“Dead!” Tomas said.
The pair practiced for another fifteen minutes until their arms and legs were aching once again. Rilan pushed back his sweaty hair, letting the cool night breeze kiss his forehead.
Tomas looked like he had something on his mind and eventually chose to speak. “That girl, Hila, at the tavern in Winterglade. She had heard the stories about the Magisters too. Just like the ones we heard back home,” Tomas said.
“Aye,” Rilan said.
Tomas scrunched his face up as he scratched his ear. “I still don’t know what to expect.”
Rilan shrugged. “None of us do. Not ‘til we get up there.”
“Should we be worried?”
“Are you worried?”
Tomas thought about it. “Uncertain.”
“Uncertain about the Magisters, or uncertain about the question?”
“Both, I guess.”
“Look, if the stories are true, and those Magisters are a bunch of old, crazy mages who drink diseased blood, then we go in, do our job, and get out. The king has some reason for sending us all this way. I reckon these Magisters are perverse and break the natural laws with powers no one be playing with. But… I doubt they will harm us. We are coming to help them, to protect them.”
Tomas nodded. “You’re right. Even if they steal kids and let all that dust and crazy myths from their massive library fill their minds with madness and disease… they have a purpose. Well, the king seems to think they do, anyway.”
“And we got each other’s backs,” Rilan added.
“That’s right.”
It was an unspoken comfort that the two had, knowing that each would stick by the other, no matter what happened.
But as they headed back to camp after their sword practice, and despite their conversation about the Magister’s Imperium easing some of their worries, Rilan could not dispel the sense of danger that clung to his shadow with each step.
Chapter 22 - The Truth
Jerrem Denar had made it clear that King Giliam Bower had little time left. Katryna needed answers, even if it meant confronting her father on his deathbed.
Katryna attempted to enter his quarters, despite protests from the Infinity Guardsmen at his door.
“My lady, you can’t,” the guard said, holding his spear out across the doorway to block her entrance.
“Prince Rowan explicitly stated that no one should enter other than the physicians at this time,” the other guard growled.
Katryna grabbed the shaft of the spear and pushed it away.
“Step aside. I am Princess Katryna Bower, and I will not be told what to do any longer.”
To the guards’ dismay, she forced her way into the room. It reeked of death. The shutters had been left open and a chilled wind howled in like a menacing creature. Most of the candles had been blown out.
King Giliam shivered beneath his furs despite being flustered with sweat dripping down his face.
Katryna stepped up to his bedside. The old man looked even worse than he had the previous night.
She began to cry. There was so much to say, so much she wanted to know. She felt awful that this was the only time for it.
Giliam, upon seeing his daughter’s expression, let out some tears as well. It appeared he knew why she had come.
“Why, father?” Katryna muttered, wiping her face. “Why?”
Giliam stared at her blankly with glassy eyes. Dried blood dotted his chin. He knew she had learned the awful truth.
“Was this your plan all along, to wed me against my will to some foreigner as soon as I returned home after all these years? After everything that happened?”
Between each statement was an awful moment of silence filled only by the violent winds. The curtain rods shook against their metal braces with each gust from the night.
“Or was this what you had always wanted to do with me, ever since I was born? Use me as a bargaining chip to ensure Rowan’s success upon becoming king one day?”
Giliam’s eyelids closed. He struggled to breath, let alone even let out a word in response. His throat was severely parched. He attempted scratchy responses, but Katryna only talked over him.
Katryna grabbed a glass of water from Giliam’s bedside and gently poured some into his mouth. She dabbed a moist cloth on her father’s face, trying to get him as attentive and alert as possible.
Katryna bowed her head solemnly, feeling herself regurgitate all the truths and emotions she had rehearsed in her head for years. She felt like a dam breaking from intense pressure.
“I am so sorry for leaving Ravenrock, father. I am sorry for Willem. I am sorry for breaking mother’s heart, for destroying this family. I am sorry for everything. I ruined everything.”
“Katryna,” Giliam muttered. “Please… don’t.”
“Is that what you want to hear, father? Because it has been a long time coming, and I am done with living with this burden on my shoulders. I have never felt the need to apologise for any of it. I am not sure if it was out of fear, or denial, or naivety. All this time, I have been running away from the truth.
“Being back in Ravenrock has been like opening up an old wound, and now all the blood is finally seeping out. I killed Willem. I did. I loved him more than anything. He was my best friend, and I killed him. I ran because I fear the truth and I feared mother. I ruined our family. I caused all of this.”
Katryna began to uncontrollably sob into her hands, overwhelmed all at once by the years of torture her mind had suffered with.
Her mother’s voice rang in her head. “Katryna, what have you done?!”
To Katryna’s surprise, Giliam tried as best he could to sit up against the wooden headboard of his canopy bed. She stared into his hollow eyes, watching his thin lips as he prepared to speak.
Whatever words come out of his mouth, I deserve to hear them. I have run away for too long.
Giliam cleared his dry throat and wiped the sweat from his brow with a shaking hand. “All of these years, I have failed you… I let you suffer because I knew not what to say or do to fix it. All I ever wanted to do was fix it...”
