The group members glanced uncertainly at each other, especially as a few of the guards followed them into the castle. “Are we in danger again?” Oaka asked in a low tone. “I missed part of the conversation.”
“I don’t think so, not really.” Basha said. “I think it’s safe.”
“I hope so.” Oaka glanced back at the guards. “But at least we’re ready if things go wrong,”
“Are we?”
“I think so, at least we’re together.”
“Good to know.”
* * * *
Nisa sat in the kitchen, rubbing her forehead to relieve the pressure that had built up in her mind. It was her fault. She should’ve gotten out of Coe Aela sooner, before Goga captured and tortured her along with the other servant women.
She’d goofed up with Janus. She wasn’t even sure she trusted him completely, but she’d found herself drawn to him and told him too much. It was quite unlike her. She lost her head, and Basha and his friends might pay the price.
She hoped he’d stay ahead of his pursuers, but there was no guarantee. She wished she could go back home and talk to her father face-to-face, instead of by the weak mode of communication they’d devised that barely worked.
Why had she found Janus to be more important than her duty? She couldn’t love him, could she, not after all these years of responsibility? What was the matter with her?
She was tired, and ached all over from working at Coe Aela, not to mention the stint in the dungeon cells and torture she’d gone through. At least it’d all be over soon.
The kitchen door opened, and Janus walked in. “I hope you’re ready. Is everything okay?” he asked, studying her.
“I just worry for us, for Basha and Oaka, for all of them.” She stood to face him.
“You worry too much. They’re fine, they’ve got each other and the Black Sword, and as for us, we’ll be fine. I’ve prepared for everything that can happen.”
“How can you? We’re facing difficult odds. The guards are heavily armed, well-trained, and in peak condition. There are old people and children amongst us.”
“Have some faith in me.” He hugged her tightly, and kissed her cheek. “You’re wise beyond your years, but you cannot imagine things’ll go well.”
“That’s because things rarely do, and I’ve got a good imagination. I don’t trust you completely,” she said. “How can you be so young? How old are you, Janus? Are you close to my age, or far older?”
“Far older than you can possibly believe.”
“Try me. My father’s the Old Man, and he’s at least two thousand years old, if not older.”
“Is that right? Nisa, I’m seventy-five years old.”
Nisa stared at him, backing away. “How can you two be so well preserved?”
“I don’t know about your father, but I made a mistake a long time ago. I believed what others said and fell in step with them. I learned the error of my ways at the foot of their master, but it was too late. I was changed irrevocably beyond my years. I couldn’t change back, nor move forward. I remained stuck in age.”
“Wait a minute!” Nisa raised her hand. “Are you telling me that you were once a Follower of Doomba? And that you met Doomba?”
“He’s the one who changed me against my will and sucked everything out of me.”
“No!” Nisa slammed her fist down and turned away. “I trusted you. I can’t even look at you.”
“You can trust me.” Janus reached out for her, but she swatted at him. “I thought for the longest time that I could only live on like nothing had changed and I was still a loyal Follower of Doomba. But something had changed in my heart and soon my actions reflected that. I abandoned my old ways, my career, my acquaintances, and my habits as Cannon, the loyal Follower of Doomba with his mark upon him. I became Janus the unknowable, the unfollower. I turned towards the highest authority I could find opposing Doomba, King Sonnagh, and told him the truth of what I’d done, what I’d known, and he believed me.” Janus seemed stunned by this revelation still.
“You’ve the mark of Doomba upon you. A part of him still inhabits you,” Nisa muttered. “I can’t look at you, because he might be looking back at me. I can’t risk him finding me.”
“I’ve a greater hold on myself than he does. Remember that humans get to choose what they do as Followers. What hold Doomba has on any one of us is a wisp compared to what we do ourselves. I chose to leave him behind me. I chose to follow King Sonnagh, and I choose now to lead these servants out of Coe Aela. I want you to come with me.”
Nisa turned back to him. “You seem sure.”
