The Champion of Zammar (Zammar, Book 2)

By Samantha Nolan

For years, Captain of the Royal Guard Kadar Ibn’ Al’Amar has faithfully served Prince Jalen, heir to the throne of Zammar. When the life-threatening curse affecting the prince’s mind reawakens, Kadar sets off in search of a cure. His only hope is to retrieve the healer Sadie’s stolen books, now in the possession of the monastery of Al’Zafyra and protected by a group of deadly warriors.

For as long as she can remember, Princess Ahnanti of Bathu knows she has been an embarrassment to her father; ruler of the neighboring kingdom of Bathu. Her love of sword-fighting and lack of interest in marrying to further his political alliances has always strained their relationship, but Ahna never expected him to cast her away from the only home she knows. In a bid to strengthen his position with the powerful religious faction of his council, he orders her to Al’Zafyra, to devote the rest of her life to serving the Thousand Spirits.

When Ahna’s small convoy is ambushed by Bathan rebels on the way to the monastery, Kadar comes to her rescue. Ahna sees him as a chance to escape her fate; Kadar sees her as an opportunity to gain access to Al’Zafyra’s library. In spite of their initial contention, they find their uneasy partnership quickly morphing into an intense attraction. But between the rebels still pursuing Anhanti and Kadar’s treacherous mission, survival must take precedence over their fledgling love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Artistic License Publishing
• Release date: Aug 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311871879

Book preview

The Champion of Zammar

The Zammar Series, book two

By Samantha Nolan

(All Characters depicted herein are consenting adults.)

Published by Nault-Findley, LLC

Copyright 2014 Samantha Nolan

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold 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 return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. The persons, places, things, and otherwise animate or inanimate objects mentioned in this novel are figments of the authors' imagination. Any resemblance to anything or anyone living (or dead) is unintentional.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America and Canada. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

Foreword

Thank you for picking up a copy of The Champion of Zammar. It was great fun working on this story and we hope you enjoy your read!

This novel contains hot consensual sex between a handsome warrior and a spunky princess saved from certain death—or celibate piety—whichever is worse.

On the Back

For years, Captain of the Royal Guard Kadar Ibn' Al'Amar has faithfully served Prince Jalen, heir to the throne of Zammar. When the life-threatening curse affecting the prince's mind reawakens, Kadar sets off in search of a cure. His only hope is to retrieve the healer Sadie's stolen books, now in the possession of the monastery of Al'Zafyra and protected by a group of deadly warriors.

For as long as she can remember, Princess Ahnanti of Bathu knows she has been an embarrassment to her father; ruler of the neighboring kingdom of Bathu. Her love of sword-fighting and lack of interest in marrying to further his political alliances has always strained their relationship, but Ahna never expected him to cast her away from the only home she knows. In a bid to strengthen his position with the powerful religious faction of his council, he orders her to Al'Zafyra, to devote the rest of her life to serving the Thousand Spirits.

When Ahna's small convoy is ambushed by Bathan rebels on the way to the monastery, Kadar comes to her rescue. Ahna sees him as a chance to escape her fate; Kadar sees her as an opportunity to gain access to Al'Zafyra's library. In spite of their initial contention, they find their uneasy partnership quickly morphing into an intense attraction. But between the rebels still pursuing Anhanti and Kadar's treacherous mission, survival must take precedence over their fledgling love.

Prologue

The well-worn map, pinned to the table by all four corners, was bathed in the late afternoon sun coming through the latticed windows of the war room. Bent over it, Kadar Ibn' Al-Amar traced a path from Zammar's capital to the northern frontier, and glowered at the spot where his finger stopped.

The monastery of Al'Zafyra, the sapphire of the north. He pronounced the words with distaste. That's where my informant says Sadie's books are located.

Prince Jalen 'Anaq Al-Jameyri, heir to the kingdom of Zammar and Kadar's oldest friend, leaned over the map and frowned. This will be a problem.

