Honor Bound Read online

  Honor Bound

  By Michelle Howard

  Published by Michelle Howard

  Copyright © 2014 by Michelle Howard

  Edited by: Laura Kingsley

  Cover Design by: www.estrellacoverart.com

  License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this novel with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please buy an additional copy for each recipient.

  No part of this book may be distributed in any format, in whole or in part without the express written consent of the author.

  Thank you for respecting the author's hard work.

  This is a work of fiction and is not a reflection or representation of any person living or dead. Any similarity is of pure coincidence.

  Dedication

  Honor Bound is dedicated to the most awesome woman I know. Mom, thank you for gifting me with your love of romance and being a staunch supporter in my desire to write.

  Chapter 1

  “The charge is murder.”

  The official red robes of a council member swayed about Councilor Raiden’s ankles as he paced. Vaan stood before the head of the Kaban Council, unable to believe the words he heard. Raiden couldn’t be serious. The hasty proceedings taking place made a mockery of the very penalty system Vaan had instituted.

  He looked to his side, relieved at the stoic expressions on the faces of his finest warriors. Pride filled Vaan at the sight. His men would give no one the pleasure of witnessing their emotions. Each of his Warlords stood straight and proud. Dark heads tilted in arrogance, black leather clad legs braced wide, they appeared a fearsome group. They’d been stripped of their weapons upon arrival but empty chest harnesses meant nothing. A Warlord defined deadly even without a sword gripped in hand.

  “How do you plead, Overlord Galip?”

  His lip curled. Vaan Galip did not plead for any man. “I claim innocence of the actions. My warriors harmed no one and I stand behind them.” His voice rang loud and clear.

  Grumbles arose from the crowd which had gathered in the central hall of Vaan’s main compound. Warriors and servants idled by, ignoring their tasks in lieu of viewing the drama playing out before them. Vaan studied the expressions on their faces as well. Some looked pleased, their eyes full of vengeance. Ahal it was the way of some. Others looked confused and doubtful as if they too, could not imagine the claims against Vaan.

  The head of the Council slowed his strides in front of Vaan but maintained the distance between them. Vaan counted on Raiden for the rare moments of clarity from the council but today no such sign existed. “Can you be certain of this claim?”

  Vaan’s fists clenched in the shackles they’d fastened on his wrists. His nostrils flared at the insult the Councilor’s question implied. Vaan took a step forward, separating himself from his warriors and drawing everyone’s attention. How far would the Council and his uncle Dakar go and what purpose did it serve to place murder at his door? “Do you doubt me?”

  Councilor Raiden shoved his hands in the pocket of his robes. “We but question the truth, Overlord.”

  Tension radiated from Vaan’s men. Suppressed violence simmered in the air. They waited to follow his lead, knowing the charges against them were frivolous at best. Anane supported all nomadic tribes crossing their land with offers of food and water. His Warlords knew Vaan would never send out an order for one of them to decimate the entire village of innocent men, women and children. His Uncle and the Council sought to ignite tempers.

  When Raiden passed a second time, Vaan’s gaze strayed to his uncle wearing similar robes yet holding his silence. Vaan didn’t bother to hide his snarl. How dare they question him? “I speak truth, Councilor Raiden. Ever have my actions been for Kaban.” Another step placed Vaan directly in line with the path of Raiden’s pacing. The muscles in Vaan’s arms flexed as he raised his bound hands. “I will personally punish those found guilty.” Vaan turned to eye their nervous faces after issuing the threat.

  Councilor Raiden jerked and paled. His infernal pacing came to an end. Shadows danced behind his brown eyes as he sought Vaan’s uncle. Best they should fear him. All of them, Vaan added as his gaze roamed over the men who made up the Kaban Council. The five robed figures who sat on the Council were pompous fools and never more so than now when they tried to lay claim to this atrocity at his feet.

  Vaan kept Dakar in his line of sight to witness his reaction as well. His uncle’s dark hair lay neatly about his broad shoulders. No marks marred a face eerily similar to Vaan’s. His shoulders appeared wide beneath the elaborate robes of a Council member. Vaan sneered. Dakar shamed the family name by choosing to sit as a member of the Council instead of defending Kaban with his sword. His uncle blanched when he dared meet Vaan’s gaze.

