The Empire Unbalanced: Bellandria, #3

By Alex McGilvery

Five years after King Harald returns to the throne, everything is not well in his kingdom. Marriette's efforts to bring reform to the relationship between noble and commoner is at an impass. Not everyone is willing to wait. Civil war looms as a possibilty. 

In the Empire, Rodrigo is on the run with a huge price on his head and posters with his face all over the place. A woman who told him if he left with no word she'd hunt him down has found him. His quiet life as a spy is over, but he has no idea what awaits him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Celticfrog Publishing
• Release date: Apr 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9781989092132

Alex McGilvery

Alex has been writing stories almost as long as he's been reading them. He lives in Kamloops, BC and spends a great deal of time figuring out how to make his characters work hard at life. His two dogs, named after favourity scotch malts are a big reason he doesn't suffer as much as his characters.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The End of a Road

Rodrigo stumbled over a root and crashed into a tree. Blinding pain slashed through his body and he fell to the ground. The upside was the bolt meant to pierce his heart thunked into the trunk over his head. When no second shot came immediately, he groaned and scrambled for cover on the far side of the tree. Living through a pilgrimage with King Harald had taught Rodrigo to deal with pain. But running through a forest with a knife wound in his gut was pushing things.

He should have known better than to go into that town, even more to stay out of the tavern. Thanks to the Emperor’s thousand gold piece bounty on his head, and unfortunately accurate drawings of his face, Rodrigo was ridiculously well known. One or two men would have been easy enough to lose, but half the village was out for his blood. Even then he might have been all right if he could have brought himself to kill the hunters. He knew too well the consequence of a parent not returning home. But none of this would help his escape. Must be getting delirious from blood loss.

Gritting his teeth, Rodrigo tightened his sash over the wound. The long cut across his belly was the price of underestimating a farmer’s skill with a knife. The man would live, Rodrigo probably wouldn’t.

No sound came from where the crossbow wielder should have been resetting his weapon. Maybe the cooperation between the hunters was breaking down. That bounty would make one of them wealthy beyond their wildest dreams; or make the whole village somewhat better off. Human nature being what it was, he’d guess at least some of the men contemplated taking the whole reward for themselves.

Time to get moving again. He crouched as low as the wound let him and crept away, keeping the tree between him and where the bolt had come from. Losing this one didn’t mean he was free. As long as he bled all over the forest, his trail would be easy to follow. What he needed was time to sew himself up.

Shouts echoed through the woods, didn’t sound like that was going to happen.

Face it, your arrogance has finally got you killed. Rodrigo muttered, then cursed himself, the blood loss must be getting to his head. No bolt struck his back, so he continued moving as fast as possible while staying silent. Crazy as it seemed, maybe the crossbowman only had the one bolt. It wasn’t the wealthiest of villages, after all. He almost snorted. Depending on luck and his enemy’s lack got him into this mess.

The faint moonlight barely trickled through the trees. If it hadn’t been winter, he would have been in absolute darkness. These men knew the forest better than he did, so darkness might not have been the advantage it usually was.

The ground fell away under his leading foot, so Rodrigo stepped back then lowered himself to lie with his head just over the edge of the drop off. The faintest trickle of water suggested the ravine wasn’t more than eight feet deep. No rustling betrayed someone coming through the thick brush. He dropped a stick over the edge. Not too steep.

Waiting for a better chance would just get him caught. Rodrigo rolled over the edge of the bank, clenching his teeth and holding onto a tree to control his fall. It still sounded like a log falling from a cliff to his ears. He crawled on all fours along the bank, away from the noise he’d made.

The shouts echoed from further away, sounding more excited than they had for the past hour. What on earth were they doing? It might be good news for him, but Rodrigo despised incompetence. He crawled toward the water, finding it by putting one hand into the tiny stream.

A bit more light would make the next step much easier, but even with his mind fuzzy from the bleeding, Rodrigo wasn’t about to light a fire. After rinsing both hands in the icy water, he felt through his pouch. Flint, tinder bag, small knife, another bag. He took that one out along with a square of cloth. He used the cloth to wipe the wound, then pushed powder from the bag into the cut.

The world tilted dangerously, and he concentrated on breathing and staying focused. Losing to the pain now would be deadly. Next he went back to his pouch, finding the coil of silk thread and the paper with the needle, already threaded. Once in a while he thought ahead.

Tying a knot in the end of the silk, he steeled himself, then stuck the needle through the top edge of the slash, then the lower. Carefully feeling his way along, Rodrigo sewed himself up. Another scar, another part of his story.

His first ran across his ribs from trying to avenge the murder of his father. He’d traded blows with the assassin, leaving the man for dead as he staggered home to his sister’s lecture on his stupidity.

