Rise of Darkness (The Watchers Book 2)

by M. Lee Holmes

  And then, suddenly, as though an invisible force had drawn his eyes away, the flames disappeared from his view and all he could see was the face of the man he was trying so desperately to avoid.

  Protector Emeric’s eyes were bright and shining in the firelight. His mouth had been turned up into a permanent grin since he had arrived at camp. A thick, wool blanket was draped around his shoulders and the woman who had arrived with him had her arm wrapped around him as well. She knelt next to the fire and laughed along with the drunken men. Emeric was watching the flames, just as Lord Ivran had been, but he was listening intently to the stories being told. His smile seemed to grow ever wider and Lord Ivran found that he could take it no longer.

  He stood and began to walk away, ignoring his wife’s inquiries. He continued to walk until he could no longer hear the mindless chatter of his drunken warriors, or the mocking cackle of the flames. He walked until the darkness was so thick, he could not see within inches of his own feet and the sound of the river somewhere in the distance reached his ears.

  He stopped, closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. The cool night air filled his nostrils with the scent of burning wood and misty air. He held the breath in for as long as he could, then released it slowly back out into the night. Only when his lungs were empty did he open his eyes and stare out into the black emptiness before him.

  It was Emeric’s face that clouded his vision. The man had arrived back at camp a few days prior and Lord Ivran had been unable to rejoice in his friend’s return.

  “What happened to you?” He had asked when the girl, Valindra, had escorted Emeric to Lord Ivran’s tent.

  Emeric, who had always been so healthy and strong, was now feeble and weak. He was forced to keep his arms wrapped around the girl for support. Seeing Emeric in such a state had made Lord Ivran’s rage throb beneath his brow. He was about to call the order to charge on Axendra and tear the castle apart so that he could wrap his hands around the neck of the witch responsible, but Emeric had interrupted his thoughts.

  He begged Lord Ivran not to pry into everything that had happened to him. He wished to keep some of his dignity. “Just know that I have been kept a prisoner in the castle all this time and I certainly would have died if it weren’t for Valindra.” He turned and smiled at the young girl when he said this and Lord Ivran had seen admiration in his eyes. He knew they were in love.

  That is when Lord Ivran told Emeric that the High Protector would pay for what she had done to him. He had begun to storm off, ranting about how she would pay for everything; for fooling him into thinking she was a poor warrior’s sick wife and sneaking through his camp, for harming Protector Stanwyck and leaving him for dead. But Emeric called after him three words that made him stop in his tracks and turn in bewilderment.

  “She saved me!” Emeric stood, leaning over Valindra and staring intently into Lord Ivran’s eyes. Ivran knew that he must have had a murderous glare in his gaze because he had never seen so much fear in Emeric’s eyes as he did then.

  Lord Ivran demanded that Emeric repeat what he had just told him and Emeric did; with more detail.

  “The High Protector found me. I was being held in a back room of the castle. At first I thought she was going to end my life but she cut my bonds instead, gave me a horse and some provisions, told me where I could find your camp and sent us on our way.”

  Lord Ivran had stood in contemplation for several moments before turning and leaving his friend without even asking how his health was or if he could do anything for him. He did not need to inquire about the fate of poor Terryn; he knew the man must have perished.

  The last few days, Lord Ivran had been avoiding Emeric. Every time he saw Emeric approaching, he would turn away and quickly disappear into the crowd of his army. Emeric, still being weak as he was, was never able to catch him. Once, he had surprised Lord Ivran by approaching from behind and asked if they could speak privately. Lord Ivran declined, telling him that he was too busy with preparations and had not seen Emeric since then, not until the fire that night.

  He had been happily drinking along with his warriors until Emeric approached. As he took his place next to the fire, Lord Ivran’s joyous mood fled.

  As he stood alone in the dark, he wondered what it could be that was nagging at him. Each time he looked at Emeric’s face, he was reminded of the good deed the High Protector had done. He could not understand why Emeric was spared. Of all the men she had killed in the past, it was Emeric that she set free. Lord Ivran’s own Protector should have been one of her biggest targets. He was there, at the castle, tied up and completely at her mercy, but instead of ridding herself of one of her greatest foes, Rhada had cut the ropes that held him prisoner and sent him back to the safety of Lord Ivran’s camp.

  He could not understand it. The more he stood and pondered the question of her motive, the more confused he became. It seemed impossible that the High Protector was capable of anything other than malice. To show such mercy to an enemy was not like her.

  It was a long time before Lord Ivran admitted to himself that he could not continue to ignore his friend. No matter how troubling he found Emeric’s return to be, he was not being a true friend to him by avoiding him. He scolded himself for not showing more gratitude at his friend’s unlikely return and suddenly, he realized what it was that was bothering him.

  In his heart, he knew the true evil the High Protector was capable of. He had witnessed it with his own eyes and the tales he had heard from other men only confirmed the hatred he knew he should feel for her. He shared that hatred with the rest of the realm. For years everyone he knew had felt the same, knowing that she had never actually protected the realm as she was sworn to do. Wherever she went, a path of destruction and chaos followed and the world needed to be rid of her. Even now, Lord Ivran knew that to be true, but the sudden feeling of gratitude he felt for her had overwhelmed him so much, he had been denying its existence entirely.

