The sights and sounds of the castle distracted him, but now that he approached the Council of Light, his mind drifted back towards his father and their lies about him. His muscles tightened and his brow furrowed. The guard knocked three times and then it opened from the inside. An old man dressed in the finest silk fabric Winthrop had ever seen stood before them. He adorned pure white silk gloves and stood with a straight back. His trousers and shirt didn’t have a misplaced crease on them. Other than his gloves looking limp at the fingers, his dress was flawless. “Who do we have here?” he said with his nose stuck up as far as possible.
“We traveled here from Pinemere with Knilin,” Linette informed him.
“Do you have proof of your testing results?”
Markus pulled out the scroll with an unbroken seal and handed it to him. The clerk broke the seal and read its contents. “I see. Do not speak unless spoken to. Now, come and don’t fidget.”
Winthrop followed Linette and Markus inside. They walked onto a balcony. Thirty paces away and thirty paces higher than them was a pedestal that held two members of the Council. They could only have gotten up there with the use of Eagle magic. The fuzzy white glow around the pedestal confirmed his theory. He imagined it a precautionary measure, but it jolted his resolve to demand answers.
The one on his left was a man and he wore a red robe, indicating his Order. The woman on their right wore a blue robe with earrings that looked dark blue but might have been black. The empty seat in the middle belonged to Knilin who represented the Order of the Eagle. He vaguely recognized both of them from ten years ago, but not much came to him.
“Thank you, Thomas. Do you have Knilin’s testing report?” the woman in blue said to the impeccably dressed man who let them in.
Thomas tossed the scroll up toward them. A wielder in white robes shot a glowing white ball at it and guided it to Aurora, who snatched it from the air and read it. She passed it to the man in red robes next to her. He opened it and perused its contents.
“Welcome, I’m Aurora and this is Luther, the King. I understand that you arrived with Knilin. Please report.” Her voice was smooth and comforting.
They knelt before their King. After standing, Winthrop nudged Markus to speak. He knew that he’d lack the courage to confront them.
Markus stepped forward. “Knilin arrived with Zyadrin, Atwix, and Darius for our testing. During Winthrop’s testing,” Markus motioned toward Winthrop, “Zyadrin betrayed everyone and released Atwix from his bonds. They attacked and killed Darius. Knilin managed to defeat both of them with help from Winthrop. Knilin wanted to come and report immediately, but both he and Winthrop lacked the energy, delaying our journey by a day. Knilin travalled us here to bring this important news to you. On the way, we encountered a Decayed. A parchment he carried with him had instructions for him to assassinate the King if the one they had in place failed to do so. The parchment disintegrated, but we have brought his body with us.”
“Stop,” Luther said with his hand up. “I’ve heard enough of Knilin’s stories. The Decayed are destroyed. The few that remain sit locked in our prisons. We allow them to practice their weaves, but only to help with the testings each year. Also, body? What body? I like Knilin and he’s provided wise advice on this council, but his conspiracy theories are becoming too much. What body are you talking about?” He looked genuinely confused. “Thomas, was there a Decayed body when they arrived here?”
“No, sir, the guards informed me that only the four showed up.”
“Is this the story Knilin told you to tell?” Aurora asked.
Winthrop clenched his fists. For some reason the Council was determined to hide this like the truth about his father. He couldn’t believe this.
“The part about Atwix and Zyadrin came from Winthrop. As for the body, I saw Knilin kill the Decayed in the forest on the way here. He travalled the body with us to the castle.” Markus said.
“Did you see any of the events that Winthrop told you about?” Aurora asked.
“No.”
“How about you, miss—”
“Linette. No, I only heard the story from Winthrop. I did hear a loud explosion though and saw the state that each of them was in after their encounter. I also saw the events of the Decayed in the forest on the way here. I—”
“Enough, if any of you are asked about the events that transpired, you will explain that Atwix somehow broke free of his bonds and two masters died in the attempt to recapture him. The guards reported that there wasn’t a body in the wagon when you arrived. I’m not sure what you saw, but it seems the events of the past couple of days along with Knilin’s paranoia have heightened your imaginations,” Aurora said.
