A King's Rival

By Xander Tracy

A challenge between rivals will either lead to suffering...or love.

 

Chieftain Rygar Idras must lead his warriors on a dangerous raid into Astor to rescue his men from captivity. But an ambush brings him face-to-face with Vash Terric, a powerful and ruthless king, and the raid ends with Rygar in chains. He's imprisoned within a castle in Astor, but his spirit remains unbroken, and he's determined to escape and save his men. But Vash gives him an ultimatum. The king will free one of his men every time Rygar comes to his bed of his own free will. If he refuses, he will remain in chains, a captive to the king, and his fellow raiders will languish in the dungeon. Rygar is prepared to do anything to free his men, whether that is killing the king...or sleeping with him. But denying his attraction to the commanding Vash is far more difficult than he imagined. When the king honors his promise, Rygar discovers that protecting his heart from his rival may be the greatest challenge he's ever faced...

 

King Vash loves nothing more than the stability and prosperity brought by law and order. Astor is a beacon of order in the world—a light threatened by barbarian raiders like Rygar. But Vash can't escape his raw desire for his captive. He's drawn to the man's strength and defiance. The longer he keeps his enemy captive at his side, the more fascinated he becomes with Rygar and his strange ways. Perhaps Rygar isn't the savage Vash thought he was. Vash is willing to conquer all his enemies to protect his people and impose order on the chaos...but his growing feelings for Rygar threaten to bring everything he has achieved crashing down around him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wolf Hill Publishing
• Release date: Jul 18, 2022
• ISBN: 9781947135567

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Rygar Idran could not shake the feeling they were being watched.

He crouched with a small group of his best warriors, hidden in a stand of trees. As raids went, this was by far the most dangerous Rygar, chieftain of the Matassa tribe, had ever undertaken. He was a warrior from sword to heart, and he feared nothing. He’d fought with other tribes on the grassy plains of Sikia and won renown. He’d rescued men and women held captive by enemy tribes.

But he had never fought against the might of Astor.

Was that why his skin crawled with the feeling that hostile eyes watched them now, waiting in the shadows of the trees across the river…?

Rygar’s sword blade was out, although stealth would be their biggest ally once they crossed the river. They wore only leather armor, as was the way of their people. Their soft boots would barely make a sound in the grass and leaves. His warriors had their hair braided and their faces painted with symbols of strength, bravery, and the victories they’d won. As uneasy as he was about this raid, Rygar was proud to lead these eight warriors. He knew they would stand by him, die for him. As he would die for any of them.

In the east, the sun hadn’t yet risen, even though the horizon was red and purple with the approaching dawn. Rygar continued to peer at the shadows beneath the trees on the opposite side of the river, searching for enemies. He could see no one, but that meant little. The river had long been the boundary between Sikia and Astor. Yet earlier this summer, Astor had violated that boundary. The powerful nation had begun building one of their stone fortresses across the river in Sikia lands. It had been a provocation no tribe of Sikia could ignore.

I see no threat, Endron whispered beside him as they peered across the river. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. We should wait until tonight at least.

Endron had been opposed to this rescue raid from the beginning. Rygar had been surprised the warrior he’d been training to someday take over as chieftain of the Matassa tribe had been so set against the rescue of their captive people.

Kress, another of his warriors, spoke up. We would lose an entire day if we wait. We should cross now before the sun tops the mountains or we’ll lose our chance to move unseen.

Rygar didn’t reply. Kress’s advice was sound. Their captured people needed to be rescued as soon as possible. Yet, he still couldn’t escape the feeling that haunted him. The sense that something was wrong. They were all relying on Endron to guide them, and he seemed the most reluctant to lead them forward. Not only was Endron training to someday be chieftain, but the man was also the tribe’s most experienced scout and raider, having crossed the border into Astor many times and returned to tell the tale. Months ago, Endron had even escaped from a stockade in Highrark, the closest city in Astor, and managed to find his way back to Sikia. His experiences would be vital to their success. Rygar should be able to trust his judgment.

And yet the man seemed the most reluctant to cross the border…

I say we wait, Honored One, Endron said again, turning his fierce eyes back to Rygar. Until nightfall at least. We can’t be too cautious. Daylight is coming too quickly. I have no desire to see our chieftain captured as well.

And it will be night again when we reach Highrark, Kress replied. His words were just short of a snarl. Which will make freeing our people all the easier.

Endron shook his head. Our people crossed into Astor in daylight under a banner of peace. Look what good it did them.

That was true enough. As chief of the Matassa, Rygar had sent an envoy to Highrark Castle weeks ago, demanding to know why Astoran soldiers had invaded Sikia and began building a fortress. There had been raids before, on both sides, but this was the first sign the soldiers of Astor intended to stay. Only one of the envoy he’d sent to speak to King Vash Terric about Astor’s warlike intentions had returned. The man had been bruised and battered and half dead with exhaustion, bearing a tale of a sudden ambush on their way to the castle. Some of his envoy was dead, slain in the fighting. Others had been captured. It was those prisoners Rygar intended to free.

