Higher Power (Prophecy Of The Cataclysm Book One) Read online

  HIGHER POWER

  Prophecy Of The Cataclysm

  Book One

  BY KYRA DUNE

  HIGHER POWER

  Copyright © 2014 Kyra Dune

  All rights reserved under International Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Shadow Portal Books, a division of Shadow Portal Productions, USA.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from Kyra Dune.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  SPB Second Edition 2014

  Cover Art by

  Shadow Portal Productions

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Anastasia knew this was not the wisest course of action, but when a person had become as desperate as she was common sense tended to be left out of the equation. With nothing else to do and nowhere else to turn, she was reduced to committing this act of treason.

  Usually she was accompanied by a dozen knights and half as many handmaidens whenever she left the security of her father’s land, but today she had only Loren. He had been her personal guard since she was a small child and one of the few people she knew she could trust not to speak of this to anyone else.

  Her hands tightened on the reins as they drew near the meeting place. On a hill overlooking a pond stood a lone willow tree and beside it, a stone bench. People sometimes came to swim at the pond on a lovely summer day, as this one would grow to be. But this early of the morning, with the rising sun painting the clouds orange, no one was about. No one except a lone man seated on the bench with his legs crossed.

  A thrill of fear raced through Anastasia the moment she saw him. Even with Loren at her side, even with Betrice’s assurances this man could be trusted, she was still afraid. She had never done anything like this before.

  Anastasia drew her black stallion to a stop, then waited for Loren to come and help her from the saddle. She held up a hand, signaling for him to stand back while she approached the man. “Jesse Tolin?” she asked, managing to hold her voice steady despite the tremble in her hands.

  “That’s my name,” he replied with a rakish smile.

  “On your feet, varlet,” Loren snarled, one hand dropping to the hilt of his sword, “and give her Ladyship the proper bow she deserves. If you can manage it.”

  Still smiling, Jesse rose to his feet and held his arm out to one side as he gave her a sweeping bow. “I pray you pardon my impudence, your Ladyship. This humble peasant forgets himself in his awe of being in the presence of a hallowed noble.”

  Loren bristled at Jesse’s tone. Anastasia merely pursed her lips. “I hope your abilities are better refined than your manners.”

  Jesse’s green eyes sparkled with amusement as he retook his seat. “Refinement has little to do with my abilities, but they get the job done.”

  “The job of a mercenary, you mean.” Anastasia took no pains to hide the disdain from her voice. If he would show her contempt, then he would get more of the same in return.

  He shrugged, plucking a piece of lint from his trousers. “You sought me out, not the other way around. So I assume you’re in need of a mercenary’s service. So tell me, your Ladyship,” he looked up and met her gaze, “how can I service you today?”

  Heat crawled up the back of Anastasia’s neck. When she had set her mind to do this thing, she’d expected to find herself meeting with an older man, like Loren. Instead, Jesse was hardly older than she was, maybe her brother’s age. And those eyes. Green eyes like she’d never seen before. A man ought not to possess such beautiful eyes.

  Jesse’s smile widened, alerting Anastasia she’d been staring silently for far too long. She broke eye contact. “I need a spy,” she said. “I’ve heard rumors of members of the aristocracy

  funding a budding rebellion against the throne. I want names.”

  “I wouldn’t mind watching a few noble heads roll,” Jesse sat back, “but spying is a tricky business. If you want to prevent a rebellion, it’ll cost you.”

  “You misunderstand me. I...” She hesitated. Now the moment was upon her, she found the actual words difficult to speak. A rebellion would lead to a great loss of life and encouraging it would make her partly responsible for every death. All for the sake of protecting one man. She knew she had no choice but to do what she was doing, but she couldn’t fool herself into believing it was right.

  “I don’t want to stop the rebellion,” she said softly, one hand clutching the edge of her cloak. “I want to aid it. But first I must know to whom it is safe to speak of such things. One word from my lips to the wrong ears would mean my life.”

  Jesse stared at her in unfeigned surprise. “There have been few times in my life when I was well and truly shocked, but I’ll have to count this among them. I never could have imagined myself talking treason against the king with the man’s own niece. What did he ever do to you?”

  “Oh, will you shut up?” she snapped, a rush of emotion making it impossible for her to maintain her poise. “I have nothing against my uncle. Despite what the lower class might think, he is a good and decent man. He’s also an ill man. Deathly ill. Not a truth which bears spreading around, but a truth all the same. The doctors have done all they can to no avail. If he lasts out three months it will be a miracle. Only the grace of the God Above has held him this side of the Otherworld for so long. And when he dies, his son will no doubt take the crown. If you think the reign of King Robert has been harsh, just wait. Richard is a thousand times worse than his father could ever be.”

  “Why should you care?” Jesse asked. “I can hardly imagine your life changing much when your cousin is king. So why do you want to see him brought down? And don’t feed me any lines about your concern for the lower class, as you so eloquently name us. This is personal. These things always are.”

