The Last Hope: The Sevordine Chronicles, #4

By Shawn P. B. Robinson

In the riveting fourth book in the Sevordine Chronicles, Caric, Ellcia, and Hemot embark on a mission shrouded in secrecy and danger. With a deadline fast approaching, they navigate the perilous challenge of infiltrating a city under lockdown and breaching a fortress ruled by a murderous tyrant.

 

In a world where their every move could mean the difference between success and failure, the trio's only hope is to remain unseen.

 

Prepare for an edge-of-your-seat adventure where alliances are forged in secrecy, betrayals linger in the air, and the fate of the realm hinges on the daring efforts of three unlikely heroes. Will they emerge triumphant from the shadows, or will the weight of their task prove too much to bear? But even with all the threats they face, they still have one thing working in their favor: no one looks for the dead.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shawn P. B. Robinson
• Release date: May 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9781989296707

Book preview

The Beginning of the End

Icalm my breathing as I stare out at the waves. The bitter wind bites into my skin, but my clothes are warm. Besides, my time here has taught me how to handle the cold.

After spending months working on a boat out at sea, shivering and doing everything I can to stay warm, the wind now feels good on my face. It helps keep me focused.

In my right hand is a piece of paper. I’ve read it a dozen times or more. Ellcia is right. It’s our marching orders—I’m sure of it. But it’s not as clear as I would like.

Hemot is traumatized by the note. No, not traumatized. Angry. Upset. Scared. Just a whack of not-good emotions coming from that guy right now.

It’s no wonder, considering…

The great thing about the wind coming off the ocean is I can no longer hear Hemot back in the village. I expect he’s still yelling.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Someone’s approaching from behind, but everyone in this village can be trusted. They are loyal and kind.

Whoever it is sits down beside me. I hope it’s Ellcia. I’d like to spend time with her. We haven’t had a chance to talk. Now that I’ve told her how I feel, I only want to talk about that.

The smell, however, tells me it’s not Ellcia. That’s the smell of a large man who works on a boat.

Without opening my eyes, I acknowledge my visitor. Nordin.

Prince Draydon.

I open my eyes and smile. I don’t really like the name Draydon. I prefer Caric, but Draydon is my given name and likely the one I will have to rule with. In fact, it’s time. It’s time to give up being Caric, and take up who I truly am.

You’re calling me by my royal name. That must mean you believe the secrecy is gone.

Nordin chuckles to himself. For now, at least. I don’t know what’s on that little piece of paper in yar hands, but I suspect it’s what’s gotten young Hemot all worked up and what’s caused Ellcia to retreat into the kitchen to work. She won’t talk, she just scrubs pots like each one needs to be taught a lesson. He takes a deep breath and lets it’s out slowly. It’s time for ya to return to the castle, isn’t it?

I nod. We have to reach the castle sometime in the next month. I just don’t know if we have a week, two weeks, or the full thirty days.

Do ya want to show me what’s on the paper?

I hand it to him, and he unfolds it. He clears his throat and then reads, On behalf of the Kingdom of Sevord and on behalf of the Lord Yune and the Lady Aldora, the… Nordin shakes his head. I’m sorry, my Prince, but I’m not good at reading this formal print. It’s like they try their best to make it confusing.

I smile again and take the note back. That’s okay, Nordin. I’ve spent a lot of time reading it. It’s a wedding announcement and invitation. Prince Roran and Lady Marleet, Lord Yune’s daughter, are to be wed in thirty days.

Nordin nods slowly, and the two of us stare out at the sea. After a while, he says, That seems like just regular information about a couple Nobles to me. Not marching orders. So, there must be something about the wedding that’s a problem.

I chuckle. You could say that.

What is it?

That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I try to piece together my thoughts and lay them out for my friend and mentor. Marleet would not willingly marry Roran—that much I know for sure. So, that means either we have to rescue Marleet to get her out of the situation, or the wedding is just a ploy by Parthun to kill both Marleet and Roran. Either way, we must get to the castle and get her out.

Why ya?

I shake my head. What do you mean?

Why ya? Why not Captain Tilbur? Why can’t someone else get her out of the castle?

That’s one of the things I like about Nordin. He asks the most obvious questions, but ones I miss all the time. I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure this is what we’re supposed to do.

