Lord of Ashes (Steelhaven: Book Three) Read Free

Riverlands from his brother, the rightful heir, in a failed coup. That the ‘injustice’ as Azreal called it was more a mercy. By all rights their queen should have taken her son’s head rather than cast him into exile. But she knew Azreal would hear none of it.
    ‘You’re right,’ she said with a smile, adopting a mask she hoped he would not see through. It would not do to argue with Azreal when he was in such a fervour. ‘We made our vows and we must serve. Even if it means we will die.’
    Azreal smiled back at her. ‘You won’t die,’ he said. ‘There’s no one alive can match you.’
    At that, he left her standing amid the camp with the smell of fresh lit fires in the bite of the morning air. As she glanced towards the city in the distance, grey and imposing against the dark iron sky, she wondered if he was right, or if there was someone waiting within who could finally best her and leave her body to rot alone and forgotten in this cold and bleak land.

ONE
    B reakfast had become a pitiful affair in recent days and Waylian Grimm wasn’t sorry to miss it. Though it was unlike him to skip a meal, especially since his time in the Kriega Mountains when he’d almost starved to death, he just couldn’t bring himself to eat. There was a fight coming, a fight that might see the end of everything he knew, and the consequent knot in his stomach was twisted too tight to allow room for watery gruel.
    He stared north out of his chamber window, probably not the best thing to do under the circumstances, looking forlornly towards the horde that would come to destroy the city any day now. But what else was he supposed to do? Try and ignore them? Offer some tea and cakes? Run like the bloody hells?
    That latter option was off the cards, at least. The last ship had sailed from port three days previously and in the night a huge fleet had arrived to blockade Steelhaven’s crescent bay. The way north was barred by a mass of cutthroat savages, and who knew what lay in wait to east and west. Waylian couldn’t go anywhere, even if he wanted to.
    Just have to sit tight and wait for the fighting to start, won’t you, Grimmy.
    But when would the bloody fighting start? The Khurtas were just sitting there, lighting their fires in the night, singing their brutal dirges. They’d made a pretty good show of scaring the shit out of everyone in the city, but so far made no move to attack.
    Perhaps Amon Tugha had got bored. Perhaps he’d seen the imposing curtain wall and barred gates of Steelhaven and thought better of it.
    Waylian was pretty sure that was a wish too far.
    Amon Tugha had come a long way to take Steelhaven for his own. There was no way he’d be leaving without a fight.
    Waylian washed his face in a bowl of cold water and donned his robe before leaving the chamber and making his way down the vast stairway that wound its way through the core of the Tower of Magisters. The corridors had become all but deserted in the days leading up to Amon Tugha’s arrival. Where before there had been aimless chatter there was now silence. The atmosphere of studiousness replaced by an air of steely determination that seemed to hang over the place now that his mistress, Magistra Gelredida, had mobilised the Archmasters to her cause.
    It had not been easy. His mistress had brought the most powerful magickers in the Free States to heel through subterfuge and blackmail, and Waylian had helped her do it. He could only hope that when all this was over he wouldn’t be the one who had to face their ire.
    Don’t worry about that right now, Grimmy. You have to survive the forty thousand Khurtas about to rain all the hells on the city you’re stuck in. You’ll most likely be long dead before any of the Archmasters has a chance to seek vengeance.
    Making his way down the oak staircase, Waylian could hear the guttural shouts of combat and the clash of steel echoing up towards him. One of the floors had been cleared completely of desks and shelves