  The warm flush in Anastasia’s neck crept up into her cheeks. “If you want this job then you will do as you are told without asking questions. My reasons are none of your concern.”

  He stared at her a moment longer, then shrugged. “As it please you, your Ladyship. What kind of pay are we talking about?”

  “Five hundred king’s marks.”

  Jesse whistled. “For that kind of paper you could hire someone to outright assassinate your cousin. It would be much simpler than what you have in mind.”

  Anastasia turned away from him and motioned to Loren. She dare not meet his penetrating gaze again and have him see she would like nothing better, only she was lacking the courage to go so far.

  Loren took a brown wrapped parcel from her saddlebag and carried it over to her, all the while glaring at Jesse. Anastasia took the parcel and thrust it toward Jesse without looking at him. “Will you take the job or not?”

  He accepted the parcel. “I’d be a fool to turn it down.” He fingered the parcel. “I won’t insult you by counting it, I’ll take you at your word it's all there.”

  “How gracious of you. I’ll be in touch.” She strode away from him, uncomfortably aware of his gaze following her. She was trembling so she never could have gotten back in the saddle without Loren’s aid. The deed was done and there could be no changing her mind. Good or bad, she was committed to this course of action now.

  The ride back to her father’s land was thick with silent tension. Anastasia knew how Loren felt about what she was doing, though he had in no way voiced his opinion. He would never presume to cross the line between them in such a manner. And yet she had known him for so long she couldn’t help but read his disapproval in the lines of his face and the set of his shoulders.

  He was right, of course. This was a foolish thing to do, she knew it as well as he did. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she spoke to Jesse of her death. The penalty for treason was hanging, no matter whose daughter she was. No matter her reasons behind such an action. And this could be called nothing but treason.

  The manor house of Duke Ulric DeHaviland sat squarely in the center of twelve hundred acres of verdant valley land. Somewhere in the neighborhood of ten thousand bound vassals lived on and worked this land. To say Ulric was well loved by those under his rule might have been a bit of a stretch, but he was generally well thought of. His taxes were fair and his people looked after better than most. No one in the Duchy of Columine ever need fear starvation and any who were ill or injured were cared for by the same doctors who looked after the Duke’s own family. Any vassal who had a complaint was free to bring it straight to the Duke’s ear with the expectation of a fair judgment on the matter.

  Ulric’s treatment of those under his rule didn’t make him many friends among the other nobles, but if this bothered him at all then Anastasia saw no sign of it. She was p
roud of her father’s strength in standing for what he believed was right no matter what criticism was aimed at him for it.

  A coach bearing the royal crest was waiting in front of the manor upon their arrival. The sight sent Anastasia’s heart leaping into her throat.

  “Shall I attend you inside, your Ladyship?” Loren’s breach of protocol by addressing her directly rather than awaiting her orders showed her he was as concerned by the presence of the coach as she was. He might not approve of what she was up to, but his first concern was still for her safety, as always.

  Anastasia almost said yes, then thought better of it. If Richard was inside then the sight of Loren at her back would only antagonize him. “Your presence won’t be required, I’m sure. I’m perfectly safe in my father’s home. This...this is only a coincidence.” Her words sounded flat and empty to her own ears and she was sure they sounded the same to Loren. But, being the good servant he was, he made no comment. He simply helped her down from her saddle and then led the horses away to the stable.

  Anastasia wiped her sweaty palms on the legs of her riding pants and affected an air of calm as she strode over to the coach. The driver quickly dismounted, his bow formally low and his gaze fixed on the ground. As was proper. Jesse’s insolent grin flashed through her mind. She quickly pushed it aside.

  “Who comes to visit us so early of the morning?” she asked.

  “Chancellor Rhine, your Ladyship.”

  Anastasia sighed mentally with relief. Though the Chancellor was a visitor only marginally more appealing than her cousin, he was at least not someone she had anything to fear from. She entered the manor and a maidservant hastened to take her cloak and riding gloves.

  “Where are my father and the Chancellor?”

  “In the garden, your Ladyship.” The young woman kept her gaze lowered respectfully to the tiled floor.

  “And my brother?”

  “His Lordship has not yet returned from his visit to Lord Baric’s estate.”

  So, his plan to formally announce his intentions toward Lady Madeline must have been met favorably. She was glad. It was high time he was married and settled down with a family instead of out getting into mischief with Simon.

  Duke Ulric and Chancellor Rhine stood conversing on the porch outside the doors leading into the garden. The Chancellor was smiling; the Duke was not. Both men turned toward the door as Anastasia walked through it.

  “Your Ladyship.” The Chancellor bowed. “Such a pleasure to see you again.” His gaze slid over her body from her wind tossed hair to her scuffed riding boots. He smirked. “And looking lovely as always.”

  Anastasia smiled tightly back at him. “A pleasure to see you as well, Chancellor. We always enjoy surprise visits from uninvited guests.”

