IRON BREAKERS

STAG'S RUN

BY
ZAYA FELI

Copyright 2016 by Zaya Feli
Published by Zaya Feli at Smashwords
Cover art and illustrations 2016 by Zaya Feli

Second Edition published June 2017

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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.

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Acknowledgements

List of Characters

Connect with Zaya Feli

CHAPTER ONE

“Cut it off on the left. Hurry!”

The boar thundered through the undergrowth, two horses close behind it, their tails streaming with their speed. Heat radiated off Ren's grey mare as he reined her to the side, into the path of the boar. The beast turned onto a narrow forest trail and Ren pulled his horse around it to cut it off before it could escape. He ducked his head under low branches, startling a flock of birds that darted from the trees as he raced past. Trees and branches whipped past and gave way to a sunlit clearing as they galloped over the ridge.

Ren hefted his spear. The boar was right in front of him. He had a clear shot. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Hellic's horse clear the trees behind them.

Ren lowered his weapon and pushed his mare harder, both of them panting as they sped past the boar, forcing it to stop and turn back towards the horse and rider behind it.

The beast was small, half the size of the larger breeds that roamed these woods, but it was fast and its tusks were sharp. It turned, seemed to size up the other horse, its path blocked in both directions. A second passed in which it seemed to decide whether to charge or run.

It charged.

“Hellic, now!” Ren shouted, forcing his horse in close, a tight grip on his spear in case Hellic missed his shot.

Hellic's aim was true. The spear went deep. Hellic's horse stomped its hooves and tossed its head as he pushed with all his weight against the end of the spear. Finally, the boar went still and sank to its knees. A beautiful, swift kill.

“Excellent,” Ren exclaimed, leaning sideways in the saddle to grip and shake Hellic's shoulder in excitement. “Look at those tusks.”

Hellic beamed with pride and patted his gelding on the neck. “It's going to taste amazing slow-roasted.” His smile was wide, but then it faded and he dragged his eyes from the boar to meet Ren's gaze with a guilty expression. “Sorry. I'll stop talking about it.”

Ren shook his head, bringing his horse to a stop next to Hellic's before sliding out of the saddle. “It's all right. I just can't believe King Callun is sending me away,” he said, unable to keep all the disappointment out of his voice. “I mean, a trade meeting? Really? Fishing rights can't possibly be that important.” Ren grabbed the boar by the tusks, lifting his head up to inspect where Hellic's spear had gone through. Through the neck and straight into the chest.

Hellic dismounted and knelt next to him. “We can celebrate when you get back,” he said. “Just the two of us. Wine, good food, slaves.” Hellic offered him a smile and Ren mirrored it. He didn't want to be the one to ruin the mood.

Hellic let himself drop back onto the grass, folding his legs. “It should be you on the throne. I don't feel ready for it. You're the oldest.”

Ren stood, retrieved a cloth from one of his saddle bags and handed it to Hellic so he could wipe his spear clean of blood. Raising his hand to his lips, he took a deep breath and whistled. “Nobody wants a bastard for a king,” Ren reminded him, holding a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun, scanning the treeline. “And I have no complaints about that. Kingship sounds like an awful lot of work. You like hard work, don't you? You'll be a great king.” Ren smirked at Hellic and the younger boy rolled his eyes.

From between the trees, a third horse and rider appeared.

“Niklas, over here,” Ren called, waving a hand in the air. The rider waved back and steered his horse towards them.

“Whoa, what a beast,” Niklas said as he approached, leaning over the side of his saddle to take a closer look at the boar. A wide smile deepened the dimples in his cheeks. “Who took it down?”

“I did,” Hellic said. He pushed to his feet and seemed to grow several inches from sheer pride.

Ren smiled to himself at the sight of it, patting Hellic on the shoulder. “All right, let's get it home before we give your father another set of worry wrinkles.”

Together, they lifted the boar onto the back of Niklas' horse. Niklas retrieved lengths of rope from his bags and Ren helped him tie the slain boar to the saddle.

“It's heavier than it looks,” Niklas groaned, tugging on the ropes to make sure the boar would stay in place. The comment, Ren noticed, only seemed to make Hellic stand taller.

With the boar occupying Niklas' saddle, he and Ren rode together on Ren's mare. The ride back was uncharacteristically quiet. Ren's thoughts kept circling back to the party he would miss and the half day of sea travel ahead of him. The last time he had been on a boat, he had sworn to never do it again. Or at least, to abstain from eating an entire roast chicken before boarding. It hadn't tasted nearly as good on the way up.

