She glanced to him. Her hair poked from the sides of her head again, only serving to accentuate her disheveled, unstrung appearance. She hadn’t realized he was there. He often blended into the gray rocky walls to the back of the kitchen, the gray walls all over the place. She calmed herself, habitually patting the unseen stray hair, a knowing action. She worked to catch her breath and seem more ladylike. “Whew! Grudie, I’m sorry you had to see that.” She was now working to contain the smoldering anger she felt writhing within. Her chest heaved, working for control. Her smile was indeed forced.
Grude walked toward her, his steps ground over the nut-littered floor. His voice became low. It was an octave that she hadn’t heard from him in a long while. “What are you keeping from me?” He eyed her, reading.
Her face grew a frown. “Oh, Grudie!” She erupted, “I just returned from my stroll, like I always do you know.” She sighed sharply before her words rambled out quickly, “Do you know, I just talked to Trilla—she has more freedom at night since she’s a friend of mine and all. But anyhow, she was up and about, and word has it that Treva an apparently green-haired slave that ran away a while ago, was spotted back in the encampment!” She breathed, placing a hand at her waist. “Can you believe that! I mean—to think, I have been working so hard to—”
“Wait.” Grude thought for a moment. He strolled in their small kitchen space, “Trev—”
“Yes, Tre-Va!” Cantata snapped impatiently.
“Treva the Emerald? The Odana Knight?” Grude gaped.
Cantata stood looking at Grude. Like many WynSprigns that worked in their own businesses and shops before the seizure of the kingdom, Cantata never knew any of the Odana Knights, except for Lanico, but he was also the Prince. Everyone knew him. Despite his inward nature he was just as famous as she, even more so if one could believe that. And since Treva never told anyone of her Knighted past while she lived as a slave...Cantata shrugged her response to him. “I would have stayed later, except it was getting dark and all, plus they said they had to get to slee-”
“But we...killed her...Yes, she-she was the famed ‘Emerald Knight’ or also called the ‘Mysra Slayer’” His voice became grim. “We shot her with an arrow—she was left for dead at the siege. The years may have passed, but I remember this detail well. My own personal guard had seen to it himself after we breached the cas—by Fray Jaspia, killing her was a prize!” He looked back at Cantata. It was hard to interpret his anger through his incredulous stare. “You mean to tell me that she was living as a slave this whole time?” His eyes twinkled at the ironic humor of it all, but immediately flashed to irritation. His guards were dimwits. Large. Sulking. Incompetents!
“Well, I guess. I never knew she was a Knight and she never told anybody for that matter.” Her lashes fluttered before she tossed her head to the side.
He redirected the conversation getting his companion back on topic. “So, she was spotted in the encampment—” He slid out a leading question.
“Oh, yes-yes, well.” She flopped her wrist continuing, “Trilla said that Treva was spotted. That she had been wearing swords and that they think she left with another WynSprign.” Cantata’s fury rekindled at the very thought. At the nerve. From all her hard work and time trying to convince the WynSprigns. Her voice climbed to shout, “Oh, I can’t believe she has been helping WynSprigns leave us, and after all you’ve done and the reduced work at the mines! And with me going down there and—”
“But, if she’s leaving, where in the fires is she going? She’s a ranking Knight with tactical knowledge, skilled in weaponry. There is more going on than her just—”
“Perhaps we can send a few warriors to track her down and kill her,” Cantata interrupted in her tart tone. She flicked out her fingertips and roamed her eyes over their manicured trim.
“That would mean fewer warriors here, to protect me, or-or rather, us.” Grude looked at her. “Nizen is to perform another head count and we’ll see then just how much damage has been done. I worry that she’s paired with him—” Cantata’s face was lashing at wonder. “With Lanico damn it!” Grude clarified. “He’s bent on getting this castle—my castle.” He growled. “I won this castle and these people and the purple mountains and all the lands in between! Our warriors will focus on safeguarding the castle, that’s paramount!” He slammed a fist on the table, but paused and turned his face to her, his voice softer. “No more night walks. I want to limit your time outside.”
“Oh, but Grudie!” She stomped a foot. She was getting to like her time with Trilla down there.
“No. Not until I feel enough time has passed. For now,” he sighed, “I’ll increase the number of warriors here, in the castle. Whatever they have planned, we’ll be prepared.”
At his words she plopped down on the stool as petulant as a tot.
Grude paid her no mind. It was getting late and there was still time to cheer her up a bit; to cheer himself up as well.
Chapter 20
She breathed in at the knowing. At the new pebble she carried
The early morning air hung dense with fog. A wet day.
“Everyone up,” Lanico voiced a low command. His boots thudded softly over the ground as he wound his way around his sleeping warriors. Though not in title, they were every bit sworn Soldiers to him. He could almost brim with pride at the thought—almost. They still had this battle. Today was the day.
Grim reality set his mouth expressionless as he reached down to shake another. “Come on. Up. We are to leap into the trees to see—to cover the area where we’re going. An opportunity for us to reconnoiter further. The morning air is thick here and I want to ensure you’re all aware of the layout before more valuable time passes.”
