The Bloody Quarrel (The Complete Edition) Read online

  About The Bloody Quarrel: The Arbalester Trilogy 2 (Complete Edition)

  The prince is dead.

  Fooled by the treacherous King Aidan, Fallon has shot down the one man he trusted to save his beloved nation of Gaelland. And yet, when the King could grind Fallon underfoot, he draws the simple farmer and fighter closer, making a hero of him.

  Embroiled in plots beyond his comprehension and weighted with the guilt of the prince’s murder, Fallon must tread carefully if he is to accomplish the task that first brought him to the cursed capital: rescue his wife, Bridgit, and the rest of his village from Kottermani slavery. If he and his hopelessly ensnared men can survive, they may yet find redemption.

  Meanwhile, across the ocean, Bridgit is rallying those around her to spring an escape. But who can be trusted? The ever-present danger of traitors and liars among the slaves, and even among her fellow Gaelish, is poison to her plans.

  With an ocean between them and fouler nightmares looming, Fallon and Bridgit will be driven to their very limits to escape their prisons, find each other, and bring justice to Gaelland.

  This epic fantasy is perfect for fans of Robin Hobb and Joe Abercrombie.

  Contents

  About The Bloody Quarrel: The Arbalester Trilogy 2 (Complete Edition)

  Dedication

  Maps

  EPISODE 1

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  EPISODE 2

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  EPISODE 3

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  EPISODE 4

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  EPISODE 5

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49

  CHAPTER 50

  CHAPTER 51

  CHAPTER 52

  CHAPTER 53

  CHAPTER 54

  CHAPTER 55

  CHAPTER 56

  Acknowledgments

  About Duncan Lay

  About The Poisoned Quarrel: The Arbalester Trilogy 3

  Also by Duncan Lay

  Copyright

  To my friends Ronnie and Dimity, Jodi, Jason and Jen, who have helped me so much on my book tours

  EPISODE 1

  CHAPTER 1

  Fallon stumbled backwards and fell, unable to tear his gaze from Cavan’s dead body. His breath came in harsh gasps and his mind flew in crazed circles, like a bird trapped in a room. He scrambled to his knees and then vomited, the anguish and horror and guilt and fear pouring out of him. He wiped his mouth. He wanted to cry but his eyes only burned and refused to shut out the sight of the dead Prince.

  Next moment, Brendan had grabbed him by the tunic and hauled him to his feet. “Why?” he asked, his voice a croak.

  “Swane. The King told me it would be Swane!” Fallon managed to force the words out of his swollen throat. “It has to be Swane. Dear Aroaril, tell me this is Swane!”

  Brendan just stared at him, his mouth open.

  “No, this has to be Swane.” Fallon turned his back on the dead Prince and appealed to Gallagher. “The King wanted me to kill Swane!”

  Brendan opened his hand and Fallon fell to his knees, but Gallagher lifted him again.

  “What did the King say to you?” he rasped.

  “He was giving Swane a last chance to turn away from Zorva. If he refused to renounce evil, then I had to kill him,” Fallon said, looking at Cavan and praying for him to stand up.

  “Fallon!” Gallagher snapped at him, giving him a shake and stepping in front of him so he had to look into a friend’s grim face instead of a friend’s dead face.

  “Think!” Gallagher hissed. “What did he really say?”

  Fallon closed his eyes. “No, he never said it was Swane. Just his son. He made me think it was Swane,” he said with a groan, putting it together in his mind. “He started talking about Swane and then after that only ever said ‘my son’. I thought what I wanted to think.”

  Gallagher’s hands tightened on Fallon’s shoulders.

  “What did he say to you?” Fallon whispered.

  “We hadn’t even got back to our rooms when that chamberlain Regan came rushing up to us. Said the King wanted to speak with Cavan about what would happen next. Of course Brendan and I came along but Regan said we had to wait in there while the King and his son spoke together. We couldn’t hear what they were saying but saw Cavan get angry, then the King throw down his crown – and you know what happened after that.”

  Fallon groaned.

  “The King must have been asking him to join them, to turn to Zorva. When he refused, Cavan was doomed. But why you? And what did he offer you to kill one of his sons?”

  “Our families,” Fallon said bleakly. “He promised they would be back with us if I did it.”

  Gallagher grimaced but did not say anything.

  Brendan had been sitting down on one of the garden beds, head in his hands, but now he stood. “What do we do?” he asked despairingly.

  “Swane is not behind this. The King is. And I don’t know what to do,” Fallon said. “I thought Cavan was our last hope. And he is gone.”

  The three of them stared down at the lifeless Prince. Fallon knew he should be crying but the shock was too great: it felt like everything had been knocked out of him.

  “I know what you should do,” a voice said behind them.

  Fallon and the others whirled to see Regan standing there, his hands behind his back.

  “You!” Fallon snarled and started forwards, only for Gallagher to grab him by the arm. For a moment he wrestled with his friend but Gallagher’s grip was like iron.

