Angel's Truth (Angelwar Book 1) Read online

  ‘Are those stairs?’ he whispered.

  ‘Impressive, aren’t they?’

  They were carved into the cliff, a winding staircase that had been gouged into the rock. The stairs were impressive enough but as the Moontide bumped against the docks Tol saw that while the stairs followed the formation of the cliff in some places, in others there had been no natural outcrop ready for shaping. In these areas, labourers had chipped away into the cliff, carving several feet of space into the stone and then shaping the slope into stairs. It dwarfed even Icepeak in its scale, the work of hundreds of men over countless years. Tol looked up at the cliff again. To have carved these stairs the men would have been perilously close to death for hours at a time, day after day. I wonder how many fell?

  ‘It took eighty years,’ Katarina told him, ‘and three hundred lives.’ She shrugged. ‘Sometimes the ropes broke. The sea air will do that.’

  Tol kept staring at it, fascinated with the single-mindedness that had caused the stair’s creation. Some former duke, no doubt.

  A none-too-gentle nudge from behind brought Tol’s attention earthward. Katarina had already climbed the rail and was waiting on the docks with her usual patience. Tol hurried forward, hurdling the rail and dropping to the ground beside her, Stetch thumping down beside him a second later. As Tol stood, the Sworn man reached across and yanked Tol’s hood back up before anyone saw his fair hair.

  ‘This way,’ Katarina said. ‘Quickly.’

  She led them along the spur of wood beside the Moontide, but as they reached the end she turned right, instead of left towards the city. Katarina led Tol to the very end of the wooden pier, turning left and stepping through a six-foot high hole in the side of the cliff. Tol stepped into the darkness behind her and found himself in a dimly lit passage, a dozen stairs ahead of him.

  ‘This passage leads up through the cliff to the second tier of Jhanhar,’ Katarina said as she reached the top of the stairs, the tunnel curving away to the left, its uneven sides bearing hundreds of pickaxe marks. A man-made tunnel, Tol marvelled.

  ‘We’re not going that way,’ she said, pulling a sconce in the wall. A section of wall swung silently back, revealing another tunnel. ‘Come along.’

  She stepped through the gap, pulling another sconce a few feet along as Stetch followed Tol through the entrance. Tol looked over his shoulder and saw the rock swinging noiselessly back into place. Stetch shoved him roughly, and Tol set off after Katarina, already a dim shadow in the flickering light emanating from long candles seated in small alcoves along the tunnel.

  The tunnel continued for a few hundred yards, ending abruptly at an iron cage. Next to it there was a ledge was carved into rock, a single brass bell within it and a tiny silver hammer sitting beside it.

  I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Tol thought, his eyes drifting to the opposite side of the cage where a hole was carved into the stone, the end of a thick rope swinging slowly inside it. Katarina reached in and gave the rope a sharp tug, removing her hand and waiting in front of the cage. A few moments later, Tol heard the toll of a bell, and glancing around Katarina he saw a hole on the other side of the cage, this one ending in a brass horn. The noise, he thought, had come through there.

  A really bad feeling.

  Katarina picked up the brass bell and held it next to the horn, striking the silver hammer against it. A sweet, high note rang out, then another. Katarina returned the bell and hammer to their cubbyhole. A moment later, the toll of a bell again came through the horn. Katarina lifted a catch, and the cage door swung outward. She stepped inside.

  Oh, no, Tol thought as Stetch pushed him into the cage, following him inside and closing the door behind him.

  ‘Stetch? If you would.’

  The Sworn man reached through the bars of the cage and grasped the same bell rope Tol had seen through the hole in the rock. He gave it a sharp tug as Tol’s eyes followed the rope. It went as far as he could see, disappearing up into the darkness. He groaned a moment later as the cage lurched upwards, certain now that the contraption would go all the way to the top of the cliff. And I bet it comes out in the duke’s castle. Tol closed his eyes, but it did little to lessen his nausea as the creaking metal cage rose through the dark shaft.

  Katarina saw his expression and giggled. ‘You get used to it.’

  Tol fervently hoped he didn’t have to.

  *

  The cage had indeed terminated in the duke’s castle, deep within the highly restricted area where only the family were allowed, far from the prying eyes of any visitors. Katarina had led Tol through the empty corridors, eventually stopping at a door and ushering him inside. It was a spacious apartment, but to Tol it still seemed like a prison. Katarina had left him there with a stern warning about leaving his rooms, promising that they would speak later after she had spoken to her father. She had also warned Tol, somewhat unnecessarily, about displaying the appropriate degree of courtesy and deference to the Black Duke. A marvellous meal of spiced chicken and potatoes had arrived with the onset of night, but aside from that there had been no sign of Katarina or Duke val Sharvina. Tol wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not.

