Relic Read online

  Relic

  The Relic Trilogy: Book I

  Bronwyn Eley

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Did you enjoy this book?

  Want to know what happens next?

  For my family. Dream big.

  Prologue

  One thing above all drew people to the Announcements: curiosity. The tension strangling the crowd was palpable, but the fear and the pain were the bait. They were hooked.

  The crowd was in the hundreds. Merchants, labourers, Noblemen and students; there was no segregation today. Everyone was here for the same reason, their eyes reflecting a familiar mix of apprehension and fascination. A polite rumble of applause began at the front of the crowd, rippling deeper as their Lord came into view, moving toward the centre of the wooden stage built especially for him. He wore a smile big enough to be seen by everyone there, but his energy emanated prestige and power more than anything. One simple gesture from him was enough to silence the crowd. This was fine by them, as it was easier to listen and observe the man they rarely, if ever, saw.

  Their gazes fell as one, taking in the weight of the jewel around his neck, its colour made somehow more beautiful by the sun.

  The Relic was the reason they were all here.

  As the Lord launched into his speech, the crowd was taken in by his words for only a second before something stole their attention away: his Shadow, slinking onto the stage. Shoulders slumped and head low, the Shadow took his position slightly behind his master, melting into the dark shades around the Lord.

  Eyes flicked between him and the yellow jewel around his master’s neck.

  The Shadow’s eyes remained on the floor.

  Wherever he went, a morbid curiosity followed the Shadow as closely and silently as he followed his master. How many people in the crowd had come solely to see him?

  The Shadow brought a hand up to his chest, eyes clenching shut.

  A mother with wide eyes watched him closely as he curled forward with apparent pain. The woman wrapped an arm around each of her children, pulling them closer to her body. They were no more than infants. They were safe. She was afraid for herself.

  A wave of courteous laughter skipped across the crowd, like a pebble dancing atop water.

  The Shadow sputtered blood, droplets of red decorating the wooden stage below. Attention shot to him as his hand flew to his mouth, eyes flicking toward his master. Even now, at the end, he was afraid of the man.

  The Lord stopped his speech mid-sentence, but didn’t turn to face his Shadow. Instead, he took a deep breath and brought his hands together in front of his body. The picture of patience.

  The Shadow fell to his knees with a violent thump that the crowd seemed to feel, many flinching at the sound of bone cracking against wood. His bloodied mouth was now on full display, but the sight of blood was nothing new to the people of Edriast.

  The crowd drew back slowly, moving as one, an undeniable tide. The Shadow, the man, was finally succumbing to his illness, and all anybody cared about was themselves.

  Apprehension silenced even the smallest murmur from the crowd – not because the Shadow was dying, but because of what it now meant for them all.

  Chapter 1

  ‘You owe me money, Sal.’

  I slammed the empty pouch down on the table and tried to ignore the disgruntled comments of the people around me. While I was sure I appeared confident and aggressive, I knew what really drove my actions. Regret. I should have listened to my gut and stayed clear of business with Sal. The problem was that we were poor, and both Sal and I knew it. He knew I couldn’t resist being paid for doing something I loved.

  My eyes flicked to the dagger at his hip, once a friend to me, now mocking me. The hours spent forging and engraving it sang through my head like a child’s taunt. I wanted to practise my craft, to impress Tosh, to call myself a Bladesmith, to be proud of my work. Instead, all that reflected back from my creation was regret.

  Sal’s lazy eyes rolled over me as he rose from his seat. His large hand hovered near his money bag, hairy fingers scratching the coarse fabric. Sagging flesh swayed underneath his chin, spotted with red lumps, peeling skin and patches of coarse hair. With a shake of his head, he scoffed at my expression. ‘I never did like you, Kaylan.’

  ‘Two bronze pieces, if I’m not mistaken,’ I rebutted. I would get paid for my work. Otherwise Tosh would have my right hand.

  Ignoring my comment, Sal grabbed his money bag and took off down the street. His smug companion took the worn seat behind the bench, eyebrows raised in a challenge.

  I checked the anger rising in my throat and moved after Sal, pushing past the market crowds as best I could. The worn and slippery cobblestones, the endless stinking bodies and the blaring sun above were all familiar, yet I felt unattached to it all as I surged through it after him.

  In a moment I had caught up and manoeuvred in front of him. He jerked to a stop and balled his fists, the anger travelling from his hands up to his face and settling into a scowl. ‘Piss off, girl, I already paid the boy.’

  ‘Not enough.’

  My next mistake had been sending Elias to collect the money from someone like Sal. I had hoped it would teach my baby brother some responsibility.

  ‘I gave him two bronze pits.’ Sal was moving before the last word fled his mouth, vanishing behind a mass of unfamiliar faces. I had to give the old bastard credit: he was fast. After a moment’s consideration, I followed. I wondered briefly if he chose this street in the hopes it would discourage me from going after him, but the narrow path didn’t deter me the way it did others.

