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For my big brother, who taught me to read and was my first fan and who always believed in The League series. I miss you more every day, and I would have given anything if you could have seen just one of my books in print.
For every underdog who's been misunderstood and felt out of place, and who's been knocked down so hard the blows staggered them. Who had a dream, saw it crushed, got back up, and kept going anyway. As my brother always said, there's no guarantee in life, except that you will always fail whatever task you never undertake. And you're never defeated until you decide to quit.
To my boys and husband who are my life, and who have seen me through untold heartaches. For my readers, who are family, and to my friends for keeping me sane. Thank you all for being part of my life.
And as always, to Monique, Alex, Robert, John, Eric, Ervin, Mark, Nancy, Angie, Jen, and everyone at St. Martin's and Trident who work so incredibly hard on the books to make them a reality. And The MB Staff: Kim, Paco, Lisa, and Carl, and all the volunteers who keep things running smoothly! You guys are the best!
Hunger only for a taste of justice
'Cause all that you have is your soul
--Tracy Chapman, All That You Have Is Your Soul
AN ANCIENT ANDARION LEGEND
In all the worlds, in all the legends, and in all the myths, there is only one that can make the stoutest Andarion warrior tremble like a newborn child. Only one that breathes unholy terror into his intrepid heart.
For there is only one beast we know who is truly unstoppable.
The merciless Dagger Ixur.
Said to be among the oldest legends of our race, the Dagger Ixur was born to the goddess of evil magic, Samari, and pure unrestrained evil she was. With her sons Duffarrar (malevolence), Fain (violence), and Arixur (darkness), she cut a trail of brutal slaughter across the lands of Andaria, laying waste to all, and taking pity upon no one.
Yet for all her heartless cruelty she loved her sons dearly.
All of them.
And none more so than the winged god, Korilon, who was named for the turbulent fire he breathed. He, the darkest god of our pantheon, would hunt down the souls of the damned for his mother, and cast them into the barbarous pits of Tophet, where those who'd committed the worst acts of cowardice, and crimes against others would spend eternity in torment, forever denied the honor of reincarnation, or any comfort or solace from their suffering. Because of his pitiless brutality that could never be bargained with or daunted, Korilon was the one child Samari held closest to her heart.
Until the day came when Saint Sarn began civilizing the Andarion races--unifying the tribes and bringing peace to our warring lands. It is said that on the very hour of the First Plenum, when the mighty Dancer War Hauk gave up the throne of Andaria to the lesser Anatole so that his Hauk bloodline could reign as the first warrior clan, Samari's sons turned against their parents for allowing such a travesty to stand.
In their great warriors' eyes, it weakened our world to have a lesser bloodline rule our races and not a true warrior on the throne.
It weakened our Warrior pantheon.
In a vengeful fury, the war gods struck down their lesser, weak parents, and when Korilon's winged Warsword plunged deep into the womb of his mother, her heart burst apart, into a dozen blackened shards over his betrayal. With her final breath, she gave life to those fragments and cursed her four sons to die in brutal agony at the end of every day at the hands of those new children--to mark when her four traitorous spawn had ruthlessly struck her down.
The Dagger Ixur--they were created from those broken shards--the remnants of her shattered heart.
Her final vengeance on this world.
At the light of each dawn, Samari's four original sons arise, restored to attend their godly duties, but come the twilight shadows when Samari's dark breath again kisses the Andarion landscape, the Dagger Ixur emerge from their mother's kiss as unstoppable phantoms to seek their vengeance, first on the immortal Petguar who betrayed their goddess mother, and then on any child who has broken his mother's heart.
And so it goes, even now. Samari's vengeance continues and with the falling of every evening, the Dagger Ixur are released. As silent wraiths, they stalk the shadows in search of those who have made their mothers regret their births. Those who have brought shame to their lineages.
No one can escape their wrath or their justice.
For their fury is all-consuming and their aim is ever true. After all, Dagger Ixur is the Andarion term for a dark blade through the heart. And if there is a son who has made his mother weep for his birth, who has betrayed her love and returned it with hatred, they will destroy him and lay him in his grave. This is their sacred covenant with the goddess Samari. It is one they will never break.
All a mother has to do is invoke their name to seek their aid in punishing her misbegotten child.
That sacred pact is what every male with a drop of Andarion blood fears most about nightfall, and why even the stoutest heart casts a sheepish eye toward every shadowy corner. That fear alone is the one thing no other Andarion would dare mock him for. Because you never know when the Dagger Ixur will be coming next to claim your soul.
But the one thing you do know for sure.
When it comes for you, there is no escape. There is no quarter.
There is no hope.
There is only pain and death. And it waits with arms wide open to welcome you in should you ever turn a coward's side in battle, betray a friend, or shame your blood with your actions. For the gods see all.
They know all.
And the shadows of the Dagger Ixur own the night.
CHAPTER 1
This looked like a damn good place to die. And at least it wasn't blistering hot.
