“Enjoy your stay.” He said with a malicious tenor and he began to push the door closed.
“No!” Rhada tried to scream but the word came out as a hardened croak. She lifted her head farther from the ground and was able to reach a painful and shaking hand out towards the door, as though she could stop them from closing it.
“Nooooo!” She shouted in fear. Her voice echoed with clarity this time but it did nothing to stop the warden from slamming the door shut. She could hear the key turn in the lock, locking her in for good and then the small, flickering light of his torch began to dance away from the peephole, leaving her utterly alone in the darkness.
Chapter 41
Lord Ivran stretched his arms above his head and sighed with satisfaction as the sun’s warm rays washed over him. He lay on his back, wrapped in the warmth of his blankets, surrounded by his snoring men. They were sprawled out all around him, trying to sleep off the drink from the previous night.
Some of his party had brought with them ale and wine and many different colored and flavored spirits that had belonged to the King.
The previous night had been their last of traveling and all the men wished to celebrate their victory. Lord Ivran did not object. He too wished to celebrate. Ever since they had been rid of the High Protector, a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders- knowing that she would never be able to do harm to the realm again. And each time he thought about the kingdom that was now his, waiting anxiously for his return, he was ecstatic.
He had been the first to wake that morning. He looked over his sleeping men and smiled appreciatively at them. Their journey had been a long one, descending from their homes months ago, congregating at the camp between South Fort and Axendra- waiting for the right time to attack. He knew that after the battle, the men were weary but still they pressed on, eager to help Lord Ivran escort Rhada to her prison.
And now the realm is free of the tyrants who sought to destroy it. The men deserved a celebration.
Lord Ivran lay for a few moments, basking in the glory of the bright morning before deciding the time had come to wake them. As much as he wanted to let them sleep, he was eager to reach Axendra by mid-day. He wanted to begin rebuilding what had been destroyed during battle. He knew that Meira would be there as well, along with all the other wives and maids who had stayed behind at camp, and he was eager to see her.
Before he left for battle, she was in tears, afraid that he would not return to her alive. Lord Ivran had done his best to assure her that he would be all right but his words fell short of giving her any sort of comfort. But word would have reached her ears of their victory and his survival.
Lord Ivran groaned as he stood up tall and stretched out his stiff legs. Being on horseback for so many days was finally beginning to take its toll.
He turned to the sleeping men with the intent to wake them and was surprised to find one bed empty- the blankets and pillow strewn about in the dirt as they had been carelessly tossed aside.
I guess I was not the first to wake. He looked to the men, trying to distinguish whose face was missing from the crowd.
Finally he realized that Protector Emeric was not amongst the sleeping men. He was missing and Lord Ivran wondered how long he could have been gone.
Perhaps he needed to relieve himself. He thought and he shrugged away his worry.
The next half hour was spent waking the men, finding some food for his empty belly, and ordering the camp to be packed away, ready for departure. When he looked back to Emeric’s abandoned blankets, he realized the man had yet to return and his worry grew once more.
He told Hadrian in passing that he was going to go look for Emeric and not to leave until they returned. Hadrian nodded in reply then turned back to shoving his blanket in his pack, apparently not as worried for Emeric’s safety as Ivran was.
He sauntered down the dirt road they had been following, back the way they had come from the night before. He wrapped his hands around his mouth and began to shout as he walked, not wanting to leave the road to search for his friend.
“Emeric!” Lord Ivran could hear the sound of frightened birds departing their perches as he called out. “Emeric, where are you?”
“Here, my Lord!” Lord Ivran was surprised to hear a reply and he turned his head towards the direction of Emeric’s voice.
He stood in a grove of trees, barely visible amongst the shrubbery. He waved both his hands at Lord Ivran, signaling to him his position and Lord Ivran’s worry melted away. He smiled at his friend and made his way to where he stood.
“I was uncertain where you had run off to.” Lord Ivran said as he approached.
“Forgive me, my Lord. I did not mean to make you worry.”
Ivran’s smile vanished as he studied his friend. The man was not the same as he had been the previous night. His hair was tousled, as though he had been pulling at it. His one good eye was bloodshot from lack of sleep and his bandages were stained with yellow-tinted ooze.
Lord Ivran looked down to see that Emeric’s hands were shaking and within his shaking hands was a flask.
“Have you slept at all, my friend?” Lord Ivran asked with concern.
Emeric shook his head. “I could not.”
“Is it the pain?”
Emeric shifted uncomfortably in reaction to Lord Ivran’s question. “Among other things.” He said quietly.
Ivran reached out a hand and placed it upon Emeric’s shoulder. “Are you too ill to travel today?”
Emeric shook his head in reply then pulled the lid from his flask and raised it to his lips. When nothing came out, he tilted his head farther back, trying to get every last drop from the bottle before angrily tossing it aside.
Lord Ivran had known Emeric for most of his life. He was a good man- a man of honor and dignity. He had never shied away from his duty and he had always obeyed Lord Ivran, no matter the command. But today, Ivran was looking at a stranger. This was a man he did not recognize- a drunken, shamble of a man who could barely stand on his own two feet.
