by Kris A Hiatt
It seemed to calm the baron down a bit.
Drevic thought about it for a moment. He was hesitant to say how he felt, but he knew he couldn’t hold back the truth from Liernin. The man deserved to know how he felt. “We all should have seen this coming.”
“How so?” Exodin asked.
Drevic paused to ensure Liernin was listening to his response. When the baron stopped his pacing long enough to raise an eyebrow in his direction, he elaborated. “Treace was imprisoned unjustly and by all accounts was tortured by Drokier and his men. Did you really expect him to sit idly by while someone he felt was innocent was also imprisoned?”
“It wasn’t his decision to make,” Liernin spouted, just as angry as ever.
“Could we expect him to do otherwise?” Drevic countered.
“I expected him to follow my orders,” Liernin replied.
“Exodin,” Drevic began anew, changing tactics for a moment. “When you first decided to train Treace how to use a sword, what convinced you?”
Exodin smiled softly and nodded his head. “I saw a good-hearted young man that had his father’s eyes. There was determination there. Those eyes said that he wouldn’t give up, no matter the odds. After much failure, those eyes still had the same fire. And we all know how well he turned out to be as a swordsman.”
Drevic nodded his head in understanding. Liernin softened, but didn’t look like he was quite ready to give up his anger. “And when I found Treace, and suggested him to Nimbril for his mission here, I also saw that determination in his eyes. But moreover, I saw goodness. He understood when to speak and when to remain silent. I have seen him exhibit wisdom beyond his years. He has always shown great respect for his elders, but also when the world shows him injustice he has the courage to stand for what’s right.”
“Your point?” Liernin asked.
Much of Liernin’s bluster was gone, but Drevic thought his last question would remove it entirely. “And you. Why is it you decided to trust a young man around your family? To train your wonderful son? To guard you while you slept?”
“Alright,” Liernin relented. “I get it. He was a very talented young man who had such an unassuming way about him that it made him endearing to everyone he met. Hell, if my wife was younger I wouldn’t be surprised if she left me for him.”
Drevic wasn’t certain if it was supposed to be funny or not, but Exodin laughed. Hearing his laughter made him chuckle.
“Laugh if you want,” a smiling Liernin said. “But I’d wager more than this palace on it.”
“Is,” Exodin said.
“What?” Lierin asked.
“You said Treace was talented. He still is,” Exodin clarified with a wink.
“So now we’re correcting my grammar?” Liernin asked.
“The point is,” Drevic said, drawing out the last word to get their attention. “He’s a very grounded young man that we all have trusted to the fullest of our abilities. Probably too much. Because of his nature and his talents, we forget how young he is. He’s barely more than a man and we’ve all either trusted him with our lives or gladly would. If he’s made a mistake in this, then so be it. He makes few. Let us remember that we’re the ones who put him in these difficult situations. We do so not because we have to, but because of his morals and willingness to fight for what he believes is right. If only all of us, myself and my members included, acted and behaved with such noble intensity. Besides, maybe he’s right. Maybe we are the ones that are wrong. We won’t know until he returns. If he does have Raythien with him then he’ll have proved his quality yet again. Not only will he have been the one to stand up for what he believes to be right, but he will have proven to be the one amongst us who didn’t imprison a man out of simple fear and distrust. We very well could be the ones who needs to ask for his forgiveness.”
“Spoken with the wisdom only an Archbishop could possess,” a female voice said, offering a light applause.
“Amana,” Liernin sputtered. “My dear, how nice of you to join us.”
Exodin offered a low bow in her direction.
Drevic nodded and gave a slight bow himself. “Thank you m’lady.”
“And don’t worry, my dear,” Amana said as she hugged her husband. “As handsome and charming and gifted and wonderful as our young friend is, I only have eyes for you.”
“You flatter an old fool,” Liernin replied.
“That statement is correct on all levels,” she assured him.
“We should be going,” Drevic told Exodin.
“I believe we’ve said all that needs to be said,” Exodin agreed.
“And some that shouldn’t,” Liernin replied.
Whether or not he was referring to his wife’s obvious comments regarding Treace or something prior to that, Drevic couldn’t be certain. Whatever it was, he was sure Amana wouldn’t let Liernin live down what he’d said.
Drevic offered a bow and followed Exodin out of the room.
“Thanks,” Exodin told him once they were well on their way out.
“For?”
“Saying what you did about Treace,” Exodin clarified. “He needed to hear that. I needed to hear it too, I guess.”
“I said nothing more than the truth.”
“Do you really think we rely on him too much?”
“I wouldn’t say too much, but I do think we need to remember how valuable he is to all of us and that even as different and unlike any other his age he is, he’s still quite young.”
“Many men his age are already married,” Exodin argued.
“Yes, but how many of them are virtually second in command of an army?”
“You are not so old yourself,” Exodin offered. “And don’t you have one so young at your side?”
“I may not have your years of wisdom, but I am a handful of years older than them. And yes, Heral is very talented. But not only is Treace a leader in your army, he’s also a magister in my order. No one else in history has achieved his level of success. At his age nonetheless. And he’s trying to build a relationship. That’s a lot to take on, for anyone.”