“As sure as I can be.” He crossed his arms. “I was given this task to spy on Lord Fobata, to prove myself a loyal citizen, but I went a step farther. I prompted this servant rebellion to destroy the infrastructure of Coe Aela, and destroy Lord Fobata’s ability to function as a Follower. He can’t turn around and hire more servants instantly. This’ll cost him time, money, and effort as Coe Aela falls apart.” Janus smiled.
“You seem cocky,” she remarked.
“Maybe, but I know what I’m doing, and it’s the right thing after all these years of awful decision-making. Will you join us and march out of Coe Aela?”
“You certainly didn’t know what you were doing, joining the Followers, and I didn’t know what I was doing, getting involved with you.”
“Believe me, I’ll prove myself, whatever it takes to be your true love and reunite you with your charges Basha and Oaka.”
“Ha, that’s a laugh,” Nisa said.
She couldn’t believe he was talking to her like this, so soon after revealing himself. Most likely it was a diversion to throw her off guard and keep her unbalanced. She needed to focus on what had to be done, who needed protection, and what she could really do to investigate Janus and stop him from doing anything wrong.
Yet she had limited resources, very few allies she could trust, and so many people here who needed help. Gods, she needed to think straight and stop believing in him, or hoping his promises might be true.
“Truly, I promise. Let’s go join the servants.” Janus grabbed Nisa’s hand and pulled her out of the kitchen.
She was helpless around him sometimes, but only up to a point. She’d make sure he didn’t get too far out of line.
* * * *
All of the servants gathered in the front bailey, shouting at the guards arrayed against them, on the ramparts and on the ground in front of the gate with the portcullis lowered. More guards were coming from the back bailey, the barracks, along the ramparts and from inside the castle to reinforce them.
Then one servant shouted out a name, over and over again, until a guard dropped his sword in horror. Two, three, and then about a dozen more servants started shouting out names, and guards were dropping swords right and left before joining the servants.
“My guards are fraternizing with the rebels!” Fobata bellowed. “Can someone please explain to me why all of my men seem to be deserting?”
“I should’ve realized this might happen.” Marlo sighed.
“What’re you talking about?”
“Remember six years ago, when King Sonnagh reduced military expenses for the entire kingdom? One of the measures was less funds allowed for the payment of guards’ wages at the ducal castles.”
“Oh, yes, Goga complained about guards quitting because of the lowered wages. Might’ve been a measure to reduce our manpower outside the capital to prevent uprisings.”
“At which point, your Grace, your brother suggested recruiting guards from amongst your servants.”
“Oh no.” Fobata groaned.
“That’s right, quite a few of your guards are relatives and friends of the servants, who’re now calling them to join their revolt.”
“If they’re so eager to go, and get away from this place, then let them out!” Fobata cried.
The servants cheered as the remaining guards obeyed their lord’s orders, and raised the portcullis. The first f
ew servants and allied guards started to leave.
“Excuse me, your Grace, I won’t be but a moment.” Marlo went down into the crowd of servants and Fobata glared as he approached Janus.
“Look at this joyous celebration!” Janus laughed. “Everyone’s happy, not a drop of blood was spilled, and it was just perfect.”
“Are you sure? The steward’s coming over.” Nisa pointed.
“Just a minute, I want to talk to him.” Janus pushed through the departing crowd to greet Marlo.
“You certainly fooled me. I never did catch you in the act,” Marlo said.
“You might’ve if we’d waited. We had to move fast while the memory of Goga’s incarceration of the servant women was still fresh, seize upon the furor.”
“Well, good luck, and take care of my servants.” Marlo shook Janus’s hand. “Tell Ravona I love and miss her.”
“Tell her that yourself. Come with us, see your daughter and grandchild. We’ve got guards to protect us and horses if you can’t march. Fobata couldn’t stop you if you wanted to.”
“I’m too old and weary. I wouldn’t want to take a horse away from somebody else who needs it. Go enjoy yourselves without me.”
