A Mark of Kings
A MARK OF KINGS
by
Bryce O’Connor & Luke Chmilenko
“A Mark of Kings”
Book One of The Shattered Reigns series
Bryce O’Connor & Luke Chmilenko
Copyright © 2019 Bryce O’Connor, Luke Chmilenko
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without expressed permission from the author.
ISBN: 978-0-9988106-8-3
Cover Art by Billy Christian
Cover Design by Shawn T. King, STK Kreations
BOOKS BY BRYCE O’CONNOR
The Wings of War
Child of the Daystar
The Warring Son
Winter’s King
As Iron Falls
BOOKS BY LUKE CHMILENKO
Ascend Online
Ascend Online
Hell to Pay
Legacy of the Fallen
For Mike Faltraco.
For the tough love
in which confidence took root.
… and because whenever I was distracted at practice,
it’s probably because I was working on this story
in my head…
-Twinkle Toes
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing acknowledgements for a single person is hard enough, but when a book has two authors, this section has a tendency to become its own chapter. For that reason, we have decided to keep things short, and settle on thanking you, the reader who currently holds this book in their hands, for your purchase and support. You are the reason—in many ways the sole reason, in fact— that we get to do what we love to do for a living.
In particular, we would like to thank our beta readers, who answered our call for help, and gave us so much incredible feedback and assistance when we needed it most. Thank you all.
BETA READERS:
Adam Siefertson, Adarsh Venkatesh, Amy Lizette Davalos, Andie Wilson, Andrew Miller, Anthony Gallo, Ronni Adams, Bruce L Hevener, Barbara Ryan, Brandon, Bryce MacTurk, Carole, Daniel Crain, Daniel A. Shay, Damian Ryan, David A Hammer, David Lubkin, David Nott, David Smith, Cherry Obsidia, Mr. Derek E. Larson, MMus, Med, Devin Fuoco, Drake Vato, Einar Nygård, Elise Woodfolk, Emi-Jo Smith, Master Seamen Walsh, Emily-Ann, Emma Ellen Clor, Professor Ethan L. Alderman, Fuchsia Aurelius, Gary Sather, Gilbert Dumas, Alexandria Strutton the legacy, Iain Hare, AFCBJane&AMAP, Jacques Smit, Jacob Greer, Jedediah, Jennifer, jayjay, Jerri-Lee 'Sprinkles' Bickley, Joe Jackson, Johnny Ayers, John Gerlak, J Henninger , JoJo, Joli, Jonathan Williamson, Joshua Burns, Juan, TuFF GoNG, Kate Churcher, Katie, Ken Reeser, Khendarian, Krystal S, Lening Gonzalez, Mackenzie King, Ares Wolfe, M.B.Schroeder, Matt Gorsuch, Michael Matthews, Michele L. Metzler, Nathan Fears, Nicholas Rocan, Noel Townsend, Robert J. Mosentoff, Roger " chainsaw " Harris, Imabookworm, , Ruth C. Jones (ruthiejones.com), sally b, Sargash, Shawn A. Dressler, Shawn Sharrah, Si Richards, Simon "MORT" Evans, Simon Sheanon, Stephen Neal, Steve Thomas, Struan Findlay, Theresina Lloyd, Todd Ponto, Tony M, vena thunderbird, William Alexander, AJ Larson, Alex Gallegos, Amanda Jimerson, Andrew Jones, Brady West, Brandon Kennedy , Brenden Stopher, Brittany Adams, Caleb F, Cameron Londergan, Casey Munger, Chela-Rene Spaargaren, Chris Moore, Connor McPherson, Curtis S, Daniel Boyce, Daniel Prince, Daniel Vick, Daniel Womack, Dave K, David Durand, David Muir, Daylan Ethridge, Dennis, Devon Jolly, Doug Grimes, Edmund Milne, Elias Dantas, Emilie Fostvedt, Erik Borgstrom, Gus Blackmer, James Dillard, Jamey Sultan, Jamie Collins , Jared Bodewig, JC McIntosh, Jeff Kohlbeck, Jesse Morin, Jesse Reynolds, Jim Stojkov, John B. DeBlanc, Jon Johnson, Jonas Talley, Jonathan Campbell, Josh Spagnuolo, Justin Ballew, Kaztith