Blood of Cayn Read online

  Blood of Cayn

  Book Three of The Cayn Trilogy

  By

  Jason McDonald,

  Alan Isom, &

  Stormy McDonald

  PUBLISHED BY: New Mythology Press

  Copyright © 2019 Jason McDonald, Alan Isom, & Stormy McDonald

  All Rights Reserved

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  Discover other titles by New Mythology Press

  and get the free story “Shattered Crucible” at:

  https://chriskennedypublishing.com

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  Cover Design by Lee Dunning

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  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and 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 recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

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  Dedication

  For Aria and Cerdic, who not only put up with their parents’ storytelling obsession, but also participate in our crazy brainstorming sessions. We love you!

  --Jason and Stormy

  For my brothers, Brett and Drew: thanks for always having my back.

  --Alan

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  Contents

  Dedication

  Yana Returns – October 28

  Rite of Passage – October 28

  Bregu Kraagor – October 28

  Sehraine – October 28

  Danger at Every Turn – October 28

  The Throne Room – October 28

  Lost and Found – October 28

  Battleground – October 28

  Fight or Flight – October 28

  The Crates – October 28

  Fire – October 28

  Retribution – October 28

  Aftermath – October 28

  Clandestine Journey – October 28

  Lost? – October 29

  Agony and Regret – October 29

  Kraagor’s Exit – October 29

  A Mother’s Choice – October 29

  Crossing the Killing Field – October 29

  Escape – October 29

  Once More unto the Breach – October 29

  The Chuck Wagon – October 29

  The Rainbow Bridge – October 29

  Taking the Cog – October 29

  Close Calls – October 29

  Flight from the City – October 29

  Dobrynya Sabe – October 29

  The Final Stand – October 29

  Desperate Measures – October 29

  The Sabe Estate – October 30

  The Reliquary – October 31

  Judge and Jury – October 31

  Stampede! – October 31

  The Elf Ring – October 31

  Välavtårar – October 31

  The Wagon and the Dwolma – October 31

  The Final Showdown – November 1

  The Tear of Havel – November 1

  Marcus – November 1

  Redemption – November 8

  About Jason McDonald

  About Alan Isom

  About Stormy McDonald

  Excerpt from Book One of The Milesian Accords:

  Excerpt from Book One of The Devil’s Gunman:

  Excerpt from Book Two of The Fallen World:

  Excerpt from Book One of The Shadow Lands:

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  Yana Returns – October 28

  Squire Patrick Anders burst into Lord Fergusson’s command tent. Around the central map table, half-a-dozen knights reached for weapons. Tall, blonde, and blue eyed, Dame Astrid Wolfelschneider, the only female Detchian knight Fergusson had ever served with during his years with the Iron Tower, had her blade half-drawn before she recognized the squire.

  “Laytenant Marchenkova’s back, Sir!” Anders shouted.

  Commander Geoffrey Fergusson, sixth baronet of Yorkshire, closed his eyes and counted to five.

  “Squire!”

  Anders snapped to attention. “Sir!”

  “Step back outside and try that again.”

  “Yes, Sir!” With a nod, the young squire exited. Thirty seconds passed in silence.

  “Permission to enter, Milord?” the squire called.

  “Granted.”

  “Laytenant Marchenkova has returned from Chernigov, Sir. They’ve taken her to the healer’s tent.”

  “Discipline, Squire, discipline. It makes the difference between a live soldier and a dead one,” Lord Fergusson admonished.

  “Yes, Sir,” Anders said with a bowed head. “I’ll take you to her when you’re ready.”

  Lord Fergusson signaled for Leftenant Brian Gallagher to carry on with the planning before he followed his squire to the healer’s tent.

  On the way, they passed the edge of the training field, where a small crowd of the curious had gathered to inspect Yana’s abandoned glider. The soldiers parted to allow their leader a closer look at the holes riddling the dark silk sail.

  After removing three black arrows still caught in the material, Lord Fergusson grabbed a random soldier by the elbow and instructed, “Get those holes patched immediately. Move!”

  The man snapped a hasty salute and took off at a run.

  Outside the field hospital, a group of camp runners, the young sons of sutlers and camp followers, huddled around one of their number. “…and when the chirurgeon shoved the needle and thread all the way through, blood just gushed out…” At sight of Lord Fergusson, the boys scattered, leaving the storyteller behind.

  “Zack, I take it Lady Sehraine is inside with Laytenant Marchenkova?”

  “Yes, Sir,” the boy said.

  Inside the tent, a woman screamed in agony. Fergusson saw his squire grow pale. “Anders, wait here with Zack. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

  The wind rider lay face down, her right arm and left side swathed in thick bandages. A streak of bright red blood soaked the white sheets beneath her. Yana maintained a death grip on the edge of the operating table with her eyes shut tight. Sehraine gripped Yana’s forearms, tears welling in her eyes.

  Yana bit down on a wooden stick and screamed through the block when the healer shoved the barbed arrowhead through her thigh and out the other side.

