Soldiers of Avarice

  SOLDIERS OF AVARICE

  _____________________________________

  AIELUND SAGA : Book 1

  STEPHEN L. NOWLAND

  Smashwords edition

  Copyright 2011-2019 Stephen Louis Nowland

  2019 Final Edition

  Map Illustration by Cornelia Yoder

  http://www.corneliayoder.com

  The Author asserts the moral right to be

  identified as the author of this work.

  Foreword

  It is a humbling thing for an author to return to their earlier work, especially for one whose career is in its infancy. When I completed this book back in 2011, under the title of Nature Abhors a Vacuum, it was an enormous personal achievement — and an enormous result. It came in just shy of 240,000 words, and I recall thinking it might not be quite long enough.

  I’ve trimmed away at this book over the years, as my understanding of pacing, tone and structure improved, yet it remained a monstrous, unwieldy novel. It’s especially important considering it’s the first story in the series, one I’ve been using to exhibit the quality of my work.

  Sooner or later, I had planned to return to the start of the saga and undertake more polishing. My editors and friends implored me to wait until the entire saga was finished and I agreed, though I chafed at the knowledge that the earlier work needed some love. I’m fortunate that as an independent author working primarily with e-books, I was afforded the opportunity to revise the series digitally.

  As I worked on revising the first novel, I kept asking myself, “What was I thinking when I wrote this?” I was astonished at how far my style has evolved over the years. My concern was that readers might not make an assumption of an improving style over the course of the series, and if they didn’t like what they read here, they wouldn’t bother to go on to find the better writing later on.

  With this new update, the now renamed Soldiers of Avarice has come down to a concise 116,000 words. The revised edition is more than simply cleaning up sentences and trimming back unnecessary words — there were issues with tone and content, especially in the early parts which needed an expert eye to spot! Having the support of professionals makes a big difference to a project like this, and I can’t thank the people at Steelsage Publishing enough for all their assistance in our brief time working together.

  The revised edition of the Aielund Saga tells the same story with fewer words, and a greater focus on what’s important. I hope you enjoy reading this revised edition as much as we enjoyed bringing it to you.

  Prelude

  As grey dawn light filtered through the forest canopy, the rangers were on the prowl. Their footfalls were silent in the morning mist, where the only sounds were drops of rain pattering on leaves and birdsong echoing through the forest. Although there were three rangers creeping through the brush, their camouflage cloaks made them almost invisible to the untrained eye. Amid the tall forest oaks, they had no equal.

  Ahead, a log cabin with smoke wafting from its chimney stood partially concealed by brush, with two men working near a fire in the dim morning light, unaware they were being watched. The lead ranger on this hunt was known as Colt, a youthful man but with enough experience to take care of this grisly bit of work. He was huge, over six feet tall with broad shoulders and heavy muscle. His square jaw was covered in thick bristle, and some in the Royal Rangers had likened him to a strategically shaved bear, though never to his face, of course. He had a reputation for being short tempered and grumpy, which only added to the unfortunate comparison.

  Colt held up one hand to signal for his two companions to halt, judging their distance to the cabin close enough to observe without being noticed. The big ranger watched the two men at the cabin work, quickly skinning a deer as if they knew their time was limited. Colt glanced to his left and exchanged a glance with Duncan, his friend and comrade. His eyes glinted from beneath his olive green hood and the bow in his hands was ready to shoot. Neither of them had any love for game poachers.

  To his right was the third ranger, a young lady named Sally, only six months into her service. What she lacked in experience, she made up for in genuine talent, for it was she who had spotted this group of poachers hiding on the King's game reserve. This was only her third outing and likely the first time her bow would have to draw blood, though if they pulled this off correctly, the loss of life would be minimised. The rangers were not killers.

  Slowly, silently, Colt drew his greatsword, a 5-foot monster of a blade he preferred, mostly for its intimidation value and with a gesture, he signalled his companions to loose their arrows. The clothyard shafts flew through the air with hardly a sound but a shift in position at last moment saved the first poacher's life as Duncan's arrow narrowly missed its mark and lodged into the cabin wall. Fortunately, Sally's shot struck true.

  The injured man staggered backward, clutching at his wounded arm and his sudden cry of pain went up like an alarm bell. Cursing under his breath, Colt burst out from the brush and barrelled forward with sword in hand, aiming to take down the uninjured man before he could make a run for it. His plan was thwarted when the injured poacher, less hurt than he appeared, grabbed a sword with his other hand and swung it at Colt as he lumbered past.

  The big man managed to turn the blade's edge aside with his own, and halted his advance to respond with a solid kick to the poacher's gut.

  “I'm on him,” Sally advised as she rushed over and levelled her bow at the man writhing on the ground. Duncan dashed past them both, in pursuit of their other quarry who had bolted when Colt was preoccupied, leaving him with one last clear objective. A flicker of movement in the cabin's window revealed the primary target of their mission had become aware of the situation, forcing Colt to act fast.

