by J. B. Jenn
Before they had ventured into the mountains, he had sent one of his men back to King Zavad. He was to tell the king about the possible attack against Yul from Carthoda, their northern neighbor.
King Barend had grown strange over the last four years. So much, in fact, King Zavad had cut off all communication with him. When Yul had sent three emissaries to the man to discuss a treaty, only one had returned. The man was in such a stricken state, he had babbled nonsense about demons and monsters. A few days later, the man had committed suicide. After that, the king refused to have any dealings with the King of Carthoda.
At the time, Ogden thought it a mistake to cut off all contact with them. He still did. Although Yul was a kingdom devoted to education, it was still important to know what was happening outside its borders. Just because Yul was a peaceful kingdom, neutral in the wars of Hartland, didn’t mean they weren’t susceptible to others waging war against them. If anything, their chosen lifestyle made them more of a target.
A gust of wind shot over him, making him shudder. Taking a step forward, a shrill scream in the distance stopped him. His men halted with him. He met Casman’s dark brown eyes and nodded for the man to take a few of the men with him and investigate. He didn’t want to send Casman out into the blizzard with an unknown enemy, but he didn’t see he had much of a choice. This was their kingdom and they had to protect it.
Ogden continued forward. Once they came to a small clearing in the area, they could hear the sounds of fighting in the distance. King Zavad wasn’t going to like the fact someone had brought trouble to his kingdom. Ogden didn’t like it either.
As he and his men continued to trudge through the deep snow, passing by hundreds of trees, the sounds of fighting grew louder. With the wind and trees, Ogden was having a difficult time discerning where the fighting was. The problem with the mountains was sound carried from every which way and echoed around them.
He shook his head, hoping they wouldn’t arrive too late.
Janessa
They had arrived at the rendezvous. No one was there. No one had remained behind either if her father had been here. Galtrand had sent out some men to scout the area, but they hadn’t returned yet. It was obvious someone had stayed here though. There were holes in the dirt suggesting tents. It, at least, gave her hope.
She stood there, staring out across the land. Her brow was creased in deep worry. To prevent her from reopening the wound on her shoulder, her arm was wrapped against her chest. From where she stood, she thought she could see a fresh trail leading north. She wasn’t certain though.
Looking toward Galtrand, she wondered if the man would tell her the truth. He caught her staring, so she motioned him over. She hoped he wouldn’t tell her what he thought she needed to know.
“I think we may have missed my father,” she said. “He waited as long as he could, but because we were delayed by those men, we didn’t reach this place in time. He’s probably worried sick about me. My only concern was he didn’t leave anyone behind.”
“What do you want to do, my lady?”
“There’s only one thing we can do. We must continue to the North Gardens Palace.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. She was in a delicate position. She knew that. Her father might very well be dead. Cascade was in shambles. They needed help. She knew she’d do whatever was necessary to ensure Cascade’s future, even if it meant marrying a man she didn’t know. Just the thought sickened her.
Janessa turned away. As she did so, she saw Galtrand reach for her, but drop his arm at his side instead. He was a good man, but one who never acted on his desires. She was relieved he hadn’t. She didn’t want to tell him she didn’t love him. She trusted him, but she didn’t love him. She had known about his feelings for the last two years and hadn’t had the heart to address them. She knew it was selfish, but she couldn’t bring herself to break his heart. Eventually, she knew she’d have to.
Janessa shook her head. There wasn’t time to think about him. She needed to focus on arriving at the Desert palace without sustaining anymore casualties. Yarted, the man in command of her guard detail before Galtrand had arrived, had been killed in the attack against them. He was a good man and was missed.
Too many people had already died. From what Galtrand and the others told her, she couldn’t expect too many had survived the attack on Kenokel. As she fled north, she wondered how the rest of Cascade was faring. Was the rest of the kingdom under attack, too? Cascadians were a strong people, but she didn’t know if they’d survive this.
Tears spilled down her cheeks. She wiped them away. Being strong was harder than she had imagined. She was beginning to understand her father better.
Galtrand
He couldn’t stop from staring at her as they walked toward the Desert. She was a caring woman and he admired her for it. He remembered when she had demanded to go out into the city and speak with the people who were rioting. Her father had forbidden it, but she had gone anyway, enlisting him as her bodyguard. It had worked. The rioting had ceased and they were willing to speaking with her father. To this day, he still wondered why she had chosen him. He wondered if she knew he’d do anything for her.
Regardless of the results she had gotten, when they had returned, they were punished. The king wanted to banish him from the kingdom as he had gone with her, endangering her life, and disobeying orders. In King Delane’s eyes, Galtrand knew the king wanted to execute him, but had thought better of it. If Janessa hadn’t stood up for him, he’d probably have never seen her again. He wasn’t certain where he would have gone, but he knew for a certainty, he’d have never gotten the chance to fall more in love with her.
It bothered him she had seemed to have consigned herself to marrying King Maik already. He wanted a different life for her. He wanted a future for her where he was her husband. Where he was the one who had the privilege to protect her. The one who comforted her when things went wrong.