  The wind rider dropped her head to the table in exhaustion. A moment later, her torment by the chirurgeon resumed as he stitched and bound the wounds.

  Lord Fergusson watched in silence until the bandage was tied and then said, “I thought I told you to be careful.”

  “I was,” she replied in a raspy voice. “The orcs didn’t start shooting and throwing things at me until I blew up the first tower. I have the information you need about their fortifications.”

  Yana slowly pushed herself up to a sitting position, but it was too much, too fast. Her face drained of color and she slumped over. Sehraine caught her, holding her tight.

  “I’m thirsty,” Yana whispered, gesturing toward a cup.

  “You need to lie back down,” Sehraine said.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Lie down anyway,” Sehraine demanded. She eased Yana back onto the table and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Stay still,” she commanded before turning to Lord Fergusson with a narrow-eyed look that reminded the older man of the looks he’d seen some of the sutlers aim at their children. “She n
eeds to rest.”

  “I can come back later,” Lord Fergusson said.

  “No, Sir. I’m fine,” Yana croaked. “Sehraine, please get me some water.”

  The elf nodded and crossed the tent to retrieve a pitcher and cup from a trestle table near the washbasins. Beside her, the field chirurgeon scrubbed Yana’s blood from his hands. Fergusson saw her lean close to the healer. The two of them whispered back and forth, casting glances at Yana. The man nodded and hurried from the tent, still drying his hands.

  The commander waited patiently while Sehraine helped the wind rider sit up. Seeing the two of them sitting side by side, the elf with a slender arm around her friend, it struck him how much the average person could learn about kindness and friendship from these two women.

  Yana drank greedily from the cup, draining it twice before she spoke again. “Just so you know, Sir, those dragon pellets are not worth the money you paid for them. They’re unpredictable.”

  He drew in a deep breath and let it out in a short sigh of acceptance. “Some worked, though, correct?” She gave him a single nod in reply. “Considering their age, I suppose we should be glad any worked at all. So what do you have for me?”

  “Let’s go back to your tent so I can reference your maps.” She slid from the table and swayed on her feet for a moment before sitting again.

  “Yana…” Sehraine protested.

  “Stop mothering me,” the wind rider said. “I have a job to finish.”

  “You need to wait.”

  “There’s no one else who can use that glider, Sehraine, and I’m sure as hell not staying in this tent while Xandor’s in that cesspool of a city.”

  “I know,” she replied, laying a hand on her arm, “but you need to rest a few more minutes until Bris returns.”

  “Anders!” Fergusson shouted. The squire stepped inside, eyes carefully trained on the ground. “Take word back to the senior officers. Tell them I’ll be there with Laytenant Marchenkova in ten minutes. Send Zack to ask Knyaz Dorinkov and his senior officers to join us.”

  Anders bobbed his head and took off at a run. At the tent flap, he barely avoided a collision with the returning healer.

  “Normally I recommend bedrest for wounds like yours,” the chirurgeon said, “but your friend was very clear that’s not going to happen, so drink this.” He offered Yana a small glass vial containing a milky, pale blue liquid. When she hesitated, he gave her an exasperated sigh. “It’s a healing draught.”

  “I’m accustomed to blue…but why is it so thick?” Yana asked, tilting the vial side to side. She pulled the cork and took a whiff of the contents. “Ugh! That smells vile!”

  “Makes it work better,” he replied. “Drink up.”

  “I think I’ll pass.”

  “You’ll drink it if you want to walk out of this tent,” Sehraine said. “I’m not above tying you to a cot.”

  Fergusson bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing at the wind rider. She’d already lost the argument; it was just taking time for her to realize it.

  “Fine,” Yana groused and drained the vial in one swallow. Her face twisted in disgust. “That stuff needs to come with a shot of rakiya to get the taste out of your mouth!” Despite her words, her color instantly improved.

  “The worse it tastes, the better it works,” Bris said, handing her a cup of water.

  Sehraine laughed. “In that case, her homemade rakiya should cure everything.”

  Yana gave her friend a reproachful look. “I’ll remember that the next time you beg me to go to the apothecary for a winter ague remedy.” The drawn and haggard look she’d worn when Fergusson first entered the tent vanished. Sliding off the table, she tested her leg again and smiled widely.

  “Thank you, Bris,” she said and patted the healer’s shoulder. It was a few minutes’ work to get Yana dressed and into her armor.

  “I need some silk scraps to patch a few holes on the glider,” Yana said.

  “Already handled,” Fergusson replied. “Let’s focus on what you learned.” He reached for the door flap, but almost immediately dropped it. He eyed Sehraine. “Milady, you might want to straighten your hat. There is a definite chill in the air these days, and we wouldn’t want your ears to get cold.”

  The elf’s eyes grew wide, and she tugged on the hat. “Lord Fergusson, I know it’s too much to hope there are any players in the area, but are there any…um…painted ladies among the sutlers? I need a better disguise than this hat.”