He’d made it halfway along the length of the wound and allowed himself a break. Icy water, sipped from his cupped hand, eased the rasp in his throat from his run through the forest. Regretfully he didn’t drink more, the cold would sap his already low energy too much.

Even as children Laendra had scared him. His sister’s uncanny way of knowing what he was thinking, how she dropped hints about seeing the future. Their mother trained both of them in the runes and their use. Laendra soaked it up and demanded more. Rodrigo tried everything he could to escape. All these years later, nothing had changed. She still sought more while he ran away.

As punishment for his morose thoughts, he started on the second half of the cut. The slightest tinge of grey lit the forest as he tied off the last stitch and dropped his shirt down over his stomach. He considered tying the sash on again, but it dripped with his blood and would mark his trail almost as much as the open wound. He crawled through the thick brush heading away from the village.

As the light grew, he picked a few winter greens to chew on. He wasn’t hungry yet, they’d kindly let him eat most of his meal before trying to kill him. But it would be a while before he had another proper meal, and he needed replace the blood he’d lost.

Sometime around midmorning, Rodrigo found a spot where the bank hung over the ravine, held up by a tree fallen across it. Under its shade he built a tiny fire and warmed himself. Making sure the fire wouldn’t spread or go out, he curled up and let his eyes close.

***

The screaming of a jay woke him. Rodrigo tensed, then slowly dropped sand on the remains of his fire. It might have been a fox disturbing the bird, but he wasn’t going to bet his life on it.

He had blithely returned to the Empire to set up a spy network for Harald, most of it was in place now and would report in circuitous ways to the secretary, Jeremiah Pen, who worked as the King’s new spymaster. Somewhere along the way he’d got careless and the Empire learned of his presence.

Though he no longer wore black as Heir, he was still known as a thief and a spy. The price on his head rapidly escalated. For some reason, the Emperor thought Rodrigo was King of the Waggonners and aimed to break them by destroying their King. It only proved how little most of the world knew of the Rehego.

Now, five years after he’d arrived, Rodrigo was trapped in the Empire. His face was too well known to hire a ship, and he couldn’t trust his network not to turn him in if he asked for help setting up something outside of a port. Crossing a border was a problem too, the only place which might welcome him had been blockaded by the Empire for almost a decade, ever since Sarandia had traveled to become Belandria’s queen.

He was getting tired of running and started to make stupid mistakes, like the one leading to sewing up his own stomach. More careless assumptions would kill him.

After the one alarm, nothing moved for a long time, then rustling told him the small creatures of the forest were going about their day. Must have been a fox after all. He sighed softly and pushed himself to a sitting position. He’d leave the fire out but fished around in his pouch for the strip of dried meat he kept for mornings like this.

He chewed on the tough meat and considered his alternatives. Word of his appearance would spread, and the story would grow with each telling. It had been years since he recognized himself in the tall tales of the Black Waggoner King. Walking to the next town wouldn’t be enough, he had to get completely away from this part of the empire. To do that he needed a plan, and some help.

Well now, after all this time, you go and almost get yourself killed by someone else. The speaker dropped easily onto the sand from the tree about him. She wore pants and blouse of mottled green, and her red hair had been cut short. A knife glinted in her hand.

Rodrigo gasped and choked on the chunk of meat in his mouth. He tried to clear it out with no success, while the woman looked on amused.

Great, here he was faced with the woman who had promised to kill him if he ever left without saying goodbye again, and he was going to die choking on dried meat.

She tossed the knife to her other hand and lunged toward him.

Rodrigo didn’t try to dodge. If anyone in this world had the right to end his life it was Milene.

Her fist slammed into his chest, knocking the wind from him and dislodging the meat blocking his throat.

He breathed in cautiously. Then lifted his head to meet the gaze of the woman sitting on his thighs, playing with a knife.

I thought I was dead. Thank you.

Your life is mine. Milene leaned forward until her nose almost touched his. You are not allowed to die by anyone else’s hand.

My life is in your hands, though I don’t know that I deserve it. Rodrigo sighed. I see happy couples all around me, and instead of being envious of their love, I get scared. I don’t think I could do that, be all about someone else. I’m sure to make a mess of it.

I understand. Milene cupped his face. I’m not blind, but I would rather risk the mess, then continue like this.

I still don’t know what you see in me. Rodrigo put his hand over hers. From the first day we met, you have been determined to be at my side. He was heartily tired of running, from the Empire, from Milene, from Laendra.

And you have been just as determined to escape my presence. Milene gave him a twisted smile. Never told you before, but I had a dream the night before I met you. I saw someone beset on all sides trying to save the world from darkness with a single candle. Somehow, I knew it was hopeless, he could never do it. The candle only lit the way in front of him. I looked down and found a candle in my hand, with it I could stand at his back and we’d drive back the night together. She dropped the knife and leaned forward to rest her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him. Then I met you and knew you for the man in my dream. All I’ve ever wanted was to stand with you against the evil in the world.

