“You?!” a Councilor sputtered. “They’d rip you apart as soon as you left the gates! You murdered their king in the last war.”
“They can certainly try,” I replied, lips spreading dangerously.
All four Councilors silenced their objections, considering.
“Councilor Reive, you know this is the best course of action,” I turned to the man who actually made the decisions. “I’m essentially expendable, and I’ve loved ones behind these walls to prevent me from joining with Arivor in his well-deserved attempt at revenge.”
I couldn’t help the tiny jab at the man I despised most in the world.
Councilor Reive inclined his head in assent.
“I give you leave to attempt to negotiate with my nephew,” he replied with his own hate filled eyes boring into mine.
He’d probably be overjoyed if the humans found a way to kill me.
“Wonderful!” I exclaimed sarcastically. “I’ll leave at dusk.”
Raimie wrenched Silverblade from its scabbard and advanced on the military man threateningly.
“Step away from my grandfather,” he commanded, voice dropping in pitch.
“I see what you mean, Eledis,” the stranger commented. “He’s grown up quite nicely. He has the proper carriage and demeanor now. With training, he could at least look like a king.”
Angry at the apparent lack of concern, Raimie shoved the military man against the wall.
“I told you to get away from him,” he growled.
The stranger deliberately kept his hands away from his weapons and gestured frantically at the old man seated in the center of the room.
“Eledis!” he squeaked. “A little help here?”
Behind Raimie, his grandfather laughed.
“Let him go, grandson. He’s our means of escape.”
Raimie immediately loosened his hold and backed away, sheathing Silverblade. He bowed slightly, clasping the sword’s plain scabbard to his thigh.
“My apologies, sir.”
The stranger eyed him doubtfully.
“You really need to teach him about propriety and how to handle those of lesser rank,” he muttered before addressing Raimie. “Please don’t bow to me, Your Majesty. It’s your right to discipline me in whatever way you deem fit.”
Raimie hesitantly rose, put off by the military man’s words. Your Majesty? That wasn’t a title that should ever be applied to him.
“Who are you?” he asked, taking in the crisp uniform.
Eledis joined the stranger by the wall.
“This is my good friend- wait, what are you calling yourself nowadays?”
“Marcuset,” the stranger mumbled with a flush.
“Really?” Eledis wrinkled his nose. “Interesting choice. This is Marcuset.”
“He’s helping you with escape plans?” Raimie asked.
“We’ve been meeting on and off since your arrival in Daira, Your Majesty,” Marcuset acknowledged with a bow.
Raimie frowned at the honorific.
“I hope your plans are ready because we need to leave now.”
He started to the door. There was no need to pack. He carried everything he owned on him, and he’d no idea where his confiscated belongings had ended up.
“And why is that?” Eledis asked, unmoving.
Raimie growled with frustration.
“I found evidence that the Queen grows weary of our presence while in her chambers this night,” he said shortly. “It intimated that the threat of execution is now a stark reality. I thought we should get out before Kaedesa tightens security on us.”
“What exactly were you doing in ‘desa’s chambers?” Marcuset asked in a carefully controlled tone.
“I was looking for Shadowsteal, of course,” Raimie cocked his head at the other’s tenseness. “I’d hoped to both intrigue the Queen and retrieve the weapon with the excursion.”
Eledis and Marcuset relaxed, leaving Raimie baffled at their previous agitation.
“How did you get out of your room unseen?” Marcuset asked curiously.
Raimie pointed at the window which was still cracked open from when he’d departed earlier.
“Can we please go?” he asked, itching to get out of Daira as quickly as possible.
Marcuset opened the window fully and peered down the sheer drop to the ground.
“How?” he asked, turning back to the young man with wide eyes.
“Do I really need to answer that question now?” Raimie asked, exasperation finally rearing its head. “I wasn’t exactly subtle getting out of the Queen’s chambers. Someone will sound the alarm soon, so unless you’ve some way of stopping the palace guards we should go. Now.”