We have well over a hundred that can fight, Nordin explains. A hundred and seventy, to be exact. We can be ready to move at yar command.

My mouth drops open. A hundred and seventy… to fight?

He nods. Well, we have more, but to protect the children, some need to remain behind. The women of our village do not typically go to war, but over the last couple months, we’ve been training them as we’ve known we need as many hands as possible. I’ve counted up those who can fight, considering how many we need to care for the children, the sick, and the elderly as they will be left behind. That gives us one hundred and seventy. Understand that in our village, no one under the age of sixteen goes to battle, so there are a few who might be able to fight, but they are too young—although do not doubt their loyalty to ya, Prince Draydon.

Gratitude floods my heart. I know I can count on my friends here. But I also can’t risk them just yet.

Nordin, this mission won’t be won with numbers, but with stealth. We will not be able to storm the castle or force our way in without… well… many will die. But if we can sneak in, we might rescue Marleet without any blood spilled at all.

Nordin puts his big hand on my shoulder. He’s done that a few times over the months, and it always makes me feel like he’s proud of me. And it makes me feel really small. That’s one meaty hand!

Then, my dear Prince, we will continue to train. If ya so desire, we will also send word to Shizzer, just to the north of us. They are loyal to ya, although they don’t know about ya yet. I will visit them and speak with a man there whom I often have dealings with. They will stand by ya as well. They are a larger village than we are. I expect they’ll be able to train well over two hundred. Many of their men have fought under yar father. Nordin drops his hand back to his lap and stares out at the sea. His voice comes out a little quieter as he says, I never wanted to fight in another war, but I believe it’s coming. And we will stand by ya, Prince Draydon.

I want to tell him that I don’t want to risk his life or people, but I also know that we cannot sit and do nothing. If I’ve learned one thing over the last while, it’s that a King must lead with all he has. There’s always risk, but risk must be taken for the sake of the Kingdom.

Thank you, Nordin. I see why General Lirnal spoke so highly of your people. I pause for a bit and add, As for Shizzer, yes, please send word. We might need them soon.

Nordin smiles back at me. When do ya leave, Yar Majesty?

I step down from the rock and turn to face him. I feel the resolve flood through me. As soon as we can.

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Ahhh!

I spin around in time to see Hemot’s pack fly across the room. It slams into the wall, and lands on our bed. Some of the stuff inside spills out and drops onto the floor.

Hemot, calm down.

But she’s getting married!

I’m feeling frustrated as well, but not with the wedding. I’m upset with Hemot. He just won’t focus.

Look, I get that you’re upset. But that’s what we’re doing! We’re going to rescue her.

He turns to me, and I step back. The look in his eyes is not just anger, it’s hatred.

You don’t get it, do you, Caric.

I’m Draydon now. I say, earning me a surprised look, but then I ask, Get what, Hemot?

What if she wants to marry him?

I grumble and shake my head. We’ve been over this, Hemot. She won’t marry him. That’s all there is to it.

He grinds his teeth and clenches his fists. And what if that’s all changed? What if she isn’t interested in me anymore? What if Roran’s it?

I do something I’ve never done before. I don’t normally act this way, but this is just driving me nuts. I punch Hemot in the chest, and he stumbles back.

Enough with the drama! Get a grip, Hemot. I don’t want to spend our entire trip back to Sevord City listening to you complain. We’re going to rescue Marleet. That’s a good thing. Focus on that.

Hemot looks at me in shock. I guess it’s been a lot of years since we’ve wrestled, and I’m not really one to punch people—especially when I’m angry.

Can I punch you back?

What? Punch me back? That’s what you took from what just happened? You think this is just a fight?

Yeah. I just figured we were now punching each other.

Okay, maybe hitting you wasn’t the best move. I’m sorry. It’s just I want this angry moping to stop.

Hemot frowns and moves over to his bag. He goes back to packing but goes at it like he’s mad at the stuff he’s taking with him.

When we’re finished, we’re both wearing our traveling clothes, our armor, and our packs. Hemot also has Marleet’s sword and pack.

We head downstairs and are met by Nordin’s wife, Hella. She has her typical sweet smile and gives each of us a hug. I don’t remember my mom all that well, but if she was anything like Hella, I was the luckiest little boy in the world.

