The Myatheira Chronicles: Volume Two: Beyond the Veil

by Melissa Collins

  Men and women stumbled along the street, lost in their drunken stupor, oblivious to Aiva’s presence. How convenient. So many times the alcohol had been the cause of her trouble with the locals. Here in Targas, it worked to her advantage. If she could only find where the camp was. Saying it was outside of town was less than helpful in pinpointing an exact location. It could be anywhere within the miles of open, unused land which surrounded the city.

  An occasional wave of nausea welled up in the back of her throat. A step up from the constant sensation of needing to purge her stomach which had persisted throughout the day. Fresh air felt wonderful to her senses. Anything was better than being trapped inside that dreary room. She lacked the strength to lift her boots all the way off the ground, their soles dragged along the gravel with every step she took. By the time she reached the edge of town she regretted her decision to venture out. Her muscles screamed from fatigue. What had she been thinking? This was the most asinine idea she had in a long time. If she was wrong in the direction she’d chosen to begin her search for the camp, her father could pass her by, unaware, and discover her missing. He only just got her back. To be faced with the fear of losing her again so soon would crush him. That is why you must find him first. Yes. She would find him. Failure wasn’t an option.

  When entering Targas, she and Callum would have seen the camp if it was set up along the road from Haverton. Wherever the men were, it was in a different direction from that which she’d already traveled. They approached from the southwest. Her legs carried her now along the southeast corner of the city, the lights and laughter from the taverns fading into the distance. Half a mile or so out she could see what looked to be the flickering light of torches pushed into the ground, their gentle glow illuminating the flatter land, almost completely devoid of trees. A perfect place for a camp. Off the main road and away from the city, yet not far enough away to leave them stranded without chance of seeking food or reliable shelter if an emergency arose.

  Hastened by her excitement at the thought of finding her father, she ignored the chills coursing through her spine at the soft wind blowing across her exposed skin. At her approach she found herself lost amongst a sea of identical tents, soldiers milling about the area, relaxed, taking only mild interest in her. It surprised her at first. They didn’t seem to know who she was. Her appearance was altered drastically from when she’d been at court last and her style of dress was beyond uncharacteristic. Maran was the first to call out to her, clearly concerned at finding her wandering alone.

  “Princess. The King said you were ill. What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for him,” Aiva replied calmly. At the sound of her voice the other men ceased their ambling about, instantly taking a knee out of respect for her station. She had never seen a field full of men bow to her before. It was strange. Perhaps even a little embarrassing. “Please, rise. This is… unnecessary.”

  Maran hurried to her side, his arm sliding around hers to keep her steady. “You look sick, Your Highness. Why are you not in bed?”

  “Where is my father?”

  “He is in the command tent,” Maran gestured toward a grand enclosure at the far end of the camp. “I’m not sure now is the best time to disturb him. Is everything alright? Is there anything I can help with? Would you like a chair? Some water?”

  She tried not to laugh at his overzealous behavior. It was odd how much care he took with her. He looked almost afraid. Uneasy at her very presence. “You are making me self-conscious,” she said softly. “The men are acting unusual. Did I arrive at a bad time? Is something wrong which I am not supposed to know about?”

  “We are concerned for your safety and well-being, Princess.”

  “Good. Then you will not mind escorting me to the command tent. My father left me hours ago with promise of a swift return. As you can see, that promise has not been fulfilled.”

  “He has been busy,” Maran stammered, clearly uncomfortable by something. “But if you wish to go to him, I will see you to the tent. Please forgive me for not accompanying you inside, however. It is not my place to do so.”

  His behavior was peculiar. Saying nothing, she allowed him to guide her forward, eyes locked on the thick canvas tent he indicated. She’d never been in a military camp before. It was not quite what she had envisioned when playing with Edric and Callum as children, though it possessed many characteristics which fit the image in her mind. Rows of tents. Men in uniform scattered throughout. Somehow she expected more weapons to be visible. A stronger defense more obvious immediately upon entering the area. This particular camp was sparse. No doubt devoid of anything which might mislead the locals into believing their arrival a threat.

