Book Preview - Elyon's Blades

Chapter One

Emlyn stood at parade rest in front of Sábria, the Arch Priestess of the Daughters of Elyon, a military sect of worshippers who practiced their beliefs within the borders of the Cibían Empire. She guessed the woman was somewhere close to fifty, with short, blonde hair interspersed with grey and a muscular build that belied her age.

In the short time Emlyn had stood before the woman, she’d already seen many sides to her personality. Strong and proud, certainly, but laugh lines radiated out from a pair of penetrating bright blue eyes. Emlyn had never seen that hint of amusement from the Arch Priestess in the kingdom she used to call home. On the contrary, that woman was brutal and mean-spirited, with little to no regard for anyone’s well-being but her own.

When the Guardian Commander had first escorted Emlyn and her Princess into Sábria’s reception room, out of habit, Emlyn had glanced at the Priestess’s hands and had been surprised by the sword callouses she found there. There’d been no doubt the Priestess had noticed her scrutiny, either. Emlyn mentally added sharpness and intelligence to her growing list of attributes associated with the woman who would decide her fate within the next candlemark.

Tomisa, Crown Princess of Emlyn’s former kingdom, Kibrun, sat in rigid silence. Emlyn had been gratified that the high-backed chair they’d provided her Princess was sufficiently ornate to satisfy even the stuffiest of courtiers, which, thankfully, Tomisa was not. As was her routine, Emlyn took her stance to the right and slightly behind her friend.

The Priestess immediately instructed her to move to the center of the room, effectively separating her from her service as Tomisa’s lead bodyguard and, more importantly, from Emlyn’s habitual place of comfort. With a timbre somewhere in the low alto range, Sábria’s voice held a baffling mixture of gentleness and strength when she began her questioning. “Why would a high-ranking King’s Guard from Kibrun ask to join the Temple Guardians of the Daughters of Elyon in a land as far from her home as possible?”

As was the custom in her former kingdom, Emlyn politely stared at a spot above the Priestess’s head. Between Tomisa and Emlyn, Tomisa was the better linguist. Emlyn still struggled with the Cibían language, and she briefly pulled her shoulder blades together to ease the tension building there. “Our kingdoms have been allies for millennia, My Lady. There is trade between us. We’ve fought at your side and you at ours when enemies have appeared at our respective borders, and our people move freely from one kingdom to the next with no fear of reprisal. Our….”

She stopped, frustrated that, at times, even the simplest words escaped her. She couldn’t help glancing at Tomisa when she asked for the translation of the concept she was looking for. When Tomisa stiffly replied, “Hearts,” Emlyn’s gaze returned to the painting of a Lady Knight on a rearing stallion hanging on the wall above Sábria’s head. “The hearts of our kingdoms and our people beat together as one.”

“A poet, historian, and a warrior.” The words were a statement, and since Emlyn had no reason to reply, she remained silent. After a moment, the Priestess continued, “While I enjoy poetry when appropriate, I prefer you answer the question I put to you.”

Emlyn stiffened slightly. “If you allow me to serve with your warriors, I will serve you with all honor and obedience.”

Sábria came out from behind her desk, leaned against it, and crossed her arms. Her tunic and trews were midnight black, and someone had polished her black knee-high boots to perfection. In fact, everything about her uniform was black, right down to the soft leather scabbard holding her short sword. Judging by the wear pattern on the hilt, the sword rarely went unused. “Still, you haven’t answered my question. If I accept you into my service, you’ll need to learn to respond directly instead of equivocating.” Her voice had become hard. Not angry, Emlyn thought, but stern.

Emlyn didn’t know how the word equivocating translated into the Kibrunian tongue, but she could guess the meaning from the context. Blushing, she again looked to Tomisa, who, after a short hesitation, dipped her chin once, giving Emlyn permission to answer honestly. After pulling in a breath to steady her nerves, she began their tale. “Crown Princess Tomisa and I have loved each other since…well, since forever. We were born days apart, and the Queen chose me as Tomisa’s companion. We’ve been—” Here she paused to give herself time to corral her emotions. She pressed her tongue hard against the roof of her mouth to stem the tears threatening to appear.

It was clear Sábria’s patience was waning as she looked from one woman to the other, hoping to get an answer she could work with. Her voice rose slightly as she phrased the next question in a way she hoped neither could dodge. “I want to know why a Crown Princess would travel halfway around the world and show up on our shores with a fleet of three ships, with one of those ships being the Kibrunian flagship flying the royal standard from its mizzen mast.”

When the ships had first arrived, everyone had expected the Princess to immediately visit the Emperor in his palace. Instead, she’d come directly to the Temple and petitioned the Arch Priestess, asking that her lead bodyguard be allowed to join the Temple Guardians of the Daughters of Elyon, commonly referred to as Elyon’s Blades. Sábria was more than a little puzzled, and her gaze finally came to rest on the Princess.

Tomisa lifted her chin and looked the Arch Priestess directly in the eyes, something few people beneath Tomisa’s rank would dare in Kibrun. “I came because I had to ensure Emlyn would thrive in the environment my father chose for her.”

