Hidden Treasure out May 17!
According to legend, five hundred years ago the country of Connmeera sent an exceptional gift to the country of Ormslea, but the ship was overtaken and the treasure lost. Now proof of the treasure has been found in the vast, daunting country of Jarvoct, and Connmeera and Ormslea mount a joint venture to recover the treasure. Ormslea sends Jaxom Archeron, the son of a noble family, an elite soldier known for his dedication to duty. But the Queen of Connmeera chooses Lord Dorian Pelias, a poor relation who could benefit even if the mission is unsuccessful.
While the two men at first have nothing in common, as they travel, Dorian’s intelligence, optimism, and kindness work their way past the wall of resolve Jaxom long ago constructed around his heart. When a Jarv prince attempts to enslave Dorian for his own purposes, Jaxom comes to his rescue, shaken by how much Dorian has come to mean to him. Recovering the treasure isn’t the only challenge they will face as they search for common ground and a life in disparate countries that may not be so pleased to welcome them home.
567 years after the Foundering
“The Lost Children?”
“Come, Alanann, surely you know the legend.”
“Of course, but it was five hundred years ago. The High Lord of Ormslea is claiming it’’s true?”
“Not only that, but also that he may have a map leading to the location.”
“How is that possible? According to the legend, the children were captured by Vanduuns and sold in Jarvoct.”
“And according to High Lord Riquin, the Treasure is located in Jarvoct. He is determined to find it and asks if Connmeera wishes to participate in the search.”
“Even if the Treasure exists, it was a gift from Connmeera to Ormslea. Whatever it is belongs to them. Wouldn’t the recovery be their concern?”
“Perhaps, but the children themselves were Connmeeran. Once word of this spreads among the people, they will want answers. As their Queen, I am obliged to find those answers, if they can be found.”
“Even if it means traveling to….”
“Jarvoct. Yes. This will be the first test of our treaty with them.”
“Your Majesty, that treaty is….”
“Yes, Alanann?”
“There are many who say that the treaty is a useless one. The ambassador himself said that the emperor is a weakling who will not rule long.”
“Yes, the Jarvs aren’t likely to let him sit on the throne for long. We must take advantage of the treaty while we can.”
“Whom will you choose to lead the mission? Morwenna?”
“There will not be any need for a leader. The High Lord believes--and I quite agree--that this should be done as quietly as possible. Only one representative from each of our countries will be sent.”
“Acantha, then. She-”
“Lord Dorian.”
“Lord Dorian. Dorian Pelias? Are you mad?”
“Alanann, you forget yourself. You may be my heir, but that only carries so much liberty with it.”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty.”
“Dorian is always desperate to make himself useful somehow. Here is his chance. It will also give me an excuse to give him an income without it looking like charity. I can make certain it is large enough that the poor boy won’t have to struggle any longer.”
“You know I want that for Dorian as much as anyone, but he’s no soldier. He was unable to complete the training. This is far too dangerous for him.”
“Ormslea is sending an elite soldier. From what I’ve heard of him, he ought to be able to look after himself and Dorian as well.”
“But treaty or no, Jarvoct is still a dangerous place for Connmeerans.”
“Dorian doesn’t look Connmeeran. As long as he doesn’t tell anyone where he’s from, our little sparrow should be safe enough.”
Dorian smoothed down the front of his best tunic, assuring himself that although it was old, it was clean and pressed. He wished he had better attire for this formal audience, but Queen Jovenna was also his aunt and knew of his lack of funds as well as anyone.
“Tell me, Dorian, have you ever heard of the Lost Children?”
The question was completely unexpected, and it took Dorian a moment to gather his thoughts. “The… the Lost Children were from Connmeera and set sail for Ormslea bearing some sort of gift for that country,” he said, rattling off what he could remember of the legend. “Their ship was set upon by Vanduuns and-“ He broke off when the Queen raised her hand.
“I’m aware of the legend,” she assured him with a faintly amused smile that was all too familiar to Dorian. “I just wanted to make certain you did, as I have a task for you related to this legend.”