  They came to a stop outside the entrance of the command tent. With nothing more than a sharp nod, Maran released his hold on Aiva’s arm, his gait quick, as if anxious to put distance between them. She watched him leave, confused by his strange demeanor. Something wasn’t right. Concerned about what it might be, she turned to face the entrance, her hand coming to rest on the flap before slowly lowering away, the sound of voices inside piquing her interest. Her father hated when people eavesdropped on his private business, but this felt justifiable. It was best to discover what he was doing before simply waltzing in and disrupting.

  “It is unacceptable that this was kept from me,” he stated, the sound rising and falling as he moved from one side of the tent to the other. “Both of you knew the severity of the crime you witnessed. Distracted or not, it should have been brought to my attention immediately upon discovery. Captain, you rendered the culprit unconscious. Did you not think that a perfect opportunity to bring him before the Queen?”

  “Your Majesty, I did not wish to alarm the guests.” It was Callum’s voice. She wanted to be relieved in hearing it, though the stern tone of her father’s words left her feeling a familiar sense of dread. The same as she’d felt when listening to the accusations laid against him earlier that morning.

  “There are ways to handle business without causing alarm. You are a smart enough man to know this,” Thade continued. “And Edric, you of all people should have been the first to insist upon a trial. You could have informed me discreetly of the disruption. It would have gone unnoticed by the guests for us to retreat into the palace. Instead, he was allowed to roam free, unpunished for his indecency, and in a position which might have granted him further opportunity to disgrace our family.”

  “It will not happen again, Father.”

  “Make sure of it. I will not be pleased if it does.”

  Tentatively, Aiva brought her hands to the entrance flap. She wanted to go inside. If the business they were engrossed with involved her, it was only fair that she be allowed to witness. Still, it didn’t explain why no one had returned to the room. This matter was trivial. If the trial was completed, there was no reason for them to dawdle only to argue over minor upsets. Careful not to make any noise, she opened the flap, just enough to slip inside, her soundless approach going unnoticed by the men. She stood near the entrance, eyes searching the room, coming to rest on her father where he stood between Edric and Callum. Their faces were drawn. Edric looked paler than usual, his forehead creased in consternation, eyes downcast to the floor in acceptance of his father’s disapproval. Respectful. Callum appeared more composed. His countenance austere.

  Thade turned away from the boys, long strides carrying him to where General Cadell was seated at a large table, poring over a map which was spread across the surface. A parchment and quill sat at his side, an open bottle of ink positioned as a makeshift paperweight along the top of the paper. “General,” Thade stated calmly, the fatherly tone of his voice diminished. He was confident. Poised. The perfect image of a King. “Have you had time to think about what the scouts relayed? I would like to have a plan of action prepared tonight which will have us in North Pointe without further delay.”

  Scouts? They had returned? It was an unexpected surprise for them to be back in Targas so quickly. How much
could they have learned in only two days?

  “Your Majesty, the information left much to be desired when it comes to formulating a solid plan,” Cadell frowned. “We know the location of the cells where the prisoners are being held. They counted more than a dozen believed to be from those captured in Siscal. Princess Shaelyn was among them, which assures us of her safety for now; however, the structure is heavily guarded. We have no names of those responsible other than Ireni Moura. Without more detail than that, our only option is to storm the prison, and that is far from the best tactic.”

  Callum stepped forward, his umber eyes flashing, hopeful. “If I may?” he asked. Cadell lifted his gaze to his son, motioning toward the map to indicate his willingness to listen. In a single step Callum positioned himself in front of the table, a slender finger lowered to point at a specific location drawn there. “While Princess Aiva and I were in Vailetta, she was able to obtain a name from one of Ireni’s men. He identified their boss as a man known as Osahar. If the information gathered was correct, Osahar headquarters out of North Pointe, which would suggest him to have a home there. A base of operations.”

