The Tenets in the Tattoos (The King's Swordsman Book 1) Read online

  The Tenets in the Tattoos

  Book One of The King’s Swordsman

  Becky James

  Clarkenhome Press

  Also by Becky James

  The King’s Swordsman series:

  The Bind of Blood and Bonds

  The Limit of the Lonely Man

  Other series:

  The Queen’s Slave – coming 2022

  Standalones in the same universe:

  The Amazing Adventures of Aubin – coming 2023

  For news from the author, check out www.beckyjamesauthor.co.uk.

  First published in 2021

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright © Becky James 2021

  The right of Becky James to be identified as the author of the work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This publication contains content including reference to self harm, suicide and domestic violence. Reader proceed at your own discretion.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Ebook ISBN 978-1-9168774-0-5

  Book cover design: Fantastical Ink

  Editors: Clem Flanagan at Red Pen Vigilante; Ashley Olivier

  Section break illustrations: A. Bater

  Map of Oberrot City: Andrés Aguirre Jurado

  Clarkenhome Press

  Gloucestershire

  GL2 5DR

  www.clarkenhomepress.com

  To Angharad, my soul companion across all the worlds.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Also by Becky James

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Map

  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

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  I darted into Gavain’s range. Ducking, I swung my practice blade to the side and scored a clear hit on the side of his chest. My closest friend staggered back a pace and shook his head, blond hair plastered flat with sweat. He rubbed his side. “Best you can do? You wouldn’t have cut through ribs into anything vital with a weak swing like that.”

  “No, but you would be incapacitated enough for me to take your head off,” I countered, smiling. Gavain was excellent to spar with, and big enough to take even my hits. He had a bad habit of drawing back to recover, and I wasn’t about to let him. I pressed forward, swinging and prodding with the sword, keeping him on the defensive, taking longer and longer strides to shove him backwards into a retreat.

  Gavain grimaced, lunging forward. I saw it coming and rolled to the side. His blade missed me and thwacked into the field, tossing dirt in my face.

  “Left yourself open to that!” he crowed. I swore at him, rubbing my eyes clear to inspect my clothes. “What? You’ll have a bath after.” I swore at him again.

  If he had muddied my jacket, especially on this important day…

  “Special Forces, to me!” Captain Shard barked, his voice echoing through the field. With that, we quit immediately, saluted each other, and jogged back to gather in formation around him with the others.

  “You’re too showy,” Gavain argued, turning towards me. “You’re all big, dramatic movements and wide, wild swings. You need more speed if you’re going to swing like that.”

  My head buzzed like a travel mancer’s lodestone too much to think of a response.

  Soon, she would be here.

  “Are you even listening?” Gavain swore. “You think you know it all.”

  “I do,” I said with a shrug. “I’ve taken it on board, Gav, let it lie.”

  We approached our friend Aleric, who gave me a prompt slap on the back. “What did you do to your face?” he whispered underneath Captain Shard’s closing remarks.

  “He did it. Gav, you’re brushing off my jacket,” I complained, earning a laugh from Gavain. Narrowing my eyes, I shoved his arm. “I’m serious. It better not need a proper clean. You know what day it is today!”

  He pretended to stagger to one side as a result of my push, bumping into someone else and causing a ripple in the formation.

  “Boys!” Captain Shard barked. “Shardsson, stay after dismissal.”

  Gavain smirked. “Oops,” he said with a slight chuckle. I balled my fists. “Don’t worry. She’s here to meet you, not see your jacket.”

  “Take it and brush it off. Please.” A quick inspection as I shucked out of the garment revealed a bit of dirt on the collar, but hopefully that would come off easily.

  “If it means that much to you.” With a mocking salute, Gavain took my jacket. He and Aleric walked toward the baths with the rest of Special Forces.

  I approached my father alone as he finished off talking with Barlay, his second-in-command, then dismissed him. Barlay walked back to the barracks, head down as he shifted through some papers.

  Taking a deep breath, I saluted my father. “Captain, my apologies for that behaviour.”

  His lips thinned, eyes holding mine in an unflinching stare. He spoke quietly, every word carefully placed. “I know today means a lot for you. King Gough is excited about the arrival of Rose’s daughter as well.” Another flip of my stomach. I kept my hands still by force of will.

  My father went on, “I had to give my personal assurance to the royal family that Special Forces can defend them within the city, despite not having an incident for two score years.” The very edges of his lips tipped up. “I had to swear that all our fighters are professional, calm-headed, focused, and dedicated.” My father raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Yes, Captain.” I saluted. “I won’t let you down.”

  “See that you don’t. You’ve not done irreparable damage… So far, anyway.” He touched my shoulder briefly. “I wish you well when you meet the daughter of the king’s soul companion. I feel that she must be the one.”

