"Dark tormented warrior fights for his honor and her love"
Reviewed by Make Kay
Posted September 7, 2014
Romance Paranormal
HONOR'S PRICE is book three in the Warriors of the
Mist trilogy.
There are five warriors who play important roles in the
overall story, but the final book focuses on Kane, whom
the
author calls "the darkest of the Damned."
Previously damned
by the gods but offered the chance to redeem themselves,
the
five Warriors of the Mist have fought together for
centuries
as avatars of the Lord and Lady of the River. In dark
times, the warriors can be summoned by a supplicant from
their sleep beneath the roiling currents to act as
champions
when the cause is just. If the battle is won, the
champion
faces judgment by the gods. If his performance is worthy
and valiant, the warrior will at long last journey to the
great hall where the noble knights of the past dwell
forever. If the champion is still found lacking, he
returns
with his brothers to the river, to fight again another
day.
However, if the battle is lost, regardless of fault, both
the champion and supplicant will be condemned to the
netherworld where they will wander without hope or light,
lost in cold darkness until the world ceases to exist.
With
such a risk, only the powerless and the desperate dare
approach the Warriors of the Mist to plead their cause.
I don't remember very much of the story from books one and
two
and there is not much refresher information given in
HONOR'S PRICE
so I struggled to figure out how it fit in with
the preceding storylines. Much of the current action
takes
place in Agathia, a city permeated by dark magic brought
forth by its loathsome corrupted leader, Duke Keirthan.
Kane is sent with one other warrior to infiltrate the city
and gather reconnaissance to help in the upcoming battle
against Duke Keirthan and his forces. By a fortuitous
accident, Kane comes to the attention of the personal
guard,
and is assigned in short order to captain the duke's guard
himself.
Kane has some nebulous magic of his own, which
brings him to the attention of Keirthan who would like to
harvest Kane's magic for his own nefarious purposes. Kane
meets the altruistic Lady Theda, the widow of Keirthan's
brother, who is so blandly good that she's almost two
dimensional, and the two fall in love against a backdrop
of
magical treachery and a looming battle. Duke Keithan and
the evil being he is trying to resurrect are not fully
fleshed out, and the world-building is weak. The
Warriors
in the Mist trilogy is a superficial trio of light
fantasy
with limited world building. The premise is interesting,
but the execution is lackluster.
SUMMARY
Cursed by the gods. Bound by brotherhood. Freed by love. The Warriors of the Mist have fought side by side for
centuries, but Kane alone has felt something darker
calling
to him. With the Kingdom of Agathia on the brink of
rebellion, Kane knows that relying on dark magic to
infiltrate the enemy’s court is dangerous but necessary
despite the cost to his soul. Lady Theda hopes to end the tyrannical reign of Duke
Keirthan, the man who killed his own brother—Theda’s
husband. But she has little hope of succeeding, until a
mage-marked warrior appears. For the first time in centuries, Kane is tempted not by
dark
magic, but by a woman who wants more than his protection.
But with both of their hearts—and her people’s lives—in
jeopardy, giving in to their passion may be a risk too
great
to take.
ExcerptChapter 1It had been three days since Kane first rode through the
arched gates of Agathia, capital of the kingdom with the
same name. He already hated everything about the place: the
throngs of people, the constant noise, and especially the
spicy miasma of dark magic that permeated every corner of
the city. During the daylight hours, he slept. Afternoons he prowled
the streets, memorizing the layout of the city. Knowing
which walls could be scaled and where the guards dozed
while on duty could make the difference between life and
death if his mission were to go badly.
His nights were spent visiting taverns to gauge the mood of
the patrons. They definitely weren’t happy, not with the
heavy dose of sour fear mixed with the usual smells of
greasy food and cheap wine. He’d hoped to cross paths with Duke Keirthan’s personal
guard while they were off duty. Yet he hadn’t seen any in
the places he’d been so far, and it wouldn’t be prudent to
ask strangers to direct his footsteps. In this city, anyone
who showed too much interest in the duke’s men was likely
to end up dead. The Broken Sword was the fourth such place he’d been in
tonight, but this time he planned to stay awhile. Long
enough to finish a second tankard of ale, maybe even a
third. He looked around the crowded room. Had all of these fine
citizens of Agathia taken to drinking in reaction to the
growing evil trapped within the city walls? Kane felt sure
it wasn’t the quality of the food that drew them to this
piss pot. He choked down another bite of the greasy stew
and shoved the bowl aside. At least he had a table to himself. Several people had
started to sit down with him but had quickly changed their
minds. Evidently, Agathians were reluctant to share space
with a man who bore a mage mark on his cheek and had eyes
the color of death. Fine with him. The company of strangers always made his
skin crawl. The evening’s entertainment was about to start, the real
reason Kane was there. Averel, the newly hired troubadour,
sat in the far corner, tuning his lute and warming up his
voice for his debut performance in the city. Two oversized
dogs lay sprawled at his feet, their relaxed air deceptive.
