by Cayla Kluver
“Thank you,” I choked as Halias ushered the baffled physician from the room.
I did not care at that moment in what state London returned to us, simply praying that he would do so.
Miranna moved to stand behind my chair, having been awakened by the commotion, and rested her hands upon my shoulders. Halias rejoined us, and we four kept vigil around the Elite Guard, whose color was definitely improving and whose breathing was more regular. Hope and fresh energy flowed through my veins as I talked to him, murmuring his name. Within a half hour, the indigo eyes that I knew so well opened and London peered steadily at me, then tried to sit up. Destari put a hand on his shoulder.
“Not so fast. You’ve been out for several hours.”
London collapsed back onto the sofa, then spoke with great effort, sounding as though his throat were swollen.
“Why are you all sitting around?”
I beamed at him, although my eyes glistened once more with tears, and I glanced around to see exuberant expressions throughout the room.
“We thought we had lost you,” I said, then with no concern for propriety, I grasped his hand and held it against my cheek.
He made no attempt to withdraw from my show of affection, and a smile played upon his features. Always the soldier, he reminded us in the next moment of the seriousness of the situation.
“Has Narian been found?”
“Not yet,” Destari answered. “Do you feel up to talking to the captain? He will want a full report.”
London nodded, and both Destari and Halias left the room, Destari to find Cannan, Halias to fetch drink to soothe London’s dry throat. Halias returned first, bringing ale, and by the time Cannan and Destari came striding through the doorway, London was swallowing and talking with greater ease. Cannan, his brow furrowed, strode to his wounded man to see the miracle with his own eyes, and the tension left his stance as he confirmed that his Elite Guard was, indeed, recovering.
“Good to have you back. What can you tell me about the incident?” the captain asked.
“Three or four men approached Narian, and as I intervened, one of them jabbed me in the shoulder with what must have been a poisoned dart.” London paused, his forehead creased in thought. “It is possible that the mummers were also Cokyrian, or at least were working for the enemy to create a diversion.”
He struggled to sit up, finally settling for propping himself on his elbows, then began to pummel Destari with questions.
“Were the gates shut down? Did you get a good look at the Cokyrians? Has anyone seen the boy?”
“I promptly raised the alarm and we’re scouring the city,” Destari relayed. “I’m confident the Cokyrians could not have moved fast enough to escape before the gates closed.”
“I have deployed search parties throughout the countryside just in case,” Cannan added. “But so far, neither Narian nor his abductors have been found.”
London again tried to push himself upright, and Destari shot him a disapproving look.
“I’m fine,” he muttered. “Saddle a horse for me so I can join the hunt.”
“London, we can get along without you for a little while,” Destari said in exasperation. “You need to regain your strength.”
“I’m strong enough. And I’ll go on foot if you won’t send for a horse.”
Reading the determination on London’s face, Destari relented with a scowl. “Then I will saddle two horses and accompany you. I’d hate to have you fall with no one to catch you.”
Their eyes locked for a moment, and I understood the depth of their friendship and how much they depended upon each other. After receiving his captain’s nod of approval, Destari departed.
“I will send Tadark to be your bodyguard in Destari’s absence,” Cannan informed me. “And I will update the King.”
After one last assessment of the deputy captain, he turned on his heel to exit as well.
By the time Destari returned, London was sitting up, eating the bread and soup that Cannan had requested be brought to him.
“The horses are prepared,” Destari announced, monitoring London’s movements.
London set the food aside and stood, swaying at first but then gaining his balance.
“I’m strong enough,” he said, reading the same question on all of our faces. “Now, let’s go.”
The two men strode from the room, although London’s pace was less brisk than usual, leaving me dumbfounded at his improvement in the last hour. If I had not been with him, I would not have believed he had just come back from the brink of death. I recalled the evening when my mother had told me of the bizarre illness from which London had suffered upon his return from Cokyri sixteen years previously. The doctors at that time had likewise predicted his death, and it struck me that the Elite Guard had an odd knack for making physicians look ignorant.
Tadark bustled in, and he and Halias escorted Miranna and me to our respective quarters. I entered my parlor and collapsed on the sofa, too tired to prepare for bed, and began to doze. My maid covered me with furs as I fell into a much deeper, and thankfully dreamless, sleep.
The next few days passed at an agonizing pace, for Narian had not been located. Destari had returned to duty as my bodyguard, but London remained dedicated to the search, knowing better than anyone the threat posed by Narian’s return to Cokyri. My feelings alternated between panic and despair. Panic, as London’s dire warnings about the legend rattled around and around in my head; and despair, as I thought of the precariousness of Narian’s position were he to be brought back to Cokyri. I was certain the Overlord would harm him if he failed to cooperate with the plan to destroy Hytanica. London, however, remained steadfast in his conviction that Narian was still within the city, and so I dared hope he would yet be located.
Late in the afternoon on the third day following Narian’s abduction, London entered my parlor as Destari was stoking the fire.
“I need to discuss something with you,” he said to his fellow deputy captain, and Destari stood to follow him into the corridor.