“I’m older than you, and I’m going,” Janus said.
“No, that’s different. I’m too old now to change my ways, and I’m still too committed to Coe Aela. Somebody has to stay behind to help Lord Fobata take care of things. I’m still that man. My daughter wouldn’t like it if my allegiance still remained with him, so why bother her about it? Let her be happy without me. She probably won’t see me again.”
“You’re too stubborn, just like her. Good-bye.” Janus returned to Nisa as they left with the rest of the servants.
“Good-bye, Janus.” The old steward watched him go before he rejoined Fobata.
“Thanks for staying,” Fobata said.
“Don’t mention it.” Marlo went past his lord into the castle.
“We’ll adjust, organize ourselves to maintain the castle and our standards.” Fobata turned to his clerks and assistants. “Scrounge up whatever food you can find, we’ll have a breakfast meeting. See if we can hire more servants and guards. You’re dismissed.”
The clerks and assistants went out to follow his orders as he was confronted by his last remaining guests and told them what happened. The guests stormed off to pack up and leave. That was one good thing about the servants’ rebellion, repelling the freeloaders.
He entered the empty grand banquet hall, and began to pace. He should’ve refused to let them go without a fight, instead of giving up so easily. Delayed rebuttals swarmed his mind, but they were gone, too far away to hear his scalding words. He was left to fend for himself with no one on his side.
Fobata sat down, tired of pacing when it got him nowhere and did little. But he was still restless, angry at himself and his impotence.
He reached into his coat pocket and tugged out a white handkerchief with crimson stitching, which had ‘K&M’ on one side, and ‘Blessings, Your Sisters’ on the other. He stared at it, remembering Kala. What would she think of him now?
* * * *
“It’s a wedding favor. See the stitching? The Sisters must’ve worked on them for hours. Would Goga like one?” Kala asked.
“I suppose,” Fobata said.
“I’m afraid this is the last one,” Kala pulled out a similar handkerchief and handed it over. “All that’s left is my own with indigo thread. I never thought the Sisters would do that for me, after the way I left them. But that was my fault. I chose my path, and I’m glad of it.” She patted her pregnant belly. “I got to enjoy my life with him, if only for a short while. I don’t regret that one bit.”
“Are you sure you can’t stay?”
“I told you, I’ve got to go. The Sna season is almost upon us. I’ve got to reach my destination. I’ve lingered too long already.”
“Please, Kala, it’s not safe.”
“I’m going to be fine. It’s you I’m worried about. You and my little sister. Oh, I almost forgot. I told Niobe that if she was ever in any kind of trouble, she could always depend upon you to help. She can come to you for help, can’t she?”
“Of course, whatever’s wrong.”
Niobe. Goga. Gnat. Gods, what horrors had come from that, Fobata still remembered. Kala would only despise him for his cowardice and ignorance, allowing such indignities to happen, if she ever saw him again.
Chapter 18
A Purpose
Purpose in life is never fixed and straight, though we
Wish to know where we’re going and if we’re heading
In a direction which will lead us to fulfill that promise. We
Can only hope that we may find a way that will fulfill us.
~ Purpose, Angora
Lord Lagotaq led the group to his study, and the guards closed the doors. The study was sparse, just a few pieces of furniture with a weary desk, some threadbare upholstered chairs, and two long, low bookshelves half full of ragged volumes. A plain rug covered the stone floor, and that was it, no tapestries or paintings concealed bare stone walls.
Lagotaq’s Coe Wina seemed starker and greyer than Fobata’s Coe Aela. Though Coe Aela disguised its ugliness and decay through lavish furnishings and grandiose celebrations, Coe Wina appeared both exposed to the elements, and teeming with defenses.
Coe Wina’s fortress appeared haunting and wild on the outside, but half empty and gloomy inside, with barriers erected upon its slopes. The group didn’t know what to make of Coe Wina or its lord, but they might not find much comfort here.