Niklas' patience only lasted as far as to the dirt track leading the way back towards the city. “Hey,” he said, leaning over to try and catch Hellic's gaze and almost dragging Ren out of the saddle with him. “Cheer up, birthday boy. The party is going to be great and you just took down the king of the forest. Why are you two acting like someone just died?” He poked Ren in the ribs.

Ren couldn't help but smile at the comment, batting Niklas' hand away. The dwarf boar was hardly the king of the forest.

Hellic flushed and nudged his horse to keep it from lagging behind. “Why do you think the Skarlan king wants to come to my birthday celebration?” he asked, a strand of dark hair falling over his eyes as he let his head hang. “They don't like us and we definitely don't like them.”

Ren tried for an encouraging smile. “You're turning twenty. That's a big deal. You could legally become king, now. I guess it makes sense for royal families to visit each other for such occasions,” he said, not entirely sure if he believed his own theory.

“A king needs a queen,” Hellic said darkly.

The terrain sloped downwards. Around them, forest birds sang heartily, completely unfazed by their prince's sour mood.

Niklas laughed. “Such optimism. I thought you liked women.”

“I do,” Hellic protested. “But haven't you heard what the court has been whispering? They say the Skarlan king wants to offer his daughter to me. I don't want to marry a Skarlan.” Hellic's face twisted into a grimace.

“Calm down,” Ren said, turning his horse down the trail that led back to the city. “Your father will never marry you to a Skarlan. He hates them as much as anyone.”

“I hope you're right.”

Ren was about to speak again when the blare of a horn tore through the silence, deep and mournful. They all stopped and listened.

“Here, take the reins,” Ren said, passing them back to Niklas before he swung his leg over his mare's neck and dropped onto the ground.

Heading for a collection of large rocks, Ren leapt onto the lowest one, placed his right foot in a crevice, and dragged himself higher until he had a clear view of the valley that stretched out before them. Holding up a hand to shield his eyes from the sharp, early morning sun, he looked out over the city below.

The forest path wound its way to the city of Aleria and the castle within its walls that seemed to shine with a golden glow in the sunlight. To the south lay the royal highway, the main traffic route to and from the capital of Frayne, fringed by neatly kept beech trees and surrounded by green hills.

Even from this distance, Ren could see the grey and silver banners with the howling wolf crest snapping in the wind. Lines of guards riding in formation boxed in what Ren could only assume was the Skarlan king and his daughter riding in the centre. They weren't in a carriage as was the Fraynean custom, but on horses of their own, followed by yet more guards and several supply wagons. They moved towards Aleria like a colony of ants, the horses kicking up clouds of dust that settled on the wheat fields around them.

Ren ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath, a brisk breeze tugging on his dark green hunting jacket.

“What can you see?” Niklas shouted up at him.

Leaning over the edge of the steep rock, Ren peered over the edge. Niklas and Hellic looked small below. “Trouble,” he called back.

* * *

“They're early,” Hellic noted, voice tense.

People bowed respectfully as they rode past farms and fields and through the golden city gates. The Fraynean guards in gold and white saluted their crown prince and the queen's bastard, but neither Hellic nor Ren paid them any mind. The white banners with the golden stag's head, Frayne's royal crest, billowed in the wind all along the wide street that led up to the castle gates.

“It's a long journey from Iskaal to Aleria. Maybe they were just eager for some good food and soft beds,” Ren said with a shrug.

In front of them, people moved out of their way, steering horses and carriages off the road. Men and women bowed deeply and children hung out of windows to wave at them as they rode past. Ren offered them joyful smiles and blew a young girl a kiss that made her blush bright red and flee back into her house. The friendly attention of the crowd and their softly muttered well-wishes almost made Ren forget about his own displeasure at missing the party. Bastard or not, Aleria loved all of their young, royal stags, even if Ren's golden hair and light blue eyes made him stand out from the rest of the family. Still, there was a certain apprehension in the gathered crowd. In the hundreds of years since the war began, no member of the Skarlan royal family had set foot within the walls of the city without a sword in hand.

“I bet King Halvard wants to talk wedding arrangements with Father before the party,” Hellic said, visibly shivering.

