“Wick is now conscious?” he asked, his hand catching her sharply.
Evangeline looked down at the harsh contact but forgave him given the extremes of their circumstances. “No. She barely managed to speak at all.” Evangeline sighed, looking past Glais but glad she could not see what was happening just beyond her vision. The sound was more than enough. “I am half sure that the names I heard were my wishful thoughts for a cure rather than her direction.” She admitted shyly. It did not make Evangeline any less determined to follow them through.
“You cannot go alone.” He said.
“Glais, someone in the castle is poisoning our men. They hurt Wick.” She begged him to reconsider.
“I know, but to leave the castle grounds right now would be suicide.” Glais paused but finally forced himself to speak the orders he never wanted to make. “Take Thomas with you. He should be stationed at the front gates.”
“Thomas?” she questioned, confused about his motivations. Glais would use every excuse he could find to ensure other soldiers would be given her protection duties. She realised just now how this situation was affecting him but seemed at a loss on how to make it right again. “Are you sure?”
“I know what you are thinking, but right now there are two things I care about. Keeping our men alive, and ensuring your safety. I know he is not our traitor and he will protect you with the same stamina and valour I would.” Glais hated giving any excuse for Thomas to be alone with his wife but he was stretched for ideas and availability was very limited.
Evangeline nodded. “How many are affected?” she asked.
“We will soon find out,” Glais answered just as he heard the panicked call of his name. He looked behind him, but he did not leave right away. “Go, find this woman and the Belltower vines.” He rushed Evangeline away before coming back to his men. A small circle had formed around five of them who had all fallen where they stood, the same delirious look on their faces that had covered Wick when he had seen her. Others did not look well, but Glais remained hopeful.
To lose five to the infirmary would not so bad and would be easy to replace with second-ranked infantry. “Collect the suffering and bring them to the infirmary. Roberts, get to the kitchens and have the chef destroy everything that has touched the porridge. Franklin, find my father and report this to him. Tell him I am in the with the sickly if he needs my report.” Both men broke away from the formation.
“Anyone else who feels lightheaded, find a brother to lean on,” He commanded, and slowly the troops made their way to the infirmary beds. By the time they arrived, more than twenty men were ill, and three more were unresponsive.
***
Glais closed the infirmary door behind him and nodded to Quintus who was waiting in the hall. They regarded each other for a moment before Glais sighed and had to give the terrible news. “Over a hundred men will not be ready for battle, and at least twenty may not live until the end of the night. Many more have been suspected to have ingested some of the poison, and they are being watched for signs of fatigue.” He licked his lips, feeling anxious about his father’s response to the crisis. “How did it happen?” Glais asked.
“I have interrogated the chef, but he seems to know nothing about it. There have been no new faces within the kitchens, and those who were in charge did not appear to be acting oddly enough for someone to notice.” Quintus could not believe that someone had been able to poison his men within their own walls and yet the proof was piling up around him. “There was nothing suspicious at all that the chef could relay back to me, and I have no reason to believe he is lying.” Quintus kicked the wall, but it did nothing to help his mood.
“Wick said something about Belltower vines and named a woman in the village,” Glais told his father in the hopes that the plant’s label might cause a reaction from him in recognition. Quintus looked up sharply at this additional information, but there was nothing more for Glais to tell him and Quintus had nothing to add. “Thomas has gone to see what becomes of it.” Glais did not tell his father that Evangeline had also left the castle. He would not give Quintus more reason to feel the need to replace her. This was just another example of her narrow focus and impulsive drive.
“Let us hope it is something. We are lucky that Wick showed symptoms early enough that we were able to stop what could have been a true disaster.” Quintus leant on the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and hiding his mouth behind his hand as he thought about all that he knew. “I believe we can no longer call our castle safe son.”
Glais agreed. “We will claim it back.” He said without hesitation, and Quintus was glad to see that Glais would not be quick to give up on Braykith. Everyone would need his strength when the time came. “I believe that one’s responsible for this will not stay silent long. Given time and the right circumstances, I am quite confident that they will boast to listening ears about their triumph over us. They will be caught,” Glais promised.
Quintus uncrossed his arms and righted himself from his leaning posture. “Yes, but how many lives can we keep until that happens?” Quintus asked the rhetorical question that Glais had been asking himself for some time. “According to Grant, Crimah appeared deserted before Baxter arrived. The people had fled into the world, believing their chances of survival was better out in the wilderness than with their leader.”
“The same thing will not happen to Braykith,” Glais said.
“We will not allow it.” Quintus agreed. “But some of those people are sure to come here. There are not many other places for the refugees to go since the war has depleted our closest neighbours into ruined buildings.”
Glais had not considered that. “We have people coming and go with such fluidity, and we would never notice a few stragglers. But the numbers of refugees from Crimah would be close to thousands.”
Quintus nodded to encourage Glais’ line of thinking. “It may be even less should the rebellion find those who had fled. They have not made any effort to conceal how they kill without care for human life, but they are not efficient enough to kill them all, or we would have noticed the trails of dead bodies.” Quintus sighed. “If they are not coming here Glais, then where at they all going?”