I think I’ve had enough of trying on my own. Rodrigo whispered into her hair. How did she smell of flowers in the middle of winter? I’m serious about putting my life in your hands. After all I’ve put you through, it’s the least you deserve. Though I’m sure you’ll regret it soon enough.

Grandmother told me, and I didn’t believe her. Milene’s words were muffled. But she also told me if I didn’t seek you out, you would die. I couldn’t let that happen no matter how angry I was.

Mother is wise indeed. Rodrigo wrapped his arms about her. I’ve reached the end of what I can do by myself.

I will hold my candle and stand at your back. Milene lifted her head and he saw the tear tracks on her face. As long as you will allow me.

How about as long as we live? Rodrigo picked up the knife from where she’d dropped it. He knicked his left wrist so spot of blood welled up.

You would blood-bond with me? Now? Milene stared at him.

I’m afraid if I don’t, I might run away again. Rodrigo shrugged trying to ignore the pounding of his heart. I’m not really a great catch.

Milene took the knife from him and poked her own wrist.

I don’t remember all the runes.

Mother always said the intention was what mattered, the runes only shape them.

Rodrigo dabbed his finger on the blood on her wrist, then drew a rune in the air. Faint light followed his hand. Milene copied his actions with blood from his wrist.

To be the warmth as your side, the light at your back, the shield for your heart. Rodrigo whispered the words. The runes in the air glowed brighter as Milene repeated the words. The magic ran through him, gentler than the bonding with King Harald, but no less powerful. For an all too brief instant he experienced what Milene did, her love, her faith, the strength which had carried her through the many years he’d run from this. Then it vanished leaving a glow within him.

Milene wiped the tears from his cheeks as her own fell.

Don’t regret the past, my love. In the end, it is what brought us here, and we’re stronger for it.

How could I not have seen?

You carry deep scars, and not just the ones on your body. When you run from who you are, it is hard to see the people around you.

I’m not the Black Heir anymore. For the first time, he wondered if he could have changed things if he’d worked a little harder.

Being the Black Heir was only one path to become who you are. There are others.

I can tell you’ve studied with Mother for half your life.

It was the only way I had the slightest chance of seeing you more than in my dreams.

She was always a romantic.

Grandmother? Milene snorted. Enough talking, even I remember there is one more part to the bonding we haven’t got to yet. She leaned forward again and kissed him. She tasted sweet, a little like honey. The glow in Rodrigo brightened as he returned her embrace.

Chapter 2

A Change in the Wind

Marriette watched the meeting between the city council and the nobles fall apart, again. Each side was so sure the other was out to cheat them, they couldn’t trust even a little.

Three years to figure out what the citizen councils should look like, while some screamed it was too slow and others too fast. Then another two years to set up the elections to choose the councillors. Five years of work forcing her to hand over running the schools to others.

Nikay had grown into a bright, cheerful boy, always willing to help, devoted to his younger sister, Beatifa, and she didn’t see either one of them nearly as much as she wanted.

We are done for today. Marriette stood up, interrupting an argument between a blacksmith and a minor noble over cobblestones. The men and women stared at her, then left without a word of farewell to the people on the other side of the room.

An underwhelming success, my lady. Illandria wrapped Marriette’s cloak around her shoulders.

Thank you, I’m feeling the cold more this year.

I will instruct the coachman to have warmers for tomorrow.

Marriette followed her maid out of the chambers. A grand name for a room carved out of a warehouse. Illandria walked like she was dancing. She was one of the Queen’s Guard, twelve women trained in combat. The Queen insisted Illandria stay with Marriette, even after the end of the regency. A good choice, if anything, Marriette had more enemies now than she had then.

She shook off the depressing thoughts. They plagued her more often, making it hard to sleep, then her exhaustion making it harder to fight them. Marriette spent the ride in the coach in prayer, trying to find a bulwark against despair.

The coach stopped and Marriette climbed out, blinking in the bright light.

Why are we at the palace?

Nikay is visiting Thuria today.

Right, I’d forgotten. Marriette frowned. That was happening too often lately. Like she lived in a fog.

Are you well, Mistress? Illandria put her hand on Marriette’s arm.

I’m not sure. Marriette said. Not feeling like myself these days.

I will send word to the Grandmother.

Do that, I trust her more than the new Archbishop.

Two streaks of energy ran from the doors shrieking at the top of their lungs. Thuria and Nikay. The princess chased her friend with a stick. Then Nikay turned and held his hands like he too held a stick. No, a staff. Thuria attacked him in a flurry. Marriette tensed, ready to intervene, but Illandria’s hand on her arm held her back.