Kadar nodded silently. He could feel a tendril of hair brush against his day's growth of beard, and he had to stop himself from swatting it away from his cheek in annoyance. He needed to visit a palace barber soon, he thought, before it became any more problematic. In the last few months, he hadn't had much time to devote to his personal grooming, and his hair was getting uncomfortably long.

Are you certain? Jalen asked a minute later, as Kadar's silence lengthened.

I'm afraid so. The man I talked to was adamant. The traveling caravan who bought them after her house was razed was headed for Al'Zafyra. They sold them to the monastery.

And, as everyone knew, any knowledge the monastery of Al'Zafyra acquired—books, scrolls, manuscripts, and sometime even people—was then locked up, as they considered it a treasure to be protected at all cost. The monastery—and the reclusive religious order that called it home—was completely cut off from the world, difficult to access and closed to travelers. Getting them to part with Sadie's books would prove difficult, especially since the books' theft couldn't be proven.

This is unfortunate, Jalen said somberly. He ran the tip of a finger down the curse-mark on his cheek. I haven't told Sadie yet, but I can feel the curse waking again.

Kadar nodded once more, making sure his expression stayed a stoic mask. His thoughts, however, were not so calm. Although not wholly unexpected, Jalen's admission came as a blow. When Sadie had suppressed the curse taking over Jalen's mind, she had been clear that it would only be a reprieve. Still, Kadar had hoped her ritual would stop the curse's advance for at least the next turn of the seasons. This would have given Kadar more time to find a solution that didn't include trying to steal books from Al'Zafyra.

But now, it seemed he wouldn't have a choice.

You should tell Sadie, Kadar commented. Jalen's betrothed wouldn't appreciate being kept in the dark. He didn't think Jalen would be able to do so for long, in any case. She was far too perceptive to stay blind to the situation.

It would only worry her unnecessarily, Jalen dismissed Kadar's concern. There is still time before it comes to the point I cannot control myself anymore.

"She'd want to know, Jalen. She's your betrothed. And then, she needs to know in case of an episode."

Jalen gave him a droll look. Sometimes, you sound worse than a nanny, Kadar.

Kadar's glare made Jalen chuckle, but he quickly grew serious again. I will give you a letter of introduction for their high priest, but even that might not be enough to get you inside the monastery. The Zammar crown wields little influence there, unfortunately.

It was a good thing the monastery's inhabitants weren't interested in more than defending their precious books, Kadar thought. If they turned their garrison of elite warriors to less noble pursuits, they could become a problem for Zammar. But the monastery had existed for more than a thousand years, and its independence from the earthly powers of kings was almost as old. Certainly older than the neighboring kingdoms of Zammar, Qatna, and Bathu, on which borders it stood.

A letter from you is better than nothing. If it doesn't work, I'll find another way to get inside.

They both leaned over the map again, and Kadar scowled at it. This should take at least a few weeks of travel, and I might need another week or more once I get to the monastery. Will you last that long?

I will, Jalen replied. He straightened and moved to the window to look down onto the gardens below. You will return during the season of rains. The roads will be difficult to travel.

I'm aware of that fact, but it can't be avoided. You are running out of time.

Jalen snorted in what Kadar knew to be annoyance. I'm not yet doomed to madness, Kadar. Perhaps you should wait until the rains pass before embarking on this journey.

It would delay the retrieval of the books several moons. Do you think you have this kind of time?

Jalen did not turn to look at him. No, he said after a long moment. I don't think I have that long.

Do I have your permission to pursue this lead at once, then? Kadar asked, more as a rhetorical question than because he needed Jalen's approval.

Jalen sighed. You have my permission.

Then, I'll leave at dawn. The sooner I reach Al'Zafyra, the sooner I can assess the situation there and retrieve Sadie's books.

Turning to face him, Jalen replied, I will draft the letter this afternoon. It will be ready for your departure. Bring however many men you need with you.

Kadar shook his head. Unnecessary. I'll have a better chance of success if I travel alone.

Are you certain?

Yes. He nodded at Jalen, his lips twitching into a smirk. But your concern about my well-being has been duly noted.

You are becoming reckless, my friend, Jalen remarked.