She points Hemot toward the common room, and he moves off in that direction. For the last couple months, everyone’s been pretending that we’re just a few extra workers in town, but judging from the cheer I hear when Hemot enters the common room, I think they’re starting to treat us as something more.

You, young man, have a Lady to speak to.

I raise my eyebrows and am about to ask what she means, when she shoves me into the kitchen, closing the door behind me.

No one else is in the room, aside from Ellcia. Nordin was right. She’s really going at those pots. I think the one she’s working on is already clean. But it’s clearly going to get cleaner.

I move over to her side. Ellcia.

She doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t even look at me. Yes, Ric?

Ric is the nickname they gave me over the last couple months, just to help disguise me. Ellcia was Cia, and Hemot was Mot. Not very creative, but it worked.

Are you okay?

Fine.

Are you mad at me?

Nope.

Are you lying?

Nope.

I’m not really sure what to do with all that.

I reach over and put my hand on hers. She stops her attempt to scrub through the bottom of the current pot. I suspect that piece of iron has never been so clean.

What’s wrong, Ellcia.

She just stares at the pot. I think if I let go of her hand, she’s going to go at it again.

Is it because of what you said when Tilbur was here?

Her face goes beet red, and she presses her lips together. That’s it.

I pull her around to face me. She just stares at my chest. I guess that’s better than nothing.

I don’t know about you, but I’m glad it happened.

She takes a sharp breath, but she’s not mad. You are?

I am. I glance back toward the door to make sure we’re alone. I’ve been keeping that inside for far too long. Now that you know how I feel, I feel free. I feel like we have something special—more than what we had before.

The side of her mouth twists up in what appears to be a smile that she can’t keep inside.

But… I say.

The smile disappears. She looks me in the eye. But what?

I close my eyes. I know what I have to say. But it’s likely going to cost me what I want most. I take a deep breath, open my eyes, and dive in. We both know I don’t really have a choice now. I’m pretty sure that I have to be King. I think since Roran abdicated the throne, we won’t be able to get him on it—even if we break him of his spell.

She nods.

That means, then, that… I clear my throat. I know I’m just stalling. "Ellcia, I want to marry you one day. But I know you don’t want to be royalty. You really don’t. Neither do I, but that’s the path I’m on now. It’s just a matter of time before I have to lay my claim for the throne. I’m… what I’m asking is… well…"

She smiles. That puts me at ease. Are you asking me if I would be your… Her face goes pale, and she stops. Apparently, it’s just as awkward for her.

I blurt it out. I want you to be my Queen. But I know what that will cost you. When the day comes, will you still want me?

She smiles again. I will. I know you don’t want to be King, and you know I don’t want to be Queen. We’ll both take what we don’t want, the throne, to get what we do want, each other.

Then you’ll be my Queen?

If you’ll be my King.

Both of us are grinning, and I find myself starting to laugh when Ellcia’s detail-mind kicks in. Oh no! I haven’t packed! We’re supposed to be leaving soon, right?

No worries, my dear! Hella says as she opens the door. I already packed everything for you.

I frown. You were listening at the door?

She gives me a dismissive wave. Of course I was, Your Majesty. I’m not going to miss something like this.

She hefts Ellcia’s pack onto a counter and starts stuffing food inside. I left Hemot’s food supplies in the other room so he could pack and give the two of you some privacy.

But you didn’t think we needed privacy from you? I ask.

Oh, I don’t count. She smiles sweetly at me as she slides a bag of food my way.

I shake my head but start stuffing the food into my pack. We’re going to need a lot as it’s quite a hike to get to the castle.

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Out in the street, the entire town has assembled to see us off. I’m a little nervous about that as it was only yesterday that Tilbur and his men were here. If one of his men is traveling through this way right now, they’ll see us and see the way the townspeople are acting…

Nordin and Relin come up to me and Hella steps up to Ellcia. The woman wraps her arms around Ellcia and gives her a big hug. Nordin, then Relin do the same to me.

When they’re done, Hemot growls, And me?

"We wouldn’t forget ya, Relin cries out with tears in his eyes, and then wraps his arms around Hemot. He hugs for a long time. Long enough that Hemot appears to be rethinking his desire for a hug. When he finishes, Nordin hugs him as well, lifting Hemot right off the ground.

