The Black Dragon: A Medieval Romance

Book 14: The Executioner Knights

by Kathryn Le Veque

Genres: Ancient World Romance; Medieval Romance

Synopsis

Get ready for another passionate adventure from the Executioner Knights universe. It’s a battle for true love in this stunning and diverse Medieval epic set in Plantagenet England.

Welcome to the world of THE BLACK DRAGON!

Addax al-Kort was not born in England.

As the heir to the throne of a defunct distant kingdom (near present day Pakistan), Addax came to England with a trade caravan when he was very young. He became a page for a powerful knight and worked his way through the ranks and protocols of Medieval England to become a full-fledged English knight serving William Marshal. Addax is part of the brotherhood of Executioner Knights serving the Marshal, but he has a great talent for the tournament circuit. Competing under a standard emblazoned with black dragon, he becomes quite rich.

But something changes the course of his life forever.

A man he thought was a friend.

Addax and Maximillian de Grey, a fellow competitor, are close friends, so close that when Maximillian’s father dies, Addax leaves the tournament circuit to go with his friend to help secure his new legacy as the Earl of Dorchester. Maximillian marries a woman of his father’s choosing and that’s where the trouble begins, for Maximillian is not noble man when it comes to women. He doesn't want a wife and he makes that abundantly clear. He has mistresses, openly, in front of his new wife, and steps on everything that marriage stands for.

But the new wife isn't any ordinary woman. Emmeline de Witt is a sweet, beautiful woman who doesn’t deserve what Maximillian is dishing out. Addax is put in the position of comforting his friend’s wife simply out of duty and a sense of compassion, but the inevitable happens. When the woman Addax loves is abused by her husband, will he look the other way because of the sanctity of marriage? Or will he fight for the woman who has captured his heart, no matter what happens to him in the end? He's a man of honor, above all... but will honor be what he chooses?

Addax has lost everything in his life – his throne, his identity, his family. But Emmeline... Emme... gives him hope that he can know joy once again. In her, he can see his destiny.

Or his death.



Don't miss this rip-roaring Executioner Knight romance!! Read for FREE in Kindle Unlimited!!

 

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Release date: April 4, 2024

Publisher: Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.

Sample

The Black Dragon by Kathryn Le Veque

 

PROLOGUE

Year of Our Lord 1190

The fall of the kingdom of Kitara

The smell of smoke was heavy in the air.

But it wasn’t just the smoke—it was the smell of burning flesh and burning dreams, all of it going up in flame as the enemy rolled in from the north on a clear night with a million stars as witness. A witness to the death and destruction that usually followed the army from the north and their fearless leader.

Temüjin.

The great khan of the Mongols and his massive army had breached the outer perimeter of Kitara.

But it wasn’t entirely a surprise. King Amare, tall and powerful, with eyes the color of jade and skin as smooth as polished stone, watched the fire from Larkana Palace, the residence of more than two dozen generations of his family. But tonight would see that legacy come to an end, because the royal family of Kitara had been betrayed from within. Amare was so emotionally wounded by the betrayal that it was difficult for him to face the task ahead. One of desperation, one of reckoning.

But it had to be done.

He had to kill his brother.

Prince Ekon was four years younger than Amare and had coveted the throne since he was a young boy. There had been numerous attempts on Amare’s life over the years, and the general belief was that most of them had been orchestrated by Ekon, who simply denied the accusations and threw himself on his brother’s mercy. It wasn’t mercy he wanted, but fragility. He played on his brother’s one weakness—his love for his family.

Even for those who betrayed him.

Amare knew this. He was well aware of his brother’s ploys. He was well aware of the man’s movements, his subversion, and even his attempts to seduce Amare’s own wife. Rumor had it that the youngest child, a beautiful daughter named Adanya, was Ekon’s child. Since Amare and Ekon looked quite similar to one another and the daughter had the same green eyes, perhaps the truth would never be known, even though Amare’s wife vehemently denied anything illicit. Given that Amare loved her, and she had always been quite loyal, he believed her. But the rumors continued, and Amare ignored them.