One hostile move toward their master and these people would
learn all too quickly how much damage a pair of war dogs
could do. Kane leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over
his chest, watching the crowd while keeping a wary eye on
the young musician. There was a definite air of innocence
about the youth. Most of these fools probably thought the
calluses on Averel’s hands came from hours of plucking the
strings on his lute. In truth, they’d come from years of
gripping the pommel of a sword. If Kane hadn’t spent centuries of fighting side by side
with the young knight, he might well have bought the
innocent act himself. However, despite their long
friendship, tonight they were strangers to each other. He’d
keep his distance to minimize the chance of someone
noticing the two of them shared the same unusual eye color.
Those who clung to the old superstitions would say they’d
been marked by the gods. They would be right. Both Kane and Averel served the Lord and Lady of the River.
Along with their captain and two other warriors, they were
the Warriors of the Mist or, as Kane actually preferred,
they were simply called the Damned. The gods had sent them
to make this land safe for Lady Merewen, the woman who’d
risked everything to call the warriors from their sleep
beneath the river back on the spring equinox. Averel headed toward the small platform in the front of the
room. Silence followed in his footsteps as he made his way
through the jumble of tables and benches. By the time he
took a seat on a tall stool, every eye in the room was on
him. Kane would have hated that, but Averel took all the
attention in stride. It seemed as if everyone was leaning forward a bit, anxious
for the performance to begin. No doubt in these dark days,
the promise of any entertainment was a welcome diversion.
Even a poor musician would serve the purpose; tonight they
were in for a surprise. Averel had a true gift for music and a voice that lent
itself to both the beautiful and the bawdy, depending on
the crowd and his mood. Kane waited to see which direction
his friend would choose tonight. “Good evening,” the young minstrel began, pitching his
voice just loud enough to be heard over the quiet
murmurings of the crowd. “As your humble servant, I will
begin with a few personal favorites. Later I will take
suggestions, but I make no promises. My master specialized
in the old songs, so I have not yet learned the newer
melodies.” Kane was impressed. Averel had come up with the perfect
excuse for not performing all the popular ballads.
Considering how long they’d been absent from the world, it
was unlikely he knew anything that had been composed in
several hundred years. It wasn’t long before Averel had the crowd singing along
with him. Kane looked around for the tavern owner. The
grinning fool was behind the bar, serving up pitchers of
ale as fast as he could fill them. Obviously, singing was
thirsty work, which boded well for Averel’s chances of
being hired on for an extended stay. Kane’s situation was trickier. His assignment was to get
close to Duke Keirthan himself. His best option would be as
a member of the duke’s personal guard, but the man had a
reputation of being careful about letting strangers get too
close. Considering the man harvested his own people like a
crop to feed his blood magic, the caution was
understandable. A movement off to his side had Kane reaching for his knife.
Realizing it was one of Averel’s idiot dogs, he forced
himself to relax. Both of the mutts were working their way
through the crowd, mooching for bits of bread and meat. The
white one stopped only inches from Kane’s table. Everyone in his immediate vicinity watched the interchange
with understandable caution. After all, the dog was tall
enough to look a seated man in the eye. Kane glared at the offending beast. “What do you want?” The dog responded by wagging his tail and then laying his
head in Kane’s lap. It would be more in Kane’s character to
shove the dog away, but then he glanced up at Averel, who
gave him a slight nod before looking away. All right, then. The animal was there for a purpose. Kane
relented and gave him a thorough scratching, in the process
palming the message Averel had stuck inside the dog’s
collar. After a few seconds, Kane gave the dog a gruff
push. “That’s enough. Be off with you.” The dog stopped at a few more tables before rejoining the
other beast in the back corner. Well done. The message had
been delivered without Averel having to approach Kane
directly or his dogs singling Kane out for attention. Averel started a new song, one that had everyone clapping
their hands and stamping their feet in time to the music.