Dundar, Kelly Flynn, Kendon Holtz, Lee Anderson, Linda Wilson, Mari Krugel, Michael Hackett, Michael VanderMeer, michael walker, Mike Pratt, Morgan Douglas, Nathan Lindeman, Nathaniel, Micah Stoops, Nick Johnson, Patrick McQuoid, Paul J, Paul Smith, petey waple, Pierre Larsson, Rebekah Wilpon, Rich Parker, Richard London, Rick Sebrite, Rick Ulshafer, Rickie Brown, Robert Pratt, Ryan Gurr, Ryan O'Malley, Selena Banales, Seth Morgan, Stephen Kutz, Stephen Reynolds, Tammy Krause, Thomas Sigman, Victor Rasky, Weston Bohannon, Zach Veckov
We would also like to take the time to thank our Patreon supporters for their support, assistance, and enthusiasm over the month and years they have been with us. You guys are seriously the best, without exception. If interested, you can check out Bryce’s Patreon here, and Luke’s Patreon here.
PATREON SUPPORTERS:
Andrew Cheng, Daniel Bacon, Dawn Horn, Dennielle, Ithamon, Jordy, Kaladin_Paran, Luka Tisus, Noctifer, TheDwiin, Kevin Chan, LunaLagoon, Neil Davis, William A. Riley, Daedakus. Devin Fuoco, Ethan Alderman, Karneth Kenitharian , Luca Raven, Nargoth, Corgikong, Jacob M Bruner, Adam Billingham, Agustin Olide, Alex Donovan, Alex , Athy192 , Austin Hartt, Benjamin Pryer, Benjamin Unruh, Brad Scott, Bryan Warrior, Casey Hall, Chris Moulin, Chris Hoopes, Christopher Wible , Corey Jenkins, Daniel Allen, darkdeath29 , David Moore, David Stoddard, David Singleton, Dee Nihl, Del , Dennis Rager Jr, Deven Danehy, Emilie Fostvedt, Fawn Crow, Gabriel Drax, Gerry Broderick, Howard Coldham, Jacobi Carter, Jay Resewood, Jesse Reynolds, Jessie Hickman , John Fruge, John Robert Westman, Jonathan Decker, Jonathan Cody, Jone Lileby, Jorge RodrÃguez, Joshua and MacKenzie Collier, Kenneth Torjussen , Kurt Robinson, Kyle J Smith, Michael Dillon, Andrews, Mikeal Moffatt, Morgan C Williams, Pam Briggs, Patrick McGough, Paul Brochu, Paul S., Robert , Ryan Allen, Ryan Graves, RyanG , SDSlayer , Shane Bird, Shannon Dinger, SilenceFalls24 , Skylar Hartman, Stephen Wenger, Stephen Kutz, Stuart Ray, Tim E., Tim Mumford, Wanderer , William M Beasley, Will's Fainting Goat
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Thank You All! Please Read!
PROLOGUE
1052p.f.
“This ‘Accord’ of man’s creation seems—in my humble opinion—a pathetic thing. To this day I question Tyrennus’ wisdom in having allowed our kind to be bent to its will, the one and only time I have ever faltered in my faith in the primordial line. After all, while it may well hold sway over the races of man and elves and dragons, there are other dangers lurking in this seemingly peaceful world of ours.
Dangers, regrettably, that are as yet beyond the reaches of even that greatest of magical treaties…”
-Arrackes, High Chancellor of Ysenden, c. 500p.f.
Around Abegale Idrys, the world burned.
There was nothing to be done as the fire rose up around her, swallowing the walls of the small nursery she was trapped in and choking away the air from her lungs in a constant wave of heat and smoke. For a time she had tried to scream, tried to make her voice heard through the inferno, but eventually she lost the strength to do even so little. Her body was weakening. She struggled to stand, but staggered, her breath coming in shallow, panicked heaves. Against her bosom, the bundle of brown cloth squirmed, and it was that feeling which was all that kept her upright, that knowledge that her child still lived which helped her cling to hope.
