A Dream Shrouded in Fury (Rogues of Golthwaine)

Chapter 1 - Jael

Jael

I

The sun hadn’t set that long ago, but I felt like I’d been trapped in the misty darkness for hours. Days. Impatience gnawed at me to get moving, but until our target came into view, all we could do was wait.

“If my source is correct about the number riding with the princess, we’re looking at eight guards,” Zath said. The leader of the Coynfare rebels looked to each of us. “We are twenty-four strong, but they are trained and they are ruthless. You know what the goal is.”

“Slaughter the bitch, leave her carcass to rot in the woods, and blame it on these rotten mortals.” A mad glint shone in Corban’s dark eyes. “Just a shame we can’t drag her back to Soldara, string her up in the square in front of the palace, and watch Leonine lose his fucking mind.”

A few of the rebels shot him a disgusted look, a few others cheered him on, but I kept my face carefully schooled.

As Zath’s second, it wouldn’t benefit me to show my loathing for Corban’s bloodlust. He was here to get the job done, same as the rest of us.

As long as I got what I wanted—King Leonine’s destruction—I didn’t much care how it happened.

Zath turned to the fae woman beside him. “Hethyr, you have the effects we need to leave behind?”

She nodded and patted her satchel. “A torn scrap of cloth that matches the colours of Golthwaine’s soldiers, some Golthwaine-grown tobacco, and the corner of a business card for a popular Golth tavern.”

After we’d learned about Princess Brynna’s planned trip to Golthwaine’s capital, it had taken us months to gather everything we needed.

Fae weren’t common in this country, so we hadn’t been able to come ourselves.

If we’d been noticed, word would have gotten back to Leonine, and he might have suspected someone was working against him.

Instead, we’d tracked down a Golthwainian thug willing to betray their country for a few gold coins.

Six months of preparation for this moment after six years of hard training, waking up before dawn every day and working mind and body to prime myself for any situation.

I’d learned how to fight, how to defend myself, how to kill with a single strike.

I’d learned how to spy, how to weaponize my charm, how to gather and parse through information.

I was far from the dreaming, flirtatious court musician I used to be, and the fault lay solely at Leonine’s door.

Tonight, I would pay him back.

“Perfect,” Zath said to Hethyr. “After we’ve dealt with the princess, you and Pimmin make sure those signs are left in the mud.

Make them look natural. We need Leonine to believe beyond any doubt that his deal with the Golthwainian king went sour and his promised ally is now his enemy.

He’ll declare war to avenge his daughter despite Soldara having no chance of success.

As soon as Leonine shows a moment of weakness, we’ll depose him and install our council.

Freedom is coming to Soldara, my friends, and it starts tonight. ”

Twenty-two Coynfare rebels threw their fists in the air, while Zath and I watched on.

“You all know your places,” he continued. “Strongest fighters in front, archers in range. Keep the soldiers busy while I go for the princess.”

She was travelling by carriage, so she’d be insulated from the worst of the fighting.

Getting to her would be no easy task, but I believed Zath could do it.

He’d created the Coynfare eleven years ago and had trained most of the rebels who’d joined the cause.

An ex-soldier himself, he understood how the guard worked, giving him the best shot at manipulating their weaknesses.

“Corban, you stay close to me,” he said. “As soon as they see where I’m heading, they’ll target me. I need you to have my back.”

Corban bared his teeth. “Gladly.”

Zath nodded and looked at me. “Jael, I need you to lead the others in my stead. Focus on the guards and stop the carriage from progressing.”

I dipped my chin in acknowledgement.

“Everyone else, keep an eye on Jael and, when you can, share your magic with him. Staying shrouded will give us our best chance at keeping the guard on their toes.”

I gritted my teeth at his insistence on reminding everyone that my own magic was gone, another victim of Leonine’s cruelty. It was a loss I’d come to terms with years ago, but Zath persisted in reopening the wound believing he was helping.

He clapped me on the shoulder, then gave me a slight shove towards the overgrown trail where the carriage would soon appear. We’d moved far enough away so as not to be seen or overheard, but if everything was on schedule, we wouldn’t be waiting much longer.

“All right, everyone. Foighal no Soldara!”

Freedom for Soldara, the rallying cry of the Coynfare.

The others repeated the words like a solemn oath, but I kept my voice silent. For me, tonight had little to do with my country and everything to do with putting my nightmares to rest.

In a crouch, I hurried out from behind the trees and took my place on the other side of the trail.

I tugged the hood of my cloak over my eyes and my mask up over my nose to keep out the mist that wisped across my brow, then checked my fae-made daggers at my hip.

