A Noble Estate

Peace is the short span of time between wars.

Captain Jisten and High Priest S’Rak flee north. It is past time for Jisten to claim his lands formally and S’Rak’s advancing pregnancy can no longer be hidden. The dark servants are traveling, too—two separate teams work to reach S’Rak before the Koilathan crown can claim him, one to defend him physically and one to defend him legally.

In the meantime, a Lythadi conqueror has arisen with the strength to unite the warring clans for the first time in history, and he won’t be satisfied until Koilatha once more belongs to the nomads.

Warning: There is a brief, non-graphic, m/f scene

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A Noble Estate

Copyright © 2014 A.C. Ellas

ISBN: 978-1-4874-0012-5

Cover art by Angela Waters

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

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A Noble Estate

The Dark Servant Book 24

By

A.C. Ellas

Si’Yeni Nix, Kynetha Fengari

Si’Yeni’s Night, Hunter’s Moon

Summer Solstice

Sunday, the 1st of Auranmon

Yagebor surveyed the carnage from the back of his blood roan. He felt a touch of pride at the scene—another victory, another clan brought under his heel. The last clan, in fact. The Lythadi nations were now united under him. He turned to the clan shaman, Tokgud, mounted on a tri-colored paint. “Is the ground squirrel pleased?”

“He is. We have done well. The other spirit animals have recognized the supremacy of the ground squirrel, as it should be. Even proud hawk has bowed down.” The shaman gestured to the field of battle, the carpet of dead bodies, both friend and foe alike. “The spirits are pleased by the offerings of blood and life and have granted you supremacy. You are the chief of chiefs, the entirety of the people look to you for leadership.”

“And they shall have it.” Yagebor turned to face the mountains, which separated them from rich, fertile Koilatha. “I will lead them north to reclaim what is rightfully ours.”

Tokgud clenched his fist and brought it to his chest in salute. “All will be as the ground squirrel wills.”

“As the ground squirrel wills.” Yagebor turned his attention back to his army. The spirits had been with him, it seemed, though in his heart of hearts he doubted the strength of any of them when stacked against the greater gods who’d created the universe. But he was Lythadi, a child of the totems, and he owed his very existence to the spirit of the great ground squirrel, which had created his clan.

The survivors of Hawk Clan were gathering now, the young men in a state of shock, the women wailing as they found the bodies of their dead mates. The clan would serve him as all the clans now served him. The men and boys would fight, and the women would tend to their needs.

Yagebor clucked to his mare. The dainty blood roan picked her way down the rise and across the field. As he rode, his brothers fell in beside him in a show of strength. He pulled up before the shaman of Hawk Clan. “Surrender your people and acknowledge the superiority of the ground squirrel above all other totems.”

The man glared at him, unsurprisingly. Hawk preyed on squirrel, so this was counter to the natural order. But the dead spoke, too, and the shaman was no fool. He yielded before the greater might of the warrior. “Hawk Clan is yours, chief of chiefs, and the ground squirrel is supreme amongst the spirit animals.”

“That will do,” Yagebor said. He turned his roan and rode a short distance, to where a large gathering of Hawk Clan women was preparing to deal with the dead. One in particular caught his eye. She was young, but old enough, with large breasts and generous hips. Her long, black hair had blue highlights in it, and her deep eyes were honey-toned. He rode up to her, reached down and gripped her shoulder. “You are mine now, woman. I claim you.”

Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, and she trembled. “I am a sworn maiden,” she said.

“No longer.” Yagebor pulled the woman up and flung her, belly down, across his saddle. He patted her perky ass. “Your totem is defeated and you are a war prize.” He slipped a beaded collar around her neck and knotted it closed. It not only marked her as his bound wife, but also would prevent her from taking to her totem form. He looked at the rest of the women. “Gather the dead and prepare them for the fires.”

The women bowed low, offering obeisance. It made him smile. “Proud, fierce hawk,” he murmured. “Where is your vaunted freedom now?”

“He will defeat you,” the woman across his saddle promised. “Hawk will feast upon your squirrel for eternity.”

Yagebor laughed. He was going to enjoy teaching this woman her place.

* * * *

Bazohn turned his avtappi to the left once clear of the portal. He swept the temple grounds with his gaze. The main building was small compared to the great temple of Okyro but large enough for one of the only temples to stand outside of A’filozenoi.

A black wall snaked around the cleared space of the temple grounds, beyond the wall, the tall trees stood silent sentinel, peering down at them while thinking whatever trees thought of. Baz knew that these trees
did
think; they were related to the great forest of Thassos, which was said to be self-aware and quite intelligent. They interacted with animals by thought projection—the ancient peoples called the ghostly images dryads. He couldn’t wait to meet some.

The Movai who ran this temple were already gathered, and they were warm in their welcome. Food and drink were offered almost as soon as the portal collapsed.

Baz checked his men; the temple guards had been placed under his command as the only military priest along on this mission, which was silly, in his opinion, since he was a ranger, a scout, and not in the usual chain of command. In addition, the guards had their own captain along, and Osazor knew far more about how to command his men than Baz did.

Osazor pulled up beside him. “Any orders, sir?”

