Exile Read online

  Praise for Rowena Cory Daniells

  “A fast moving, gripping fantasy.”

  Fantasy Book Critic on The King’s Bastard

  “Rowena Cory Daniells has a splendidly devious way with plotting.”

  SFX

  “It’s a story of kings and queens, beasts and warriors, magic and religion. If you like any of the aformentioned things, then you’ll probably join me in loving this book.”

  Den of Geek on The Chronicles of King Rolen’s Kin

  “The King’s Bastard is a cracking read and the pace never lets up.”

  Geek Syndicate

  “Royal intrigue, court politics and outlawed magic make for an exciting adventure.”

  Gail Z. Martin, author of The Chronicles of The Necromancer, on The Chronicles of King Rolen’s Kin

  “Pacy and full of action and intrigue.”

  Trudi Canavan, author of The Black Magician trilogy, on The Chronicles of King Rolen’s Kin

  “The King’s Bastard is a fabulous, rollicking, High Fantasy adventure that will keep you up at night, desperate to find out what happens next.”

  Jennifer Fallon, author of The Demon Child trilogy

  Also by Rowena Cory Daniells

  The Outcast Chronicles

  Besieged

  Exile

  Sanctuary

  The Chronicles of King Rolen’s Kin

  The King’s Bastard

  The Uncrowned King

  The Usurper

  The King’s Man (ebook)

  Rowena Cory Daniells

  EXILE

  Book Two of the Outcast Chronicles

  First published 2012 by Solaris

  an imprint of Rebellion Publishing Ltd,

  Riverside House, Osney Mead,

  Oxford, OX2 0ES, UK

  www.solarisbooks.com

  ISBN: (epub) 978-1-84997-434-9

  ISBN: (mobi) 978-1-84997-435-6

  Copyright © Rowena Cory Daniells 2012

  Cover Art by Clint Langley

  The right of the author to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of he copyright owners.

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

  When King Charald presented me with his unwanted, half-blood son to rear, I knew nothing could prevent me from turning the boy into a weapon, least of all sentiment.

  Taken from High Priest Oskane’s Private Journal

  Chalcedonia and the Five Kingdoms

  Prologue

  Spring, Year 307, Celestial City

  ASHER LOVED HER, but she was not his to love. They were both half-bloods. It was Hueryx, the T’En scholar, who had claimed her, and Hueryx was the father of her unborn child.

  But that didn’t stop Asher loving her and, when she walked into the brotherhood scriptorium in tears, he put his brush down. ‘Sasoria, what’s wrong?’

  ‘It’s not fair,’ she whispered, fierce mulberry eyes ablaze. One hand settled protectively on her swollen belly. When her pregnancy went past seven small moons, they knew the infant would be T’En and she would have to give him up. ‘I don’t see why I should hand my child over to a sisterhood to raise.’

  ‘The covenant–’

  ‘Is wrong. Wrong and cruel!’

  Asher didn’t know what to say; as much as he sympathised with her, he understood why the sisterhoods had forced the covenant on the brotherhoods.

  Four hundred years ago one of the brotherhood leaders had attacked another all-father, kidnapping and killing his brotherhood’s T’En sons. There were reprisals, and more precious T’En boys had died. Before it could spiral out of control and a whole generation could be wiped out, the sisterhoods had intervened. Imoshen the Covenant-maker had rescued the T’En boys and made the brotherhood leaders swear a gift-enforced oath to hand over all T’En children.

  ‘The sisterhood will return him when he’s seventeen,’ Asher said. ‘By then, he’ll be old enough to survive the rivalry in the brotherhood ranks.’

  ‘By then, he’ll be grown up. He won’t acknowledge me.’

  By then, the boy would have his gift and he’d be a danger to Malaunje until he learnt to control it. ‘Be thankful you have Vella.’

  ‘Little Aravelle.’ Sasoria smiled at the thought of her one-year-old Malaunje daughter. ‘But when she grows up, she’ll be forced to give up her T’En babies, too. It’s wrong, Asher, and it’s tearing me apart.’