“How dare you!” Winthrop yelled. “The Decayed are planning something. They exist and are gaining power. They convinced Zyadrin, of the Order of the Ox, to change sides. What does that say to you? The Order of the Ox is known for its sturdiness, its resolve to serve the Council of Light and what it stands for. If the Decayed convinced her to free Atwix, then I can only guess at who else has turned sides for them.”
“Stop!” Luther exclaimed. “I will not sit here and allow you to continue to speculate. I’m sorry for the loss of Darius and Zyadrin, but their names will go down in the Book of Legends as heroes. The Decayed have no power anymore. This was a simple case of Atwix discovering an avenue of escape and failing to complete it. The three of you will not feed into the false fears that the Decayed somehow found a way to regain their position of power. We are done with this. I pray that Knilin recovers from his exhaustion, but I plan to request a replacement for his seat. Markus, you’ll report tomorrow at noon for your testing. Linette, a guard will provide you with directions to the Order or the Eagle to begin your training. Winthrop—”
“No! You are the liars. You told me that my father belonged to the Order of the Ox when you knew he joined the Decayed. You lied then and you lie now when you disregard the truth about the Decayed. They are gaining in power and followers and when you finally see the truth, it’ll be too late.”
“Your father died saving that village from a skirmish with a neighboring city. There is debate that the Decayed attacked that village. Winthrop, you are free to visit the library and review the hundreds of pages of reports on that incident. Now, we are done with this conversation. Your testing for Decayed powers starts in one hour. For your sake, I hope we can complete your testing and put this incident behind us,” Aurora said.
A guard rushed them outside and Winthrop collapsed to the ground. Tears poured down his face.
Day 2 - Evening
It surprised Markus that Winthrop stood up to the Council of Light. Winthrop always followed the rules and his conduct reached near perfect. Linette sat next to Winthrop and hugged him. Markus saw the pain in Winthrop’s eyes but struggled to sympathize. The Council didn’t believe him. So what? Markus did what he thought was right and did it in whichever way worked. If they lacked proof, then find it. If it exists, a determined individual will find it. If it doesn’t, then change your belief. As for those men they met on their trip, he planned to do something about them. At least to figure out why they attacked him and his friends.
“Get up, your rooms are ready,” the guard told them. Winthrop remained seated. Markus walked over and threw Winthrop over his shoulder. The guard led them down the corridor and back down to the courtyard. They crossed the stone ground and entered another building near the back side of the castle. Once inside, it opened up to the living quarters of the castle’s guards.
Inside sat rows upon rows of bunk beds. They filled the rectangular shape room, leaving little space to walk. Small arrow slots littered the walls, letting in sunlight. The guard nodded and left them to figure out sleeping arrangements.
Markus placed Winthrop on one of the bunks. "Linette, do you think you can make me lighter?”
Linette gave him a curious look. “No, my ability isn’t strong enough yet. What are you planning?”
“I owe that tr
ader help with a horseshoe. I thought it easier to help him if I moved quickly. Can you take care of Winthrop?” He didn’t like lying to her, but telling her the truth brought the risk of her joining him in taking care of those men on the road.
“Yes, I’ll watch over him.” She stared into Markus’s eyes. He thought he saw hope or longing in them, but settled on it only coming from his imaginations. He liked Linette but had no intentions of someone tying him down until after he made his mark in this world. He left and ventured back to the courtyard. He grabbed the attention of a commoner asking for directions to the nearest blacksmith. It took him some time to find him among the throng of merchants that made their home on the field outside the castle, having to pass between other craftsmen to get there. He heard the loud banging of a hammer minutes before finding the place and continued in the direction of the clanging noise until he arrived. The grass around his forge had died, leaving dirt around his spot, a precaution from the regular use of fire to heat pieces of metal.
A short, stocky man with forearms larger than most people’s thighs worked on a piece of armor. Markus waited for the man to place the armor back into the forge to interrupt him. “What can I do you for?” the Blacksmith asked with a rough voice. He crossed his arm over his chest, his leather gloves smearing black ash on his shirt. It matched his dark beard.
