“I’ve sent for refreshments.” The baron gestured to the table. “Please, sit down. I’m sure it’s no short trip from Landale, even with dragons.”
Trask thanked him, and they all found seats around the table. Jace claimed one next to Kyrin. She offered him a brief smile, but the look in her eyes said she was still thinking about what she must have seen on his face. One of these days, she would start questioning him.
Baron Thomas and General Mason took seats across from Trask, who said, “We heard at the fortress that King Balen is here.”
Baron Thomas nodded. “He is in the fields. I sent for him as soon as I received your message. I’m sure he’ll be here shortly. No doubt he spotted your arrival. That sort of thing would be hard to miss, especially these days. Everyone is on edge.”
“We noticed the burned villages on the way here,” Trask said. “I’m terribly sorry.”
Thomas sighed heavily, his worry lines deepening. “It is a tragedy. Many lives were lost, and more and more wounded show up every day. We tried to warn people to come back behind our borders, but how could they just leave their homes? I don’t blame them for staying.” He paused, a look of resignation settling in his expression. “I assume, especially coming with such a large company, that you do not bring good news.”
Trask shook his head. “I’m afraid not, but we do hope we can help.”
For the next half hour, Trask, the baron, and Mason discussed the developments in Arcacia. The two men took the news with grim acceptance, neither one of them surprised. How could they be, with the steps Daican had already taken to attack them? The villagers in Samara should have heeded the warnings, but hadn’t Jace wanted to stay at the farm after Kalli and Aldor died? This was no different.
The hall doors creaked open a short time later, and everyone looked up.
Baron Thomas pushed up from his chair. “My lord.”
The others rose as well to get their first look at the king. He was tall and strong, matching Jace closely in height and build, and no more than ten years Jace’s senior. His stature befitted a king, but that was as far as his appearance of royalty went. Perspiration dampened his forehead and the strands of shoulder-length, dark blond hair that fell from the rest he had tied back behind his head. At least a couple of days’ worth of stubble darkened his jaw, and dirt smudged his skin and sweat-darkened shirt. When Baron Thomas said the king was in the fields, Jace had assumed he meant inspecting them, not working them.
The young king’s gaze swept over the group. He could have fooled anyone into thinking he was nothing more than an ordinary farmer or woodsman, but the keen look in his pale blue eyes spoke of something deeper than his simple, rugged appearance.
Baron Thomas stepped forward and promptly introduced Trask. Brushing a rough hand on his dusty pants, Balen offered it to Trask.
“Welcome to Samara,” the king greeted, his tone deep and rich, yet not as refined as Baron Thomas’s. He took time to look at each of them. “All of you.”
They nodded, and Trask thanked him.
“Please, forgive my delay,” Balen said. “We had but one more row to finish.”
Trask shook his head, waving off the apology. “The baron has made us all very comfortable. The hospitality of Westing surpasses that of many in Arcacia.”
“Good.” Balen’s face sobered. “So you bring word of Emperor Daican?”
Trask nodded.
“Is it war?”
“Yes, my lord, unfortunately.”
Balen released a slow breath, letting this news settle with the same somber acceptance as the baron and general.
“But we also bring detailed information of the emperor’s plans that may help you hold him off,” Trask added quickly.
Balen’s expression lifted. “I’m anxious to hear it. And now, if you’ll excuse me to clean up, I’ll be back shortly to discuss it.”
“Of course.”
As the king left the hall, everyone resumed their seats. No one spoke for a moment or two. Jace still had to get used to the idea of royalty out tilling the fields. To think of the emperor doing such a thing was laughable, but Balen was clearly no ordinary king. Jace looked over at Kyrin, who looked just as surprised. He would have liked to know what she thought of Samara’s unique king.
The king returned less than twenty minutes later. Though he had changed, his attire was no more regal than before. Just sturdy linen and a simple leather jerkin. Kyrin had met her share of nobles and royalty, but King Balen was nothing like she had expected. He didn’t even seem like a king at all, yet his humility was refreshing. If only Emperor Daican had half as much.