  A sob shook her. He opened his arms and she went to him.

  The scriptorium door swung open.

  ‘Asher, I need–’ Scholar Hueryx swept in. He saw Sasoria and beckoned her.

  Asher watched, helpless, as Sasoria went to the full-blood scholar. Hueryx kissed her tears away. Asher could feel the lure of Hueryx’s power as he tried to entice Sasoria to drop her defences. Once imprinted with his gift, she would be his devotee, bound to him for life.

  So far, she had resisted, but one of these days her defences would fail and Asher would lose any hope of winning her back.

  ‘I have amazing news,’ Hueryx said. ‘All-father Rohaayel broke the covenant. He kept his T’En daughter hidden from the sisterhoods for seventeen years–’

  ‘No! He dared to keep a T’En girl?’ Sasoria was shocked and delighted. Healthy T’En infants were rare, and girls were even rarer. ‘What does it mean? Can we...’ Her hand settled on her belly.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Hueryx admitted, forehead crinkling. ‘But the power of the sisterhoods is being tested, and I’ve been called to the brotherhood’s inner circle.’ He gestured to Asher. ‘Find me the covenant book. I’ll need the exact wording of the original gift-enforced oath.’

  Scholar Hueryx was the brotherhood’s historian. As his assistant, Asher transcribed and illustrated the beautiful books. He knew exactly where to find the tome.

  When Hueryx left, Sasoria brought little Aravelle into the scriptorium. The toddler played on the floor, while Asher worked and Sasoria ground pigment to mix coloured inks.

  It was dusk before Hueryx returned. By then, Sasoria slept on the daybed in front of the fire, with Aravelle in her arms. On seeing them, Hueryx smiled, signalled for silence and waved Asher over. As the scholar led him to the far side of the chamber, Asher could feel Hueryx’s power. It called to him, and he resented it fiercely.

  ‘I need you to do something for me,’ Hueryx whispered. His wine-dark eyes glittered with excitement. ‘There’s going to be trouble tomorrow–’

  ‘A brotherhood uprising?’

  Hueryx nodded. ‘The all-fathers have finally united. Tomorrow, when the all-mothers are about to execute Rohaayel, our most powerful gift-warriors will ambush them. With the all-mothers dead, the gift oath will be severed.’

  ‘And you’ll save Rohaayel.’

  ‘What? No, he has to die. He knows nothing of this. He’s a means to an end. Once the all-mothers are dead, we’ll confront their seconds and force them to dismantle the covenant.’

  ‘And if they don’t?’

  ‘We’ll kill them all. Many of us will die, but after the most powerful females are dead and we prevent the young ones from learning how to use their gifts, as Rohaayel did with his daughter, the brotherhoods will have the upper hand.’

  ‘You’re afraid there will be reprisals.’

  ‘Yes. But hopefully, once the T’En females learn the all-fathers have united, they’ll dismantle the covenant. This is inner cir
cle business, Asher. I only tell you, because you must promise to protect Sasoria if I die.’

  ‘Of course.’ He looked down to hide the hope in his eyes, but he suspected Hueryx knew.

  The next morning, they stood on the balcony to watch the all-father and his seconds leave the palace. The three brotherhood leaders wore their torcs of office on their broad shoulders. Their silver hair was bound in elaborate plaits. With their long-knives on belts slung low on their hips and their chests bare to reveal their duelling scars, they looked beautiful and dangerous.

  Hueryx hugged Sasoria. ‘This is a historic day. We’ll be able to say we were there when the brotherhoods reclaimed the right to raise their own sons.’

  On the street below, the all-father and his two seconds met up with other brotherhood leaders. There was no laughter, no boasting or jesting. They greeted each other with a single nod then strode off, determined to confront the sisterhoods.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Sasoria said. ‘If Rohaayel raised his daughter, why did Imoshen turn him in to the sisterhoods?’

  Hueryx shrugged.