In silent stealth, they leaped into the thick overhanging branches. Here, the fog did not linger as heavily. They were able to take advantage of the height and the clearer air. The concern of being spotted was forefront, but they reasoned everyone in the encampment was still slumbering at this early hour. All was still. Cold, and still.
Unlike his leaping companions, Gish remained. He knew the layout well enough, so this was not a concern for him. He scanned what was visible of the grounds for any possible enemies.
The encampment stretched to the horizon. A brown ragged blanket of huts that expanded far out. Oh, Odan there had been so many enslaved. Seeing it, from this vantage point, the expanse of it—it was still every bit as overwhelming as yesterday. The slaves had been trapped on all sides it seemed. Lanico took in the sight of trenches along the south, then the lines of guards and watchtower to the west. To the east, the encampment hugged the side of the purple Odana Mountains and mines, which were impassable by foot along that ridge. To the north, the Castle of Odana that had been etched into the continued hooked mountain chain.
The Castle of Odana. The opulent giant whispered through the mist beyond. Home.
Lanico gulped back some silent emotion within and worked to maintain resolve. I’ll get there. It is destined. Decided. It became an obsessive chant in his mind.
After moments spent committing the view to memory, they jumped from their perches.
Only hushed whispers were spoken this close to the trench, to the row of huts just beyond. Lanico produced his map. In silence, his team of novice Soldiers gathered in closely to study it.
Then, Lanico took another moment to review, again because there was no room for error. It had always been with the biggest sense of hope and responsibility that he sent his troops out, but this was something vastly different. He cleared his throat and said, “As recited: Marin, Anah, empty the encampment and try to get the slaves here, to this hill. They need to be away from the guards and the fighting that will ensue farther in. Anah, we know you know your way around that maze down there; remember to stick together.” Her fingers curled around Marin’s, unseen by others while Lanico’s voice continued on, “You’ll need to guide them through the movements to get through the trenches. Remember, Anah, it will be timely. They will
likely create a bottleneck trying to take their individual turns getting through.” Marin squeezed her hand in his, both still listening to their leader.
“Time will not be on our side with this task, but we need to keep them moving, moving, moving. Gish, the WynSprigns trust you.” It was a true statement. Gish had long aided the slaves at his easy treatment of them. He also found ways to cover for their occasional shortcomings in the mines, thus allowing the avoidance of punishment. He was absolutely trusted by them.
Lanico continued, “Once the miners see you at the mines, remember, you are to direct them, here, to this hill. Once Marin and Anah have returned, Marin will head back with you to the mine to assist in guiding the WynSprigns.” His finger traced down the map, then indicated the spot in which they sat. Here. “Make sure the network of mines have been completely cleared.” Gish nodded a response.
“Felena, Freck, you two will flank Treva and me moving north toward the castle, but will remain here.” Lanico pointed to the slave encampment at the base of the castle. Freck nodded with a clump of grass protruding from his wide hair; resulting from a tussle with tree branches. “We need you placed there to direct the slaves to the south. To our current location. There will likely be more guards present at your location being so close to the castle—that’s why you’re both tasked with this.” Freck also nodded understanding. His and Felena’s weapons gleamed a little. They were the surest warriors following Lanico and Treva. Anah was still learning—quite good, but learning. Marin lacked the needed confidence. And Gish—well…he preferred his knife still, but had become skilled nonetheless.
Lanico tossed a glance to Treva—who was already piecing together her metal armor. He noticed how her finger traced the smoothed puncture, where the arrow had pierced her perfectly between a metal seam. It was a rare, perfect strike – a horrible strike. The odds…
They had readied all their weaponry, whatever armor they had, and allotted time to sharpen their blades. “Treva and I will breach the castle, kill off guards, and we’ll seek out Grude. As discussed, our role will come later. Timing is key. We must approach this in coordinated waves.” The young warriors were to begin their tasks first. Lanico and Treva would have to wait—wait until Gish had cleared the mines and created a stir. Then, using that as not only a rescue, but a diversion, they’d breach the castle. It was unsettling, sending the young warriors in there ahead of him, but then again, they were at this point well-trained and more than capable.
Gish tensed in understanding. They were not only going to seek out his father. Today was to mark his father’s last day, and even though it planted a pit in his stomach, it was needed. His father, he knew well, was a murderer, a tyrant that needed to meet his end. Repeatedly, after heart-crushing blows time and time again, he had found that there was no love in his father’s heart. There was only love for himself and for trillium. Then Gish’s mind further roiled over the thought of being in the mines. Being around trillium. Having to deny himself from the incredible urge. His hands began to tremble at the mere thought.
These past months he had worked hard to overcome that urge, and now, with all the progress he made he felt and even thought better. But he needed further strength to deny himself. He prayed that the spell Greta had placed over him would hold long enough. Her kindness and care had greatly reduced the illness and urges he’d been fighting. He was convinced that without her aid, he’d still be closed in one of her rooms and violently ill.