  I nodded, my stomach trembling with excitement, and saluted the captain once more. “If that’s all, sir, I’d like to prepare.”

  “Prepare? You’ll do fine the way you are. Just be yourself, Thorrn.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Shard nodded. “Dismissed and fall out. And god’s’ luck, lad.”

  Turning on my heel, I hurried to the baths, walking a quick march and keeping my head up and forward towards the castle courtyard. Ahead of me, messenger boys and girls darted in and out through
the castle gates along the path to the city gates, then beyond to their destinations.

  My stomach turned with a cocktail of excitement and nerves, but I slowed as I passed through the gatehouse and put my head into the guard post, which was ostensibly unoccupied except for a pair of boots on the table. Rapping my sword hilt on the lintel, the boots jerked off with a strangled oath to be replaced by a lined and worn face. I gave the Regular my best glare. The soldier muttered and mumbled something, pulling at his green uniform.

  “Name?” I demanded. Making a mental note of it, I walked on. It wasn’t Special Forces’ place to discipline the Regs, but slacking behaviour wasn’t to be tolerated. Especially not today.

  The castle courtyard seemed emptier than usual for just before mid-sun. The myriad entrances into the castle buildings were quiet, with only a trickle of movement. Functionaries whispered news of the daughter of the king’s soul companion. “Arriving soon – and by magical means, no less,” I overheard.

  “Well, of course. She’s not going to walk up the city hill, is she? I wonder what she’ll be like…”

  You and me both, I thought as I passed them, my heart thumping with anticipation. She wasn’t royalty herself, but her mother’s status as the soul companion of the king made her a person of extreme interest in the court.

  The air cooled as I passed into the gallery of the castle proper. The long gallery acted as the main artery to the building, a focal point and workspace both. It gave access to the King’s Lake, the gardens set inside the castle, and the mess hall. The main stairs dominated the gallery, leading up to the working level of the building.

  Nerves pulled on my stomach, turning it away from the enticing smells coming out of the mess hall. I shook out my hands and took a deep breath, taking the stairs two at a time up towards the baths. I slowed as a stream of messenger lads chased each other down the spiral stairs from the hospitality and residential levels and spilled into my path.

  One messenger swept by me so fast and dizzy from the turns that he stumbled. I grabbed the back of his shirt to steady him. “Let me go, sir. I didn’t do nothing!” he exclaimed, trying to pull away.

  “I’m not an Upholder, go to. Just play somewhere else.” I released him. Calling after his friends, he sprinted away.

  Smiling to myself, I paced to the baths, squinting against the bright light opposite from the Sun Room, a completely glass room used to impress and host dignitaries. The dinner in honour of the daughter of the king’s soul companion would be in there. Pressing my chest to feel the card of the invitation, I panicked when I couldn’t find it. I relaxed when I realised that I had put it in the pocket of my jacket, and Gavain had that. Hopefully the dirt has come off it…

  I shouldered my way into the men’s baths, letting out a small breath of relief. The tiles rang with raucous shouts from Special Forces. Heads snapped up at me from the large bathing pool, coils of steam curling above them. I waved, and the men went back to their conversations.

  Pulling off my shirt, I looked for a clear rack space to neatly fold it in, letting the noise roll around me. Gavain and Aleric sat with the rest of the contingent, leaning back along the edges of the steaming pool. The door opened again, and Special Forces looked up; it was merely a courtier, who backed out when he realised his error. Truth be told, I preferred the baths quieter than this; a lot of people avoided mid-sun, when the baths would be bursting with heavily tattooed swordsmen.

  I had to scrub my hair fast in the wash area to catch up, then slid into the pool and waded toward them. Gavain’s nose wrinkled at me. “That smells like lyneal,” he said.

  “It’s supposed to make your hair shine.” I sat next to them, back to the edge of the baths, scanning the area quickly out of habit.

  Gavain scooted away. “It’s giving me terrors of being laid up in the barracks and maltreated by Tabreksson. Yuck. I can almost taste the medicines on my tongue.”

  “Yes, but they work.”

  “Probably because they taste so bad our bodies accelerate the healing process to spare us.” Gavain’s lips pinched. “Take it like a man, three times a day, exact proportions.” He mimed picking up a droplet of water. “Too much.”

  “Who’s that meant to be?” Aleric asked, brow furrowed.

  “Aubin Tabreksson, you dolt.”

  I grimaced. “He could come in here, you know.”

  Gavain rolled his eyes. “Your jacket is fine, by the way.”

  I let out a breath. “Good. First impressions count for a lot; I hope to make a very favourable impression on Rose’s daughter.” My hands trembled just thinking about it.

  “The son of the Special Forces Captain? You’ll be fine.”

