by C. J. Aaron
“In all of the kingdom, there are none quite like her, I’m afraid,” he replied as he again turned his eyes to the brightening horizon in the distance.
For a moment, Ryl pondered pressing the issue. The curious relationship, the endless devotion and trust between the mercenary and the madam was peculiar. It was likely a story well worth hearing. Cavlin, on cue, interrupted the moment. The answer would have been cryptic and aloof.
Like other subjects, Andr would divulge the truth when the moment was right.
“It is true, there are but a few you once stood shoulder to shoulder with who remain breathing.” Cavlin’s voice was hushed, not to hide the information, but not to interrupt their sleeping companions in the wagon. “The ones who do were the lucky ones. The ones to break the addiction before it got them killed. They for the most part reside on the outskirts of civilization, away from the clash of daily life.”
Andr nodded his head in acknowledgment.
“It was always just one last job,” Andr admitted. “The last hurrah when you swore to hang up the sword so often proved fatal.”
The curiosity that surrounded Cavlin continued to grow. It seemed as if every new statement added another layer of intrigue to the guard.
“What is it that you actually do?” Ryl inquired.
Cavlin shrugged his shoulders. “Me? I’m just a simple guard.” He grinned. “Like our mercenary friend here, my past is stained with regret. With too much blood. Like you, Ryl, I have my secrets.”
Ryl was unsurprised by the cryptic answer. Though his curiosity was piqued, the lack of substance or clarity surrounding his past was immaterial. Cavlin’s loyalty to Captain Le’Dral and to their cause was unquestioned. Whatever his deeds in the past, at the moment, they had little bearing over their present course.
“Beyond the last estates, there is a small bridge that separates the wealthy from the hovels that surround the outer ring of the capital,” Cavlin explained, changing the subject as if it had never been broached. “There should be little worry of guards until we reach the gates along the Kingsway. Turn south, toward the sea, at the first intersection. I’ll take over from there; it will be a maze beyond that.”
Cavlin slunk back into the bed of the wagon. “I’ll relieve you for the next watch,” he offered as he made himself comfortable. “You should rest. I sense we’ll be busy once we reach Leremont. Without delay, we should reach the capital by the middle of the afternoon.”
Ryl continued steadily onward at the head of the wagon as the sun pierced the horizon. He shielded his eyes from the glare as they continued to the east. In the light of day, the grandeur of the estates that bordered the road grew steadily, though the opulence tended toward gaudy. Compared to the banal, stale design of most of the buildings he’d witnessed in the cities of Damaris, the grand estates were a splendor. Sparkles of light reflected off the gold leaf that seemed to be applied with reckless abandon. Jewels were encrusted into the elaborate wrought gates that guarded the properties. Even the guards wore brilliant uniforms trimmed with gold and jewels that shimmered in the morning light.
Ryl scoffed at the pointless attire. The mere statement of wealth would do little if swords were crossed. The excess weight and restriction of the awkward clothing would prove more of a hindrance in the heat of battle. There would be few with lethal intent who would fall victim to the gold trim.
The Horde, if they were ever to progress this far, would strike them down without a second thought.
Then again, if the blackened mass of demons reached this far, then the kingdom was likely lost.
The statements of wealth were present in every aspect of the sprawling complexes that surrounded them. The grounds both inside and outside the estates were immaculately manicured. Close-cropped lawns surrounded gardens dotted with statues. Even through the dust of the road, the scent of the flowers that bloomed in the numerous beds close to the Kingsway was potent.
The vanity, the need for perfection as a status symbol that was on show in every direction turned his stomach. His thoughts turned steadily back to the hidden city that was now the closest thing he could call to home. There were exquisite details in every aspect of daily life, from the small bedside table to the grand facades of the massive halls built into the living rock of the mountains, yet none of it was created with the intent of denigration. Perfection was sought for the betterment of the society as a whole. They strove to create wonders to pay homage to the tenuous cycles that had consumed the city’s founding. There was much uncertainty at that time. Survival was never assured.