Katryna reached out and held her father’s hand as he struggled for breath. She took some breaths to try and ease the tightness in her chest as she wept.
“But there is no fixing it,” Giliam sobbed.
Katryna could feel an upwelling of anger, of grief, of shame, from deep within. So many emotions and no way of knowing what to say or do to relieve them. They had been with her for so long and she so rarely ever let them out.
“I am the father in this family. I am the head of our House… Yet, I was unable to fix anything for your mother, your siblings, for myself, but most importantly, I failed to help you.”
Katryna broke down crying again. The image of her brother’s lifeless eyes flashed into her mind. What she had done, what she had caused. Did she deserve all that had happened to her? Did she deserved to be married off to a stranger against her will?
She could only cry.
Giliam licked his lips and did not break eye contact with his weeping daughter. He used every ounce of strength he had left to keep himself sitting up and speaking.
Giliam had words he needed Katryna to hear.
“What happened to Willem was… a tragedy. The worst sort of thing for a family to suffer. No child should have to transcend before their parents. If life were fair, it would always be the other way around… always. But alas, my child, life is unfair.
“I need you to trust me when I say that… it was an accident. You know that, and I know that. You were a child, and a child bears no responsibility in the death of their brother in such a way.”
Katryna burst out crying. The words from her father’s lips were so unexpected, yet somehow exactly what she needed to hear.
Giliam reached out and wiped a tear from his daughter’s cheek.
“We react to grief in different ways,” he continued. He spoke slowly yet deliberately, ushering a breath between every f
ew words. “I buried mine by ignoring the pain. I led our House as best I could, I continued to rule this kingdom the best way I knew how... Your mother directed her grief towards you, and that was wrong of her to do… I should not have allowed her to… chastise you how she did...
“You ran away from your grief because that was what you needed to do… That was your decision to make. There is no one correct way to deal with what we have had to deal with, Katryna.”
Katryna shook her head, unsure if she could believe what she was hearing. Yet, she could feel the burden she had been carrying around all these years lifting off her shoulders ever so slightly.
“I hate that you and your mother were… unable to make amends before her death,” Giliam whimpered.
Giliam was getting more emotional by the moment. In her entire life, Katryna had only ever seen him cry once, when Willem had passed. This was the second time.
“I hate it, too. All this time, I spent running. I ran because I could not take the burden of my actions any longer,” Katryna said. “Mother’s spiteful words, Rowan’s judgement. Most of our family hate me for what I did. I ran because I could not take their sinister words and hateful glares any longer. What kind of Bower runs from such a thing?”
“You are Katryna Bower… You are my daughter… You have always been my daughter, and you always will be my daughter… What happened to Willem was an accident, for which I do not blame you in the slightest.”
Katryna’s mind went back to that day. That horrible day. Her and her twin brother Willem, ten years of age. Swimming in Pott’s Creek.
The bloodied water, her mother’s wails. Willem’s dead eyes.
“But father,” Katryna began, shaking her head vigorously from side to side. “It was my fault. It was all my idea. To run away when we weren’t supposed to, to go swimming in the creek. It was my fault, and if it weren’t for me, Willem would still be alive.”
She had never told him that before. She had never told anyone before.
Katryna had lived with the fact that racing to Pott’s Creek was her idea, and ultimately it was what had killed Willem.
She shut her eyes firmly, expecting to be scolded and cursed by her father.
“Did you drown your brother?” Giliam asked gently. “Did you force his head under the surface, or water down his throat?”
Katryna shook her head. I never ever wanted him dead. I loved my brother.
“You did not kill Willem. The Creator chose him to transcend, and take him away, he did... You must stop running away from your pain, Katryna. It will be your downfall.”
Katryna leant over her father. The two held each other tightly in a long-awaited embrace.
“All this time, I thought you resented me for Willem’s death. He was to be the next king, and I have felt that my actions have caused the destruction of our House,” Katryna said.
“Your brother Rowan will be the king of Camridia once I pass, as the law dictates,” Giliam said.
Giliam began having another coughing fit, this time hunching over in pain. Katryna spotted drops of blood flying out of his mouth and onto his sheets with every sputter. She poured water into his mouth once again.
Giliam rested back against his sweat-filled pillows. “I know you hold a lot of resent towards Rowan, Aunt Helen and Uncle Hectar for how they have treated you throughout your life… and for casting you out like they did. But I urge you, now of all times… seek reconciliation with our family. You are… you are my eldest child… and I need your word that you will help keep our House strong.”
Giliam wiped blood from his mouth as he coughed again.
A whirlwind of thoughts ran through Katryna’s head. Finn and Aunt Rashel have already asked me to seek peace with my family. And now father. If this is his dying wish, who am I to say ‘no’?
“I regret promising your hand in marriage to the Emberian prince… I chose to accept your brother’s idea because I thought it was the right thing to do, for the greater good… I wanted what was best for Rowan… I am a fool and a coward for doing it without seeking your approval.”
Katryna’s stomach ached with emotion. Too many emotions to handle all at once.
