Aiden bristled. “Naia kept us alive. She’s more whole than most people I know.”
“I’m simply relating what happened.”
“And her brother? Is he not whole?”
Zander’s expression shifted and he looked away, refusing to meet Aiden’s gaze. “Amaroq is whole, but Dryden is not his father.”
“Who is?”
“I am not at liberty to say.”
“You said Amaroq had gone missing?”
“Yes.” Zander shifted. “But this isn’t for me to explain. I’ve overstepped my rank.”
Talar Eldralin’s brother lived here. He raised Naia as his own. He’d come to live among the Nazarien because of Naia’s mother? Now that was an interesting bit of information. If Aiden thought back, Shandar had left Terra Antiguo when Aiden was a young boy.
Aiden studied mother and daughter as they hugged and clung to each other. Naia had a family here, a family who loved her and protected her. Her brother and Shandar had left Tirsbor to find her. Why had he assumed she’d want anything to do with him once she returned home?
His gaze shifted to a tall, lean Nazarien that was now approaching, flanked by five warriors on either side. This man wore a cape flung back over broad, strong shoulders, a bright blue shirt and black trousers. His shiny black boots stirred the dust at his feet as he walked. Aiden glanced down at his own tattered, filthy clothes and felt out of place. He sensed he knew who the man was and why he was so important.
“That’s Tovan,” said Zander. “He’s our commander, ranking only below the Nazarien council and the Nazar, himself.”
“He’s the man I need to convince then.”
Zander frowned. “Convince?”
“To help me get home.”
Zander glanced back at his commander. “Perhaps,” he said cryptically.
Tovan’s long stride shortened as he came abreast of Naia. Naia’s mother slipped her arm around Naia’s waist and stood beside her. Naia faced the stern man and lifted her chin. Aiden felt such pride for her. The man regarded her, studying her face and her posture. The warrior at his immediate right also studied her, but his look made Aiden uncomfortable. It didn’t last long however, for without a word, Tovan strode on, drawing the warriors behind him, and Naia returned to her reunion with her mother.
Before Tovan reached them, Zander moved to intercept. He bowed low to his commander, fist pressed to his breast. All of his unmounted warriors did the same. Even the curious people gathered around bowed their heads. Tovan regarded Zander’s bent head, then lifted his eyes to pierce Aiden. Aiden bore the scrutiny without flinching, but he felt Le shift beside him.
“Speak, Zander,” said Tovan in a deep, resonant voice.
Zander straightened and inclined his head in obeisance. “Commander, I present Aiden Cerik of Dorland to you.”
Tovan’s eyes never moved from Aiden’s face. “The Missing King Aiden Cerik?”
“The same,” replied Zander. “I have not heard his entire story as I thought it best to wait for your attention.”
Tovan’s eyes shifted to Zander briefly and back to Aiden. “You’ve done well, Zander. And the boy?”
Zander glanced at Le. “Leland Hale Rand, sir, of Sarkisian.”
Tovan took in Le’s disheveled form. The stout warrior on his right also regarded Le, looking down his long hawk’s nose, his eyes narrowing. Aiden felt Le shift, but he didn’t look away and for that Aiden was proud. It wasn’t easy staring down these two formidable men, but Aiden was beyond cowering to anyone.
Finally Tovan held out his hand to Aiden. Aiden accepted it, aware of how dirty his own flesh was in comparison. Still, he lifted his chin as he’d seen Naia do so many times. Tovan’s eyes caught and held Aiden’s. “Welcome to Tirsbor, Your Majesty,” he said. “I’m curious as to how you come to us, but I’m very happy to see you. Your disappearance has drawn a great deal of attention in Nevaisser.”
Aiden gave a wry, half-smile. “So I’ve heard.”
Tovan released his hand and stepped back, his eyes tracking a path from Aiden’s disheveled hair to his tattered clothing. “After you’ve bathed and dressed and eaten, perhaps you will enlighten me as to your adventures.”
Aiden drew a deep breath. “I would be honored.”
