Dawn of Swords Read online

  ALSO BY DAVID DALGLISH

  The Shadowdance Series

  A Dance of Cloaks

  A Dance of Blades

  A Dance of Mirrors

  A Dance of Shadows

  A Dance of Ghosts

  A Dance of Chaos

  The Half-Orcs

  The Weight of Blood

  The Cost of Betrayal

  The Death of Promises

  The Shadows of Grace

  A Sliver of Redemption

  The Prison of Angels

  The Paladins

  Night of Wolves

  Clash of Faiths

  The Old Ways

  The Broken Pieces

  Others

  A Land of Ash (Compilation)

  ALSO BY ROBERT J. DUPERRE

  The Rift

  Book I: The Fall & Dead of Winter

  Book II: Death Springs Eternal & The Summer Son

  Others

  Silas

  The Gate: 13 Dark and Odd Tales (Compilation)

  The Gate 2: 13 Tales of Isolation and Despair (Compilation)

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Text copyright © 2014 by David Dalglish and Robert J. Duperre

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by 47North

  P.O. Box 400818

  Las Vegas, NV 89140

  ISBN-13: 9781477809792

  ISBN-10: 1477809791

  Library of Congress Catalog Number: 2013940227

  Cover design by Mark Winters

  Map design by Paula Robbins & The Mapping Specialists

  To Sam and Jessie, for putting up with our obscenely long phone calls.

  CONTENTS

  ASHHUR’S PARADISE

  NELDAR

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  EPILOGUE

  AFTERWORD

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  ASHHUR’S PARADISE

  NELDAR

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  ASHHUR’S PARADISE

  SAFEWAY

  THE SANCTUARY

  ASHHUR, God of Justice, creator of ASHHUR’S PARADISE

  —JACOB EVENINGSTAR, child of two gods, First Man of DEZREL, sworn servant of ASHHUR

  —BENJAMIN MARYLL, his student, a boy 14 years old

  —ROLAND NORSMAN, his steward

  —AHAESARUS, a Warden of the west

  —GERIS FELHORN, his student, a boy 13 years old

  —JUDARIUS, a Warden of the west

  —MARTIN HARROW, his student, a boy 14 years old

  —CLEGMAN TREADWELL, master steward of ASHHUR

  —AZARIAH, a Warden of the west, brother of JUDARIUS

  MORDEINA

  HOUSE DUTAUREAU

  ISABEL, DUTAUREAU first child of ASHHUR

  —RICHARD, her created husband

  —ABIGAIL ESCHETON, their first daughter, 70 years old

  —TUROCK ESCHETON, her husband, 38 years old

  —their children:

  LAURIA DAGEESH, daughter, 23 years old, wife of UULON

  CETHLYNN, daughter, 21 years old

  DOREK, son, 18 years old

  BYRON, son, 17 years old

  JARAK, son, 15 years old

  PENDET, son, 7 years old

  —PATRICK, their only son, 65 years old

  —BRIGID FRONIN, their second daughter, 62 years old, wife of BAYEN

  —CARA, their third daughter, 61 years old

  —KEELA NEFRAM, their fourth daughter, 58 years old, wife of DANIEL

  —NESSA, their fifth daughter, 31 years old

  —HOWARD PHILIP BAEDAN, master steward of the house

  KER

  HOUSE GOROGOROS

  BESSUS GORGOROS, second child of ASHHUR

  —DAMASPIA, his created wife

  —BARDIYA, their only son, 87 years old

  —GORDO HEMPSMAN, a man of KER

  —TULANI, his wife

  —KEISHA, their daughter, 7 years old

  NELDAR

  KARAK, God of Order, Divinity of the East, creator of NELDAR

  HOUSE CRESTWELL

  CLOVIS CRESTWELL, first child of KARAK

  —LANIKE, his created wife

  —AVILA, their first daughter, 72 years old

  —JOSEPH, their first son, 68 years old

  —THESSALY, their second daughter, 62 years old

  —MOIRA ELREN, their exiled third daughter, 52 years old

  —UTHER, their second son, 41 years old

  —CRIAN, their third son, 38 years old

  HOUSE MORI

  SOLEH MORI, second child of KARAK

  —IBIS, her created husband

  —VULFRAM, their first son, 67 years old

  —YENGE, his wife, 33 years old

  —their children:

  ALEXANDER, son, 18 years old

  LYANA, daughter, 16 years old

  CALEIGH, daughter, 12 years old

  —ORIS, their second son, 66 years old

  —EBBE, his wife, 26 years old

  —their children:

  CONATA, daughter, 9 years old

  ZEPPA, daughter, 7 years old

  —ADELINE PALING, their first daughter, 63 years old, widow of CATSKILL

  —ULRIC, their third son, 59 years old

  —DIMONA, his wife, 41 years old

  —their children:

  TITON, son, 20 years old

  APHREDES, son, 19 years old

  JULIAN, son, 16 years old

  —RACHIDA GEMCROFT, wife of PEYTR, 51 years old

  VELDAREN

  —KING ELDRICH VAELOR THE FIRST, second king of NELDAR

  —KARL DOGON, the king’s bodyguard

  —MALCOLM GREGORIAN, captain of the Palace Guard

  —PULO JENATT, personal guard of SOLEH MORI

  —JONN TREMMEN, personal guard of SOLEH MORI

  —RODDALIN HARLAN, personal guard of SOLEH MORI

  —ROMEO CONNINGTON, high merchant of RIVERRUN

  —THEO CONNINGTON, high merchant of RIVERRUN

  —MATTHEW BRENNAN, high merchant of PORT LANCASTER

  ERZNIA

  —BROWARD RENSON, rancher, widower of KATHERINE

  —BRACKEN, his son, 33 years old, husband of PENELOPE

  —KRISTOF, son, 15 years old

  —MUREN WENTNER, magister of KARAK

  HAVEN

  —DEACON COLDMINE, Lord
of HAVEN

  —APRODIA SUNNETT, priestess of the TEMPLE OF THE FLESH

  —CORTON ENDER, mercenary

  —PEYTR GEMCROFT, high merchant of HAVEN, husband of RACHIDA

  THE ELVES

  THE DEZREN

  STONEWOOD

  —CLEOTIS MELN, Lord of STONEWOOD

  —AUDRIANNA, his wife

  —their children:

  CARSKEL, son, 181 years old

  AUBRIENNA, daughter, 103 years old, lover of JACOB EVENINGSTAR

  AULLIENNA, daughter, 12 years old, betrothed to KINDREN THYNE

  —LUCIOUS ANDERS, guardian

  —KARA ANDERS, guardian

  —NONI CLANSHAW, nursemaid of AULLIENNA

  —DETRICK MELN, brother of CLEOTIS

  —ETHIR AYERS, confidante of DETRICK

  —DAVISHON HINSBREW, confidante of DETRICK

  DEZEREA

  —ORDEN THYNE, Lord of DEZEREA

  —PHYRRA, his wife

  —KINDREN, son, 16 years old, betrothed to AULLIENNA MELN

  THE QUELLAN

  —RUVEN SINISTEL, Neyvar (King) of QUELLASAR

  —JEADRA, his wife

  —CEREDON, their son, 95 years old

  —IOLAS SINISTEL, cousin of RUVEN, member of the TRIAD

  —CONALL SINISTEL, cousin of RUVEN, member of the TRIAD

  —AESON SINISTEL, cousin of RUVEN, member of the TRIAD

  —AERLAND SHEN, chief of the EKREISSAR

  PROLOGUE

  Today, thought Clovis, is a perfect day for bloodshed.

  The air was hot, the wind dead, and the tall grass still. The flags his bannermen carried hung limp on their shanks. To Clovis Crestwell’s right was a vast open plain, empty of settlements for miles. To his left were the tightly packed trees that formed the edge of the Ghostwood. The soft, insect-like whispers that oozed from the haunted forest carried without any apparent need for wind. The whispers caused a collective shudder to work through the battalion that marched on the Gods’ Road, intermixing with the sound of marching feet.

  Clovis sat tall in his saddle, his shoulders pulled back and his long silver hair swept from his face. While on the outside he exuded calm indifference, his insides shuddered with anticipation. It was on this day—this bright and windless day—that his years of planning would finally be set in motion. Today was the day he paved the way for his god to rule the world.

  The man riding astride the lead stallion, Lord Commander Vulfram Mori, raised his hand. Immediately, the progression halted. The fighting men removed their helms and unhitched the waterskins from their belts, taking long gulps and wiping sweat from their brows. They’d marched all the way from Veldaren, the capital of the eastern land of Neldar, and the long journey had left them exhausted. Their leader, though, showed not the slightest sign of wear from the trip. Vulfram looked barbaric; naked from the waist up, his muscular physique was an intimidating sight that dwarfed the greatsword strapped to his back. His head was shaved bald, though a lengthy auburn beard speckled with gray fell from his chin to the middle of his breastbone. But the Lord Commander’s deep brown eyes contained a wisdom that betrayed the impression of barbarism. Vulfram was forthright, cautious, and loyal, and he did not question his superiors. His choice in appearance was purposeful; he demonstrated his boldness by donning no protective armor, inspiring his armored charges to be as fearless as he was. He was a suitable man to lead the army of Karak, the God of Order made flesh, Divinity of the East.

  Though deep down, Clovis knew he should have been granted those duties, not Vulfram.

  “How much farther?” he asked.

  The Lord Commander swiveled in his saddle.