Galtrand shook his head, realizing he was grinding his teeth. He realized Janessa was watching him. It made him focus his gaze ahead.
“What’s wrong?”
Galtrand looked to her, thinking about telling her he loved her. Instead, he gave her a short smile. “What isn’t wrong? People have died horrible deaths. The only way you feel you can protect them is by sacrificing your happiness.”
“Isn’t it mine to sacrifice?” she asked, interrupting him. He ground his teeth again. He should just tell her. “Galtrand,” she touched his arm. “Don’t worry about me. I have known for a long time I may not get to marry the man I choose. It’s part of being royalty. Some things must be given up for the greater good. The fact my father hadn’t made me marry anyone yet was a blessing.”
“Even if you’re never happy again? It doesn’t seem worth it.”
“Yes, even if I’m never happy again. The people of Cascade deserve it of someone who was born into seeing over them, into protecting them.” He watched her look to the people who followed them. Stragglers who had somehow survived. “This world isn’t kind. Sometimes things must be sacrificed in order to help the many.”
Galtrand couldn’t look away from her. He wanted to reach out and stroke her cheek. He wanted to tell her everything would be fine. “I wish more people saw things the way you do. Hartland would be a better place to live if they did.” He gave her a sad smile.
She left his side. He wished he had the courage to tell her how he felt, but like her, he had a place to maintain. He was a guard. Nothing more. It was a bitter fact of life.
Arem
As Mercea came tumbling down the cliff side, his heart stopped for a moment. If he had helped, instead of watching the entire fight unfold, he could have prevented this.
He hurried down to her unmoving body. As he moved to her, he was careful not to be seen by the king’s men. He checked her pulse and breathed a sigh of relief. At least she was alive, but in bad shape. Had she not been a Servant, she would have died.
Staring down at her, he kne
w this had to happen. He had attempted to tell her the problem was in Carthoda, but she had dismissed him because he was a wytch. He hoped she’d forgive him in the end, but he couldn’t let her go to Kenokel.
He gathered her in his arms and looked about the snow covered forest for any place he could go. He didn’t know the Spindle Mountains well, but he seemed to recall staying at an inn in the area a few years back. If he remembered correctly, the small town was to the west.
Looking down, he gave a soft smile. It was probably the only time her face would ever hold such peace to it. Once she woke, she’d want to kill him.
A little over an hour had passed. The cold was slowing him now. Up ahead, he thought he saw a large building. The swirling snow and mass of trees made it difficult to know for certain. He continued forward, pushing through the snow, trying not to slip. A little ways forward, he started catching glimpses of a log building through the trees.
Once in front of the building, he noticed the curtains were drawn in an attempt to keep out as much of the cold as possible. Hanging above the massive, double oak doors was a sign naming it the Whistling Creek Inn.
Arem was uneasy about entering, knowing he was bringing danger to these people. He didn’t see much of a choice. Mercea needed him to enter. Still, he hesitated. His uneasy feelings had never led him stray. Arem closed his eyes. Whatever was going to happen here was going to have to happen. If she didn’t receive attention soon, Servant or no, she could die.
With Mercea in his arms, he kicked one of the doors several times, hoping someone would open it. When no one came, he kicked it a few more times until an older man pulled it open, scowling.
As he stepped into the warm great room, there were at least twenty people inside who were staring at him. When he followed their gazes to the floor, he saw there was blood dripping from her fingers. He stopped breathing for a moment. There was a trail leading straight to the inn. The only thing he could hope for was the falling snow would cover it faster than they could find it.
Arem met the old man’s eyes. He assumed the man was the owner from the way everyone looked to him. A grim look had settled into the older man’s eyes.
“Follow me.” The old man turned to another who was tending to the fire. “Make sure you clean up the blood.” They entered a room at the end of the hallway on the first floor. “Put her on the bed and back away.”
Arem did as he was told. He watched from the corner of the room as the man cleaned and stitched her wounds. Not once did the man ask questions as he worked.
Arem studied Mercea’s face, noting how narrow it was. He also noticed the freckles under her eyes and across her nose on her olive skin. Her eyes were almond shaped and her nose thin. She was a beautiful woman.
The old man had no problem stripping away her clothes as if he had seen hundreds of naked women in his lifetime. “You could show some decency, young man, and look away.”
It was only then Arem realized he was staring at her breasts. He turned away with a small, uneasy laugh. As he stood there, waiting for the innkeeper to finish, he stared at the wall. From time to time, he glanced over at her. He was curious about the petite woman. Since before he had met her he had wondered what had made her so special for the Old Gods to have chosen her for this life. She was a muscular, toned woman, but it was the scars all along her body which had caught his attention. They spoke of her long, hard life.
“Who is she?” the man asked as he removed the second set of daggers he had found. There were sheaths for more, but they were empty.
“A very special woman.”
The old man stared at him for several long, uncomfortable moments. “What happened to her? You didn’t do this to her, did you?”