Tovan gave a slight inclination of his dark head, then turned to Zander. “Since you brought the King to us, I entrust him to your care. See that he and the boy receive anything they’d like and bring them to the council cavern at dusk.”
Zander inclined his head again in obedience. Without another word, Tovan turned, flanked by his elite corps of warriors, and strode back through the silent crowd and toward the towering cliffs in the distance.
“Come with me,” said Zander, motioning after the commander.
Aiden looked about for Naia, but she was gone. He glanced at Le and shrugged. “She probably went with her mother.”
“Probably,” said the boy.
Zander led them to the far end of the cliffs in the opposite direction from the commander and his guard. When they came to the first ladder, Zander started climbing to the upper level without waiting to see if his guests were following. Aiden motioned Le in front of him and started climbing himself. He was aware of the many curious eyes that followed him, but no one spoke or acknowledged him.
They climbed to the third level and then walked along the wooden planking until they came to a hide covered door with strange symbols painted on it. Aiden recognized the star, but he didn't understand what the scythe was for or the moon. Zander pushed the flap back and indicated that they should duck inside.
Aiden did so, blinking until his eyes adjusted to the darker interior. Looking around, he noticed a central fire pit ringed with stones, the five low legged chairs positioned around it, and the raised platforms along the cavern walls piled with furs.
Over each platform was a shelf lined with neatly placed baskets and hanging from pegs beneath it were weapons – knives, bows, quivers, and sometimes a sword. Beneath the raised platforms were more baskets and a pair of boots lined up symmetrically with the wall.
It was a clean, sparse environment. As far as Aiden could see, no where in the entire cavern were any personal effects. In fact, everything was placed and arranged for uniformity. Turning to look for Zander, Aiden was surprised to see that he and Le were all alone.
“Well,” he said, raising blond brows. “Now what?”
Le shrugged. “Aye, now what.”
“I didn’t even hear him leave.”
“Tis certain you won’t. They’re as fickle as the wind.”
Aiden nodded in agreement and cast an eye around the cavern once more. “Maybe we should just sit and wait, eh?”
“Good a plan as any,” replied the boy, moving toward the evenly spaced chairs about the fire pit. He bent and tested the seat before he committed himself to it.
Aiden watched him in amusement, then followed his example. The chair was surprisingly comfortable for all its utilitarian appearance. Maybe it was only that Aiden was so unused to any comfort whatsoever. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Sleep hovered at the edge of his awareness almost immediately.
He blinked his eyes open and rolled his head to the side so he could see Le. The boy also had his eyes closed, his hands loose and relaxed at his sides, his chest rising in a deep rhythm. He was asleep. No wonder. It was the first time Aiden had felt safe since that fateful night in his own castle.
Funny how alert he still was to every sound, every stirring, but the anxious tension had eased a little. If only he knew where Naia had gone.
Nearly soundless, Zander returned, followed by three women. The women were carrying clothing and bathing materials in their arms. Zander looked down at Le, then shifted his quizzical expression to the deposed king.
“He’s asleep,” he said in amazement.
Aiden nodded. “Let him. We’ve gone a long time without proper sleep. He may sleep until next week.”
“Doesn’t he wa
nt to bathe, eat?”
“He will later.”
The Nazarien warrior motioned to a sleeping platform behind him. “Why don’t we move him there so he won’t be disturbed? The warrior who occupies that place is in Chernow this week.”
Aiden nodded and rose to his feet, moving toward the sleeping boy. Zander bent to grab his feet. “Not necessary,” said Aiden as he lifted the boy into his arms and carried him toward the indicated platform. “Le weighs next to nothing after what we’ve been through.”
He placed the boy amid the furs and turned back to the waiting Nazarien. The women were eyeing him with curiosity, but when he looked in return, they blushed and lowered their heads.
“These women have brought clothing from our stores. I hope you’ll find they fit. If not, they can be altered.” He motioned at the bundles in the women’s arms. “And they’ve brought bathing supplies. I’ll show you where the men bathe in the stream. The boy will be fine here, won’t he? I don’t need to post a guard.”