“I do actually,” Marcuset said. “Have a way to stop the guards that is.”
It was Raimie’s turn to display confusion. He turned it on Eledis.
“He’s the commander of the entirety of Queen Kaedesa’s armed forces,” the old man answered nonchalantly.
“Ah.”
That explained the calm the men featured.
“And the two of you are friends?” Raimie asked dubiously.
Completely discounting the men’s ages–one getting on in years and the other about halfway through life–there was the small matter of distance. Their homes lay on separate sides of the kingdom. And of course, there was their opposite standing in class. Eledis may be of the Audish line of kings, but for years, he’d been nothing but a farmer. Compared to a military man of such high rank, he was nothing.
“Your father and I didn’t always live in a backwater province at the edge of the Queen’s realm,” Eledis said as if reading his grandson’s mind.
“And I wasn’t always stuck at the capital managing soldiers,” Marcuset concluded, quickly moving on before Raimie could ask more questions. “He does make a good point, my friend. My troops’ movements won’t escape ‘desa’s notice much longer, especially with the amount of scrutiny you two will soon be under. We should accelerate our plans.
“But we don’t have Shadowsteal!” Eledis protested.
“And I’m not sure we can get it!” Marcuset countered. “The Queen’s hidden it impossibly well. Even that incessant ringing Shadowsteal emanates hasn’t led me to it. Besides if all the stories are true, it’ll make its way back to him sooner or later.”
Raimie watched the exchange with fascination. Eledis never spoke to anyone with respect. His air of superiority enfolded him like armor, and yet, this man had found a chink in it.
At Marcuset’s final declaration, both he and Eledis turned their gaze on Raimie, and he pulled away from the attention.
“Plus there’s always the elusive Teron to consider,” he added in a small voice, hoping the mention of his grandfather’s feared adversary would further prompt the old man to leave.
Both Eledis and Marcuset blanched.
“Come,” the commander said, clearing his throat, “I believe it’s time to leave Queen Kaedesa’s care.”
He flung the door open and stepped back at the sight of the collapsed guard on the other side.
“Your Majesty, did you do this?” Marcuset asked hesitantly.
“Is he one of yours?”
Eledis approached the guard to check his pulse.
Marcuset’s nod was barely perceptible.
“Don’t bother, Eledis. He’s fine,” Raimie said. “It was faster to knock him out than to sneak around him, so that’s what I did.”
“Unconscious,” Marcuset murmured with relief. “Thank Alouin.”
He bent over the guard and smacked his face repeatedly until the man roused.
“Get up, soldier. We’re leaving.”
“Yes, sir,” the guard groggily replied as he attempted to stand.
His eyes fell on Raimie, and he froze.
“You!” he exclaimed. “You came out of thin air…”
“You didn’t hit your head on the way down. I made sure of that,” Raimie painted confusion over the panic on his face, “but maybe I p
unched you too hard? I couldn’t have been fast enough to make you think I appeared from nowhere.”
The question hung, begging the guard to make the correct conclusion. Fortunately, the man’s confusion allowed the suggestion to take root. He clutched a hand to his forehead.
“Yes,” he said, standing unsteadily. “Yes, that must be it.”
“Soldier!” Marcuset barked. “Is that the proper way to address our long awaited leader?”
Startled, the man snapped to attention.
“No, sir, it’s not!” he bowed deeply. “I beg your forgiveness, Your Majesty.”
“Would you all please stop calling me that?” Raimie exclaimed with exasperation. “I’m not a damn noble or a king.”
The guard rose uncertainly, looking to Marcuset for guidance, and the commander shook his head.
“We’ll require an escort to the docks, soldier,” he said. “Will you join us?”
The guard saluted.
“Lead the way, sir.”
* * *
At the docks, Raimie warily watched the carriage they’d taken trundle back toward the palace. He absently rubbed the top of his head where it had repeatedly encountered the carriage’s roof.
