Dagger's Sleep Read online

  Dagger’s Sleep

  TRICIA MINGERINK

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dagger's Sleep (Beyond the Tales, #1)

  Books by Tricia Mingerink

  CHAPTER ONE | Rosanna

  CHAPTER TWO | Rosanna

  CHAPTER THREE | Rosanna

  CHAPTER FOUR | Alexander | One Hundred Years Ago

  CHAPTER FIVE | Alexander | One Hundred Years Ago

  CHAPTER SIX | Rosanna

  CHAPTER SEVEN | Rosanna

  CHAPTER EIGHT | Alexander | One Hundred Years Ago

  CHAPTER NINE | Rosanna

  CHAPTER TEN | Alexander | One Hundred Years Ago

  CHAPTER ELEVEN | Rosanna

  CHAPTER TWELVE | Alexander | One Hundred Years Ago

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN | Rosanna

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN | Alexander | One Hundred Years Ago

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN | Alexander | One Hundred Years Ago

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN | Rosanna

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN | Alexander | One Hundred Years Ago

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN | Rosanna

  CHAPTER NINTEEN | Alexander | One Hundred Years Ago

  CHAPTER TWENTY | Rosanna

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE | Alexander | One Hundred Years Ago

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO | Rosanna

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE | Rosanna

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR | Rosanna

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE | Alexander | One Hundred Years Ago

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX | Rosanna

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN | Rosanna

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT | Alexander | One Hundred Years Ago

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE | Rosanna

  CHAPTER THIRTY | Alexander | One Hundred Years Ago

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE | Rosanna

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO | Alexander

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE | Rosanna

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR | Rosanna

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE | Alexander

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX | Rosanna

  Beauty’s Beast

  Map of Tallahatchia

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Don’t Miss the other books by Tricia Mingerink: | THE BLADES OF ACKTAR | Buy Now

  Dagger’s Sleep

  Copyright © 2018 by Tricia Mingerink

  Triciamingerink.com

  Published by Sword & Cross Publishing

  Sword & Cross Publishing and the Sword & Cross Publishing logo are trademarks of Tricia Mingerink. Absence of ™ in connection with Sword & Cross Publishing does not indicate an absence of trademark protection of those marks.

  Cover by Tricia Mingerink

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  All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in written reviews, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and settings are the product of the author's over active imagination. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, events, or settings is purely coincidental or used fictitiously.

  Books by Tricia Mingerink

  The Blades of Acktar

  Dare

  Deny

  Defy

  Deliver

  Destroy: A novella

  Beyond the Tales

  Dagger’s Sleep

  CHAPTER ONE

  Rosanna

  It was said that at the dawn of time, before the curse darkened the mountains, the kings of the seven great river valleys heard the trees singing.

  THE RIVER ROARED BENEATH Princess Rosanna’s birch bark canoe, the sound coursing deep inside her chest as if singing an ancient song. The Onohio River’s steep sides blurred into all the greens of light and darkness. Ahead, boulders jutted from the raging river, shining slick and wet and deadly.

  Rosanna dug her paddle into the water, turning her canoe deftly between the boulders. Her heart thumped into her throat. Not fear, exactly. Not on this river, whose moods and torrents purred through her blood. More like life itself thrilling with the reminder that death lingered at the edges, one ill-timed paddle stroke away.

  Here on the river, she didn’t have to be a princess. She could dream about the far-off places in the Seven Kingdoms of Tallahatchia. The deep gorges with their unexplored rivers. The blue mountains stretching into the horizon.

  Not that she was much of a princess. The Fallen Fae hadn’t even considered her a princess enough to curse, nor had the Loyal Fae given her a gift, as if they both had forgotten a princess had been born in Neskahana twenty-one years ago.

  In the prow of her canoe, Isi Degotaga—Rosanna’s maid, bodyguard, and best friend since they were both ten—gripped her paddle, her knuckles even whiter than the face of the birch bark showing on the canoe’s interior. Still, she dug her paddle in when their canoe needed the extra power.

  Two canoes with two guards each hurtled down the river ahead of Rosanna’s canoe, another two canoes and three guards following behind. At this point in the falls of the Onohio, the river ran too swiftly for anyone on the bank to pose a danger, and all her guards could do was wait to fish her from the river if she missed a stroke or timed the river wrong, a danger with the river swollen with the spring rains and mountains’ snowmelt.

  The Onohio dipped and swooped around a boulder. Rosanna braced herself and dug her paddle in deeper, focusing on the river ahead. If she hit this next rapid wrong, her canoe could be damaged or even broken in half.

  The best part of the entire Onohio River, certainly. This raging, terrible section of it.

  A swoop. A twist around a boulder, riding the roiling current. A course correction to keep her centered in the river.

  Then the river dropped away before her in a two-foot-high waterfall gushing in a foaming wave.

  Her canoe hurtled out into the air before crashing down flat-bottomed into the calm pool beneath. Spray shot up and over the bow, drenching Isi and splashing Rosanna’s face.

  Rosanna let out a whoop and dug in her paddle to steer their canoe out of the way of her guards following. “That was even better than last spring.”