Aiden glanced over his shoulder at Le. He was sprawled out on his back, his lips parted, his hands closed into fists by his head. He looked small and vulnerable, and childlike. “He’ll be fine. He probably won’t wake until morning.”
“Then come,” said the Nazarien, motioning at the door flap.
Aiden followed the warrior out, trailed by two of the women. They climbed down from the cliffs and walked toward the distant fields, Zander leading and the women following.
They went through a break in the trees and came upon a secluded part of the river. Aiden looked around, taking in the curve of the box canyon, the rising red rock on either side. It was a beautiful location and safe as long as it stayed hidden.
The women set out the bathing materials and clothing. They waited, but Zander motioned them away. They went obediently without comment and their docility bothered Aiden. If he’d deigned to dismiss Carona, she would have flailed him alive. Then an unpleasant thought struck him. Naia had been trained to be even more submissive than these women.
He looked up at Zander. “After I bathe, will you take me to see Naia?”
“Tovan gave instructions for you to bathe, eat, and then attend him with the stories of your adventure. There won’t be time to seek out Naia tonight.” He paused and his expression hardened. “You’d do best to forget her. She’s already claimed.”
Aiden started to protest, then thought better of it. Zander had nothing to do with this predicament. He would find Naia on his own. Claimed? Nonsense. After what they’d been through, he wasn’t entertaining any Nazarien garbage like that.
CHAPTER 18
Adison sat, gripping the arms of his throne. His stomach ached and his palms sweated. The guard around the perimeter of the room had been ordered to face outward, defending against any sort of intrusion. Their position served two purposes – one, they could spot an attack swifter if they were always forced to be on alert, and two, he didn’t have to see their suspicious looks, their lack of respect. Over the last week, he felt certain they’d abandon their posts if it wasn’t for the fact that he’d doubled all of their wages.
However, doubling their wages meant he had to increase taxes. He’d felt for a long time that taxes ought to be raised, but Aiden had refused. Now the plebeians banged at the doors, demanding an audience. They petitioned, they protested, they stood outside his castle and shouted for him to answer their concerns. Concerns? What concerns?
He had concerns. He had fears. He had worries. Talar Eldralin’s bastard had been gone for days now, but Adison knew he would find something. Halish would betray him, tell him about their plot, and then Kalas would return with his soldiers, and Adison’s own people would rise up against him. And the bastard spawn of Eldralin didn’t have to worry about his men remaining loyal to him. They would follow him to the grave.
Not so Adison’s men.
Adison’s eyes shifted, searching for any sign of inattention. He was exhausted. Sleep came at a cost. He double locked his doors and forced the servants to board up his windows. At night, he slept with a knife under his pillow. He wasn’t going to be taken the way Aiden had been. He wasn’t going to let anyone get the better of him.
The throne room door opened and Lyell Vito stepped inside. He took in the soldiers, then he eased between them, striding toward the throne.
“They are there to keep you out!” shouted Adison, pointing at him. “Turn around and leave!”
Lyell held out his hands. “Listen to reason, Your Highness. The number of petitions have climbed into the hundreds. Your people demand you hear their concerns.”
“I’ll answer to no one!”
“And there’s your problem. You’ve lost your reason, Adison. You’ve broken under the strain of being King. Be advised by me in this. You do not look well, Your Highness.”
“You treasonous bastard!” said Adison, sliding forward in his throne. A few of the guards glanced over their shoulders at that. “Face forward!” Adison bellowed. “Or I’ll have you court marshaled.”
“Court marshaled? Really, Adison, this has gone too far. You don’t know what you do. Please step down and let Alasdair take over.”
“Alasdair! Alasdair!” That brought him out of the throne. “You would throw that wastrel in my face! Alasdair!” He slammed a fist against his chest. “I am King! Do you hear me? Me! I am King!”
Lyell gave him that condescending look he was beginning to recognize. He saw it so often – on the girl who served him his supper, the whore he paid to share his bed, the guard who stood outside his chambers – they all dared to look at him with a mixture of pity and disgust. Him! Unbelievable!