  Though his feelings towards Rhada had not changed and never would, he felt ashamed for feeling grateful that she had let his friend go. She had allowed him to live and return to the life he belonged to. Not only that, she had allowed the woman that he loved to escape with him.

  Something must have happened inside the castle to make her act in such a way. He had asked himself if perhaps she had released them to spite the King. And if she had, that would mean that she and the King were at odds with one another. There is only one way to get the answers I seek, Lord Ivran realized and slowly he turned back towards camp and found Protector Emeric still sitting by the fire.

  Lord Ivran suddenly became aware of the ale still in his hand and he took a long, hard drink of the cool beverage before stepping closer to Emeric and placing a caring hand on his shoulder.

  “Forgive me, my friend, for pushing you aside these past few days. If you would still like to speak with me, then please, come with me to my tent.”

  Emeric smiled up at Lord Ivran and slowly got to his feet. He had been eating as much as he could and exercising his arms and his legs to regain some of the strength he had lost. He no longer needed Valindra’s aid to walk but she followed closely behind, just to make certain he would not fall. When they reached Lord Ivran’s tent, Valindra waited outside while the two men entered. Emeric sat in one of the soft pillow chairs that stood across from the small, empty fire pit that had not been used since it was dug out. Lord Ivran had found no need of a fire in his tent and hated the smoke that always filled his blankets and pillows. He lit a few candles for light and sat in the chair opposite Emeric.

  “Again, allow me to apologize…”

  “There is no need.” Emeric interrupted with a smile. “You have been busy. There is much to do and little time to do it in; that much I can see for myself.” Emeric brought his ale to his lips and took a slow sip.

  Lord Ivran decided not to tell Emeric that he had been avoiding him on purpose. Instead, he began with the one question that had been haunting him for the last few days.


  “Why did the High Protector help you escape?”

  Emeric’s smile faded and he shifted in his chair. He lowered his ale glass and looked to Lord Ivran with regret, rubbing nervously at the scruff of his freshly-shaven chin.

  “She would not say.”

  Lord Ivran’s shoulders slumped and disappointment filled his chest at these words. “Did you ask her?”

  “Of course I asked. I was just as curious as you are now, but she told me it did not matter.” He took another slow sip of ale and turned his gaze to the candle light. He seemed to be contemplating whether he should continue speaking or not and finally turned his gaze back to Lord Ivran.

  “I remember the High Protector differently than the woman I met the other day.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Lord Ivran asked.

  “I remember how cruel she was. I remember how harsh her eyes were and how terrified everyone was in her presence. In the times that I had met her in the past, I never once saw an ounce of compassion in her. Not like the other day.

  ‘She was not cruel and the harshness was gone from her eyes. When she looked down at me, and how pathetic I had become, she looked at me with sadness.” Emeric stopped and it seemed to Lord Ivran that he could not force himself to continue.

  “Tell me what it is you wish to say.” He encouraged and Emeric sighed before beginning again.

  “I know that she truly felt sorry for what had happened to me. I could see it in her face. She treated me with a kindness that I never would have expected and even though she would not tell me the reason for aiding me, I know she did it out of compassion.”

  Lord Ivran leaned back in his chair and sighed as well. “One good deed is not enough to absolve her of a lifetime of evil.” He told Emeric, worrying that his friend would object to the punishment that must be placed upon her.

  “I agree, my Lord.” Emeric replied to Lord Ivran’s surprise. “Though she was kind to me, she has committed many crimes and I have not come here to beg mercy for her.”

  Lord Ivran sighed with relief at these words. He only just now realized how worried he had been that Emeric would plead for her life.

  “Then it is decided. She will not be shown mercy.” He felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He could not, in good consciousness, allow the High Protector to walk away without punishment and now that Emeric had agreed with him, he could forget that he ever felt any sort of gratitude towards her and he could continue with his battle plans as he desired.

  Emeric stood when Lord Ivran stood and Ivran reached a hand out to help steady him. “I am glad that you have returned to me alive, my friend.”

  “So am I.” Emeric replied.

  “I want you to focus on regaining your strength; you will need it in the days to come.”

  “Are we attacking soon?” Emeric asked. Lord Ivran noted a hint of excitement in his voice and wondered why Emeric would desire to return to the castle so suddenly after his escape. Could he wish to seek revenge upon the person who imprisoned him? He decided to keep to his word and not ask about Emeric’s incarceration.

  “As soon as I have had word from Bhrys, our army will begin its march. We are ready.”

  As he spoke these words, Lord Doran and Protector Raibyr were racing fast on horseback towards Lord Ivran’s camp.

  Chapter 20

  Mayvard heard the horn blow in his dream. It resounded throughout the valley he dreamt he was standing in and he turned to find that his valley had been invaded. An army larger than any army he had ever seen was racing towards him and he tried to run but was too late. The army was upon him before he could escape.