  “My daughter obtained this information?” Thade peered at him in disbelief. “I hesitate to inquire as to how. Can you be certain this man she spoke with was one of Moura’s men?”

  “There is no question,” Callum nodded, unfazed by the skeptical glances he received from the others. “The man’s name is Odell. He was among those apprehended aboard my ship in Siscal.”

  Thoughtful of the information Callum provided, Cadell stared down at the map, his fingertips drumming idly against the surface of the table. “So we have a name, then. That is only somewhat helpful. It doesn’t change the difficulty we face in breaking into their prison. We will need to send another scout to examine the perimeter. To map out every window and exit. Location of guard posts…”

  “It may change the difficulty. If you will hear me out,” Callum continued. “Ireni’s boss is a business man. He is no fool. His purpose when he collects a new captive is solely to gain a financial profit in selling them to the slave market. Ireni’s reason for coming after the Tanispan royal family was personal, not a direct command. As Aiva said, Ireni is a jealous and unstable woman. By now Osahar is likely aware of Shaelyn’s origin. He wouldn’t be able to sell her. If the buyer discovered who her parents were, they would never complete the transaction. It’s too great a risk. The slave buyers prefer not to place themselves in the line of fire. Which means… Osahar will want to negotiate with our King. He will request a monetary sum in exchange for her return. A high one, without doubt. A king’s daughter would be worth an impressive ransom.”

  “I did not come here to increase the wealth of our enemy, Captain,” Thade frowned, the lines on his face deepening once again. “If you suggest I meet and negotiate a price, then I will not hear any more.”

  Callum shook his head defensively. “No, of course not,” he replied. “I’m suggesting a meeting be arranged, but the goal would not be to pay. It would be a distraction.”

  Intrigued, Cadell leaned forward, elbows propped on the map to rest his chin in his hands. He let his gaze settle on his son, listening intently. “You have my attention. What do you propose?”

  “Osahar only has ready access to a small number of men. The rest are at sea, or on the islands. This leaves his available guards limited,” Callum stated. He removed his hands from the map, clasping them behind his back in a confident stance. “If word is sent that King Thade requests a negotiation, he will expect our King to come with soldiers. Osahar would be a fool not to increase his own numbers for protection. He will be forced to draw from the numbers which guard the prison. If the scouts are able to map the area, we can send in a second team to ambush the remaining guards while the negotiation takes place. When Shaelyn has been safely extracted, a signal would be sent, and the talks can be ended in whatever way is appropriate.”

  “And how do you recommend we get the Princess out of North Pointe before Osahar’s men stop us? You know they will give chase,” Cadell challenged. Callum appeared to expect the question, his face lighting up with a soft smile.

  “It will take a few days for new scouts to be sent into North Pointe. In that time, Commander Varik could take a group of men with him to Dackdyn and retrieve one of the ships. You see,” Callum extended his hand again to gesture toward something on the map, “there is another port off the coast not far from North Pointe. If Commander Varik has the ship ready to sail, we can take Shaelyn directly there and be prepared for departure before Osahar’s men can board their vessel to take chase. The other ship in Dackdyn can be retrieved at a later time. We can only spare enough men to bring one to the port at North Pointe. Everyone else will have to be separated between an attack team and the negotiation team.”

  Cadell stroked his chin in contemplation. The men were silent, considering the plan, searching for flaws. Unable to find any of significant note, Cadell turned his attention to Thade. “I think my son is onto something,” he nodded. “What do you think, Your Majesty? It holds risks, the way any plan would. My only concern is if word of the attack reaches Osahar before the talks can be ended.”

  “It is certainly a dangerous possibility. We will have to make sure our numbers are large enough to hold Osahar’s men at bay long enough to escape,” Thade agreed. “We need to make sure our strongest fighters are split equally between the two units.”