I'm being realistic, Kadar shot back. I'll bring back those books, and you can finally get rid of that curse once and for all.

Jalen nodded, and said more seriously, Be safe. I am not ready to appoint a new captain of my guard.

Kadar saluted. Understood. I won't fail.

I know. May your ancestors watch over you.

And yours over you.

Chapter 1

Princess Ahnanti 'den Bathu-arazi patted her artfully coiffed hair and straightened her skirts, feeling uncomfortable and out of place wearing the stiff finery. After a lifetime spent attending her father's court, she should be used to it, but she still wished she could be allowed to wear her usual clothes. Her father's soldiers had it right: pants were the way to go if one wanted comfort and freedom of movement.

Before she left her chambers, she patted her hip, reassured to feel her dagger nestled in the pocket that she insisted be added to all of her dresses. The weight of a second dagger, sheathed in her boot, reassured her further. In these uncertain times at court, she had learned to never leave her quarters weaponless. Never be caught unarmed. It was one thing her father's guards had taught her well.

They were good men, all of them.

Ahna smiled and nodded to the guard stationed at the throne room's entrance. His smile was pained.

Marvelous, she thought, wincing internally. My father is in a bad mood. What did I do this time? She longed for a return of the days when he simply ignored her existence.

Ahna squared her shoulders and waited for the announcement of her arrival. When it came, she stepped into the room as calmly as she could. She walked toward her father, ignoring the stares she received from the gathered courtiers. Upon reaching the dais, she came to her knees in supplication, and touched her forehead to the ground before sitting back on her heels.

You requested my presence, Father? she said, still kneeling at his feet.

King Siddha 'den Bathu-arazi stared down at her, his expression cold. Despite his advancing years and graying hair, he could still be considered a handsome if stern-looking man. Ahna had inherited much of her looks from him, and little from her soft and pretty mother.

King Siddha had never been that interested in his firstborn and only daughter, tending to spend his time and effort on Ahna's younger brothers, the eldest of whom would inherit the throne one day. It was not as though Ahna wished to rule, in any case. The position seemed quite cumbersome, and dangerous to boot. Nonetheless, some recognition of her worth as something other than a political pawn to be married away would have been welcome.

Ahnanti, King Siddha said, and held up a rolled-up parchment.

She recognized the seal adorning it: Zammar's royal sun. Was this a new missive concerning her betrothal to Zammar's prince? She thought the terms and dowry had been agreed on already—not that she much cared. This prince or another, her fate would be the same. Seeing her father's expression, however, she had the sinking feeling something had gone awry with the negotiations.

Do you know what this is?

Another 'broken engagement' letter?

King Siddah crumpled the parchment in his hand and threw it aside at her quip, his face reddened with barely contained rage.

Ahna winced. Too many times already she'd thwarted his attempts to marry her off. She had been warned not to ruin another proposal, and she knew Zammar's offer was her last chance.

But, she'd done nothing to dissuade the Zammar envoy. Not this time.

"This is a letter in Prince Jalen of Zammar's own hand putting an end to your agreed upon betrothal. What did you do?"

N-nothing. She winced at the stutter in her voice. She didn't want to appear weak in front of her father or the court. She took a deep breath and continued, How could I have? I have not left the palace and Prince Jalen lives in Zammar. We've never even met.

Enough. I will not be made to appear the fool in my own court. This was your last chance, Ahnanti; you knew the consequence of failure.

But, Father, I've done nothing wrong. I can't be held responsible for his change of mind!

I do not want to hear your excuses anymore. If marriage doesn't interest you, perhaps a life spent in repentance will.

What—

She couldn't finish her sentence. A cold glare from King Siddah silenced her protest. You will pack only what you need for your journey; where you are going, earthly possessions are unnecessary.

But, Father— she tried again.

A courier is on his way to the monastery of Al'Zafyra as we speak. They will await your arrival. A lifetime of service to the Thousand Spirits should at least teach you obedience.

