The Wayfarer King Read online

  The Wayfarer King

  Book two of the Kinshield Saga

  by K.C. May

  The Wayfarer King

  Copyright 2011 by K.C. May

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

  This book is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents depicted herein are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Cover design and layout by T.M. Roy / TERyvisions www.teryvisions.com / Sword designed by T.M. Roy

  Map of Thendylath by Jared Blando / www.theredepic.com

  Chapter 1

  He picked up her hand and gripped it as he would in a handshake. “Daia, I’m asking you to be my champion.”

  The smell of the crackling mesquite logs in the fireplace at the Elegance Inn filled Gavin Kinshield’s nose, and the flicker of the fire’s golden light on Daia’s face illuminated the shock in her gaping mouth and wide eyes. Gavin grinned, amused that she hadn’t anticipated the question. Wasn’t that what she wanted? She’d hinted as much in the days leading up to their journey to the Rune Cave and assumed the role in the three days since.

  Their relationship had been forged on the roads of Thendylath in search of a kidnapped blacksmith. It had been sharpened in the battle against Brodas Ravenkind for the sword, Aldras Gar, and for the King’s Blood-stone. Now it would be polished and wielded over a lifetime of battle and labor as he worked to rebuild the country as its new king. He’d received her pledge of fealty already, but this was different.

  Her hand tightened around his own. “Yes. With all my heart, yes.” Her voice quavered thickly. Her pale-blue eyes gleamed in the flickering light of the fire. “I would love nothing more, and I’m honored you asked.” Still gripping his hand, she went to one knee before him. “I, Daia Saberheart, daughter of Dashel Celónd, pledge my life to protect and serve you. As your champion, I offer this solemn vow: to take up arms and defend your health, your honor and your right to rule Thendylath. As I swear before my king, this service is yours for as long as I draw breath.”

  “Did you just make that up?”

  Letting go of his hand, Daia smiled as she retook her seat on the chair beside him. “Yes. Did you like it?”

  “It sounded very courtly.” Gavin breathed his relief. “Awright, that’s one thing off my mind. Now for the rest.”

  “What worries you more, the demon in the palace or Ravenkind?”

  Gavin ran his tongue over the gap where his right eyetooth used to be. Brodas Ravenkind, no doubt livid over losing the battle for the King’s Blood-stone, wanted Gavin dead, but monstrous beyonders invaded the realm of men every day, slaughtering innocent people, leaving orphans and widows and parents torn apart by grief. These were his people. Their safety was his first concern. “Ravenkind can wait. As long as Ritol’s imprisoned in the palace, the invasion will never end. I got to deal with Ritol first.”

  “We’ve got to. You’re not alone. Did your vision in Sohan give you any idea how to send it back?”

  It wasn’t a vision he’d had but an ancient memory. He knew that now, and he knew what he had to do. The notion of facing the most powerful of beyonders gave Gavin a chill. He stood and went to the fire to warm himself, but its heat did nothing to comfort him from the shuddersome thoughts roiling through his mind. “King Arek’s plan was to enter the beyonders’ realm and summon Ritol. He was going to take Ronor along to buy him time to find the vortex and return home, but for some reason, he abandoned the plan. He said it was flawed, but he didn’t tell me why. I think it was because he didn’t have you.”

  “But you do. What’s our plan? How are you supposed to find the vortex and summon Ritol?”

  Gavin returned to his seat. “Help me a second, will you?” He felt Daia’s mystical conduit-force connect with him. At once, his muscles felt stronger, his hearing sharper, his thoughts clearer. He let his mind drift two hundred years into the past when he was Ronor Kinshield, champion to King Arek, back to the moment he found the king in his private study, chiseling the runes into the tablet, infusing the five gems with his magic. Images and memories flooded his mind, images of the king lying broken and dying, the queen brutally slain in a cave, memories of the lordover’s comforting words assuring him they would devise a way to restore the monarchy.