“What are you doing out here in the woods all alone?” Aside from drinking. Lord Ivran wondered.
“I needed to think.” Emeric replied.
“What about?”
Emeric’s good eye fell into Lord Ivran’s gaze as he spoke.
“I was wondering what your plans for me are now.” He said with a quiet despondency.
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is, I am not meant to be High Protector, Rhada told me as much. Do you mean for me to stay with you in Axendra, or return to Ylia to remain Protector there?”
Now Lord Ivran was the one who was uncomfortable. He had not wanted to have this discussion with Emeric until they returned to the castle, but it seemed the man was in utter turmoil over what the future held for him. So with a heavy heart, Lord Ivran took in a deep breath and answered.
“Emeric, you have been loyal to me for many, many years and for that loyalty, I could never repay you.
‘I have been eternally grateful to have you at my side, defending my life and my country, but the truth is…” He trailed off, unable to finish. He already regretted what he was about to say but he had been thinking it through during their journey to Stonehill and he had made his decision and was determined to stick by it, no matter how terribly he felt for his poor, young friend.
Emeric’s eye was stern as he waited for Ivran to finish. “What is the truth?” He finally asked, unable to bear the silence any longer.
“The truth is that you are no longer a fighting man.” Lord Ivran spit out the words as though they had a foul taste, hoping he had not sounded too harsh.
Emeric was taken aback by his words. He seemed to lose his balance and he stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet. Lord Ivran grabbed him and pulled him back to standing and held onto him for support until he regained his balance. As he stood close to his friend, he could smell the bitter scent of mapleberrie liquor and he wondered how much Emeric had consumed duri
ng the night.
“What…” Emeric began but stuttered in disbelief. He swallowed hard and gazed at Lord Ivran with his one eye intently. “What do you mean I am no longer a fighting man?”
Lord Ivran sighed and released his grip on Emeric.
“What I mean is you can no longer hold the position of Protector with only one good eye. You need both for precision. It is not your fault, but that is the way of it.”
“That is the way of it?” Emeric retorted in drunken anger.
“You may stay in Axendra, live in the castle. I will make certain you are taken care of. You can be the King’s Advisor.” Lord Ivran had not intended on making Emeric his advisor but as he was confronted with the horrified look on Emeric’s face, he realized he needed to give the man something.
“You are taking my sword away from me?” He asked in disbelief.
“I am retiring your blade… yes.”
“How can you do this to me? I have been loyal to you all my life! I have pledged to live and die in your service!”
“And you still can.” Lord Ivran was trying his best to calm the shouting man but he soon realized there would be no consoling Emeric. His face was red with anger and his eye burned with a mad-man’s rage. He began to pace back and forth, kicking at the rocks that lay at his feet.
Suddenly, he stopped moving and pointed a finger at Ivran. “I can still fight! I will show you when we return to the castle. I am still a fighting man! I will prove it to you!”
“Emeric,” Ivran began, wishing that his friend had not consumed so much liquor.
Emeric began to shout again before Lord Ivran could finish his thought. “You cannot cast me aside! Am I not your friend?”
“You are my friend!” Lord Ivran shouted back. “But right now you are drunk and tired and in pain and I think it best that we return to Axendra and get you well again before we continue this discussion.”
Emeric shook his head and pulled his sword from its scabbard. “I will prove it to you now!” He shouted with a fiery rage and rushed towards Lord Ivran. Ivran, taken by surprise at his friend’s sudden attack, did not dodge his blade in time and suffered a scrape on the arm- the same arm the King had cut only a few days prior.
Emeric raised his blade again and brought it down swiftly, aiming the steel at Lord Ivran’s face. Ivran ducked and rolled away, pulling his own blade free of its scabbard and holding it up in defense.
Their steel clashed and echoed through the grove. Emeric shouted again and spun away, stumbling in his drunkenness and falling to the dirt. Lord Ivran quickly kicked his sword away from his reach and held the tip of his own blade downward, not quite close enough to touch Emeric, but enough to let him know he shouldn’t make any sudden moves.
Suddenly, he heard shouting in the distance and the footsteps of his men rushing to his aid. They stopped when they saw Lord Ivran pointing his sword at his own Protector. Emeric sat in the dirt, unable to stand on his own two feet, and sobbed audibly into his open palms.
“Is everything alright, my Lord?” Lord Doran asked. He had one hand resting upon the hilt of his sword but had not drawn it.
“Everything is fine.” Ivran replied. He took a step back from Emeric and replaced his sword in its scabbard.
“Help him up.” Lord Ivran commanded. Three of the men rushed to Emeric’s aid, pulling him to his feet and holding fast to his arms so he could not fight them.
“Take him to his horse, make certain he drinks plenty of water, and pack his blankets for him. He will need to ride with one of you. You may tie his palfrey to my horse.”
The men carted Emeric away, leaving Lord Ivran standing dumb-founded in the lonely grove. He bent down low and lifted Emeric’s sword from the dirt and studied the sharp blade.
It is my fault. He realized as he stared at his friend’s most prized possession. I am the one who sent him to Axendra to free Terryn. It is because of me that he was captured and tortured. Since then, he has been a changed man. Lord Ivran was nearly crippled by the guilt he felt over his friend’s trauma and he suddenly felt like sobbing just as poor Emeric had.