  “Don’t forget, I’m his very best swordsman too,” I said, dunking my head under to wash the lyneal off. “Did it work?” I asked, catching Gavain and Aleric exchanging glances. “What? I know I’m not supposed to get anything but water in here, but it’s only lyneal.”

  “Nothing,” Aleric said. “What’s she like, then, the daughter of the king’s soul companion?”

  “I have no idea. She’s never been to Oberrot City. That means she almost must be my soul companion because I haven’t found her yet and she hasn’t found hers. It has to be, right?” I had had no success finding my soul companion thus far, even away on missions, and I had waited for turns and turns now. Finding one’s soul companion was normal and expected and should have been easy in the foremost city on Oberrot. After all, being separated by continents was rare.

  “Don’t ask me, I’m not a soul searcher,” Gavain said. “I found Zelora when we—”

  “Yes, I know, Gav. You don’t have to remind me.”

  “And you thought Zel was yours.” He snorted. My heart creased with remembered grief; the hope rising in my chest and how it was dashed to splinter against hard reality. I closed my eyes briefly.

  Soul companions or souls were best thought of as one spirit inhabiting two bodies, each the embodiment or exemplar of the other. Gavain’s soul companion Zelora was as smart as Gavain and held a keen interest in exploring the world, an essence they shared. Aleric and Alyssia were more opposites: Aly was quiet, whereas Aleric never stopped talking. It was a widely held belief that spirits sought to experience both sides of a trait, a clash of opposites sometimes taken to extremes. However, at its true essence, the spirit would be the same. A pair could consist of someone brave and someone craven, but, when it mattered most, the true trait would be revealed in them both.

  The bond between pairs lasted throughout their lives, allowing the partners to experience each other’s strong emotions if they were close, and sometimes even share dreams. The bond was not that of lovers; marriage and unions were sought elsewhere, but you were only complete in this life when you had your soul companion by your side. Watching the pairs growing up, I noted how they reacted to one another without the other even speaking or when they sensed the other in pain, physical or emotional. That was the spirit they shared moving them as one.

  It hurt to think about, but today the pain was tempered with excitement and – yes – rising hope.

  I couldn’t wait, and yet that was all I had ever done. It was almost unheard of to still be bereft of your soul companion at such a late age as me, something I was reminded of constantly, seeing everyone else with theirs.

  “The daughter of the king’s soul will be something else,” Aleric murmured, raising his eyebrows at Gavain.

  I straightened up. “She’ll be beautiful and adroit, the perfect consort, well-kept and sociable, the perfect complement to me. She’ll dress well and keep abreast of city fashions – and maybe even inspire some looks herself. She’ll be able to talk with any lord from any station, making connections all across the land.” Gavain and Aleric raised their eyebrows at each other. I scowled at them. “What?”

  “Sounds like a lot. Too much for you, maybe,” Gavain remarked.

  “We’ll be perfect together,” I retorted hotly.

  “That’s a courtier’s
soul companion, not the captain’s best swordsman’s soul companion,” Aleric said. “What’s adroit mean, anyway?”

  “I have no idea, but it sounds good. She’ll be very useful when we go travelling to see other barracks and how they do things, adapting my own ideas ready for when my father decides to step down.”

  “Oho,” Gavain chuckled. “Now we get into it. Back to angling for the captaincy.”

  “Yes. I am the best. I’ll be the youngest second-in-command ever promoted and from there, the best captain Special Forces has ever seen. But for that, I need my soul by my side.” I smoothed my hair down. “Or is it better sticking up a bit?”

  “There’s a lot around here that’s stuck up,” Gavain muttered.

  “Huh? Oh, the back?” My hands shook while they settled my hair. I mastered my hands, calling quiet into my movements.

  I needed a change of subject. “How are your tattoos doing, Al?”

  “Argh. This one itches.” He lifted his forearm, bright with a range of insignia and symbols. “It’s alright everywhere else, but this is right on the elbow crease. It keeps catching and opening.” He patted around a bright green mark; an intertwining circle ringed with swollen red skin.

  “Huh.” I lifted my forearm. “I remember that, actually. When I had the Rushia campaign added—”

  “Yes, Thorrn, yes. No one’s been on more missions away than you. We know,” Gavain said with a roll of his eyes.

  I touched the small tattoo. Our markings signified and celebrated our rank and accomplishments and were repeated across our bodies. “I only meant that that campaign tattoo went into my elbow crease and yes, it was slow to heal. That paste stuff works wonders.”

  “I’ll be certain to get some. If the ink falls out, the Lorekeeper will have to do it all over again. No thanks.”

  After the baths, the men rejoined the women from the contingent. Lori stood to one side, eyes on the floor. Wondering how she fared, I hesitated next to her. “Swordswoman Lori, are you… hale and well?”