Grimacing in pain, Dagger Ixur pressed his hand against the wound that was slowly killing him and stepped inside the dive hole where some of the worst vermin of the Nine Worlds had crawled to find refuge from the blistering binary suns of Steradore.
His breathing labored, he hid his agony behind a mask of steeled boredom and made his way to a back table where he sat down, making sure to keep his wound concealed. Like rabid animals, the creatures here would attack en masse should they suspect for even the hair of a nanosecond he was incapable of defending himself.
Especially given the massive bounty on his head.
Hell, if he had a brain, he'd turn himself in for that amount of cred. At least it would get him a good meal for the first time in four years.
But then, he couldn't spend it if he was dead.
"There's a thirty crona minimum to occupy this space. You got thirty cronas, slag?"
Dagger sneered at the smug purple-skinned humanoid waitress. She had no idea that she was talking to a former prince who'd once been heir to two of the largest fortunes in the universe.
But that was years ago.
Today, he was heir of shit and shit's second cousin. And if he wasn't on the brink of death, he wouldn't have thirty cronas to waste
on the watered-down, fifth-rate, synthetic hooch they no doubt served here.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the coins and tossed them on the table. "Tondarion Fire."
She swept the creds into her palm and examined them to make sure they weren't counterfeit. Then without a word, she went to fetch his drink.
Adjusting his dark red-tinted glasses to make sure they kept his betraying eyes concealed, Dagger expelled an exhausted breath, hoping he lived long enough to taste the knock-off garbage he'd just ordered. At the rate he was bleeding ...
It won't hurt much longer.
Sadly, he didn't know what burned his blackened soul more. The poisoned knife wound or the raw fact that as he sat here bleeding out, he had no one to call and say a final goodbye to. No one who would give a single shit that he would be dead in less than half an hour.
A scuffle to his right drew his attention.
Immediately on alert, he reached with his left hand for his blaster, expecting it to be more enforcers or assassins after him.
He relaxed as he saw nothing more than two filthy humans and an alien hauling a scraggly boy in chains. From the looks of it, the kid was probably a crew member being punished or a prisoner being transferred.
No more than fifteen or sixteen, the boy with white-blond hair jerked away from a much larger and older male. Hissing, he exposed a set of fangs in a specific, insulting manner that was known as fanging someone. Dagger frowned at that particular defiant and aggressive gesture.
The boy was Andarion with that hair color?
For a full minute, Dagger thought he was hallucinating from blood loss as he saw in his mind not the child in front of him, but his own fraternal twin brother, Nykyrian. Though there were legends of other blond Andarions who had existed at one time, Nykyrian was the only white-haired Andarion Dagger had ever seen in the flesh. The rest of that breed had been brutally put to death long before he and his brother had been born. Hunted down and exterminated for that trait and any other ability or skill their grandmother had deemed an inherent threat to her reign and authority.
Because yeah, really, she was that insecure a bitch.
The larger alien slugged the boy.
"Don't bruise my merchandise!" the buyer snarled. "I'll only pay half the creds he's worth if he's damaged."
Dagger winced at those harsh words. Slavers out to make a quick profit off the poor kid's innocence and beauty.
Like the other occupants who didn't seem to care at all, he started to stay out of it. But then, he'd lived his whole life in selfish fear surrounded by those who were only out for themselves. And what had it gotten him?
An early death on a backwater planet, bleeding out alone.
No friends. No family.
Once he was dead and gone, these maggots would raid his corpse for his meager creds, weapons, and ring, and dump his remains like forgotten garbage.
He was going to die. That was a given.
But he did have a choice in whether he went quietly ...
Or fighting his way to the gods, doing some good for a scared child who might have a future out of this. A boy who needed to be at home with his family and friends. Not in the hands of these callous, money-grubbing bastards.
Four years ago when Dagger had finally faced the truth in a broken mirror of a filthy bathroom, and stood sober for the first time in over a decade, he'd seen what a piece of shit he really was. In that instant, he'd forever buried the selfish, terrified prince who'd been bullied and cowed by everyone around him, and been reborn that night as the fearless survivor Dagger Ixur who was done taking orders and trying to please his worthless, back-stabbing family.
Someone who wasn't a total scabbing bastard.
While the chemically-numbed Jullien eton Anatole would have walked away and not cared what happened to the boy, the stone-cold killer Dagger damn sure wouldn't.
Rising to his feet, Dagger slowly slid his coat back, and moved his hand to his blaster grip to show them clearly that the clock on their lives had begun to click down. The only way to stop it now was for them to make the right decision. "Let the kid go."
The larger thug who was planning to buy the boy, turned to sneer at him. "Well ... what have we here? Aren't you a fancy one?"
Dagger arched a brow. "What? Because I bathed a week ago? Really?" He was filthy, sweating and bleeding, and wearing clothes that should have been burned a year ago, at least. He smelled like the back end of something dead and rotten. Disgusting truthfully. Even he was offended by his stench. How in the universe would anyone consider this fancy?