Dorian wasn’t sure what to make of that. He knew he was not the first person anyone would think to assign an important task. “What sort of task?”
“The High Lord of Ormslea has sent word to me that they believe they have learned the location of the Treasure in Jarvoct. They are sending a Guardian-one of their elite soldiers-to Jarvoct to retrieve it. High Lord Riquin has asked if Connmeera wishes to send a representative as well. I have decided you are the best choice.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Dorian replied with a bow, despite the multitude of questions whirling around in his head. First and foremost-if Ormslea was sending an elite soldier, why in the world was Queen Jovenna sending him?
Some of his confusion must have shown, because the Queen quickly put on a reassuring expression. “I know it may be daunting-even frightening-to travel through Jarvoct, but we have established a treaty with them, and in any case, I’m sure that the soldier they are sending is quite capable.”
“I’m not frightened about that,” Dorian said truthfully. He knew, as did all Connmeerans, that countries northeast of the Pillars of Avonas had reason to be wary of those of the Knoth, and that several countries of the Knoth-including Jarvoct-had a particular obsession with Connmeerans. He had heard the stories of Jarvs abducting Connmeerans for marriage or slavery, but such a fate was hardly a danger for him. A glance at Queen Jovenna told him she was still waiting for some sort of explanation. “My only fear is not completing the task Your Majesty has assigned me.”
The Queen smiled that smile again, the one frequently bestowed on clumsy puppies or ungainly newborn foals. “Not to worry, little sparrow, not to worry. No matter whether the Treasure is recovered or not, you will be well-rewarded.”
And then Dorian knew. Queen Jovenna didn’t believe there was a treasure to be found. She wasn’t about to send one of Connmeera’s soldiers on an empty mission and so was sending him instead. “Your Majesty is most gracious,” he said. What else could he say? It was gracious of her to reward him for what would likely amount to a useless journey. “I will do my best.”
“I know you will, Dorian.”
Dorian told himself he was immune to the implications of that kindly, indulgent tone. “When do I set sail?”
“In a week’s time. We shall speak with the emissary from Ormslea to discuss where you will meet their soldier. Then, of course, there are many other preparations to be made. By the by, I will be giving you a Dyrn dray pony for your journey.”
Overwhelmed, Dorian lost his voice briefly. Dyrn horses were the most sought-after in the world, known for their exceptional intelligence and stamina. Even a little pack pony was well beyond his means. “I don’t know how to thank you…”
“Nonsense.” Queen Jovenna waved his thanks away. “The pony will be a great help when you’re traveling, and once your journey is complete, you will be able to sell it for a tidy sum.”
That struck an unpleasant chord within him, but Dorian ignored it. Better to keep his attention on the task before him, no matter how useless that task might be.
“And, of course, there will be a feast given in honor of your departure.”
“Your Majesty, that is not necessary,” Dorian protested immediately.
“Of course it is. A feast would be given in honor of any member of the family embarking on such a long journey.”
Dorian knew that was not necessarily so-not when only one member of the royal family was taking their leave. Normally a feast would be given after a noble’s successful completion of a mission. Obviously, the Queen wasn’t expecting such an outcome for him. Dorian stifled a sigh. This task would give the nobles another excuse to mock and condescend-as if they needed more reason. They already had their choice of his poverty, his looks, his father, or his failure as a soldier. The only area of his life not open to mockery was his scholarship, and Dorian was not eager to pursue that path. His father may have been a brilliant man, but the last thing Dorian wanted was to follow in his footsteps.
“Dorian?” Queen Jovenna sounded concerned. “I know this is unexpected, but I assure you I have considered what is best for you.”
“I have no doubt of that, Your Majesty.” That, at least, was easy to say. The Queen had been responsible for him since his parents’ deaths years earlier. She wouldn’t send him on this mission unless she thought it would be of some benefit to him. If nothing else, he had the chance to visit a new country, the promise of much-needed income, and a Dyrn dray as well. That was certainly preferable to trying to eke out an existence at court while being patronized by well-meaning relatives and ridiculed by the rest. “I just need a moment to get used to the idea. It’s not every day I get such an adventure dropped in my lap. Am I allowed to choose my own dray?”
