Whenever a council meeting was called, the servants came as well. They were frantically moving from person to person, filling their goblets with red wine. Firion waited until they were finished before beginning.
“As some of you may know, we are on the brink of war.” Audible gasps filled the room. Each member of the council turned their full attention to the King. Some of them nervously grasped for their wine, filling their mouths with the comforting liquid. Captain Theodoric seemed to be the only one not stricken by this news. He already knew.
“Who is attacking?” A man by the name of Charles asked. He had once been advisor to Firion’s father but was removed from that position when Firion became King. But Firion kept him on the council for his vast knowledge of the realm and its various leaders and politicians.
“Everyone.” Firion replied. He leaned forward, placing most of his weight on his arms for support. “Lord Ivran Cassius of Ylia has started a new rebellion. They are gathering their forces even as we speak. They will launch an attack on Axendra very soon.”
Charles interrupted; “I know Lord Ivran Cassius. I’ve met the man several times. He does not seem to me the type to start wars.”
“Then you must be a very poor judge of character.” The King said in fury, swiping up his goblet and slumping into his chair as he drank the wine.
Charles said nothing else. He turned to his wine goblet and drank as well, avoiding the King’s gaze.
“The city must be informed of the impending danger. But first, Captain Theodoric, I expect the gates to be well guarded and secure. No one goes in and no one goes out. As of this moment, our city is closed to all. Once the citizens are informed, I expect the army to be in preparation.”
“You want to keep everyone locked inside the city so no one runs?” Captain Theodoric asked.
It was obvious to Firion that Theodoric lacked Rhada’s wit. She would never have been so blunt in revealing his true intentions to the council. Though he was keeping the people of Axendra prisoner so none of the young men could run from their duties as soldiers, they did not have to know.
“For their safety.” Firion replied angrily, giving Theodoric a look that suggested he should keep his mouth shut. Though the man was nearly twice the King’s size in bulk, he cowered at Firion’s gaze.
“The gates are to remain closed to everyone except the High Protector. Should she return she is to be permitted admittance. Which brings me to my next order of business; she needs to be found.”
Everyone sat quietly, eyeing their neighbor or staring at the King, patiently waiting for him to continue.
“Captain, I need you to send out two of your fastest riders. The High Protector and Captain Mayvard left over a month ago on a mission to Tyos. If everything went smoothly there, they should be on their return journey and not too far away from Axendra.”
“Then why must I send riders to find her?”
The King wanted to throw his goblet at Theodoric. Rhada never asks this many questions when she is commanded to do something.
“If she befell some ill luck, I need to know about it.
‘They must take the main road west, through South Fort and then north. If they have to go all the way to Tyos, then so be it. I need her found!”
“Yes, Majesty.” Theodoric replied.
“Do you have men in mind for the task?”
“Of course.” Theodoric spun his wine goblet in his hand but never took a drink.
“Good. Be quick about it then. We haven’t much time. I want you marching north with the army by sundown.”
“Marching north? By sundown?” Theodoric nearly tipped his wine goblet over in surprise. The rest of the council looked just as surprised. Charles was squeezing his hands together nervously.
“Where is it you would like me to take the army, your Grace?” Theodoric asked.
“To Bhrys. You are to enter the city as guests, so long as they do not oppose you. I want that Sorceress, Omylia, to see that she has no other option than to send her aid to us. You are to make a show of our power and strength, but do not use it unless necessary.”
“You mean to intimidate the Sorceress into submission?” Charles asked with an air of fury. The King did not care if Charles disagreed. He would do what was necessary to ensure their victory.
“That is exactly what I intend to do.” There were nervous glances from the council but none of them spoke. Only Charles had the courage to say something.
“Are we truly that desperate for allies?”
“I would remind you that Bhrys is our ally and always has been. But under new leadership, one can never assume their true intentions. I am simply reminding Omylia of her late Lady’s allegiance and showing her what will befall her city should she not honor that alliance.”
“But, Majesty…” Charles began.
“Enough!” King Firion shouted. He stood from his chair once more. He was done answering questions. He wondered when it became permissible for his council to question their King. “If you do not like it, you may leave.”
“And where would I go? You’ve barred the gates.”
“To the dungeons, if you so desire!” The King snapped his fingers and two sentries standing guard of the door stepped forward.
Charles’s expression became grim. He raised his hands in defense and shook his head, turning his panicked eyes back to the King.
“Forgive me, Majesty. I agree with your plan and will not question you!” The man was practically in tears, which made Firion grin.
He waved his guards away and gestured towards the door. “You are all excused. I expect each of you to help the Captain with his tasks.” There were mumbles of acceptance from the council as they hastily shuffled out the doors. Captain Theodoric bowed to the King before leaving the council chamber.
King Firion sat down to finish his wine. He suddenly felt panic building up inside of him, doubting that Theodoric would be quick enough getting to Bhrys and back. And what if Bhrys attacks when they arrive? The Sorceress’s forces would be outnumbered, but they could hole themselves up in their city for months with no way of my forces breaking through. And by then, Ivran will have invaded Axendra. I am leaving myself vulnerable. What if he attacks while the army is away?