“If this is about Narian, then I too want to hear what you have to say,” I objected, not about to be left in the dark.
London considered me for a moment, finally acquiescing with a shrug.
“I think the Cokyrians will try to take Narian over the wall,” he said to Destari. “They have no doubt come to recognize the futility of passing through the gates, as we are searching wagons and buggies leaving the city and checking everyone’s identity. And to continue hiding within the city is risky. Cannan has patrols out night and day, and the citizens have been alerted to report anything out of the ordinary.”
“You could be right,” Destari replied, brooding. “Although it would be a struggle to get an uncooperative or unconscious prisoner over the wall. Even so, they might have a stronger chance of success with that method than with passing through the gate.” He pondered what London had said, then asked, “And what do you propose we do about it?”
“The Cokyrians are surely monitoring our patrol patterns as we speak, trying to decide where to make the attempt. Scaling the east wall would be the best choice, as they can obtain cover along the forest’s edge and proceed directly toward Cokyri. If we coordinate the placement of the guards who patrol along the turrets, I believe we can dictate where they will try their escape. A gap of ten to fifteen minutes in our sentries is all that would be needed to provide them with enough time to scale the wall. We can keep vigil on the other side and ensnare them should they take the bait.”
“It might work,” agreed Destari, a gleam in his coal-black eyes. “Have you discussed this with the captain?”
“No, but I will do so now. If we don’t act soon, I fear the enemy will make its own opportunity.” He rubbed his left shoulder where he had been pierced by the dart, and I understood there were more lives at stake than just Narian’s.
“I will come again when I have Cannan’s answer, but you should start to think through the details. You know as well as I
what he will say.”
Destari returned to tending the fire once London had exited, though he was now restless. An hour later, London returned with Tadark in tow and I knew his strategy had met with Cannan’s approval. After stationing Tadark outside my door, the two deputy captains departed, leaving me to the unending task of waiting.
CHAPTER 29
A SIGN OF THE COKYRI
IT WAS TWO MORNINGS HENCE WHEN I WAS awakened by a loud pounding on my bedroom door.
“Alera, they have him!” Tadark sounded thrilled, and it was clear that he was pleased to be the one announcing the news.
“Who has whom?” I called blearily.
“London and Destari—they captured the Cokyrians last night! And they have Lord Narian!”
“Is he all right?” I asked, now completely alert. “Are London and Destari all right?”
“London and Destari are tired, but unhurt,” Tadark responded, as if he personally had been involved in the mission. “And Lord Narian has been taken to his quarters. I know the Royal Physician has been called, but I think only as a precaution. I didn’t hear of any injuries.”
“Thank you,” I replied, my voice taking on some of the same exhilarated quality. “I will be out shortly and will want to visit Narian.” I intended to see for myself that he had suffered no harm.
Sahdienne entered my bedroom and assisted me as I dressed. Forgoing breakfast, I left my quarters, heading toward the third-floor guest room that Narian had been occupying, with Tadark following behind. Reaching Narian’s door, which was across the hall from the one in which he had been held prisoner, I rapped upon the wood, waiting to enter until London responded. Both he and Destari were in the room, but neither looked surprised to see me as I crossed to Narian’s bedside. He lay upon the double bed in his shirt and trousers, covered with a woolen blanket, his boots on the floor and his jerkin and cloak tossed across the footboard. His face was gaunter than I remembered, but he otherwise looked as though he slumbered peacefully. I wanted to reach out and touch his face, but knew such a gesture would betray the true nature of my feelings toward him.
“He’s been drugged, but the doctor says he’ll sleep it off,” London explained as he moved to stand beside me. “He is too important to Cokyri for them to cause him injury.” He paused, then dryly asserted, “I would feel sorry for any Cokyrian who let harm befall Narian.”
“Tell me about the rescue,” I urged, highly interested now that I knew Narian was safe.
“It went as expected. We ambushed the Cokyrians as they came over the wall, and have three prisoners in our dungeon as a result.” London frowned, then continued, “One other escaped, however, and that means the High Priestess and the Overlord may already know that this attempt to recover Narian failed.” He glanced at Destari, who was standing at the foot of the bed. “I worry as to what their reaction will be.”
As the two men talked, the door opened and Cannan entered, crossing to his deputy captains.
“How is he?” he asked, gazing down at Narian, and London repeated the information he had shared with me. Drawing the Elite Guards a few feet away, Cannan inquired, “What do you think will be the enemy’s next move?”
“I think they will retaliate swiftly and viciously,” London said with a note of bitterness. “We need to bring those who live outside the city within the protection of its walls at once.”
The captain stood deep in thought for a moment and then left the room without another word, London and Destari a step behind. “Let us know the moment Narian wakes,” London said to Tadark, who had been hanging in the background, as he brushed past.
Alone now with Tadark and Narian, I directed my bodyguard to draw a chair near the bed for me. I sat down for the second time in a week to wait for one of the men I loved to rouse.