“I want you all, the humans amongst you, to know that you’re descendents of the Knights of Arria,” Lagotaq began.
“You can’t be serious,” Oaka said as the others gaped at the lord.
“Your abilities to wield the Swords of Arria without getting hurt indicate that. According to the old stories, when the Knights of Arria received their Swords, the weapons were enchanted so that only their owners and descendants could handle them to prevent theft and misuse.”
“How’s that possible? Basha and I, we’re not related, but we can both wield the Black Sword,” Gnat said and then her eyes widened. “Oh gods, so could Goga! We can’t be related to him!”
“I don’t know how, but you three are related. Your common ancestor might be from twenty, a hundred, or a thousand years ago, but in some way, you three are related.”
“No, it can’t be true.” Gnat shook her head.
“How do you know this, your Grace?” Basha asked, his breath caught in his throat. Could this be the key to finding out more about his family?
“Ever since the Red Sword came into my possession, I’ve studied the matter of the Swords of Arria thoroughly,” Lagotaq said. “I know a great deal about them. You might have some knowledge about the Swords and their magic. Magic’s generally passed down through bloodlines, with strong or weak tendencies and sometimes skipping a generation or two, but usually it crops up somewhere. You can expect that some of your ancestors had your abilities, and owned the Swords you wield. Your ancestor, Monika, wielded the Blue Sword and had water magic, while Oaka’s had the Red Sword and fire magic.”
“Humans and magic, why do you all get magical abilities?” Fato muttered. “Birds could use magic as well. We need it more than you lot do, and we’d do a better job at handling it.”
Oaka marveled, “The Red Knight must’ve lived in Coe Baba. There’s no way he or she could’ve lived anywhere else. All of my ancestors, as far back as I know, grew up and lived in Coe Baba. They might’ve started up The Smiling Stallion inn in the first place! That would be something to boast about.”
“That’d be a laugh!” Fato remarked from Basha’s shoulder.
“So it’s true, I’m related to one of the Knights of Arria?” Monika sighed. “I wish I wasn’t.”
“What’s your problem with that?” Oaka asked Monika.
“My people were exiled from Arria hundreds of years ago
, forced to wander the Za Desert by the Corsicans and their descendants. Not to mention all of the wars and disputes that have arisen since then. And I’ve got a Corrican warrior as my ancestor? I’ve got mixed-up feelings about this.”
“You humans certainly are messed up when it comes to peaceful societal relationships,” Fato remarked.
“But it was so long ago, how can you feel this way?” Basha tried to say.
“I know, but those feelings still exist.” Monika said. “My mother and grandfather had a distinct dislike for the Corricans who exiled their ancestors, passed down over generations, and the centuries of battles we’ve had to fight against Arria, Pakric, Pinal, Urso and Angoria over our home in the Za Desert might never have happened if we’d lived elsewhere. Though it might be barren in many areas, the Za Desert’s still a hotly contested territory. And I might’ve felt the same, dealing with such an impact. I made my peace that I couldn’t change what had happened or hold it against others. But part of me doesn’t want to be remotely related to the Corricans. Yet I’ve got the Blue Sword in my possession. It’s a source of strength for me and a part of my identity now. I don’t want to lose that, yet I feel conflicted about it.”
“I’m sorry about what happened, and I hope that you can find a way to resolve those differences, maybe find a better life for your people and some tranquility,” Basha said.
“Thanks, I hope so. Lord Lagotaq, if you know so much about the Swords of Arria, then please tell us, who specifically wielded which Swords amongst the Knights? And if they were or weren’t Corrican.” Monika added the last.
Oaka groaned. “Give it a rest.”
“I’d like to know as well about the Black Sword, maybe find out how Gnat and I are related, even if Goga’s in the picture somewhere. We know hardly anything about our families or parents,” Basha said. “I know something about my mother, who died giving birth to me. Her name was Kala, my father’s name might have started with an M, and—”
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