Heir of Hope (Follower of the Word Book 3)

  Heir of Hope

  Follower of the Word

  Book Three

  Morgan L. Busse

  Heir of Hope by Morgan L. Busse

  Published by Enclave Publishing

  5025 N. Central Ave., #635

  Phoenix, AZ 85012

  www.enclavepublishing.com

  ISBN (paper): 978-1-621840-39-8

  Heir of Hope

  Copyright © 2015 by Morgan L. Busse

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage and retrieval System without prior written permission from the publisher.

  Published in the United States by Enclave Publishing,

  an imprint of Third Day Books, LLC, Phoenix, Arizona.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Tomislav Tikulin

  Edited by Karen Ball

  Printed in the United States of America

  To Philip, Kaitlyn, Caleb, and Makayla,

  May you each become a Follower of the Word.

  First Snow, Day 16

  The Year of Freedom Twenty-Four

  I now begin the second part of my account of the war in the north and the reign of the Shadonae. I first met the assassin Caleb Tala in the Temanin war camp just outside the White City. He had assassinated the high lord of the White City, Gaynor Celestis, weeks before, and now worked as an interrogator for the Temanin Army. During my captivity I found him to be a cruel, cold, heartless man.

  I escaped from Caleb during the fifth night when the Eldaran, Rowen Mar (see my entries on the current Eldaran race), unleashed her truthsaying power on the Temanin Army. I know little of what happened to him during that time, other than that, in his own words, he met the Word and became a different man.

  I met Caleb Tala again when, during my journey back to Thyra, I was captured, along with Rowen Mar, and sold as a slave to a Temanin noblewoman, Lady Meira. My duty was to serve her male guests. Caleb Tala came days later and I was sent to his room for his pleasure.

  I ran.

  Caleb caught me outside the manor walls. He took me back to the manor, but instead of handing me over for my due punishment, he purchased my freedom from Lady Meira. This was my first glimpse of the man I would later learn was a Son of Truth.

  I was wary of Caleb during my time with him. He treated me with utmost propriety, but I could not forget his past deeds or his profession. He brought me to the city of Azar with the promise to find me passage back to Thyra.

  It was at the Azar Palace that I learned Caleb’s true identity. We discovered a powerful and ancient Mordra (see my notes on the shadow-wraiths) disguised as a woman, who held sway over Corin Tala, Lord of the Temanin Empire. Something within Caleb led him to the Mordra. He banished her to the unseen world, but in doing so, incurred the wrath of his cousin Corin Tala. Caleb was exiled from Azar and Temanin, never to return.

  Caleb found me and we fled into the heart of Azar. There he revealed the Mark of the Word on his hand and who he really was: an Eldaran, with power over the shadows. A Guardian of Mankind. A Son of Truth.

  The Word had provided another way of salvation for the people of Thyra.

  Nierne,

  Lands Historian

  Chapter

  1

  All of it, gone.

  Caleb staggered against the wall inside the dark back rooms of the tavern, the shock at last catching up to him. The air was hot and stuffy, but he welcomed the darkness. He needed a moment to gather himself before going back out to Nierne.

  A couple chairs lined the wall across from him and a candle burned from one of the rooms down the hall. The sound of laughter drifted between the wooden beads separating the back rooms from the main tavern. It smelled like a tavern too: smoke, bodies, and a subtle hint of the wines Dena stored back here.

  Caleb leaned against the wall and lifted his right hand. The mark across his palm barely glowed now. As he watched, it faded until it looked like a patch of light skin, shades lighter than his own brown tones. So normal looking, so . . . inconsequential. Yet just over an hour ago he had pulled a blazing sword from his palm and fought with a monster he’d thought only lived in stories.

  Sands! He still saw Velyni in his mind . . . her beautiful body, her long dark hair, her sensuous lips. And the way her skin had peeled back, revealing what she really was: a shadow-like wraith. A Mordra, Nierne said.

  Velyni almost killed him. If it hadn’t been for the Word’s power–

  He closed his hand into a fist and dropped it at his side. Enough. The battle was done. He had survived. But the fight . . .

  Had cost him everything.

  He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. Everything he had worked for, everything dear to him, gone. He could still hear Corin’s voice and the crazed look on his face when he discovered Caleb had banished Velyni from the Lands.

  “You are no longer a Tala. I strip you of your title, your family, and your wealth.”

  No longer a Tala. No family. No money. No title. Everything he desired from life, now gone.

  All but a handful of gold coins in the pouch hanging around his neck and a little more hidden here in Dena’s tavern. Not enough to start a new life elsewhere. And he couldn’t go back to his family’s estate. He had to leave Temanin now, and never come back.

  Caleb released a soft moan and turned his face toward the wall. He pressed his forehead against the cold, rough stone. How ironic. He’d become the hunted. An exile with a death mark on his name.

  What would he do now?

  “Caleb Tala. What a pleasure to see you.”

  He started and looked up.