“No.” He looked toward the woman again. “I might as well have though. I did nothing to stop it.” The old man stared at him. Arem ran a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head. “Look, you don’t have to believe me. It doesn’t matter if you do. All that matters is she survives. As I said, she’s a very special woman. You have no idea how much Hartland needs her at the moment.”
“The Servant will live.” Arem looked to him in surprise. Most of Yul believed in the new God. To hear this man admit there were Servants seemed odd.
“So, you’re a believer then?” Arem asked, readying himself for whatever was necessary.
“When you’ve lived as long as I have, there are things you’ve seen which can’t be explained by this new religion taking place. The Old Gods exist. So do a number of other things. People just never see it. I’m not sure if it’s because they don’t want to see it, or if it’s too well hidden.” The innkeeper walked to the door and turned toward him. “Come with me. I’m not leaving you alone with her, not after the way you stared.”
Arem laughed as he followed.
Scrunder
King Barend’s men had made their way down the steep mountainside. They kept close to the path Mercea had tumbled down. It was easily distinguishable from the uneven snow, followed by several smooth sections of snow. The path was also littered with branches, pine needles, and streaks of blood. Finding her would be easier than Scrunder had hoped. Once again, he looked about the area for Queen De’Nae. She was still nowhere in sight, worrying him. He wondered what she was waiting for. One mistake with her and she’d kill them. He was surprised they weren’t already dead.
They followed a trail of blood to the edge of a small town. The trail of blood was becoming increasingly difficult to follow with the twirling snow covering it. What traces of blood they did find led to what looked like an inn.
As Scrunder stared at the building, he wondered how many people were inside. He wondered if she had enlisted their help. The way he wanted to do this might not work. If there were even a dozen people inside the inn, it could complicate things. He didn’t want anyone else to die. Scrunder had a feeling there were quite a few more than a dozen inside with the current weather.
He had never wanted the responsibility of leading this group. She had killed the three men ahead of him wanting the honor for themselves. Now, he was the one in charge, making the difficult decisions. If he failed and returned, King Barend would have more than just his head. There was a slow torture waiting all of them.
If he survived it, he’d never be himself again. In essence, surviving the process would see him dead, though he wouldn’t technically die. Part of him would live on, forced to witness what he had become and forced to do things the creature wanted. Scrunder shuddered. He had to do his best to keep it from happening. He didn’t want to become one of those monsters.
His focus returned to the inn. There was another problem he predicted. He doubted Mercea was in any condition to walk on her own at the moment. It meant someone had to have carried her here. It meant someone knew of her and might protect her.
“What’s the plan?” a thin, short man asked at his side.
Scrunder snarled. “I don’t think capturing her is an option any longer. The king said failing that, we had to kill her.”
“How? We’ve lost too many men.”
“That’s when we were trying to capture her. Killing her will be easier. She’s wounded. It’s the others inside the inn I’m worried about. We have no way of knowing if she told them what had happened. They might fight back.” Scrunder looked about. “We can’t stay out here waiting for her. Let’s go.”
Rosha
Her gray eyes darted about the trees. It bothered her she hadn’t discerned who had the magical abilities yet. The magic she felt was strong, yet subtle, carefully hidden away. It was what left her puzzled and most curious.
“We take a break here,” Thac, the leader of these men said. She watched him scan the small disruption they had found in the trees.
The man who carried her over his shoulder tossed her into the snow. Rosha scowled at him, earning her a hard smack across the face, bloodying her lip. The man leaned close to her. So close she could smell the fish he’d eaten for lunch. Her eyes watered and she fought back
the urge to gag.
“I suggest you keep those looks to yourself,” he growled before backhanding her again.
“Leave her alone,” a thin man said coming to stand between her and the man. His brilliant blue eyes dared the man to try something. Rosha watched interestedly.
“What are you going to do, Trester?” the larger man asked. He thumped Trester’s chest.
As Rosha stared at them, she swore she saw small pieces of ice shoot from Trester’s hands. She tilted her head to the side.
“Leave her be,” Thac ordered from where he knelt over a small fire, warming his hands.
The man rolled his eyes before leaving. From where Rosha lay in the snow, she watched Thac’s eyes dart about the white land. She met his gaze for a moment. He shook his head at her, snorting. She knew she could escape these men and would have done so by now if not for the magic she had sensed. Now that she had found who the magic belonged to, she had to stay to discover more.
Trester knelt in front of her with a cloth. “Some of these men can be rather cruel. I apologize for them.”
Rosha took in everything about him. He carried two small swords. His brilliant blue eyes seemed familiar, as if she’d seen them before. It could simply be she had noticed him before among the soldiers, but she didn’t think that was it. His calloused hands gripped her chin and turned her face upwards. He cleaned the blood from her lip and chin.
“Look at me,” he whispered. Rosha met his eyes. “I won’t hurt you. I won’t let these other men hurt you either.”
“I’m not sure you can do anything to stop them.”
A small, knowing smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “Trust me, I can.”