Desperation, however, was fervently clawing at that hope, scratching it away sliver by sliver.
“…GALE! ABE …GALE! DEC… LAN! ABE… GALE!”
Abegale’s vision was just starting to grow hazy when she made out the voice, faint against the roar of the fire. She blinked and coughed, gulping as she tried to draw breath enough to call back. She managed only to take in a lungful of soot, and what little will left to her failed all at once. As she crumbled to her knees, though, her arms barely managing to hold on to the writhing, squalling infant in her hands, she heard the voice again, stronger now.
“ABEGALE! ABEGALE! DECLAN!”
Abegale wheezed, wanting desperately to respond, to yell that she was there, there! No other sound escaped her, however, and instead it was the room itself that replied, a resounding crunch snapping over the sound of the flames. Abegale doubled over, shielding her child with her body while a shower of embers and twisting sparks rained all around them. She tried to stand again, tried to get a foot under herself. She wouldn’t die there, she wouldn’t. Even if she had to face the cruelty of the flames that blocked her path to the door. Even if she had to meet the heat that raged all around her, wicked and shimmering. She wouldn’t die there.
Most unfortunately, conviction can only hold at bay for so long the callous realities of the world.
Abegale’s leg gave out the moment she tried to put weight on it, and she tumbled to the ashy floor, falling not feet away from the closest edge of the fire. There she lay, shivering despite the broiling heat, unable to do more than blink at the outline of the room’s framed entrance through the blaze, hardly two body-lengths away but oh-so-far out of reach. She cursed herself, cursed the Mother and Her Graces, cursed her home of wood and straw and the beasts who had set it ablaze in their savagery. Her vision grew dark around the edges, and she thought it perhaps a trick of the light when a shape appeared in the doorway, shifting like a mirage in the heat.
Then the form lunged for her, bellowing her name and that of her son, and Abegale felt her hope blaze for the briefest moment even as she dropped into nothingness.
She came to as the icy air of the winter night blasted across her bare face and neck, drawing her back into consciousness with a painful gasp that stung at her boiled lungs. She began to cough again at once, every breath raw and stinging, every exhale tasting of ash and smoke.
“Abegale,” a voice wheezed near her ear, exhausted but relieved. “Thank the Mother. You’re alright. You’re both alright.”
She turned. Ertus’ bearded face was inches from hers, and she realized then that she was in her husband’s hard arms, already some dozen yards from the burning remnants of their home. All around them, most of the other buildings of Estwyn were ablaze, the flickering, growing glow blackening out the night sky. Dozens of shapes rushed by in the chaos, many panting and swearing as they took in the devastation, while others called out in distress to loved ones lost among the panicking crowd. Not far off, the harsher sounds of steel screaming against steel could be made out among the village homes and shops, cutting across the pained cries of the injured and dying. Through the haze, Abegale thought she could make out the violent shadows of battle against the light. The forms were indistinct, her vision muddled by the smoke, but what might have been men bearing swords and spears looked to be making their stand in the streets, holding firm against darker, crueler shapes. Abegale shivered and looked away from the violence, registering instead that it was cold, so cold, the trampled cobblestone around them peppered with scattered frost and muddied snow.
It didn’t matter. She was out, freed from the flames, and with a thrill Abegale realized that bundle of cloth still squirmed in the hook of her hips, quieter now, but yet moving.
Alive… Her son was alive…
Tears welled up in Abegale’s eyes, and she tried to speak. The effort only made her chest ache, and produced nothing more than a harsh choke of noise.
Ertus’ face twisted with shared pain without looking down at her, moving as quickly through the rushing people as he could under their combined weight. “Don’t speak,” he told her over the shouting of the throng, his own voice rough from the fire. “Save your strength. We need to find Ryn. He’ll get us away from here.”