  A woman stood to his left, an empty platter held against her hip. Her deep purple silk shirt opened low, and her long dark skirt hugged her hips, flowing to the floor in liquid waves. Black kohl lined her eyes and her lips were painted a deep red. Hoops hung from her earlobes, and a matching silver comb held back the rich, dark hair piled on top of her head.

  Caleb straightened. “Dena. You look . . . well.”

  She threw her head back and laughed, a deep throaty guffaw. “Always the flatterer.” She winked. “Been a while since you visited my humble tavern.”

  “It has.” The last time was a year ago, when he staked out Delshad’s estate. How much had changed since then?

  “So what can I do for you?”

  He blinked, bringing his mind back. “My usual room. Wait, no.” He shook his head. “I need another room as well. Just for tonight.”

  Her eyes widened. “Two rooms? Someone with you?”

  “Yes. No.” He rubbed the area just above his right eye with two fingertips. “I have a woman with me.”

  Dena raised one eyebrow. “And you need two rooms? That doesn’t sound like you.”

  He dropped his hand. “It’s complicated.”

  She laughed again. “It always is with you. All right then. Two rooms. I’ll put you both at the end of the hall. Anything else?”

  “Dinner. Brought to my room.”

  “Wine?”

  Caleb shook his head. He needed his mind clear, to be ready for anything. He waited for Dena to leave, but instead she stood there, studying him. Her smile ebbed, leaving behind a frown. “Something is going on, isn’t it?” />
  He didn’t respond.

  Dena nodded. “Yes, I can see it on your face.” He opened his mouth, but Dena held up a hand. “Come now, Caleb. We’ve known each other for years. I’d say I know you better than most, if anyone can know you.” Her dark eyes searched his. “I can see there is something wrong.”

  He sighed. She was right. If anyone knew him, it was Dena. He had spent years here in her tavern, using her place as a stakeout for his missions. A foul taste filled his mouth. Missions done for that monster, Velyni. He seldom talked to Dena when he came. He did his business and she made sure he was taken care of. Her concern now . . . touched him. Perhaps she would be willing to help. “You have no idea.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  Caleb hesitated. She might hand him over to the Keepers. Then again, she had watched his back before . . .”The Keepers are after me. If they come—”

  “I’ll keep them off your back. Not the first time I’ve done that for you.”

  He let out a long breath. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Caleb Tala, I’m shocked. Do you have a heart now?”

  A small smile crept across his lips. “Maybe.”

  Dena shook her head. “The world must be coming to an end. Now go.” She motioned to the doorway. “I’ll take care of everything. Dinner will be up shortly.”

  “Thank you, Dena.” He pulled his pouch from beneath his tunic. “Here, for everything.”

  Her lips turned up in a wry smile and she held out her hand. He placed two gold coins in her palm. Her fingers closed around the gold.

  If he could trust anyone, it would be Dena. If nothing else, she hated the Keepers and would thwart them out of spite.

  Caleb cinched up the pouch and turned. Time to get back to Nierne.

  He passed through the beads strung across the doorway, sending them clattering behind him. Nierne stood a couple feet away, her hood back. Brilliant red curls cascaded past her shoulders, a bright contrast to the dark room. He stared at her hair. How in the Lands could a woman who looked like Nierne be a scribe?

  A man stood next to her, a head taller, with sandy-colored hair and a stained tunic. He could only see the back of the man’s head, but it appeared he was talking with Nierne.

  Caleb scowled and crossed his arms. “Who are you?”

  They turned.

  Nierne looked at him, her jaw jutting out, her chin raised. She opened her mouth—

  “You!”

  Caleb turned toward the man . . . and froze. It couldn’t be. That night in Avonai came rushing back, a river of memories surging his mind: Stabbing the guard on the balcony, stepping into the dark room, the perfect flick of his wrist and watching the dagger hit Lord Gaynor just below the jaw. Killing the other guard. Then the guard from the balcony rising to his feet with such hatred that Caleb felt singed from across the room.

  As he felt it now.

  How had that guard lived? And how was he here, in Azar, in Dena’s tavern?

  The man reached inside his cloak.

  Caleb curled his fingers. He felt the dagger at his side and the one tucked inside his boot, but didn’t reach for either. Time to face his past, to atone for what he had done.

  The man drew out a long, slender sword. “You killed two good men.” His face was white, his eyes wide. “And you tried to kill me!”

  Nierne placed herself between them. “Wait, Captain Lore. You don’t understand—”

  Caleb stood still, his gaze dropping toward the sword. It quivered in the man’s hand. This Captain Lore was close to snapping.

  “You have no idea who this man is. Or what he has done!”

  Nierne held her hand up. “Yes, I do. But this is not the place to discuss that.”

  Caleb stared at the back of her head. Wait. Nierne was defending him? Before he could think more on that, Lore stepped around Nierne, shoved him against the wall, and pressed his blade to his neck. Caleb stared into Lore’s strange green eyes and stilled.

  He could get out of Lore’s hold. He could kill him. So easy. One second to grab his dagger and thrust it into that sweet spot, the same spot he had stabbed Lore months earlier.

