Blood in Snow

By Robert Evert

The epic Riddle in Stone fantasy saga comes to a dramatic, action-packed conclusion as the kingdom’s most unlikely hero faces his own demise.
 
Following Riddle in Stone and Betrayal in the Highlands, Blood in the Snow serves as a thrilling finale to the beloved series by the author of the Quests of the Kings trilogy.
 
Having committed treason by claiming the Highlands for his own kingdom, Edmund—the one-eyed, stuttering former librarian—decides to stop running and make his final stand. Along with his best friend, Pond Scum, and his manic dog, Becky, he must fight off goblins, magic users, and King Lionel’s entire army in order to protect what he loves. However, his deadliest adversary is the approaching winter, and neither Edmund nor his men have the supplies they need to survive . . .

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Jul 15, 2014
• ISBN: 9781626813571

Book preview

PART ONE

Chapter One

Lester the Jester stepped into His Majesty’s Royal Meeting Hall, wearing clothes stained with travel and boots still damp with mud.

Sitting on his throne, King Lionel wiggled his well-manicured fingers through a shaft of red light streaming through the stained glass windows. He poked the air as if trying to touch the edge between light and shadow, while some lesser nobility stood before him, prattling on about a land dispute with some other lesser nobility.

I don’t care, the King said.

I beg your pardon, Your Highness?

I don’t care, the King repeated, louder. Why don’t you and this Lord Something-or-Other fight to the death and decide the matter that way?

The lord blanched. Sire, it’s … it’s only a grazing meadow.

The King tossed his hands up. If it is not worth dying for, then why are you bothering me with this? Go kill him or stop whining. Honestly! Now leave me be.

The lord hesitated, and then bowed. Yes, sire. Very wise. Thank you.

Next!

Your Majesty, an advisor said from one of the long ornate tables lining the hall, your next appointment is in twenty minutes. Lord Barnum would like to speak with you about his son.

King Lionel groaned. Which one? Barnum has more bastards than … than … than something that has a lot of bastards!

Yes, sire. He should be here momentarily.

Oh, very blasted well.

The King resumed poking the red light streaming across his lap as the advisor returned to his stack of papers.

Lester watched him, shook his head, and muttered, Idiot.

He scanned the room.

At the tables along the walls, the King’s advisors were all pretending to be busy.

Lester inhaled deeply, smelling whatever the cleaning wenches used to polish the marble floor. He took off his weatherworn cloak and tossed it into the corner.

As good a time as any.

The dwarf began to run and, leaping into the air, flipped end over end down the length of the grand hall, twisting and turning. Hitting the ground, he tumbled to the raised dais upon which the King sat and bounded to his feet, hands splayed apart.

Ta-da! Lester said.

The King gave his jester a weak smile and went back to studying the ray of colored light.

Are you okay, Your Highness? the dwarf asked.

You aren’t in uniform, the King said. Where is your hat and your funny shoes with the bells on them?

I’m wearing them. Lester gestured to his travel clothes with a theatric sweep of his hand, eyes glinting.

The King glanced up and shrugged. Oh, yes. I see.

Climbing the steps to the throne with exaggerated lunges and dips and swirls, the glimmer in the jester’s eyes brightened.

Bored, sire?

The King grunted.

Want to see me hurt myself? Lester leapt into the air, flipped, and fell to the floor, landing hard on his back at the King’s feet. He spread his hands out again.

The King took no notice.

After pretending to hoist himself up with an invisible rope, Lester leaned against an imaginary table. Want me to set fire to the pants of one of your advisors? he whispered conspiratorially.

The King half-snorted, half-smiled.

Master Jeremy certainly deserves it, the dwarf went on. Why, I bet he’d run around like a flaming chicken! Lester ran frantically around the throne, squawking and clucking like his tail feathers were on fire. Several of the advisors looked up briefly, then went back to their tasks.

King Lionel waved a listless hand.

Lester stopped and, sneaking a glance at the inattentive advisors, began to sway and shuffle his feet, brown eyes turning a cold blue.

I must say, you’re handling this entire Highlands situation with remarkable calm. I’m surprised you haven’t sent an army up north to deal with the traitors.

The King lifted a sleepy head. Traitors?