“As you said,” Exodin replied. “Let’s trust in him. If he can’t handle it, I’m sure he’ll be the first to say so. Speaking of building relationships, how’s yours going?”
Drevic thought about declining to answer, but didn’t see any harm in sharing a bit of his personal life with the man he was trusting to safeguard every life in Haven. “I wouldn’t call it a relationship, but it’s going well. At least I think. You probably know her past better than I do, but she wasn’t treated very well by her husband. There was a lot of pain and anger to get through.”
“Why wouldn’t you call it a relationship? From what I’ve seen the two of you get along well. If you like her and she likes you?” Exodin asked.
“She is still legally married. Dating a married woman isn’t exactly the type of attribute that makes for a good Archbishop,” Drevic told him. It was the truth. If she was a widow it would make it easier. Emiah would have had time to grieve by now, but they never recovered Wren’s body nor heard from him. He could still be alive.
“You’re the Archbishop,” Exodin told him. “I’m sure you can find a way to annul that marriage.”
“That’s not really within my scope.”
“You’re the Archbishop. A mistreated woman locked into an arranged marriage by her father surely deserves the chance to be happy. It may not be within your scope now, but shouldn’t it be? Righting wrongs and making things right. Isn’t that what the Church is all about?”
Drevic nearly stopped in his tracks. He hadn’t thought of that. He could very easily amend the orders of the Church to allow for marriages to be annulled in certain circumstances.
“You’re welcome,” Exodin said, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Thanks,” Drevic replied. He said it more out of reflex than anything. His mind was occupied with ways to make that happen. He knew he should be concentrating on the training of those in the Church an
d trying to figure out how to best help in the war, but he couldn’t help it. Right then, putting the pieces of Emiah’s life back together seemed the nobler thing by far.
Chapter 13
He hoped Moffred wouldn’t fire his arrow until it was confirmed that the men in front of them were with Shamir.
The smaller man sidestepped and threw his torch at him.
Treace dodged out of the way and didn’t miss the unmistakable humming sound of a bowstring coming from behind him. If Moff’s arrow hit anything, Treace couldn’t tell. But the man that threw the torch bolted off into the darkness.
The large man in front of him stuck his torch in the snow and came at Treace. The light from the torch behind him made the man barely more than a shadow.
He pulled his swords and immediately parried an attack.
The man in front of him wasn’t a novice. That much was clear, but Treace still didn’t feel comfortable killing the man without knowing for certain he was an enemy. “So you’re with Shamir then?”
“He’ll pay good for your head,” the man informed him.
With that settled, Treace drove forward, slashing from his right to left with his left hand. He followed it up with a quick strike from his right.
His adversary parried away the first strike and stepped out of the way of the second before countering with an overhand slash of his own.
Treace used both blades to push it out wide. He then stepped forward, ensuring the man didn’t have room to bring his sword back in. It also meant Treace didn’t have room to make a full swing, but he brought his left arm up quickly and then back down on an angle as fast as he could.
Most fighters would have been slashed across the chest from that move, but the man he was fighting wasn’t most others. He had accepted Treace’s parry and went with his own weight instead of against it, bringing him just out of the way of the attack.
Treace shuffled forward quickly and turned as he moved. He brought up both swords as he did so and picked off the attack that was aimed at his head.
Now that he was on this side of the light, Treace could clearly see his opponent again. He used that advantage and brought both swords to his right side. He swung out with his left hand, bringing his sword up from his waist and driving it toward the man’s head.
His opponent brought up his sword, deflecting Treace’s attack above his head.
Unfortunately for him, though, the shadows disguised Treace’s true attack.
Treace felt his sword slide deep into the man’s abdomen. He was instantly reminded of the man on the balcony of Shamir’s palace. It was the only person Treace had actually killed that day. He was between Treace and safety. All Treace had to do was open the door and kill him. After opening the door, the man had his back to Treace and he had asked him if he had trouble sleeping. Clearly the guard didn’t know who was behind him. Treace refused to stab the man in the back and waited for the lone guard to turn around. When he did, Treace promptly slid his sword into the man’s stomach. Treace remembered watching the light drain from that man’s eyes as he slid off his sword.
The heavy blow to the side of his head brought him back to the present. This man was not the man on the balcony and was not ready to give in to death. He had struck Treace hard in the side of his head using the pommel of his sword and that same attack was about to connect again.
Treace threw himself backward, pulling his sword free of his enemy as he went. He felt the wind that followed his opponent’s strike as it caught nothing but air in front of him.
“It’ll take more than that to kill me,” the man said through gritted teeth.
It may take more than that, but it was clear to Treace that the man was in a lot of pain. He wondered for a moment what Moff and Kiril were doing. He hoped Moff wouldn’t fire arrows in his direction while he was directly involved in melee combat, but he half expected Kiril to rush to his side. He was glad that she didn’t though, it allowed him to finish off his enemy fairly.
