by John Marco
‘That should get their attention,’ quipped Aric. ‘It feels good not to be hiding anymore.’
The five men rode purposefully toward the encampment, Horatin holding aloft his torch, waving it from side to side. The rain poured down from the black heavens, blinding Aric and stinging his face. He longed for a warm place to spend the night, but the size of the homes and the many men already camped outside told him how unlikely that was. Horatin called out to his fellow Reecians, and before long they were sighted. Men began climbing out of the sodden bedrolls or mounting their horses to greet them. A trumpet sounded somewhere in the darkness, and all at once the camp roiled to life, undulating like a big, black mass. Aric kept close to Horatin as the Watchman had instructed. Trace and the other Nithins crowded around to protect him.
‘It is I, Horatin of the Red Watch!’ bellowed Horatin. ‘I have returned!’
Men gathered around them as they reached the outskirts of the huge camp, squinting to see them through the darkness. A few bold soldiers drew their swords to challenge them. Horatin quickly reined in his horse, holding up both hands.
‘Hold,’ he ordered the soldiers.
‘It’s him,’ someone mumbled, and then the others quickly agreed. Another man, an officer, shouldered through the crowd.
‘Horatin?’ he queried.
Horatin peered through the rain, unsure of the voice alone. When at last he saw the man’s face clearly he laughed.
‘Corvat, it’s me,’ said Horatin. ‘I found them – I found the Nithins!’
‘Living Fate, did you?’ The Reecian spied Aric and laughed. ‘Just the four of them?’
‘There are many others,’ said Horatin. ‘Where’s the king?’
The man named Corvat pointed toward the village. ‘In the house by the river,’ he said ‘I’ll take you.’
Horatin agreed, and let Corvat lead them through the throngs of men, shouting out orders to make way and inform the king of Horatin’s return. Aric and his companions remained on their horses, trotting slowly through the rain under the curious gazes of the soldiers. Corvat shouted at them to disperse, ordering them back to bed, and soon the way ahead was clear. At last Aric could see the flapping flags of the Reecians through the gloom. The chimneys of the village houses belched smoke into the air. It occurred to Aric as they rode that he was still shrouded by the darkness and rain, and that no one had yet recognized him. Horatin picked up on this immediately, leaning over to whisper to Aric.
‘Say nothing,’ he said lowly. ‘I’ll get you into see the king. It will be our surprise.’
They rode on, passing a number of small houses and farmsteads, some of which still were occupied by Liirian families. Aric could see them through the windows, toiling with housework even at midnight. Surprised, he wanted to pepper Corvat with questions, wondering why the villagers had not fled. He supposed they were being held prisoner by the Reecians, a notion that infuriated him, but he held his tongue as they continued on toward the river, where a small, pretty house of cobblestones rose up from the rolling green grass, surrounded by a fence and a yard filled with soldiers. The men in the yard all stood, obviously awaiting them.
‘That’s it,’ said Corvat. The soldiers dragged his palm across his forehead to wipe away the rain. ‘He’ll be waiting for you by now.’
‘Tell me, Corvat, how does he fare?’ asked Horatin.
‘Some days better than others. You’ll see what I mean. Just don’t expect too much of him. It’s late.’
‘He’ll want to talk about what I have to tell him. You should gather your officers.’
Corvat agreed, and as Horatin and the others dismounted the Reecian started giving orders to the men in the yard. A captain came forward, introduced himself to Horatin as Grenel, and offered to take them inside while Corvat gathered the other officers. Aric and his Nithin bodyguards got in line behind Horatin. Captain Grenel looked them over, but did nothing to question them or Horatin’s judgment. Horatin, whose reputation obviously proceeded him everywhere, told Grenel firmly to take them to King Raxor.
‘He’s waiting for you,’ said Grenel. ‘This way.’
The little house was warm and quaint, and the moment Aric stepped inside he felt its homey embrace. Typical of Liirian farmsteads, it had one main room where the family gathered, furnished sparsely with wooden chairs and chests and a table where the occupants could take their meals. Because this home was slightly grander than the rest, it had an open-air hallway leading to the kitchen, a common way of keeping fires at bay. Aric could see the kitchen across the covered walkway, noting an older woman working there over the fiery pots. Hearing them come into her home, she shot a glare at Aric, who quickly looked away.