The price of his ignorance, however, would be high. Ekon had taken a journey some time ago into the north after he’d tried to assassinate one of Amare’s generals. Amare had sent him north as a diplomat, trying to give him a useful position in the hopes that would satisfy him, but it didn’t. The intent of Ekon’s journey was to seek trade with the tribes to the north and the vast empire that was established there, but Ekon had done something quite different. Rather than establish ties for his brother’s kingdom, he’d managed to ally himself with the most feared warlord in the world.

A man he promised his fealty, should he remove Amare from the throne.

And that was why Temüjin had come.

Amare and his loyalists had known of the approach of his army for a couple of weeks now, ever since the outposts began reporting the movement of the enormous army southward. Amare had listened to the reports in horror, and when he sent for Ekon, his brother was nowhere to be found. As the days passed and the army drew closer, Amare knew that his brother could be found somewhere in the approaching army, and he further knew that, given the size of the force, his own army, which was trained and sizable, would be facing a suicide mission.

And so would his people.

But Amare would have the last word.

It was, therefore, with a heavy heart that Amare ordered his own city burned before the Mongols could get to it. His army was out there right now, helping the villagers flee and burning their homes behind them. When Amare had been told, by a double agent, that Ekon was indeed with the approaching army and was promised Kitara’s throne, Amare knew he had to destroy everything. He’d rather do that than let his brother have it.

Ekon would be the king of ashes.

“My love!” a woman gasped as she came rushing into the throne room. “What are you doing here? The caravan is ready to take us by river out to the sea. We must hurry!”

Amare turned to look at his wife. Kiya was such a lovely creature, so graceful and beautiful and kind. She had been an arranged marriage, a princess of her people in the land of the pharaohs, but the moment Amare set eyes on her was the moment he fell in love with her. Before he could answer, however, two young boys ran up behind her, throwing themselves at him. Amare laughed softly as he collected his sons, Addax and Essien. He was a warm and loving father, but tonight, he was perhaps a little more loving and warm.

He knew it would be the last time he ever held his sons.

“Addax,” he said, giving the boys a squeeze before he set them to their feet. “Essien, look at me. I have something very important to ask you.”

Addax was nearly five years of age, and Essien was not quite three. They were very young, that was true, but they were big for their age and quite brilliant. At least, Amare thought so. They could ride and hunt, and already, Addax could read. The boys were still trying to climb back into his arms as he held them at bay, looking them in the face.

“Es, stop climbing,” he commanded softly. “Stand still. That’s good. Something very important is happening tonight, and you must be part of it.”

Addax, the less squirmy of the two, was watching his father seriously. “An army is coming, Abba,” he said. “We have come to help you fight.”

Abba. That meant father. It would be the last time he ever heard it from his sons, and Amare smiled at his brave boy. “And you are very courageous,” he said. “I am honored to have you by my side. But I have an even more important task for you.”

Addax cocked his head curiously. “What, Pita?”

Pita. Father. Amare wasn’t sure he could keep his composure knowing it would be the last time he heard it from his son. But time was not his friend on this night—it was passing more quickly than usual—so he pulled his boys against him one last time, hugging them fiercely.

But his heart was breaking.

“You must get your mother to safety,” he said, indicating Kiya as she stood behind the boys and tried not to weep. “You must go with her and protect her. Will you do this for me?”

Addax and Essien looked at their mother before Addax returned his attention to his father. “But what about you?” he asked. “Who will help you fight?”

Amare forced a smile. “I have the entire army to help me fight,” he said, making it sound as if it was nothing at all. “But your mother does not command an army. She has a few servants, but you are her very best warrior. Will you please do this for me?”

Essien nodded solemnly, but Addax was still hesitant. “She has Bobo and Rani to help her,” he said. “But you need me.”

He was referring to the old women who served his mother, but Amare nodded sincerely. “Indeed, I do need you,” he said. “I will always need you, Addax, and right now I need you to take care of your mother. Promise me.”

Addax sighed heavily before finally nodding. When Amare saw that he had his heir’s agreement, he quickly removed a small dagger that was hanging at his side. He held it up in front of the boy.