  He pushed aside the haunting images and thought back to the times they’d traveled across the country. King Arek would sometimes stop, peer into the distance, then change course to find someplace that looked like any other place to Ronor’s eye. Then he would step through an invisible door into nothingness and come back hours or sometimes days later with stories of beings both terrifying and lofty. Somehow Gavin was supposed to know how to do that too.

  He released the connection with Daia and blinked, clearing away the images and settling his eyes back on the inn’s hearth. “King Arek used his magic to find the vortex. Guess I got to learn how, then go through it.”

  She nodded. “Do you have what you need to summon Ritol once we get through the vortex?”

  “Not yet. I need a Rune o’Summoning.” Ronor had never seen the rune, but he’d known there were two. King Arek had one, and Crigoth Sevae, the would-be usurper who’d summoned Ritol, had the other. “King Arek died in the palace with one in his possession. Sevae had the other, but I don’t remember where he lived, so I don’t know where to look for it.”

  “Remember?”

  Gavin realized she didn’t know he was Ronor Kinshield reborn because he hadn’t told her. That detail would stay his secret for now. Maybe forever. “Did I say remember? Anyway, maybe the curator at the museum in Ambryce has Sevae’s rune in his collection. I want Stronghammer to put the other two gems into the hilt o’my sword, anyway.” He’d been carrying the fourth and fifth gems from the Rune Tablet around with him and was eager to have them safely placed into the hilt so he wouldn’t lose them. “Let’s leave for Ambryce tomorrow.”

  “Perhaps the mage who enchanted it can teach you to find the vortex. I’ll introduce you.” She yawned and stood. “We should try to get some sleep. It’s a long ride.”

  “Yeh, goodnight.” He stared into the fire, listening to her footsteps fade up the stairs. Though Ritol troubled him, something else kept him from sleep and twisted his gut with worry, something Brodas Ravenkind said four years ago, after slaying Gavin’s wife and daughter.

  Cross me again and I’ll kill every Kinshield in Thendylath and deliver their heads to you.

  Chapter 2

  Brodas Ravenkind put his fingers in his ears while Cirang heaved an ax against the library wall. Mortar and clay chips flew as she hit it repeatedly. He squeezed his eyes shut as she swung the ax again. This was the sort of task he normally delegated to his cousin, Warrick, whose height and strength were better suited to physical labor.

  Every time he thought about Warrick, murdered in an alley by Gavin Kinshield or one of his friends, Brodas felt his anger renewed. If only the ax’s target were Kinshield’s skull. Of all the ways Brodas envisioned killing that bloody usurper, using an ax was not his favorite. He wanted it to hurt, yes, but mostly he wanted Kinshield to suffer. “Hit it harder,” he told Cirang.

  Cirang stopped and pulled a rag from her waistband
to wipe her brow. “I’m hitting as hard as I can.” She lifted the ax to her shoulder once more.

  As she was about to take another swing, Brodas heard the manor’s back door open. “Wait!”

  Cirang took a battle stance. They waited and listened as a single pair of footsteps tromped through the kitchen and down the hall, the intruder apparently unconcerned about being discovered.

  “Lord Brodas?” a deep voice called.

  “Red!” Never had Brodas been so happy to see the rough swordsman. Despite his many flaws, Red was loyal and obedient and right now, that was all Brodas really needed. With Warrick murdered, his contingent of Viragon Sister guards turned against him, and his associates Tyr and Toren presumably dead, Brodas needed Red now more than ever. “Red, I’m back here.”

  The big redhead ambled up, smelling strongly of sweat and horse. His arrival could not have been more timely, though Brodas could have used him during the recent battle with Kinshield. Red looked at the broken wall of Brodas’s library with wide eyes. “What’s this about? Who’s she?” He set a battered leather satchel on the floor by his feet.

  “This is Cirang, formerly of the Viragon Sisterhood. Did you find the gargoyle merchant?” Brodas asked.