Yes, Lester said. The people of Rood have revolted, sire. They have declared themselves their own kingdom.

What! King Lionel shouted. The advisors started to stir. When did this happen? Why wasn’t I informed?

I’m sure you were informed by the Royal Messenger who just left here. Lester swayed and dipped and spun in a circle, eyes still twinkling. They’re thumbing their noses at you, sire. It’ll never do.

This’ll never do! The King slammed his fist onto the richly carved wood of his throne’s armrest. Traitors! Traitors!

Thinking the King was talking about them, the advisors shuffled their papers faster.

Yes, Lester said. Why, I’m sure you’ll want to send knights up there right now and—

I’ll crush them like bugs! The King leapt to his feet. The vermin! Try to revolt will they? I’ll kill them all!

This seized all of the advisors’ attentions. The Senior Advisor, Master Griffin, rose and approached the dais.

No, no, Lester said quickly, trying to finish before the Senior Advisor came within earshot. Capture the instigator; capture him and bring him back here in chains! That’s what you want to do. His name is Edmund! He has one eye, and stutters.

King Lionel thrust his fist in the air. I’ll bring him back in chains!

Yes, bring him back here. Don’t kill him. His name is Edmund.

I’ll bring this Edmund The One-Eyed back here in chains! Then I’ll kill him!

What? The dwarf watched Master Griffin climb the steps. No. No, you don’t want to kill him. You want to—

I’ll burn his other eye out! I’ll cut off his hands! I’ll feed him to my dogs! Curse the miserable traitor! I’ll make this Edmund suffer like he’s never suffered before!

No. No, Your Highness—

Your Highness. Master Griffin bowed before the throne. Lester’s eyes suddenly dulled to brown. Is everything all right, Your Majesty?

All right! the King thundered. All right! Why, the people of the Highlands have revolted! And you ask if everything’s all right?

Master Griffin considered the dwarf standing next to the King and sighed. I’m sure it was just a bad dream, Your Eminence. Nobody is revolting. Then he added, Except for your Court Jester.

Lester stepped behind the throne and made an obscene gesture.

All is well, Your Majesty. Master Griffin took no notice of the dwarf. Perhaps after today’s business is conducted, you should go on a hunt or a—

How could you dare to say such a thing? The King’s face turned as red as the light streaming through the arched windows. Didn’t you hear? They’re revolting! The miserable traitors! I just received a message from a, a …

Royal Messenger, Lester whispered.

A Royal Messenger! King Lionel shouted. The Highlands are in flames! There are killings, and rapes, and murders—and I’m not involved!

He snapped his fingers at one of the boys sitting on the floor by the far doors. The boy raced to the dais.

Ready my horse! he hollered. Summon my knights! All of them. We ride to battle!

The boy sprinted out of the hall as both Lester and Master Griffin attempted to calm the King.

I’m sure you don’t really … Griffin began, as the other advisors murmured in astonishment. That is to say, sire, I didn’t see any messenger, royal or otherwise, enter this chamber. I think you are—

Nonsense! Lester was standing right here when he came in!

Everybody looked at Lester as he stammered, Yes … yes. That’s … that’s true, Your Majesty. Tall fellow, with two eyes and a mouth. Breathed in and out, in and out. It’s hard to forget him. But I think it would be best if you stayed. You were just saying to me that you were going to—

Nonsense! the King cried. Battle is at hand! And I have a traitor to torture and kill. Now get out of my way, I have a war to win! A war, I tell you! Tossing his red-and-gold robe dramatically to one side, the King of Eryn Mas stomped out of the hall as everybody else dropped to their knees.

Well, that didn’t go as expected, the jester muttered to himself.

What did you do? Master Griffin demanded.

Lester shoved a finger at the Senior Advisor’s nose. Bugger off and mind yourself, or you’ll end up someplace nasty.

Master Griffin recoiled.

Lester marched to the open doors and, mocking the King, tossed an imaginary robe to one side. Now get out of my way, I have a war to win! A war, I tell you!

He stomped off to report what had happened.

Chapter Two

Edmund sat among the ruins of the great tower that once stood watch over Rood centuries earlier. It was a pile of moss-covered rubble now, and he halfheartedly considered how he might use the huge stone blocks to rebuild the village. But he knew that wasn’t the reason he’d climbed up the hill.

