Legacy of Ash
Matthew Ward
www.orbitbooks.net
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Matthew Ward
Cover design by Charlotte Stroomer – LBBG
Cover illustration by Larry Rostant
Map by Viv Mullett, The Flying Fish Studios, based on an original illustration by Matthew Ward
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First Edition: November 2019
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2019948442
ISBN: 978-0-316-45789-7 (ebook)
E3-20190925-JV-NF-ORI
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Map
Dramatis Personae
Fifteen Years Ago
Endas, 25th day of Wellmarch
One
Two
Three
Four
Maladas, 26th day of Wellmarch
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Lumendas, 1st day of Radiance
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Astridas, 2nd day of Radiance
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Jeradas, 3rd day of Radiance
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Endas, 4th day of Radiance
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Tzadas, 6th day of Radiance
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Forty-Three
Lunandas, 7th day of Radiance
Forty-Four
Jeradas, 10th day of Radiance
Forty-Five
Forty-Six
Forty-Seven
Endas, 11th day of Radiance
Forty-Eight
Forty-Nine
Fifty
Fifty-One
Fifty-Two
Fifty-Three
Fifty-Four
Fifty-Five
Maladas, 12th day of Radiance
Fifty-Six
Fifty-Seven
Fifty-Eight
Fifty-Nine
Sixty
Sixty-One
Sixty-Two
Tzadas, 13th day of Radiance
Sixty-Three
Sixty-Four
Lunandas, 14th day of Radiance
Sixty-Five
Sixty-Six
Lumendas, 15th day of Radiance
Sixty-Seven
Sixty-Eight
Tzadas, 20th day of Radiance
Sixty-Nine
Acknowledgements
Discover More
Extras
Meet the Author
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Dramatis Personae
In the City of Tressia
Viktor Akadra
Champion of the Tressian Council
Roslava Orova
Knight of Tressia
Kasamor Kiradin
Knight of Tressia
Malachi Reveque
Member of the Tressian Privy Council
Ebigail Kiradin
Member of the Tressian Privy Council
Hadon Akadra
Member of the Tressian Privy Council
Abitha Marest
Member of the Tressian Privy Council
Anton Tarev
Member of the Tressian Privy Council
Apara Rann
A vranakin, a cousin of the Crowmarket
Sevaka Kiradin
Officer of the Tressian Fleet, daughter to Ebigail Kiradin
Elzar Ilnarov
Tressian High Proctor; Master of the Forge
Aske Tarev
Tressian Knight, daughter to Anton Tarev
Marek Nomar
Steward to Ebigail Kiradin
Vladama Kurkas
Captain of the Akadra Hearthguard
Lilyana Reveque
Tressian Noble, wife to Malachi Reveque
Sidara Reveque
Daughter to Malachi and Lilyana Reveque
Constans Reveque
Son to Malachi and Lilyana Reveque
Stantin Izack
Captain of the Knights Essamere
In the Southshires
Katya Trelan
Dowager Duchess of Eskavord
Josiri Trelan
Duke of the Southshires, son to Katya Trelan
Calenne Trelan
Daughter to Katya Trelan
Revekah Halvor
Wolf’s-head; Captain of the Phoenixes
Anastacia
Seneschal of Branghall Manor (when it suits her)
Drakos Crovan
The Wolf King
Arzro Makrov
Tressian Archimandrite
Shaisan Yanda
Governor of the Southshires
Valmir Sark
Captain of the Tressian Army
Elda Savka
Calenne Trelan’s foster mother
Callad Vorn
Wolf’s-head
Of the Hadari Empire
Kai Saran
Hadari Crown Prince
Melanna Saranal
Hadari Princessa, daughter of Kai Saran
Sera
Lunassera; a devoted servant of Ashana
Divinities
Ashana
Hadari Goddess of the Moon, known as Lunastra in Tressia
Lumestra
Tressian Goddess of the Sun, known as Astarra in the Hadari Empire
The Huntsman
Ashana’s equerry
The Raven
The God of the Dead, Keeper of Otherworld
Gone, But Not
Forgotten
Konor Belenzo
Hero of Legend
Malatriant
Tyrant Queen of Old, known as the Sceadotha in the Hadari Empire
Kevor Trelan
Duke of Eskavord
Fifteen Years Ago
Lumendas, 1st Day of Radiance
A Phoenix shall blaze from the darkness.