  “Yeh, I found him in the market district with a wagon full o’the things.” Red knelt and started to dig through his satchel. “Good news. You’ll like this. He told me that if the person who puts the gargoyle on a chest dies, you just got to put another on the chest to open it. The magic o’the two gargoyles will combine into the live one. Then you can remove the old one and use it as your own.”

  Brodas gave an uncharacteristic hoot and clapped Red on the back. “Well done, Red! Tell me you have a gargoyle with you.”

  “Yeh. I convinced the merchant to part with one.” He pulled out a small wooden gargoyle figurine, roughly five inches tall and three inches wide, and handed it to Brodas.

  “You didn’t kill him, did you?” Brodas asked, turning the figurine over in his hands. Though it was a lovely golden brown with smooth, black onyxes set into its eye sockets, the carving was hideous to behold. Its mouth was open, revealing jagged teeth and a long tongue.

  “No, m’lord. I left him alive like you told me to.” Red inspected the wooden gargoyle attached to the library door that had locked Brodas out. “Who put this here?”

  “Gavin Kinshield or one of his damnable cohorts.”

  “We could try to unlock it with my gargoyle.”

  “Try it if you want to,” Brodas said, “but Kinshield’s death is too much to hope for at this point. Except for Cirang, he has managed to wrest the Viragon Sisterhood’s loyalty from me.” He held up his three-fingered hand, reminded again of the irony of it. He’d severed the same fingers from Risan Stronghammer’s hand in an attempt to learn the identity of the rune solver.

  “Ho! What happened?” Red asked.

  “Too much to explain now. Warrick is...” A lump rose in his throat and he swallowed it down. This was no time to get weepy. “Warrick is dead.”

  Red’s brows rose, but he said nothing, for which Brodas was grateful. Red did not, exactly, have an agile tongue.

  “The chest of gems that you took from the gemsmith — I need to get it open, Red. At once.”

  Red measured Cirang with a glance and held his hand out for the ax. “Give it here.” She handed it to him. Red’s large muscles bunched as he swung the ax against the plaster-covered brick wall. Brodas and Cirang stood back, plugging their ears, and watched while Red continued hacking. In time, he broke a hole in the wall large enough to step through.

  Red went in first and offered a hand to help Brodas stumble over the debris. Cirang followed. Inside the once-immaculate library, they covered their noses and mouths against the clay dust that floated in the air. Brodas’s wooden chest sat on the desk, right where he’d left it, and to his utter surprise, no gargoyle sat upon its lid.

  “Looks like my trip to Tern was wasted,” Red grumbled.

  “Not wasted,” Brodas assured him. “The gargoyle will undoubtedly be useful later.” Without another moment’s delay, he raised the lid. Inside were perhaps fifty or sixty gems of various colors, each about the size of his thumbnail. With his heart racing, he picked one up and measured it against his magic power. While it didn’t have the infinite depth of the gems in Kinshield’s sword, it was more than adequate for most any job. He guessed that he would be able to use it a dozen times or more before it began to crack from the stress. He scooped up a handful and repeated the process, measuring each gemstone. Yes. They were exactly what he needed.

  “Excellent. Now, help me gather my books.” He closed the lid then set his gargoyle on it, watching as it melded with the lid, locking it shut until the next time he removed the carving.

  Red looked at the two walls of shelves, filled with books. “All of them?”

  “No, we don’t have time for them all.” Brodas went to the bookcase, pulled his journals from their shelves and handed them to Red. Most of them were there; one was missing. Then he noticed that the spines of his books were misaligned. Someone had been in here, going through his things. Kinshield and his friends must have taken the journal, but why just that one? The information in it was only valuable to Brodas. Of all the books in the library, they should have taken Crigoth Sevae’s journal. In it, Sevae described how, as Royal Mage and Drugger, he’d betrayed the king and summoned the champion Ritol to help him usurp the throne. The idiots probably had no idea that Brodas even possessed it. He pulled the delicate old tome off the shelf and cradled it in his arms. “Cirang, Red, I’m missing a journal with a black cover like these. Help me look for it.”