There was little need for conversation, though the company was welcome. The miles passed under the wheels of the wagon quickly. Ryl, as were all that accompanied him, was thankful for the fortuitous arrival of the wagon. In that moment, fate had smiled on them. The walk would have been grueling and delayed them by nearly a day. As it was, there were less than four days remaining before the Deliverance. Much still needed to be done.
Ryl stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. Hours had passed; the sun now hung fully in the sky when Cavlin approached again. The guard placed his hand on Ryl’s shoulder.
“There’s a small strand of trees a few miles ahead on the southern side of the road,” he instructed. “There’s a small stream in the clearing, a rest area to give the horses a break. Then it’s time for you to get some rest.”
Ryl had no complaints with the statement. The road had been relatively quiet to this point. Though the sun had just crept past its zenith, they’d encountered only a few travelers to this point. Those who did pass them, heading away from the city, acknowledged them with a pleasant wave of the hand, yet offered no suspicious glances as to the makeup of their party.
The composition of the road had changed with every passing mile. The closer they came to the city, more stone mixed with the hard dirt of the road. The ruts were less drastic, yet the constant reverberation from the wheels on the stones was jarring. He was ready to leave his position at the driver’s seat. Though he doubted sleep would come without difficulty, the break would be forgiving.
It wasn’t long before they rolled onto the small offshoot of the road angling south between the impressive walls of two of the more opulent properties they’d encountered to this point. The pathway curved behind a narrow line of neatly trimmed trees, opening into a spacious lot bordered by carved stone benches, flowering bushes and another more sizable grove at its rear. A small stream flowed through a low grated opening in the easternmost wall, forming a small pool at the edge of the trees before it cut through a similar opening in the stone to the west.
The setting, tucked into the corner of stone, was pleasant, though the presence of another wagon was troubling. They desired few encounters with others along their path. Ryl stretched his body out as he hastily moved toward the rear of the wagon. It was little effort to maintain the illusion that disguised the brands on his neck; the raised, reddened scars appeared to lighten several shades until they were hardly noticeable. From afar, they’d be undetectable. The effort was now little more than trivial. The expertise from generations of perfection by Da’agryn was now at his disposal, yet his endurance still lagged far behind. The small illusion provided little strain, though he preferred to avoid the exercise if possible.
Cavlin intercepted him as he rounded the wagon, slipped over the side, alighting easily on the ground. There was no note of pain as the guard settled to his feet though he was sure that some lingered. The wound was deep, the damage dangerously close to fatal.
“I’ll keep the tributes out of sight,” Ryl whispered as he passed the guard. “We should not delay long.”
Cavlin nodded as he moved to accompany Andr, who was already attending to the horses at the lead. The mercenary had instinctively placed himself between the others and their party. Millis slipped from the rear of the wagon as Ryl clambered aboard.
“Keep to the middle of the wagon and your brands covered,” Ryl ordered as he moved to a position where he could view
the entirety of the clearing before him.
The clearing was a substantial size, stretching over one hundred meters east to west and roughly half that distance wide. Ryl had stopped their wagon on the westernmost side, allowing for the greatest distance between themselves and the other party, who occupied the opposite edge.
The group across the clearing dwarfed their single wagon. The caravan consisted of several wagons, covered by tall arched roofs, stationed in a row. A team of four towering horses led each; several other mounted animals were tethered to a set of hitching posts along the edge of the stream that bordered the forest. Ryl peered across the distance, noting blades hanging from the hips of many in the group.
The armed men roved the ground surrounding their wagons with the precision of practiced patrols, yet they attempted to disguise their actions as mere wandering. They conversed in pairs as they meandered about. Even from the distance Ryl noted the heightened attention of their eyes. They scanned their surroundings with a sense of intent and caution.