“At least grant hearings, Your Highness. You haven’t granted hearings for more than two weeks.”
“How can I grant hearings when I have so many other things to do?” He sank back into his seat, his vision cloudy. The pain in his belly intensified.
Lyell glanced around the throne room. “Other things to do? You sit here in that chair and you bellow. You’re becoming paranoid. You’ve ordered your own men not to make eye contact with you.”
“As it should be! We’ve grown lax in our deference, haven’t we, Lyell? Aiden started it. I’m just taking things back to the way they were when my father was King.”
“Your father always granted audiences.”
Adison slammed his fist on the arm of his throne. “My father was weak!”
Lyell sighed, looking at a spot over Adison’s head.
Adison turned to follow his line of sight. A fresco of Adison’s father had been painted behind the throne – Alton Cerik in armor, standing with one foot braced on a rock, his hands on the pommel of his sword, his crown resting on his brow – he looked regal and immortal, a king among men. Many times Adison had thought to have it painted over, but whenever he started to give the command, something held him off.
His eyes drifted upward to the tapestries hung from the ceiling. He focused on the one of a knight with sword drawn facing off against a green dragon. The dragon’s maw was open and fire blazed forth. Suddenly everything clicked into place in his mind. He was the knight and Lyell was the dragon, a crafty old dragon scheming behind his back to unseat him from his throne.
“It’s you!” he said, pointing at him.
Lyell gave him a surprised look. “Beg your pardon, Your Highness.”
“The reason it’s all wrong. It’s you! You old lizard, working behind my back, plotting with Alasdair.”
“Plotting with Alasdair?”
“I know it. It’s been you all along. Aiden was always your favorite. You treated him like a son.”
“Adison, this is madness.”
“Is it? I can’t figure out how it’s gone so badly. Aiden was a pisspoor King, but he never suffered this disloyalty, this mutiny!”
“Adison, listen to reason.”
“I have and now I know why things aren’t working.” His attention shifted to the guards. “Guards! I command you to arrest the First Advisor!”
“Adison!” shouted Lyell.
“Escort him to the dungeon immediately!”
“Adison, this is madness!”
“Now!” Adison screamed. Black spots darkened his vision and he sank weakly into the throne, but he permitted himself a smile of triumph as the guards moved to obey him.
* * *
Adison sank into the chair at the head of his dining table and stared at the fare on his plate – steak swimming in butter and roasted potatoes with garlic, biscuits in a gravy and carrots with a brown-sugar glaze. His stomach growled with hunger, but he knew if he ate everything that was here, the pains in his abdomen would have him doubled over for hours.
Carona entered the dining room, followed by the two guards who’d been sent to force her here. She looked lovely in an emerald green gown that showed off her white bosom with her hair gathered in an elaborate chignon on the top of her head. She gave him a venomous look before taking her seat at the other end of the table.
Adison reached for the milk he’d ordered his cook to bring him and saluted her. “You look lovely, my Queen.”
“You look like hell,” she shot back, fluffing out her skirt, then reaching for her wine. “You look diseased. Have you seen a physician?”
Adison sipped at the milk. It helped soothe the pain in his gut. “I have no need of a physician. I’ve eliminated one cause of my pain just this afternoon. Lyell Vito’s been arrested.”
“What?” said Alasdair, walking into the room. He looked even thinner and paler than before. “You did what?”
Carona had gone still, but she lowered her wine glass. “You’ve lost your mind.”
Adison slammed a fist against the table, rattling the glasses. “Stop saying that!” He gave her a chilling smile. “It’s offensive.” He motioned to his brother. “Sit, Alasdair, and close your gaping mouth. It’s unattractive.”
Alasdair slid into the seat to Carona’s left. “You had Lyell Vito arrested? On what grounds, Adison?”
“On the grounds that he’s a disloyal old snake and he’s planning to betray me to Eldralin’s bastard when he returns.”
The World of Samar Box Set 3 Page 120