When he reached the table, Baron Thomas rose to give him the seat directly across from Trask.
“Thank you,” he murmured before his serious gaze focused on Trask. “So what is the emperor’s plan concerning Samara?”
Trask laid out all that they knew of Daican’s coming invasion, including how they had come by the information and what Leetra had seen of the gathering forces at Fort Rivor. Near the end, he slid a stack of parchments across the table.
“These are the copies Kyrin made of Daican’s letters. As far as we know without being able to see the letters Rothas sent in reply, they contain all the details for their attack.”
Balen fingered through the letters, scanning the pages before handing them to Mason. He looked at Kyrin.
“Miss Altair, I thank you for the risk you took to secure this information for us. Without it, we would have been ill-prepared for a surprise attack on our capital.”
“I hope it is enough to stop Daican from expanding his rule beyond Arcacia.” She lowered her voice. “He’s done enough harm already.”
Balen spoke gently in reply. “I know of your loss, and I am sorry.” His ruggedly handsome face displayed deep and genuine remorse.
“Thank you,” Kyrin replied, holding her emotions in check. It wouldn’t do to get weepy now, especially when an entire country was in peril.
His gaze returned to Trask. “You’ve all done an admirable thing by coming here when you clearly have enough trouble at home.”
“As Kyrin said, we all hope that with Elôm’s help we can stop Daican. After all, Elôm has not yet allowed Samara to fall to an enemy force.”
At these words, Balen hung his head as if weighed down by a heavy burden. “That is true of more faithful generations, but I fear for this one.” He looked up. “It pains me to say the great faith Samara once had is failing. Many have turned to the worship of Aertus and Vilai, or ceased believing altogether. I’ve done all I can to steer the people back to true faith, but to no avail. I fear what it will take to gain their attention.”
Kyrin glanced around at everyone’s somber faces. Now was when the people most needed to turn to Elôm. She prayed Elôm would overlook Samara’s faithlessness and still give them victory over Daican. To think of Samara falling, after how hard they were trying to save it, left a slight burn of indignation towards those who had abandoned the faith that had kept them safe all these many years.
“I believe the greatest assets we have available to us right now are prayer and preparation,” Baron Thomas said.
Balen agreed. “We already have almost half our forces stationed around Amberin. We can send the men from the northern outposts to aid them and ready the fleet.” He turned to Mason. “Do you believe we have enough men here to defend Stonehelm?”
Mason gave a firm nod. “It would take more than a half-hearted attempt by the emperor to breach the fortress. If we’re not facing the full power of Arcacia, then I believe the garrison we have now will be sufficient.”
“Your greatest concern will be firedrakes,” Trask said.
Balen turned back to him. “Those are the beasts that destroyed the villages?”
“Yes. Somehow the emperor has discovered how to crossbreed dragons and cave drakes, resulting in these hybrid firedrakes.” Trask grimaced. “A group of cretes, about eight of them that we know of for sure, have joined the emperor
for reasons unknown to us. They are led by a crete named Falcor Tarn.”
Kyrin glanced down at Leetra. The young woman’s eyes turned icy at the mention of her former fiancé. None of them had completely gotten over his betrayal and the consequences of it.
“From what we’ve been able to gather,” Trask continued, “Falcor has been training an army of men to ride the firedrakes. We believe he has about sixty of them ready for combat.”
“Sixty?” Balen repeated. It was no small number for them to try to defend against, especially when they had never faced such a foe before. “Do they have any weaknesses?”
Trask deferred to Talas, nodding for his input.
Talas leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “If you’ve witnessed them, then you have seen they are nearly twice the size of our dragons and more heavily armored. We faced a small group of them in Valcré last winter. They are fast enough to keep up with our dragons in a straight flight path, but cannot maneuver as quickly. Like any flying creature, their wings are the most vulnerable. Take away their ability to fly, and you take away most of their power.”