Once he drops Hemot, Nordin comes back to me. Speaking loud enough for everyone in the crowd to hear, he hollers, Prince Draydon! Ya have the loyalty of every man, woman, and child in Nimville. Godspeed to ya as you head back to Sevord. I don’t know what awaits ya there, but if ya need us, ya have only to call.

Everyone goes silent, and I nod. They remain silent. I nod again. They’re still not saying anything. I feel awkward.

Ellcia hisses in my ear, Say something!

Oh, right! Turning to Nordin, I loudly call out, Thank you, Nordin, son of… I shouldn’t have started down this road. I have no idea what his dad’s name was.

Nordin’s eyes shift around, and he whispers, Pickle. My pa’s name was Pickle.

Pickle? I whisper back. Are you serious? When he looks at me with confusion, I continue. Thank you, Nordin, son of… I shake my head, Pickle. I know that if I take the throne, I have your loyalty. And as Nimville is there for me, the throne will be there for you. If you are in need, all you will ever have to do is call.

Nordin smiles back at me, and Hella gives me a nod as if to say, Good job. I can’t help but smile back.

Once we’ve said goodbye to a few more people, we head out.

It’s time to head back home. I don’t know what awaits us there, but we have to do all we can to rescue Marleet.

The Hope Grows

The next day, we make our way through Deliver.

On the way through a couple months ago, we avoided all the port towns, but this time, we’re planning to walk through them.

It’s more curiosity than anything. I want to see what other towns are like and how they’re handling the news of Parthun’s rise to the throne and demand for everyone’s allegiance.

But there’s more to it than that. I feel… responsible.

These are my people. Really MY people. I’m going to be their King one day, if I can claim the throne without getting killed, that is. I need to know what they’re like and what they’re going through. I have to know my people if I’m to be a better ruler than Parthun.

When we enter the town, I’m surprised to see…

Hmm… it’s just not what I expected.

Everyone looks angry at us, Ellcia whispers.

Like they wish we’d never come, Hemot adds.

I examine all the people within sight. It’s not anger.

What do you mean? Hemot asks.

It’s suspicion. I shake my head. Look at them! They don’t trust us. They see us as a threat.

Ellcia leans in close. What do we do?

I scan the area. The village is about the same size as Nimville. Maybe fewer people, but it’s spread out over a larger area. We stop in for a meal.

Ellcia grips my arm tightly. I don’t think that’s a good idea.

It’s necessary, I say. I know there’s risk, but I have to know my people. I have to know what’s got them all spooked.

We head to the common room of the inn. Just like Nimville, this common room is bright and cheery. Unlike Nimville, the people inside aren’t laughing. While those outside seemed suspicious, the ones inside are downright angry.

It’s only mid-day, so most of the men are gone. I assume they’re out on the boats. Only about eight or ten men sit at three tables on the far side of the room.

A woman, about the same age as Hella, but far less happy, approaches. In a voice that sounds like she’s trying really hard to be cheerful, she asks, Welcome to Deliver. It’s always good to have visitors. What can I get you to eat?

We’d like something warm, I say. It’s a chilly day out there.

She smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. I’ll get you all fixed up, young man, she says and bustles off toward the kitchen.

Wait! I call out, and she comes back. I motion for her to come a bit closer, and she leans in. If she’s anything like Hella, this woman is likely the most influential woman in the entire town and the most well-informed. We just came from Nimville. Why is everyone here in Deliver so… I look around at the men. They’ve stopped talking with one another, and they’re watching me like a hawk. I turn back to the woman. Why is everyone here so angry and suspicious?

She comes in even closer, and her eyes fill with hate. We just had our world torn apart, young man, and then were forced to swear allegiance to a traitor. If you’re from Nimville as you say, then you should know exactly what’s spoiled our pudding!

I’ve never heard that pudding saying before, but I get the idea. What’s your name?

My name’s Merka. Short for Merkabellawonterin.

I see why she shortened it. Merka, I whisper, My name’s Caric. We’ve been in Nimville for a while. We weren’t born there. But we were there when the soldiers came through, led by Captain Tilbur. The people of Nimville have gone through the same thing, but they are happy and cheerful. What’s happened here?

She looks at me with suspicion, but I know what it is. There is a big difference between these two villages. One had us. One had the future King in their midst. Nimville had hope.

But Deliver has none.