  Asher frowned. Downstairs the Malaunje whispered that Rohaayel had tried to get a powerful sacrare grandson from Imoshen. Rohaayel had planned to take the boy and kill Imoshen, but she’d found out and run to the sisterhoods seeking sanctuary. As for the sacrare boy, some said he’d been stillborn, others said he’d died when Imoshen made her way across Chalcedonia in the middle of winter. Asher didn’t know what to believe.

  Sasoria rubbed her lower back.

  ‘You’re tired. You should rest.’ Hueryx picked up the toddler who had been playing at his feet and handed her to Asher. The scholar kissed Sasoria’s cheek and his voice grew thick with emotion. ‘Know that I love you.’

  She laughed, unaware that this could be goodbye and kissed him fondly. ‘You’ll come as soon as it’s official?’

  Hueryx nodded.

  Asher led her to the scholar’s private chamber.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You don’t have to stay.’

  But they both knew he would. He’d been her lover before Hueryx took a fancy to her, and he was going to outwait the T’En scholar.

  ‘I’ll watch over Vella while you rest.’ As he kissed Sasoria’s cheek, he sensed Hueryx’s gift residue on her skin.

  She squeezed his hand. ‘I used to wish this baby had been born a half-blood like us, but now...’

  Now she had hope.

  Sasoria slept and soon the toddler curled up next to her. Meanwhile, Asher tried to imagine their brotherhood with T’En children running around. There would be lots of little boys. It was rare for a T’En man to produce a full-blood daughter, but it did happen.

  He must have nodded off, but he woke the instant Hueryx returned. The scholar drew him into the hall and, gauging from his expression, the news was bad. ‘What happened?’

  ‘The sisterhood leaders told Imoshen she had to execute Rohaayel. The brotherhoods sent their best gift-warriors to kill her, but she...’ Hueryx shook his head, stunned. ‘An untrained seventeen year-old girl killed ten T’En gift-warriors. She made the brotherhood leaders back down, and they hate her for it.’ He glanced to the closed door where Sasoria slept. ‘This is going to break her heart.’

  Asher realised the shock would weaken Sasoria’s defences, making it easy for Hueryx to imprint his gift on her. ‘I’ll tell her.’

  ‘No. I’m the one who gave her hope. I’ll tell her.’

  For the rest of the afternoon Asher tried to concentrate on illustrating the beautiful histories, but all the while his stomach churned. It didn’t help that outside their palace walls the all-fathers battled over Rohaayel’s brotherhood. There was fighting in the streets, and he could smell burning. When he went to the window, he saw Rohaayel’s palace was alight. Such a waste.

  A door opened behind him. ‘Asher?’

  ‘Sasoria.’ He turned. She’d been crying. He held out his arms and she ran to him. To his relief, he sensed very little of Hueryx’s gift residue on her.

  Her hug was fierce and brief. ‘We have to run away.’

  He wanted nothing more but... ‘The kingdom is full of True-men.’

  ‘Mieren,’ she corrected him with a fond smile. ‘You hide it so well, I forget you were raised by Mieren parents. They must have loved you very much to keep you.’

  ‘They paid for it.’ He’d been thirteen when the fisher-folk murdered his parents in their beds and set fire to their cottage. He’d escaped and made his way to the Wyrd city.

  ‘My poor Asher,’ she whispered. ‘But it will be different for us. Have you heard of the village of free Malaunje?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘They say it’s high in the mountains. We must go tonight, while the brotherhoods are in upheaval. I’ll pack. You find out where the village is.’

  But no one knew. Most said it was a myth. This didn’t deter Asher. Sasoria was his. He’d been raised in a tiny fishing village to the south. There were hundreds of islands off the coast of Chalcedonia, islands where Hueryx’s brotherhood and the True-men would never find them. He’d make a life for them there, a good life.

  So he loaded Sasoria and little Aravelle into the rowboat. As Asher took the oars, he realised he would be glad to leave the island city. He was born a free Malaunje, and that was how he wanted to live.

  It was season cusp so both moons were full but, with Rohaayel’s palace blazing and the fighting in the streets, no one noticed them row across the lake. They headed south west for the coast and freedom.

