Blood Ties (Noble of Blood Series Book 2)

Noble of Blood

Book Two:

Blood Ties

Note: This book is a work of fiction. Any and all characters and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

Blood Ties

A Noble Blood Books Publication

Copyright © 2015 by A. L. Wright

Cover art Copyright © 2015 by NBBCovers.net

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

Maps by Alicia Wright

Special thanks to Laurence O’Bryan of BooksGoSocial and the fine group of authors who are a part of that group as well. This project would have been months behind without your encouragement and help!

ISBN 1499237871

EAN 978-1499237870
(CreateSpace-Assigned)

First Edition: 2015

Nikkol
a
drowsed on the balcony, stretched out on an old wooden recliner. The evening sun felt incredible on her skin, even if it did make her sleepy. She preferred to relax into the start of her day, which started every evening as the sun set. They had no human helpers around the keep so the maintenance of the small military force that was housed there required everyone's involvement.

Tonight the hunters would be returning with fresh kills. They forayed out once a month when the moon was high to hunt for meat to feed everyone. Usually her father, Dartein, would go with them but this time he had other pressing matters to attend to. He and Victor had rode out to the village to the east to trade for metals and hopefully to employ a smith that could work them. Their holdings were in a sad state of repair, and they had waited long enough to seek out help from the humans.

The village her father would be travelling to was rather small. Nikkola did not hold out much hope that they would be able to convince someone with such a trade to leave a place where they were needed. They had a very small store of iron here at the keep, along with some steel and silver and even a small hut that had once been used for smithing. But no one around the keep had a clue how to work metal. They were all hunters and rangers and fighters.

The sun dropped below the tree line and stars were beginning to appear. Just as Nikkola began picking out constellations she heard riders come into the yard. Standing and stretching, she looked out over the group that rode in. The hunters had returned early which meant they had camped not far away from the keep. She wasn't really excited about helping to butcher the animals they brought in. Messy business it was. Sighing to herself, she turned to her room behind her and walked through the keep and out the main door to the yard.

“Here, Clyd, let me help you with the horses,” she said.

Snagging up two of the horse’s reins from the wiry leather-clad Noble she walked quickly with them trailing behind her to the stalls. Thinking herself clever how she escaped the work of butchering the kills brought in, she took her time brushing down the horses and checking their hooves for damage. On one of the horses she found chips around two hooves. The mare snorted at her and tossed her mane as Nikkola ran her fingers over the hoof she was holding.

If they had a smith these poor animals would at least have shoes.

If it wasn't one thing it was another. Weapons, ammo, saddle buckles and now horse shoes. They were a desperate bunch of rogues. No, not rogues. That would mean they were alright with stealing to get by. And they most definitely were not thieves. Her father was almost rabid on that point. The humans were to be protected, not stolen from.

She smiled as she thought of her father. Growing up he always called her his Little Princess. As a child she felt like a princess as she looked out over the yard from her window in the Keep. Even Victor called her Princess. She felt her cheeks grow red as she thought of the large fighter who was also her father's closest friend. The stall she was in was suddenly warm. While everyone else practically ignored her unless she was needed, Victor made sure he spent time with her every day. He had trained her how to fight, how to hunt and how to ride.

“Tut, tut girl. Rest now. I will get you shoes made soon, I promise.” She whispered to the mare as she backed out of the stall. She exited the barn and looked over to the building that held the butchery. Below that building was the cellar where they stored the meats. The torch lights were still blazing inside the building and she heard voices there. She had hoped they would be all finished by now. Nikka supposed she better just go help them.

She ducked through the door and noticed there was about twice as much game hanging from the rafters as usual. No wonder it was taking longer than normal. Their hunts didn’t usually bring in this many kills. They were careful not to over hunt the local wildlife. Washing her hands in a bucket near the door she was wondering where to start when Clyd walked toward her.

“Ay Lass. Glad you stopped in to help. We came across a whole herd of deer darn near right outside the keep, and we had quite a bountiful hunt. Care to fillet up some of those haunches fer me?” Clyd handed her a crude knife and patted her on the shoulder. She noticed one of the hunters was bringing two carcasses up from the cellar.