A small gathering at the head of the wagon drew his attention. From all that he could see, only one of their number carried a blade. The others were dressed in varying degrees of finery; their appearance was unthreatening. The company ranged in age from youth to elder. A toddler weaved in and out of the legs of the others while a white-haired man conversed with the other adults in the group.
On first impression, they reminded Ryl of Aldren, though this family was substantial in size. The merchant they’d saved and befriended had traveled with his only son by circumstance rather than choice. Ryl felt the sting of regret. Though he had confirmation that Aldren’s boy had arrived safely in Cantros, the seat of House Eligar, the fate of Aldren was still unclear.
After a brief discussion, the eldest of the group broke away from the others, striding purposefully across the clearing. Though he shooed off his companions with a determined wave, the solitary guard followed obediently in his wake. The others remained where they stood; a few returned to their own individual conversations, though many watched the elder as he crossed the clearing. Cavlin moved to meet them. Andr followed a pace behind.
Ryl watched as the pairs met in the opening of the clearing. He could pick up no hint of their conversation, though the eldest among the group greeted them pleasantly; his smile was visible from afar. His head and arm motions routinely returned to the east, pointing in the direction of the capital. He suppressed the notes of apprehension as the feeling of warning coursed through his veins.
The news from the east was likely unfavorable.
It wasn’t long before Cavlin and Andr separated from the impromptu meeting, shaking hands, with a nod of deference to the elder who had approached unannounced. His guard backed a few steps, maintaining his attention on the guard and mercenary until both had turned their backs, moving toward their respective wagons. Andr and Cavlin conferred softly with each other as they made their way back to their companions. Though their departure was seemingly unfazed, Ryl knew both listened intently for any signs of motion at their backs.
The pair split as they reached the horses. Cavlin swung into the driver’s seat while Andr joined him on the opposite side of the bench.
“It seems Lord Kagran isn’t taking the Deliverance lightly,” Cavlin answered as he eased the horses forward. Both protested the sudden departure for a moment, yet lumbered onward after their snort of displeasure. “Our merchant friends were en route to the capital from near Milstead. The presence of the glut of nobles that flood into the city routinely equates to more exorbitant prices on the luxury items they provide. All access to Leremont has been sealed off. The outer ring of guards has been pulled back to the gates. All the entrances have been closed for nearly a week. With the exception of permitted travel, there is no movement into or out of the capital. Our friend is very distraught at the loss of personal gain he’s suffered at the unexpected affront.”
Ryl’s emotions surged with conflicting sensations at the statement. Though the merchant had nothing to do with the decree that stole children from their families, he’d nonetheless profited from the exchange. He’d grown his own family, protecting them with wealth and blades, leveraging the buying power of the engorged purses that descended on the city. Ryl had no qualms with relieving the nobles of the ill-gotten coin, yet little save for personal good had come of the transactions. They were profiteers, scraping every exaggerated coin off the backs of the lives that were ruined, the children who were stolen from their families.
He shook his head as he cast his gaze across his companions in the wagon. The tributes did little to disguise their disgust, though for the moment, they kept their emotions in check. Of all others, it was Paasek who registered the most noted reaction. The phrenic’s face was locked into a stony scowl. His eyes were nothing more than thin shadowed slits hidden beneath his heavy brows.
“I assume you have other means of entering the city?” Lenu intoned from her position lounging against the rear wall of the wagon.
Cavlin turned his head though he spoke not a word. The grin that tugged up on the corner of his lips was statement enough.
They moved to the northern edge of the clearing, giving the others a wide berth as they drove toward the exit of the turnoff. The merchant, with the assistance of the others, had climbed atop the head of the lead wagon, the others scattering, disappearing into the depths of their prescribed covered carriages. The patrolling guards had mounted their horses, forming up along either side as their caravan began moving.
Though his gaze had softened, Paasek followed the elder merchant as they passed. The older man waved politely, though his face carried a definite air of dejection, having yet to accept the lost revenue from the profitable event.