  “We should be on the bridge in forty minutes, Highest,” he replied, bowing low in his saddle. Clovis allowed himself to smile at this gesture of respect, his jealousy lessening. Forty-two years before, Karak himself had bestowed Clovis with the title Highest. It had happened on the very day that the First Families, House Mori and House Crestwell, crowned the first king of the eastern realms. Highest meant that none were more trusted in the eyes of their god, granting Clovis sovereignty as the king’s advisor. Humanity was in its infancy, Karak had told him, and they needed strong men like him to show the way.

  Vulfram gazed west, to where the Gods’ Road wound off into the distance.

  “Are you certain we must show force, Highest?” he asked. “Would a warning not suffice?”

  “It is not your place to question the will of our god,” Clovis said. “It is your duty to obey.”

  “Yes, Highest,” said Vulfram, bowing low once more.

  Kicking his horse, the Lord Commander galloped around the resting troops, shouting for them to make ready for the onward march. The men groaned but offered no complaint, sacking away their waterskins, and putting on their helms. They formed two lines and advanced once more, their chainmail glimmering with the water that had dripped from their chins. Clovis noticed that many were red-faced from the heat, even though they’d been fitted with light filament shirts and breeches instead of sterner steel. He grunted, thought of delaying. It would not do to have the men passing out on the Gods’ Road before fulfilling their duty to their god and realm. His impatience won out, and he joined Vulfram in urging them onward.

  The dusty road passed with numbing steadiness, and Clovis allowed his mind to wander. He had not seen his god in decades. Shortly after the naming of Neldar’s king, Karak had left the realm and not been spotted by living eyes since. Clovis’s only interaction with his deity had been through a series of recent dreams and visions, which had instilled in him a desire to teach a wayward faction of his people the price of blasphemy. Yet Clovis had been hesitant, as dreams were unreliable. He pulled out the pendant he wore around his neck, which had mysteriously appeared at his bedside one morning, its crystal forged by the breath of the last dragon of the land. Were it not for the Whisperer, a being of shadow that contacted him through the pendant, he would never have acted. At first he had thought the Whisperer to be Karak himself, come to offer him guidance from wherever the god had isolated himself, but even when he learned that was not the case, Clovis could not deny that the Whisperer’s desires mirrored his own—a longing for a land ruled by a single, divine presence. Those most blessed by Karak, such as Clovis and the rest of his immortal House Crestwell, perhaps even the mysterious Whisperer, would hold stations of divine power in this new realm. This vision of holy unity began with one simple act, confirmed to him in the dreams sent by Karak—a show of force against the people of Haven, the township nestled within the delta that sprouted from the southern tip of the Rigon River, the body of water that split the land of Dezrel into two equal halves.

  The trees of the Ghostwood soon gave way to the eastern spine of the delta that lay before them, and the rocky soil was replaced with marsh grasses. The Gods’ Road flattened out, and at the Lord Commander’s urging, the men picked up their pace to a brisk jog.

  “Who do we fight for?” Vulfram yelled, and the soldiers answered, “For Karak!”

  They came upon Karak’s Bridge minutes later, a sturdy overpass of wood, granite, and black marble fifty feet across. On the other side of the river was the stumpy rise of the Clubfoot Mountains. To the south, obscured behind a thick line of evergreens, was a series of crude huts. They were the beginnings of a new extension of the Haven Township. And at the base of the nearest mountain, rising into the sky like a stone guardian, was the end result of the peoples’ blasphemy. This was it, the reason they had come, the edifice whose destruction the Whisperer had preordained since the first day of its construction.

  The Temple of the Flesh.

  Vulfram held up a single fist, and the soldiers halted their advance.

  “Ready arrows!” he shouted, and his men pulled the bows from their backs. They nocked arrows and lifted them skyward, one hundred taut strings awaiting the call.

  The Lord Commander turned and directed a questioning look at Clovis, who gestured at the monstrosity before th
em with an open palm. For a brief moment he saw worry, perhaps even a glimmer of defiance, and then Vulfram shook his head and galloped to the rear of the convoy. He did not give the order, which disappointed Clovis. So be it. Such a weighty responsibility should be his anyway.

  There’d be no warning. No message beyond what was delivered with steel barbs. No chance for the men, women, and children to seek shelter within their blasphemous temple.

  “For Karak!” he shouted, and the soldiers loosed their arrows. With a smile, Clovis watched the shafts sail into the afternoon sky.

  CHAPTER

  1

  When the first arrow impaled Martin Harrow’s chest, the sun was at its highest point in the sky. Thirteen-year-old Geris Felhorn stared at his friend as blood poured from the wound, flowing around the shaft in a puddle of crimson. Martin’s hands came up to touch the end of the shaft, his eyes bulging in pain and disbelief. He teetered to the side. Geris stepped forward, reaching tentatively for his injured friend, but he was too late. Martin collapsed onto the hay-covered ground, shuddering, his life’s fluid spreading around him in a lake. Geris dropped to his knees, his mind a whirl of bewilderment. He touched Martin’s leg, and the shuddering stopped.