He must hate me now. The thought brought Lord Ivran insurmountable sadness and with a heavy heart, he lowered Emeric’s blade and walked back to camp with it dangling at his side.
Never before had the sight of Axendra been so welcoming. The people of the city rushed from their homes out to the streets to shout and cheer at Lord Ivran’s return. He waved to them gleefully; relieved they seemed excited he was to be their new King.
It seemed to take most of the day to travel through the crowded streets. When they arrived in the castle grounds, Lord Ivran was surprised to see all the bodies of the unfortunate had already been removed from the green field. It almost looked as though a battle had not taken place there six days prior.
They marched to the stables and left their horses in the care of the stable boys. Lord Doran and Protector Thomelin had to lift Emeric from his horse and drag him into the castle.
“Find a suitable room for him and order a maid to tend to him.” He shouted after them, hoping they would take proper care of his damaged friend.
Lord Ivran rushed into the castle anxiously, hoping to find Meira quickly. He had to push his way through courtiers, maids and soldiers- all belonging to the previous King and all begging to swear their featly to him. They even looked to him with a strange exultant gaze, as though they could not wait to bend the knee and promise to serve him.
I do not even wear the crown upon my head yet! He almost laughed from the joy he felt in seeing their eager faces.
But Lord Ivran did not wish to waste any more time. He asked one of his guards where he might find his wife and he pointed him to the throne room. Lord Ivran hastily pushed his way there and told the guard at the door to keep everyone else outside. The guard nodded then opened the door and allowed Ivran to slip inside.
Meira was seated in a long chair next to the fire- opposite the thrones. Her eyes sparkled in the dancing light of the flames and her lips were turned upward in a satisfied grin. She turned her eyes to him when she heard his approaching footsteps and she cried out in joy.
Before Meira could stand from the chair, Lord Ivran bent on one knee before her, grasped her hand in his and began gently kissing the soft flesh.
“You have returned.” Meira said, tears of joy streaming down her face. Lord Ivran looked up to her and nodded. “And the High Protector is no longer a threat to the people of Kaena?” She asked.
“No.” Lord Ivran replied with a smile. “It is over.”
“Good.” Meira said and she stood from her chair and practically leapt across the sitting area to a table and snatched up a familiar looking object that had been placed there.
“Lord Onas had this cleaned for you, as you commanded, and the people of Kaena are anxious to see it upon your head.”
She held out the crown to him but he did not reach for it. He found that his arms were unable to move.
“Is something the matter?” Meira asked with concern. Lord Ivran shook his head.
“It’s just that…I suppose a part of me never thought I would be here. I never thought I would actually conquer this great city and now… the thought of being King terrifies me.”
Meira smiled encouragingly at her husband. She took a few steps closer to him and placed the crown upon his head before he could object.
“There.” She said with satisfaction as she stepped back to get a good look at him. “It fits perfectly.”
Lord Ivran could not help but smile at his wife’s encouragement. He wondered where he would be without her. She had stayed by his side through everything and now, she was going to be his Queen. She deserves the title.
“Our lives are about to change forever.” He told her. “Are you ready for it?”
“Are you?” Meira asked. She reached out and grasped Lord Ivran’s right hand. She pulled it forward and rested his palm on her belly, just below her navel.
It took Lord Ivran several mo
ments to fully comprehend what she was trying to tell him but when he did his eyes became aglow with a joy that made all other thoughts flee from his mind.
“Meira… is it true?” He asked in disbelief. For so long they had waited for this moment.
She nodded her head and the next thing she knew, Ivran was pulling her close for a tight embrace. She could feel his tears of joy as they dripped onto her shoulder and arm.
“This time, the child will live. I can feel it. This child will be the heir to the throne of Kaena.”
Chapter 42
Darkness settled over the room but Omylia did not mind- she was never afraid of the dark. She walked with careful steps towards the door and opened it just enough to peer into the deserted hallway and her eyes were met with the sheer blackness of night.
Quietly, she stepped out into the hall and tip-toed down the corridor to the steps she knew were thirty-two paces away. She slipped her foot down the first step then continued with caution until light from the floor below flooded the stairwell.
The castle of Bhrys always grew drafty this time of night and she had forgotten to wrap herself in her warm robes. She had been startled awake from her deep slumber by the sound of horsemen approaching. The urgency in their gallop could be heard from her small tower room and without even thinking about the cold, she had run to her door and left in a haste to greet them at the entrance.
She practically ran down the hall of the castle, anxious to see who it was that was approaching.
Has Hanley returned? She wondered with hopeful joy.
Suddenly, she stopped, deciding to greet her lover in the throne room instead. She turned back round, leaving the guards at the door to allow her visitors entry and ran towards the great hall where the throne awaited her.
The guards standing duty threw the doors open for her and she practically flew through the elongated room to the throne where she spun around gracefully and sat. She ran her fingers delicately through her hair, trying to brush the sleep from the strands and adjusted the top of her nightgown, hoping that she looked presentable enough.
Rise of Darkness (The Watchers Book 2) Page 42