  As the night wore on he became restless, pacing the room back and forth, back and forth. A luxurious prison is still a prison, he told himself. True, his weapons – including Illis’Andiev – had been returned to him, along with Brounhalk’s pack and dwindling supplies, but after days of inactivity aboard the Moontide, Tol longed to stretch his legs and once again breathe fresh air. Finally, he could stand it no more. He strapped on Illis’Andiev, leaving his dagger but wrapping himself in the dark cloak that he had been smuggled ashore in. Time for a walk.

  Stetch was no longer outside Tol’s room. In his place were two grim-faced men who might just have been cut from the same cloth. Sworn men, for sure. ‘I’m going to get some air,’ Tol told the one on his left. ‘Where’s the roof?’

  The man didn’t answer immediately, staring grimly at Tol as though by force of will he might scare him back within his luxurious prison. Tol was considering repeating his words in Sudalrese, but he thought it best to keep his knowledge of the language a secret. At least until I learn what the Black Duke wants.

  The guard jerked his head left and strode off in that direction. Tol fell in behind him, painfully aware of the second Sworn man breathing down his neck. He was shepherded up a staircase, eventually coming to a door at the top. The Sworn man opened it and stepped through, out onto the castle’s crenellated roof. Tol stepped through the doorway and glared at the man. ‘Really? You think I’m going to jump?’

  The Sworn man shrugged, but reluctantly backed into the stairwell, the door swinging slowly shut behind him.

  Alone at last, Tol walked over to the lip of the battlements, enjoying the cool night breeze as he took in deep lungfuls of fresh air, the salty tang of the ocean in his nose as he stared out west into the darkness, the city somewhere far below to Tol’s right, a faint glow rising from that direction the only hint at life beyond the castle’s walls, the sounds of night-time revelry lost above the gentle susurration of the waves far below. Peace at last. Finally.

  Tol couldn’t even remember how long it was since he had fled Icepeak, tumbling – literally – from one dire situation to the next. Somehow, despite the odds, despite the Band of Blood, the demon, and even the treachery within Kron Vulder’s walls, he had survived. When Tol had awoken on the Moontide, bound hand and foot, he was sure that at the last he had failed, somehow thwarted by the very woman whom he had finally decided to trust. Angel’s Truth was still in his tunic though, and its contents seemed of little interest to Katarina. Now all I have to do is live long enough to return it to one of the Seven.

  A breeze buffeted Tol from behind and he smiled as he heard her voice. ‘You’re a long way from home.’

  He turned, unable to hide a smile as Kalashadria’s wings concertinaed behind her shoulders. I’ll never get tired of that. ‘I guess so,’ he replied.

>   ‘You are going the wrong way,’ Kalashadria told him. ‘The war is east not south.’

  Tol grinned. He hadn’t realised how much he had missed her company. ‘It might take a while to get there. Any chance we could fly?’

  Acknowledgements

  While writing is typically a solitary pursuit, bringing a book to publication is a team effort, and there are a number of people I would like to thank, and without whose help, support, and patience this book would not exist.

  Firstly, thank you to my friends and family, without whom I would most likely never had made it this far. Your friendship and support has helped me to realise a dream and stay (relatively) sane during the process. Thank you!

  My beta readers have suffered through early versions of the words you’ve read, and all of them have had a hand in improving the finished product, whether it’s correcting mistakes, spotting plot holes and inconsistencies, or offering suggestions for improving the manuscript further. Any mistakes that remain after their eagle-eyed readings are entirely my own. Thank you to John the Revelator, Danny the Champion of the Word, Luke, and Andy Chamberlain. Thank you also to Frank, who beta read the near-final draft and provided invaluable feedback as well as some hilarious commentary. This would have been much poorer without all of your input and support.

  Tol Kraven will return in…

  Angel’s Deceit

  Angel’s Deceit

  Trust is Where Betrayal Begins

  As the barbarian army marches across the desert to finish the war that began two centuries ago, Tol Kraven is sent to Meracia to discover why only a small portion of the nation’s army is mobilising.

  In a city of lies and intrigue, Tol must root out a conspiracy and find a way to force the Meracians to muster their full strength to meet the horde racing towards their borders.

  Coming October 2017

  Creative Writing from the ground up. Insight from 100 episodes of the Creative Writer's Toolbelt podcast, featuring tips and advice from professional authors, editors, and artists.

  Everything you need to be a better writer, in one volume. Available in e-book and print version from www.andrewjchamberlain.com or from Amazon

  Kingdom Asunder

  Thaddeus White

  What crime is more unforgivable than treason?

  Princess Karena is all that stands between the House of Penmere and ruin. The King, her brother, was gravely wounded in a failed assassination attempt, and once-loyal followers are flocking to the treacherous Usurper's golden embrace.

  Sir Hugh, the royal bodyguard, is sent south to rescue the King’s captive bride-to-be but circumstances conspire to force him into fighting beneath the banner of the enemy.

  The Usurper musters a vast army to crush Penmere once and for all, but in a war of treachery those closest to you can be the greatest threat.