  The door to Irey’s Tavern was closed but the noise within spoke volumes about what one would find inside. Sal thought it would scare me off, but I had been to collect Elias from Irey’s enough times that it was nothing new to me now.

  Across from the door was a man, squatting next to a stack of empty crates. ‘Not me, not me, not me,’ he was muttering, eyes glued on the closed door.

  I hurried past him, regaining my focus. At the fork, Sal went left. I had a feeling he was headed for the Square to hide among the crowds, so at the fork I went right, confident I knew these streets better than Sal did. Many of our daily orders came from business owners in the scrappier parts of town and Tosh preferred sending me to deliver the goods.

  Besides, I wanted Sal to let his guard down before I found him.

  The final turn opened up into the expansive Square. Apart from the few businesses that had shopfronts here, the only reason people came here was for the Sentencing. I matched my attention to those around me and looked to the platform in the centre. For now, it was unoccupied.

  The hush that suddenly settled around me slithered over my skin. I cracked my neck and looked around at the dozens of sullen faces waiting for the spectacle on the stage above. People whispered here, as if afraid any loud noises would attract unwanted attention from the guards.

 
; Over the soft rumble of the crowd, a loud voice drawled. ‘Jol Sunner.’

  Bored, repetitious.

  I knew the voice belonged to one of the many city guards, but I couldn’t see him over the crowd. A man clomped slowly onto the stage, weighed down by his burgeoning gut and the chains confining his wrists, and waited for his sentence with his head down.

  ‘Nobleman Adern has informed his Lordship of your discrepancies.’ I wasn’t here for the Sentencing, but it was hard to ignore. ‘Under Article Three, for the crime of Negligence, you have been found guilty and unable to financially compensate for the loss to Nobleman Adern’s business.’

  I kept moving, spotting Sal in an instant as he wove behind a group of tall men who watched on. If it were one of them on that stage, they wouldn't be smiling.

  ‘Therefore, Nobleman Adern has decided, in agreement with his Lordship, that you will serve twenty-one days in the dungeon, no visitation rights.’

  A woman scoffed as I passed, shaking her head. What did she expect? Negligence wasn’t the worst crime; but every crime was due its punishment. I pulled myself through a small gap, feeling an unwelcome hand brush along my lower back, and reached out for Sal.

  ‘Next,’ the guard called.

  I went for Sal’s sleeve, knowing his meaty arms were too much for my hands. With coarse fabric between my fingers, I pulled my arm back roughly. Sal tripped over himself and crashed into me.

  ‘We agreed on four. So two more bronze pits and you’ll be rid of me,’ I said, using the jargon the sellers preferred.

  ‘There are other ways.’ His eyes narrowed, mouth twisted, as he considered other options. An empty threat in this place.

  ‘Sure,’ I agreed. ‘But what a mess that –’

  ‘Shoran Alarn.’ The name rang out as all the others did, the crowd barely noticing, barely caring, apart from those who knew who it belonged to.

  I dropped Sal’s sleeve and felt the rush of air as he vanished into the crowd, forgotten.

  ‘Nobleman Adern has informed his Lordship of your failings.’

  My throat tightened at the sight of Mr Alarn shuffling onto the stage, high above the crowd, the balding spot atop his head for all to see.

  ‘Under Article Three –’

  Negligence? Mr Alarn knows better. He wouldn’t –

  ‘– for the crime of Negligence, you have been found guilty and unable to financially compensate the loss to Nobleman Adern’s business.’

  The men in front of me turned to each other. ‘Another?’ one asked.

  His friend shrugged. ‘Adern’s sector is suffering the most from this weather –’

  ‘No different to last year,’ the other added.

  ‘The poor sod probably couldn’t deal with it.’

  That poor sod was my friend. A father to me once my own passed. A true father to his own child. I looked around for his young family but saw only strangers.

  ‘Therefore, Nobleman Adern has decided, in agreement with his Lordship, that you will serve forty days in the dungeon, no visitation rights.’

  Forty days? Little Dala ...

  I pushed aside the thought of his sweet infant daughter without her father for forty days, rotting, stinking, edging on starvation, useless in a cell. Most who came back chose not to talk about their stay in the castle dungeons. So close to our ruler, Lord Rennard. Too close to that necklace he wore.

  I watched as the man moved off the platform, joining the other sentenced men and women under the watchful eyes of four thick-armed, immaculately dressed guards. Every childish fancy came rushing into my head then. Stealing Mr Alarn away, evading the guards, sending a message to the men in power that we wouldn’t just lie down and take it.

  Then they were gone, replaced by reality. The high walls surrounding our grey stone city would keep us in, as they had always done.

  Nonetheless, I found my legs taking charge, drawing me closer to the platform. I stopped a few paces short of the condemned group. Did any of them know what to expect? Rumours must have filled their minds, urged their fears. Some would choose to ignore what they heard in the marketplace. I would.