Paasek maintained his glare even after they had passed the retreating merchant. Ryl studied him carefully, watching as his hands clenched into fists. His knuckles bleached white as they squeezed together. Had Ryl not been observing, he’d have missed the action, though the result was dramatic.
The path that cut through the clearing, much like the roadway beyond, now consisted of more stone than dirt. The cobble had been smoothed by the wear of ages of weather and moderate travel. As the wagon in the rear moved across a patch of larger stones, a section of the roadway under the rear of the wagon shifted without warning. The stone arched upward less than a hand width, shearing toward the inside of the wooden wheel.
The timber, though reinforced by a band of iron, stood no chance against the might of the stone. With a thundering crack, the wood splintered, buckling outward as the weight of the wagon above crushed down on it. The chain reaction was catastrophic. The rear corner of the wagon pitched to the earth, its weight compressing the stone that had sealed its doom back into the ground below. As it toppled, the force snapped the front axle as well. Shouts of shock and warning mingled with the cracking of wood as the top-heavy load spilled to the side.
Cavlin chuckled as he watched the unexpected disaster unfold at their rear. His eyes moved from Ryl to the looming phrenic elder. With an appreciative nod, he turned his head, spurring their horses onward toward the capital.
As expected, Ryl found that rest came with difficulty. His body was tired, yet a profound sense of anxious excitement burned through his veins. Much was still to be decided. Every mile they crossed brought them closer. They were on a collision course with the capital. While he hoped to make their entrance as silently as possible, there would be no stopping them. Cavlin had intentionally slowed their pace, plodding along at a rate that would place their arrival as close to the cover of darkness as possible.
Around him, the scenery continued to grow more gaudy by the meter. The estates continued their shows of excessive wealth as each attempted to outshine their neighbor. The rolling hills leading to the capital were scattered with perfectly manicured lawns, elaborate sculptures, massive mazes of hedges, and gardens that bloomed with a vibrancy that belied the hideous likely truth beyond the accumulated wealth.
As
Ryl viewed the surroundings, he couldn’t help but see everything through a lens tarnished by darkness. There was an inky blackness that tinted his impression. The wealth behind the designs was tainted, stained by the blood of the innocent families who were slaughtered and the children who were ripped from their arms.
A sudden, vicious impulse struck him with a force that was undeniable, though it was little more than the shadow of a whisper from within. The urge to act was difficult to restrain. It begged him to raze the estates to the ground, spread the blood of the darkened souls across the immaculate properties they used to flaunt their wealth.
Ryl sat upright, shifting his body so that his back leaned against the side wall of the wagon. Vox, whose watchful eyes guarded their flank at the moment, smiled in greeting. The strain written across the phrenic elementalist’s face was visible. He’d known the phrenic for nearly as long as any of the fabled group. There was no hiding his revulsion as he watched the sculpted terrain pass beside them.
At the head of the wagon, Cavlin and Andr had shifted positions; the mercenary again controlled the reins. They rumbled along the Kingsway, which at this point was, with few exceptions, entirely made of stone. There were even patches of scattered patterns either carved into the roadway or marked by colored stones that stretched out before the entrances of the growingly gaudy estates.
The day had waned; the diminishing rays of the sun now warmed their backs as they moved to the east. They gained altitude slowly as they moved up a low yet sizable hill in the terrain. Cavlin pivoted, turning to address Ryl and the others in the rear of the wagon.
“This is the highest point in the road,” the guard added, motioning with his head to the pinnacle of the hill they now climbed. “Leremont will be visible from the peak. We’ll lose the light soon after.”
Ryl was not alone in repositioning his body so that he could catch a glimpse of the capital. Cray, Tash and Palon crowded near his side, watching with a mix of excitement and fear. It wasn’t long before the wagon rumbled to the peak of the rise. Stretching out before them, the grand estates continued along either side of the road. Glints of light sparkled and flashed off the myriad of reflective surfaces, likely precious metals and jewels encrusted throughout their enormous properties. The opulent manors were dwarfed by the capital city that stretched out beyond.