“What Octavio says is true.” Selwyn nodded toward the young man. “They moved all their wives and children into the housing and then gathered all their males of Talent, aged thirteen and older in those three places.”
“So, the women and children are left unguarded?”
He nodded. “Apparently they don’t want their wives and children to know what they are about.”
“What are they doing?” I asked. “Do we know?”
Selwyn turned to Octavio, indicating that he should speak. As soon as the man opened his mouth, though, Selwyn looked pointedly at Korneli. Thanks to the commisceo and Zezilia’s sensitivity, I knew that a sending passed between them.
“My men have been able to find out what the Elitists are doing in your study, Master. They are taking it apart with the utmost care looking for secret compartments and hidden documents. They are under the impression that there are written records of sept son secrets.”
The curiosity of the men around me rose, but none of them ventured to ask if the invaders would actually find anything. Having Zezilia so close was like having a portal into these men’s emotions. With each strong shift, I could sense the change both individually and as a group. The strange sensation initially confused me, but over the past few days, I thought I had mastered keeping it to a reasonable level of input. However, now that we were standing among a group of forty men plotting an attack, my senses were suddenly close to overloading. I didn’t know how Zezilia dealt with this all the time.
Satisfied that I wasn’t going to reveal any vital information, Hectorus resumed his briefing.
“Once your men are inside the walls…”
I cut him off. “I would like to propose a change in plans. Once the men are beyond the walls, have half of them assigned to clearing the women and children out of the housing areas. I don’t want them involved when the fighting begins. They would be potential hostages for the Elitists and complicate things when the time comes to confront their husbands and sons.”
Hectorus nodded and began picking out centurions and handing out assignments. I was pleased to see that Errol and Korneli were two of the men handed the task of escorting the women and children. They would make sure the refugees were humanely treated, despite their recent lives as Elitists. Once he finished detailing the assignments, he pulled the first map back out.
“These are the meeting places. I know we originally thought to return to our camp here, but the mesitas’ army will pass too close for safety. There are three camps so that even if an enemy stumbles on one of them, we will not lose everyone. We have made arrangements for supplies and medical attention to be available at each site. Centurions, your duties include completing your missions and proceeding to the base camp. Any side activities like pillaging, harassing locals, and taking advantage of the chaos to fulfill personal vendettas will be punished with lashes and loss of rations. This applies to the soldiers and their officers. If you see one of our own committing these offenses, you are honor bound to step in and stop him.
Women and children below the age of thirteen are to be protected and removed to safety. You are allowed to defend yourself, but not to the point of maiming a minor or female. Many of these women and children could have been mind-altered to some degree and may not know the truth. Our healers might be able to help them, but not until they are removed from the influence of their Elitist oppressors.”
“What if a child sounds the alarm?” a man unknown to me asked from next to Zez. Fear and determination emanated from him in alternating waves.
“Then leave him behind. If he is old enough to choose, let him.” Hectorus looked around the circle. “Do any more of you have questions?” Silence broken only by awkward shuffling answered his query. “Sept Son Aleron, do you wish to say something before we dismiss?”
I nodded. After a swift, silent prayer for guidance, I opened my mouth. “We are here because we believe what the Elitists are doing is morally wrong. I know that not all of you share my belief in the Almighty, and call the goddess mistress instead, but I wish to ask the Almighty’s blessing. Would you honor me and allow this?”
“There are more of us than you think, Master,” Octavio commented. He blushed. “I am just trying to say that I, personally, would be honored.”
A surprising number of men murmured in approval. My heart warmed with each one. And I thought I was alone. Thank You for reminding me I am not. Like Your prophet of old, I have forgotten Your power and presence spread farther than my personal experience.
Then bowing my head, I lifted my voice. “Almighty God. Creator of all that is, was, and will come. Bless us now. You have brought life to the dead, hope to the downtrodden, and victory to the doomed. You delivered victory to men less numbered than ourselves against more formidable enemies; please see fit to use us in this way now. Let your glory be seen in our actions. Amen.”
At least three men echoed my final word, while I caught a few nodding their heads in agreement. “Tomorrow, to battle in the Almighty’s name,” I said, and the men disbursed, quickly heading off to pass on their orders to the men and prepare for tomorrow morning. Hectorus gathered his maps and caught Selwyn’s arm, pulling him off to talk about the intelligence we still needed.
In moments, Zezilia, my replacement defender, and I were the only ones standing there. “You may leave now,” I told the man at my shoulder. “Defender Ilar will resume her duty.” The man obediently saluted and marched off, but not without a curious glance Zez’s way.
Sorry about the rude awakening. Zez looked up at my thought.
It was time I woke anyway.
What was the thing between Selwyn and Korneli about?
I am not sure. She didn’t meet my eyes immediately, but I chose not to push the point. Selwyn and Korneli were trustworthy men. If there were something important that needed my attention, they would tell me. So, tomorrow it will begin?
I nodded solemnly. Tomorrow, our world would change. Hopefully, we would avoid disaster and carnage. If we weren’t successful, the devastation of the past would return to haunt us, and this time, the Talented might not survive. Compared to the non-Talented numbers, we were a minority constrained by our own laws. We could be wiped out with only a small concentrated effort.
