Blood of the Isle

“I would rather have been given the choice. Not pulled out of Second Bristol by your storm troopers.”

“I sent Nicco.”

“And a squad of Hauberk.” The duke scratched absentmindedly at his beard. More steel gray had crept in at the edges of his mouth, his sideburns. “It was all very smoothly done, and no doubt pla

This civility was murder. Jasek began to wonder if he would feel more comfortable with his father flushed red and ranting. “I’m sorry we could not save Skye.” But his words fell flat.

“You never meant to save Skye, no more than you meant to give me a choice in leaving.” His father turned away from the view, and there was a bite of steel in his voice again. “I’m not a fool, boy. You played this your way from the start. Media attention. Lyran involvement. And the fall of Skye. Admit it.”

Jasek shrugged, rested his forearms on the balustrade. “I would have taken a victory over the Jade Falcons if there had been one in the offing, but you and I both know that it wasn’t going to happen. Not without substantial support from Prefecture X. Exarch Redburn left you—left Tara—fighting a losing battle.”

He shoved himself away from the rail suddenly. “You told me—you taught me—to play the long game. Well, I have, Father. Nicco and I saw months ago that the Jade Falcons held too many advantages. All that was left was to choose the final battlefield, and I forced it on them. They are stuck now. Stuck holding Skye. Now we move where we will, and attack at our convenience, because they can’t afford to give it up. It’s been tied around their necks like a millstone.”

His father nodded. “And whoever frees Skye earns the undying gratitude of the people. Even if he comes bearing the Lyran fist. Well, it might work. If it’s you who succeeds and not I.” He turned back toward the city, large hands gripping the balustrade’s stone rail. There was still a great deal of strength in them. “But that’s only going to happen over my dead body.”

“And vice versa, I’m certain,” Jasek said deadpan, even though it tore at him to admit it. His father seemed to have no difficulty with the idea, though. “Tara warned me, you know.”

His father grunted in response, but Jasek waited him out.

“If it was going to happen, it would have already.”

“And here I’ve been looking over my shoulder for the better part of two years waiting for the attempt. Why didn’t you?” he asked, throat tight around the words. “Why didn’t you have me killed when I broke from you?”

“Don’t think I haven’t come close a time or two,” his father admitted calmly, as if discussing the pleasant Nusakan weather. “But there were always… considerations.”

“Such as?”

“Even though you think you are playing the long game, Jasek, you aren’t. In fact, you’ve barely made it out of my sight. You’re impatient. You’re reckless. Time will do the job for me, if you don’t come to your senses first.”

Jasek nearly smiled, hearing his name from his father’s lips. If the darts flung behind it hadn’t felt so accurate and so sharp. “What if you’re wrong?”

A shrug. “Then you are still blood of my blood. And in the end you may be all the Isle has left.”

He considered that for a few moments. It sounded almost like an admission of respect. But he could not forget his father’s adamant declaration in their last, bitter conversation before Jasek first left Skye with the Stormhammers.

Skye will never need your kind of leadership.

We’ll see what Skye needs, Father.

Neither of them would know the answer until one or the other stood victorious in the Isle.

“We’ll see,” he stated flatly, then turned from the cityscape view, toward the balcony door.

“And you’ll continue looking over your shoulder, won’t you, boy?”

Jasek stopped in the doorway. It took great strength of will not to look back. He imagined his father leaning against the stone railing still, but had the old duke turned to watch his son depart? If Jasek glanced over his shoulder, just one last time, would they each see the other searching for some kind of common ground?

Or would he only feel foolish for surrendering another round to his father?

He stepped through the open doorway, leaving the duke and lord governor of Prefecture IX to himself. The battle for Skye was just begi

And the blood of the Isle.

About the Author

Loren L. Coleman grew up in the pacific northwest. an avid reader, he became infatuated with stories and the art of storytelling at an early age. he wrote creative works when he was as young as twelve years old, and began to write actual fiction stories in high school for a creative-writing class, but it was during his enlistment in the u.s. navy that he began working seriously at the craft. discharged in 1993, he went to work as a freelance fiction writer and eventually became a full-time novelist.

His first novel, Double-Blind, was pubished in 1998. He has since explored the universes of BattleTech, Magic: The Gathering, Crimson Skies, MechWarrior: Dark Age, and Star Trek. Around the time of this printing, he has written and published fifteen novels and a great deal of shorter fiction, and been involved with several computer games. Currently, he is working on a new trilogy set in the Conan universe.

When he isn’t writing, Loren plays Xbox games, collects far too many DVDs, and holds a black belt in traditional Tae Kwon Do. He has lived in many parts of the country. Currently he resides in Washington State with his wife, Heather Joy, two sons, Talon LaRon and Co

His personal Web site can be found at www.rasqal.com .