Legacy of Ash Read online

  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

  Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Orbit

  Hachette Book Group

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  orbitbooks.net

  First Edition: November 2019

  Simultaneously published in Great Britain by Orbit

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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

  Maladas, 5th day of Radiance

  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

  For Lisa, whose light never fades

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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.