  The blade trembled against his skin. Lore’s eyes widened and Caleb saw the bloodlust in his pupils.

  Nierne pulled at Lore’s sleeve. “No! Captain Lore, this isn’t right!”

  Caleb stared back, every muscle screaming for him to move, to grab his dagger.

  Nierne yanked again. “Please, just listen to me.”

  Caleb let his breath ease out. No. He would not kill Lore. He would not defend himself.

  The beads across the doorway rattled behind him, followed by a loud clattering. “There will be no violence in my establishment!” Dena appeared beside Caleb, her gaze fixed on Lore. “Drop that sword or I will call the Keepers.”

  Lore blinked. His eyes lost their bloodlust. In fact, they dimmed from the bright green moments ago to a soft grey. He lowered his sword, but stood ready to strike.

  Caleb reached up and touched the area where the blade had pressed. Lore watched him with narrowed eyes. There was a small nick in his skin, hardly noticeable. Was this how his victims had felt when he placed his dagger to their throats? His insides tightened at the thought.

  Nierne let go of Lore’s arm. “Come. We need to talk. All of us. Somewhere other than here. There is something you need to know.”

  Caleb frowned. He doubted Lore was ready to hear anything right now. “Nierne—”

  She held her hand up. Caleb shut his mouth and clenched his teeth.

  Lore hesitated and looked at him. Caleb let his face go blank. Up to him.

  “Fine then.” Lore still gripped his sword. “Lead the way.”

  Caleb caught Nierne’s eye. “Our rooms are upstairs.” Hopefully they could trust the man.

  Nierne nodded and turned. Lore motioned for Caleb to follow her.

  He clenched his jaw. So now he was supposed to just do what anyone told him? He drew another breath. If there was any hope of bridging the gap between himself and Lore, he needed to acquiesce on some points. He followed Nierne.

  Dena’s customers watched them cross the room. She might not give Caleb to the Keepers, but the others in this room would. So much for not drawing attention.

  What bounty had Corin placed on him? Ten thousand gold? Fifteen thousand? Perhaps more. Caleb followed Nierne up the stairs. He’d never taken an assignment for less than ten thousand gold pieces, and considering how angry his cousin was, his bounty would be the highest ever.

  Nierne stopped at the top and turned back. “Which room?”

  Lore pointed. “Second door on the righ—”

  “Last door on the left.” A dark sense of pleasure slid through Caleb when Nierne passed the door Lore had indicated. The hall was dim, with a single sconce lit halfway down. Sand scattered along the edge of the walls and a tattered, faded rug covered the stone floor. The smoke from below mixed with the warm air in the hallway, pressing against his face.

  Nierne stopped at the end of the hall and stepped back. Caleb went to open the door when Lore’s sword swung down in front of him, stopping him cold.

  “You don’t think I’ll go in there without first checking you for weapons, do you?”

  Caleb stared at Lore, his fingers aching to grab his dagger. Already his hand was inching along his side. This Captain Lore might be good, but he was better—

  No. That was not the way to handle this.

  He fought down the burning anger. Nierne’s presence helped douse it even more. He didn’t want her to see him like that . . . like that kind of man. “All right, if that’s what it takes.” He slid his fingers past the dagger and reached for the buckle around his waist. He gave it a couple tugs, pulled it away from his side, and tossed it to the floor. Then he held up both arms.
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  Lore held the sword away and patted him down with his free hand.

  Caleb looked away and concentrated on Nierne: her face half-hidden in the shadows of the hallway, a particular curl curving around her eye and lying against her cheek, her lips slightly parted as she watched Lore.

  “What’s in the pouch?”

  Huh? He looked down at the lump beneath his tunic. “Money and medicinal vials.”

  “Take it off.”

  Caleb lifted the cord from around his neck and handed the pouch to Lore. Lore looked inside, then tossed the pouch. He finished his pat down, finding the dagger in Caleb’s boot.

  Caleb would never admit it to anyone, but Lore knew what he was doing. Then again, he was a captain, most likely of the guard, given that he was on duty the night Caleb killed Lord Gaynor.

  Lore stepped back, his sword trained on Caleb. “Now, open the door, but don’t go in.”

  Caleb did as he was told. The room was small. Burlap curtains covered the single window. A clay lamp had been lit and placed on the low table beside the pallet to the left. Cobwebs fluttered in the corners along the ceiling.

  Lore picked up Caleb’s daggers and pouch and entered the room. Nierne followed. Caleb waited in the hallway. Their voices drifted out. Something about one sleeping pallet. He saw Nierne shake her head and restrained a smile.

  So . . . that’s what the conversation was about.

  Nierne walked back out. “You can come in now.”

  He raised one eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

  Nierne crossed the room and stood beside the pallet. Lore stood by the wall, his sword still drawn. Caleb shut the door behind him and folded his arms.

  “All right, I came.” Lore looked from Nierne to Caleb. “Now I want to know what is going on. What in all the Lands are you doing with him?” He pointed at Caleb. “Are you his slave or not?”