Endron was about to speak again when Rygar held up a hand for silence. Both men obeyed at once.

The time for talk is over, Rygar said. We know our surviving brothers are likely being held in stockades in the lower city, where Endron was held before. Nothing has changed. We climb the city walls, kill the jailers, and we free our people before moonrise.

His warriors gave him nods all around, heartened by his words. He kept his own doubts hidden. Both his feeling they were watched despite being hidden in the trees, and his fear they would make it to the walls of Highrark and find the city impossible to infiltrate.

No. He had to keep his faith. His men were counting on him. This was the burden a leader faced. The last chieftain of the Matassa had faced it. Now Rygar faced it as well. He must remain strong, no matter what.

Besides, they had come prepared. They carried grapples and rope, and they had plenty of experience moving quietly. The Matassa were expert raiders against other tribes. Rygar had done his share of raiding herds and enemy tribes on the grasslands before he’d become chieftain. Back when he’d been obsessed with earning victories that he could paint on his body to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies. Now a little more seasoned, he understood exactly what was at risk each time he drew his sword.

That understanding was also the reason he owed it to his captive tribesmen to rescue them from the cruelties of the Astoran knights…and worst of all, King Vash Terric. By all rumors, the man was powerful but also cruel and merciless. Rygar felt a personal debt to the men he’d lost and to the ones still captured. After all, they had crossed the mountains and headed into Astor at the command of their chieftain. He could never forget that.

Rygar signaled his warriors to advance toward the river. Keep below the water for as long as possible. Regroup in the trees on the far shore.

Endron wasn’t finished with his warnings. This risk is too great. You should not be here, Honored One. It’s too dangerous.

A chieftain who does not share the risks of his people is not fit to lead them. His reply was simple, almost curt, and he considered the matter closed. He did not like to be challenged once he’d made up his mind. The longer his captured tribesmen remained in chains, the greater the risk to their lives.

His small group of warriors set off through the trees and down the riverbank. The water appeared gray in the predawn light. Endron kept the lead, scouting the path ahead, but Rygar was only a half step behind. Soon they were swimming across the river’s cold water to the opposite bank thirty or so feet away. They scrambled up the riverbank and faded into the trees on the Astoran side of the border. They hadn’t been met by arrows, shouts of alarm, or mail-clad knights on the shore waiting to drive them back, so they had likely crossed unnoticed. So much for his fear of being watched. Perhaps being chieftain was making him soft.

As he slipped through the trees, his men spread out behind him. If they were caught, this would mean war against his tribe. Perhaps against all the grassland tribes in Sikia. He doubted King Vash would discriminate. It was another in a long list of things to worry about. No matter how many years of practice he had, it was always difficult to keep the worry from his face, to be strong for his men and his people. At times the burden of leadership felt crushing.

The tension grew as they pressed farther into the forest. There had been no sign of Astoran sentries so far. He should be pleased.

He wasn’t.

They had a long way to go through dangerous, hostile territory to Highrark. Rygar wouldn’t be able to breathe easily until they were back across the river in his lands with his captured men rescued.

The forest seemed empty. Silent. No deer. No squirrels rustling through the leaves on the forest floor. His warriors were on edge, he could feel it. He followed close on Endron’s heels, with Kress near his side. Kress had his bow out, arrow notched. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead.

They came to a clearing near a massive evergreen tree rising hundreds of feet into the air, higher than any surrounding tree in any direction. Kress started forward into the wide, grassy meadow around the tree, but Endron stopped him with a hand on his arm.

What are you doing? Endron demanded.

That is the Nyssar Tree, Kress replied, sounding annoyed. We head due north from it. He wrenched his arm free and began walking toward the huge tree. You make a poor scout.

Endron hurried to catch him. Fool! Don’t walk through the clearing—

Rygar had opened his mouth to call them both back into the cover of the trees when he heard a rushing hiss.

An arrow shaft sprouted from Kress’s neck.

Kress gave a startled, choking gasp. He collapsed into the tall grass, clutching at his wound.

Alarm ripped through Rygar as arrows filled the air around them. He darted forward, seized Endron, and dragged him back into the trees. Arrows buried themselves in the trunks all around them.

His warriors had spread out, bows drawn with arrows nocked or swords in hand. They were all peering into the trees, trying to find their attackers.

A moment later, their attackers faded out from the trees or rose up from the tall grass where they had been lying in wait. In an instant, Rygar realized his warriors were completely surrounded. They faced Astoran knights in full armor, chain mail and breastplates and helms. They had shields and swords or long spears and were supported by bowmen.

His heart was pounding. His thoughts still reeled from the sudden ambush. How had he been so foolish to lead his men into a trap?

Barbarian scum! a huge, fierce-looking man in armor bellowed. He lifted a black-bladed long sword and pointed it at them. Yield now or every last one of you will die!

Rygar froze, his own sword in hand. The