Revenge's Legacy

By KD Nielson

The fractured Royal Family of King Albert of Torrif has been brutally massacred and all wives – past and present – and contentious heirs have been slaughtered. Only the out of favour Prince Jermyn, his younger sister Katheryn, have managed to escape.

Meanwhile their disinherited sister, Jazzel, living in the Kingdom of Amberwine with her husband Donald Demontfort, has to come home and sort out the mess.
So with family politics and intrigues to deal with and a mysterious vapour that is terrorizing the kingdom, Jazzel has her work cut out of her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: KD Nielson
• Release date: Jan 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310233425

KD Nielson

Fantasy Writer Hi all, this is K.D. Nielson … and welcome to my …. mind. I am a full time writer in search of a publisher, so I have to work at my day job to pay the bills. I have been writing and telling stories now for over 30 years. Since the 11,000+ earthquakes here in Christchurch, I have been free to indulge in my greatest passion, telling stories, while the city starts to get back on its feet. I have drawn on my experiences these past months (seems like years) of awful earthquakes, the years serving as a prison officer, and my time in the US Navy as part of Operation Deep Freeze, making seven deployments to Antarctica. Yes, in spite of everything, I am still sane. I have drawn on my daily experiences in these jobs and the different facets of everyday life, as material for my books. I have a wealth of intrigue, love, betrayal, war and heroic deeds just waiting for an avid reader. I have finished several books in the world I have created. They are just waiting to be discovered by that right someone, hopefully a publisher. All my books are available on Amazon through Kindle, and Createspace's print on demand. I am married to a lovely English girl, a schoolteacher, and we have three sons, one which seems to keep coming back, kind of cramps my style. My wife has donated (sometimes gang pressed might be more like it) hours of her valuable time helping me with editing and reading manuscripts, and being very patient with all my questions, some of them might be, well … dumb. I have also been working with a like-minded friend who is a fantasy fan and a very good writer in her own right. She is also a renowned artist and in conjunction with another project connected to my books, she is working on sketches of the characters and creatures of my world. For more information on my books go to http://www.theworldsofkdnielson.com Thank you for bearing with me while I rabbit on ... I challenge you, step into my mind ….you might like it so much ... you may not want to leave. KD Nielson

Book preview

Nighttime in the Torrif capital of Hala-Sen was just enchanting this time of the year. The moon hung low in the sky, full and breathtaking; the cool trade winds blew gently off the gulf. The city seen from the air was as quaint as the evening was delightful. The buildings in this part of the world were mostly single story with the occasional second level landing. The houses were built around a central courtyard where a visitor or family member could enter through a wide sweeping archway, after climbing a few stairs. The actual buildings were built above the ground to facilitate cooling. The central courtyard was more garden than living space. A patio spread out around a central fountain, marble benches and tables were spaced tastefully about the shrubbery. Discreet paths lead to either the main building where the dining room and areas used for entertaining were located. The right path lead to family living quarters, and the left path found servant’s quarters, kitchen and all manner of storage. The whole layout was usually surrounded by an ornamented ten foot high wall with double gates, made of black iron bars, again artistically designed with numerous scrolls work. The stables and carriage sheds were behind the servant’s quarters, while behind the family living unit, were self-contained guest quarters.

Most citizens in the small coastal kingdom were as well off as some aristocrats in other lands. The poor or homeless were practically nonexistent. Most of the population in Torrif made their living either in the desert, farming, or the sea. Many served in the highly trained army. Torrif scientist and inventors found a ready market for their wares and services to both the masses and nobles. As a result the street lamps were oil lit, and the roads paved. A coach that rode the two rails throughout the city, pulled by four horses, transported the citizenry throughout the city.