A beacon to the shackled;
a pyre to the keepers of their chains.
from the sermons of Konor Belenzo
Wind howled along the marcher road. Icy rain swirled behind.
Katya hung low over her horse’s neck. Galloping strides jolted weary bones and set the fire in her side blazing anew. Sodden reins sawed at her palms. She blotted out the pain. Closed her ears to the harsh raven-song and ominous thunder. There was only the road, the dark silhouette of Eskavord’s rampart, and the anger. Anger at the Council, for forcing her hand. At herself for thinking there’d ever been a chance.
Lightning split grey skies. Katya glanced behind. Josiri was a dark shape, his steed straining to keep pace with hers. That eased the burden. She’d lost so much when the phoenix banner had fallen. But she’d not lose her son.
Nor her daughter.
Eskavord’s gate guard scattered without challenge. Had they recognised her, or simply fled the naked steel in her hand? Katya didn’t care. The way was open.
In the shadow of jettied houses, sodden men and women loaded sparse possessions onto cart and dray. Children wailed in confusion. Dogs fought for scraps in the gutter. Of course word had reached Eskavord. Grim tidings ever outpaced the good.
You did this.
Katya stifled her conscience and spurred on through the tangled streets of Highgate.
Her horse forced a path through the crowds. The threat of her sword held the desperate at bay. Yesterday, she’d have felt safe within Eskavord’s walls. Today she was a commodity to be traded for survival, if any had the wit to realise the prize within their grasp.
Thankfully, such wits were absent in Eskavord. That, or else no one recognised Katya as the dowager duchess Trelan. The Phoenix of prophecy.
No, not that. Katya was free of that delusion. It had cost too many lives, but she was free of it. She was not the Phoenix whose fires would cleanse the Southshires. She’d believed – Lumestra, how she’d believed – but belief alone did not change the world. Only deeds did that, and hers had fallen short.
The cottage came into view. Firestone lanterns shone upon its gable. Elda had kept the faith. Even at the end of the world, friends remained true.
Katya slid from the saddle and landed heavily on cobbles. Chainmail’s broken links gouged her bloodied flesh.
“Mother?”
Josiri brought his steed to a halt in a spray of water. His hood was back, his blond hair plastered to his scalp.
She shook her head, hand warding away scrutiny. “It’s nothing. Stay here. I’ll not be long.”
He nodded. Concern remained, but he knew better than to question. He’d grown into a dependable young man. Obedient. Loyal. Katya wished his father could have seen him thus. The two were so much alike. Josiri would make a fine duke, if he lived to see his seventeenth year.
She sheathed her sword and marched for the front door. Timbers shuddered under her gauntleted fist. “Elda? Elda! It’s me.”
A key turned. The door opened. Elda Savka stood on the threshold, her face sagging with relief. “My lady. When the rider came from Zanya, I feared the worst.”
“The army is gone.”
Elda paled. “Lumestra preserve us.”
“The Council emptied the chapterhouses against us.”
“I thought the masters of the orders had sworn to take no side.”
“A knight’s promise is not what it was, and the Council nothing if not persuasive.” Katya closed her eyes, lost in the shuddering ground and brash clarions of recent memory. And the screams, most of all. “One charge, and we were lost.”
“What of Josiri? Taymor?”
“Josiri is with me. My brother is taken. He may already be dead.” Either way, he was beyond help. “Is Calenne here?”
“Yes, and ready to travel. I knew you’d come.”
“I have no choice. The Council . . .”
She fell silent as a girl appeared at the head of the staircase, her sapphire eyes alive with suspicion. Barely six years old, and she had the wit to know something was amiss. “Elda, what’s happening?”
“Your mother is here, Calenne,” said Elda. “You must go with her.”
“Are you coming?”
The first sorrow touched Elda’s brow. “No.”
Calenne descended the stairs, expression still heavy with distrust. Katya stooped to embrace her daughter. She hoped Calenne’s thin body stiffened at the cold and wet, and not revulsion for a woman she barely knew. From the first, Katya had thought it necessary to send Calenne away, to live shielded from the Council’s sight. So many years lost. All for nothing.
