Lord of Ashes (Steelhaven: Book Three)
Copyright © 2015 Richard Ford
The right of Richard Ford to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
First published as an Ebook in 2015
by HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library
eISBN: 978 0 7553 9411 1
Cover illustration by Lee Gibbons
HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
An Hachette UK Company
Carmelite House
50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ
www.headline.co.uk
www.hachette.co.uk
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
About the Author
Praise
Also by Richard Ford
About the Book
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Epilogue
Discover the rest of the Steelhaven series …
About the Author
Richard Ford hails from Leeds but now resides in Wiltshire, in the first town on the Thames. His first novel, Kultus, was published in 2011. Herald of the Storm, book one in the Steelhaven series, was his epic fantasy debut.
Follow Richard on Twitter @Rich4ord or catch up with him on his blog at https://richard4ord.wordpress.com/.
Praise for Richard Ford:
‘In a subgenre often bogged down in convention, Herald is a breath of fresh air … Definitely a recommended read’
Drying Ink
‘You’ll find yourself looking forward to what Ford dreams up next’
SFX
‘Exciting and different’
The British Fantasy Society
‘A perfect example of tight, gritty, character-driven storytelling’
Luke Scull, author of The Grim Company
‘Violent, vicious and darkly funny. Book Two can’t come fast enough’
Fantasy Faction
‘A series to watch. Great stuff’
Falacta Times
By Richard Ford
Herald of the Storm
The Shattered Crown
Lord of Ashes
About the Book
FIGHT TO THE DEATH …
The queen of Steelhaven has grown in strength. Taking up her dead father’s sword, she must defend the city from the dread warlord Amon Tugha and his blood-thirsty army now at the gates. A vicious, unrelenting four-day battle ensues, the most perilous yet.
… OR BOW TO THE ENEMY
No side is immune from danger as all hell breaks loose, with the threat of coups and the unleashing of the deadliest and darkest magick. Loyalty, strength and cunning will be put to test in the quest for victory. What fate awaits the free states?
For Lynne, Josie, Hamish and … is it Paul?
I can never remember!
Acknowledgements
As always I need to thank my agent, John Jarrold, for his magnificent taste in books and even better taste in hats.
Big thanks to my former editor and bearded hobbit, John Wordsworth, now carving out a name for himself as a literary agent, and Claire Baldwin, who was almost but not quite my new editor.
As ever the team at Headline have been amazing, so thanks to Sherise Hobbs, Beth Eynon, Joanna Kaliszewska, Patrick Insole, Fran Gough and Tom Noble.
Finally, thanks to everyone who’s read the series and said nice things about it, in particular Marc Aplin of Fantasy-Faction.com and Claire Rowe who is still hiding somewhere in Scotland.
PROLOGUE
It was dark and quiet inside the hide-covered shelter, almost peaceful. Nothing moved but a single piece of animal skin come loose in the night, letting the dawn light flit into the tent as it flapped gently in the breeze.
Endellion took a deep breath, smelling the salt tang of moist flesh and stale sex. Surrounding her on a pile of furs were half a dozen Khurtic warriors, every one of them deep in slumber, every one of them worn out from their long night. She smiled at the memory. They had tried so very hard to keep up but she was Elharim, and not even a half-dozen had come close to satisfying her appetite.
The one lying next to her – she didn’t know his name, had no use for any of their names – bore the mark of her nails on his back, raw and livid on his pale flesh. He was a pretty one, his skin smooth for a Khurta, his face unmarred by war and violence. That was unusual for one of his kind. It had taken her some time to find such boys, the Khurtas were a notoriously ugly race, but after much searching she had managed to take her pick of their youngest and strongest. None had refused her. None had dared.
With a single finger she traced the line one of her nails had left on his skin. The boy stirred at her touch but did not wake. The night before he had cried out as she marked him, as she dug her fingers into his flesh, urging him, stirring his lust. He had been good; one of the best and most eager to please. It was fitting she should have granted him such a battle scar. And these Khurtas so loved their scars.
A noise from outside made her forget her parched throat and fuddled head. It was the sound of stone scraping steel.
Endellion rose from the piled furs, deftly stepping over the bodies that surrounded her. She found her clothes piled in a corner, quickly dressed and pulled on her boots, strapping her sword to her waist and taking one of the furs to wrap around her shoulders against the chill winter air. With a last amused glance back at the spent bodies lying in her tent, she pulled back the hide covering and stepped out into the wan morning light.
He sat not twenty yards away, and though the sun was hidden behind a gloomy bank of cloud it still seemed like he shone. Endellion couldn’t suppress a grin as she walked towards him, watching as he honed that blade, scraping whetstone on Riverland steel. Even though they were a thousand miles from their homeland in the north, when she laid eyes on Azreal it was as though she had never left. He was home to her. All she had ever wanted.
Of course she would never have told him that.
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