The Myatheira Chronicles: Volume Three: Crown of Ice Read online

  Copyright © 2013 Melissa Collins

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 061586192X

  ISBN 13: 9780615861920

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2013914576

  Myatheira Press, Owosso, MI

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Epilogue

  A strong wind blew snow across the landscape, its white surface marred by dark stains from the bodies scattered along the ground. Arrows lodged in the snow poked upward like spikes at varying angles, surrounding the fallen warriors. A reminder of the battle that had taken place hours before. Only a few remained standing, making their way through the gruesome scene to seek their fallen comrades.

  Nudging one of the deceased with her foot, Neomi waited to make sure it wouldn’t move, hesitant to get closer without confirmation that the man was dead. Their enemy was intelligent. It wasn’t out of the question for their warriors to feign death as a stratagem to further their attack. Too many good men had already lost their lives to these traitors. She didn’t want to risk the safety of others. Satisfied that he was no longer among the living, Neomi squatted down beside the body, her fingers nimbly running along the bloodstained fabric of the man’s jacket, searching for something that might identify him. Their leader had yet to be discovered. A victory would not be complete without knowing whether or not the one in charge of the attack had been taken down.

  She took no joy in the possibility of defeating these men. Traitors or not, they were Ovatai. Her very kin. To see their own kind turn on one another was a discouraging thought. It had been centuries since fighting amongst their people had been a concern. Why these men would suddenly turn on their friends – the followers of the Ovatai Chief – it didn’t make sense. Even worse was the shocking revelation that the enemy had nearly attained victory. Chief Okivra would be disappointed to learn of the men lost to this battle. It should have been simple. Their warriors were well-trained and fully capable of defending against any army that might be foolish enough to attack them in their own land. Nothing could have prepared them to take on the strength of another tribe.

  The search of the man in front of her turned up no evidence as to who he was. No emblem of status to denote his position as anything more than a random fighter. Who did he serve? Identification of the enemy leader was the key to determine the reason for the assault. Without that detail, there would remain a constant concern for another wave. Those traitors not among the dead could be plotting their next move. Maybe even sharing a laugh at the expense of the Chief. Her father would be less than pleased with the news. This affront would be addressed. She didn’t doubt that.

  Finding nothing of interest on the corpse, she rose to her feet, moving on to another. She paused by the next man, staring down at him, immediately aware of a shallow yet unmistakable rise and fall of his chest. This one was alive. Although he deserved death for what he had done, it would be beneficial to keep him breathing. If answers couldn’t be found on the battlefield, they could be pulled from this man’s lips easily enough once he regained consciousness. Removing her glove, she let her hand hover over the man’s nose and mouth. His breath was warm. Sporadic. Whatever injuries he sustained would need to be tended quickly if they hoped to gain information from him.

  Curious, she let her hand slide away from the man’s face, searching through the folds of his coat. He bore a sash around his waist, the dark fabric a symbol of status. It was a matter of determining exactly what that status was. Sliding her fingers under the man’s collar she felt a chain against his skin, the cool metal moving at her touch. Head cocked to one side she reached for it again. Before her hand could grasp it, she felt the man’s icy fingers wrap around her wrist. He was awake? His life hung by a thread. It was a wonder he could even lift his arm. By pure instinct she brought her free hand back, delivering a hard blow to the man’s head, her knuckles connecting solidly near the temple area, not wanting to risk his death by placing a more accurate blow. They needed him alive… just not conscious until he was secured.

  Under the force of the strike the man went limp, lapsing again into his slumber. Good. He was better that way. Safer. She could worry about him later once they had accounted for the dead and returned to the protection of the Chief ’s village. Right now she needed to get him off the field in case anyone came in search of survivors.

  Grabbing him firmly by the collar she lifted him from the ground, his weight heavier than she anticipated, though not enough to prevent her from trying. If her brother was nearby he could order the warriors to take the man as their prisoner. His body wouldn’t be her concern for long.

  Eyes narrowed, she peered through the blowing snow in search of her brother’s form amongst the men scouting the area. The white haze was blinding, hindering her vision for a brief moment until the wind eased, providing a window of clarity between bursts. “Onuric!” she shouted, dragging the unconscious man along with her. Up ahead she could see her brother’s familiar figure, tall and slender, the white of his clothing causing him to blend almost perfectly with the snow-white landscape. At the sound of his name he lifted his head, staring at her with an oddly solemn expression across his usually stern features.

  “Neomi,” he replied, covering the ground between them in only a few long strides. Within moments he was at her side, taking the body from her grasp to inspect it with a scrutinizing gaze. “Who is this?”

  “I have not yet determined. For now, he is an enemy survivor, and may possess information of use to us. It is my recommendation that he be tended and detained for further investigation.”