The marvels of the kingdom were freely employed in the royal palace. The seat of the Torrif government sat high on the central hill, and the view was magnificent. Tonight of all nights, it was all the more beautiful to the man in bare feet, who was wearing his red trousers with the gold stripe down the outside, his white shirt un-tucked, with the ruffled cuffs rolled back. He carried his boots in one hand, and a crystal wine goblet in the other. The handsome face looked out over the harbor from his veranda on the second story. The coal black hair, long and loose about his shoulders, ruffled gently in the evening breeze. His strong commanding face highlighted his dark deep set eyes as they moved restlessly searching the darkened city. He dropped his boots and sank into a wicker, wide backed chair. His dark face burst into a smile … he grinned just thinking of the coming ‘adventure’. He heard the rattle of the door knob to his chamber and stood in eager expectation. The oil lamps fastened to the walls were turned down low, and when the woman stepped through she seemed as mysterious as ever. King Albert sat his goblet on the polished mahogany table and stepped through the double French door. The thick carpet tickled his feet and he grinned in anticipation of … well the woman. Her light brown body was partly hidden by the white dressing gown, and her long raven hair was piled high on her head as was customary. She moved slowly towards Albert, every step designed to build the man’s suspense and anticipation. Mara was no stranger here - she came often to his bed chamber, knowing that Annabel, the queen with her ladies, slept in another chamber. It had been thus for years. The queen hated the man, as much as Mara loved him. Annabel had actually taken her own lovers, originally to spite him, but now it was more for the need of company. But tonight Albert and Mara gave no thought to the estranged queen. Already the king moves toward the bed, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. She reached up to kiss him, standing on the tiptoes of her delicate bare feet. Then suddenly she stiffened; a small gasps escaped her ruby lips, and her dusky eyes widened in painfully surprise. Albert looked up startled as she collapsed, and fell into him. He caught her, holding her in an awkward manner as he looked at the arrow that had pierced her breast. Albert stared stupidly as she slowly slid to the carpet, the blood pumping from the wound in her chest, staining his white shirt. He recovered from the shock quickly, and straightened up whilst yelling for the guards. Then he choked on his words, and the sudden pain in his back made him turn sluggishly. His arm clumsily reached for the arrow that took him between the shoulders. As he slipped to the carpet beside his lover, he could see men, dressed in black tunics, breeches and soft boots, their faces covers by a black mask, swarming into his chambers. When the two guards opened the double doors, they both died as two of the invaders loosened an arrow each. Both palace guards died in quick succession, as the metal barbed head take both men just above the iron cuirasses. As they tumbled to the floor, one man lost his brass helmet with it distinctive red plume. Fortunately for the palace, and unfortunately for the attackers, the man died with a stifled gasp, while not loud, the other guards on the landing heard.

Unit One, right, Unit Two, left, we will hold the escape route. You have two minutes, their leader hissed.

The intruders, well trained and thoroughly briefed in the palace’s layout, spread out in two directions. The leader looked to his men; his eyes raised in puzzlement above the black mask. It seemed to be taking the palace guards a long time to get organized.

The sad truth was, they were taking a long time to get their wits about them, one officer gave them one set of orders and another countermanded them and a third, well no one was sure what he was raving about. But the two minutes it took to get organized, was disastrous.

Unit One, ran through the king’s bed chamber and climbed out on the small ledge and dropped to the ground. Already they could hear the sound of the alarm spreading out here as the bodies of the guards on the grounds had been discovered. Naturally they did what any good patriotic soldier would do; they went bravely to protect their monarch. The five men dodged the ensuing chaos and headed to the building set a short distance from the palace. Here Countess Valla Stewart, third wife of the king, was confined. Unfortunately, her fit of madness and depression couldn’t be cured by the court physician so, the king like any caring husband had her consigned here, to be looked after while he quickly divorce the lunatic, wed his former lover, now currently sleeping in her own estranged bedroom. However, Valla was a smart woman. She didn’t kick and scream, even when Albert was screwing Anabella. So, she waited. Her father, the sheik of the Sand People wouldn’t let her rot too long before he brought his hordes to rescuer her, Sadly, for the last seventeen years she had clung to that delusion. Truth be known, the sheik had been told she was dead. Everyone wept dutiful over her grave at the desert oasis, and it had been a beautiful and moving service. What little remained of her sanity gradually slipped away over the passing time.

Now, Unit One closed quickly on the small compound. Here the guards, alerted by the noise, formed up under a rather efficient officer. He took his men at the double heading for the palace, having left a token four men behind. The gallant captain had been the one who had been looking after the countess for five years now, the king had only come to see her once in all that time.

The king had been heard to say, Why can’t you die like a normal crazy woman?

However, it was considered bad luck to kill anyone who was touched, so the captain figured his men were needed elsewhere, and if a crazy woman died, or wandered off in the night, no one would care.

The men guarding the countess were quickly dispatched. Their passing left not a whisper, and even if there had been, there was no one to hear. The intruders burst into the small manor. The few servants were swiftly cut down, either as they gathered sleepily to see what was happening, or those still working, seeing the approaching evil, fled screaming.