  “If by better, you mean more terrifying, then yes.” Isi swiped water out of her eyes. The morning sun glistened on her light brown skin smattered with freckles across her high cheeks and straight nose, much like her father’s. Her curling black-brown hair, like her late mother’s, frizzed from the braid and beads she’d used to attempt to tame it. “Ugh, I hate getting wet.”

  As they drifted clear of the small waterfall, a smaller canoe burst over and splashed down, water splashing over the bow and spraying across the canoe’s lone paddler, Captain Degotaga, Isi’s father and the captain of Rosanna’s personal guards. His long black hair flowed across the top of his shoulders, a braid along one side beaded. Above his sharp nose and sharper chin, his eyes swept the surrounding landscape, searching for danger that might have been missed by the two guards holding their canoe steady at the edge of the waterfall’s pool farther downstream.

  Captain Degotaga edged his canoe between theirs and the nearest bank. “You shot that last set of rapids rather close, princess.”

  Rosanna grinned, using her paddle to keep the canoe steady. She’d take that as a compliment, even if it was probably meant as a reprimand for putting her life in danger. “It wasn’t that close. We cleared the rock by a good six inches.”

  A second canoe flew from the rapids and splashed down in the pool with Ahanu and Otho, two of Rosanna’s guards, guiding it. They each gave her grins, swiping water from their faces and hair.

  Captain Degotaga steered his canoe toward the waiting guards at the far side of the pool, and Rosanna maneuvered her and Isi’s canoe to follow.

  When they reached her guards, Chogan, the guard in the stern of the canoe, held up a hand. “Nikan and Garmund haven’t checked in yet.”

  Rosanna flexed her fingers on her paddle as she kept her canoe steady. What was taking her guards so long to scout the river ahead? Usually this stretch took only a minute or two, and the guards returned before Rosanna finished her run down the rapids. “Should we send back up?”

  Captain Degotaga swept his gaze around the Onohio’s banks. “Not yet. Chogan, Ilma, if they aren’t back in five minutes, go after them. Stay alert.”

  Ilma, a slender woman with dark brown hair, nodded while her husband Chogan mumbled, “Yes, sir.”

  Rosanna eyed the river ahead. To their left, the southern bank rose in a steep cliff, the rocks preventing trouble from that side and keeping the river narrow and fast even past the rapids. On the other side, the mountains sloped wooded and boulder-strewn to the river’s edge. Treacherous to navigate, but not impassible.

  In the front of the canoe, Isi tensed as she searched both banks as intently as the other guards. If trouble came, it would be Isi’s job to get Rosanna out of there while the guards held their attackers back.

  Would it c
ome to that? Rosanna rubbed her thumb across the worn wood of her paddle. In the years of fighting along the border between her kingdom of Neskahana and its southern neighbor Tuckawassee, the Tuckawassee raiding parties rarely came this far north. When they did, they usually stayed along the Neskahana River to the south—a broader and more populated river—than the wild and rugged Onohio.

  The dark shape of a canoe’s prow swung around the far bend of the river, cut across the stream’s current, and darted into the opposite curve where the river flowed back against itself and aided their journey upriver.

  Captain Degotaga tensed and reached for the long knife strapped to his waist. The other guards did the same, though none of them drew the wide-bladed knives. Not yet.

  Rosanna held her breath and poised her paddle to make a dash for the shore if necessary.

  The morning sun splashed across the two figures in the far canoe, highlighting the beads tied in the strands of their brown and black hair and falling to the dark blue stripe painted along the upper edge of their canoe.

  Her guards. Rosanna blew out a breath but didn’t relax. Instead of giving a wave to signal the river ahead was safe, the guards thrust the canoe forward as if in a race, their muscles straining against their buckskin shirts and trousers.

  Within minutes, they drew alongside, panting. Nikan, in the prow of the canoe, raised a hand and tapped his fist to his forehead in salute. “Captain, two bends down the river, we came across a lone man fighting what looks to be a raiding party of Tuckawassee. Taking care to stay hidden, we scouted the bank and confirmed it is a smaller raiding party, maybe nine or ten strong. While the man they are attacking is holding them off, it’s doubtful he will do so indefinitely.”

  Captain Degotaga paused, glancing from Rosanna to the river ahead. “If we take to the shore, can we safely portage around them?”

  “Perhaps, though we could not be sure there aren’t more raiding parties deeper into the mountains.”

  Rosanna backed the paddle, gauging the power of the river dumping into the pool behind them. They couldn’t go back, not without portaging around the rapids at their back. Nor would turning around gain them anything when the safety of Castle Deeling lay a mere half a mile in front of them, not behind.

  If they avoided the Tuckawassee raiding party, an unknown stranger would most likely pay for Rosanna’s safety with his life.

  Rosanna straightened her shoulders. Captain Degotaga wouldn’t like her suggestion. “Captain, I know my safety is your first priority, but any enemy of the Tuckawassee will most likely be our ally and thus shouldn’t be allowed to die without us attempting to aid him.”