  He gazed at her, the solemnity of his eyes unyielding, settled upon her, seeming to stare deep into her soul. The icy glow was unnerving. Never in her life had Neomi seen him look upon anyone in such a way. Why now, at a time like this, would he view her with anything other than his expected air of confidence? He was the son of the great Chieftain. There was no reason for him to reveal emotion after battle. Not when the enemy was under their foot. With a sharp flick of his wrist he motioned for two of the other men to come forward, gesturing toward the man he had retrieved from Neomi’s hands. “Take him,” he stated flatly. “See his injuries stabilized. We will let the Chief deal with him.”

  The warriors wasted no time in heeding their orders, moving forward to take the body from Onuric. Neomi watched them carry it away, disappearing quickly into the thick bursts of snow which spiraled up around them with every gust of wind. In a deliberate motion she turned to walk away. There were still plenty of bodies to check. They didn’t have time to waste if they wanted to
have the area cleared before nightfall.

  A hand on her shoulder caused her to stop, stiffening at the pressure. “Neomi.” Onuric’s voice was low. Steady. Controlled. Unsure of what her brother wanted, she slowly turned around, saying nothing, simply staring at him in expectance. “Come with me,” he said without faltering. “There is something you must see.”

  In the back of her mind she suspected the reason for her brother’s strange behavior. It tugged at the corners of her consciousness. Something wasn’t right. There was an emptiness to the area that hadn’t been noticeable before. One that became painfully obvious with every step she took at her brother’s side across the battlefield.

  Posture erect, she moved over the snow-covered land toward the body Onuric had been observing when she first saw him. Drawing in a deep breath, she felt the dread building in the pit of her stomach. She could see the figure more clearly from where they approached. Long strands of white hair fanned out over the snow around his head, matted somewhat from spatters of blood now soaking into the white surface of the ground. The glow of his eyes no longer emitted their usual blue hue from where they stared emptily up to the sky. “Mevuk,” she whispered, stoic, kneeling stiffly at the man’s side. He was one of the finest hunters in all of Ethrysta. How could he have let these men overpower him? He was no amateur fighter. His death was a testament to the true strength of the enemy they now faced. If only she knew why they were targeted.

  Her hand remained bare from when she had removed her glove to check for enemy survivors. Lightly she let her fingertips brush over Mevuk’s face, closing his eyes to let him rest in peace. His days of fighting had come to an end. His soul belonged to the gods now. It would be up to them to determine his fate in the afterlife.

  Saying nothing, she bowed her head in silent communion, taking Mevuk’s hand in hers, feeling the weight of it against her palm. Careful not to jar the body she slid the thick glove from his left hand to reveal the pale skin underneath. A glint of metal could be seen around his ring finger, a thick band of gold, once symbolizing the union between him and Neomi. This was too soon. She was too young to be a widow.

  The shock that settled over her made it easier to conceal any confused thoughts which passed through her mind in that instant. Too many questions and a lack of options for obtaining the answers she felt her people deserved. Gently she pulled the band from Mevuk’s finger, clutching it tightly in her hand, held firm against her chest. Rising to stand once again she stared into the distance, aware of the eyes upon her from the other men. Their attention didn’t matter. There was work to be done. She could unravel the maze of her own mind when the bodies of her fellow kinsmen didn’t surround her on all sides.

  “Have the men see him properly returned to the village. He will receive the recognition deserved by a man of honor.” Making no move to look at Onuric’s face she stepped away from Mevuk’s body, shoulders back, a look of unbroken calm frozen upon her gentle features. “I will accompany them to make sure the enemy prisoner is properly maintained for questioning. He is our best chance at getting the answers we seek.”

  “Neomi, it is not expected of you to do anything. You know this.”

  “I know what is expected of me. When Mevuk’s body is presented to our father, I will be by his side, the way it was intended for me to be. It is only right that I be granted audience at the traitor’s trial. Regardless of whether he held the blade which took Mevuk’s life, he is an accomplice to his death, and will be given no choice in telling me what I want to know.” Ignoring Onuric’s burning gaze she moved away from him toward the others. She had stated her intentions clearly. Nothing her brother said would change her mind. The man in their possession would tell her everything; and she didn’t care what means were utilized to see it done.

  Moving through the twisting halls of the palace Edric inhaled deeply, enjoying the peace and quiet away from the gossip of the courtiers. Brought up around high society, he had convinced himself it would be easier to tolerate once he was older. Now he doubted whether that would ever be the case. The constant watchful eyes were enough to drive the most grounded man insane. Whispers behind his back. Rumors about private details of his life that were no one’s business but his own. How his mother and father were able to handle it remained a mystery. Not that his parents gave the courtiers much to gossip about. They could do no wrong in the eyes of the Vor’shai people. They were legends. Veritable heroes of Tanispa.