“More coming!” Kiril announced from somewhere in the darkness.
Treace didn’t see anything beyond the man that he was fighting, but that didn’t mean more weren’t coming from behind him. He wanted to look around, but his foe was too close. He couldn’t risk turning his head, so he simply fought on.
He tried the same maneuver that caught the man off guard last time, but this time the veteran was ready for it and simply backed out of the way.
Treace began to circle to his right. It would mean giving up the advantage of having his strikes shrouded in shadow, but if would be a lot better than being attacked from behind if there were others coming from that direction.
His opponent stepped to his left, preventing Treace from completing his action. From the smile that splayed on the man’s face, he assumed there was more attackers coming from behind.
He feinted right and stepped quickly to his left, trying to draw the man into moving out of his way.
The man fell for the initial move but quickly recovered. He would have made it back in front of Treace had a shadowy figure not startled him as it rushed between the two combatants.
As Treace completed his move, finally bringing into view that which was previously behind him, he watched Kiril dart forward and directly into the path of three advancing men. One of the men Treace quickly recognized as the man who ran away just a short time ago. The other two he didn’t recognize, but one of them stuck a torch the length of a staff into the snow before drawing his sword. Reinforcements had to be close. He hoped there wouldn’t be more on the way.
He heard the hum of Moffred’s bow and the three advancing men became two. The one furthest away from Kiril crumpled to the ground after Moff’s arrow caught him in the center of his chest. That still left two attackers on the inexperienced woman, and Treace was worried for her safety.
It all happened in just a few heartbeats, but Treace’s enemy was already on top of him and had his sword rushing in at his side.
Treace brought his left arm up and twisted his wrist, forcing his thumb to point toward the ground. His wrist cried out in pain immediately as the man’s sword connected with Treace’s own. He accepted the minor pain in the wrist and thrust forward with his right, this time aiming higher than his last straight ahead attack.
He felt ribs part to make way for the steel that was Treace’s blade. The previous wound may or may not have turned out to be mortal, but this strike was death.
After pulling his sword free he turned to find where he could best intercept one of Kiril’s two attackers. It was clear that she was hard pressed to keep them at bay. She wasn’t making any offensive moves. She was purely on the defensive. He cursed himself for allowing her to take on two opponents at once.
“I’m on your right!” Treace called out, sprinting the short distance between them.
Kiril stepped to her left, making room for him.
“Once I kill you, I’ll have my way with her,” the man he met announced.
He knew it shouldn’t let the man get under his skin, but he did. With one short sentence he had set Treace off. When he stepped in, it didn’t take long for him to realize that these two were not nearly the same quality of fighters as the man he had just beaten. Good, he thought. He wanted them to go down quickly.
He circled his opponent, giving him room to swing freely without worrying about hitting Kiril. The man turned with him, but didn’t leave his friend’s side.
The man left an opening and just as Treace was about to strike, Kiril went to one knee. He held his blow and stepped back toward his left, trying to get closer to her.
His opponent stepped between them, though, cutting Treace off. The man grinned at him menacingly.
Behind his opponent, Kiril was deflecting blows with her armguards. The man was swinging wildly from on high, but Kiril continued to use those beautifully crafted weapons defensively.
“You can’t help her,” the man in front of him said.
Treace brought his right sword out and flashed i
t back across, which the man parried just in time. Treace repeated the move, and again the man parried. But the other strike, with the left sword that the man never saw slicing in from below his line of vision, caught him low in the belly. But it was the angle that Treace drove it up on that made the move a mortal one. It might not have reached all the way to the heart, but Treace didn’t care. His opponent’s fight was over.
He pulled his sword free and the man fell to the ground. He was about to step forward, but Kiril had just caught and twisted her opponent’s sword, prying it from his grasp. As the sword flew into the air, Treace heard that familiar humming sound again, this time from the opposite side of Moff.
An arrow drove home into the back of Kiril’s opponent, right between the shoulder blades.
The man lurched up onto his toes and arched his back. A second arrow followed, striking within inches of the other.
Kiril stood and punched out, crunching the bones of the man’s face. He crumpled to the ground.
Treace turned to face where the arrows came from and was pleased to see that Raythien was approaching them while slinging his bow over his shoulder.
“I’m fairly certain that’s the last of them,” he said as he neared them.
“Thanks,” Kiril told him.
Treace rushed to Kiril. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she replied. “Honestly.”
He stroked her hair and kissed her. He felt very lucky that she wasn’t hurt.
“I couldn’t risk a shot before then, but when you went to your knees, I knew I had to try,” Raythien explained.
“Put your hands up,” Moff called out, walking into the firelight with an arrow knocked and drawn.
“Easy big guy, I’m not the enemy, remember?”
“Moff! Put it down,” Treace instructed.
“How can you trust him?” Moff asked.
“I’d say the arrows in this one’s back should explain that,” Raythien said.
“Conveniently shot after it was clear that we’d win,” Moff accused.
Treace was about to argue, but Raythien spoke first.
“That’s not what happened,” Raythien countered.