“Grandson, let’s go!” Eledis called from up the gangplank, breaking his reverie.
Raimie trotted after the old man, carefully climbing the steep plank to the main deck of the galleon. They swiftly traversed to the front of the ship, or the forecastle as he’d discovered it was called. Thank Alouin for Kaedesa’s library with all of its books! Soldiers in navy blue uniforms bowed as the two of them passed, making his stomach squirm.
They arrived at the forecastle to overhear the tail end of the conversation between Marcuset and the ship’s captain.
“-mostly supplied. Some ships in the fleet might have to take half rations toward the end of our journey,” the captain reported, standing at attention with his arms clasped behind his back. “We have stragglers incoming from the distant forts, and those who received their orders late are trailing in, but we’re capably staffed now. Those left behind should be more than able to catch up on their own.”
“Thank you, Oswin,” Marcuset said. “It seems we’re ready to depart. I’ll leave the final preparations to you.”
The captain took notice of Raimie over the commander’s shoulder. He bowed low, murmuring that awful honorific. After an awkward moment, Marcuset subtly indicated the man could rise.
“If you’ll excuse me, honorable sirs, I’ve duties to which I must attend,” the captain said, addressing no one in particular.
He saluted Marcuset and bowed once more to Raimie and also Eledis before striding toward the main deck.
“Prepare to weigh anchor!” he bellowed to the sailors below.
“If you’ll follow me, Your – Raimie, I’ll show you to your quarters,” Marcuset said.
“That would be appreciated, but I’d rather hear our plans for retrieving our allies outside Sev at the moment.”
Marcuset laughed and turned on Raimie.
“Apologies, but what allies?” he asked, his eyes glinting. “The one who alerted the Queen to you in the first place? The Zrelnach under her command who are imprisoning the human mercenaries who joined your cause solely for the payout? No, we won’t be stopping at Sev. It’s straight to Auden for us.”
He stalked to the ladder.
“Ferin? Damn it, I knew there was a reason I didn’t like that woman,” Raimie murmured to himself before calling after Marcuset’s retreating back. “Not all of the humans who joined us in our travels were mercenaries. Some were idealistic young men who only wanted to make a difference in the world. I won’t destroy their innocence because it will be inconvenient to free them.
“Besides, I have a good friend in Sev whom I will not leave behind, and a father that I’ll need with me if he lives.”
Marcuset stopped, his shoulders tense.
“Raimie,” Eledis said beside him, “if we head straight for Auden, we can keep out of the vortex caused by the Accession Tear whereas if we go to Sev first, we’ll be heading straight into it. Sure, Blackwell Bay on which the city-state rests is a safe harbor, but the journey to get there is quite hazardous. Are you willing to put the people under Marcuset’s command in danger for two people you care for and a few untrained recruits?”
“Will anyone’s life be in imminent danger if we do as I ask?” Raimie asked Marcuset.
The commander faced him with an unreadable expression spread across his features.
“Yes,” he said quietly, “but not much more than they would on any other sea voyage.”
“Then we go to Sev first,” Raimie resolutely declared.
Marcuset’s face turned grim and determined, and he quickly advanced on the young man, drawing the sword hanging from his hip as he came closer. Raimie took a tiny step backward, his hand going for Silverblade’s hilt, but the big man only dropped to one knee. He lifted his blade above his head which he lowered.
“I, Marcuset,” the commander intoned solemnly, “commander of those men faithful to the ancient Audish kings, do swear fealty and unwavering support to Raimie, last in a long line of noble rulers and rightful claimant to the throne of Auden.”
The oath shook Raimie to his core. He’d understood intellectually that if he continued to follow prophecy’s dictates, he might, at some point, be expected to become accountable for the people in his care and under his command, for all those who swore loyalty. He hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.
His quick learning and long memory saved him from his shock. He bent over, placing his left hand over Marcuset’s right and his right on the commander’s forehead.