Courtiers murmured in the wake of his pronouncement, and Ahna felt the blood drain from her face. Stifled as she felt at court sometimes, she hadn't wanted to be exiled from the only home she'd ever known.

I have made my decision, King Siddah said, and dismissed her with a wave of his hand. You leave at dawn.

***

Rocky cliffs rose up on each side of the canyon. A narrow road just wide enough for a carriage or two horses to travel abreast wound its way through the rugged terrain. The sides of the ravine loomed so tall that the sun never quite reached the bottom.

The moment Ahna's escort entered this dangerous territory, the group had fallen quiet. Surrounded by armed guards and forced to travel in a covered carriage, Ahna felt as if the stone walls would soon engulf her. She hated feeling trapped. Hated this whole expedition: the heat, the dust, the sweat pooling between her shoulder blades that she couldn't easily wipe away. No one would let her change out of the hot, scratchy supplicant robe. They all feared the king's retaliation too much to let her disobey his direct order.

Her father had wanted a spectacle. He was, after all, gifting his only daughter to the Thousand Spirits, and he had used all of his considerable influence to make sure everyone knew about it. It seemed like the entire population of the capital had come to gawk at her. It appeared she'd been the only one not to know anything about it until the eve of her departure.

Cursed spirits!

Ahna shifted in her seat again, trying to find a more comfortable position. Pulling the curtains aside, she glanced out at the rock surrounding them and shivered. The captain in charge of her escort, who rode beside the carriage, glanced her way. His gaze gentled when he saw her looking out. We should be out of the canyon soon, Highness, he said.

Thank you, Captain Zahi. The canyon isn't really what worries me, though, she replied truthfully. Zahi had known her for more than half her life. She knew he understood.

I know, Highness. Zahi hesitated, then added, I'm sorry.

Ahna waved his apology aside. It's definitely not your fault. I was sent away because it's politically advantageous for Father. It has nothing to do with you or your men. When the look of guilt didn't leave Zahi's expression, she went on, I'll always be grateful for what you've done, Captain.

Maybe I should have insisted— he started saying, but she raised her hand to stop him before he could finish his sentence. She was in no mood to hear him self-flagellate with what if's.

Enough, Captain. You indulged the whims of a lonely young girl, nothing more. There's nothing to feel guilty about. He had offered to show her how to wield a sword and how to defend herself when most would have pushed her away for fear of her father's reaction.

Zahi's lips twitched, and he nodded. If you say so.

I do.

Ahna let the curtain drop back in place and sat back with a sigh. The female attendant they'd sent with her—an older woman Ahna barely knew—glanced up from her embroidery and gave her a sympathetic look. Your Highness? she asked.

She wanted to hit something, but managed to restrain herself with some difficulty. A princess of Bathu didn't lose her temper in public. Or so she'd been told a thousand times at least. Ahna personally doubted the truth of that statement. Her brothers fought in public all the time. Besides, she'd never been much of a princess to start with. Too tall, too athletic, not feminine enough, always training with the royal soldiers or jumping into some new kind of trouble with her father. She knew what people called her behind her back: the goat princess. Over the years, she'd learned not to care; after all, she had encouraged such a view.

Another drop of sweat rolled down her nose, and Ahna wiped at it in annoyance.

Would you like me to fetch you water, Highness? the attendant asked.

Ahna shook her head. Don't bother, she said sharply, and then thought better of it. The older woman must be suffering from the heat, too. But you can get some for yourself if you wish.

The woman bobbed her head. Thank you, Highness.

As the attendant bent down to grab a canteen of by now tepid water, Ahna stared up at the ceiling of the carriage. She wished she could be somewhere else—anywhere else—but slipping away from her own escort had not been as easy as she'd first hoped. Besides needing to secure enough coins and food for the journey, she also required a horse and weapons to defend herself. That task was no small feat, and she hadn't found the right opportunity yet. Zahi knew her too well, and had kept a careful eye on her the entire journey. As much as he liked her, he would never go against a direct order from his king. Now, with their arrival at Al'Zafyra drawing close, such an opportunity became ever more elusive.