Kane sipped more of his ale and waited until the song ended
before making his escape. Aiming for the back door where
the privies were located, he staggered as if he were
feeling the effects of all the ale he’d consumed. When he was sure he wasn’t being followed, he dropped the
act and continued on down the alley for several blocks
before cutting back over to the main road through town.
Thanks to the late hour, the streets were dark except for
the occasional pool of light from a window along the way.
Kane kept to the shadows, where he felt most at home. The
few people he passed gave him a furtive look and hurried on
their way. He didn’t blame them. There were many scary
things that prowled in the darkness; Kane was one of them. His own destination was close by now. He’d taken a room at
an inexpensive inn on the edge of town, the kind of place
where a few coins ensured privacy. Add another piece of
silver to the price, and the staff would turn a blind eye
to anything short of murder in the dining hall. While Kane
had no immediate intentions of killing anyone, he did have
an unusual companion sharing his quarters. Hob wouldn’t
attack unless provoked, but just the sight of him would
likely throw the whole inn into chaos and draw unwanted
attention to Kane himself. Gargoyles had that effect on most people. Kane entered the building through a side door. At this time
of night, few guests would still be up, but he preferred to
keep his movements as private as possible. For the same
reason, he automatically avoided the fourth step, the one
that creaked. His room was at the far end of the hall with a window that
overlooked the courtyard below. If he needed to make a
quick escape, Kane could easily jump to the roof of the
stable and then to the street below. A smart man slept
better knowing he wasn’t trapped in a room with only one
way out. All was quiet as he slipped inside his room and locked the
door. Making his way to the small table by the bed, he lit
a candle. Averel’s note could wait until Kane released Hob
and got comfortable. He kept the shutters closed even though the air in the room
reeked of boiled cabbage and stale beer from the dining
room below. Murmuring the words to release Hob from his
magical resting place on Kane’s shield, he averted his eyes
from the sudden burst of light that accompanied the
gargoyle’s appearance. Hob looked around and shook from the tip of his nose to the
tip of his tail before leaning back on his haunches in a
long stretch. Then he circled around Kane’s legs, bumping
him in a show of affection. Kane patted the beast on his scaly head. “Sorry to be so
late in returning, boy.” When Kane opened the shutters, Hob laid his head on the
sill to taste the night air with a few flicks of his tongue
and then gave the rest of their quarters a thorough sniff.
Satisfied all was well, he turned a few circles before
curling up on the floor at Kane’s feet. Unfolding Averel’s note, Kane spread it out on the table
near the candle for light. All it said was The Empty Keg
and The Rooster’s Crow. No other explanation was needed.
Averel knew Kane was hunting for the tavern where the
guards spent their off hours. He must have heard something
about these two places. Kane would visit them as soon as the sun went down tomorrow
night. He needed to evaluate the caliber of man the duke
was hiring but also hoped to bring himself to their
attention. The best way to get a job as a hired sword was
through a recommendation from someone already on the
payroll. It wasn’t much of a plan, but before meeting Captain Gideon
all those centuries ago, Kane had made his living as a
mercenary. Some things never changed, especially the demand
for men who could wield a sword and weren’t too picky about
who they worked for. He stripped out of his clothes and stretched out on the
thin mattress. When Kane was situated and had the
threadbare blanket pulled up to his chest, Hob crawled onto
the bed and curled up at his feet. The damned animal took
up too much room, but he and Hob had been partners since
Kane’s grandfather had presented him with the freshly
hatched gargoyle. He’d intended it as a bribe to purchase
his grandson’s willing assistance in his magery. The ploy
hadn’t worked, but Kane and Hob had formed a bond that had
proven unbreakable. That wasn’t the only reason he tolerated Hob sprawling
across his ankles. The Damned had fought as a unit even
before the goddess had taken them into her service. Not
that he’d admit it to his friends, but Kane missed them on
this solo mission. Hob’s solid presence close by helped
fill the gap. Before dozing off, Kane offered up a prayer that his time
here in the city would be short. He’d volunteered for this
duty, but war was coming; he sensed it in his bones. When
it came time to fight, the Damned would face their enemy
together.
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