  It was unfortunate that the love for his parents didn’t trickle down to him quite the same. He was the firstborn son of the King and Queen. The people had no use for him as anything more than a symbol. Among the Vor’shai it was the firstborn daughter they treasured. The heir to the throne. But Edric held no envy for his sister. While he enjoyed the liberties he received as a member of the royal family, he held no desire to ever be so prominent. He only wished that he could exist without his life constantly being under speculation. At the age of eighty-six it was unusual for a royal child to not be married; or at least courting someone with the possibility of engagement. His disinterest in the women at court tended to be on everyone’s lips as of late.

  He ran his fingers through his short ebon hair, turning his gaze toward the ceiling. Why did every day feel like a chore? It was hard to believe that years ago he had taken some joy in his life at the palace. Back then he still had his sister to talk to. Young Aiva, the Crown Princess of the Vor’shai. She wasn’t quite so young anymore. In his mind he liked to think she would never grow up but it was hard to ignore the fact that she very much had. Nearly thirty-nine years ago she was married to Edric’s best friend, the Captain of the Royal Army. Callum Zerne Levadis. Son of the illustrious General Cadell Zerne. Now that Aiva and Callum were settled into their roles as a couple, they moved to live at the secondary palace in the countryside of Escovul, leaving Edric in the massive walls of the Sivaerian palace without anyone to talk to.

  The sound of footsteps echoing through the hall caused him to straighten, forcing a smile, not wanting to make anyone aware of his discontent. He may not be the future King, but he was still the Prince. It wouldn’t be right for him to demonstrate melancholy. His family might think him unappreciative of everything they provided to make his life more enjoyable.

  Smoothing his doublet, the smile on his face widened to see his youngest sister coming toward him down the tiled hall, her slippered feet pattering excitedly with every step. “Edric!” she exclaimed, rushing forward, arms outstretched as he wrapped her in a tight hug.

  “What are you up to, Audri? I thought you were with the twins in the gardens.”

  “I was looking for you,” she smiled, the brilliant silver glow of her eyes sparkling in the dim light of the corridor. “A letter came this afternoon from Escovul. Aiva and Callum are coming to town for my twenty-fifth birthday. Mother and Father must have sent word to them about the party.”

  “You know they would never miss your birthday. I’m just a little surprised they are coming here. I thought your party was supposed to be in Escovul. Mother and Father always hold such events in the country.”

  “I already discussed it with Mother. When I heard that the guest list would be larger if we remained in Sivaeria, I couldn’t turn down the offer of having it here at home.”

  “A larger guest list?” Edric raised his brow inquisitively. “Who could have possibly thought to miss such a prestigious event?”

  Audri giggled, shaking her head in amusement. “The shorter distance is just more accommodating. Shaelyn and Herryk will have a more enjoyable journey with little Danil if they don’t have to travel quite so far. And Lord Feolan will be here with his family from Siscal. However, I was more interested in the fact that the General’s daughter might attend if it’s closer to home. I thought you and Calie could share a dance during the party.”

  Edric’s smile faded somewhat at the mention of Calie. Of course. He should have known that was what this was about. The General’s daughter always seemed to be on the tip of eve
ryone’s tongue these days. She was a pretty enough girl. A little younger than Edric. In the past he might have been persuaded to court her. Now, there was just something about her that made her company less enjoyable. Between Edric’s parents and Calie’s father, they made it abundantly clear that both families would endorse a union between the two. The problem laid elsewhere. Edric didn’t consider Calie in that way, while Calie remained very much in love with a man she once was engaged to marry. The brave Lord Kaemin Strethil had been killed in the line of duty on a military mission shortly after Aiva’s marriage to Calie’s brother. The girl hadn’t been the same since.

  “Audri,” he started, letting his voice trail off. There was no point in arguing. She meant well. It was unfortunate that she bought into the talk of their parents about trying to bring him and Calie together. One of these days she might understand. Until then, it was best to simply smile and nod to make them all happy. “We will see,” he forced a smile back to his lips. “It will be nice to have Aiva and Callum at the palace again.”

  “I know. I cannot wait!” Audri gushed, gazing happily up at Edric, oblivious to the distance in his eyes. “The guests are scheduled to begin arriving tomorrow. Mother wanted a night to enjoy the company of friends and family before I complete my birthday rites. The public celebration is set for the weekend.”

  “And a fine celebration it will be,” Edric nodded. Distracted by his thoughts, he half-heartedly mussed Audri’s hair with his hand, gazing into the distance to the darker corners of the hall. He was proud of his sister, happy to see her finally coming of age. The party was just another gathering to get through with the false air of pleasure that had become all too familiar as of late. With any luck, having Callum and Aiva there would make the show more bearable. Right now all he wanted was to be out of the hallway and in the privacy of his room. He was tired of smiling for one day. It was best not to waste the effort if he didn’t have to.

  Peering at him quizzically Audri brought her hand up to smooth her hair from the tangles left by Edric’s playful gesture, seeming to realize for the first time that something wasn’t quite right. “Does something trouble you, Edric?”