“I don’t even know if I love him.” Callum and Jameson had never been close, even though they weren’t far apart in age. When they were really young, they would often play around the palace grounds together, but eventually their different interests led them apart. Callum had always been interested in books, studying things, and the politics of court. He would watch their father and his advisors, memorizing the things they said. Jameson, on the other hand, could always be found outside. He was riding, or exploring the forests. Then he started his training in the military, and his friendship with Turk led them down a new path altogether. The brothers’ paths would barely cross, except during ceremonies and court gatherings, which Jameson would notoriously sneak out of before the end.
“He is your little brother. Of course you love him.”
“Do I? I don’t think he loves me,” he admitted out loud. It was true—he doubted it very much. Callum had nothing but contempt for Jameson and his ways their entire young adult lives. It had never bothered Jameson, but it made him doubt his brother’s affection.
Turk shrugged. “Our problem,” he started, changing the subject, “is that cursed sorcerer. As long as he is alive, he will make more beasts than we can kill. As our men kill the ones they have now, he’ll be somewhere else just making more.”
This was a true statement, and the one thing they had both been worried about since the beginning. It was one thing for two armies to fight, one winning, the other losing. Both sides lost men, but one side was always victorious as they cut the other side down. The northern army was drastically different, however. They had magical beings, monsters that were nothing their men were used to dealing with. What was worse was that Aziz could make as many as he wanted to, and they had no way of stopping him. By the time their men reached the northern army’s men, many would already be dead from the beasts. Even if they kept their numbers strong and defeated the opposing men, Aziz could conjure up more beasts and the vicious cycle would never end. Not unless he was killed. Killing him would be difficult, since all the reports they’d received told them that Aziz was not actually with the northern army. Apparently, no one knew where he was exactly. The man had locked himself away somewhere, devoting his days to these evil acts.
“Our men are strong, Jameson,” Turk said suddenly, his voice full of encouragement. “We will beat them no matter what they send at us. We have the God and Goddess on our side, and you are the High King. Fate alone smiles down upon you.” He got up to refill their glasses. Jameson was pretty certain they were both drunk already, but he didn’t reject the offered cup.
“Are we leaving tomorrow?”
“I’m going to try, depending on how quickly the men can be packed and ready to go. The earlier we leave, the better; we can cover more ground.”
They sat in silence again, considering all the things that needed to be done before the army took off. A small number would have to be left behind, at least a hundred men, just in case any attacks were made on the city walls while they were gone. The rest of the army would have to travel to the emerald fields, most on foot, about two hundred on horseback. There were almost six hundred men in total, so their progression would be slow. It was a large number to travel together, making it harder to cover ground at a decent speed. He could only hope it would be enough. The Riders in the west, the Sand People in the east, and the southern army had all offered their assistance. The High King had warned them not to come, telling them that once the Capital was taken, the northern army would turn their sights to one of them. It was Brutus’s desire to rule all of Eden, not just the Capital, so they all had to stay on guard. No one knew just how big their forces were, so it was quite possible that they would attack them shortly.
“You know what advantage we haven’t utilized to the fullest?” Turk said, his voice slightly slurring. Jameson watched as the first touches of morning lit the far-off horizon. The sun would be rising slowly, casting its orange glow upon them. He had always loved to watch the sunrise. It was like the God giving him a gift.
“What?” he asked lazily.
“Diana.”
Jameson looked at his friend. Diana. That was a story all on its own.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
They sat in the tent together, both involved with their books. Rose was reading a book of poetry Callum had brought her one day. She guessed he had stolen it from a house they rummaged, but the distraction was welcome. He sat at his desk, as was usual, reading letters sent to him. She didn’t know who they were from, or what they involved, and she didn’t want to know. The army’s progression had been quick; they travelled almost constantly. Currently, they were camped near the border of north and central Eden, awaiting the arrival of something, or someone. Callum never discussed details with Rose, which she appreciated. Sometimes it helped her to pretend like she didn’t know what was happening around her, but at night she would find it hard to sleep. So many were dead already—innocent farmers and villagers, taken from their homes and brutally murdered. As they rode past a village one day, with Rose behind Callum on his horse, which was becoming a routine now, she saw a man’s severed head stuck on a spear. The mouth was frozen open, as if the man had been screaming in the end, his eyes wide in terror and pain. She almost vomited then. Callum whispered to her to look away, and she had buried her face in his back.
Surprisingly, she was getting used to being around the prince, sometimes finding his company to be enjoyable. He would tell her stories about the Capital, explaining the twisting lanes and the grand palace. He told her about the festivals and palace parties that took place, explaining in great detail all the riches the Capital had to offer. She had never been there herself, and couldn’t help but find his stories intriguing. It made her wonder more about her brother, and what his life was like now that he lived in a place like that. It was so different from their village, full of life and excitement.