Firion did not notice his hand shaking as he reached for his wine. He closed his eyes and heard the sound of his heart beating furiously in his chest. Fear had taken hold of him. He had not felt fear in many years. It was unfamiliar to him and he did not know how to react. He tilted his head back and threw the wine into the back of his throat. When he opened his eyes, he was seeing the world through a new light.
Why do they want to attack? Have I truly done so much to wrong their lives? They want me dead! They want to kill me! Firion’s head began to swim. He suddenly felt like a child, lost in a sea of darkness. He wrapped his arms across his chest and began slowly rocking back and forth; his entire body shaking in fright.
What have I done? What have I done? The words kept flowing through his thoughts with no answer in sight. He knew what he had done, but his memory was becoming hazy, like a dream long forgotten.
He was a child, standing in the streets of Axendra, waving to the people who had come to see their Prince. His father was there next to him. He could not see him but he could feel his presence.
There was a woman in the crowd. Her eyes met Firion’s and locked him in her gaze. Her eyes were green and sparkling and dangerous. He stopped waving. He felt heavy, weighted down by the terrifying gaze.
Footsteps from behind pulled him from his trance. Soft hands were wrapped around his shoulders and the Queen was whispering into his ear.
“Everything will be all right, my King. Your subjects will stay in line. They will protect you.”
King Firion forgot his panic. His heart slowed and his breathing returned to normal. He sat up taller, forgetting the child from his past completely. Only he and his Queen existed.
“Of course.” He said, stroking her cheek with his palm. She lea
ned forward and they kissed passionately for several moments.
“There is nothing to worry about.” She said when they parted.
“I am not worried. It is Omylia who should be worried.” He stood and reached for his goblet. A nervous servant stepped away from the wall, having never been excused from the chamber. She refilled his glass with shaking hands, having witnessed the King’s moment of weakness. She was afraid he would punish her for standing idly by and doing nothing. But the King did not seem to care, or even remember his break-down. He thanked her and turned away, leading his Queen to their bed chamber where they could be alone.
Chapter 3
Omylia Roysa sat with her legs folded and her head tilted down towards the hard, cold ground upon which she was seated. Her hands clutched tightly to the leather-bound book she had retrieved from the shelf earlier that day. The read was nothing of special interest to her- folk stories about ancient monsters that dwelled in caves and tormented the villages below, but the reading did help take her mind off her current situation.
She was huddled in a small corner of the room, clinging to the last bit of sunlight that seeped through her window. The orange, ominous glow of the dying sun made the tiny, scripted words on the page seem blurred and far away, but she squinted her eyes and brought the book as close to her face as she could.
At that moment, she was reading about Terrgoth, the evil troll who lived in a cave, buried somewhere in the Forest of Nis. Terrgoth, so the legend said, was a prince from Axendra whose evil deeds brought a curse upon his head. The Witch from Nid cast a spell to rip his soul from his nearly perfect body and into the body of a nasty troll. The prince found himself unable to make up for his misdeeds and disappeared into the forest, not to be heard of until two-hundred years later when he had quite forgotten his past and allowed the witless troll-mind to take over. He stormed into Nid at night and stole children right from their beds as they were lost in slumber. He would take them back to his hole where he would make a snack of them.
It was the Witch, who had transformed herself into a young maid, who fooled the town into storming the forest with their pickaxes, pitchforks and torches. Though there were many of them, they were no match for the horrid troll.
The twist of the story, which Omylia already knew, was that the Witch was Terrgoth’s evil twin sister who had been cast out of Axendra by her father for having magical powers. Terrgoth was never informed of his sister’s existence and lived his life in ignorance and harmony. His father could not think higher of Terrgoth. He was a model of perfection- a strong and charismatic young man who stole and carelessly threw aside the heart of any girl that passed his way. The Witch could transform herself into a maiden, posing as a servant of the castle so she may watch Terrgoth and her father. She grew jealous of the life she could have lived. So she took the perfect son away from her selfish father and turned him into an abomination.
Omylia’s hands began to shake, perhaps from excitement over the climaxing plot or from starvation, she could never tell, and as they shook, the words on the page began to dance before her eyes and set her head to spinning. She found herself quite incapable of reading any longer and pulled the book away from her face. She closed her eyes a moment and imagined the room was not spinning- that she was safe on the ground and sedentary.
It was then that she heard the sound of horse hooves pounding into the ground below. She opened her eyes once more and sat up taller, wondering who might be approaching the small castle of Bhrys. She stood slowly as to avoid setting her head to spinning again and pulled herself to the window where she could peer out at the approaching rider.
He was a tall man with dark, flowing hair and even from her second-story window, Omylia could see the glimmer of his dark eyes and the small grin that spread across his face as he approached.
His name was Hanley Gallien. He had been Lady Ashryn’s personal guard since she was a babe learning to walk. And even though his age was far above Omylia’s, his heart and his features were stuck in youth.
Despite Omylia’s predicament and the cramps she suffered from being stuffed in such a tight place, she found a smile slowly spread across her lips at the return of her dear friend. She felt the rumble beneath her of the portcullis as it was hastily pulled open to allow Hanley admittance.