“I, Raimie,” he intoned, matching the commander’s sincerity, “simple farm boy chosen by forces unknown to lead, do accept Marcuset, my faithful servant’s, fealty and swear to honor and protect him with every means at my disposal.”
He rose and helped Marcuset to his feet.
“Sorry, my friend,” the commander said to Eledis after he’d sheathed his sword. “He’s going to make a better king than you. Besides, Shadowsteal chose him.”
Wait, what did he say? King? There hadn’t been anything in either oath about becoming king! Raimie opened his mouth to protest, but Marcuset spoke instead.
“If you’ll excuse me, Your Majesty, I must deliver your orders.”
He bowed shortly and made for the main deck.
“Oswin,” he yelled, “we have a new heading-”
A boom from the city’s walls interrupted the instructions followed by a splash that rocked the galleon. After a moment, Raimie rose from his crouch.
“What was that?” he shouted over a second explosion.
“That would be ‘desa’s new playthings,” Marcuset grimly replied. “I guess she figured us out. Oswin! New heading’s Sev! Make it happen now!”
He hurriedly ushered Eledis and Raimie below deck. After showing Raimie his room, Marcuset firmly commanded him to stay put and shut the door, leaving the young man alone with terror swelling at every boom and shake.
* * *
Three days later, they dropped anchor at a tiny inlet not far from Blackwell Bay. Although it provided shelter from the constant storms plaguing the ocean beyond, its small size barely allowed enough room for the full fleet.
All told, they’d confiscated several galleons, a handful of schooners and cutters, and a single sloop from the Queen’s navy as well as approximately one-fifth of her soldiers and other army and navy personnel. They’d guaranteed pursuit and swift retribution from Kaedesa with such a theft.
It was a worry for another day.
The three-day journey to Sev was, if such a thing was possible, even worse than the trip departing the city-state. Raimie attempted to assist the crew during the few calm moments between storms, but even in those times the ship didn’t buck from the waves, his roiling stomach kept him from remaining on deck for longer than a few minutes.
The navy personnel manning the g
alleon may have originally laughed at Raimie’s difficulties with obtaining his sea legs, but every time he dragged himself into the drizzling rain despite his debilitating nausea, the mirth lessened and the respect grew.
He tried not to destroy the respectability he’d built now with his poor horsemanship. They’d needed to ride in order to arrive outside Sev’s walls more quickly than the rumors of their passing.
Raimie had cringed when he’d heard the plan. He could ride a horse- he’d learned as a child from a groom passing through Fissid–, but he was awful at it. Horses always seemed to smell the fear on him and either refused to move when asked or took off unprompted.
Fortunately, Eledis was aware of the problem and had selected a mount with a gentle temperament for him. The placid mare had handled Raimie’s heavy weight with ease and mindlessly followed along behind the horse in front of her.
They’d brought along a small escort to confront Ferin and her warriors. No one was under the illusion that such a small number of navy men could hope to stand for more than a few minutes against a company of Zrelnach. They’d come simply as a notification and a warning to the woman that Raimie wasn’t dependent on her now.
Three men waited outside of camp for them to approach. One had a single arm, one was in a wheelchair, and one towered over the others. Behind them, men and women finished loading wagons and putting out fires.
Raimie spurred his horse into a gallop, Eledis shouting as he passed, and only pulled to a halt a few feet from the welcome party. He dismounted in a rush and raced to embrace his father.
Aramar squeezed his son tightly, happy laughter shaking his frame.
“Give me some space!” he exclaimed. “Let me look at you!”
Raimie relented his squeezing and backed up. Marcuset had returned his leather armor and assortment of weapons, to his eternal gratitude. He couldn’t know it without someone telling him, but wearing his armor as a second skin like he did, Raimie actually looked like a warrior, to everyone’s quiet satisfaction.
“Where’s Ferin?” he asked, his eyes hard.
The Undying Champions (The Eternal War Book 1) Page 47