Kingslayer

Kingslayer

Honor Raconteur

Raconteur House, TN

Published by Raconteur House

Manchester, TN

Printed in the USA through Ingram Distributing.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

KINGSLAYER

A Raconteur House book/ published by arrangement with the author

PRINTING HISTORY

Raconteur House mass-market edition/July 2013

Raconteur House ebook edition/July 2013

Copyright © 2013 by Honor Raconteur

Illustrated by Honor Raconteur

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

Purchase only authorized editions.

For information address:

Raconteur House

164 Whispering Winds Dr.

Manchester, TN, 37355

If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

Acknowledgements

Many thanks go to my brothers, Chris and Jarrett, who were the sources of awesome battle techniques and information on ancient warfare. I would have had to do a
lot
more research without their help.

Thanks go as well to my mother, Jane, whose constant enthusiasm for this story kept me motivated to write. Her sounding-board sessions were also very helpful as I tried to unravel what needed to happen.

And as always, thanks to my amazing editor Katie who keeps me on the straight and narrow and isn’t shy about telling me when I’ve messed up. Her honest criticisms polished this story to a shine.

The future is not the result of choices
among alternative paths offered by the present,
but a place that is created—
created first in the mind and the will,
created next in activity.
The future is not someplace we are going to,
but one we are creating.
The paths are not to be found—but made.
And the activity of making them
changes both the maker and the destination.
-John Schaar

Not a shadow stirred in the hallway. Darius strained his senses to their limit, alert to any hint of movement. But the soft breeze that fluttered through the open windows at the end of this hallway only carried the scents of flowing water and the sweet smell of jasmine. No sounds.

Good. He didn’t expect a patrol to come through here for another hour or so, giving him plenty of time to enact the second part of his plan.

Quietly, he stole through the opposite doorway, pushing the door open noiselessly. This room was an exact replica from the one he had just left—a gigantic bed dominated the center of the area, expensive rugs covered the floor, and floor-to-ceiling windows opened on either side to allow the cool night air through.

In the center of the bed lay Prince Baros, although he didn’t look like much of a prince with his fair hair tangled around his head and a leg sticking out over the edge of the bed. Apparently, the prince was not an elegant sleeper.

Darius strode directly to the bed and laid a hand against the prince’s shoulder, shaking him awake. “My Prince.”

With a start, Baros awoke, half-flailing as his eyes flew open. When he realized who leaned over him, relief flooded his features. Alarm followed just as quickly and he sat up more fully.

“General. What is amiss?”

Darius didn’t answer him immediately. He couldn’t. What he would say next was tantamount to a death sentence. But he had made his choice. He could not regret his actions, so it was not possible to regret the consequences. With a deep breath, he sought for the courage that had brought him through every campaign in his career to carry him through the next several hours. Strangely, he wished in that moment he wore the Brindisi uniform instead of these casual clothes. He also rather wished he had properly armed himself instead of just grabbing a dagger to kill the king with. Reporting death seemed wrong, somehow, when he was unarmed and out of uniform.

 He sank to one knee next to the bed, and stared sightlessly at the thick carpet under him for a long moment before he could force his head back up. Moistening his lips, he opened his mouth and forced out the words.

”Prince Baros, I have come to report to you that the king is dead.”

The color drained from Baros’s face, as if the God of Death were draining life from him. “Gods preserve us. How?”

“I killed him.”

Baros stared at him for a long moment, as if Darius’s words didn’t make any sense. Maybe, for a moment, they didn’t. Then the reality sank in and his eyes closed in a gesture of understanding and resignation.

“Because of the oath you two exchanged? You killed him for breaking it?”

“Yes.” Darius didn’t know what else to say.

“Gods, Darius.” Baros raised his hands to rub roughly at his eyes. “I don’t suppose I can blame you, in a way. He swore to protect Brindisi…and yet his blind ambition and greed led to the capital being laid to waste. Because of that oath, you had every right to kill him, but…why by the gods are you reporting to me after you’ve done the deed?!” Baros abruptly sat up and grasped Darius by both shoulders, eyes begging for understanding. “Don’t you know that as the new king, I
have
to have you executed for this?”