“How do you propose we fight them?” Mason asked.
“Unfortunately, arrows would be nearly useless against them, but we don’t intend for you to have to fight them.” Talas motioned to Trask, who took over once more.
“We have brought along our dragon riders to help. There are twenty-three of them who have been training to combat the drakes. Kaden,” he nodded to him, “is their captain. We are also expecting help from the cretes. Our ally, Captain Verus Darq, left for Dorland several days ago to recruit crete riders willing to come and fight. We hope to have a flying force equal to Daican’s.”
Balen stared at them in both awe and relief. No doubt he had feared the worst for his country, but they had brought him hope. “Your aid is more than generous.”
“Whatever fight involves Daican is our fight too,” Trask responded.
Though clearly as thankful as the king to have their aid, General Mason still wore a look of concern. “These firedrakes; what can we do if they decide to attack the villages within our border before we have a large enough force to face them?”
“Well, we would certainly try to stop them, but if Daican wanted to use them to destroy your villages, he would have done it already.” Trask rested back in his chair. “Daican is cunning. The destroyed villages were likely a show of strength. I’m sure he wants you to surrender without much of a fight. He wants to rule Samara, not destroy it. It wouldn’t benefit him to wreak havoc here unless it was needed to defeat you.”
Mason nodded in acceptance of this, and Balen turned to him.
“We must get word to Amberin to the queen.”
This was the first Kyrin had heard of any queen, and there was no indication of Balen being married. Now she would have liked to know a bit more about Samara’s recent history. She had learned little of the country while at Tarvin Hall, considering its long history of faith in Elôm. Perhaps Rayad or Trask could tell her more later.
“I’ll go over these letters,” Mason said, “and have someone sent to Amberin to prepare the defense there.”
“Yes, good,” Balen replied.
Trask leaned forward to gain their attention. “Might I suggest doing this quietly? If we can maintain the element of surprise and keep Daican from realizing that we are aware of his plans, it could work in our favor. He may have spies within your border, so you could use the attacks on the villages as an excuse to fortify without it being known that it’s directly to counter the emperor.”
Mason agreed. “I’ll see to it that only our most trusted captains are aware until the rest of our forces need to know. And the queen, of course. We’ll have to take extra precautions to see that she is secure.”
Now that their plans were set in motion, Balen stood and addressed them all as a group. “Please, let me show you to rooms where you may rest before supper.”
Sliding back their chairs, they all followed him. This was something Kyrin would have expected a servant to do, but Balen showed no aversion to it. Again, it was as if he had no royal standing and was just an ordinary man.
He led them to a long hall on the second floor of the castle, gesturing to the closed doors. “Use as many rooms as you need. There is a sitting room at the end of the hall.” He turned to Trask. “Do you want me to send for the rest of your men?”
“Thank you, but we’ll be heading down there for our things anyway.”
“Do you need help or a wagon?”
Trask smiled. “I think we’ll manage. Is it all right for us to leave our dragons outside the village? They’ll stay where we command them, but we don’t want to cause any discomfort or fear among the villagers, considering the attacks.”
“That will be fine. I’ll have word spread that they are not a threat, but to give them space. Is there anything else you need? Would you like baths drawn?”
“I think the women might appreciate that.” Trask nodded to Kyrin and Leetra. “But the rest of us can make do.”
“I’ll let the servants know and see that they bring fresh water to each of the rooms. If you need anything else, they’ll be around and I’ll be with Thomas and General Mason in the meeting hall.”
“Thank you again, my lord, for your generous hospitality.”
Once Balen had left them, they returned to the dragons to unsaddle them and gather their supplies. Kyrin pulled her unbuckled saddle off Ivy and started arranging her things on it so she could carry it all together. When she reached for one of her larger packs, Jace bent down near her.
“Let me carry it for you.”
She looked up with a smile. “Thank you.”
He only nodded, avoiding her eyes.