A flame of reassurance sparked in Abegale’s heart at that, and she instinctively pulled her child tighter against her with one hand. With the other, she reached up, wanting to take the man’s face and guide it down to meet her eyes, but Ertus winced as her fingers touched his cheek, finding it raw and sticky.
Burned, she thought in horrified realization.
“It’s fine,” her husband answered her silent question, turning his head away slightly to hide the wound. “Others have suffered worse.” He looked at her sidelong. “Can you stand? More than a hundred made it through the old gates before the Vigil’s men managed to shut off the pass. Most of them are still around, and I can’t fight like this.”
Abegale felt a shiver that had nothing to do with winter evening, registering suddenly the sensation of the cool pommel of Ertus’ longsword knocking against her ankle from where it hung from his left hip. She considered the question, feeling her limbs still shaking, but the night air had returned some measure of strength back to her body, so she nodded. With a grunt Ertus stopped and eased her down. She winced as her bare feet found the frozen stone, sending a tremble coursing up her spine, but her legs held her weight. She steadied herself, one hand on the man’s shoulder, the other holding tight to Declan, cradling his small, swaddled form against her breast. Before she could make a sound to stop him, her husband kicked off his boots, then stripped out of the singed remnants of the heavy pelt cloak that had been draped across his shoulders.
“Don’t argue, just put them on,” he told her, bending down to place the boots at her feet before draping the mantle over her body. “I’ll be fine, and you two need them more than me right now.”
Hesitating only briefly, Abegale did as she was told, grateful for the warmth of the oversized footwear and the weight of the charred furs. She’d run to Declan the moment the fires had started to glow through the frosted window of their bedroom, and hadn't had time to dress before the flames trapped them inside the nursery.
“Better?” Ertus asked, looking her up and down only briefly before returning to scan the dancing shadows all around them. He didn’t wait for her to nod before continuing. “Good. Let’s get out of here. Ryn shouldn’t be far.” He motioned up the way, towards the east end of the closest road, in the direction many of the fleeing villagers were coming from. “He chased off the ones that set the house ablaze. Probably the only reason I managed to get you out. He was hounding them past the Toytes’ place last I saw.” He looked west, towards the farmlands everyone was evacuating into, then turned to her again. “Can you walk on your own?”
Abegale grimaced and shook her head. Standing was taking a toll on her enough as it was.
Ertus looked torn, chewing on a corner of his beard. His blue eyes were bright in the firelight, and his loose shirt was damp with sweat, clinging to muscled arms and a broad chest. She caught a glimpse of the burn as he glanced over his shoulder nervously, towards the sound of fighting, and felt her stomach flip at the sight. It covered most of his left cheek and had eaten away a good portion o
f the short-cropped hair along his temple and ear. Still, she made no attempt to comment on it.
Now was not the time to worry about anything but the immediate and present danger she could hear snarling in the village around them.
Just then, Ertus seemed to make his decision. Drawing his sword from its sheath, he waved it towards the east road, in the opposite direction everyone was running. “Come on,” he told her, starting for the mouth of the street. It led deeper into town, towards the continued howls and commotion, but Abegale was relieved all the same.
The sooner Ryn was back by their side, the better, no matter what trouble they had to face in exchange.
Together they moved as quickly as Abegale could manage, she holding as best she could to Declan and Ertus’ off arm with one hand each, her husband keeping his eyes on the alleys and side-roads, sword held bare and ready at his side. Dozens passed them heading west, the residents of Estwyn shouting in fear and despair as they fled with their children and valuables clutched in their arms, and several times they were shouted at to turn back, turn back! But Ertus ignored all such warnings, pressing forward, calling out Ryn’s name himself as best as his lungs could manage in the burning haze. Around them, the boiling fires that consumed the thatched roofs and timber walls illuminated their way all-too-clearly despite the lateness of the hour. As they pressed further into the village, the crowd started to taper, the numbers dwindling around them, and Abegale found herself having to focus on her husband’s back, forcing herself to concentrate on Declan’s kicking against her chest. It was all she could do, really, to stop herself from gaping in horrified fascination at the gruesome details the thinning crowd was now revealing, the evidence of savagery’s ill-willed passing.