As a child, he’d come to the ruins to think, or to get away from the constant teasing of his classmates, or to daydream about becoming a world-famous adventurer. Now he just wanted to hide from the endless parade of people who wanted his input on everything under the sun, from the critical to the trivial—which was good, in a way. Rood was starting to take shape: The burned-out buildings had been torn down, foundations cleared of reeking debris; the third barracks and smithy were being built; furs for winter were being made into clothing. Everything was moving at an incredible rate. But as much as the people depended upon him, as much as they all swarmed around him from morning until night, asking him question after question, he felt alone, utterly alone. This feeling only intensified when he watched Pond, Abby, and as many guards as could be spared ride south that morning to buy supplies. They’d be gone for a month at least, and Edmund didn’t want to think about Pond and Abby being together for that long. It was petty, he knew, but he couldn’t help but worry they’d come back married, ending his chances at winning Abby’s heart.

He stroked Becky’s head as they sat, his back against a huge stone slab, studying the yellow and orange and red leaves gliding in the warm autumn breeze. There were so many of them; it was like he was sitting in a slow-moving, colorful rain.

His gaze shifted to the forests covering the rolling hills to the north and east, their dwindling canopies a collage of bright color. He smiled, his heart lightening somewhat.

By the gods, this is what makes the Highlands so damned special. Nowhere on the continent could you see beauty like this.

More leaves drifted by.

They rustled on the ground, sounding like ham sizzling on a hot skillet.

He inhaled the dry, earthy scents of autumn, the resolve to rebuild Rood hardening within him.

He knew King Lionel would try to retake the Highlands, not because it provided him with anything he wanted, but because Lionel was a warrior, and warriors always needed to fight over something. There was also the issue of his honor; he wouldn’t simply let part of his kingdom slip away.

Edmund did some quick calculations in his head. The earliest the King could hear about their little revolt would be in two months; people who fled Rood after the goblin attack wouldn’t reach Eryn Mas any quicker. After hearing what they had to say, Lionel would naturally want to send somebody to investigate, maybe a small force of riders. But by then, winter would be well underway and they’d have to wait until spring. Riders would come north in the warmer weather, see what had happened, then ride back to Eryn Mas to make their report, which would take another two months. The King would need to marshal his forces, and by then, winter would have come again; Lionel certainly wouldn’t be stupid enough to send his army north in the winter. It’d be at least the spring after next before anything happened, and considering how quickly things were being built in Rood, Edmund thought he and his friends could give King Lionel a real fight—if they prepared properly. They had a year, maybe two, and by that time, they’d have Rood ready and a couple hundred men armed with unbreakable swords and armor.

From the hilltop, Edmund considered his home a mile or so to the west.

The lands surrounding Rood’s walls were littered with jagged stumps and deep gashes where trees had been dragged away. It looked like a hideous wasteland of wooden tombstones, but cutting back the woods was important for Rood’s survival. They also needed the timber to build housing for everyone they expected to come north for the free land.

He inspected the town.

Even from a distance, Edmund could see people hurrying to and fro like stirred-up ants, stripping the felled trees of bark and branches, making lumber suitable for building. He could hear the ringing of hammers, the sharp thud of axes, and the rhythmic back-and-forth of saws. As he watched, beams for the third barracks’ roof were raised into place, while just outside the town walls, a group of men practiced their archery skills.

Then he noticed the house built on his family’s former land: Molly and Norb’s house.

It stood by itself—a silent, dark lump amid the activity.

Told by Pond how Edmund gave his house to Molly before the goblins destroyed Rood, the townspeople had voted to give the land back to Edmund. But after seeing its brightly painted nursery, he couldn’t go back inside. In fact, he could barely look at the lopsided building without fighting to inhale. He hoped it would just fall down or get swept away by a terrific wind.

He wrenched his gaze away in disgust and guilt and inadvertently glimpsed the mountains forming the bluish-gray horizon to the northeast. Goblins would be coming soon. They’d never leave him in peace, not while he knew the secret to making Iliandor’s steel; however, an army with unbreakable swords and armor would take care of them, too. Or at least, so Edmund hoped. He first needed men who could fight.