“Captain, do whatever you’d normally do.” Baz shrugged. “I’m Perrai, for night’s sake, not a Strazi. So how about this, you command your men, and I’ll scout the trail for us, and if there’s any issues, we can confer.”

Osazor grinned. “That works for me, sir.” He glanced at the towering trees. “You going to go out there?”

“I am. We’ll have to soon, anyhow, to reach Chloi. The trees aren’t our Enemy and I’d rather have their goodwill than their enmity.”

“Sounds good, sir.” Osazor flipped a salute before he turned to organizing his men.

Baz turned toward the senior Ekli present and, thus, in nominal command. “S’Etsin, I am going to scout our road out. I’ll rest easier once I’ve heard what the trees are saying.”

Etsin glanced at the towering trees and nodded. “Yes. Reassure them, would you? I don’t want them thinking we’re a war party or raiders.” The trees were known for defending themselves against unwanted aggressors. Particularly those who wielded axes.

“I will.” Baz turned again, this time for the open gates. The wall was a courtesy really, there to mark sanctified space from secular and not a barrier to entry. Baz doubted that the double black iron gates had ever been closed. But the walls were built identically to the fortress walls on the Aemyrna Line. If the temple came under attack, unlikely though that was, the gates could close and the walls could be defended. Theoretically.

Once on the forest road, Baz dismounted. He stepped off the road and into the space between two of the forest giants. He looked up at the arching canopy that obscured the stars. A flicker in the corner of his eye caused him to turn his head. The dryad appeared to be a small human, slender, dressed in browns and greens.

He bowed. “I am S’Bazohn of the Perrai sect of the Lord of Night. I am traveling from Okyro to Karpos City in Koilatha with a delegation of dark servants and temple guards. We seek permission to cross your lands, and in return for safe passage, we swear to do no harm and abide by the laws of the forest.”

How many are you?
The dryad’s voice sounded like the sighing of wind through leaves and was entirely in his mind. The projection’s lips never moved. Technically, the projection was in his mind, too; it was a tree he was conversing with, not a person.

“One less a score,” he replied.

Permission is given, S’Bazohn of the Perrai. The Brethren remain friends of the forest. Keep to the open road and it will guide you safely to the lands humans claim.
The dryad wisped away before the words finished whispering into his mind.

Baz bowed again and walked out of the forest. His avtappi, Vrachon, remained on the road, appearing nearly as bored as a conscious avtappi could be. Vrachon was neither a war type nor a racing type, but a wild-bred mixture of the two. He was as solid and durable as the rock he was named for. Baz mounted and rode him back onto the temple grounds. He was looking forward to mass, a meal and, soon after, the open road.

* * * *

Dεftεra Ligo, Aoranz Fεngari

2nd day, 1st week, Auranz’s moon

Winday, the 3rd of Auranmon

Asfalea and Despina stood together, watching, as the last wagon was loaded. Every house in the barrio was empty of everything but the heaviest pieces of furniture. Expert hands had carefully loaded the wagons, proper Valer traveling wagons. Soon, the Valers would be on the move, finally free of the poverty which had kept them in Karpos. And it was all thanks to Jisten and S’Rak.

Jisten had given Despina all the money he’d received from the crown for the high priest’s stud services, calling it dirty money that he wanted nothing to do with. S’Rak had suggested that they use the money to free themselves. And so they did. The wagonner horses had been hard to find, and in the end, some of the horses in the traces weren’t proper wagonners at all but lesser breeds, but there were enough of them, and that was the point.

Meno and Ytaes were double-checking their wagon. The two Movai had somehow collapsed the chapel, packed it up, including the sanctifications and wardings, and loaded it into the wagon. Asfalea knew magic when she smelled it, but she wasn’t complaining. It was too risky to leave a sanctified chapel of the night where anybody could walk in, and the two Movai were adamant about traveling with the Valers. They were here to administer the rites to the Valer people, they said seriously, not to the Koilathans. Honestly, she was glad to have them and the two temple guards who remained to protect the young priests.

The men finished loading the last wagon, and suddenly, everyone was in motion. Asfalea was guided to her wagon and assisted up into the driver’s seat. Despina mounted Elara and rode alongside her. Wagons were pulling out of the square, heading for the docks where several large river barges waited to take them north. It was the fastest way, and they had the gold, so why not? With any luck, they would beat Jisten to his estate and be there waiting to surprise him.

* * * *

Pεndεra Ligo, Aoranz Fεngari

5th day, 1st week, Auranz’s moon

Rivday, the 6th of Auranmon

Five nights of peaceful, easy travel ended as abruptly as the forest did. Bazohn glanced back over his shoulder. On one side of the border, the trees towered. Then, they just stopped, as if they’d hit a wall, and from there on, all Baz could see was a waving sea of grass. They pushed on past the dawn, for the dryads had warned them that camping during the day would be dangerous, and they were also very close to their destination, a town called R’kith on the southern point of Lake Galas.

The town was barely that. Sod huts competed for space with hide tents. The only real buildings, other than the high-walled compounds of the trading houses, were the inn and the warehouse off the one long pier. That’s where they went, and Baz did his best not to notice the squalor of the people or the smell of the open sewer down the center of the street.