Sword of Jashan (Book 2)
Read Sword of Jashan (Book 2) Online
Authors: Anne Marie Lutz
Dedication
This book is for my family. Your love and support mean everything to me.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Lord Ander Alghasi Monteni dabbed his brush in paint and began noting highlights in his subject’s hair. The blue would bring out the glossy black of Shan-il’s hair—so unusual, like no one else’s in Northgard province. Lord Ander had painted his tutor a handful of times, fascinated by the man’s coloring and the flat planes of his face.
“You’re very dull today,” Ander said, drawing a highlight in the painted fall of Shan-il’s hair. “Do you not have any lessons for me?”
Shan-il laughed. “A boy of fourteen is asking for lessons?”
“I don’t mind your lessons,” Ander replied, with the ghost of a smile on his face. “Except for the mathematics, that is—and the natural sciences . . .”
“You know a rigorous education is needed to prepare you for the office you will fill someday.”
“I know; my lady mother repeats it endlessly. But surely there is no need for me to know the kinds of rocks that make up the mountains or the breeding habits of icetigers.” He paused. “Especially the breeding habits of icetigers.”
“Yes. There have been no icetigers for a few years. But you are of Northgard, my lord. What would your lord father say if I taught you nothing of them?”
Ander dropped the paintbrush. “He would have no right to complain.”
“Lord Ander, you may be the King’s heir, but you are still Lord Zelan’s stepson. He has every right to insist you learn of the tigers, and the wolves as well.”
“No icetigers for years, Shan-il! The last was killed the year I was born—its pelt was sent to King Martan and lies in the Great Hall at Sugetre Castle.
And still every day my stepfather is on the Hunt, looking for icetigers that will never come. He will not stop.”
“Lord Ander, you know why he cannot stop.”
“I know. He is Collared. His binding forces him to Hunt. You have told me that is not his fault, but the King’s. That doesn’t mean he has to force
me
to be like him.”
Shan-il stood up. “I don’t think he has much choice anymore. He has been Collared for thirty years or more. After such a time, I doubt he can separate his own will from what is imposed upon him by the Collar.” The tutor paused and turned his head toward the door.
The door opened fast, and the man who burst through it moved fast as well, his gaunt face tense with anger. “Ander! Why are you not at the stable, ready for the Hunt?”
“I am not needed for the Hunt, father. There are no icetigers!” Ander knew his tone of voice would irritate his stepfather, but he could not help himself. He was sick of being called away from painting, reading, studying, mage training—even training in the sword—to join the fruitless Hunt.
“Jashan’s eyes, you damned runt, you’ll ride with us or you’ll not see a paintbrush until your uncle dies. You are my stepson by law, no matter you are Sharpeyes’ heir, and you will obey me!” Lord Zelan grabbed Ander’s arm and hauled him out of the room. Ander protested, pulling back, but his stepfather was strong in spite of his age. After a few moments of being pulled down the stairs, Ander gasped out an oath and yanked his arm from his stepfather’s.
“All right, I will come, then! But it is useless, and you know it!” This attempt to wound his stepfather fell on deaf ears.
“You are a stripling of fourteen. You think you know what is useful or not. I’ll tell you what is not useful, and that is your playing with those paints like a child in a nursery. Shut your mouth, get your weapon, and get on your horse before I throw you over her saddle.”
The four Hunters who would accompany them were already mounted. Their saddles bristled with spears and arrows. There was no expression on their sun-browned faces as they watched. Ander mounted, his mouth clamped shut. Mortified, he felt a stinging in his eyes and forced it back, stiffening his spine and staring ahead between his horse’s ears. He knew these men, Zelan’s Hunters—hard men, mostly silent, blooded many times against the icetigers when they had still roamed the area. Their presence took years away from him, making him feel awkward and immature.
Lord Zelan mounted and called to the dogs to follow. Hunter Innes drew up beside Ander’s horse and held out a leather flask of water.
“You’d no time to get your own,” Innes said.
“It would be a long ride indeed without it,” Ander said, trying to keep his voice steady. “My thanks.”
