ES, UK

www.solarisbooks.com

ISBN: (epub) 978-1-84997-372-4

ISBN: (mobi) 978-1-84997-373-1

Copyright © Rowena Cory Daniells 2012

Cover Art by Clint Langley

The right of the author to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of he copyright owners.

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

The seeds of every conflict are planted in the past, and so it was in the last days of the Late Golden Age of my people. When the war started, no one knew all the facts, and not one person was properly prepared, least of all me.

Taken from Imoshen’s Private Journal

Chalcedonia and the Five Kingdoms

PART ONE

Chapter One

Year 290

(290 years since the Wyrds signed the accord with King Charald the Peace-Maker)

‘T
HEY ALWAYS SCREAM.
’

Oskane flinched at the baron’s tone. This was his cousin’s daughter, not some bitch whelping puppies. Luckily, no one was watching him. They had eyes only for the young woman labouring on the royal bed.

He’d been in this very room for the king’s birth twenty-seven years ago, which was the last time he’d seen a woman in her extremis. A high priest did not attend women in childbirth, unless it was to witness a royal birth.

He was glad. Birthing was a cruel process.

‘It is a woman’s lot in life to suffer,’ the baron continued. His colleague, and rival, Baron Nitzel, called himself a scholar. But Oskane knew him to be a consummate manipulator and master strategist.

Which was what had been needed when the King, Charald’s father, died on the battlefield, leaving him the throne and a kingdom in chaos. Between them, he and Nitzel were the reason the fifteen-year-old boy-king had been able to curb the barons and unite Chalcedonia, while holding back the kingdom’s greedy neighbours. For twelve years, King Charald had done nothing but fight to survive.

Now he wanted an heir.

And this woman writhing on the royal bed was the means to that end. A single sheet covered the swell of a belly that looked too big for her small frame. At fifteen, she was the same age Charald had been when he was thrust onto the throne. Until now, Oskane had thought her role less demanding.

Sorna was the daughter of a powerful baron whose claim to the throne was almost as good as Charald’s, and her marriage to the king had guaranteed her family’s loyalty. In return, Oskane’s family gained the king’s ear and a crown for the baron’s grandson. All Sorna had to do was birth a healthy boy, to ensure King Charald’s claim on the future.

‘I said I’d plant a child in her belly within the year. Didn’t I?’ King Charald stated, pleased with himself. ‘A son is just what I need.’

‘True, sire. An heir is what the kingdom needs,’ Nitzel agreed smoothly, and it must have cost him, because the girl was related to Oskane, not him.

‘With any luck he’ll be a fine strapping lad. I’ll call him Cedon, after my father,’ King Charald announced. He was a handsome man, despite the scar on his chin, which pulled one corner of his mouth down. He had very fair colouring, with ice-blue eyes and a receding hairline. A big man, he was as tall as one of the T’En race, not that anyone would say this to his face.

King Charald was a True-man and proud of it, just as he was proud of his strength.

Oskane had seen it over and over. What King Charald wanted, King Charald got. He did not rest until he achieved it, going days with almost no sleep. The eager boy-king had turned into a single-minded bully, and Oskane had come to regret the role he’d played in securing Charald’s throne. But this child...

He had such hopes for this child.

‘Is there nothing you can do to speed up the birth?’ Charald demanded of the saw-bones. ‘She’s been at it all night.’

‘It’s a natural process,’ Etri said. Perhaps five years younger than the king, the man was very ambitious, but not without skill.

Skill, that is, in sawing off men’s legs after they festered from battlefield wounds. What did he know of birthing? That was women’s business. Oskane only knew as much as he did because he’d consulted a midwife, when he heard the king wanted his son born into a man’s world. Charald had hung the symbol for his patron god over the bed. The Warrior, the belligerent one-eyed god, seemed out of place in a birthing chamber. If women had a choice, they chose the Mother to watch over them.

In the space between contractions, Sorna caught her breath. Sky-blue eyes glistening with pain and fear searched the faces of the men surrounding her: her father, her two brothers, the king, his advisor, the saw-bones and the high priest.

Fewer witnesses than the day Charald was born. Oskane had been the high priest’s personal assistant, back then. An ambitious priest of twenty summers, he had believed it was a woman’s place to suffer. Now... now he no longer knew what he believed. With the loss of his faith, there was nothing but a hollow ache where once he’d held conviction. All he had left was his duty, and he clung to that like a drowning man. He was here to bear witness to the birth of a prince.

If it
was
a boy.

If it was a girl, Charald would farm the babe off to a wet-nurse and get Sorna with child again as soon as possible. She would then have to go through this all over again – the bruises on her flesh from Charald’s love-making, the brave smiles. Since the morning after the wedding, when Sorna had called for the high priest, she’d prayed every day, but not one word of complaint had passed her lips.

Now Oskane wanted to reach out to ease the panic in her eyes.

Another contraction took her, and she gave a keening groan that rose in pitch to a scream.

‘Can’t you do something for her?’ the older of her two brothers asked, having to raise his voice. His younger brother looked on, eyes darting from face to face, out of his depth.

‘It is a woman’s lot to bear children,’ Baron Nitzel said. ‘I’ve gone through three wives. The first two died in childbirth. The third is with child now. You miss them, but you get used to it.’

Oskane fought the urge to throttle him.

‘What about pains-ease?’ the younger brother asked as her screams subsided.

‘Pains-ease?’ Charald echoed. ‘Don’t like it. Never touch the stuff. Makes you weak.’

‘Not everyone has your fortitude, sire,’ the saw-bones said, with a smile. Then he turned to the younger brother. ‘Too little pains-ease has no effect. Too much makes females insensible and risks the baby’s life. The woman has to be conscious to do the work of birthing.’