by CS Sealey
“Yes. Turned double on us,” Rasmus muttered. “I can’t believe it, even now. I used to like his sister…”
“And he seemed like a good man.”
“What do you think will happen?”
“Well, the messenger must be past Calormen by now, so – ”
“No, I mean with those behind us,” Rasmus said, glancing back. “Do we stop and engage or fall back to a defensible position?”
The Ayons had not been seen since the camp had fallen but Rasmus did not doubt that the northerners were in pursuit. The Ayons would not attack merely to liberate Commander Sheon or regain Menthenae, the country they had lost two generations previously. They would take this opportunity to march on until the Ronnesian Empire was completely destroyed, or they themselves were defeated.
“Do you really think we’d stand a chance if we turned and fought them?”
“I suppose as long as we retreat, the Ayons won’t try to fight us. Each step we take as we go south is a victory for them with no bloodshed. We should fight, but against so many, we’d be crushed and our deaths would achieve nothing.”
Cassios was silent for a long time, deep in thought. Rasmus did not need to ask what was occupying him, for he supposed every man was wondering the same thing: Would they make it home?
“I see the opening,” Cassios said quietly. “We’re nearly there.”
Rasmus looked up from the dirt road. Ahead, he could just see the end of the canyon where the Kirofirth plains met the foot of the Black Mountains. The entire range was on Menthenae soil but, as soon as they left the pass, they walked Kirofirth roads. There was a collective sigh of relief as the retreating army emerged from the canyon but there was still a long way ahead of them before they reached any kind of sanctuary.
Rasmus’s mind was at ease as he bent down to touch the dirt and mutter a thankful word to the Spirits that he had made it this far.
*
That night, the Ayons attacked. Though fifty men had been assigned as sentries, not one saw or heard the enemies approach through the gloom. But despite the fact that they had rested little, the Ronnesians were quick to react when the alarm was finally sounded. Prince Korrosus and a dozen of his most loyal guards hurried past as Rasmus strapped on his sword, war trumpets loud in his ears. He had become used to sleeping in his uniform over the past couple of nights, though it was still uncomfortable. He tightened his weapons belt and, finding Cassios also ready, took off after the Tarek prince.
The Ayons had attacked from the north and west in two groups but they were slowly converging and would soon merge into one force. What remained of the Ronnesian cavalry followed Korrosus to make a sweep behind the Ayon lines while Rasmus and Cassios joined the infantry.
The attack appeared to be little more than a skirmish but when the enemy drew back a short while later, two dozen Ronnesians had lost their lives. Those who were deemed too severely wounded to continue on to Te’Roek were sent immediately along the road to Calormen with an escort. The city already had a strong contingency of soldiers stationed there, almost two thousand in all, and the walls were heavily fortified. But Rasmus feared it was only a matter of time before Calormen was also breached.
“But remember,” Commander Tiron said sternly to those heading off, “lives are more important than the stones of any city. The Ayons won’t burn Calormen to the ground. Its people would be useful to them for labor and the city itself would provide them with a strong base. So leave the city to protect the people, for they are more important than hundreds of square miles of earth.”
For the following three nights, the Ayons appeared from the darkness and bit at the Ronnesians’ heels, but with each attack, the Ronnesians grew tougher and more cunning, constructing better traps and developing more effective sentry tactics to spot the approaching enemy. The men had little rest. When each new day dawned, they sent the freshly wounded to the surrounding villages, towns and military outposts and continued south. At each outpost they passed, Tiron commanded all the scouts and guards to send messages to the towns and villages in the region, to tell them that the Ayon invasion had begun and to prepare for the worst.
“Tell the local leaders that resistance is not wise,” Tiron told the scouts. “Against forty thousand men, anything but surrender is suicide.”
CHAPTER 54
Tiderius recovered slowly but steadily from Lhunannon’s poisoned arrow. Angora’s careful treatment of him had once again ensured his survival. He could barely believe he had come so close to dying. He had been wounded many times in his life but his injuries had always been simple lacerations or stab wounds. Even the fight he had had with the Ayon king seemed insignificant now to the single arrow that could have ended his life.
King Samian…His double was dead. Though the stories were confused and differed from one telling to the next, Tiderius deduced that a renegade spell had struck the king and killed him instantly. He did not know the exact circumstances, as Angora did not wish to speak on the subject, but Tiderius did not doubt that she was a member of the Circle again. She came to visit him every morning and evening to check on his progress and, though she had few words to say, they were always encouraging.
“You are healing well.”
“Thanks to you. I owe you my life, again.”
“If every man I treated thought as you do, I would have an army to command.”
He chuckled and leaned back in his pillows. He had been allowed back into his own room and had welcomed the change, for waking up in the healing chamber was far from comforting: the walls were lined with shelves that stored medicines, potions and boxes of instruments, some of which looked so grotesque, they had made him feel sick.
“Lift your arms,” Angora said.
Tiderius sat up again and raised his arms. He was pleased to find that he could now lift his left arm as high as his right.
“Any pain?”
“Only a little stiffness in the muscles and a slight ache when I lift things.”