Even after he disappeared from her view beneath the barbican, Omylia stayed at her window, watching for any other riders that may be approaching. It wasn’t until she felt the vibration and heard the loud roar of the gate as it was being closed that she was satisfied no one else would be returning.
Omylia eased her grip on the windowsill and allowed her body to slump down onto the cold ground. Even though she had stopped reading, her grip was firm on the book still in her hand and she clutched it tightly to her chest as she stared at the wooden door before her.
It is all happening as I had predicted. Hanley has returned without Lady Ashryn or Protector Zane. Soon, very soon, that door will open and I shall be free. It did not take long before Omylia heard footsteps approaching. She dropped the book without noticing as she slowly stood, trying to rub the stiffness from her legs as she did so. She stood up tall and pulled the loose strands of her stringy, unwashed hair away from her face and tried her hardest to smile as the door was flung open.
There he stood, clean shaven and shining. Omylia suddenly felt a pang of shame as she stood before him, dirty and unkempt and she thought she had caught a whiff of the pit of her arm as she was standing. She told herself to keep her arms down in his presence.
Hanley stood idly in the doorway; a silhouette against the light outside her room. Omylia lifted a hand to shield her sensitive eyes from the light of the hallway spilling in through the now open door. It had been so long since she had seen firelight; she thought she would go blind. As soon as Hanley stepped into the room, however, his large, broad figure blocked the blinding light and she lowered her hand with a smile.
“My dearest!” Hanley said with obvious relief at the sight of her and he rushed forward and wrapped his warm arms around her. No matter how hard she tried, Omylia could not stop the tears that flowed down her cheeks.
“I am so sorry.” Hanley whispered into her ear and Omylia buried her head into his shoulder.
“Tis no fault of yours.” She whispered back.
Once Omylia got her tears under control, she pushed away from Hanley and smiled warmly at him.
“Come. I should very much like to rescue you from this horrid room!” Hanley said, taking her hand and leading her out into the hallway.
Omylia allowed Hanley to lead her towards the common room. Once there, she stopped and pulled her hand free from his grasp.
Hanley turned to look at her questioningly. “Come, Omylia. As soon as I arrived I ordered a large feast for two be made. You must be famished!”
“Oh, I am.” She agreed as her stomach began to growl from the smell of roasting duck wafting through the corridors. “But I am very much in need of washing and a change of clothes. Wait for me. I shall return in no time.” She smiled once more before turning and heading towards the stairs that led up to her third-story room.
When Omylia stepped foot into her room for the first time in weeks, she let out a small, satisfied sigh of relief. She stood in the center of the room and stretched her arms out as wide as they could possibly go. She reached with her fingertips and smiled with the sensation of finally being able to stretch without a wall blocking her. She laughed aloud and wrapped her arms tightly around her body and spun to see her bed. It looked just as she had left it, though she was quite certain the maid had been fluffing the pillows in case she returned.
Omylia shuffled closer until she stood at the foot of the bed then leaned forward and allowed herself to fall face-first into the soft mattress. Without lifting her head, she reached her arms up and grasped the blankets tightly, pulling them closely to her before spinning onto her back and wrapping herself in their warmth.
She could not help the tears of joy that
trickled down her face and she could not fight the feeling of exhaustion that overcame her. It hit her the moment she fell into the bed and soon her eyes fluttered shut, and though she had promised to dine with Hanley, she did not even try to fight the sleep taking hold of her.
Omylia sat up with a start and gasped for air. She clutched at her chest, which felt as though it had tightened during her sleep and suspended any air from reaching her lungs. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing- taking in deep, concentrated breaths then letting them out slowly until the tightness vanished. It was only then that she heard the splash of water and the stomping of feet next to her.
Omylia opened her eyes and saw, for the first time, that night had fallen and her maid had lit all the candles in her room. She peered over at the elderly woman whose name she could never remember, and watched as she poured another bucket of steaming water into the tub. She set the bucket on the floor and wiped the sweat from her brow, clearly having trouble handling such a heavy burden at her age. When she turned and saw Omylia awake, she pointed at the tub and said; “water is warm for you.”
Omylia hastily pulled the blankets away and stood. “I have no time for a bath. I must speak with Hanley at once!” She raced to her wardrobe and yanked a robe from its hanger. She managed to get one arm through the sleeve before reaching the door and throwing it open. She flung herself into the hallway and began to run as quickly as she could towards the common room, pulling the robe over her other arm as she did so. She never heard the angry scoff the maid threw in her direction as Omylia fled from the new bath she had spent hours making.
When she reached the common room, she slowed her pace and entered to find Hanley sitting next to the hearth. His eyes gazed at the blaze before him without really seeing the flames- though they reflected brilliantly in his eyes, his vision remained unaware of their existence.
“Hanley!” Omylia shouted as she approached. Her raised voice startled him out of his daze and he turned his head in anger until he saw it was Omylia. His eyes softened once more and he smiled warmly at her.
Rise of Darkness (The Watchers Book 2) Page 3