“Clyd, those haven't even been skinned yet. What were they doing in the cellar? They weren't gutting them down there were they?” She wrinkled her nose, thinking of the ugly business of gutting an animal. She could do it. But she did not like it. And she sure hoped they weren't leaving the entrails in the cellar where they stored their meats.

“Um, well, they just needed to be brought in off the horses and there was no room up here fer them. We set them down there until we could get to them, that's all.” Clyd looked quickly away from her.

She saw there was plenty of room up here, but she didn't say anything. It was only one more thing in the string of mysterious things that were happening lately around the keep. She kept quiet about it all, but observed closely. If something was going on she was certainly going to know about it.

Wiping her hand hands dry on her trousers, she slipped away from Clyd and towards the back of the room to the staircase. She busied herself in sharpening the knife on a whetstone until the man was no longer paying attention to her. Then she set the stone down and stole down the stairs silently.

There were still several animals down here laying heaped in a pile. Walking toward the carcasses she wondered again why they were down here. Around them were several small wine casks. Picking one of the casks up she noticed they were empty. Nearby there was an odd looking piece of wood shaped like a small shovel but where one end was very wide, the other was narrow ending in a taper. She had seen these before around the keep; runnels her father called them. They directed rain water coming from the roof to the runoff trenches so the yard didn't flood. Touching the odd shaped piece of wood she noticed it was wet, sticky.

Blood. She lifted her fingers to her mouth and licked them clean. Looking at the animals piled on the floor she saw that none of them were bloody, there were no wounds from arrows, swords or spears. Leaning in close she saw every single one of them had had their necks broken.

She knew of the nearby human's hunting ritual of drinking a small amount of the animal's blood after a kill, however it wasn’t something they’d ever observed before. This seemed to her as though they were storing the blood in these small caskets. It was odd, but what wasn't odd about their kind?

She had been raised on blood from infancy, and had always wondered why the other Nobles never drank of it. Her father had told her to never ask, because none of them would even know what to tell her. And that's all he had said about it. She shrugged off the curiosity over the casks and went back upstairs to help cut up the meat.

Taking herself to the farthest corner of the stuffy room, she sat the knife down on the bench. Looking around to make sure no one noticed her, she let her nails grow like claws from her right hand. She had never seen another of them do this, so she felt it was yet something else she had to keep a secret. Even from her father.

Looking around and seeing how much meat there was still to butcher she took in a deep breath and let it out.

It was going to be a long night.

Dartei
n
and Victor walked their horses through the muddy streets of the village. They had already visited one of the town’s two blacksmiths and had been quickly but politely turned down. Evidently even as small as the town was, he was busy enough that he didn't need to consider offers from strangers. Dartein was not a wealthy lord like his father, so did not have monetary means to lure away someone who had a well-established business already.

“I hope it only means that he has all the business and the other blacksmith will need us as much as we need him,” he said to Victor.

Victor was pensive. Dartein could feel the annoyance running off of his old friend. He knew it was because they had left Nikkola behind at the keep. Victor never left her behind for more than a day or two. They had been gone for two days already, so the large man was quite ready to go back.

He knew the source of Victor's devotion, and did not fault the man for it. They had both been completely devoted to his dearly departed Josaleene. And now Victor was fiercely protective of his daughter, the child his Josee had died in bringing forth.

At least he thought it was merely protectiveness.

He sighed to himself, seeing that he now was suddenly feeling very protective of his daughter. Thoughts of Josee did that to him. He never wanted to let Nikkola out of his sight, but had business to attend and an army to prepare.

They rounded the corner and came upon the second blacksmith's shop. This one was just as large as the first one they had visited and peering into the shop he could see heaps of plow heads, horse shoes and many other small bits laying around waiting to be worked on.

“My Prince, it does not look like you will be prying this man away from his work either.”

Dartein winced. He disliked it when Victor called him that and insisted that he never do it in front of others.

“It seems that way, but let us check anyway.”

Striding into the back room past the forges they spied a short burly man seated on a bench next to a younger man wearing a large floppy brimmed hat. They were both polishing sets of buckles, but the older man put his down, stood up and bowed slightly as they walked in.

“Greetings, sirs. Welcome to my shop. Name's Gibbs. If you are here to commission new work, then I gotta warn ya, I'm a bit piled up right now.” The man gestured around at the various piles they had seen before coming in.