“Perhaps the bandages should come off now.”
She moved forward again and he began to loosen the cords of his shirt. He slid the material up and over his head, then placed the shirt on the sheets beside him. Angora carefully unwound the bandages.
“No stains. Your wound must have sealed at last,” she said, once the entire length of bandage had come free. “Tell me if this hurts.” She began to lightly touch the bruised skin around the wound. Only twice did he feel any pain and said so, but Angora seemed satisfied. He examined his wound himself and exercised his arm, comparing its movement to his uninjured right. Though his left had always been his weaker arm, he noticed the decline in its performance.
“The only thing now is to train it back up again, I suppose,” he said and chuckled as he reached for his shirt. “You’re probably going to tell me to take it easy and not lift anything heavy, right?”
When she did not answer him, he turned. Her gaze was lingering on the old, distinctive scar that cut across his left shoulder.
“What is it?” he asked, replacing his shirt on the bed.
She did not immediately draw back from her strange trance, but when she did, she seemed sad. One of her hands fell to her stomach absently and a pained expression crossed her face. Tiderius frowned and touched her shoulder.
“Hey, what’s the matter?”
“You would not understand.”
“Try me.”
Angora shook her head and made to move away, but Tiderius stopped her.
“What’s wrong with you? You can’t keep turning away. I’ve noticed, so have the others. You haven’t been yourself since the siege.”
Angora looked as though she was about to cry. It was such a common event now that it had become second nature for him to comfort her. He gathered her up in his arms and rested his cheek on her hair, murmuring reassuring words. He could feel her hot tears drip onto the bare skin of his shoulder and absently stroked her back. She was shaking.
“Hey, it’s all right. What�
�s wrong?”
“I cannot stop thinking about it,” she said, her voice trembling.
“About what?” He could feel her chest rising and falling more frequently against his body and the warm flutter of breath across his skin when she sighed.
“My husband’s death.”
His heart sank. He could not comfort her sincerely when she was weeping over the death of King Samian.
“I am sorry. I should not speak of him to you…”
“No, you shouldn’t,” Tiderius agreed. “You shouldn’t even think of him.”
Angora moved back slightly and gazed up at him, her bloodshot eyes shimmering with tears. “What?”
“Look at yourself! It’s been more than two weeks since his death and you still wear that dress. It’s covered in his blood and who knows what else!”
“I wash it,” Angora said quietly, “but the blood will not come out. It is a constant reminder of what I have done.”
“Don’t be absurd. What happened in the courtyard, it’s in the past. No matter how long you dwell on it, you can’t change the fact that the king of the Ayons is dead, Angora! That alliance is over. You need to move on.”
She looked suddenly fierce and stepped back, her lips quivering.
“How dare you!” she exclaimed. “He was my husband!”
“It was a political agreement to ensure the safety of the islands and their trade routes. Let it go.”
“You know nothing of what it was!”
“You – You don’t mean to say that you loved him?” When she did not reply, Tiderius shook his head. “No, no, no – you can’t have loved him! That man was a ruthless dog! If you – ”
She slapped him hard across the face. The shock of the act stunned him momentarily, but that was quickly replaced by anger and confusion.
“Angora, you c – ”
She moved to slap him again but, this time, he grabbed her wrist and then the other and backed her across the room and against the wall. She struggled and fury blazed in her eyes.
“Listen to me,” he said. “I don’t know what went on between you and the king but the fact remains that he is dead! There’s a war brewing and we need you to be strong and ready when it comes. Will you still be torturing yourself when Varren unleashes the might of his armies on the empire? Do you think he cares how you feel? No matter how much remorse you harbor about King Samian’s death, Varren will kill you all the same!”
Angora stopped struggling but her eyes were still filled with the same fire, scorching behind her tears.
“Just listen to me, all right?” He sighed. “You were once so bright and powerful. We will need that strength to defeat the Ayons, don’t you see? You don’t have time to mourn. In times of war, none of us do. You have to be strong now and protect the people. Find something within yourself that still has that spark and stand tall. I know you can do it.”
He released her cautiously and took a step back. She watched him with suspicious eyes.
“When the war is over, there will be time enough to dwell upon past actions, for all of us. Your anger and sorrow are draining you, making you weak and turning you into a shadow of what you once were. Please, come back. We need you.”
There was a long silence as the two of them looked at each other. After what seemed an eternity, Angora nodded slowly. “What you say has some truth in it,” she said sadly. “I cannot let myself fall into darkness and forget my duty. I have caused enough pain already.”
Tiderius ran a hand through his hair and risked a smile. “I knew you’d see sense. I-I’m sorry for what I said about your – ”
“Forget it,” she said stiffly. “You did not know him.”
An awkward silence fell. Tiderius wondered what she was thinking about and hoped his words had had some sort of effect on her. He did not like seeing her so dispassionate.
“I know!” he said cheerily. “We could go out for a drink, celebrate my second brush with death this year!”
Angora raised her eyebrows. “I do not drink. You know that.”