  “Let us waste no more time,” Vaan declared. If they truly cared about bringing justice forth, they’d let Vaan and his Warlords seek out the true offenders.

  Councilor Raiden firmed his shoulders and faced the small gathering. Those allowed in the hall to watch shifted on restless feet. “We will drink to health and long life before proceeding.”

  To refuse would make Vaan look inconsiderate. A smug smile spread across Dakar’s thin lips. It pleased him to hear an excuse to delay. Vaan cared not for consideration but bid his time. He gave Raiden a terse nod, releasing his consent.

  One of the house serving girls immediately came forward. She wore the blue and silver colors of the Galip household. The ankle length dress hugged a curvy figure Vaan well remembered. Neera removed the lid of the gold tray and extended her arms, offering curved blue mugs bearing the stylized G of Vaan’s seal. Other servants joined her with mug laden trays for the Councilors.

  Vaan stood, legs planted apart. Each Warlord waited on him for guidance. As their Overlord, they made no moves without his approval. The Councilors, his uncle included, stared awaiting his response. Fine. Vaan wanted to see this played out and then he would reign terror on the perpetrators. “We drink,” Vaan agreed. “But the matter will be resolved now.”

  With their hands tied in front of them, Neera carefully handed each of his Warlords the mugs of hot wine. Vaan tossed his back in one swallow, his men following suit. Neera quickly approached to collect the empty cups. When her blue eyes met Vaan’s, they skittered away and the tray in her hands rattled. She made haste in her escape.

  A frown tugged at Vaan’s lips. Neera and he ended their bed play mutually. She had no cause to fear Vaan. He’d earned his reputation on the battlefield honestly but voiced no complaints with his servants as long as they met his expectations. All knew of the Overlord’s harsh dealings with those who displeased him but he ruled with fairness when possible. His confusion with Neera’s reaction re-enforced his rage. He did not make war on women and children. These claims were ridiculous. Vaan renewed his vow to find the true culprits. Nothing else would take priority.

  “To Honor,” his uncle cheered and finished his drink in one go as well.

  The other councilors sipped from their mugs, unused to hard drink. Huddled together in a small group, they stood so close the hem of their robes brushed. Vaan rolled his eyes at the visible display of their clannish ways. They appeared like women hovering in a kitchen to share a moment of gossip.

  Vaan had enough of this farce. He straightened his shoulders and stared coldly at his uncle. “Enough. You will present this proof you say you have and we will be done with this matter.” Vaan suffered no love lost for his father’s brother. The man believed his position on the Kaban Council made him invincible. For Dakar, power tr
uly had bloated his heart. If not for Vaan and his Warlords, the Council would lose the prestige they loved to lord over everyone’s head, his uncle included.

  Dakar glared at Vaan for the interruption before turning. He signaled one of the warriors Vaan hadn’t notice entering the room. Vaan waited, knowing his face revealed none of his inner emotions. Emotions which warned him to be leery of his uncle’s machinations.

  “Warlord Thenl, speak before the assemblage and tell us your shame.”

  Shame? Vaan clenched his hands tighter in the bonds. Muted anger throbbed in his chest. The warrior, Thenl, entered the hall and stepped forward to the front of the assemblage. His blond hair, rare among Kabanians, lay in a tangle about his bare shoulders. The customary black leather leggings appeared stained and soiled as if he had traveled quickly. Thenl recently achieved Warlord status despite Vaan’s desire for the youth to train longer. Something about him was not quite right. Instead, Vaan had trusted Argan’s judgment, his top Warlord and moved the young man forward in the promotion. Thenl had been given a troop of ten warriors. The smallest contingent possible Vaan could assign him without causing insult to his newly gained status.