“You will take this with you,” he said. “My pita gave it to me, and now, I give it to you. It has been passed down from father to son for many generations of our family, and now it belongs to you, Addax. Use it to protect your mother. Use it to remember me.”

Addax’s dark eyes glittered at the sight of the ejadar dagger. The dragon blade. Every King of Kitara kept it at his side, a symbol of the al-Kort dynasty, because every King of Kitara since the dawn of the dynasty was called the kaara ejadar.

The Black Dragon.

Addax took the dagger silently, looking at the dragon-head hilt with the onyx eyes. It was an ancient weapon, well used, but it was still as sharp and beautiful as it had been on the day it was forged. In fact, when he put his finger on the tip of it, the weapon immediately drew blood.

“Now you are one with the dragon,” Amare said softly, watching his son’s expression as he realized his skin had been pierced. “Now you and the dagger are blood brothers. It will always kill for you. It will always support you. Take it with you, my son, and protect your mother and brother and sister with it. Take it with my blessing.”

Addax looked up from the dagger, gazing at his father with eyes the same color as the onyx eyes on the dragon. Amare’s father had possessed those dark eyes, too. There was something deep and intense and mysterious about them, but also something of great humanity. Addax may be young, but he possessed all of those things.

Amare knew he would have made a magnificent king.

“Why can you not come, too, Pita?” Addax asked.

It was becoming increasingly difficult for Amare to keep his composure. “Because someone must protect Kitara,” he said simply. “I will see you again, but for now, you must go with your mother. Do you understand me?”

Addax nodded seriously. “But when will I see you again?”

“Soon,” Amare said, for he could say no more. Before Addax could ask another question, he kissed the boy on the forehead and stood up, facing his beloved Kiya. “Where is Adanya?”

Kiya was verging on tears, having heard everything Amare said to their eldest son and knowing how difficult it was for him.

“She is already at the river with her nurse,” she said softly. “She is so young. She would not understand this parting. But the boys…”

Amare nodded quickly, for there was no reason for her to continue. It would be the last time their sons faced their father, so it was more important for them. And more important that Amare say what he needed to say.

“Thank you, my love, for allowing me to bid them farewell,” he said. Then he cupped her face with one hand and gently kissed her mouth. “You must hurry. I sent word to your father when the army from the north approached. He will not receive the missive for some time, but you must be on your way so his ships can meet yours. The captain of your ship knows the way, and by the time your ship reaches the Red Sea, your father should be on his way to meet you. You and the children will be safe in Cairo.”

Her tears started to come. “And you, my darling?” she whispered. “What about you?”

He forced a smile, kissing her again. “I must do what I was destined to do,” he said bravely. “What I was meant to do. I will burn Lankara to the ground, and when there is only smoke and ashes left, I will kill my brother.”

“What if he kills you first?”

Amare shrugged. “Then I will see you in paradise,” he said. “But know… know that you have made my life paradise on earth, Kiya. No man has ever loved a woman more than I have loved you.”

“And I love you with every breath I take,” she murmured. “That will never stop, not in this world or any other.”

“I know, mere jaan.”

“Promise me, Amare. If you can escape to Egypt, promise that you will come to us.”

“I promise. But if I do not… this farewell was well made. It has given me courage.”

She started to weep. Weeks of being strong had reached the breaking point. But Amare shushed her softly, turning her around and hustling her toward the servants who were waiting for her. Essien grabbed her hand, holding it tightly as they rushed along, while Addax and his dagger lingered behind with his father. Amare took them to the secret palace exit, where tunnels would take them to the river beyond where ships awaited, and then the river would take them to the sea and westward. At the exit, Amare came to a halt and kissed his wife one last time, kissed Essien, and took a moment with Addax as the boy faced him with more bravery than a five-year-old should have to summon.

For a moment, Amare let himself drink in the sight of Addax, imagining the man his son would grow up to be. Of all of his regrets, the fact that he would not live to see it was probably his biggest one. Before him, he saw greatness.

He hoped his son would be able to achieve something of it, wherever life took him.

“Be strong, my son,” he whispered, struggling not to weep. “In the face of whatever this life will bring you, be strong, be honest, and be loyal to those you love. Promise me.”

“I promise, Pita.”