Glais had no answer for that, but he did wonder if perhaps the lands of Crimah were not as empty as people said they were. It could very well be that people remained, living close to their enemies for whatever reason they justified it with.
CHAPTER TWELVE
D arius stood in the small room he had been assigned as a living space within the barracks. It was nothing more than a bed in the corner, barely any better than the dungeons except the door could be opened easily. The freedoms he had earned did not feel right and looking down at himself. Darius was not sure if the black uniform of the Braykith men suited him. He had never worn something so well made, or so dark, before. It made everything about him seem paler in comparison.
His hair also appeared a closer match to the light strawberry blonde his mother had always claimed he had. For most of his life, he had been quick to dismiss the compliment easily as foolish parent sentiment. He found a section of his hair and pulled it forward, but it did not quite reach into his vision. Looking in the mirror, the pale red colourings were evident against the black collar. Now he was required to grow it long, Darius was sure that faint natural dyes would only become more undeniable as time went on.
Putting the thoughts of his mother aside, he ran his hand back through the tuft of curls but never could get them to behave. Sure that this was not going to change sometime soon, Darius abandoned the well-known struggle and once again tugged on the bottom of his jacket sleeves in frustration. He had no reason to complain, but Darius wondered if he could ever grow accustomed to such an intimidating look. He missed the more flattering, and familiar, shade of the Crimah red.
Darius supposed it would be a long time before he would ever witness that colour again. He was sure the people here wore colour beyond their house assigned pigment, but the red of Cr
imah was such a shade that it would be dishonourable for anyone else to replicate it. Perhaps Evangeline might wear the shade on occasion, but Darius would not be the one to stake his life on the educated guess. He looked at his cuffs, took a final breath and left his small space for his assignment.
Although Evangeline had bargained for his life and got him the position as Glais’ squire, it would appear that he would not be taking those duties immediately. Due to the current situation with the poison in the food, he had been called for surveillance duty in the halls. He had at first supposed that Glais would take him for a walk around the grounds and introduce him to Braykith a little. It seemed that Darius was foolish in believing that Glais would at least introduce him to the horse he would be forced to ready for Glais whenever he so demanded it.
Darius understood where his sister’s heart had been, but he was struggling with this new lease on life he had been rewarded. There was nothing to be done to save him now, and Darius needed to find solace in the fact that he still had a life to mourn. Many others did not, and it seemed there were people within the castle who still may not live to see the next rising of the sun. Pushing away the bitter thoughts, Darius turned left and quickly realised he was lost. Most of the hallways seemed the same, as the last in his opinion. Darius would not admit that he had been too busy feeling bitter about his situation and so had not been paying attention to the direction his feet had been taking him in.
He sighed, looking one way and then the other in hopes of seeing someone who might be helpful, and instead saw the corridors were bare. Picking a direction, Darius started to walk and hoped it was the correct one. Noticing a vase that he was sure he had seen before, he continued and finally came to the large main doors. Although his body was needed to enhance the look of security within the castle, Darius understood why he was being placed in such a well-travelled area. Evangeline had vouched in his favour, but it would take time before others started to trust him as well, if they could ever trust him at all.
No one thought he killed Baxter. Most of the men had told him to his face that Baxter was too grand of a swordsman, and Darius was too weak ever to be able to claim his life in a match. Darius did not argue and did not announce how skilled he was with various weapons. He had been poised to take Crimah at one time, and he had been adequately trained in war strategy and proper weapon management. All of this would not help him in winning over the soldier’s favour. He could not be Baxter’s murderer, but he was still the heir of Crimah, and lately, the once friendly relationship had openly turned sour. Darius would not be making friends any time soon.
He saw a man raise his hand to beckon him over, and Darius copied the gesture in returned and crossed the floor quickly. “You must be Markus,” Darius said.
“Are you sure you can handle this?” Markus asked, and Darius nodded. “I am not one to be believing that they should be trusting guard duty to someone so new, but even I have to admit that we all need a little help right now.”
“I am glad to have some time to see how the castle works.” Darius offered a shy smile, and Markus didn’t seem to notice it.
“A panic had swept up everyone within the mess hall. No-one was convinced that the poison had only been in the porridge and the men who had been on duty needed to be relieved.” He pointed to himself with his thumb. “I know many of the guards are refusing it, but at this stage, I’m willing to take my chances with any food the kitchen presented me with. Poison or not.”
“It seems simple enough.” Darius had been raised in a manor and watching men guard the corridors as he played was simply a part of his life. Even if he had never been trained for the position, Darius was sure that he was capable. “I am to stand here and keep out anyone who appears suspicious,” Darius said, repeating the instructions he had been told earlier.
Markus nodded. “That is about it.” He sighed and handed over his watch to the young Darius because as much as he did not like the idea, Markus needed food and rest. Turning, but still walking backwards, he offered his final words. “Someone will come by and relieve you when your shift is over. Do not wander until it happens.”