The darkness was almost absolute, and to anchor myself, I kept my gaze fixed on the gleam of moonlight that came and went with the shifting clouds.

Our reason for being here tonight had been my driving motivation for six years.

I needed Leonine to suffer as I had suffered.

As so many of us had. Eight years under his thumb, my body and soul slowly crushed until both had been too beaten to continue.

Once, I had been an acclaimed musician, my life filled with parties, women, and song, but my king had cut into my skin until my passion, my music, my magic had withered into nonexistence.

I’d managed to escape the palace, and Zath had found me.

He’d taken what was left of me and moulded me into a fighter, someone willing to put everything on the line for Soldara’s future.

I was a shadow of the man I used to be, but I would show the king that shadows could prove lethal.

The sound of carriage wheels rolling over dirt caught my ear, and I braced my feet on the earth, ready to run.

Up ahead, I spotted Zath peering from around a tree.

He turned and met my eye, nodded once, then pulled his light magic inwards, fading into the night.

From where I stood, I watched Dal and Breccan do the same, while I buried myself under my black hood, relying on the darkness and heavy cloud cover to keep me hidden.

A bobbing lantern came into view, reflecting light off the large white carriage pulled by four Soldaran horses. I sent a silent prayer to the sky for success, then slipped out from behind my cover and charged.

The others fell into step with me, moving quickly and quietly—but not quickly and quietly enough.

A sharp cry halted the carriage, and the eight soldiers, four on each side, fell into formation. Their armour caught the thin moonbeams that snuck out from behind the clouds, and I followed the shine of their bared swords as they prepared to strike.

The Coynfare archers released their arrows, and the blackened shafts pierced the night.

Only one struck true, but it was victory enough for us.

Twenty-four against seven were odds we relished.

I drew my daggers and closed in on the nearest soldier.

He spotted me and raised his sword before I got close, but I ducked beneath his arm and slid my dagger between the slats behind his knee.

He went down, and by the time he changed tactics, I was gone and he had an arrow in his throat.

Sweat and mist dripped over my face as I wove through the guards, and I savoured the discomfort. I was alive, which was more than I could say for Princess Brynna once we finished here.

Every once in a while, a chill ran down my back as one of the other rebels threw the shroud of their light magic over me, absorbing me into their shadows, but eventually the chaos was too frantic for anyone to keep track of anyone else.

A sword swung towards my neck, and I dropped to the ground to avoid the blow. As I did, a boot came up and landed in my ribs. The crack of bone echoed in my ears and the air burst from my lungs with a shot of pain. I rolled away from the guard and pushed myself to my feet.

“Out of the way, ledsha,” Corban barked before he shoved me to the side and swung his sword into the guard’s neck.

I looked around, and my first smile of the night formed beneath my mask.

More than half the guards had fallen for nearly as many as ours, and Zath had almost reached the carriage door.

We were doing it. Against all the odds, the Coynfare rebels were about to end the line of the Soldaran monarchy and ruin the life of the fae who’d ruined mine.

Shouts floated over the ebbing cacophony of battle, and I lurched around in horror as another unit of city guards—at least a dozen—tore up the road. We weren’t prepared for them. They were rested and ready for this fight, and our numbers were nowhere near enough to stand against them.

I raised my daggers and found my footing, wheezing through the agony in my side.

The carriage rolled forward, taking the princess away.

Zath’s grip around the door handle was tight, but a royal guard leapt on top of the carriage and swung her blade downwards, severing Zath’s hand at the wrist. He fell back, just missing being run over by the wheel, and a city guard drove his sword through the rebel leader’s heart.

Corban roared and chased after the carriage, but in his haste to get to the princess, he missed a royal guard coming up on his left. I yelled for him to watch out, but the warning had barely fallen from my lips when the guard’s sword spitted him through the chest.

A noise to my left made me turn away from the gore, and I caught the shine of moonlight-kissed steel before it slid through my gut.

The grind of metal against bone when he pulled the blade free sent colours shooting through my view.

I collapsed to my knees in the mud, then onto my back.

Blood rose up my throat, choking me with its heavy, metallic flavour.

The royal guard stood over me and spat. “Good riddance, cockroach,” he said in rough Soldaran. “We start with you, but when we return home, we’ll stamp out every last one of you bugs.”

He slammed the heel of his foot into my side, and my vision went black.

Death had finally come for me, and my rage at having failed to destroy Leonine was matched only by my relief that everything was over.

The emptiness—the chill—that had lived inside me could fade, and maybe in the afterlife I would hear the music that had once brought my soul to life, the melodies that had abandoned me years ago.