“Hunter Shar has spare trailbread, if you want it.”
Ander looked ahead to where grim Hunter Shar rode straight as a pillar, eyes ahead. All at once he felt better. “Later, please,” he said. “Give Hunter Shar my thanks, Innes.”
Innes nodded.
“And, Innes, you will show me Grim’s new litter tomorrow, as you promised?”
“After your sword lesson,” Innes said. “I will bring them to the ring. Hon Islarian wants one of them, I think.”
The Hunter rode ahead. The man was inordinately proud of his hunting bitch and the quality of her litters. Grim was almost too old to bear, now; this might be her last litter. Ander thought of taking one. It would please the old Hunter to have offspring of his Grim at Sugetre Castle with the future King. Ander was scheduled to depart for there in a few short sennights to continue his education amid the toils of palace politics.
Soon he would be able to leave Zelan alone, running himself ragged as he sought out remnants of the species that had once threatened Righar’s northeastern reaches. There had once been a need for a Collared Lord at Northgard. But the need was gone.
Today the Hunt rode toward the farms and wooded areas of the south, where the predators had always been rare. But too long without a sight of their lord, and the little towns grew restless. The southern villages wanted to see their Collared Lord protecting them.
It was a long ride as the late afternoon turned into the dusk the tigers and wolf packs had always preferred. The line of trees backed away to leave a cleared margin beside the path. Lord Zelan set a moderate pace, and Ander grew bored. He left the watch up to the Hunters, and thought instead of his portrait of Shan-il. This was the best he had done; he knew it. He believed he was catching a light of intelligence in those dark eyes that had escaped him in his other attempts. Perhaps if he could convince Shan-il to sit again tomorrow while it was fresh in his mind, he could accomplish more.
He shook his head and pulled himself out of his thoughts. He had fallen a little behind. Hunters Innes and Shar lingered near him, but the other men and the dogs were no longer visible on the trail. They had moved ahead toward the village. Ander put his heels to his mare’s side, and the mare began walking faster. Ander looked around at the trees, realizing it was near dark. Hunter Innes had lit a road-lamp that illuminated their immediate surroundings. It made the foliage behind it seem even blacker.
“Riders, Lord Ander,” Shar said. Ander pulled up and listened. It sounded as if there were quite a few horsemen, maybe half a dozen. His nerves prickled. His guards pulled closer to him, loosening their swords in their sheaths.
Out of the darkness came the riders, appearing suddenly out of the gloom. As near as Ander could see in the night, their gray surcoats showed no badge of any liege lord.
“Who’s there?” Innes challenged.
There was no reply. Some of the new arrivals pulled their horses back behind the leaders. Then the new men were riding the Northgard group down, two riding abreast in the close quarters of the tree-lined trail.
Ander swore and dragged his horse’s head around. His heels drummed on her flanks, urging her away.
“Get back!” Shar yelled. Both of the Hunters shouldered their mounts in front of Ander, swords drawn to defend him. Metal clashed. Ander pulled his mare away, in the direction his stepfather had gone. But there was already a man cutting off his retreat, grinning at Ander’s effort, his sword ready. Ander grabbed for his own sword, praying to Jashan for aid against the massive warrior.
He heard a panicked shout as one of the horses went down. Hunter Shar was trapped under his mount, screaming as the beast rolled over him. Innes now faced two opponents. His sword flashed in the erratic light of the moving roadlamp, but it was only a moment until he was disarmed. The sword went flying off into the woods and one of the attackers rode up and slashed the Hunter’s throat.
“Innes!” Ander screamed. Blood sprayed as the Hunter’s body fell too slowly from his horse to lie in the dirt.
Ander shoved down his grief and raised his sword to meet the massive weapon of his attacker. Their swords rang together. It was a good strike, but the older man laughed and shoved his horse toward Ander’s, trying to use his weight advantage to force Ander’s arm down. Ander struck again, aiming for the opening in the man’s mail at his throat. For a moment he thought he would succeed, but then his blade was struck aside.