Hunger finally got the best of me, and I sent Tadark for bread and soup. Although Narian had not stirred, his breathing was strong and steady, and I finally felt safe in showing my affection for him. His face was tipped to the side, away from me, and I whisked a few stray strands of golden hair from his forehead, longing to see his deep blue eyes. As I examined his serene expression, I was seized with curiosity about the “mark of the bleeding moon,” to which London had referred. I slid out of my chair onto my knees so I could get a better line of sight, then brushed his hair back from his ear and off his neck. I gasped as my eyes found the birthmark. While it was not large, it was ghastly, for it was indeed in the shape of a jaggedly cut crescent moon, with an irregular line of red that looked very much like blood extending from the bottom point. It was as though someone had ripped through a full moon with a sawtooth dagger, causing even such a heavenly body to bleed. I pulled the hair back about his neck, for some reason wanting to hide the evidence that he was the one destined to fulfill the legend.
Old fears having resurfaced, I stood and wandered about the room, taking in its sparse furnishings. His bed was against the far wall, to the side of a frosty window that opened over the garden, once beautiful but now bleak and barren with winter. There were a couple of padded armchairs in front of the fireplace in which logs snapped and smoldered, and a small table piled with books. Narian’s scabbard and sword were slung on one of the posts at the head of the bed, and his daggers lay on a bench near the hearth.
I sifted through the books on the table, marveling at the eclectic mix. There was a volume on Hytanica’s history, another on the use of herbs in medicine and two on weaponry. There was also a philosophy text, a volume on falconry and, to my delight, a book of poetry. I took up the book of poems and returned to my chair to skim through its pages until Tadark returned with a tray of food. I ate ravenously, but as I lay aside my tableware to pick up the volume again, he cleared his throat, drawing my attention.
“We could play chess,” he ventured. “I saw a game board on the bookshelf.”
As Narian was sound asleep, I agreed, wanting to alleviate my restlessness. Tadark moved the small table and another chair near mine, then set up the game. An hour later, as we were immersed in battle, I was startled by Narian’s raspy voice.
“Who is winning?”
“Narian!” I turned to him with an unrestrained smile. “How are you feeling?”
He put a hand to his head and shut his eyes.
“My head is aching and I am thirsty, but other than that, I’m well.”
“I’ll fetch food and drink,” Tadark said to me, coming to his feet. “And I’ll let the captain and the others know he is awake.”
As soon as Tadark left, Narian’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “How did I come to be here?” he asked.
“Cannan will explain everything when he arrives,” I replied, my spirits soaring.
“How long was I gone?”
“Five days.”
He nodded, then winced, as if the movement had once more created pain within his head.
“Just rest,” I counseled and he lay motionless with his eyes shut.
As I watched him, I suddenly felt awkward, for I longed to embrace him, but knew that such a show of affection would be inappropriate as we were alone and he was in bed. Much to my chagrin, I found myself hoping Tadark would return.
Narian continued to lie still and I wondered if he had fallen back asleep. Before he made any further attempt to speak, the door to his room swung open and Cannan entered, followed by London, Destari and Tadark, who was bearing bread, stew and dark ale. Narian opened his eyes and shifted as if to sit upright, then froze as he took in the men approaching him. Without any preliminaries, he addressed London.
“I saw you stabbed with a poisoned dart! How is it that you live?”
“You sound disappointed,” London replied as the group came to stand at Narian’s bedside.
Impulsively I answered the question, knowing of the tension that existed between the men and not wanting their conversation to become heated.
“We think most of the poison was caught on London’s jerkin, and that not enough entered his body to kill him, altho
ugh he was incapacitated for several hours and gave us quite a scare.” I drew a deep breath, aware that I was starting to babble, but unable to stop. “London and Destari are the ones responsible for your safe return. They—”
“This is the military’s business,” Cannan said to me sternly, damming the stream of words tumbling from my mouth.
He turned to Narian. “Now, what do you remember?”
Narian swung his legs over the side of the bed, clutching again at his head. He accepted the food and drink from Tadark, taking a long swig of ale before he began to speak.
“As you know, I was taken by force at the Christmas Eve celebration. I passed out shortly after I saw London stabbed, then lost track of time. My captors were using a draught in my drink to knock me out, and I tried not to consume much of it, but they could drug me in other ways if necessary. I was alert enough, though, to know we were frequently changing locations, usually during the night.”
He took a few bites of stew and another long swill of ale before continuing his story.
“My captors were four in number, two men and two women. I caught snatches of their conversation, and knew they were having trouble getting me out of the city. I also learned they had known of my whereabouts since the tournament, but that the High Priestess wanted to give me a chance to willingly return to them.”
His brow wrinkled as he tried to remember more, then he exhaled in frustration.
“That’s all I remember. Now I would like to know how I ended up here.”
“We set a trap, and when the Cokyrians tried to take you over the wall, London and Destari and others under their command rescued you,” Cannan told him. “We now have three of your captors in our custody. One other escaped and is no doubt back in Cokyri.”