  PART ONE

  Chapter One

  Year 319

  ‘SORNE’S VISIONS NEVER failed to come true. You told me we’d be victorious!’ Spittle flew from the king’s lips. ‘You told me the Wyrds would crumble. You said you’d seen me leading my war barons down the causeway and into the Wyrd’s city.’

  ‘And so you shall.’ Zabier’s mouth was almost too dry to speak. His heart raced and he felt sick with terror. He’d never seen the king this bad before. Charald had been so intent on orchestrating the attack, he hadn’t slept for three days.

  ‘How? How are we going to take the city now? The Wyrds fought off my barons, closed the causeway gate and murdered every man trapped inside. I’ve promised my people a kingdom free of Wyrds. I’ve promised the barons the spoils of the city. But what do I have instead? I have a nest of Wyrds wanting to talk terms. Terms!’

  ‘In my vision, you take the city,’ Zabier assured him. It had seemed a safe bet. Charald had conquered every mainland kingdom around the Secluded Sea. But the king was nearly sixty and most True-men were lucky to live to fifty.

  As Zabier watched the king pace, he seriously considered slipping pains-ease into his wine to calm him.

  Words poured from the king. He’d been fighting to retain the throne since the age of fifteen, and he had the details of every battle in his mind. He spoke of men long dead, barons who had failed him, barons who had proved loyal; he spoke of his cousin who had seized the crown when his back was turned and how his son, Prince Cedon, had died.

  That was the night Zabier had been named the Father’s-voice, messenger of the god. It was more than a decade ago, but Zabier would never forget. The failed offering, the deaths of Prince Cedon and of Zabier’s brother, Izteben...

  ‘Three queens I’ve had, and what have they given me?’ As the king gestured, Zabier noticed his hand trembling. ‘Seven stillborn children, a prince who never lived to grow up and now a crippled prince. What good is a son with a club foot?’

  ‘Why does the Warrior god test me like this?’ Charald demanded. ‘I’ve done everything He asked of me. I conquered the kingdoms of the Secluded Sea in His name and set up temples to the seven gods of Chalcedonia. Why, the last two offerings were full-blood Wyrds, silverheads. Sorne never made that kind of sacrifice, yet his visions always came true. Oskane... Where is Oskane?’ The king frowned, looking around as if the old priest might be sitting in a corner.

  Zabier licked d
ry lips and ventured, ‘High Priest Oskane died the same night–’

  ‘Of course. That was the night my treacherous cousin seized the throne. Now my cousin’s daughter has produced a healthy True-man son, when all I have is a useless cripple. The barons have heard. They eye my throne and...’ Charald ran on about the ambitious barons.

  If they knew their king’s mind was failing, they would turn on him. Until recently, Zabier had dreamed of seducing Queen Jaraile, planting his own child on the throne and assisting her to rule until his son was of age. But a closer acquaintance with the barons had convinced him it was safer to have less ambitious goals. After all, as high priest of the greatest church, he was the most powerful man in Chalcedonia after the king.

  If only his visions would come true.

  ‘Three years ago, before he died, Sorne promised me a healthy son,’ Charald said. ‘Then again, two nights ago, when the Warrior returned him from the dead, he said he’d had a vision of my son ruling Chalcedonia.’

  Zabier looked down to hide his contempt. Religion was the king’s one blind spot, and Sorne knew it. He’d used the king’s faith to ‘return from the dead’ and reclaim his trust. Charald turned to Zabier. ‘I haven’t seen Sorne since the night of the sacrifice. Where is the Warrior’s-voice?’

  Sorne. Always Sorne. Zabier managed to summon a smile. ‘He was exhausted after his vision. I’ll see if he is well enough to come to you, sire.’

  IMOSHEN KNELT TO inspect the tiles. They’d been mopping the blood, sweeping up broken glass and loading enemy bodies onto carts since midnight. As far as she knew, the warriors down in the brotherhood quarter were still hunting down invaders.