Ren couldn't help but feel a sting of sympathy for him. Hellic was bright, smart, and kind. His twentieth birthday was a major affair and Ren had looked forward to celebrating him with the rest of the city all year. King Callun's decision to send Ren off to negotiate trade agreements with the lord of the Isle of Moraen had come completely out of the blue three weeks ago. Ren had been outraged. He could negotiate trades any other day of the year; there was no reason for it to be on his brother's birthday. But the king had been adamant, and no matter what Ren said, he wouldn't budge. It felt like a punch in the face. Ren had searched his memory for anything he might have done to anger the king, but could think of nothing. Now, Hellic had to face their unpleasant guests from the neighbouring country without Ren at his back. Ren couldn't think of a worse way to celebrate a birthday.

“I don't know why Father even let them come,” Hellic continued sourly, ignoring the people around them calling out congratulations and praising them on their impressive kill. The streets of the upper district had been lavishly decorated. Gold and white ribbons cascaded down the front of buildings and flowers bobbed in bowls of water on stairs and doorsteps. The large, open space surrounding Frayne's old, circular sanctuary building that on any other day was the scene of the city's largest marketplace, had been vacated, swept and tidied.

“I don't think you can really turn down a king,” Ren said, smiling at a woman holding up her young daughter who waved both hands in the air in greeting.

“Father is a king, too!”

From behind Ren, Niklas laughed. “You don't want to start another Frayne-Skarlan war over a birthday invitation, do you?”

Whatever Hellic was going to say in answer was cut off when a massive chestnut war horse came down the street towards them and stopped in their path, its hoof beats loud against the cobblestones.

Berin, captain of the Royal Guard, bowed to them from his saddle.

“Prince Hellic, your father wants you back home at once. Everything is on its tail thanks to our early arrivals,” Berin said, panting like he had just run a mile. The two silver stud earrings that identified him as a member of the royal guard reflected the sharp sunlight. His breastplate with the curving antlers had clearly been polished for the occasion. “King Callun wants to see you also, Ren. Urgently.”

Berin spun his horse around almost before he had finished speaking, his large stature cutting a path through the gathering crowd like a rock splitting a stream. Ren followed on his mare with Hellic alongside him, the two of them exchanging a glance.

Ren wondered if the Skarlan king's early arrival meant he'd get the chance to meet the man and his daughter before his departure. He had never seen them before outside of paintings. Over a hundred years of conflict had kept each ruler on his own side of the border except for in times of war, and this new peace was reluctant, cold and strange.

The courtyard, when they entered, was alive with activity. The main gates flanked by guards were wide open. Guests were arriving, not just from within the city itself, but from all over Frayne, lords and ladies invited to participate in celebrating their future king.

Ren handed the reins of his mare to a stable-boy. A group of servants off-loaded the boar from Niklas' horse and Hellic hovered around it like it was made of glass until he and Ren were ushered inside.

“I'll see you before you leave,” Niklas assured Ren, voice raised over the noises of the working crowd as they went their separate ways.

The inside of the castle was, if possible, even more chaotic than the courtyard. Serving girls and slaves flitted around Ren and Hellic in the corridors, muttering pardons and stopping only briefly to offer their crown prince respectful greetings. White and golden ribbons hung from the ceiling and brightly coloured summer flowers brightened the sill of every arched window.

The door to King Callun's private chambers was open. Like Hellic and Ren, Callun didn't seem to be in the best of moods. He paced around the large oak table in the centre of the room, waving away servants arriving with folded sets of clothing as if they were annoying flies. His neatly trimmed beard was shot through with grey hairs and Ren imagined the stress of the Skarlans' arrival had added several new ones.

Hellic greeted Callun as his father, Ren as his king.

“Father, I took down a boar in the woods,” Hellic said.

King Callun's smile was strained when he turned towards them and patted Hellic's shoulder. “Really? That's marvellous. Go and change out of your riding clothes. Keelan is waiting for you in your chambers.”

Ren looked at Hellic, who lingered, perhaps expecting his father to say more, but the king had already turned his attention to Ren.

Hellic turned and left.

“I'll get ready to depart,” Ren said, making to follow Hellic out, but Callun's hand on his shoulder stopped him and turned him back around.

“The transport ship meant to take you has run aground,” King Callun said. He looked tired, like he hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in days. “The negotiations have been cancelled.”

A rush of joy brought a smile to Ren's face, but the king's expression didn't change, and what he said next made Ren's smile fade as quickly as it had appeared.

“I have another job for you instead. Something important. Return to your rooms and I'll send my advisors to inform you.”

“Wait, what?” Ren's jaw went slack, something like absurd laughter bubbling in his stomach. He waited for the king to pat him on the back, wink and tell him to go get ready for the party, but the man's expression remained closed and tired. “I can work tomorrow,” Ren argued. “It's Hellic's birthday. The party-”

“I won't argue this, Ren. I'm sorry the circumstances are like this. Now, go.”