If we dealt with the Elitists for the mesitas, nothing prevented him from wiping us all out. He would outlaw the Talented, killing those who exhibiting the signs of having gifts or, worse, maiming them so they lived only half lives, crippled and forever dependent on others to care for them. I shivered. Our past hid such horrors. The past could once again become our reality.
A warm hand touched my arm. Hadrian? Zezilia’s worry tugged at me. What is disturbing you so? Please tell me.
I mentally shook myself before smiling down at her. It was only by grace that she wasn’t able to see the horrors that haunted my dreams. I had been half-afraid I would have one of my nightmares while we slept this morning. She didn’t need to experience that horror.
It was nothing. I tried to soothe her concern. I was just worrying about what would happen if tomorrow doesn’t go well.
It is in the Lord’s hands. Our worry will not change the outcome.
I nodded. But it is hard to resist dwelling on it.
True.
“Ilias,” Korneli’s voice interrupted us as he approached. “There are issues with the supplies. Renato is trying to straighten everything out, but Tristan won’t listen to reason. Could you come and distract him with something so we can get this resolved?”
I sighed. I wished for a few moments alone with Zez. There were some important things we needed to talk about. However, issues with the distribution of supplies to our rendezvous would have serious consequences. “I will come.”
“Good. I am needed in the courier tent.” He handed a bucket of brushes to Zez. “Could you drop this off with the horse master on your way? He needs them immediately.” With that, he was gone, trotting off in the opposite direction.
“And, so the ins
anity continues,” I muttered.
Zezilia laughed. The warm, spontaneous sound brought a smile to my lips. Her hope pulled me up and held me until we reached the supply master, and Renato and Tristan’s arguing voices demanded my attention.
* * *
Zezilia
It took only a moment for the significance of Korneli’s look to dawn on me as he handed me the bucket. The instant Hadrian’s attention was on something else, I looked down. There among the brushes was a wedge of paper. I dug it out, but I didn’t get a chance to read it until after we delivered the brushes to the horse master and reached the supply tent. I waited until Hadrian was dealing with Tristan, and Renato was sulking in the background before I risked reading it.
“If anything happens, contact me.”
That one short phrase offered such relief. If Hadrian decided to do something I couldn’t handle, I had someone to call on. I quickly crumbled the scrap and slyly dropped it into the fire before moving to help draw Renato out of his sulk.
* * *
Chapter XIV
Hadrian
The even rise and fall of Renato’s breathing in the silence of my tent should have been soothing. The changing of the guard rotation every two hours reassured me that security remained tight. Through the commisceo-link with Zezilia, I could sense only tranquil sleep. Despite all these things, my heart and mind were not at peace.
I stared down at my personal copy of the Revelation. The careworn book, bound in leather rubbed raw at the creases, lay open at one of my favorite passages. In it the teacher, inspired to speak only the Almighty’s words, admonishes the reader to present himself as a sacrifice to the Almighty. He says a lot more about how to live a life pleasing to the Almighty, but the phrase about being willing to sacrifice my all refused to leave my thoughts. What do you want, Father? I prayed in desperation. I have given you my will. I have given you my livelihood. I have given you all that I have. What more do you want? Do you want my life?
As much as I despised the practice, I began flipping through the pages of the book. My eyes scanned the pages. I was getting close to the beginning of the tome when suddenly a voice called a greeting outside the door of the tent.
“The sept son is sleeping. Keep your voice down,” the defender on duty cautioned in harsh tones.
“But I must speak with him. I have an intelligence report for him.”
I rose to my feet, knocking the Revelation to the ground in my hurry. Absentmindedly picking it up as I turned toward the door, I hurried to reach it before the man was turned away. Thankfully, he was tenacious enough to keep trying to convince the defender. They were exchanging loaded words when I emerged.
“Master Sept Son,” the defender saluted.
“I am sorry for disturbing you.” Octavio stepped toward me. “You probably don’t remember me, but…”
I nodded. “Octavio from this afternoon. You are one of Selwyn’s men.” From the young man’s face, I could tell I had just jumped tremendously in his estimation. “The message,” I prompted. The night air gnawed at me like a teething pup, not cold enough to be painful, but enough to be uncomfortable. Cadeomea, with its rich colors and biting winds, would be upon us soon.
“Sorry,” he muttered and reached inside his outer woolen tunic. Pulling forth a packet of paper, he passed it to me. “It is all in here, Master. I should report to my superior next.”
I nodded. “Send my greetings to Selwyn.”
Octavio bowed and ran into the darkness between the sputtering torches.
I could feel the nerves of the defender at my side. “See that I am not disturbed further, Defender, except for missives like these.”
The defender saluted, and I withdrew into the warmer interior of my tent. I crossed to my desk in the corner and set my Revelation down, letting it fall open as it willed. My thoughts focused on the missive. Was this the answer to my prayer? I sat down and drew the lantern closer before unwrapping the oilskin protecting the pages. Almighty, make Your way clear.