An image of the empty crib in Molly’s nursery popped into his mind. He tried to shake it out.

You have to do something, you know that, right? You can’t ignore the fact they have Molly’s daughter. You have to rescue her!

How? I can’t just storm a tower filled with goblins by myself!

You did for Molly.

Molly …

Putting his head into his hands, Edmund fought the urge to cry.

He looked up, the bright autumn sun warming his otherwise cold face. Fluffy white clouds drifted through a perfectly blue sky. A bent line of geese flew south, honking as they went.

Why can’t I feel happy on a day like this?

You’ll never find peace until all of this is over. You have to rescue—

I have to save the town! he shouted to the hills.

Surprised, Becky leapt up and searched for the cause of the outburst; upon seeing none, she licked Edmund’s face.

Choking back laughs and sobs, he hugged her tightly.

Horic called you a werehound, he said, scratching the wolf-like dog roughly behind the ears. I’m not sure what that means, but I’m glad you’re on my side, girl.

She licked him again and then went rigid.

Instinctively, Edmund’s hand fell to the hilt of his black-bladed short sword.

Becky sprang up onto a large block of stone that once served as the tower’s foundation and stared southward. She barked—not one of her angry barks with the growls that scared even Edmund, but the one she used to tell him somebody he knew was approaching.

Forcing the worry from his face, Edmund stood.

Hendrick, Captain of the Guards, labored up the incline, chainmail shining in the afternoon sun.

Sorry to interrupt, he called, climbing closer and closer.

Don’t be, Edmund called back, trying to sound stronger and more like a leader than he felt. I was just surveying these stones, he lied. Perhaps we could use them in some capacity or another.

Hendrick reached the hill’s summit and climbed over the initial ring of rubble.

Getting the larger blocks into town could be a challenge, he said, breathing hard. We might want to keep them here, in case we ever decide to rebuild the tower. This is a good place for it. Very defensible should anybody try to assail the town.

Surveying the view, Hendrick nodded in approval. It’s very pretty up here.

Wait until it snows. We’ll make some sleds and slide down the slopes. Edmund’s grin became more genuine as he remembered his childhood. You’ve never had such fun.

I’ll bet. Hendrick shielded his eyes and scanned the colorful horizon. Perhaps we should post somebody up here. They can certainly see a long way.

Maybe. But they can see farther from the hills to the south, where the Highlands rise above the lowlands. Anybody who comes up here will follow the River Bygwen. If we watch the river and its fords, we should be well aware of people before they arrive. That’s where we should build a tower, if we had the manpower to build one. Around here, an entire army could be hiding in the forests or behind the hills, and we’d never know it.

Very true. After one more glance around, Hendrick nodded again in satisfaction. Speaking of which, that party we saw approaching a couple of days ago has reached town.

Anybody interesting?

The guard grimaced. Actually, there kind of is.

Go on.

Well, I’m worried there might be an issue with one of them. Not an issue; not with him, exactly. But I have some concerns about what could happen if he stays in town, if you get me. We may want to begin thinking about who we let join us. At least for now.

Edmund walked down the hill, indicating for Hendrick to follow him. What’s the issue?

Well, Hendrick hemmed. I think it would be best if you judged for yourself. I’m just a stupid soldier.

Edmund stopped midstride.

You’re nothing of the sort, he said sternly. Thanks to you and your men, we’re alive. If you ever have any thoughts or insights, I want you to tell me. That’s an order.

Hendrick grinned. I appreciate that, sir. Thanks. Thank you very much. And for the record, you’re the best commander I’ve ever served under. Still, I think it best if I give you my thoughts once you’ve formed your own. The newcomers are in the tavern, demanding to see Lord Norbert.

Lord Norbert, Edmund mumbled, his foot sliding on the steep slope. All right. Let’s go see if we can get our new guests acclimated. Hopefully some of the more useful ones will stay.

Edmund walked with the Captain of the Guards through the wasteland of broken stumps and woodchips, saying very little. When they opened the door to The Buxom Barmaid, a swell of voices greeted him.

Here he is! One of the guards pointed at Edmund as he and Becky entered the common room. If you won’t believe me, he’ll tell you.

The voices quieted.