The newcomers had barely taken two more steps when out of the adjoining chamber stepped Raxor, startling them all. Raxor paused when he saw Horatin, looking immensely pleased. Horatin bowed quickly to his king.
‘My lord, I’ve returned,’ he told his liege, and in his bow revealed the young man behind him. Raxor’s old eyes danced quickly from face to face, then stopped dead when he spotted Aric.
‘Great Fate above,’ he gasped. His weary face broke with emotion. ‘Aric . . .’
Aric quickly parroted Horatin’s bow. ‘King Raxor,’ he said solemnly, but there was more than ceremony in his tone. Straightening, he smiled broadly at the king. ‘I’m back.’
Raxor went from exhausted to glowing. ‘And it is good to see you back, boy! Horatin, you surprise me!’ The king stepped forward, surmising Aric’s bodyguards. ‘And Nithins, too! You’ve brought the news I want, then?’
‘I have, my lord,’ reported Horatin happily. ‘These are Prince Daralor’s men, my lord. They came with us to protect Aric Glass, and to prove to you their prince has come.’
All the Nithins bowed to Raxor, but it was Brenor, the eldest who spoke for them. ‘Prince Daralor sends you greetings, King Raxor. He is honoured to be joining you in your struggle against Baron Glass.’
‘Is he?’ Raxor asked. ‘That is well. Your prince is a brave man, far braver than the cowardly kings who’ve turned their backs on us. Where is your prince now, Sir . . . ?’
‘My name is Brenor, my lord, of the Green Brigade. This Trace and Jason, both under my command. We’ve come to tell you that Prince Daralor is on the march as well. His armies have crossed the border by now, I am certain, and march toward Koth.’
‘As do we,’ said Raxor, pleased by the news. ‘Your prince and his army will have little resistance. These Liirians are like sheep this time. No one has even tried to stop us.’
‘Yes, what about that?’ Aric asked. ‘We didn’t expect to find you this far from the Kryss.’
‘I will tell you about it,’ said Raxor, ‘but first . . .’ He turned to his Watchman, Horatin. ‘You have things to tell me, my friend, I’m sure.’
Horatin nodded. ‘Corvat is gathering the others, my lord.’
‘Good. Then there is time. Grenel, see to their needs. Horatin, all of you, rest now.’ Raxor sidled up to Aric and put his arms around the young man. At last, Aric could smell the heavy liquor on his breath. ‘You and I will talk first, boy.’
‘My lord?’
‘Come with me,’ said Raxor, turning Aric toward the adjoining chamber. ‘It is private this way. We can talk.’
Horatin surprised Aric by not saying another word. Instead he herded the Reecians back toward the main chamber, telling them to feel at ease while Raxor and Aric disappeared. Aric glanced over his shoulder as Raxor guided him away, not sure what the drunken king wanted from him. His Nithin companions, relieved to be out of the rain, seemed unperturbed as they began removing their wet coats and heading for the hearth. In the next chamber, Aric saw a table and a handful of plain wooden chairs. On the table sat a bottle of wine and an iron goblet, half-filled. Food had been prepared for the king, also half-consumed. A map and a few other documents lay across the table. Most striking of all, though, was the other occupant of the room, an attractive young woman dresse
d in a plain frock, her blonde hair brushed straight down her shoulders. She was collecting dishes off the table, but stopped when she saw Raxor reappear.
‘That’s fine, Alena,’ said Raxor. ‘Leave it. Go and bring some hot food.’
The woman – a girl really – made sure not to meet their eyes completely. ‘Yes, my lord,’ she answered curtly, then scurried past Aric to leave the room. Aric watched her go, confused.
‘Who’s that?’ he asked.
‘Alena lives here,’ said Raxor. He motioned toward the chairs. ‘Sit, Aric.’
Aric began taking off his coat, laying the sodden garment over one of the chairs. His whole person was similarly soaked, and the little fire built for Raxor in the corner of the room felt fine on his wet skin.
‘I’ll have dry clothes brought for you,’ said Raxor. Seeing Aric’s predicament, he dragged two chairs close to the fire and sat himself down.