“Berri Tavern has the best ale in the whole city,” Tiderius insisted. “You really should try it.”
“No.”
“They also have wine!”
“No.”
Tiderius sighed. “Water?”
“I do not wish to go out at all.”
“Then you leave me no choice,” he said, moving over to a cabinet that stood beside his bed. He reached into it and grasped a bottle of firewater. “We shall celebrate in here!”
“I told you,” Angora said, folding her arms, “I do not drink, here nor there.”
“Yes, yes,” Tiderius said, placing the firewater on the cabinet top and reaching in for another bottle. “That’s why I have this.”
He offered Angora the second bottle. She took it skeptically, peering through the dull green glass to the liquid within.
“What is it?”
“Nature’s best water,” he said, chuckling. Removing the lids of both bottles, he raised his own in the air, then chinked it against Angora’s. “May I survive every arrow and blade the Ayons throw at me!’
*
Angora watched as Tiderius took a long draft of northern firewater. It was, so he had explained to her, a weaker version of the purer alcohol sold further south, but it was still having an effect on him. His words were starting to slur and his balance seemed a little off, causing a few drops of his precious drink to dribble down his chin and onto his shirt.
“What exactly was it that you wanted from him anyway?” Tiderius asked, putting the bottle down upon the cabinet with a heavy thud. “What did he have that we didn’t? We could’ve signed an alliance with the islands if that’s what you really wanted. Still could, you know. All you need to do is show the queen that you’re worthy of her trust.”
“Easier said than done,” Angora replied stiffly. “I betrayed her. If not for my gift, I would be long dead.”
“No, no, no. The queen would never execute you. She thinks of you as a daughter, you know. A very disobedient one!”
Angora shrugged and moved over to one of the arched windows. A slight breeze rippled her hair and she sighed. She remained there, silent, for a long while, staring across the city to the mountains. Yet again, her hand fell absently to her stomach.
It seemed a strange twist of fate that she should be carrying King Samian’s child. They had shared only a handful of weeks but those brief moments had spawned something irreplaceable and invaluable. Her heart ached terribly, knowing that her husband would never see their child. And that Varren would never accept it as the heir to the throne. She harbored no doubts that, if Emil knew she was carrying the Ayon heir, the shaman would do all he could to either terminate the pregnancy or separate her from the child after birth. Angora could afford neither of those things to happen.
“Hey, did you hear what I said?” Tiderius asked.
Angora turned and shook her head.
“I asked you what he was like, as a man.”
“My husband?”
“Yes,” Tiderius said, frowning, “the precious king of the north!”
Angora swallowed. Day by day, the image she kept in her mind of her dead husband grew vaguer. One morning, she would wake up and not remember the color of his eyes.
Green, she reminded herself fervently. The brightest, most beautiful green.
“He was brave, kind…” she began, smiling a little. “Whenever I entered the room, his eyes lit up with pure joy. He listened to every word I spoke, respected every word. Sam was so proud of me. He was compassionate to his people, he always made me laugh and there was such life in his spirit…King Samian was a good man. He treated me like his equal.”
“His equal,” Tiderius said bitterly, reaching for his firewater again. “You chose him over me? I’d treat you like the Goddess herself if I was your husband!”
“Your oath forbids permanent relationships while in the queen’s service,” Angora reminded him.
“Damn my oa
th to hell!” he exclaimed, thumping the bottle down. “If I only had the chance to love you like a husband, I would…I would – Gods, I don’t know. I’d do anything you asked!”
Angora looked up at him dubiously. “Do the others know that?”
“I don’t know. What does it matter? This war, it makes me realize just how uncertain our futures truly are. We have to live for here and now. I don’t want to die with regrets.”
Angora looked at him in silence as he took yet another long swallow of firewater. An idea crept into her mind. She tried to shun it, disgusted at the suggestion, but it was proving hard to shake off. She was, after all, running out of time. She had to do something, and soon.
“I could ask the queen for a special consideration,” Tiderius was saying, his brow furrowed in drunk concentration. “If I could get her or Markus to amend the oath to let me marry, there would be nothing else in my way!”
It only needs to be once, then never again. It will mean nothing. Nothing at all, Angora told herself.
“I’m sure the queen would let me. After all, our gifts are hereditary. I need to ensure my family line is secure, and since Rasmus isn’t married and is always off at the front line…”
It need not even be once. He only needs to believe it was once.
“If both he and I were to perish in this war, our family’s only survivor is my mother’s cousin, but if the Spirits don’t accept him…”
I must do it and feel no guilt, Angora told herself firmly. I must do it.
“And you know,” Tiderius said, approaching her, “when the Ayons are defeated and the future is secure and bright, we could settle down somewhere, start a family.”
He will believe it. This is my chance.
She looked down at her hands, her fingers entwined in one another. On one of those fingers was her silver wedding band and on another was the Ayon royal ring with its crimson gem – undeniable reminders of what she had been so briefly. Though Varren had denounced her and the entire Ayon Empire thought her a traitor and murderer, she still felt a strong sense of duty. She had to protect her unborn child from Emil and the others.