Arrows of Revolution (Kingmakers Book 3) Read online

  Published by Raconteur House

  Murfreesboro, TN

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ARROWS OF REVOLUTION

  Final Book of Kingmakers

  A Raconteur House book/ published by arrangement with the author

  Copyright © 2017 by Honor Raconteur

  Cover Design by Katie Griffin

  Archer by Przemyslaw Koch/Shutterstock

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

  Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information address: www.raconteurhouse.com

  Other books by Honor Raconteur

  Published by Raconteur House

  THE ADVENT MAGE CYCLE

  Book One: Jaunten

  Book Two: Magus

  Book Three: Advent

  Book Four: Balancer

  ADVENT MAGE NOVELS

  Advent Mage Compendium

  The Dragon’s Mage

  The Lost Mage

  Warlords Rising

  Warlords Ascending*

  SINGLE TITLES

  Special Forces 01

  The Midnight Quest

  Kingslayer

  THE ARTIFACTOR SERIES

  The Child Prince

  The Dreamer’s Curse

  The Scofflaw Magician

  The Canard Case

  DEEPWOODS SAGA

  Deepwoods

  Blackstone

  Fallen Ward

  Origins

  KINGMAKERS

  Arrows of Change

  Arrows of Promise

  Arrows of Revolution

  GÆLDERCRÆFT FORCES

  Call to Quarters

  *Upcoming

  Today the real test of power is not the capacity to make war but capacity to prevent it.

  — Anne O'Hare McCormick

  Chapter One

  “Which numbskull of an idiot called this meeting?” Edvard demanded. Or it would’ve been a demand if he hadn’t ended the question in a pained groan. He sat hunched forward, head cradled in both hands with the air of a man that was certain if he let go, the supported appendage would fall right off.

  He wasn’t alone. In fact, most of the room suffered from some sort of hangover, and more than one bottle had been passed around, each of them offering the others some medication to help ease them through the morning. The Winter Ball last night had been high in fun and gaiety even though there wasn’t the overabundance of food to be had, but the spirits might have flown a little too freely.

  Riana had never had access to alcohol of any sort growing up. It wasn’t the sort of thing her father had encouraged, either. When living in a completely hostile environment, it’d been necessary to keep their wits about them at all times. Broden had never developed the habit of drinking. Riana had never even been able to step into the pub in Cloud’s Rest without a riot starting, and being in a room full of drunk men had been extremely dangerous for her to begin with. Last night was the first time she’d been offered a glass.

  And she hadn’t much cared for it.

  It was sour and burned her throat. After that first sip, Riana decided that alcohol must be an acquired taste, and she had no desire to acquire it.

  Broden hadn’t drunk anything either, so only the two archers were perfectly clearheaded this morning.

  Edvard tilted his head enough to glare at Broden. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

  “It was no’,” Broden denied pleasantly.

  “You and Riana are the only ones sober,” Edvard argued. “And why is that, anyway?”

  “I like to remember when I have fun,” her father drawled.

  Edvard snorted a laugh, which set his head to aching, and he groaned again. “If it wasn’t the two of you, then who was it?”

  “Me.” Hendrix stepped into the room at a brisk stride, a rolled up map under his arm and a stack of what seemed to be reports under the other. He sat both down on the table with a thump loud enough to make people flinch. Looking about the table, he didn’t seem to have any pity for their plight. “I hope this is the last time people indulge like this until the war is actually won.”

  “Right now I’m swearing I’ll never drink again,” Ash bemoaned against the table top. His forehead had been in contact with the cool surface ever since obeying the summons to the king’s study.

  “Belike they do no’ have enough wine to repeat the experience, lad,” Broden assured the frowning prince in good humor. “Do no’ fret about it much. Now, what be the meeting about?”

  Hendrix spared another dark frown at the table as a whole. Riana had to admit the sight wasn’t one to imbue confidence. Edvard, Ashlynn, Ash and Tierone were all very much the worse off for their partying the night before. Tierone refused to even look up or speak, and with the way he sat in his chair, eyes closed, Riana couldn’t swear he wasn’t already back asleep. Even Troi, sitting next to her, looked a little pale and drawn, and he wasn’t the sort to lose complete control of himself.

  Master Gerrard had been completely unavailable as he had over a dozen of his students to deal with, all of whom had somehow gotten into the alcohol last night and were paying for it this morning. Kirsty was standing in for him during the meeting and while she did not look hung over, she did seem a little under the weather. But then, since she had been one of the diehards that literally danced until dawn, it was no wonder why she was exhausted.

  Seeming to realize the situation wouldn’t improve itself until much later in the day, Hendrix cleared his throat and forged on regardless. “I want to hear the battle plan and use the winter months to start making preparations.”

  Tierone exhaled a sharp breath that sounded suspiciously like a snore and pried one eye open. “We have a plan?”

  “Not one we can agree on,” Edvard denied, rubbing at his temples as if his headache was escalating, which it likely was. “Go back to sleep.”