  Vaan eyed the youth closely. Thenl’s smile caused a tug of foreboding in Vaan’s gut. Thenl swaggered forward. He nodded to Dakar and then looked over Vaan and the other restrained Warlords. His blue eyes glowed with a malicious light and his mouth curved in a cocky smile. The look reeked of superiority. Vaan controlled the urge to roll his eyes at the posturing. A true Warlord had no need of such displays.

  Argan Vaan’s best friend and longest appointed Warlord, staggered into his side. With his hands restrained, Vaan could only brace his weight until his friend recovered. Argan straightened, a flush staining his cheeks.

  Vaan murmured low. “Is all well?” His trusted commander was ever composed.

  Argan shook his dark head and blinked. “The wine.” He paused and cracked his neck to the side. “Something was amiss with the wine, Overlord.”

  Vaan’s eyes narrowed. He turned his head slightly, observing his other Warlords. Strong men. Men who fought fiercely in battle, yet glassy eyes stared back. A few slumped their heads on their shoulders. Each of them looked seconds away from collapse. Something was indeed amiss.

  Vaan turned back to face Thenl and his Uncle Dakar. Excitement glittered in their eyes. A feverish light gave their gazes an evil tint. What was their end goal? Vaan remembered his feelings of misgiving about the missive he’d received four days past from the Council. The basic words demanded Vaan’s presence and that of his fifteen. Typically, he would have burned the letter and not responded but it promised answers about the destruction of Anane and he could not refuse the opportunity to find out those answers.

  It was up to Vaan as Overlord to maintain the peace of the Kaban land and its borders. He’d fought and battled for the right. What happened to Anane needed resolving, thus he and his Warlords had traveled fast and far to Vaan’s home. The home he rarely resided in due to his constant travel and battles. The home his Uncle commandeered for this farce. A simple order and any of the warriors present would raise arms to fight on Vaan’s behalf but he held back the words from his tongue.

  “I stand here to speak truth and demand forgiveness,” Thenl started. “I am but a mere warrior who follows orders.”

  Vaan grunted. Thenl’s past consisted of unfounded boast and challenging behavior that did not support his claims of humility. Vaan waited to hear the words Thenl would spew forth but he did not expect what the Warlord said next.

  “Two weeks ago, I accepted the Overlord’s command to be silent about Anane.” Thenl bowed his head and his shoulders hunched forward. “I watched with reluctance as the Overlord and his top Warlords destroyed the village.”

  Vaan clenched his teeth at the falsehood. Thenl’s announcement had those in the gathering gasping and crying out. His people, his warriors subjected to this. Rage coiled in his belly. Blood pounded at his temples.

  “I am saddened to hear this news. Why do you come forward now, Warlord?” Dakar made sure his eyes connected with everyone. Were those tears in his stare?

  Vaan couldn’t stop a growl from escaping. Thenl was hapfe piss. His words nothing but lies. Vaan had no cause to give such a command. Not only because such actions were wrong but destroying entire encampments or villages created deep rooted feelings of hatred among the people that could never be overcome. As Overlord, Vaan ruled many and inspired loyalty in twice that number. He did not attain such a position of power and rule by killing without reason.

  “My actions did not sit well on my heart. Thirty-five men, women and children slain.” Thenl’s voice choked and a solitary tear rolled down his cheek.

  “Lie,” Argan snapped, unable to maintain his silence.

  Thenl frowned and waved his hand toward Vaan and the men by his side. “Hear me assembled warriors. You are like blind shep following the Overlord’s command. I witnessed with my eyes the destruction reeked by his top Warlords while the Overlord stood by and laughed. I can hold my lips no more.”

  Vaan narrowed his eyes and listened as Thenl condemned him with words. The betrayal stung sharply.

  Dakar clapped Thenl on the back. “Be at ease, warrior. My nephew’s control has ever been lax. All have seen him under Fenal’s grip.”

  Vaan forced the breath in his chest to move in and out without constriction. He never struggled with control outside of battle. Vaan admitted to falling under Fenal during a skirmish. Many warriors suffered battle rage when their blood ran hot and Vaan professed to be no different. But he did not order a raid on Anane and he did not kill innocents. Vaan turned his head to see how his Warlords accepted this false claim but the room spun around him.