Darius nodded, feeling awkward, and he realised a moment too late that he had waved at the retreating Markus. He slowly lowered his hand, trying to act natural but he knew that Markus had noticed the odd farewell. He sighed to himself, pressing his palms together behind his back and took up the space Markus had just vacated.
Darius knew that he had no right to complain, and if Glais told him to remain as a guard for the next few days with no rest, he would need to do his best to handle that pressure. Guarding a hall just off the main entrance was boring, though. Darius yawned and caught himself halfway through the gesture. He doubted anyone wanted to see a guard yawning, especially during a crisis. Darius stood a little straighter and tried his best to appear more awake than he felt.
Standing alone in a hallway with nothing more to do, Darius could only reflect on his own history and how he came to be in this position. He supposed that people only thought that it had been the previous few days that had been traumatic for him, but as Darius considered the events of his recent past, he came to realise the pressure had been playing on his mind since the day Evangeline left. That seemed to be the moment his father had lost what little normalcy he had. Darius did not understand it then, and even now under the scope of hindsight, it remained a mystery to him. Evangeline had said there were secrets to be shared, but Darius was sure that some secrets would be taken to the grave and never be voiced between the siblings.
Both of his parents and many others who had perished would take legends with them into the lands controlled by the god Xado and his underlings. Should they meet again, would Darius even think of asking his mother for those tales? It seemed foolish to obsess about their hidden stories after death. He wondered if people would find it odd that Darius held no questions in his mind concerning their unnatural deaths. His mother had been murdered by rebels, and his father was killed in self-defence. For him, their eulogy was quite bland and in some ways expected.
The news of Barret’s death had been delivered to him gently by Grant, accompanied by a soft hand on his shoulder for support as Darius was told of his father’s final moments. However, Darius had only felt a strange stillness in his chest followed by peace in knowing his father’s death had been witnessed, and he will not be returning to hunt him. By Grant’s facial expressions, Darius supposed his exterior would be out of place, however, if Grant had been in Darius’ place for all his life, then he would understand why grieving a man like Barret was hard.
Darius never felt the reason to question the reports because he had witnessed the steep fall of his father for months with no one to protect him. Darius had understood that his father going mad had merely meant that Crimah would no longer be a place he could seek out for safety, should he master the courage to escape. It was far more complicated than that, but Darius did not have the words to articulate those thoughts to himself.
It was a deep feeling, a branching of his primal self that could only answer in grunts and moods which stabilised his thoughts when it came to his father. The man who had killed the Braykith prisoners had been hiding in plain sight. Reward had been the greatest disguise for the monster. The acts of heroics and bravery which had been made into a song about his father were the same actions that had tortured and murdered those who were meant to be allied.
His stomach clenched at the idea of it, and it took a moment before he could put that away. He struggled for a deep breath and ignored the clawing feel of something at the back of his skull. The dying man in the dungeon who had suffered under his father’s cruel creativity demanded his attention, and Darius refused to give it. He would not return to that moment. All Darius could rely on now was the knowledge that even if Crimah had survived beyond the rebellion, who would dare welcome the offspring of the tyrant who had ruled with fear in his final days?
This was a future that Darius had never imagined for himself, an
d he struggled to feel comfortable now that he was being relentlessly confronted with it. It was not merely being a squire to a future king, but also serving a bloodline which he had no right to stand close with. His education laid in military technique and holding firm to their lands with only plans to expand and never yield. Years of understanding the intricate nature of Crimah’s politics now left him quite useless in Braykith. One panic replaced the other as the dying man, and the gurgling final breaths which had echoed in the dungeons were replaced with the present dilemma.
Although they were yet to discuss the matter, he knew that Evangeline had done her best to save his life. Regardless of how she had managed it, Darius felt he could not entirely rely on her for help in the future. They might not have been close, but Darius could see that she had her own demons to deal with, and Darius was not a fool. He knew that this did not fix the years of neglect between them. Far too much had been missed, and time that could not be recovered maintained the divide now. To speak the truth to himself, Darius and Evangeline were only allies now in the face of a shared demise. Darius could not even think of a topic they could safely discuss out in the open. Everything felt taboo or tainted, and Darius hung his head for a moment before he forced himself to look up again as if he did not feel the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Sighing, he readjusted his clothing although it did not need it.
The corridor was quiet, and just when he felt that no one would be coming by, he heard the hushed whispered of girls. It was the only thing he felt sure on, and so his ears strained to pick out the individual voices. The giggling and hushed laughter would usually annoy him, but this distraction may chase away the doubts he felt. The noise was unmistakable and reminded him instantly of Evangeline, Viviana, and Teagan as they had walked around the manor and ignored him completely until they needed him. As the group turned the corner, he had almost expected his memory to come to life before him. Instead, Darius realised the girl at the lead must be Princess Adeline.
The Ones Who Serve Page 12