The Prince of Exiles (The Exile Series)

The Prince of Exiles

Book Two of the Exile Series

Hal Emerson

Copyright © 2013 by Bradley Van Satterwhite

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 author

 
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

First Edition, Digital, 2013

This book is dedicated to:

 
The why of our lives

And the hope for our tomorrow,

With thanks to all the teachers

Who put us on the path.

Prologue: The Times to Come

Chapter One: The Fall of Roarke

Chapter Two: Death Watchmen

Chapter Three: Elder Warryn

Chapter Four: Formalities

Chapter Five: Through the Pass

Chapter Six: The Call

Chapter Seven: Elder Goldwyn

Chapter Eight: Aspects and Talismans

Chapter Nine: A Cabin in the Woods

Chapter Ten: Lapse In Judgment

Chapter Eleven: Informalities

Chapter Twelve: Conversations with an Elder

Chapter Thirteen: The Exile Girl

Chapter Fourteen: Midwinter Night

Chapter Fifteen: Death of an Elder

Chapter Sixteen: Survivors of Roarke

Chapter Seventeen: Back to Vale

Chapter Eighteen: The Second Call

Chapter Nineteen: Prince of the Veil

Chapter Twenty: The Coming Spring

Chapter Twenty-One: North

Chapter Twenty-Two: Daemons and Heroes

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Road to Formaux

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Prince of Foxes

Chapter Twenty-Five: The Road to Banelyn

Chapter Twenty-Six: The Prince of Eagles

Epilogue: The Return

Glossary

About the Author

In the tenth month of the One Thousand and Thirty-Seventh year of the reign of the Diamond Empress of Lucien, a Son was killed.

It was the first Child to die in the history of the Empire. For five hundred years the Children had stood as an extension of the Empress Herself: unbowed, unbeaten, immortal. To speak their names aloud was death, to question their commands was lunacy, and to go against their power was unthinkable. The tales of terror that their reign had inspired, and the stories of the Empress’ own godlike presence, had kept veiled the minds of every man, woman, and child throughout the Empire of Ages with fear and unholy dread.

But there had always been a hard undercurrent to the frightened obedience of the citizens of the Empire. The younger Children, raised in the arrogant ways of their Mother the Immortal Empress and the power that came with Her name, knew nothing of it. They were blinded by their pettiness, as their Mother had intended. They fought wars with each other, both open and covert, seeking only more power, more privilege, more of their Mother’s rare and opiatic love. Even Rikard, the eldest of the Children and the Prince of Lions, had long forgotten what it had been like to be opposed, blinded as he was by the unthinking obedience of any who heard his voice.

But one man, the Prince of Eagles, had never forgotten. He, Prince of the Far-Sight, the Lord of the Heights, had known of this day, known through ancient prophecy, that the Prince of Ravens, the Seventh Child, would be the one to challenge the Empress if he was not dealt with in time.

And so it was that Geofred watched with stoic eyes from his tall tower in the province of Eyrie as the Prince of Ravens, his youngest brother, slew Ramael, Prince of Oxen, and planted the seeds of true rebellion in a land that had long lain fallow.

When Geofred felt the death of Ramael, felt it in his very bones as if something deep in his chest had been severed, leaving him hollow and bleeding, he rose from his place of meditation and went to his Mother. He knew the other Children would have felt the death, knew that they were all connected by the Talismans. He knew too that his Mother, the Empress, would have felt it; and he, even he, trembled at the thought.

When he arrived at the Fortress and entered Her Presence, Her wrath was terrible.  Upon entering the Chamber of the Diamond Throne, he saw before him the grizzled, dismembered bodies of nearly a dozen Guardians, the giant soldiers who were worth ten men in battle. They had been torn to pieces, rendered limb from limb in a savage, maternal rage. Blood was splashed across the Blackstone walls, and the most beautiful woman who had ever lived, the God Empress, was covered in blood and sobbing upon Her throne as she clutched Herself in sorrow.

He crossed the room, telling himself to be composed, telling himself that She would need him now – She would have felt the death more than he, and he would need to guide Her through the coming months.

His foot nudged a Guardian’s blade, the metal grating harshly on the stone floor. His Mother’s head snapped up immediately, and Her gaze fell on him. Burning, haunted eyes stared out of a face so beautiful it had captivated men and ruled an Empire for a thousand years. The Prince of Eagles could not move – he was held in place by the fury of that stare, by the power of his Mother’s rage.

She crossed the room and towered over him, growing taller as she gathered power around Her, the Diamond Crown bursting into light. Her face grew hard and angular as rage and grief cut lines across Her perfect skin.

And then She spoke, asking a question that demanded an answer.

Geofred opened a mouth suddenly dry and spoke the only answer he could:

“I could not stop it Mother; he had to die.”

The last word had barely left his tongue before the Empress seized the Prince of Eagles by the throat, lifting him into the air, choking him. She spat words of power at him, calling on all Seven Talismans, and her crown burst with dazzling light and the Eagle flew through the air to crash against the wall. He pushed himself up, his body aching, and ran forward. Her eyes widened as he came toward Her, surprised, and Her crown began to gather light once more, ready to kill him, ready to rip his very soul from his body if he dared to –

When he was several feet from Her, he dropped to the floor and prostrated himself before Her, pressing his forehead to the stone, humbling himself, not daring to move a muscle, barely even breathing. The Prince of Eagles feared for his life then, for the first time in many years. One of the Children had just been killed, and another had been the subject of an attempted assassination – who could say what the Empress would do next? He could not see all futures – he was only human.

But a moment passed when nothing happened. She simply watched him, eyes unreadable, until the light from Her crown began to dim. The Prince of Eagles began to speak then, in the flowery, flattering way he knew his Mother required, telling Her that there was still time – that they still had a chance to kill the Raven.

Her rage, ever mercurial, melted and disappeared. She strode forward, towering over him, exuding majesty. For a moment he didn’t know what would happen. She, perfect even in Her unpredictability, was the one person in all the world he feared.

She commanded him to explain himself, and he stifled a gasp of relief. He spoke quickly then, telling Her that the prophecies were clear: that in order to secure the Return, the Prince of Ravens needed to die before his eighteenth name day. The boy was yet seventeen, and would be until the spring. The prophecy he had told Her on the day of the boy’s Naming still held true – he
 
must
 
die if Her Empire was to rule for another thousand years. Not only that – the boy was the only thing that stood in the way of the Return. This meant that until the end of fourth month, there was still time. Ramael had been foolish, he had gone after the Raven unprepared, had gone looking for his own glory, not for the Glory of the Empress. Such mistakes would not be made again – not if She gave him command.

When he finally fell silent, his voice was raw. But Her face was calm, and he felt relief course through him. He would survive this day, if only just. Mother spoke again, Her words like warm honey and cool wine, and commanded him to Summon the other Children. There would be no mistakes this time, She told him – they would work together, under his command. The Prince of Ravens would die.

He was dismissed then, and he fled the room with no thought of dignity, and it was not until he had returned to his personal quarters in the Fortress of Lucien, that he began to breath easier. He sent runners to dispatch messages to the other Children, calling them all to the Eyrie where he would meet them and inform them of what was to come. Preparations for the Return were finally underway, and he would tell them the prophecies they needed to hear. The entire Empire was to be mobilized, the citizens drafted, the Armies of Ages called up and sent south for the Exiles.

Each of the Children had a role to play in what was to come … and he only had so long to set and spring the trap before he was dead.