  The guards’ eyes coldly scanned the crowd, a warning to all. Don’t push us. Don’t fight this. Protesting the Sentencing never made a difference, but I couldn’t let them take Mr Alarn before they heard what I had to say.

  This was a man who stood by my side as they lowered my father’s body into the ground. A man who came by once a week to ask my littlest brother Kye for his help with the gardening, claiming he needed small hands to do the more intricate work so that Kye wouldn’t doubt his skills.

  As I stepped up, Mr Alarn caught my eye. His familiar brown gaze, usually warm and inviting, was now stern. I tensed, my body urging me to do something, anything.

  But a small, discreet shake of his head gave me pause.

  ‘Under Article Six, for the crime of –’

  All these people would live. Theirs were minor crimes in the eyes of Lord Rennard. Not enough to warrant the noose. But nothing I said would convince them to release him. Mr Alarn knew it. I knew it. The guards were under orders. They always followed them.

  ‘Next.’

  I forced a small smile onto my face, which Mr Alarn returned. Then I slowly withdrew, his diminished form disappearing into a mass of criminals and spectators.

  Negligence.

  The system had been in place for so long now, nobody questioned it. The truth was that the severity of the punishments did not fit the crimes.

  I made my way to the edge of the Square, desperate for some air, some space. I rested my forehead on the stone wall and blew out a deep breath.

  Rolling my head to the side, I spotted a familiar ugly face peering from a discreet spot between two stalls. I was moving before I even knew it. Sal watched the crowd, likely searching for me, sweat clinging to his shirt. I slipped in behind him, a spark in my stomach urging me on.

  ‘As I’m sure you’ve seen here today, and every week in this forsaken place, the Councilmen take the Articles quite seriously.’

  Sal’s head snapped around. He opened his vile mouth, but I held up a hand.

  ‘Councilman Kinnel.’ I took a pause for effect. Sal sucked in a harsh breath through his nose but said nothing. ‘He supervises your trade, does he not?’

  The question was rhetorical. We all knew each Councilman and what sector he was responsible for. ‘Two bronze pits will save me the trouble of trekking all the way to his office and reporting you. What do you say? Help a girl out.’

  I raised both my hands, palms up, weighing the options for him. ‘Two bronze pieces.’ I lifted one hand. ‘Sentenced to the dungeon.’ I brought the other hand higher and blew out an unnecessarily long breath. ‘I know what I’d choose.’

  Anger burned in his face but he said nothing. I shrugged. ‘Not to mention what Lord Rennard would think.’

  After a long pause, Sal fished into his coin purse and pulled out two bronze pieces. He slapped the coins into my chest and I grabbed them before they fell to the ground.

  He scoffed. ‘You fight dirty, perhaps your one redeemable quality. Now piss off.’ He turned to leave, taking a few heavy steps before pausing. ‘You’d better watch your step, little Kaylan. There are worse things than me that lurk in the shadows.’ He held his hand up, closed his fist and knocked three times on an imaginary door.

  He trudged off, not bothering to keep his swearing under his breath, people clearing space for him to pass. I caught the stunned expression of a small boy, whose mother was preoccupied with the Sentencing, and gave a quick shrug, leaning in.

  ‘He’s lucky I didn’t ask for an extra bronze piece for that foul manner of his.’ I winked. The boy’s mouth tucked up in the corner, his face reddening slightly. With a sharp tug from his mother, the pair were gone just as Fourth Bell rang clear across the Square.

  Lords, Tosh is going to nail my hand to a flaming anvil.

  Tucking Sal’s coins away, I continued down into the Lower Quarter, a
way from the Square and all the trouble it brought me.

  The familiar sounds of the forge grew louder as I approached: hissing fire, excessive cursing, the rhythmic jolt of metal on metal. It was a favoured place to work during the winter months, but with the sun burning into my skin, the heat from the furnace made my breath catch in my throat.

  The small building was in a quiet, intimate courtyard away from the markets, but our work attracted customers from all reaches of the Lower Quarter. Despite his displeasing temper, Tosh’s work was even admired by a number of highborn. If it weren’t for his charming disposition, he would be a contender for reassignment to the castle’s forge.

  I walked across the humble courtyard, the forge in the centre – away from other buildings should something go wrong. Nothing ever had. One of the fires blazed, as always, under an awning on the outside of the building. Most tools were neatly arranged, others scattered around by Tosh and the others.

  ‘Oi.’ Liem’s lanky figure rose from his concealed spot by the fire, ash-covered, as always. He stretched high and wiped a fresh streak of black across his forehead with the back of his hand.

  ‘Oi, yourself,’ I said by way of greeting, heading straight for the door.

  ‘I wasn’t sure you were coming in.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I?’ This was my regular shift, and Tosh’s foul moods were not to be toyed with.

  Liem’s shrug wasn’t nearly as carefree as he clearly intended. ‘With the Shadow and everything, it wouldn’t surprise me.’

  I froze. ‘What about the Shadow?’