  “Don’t be a fool. Can’t you see what is above us?” Gallagher hissed.

  Fallon glanced up and saw the walkway, where he had stood to shoot down his Prince, was now filled with Kelty’s guards. And he knew only too well how exposed anyone down in the castle garden was to a crossbowman up there. But still he wanted to charge forwards. He was aching for a release, wanting to hit out, to try and wash away his horror and guilt in a tide of blood. Regan looked utterly calm, completely oblivious to his master’s son lying dead on the path. Fallon wanted to smash that expression off his face. He remembered how King Aidan had written hurriedly on a piece of parchment and handed it to Regan.

  “This is the bastard who led Cavan into the trap!” he snarled at Gallagher.

  “Listen to me if you want to see your families again,” Regan said evenly.

  “I won’t kill him. I’ll just make him tell us everything.” Fallon wrenched his arm free of Gallagher, only for Brendan to grab him.

  “Let’s hear it,” the big smith
said, holding Fallon easily.

  “Very wise. Touch me and you will all die,” Regan said evenly.

  “Don’t push your luck. Start talking or we’ll take our chances.” Fallon stopped shoving against Brendan, because it was like trying to push down a cliff.

  “You once vowed to the King that you would do anything to get your families back. Hold to that oath and they will be returned to you. Break your word to the King and you will all die.”

  “Go on,” Brendan said.

  “You have killed the King’s son and all earned a sentence of death. But the King is nothing if not merciful.”

  That was too much for Fallon and he surged forwards, but Brendan was an immovable wall.

  Regan went on regardless. “Gaelland’s true circumstances are beyond your knowledge. A critical time is approaching. Already wild rumors will be spreading about what happened in the city tonight. As far as everyone is concerned, and will be told, Prince Swane died in a treacherous attack.”

  “What do you mean, Prince Swane? That’s … not Swane lying there.” Fallon pointed, unable to bring himself to say Cavan’s name.

  “Prince Swane will adopt Prince Cavan’s duties and become the face of the Royal family. To prevent any distress, he will pretend to be Cavan at council meetings and elsewhere. You will escort Prince Swane as if he were Prince Cavan, as if nothing has happened,” Regan said flatly. “That way, nobody will see anything amiss.”

  “If you think that will work, you are mad,” Fallon said, panting, pushing at Brendan as though he could get anywhere.

  “It does not have to be for long. Just until the Kottermanis arrive for their treaty discussion. Once that is concluded, you and your men will get your families back and can return to your homes. Simple.”

  “If you imagine we’re going to sit down and eat with that Zorva-loving bastard Swane, you are madder than—” Fallon began.

  “You will only see him at public functions. Nowhere else. And remember, you told my master you were prepared to do anything to get your families back. Anything. He believed you were a man of your word. Please do not disappoint the King. He hates that.”

  “And that gets our families back?” Brendan insisted.

  “All of them. As if nothing ever happened,” Regan promised. “Just serve the King until the new moon, when the Kottermanis arrive. And then you get your old lives back. You have King Aidan's promise.”

  “Shall I tell you what you can do with the King’s promise?” Fallon roared, fighting to get away from Brendan, driven out of all control.

  Brendan half-turned, shielding him from Regan, and tightened his grip around Fallon’s upper body. It was like being slowly crushed to death and Fallon had to stop fighting to draw breath.

  “Don’t be such a bogging fool! You have killed Cavan, will you kill the rest of us and our families as well?” the smith hissed.

  Fallon stopped struggling. “I never meant for this to happen,” he whispered.

  “Aye, I know.” Brendan’s grip slackened fractionally. “But it is done. And we still have to get our families back. This is our last hope.”

  “We cannot trust them! The King tricked and lied to me. We will go along with them and end up dead, or worse!”

  “Do we have a choice?” Gallagher pointed out.

  Fallon clenched his fists so tight, it felt like they would break.

  “We’ll say what they want to hear now and then grab the lads and sail away, take our chances on finding everyone in Kotterman. I would rather do anything than serve that bastard Aidan,” he hissed.

  Regan cleared his throat. “Do not make the mistake of thinking the King is a fool,” he stated. “You are all living under a sentence of death and must prove yourselves every day to stay alive. The Duke of Lunster’s ship will be returned to the Duchess and your men on board brought to this castle. You will be watched night and day and any attempt to leave or do anything that displeases King Aidan will see you and all your men killed. Is that clear?”

  Fallon tasted bile and fought for breath. He had trapped everyone, put them all at Aidan’s mercy, and there was no escape. Their only hope was that a proven liar would keep his word.

  “Answer me!” Regan barked.

  Fallon swallowed down his hatred. “It is clear. We will do nothing unless King Aidan asks for it; nor will we leave the castle,” he said thickly. His mind was working furiously, but he could not concentrate. Every time he tried to pluck an idea out of the air, a way out of this mess, he thought of Cavan lying dead behind him and it was lost. The only thing he could cling to was a desire to defeat these bastards. He had to make amends for this, get his people to safety somehow.