Amare smiled weakly. “Good,” he said, turning him to his mother and the rest of the escort bound for the tunnels. The servants were already dressing Essien in a disguise as a servant’s child. “Hurry, now. I will see you soon.”

Addax started to turn, but paused. “When?”

“As soon as God allows.”

That was good enough for Addax. It was something of a definitive answer, which his father had failed to give him before now. The last vision he had of his father was as the man stood in the great stone doorway, watching his family flee. But there was nothing but courage on his face, hope that they would survive, and that gave Addax the strength he needed to do as his father had asked. He took the dragon blade dagger with him, knowing it carried the power of his ancestors.

On that dark, terrible night, Addax, his mother, brother, and sister, along with several loyal servants, fled out to sea.

But all did not go well.

A storm on the second night at sea pushed their convoy of three ships off course and into a gulf, where they were forced to dock at the city of Abu Samra. That was when the captain, who had been loyal to Amare for years and had established trade routes for him, decided to demand favors from Kiya. He’d never had a queen before, he’d said, something that confused Addax and Essien, but Addax knew instinctively that it wasn’t good. When Kiya refused, he struck her.

Addax rammed the dragon-headed dagger into the man’s kidney. Protect your mother, his father had said. So, he did.

After that, it was chaos.

Kiya and her children fled with her servants onto the streets of Abu Samra, but they became separated in the chaos. Dust and wind and terror swirled about them, and the group fractured further. The two old women, Bobo and Rami, fell afoul of a man they’d run into, and he threw them both into the sea. After hiding out for a day and a night, Addax and Essien searched for their mother and sister for days and days, until they found an old fisherman who said he saw a screaming woman and her infant daughter taken aboard another ship.

Distraught, the hungry and exhausted boys had no idea what to do when they came across one of the male servants who had accompanied them, only the man had been in a fight and left to die in an alley. He told Addax and Essien that, indeed, their mother and sister had been captured by the crew of the murdered captain and taken back aboard the ship. Now, the ship was gone.

So were their last links to their family.

Two very small boys found themselves alone in a strange land, their mother and sister vanished. There were no more servants out of the several who came with them, except for the dying old man. Therefore, Addax and Essien took up vigil next to the old servant, through heat and cold, night and day, learning to beg for food and receiving a pittance from the mosque in town. But it was enough to sustain them until the old servant finally passed away six days after they had found him.

After that, they were on their own.

But not for long.

Abu Samra was a crossroads for trade caravans throughout the region, and one day, when Addax and Essien went to the mosque to beg for more food, the holy man introduced them to a merchant who was bringing an enormous caravan from Abu Dhabi and heading for Damascus. The merchant needed small boys to run errands or complete tasks, and the holy man made it seem as if it would be a great, fruitful adventure for Addax and Essien. It was better than begging in the streets, he said, and God would smile upon those who helped themselves.

Addax did want to please God, after all.

So, they went.

Unfortunately, the merchant was not their savior. He enslaved them both, starving them and beating them, forcing them to tend camels and horses and load and unload merchandise. Addax was a little older and a little stronger than Essien, who was little more than a toddler. But he was a three-year-old who was forced to grow up very quickly as the hardships of life settled around them. It was either that or he would die, and Addax found himself being both father and mother to his younger brother. He would give Essien half of his meager rations so the child wouldn’t go to bed hungry at night, crying for his mother and father.

But the caveat was that Addax went to bed hungry.

This went on for two very long years.

Two years of being beaten and abused, of hoping the next day would bring relief or even someone with some kindness for them. At one point, the merchant, a man by the name of Abiram, was given a slave girl in Basrah in exchange for goods. She was young, but pretty and strong, and Abiram used her for labor. She worked alongside Addax and Essien, her nature kind and joyful in spite of her circumstances. Finally, the two young boys had someone to show them a measure of kindness and compassion, things they craved at their young age.

Amala was her name.

But Amala’s presence wasn’t to last forever.

