Silver Daggers, Flesh and Bones
About The Book:
Jhena Cirr, Domindar of the Secret Fighting Order, Sisters of the Domindar, leads the battle against a madman, Sariff Earul, as he invades Routhguard Fortress with his soldiers known as the Dark Army.
The once powerful Army of Routhguard, the Mhaural, joins Jhena and the Sisters in this war to preserve their very way of life.
Dalton Nessa, a young Mhaural, is assigned as Jhena's bodyguard, a job he takes extremely serious. He will face any enemy and kill on her command.
At their side is Vincyl, a Sister of the Domindar, former assassin, and now trained healer. She has been sent to aid Jhena's efforts to win the war. Time itself is a weapon for the young warrior.
CHAPTER 1
The meeting hall was cold, in spite of the crowd of people in it. Outside, it was early, winter weather with a chilling rain falling from the bleak gray sky. The guards in the long leather coats and heavy soled boots marched the chained prisoners through the center of the crowd. At the back of the room was the high bench of the town Cavisol, the man who would hear the guards, hear the prisoners, and pass sentence as he saw fit.
The prisoners were brought forward and ordered to their knees in front of Cavisol's bench. Each prisoner was then ordered to stand as their crimes were revealed.
The Cavisol watched intently as each prisoner's arrest was reported and they in turn explained themselves, or tried. At this sitting, there were ten prisoners all of different sizes and ages, and all were wrapped in dirty, wet clothes, in various degrees of decay. Between the weather and pitiful excuses for stupid acts, the Cavisol was not in a good mood by the time prisoner eight was ordered to stand. A young person, the Cavisol determined from the smooth features behind the streaked dirt. "So, prisoner, the guards say you were caught stealing. What do you say?"
"Cavisol, I was arrested for stealing food. I can only say I was hungry." The prisoner's voice was tiny, but did not sound weak.
The Cavisol started to announce his sentence on prisoner eight, but found himself drawn to this person. The prisoner stood as straight as the heavy chains would let her, and made no excuse for the crime. "Why did you not look for work?"
"I did. There is none. The miller thinks me too small. The smiths all believe me too weak." Here, prisoner eight's eyes dropped to the floor. "And I refuse to be in the service of the shartar houses."
"They would have fed you," Cavisol informed prisoner eight. "You would not be here now."
This brought prisoner eight's eyes back to Cavisol. "Someday, I will meet the right person, Cavisol. If I can offer them nothing else, I intend to at least have myself clean and untouched."
Cavisol stared at the furious look on prisoner eight's face. She was tight lipped and her head was held high. "In keeping with the sentences of the other thieves for this day, I consign you to the Mintura Mines for a year. There you will dig ore to support the effort to supply weapons to our eastern army. May the god creators watch over you," Cavisol decreed and tapped the silver bell with his small hammer that sat on the left side of his bench. "Next," he said, summoning the next prisoner.
"Wait," a strong voice called out from the back of the room. A tall young man pushed his way through the crowd. He began with a deep bow to Cavisol. "Lord Cavisol, my master has instructed me to ask you to adjust your sentence on this prisoner. He wishes to take her into his custody for the duration of your imposed sentence."
"Stand up and open your coat," Cavisol ordered.
The young man did as he was instructed, which revealed his masters symbol over the left breast pocket.
Cavisol looked him up and down. "Do you have a name?"
"Dalton, My Lord."
"Give my regard to Miryid. Prisoner eight, you are hereby remanded to Dalton's custody until he reaches his master. Guards, release her."
Dalton moved forward and took hold of prisoner eight's left shoulder. "If you run from me, I am authorized to break your neck."
A guard unshackled one end of the chain that looped from prisoner-to-prisoner through their neck collars. As the nearest guard pulled the chain away from prisoners nine and ten, nine shoved Dalton one direction, and prisoner ten was shoved into the guard. Nine pushed his way into the crowd as Cavisol yelled for the guards to stop the fleeing man.
Dalton straightened, reached into his coat, and extracted a polished dagger. A sharp flick of his wrist sent the weapon on course into the center of prisoner nine's back. The people all packed tightly against walls and each other to open a path between Dalton and the fallen man. The only noise in the huge room was Dalton's boots on the wet stone floor as he walked to the body. He pulled his knife free, then wiped the blood off on the dead man's shirt. "Charge, come to me." There was no doubt to anyone who Dalton addressed.
Prisoner eight moved forward to stand next to him.
"With your leave, Cavisol." Dalton bowed deeply, but more swiftly this time. While in his bow, he gripped prisoner eight and pulled her down to the same bowed position.
"Our thanks for your assistance, Dalton. I will send letters to your master about this incident and your fine work."
"As you wish, Cavisol." Dalton took his charge out into the rain and crossed a muddy street to the stables. "If you run away, I will hunt you down and return you here, or snap your twig like neck. Are we clear on this point?"
"Yes sir, My Lord."
"I am not a Lord. I am a Mhaural."
"A soldier. Shouldn't you be with the army's to the east?"
Dalton stopped short of the stable doors. "First, it is not your business to worry about me. Second, Sariff Earul has soldiers in his army, I am Mhaural. Third, you do not pool all of your forces in one place. It is strategically unsound."
The streaks of dirt on prisoner eight were a mud mask from the rain. It coated the girl's face evenly enough that individual drops briefly marked their spot as they hit. "What's your name? I can't call you prisoner eight. After all you're my only prisoner!"
"Prisoner one," the girl replied straight-faced. She could not miss the half smile on Dalton's face.
He stopped it before he let his grin get away from him.
"Kale, my name is Kale."
"Kale," Dalton said as if it sparked a distant memory. "Come along, Kale, let's get out of this rain." He took her wrist in his hand before she knew he had reached for it. With Kale in tow he continued on into the stable.
"Who is your master that he would have interest in me?"
Dalton unlatched the stable doors, entered and pulled Kale in as well.
She asked her question again. "Who is your master that he would have interest in me?"
"It is not his master who is interested in you as much as it is me, his master's companion."
Kale jumped away from this new voice, until her eyes adjusted to the difference in the stable light and she could see this person.
The lady stood still and let Kale study her. The rich red cloak she wore looked as if it should have reached the straw floor, yet it did not. Gold embroidered designs sparkled in the light from the oil lamps. "I am Jhena, Domindar and companion to Cauliendar Miryid Loutyi. And you are?"
"Kale," Dalton informed Domindar Jhena.
"I don't know you. I know the title of Cauliendar, anyway, but not that of his companion."
"Domindar is my title, it sort of means, companion. Cauliendar is Headmaster of Routhguard."
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