  “The General is the strongest and most capable of seeing Princess Shaelyn to safety,” Callum nodded, his eyes distant, lost in his thoughts. “I could accompany King Thade to the negotiations. My knowledge of the enemy might be of some use there.”

  “Ah, that is where I question your logic,” Cadell cut in. “Think of the bigger picture, boy. We know Ireni is Osahar’s second-in-command. There is a strong possibility he will have her at his side during the negotiations. Given what has been learned of your past with her, and the accusations of her jealous nature and lack of stability, do you really think your presence would be conducive to a peaceful business discussion?”

  The smile on Callum’s face faded. Cadell was right. Aiva shuddered to think how things would end if those two were placed in a room together. Ireni would do everything in her power to destroy whatever headway they might make. And if the talks were not leading to a peaceful solution, it would end in fighting, regardless of whether Osahar became aware of their ulterior motive. “You are right,” Callum frowned. “I should not risk making this more complicated than it is. I will accompany the unit at the prison.”

  “The General will come with me to meet with Osahar,” Thade announced, his tone firm and unbending. There was no debate in his decision. “Captain, choose the men you wish to accompany you and do so wisely. You will want the strongest and most reliable soldiers at your side for this mission.”

  “I will go with him,” Edric chimed in from behind the others. He’d been so quiet during the planning that Aiva had almost forgotten he was there.

  Thade nodded to his son, giving no argument. Edric was a strong fighter. He would be an asset to the unit. “Very well,” he replied. “You and Callum can discuss who else you believe would be most beneficial to the cause. We will send the scouts tonight. Tomorrow we can allot which men go with whom.”

  Aiva swallowed hard. She wasn’t sure where the men believed she would come into play for the mission. All she knew was that she refused to be left out. She would accompany one of the units into North Pointe. The hard part would be convincing her father to allow it. As King, Thade would not want to risk his heir falling in battle if there was a way to prevent it.

  Chin held high, she moved into the room, giving up her silent hiding place near the door. At the sound of her approach the men were on their feet, hands at their hilts, prepared to strike at their unexpected intruder. “Father, I will accompany the Captain as well,” she stated boldly.

  Shock was evident on the faces of every man in the room. Edric’s jaw hung open in disbelief
while Cadell averted his gaze, shielding his eyes to avoid looking at Aiva. Thade quickly made his way to a chair at the far end of the tent, his hands grabbing onto a blanket draped over the back, moving to Aiva with deliberate strides. “You most certainly will not,” he said loudly, wrapping the fabric around Aiva to cover her body from view. “I gave you a very simple direction to remain inside your room. You should not be out here. And what in the name of Sarid are you wearing?”

  “It was a gift from General Uttae,” she replied, her hands pushing the blanket away from her. She didn’t want to be treated like a child. If she was going to have any chance at convincing them to let her help, she couldn’t allow them to behave as if she was still a little girl. “There is nothing wrong with the way I look. My clothes are not what I came here to discuss.”

  “General Uttae?” Thade peered at her in obvious discontent. “Captain, did you allow her to dress like this while separated from the men?”

  Callum tried to suppress a laugh, arms folded across his chest. “It was not a matter of allowing her to, Your Majesty. Her dress was ruined and we had nothing else. General Uttae did what he could to see her covered sufficiently. Their style of dress in Tunir is somewhat different from our own. Many of the women wear far less fabric than that.”

  “Father, please,” Aiva pleaded. Why did they have to worry so much about her clothes? It was detracting from the importance of her initial demand. “I want to fight. This battle is no more yours than it is mine. Let me go with Edric and Callum. I can help.”

  “Absolutely not. This is no place for you. I will not risk it.”

  “But I can fight, Father!” she exclaimed, unwilling to back down. “I can wield a sword just like any of the soldiers here. I am not helpless.”

  “You are not helpless, but you are my daughter. You are the Vor’shai heir. I refuse to stand by and allow you to put yourself in danger when it can be avoided. You will accompany Commander Varik to Dackdyn and remain on the ship where it is safe. End of discussion.”