  He charged shoulder-first into the cabin's door, shattering the wood around the lock as he burst inside. A quick scan of the room revealed a spacious, well-appointed interior warmed by the crackling fire. Standing next to a second window on the other side of the room was a middle-aged man of regal bearing wearing expensive leathers, appearing to be about to climb out and make a run for it.

  “Lord Fairchild,” Colt growled while holding his threatening sword. “Most people use the door, but go ahead. I'll tell everyone you were caught with your arse hanging half out the window while you were trying to run like a coward.”

  “Not likely,” Lord Fairchild answered firmly, his hand drifting towards the hilt of a fine singlesword sheathed on his hip. The hand froze in place when Colt shook his head, warning of dire consequences should those fingers touch the leather-wrapped hilt. From outside the cabin, the sound of a scuffle could be heard, shortly followed by Duncan's voice clearly asking for the other poacher to surrender.

  “Well, now that we have your associates in custody, there's two ways for this to go for you,” Colt explained confidently. “Poaching in the King's game reserve is punishable with ten years in the stockade. You can be smart and surrender, or you can try your luck with my big friend here.”

  “Do you have a preference?” Lord Fairchild muttered, his hand still hovering within inches of his blade. Colt was about to answer with his sword, but hesitated as the image of a lovely woman with golden curls tumbling around her shoulders appeared in his mind.

  “You know, a few years ago and I wouldn't have even started a conversation with you,” the big ranger confided, surprised at himself at the change in attitude he'd undergone lately. “Never was one for talkin', especially with a rich crook like you. But there's someone special I don't want to disappoint, so today's your lucky day. One way or the other I'll be dragging you back to the Lodge in one piece, so I'll leave it up to you to decide if you want to keep your dignity.”

  Fairchild stared
daggers at Colt for a long, tense moment before his hand slowly inched towards the clasp on his sword belt, which resulted in his weapon clattering to the floor.

  “Sanity prevails,” Colt grunted, cautiously approaching the man to fasten iron manacles around his extended wrists. Duncan and Sally re-joined him with their own prisoners similarly shackled and quickly chained them together in a line.

  “This isn't over,” the nobleman purred.

  “I'm sure you think you can buy your way out of this one,” Colt remarked, “but seizing royal lands while the King is out of the country might be considered treason.” Sally drew a finger across her throat and made a choking sound to back up the implication.

  “These are my family's hereditary lands,” Fairchild warned. “We shall see who is made a fool of.”

  “Keep your mouths shut and start marching,” Duncan ordered, prodding their prisoners towards the door. Colt maintained a stern visage as the grim procession left the cabin.

  “Are you right to clean up this mess?” Colt asked of Sally as he gathered up weapons and equipment, then looked in dismay at the remains of the deer.

  “It's all part of the job,” she sighed, rolling up her sleeves as she prepared to finish what the poachers had started. “We can't bring them back to life, but at least we can use all of their parts so it doesn't go to waste.”

  “You're gonna go a long way in the Rangers,” Colt remarked, giving her an awkward pat on the shoulder with a free hand. “I'm glad the King's army didn't snatch you away.”

  “Well, I didn't see a lot of women in their ranks,” Sally pointed out. “I'm surprised they didn't take you, though.”

  “The commander cut a deal to keep a bare minimum here,” Colt explained. “Can't have bandits and thieves stealing His Majesty's game now can we? After today, we've justified that decision. It's a win for everyone – well, except those bastards what done this.”

  “You know, you've changed since we first met,” Sally mused with a faint hint of a smile. “I could swear you were going to behead the one I shot in the arm, but you held back.”

  “A kick in the gut seemed like less work. I'm pretty lazy, you know.”

  “And I don't think I've even heard you swear or get drunk for at least a month,” Sally added. “I'm wondering if a certain lady is having a positive influence on you.”

  “What can I say, she's making a better man out of me,” Colt answered with a grin.

  “Not a job I'd sign on for. I hope you realise how bloody lucky you are, mate.”

  “I sure do,” Colt agreed ruefully. “I don't know what I did to get her attention and I hope I don't mess this up.”

  “You want to take her some flowers or something?” Sally suggested.

  “Nah, she'd be horrified that I pulled them out of the ground.”

  “Well, whatever you do, don't just wait around for me when there's more interesting things you could be doing,” she replied with a wink. Colt stifled a laugh and instead nodded his thanks, then hurried to catch up to Duncan to escort their captives back to the Ranger Lodge further north. Though he didn't shirk his duties watching the prisoners, his mind wandered to the lady who'd seen something in him, a rough-and-tumble brawler from the streets who joined the rangers just to get out of town to avoid arrest for enjoying a bar fight a little too much for the copper's liking. She was too good for him, of that he had no doubt.

  After an hour of trudging through the cold forest, they finally arrived back at the Lodge, a huge two-storey cabin where the western chapter of the Royal Rangers had kept watch over the wilds for centuries. The building normally housed two dozen men and women, but now only eight remained to fulfil their duty to the Crown.

  “I'll report in while you see to their accommodations,” Colt instructed his companion, but Duncan, who had been looking in through one of the Lodge's windows, suddenly appeared uncomfortable.