Do you need me? Hendrick asked Edmund.

Edmund shook his head. No. I suspect you should get some rest. You have the night watch, I believe.

But Hendrick waved this off as if it were nothing to worry about. I can stay up for three days straight without so much as blinking.

Well, let’s not let it come to that. You deserve some rest and relaxation.

Thank you, sir. I will.

Edmund surveyed the staring crowd of newcomers—sixteen adults and five children ranging from a year or so to maybe twelve. He smiled at the two women in the group to soothe their obvious anxiety. Other than Abby, they’d be the only women for hundreds of miles around.

Abby . . .

He tried not to think about her.

You Lord Norbert? one of the younger men asked, pulling from his pocket a crumpled piece of worn parchment. On it read the words: The Lord and Lady of the Highlands …

There’s nothing here! Another man pushed his way through the group. Not a goddamned thing!

Becky stepped in front of the newcomer and lifted her lip, revealing a long white canine.

The man backed away.

We was told there was a town or something up here! a third said from a safer distance. But there ain’t nothing!

Everybody began talking at once. Everybody but a well-dressed man sitting by the door, expensive boots propped up on the table, as if he were enjoying a show. He smoked an ivory pipe.

Edmund immediately thought he looked like nobility. Then he wondered what would happen if nobility wanted to resettle in the area. Would he let them stay with the understanding that the status of nobility meant nothing in the Highlands? Or would he send them back south?

Deal with him later.

A baby held by an apparently exhausted woman joined in the commotion, its wails slicing through Edmund’s aching head.

Climbing onto a bench, he raised his hands. Okay! Okay! Let me explain! Please, let me explain!

The din continued unabated.

Please! he repeated.

Be quiet! a guard yelled.

Everybody but the baby settled down.

First of all, Edmund began, w-welcome to Rood!

There ain’t no—!

Secondly! Edmund shouted over the man’s protests and the infant’s cries. Let’s get some food in you all. I’m sure the journey was a difficult one. He waved at the cook, who peered in from the kitchen. Gabe! Get everybody something hot, okay? Impress them with your culinary skills!

Cul-a-what? said somebody in the crowd.

I’ll bring something sweet for the little ones, the fat cook called back, wiping his hands on a stained apron.

You’re a godsend. Edmund rubbed his temples, wishing the baby would stop screaming.

How much is this hot meal going to cost? asked a stout man at the back of the group. I don’t got much money, and it looks like none of you here do either, judging by this place.

The meal is on us, Edmund said, his voice for some reason taking on their accent. And it ain’t charity. This statement kindled even more disbelief. Just settle down and listen to me. Please! Please s-s-settle … settle down. Settle down!

Again they quieted. Gabe returned from the kitchen and gave each of the children some sweet bread. To Edmund’s immense relief, the infant stopped screeching.

Rubbing his temples again, he studied their faces. Most of the newcomers seemed to be unskilled laborers. A couple of middle-aged men looked like farmers, their skin brown and leathery from countless days in the sun. By contrast, the man sending streams of grey smoke into the air by the door, was probably a wealthy merchant who’d never gotten his hands dirty.

As you can see, Edmund said, hoping to sound more upbeat than he felt. He gestured to the crooked windows flanking the room and to the barren plots beyond them. As you can see, our town, Rood, has had better days. It burned down a couple of years ago.

He decided not to divulge any details. Though nothing would damage his credibility more than lying, mentioning the twenty thousand goblins infesting the northern mountains would likely send most of the men scurrying back southward—and Rood needed as many strong hands as it could get.

We want to rebuild, Edmund continued. And we are willing to treat anybody who helps us like nobility. Everybody. If you can work, we want you. And we’re willing to give you what you’ve always dreamed of.

Does that mean—? But the woman was immediately hushed by a man who might have been her husband.

It means—Edmund anticipated the forthcoming reaction—that we’ll g-g-give, we’ll give you land in exchange for hard work.

There was a rumble of disbelief.

Hold on! Hold on! What do you mean, ‘hard work’? one of the laborers repeated skeptically. How long are we going to be indebted to you? I don’t want to be no indentured servant. Not again.

And who are you, anyway? You don’t look like no lord to me.

Edmund adjusted his