“I am a coward…” Giliam whispered. His eyelids grew heavy, and he slowly drifted back into unconsciousness mid-sentence.
Katryna was shocked he had lasted so long and been able to maintain a conversation that was so charged. She kissed his cheek, wiping the tears and spittle from his face.
Before she left the royal chambers, Katryna closed the shutters. The curtains which had been blowing vigorously in the wind slowly calmed down and rested vertically as the cool gusts came to a stop.
Katryna opened the door to see Aunt Rashel waiting patiently at the door, biting her nails.
“Is he alright?” she asked anxiously.
Katryna nodded. “He is asleep again.”
Aunt Rashel looked into her niece’s eyes. “You spoke with him?”
“I did. We said what we needed to say to each other.”
Aunt Rashel gave a smile of relief and embraced Katryna warmly. It was not at all what she had been expecting, but Katryna could not describe the reprieve their conversation had brought her.
“Will you stay with him?” Katryna said.
“Ever since we were little, I would tend to him whenever he grew ill. ‘His little nurse’, is what your grandmother used to call me. I will be by his side until the end. You go get some rest. It has been a long day and we need you sharp-witted.”
Katryna stared at her feet, suddenly feeling a wave of exhaustion throughout her body. How long had it been there for?
“Take care of him,” Katryna said.
It was difficult for her to say. A part of her wanted this to all be over, for some peace to be had rather than the constant fear and anticipation. Another part of her was still furious at what Giliam and Rowan had done behind her back.
Yet somehow none of that seemed to matter as much anymore. All Katryna really wanted was her father to stop hurting. An end to all this suffering.
One way or another.
Chapter 23 - Lost
The last few days of riding from Winterglade had passed like a blur in Tomas’s mind. The horses trudged through the mud and snows of the country roads. The days were barren, and the nights had become bitter. He spent his time mulling over his decisions the past several weeks.
Leaving his home for a war he had no understanding of. He knew his father would have been furious at him for his decision. A part of him wanted nothing more than to return home, to what he knew. There was a comfort that came from familiarity. Another part wanted the complete opposite- to never return home again.
Tomas struggled to forget the fear he had felt during the battle, freezing up like a boulder. ‘Battle shock’ is what Landry had called it. He said that it was a common thing for soldiers to experience, particularly fresh recruits. Some would wet their breeches; others flee like cowards. Some would cower and fake death, while many simply froze, as Tomas had.
The only reason Tomas had survived was Rilan, and sheer luck. He did not want luck to be the determining factor ever again.
They had practiced their sword drills with Landry each night after setting up camp, and that was helping to strengthen his constitution.
Old man Hemish would stumble in to help train sometimes. He seemed to enjoy taking on the teaching role, as he kept coming back and would bestow a sense of enthusiasm on Tomas and Rilan.
The old man was somewhat slow and stiff when he moved, yet he was able to maintain smooth form and flow with each swing, strike, and parry that he demonstrated with his sword.
Tomas was growing more anxious of late, however. The plan was for the company to head for the town of Hollowhill to resupply and spend the night. From there, they would go through the Darkwood straight on to Mooncrest Mountain and the Grand Repository.
However, several miles out from Hollowhill, Captain Gharland spotted rising pillars of black, billowing smoke in t
he distance across the muddy plain they were crossing.
More and more, they came across bands of peasants and refugees escaping, heading back the way they had come for Winterglade.
A battalion of around two hundred soldiers, battered, bruised, and bloodied, then came fleeing away from the smoke of Hollowhill with many hundreds of townspeople following.
“Soldiers, who is in charge?” Gharland shouted.
“Hollowhill is lost,” one soldier said as he ran past, his lip split open and leaking blood like a broken pipe.
“The captain asked a question,” Lieutenant Britus growled to the fleeing soldiers, his eyebrow twitching.
Most soldiers ignored them, skirting around the group like they were nothing. They just wanted to get away, Tomas realised. He could see the fear in their eyes and their determination to escape.
In the distance, Tomas heard the clashing of swords and steel and the wails of men dying. Those who fought on, trying to protect Hollowhill, most likely. With so many soldiers retreating and most of the town on fire, it seemed like a futile effort.
The air became choked with smoke, embers, and ash. The night-time was alight from the glow of hundred-foot flames in the distance.
There were other noises emanating over the dead plains too. Some that were familiar; others were unnatural shrieks of pain and desperation.
It gave Tomas chills. The company discussed what the horrific noises were.
“Animals, most likely,” Smiling John stated. “Probably trapped in the town, burning.”
Tomas realised that he had heard identical noises during his childhood, from behind his father’s butcher shop. It made him feel sick to his core.
“I’ve heard horses scream like that before when you cut their throat,” Ref snickered, finding the thought amusing.
Gharland ignored their conversation, still trying to get information from the escaping soldiers.
“Who is in charge?!” Gharland repeated, growing angrier by the second.
Another soldier stopped at Gharland’s request. “We don’t know, ser,” he said shakily. “Lieutenant Jania commanded the forces, ser, b-but he’s dead. Spear straight through the heart, they say. The Akurai attacked us by surprise! Broke straight through our defences.”
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