  “I'll swap you jobs,” he offered hastily, drawing a curious look from the big ranger.

  “I led, I should report in,” he insisted, already walking to the door. “Get them secure then come join us if you've something to add.” Duncan's mouth hung open as if trying to find the words, but nothing came out. Colt shrugged at his friend's odd behaviour as he stepped inside, only to discover what Duncan had been trying to say.

  Commander Armin of the Royal Rangers, an experienced officer well-respected by his troops was embracing a tall, elegant lady dressed in the same camouflage leathers as the rest of them, her head topped with tumbling golden curls. Their lips were locked together in a prolonged kiss, which stopped Colt cold in his tracks. Sensing they were not alone, the two turned to gape at Colt's unexpected appearance in their midst.

  “Colt, you're back early,” Armin blurted as the two of them stepped back. “Mona and I were -”

  “I bloody well saw what you were doing,” Colt roared as a surge of anger rose from within with such force he felt his face turn bright red. His thundering voice was followed by silence, and a red mist descended over Colt's vision. He stepped forward slowly and felt his hand curl into a fist.

  * * *

  Colt's breath came in short gasps as he left the Lodge some time later. The passage of time had no meaning for him as he staggered about, trying to breathe with a dead weight in his chest, like his heart had literally been ripped out. For some reason his right hand also hurt, though it hardly mattered now.

  “Are you alright?” Duncan asked hesitantly, keeping his distance as Colt tried to balance himself. Two other rangers dashed into the Lodge to see what had happened.

  “I... that cheating bastard,” Colt stammered, leaning against a thick tree as a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions crashed through his mind. “He knew Mona and I had a thing together, how could he do this to me?”

  “Colt, what did you do?” Duncan asked cautiously, looking down at the big ranger's bloodied hand.

  “Something stupid,” he croaked, unable to look his friend in the eye. “The commander's fine, just a bit bloodied is all. Look, I gotta go, he's put me on leave for a while.”

  “Leave? We're undermanned as it is, how long are you going away for?”

  “The rest of my life, probably?” Colt answered with a cynical laugh. He spied Mona in the window of the cabin, peering out at him with a look of cold disdain, and the stabbing pain in his chest confirmed he'd made a terrible mistake. All of his insecurities about who he was and who he used to be came rushing back from the dark place he kept them buried within, and he couldn't face any of it.

  “I've made a mess of things, Duncan,” he grunted, fighting to keep control of himself. “Best I get out of here as quick as I can before I get chained up alongside those bloody poachers. Gonna get myself a drink or two back in town and think about stuff. Take care of yourself mate.” Duncan could only watch in disbelief as Colt lumbered off through the forest, certain he'd made a mess of everything and unable to turn back for one last look at the woman who had twice changed his life.

  Prologue

  To Pacian, work was a four-letter word. There was nothing he enjoyed more than dozing in a field on a sunny day like today, far enough from home so his parents couldn’t assign him any chores or punish him for failing to do yesterday’s. In spite of his obvious laziness, Pacian never liked being called out on it, and went to great lengths to prove otherwise.

  “This is why you dragged me out here?” his friend Aiden complained, as they looked across a field of long grass. Aiden had dark hair, blue eyes, and wore a simple homespun tunic and trousers. “My brothers will be leaving home soon, and I want to be there before they go.”

  “This won’t take long,” Pacian assured him, “and family’s overrated anyway. It’s time for a rematch! Unless you think you’re going to lose anyway…”

  “I was expecting something else for my birthday, but hey, you’re on,” Aiden unexpectedly responded. “I reckon turning thirteen makes a difference, so I’ll bet you a copper jack I beat you to the forest.”

  “
Come on, make it a proper bet or it’s not worth the bother,” Pacian countered, trying to bluff his way out of the race without appearing like he was trying to get out of it, a fact Aiden appeared to be well aware of.

  “Okay, three coppers,” Aiden pressed, much to Pacian’s dismay. He wasn’t going to con his way out of it this time.

  Resigned to proving his mettle, Pacian lined up next to Aiden and moments later, they were both speeding through the long grass towards the tree line. While he began with a burst of speed, Pacian fell behind as Aiden, his dark hair flying wildly behind him, slowly inched his way past and gradually left his friend far behind.

  Aiden stumbled out of the field and leaned against a tree, his chest burning from the effort as he grinned breathlessly at his mate, who had apparently been unable to keep up with Aiden’s newfound speed.

  “Pay up,” Aiden demanded between breaths. Pacian merely waved dismissively at him as he staggered to a halt, unwilling to waste his breath by shouting across the dozen yards that remained between them.

  The two boys had been friends since they were small; their friendship was a source of some concern to Aiden’s parents, as Pacian had a knack for getting into trouble when Aiden happened to be with him.

  “I let you win, since it’s your birthday,” Pacian explained casually, taking the time to tidy up his short blond hair and absently brush non-existent dirt from his tunic. “Any other day, I would have beaten the pants off you.”

  Aiden laughed scornfully, knowing that Pacian’s pride wouldn’t permit him to admit defeat, but he decided to play along with this little fiction to spare his friend’s feelings.