  Regan stared at them. “Return to your rooms now. I shall send word if you are required for anything else,” he said. “And remember what I said. You face a simple choice. Death for all your men and your families, or their happy return to your sides. Don’t pick the wrong one.”

  “Wait!” Fallon could not bear to leave Cavan there. “What about the Prince?”

  Regan gestured behind them and they heard the rumble of an approaching cart. “The body will be taken out to the Guildhouse and join the others in the fire,” he replied.

  Fallon saw the guards approaching Cavan’s body; he was being thrown away like so much rubbish. “Please, at least let me put him in the cart,” he said.

  Regan hesitated, then nodded. “Be quick about it.”

  Fallon had to force himself to approach Cavan’s body. He went down on one knee and laid his hand on the Prince’s head. He looked peaceful, for death had arrived so quickly, and it was almost possible to imagine he was asleep.

  “I’m sorry, I am so sorry,” Fallon whispered, but the tears still would not come. There was too much anger and bitterness swirling around him for the grief to have a chance. He took a deep, shuddering breath and forced the words out. “I swore to keep you safe and instead killed you. You deserved happiness; you deserved to be the King. And you never got any of it. I hope that you find the peace you wanted, and deserved, with Aroaril.”

  He remembered Cavan’s secret plan to run away to his hidden island. “I’ll make that come true,” Fallon whispered. “We shall go there and get away from your brother and father and the filthy nobles.” As he said that, he felt a little calmer. “We’ll call the land Cavan and never forget you, my Prince. We will honor you every day.”

  He could not stand to see the bloody quarrel sticking out of the Prince’s chest, so he rolled Cavan onto his side. He used his dagger to trim away the flights, which were pressed hard against Cavan’s back. Then, grimacing at the thought, he grabbed the head of the quarrel, sticky with blood, and hauled on it. It was hard to get a grip and Cavan resisted the pull, his flesh holding on to the quarrel that had killed him. But slowly Fallon pulled it clear, until he had the entire blood-smeared shaft in his hand. For a moment he thought about casting it away, or even burning it, but instead he pushed it into his bolt bag.

  “I will keep that bloody quarrel and look on it every day. And it will remind me to honor you,” Fallon told Cavan gently.

  He kneeled down and wrapped his arms around Cavan. Grunting a little with the effort, and wary of his back, he stood, holding the limp Prince.

  “Let me help,” Brendan said.

  “No,” Fallon said, his jaw clenched with the effort. Cavan was not a big man but he could feel the sweat pouring off him as he laid the Prince gently down in the back of the cart. There was a sheet there and he used that to cover Cavan’s body.

  The guards pushed him back then and he stepped away and watched his Prince being taken away to burn on a pyre, rather than be buried with honor.

  “It should not end like this,” Brendan said softly.

  Fallon nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

  “Time to go, Fallon. Remember my words and obey when I call on you,” Regan said.

  Fallon was numb now and allowed Gallagher to guide him back into the castle and up to their rooms. He fel
t like he was walking in a dream. He prayed he was. Because then he could maybe wake up and tell Cavan about the strangest nightmare he had.

  But it was not a dream. And he had a horrible reminder when the men he had left on the Duke’s ship, led by Devlin and with Kerrin in the center of the group, came walking down the corridor, a company of Kelty’s guards following.

  “Do you want to tell us what in the name of Aroaril is going on?” Devlin demanded. “And where is Prince Cavan?”

  “Not here,” Fallon said shortly. “We need to talk but it must wait.”

  Nobody looked happy about that but they followed him back to their rooms, Kerrin slipping through the ranks to be beside Fallon. He could not look down at his son, not knowing what he could say to the lad. The bloody quarrel in the bolt bag on his hip seemed to weigh him down, as if he carried around his guilt in there. And there was enough to crush him. Not only had he killed Prince Cavan but he had put them all at Aidan’s mercy.

  How was he going to get Bridgit back now?

  CHAPTER 2

  Bridgit and her friends had hurried after the young woman Ely, the helper Prince Kemal had given them.

  The screams of Sean and Seamus, dying slowly out on the sand, followed them into the city. Even when they were surrounded by the hubbub of the port – even over the ensuing days as they settled into their new lives – Bridgit felt like she could still hear the men’s cries accusing her.

  Their house and prison was a large, plain two-story building with none of the bright tiles or decoration she had seen on Prince Kemal’s home. Carefully they explored it. Inside it was cool and shady, with a large courtyard at the back enclosed by a high wall. There were plenty of rooms so they could divide the children up by families and ages, as well as keep one for themselves.

  The only thing they did not have was a key. The walls around the courtyard were high, far too tall to get a small child over, and were topped with wicked-looking barbed spikes.

  “We shall get out of here, but not that way,” Bridgit murmured to her friends.