And He did. The missive brought news that the mesitas’ location was known. He and the current sept son, Eldivo, hid in an ancient ruined outpost from the days of the early Talent kings. I knew of the exact place. By the spy’s assessment, he was guarded by at most ten men, hardly enough to bother with considering they were most likely Segia.
I could rescue Eldivo. The thought settled into place and rooted in my mind. Is this what you want, Almighty? Is this the mission I have been warned to prepare for, Father? I asked. As I did, my eyes fell on the Revelation. It lay open to the passage where He was calling the patriarch of His chosen people to go forth in faith to seek the Promised Land. I had studied that exact passage only days before in my time with the Lord. It was as though He was asking me to follow and stop asking questions. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I only want Your will. Please guide me.
Then, rising, I gathered my outerwear, retrieved my ferrum, and as silently as possible left the tent.
“Where are you going, Master?” the defender asked politely. I turned and regarded him with raised eyebrows. “In case there are more dispatches,” he clarified.
“I am walking over to the mess tent. I am suddenly very hungry.” Not a lie. I just didn’t inform him that I wouldn’t be returning after eating and obtaining supplies. “See that the others are not bothered,” I ordered.
He nodded and resumed his position.
Satisfied that no one would wake and spread the alarm until long after I was gone, I strode off in the direction of the horsemaster’s domain. I would need a mount as well as supplies.
* * *
Zezilia
Something was wrong. I woke from deep sleep with a dread in my chest like I had never felt before. Something was terribly wrong. A growing sense of isolation prompted me to check the commisceo link. It was still there, firmly planted in my angulus. However, the sensation of Hadrian’s presence grew dimmer by the moment. I reached out to find him with my Talent senses and realized why. He wasn’t in the tent. He wasn’t even in the camp.
With panic strengthening its grip on my chest, squeezing painfully, I leapt from my bedding and grabbed my clothing. The only garment close at hand was my defender’s uniform. I whipped the tunic over my head, thrust my arms through the sleeves, and then fumbled with the clasps. Leggings followed as I scanned the darkness for my heavy cloak. I could tell from my connection with Hadrian that wherever he was, it was cold. I spotted the cloak and my boots and struggled to pull them on as I searched for my ferrum.
“Keep it down, will you, Zez?” Renato called from beyond my curtain when I knocked over a chair. “Hadrian and I are trying to sleep out here.”
“Hadrian has left,” I replied. My ferrum’s sheath caught in my cloak, and I grunted in frustration as I had to pause long enough to untangle it.
“What?” Renato stretched with a heavy groan. “What did you say?”
“Hadrian’s gone. Look at his bed, Renato.” I shoved aside the curtain and pointed at the cot on the far side of the room. “He is gone.”
In an instant, Renato was on his feet, fully awake. “How do you know? He could be simply out dealing with some need or answering a summons.”
I shook my head. “He is traveling away from here and fast.” The isolation was closing in on me. Tears threatened to break, but I willed them back. “I need a horse and provisions.”
“Do you know where he is heading?”
I shook my head, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. “Maybe there is some clue on his desk, or maybe he left a message with the defender. But….” A sob broke my voice, forcing me to stop. I took a deep breath, focusing on a short prayer for strength. Renato’s hands grabbed my shoulders.
“What is it?” His very worried features filled my vision. “Tell me what hurts.”
“The commisceo-link. I am not sure what exactly is happening, but I have to go now. I have to follow him.”
“ConProp.”
“No.” I shook my h
ead. Something within me told me if I did, Hadrian would be lost to me forever. I didn’t know if it was the commisceo speaking or the Almighty. All I knew is that I had to go. Now. Shoving off his hands, I turned toward the opening. “Tell Korneli about this,” I called over my shoulder as I pushed through the door.
Stepping into the sudden cold, I was momentarily disoriented and stumbled into one of the defenders on duty.
“Pardon me, my lady,” he said.
I couldn’t even form the words of an apology. “Horsemaster?”
“He is that way, but…” I was already in motion before his arm was fully raised to point the way. “He is most likely not awake yet, my lady,” he called after me. He continued to yell, but I was deaf to him. All my attention was consumed with the horrible pressure in my chest and the waning connection in my head. It told me that I had to get a mount and start riding immediately, or I was going to lose Hadrian forever.
I somehow traversed the distance between the sept son’s tent and the horsemaster’s despite my disorientation. By the grace of the Almighty, three mounts, apparently fresh and already saddled, stood outside the horse tent under the horsemaster’s banner. Without hesitation, I untied and hauled myself up into the saddle of the nearest one. Turning the horse to the north, I dug in my heels, and it sprang forward. I bent low over the horse’s head as we whipped past the tents and dodged campfires. Voices cried out from behind me, yelling for me to stop and explain myself, but I couldn’t, there was no time. We cleared the last of the tents and broke out into the open. The wind, unhindered by obstructions, whipped around us, instantly biting through my garments as we tore across the open plain in the direction of Hadrian. I didn’t know where he was or how far ahead he was, but I knew that this was the right direction and I had to move as fast as humanly possible.
* * *
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