Katya released Calenne from her embrace and turned wearily to Elda. “Thank you. For everything.”
The other woman forced a wintery smile. “Take care of her.”
Katya caught a glint of something darker beneath the smile. It lingered in Elda’s eyes. A hardness. Another friendship soured by folly? Perhaps. It no longer mattered. “Until my last breath. Calenne?”
The girl flung her arms around Elda. She said nothing, but the tears on her cheeks told a tale all their own.
Elda pushed her gently away. “You must go, dear heart.”
A clarion sounded, its brash notes cleaving through the clamour of the storm. An icy hand closed around Katya’s heart. She’d run out of time.
Elda met her gaze. Urgency replaced sorrow. “Go! While you still can!”
Katya stooped and gathered Calenne. The girl’s chest shook with thin sobs, but she offered no resistance. With a last glance at Elda, Katya set out into the rain once more. The clarion sounded again as she reached Josiri. His eyes were more watchful than ever, his sword ready in his hands.
“They’re here,” he said.
Katya heaved Calenne up to sit in front of her brother. She looked like a doll beside him, every day of the decade that separated them on full display.
“Look after your sister. If we’re separated, ride hard for the border.”
His brow furrowed. “To the Hadari? Mother . . .”
“The Hadari will treat you better than the Council.” He still had so much to learn, and she no more time in which to teach him. “When enemies are your only recourse, choose the one with the least to gain. Promise me.”
She received a reluctant nod in reply.
Satisfied, Katya clambered into her saddle and spurred west along the broad cobbles of Highgate. They’d expect her to take refuge in Branghall Manor, or at least strip it of anything valuable ahead of the inevitable looting. But the western gateway might still be clear.
The first cry rang out as they rejoined the road. “She’s here!”
A blue-garbed wayfarer cantered through the crowd, rain scattering from leather pauldrons. Behind, another set a buccina to his lips. A brash rising triad hammered out through the rain and found answer in the streets beyond. The pursuit’s vanguard had reached Eskavord. Lightly armoured riders to harry and delay while heavy knights closed the distance. Katya drew her sword and wheeled her horse about. “Make for the west gate!”
Josiri hesitated, then lashed his horse to motion. “Yah!”
Katya caught one last glimpse of Calenne’s pale, dispassionate face. Then they were gone, and the horseman upon her.
The wayfarer was half her age, little more than a boy and eager for the glory that might earn a knight’s crest. Townsfolk scattered from his path. He goaded his horse to the gallop, sword held high in anticipation of the killing blow to come. He’d not yet learned that the first blow seldom mattered as much as the last.
Katya’s parry sent a shiver down her arm. The wayfarer’s blade scraped
clear, the momentum of his charge already carrying him past. Then he was behind, hauling on the reins. The sword came about, the killing stroke aimed at Katya’s neck.
Her thrust took the younger man in the chest. Desperate strength drove the blade between his ribs. The hawk of the Tressian Council turned dark as the first blood stained the rider’s woollen tabard. Then he slipped from his saddle, sword clanging against cobbles. With one last, defiant glare at the buccinator, Katya turned her steed about, and galloped through the narrow streets after her children.
She caught them at the bridge, where the waters of the Grelyt River fell away into the boiling millrace. They were not alone.
One wayfarer held the narrow bridge, blocking Josiri’s path. A second closed from behind him, sword drawn. A third lay dead on the cobbles, horse already vanished into the rain.
Josiri turned his steed in a circle. He had one arm tight about his sister. The other hand held a bloody sword. The point trembled as it swept back and forth between his foes, daring them to approach.
Katya thrust back her heels. Her steed sprang forward.
Her sword bit into the nearest wayfarer’s spine. Heels jerked as he fell back. His steed sprang away into the streets. The corpse, one booted foot tangled in its stirrups, dragged along behind.
Katya rode on past Josiri. Steel clashed, once, twice, and then the last wayfarer was gone. His body tipped over the low stone parapet and into the rushing waters below.
Josiri trotted close, his face studiously calm. Katya knew better. He’d not taken a life before today.
“You’re hurt.”
Pain stemmed Katya’s denial. A glance revealed rainwater running red across her left hand. She also felt a wound high on her shoulder. The last wayfarer’s parting gift, lost in the desperation of the moment.