Then again, if one considered the source ...
Yeah, he was rather fancy, after all.
"Just shoot him, Eben, and get it over with."
When Eben moved to comply with his accomplice, Dagger drew his blaster lightning fast and shot first. The blast landed right between the man's eyes with unerring aim.
While Dagger might not be the trained League assassin his brother was, he'd always been an incredibly accurate shot--thanks to too many years of a VR shooter gaming addiction, and a need to feed his obsessive paranoia that one day one of his many obloquious cousins would find the nerve to take aim for his back.
Chaos erupted as patrons screamed and ran, and the owner and bouncers moved in to control them, and disarm Dagger.
Yeah, like that would happen so long as he was alive.
Ducking, he shot three more of them.
The other human attacked. Dagger caught the man and kicked him sideways at the same time their alien rodent-shaped friend came for his back. He knocked him away and quickly unshackled the boy.
Dagger took a second to make sure the kid wasn't hurt before he handed him his link, and wallet that contained his royal Andarion signet ring. It was the only thing of monetary value he had left from his past. The only thing he hadn't pawned or outright sold. He had no idea why he'd kept it--honestly, he wasn't sentimental. Yet he hadn't been able to part with it for some unknown reason.
Until now.
Lastly, he reached to the holster at the small of his back and gave the kid the one thing he owned that meant anything to him.
His fully charged reserve blaster.
The boy scowled as Dagger closed the kid's hands around the items. He released the biolock on the blaster's trigger so the boy could shoot it if he had to.
Dagger inclined his head to him. "There's enough in there to get you home to your parents. Make sure you call and let them know you're safe. Shoot anyone who tries to hurt or stop you. Anyone. You get home, chizzi. Whatever it takes. Conscience be damned. I mean it. Don't stop for anything. Let no one do you harm."
He saw the others rising to come for them. "Run!" he snapped at the kid before he grabbed a chair and swung it at the smelly rodent.
The boy didn't go far. Rather, he doubled back and grabbed Dagger's coat. "You better follow me or they'll have you for sure."
"What do you mean?"
The boy leaned in to whisper. "I know who you are ... tiziran."
Dagger stepped back out of habit, then caught himself. Why he bothered, he had no idea. There was nothing more the boy could do to him. He couldn't believe he was still alive. Especially given the way his heart was pounding poison through his body and how profusely he kept bleeding.
As they neared the door, another group of outlaws came in, armed and ready for war.
By their gear, they were Tavali pirates. Shit ...
Bad timing and bad luck were still courting him like the last male on an all-matron planet. The Tavali were only about profit. They would gut him even faster than the derelicts in this bar. And there was no telling what they'd do to the chizzi.
Dagger pulled the boy behind him, ready to fight them to the bitter end to keep the kid safe. Even though he doubted he had another charge left on his main blaster, he angled it for their female leader, who took aim at his head.
"Stop! Don't shoot!" Before Dagger could prevent it, the boy ran out from behind him and put himself b
etween them. "He saved me, Mum."
The targeting dot lowered to hover over Dagger's heart, unwavering. "What?"
"It's true." The boy gestured at the bodies on the ground. "He freed me and was helping me escape."
His legs suddenly weak, Dagger tried to stay steady as a loud buzzing began in his ears, but he couldn't. Anymore than he could continue to hold his blaster that had instantly gained a hundred pounds and aim it. Instead, he focused on the only thing that mattered to him. "Are you safe from harm, akam?"
"Yes."
Nodding, he lowered his arm, dropped his blaster, then sank to the floor before everything went dark.
*
Relieved to find her son alive, Ushara blinked back tears and holstered her blaster as she saw the huge, muscled Andarion male go down without a fight. She visually checked the remaining threat level, which was currently minimal.
But that wouldn't last. They'd violated too many laws in her quest to find her only child and it could get hot in here fast. Not that she'd cared. Her boy had been threatened--for Vasili's life, she'd violate any law, any where, any time.
And raze this entire planet to a crisp.
Her baby had been all that had mattered to her. And it was still her priority. Vasili's tracker had been on its last bar. Another five minutes and they'd have lost him completely. Had his kidnappers moved him one more time, she'd have never found him.
Tears and panic filled her and threatened to overwhelm her as she realized how close she'd come to never seeing her baby boy again. She still couldn't breathe for it.
But they had to get out of here before they were all taken and jailed. She'd tremble and fall apart later. Right now she had to secure everyone's safety. "Vas! We need to go. Now!"
Her son knelt by the male's side. "Not without him."
"Vas!"
Her stubborn little progeny had the audacity to jut his chin out and defy her. "He saved me, Mum. Risked his own life to do it. For no reason at all. We help those who help us. That's what you've always told me, isn't it?"
"Don't you dare throw my words in my face. Not right now."
"It's not enough that we voice good intentions. We must back them with action."
She growled at her child and his stubborn defiance. He had far too much of his father in his blood.