  Tierone amiably let his eye fall closed and he sank a little further into his chair.

  A tic started jumping near Hendrix’s eye. “You don’t have a plan? You formed a country without a plan on how to deal with Iysh?!”

  “First of all,” Edvard started hotly, only to wince and subside into a volume that wouldn’t split his head open, “I did not plan to rebel against Iysh. Your stupid father forced my hand on that one. Second of all, people assumed that I was forming a country, and they flooded in before I could convince them otherwise. I was forced into making a country, it was not my intention. Third of all…” he trailed off, staring blearily at the ceiling. “Do I have a third point to make?”

  “We don’t have an army?” Ash offered.

  His brother gave him a thankful nod, carefully executed and with much support. “I’ll take that one, that’s a good third point. Hendrix, we’ve been going around in circles on this ever since day one. Iysh outnumbers us a hundred to one, at least, we’d be overwhelmed if they sent a true army against us instead of several battalions. I have no doubt that’s what your brother will spend the winter doing—preparing that army. Aside from strengthening my defenses and doing what I can to weaken their troops, I frankly don’t know what to do.”

  Hendrix gave him the most pensive study in return that Riana had ever seen a human being execute. The prince seemed
to be cataloguing every flaw, every virtue, weighing and shifting all that Edvard was. Even the hungover king seemed to realize that the scrutiny was leading up to something as he dared to lift his head, even dropping a hand, so that he could return Hendrix’s stare frankly.

  What might have been a smile teased up the corners of Hendrix’s mouth. In a quiet tone, Hendrix stated, “You are a capable ruler, Edvard Knolton. If all kings were like you, I doubt we’d have much conflict in the world. But it doesn’t seem like you have much of a head for strategy.”

  “I don’t,” Edvard responded, not a single feather ruffled at this frank appraisal. “I have good people under me that advise me on such matters. Now, Hendrix, I have a feeling that you wanted to see if your plan matched mine. Now that you know I don’t have one, why don’t you share yours?”

  “You’re not much of a strategist,” Hendrix repeated, and this time the smile was obvious, “but you do read people well. You are correct, I wanted to see what your idea was first, and adjust mine to fit accordingly. You asked, when I first came, how I could help? I think the answer just became clear. I will be your strategist.”

  Edvard spread his hand, a noncommittal gesture that inclined the person to believe he was amiable to the idea but not sold on it yet. “Tell me your plan.”

  “You’re right, we can’t win a full-frontal assault from Iysh. They’d overpower our defenses eventually and it would be a complete bloodbath when they did.” Hendrix leaned forward to roll out the map.

  Riana half-stood from her chair to help catch the far edge and pull the fabric straight, which Hendrix thanked her for with a nod.

  “Maddox is as straightforward as a bull,” Hendrix informed the table at large. “He’s a military man at heart, a glory-seeker, and it won’t occur to him to do anything but charge at our front gates with as strong of a force as he can muster in the next two months. The problem will be his younger twin, Savir. The true strategist in my family is Savir. He’s a genius at maneuvering things to go his way. I assure you, if he had been in charge of the first two assaults against you, we would not be having this conversation today.”

  “Why wasn’t he?” Kirsty asked, baffled. “If he’s that good.”

  “My father strangely doesn’t trust his opinion. But then, Father has always seemed to hang all hopes on Maddox for some reason. Savir gets very little chance to put in his opinion with Father, which has cost Iysh in the long run, as Maddox isn’t a very capable ruler. However, the one and only person that Maddox will always listen to is Savir. And that is where our problem truly comes in. If Savir gives Maddox a battle plan, a strategy on how to get around our defenses, then this battle might well become a retreat altogether.” Hendrix tapped the bottom part of Dahl’s territory with three fingers. “Ash, Ashlynn, talk to me about wards. Can we maintain a shield around both Estole’s and Dahl’s borders?”

  “Not for long,” the twins denied in unison. Ashlynn gestured for Ash to go ahead, which he did. “I’m actually the one in charge of defenses, so I’ll answer this. We can for perhaps the space of an afternoon, yes, but it will exhaust the wizards to do it. Part of the challenge is the angles we’ll have to go around. A straight square, line, or ball is by far easier to erect and maintain because it’s a perfect shape. The more angles you add to that, the more complex the spell gets, and the harder to hold.”

  Hendrix drew a line straight across Estole’s border and then carried through the lower third of Dahl’s territory. “A straight line like this, can you hold it?”

  “Well, yes, but…” Ash trailed off with an uncertain look at Tierone, who was sitting next to him.

  Tierone proved that he was not actually sleeping when he opened his mouth and said, “Mostly farmland in that area. Not many houses or people. If I need to, I can evacuate the area in a couple days and while it would be a loss, it won’t be one that impacts us too severely now that we have supplies coming from both Ganforth and Cloud’s Rest.”

  Ashlynn leaned around her brother to demand, “Are you actually napping or not?”