The tent flaps flew open, Brutus pushing his way in with speed. He nodded in Rose’s direction, a sign of another surprising relationship she had established. Brutus seemed to have taken a liking to her, not in a sensual sense, but in a friendly way. He would often stop by in the evenings, sitting to talk with Callum, but always including her as well. He said he found her amusing, laughing his loud bark at her sarcastic comments. He would constantly tell Callum that he had his hands full with this one, which would bring a weird look to the prince’s face. Rose ignored this. She was no one’s mistress, and they both knew this. She was certain the others in the army thought differently, but she didn’t let that get to her.
“He’s here,” he said to Callum, making the prince sit up straight. “We need to meet now.” Callum pushed his chair back, rising immediately. They both hurried out of the tent, neither of them looking at her as they left.
Slowly getting up, shaking her legs out momentarily because they both had fallen asleep, she walked over to the entrance and peeked out through the tiny slit of the flaps. The whole camp seemed to be moving: men bustled about, shouting at one another. She looked at the expressions on their faces, and each one wore a look of apprehension, one could say almost fear. Rose had no idea who had come, but she knew something big was happening, which made her more afraid than she could say.
They hurried across the camp, heading for Brutus’s tent on the far side. When they walked in, they saw him standing there already, his back turned toward them.
“Aziz,” Brutus greeted him. “It is about time you joined us.” It was said lightly, but Callum read the accusation underlining it. He knew how angry Brutus was that they hadn’t known where Aziz was located all this time. It didn’t make sense that he would keep it from them, especially since they were all in this together. It bothered Callum too, but he had become accustomed to this man’s eccentricities.
As Aziz turned toward them, Callum almost gasped out loud. He had never seen a man so changed in such a short period of time. The once tall, strong-looking man, with his rich brown skin and dark eyes, was now withered and pale. His
eyes constantly darted around the room, like he couldn’t concentrate on one spot. He looked mad, like the men you would see who had been taken by spirits. His hands shook as he held his staff, his nails long and black. It was like looking at the ghost of the man, a fraction of what he once had been. They knew that he had been creating a large army of beasts, fanatic in his magic, but this was completely unexpected. He had explained to them, before he had even started making any, that to make the creatures correctly, to ensure that they would be loyal only to him, he would need to give each one of them a part of himself. He had said it would link them to him better, and help him feel what they were feeling when they were far away. It was useful, but it had clearly taken a toll on the man himself.
“Aziz,” Callum greeted him, nodding his head politely. He didn’t know what else to say, how to react in front of this thing. He almost didn’t look like a man at all, the bones in his face sticking out, his long hair knotted and unwashed.
“Something has happened,” he said. His voice was like a snake hissing, not the strong, deep voice it had been only a few months ago.
“What?” Brutus asked, appearing unfazed by his change in appearance like Callum was. That, or Brutus hid it better than he did.
“One of my beasts fought a boy by the forest, one of two young King’s men practicing near the edge. He thought it an easy fight, seeing the inexperience of the boy, and he was hungry.”
Callum sat down on one of the low sofas that Brutus had in his tent. It had been given to him by Aziz, a magnificent piece of furniture common in their parts. The fabric was intricately woven, with threads that sparkled in the light. The wooden arms were carved by hand, depicting the ivy and lilies that floated in their waters. Callum didn’t mind it, except that it was so low to the ground, another common thing in their parts. He didn’t understand the concept—it made it much more difficult to get up afterward. Perhaps that was the point, he thought, to make people sit longer and relax.
“What is the problem then?” Brutus asked, annoyed. “Get to the point already.” Callum looked at him in warning, silently asking him to be patient.
Aziz didn’t seem to be bothered by his rudeness, picking up his story where he had paused. “The boy—he killed the beast.”
Callum and Brutus looked at each other questioningly. It wasn’t that alarming to have one killed. The boy must have gotten lucky.
Aziz continued, not waiting for either to speak. “He didn’t complete the kill, however, before my beast bit him in the leg. That is where the problem arises. He didn’t taste right.”
“Didn’t taste right?” Callum asked, confused. “How do you know that?”
“What does that even mean?” Brutus asked, clearly confounded.
“I sense everything that happens to them. I can taste what they taste, hear, see, feel what they do. This one didn’t taste right; there is something different about him. I sent another to watch afterward, and it saw him in the woods later. His leg was healed, completely. We could not smell any open or torn flesh. It was as if there was no bite at all.”
We could not smell, Callum echoed in revulsion. He spoke as if they were one. It was almost sickening.
“How is that possible? The witch, perhaps?” Brutus asked, turning toward Callum.
“I think not,” Callum replied. “She is not a healer.”
“This is their weapon,” Aziz hissed. “The one we wondered about, the one thing that will give them an advantage. Whatever this boy is, they have him to use against us.”
Brutus looked at Callum, his thoughts perfectly read through his eyes. The man thought Aziz was crazy, and Callum was quick to agree with him. What kind of weapon could one boy provide for a whole army? The idea was slightly ludicrous.
“I don’t see how one boy could make a difference against your creations,” Callum said, keeping his voice respectful. The last thing they wanted to do was insult this man.
“He is not a normal boy, I promise you that.”