  After a moment’s pause, Captain Degotaga gave a sharp nod. “Very well. We’ll put in around the bend from the attack and strike from the mountain above.”

  They would be outnumbered, but only by three. Not horrible, but perhaps Rosanna could make it better. “Isi and I will dump in the river and push our canoe beside the cliffs.”

  “You’ll still be in arrow range.” Captain Degotaga shook his head.

  Isi glanced over her shoulder, met Rosanna’s gaze, and gave a nod. She faced her father. “We’ll keep our heads down behind our canoe so they won’t have a target. We’ll be the distraction. If we get past, we’ll make for Castle Deeling and send back reinforcements.”

  Captain Degotaga stared up at the sky for a moment, as if calculating the scenarios and costs.

  Rosanna could make those same calculations, and Captain Degotaga didn’t have a choice. It would be just as dangerous for her to remain behind. Any Tuckawassee either retreating or coming to reinforce the smaller raiding party could stumble across them, catching them without additional aid and cut off from the castle. Better if they pushed past the raiding party under the distraction of the fight to reach Castle Deeling as quickly as possible.

  “Very well.” Captain Degotaga straightened in his canoe. “Let’s go.”

  With a firm stroke, Rosanna pushed her canoe forward. Her guards surrounded her canoe, their grins replaced with tight mouths.

  The forested bank on one side and the cliffs on the other flashed by as they swept around the first bend and neared the second. Above the constant shushing, gurgling river, a crack of wood and shouts split the still air in the gorge.

  As Captain Degotaga and the other six guards made for the north bank to disembark, Isi and Rosanna halted their canoe in the center of the stream.

  Isi grimaced, swiveled as much as she could in the prow of the canoe, and slid her paddle into the wooden brackets along the canoe’s inside. “Ugh. Time to get wet.”

  “This is partially your idea.” Rosanna stowed her paddle along the side of the canoe and eased sideways in her seat. “Ready?”

  With one last scowl, Isi gave a nod. Together, she and Rosanna rolled backwards into the river. The icy water closed around her body, stealing her breath and tingling against her skin. This early in the spring, the river ran high and cold with the mountains’ snow melt. She lifted her feet clear of the canoe, fought the current’s pull, and gripped the canoe’s upper cedar ribbing, tipping the canoe on its beam.

  The few things Rosanna had with her in the canoe—just a pouch of dried meat for her breakfast and a canteen—tipped in the same direction but stayed inside thanks to the straps tying them to the canoe’s ribbing.

  “Do you think if we keep it tipped like this they’ll think it’s abandoned?” Rosanna kicked to steer them toward the cliffs.

  “Possibly.” Isi gripped one of the cedar thwarts near the front of the canoe.

  Rosanna matched Isi’s pace as they pushed the canoe forward toward the bend. As the sounds of the fight ahead grew louder, Isi stilled except for an occasional course correction.

  Ahead of them, the river widened, the current slowing. Rosanna kept her body below the surface as she let herself and the canoe drift around the bend.

  Boulders had tumbled into the river in some long-forgotten rockslide. Behind one, balanced on a rock barely above water, a young man whipped a quarterstaff up and drove it into the face of a man trying to inch around the boulder.

  The young man’s hair was of medium length, the strands brushing his jaw, a style of hair from the northern kingdoms. Blood trickled across his tan forehead. He had a dagger in a style that had gone out of use decades ago strapped to his waist.

  His attackers gathered on the other side of the boulder and along the bank. Sunlight glinted on the strands of gold or silver woven through their black hair or at the neckline of their buckskin shirts, a Tuckawassee custom.

  On the bank, the attackers’ leader shouted orders, one hand pointing to the lone man behind the boulder and the other resting on her long knife belted to her waist. Her curly black hair was mostly tamed into a puffy braid interlaced with a silver thread and various gemstones.

  Rosanna let herself sink lower into the water, hiding all but the young man with the staff from sight.

  The man spun, his footing firm despite the slippery rock beneath his moccasins. The hardwood stave in his hands whipped through the air and cracked against an arm, a leg, a chin. A warrior, that’s what he was.

  “On the river! Archers!” A woman’s voice rang against the water. Her words were longer, the vowels drawled, the consonants stretched in the manner of the southern kingdoms.

  “Keep drifting. She can’t see us, just our canoe.” Isi kept her voice low, her mouth barely above the water.

  An arrow crunched through the birch bark and struck the wood ribbing a few inches from Rosanna’s hand. She gritted her teeth. She must not splash or give the archers a target.

  Yelling and war cries poured from the mountainside.

  Rosanna swiveled to peer around the stern of the canoe, keeping her head mostly submerged and hidden. On the bank, the Tuckawassee leader whirled and raised her long knife in time to block Captain Degotaga’s thrust.

  Something flashed bright out of the corner of her eye. The young man with the quarterstaff stumbled, staring at his hand as if he’d been injured. The two attackers on the other side of the rock leapt forward, one with a knife and the other with a war ax.

  Still off balance, the young man tried to raise his staff in time to ward off the blows.

  He wasn’t going to make it. Either the knife would take him in the chest or the ax would split his skull.