“I know,” Darius assured him quietly. “But I am not above the law. Oath or not, I do not have the right to kill a king without consequences befalling me.” Taking in another breath, he stared into the prince’s wide eyes and prayed that this would be the last time he would have to say this. “Prince Baros, I have killed your father, the king. My last command to you as your mentor is this: Be a better king than he was. Do not repeat his mistakes.”

Baros had been his student for nearly five years. The pain on his face Darius well understood and it hurt his heart to know that he had caused it. But Baros proved that he had indeed learned everything he should. After a deep breath, he blinked away the tears standing in his eyes and ordered with a shaky breath, “Darius Bresalier, I order you to live. As the new king of this Sovran, I cannot stay my hand of execution. But as your friend, I can give you an hour’s head start. Go.”

Darius jerked back in surprise. “Baros, what are you saying? You can’t—”

“That man broke two oaths with you,” Baros interrupted harshly. “Both of which cost this Sovran dearly. He needed to be punished. Am I to ignore this? You taught me that justice crosses all boundaries of class and station, Darius. The world is not fair enough to always do this, but I can certainly try. Go, Darius.
Live
.”

He felt like he should argue, somehow, but Baros clearly meant the command. So he slowly gained his feet, heart pumping in renewed hope. But he couldn’t leave without saying one more thing.

“Long life, King Baros.”

Baros managed a smile, although it was bittersweet. “You too, my friend. May the gods open another path for you to walk upon.”

Darius bowed deeply one last time to his king, and then spun on his heel, melting back into the darkness.

“Clear the road! Make way!”

Darius winced as the guard jerked at the ropes binding his arms. The guard captain hadn’t taken any chances once they’d managed to catch him. His hands were securely tied behind his back, a manacle around each foot that connected him to another guard, and he wore a heavy collar around his neck. Instead of just one or two guards as an escort, he had a whole squadron. In a way, it was rather flattering to think that his reputation among the people of this country was so fierce that they deemed it would take
this
much manpower and restraint to keep him from escaping.

Actually, he couldn’t pick a lock if his life depended on it. He knew that for a fact because his life
did
depend on it and he hadn’t a clue how to manage it.

While the guard walking point continued to bellow out orders to make way, the pedestrians on the street quickly darted to either side of the street. The buildings here were crowded in on each other; all made with the same white plaster and tiled roofs to reflect the strong rays of the sun. Not one building had a straight edge to it. They all had rounded walls, roofs in the shape of cones, with arched doorways and circular windows. It looked very different from the straight, in-line buildings of Brindisi.

Some were obviously shops as they had signs out front or wares on display; others could be small houses or restaurants although he didn’t smell much food here. Aside from fruit, water and bread, nothing edible could be seen for sale. But people seemed to fill every nook and cranny. They leaned out of windows, crowded around ware tables, and lingered in the shadows of overhead awnings. This was the main street of the capital city, so the number of people here came as no real surprise. They made a large crowd of spectators as Darius passed. Those that recognized him whispered to their neighbors, and rumor spread so quickly that the whole street knew in moments who he was.

The Kingslayer had been captured.

A smile teased at the corners of his mouth. The situation really wasn’t that funny, but the irony couldn’t be ignored. He had attacked this country for over a year, using every strategy and tactic he could think up in order to conquer it in the name of his king. And yet, now that he finally walked the main street of the capital of Niotan, he would give anything to escape it.

The gods did indeed have a strange sense of humor.

One of the guards noticed his smile and turned a heated glare on him. “Something funny, Kingslayer?”

“No,” he denied mildly. “I was just thinking that the gods are indeed fickle.”

The guard on his right side blinked at him in astonishment. Suspiciously, he asked, “You believe in the gods?”

“Only a fool doesn’t.” Darius answered in all sincerity, but he doubted that anyone around him actually believed him. Ah well. With a shrug, he let this go and focused on more important matters.