Watch. I’ve never seen such control in one so young. Hard to believe she is not yet six.

Marriette calmed her racing heart and tried to see what her maid did. Each of Thuria’s strikes ended where Nikay’s imaginary staff blocked her. When she got through his defence, the staff stopped more than a hand’s span from the boy. Both laughed in exuberant delight, and Marriette couldn’t help but smile. The fog lifted a little and she laughed with the children.

Welcome, Lady Marriette. The young woman sounded much older than her thirteen years.

Thank you, Lydia.

These two were arguing over something and upsetting the young ones. I suggested a proper duel would sort out their disagreement. They’ve been at it for half an hour now.

You must be exhausted watching them.

I trust Thuria to not hurt her best friend. Even in her deepest rages she never lands a blow on anyone. Lydia pointed to where the two circled around each other. Nikay had started to add sound to the battle making a clacking sound whenever his invisible staff blocked Thuria.

They aren’t getting better?

I don’t believe her rages are something she will grow out of, nor a sickness to be cured. She feels whole. I think God made her that way for a reason.

What does the Queen think of that?

It depends on what Thuria has broken that day. Lydia smiled.

How are the twins?

They gain weight and strength daily. Lydia’s smile broadened. I’ve been praying for them.

Thuria screamed and made a huge act of falling to the ground dead.

You left the opening open for me. Nikay stood with his hands on his hips.

You saw it and took advantage. Thuria flipped to her feet. Everything she did was accomplished using the most energy she could muster.

Maybe she just needs to work off all that energy. Marriette laughed as Thuria put her hand on Nikay’s shoulder to encourage him.

I think you may be right. Lydia cocked her head as if listening to a voice only she could hear. Yes, she must harness the gift within her. She and Nikay have done the basic training in staff. Otherwise she would have tried to learn on her own. Perhaps it is time to work them harder.

Nikay ran over to them.

Mama, did you see. I beat Thuria! He beamed from ear to ear.

I saw. Marriette ruffled her son’s hair and curtseyed as Thuria sprinted over to join them.

He’s getting better every day, Lady Marriette. Thuria grinned at her friend. They were the same height, but she was built much more solidly than Nikay. Her black hair formed a halo around her head. No braid could contain it. Nikay’s blond hair lay flat like a cap on his head. Their eyes held the same glint, hers blue and his more gold than brown.

You are too. Marriette restrained her hand which wanted to play with the princess’ hair.

Let’s take Lady Marriette to see the twins. Lydia caught the princess’ attention.

This way. Thuria bounced on her toes as if she could barely hold herself back from dashing ahead. The bouncing became a wild dance, occasionally pulling Nikay or Lydia into it. When Thuria’s hand gripped Marriette’s the girl froze for a second. Marriette let her spin around her, laughing in delight.

What fun. Marriette said when Thuria released her. I haven’t danced in a long time. There are too many things I haven’t done in a long time.

They arrived at the nursery. Nikay and Thuria dragged Marriette in making hushing noises in case they wake the sleeping babies. They needn’t have worried. The nurse held one in each arm and sang gently. Thuria ran over and sat down to listen. Nikay grabbed Marriette’s hand.

The nurse’s voice was clear as a bell and understandably entranced her audience.

It is the only time Thuria is still. Lydia whispered from behind them. It is a blessing.

Nikay pulled Marriette closer to the nurse and the twins. Alfaric and Diene, she couldn’t tell which was which, and didn’t want to ask. For now, she admired how they’d filled out from the tiny, wrinkled beings they were the first time she’d seen them. The Doctor had Sarandia carry them next to her skin for the first two months of their life. Maybe that was the reason they were, according to the gossip, as placid as Thuria was wild.

They are beautiful. Marriette brushed a finger across one of their hands and the baby clutched her finger.

Thank you. Sarandia’s voice came from behind them. Fortunately, Illandria thought to inform me of your visit, Lady Marriette.

Marriette turned and curtseyed. I must admit the children took me captive.

You haven’t been around much. Sarandia kept her voice mild, but her eyes pleaded. Marriette had experienced the life of a queen. It wasn’t nearly as fun as she’d thought, and worse, friendships were all but impossible. Another thing I’ve been neglecting.

My apologies, I allowed my tasks to consume my time. I will endeavour to make more time for my friends and family.

Mama? A tousled head poked around the curtain of a bed. Beatifa screamed in delight and ran to Marriette. The babies hardly stirred, as Thuria put her hands to her ears.

Oh dear. Sarandia put her hand to her forehead.

The nurse stood and walked out of the room cooing at the babies. Thuria vibrated, making a growling sound.

Come, it’s better if we leave her alone. Sarandia rubbed at a tear.