The carriage hit another rut in the road, and Ahna gave the ceiling a dark look, muttering a curse under her breath. She was sick and tired of having her bones rattled like playing dice. Then, just as she was about to open the curtain again, they came to a complete stop. Waiting. Although not a word of warning was exchanged, Ahna knew at once something was wrong.

The attendant looked up from her sewing again and frowned. Why did we stop? she asked.

Ahna gave her a quelling look. Keep quiet, she hissed, straining to hear outside. Her nerves tingled in a mix of anxiety and anticipation of an upcoming battle. There was no reason for these feelings, other than they shouldn't have stopped in the canyon.

Sliding a hand under her robe to grab the small knife she carried—the only weapon she'd been allowed on her journey—she pulled the window curtain aside. A few feet away from the carriage, Captain Zahi sat stock-still on his horse, his eyes fixed on the cliff at his left, and one hand gripping the pommel of his sword. Although he must have heard the rustle of fabric, he didn't glance Ahna's way.

Captain, what is going on? she asked, keeping her voice low.

Zahi finally glanced at her, his expression somber. I believe we're being wat—

His sentence ended in a gurgle of blood. Ahna stared in horror at the arrow now sticking out of his neck, an arrow that hadn't been there a second before. He slid out of the saddle without a sound and fell to the ground, unmoving. Time stood still as shock rippled through their group. Then it was chaos. Screams of warning mingled with war cries. Men jumped from hiding spots along the canyon and higher on the cliffs, eliciting a squeak of fear from Ahna's attendant. Within seconds, a volley of arrows killed two more of Ahna's guards, and the rest of their attackers reached the road.

Ahna's group was outnumbered and, in spite of some of her father's best warriors fighting to protect her, the odds were not their favor. Her heart drummed in her ears and her mouth dried out as she watched her escort trying valiantly to keep the attackers from the carriage.

Beside Ahna, the attendant whimpered. Ahna barely spared her a glance, not wanting to lose sight of the battle outside. Perhaps the woman wanted reassurance that everything would be all right, but she would not get it from her. Ahna didn't think things would turn out well for their small group. She swore. She was not even properly armed to defend herself. Worse, her palms were sweating and she had to keep her hands from shaking. She hated to admit it, but she was terrified. She had to force herself not to stay hidden inside the carriage, frozen in fear, while her own people fought to the death.

Stay here, she finally said to her companion. Without waiting for an answer, she slipped outside the carriage, catching her robe on the door. Son of a pissing goat, Ahna swore as she spent precious seconds freeing herself. By then, she had been spotted. Cries of the princess and get her alive made her grit her teeth. So, she was the reason behind their attack. Who were they? Bandits after a ransom? Rebels? Enemies of Bathu?

In the end, it didn't matter. Not in the middle of battle. Concentrate, Ahna muttered. The sound of her own voice managed to calm her somewhat. She looked around, assessing her options. There were few of them. She could try to slip away to safety. But where? And how? They had been ambushed and attacked from both sides. The canyon was also too narrow for her to make her escape without being seen. Furthermore, these were her people fighting—dying—to defend her. She might not have liked their destination, but she would be a coward to abandon them to their fate.

Ahna was no coward.

She would fight.

Although she'd spent years training with the palace guards—ever since Zahi had found her spying on them during their daily sessions and took pity on the shy young princess she had been—she'd yet to use that knowledge for anything other than a mock fight. Now that she faced a true battle, she felt wholly unprepared.

She looked around again, and her eyes fell on poor Captain Zahi, crumpled on the ground not five feet away from her. His sword was still in its scabbard; he'd not had time to even draw it before his death.

I'm sorry, she whispered to the corpse.

She sent a quick prayer for Zahi's spirit before kneeling at his side and grabbing his sword. She heard movement behind her, and someone yelled, There she is!

Not so fast , she thought.

She closed her fingers around the dead captain's saber and pulled. At first, the weight of his body pinned the sword down, and her heart skipped a beat. She pulled harder and the blade finally slid free of its scabbard. Ahna didn't stop to think. She whipped