‘I’m soaked to the bone,’ said Aric. Taking his chair, he started pulling off his boots, freeing his icy toes. ‘My lord, I’m not sure I understand your meaning. That girl lives here?’
‘This is her home, along with her mother and younger brother. There’s no father.’
‘They didn’t flee? When they saw you coming, I mean?’
‘Some did,’ Raxor recounted. ‘Others saw no need. We’re not mistreating anyone here, Aric. They’re taking care of us and that’s all. We needed a place to stop and this was as good as anywhere.’
‘But they’re Liirians.’
‘So? They hate your father as much as we do, I think. It’s as I said, boy; we’ve had no resistance. And I’ll wager your Prince Daralor has none either. We’re on the march toward Koth now. That’s where your father is making his stand.’
‘We heard that,’ said Aric. ‘Horatin told us. He’s holding up at the library.’
‘Just as you did last time,’ said Raxor with a grin. ‘A good enough tactic, though. He doesn’t really care about the rest of Liiria anyway. Just Koth. And that blasted library.’
Aric sat back. ‘That’s a painful thing to hear, my lord.’
‘It’s like a plague that’s swept the whole world. Liiria is dispirited, Aric. And Reec, too. We are all ruined. And only tiny Nith has come to save us!’
‘But I don’t understand,’ Aric protested. ‘Why are you here at all? You were going to wait until you had word from us. Why make war before you even knew the Nithins were coming?’
‘Because it is the time for war, Aric. Because it is forced on us. On me.I knew you would be wondering, that’s why I wanted to speak with you.’ King Raxor paused, then sat back to prepare himself. ‘Your friend Mirage. She is dead, Aric.’
The confession seemed to tear the old king apart. His words trembled. ‘Horatin told us,’ said Aric. ‘I’m sorry. For her and for you, my lord.’
‘I know what your father is like, Aric,’ said Raxor. ‘I let her go to him even so. That is shame enough.’
‘Is that why you’re here to fight him? Because of Mirage?’
‘No. Some people think that but they’re wrong. It is not just Mirage that brings me here. Not even Roland. Oh, I want my vengeance, yes, but it is Reec whose heart is broken. The people demand this war, Aric, and I cannot resist them.’
Raxor poured himself more of the wine and began to drink. His hands shook as he held the goblet. Looking at his eyes, Aric could see how bloodshot they were.
‘The world has gone mad,’ Raxor went on. ‘These men that follow me – they know what carnage they’re up against. It’s hopeless yet they yearn for it.’
‘They yearn for death?’
‘Aye, because they have nothing else! Your father took a thousand sons at the Kryss. Have you ever heard the wailing of a thousand mothers, Aric? No one can stand against that kind of noise. So now they send their husbands with me.’ King Raxor looked blackly into his wine. ‘I’m sure their fate will be the same.’
‘Not this time,’ said Aric. ‘My lord, I have good news. It’s not just the Nithins who’ve come to join you. Lukien comes with them.’
Raxor smiled. ‘Ah. And what about that fairy tale you told me? About the sword?’
‘It’s no fairy tale, my lord. The sword is real and Lukien has it. He’s come to fight my father again. This time he can win.’
Raxor scoffed, ‘No one can win against your father.’
‘You don’t believe that,’ said Aric. ‘If you did you wouldn’t be here.’
‘Look into my eyes, Aric.’ Raxor opened his eyes wide. ‘Tell me what you see there.’
Aric looked, and to his deep regret saw nothing, not a hint of the twinkle he had always found there.
‘Do you see hope in me?’ asked Raxor.
‘No,’ admitted Aric. ‘I don’t.’
‘Nor will you.’ Raxor leaned back again, annoyed. ‘Only a fool would believe that Baron Glass can be beaten. I’m not a fool, Aric. I’ll fight him gladly. I have no use for hiding in Hes any longer. But no one will beat him. We will all die. Even your vaunted Lukien.’
Raxor’s certainty riled Aric. He was about to speak when the girl named Alena returned, this time bearing a tray full of hot food. The temptation of the food distracted Aric, but only half as much as the pretty girl. Alena quietly floated into the room, setting down her tray and waiting for Raxor’s orders.