“I can see you are very busy. We came looking for a smith to join our ranks at the Keep outside of the village. It would be full time work there with room and board, if you know of anyone who needs the work,” Dartein said.

“Well it sure wouldn't be myself needing that work. I got plenty of trade for food and goods, and even the occasional coin or two. No, I'm set up good here in town. My son is 'prenticing with me, and he isn't ready to go out on his own yet either.”

Dartein nodded to the younger person still seated on the bench. “Aye he seems young still. Better to keep him working here until he's ready.”

Gibbs laughed as the youth looked up from under the hat's brim. Wide delicate eyes and a petite nose peeked up at Dartein.

“Sir this here is my daughter. Obstinate and stubborn she is. She'd rather sit here and polish buckles than get herself marrit.”

The girl stood up and was surprisingly taller than her father.

“Well if'n they need a blacksmith then maybe I should hire on and get out yer hair!” Looking back towards Dartein and Victor she continued. “I've been smithin’ longer than my brother's been 'prenticing, and I'm damned good at it too! Old man here thinks I'm no good for anythin’ but havin’ babies.”

Tossing the buckle down with the rest, she turned and stormed out of the front of the shop.

“Aye, sorry about the lass. They never understand a father just wants ta see them safe and happy.”

“I can relate, sir. I have a daughter of my own. Also quite stubborn.” Dartein nodded toward Gibbs. “Well if you do hear of any smiths needing work, please send them out our way at the Keep. We have work a plenty and guards to keep us all safe. Have a good night, sir.”

“G'd Evening to ya both.” Gibbs replied with an incline of his head, as they turned and walked out of the shop.

They mounted up on their horses and trotted towards the village outskirts, their business in the village concluded. They both knew they were being followed as they left, but didn't want to confront their follower just yet. If anything were to happen, they would not want it happening near the village.

As they got about two miles outside of town, Dartein looked over at Victor and nodded slightly. They both steered their horses towards the wooded area off to their left. After entering the woods, they both dismounted and left their well-trained mounts to rest.

Victor climbed up a tree while Dartein hid behind another one. As the follower's horse came up close, Dartein stepped out of the shadows behind them.

“You are not nearly as sneaky as you think you are, young lady.”

Attempting to stifle a gasp, the blacksmith's daughter swung around in her saddle to spot Dartein lounging against a tree she had just passed by. She then let out a small squeak when Victor dropped from the tree he was in, landing catlike and nearly silent right next to her startled horse.

“You should go back home girl. It is dangerous out in these woods,” Victor said to her. His eyes flashed in the moonlight.

Sitting up straight in her saddle she leveled a brave stare at Victor. “I cannot go back. There be no good prospects in ma village to marry that aren't somewhat related. And I want ta make ma own way in this world, sir. And it seems ta me that ya need me.”

Just as she finished her short speech a wolf howled in the distance. As the first howl died out, another rose to replace it.

“Victor, get the horses and let us be gone from here. Girl, you hear that howl? It means nothing but trouble if we stay here.”

“Name's Friesa. And I know what'n those howls mean. Goblins and their wolves. And from tha sound of it they are between us and the village. Thick – headed beasties they are, clubs and staffs don't do much 'gainst them. I know how ta forge the thin blades that slip 'tween their ribs and pierce their hearts and puncture their lungs. Even fought a couple last fall when they tried ta raid the village storage.” Friesa opened up a pouch tied to her saddlebags and pulled out two very wicked looking knives. They were longer than the normal dagger, and slightly hooked on the end. She tossed one to Dartein and the one to Victor.

“There take a look. But if it ain't weapons ya want, I can make shoes and shovels and such, too.” Friesa sat proudly atop her horse watching the two men look over her daggers.

“These are well made, Dartein. Very well balanced.” Victor was carefully inspecting the blade in his hand.

Dartein did not want to give in, but he had to make a decision fast. They could go back to the village and risk the goblins. Or...

“Alright girl. Wrap these blades back up and follow us closely. We have several more miles to go and we travel during the night.” He and Victor handed the blades back to Friesa.

“It's Friesa. And ya won't be regrettin' this, sir,” she said as she tucked the blades back into the pouch.

He hoped he didn't regret it. Bringing back a fair young lady to a keep full of single blood-thirsty Noble males was definitely not going to go well.