  Fergusson shook his head. “If there are, they’re among the Rhodinan camp, and not likely to be willing to help. Keep the hat on and stay among friends.”

  * * *

  Inside the command tent, a group of men and women milled around, discussing strategies and pointing to the various flags and clay figures on the Lord Commander’s map table. A second, older map of Chernigov, the bridge, and the Keep was pinned to another table and propped up where everyone could reference it. Someone had marked the locations of several harpax and small ballistae along the bridge and far shore.

  Yana studied the group while Leftenant Gallagher called them to attention, and they shuffled into a semblance of order. Including Gallagher, there were six Iron Tower knights. An equal-sized group of Rhodinans gathered around a middle-aged man with a thick mustache and long, black beard.

  “Knyaz Dorinkov, ladies, and gentlemen,” Fergusson said. “Allow me to introduce Laytenant Yana Marchenkova, in service to the Kral of Trakya, and Lady Sehraine Marchenkova of Pazard’zhik. Laytenant Marchenkova has just completed her reconnaissance of the enemy fortifications.” He gestured for Yana to stand beside the map of Chernigov. “Laytenant, you have our attention.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Yana replied. She gave a slight bow to the Rhodinan leader. “Your Highness, thank you for the use of your treasure.”

  Turning to the others she continued, “Ladies and gentlemen, as the lord commander said, I am Laytenant Yana Marchenkova, Black Dragon Squadron, of the Trakyan Wind Riders. We utilize gliders, mostly for reconnaissance and message delivery, but aerial attack is also in our purview.

  “Two hours ago, Lord Fergusson asked me to conduct a three-stage reconnaissance. Stage one was the Keep at the eastern foot of the Rainbow Bridge. Stage two was to sweep across Chernigov’s port to identify possible transport for Vityaz Sabe’s evacuation. Finally, stage three was to overfly the walls of Chernigov and identify the siege engines emplaced there. Afterwards, my mission was to destroy as many of the orcs’ war engines along the northern approach as possible.”

  “Excuse me, Laytenant,” interrupted a gangly knight with a purple scar along his cheek.

  “Yes, Sir?”

  “Stephen Daughtry, Spearhead Patrol.” He raised an eyebrow. “Did you say ‘fly’?”

  “Yes, Sir, I did.”

  She scanned the small crowd. More than half openly grinned at her. To her chagrin, she realized most, if not all, of them had witnessed her initial antics and minor crashes with the antique flyer. She gave the group a rueful grin and said, “Yes, despite my earlier difficulties, I flew as requested by the lord commander, taking advantage of the orcs’ perpetual smoke screen.”

  “Don’t let her fool you, folks,” Lord Fergusson commented as he passed the three barbed arrows he collected from the glider to Gallagher for the group to inspect. “The Laytenant and her flyer came back wearing those.”

  A low whistle cut through the group. “These are nasty business, Sir,” a short, broad-shouldered man said. “They’re a lot better quality than orcs usually have, too.” He gave Yana a sympathetic look. “Franklin Engval, ma’am. Wildcats.”

  Yana nodded back and resumed her reconnaissance brief. “I’ll start with the Keep, since that is our primary target. Your map is accurate, as far as the outer walls and towers are concerned, but they have block and tackle rigs at the towers for hauling up ammunition. They’ve also widened the battlement walkways on either side of the gatehouse with wooden platforms, giving them enough room f
or two ranks of archers, possibly three. In addition, there is an onager and two springalds on the gatehouse roof.”

  Theodore Tolliston, Leftenant Gallagher’s squire, marked the platforms and siege engines on the map with a charcoal pencil as Yana described them.

  “The eastern face looks pretty solid. Major weak points are the obvious ones: the main gate and the sally port. The eastern towers hold onagers. Based on the debris littering the clearing around the Keep, I’d say their range is the full two-hundred yards to the tree line. These two,” she said, indicating the westernmost corner towers, “hold small ballistae on swivels. They also have a handful of scorpions on the western walls.”

  Gesturing toward the map, she continued, “I counted three buildings inside the Keep, each large enough to house a troop of orcs. I saw no evidence of tunneling, but there’s a heavy presence of orcs patrolling the walls.”

  “I made a final ‘just-in-case’ pass along the western side. The walls run right up to the bridge abutment and tie into the bridge defenses. The walls themselves looked relatively well maintained, but the steep riverbank is another story. Have your people look at this section along the northwest corner—from the air, it looked like the foundations had partially eroded.”

  “Mattias and I can check that,” one of Knyaz Dorinkov’s aides said. “Perhaps a large explosion, like the one Lord Fergusson discussed using on the front gate earlier, could drop that corner of the fortification and let us storm the Keep from the waterside.”

  Knyaz Dorinkov nodded to his senior aide. “Go, Mikhail. Let us know what you find.”

  Mikhail and Mattias saluted and left the tent without another word.

  Yana waited for them to leave and then continued, “The bridge is lined with stone battlements and has small war engines along its length to attack the traffic along the river, but the humanoids could easily rotate them to defend the city from an attack originating on the eastern shore.