  He sat upright in his bed and stretched out his arms. The morning sunlight that came spilling in from his open window blinded his vision and he angrily threw the blankets away and stood. He walked to the window to shut the curtains when the sound of the horn reached his ears once again. Now he knew that it was no dream.

  Instead of closing the curtains, he peered out the window to find a vast army marching towards the castle. Immediately he recognized the banners of Axendra and Bhrys. They peeked above the crowd and blew in the morning breeze with pride.

  Mayvard did not waste any time. He ran to his wardrobe, dressed himself in his leathers, grabbed his sword and rushed to the door.

  He ran all the way down the corridor, down several flights of stairs and to the front doors of the castle and ordered them to be opened by the guards. When he stepped outside, he was met with thousands of warriors, marching towards him with a deafening thunder.

  Mayvard stood and patiently watched the armies approach. And as he stood, he looked around for Rhada but could not find her anywhere. It is odd that she would not be the first person to greet the armies.

  King Firion heard the horn blowing as he was dressing himself for the day. He raced to the veranda to peer over and saw the banners of his own army mingled with the banners of Bhrys, all marching towards the castle. He stood up tall, readjusted his belt strap and smiled.

  He turned back to his room and stood at the edge of his bed where his wife slept peacefully, the sound of the horns had not woken her. He leaned down and gently shook her shoulder until she stirred and her eyes flew open.

  “They are here.” He said and she smiled.

  “I knew they would come.” She replied. She grasped his hand and kissed his fingers slowly.

  King Firion pulled his hand away and walked to his armor cabinet. He grabbed his sword, which he never used but carried on ceremony, and strapped it to his belt. Then he made certain his crown was on straight and turned back to Scarlet.

  “How do I look?” He asked.

  She sat up in bed, exposing her bare breasts, and looked him up and down with a grin before replying; “like a King!”

  This was all Firion needed to hear. He quickly spun around and left his bedchamber.

  It took several moments for him to reach the front entrance of the castle and when he did, he found his visitors had already begun flooding inside. He spotted Captain Mayvard standing off to the side, greeting those who entered, and decided to stand next to him.

  “Majesty.” Mayvard nodded in acknowledgment.

  “Where is your commander?” He asked Mayvard in a quiet voice as he looked around for Rhada. She could not be seen anywhere.

  “I am uncertain, Majesty.” Mayvard replied regretfully.

  King Firion stood up tall as the first of his guests came to greet him.

  “Your Majesty, I am Lord Guyon Arnet of Elipol.” He bowed graciously before his King.

  “Lord Guyon.” King Firion said in recognition of the name. He stared at this man, with his ancient boiled leather and gruff beard, sullen eyes and pale skin that all the northerns had, and wondered if he had ever met him before. He could not pull any memory of this man.

  “I am glad that you have decided to answer the call of your King.”

  Lord Guyon nodded. “I am answering to my duty, your Majesty. I have wed Lady Omylia and now our armies are one. I have brought them here to you.”

  King Firion stiffened at this news. His friendly smile now turned to a glower as he stared at this strange man; the man who wed Lady Omylia and stole her army. If Bhrys had joined with the north, their forces would be greater than his own. This is a problem I shall have to remedy after the battle. He thought to himself as he forced a new smile upon his face.

  “We welcome you and your men.” He said through gritted teeth. “Enter, and my servants shall take you to your quarters.”

  “Thank you.” Lord Guyon said and he bowed once again.

  The men who followed Lord Guyon were all strangers to the King. A tall, muscular man with long, braided hair and beady eyes introduced himself as Hanley Gallien, the new Protector of Bhrys. Then there was Protector Josef Alan of Elipol and his followers. The King watched as they shuffled inside and the servants raced to greet them and escort them to the guest chambers.

  The next man to enter was Captain Theod
oric and he saluted Captain Mayvard before turning to the King and bowing.

  “Majesty, I have delivered the army of Bhrys as you have commanded.” Mayvard shuffled his way to them so that he could listen to what was being said.

  “What is this I hear about a union in the north?” The King hissed through his teeth.

  Captain Theodoric shrugged his shoulders. “I did not arrive in time to stop it, your Grace. I arrived just after the wedding.”

  King Firion felt rage begin to boil underneath his skin. He turned his anger towards Mayvard.

  “Where is the High Protector?” He asked.

  “I have not seen her this morning, Majesty.” Mayvard replied.

  King Firion stood up tall and looked around, making certain that she was not hiding somewhere in the shadows.

  “Good. Both of you come with me to my chamber. There is something I must discuss with you privately.”

  Mayvard could not remember a time when the dining hall had been so full and alive. All the candles were lit, instead of only half, as was usual, making the room brighter than he ever remembered seeing it. He had been a young boy the last time the King had had so many visitors. He had been too young then to appreciate the sound of men’s laughter as they sang and drank their ales. Serving wenches rushed from table to table to refill their drinks, all while singing along with the men. It almost made Mayvard want to smile. His heart would have been filled with more joy than he could remember feeling in a long while had it not been for his meeting with the King.

  He had stood in the King’s chamber, trying to ignore the naked Queen sitting in the corner, drinking her morning wine. He stared at the King with a stone face, hiding any emotion from the man. He did not want to give himself away.