Abiram had reached the Levant with his caravan of goods, and he found ready customers in the men protecting Acre, and other cities, from the onslaught of Christian armies. One night, Abiram sold Amala to a lord for his harem, and Addax would never forget her soft weeping as she was taken away. Somehow, Addax knew that he and Essien would not survive much longer. Abiram was growing crueler, and they were growing weaker. Once they hit the outskirts of Jerusalem, a vast and populous city, Addax made the decision to run.

It was either run or die.

When Abiram brought the caravan to a halt and ordered the boys to go into town with a message for a friend of his, they willingly went into the citadel of Jerusalem and lost themselves on the dusty, ancient streets. Instead of searching for Abiram’s friend on the Street of the Merchants, they escaped the city walls to the north, running through scrub and rocks, avoiding scorpions and snakes, rushing toward another village.

It took all night.

Once they arrived, there were very few people on the streets. Everyone seemed to be inside, even on what should have been a busy morning. Addax and Essien did what they’d learned to do best—hide in the shadows, trying to remain unseen, being as unobtrusive as possible. They’d learned that from Abiram, but more so now that they had fled the man. They didn’t want to be brought back to him. But they were only small boys, after all, and by midmorning, they collapsed in a grove of olive trees from sheer exhaustion, and Essien fell asleep on his older brother.

But Addax couldn’t sleep.

He had to remain vigilant.

Hollow-eyed, malnourished, and quite possibly as close to death as he’d ever been, Addax wondered if he would die in this place. He wondered what would become of his brother. Before Abiram’s caravan, they’d begged for food because they didn’t know what else to do. Now, it seemed they were to live on the street again, and Addax didn’t relish the thought. He’d once had plans to find his mother and sister and return to Kitara to fight alongside his father, but all of those events had happened over two years ago. It seemed like a thousand years had passed. His father was dead, and so were his mother and sister, more than likely. Although he didn’t want to believe that, deep down, he knew it was true.

He and Essien were the only ones left.

And the dragon blade.

That dragon-headed dagger had never left his possession. Oddly, Abiram had never searched him or stripped him in all the time they’d been with him, and Addax had been able to keep the dagger sewn into the hem of his tunic. He’d done that himself with some thread that one of the other slaves loaned him. Amala had known about it, and her sewing skill had secured it tightly when his skills hadn’t. The dagger was with him, even now. His father had given it to him and told him to protect his mother and brother and sister with it. He’d failed with his mother and sister, but he still had Essien. Perhaps protecting meant different things—not only brandishing the weapon, but perhaps, in this case, exchanging it for food or money.

Perhaps it had come to that.

Trading away the very last vestiges of his legacy.

As Addax pondered what he needed to do, he heard horses in the distance. He was near the road, but still somewhat protected by the grove of olive trees. Turning his head, he could see enormous warhorses ridden by men covered with steel coats and great tunics and big, square buckets of metal on their heads. The tunics they wore were red, with yellow cats on them. There were so many of them that he couldn’t see where the line of them ended, all of them heading down the road and into the village.

Somewhat fearful, Addax tried to move without waking up Essien. His brother would likely cry at the sight of so many armed, unfamiliar warriors, and that would bring attention to them. If there was one thing Addax had learned as a young lad, it was how to be quiet. Noise was never a good thing. But he couldn’t move enough, knowing he could be seen from the road.

And he was.

By dogs.

Two big gray dogs found him, licking his face furiously, wagging their tails, and evidently quite happy to see him. Even the dogs had steel on them, around their necks, and Addax was absolutely terrified. The dogs were very big, but thankfully friendly, and they licked Essien, too, who awoke to a giant dog head in his field of vision that was larger than his own head. He opened his mouth to scream, but Addax slapped a hand over his lips so the sound would go no further.

Then someone was yelling for the dogs. The dogs heard their names, but they were so happy that they’d found new people that they refused to leave the boys. In fact, one dog lay across Essien, and the other sat down next to Addax. It didn’t seem to matter that someone was calling for them. They’d found something, and they were proud of it. As Addax watched in terror, one of the heavily armed men on the road moved into the olive grove and dismounted.

He was heading straight for them.

“Argos!” the man boomed. “Artemis! Did you not hear me, you foolish animals?”