‘Alena, this is Aric,’ said the king. ‘We’ll need clothes for him and a place to sleep.’
Alena looked surprised. ‘He’ll sleep here, my lord?’
‘Yes. Make a place for him.’
‘Yes, my lord,’ agreed the girl, then turned and left the room. Raxor waited until she was gone before speaking again, keeping his voice low.
‘Aric, your father means to keep Koth at any cost. He’s already forsaken the rest of Liiria. Norvans are pouring over the border to help him because even they know how strong he is.’
‘You don’t know, Lukien, my lord,’ said Aric icily. ‘He’s strong, too.’
‘Yes, I know you think that,’ said Raxor. ‘But do not forget what you saw that day at the river. Remember?’
Aric remembered. He remembered far more than he could ever forget. It was the stuff of nightmares.
‘My father may not exist any more,’ he admitted, ‘but he is still just a man behind all that armour. Surely you see that, my lord. You must, or you wouldn’t be here yourself.’
Raxor glanced thoughtfully at his wine. ‘Aric,’ he said softly, ‘I do not believe we will best your father. For most of us, this will be the end.’ He looked at Aric, emphasizing his meaning. ‘I have crossed into Liiria now. I will not be going home this time.’
The admission hit Aric like a thunderbolt. For a moment he was speechless. He saw the certainty in Raxor’s eyes and did not know how to counter it.
‘No, my lord,’ he said cheerfully. ‘You will live! Don’t think such black thoughts. Believe what I tell you – Lukien has the Sword of Angels.’
‘Bah!’ Raxor pushed his goblet aside. ‘An army of angels with an army of swords – that’s what we need to defeat your father.’
‘No, my lord,’ Aric insisted. ‘You can’t go into this fight thinking that way. You need to lead! Where’s that bear-hearted king we all remember? That’s the Raxor that will make my father tremble!’
‘That Raxor is old,’ groaned the king. ‘Old and afraid.’
‘Not so afraid.’ Aric gently poked him. ‘He’s brave enough to face death.’
‘Death is what old people have to look forward to,’ laughed Raxor. ‘But all right, boy, you’ve made your point. I wouldn’t have come here to face your father if I wasn’t ready.’
‘Good,’ Aric pronounced, ‘because I’m ready to face him too.’
The king got to his feet. ‘I’m glad to hear that, because we’ll need you. I won’t keep you from the battle this time, Aric. Now eat and get some rest. Soon we’ll be marching again.’
As always happened when the king left the room, a great emptiness swept i
n after him. Aric glanced around, stunned by everything that had happened. Exhaustion began to creep over his body, but the pull of the food on the table was greater than the pull of sleep and so he dragged his chair to the table and began to eat, slowly at first, then ravenously. As he reached for the wine, the girl named Alena reappeared, this time bearing an armful of clothing. She paused in the doorway, waiting for Aric’s invitation. Aric stopped eating and stared at her.
‘Come in,’ he said clumsily.
The girl’s face was stern but pretty. She avoided looking at Aric as she came forward. ‘I did not want to disturb you.’
‘This is your house,’ said Aric.
Alena seemed amazed. At last she met his eyes directly. ‘It is.’ Catching herself, she held out the clothes. ‘These are for you.’
Aric stood up. ‘Thank you.’ He took the offering with a smile. ‘I’m truly grateful for this. I think I’ll have to burn what I’m wearing!’
Alena didn’t laugh. ‘If you don’t need anything else . . .’
‘No.’ Aric hesitated. ‘I’m fine. Just a question – why are you still here?’
The question surprised the girl. ‘My lord?’
‘I’m a Liirian,’ said Aric. ‘I know this is your home. But these men are Reecians. Your mother and you . . .’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘King Raxor’s men have not been cruel to us,’ said Alena. ‘They have taken nothing from our home, only our food and service, and have paid us for both.’
‘But they’re invaders,’ said Aric, still not understanding. ‘They mean to kill your king, you know.’
‘What king?’ spat Alena. ‘Baron Glass? He is king in name only. And we will all be better off when he is gone.’ She made a face at Aric that was almost pitiful. ‘You must have been gone from Liiria a very long time not to know this.’
‘Yes,’ admitted Aric. ‘I have been.’