“Once the WynSprigns have gathered here, on this hill, try to keep them here.” Lanico’s voice continued instruction, “There’ll be nothing but danger down there. Not until—not until we take the castle back and defeat them all. Their safety is paramount.” The morning fog was starting to breeze away as he spoke. A veil-covered sun was peeking over the horizon. He took a quick glance. “We will all rendezvous here by sundown.”
✽✽✽
Grude walked onto the veranda overlooking the ancient sparring circle far below and set his goblet upon the walled ledge. He leaned against the carved stone. It had been the same place that King Oetam had graced countless times to view his military pride and power. Once again, Grude imagined the shadow of gleaming Knights at lessons – like the wisp of ghosts partaking in a deadly dance. The sparring circle was now only a faint shadow of what it used to be, or at least that’s how he understood it. His Mysra never used it, never noticed it. Perhaps, he considered, he’d have his Mysra bring their trainings down there. Make use of the forgotten space and send those dead spirits in upheaval. He imagined, with gladness, the dead WynSprigns Knights rolling in their graves at his imagined desecration of their prideful circle. The crook of his mouth turned up wickedly.
He took a long side glance to his left, to the row of royal chambers that ran far down next to his spot on the veranda. Only their window gratings were visible from this vantage point, save for the former Lieutenant General Izra’s chambers which was nearest. This veranda narrowed dramatically to a small shelf outside his former chamber and ended there. No other chambers opened to the veranda, save for that one, for the drop off narrowed just after his. And, it was a pity. He briefly wondered how the tailors had been faring in Lanico’s former chambers, set much farther down the side. He would have to make the effort and walk into the castle and maneuver his way around to them. Yes. He’d keep them. He’d need to give Cantata pretty things to keep her happy, and last night was...
He shifted his gaze back out again to the roaming hills still carpeted with cool morning fog. It was to be a gray day. Just as his thoughts began a recount of their time together, Cantata opened the door behind him. He turned to look at her. She smiled, wearing his robe. It covered the full length of her tall body, but he could see it provided her little warmth as her exposed skin was covered in goosebumps. Her hair was not in the usual haphazard bun, but rather down. A wild river of inky black coils that ran freely across her thin shoulders and back. Free and wild. She took a deep refreshing breath in and took steps toward him.
They had stayed with each other throughout the night and woke up basking in the warmth of each other’s arms. He, a stone fortress to her waifish form. The thought of his muscled body against hers—she sighed. Together they looked out over the painted expanse. It was theirs. Their kingdom.
“Grudie, last night was the loveliest night of my life.” She smiled, standing next to him holding her cup of hot steamy tea close to her chin. Though she had many adoring fans in her many years, she’d never been with another in that way. “I felt a change within myself.”
“A change?” Grude grasped for the stem of his goblet.
A dreamy smile curled on her lips. Her eyes roamed the hills and mountains. “It’s a knowing that I have, actually.” She didn’t elaborate.
Instead of inquiring, he tugged her in closely by his side. The slight pull it took to corral her closer made him feel impossibly strong. Perhaps it was his added time practicing at the sword had made him feel stronger. It had certainly made him trimmer. Nevertheless, he loved how her waist seemed exceedingly narrow in his boulder-muscled arms. “I think that sounds wonderful.” He didn’t know what she was talking about, but she sounded happy about whatever it was. He noticed that his voice sounded an octave lower this early morning, sleepy. He considered that perhaps she liked it that way with the starry look that she was presently giving him.
The rains threatened to arrive soon. They’d have to make the most of the outdoors, for now. They turned to sit at the cool chairs and table, just near the edge where they had been standing, and began eating a simple breakfast that she had whipped together in haste for the both of them. The table was at the height of the balustrade they sat against.
“You know, Cantata.” He was uncomfortable, but felt bold at the newfound level of intimacy they now shared. He set his goblet down again on the ledge, his gaze upon her hardened slightly. “I want you to be my... Queen.” A play to her ego and to his purpose, it had been the plan all along. He noticed how her smile lifted
further and though Cantata hadn’t realized it yet: it wasn’t romantic. He had little care for romance and getting her to bed with him hadn’t been a challenge. Romance or no, he envisioned her as the Queen of the WynSprigns—they adored her. Having her rally them together would bring peace, control. Control beyond these days to come. And if they were to have an heir…work on the mines would continue and her people would have a new level of commitment. This was long overdue. He considered himself most brilliant for this arrangement.
She was mid-sip when her eyes widened at Grude’s proposal—if that’s what it was. Smiling, she almost spit her tea out in surprise. “Grudie!” She gulped the hot liquid hard and wiped her chin with her wrist. “Yes! I’d love nothing more than to be yours forever!” She erupted from the table, upsetting his goblet, sending it over the edge and careening unseen to the ground below. She bolted toward him.
Without care, she cradled his head in her chest and arms, landing a flurry of kisses all over his face and neck. She paused and jolted from him. “Ooo! There will be so much planning. So much to do!” She squealed. “And the tailors! They’re still here, right?” You-you’ve kept them?”
“Well yes-” Grude started trying to craft another lie but she responded too quickly because again, she truly didn’t give a shit about them.
The Legacy of Lanico: Return of the Son: Book two of the Legacy of Lanico series Page 19