“That’s the Dorian I know so well.” Queen Jovenna smiled. “Come.” She rose. “We can go to the stables at once.”
As he held out his arm for the Queen to take, Dorian felt both anticipation and trepidation begin to tingle inside him. He’d traveled to other countries before-to Dyrnwych, Connmeera’s neighbor, at least twice a year, sometimes by sail and sometimes by land; to Azure Reef, which was only two days’ sail; and to the Pelagrie Islands, which was six. But all these countries were northeast of the Pillars and shared similar customs. Jarvoct was beyond the Pillars, at least three weeks by ship, and largely a mystery. Aside from their interest in Connmeerans, Dorian had only heard of their cold climate, of a large, stocky people with a love for excess, and of the icestone the country was famous for-rocks as clear as ice but as hard as stone. Dorian had only seen pebbles that had been set in jewelry, but he’d heard that in Jarvoct there were entire statues of it.
And who could say what the future held? If the Treasure did exist, there was always the chance that he would find it and become worthy in the eyes of the Royal Family. Perhaps this was his chance to finally belong.
Jaxom Acheron strode through the halls of the palace, looking neither left nor right as he followed the guard to his meeting with the High Lord Mayor. He had been working to quell the riots in a village on the Sulian border when his commander told him he was to report to the Palace at Treabagh. He had ridden nearly three days without rest to reach Treabagh as soon as possible.
The ruler of Ormslea never spoke to soldiers himself-even if they were the sons of Lord Mayors. He left that to his generals. It was beyond Jaxom why High Lord Riquin had summoned him, but it was not for him to question.
The palace guard pushed open a heavy door and then stood aside to let Jaxom enter. The High Lord Mayor was reclining on a sofa with a goblet in one hand and a plate of fruit on a small table beside him. Jaxom bowed, and the guard closed the door behind him. Riquin didn’t say anything, so Jaxom straightened and stood at attention. It wasn’t his place to speak until the High Lord Mayor addressed him. After another sip from the goblet, Riquin set it on the table. “Jaxom Acheron.”
“Yes, Your Excellency,” Jaxom replied with another slight bow.
“Your commander speaks very highly of you.”
“Thank you, Your Excellency.”
“One of the youngest soldiers ever to be nominated to the Guardians.”
“That’s true, sir.” If Riquin had summoned him merely to list his accomplishments, that was his right.
“But you never completed your training. You left during your final year.”
“My mother died,” Jaxom explained. “I was charged with the care of my brother.”
“Very commendable. Your father mentioned as much when he suggested you would be suitable for this particular commission. After speaking with your superiors, I quite agree.”
There was no proper reply to that, so Jaxom remained silent, still at attention.
“Have you heard of Ilo’s Scrolls?”
“I have,” Jaxom replied promptly. He’d heard all about the scrolls and what they contained on his last visit home. His father had talked of nothing else. “In a series of documents recently found by his family, Ilo claimed he’d found the Connmeeran Treasure in Jarvoct.”
“Then I assume you know the legend of the Treasure.”
“It was a gift from Connmeera to Ormslea five hundred years ago. It was to help restore magic to our country.” Jaxom didn’t believe the latter aspect of the legend. If it was possible to somehow transfer magic from the Avordanian countries to those of the Knoth, someone else would have found a way in the ensuing five centuries. “The ship transporting the Connmeeran Treasure was taken by Vanduuns, and the Connmeerans on board were sold in Jarvoct.”
“And so it would follow that the Treasure would be in Jarvoct as well. I am sending you there to retrieve it.” Riquin took his goblet again. “As quietly as possible, of course. We don’t want Jarvoct suspecting they’re in possession of such a treasure.”