Sábria’s eyes narrowed as she considered the words. “Thrive and not simply survive. Why is the life of a guard so important to you?”

“That is not your concern, Arch Priestess.”

Angry now, Sábria glared down at Tomisa. She spoke slowly, obviously reigning in her growing temper. “It is if you wish me to consider granting your petition.” She turned to Emlyn and repeated her initial question. “Again. Why would a high-ranking King’s Guard from Kibrun ask to join the Temple Guardians of the Daughters of Elyon in a land as far from her home as possible?” When Emlyn opened her mouth to answer, Sábria held up a finger to stop her. “And if you do not give me a suitable, direct answer, this interview is over.”

Emlyn swallowed and then turned a pleading look on her Princess.

Tomisa slowly raised her eyes and regarded Emlyn. The glare that had hardened her features moments before morphed into disquieting grief. After a moment, she composed herself, nodded once, and turned her face away again.

Emlyn studied her profile a moment before facing Sábria. She straightened her shoulders and focused on the wild eye of the rearing stallion. “We’ve been lovers for the last seven turns…since we were both eleven turns old. Unfortunately for us, in Kibrun, the Crown Prince or Princess must wed by their nineteenth birthday and begin producing heirs immediately thereafter. Tomisa is betrothed in an arranged marriage to an honorable and kind man.” Emlyn’s jaw muscles jumped when she paused to gain control of the anguish ripping her heart to shreds. When she had herself sufficiently under control, she began again. “We both believe in the sanctity of marriage, and I can’t stay in Kibrun and remain true to our beliefs.”

The steely glint in Tomisa’s eye didn’t go unnoticed by the Priestess, who turned back to Emlyn. “And you never considered running away with your love to a faraway land where you could live together forever?” Judging by their ages, the two were undoubtedly young enough to have considered such a foolish option.

Emlyn couldn’t help her grunt of anger at the woman’s words. “Of course, we did. We’ve dreamed about it for turns, plotted our escape, even found a kingdom where we could live together in peace.”

“But?”

“But Tomisa’s father is a just and honorable King who puts the welfare of his people above his own concerns. Tomisa will also be a great and loving queen one day. And—”

A flash of anger flitted across Emlyn’s face. One the Priestess would have missed if she hadn’t been studying the young warrior intently. “And?”

Emlyn didn’t need to look at Tomisa this time. “And the man who would reign if Tomisa disappeared is neither good nor just.”

Sábria had to decide quickly whether this eighteen-year-old woman standing before her would be a good fit among her people. The Crown Princess had made it clear that, after a brief formal meeting with Emperor Aloric, she’d be returning to her kingdom on the morning tide. “So, you make this sacrifice for the good of your kingdom?”

“Not for the good of my ex-kingdom, no. For my love of the King, who’s been nothing but generous and kind to the daughter of a lowly groomsman and a castle guard. For my love of his daughter, who could not and would not turn her back on her people. And…” she paused and tilted her head slightly to relieve the tension building there, “…we both know, beyond any doubt, we, or rather she could not be faithful to her husband were I to remain in their kingdom.”

Sábria uncrossed her arms and rested her palms on the desk behind her. She crossed one ankle over the other while continuing to study Emlyn. “What rank did you hold?”

Emlyn thought a moment. “I’m not sure of your equivalent. Your Commander, I believe, is the same as the King’s Seneschal in Kibrun. I was one of two Subcommanders within Tomisa’s royal guards. I commanded seven warriors. That was half of Tomisa’s personal contingent.”

After nodding to the Commander standing next to her desk, Sábria turned back to Emlyn and indicated the sword she wore on her hip, “I assume you’re proficient with that sword?”

Commander Shirin stepped forward and waited for Emlyn’s reply.

“Yes, My Lady.”

Walking to a rack of practice swords stored beside a narrow, floor-to-ceiling window, the Commander beckoned Emlyn over.

Emlyn complied with the order and, after silently asking the woman for permission to draw a weapon, pulled out a wooden sword. The weight surprised her, and she tested the balance in the palm of her hand. “It’s filled with something?” She glanced sideways at the Commander, who’d also taken one from the rack.

“Hollowed-out hardwood with a specific weight of molten metal poured into the empty channel. The wood is then shaped into an approximation of a sword.”

Impressed, Emlyn continued to test the weight as she followed the Commander into the center of the room. She admired the tall woman’s sturdy frame and the way her muscles moved beneath her black leather tunic and trews. Somewhere in her early to mid-forties, the Commander moved with the balance and grace of someone who’s wielded her sword for many turns, and Emlyn mentally prepared herself for an interesting contest of skills.

Shirin made a circular motion with her hand. “Remove your own sword and stretch. We have no need of a warrior with pulled muscles, now, do we?” Her voice held the easy cadence of one used to military command, and her dark brown eyes expertly assessed Emlyn’s every move.