Ren's brow furrowed, blunt nails digging into his palms. “What… What did I do?”

“Ren, please.” The king's voice was tense as he rubbed his brow.

Disappointment settled cold and heavy in Ren's gut. He parted his lips to argue further, but Callun cut him off before he could speak. “Do I have to order you, Ren? I won't say it again.”

Ren could hear by Callun's tone that he meant it, so he swallowed his bitter disappointment and left the chambers, slamming the door behind him.

Perhaps if he hurried, he could finish quickly and might only miss an hour of the celebrations. The Skarlans were early, after all, and the real entertainment wouldn't start until later tonight. It sparked some hope in Ren as he passed the servants and slaves. Dressed in white, they rushed to and from the kitchen and supply rooms with food, wine, cups, and plates. Their feet skidded and slipped against the shining marble floors, but they never lost their balance. They didn't slow down as they passed him, but respectfully nodded their heads. Like the citizens in the streets of Aleria, the staff and courtiers living in the castle treated him as they treated his brothers, a mindset Ren knew had been strictly enforced by the king. Ren, Hellic, and their younger brother Thais were the Stags of Frayne, the pride and future of the country.

Personally, Ren didn't care much for formalities so long as people would come to his bed when he bid them.

Two guards in white and gold armour flanked the doorway to his chambers. The unusual sight made Ren pause before he stepped past them and pushed the door open.

Immediately, his heart sank.

A pile of papers nearly as tall as a child was stacked neatly on his desk next to a vial of ink and a quill.

Paperwork. That was the job? A massive pile of paperwork?

The anger and disappointment that had temporarily settled flared up inside Ren and he kicked the door shut with his heel and marched over to his desk.

“This has got to be a joke,” he hissed as he flipped through the top layers of the pile. Not much of it made sense. The papers were lined with rows of numbers and some of it looked like stock, inventory, and trade agreements. Paperwork was a slow, tedious job for bookkeepers and royal advisors, taking place in dusty old libraries. It wasn't a job for the queen's son on the most important day of the year.

Ren lowered the papers and looked around the room, almost expecting someone to jump out from behind his bed or dresser and shout “just kidding!”

A soft click made him turn around, but it wasn't the smiling face of a joker that met him. Instead, the soft and friendly features of Keelan, Hellic's personal slave met him in the doorway.

“Do you need a hand, my lord?” Keelan asked.

For a moment, some of Ren's anger dissipated. Keelan was a sweet boy, and the two of them had always gotten on well. Gifted to Hellic on his thirteenth birthday, Keelan had been everything you could desire in a slave, meek and soft-spoken, with delicate orange curls and a face destined to turn heads with age. But the crown prince had never shown much interest in boys. Ren, on the other hand, had found the young and beautiful slave pleasant and agreeable both as a server, and, when the boy grew old enough, in bed.

“What's with the guards?” Ren asked, gesturing towards the door.

“There are guards outside Hellic's chambers, too. They're everywhere. The staff say it's because of the Skarlans. His Majesty wants to be safe rather than sorry, I suppose,” Keelan explained as he closed the distance between them and began loosening the straps of Ren's hunting jacket without being asked. Ren extended his arms to make the job easier.

“I thought you'd be on a ship by now, my lord,” Keelan continued.

Ren groaned, extending one leg to let Keelan undo the lacing of his boot and tug it off. “I'm grounded, apparently. I can't leave my room before I'm done with this.” He pointed over his shoulder at the pile of papers.

When Keelan lifted his head to look, his eyes went wide and he temporarily forgot about Ren's other boot, leaving him balanced on one leg. “What, really? All of it?”

Ren answered with a shrug, expression sour.

“What made the king so angry with you?” Keelan asked, turning his attention back to tugging off Ren's other boot before placing them both aside.

“I don't know. I can't for the life of me figure out what I did wrong.” Tension entered Ren's voice again. “It's as if he's determined to keep me away from this party.”

A line formed between Keelan's finely arched eyebrows as he stood, taking Ren's jacket from him when Ren slipped it off his shoulder. “What's at the party that he doesn't want you to see?” Keelan asked, then flushed, realising what kind of dangerous, rebellious thought he had just planted in Ren's head. By then, it was too late.

“Maybe I should find out,” Ren said slowly.

Avoiding being spotted by the king would be easy. Keeping out of sight of the guards would be harder. The more he thought it over, though, the more it seemed like an interesting challenge. Perhaps he'd even be able to surprise Hellic. The thought was appealing.

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