Countess Valla was sitting on her bed, a young woman with her. The ‘mad’ woman was calmly combing out the girl’s hair. The sixteen year old clutched her pale blue night robe about her, screeching about her modesty.

Quiet Kathleen, honey. Valla voice was controlled, her calm countenance assured and poised, even if it seemed a little strained.

She looked at the men gathered around her; saw the gruesome weapons, some of them dripping on the thick carpet. The men in the room couldn’t help see the tick at the corner of her eye, her hands busy in her lap, grasping at tiny bits of fabric she had found on her frayed sleeve.

I’m truly sorry, Countess, the leader spoke softly.

Valla recognized the voice, and for a brief seconds clarity passed before her eyes. Promise me, that it will be quick, and there will be no rape.

Kathleen screeched, What … are … you … talking …about, mother!?

She looked desperately at her maternal parent, but the glazed, slack-eyed look was back. Kathleen glared at the intruders, her dark eyes blazing, the reddish brown hair wild about her dusty skin.

Come, honey, sit and let me finish your hair, Valla said vaguely, now even her poise and dignity had fled…again.

It will be as you ask, the man said softly.

Kathleen backed from the bed. You … can’t … be ….serious. Mother, tell them that there is some kind of mistake.

The only mistake is that you came to get your hair done tonight, a second intruder said.

As assassins moved foreword, Kathleen also stepped forward and with the flat of her hand, hit him hard in the nose. The man dropped, blood gushing from his broken nose. The young woman seeing her chance vaulted over the man lying on the floor squirming in pain. The leader watched the girl run, strangely not making any attempt to stop her. He nodded briefly as, with no thought to her dignity or modesty, she literally dived through the open window. He turned his gazed back to the bewildered countess; Valla looked at him in disbelief.

Now, why do you think she did that?

The leader, drawing his sharp knife, looked at her as he slowly moved forward. I don’t know for sure, countess, maybe she forgot something.

The guards had rallied and valiantly fought their way to the king’s chambers, unaware that they were an eternity too late. The attackers from the main group were hard pressed to hold the position. Three guards were down, as were two of the black garbed intruders. The leaders in the back slowly counting, had only reached 68. They had to hold on for a little longer. Below, they could hear the thumping of boots on the polished tiled mosaic floor.

Unit Two was moving swiftly along the second floor landing. They could hear the sounds of desperate combat coming from the landing behind them. Their first target was two doors down the hall. They didn’t have time for niceties. They simply bowled the door, and in a flurry of steel, the old nanny died even before she had a chance for her aging mind to accept she was under threat. Two youngsters, aged eight and thirteen, were sound asleep and knew nothing. Even as they finished with the gristly work, they were moving to the next room.

As they burst the next door asunder, the young man, obviously hearing the sounds of his brother and sister’s gruesome demise in the next room, was already climbing out of bed. As the first attacker lunged for him, he grabbed up the thin blade from the scabbard leaning on the chair next to his bed. The dark hair, still sleep tousled, the thin, carefully cultivated mustache made him look incredible young, and the few dark hairs scattered about his light brown bare chest only reinforced his youth. The handsome young man, no more than sixteen, bravely faced his attackers, and just as bravely died. His defense was beaten down by a quick savage thrust, even as he had drawn up in the classic en garde position. His startled eyes looked accusingly, gaping at his assailant, unable to accept that his killer hadn’t fought fair.

They were running out of time, with still three rooms to go. The intruders ran from the room even as Prince Alando slid to the floor.

The subsequently chamber was empty; it didn’t look as if the occupant had fled, so the attackers didn’t even slow. They thundered to the next room, bypassing it entirely. They knew that Prince Jerro, Albert’s eldest son, and heir to the throne, was with the army in Moro-Sen. Their thumping down the hall with their soft leather boots, sounded as loud as their pounding hearts and their harsh breathing. The raiders stopped at the last room on their list. The door here was more solid as benefiting royalty; however, the two guards who had heard the alarm were ready with drawn weapons as the intruders charged down. The palace guards, superbly trained, utterly fearless in the defense of their queen, put up a valiant resistance. In the end they all succumbed to the pressure of numbers, but four attackers lay on the floor, no longer worried about going home. Three more either lay whimpering on the wooden flooring, or leaned tiredly against the walls, suddenly needing the support to help keep them up right. One of the raiders mysteriously produced a set of keys and they swiftly left themselves inside. Queen Anabella laid draped across her bed in a drug induced slumber. The woman used to be a real beauty, obliviously the reason behind the king’s initial interest. However, seeing the woman lying on the burgundy bed covering, her pink nightdress askew, barley covering her nakedness, they could see that time and politics had taken its toll. Her body, once lovely in her youth, had now succumbing to gravity, a good portion of her anatomy changed. Marrying late, in her late twenties, then three children, a ‘passionate’ husband and advancing years had not been kind to Anabella. Her dark red hair fanned out in a tangled mess, her heavy makeup was smeared, looking as if water had been dribbled across her face. Her exposed skin was deeply tanned; the more intimate area of her body, still milky white, marking her as coming from one of the cooler climates, maybe Jasper or across the sea, possibly one of the city states. She used to worry about herself, but when the king began seeing the new tart, she had taken lovers in spite. Then after two beheadings, the king exerting his will, making her life untenable, her will slowly began to erode. Now the laudanum and the wine bottle, the crystal goblet on her bedside table, had had reduced the once lovely woman to the creature passed out in her bed.