Emlyn thought she detected the hint of a friendly smile behind that discerning gaze. She obediently placed her sanguine sword next to the wall and began her warm-up routine, stretching tight leg muscles, warming arm and back muscles with a series of push-ups and arm crossovers, and twisting her torso back and forth to relieve the stress that had developed during the interview. The Commander had apparently warmed up prior to their arrival because she waited patiently with the practice sword held loosely by her side.

When she finished, Emlyn stood in front of the Commander and nodded.

“Begin.” Sábria hiked a hip onto the edge of her desk and settled in to watch.

Emlyn brought her sword to her face to salute her opponent and then lowered it to her side, waiting for Shirin to make the first move. When the woman didn’t initiate the sparring, Emlyn blinked several times, flicking a glance first at Sábria and then to Tomisa, hoping her Princess might have an idea about what she should do.

The Commander cocked her head and lowered her brows, apparently waiting for Emlyn to attack her.

Emlyn stuttered, trying to understand what was happening. “Commander, in…in Kibrun, if after the formal salute, a subordinate lifts a weapon, even a practice blade, before her superior lifts theirs, it’s considered an aggressive move and is punishable by death.”

A glint of understanding flashed in the Commander’s eyes, and she nodded once before lifting her weapon and lunging forward.

Emlyn easily blocked the blow. It didn’t take long for her to realize the Commander was holding back until she knew the extent of Emlyn’s abilities. Well then, Emlyn thought, let’s do this right. She picked up the pace, landing blow after blow, backing the Commander up several steps until a grin appeared on the other woman’s face, and she began to fight in earnest.

Both women slashed and parried, and the Commander’s brows lifted in surprise when Emlyn executed a figure-eight pattern from the right and then shifted her sword to her offhand and repeated the pattern in the opposite direction. Shirin blocked the blows, but only just, and stumbled slightly after blocking the second pattern.

Emlyn took advantage of the stumble and was surprised in her own turn when the Commander recovered with unbelievable speed and physical agility, forcing her to jump back or have the tip of the woman’s sword slash horizontally across her midsection. Emlyn had to turn in a half twist to avoid the blade a second time and then, in a complete turnabout, found herself on the defensive, raising her blade above her head to block a bone-rattling downward blow from behind.

Executing another half twist, she once again faced her opponent, who surprised her with a wry smile as she tossed the hilt of her blade so that Emlyn had to catch it in her free hand or risk having it hit her in the teeth. When the Commander returned to her place next to the desk, Emlyn nervously held the two weapons down at her sides. “Have I done something to offend you?”

The Commander shook her head. “Not at all.”

Sábria pushed off the desk and came to stand in front of Emlyn. “Are you as proficient with your knives as you are with your sword?”

Shocked that the woman would approach her while she still held the two unsheathed weapons, practice swords or not, Emlyn immediately dropped the two blades and stared at the Arch Priestess’s boots with a look bordering on panic.

Blinking in confusion, Sábria cocked her head to the side. “Why drop them?”

“I….” Emlyn took two steps back to distance herself from the Priestess. “Holding an unsheathed weapon in such close proximity to the Arch Priestess is a punishable offense. I didn’t realize you were going to approach.” She fell to one knee and kept her head lowered. “Please, My Lady. Forgive me.” She heard a sigh and then felt Sábria tousle her hair before the Priestess turned and approached Tomisa.

“I accept Guard Emlyn into my service, Your Highness.”

Emlyn pushed to her feet and waited to hear Tomisa’s response to the Arch Priestess.

Tomisa rose, and both the Commander and Emlyn bowed. Without glancing at Emlyn, the Princess acknowledged the Arch Priestess’s words with a nod before pivoting gracefully and walking from the room.

The most Emlyn could do once the door shut behind Tomisa was to attempt to pull in a breath through a throat constricted with grief without betraying her shattered soul to these two strangers. The rock that had settled across her chest when she’d first entered the room grew into a crushing weight, one that kept her from pulling in the chest-expanding air she’d need to survive the next few candlemarks alone.

The Arch Priestess watched her a moment and then stepped behind her and put a gentle hand on her chest and the other on her back. “Breathe in, Emlyn. Breathe in.”

Emlyn concentrated on the hands resting on her body and forced herself to expand her lungs enough to push against them.

“Good. Now let the air out slowly. Slowly. There, very good. Now, again. Breathe in.”

They repeated the process several times. Emlyn listened to Sábria’s calming voice, and eventually, the heavy weight lifted enough for her to breathe normally again.

Sábria patted her on the back and removed her hands. “Better.”

The only way Emlyn could answer without breaking down was by again pushing her tongue against the roof of her mouth and nodding.

The Priestess returned to the front of her desk and leaned against it. That seemed to be where she preferred to stand during an interview. She turned her head in the general direction of the Commander, and the woman left the room. That was the second time, Emlyn noted, that the two had communicated without using words, and she guessed they’d worked together many, many turns to develop that type of understanding.

Emlyn hoped the Priestess didn’t intend to prolong her “welcoming” speech. All she wanted to do now was find a bed, crawl under the covers, and cry like the pitiful, mewling infant her inner self had become the instant the door had clicked shut behind the only person she’d ever truly loved.