The woman shakes her head, gives no answer, and storms off. I turn to the men on the side of the room. Two of them grip their knives. They really hate us.

Stay here, I whisper to Ellcia and Hemot.

Ellcia’s eyes go wide, and she shakes her head. I put my hand on her arm and tell her it’ll be okay before grabbing my chair and dragging it over to the men.

They look like they’re about to stand up to meet me, but the chair changes things. They know I’m coming to chat.

I drop it down in front of them and sit. And wait.

The eyes of all the men are on me, and I examine each one in turn. Not one drops his gaze from me as I return it.

When I’ve looked over each of the men, I decide to take the risk.

My name is Caric, I say with confidence. My loyalty is to the throne of Sevord and to the proper line, the line of King Hartor and his son first. Since Prince Roran has abdicated the throne, the next in line is called to rule. That… I pause… this is where it gets awkward. That is… my loyalty is not with Parthun. The next in line to the throne is General Geran’s son, Draydon.

I’ve taken a terrible risk. If the men are loyal to Parthun, and they attack, I’m finished. I’ll never get my sword out in time, and Hemot and Ellcia will not overpower ten men used to hard work in harsh conditions.

The men continue to stare at me, but their expressions have changed. There’s still anger there among some of them, but there’s confusion mixed with a… softening.

Those are traitor’s words, one of the men in the back says. We could kill you right now for saying that.

I nod and give a smile. But you won’t.

And why won’t we? the man asks, before picking up his drink and taking a sip.

We’ve just spent the last two months working in Nimville with Nordin and Hella. At the mention of their names, the men perk up, and I see some more suspicion slide away. They’ve gone through all you’ve gone through, but they are happy.

The men frown, and I put up my hands.

There’s a reason why they are happy.

Why’s that?

Because… they are not only loyal to the throne like Deliver is loyal to the throne, but they also have hope. I think if you were loyal to Parthun here in this village, you would be happy as he’s taken the throne. The fact that you’re angry and full of suspicion and look at us like we’re invaders tells me that your entire world has turned upside down. You feel betrayed, correct?

A few of the men slowly nod, but they don’t give any more of a response. I wait, until finally one of the men asks, Why do they have hope?

Because, I begin, and let my smile grow, the son of Geran lives.

The man closes to me grips the handle of his knife. You’re a liar!

I shake my head. Nope. I feel like I should have given a better response, but it was all that came to mind. I can’t imagine the look on Ellcia’s face right now. I don’t dare glance back. She won’t be pleased.

The man who called me a liar leans forward. Give me your hand.

That… makes me nervous. I am about to ask why, when the men grab me and throw me to the floor. Next thing I know, I’m pinned to the ground, and my right arm is stretched out to the side. They’re prying my fingers open, and I see a flash of a blade.

Panic fills my heart. I think they’re going to cut off my hand!

I hear Ellcia and Hemot struggle. Past the men holding me down, I catch sight of them. One man has his arms tightly wrapped around Ellcia, and two men hold down Hemot. He’s given them quite a fight. Two months on a fishing boat changes a guy.

Wait! I holler. What are you doing?

I feel the blade on the tips of my fingers. I struggle, but I fear if I struggle too much, the knife will cut.

Let him up, one of the men says. He’s telling the truth.

The men climb off me, and I retreat to Ellcia and Hemot. I don’t know what’s going on now, but then again, I rarely do.

The man who called me a liar comes up to me. He nods at each of us before saying, You have been working on a boat, that much is true. Your hands look like you’re about two months in.

I nod back at him. I’m sure my face is sending a clear message of how scared I am.

If you’re telling the truth about working on a boat, maybe you’re telling the truth about all of it.

I wait, expecting more. But… that’s it. There’s no more coming from him.

I am telling the truth about Geran’s son, Draydon. He survived.

How?

He survived in the castle. The Regent kept him on as a servant, and Draydon had no idea he was anything more than a servant for eleven years. Now he’s learned the truth, escaped the castle, and he’ll soon be ready to claim the throne. He will soon remove the traitor Parthun.

The men growl. Where is he? If he lives, he has our loyalty, but where is he?

I examine the men. Off to my left, Merka and a few ladies have entered the room. The expressions on their faces match their crossed arms.

Did the men of this village not fight in the Battle of Reber’s Gate?

Of course we did! one