  “Light hurts my eyes,” Tierone explained, not even trying to look. “If you’re asking, Hendrix, if I’m willing to sacrifice a third of my farmland in order to protect my people as a whole, then the answer is yes.”

  Ash seemed a little unhappy with this answer but even he saw the necessity of it. “Then yes, a straight line like that would be much easier to hold. We could probably do it for about three days, but again, that would exhaust us and it would tie up every wizard. We wouldn’t be available to fight.”

  Hendrix let out a thoughtful humming noise. “Not the answer I hoped for, but the answer I did expect. We’ll talk more about this later. For now, let’s focus on the larger scheme of things. What we need to do is delay the army, divert them, and buy me time. Our endgame is this: if we can bankrupt Iysh, then we give the people and the Court the final push it needs to realize that my father and oldest brother are terrible rulers. Once I have them thinking that, I can convince them to put me on the throne instead, overturn my father and his edicts.”

  “What about Prince Savir?” Kirsty objected. “Is he not a contender for the throne?”

  “He abdicated his right to it shortly after the new inheritance law was put into place,” Hendrix informed her. “I think Savir did it on purpose so that no one would pay attention to him. So it’s literally between me and Maddox now.”

  “Ye be that confident that ye will win?” Riana marveled. He seemed so matter of fact about it that she almost bought that statement at face value.

  “I’ve spent five years in the country,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “and I’ve heard every horror story that you can think of about what my family’s done to its own citizens. They always thank me, for being so different from them, and it’s made me believe that all my people are waiting for is a different choice. It’s clear to me that this country is teetering on the edge of a revolution—the reaction to Estole alone illustrates how ready people are to abandon Iysh. If I stood up, asked them if they would support me as king, I have no doubt that I would get a ‘yes.’”

  “You would,” Troi seconded bluntly. “My spies tell me the same thing.”

  “But can you just assume that and move forward?” Edvard wondered aloud, tone indicating he wasn’t expecting an answer immediately, it was more a rhetorical question.

  Hendrix shook his head. “I wouldn’t dare gamble on that. Almost everyone out here knows me, but I want to visit them again, ask for their support.”

  “You’d get it,” Troi assured him. He was braced against the table with both forearms, as if sitting up straight was beyond him, but those grey eyes of his were calm and clear. “Every report I have says that the people prefer you over either of your brothers.”

  “That’s not much of a compliment,” Hendrix sighed, but his expression said he was thankful for Troi’s observation, “considering what my brothers are like. But I think this is our only chance. We must find a way to get me on the throne, to divert the army long enough to do so; otherwise Estole and Dahl won’t have a prayer.”

  Edvard sat up hopefully. “Does that mean we can finally use my idea?”

  Everyone at the table growled at him.

  Hendrix held up a hand and asked the excited king, “What idea?”

  “I want to rob the treasury,” Edvard explained, happy that someone was listening to him after months of being ignored on this topic.

  Hendrix stared thoughtfully at the ceiling for a moment, lips pursed and then nodded once, sharply. “I like it.”

  Several people voiced protests, words overlapping each other so that they couldn’t be distinguished, but their tones enough to carry the message through. Hendrix held up a hand to forestall this. “Wait, I don’t mean an actual robbery, where someone sneaks in and does the deed. The treasury is well guarded and has a vast quantity of money in it. It would be a behemoth task.”

  Edvard actually started pouting. “But you just sa
id—”

  “I meant slowly,” Hendrix explained, “Well, not that slowly, but in increments. There’s several tactics I can think of that will manage it. Troi, as I’m not a master at espionage, tell me: how many men does it take to track down one spy?”

  “The general rule of thumb is, for every man that you have in the field, you must have seven that support him,” Troi responded. “This is true of military and espionage both. If it’s a particularly good spy, then it might take more than that.”

  “Manpower,” Hendrix explained to the table generally, “is the costliest expense of any war. People require lodging, food, clothing, pay, and travel expenditures. The more men that we can force Iysh to employ into the field, the more it empties their coffers, and they don’t have a lot of money to spare right now as it is. Overa’s giving them trouble along the border, which is diverting some of the army and the budget toward the south end. We, of course, are demanding the bulk of the army and if I know Maddox, he’ll want his army equipped well to make this a quick, decisive victory. Troi, your job is to make them deploy as many spies as possible to track down yours, make them think they have a very large infestation in the country to root out.”

  Troi looked sold on this idea, indeed downright gleeful of it, but he turned to his king for permission.

  Edvard still seemed a little put out that he would not be allowed a grand raid into the Iysh treasury but nodded and gave a wave of the fingers. “You have permission to employ a few more. Keep within your budget restraints as much as possible.”

  “Understood, sire. No worries, Prince Hendrix, I can do what you’re asking with ease. It will take a good month to set in place, however.”

  “I didn’t expect anything different. The other thing that I want to do is to start some very costly rumors through you. Say, we’ve hired a mercenary group from Overa and expect them to be here to supplement our own troops.”