  Cirang scanned the shelves while Red began opening and closing drawers of the desk, sifting through the papers. Brodas continued to scan the shelves, hoping that whoever had been looking through his library had simply moved it.

  Behind him, the rustling stopped. “M’lord, is this it?” Red held up the black, leather-bound tome.

  “Indeed it is.” Briefly he wondered what had possessed someone to put it in a drawer, but that thought fled his mind as he flipped through the pages and found what he was looking for: the addresses of Gavin Kinshield’s relatives. As fortune shone, there was a cousin in Calsojourn. He snapped the book shut with a satisfying thwap! He’d made a promise to Kinshield, and he was a man of his word.

  Chapter 3

  Aldras Gar...

  Its whispers invaded Gavin’s consciousness, jerking him out of a violent dream. He leapt out of bed, reaching for the sword, before he realized the three gems in the hilt were dark. It was just another dream. No danger. Not at the moment, anyway. With his heart still thumping, he sat heavily on the edge of the bed. Damned sword.

  The sun was rising, and they had a four-day ride ahead. He might as well eat and get on the road. He dressed, grabbed Aldras Gar, and went downstairs.

  Edan Dawnpiper was sitting in the dining hall, hunched over a table within a sea of tables, quill in hand, writing furiously. Slim and wiry with light-brown hair and mustache, Edan had always been the one to capture the ladies’ attention, but he’d yet to take a wife. Gavin admired his charm and wit and knew he’d never find a truer friend. There could be no other choice for the position of King’s Adviser.

  “What’re you doing?” Gavin asked as he walked in.

  Edan started. The pen in his hand stumbled over the page. “Damn, Gavin. You nearly scared the ghost out of me.” He picked up the page. A sliver of light shone through the tear his wayward pen had made. “Writing letters to the lordovers. I’m almost finished.”

  Gavin pushed chairs out of his path as he made his way to Edan’s table. “You’ve been up all night?”

  “You don’t employ a scribe to copy them for me.” Edan examined his quill and sighed.

  The chair’s legs scraped noisily across the slate floor as Gavin pulled it out and sat. “I don’t employ anyone,” he said with a sarcastic grin. “Not even you.” He set his sword down, reached for the
carafe of water and guzzled its contents.

  “Exactly. You haven’t any money.”

  Gavin wiped his mouth on his sleeve and picked up one of the letters Edan had written. “You ain’t asking the lordovers for money are you?” Despite the precise and uniform handwriting, its letters were too fancy for Gavin to make out. He read barely well enough when the letters were printed block style, on signs and the like, but not this.

  “Just my father. Explaining why I’ve been gone so long might temper his fury and spare me the stocks and perhaps a whipping.” Edan wiped the ink off his quill and set it aside. “To the rest, I’m announcing that Thendylath has a new king. We can start planning your coronation.”

  “No.” Gavin gestured sharply. “No. I told you to wait.” He put the letter back on the pile.

  “Gavin.” Edan sounded exasperated. “What good is having an adviser if you won’t take my advice?”

  Gavin groaned and fell back in his chair. Not this argument again.

  “Why do you think doing this alone is better than getting the help of everyone in Thendylath?”

  “Look, if the people knew what really happened to King Arek, they’d panic. The lordovers don’t need that on top o’everything else. When I vanquish the demon and seal the rift between the realms, when Thendylath is safe, then I’ll have proven I’m worthy o’the crown. Then the people will have a king they can trust.”

  Edan slapped the table. “You’ve proven yourself worthy by solving the runes and claiming the King’s Blood-stone. We need soldiers, armor and weapons. We need money. How can we hunt down Ravenkind without the lordovers’ help? How can we battle Ritol without an army?”

  “We don’t need an army. Soldiers didn’t do King Arek any good.” All Gavin needed was Daia and the Rune of Summoning. And maybe a few ideas on what the hell to do.