This will be nice, one raider growled as he began to undo his breeches.

No, our orders are not to touch her. It is to be quick and clean.

The would be rapist hesitated, his eyes lingering on the exposed flesh, still tantalizing to someone not so choosey. He looked into the cold eyes of the leader, sighed and let his hands drop. The leader drew his hunting knife and advanced on the comatose queen.

* * *

Clandestine Rendezvous

Prince Jermyn grinned in happy anticipation about his upcoming clandestine rendezvous; carefully letting himself out of his room, his knee high soft boot held in his hands, he tiptoed down the servant’s stairs. In his tastefully cultivated mustache and the thinly trimmed beard, he didn’t cut quite the dashing figure he thought he did, but then, he was only eighteen and in love, and a lot of his brash appearance was styled on a young and impressionable women’s concept of the current fashions. He wore dark gray trousers with the red stripe along the outside, reinforced on the inside of the legs and buttocks with black leather, his white shirt showing through the front of the blue split tail jacket with the markings of a junior cavalry officer in the King’s Heavy Cavalry. He did look very dashing with the double breasted gold buttons, and the gold thread workings between the button holes. His family insignia, a lion’s head framed by a radiant starburst, a brilliant red ruby held in the felines over sided mouth glittered on the left breast of his jacked, over his heart. The cuffs of his jacket were likewise gold twined. He wore a red sash about his trim waist with the end hanging down his left leg, the scabbard with the tasseled saber normally hanging around his waist, was now clutched tightly in his hands, to keep it from banging on the steps as he walked. The young man’s long dark reddish hair was loose about his shoulders, and colored beads were carefully worked into the flowing locks. His swarthy skin and piercing brown eyes were shining in anticipation of meeting Clarissa. Jermyn paused outside his mother’s door, and he leaned in between the two palace guards, and listened intently. He grinned as he heard the faints snore, it was either the drug or the wine, both made her snore in her sleep. The two soldiers tactfully ignored the young prince. He grinned slapping one guard lightly on the shoulder.

A night out, your grace?

The prince smiled, reveling white teeth. Yes, tonight we are going to one of the places poets and playwrights frequent.

Ahhh, I have heard they get up to all kinds of mischief there, the man said with a noncommittal smile.

Ohhh, I ‘m counting on it, He said impishly.

Just, be careful, young prince. It is many a name that can be ruined by a night of pleasure, the same officer cautioned.

Jermyn glanced at the king’s current wife’s chamber. If it is good for the king’s whore, who am I to object?

The king had divorce his mother, Valla, and confined her to the manor, supposedly crazy.

I still think that father is poisoning mother to be able to take that …that … woman as his wife. I hope she gets exactly what she deserves. Jermyn thought bitterly.

Both guards knew of the king’s ‘healthy’ appetite, and the effect it had on the women he grew bored with when a new younger, more attractive one came along. So far the king had had four wives. The first two, young, healthy women had died under most unusual circumstances. The royal physician ascribed the deaths to ... deadly vapors. Most of the court was just superstitious enough that they didn’t question it; if the verdict was true, they didn’t want to encourage the vapors in their direction in any way at all. Even though if asked, none of them would have any idea what a deadly vapor was. A few of the more staunch naysayers said it was more likely the women died of a broken heart, or something more serious. It had been more than one ‘trouble maker’ who had gone to the block for actually inferring the king had, either done away with his earlier wives, or someone close to him had done his dirty work for him.

The men liked the