Addax had no idea what the man was saying. He didn’t understand the language. But he was absolutely terrified as he clutched Essien, watching the big warrior as he approached. The man saw them fairly quickly, realizing his dogs had found the pair. He slowed down, pausing a moment before removing his helm. He had hair the color of gold and a beard of nearly the same color around his jaw.

Addax had never seen hair that color in his life.

“Aap kaun hain?” the man asked, not unkindly.

Who are you? Addax recognized the language because he’d spent enough time in these lands to understand, and speak, a little of it. But he was so frightened, and so hungry and exhausted, that he started to weep.

“Addax,” he said. “Ana Addax.”

I am Addax.

The warrior looked him over. He pointed to Essien questioningly, and Addax told the man his name. But that didn’t seem to satisfy him. He didn’t go away. He tried to get the dogs to come away, but they wouldn’t. He finally gave up and crouched down a few feet away from them, even as other warriors saw what he was doing and reined their horses to a halt.

But the man’s focus was on Addax.

“Do you understand me?” he asked in the language of the land.

Addax nodded. “Aye.”

“Are you injured?”

Addax shook his head. “Nay.”

“But you have bruises and blood on you.”

Addax didn’t know how to answer that. He was terrified to tell him the truth, so he made up something. Anything. “We… we are traveling.”

“Where are you going?”

“I do not know.”

The crouching warrior was joined by two more of the biggest men Addax had ever seen. One had the same gold hair, but the other man had black hair and blue eyes. They all had blue eyes. Addax had never seen that shade before, nor skin tone that color. It was quite pale.

“Where are your parents?” the crouching man asked. “Where do you belong?”

Addax shook his head. “We belong to no one,” he said. “Please… will you let us go?”

The other blond warrior walked around the tree trunk, coming up on their other side. He, too, crouched down, closer to Essien. He spoke to the other man in a language Addax didn’t understand.

“They’ve been beaten, Chris,” he said quietly. “Starved, too, from the looks of it.”

The man called Chris, the one with the blond beard, nodded. “I can see that,” he said. “And they’re clearly terrified. They are probably running from whoever did this. Why else would they be sleeping in an olive grove?”

The second blond man merely nodded and stood up. “We have some provisions we can give them,” he said. “But we need to be on our way. Richard is expecting us.”

The man called Chris stood up, too, but he was gazing down at the frightened boys. After a moment, he looked at the black-haired man standing next to him.

“Something tells me not to leave them here,” he said.

The man with the dark hair frowned. “Why?”

“I do not know. It is a feeling I have.” The man called Chris paused, looking indecisively at the boys huddling fearfully against the tree. “Those are very little boys who probably will not see another sunrise if they are not given food and help.”

The man with the dark hair rolled his eyes. “So you come all this way to kill Muslims, yet you want to save these two?” he asked incredulously. “We do not have time for this. Give them some bread and let us be on our way.”

With that, he turned and walked away, but the man called Chris didn’t leave with him. In fact, he called after him.

“Mayhap God will be more willing to forgive me for the Muslims I’ve killed if I help two small children,” he said loudly. But his focus returned to Addax and Essien. He’d made up his mind. He was going to help. “I cannot leave them here to die. David, pick up the one closest to you. I’ll take the bigger one.”

The other blond man looked confused. “And do what with them?” he said. “We bring them along like baggage?”

The man named Chris pointed to the dogs, still lying with the boys. “We bring them along like the dogs,” he said. “Mayhap I will put them to work for us. In any case, I will not leave them. Pick up the smaller boy.”

With a shrug, the other blond man dutifully reached down and picked up Essien, who screamed at being separated from his brother, but the man called Chris held up a hand to him.

“Hadi, hadi,” he said quickly. Quiet, quiet. “Sawf ’usaeiduk.”

I will help you.

That shut Essien up somewhat, but he was still crying. Addax found himself heaved up by the big blond man with the beard, being carried toward the warhorses that were tethered at the side of the road. No sooner were they put upon them than the warriors, men from a faraway land who spoke a strange language, were giving them water and stale bread.

But neither boy cared.

They wolfed it down.

Little did either one of them know that the food represented hope, and the Christian knights represented destiny. Hope and destiny came to Addax and Essien that day.

And they embraced it.