Brutus shrugged. “All right, you point him out to us on the battlefield, and we’ll make sure to take him out first. Does that help matters?”
Aziz hesitated, looking from one to another with his quick, wandering eyes. “I will not be at the battle; it would be too dangerous. I must go back at once, to continue my work there.” They had expected that. “My beasts know his face—I have told them all. To make sure there are no mistakes, however, I have brought you something else to use against him. He might survive a bite, but he won’t survive this.”
Rose waited up for Callum to return, which was out of the norm for her. She didn’t know why she felt the need to wait, but her curiosity was overwhelming. Something was happening, and she wanted to know what. It was doubtful he’d even tell her, but she’d have to try.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, she looked around at the tent. It amazed her that she had lasted this long on the road. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had slept in an actual bed, she thought sadly, bouncing slightly on the cushion beneath her. The home back in their village felt like a distant memory. It had been only a couple of weeks, but her old life seemed foreign to her already. The only reason why she continued with the army, the only reason she hadn’t tried to run again, was Felix. She needed to get to him, to tell him about their parents, if he didn’t already know, and to show him that she was okay. They still had each other, and that would be enough.
Callum walked in while she found herself bouncing again on the bed. His face looked shocked to see her there. Normally, she would have been asleep already, so her presence still awake was surprise enough.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Waiting for you,” she answered, ignoring what he really meant. She stopped bouncing immediately. He eyed her bed on the floor knowingly, but didn’t press the matter.
“Waiting for what exactly?” He crossed the floor of the tent to his usual chair. Sitting down, he started to take off his boots, and pulled his shirt over his head, to reveal his defined chest. She hated it when he did that—it made her nervous. Ignoring his skin, she focused on the conversation.
“I wanted to know what was going on. Everyone seems to be nervous, or afraid of something. Who has come tonight?”
He smiled slightly, standing up to pull his pants off.
“Callum!” she cried out, shocked. Covering her eyes, she could hear him snickering, even though she couldn’t see him. “That is not appropriate. Please put your pants back on!”
“You’re the one who decided to stay awake this long. I’m just following my usual routine at the end of a long day. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m just going to squeeze in behind you and go to bed.”
She stood up instantly, keeping her hand in front of her face, her eyes cast down. Since she could not see, she ended up slamming right into his naked chest. Realizing quickly that it was not a good idea to keep her eyes down, as he wore no undergarments, she looked up quickly, her face hot. He was looking down at her, an amused smile on his face.
“This is not funny,” she protested.
“Maybe not for you,” he said lightly. “Are you just going to stand there?”
Their bodies were extremely close, she realized again, making her face go even hotter. Quickly moving to the side, he crawled into bed, pulling the covers over him.
“Better?” he asked, smiling. She stood wide-eyed, shocked by the events that had just so quickly taken place. Walking to the end of the bed, she lowered herself onto her bed, and lay down where he couldn’t see her anymore. It would take a while for the colour to leave her face again.
“Are you not going to answer my question?” she asked, after letting some silence pass.
“No,” he replied, saying nothing more.
She sat up, looking over at him. It was hard to see his face at the front of the bed, but in case he could see hers clearly, she kept a very offended expression on.
“Why not?”
“It does not concern you,” he said mildly. �
��You are a prisoner of this war, remember? Why would I discuss anything with you?”
She felt hurt, slightly wounded by his rejection. It hadn’t occurred to her that he would refuse so strongly—she had hoped that he would trust her by now. She stayed silent, lying back down on her pillow.
After more silence passed, he finally spoke again. “If you are tired of sleeping on the ground, you are welcome to share my bed with me.” Her cheeks grew hot again. “To sleep, of course, is what I meant,” he corrected himself.
“No, thank you,” she said firmly, like a stubborn child who hadn’t gotten her way before. She couldn’t see him, but she was almost certain he was smiling. He smiled a lot more now than he did when they first met.
“It is much more comfortable up here than it is down there.”
“I said no.”
Silence. Then, “If you come here, I’ll tell you who came.”
She couldn’t believe it. What a horrible thing to do, to bribe a person. Did he think her so weak that she would actually fall for that? She didn’t even bother replying, lying still on her bed. Well, it wasn’t really a bed, she thought. It was a cover on the floor, and a blanket made of thick fur on top. The ground, and all the bumps and rocks in it, were easily felt through the lower blanket, digging into her back and sides as she slept. She had gotten used to it by now, finding it normal to wake up stiff and sore. An actual bed would be nice for one night, she thought again. Rose shook her head, pushing back those thoughts. It was a ridiculous idea, and he was using her curiosity about the camp’s events to his advantage. She had made it clear to him from the beginning that she would not have relations with him, and so far he had respected that.
The air that night was cold, unusual for so late in the spring. There was moisture in the ground, making everything feel damp, colder. There was also a small rock right under her lower back that was digging into her. Cursing, she threw off her blankets and got up. Even nature seemed to be against her. Walking over to the side of the bed, she looked down hesitantly. Callum lifted his head in surprise.
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