  Argan’s glazed eyes widened in concern but Vaan’s vision wavered. Had their wine truly been tampered with? Thenl and Dakar didn’t seem to suffer any ill-effects.

  “The Council members and I all spoke with Warlord Thenl and the warriors under his charge. The claim is truth. How do you plead, I ask again, Overlord Vaan Galip?”

  “Lie,” Vaan said and swallowed thickly. His uncle’s visage blurred but Vaan spoke the next words clearly over his nausea. “I and my Warlords did not destroy Anane.”

  “Would you remember if Fenal rode you hard?” Councilor Raiden questioned in a reasonable tone. His head cocked to the side as he awaited a viable answer to explain.

  Vaan stumbled back a step. Two of his Warlord’s closed ranks around him. Vaan tried to shake his vision clear. What was the question? Fenal. It was a fact that warriors did not often recall their actions under the battle rage named for Vaan’s ruthless ancestor Fenal Galip. Fenal had gone to battle against a contingent of soldiers from Desani. With only his sword and his mount, a pure bred hapfe, Fenal killed one hundred Desani men before the sun lowered it’s presence from the sky.

  Fenal walked away from the battle with naught but scratches. All spoke of the fire and passion that burned within as he fought for the bride who’d been stolen from him. Fenal reigned victorious that day and lived to witness the birth of three children with his bride. Children that upheld the name of Galip with honor and pride. Vaan struggled to focus on his uncle. It amazed him to share kinship with such a deceitful creature.

  Dakar smiled at Vaan. The smile spoke of victory. Vaan turned and his knees buckled. He hit the stone floor hard, his knees taking the brunt. “I.did.not.attack.Anane. Not under Fenal and not under a clear head. I gave no such order.” His men began to fall to the floor around him. Their large frames dropped with loud crashes.

  Dakar sucked in a breath. “If you continue to lie, it is no wonder that the Council decided on our course of action.”

  His uncle’s words, combined with his lack of concern for their visible suffering, convinced Vaan. As much as he wanted to refute the answer in his mind, the evidence made it clear. “Poison,” Vaan spat.

  Shocked cries filled the room. Treachery. Vaan struggled to his feet. He would not meet his j
udgment on his knees. “What do you plan, Uncle?” For surely Dakar had one. Vaan just needed an opening. One opportunity to reach Thenl’s weapon and then he’d destroy his father’s brother. He’d use the weapon and cleave the man in half for his actions this day.

  Vaan glimpsed the budding excitement on Thenl’s face. Hapfe dung. Vaan would send Thenl back to the dung pile his mother birthed him in. The insult did nothing to relieve Vaan’s anger. The way the council members avoided his eyes gave Vaan the answer he sought before the words were spoken.

  “Death to you for your actions.”

  Vaan expected prevarication.

  “Death to the Warlords who stand at your side.”

  His brethren. Men who’d bled for him, stood for him and never once gave him cause to doubt. “You are a fool, Uncle.” The words stumbled from his numb lips.

  Dakar’s face paled and his uncle took a step back. His hands pressed deeply in the pockets of his robe. Thenl and his uncle stood side by side. A warrior and a man representing the mouth of the Kaban people. United, they presented an evil front.

  “You know I did not do this, yet you stand in judgment. My Warlords are honorable men.”

  The crowd got louder. Some not so sure of today’s events. They believed in Vaan and what he stood for. A vein throbbed at Dakar’s temple. “Too much power for one is dangerous.” Spittle fell from his Uncle’s lips when he made the claim. Thenl placed a calming hand on Dakar’s robe covered shoulders. Vaan mouth twisted in disgust. A muscle in his jaw ticked, seeing them standing together.

  Galip were warriors not men that mouthed words with double meaning. If Vaan had his way, he’d replace each of the council men with men of his choosing. Wise men who did not cower behind the safety of their robes, the distinctive color telling all of their position and power. Power, which gave them a false sense of command over the Overlord, though Vaan often failed to heed their words and warnings. He’d never blindly listen to them when they feared every action and would keep Kaban fighting for many years more with nary a sight of peace ahead.