  “Indeed.” The lines at the corners of his eyes tightened. “Much as I treasure your company, your father and I were having a conversation I’m certain would not interest you in the least. Court politics and all that. You would be terribly bored.”

  “How kind of you to be concerned, but I actually find court politics rather intriguing,” She didn’t really, but she certainly wasn’t going to stand for being ordered to leave her own garden by the likes of him. Head advisor to the king though he might be, he had no authority over her.

  “Anastasia, please,” her father’s tone was unusually tight, “it would be best if you go now.”

  She stared at him, shocked to be dismissed in such a way. But he wouldn’t meet her eyes. Instead, he turned to look out across the garden which her mother had once tended with her own hands. Anastasia shifted her gaze back to the Chancellor and something in his smug expression filled her stomach with cold dread.

  “Yes, Father. Good day, Chancellor.”

  He bowed again. “Good day, your Ladyship.”

  Anastasia retreated to the armory. For a retreat was exactly what it felt like. Her hands were clammy with sweat and her heart was racing. Anything which put such glee into the eyes of a man like Chancellor Rhine could not possibly bode well for any of them.

  Simon was seated on a bench polishing swords. This was one of those rare occasions when he was not at Charles’ side as Lady Madeline did not care much for his company. “Good morning, Ana.”

  “Is it?” Anastasia wrung her hands, hardly aware of the action. “Did you know Chancellor Rhine is here? That at this very moment he’s in the garden talking with Father?”

  “Really? What does old wattle neck want from the Duke?”

  Anastasia was far too concerned to even smile at his usage of the nickname he and Charles had long ago assigned to the Chancellor. “I don’t know. But nothing good, of that much I’m certain. Father actually dismissed me from their presence, as though I were a child. He’s never done that before, not even when I was a child.” She sank down on the bench beside him. “Father wouldn’t even look at me. Something’s wrong.”

  Simon frowned. “Do you suppose the Chancellor is here about King Robert?”

  “Oh.” She pressed her fingers to her lips. “I hadn’t even considered that. If Uncle Robert has...has died,” the idea made her stomach twist, “then Richard could even now be preparing to take the throne.”

  “That would be bad.”

  “Bad?” Anastasia rose and paced toward the door. “Bad does not even begin to cover it. If Richard becomes king then Charles can forget about marrying Lady Madeline, he’ll be lucky to even keep his head.”

  “Do you really believe Richard will try something against Charles?” Simon sat the sword he was polishing aside. “Wouldn’t that cause all manner of trouble with the other nobles?”

  Anastasia let out a short, harsh laugh. “As if any of the other nobles care whether Charles lives or dies. And even if they did, would they risk the ire of their king to voice such a concern?” Her hope had been to discover the nobles behind the rebellion in order to garner enough of their good will to seek sanctuary for her brother before Richard was king. But it might be she had wavered in indecision for too long.

  Simon rose to his feet and grasped her hands to stop her pacing. “Calm down. We don’t yet know that King Robert has died. If he has, then Richard still has to be approved by the High Temple before he can be crowned. It will take time.”

  “What good will time do us?” She met his eyes. “Simon, I...I couldn’t bear it if something happened to Charles.”

  He squeezed her hands, his smile tight at the corners. “You know I would never let anything happen to either one of you. If it comes down to it and we have no other choice, Charles and I could always escape to The Dells. It wouldn’t be easy, but we would manage.”

  Anastasia’s heart constricted at the idea of losing the two people she loved most, but at least they would be alive. She took a breath and nodded. “All right. I’m all right. I do wish Charles was here, though. I’d feel better if I could see him right now.”

  “Do you want me to go and get him?”

  She shook her head. “No. Let him have this time with Lady Madeline in case...” She couldn’t make herself finish the sentence. The understanding in Simon’s eyes told her he knew what she meant to say anyway. “I’ll talk to my father after the Chancellor leaves. Perhaps there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “I think Father would talk more easily if it were only me.” She managed to dig up a small smile for him. He was such a dear man. “As soon I find out what’s going on, you’ll be the first to know.”

  After leaving Simon in the armory, Anastasia went in search of a servant to see if the royal coach had departed yet. Instead, she found her father crossing the front foyer about to go up the staircase, a deep line buried between his eyes.

  “Father.” She hurried toward him. “What’s happened? Why was the Chancellor here? Is it...is it about Uncle Robert?”

  Ulric paused with his hand on the banister, still refusing to meet her gaze. “No. Robert lives still.”

  Anastasia closed her eyes briefly to collect herself before speaking again. “Then what was the purpose of the Chancellor’s visit?”

  Charles strode through the front door, his expression pinched. It cleared some when he saw Anastasia and Ulric by the stairs. “I saw the royal coach leaving,” he said, handing his riding gloves off to a servant. “Was our cousin paying a visit?” His tone was light, but his eyes were hard.