She watched him, even when he turned away. The deep heaviness that had been present for days resurfaced inside her. She still wanted to talk to him about the look she’d seen on his face earlier. What was going on with him? It didn’t seem to be anything like she had faced with him before. It was something deeper and darker that she couldn’t seem to find a way to fix. Why couldn’t he just let these things go and trust her and Rayad for once? Surely his mother had given him encouragement. Had he forgotten it already?
Back at the castle, they divided into their rooms. Kyrin shared one of the smaller ones with Leetra. Setting their things down in the middle of the floor, they inspected the quarters. Warm wood paneled the walls and a large window faced the south. Kyrin walked over to it, leaning on the sill to look out over the surrounding village. Everything seemed so peaceful… for now.
Servants arrived shortly with a metal tub. It took many trips to fill it several inches with warm water. Guilt pricked Kyrin about them having to lug so much water upstairs just so she and Leetra could have the luxury of a bath, but they seemed to tend their work happily. Serving such a king as Balen, that didn’t surprise her. If Daican had been like him, Kyrin would have loved her job at the palace.
When they finished, the tub half full, Kyrin looked at Leetra. The water wouldn’t stay very warm for the second person. But Leetra just waved her toward it.
“You can go first.” No great generosity softened her tone, just a simple matter-of-factness that was the norm for her.
Kyrin didn’t argue. She was getting used to the cretes’ ways by now. Stepping behind the privacy screen where the bath was set, she undressed and slipped into the water. The warmth felt good, and she would appreciate being clean after sleeping on the ground for several nights. She grabbed a bar of soap that was scented lightly with sweet-smelling herbs and scrubbed herself and her hair that was well past her shoulders now. It was still not long enough to be rid of the stigma of shame back in Arcacia, but at least it was easier to hide now.
Kyrin didn’t linger in the tub. She wanted to leave some warm water for Leetra. After drying off, she changed into a clean outfit. There hadn’t been room for anything fancy, but she put on one of her best embroidered linen shirts and leggings, and a soft suede ove
rdress. Normally, she’d feel out of place among royalty in such garb, but that wouldn’t be a factor here. In fact, leather seemed prominent in Samaran fashion, so she would fit right in.
Running her fingers through her wet hair, Kyrin stepped around the screen and stopped. Leetra perched on the footboard of one of the beds and tossed a length of rope over one of the beams in the ceiling. Then she jumped down soundlessly and proceeded to hang up her sleeping hammock. Hands on her hips, she nodded in satisfaction.
Aside from when they traveled and slept on the ground, Kyrin had yet to see Leetra sleep anywhere but her hammock. Even when the dead of winter had forced her inside from her usual spot in the trees, she had hung her hammock in the rafters of Lenae’s cabin.
“The bath is all yours,” Kyrin said, overlooking the crete’s seemingly odd habits. Nothing would surprise her anymore, especially when it came to Leetra.
Leetra grabbed her pack and stepped behind the screen while Kyrin walked around to the other bed. She sat down on the edge and leaned back, sinking into the soft pillows with a sigh. She would be content to stay right here until suppertime.
The sun was close to setting when Kyrin joined the men and followed them down to the dining room that evening. Burgundy cloths draped two long tables that were set with pewter- ware to accommodate all of them. The candles on two grand chandeliers overhanging each table flickered, giving the room a warm glow. Balen and Baron Thomas waited near the door for them, along with a third man about the same age as the baron. Though his hair was mostly white, his eyes were as clear and observant as a man half his age. A kind smile wrinkled his face as they drew near.
Balen met them and motioned to the older man. “I’d like to introduce you to an old friend and counselor of mine, Josef. He’s our physician and would-be scholar if he were not so good in medicine.”
Josef greeted them all in a warm and friendly way that Kyrin found most endearing. The king’s fondness for him was understandable. He had a gentleness about him that would put anyone at ease—a valuable quality to have as a physician.
Samara's Peril (Ilyon Chronicles Book 3) Page 23