“I will do my best, Your Excellency.” It was a relief to be able to say that with a clear conscience. Normally, when a Lord Mayor assigned a mission to a solitary soldier, it was of a dubious or repulsive nature. Finding and retrieving a treasure that rightfully belonged to Ormslea-even if he had to do so under false pretenses, and even if he didn’t believe the Treasure was especially precious-wasn’t nearly as distasteful as some things he’d had to do in the course of his regular duties.
“It’s within my power to reward you quite generously.”
“There’s no need, sir,” Jaxom said, but there were some things in the back of his mind that he wanted to ask of the High Lord Mayor if he was successful.
“Your superiors have said that you put your duty to Ormslea above all things, even the objections of your own family.” Riquin’s eyes narrowed. “Is that true?”
So Riquin was suspicious of Sandor Acheron’s motivations in suggesting his son. That was probably wise of him. “It is, Your Excellency.” He didn’t bother explaining that the only time he had ever put anything above his duty was when he quit Guardian training to care for his brother. Although he never regretted that decision, it had all been for nothing in the end.
“Excellent.” Riquin saluted him with his goblet before taking a sip. “You will be sailing on the evening tide.”
“Yes, sir.” Jaxom didn’t mind that he was leaving immediately. He was glad there would be no chance for his father to speak to him in an attempt to turn the entire situation to his benefit.
“Your ship will dock at Hring. From there you will travel to the manor of Lady Sella Meldric. She is my sister and the widow of Lord Gerritt Meldric. You will spend your first night in Jarvoct in some comfort.”
“Thank you, Your Excellency.” Something was amiss. That, or there was something important Riquin was neglecting to tell him. One didn’t send a soldier to stay at a manor house. Jaxom decided it was best to be wary.
“And I forgot to mention,” Riquin said, though Jaxom suspected the exact opposite was true. “On the outskirts of the manor, you will meet up with the Connmeeran who will be accompanying you on your journey.”
So that was it. That wasn’t nearly so bad as he’d feared. “Connmeera is sending a soldier as well?”
“Wouldn’t that be a nice bonus? I’ve never come across one of their woman warriors myself, but I hear they’re something to see.” Riquin tossed a conspiratorial leer in Jaxom’s direction. “But I suppose they wouldn’t be of much interest to you.”
Jaxom saw no reason to reply and schooled his features into a blank mask. He’d never hidden his inclinations-never had reason to. They weren’t terribly uncommon, after all. With two older brothers, there was no pressure for him to carry on the family line, and unlike some military men, he didn’t form attachments with his comrades, thus ensuring that private matters didn’t interfere with his duties. When he desired a bed partner, he preferred one who wasn’t a soldier.
“They’re sending a noble,” Riquin continued. “A relative of the Queen.” The leer returned. “Man or woman, it’s no hardship spending a moon or two in the company of a Connmeeran.”
There was no contradicting that. Jaxom had seen both male and female Connmeeran travelers during his lifetime, and all had been so beautiful that they supported another old legend about them. This one said that the word “fair,” which originally meant only light skin, eyes, or hair, came to mean “beautiful” because of Connmeerans. “I’ll see to the safety of the Queen’s kinsman.”
“You may need to. Jarvs are always greedy when it comes to Connmeerans.” Riquin held out a thick scroll. “In here is Ilo’s letter about the Treasure as well as a copy of his map leading to it. It appears to be as accurate as any other map of the country we have, although it only goes up to the site of the Treasure. After leaving here, you are to report immediately to Captain Mils at the south barracks. He will fit you for your mission and give you the rest of your orders. You then report to the Windblade, to sail tonight.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.” Jaxom took the scroll.
“On your way, then. And, Acheron,” he said once Jaxom had made his bow. “I’m putting a great deal of trust in you. See that it is not misplaced.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.” Jaxom bowed again before exiting.
Scrolls in hand, Jaxom left the palace at a steady soldier’s pace and started toward the south barracks. When he’d woken that morning, he’d never imagined he’d be off to Jarvoct by tonight, but as a soldier, he had a mission and it was his duty to fulfill it. Jaxom Acheron always did his duty.
It was all he had left.
Available in e-book and paperback from Dreamspinner Press May 17.