“A trader helped my friends and I to the castle when our friend collapsed from exhaustion. I promised him I’d replace a broken horseshoe on one of his steeds. I hoped you’d allow me to assist with some work in exchange for some horseshoes and tools to repay my debt.”
The blacksmith eyed him up and down, assessing his worth. “What do you know of blacksmithing, child?”
“I’ve apprenticed two years under my father back in Pinemere. If nothing else, allow me to hammer some metal into rough shape.”
“I can’t begrudge someone trying to repay a debt. Grab the swords from the forge and get to work. Don’t burn yourself. I won’t be responsible for stupidity.”
Markus rushed in and set to work. He found a pair of gloves for handling the hot pieces of metal. Then, he got to work pounding metal. It felt good hitting something. To a small extent, it relieved some of his desire to hurt those men on the road, but not enough to stop him. After a few hours of hammering, his forearm burned from use. The Blacksmith observed his work. He nodded in what Markus assumed was approval and handed him a pouch with the required tools needed to resolve his debt.
“Thank you, sir. I’ll return these in the morning.”
“Are you staying long? I could use an apprentice myself.”
“Not sure. I’m here for magical testing. If I lack the talent, I’ll return home to apprentice with my father. If I do, I’ll move to whichever order I belong to.”
The blacksmith nodded in understanding.
“Thanks again, I’ll return these in the morning.”
Markus headed toward the trader who reclaimed his spot farther down the King’s road. Once there, he found the wagon empty. The trader wasn’t there. Markus looked around, hoping to find him talking to another vendor nearby. He looked for a few minutes to no avail. He went inside and examined the spot where the Decayed had been laid. The floor had some flecks of ash, but nothing else to prove his presence. Markus brushed his fingers on it and brought it to his nose. It smelled of ash and a faintness of death. It reaffirmed his belief that he didn’t imagine the events of today, but knew it wasn’t enough to convince Aurora and Luther of what happened.
Markus went to work anyway, replacing the broken horseshoes. He grabbed a brush and stroked the steed for a period of time afterward, hoping the man would come back. Markus found his lucky knife in a drawer. He took some rations from the trader, left some money as payment, and went on his way down the King’s road away from Claybury.
He hiked along the path, dodging into the forest anytime he spotted people coming towards him. When they passed and he confirmed they weren’t the men who attacked them, he continued. His forearms throbbed, but not as bad as earlier. Markus hadn’t decided what he’d do to the men. A part of him wanted to hurt them. Another wanted to know why they attacked them. They almost killed him and a master wielder, along with his two best friends. Why? Were they really trying to kill the King? If so, why and how did they convince Zyadrin to turn traitor?
Night fell and the road proved difficult to see. He managed to make slow progress by the moonlight, but he feared he’d miss the men. After traveling for hours, he took a break to eat his rations and rest. He hid in the trees and foliage, not willing to risk exposure. Ready to start again, Markus heard noises. He looked down the road but it remained empty. He followed the voices, careful to stay quiet and hidden. Markus saw a light. A fire burned further into the forest. Had he not been in the forest to begin with, he may not have seen it. He hid behind a tree and watched the men. He recognized them as the group who they encountered on the King’s road. Markus stopped and searched for sentries. He saw none and assumed he missed them. He changed course before one caught him and went around the long way so he would approach from the opposite side of the forest. If they placed sentries, they’d put them near the King’s road as that’s the direction travelers would come from.
He kept his approach cautious, moving like a cat stalking a mouse. A twig snapped to his left and he froze. A man to his left walked over to a bush and began relieving himself. Markus held his breath, he planned on hitting him with a one-two punch. One to the neck and one to the head, knocking him out. The man finished and turned toward Markus. Without further thought, Markus leaped the distance between them and hit the man in his throat, stopping any chance at calling for help. Grabbing his throat in pain, he lost his ability to block. Markus punched him in the face. The man fell backward, hitting his head on an exposed root. Markus checked and the man had no pulse. He had killed him.
Thoughts circled through his brain like a fly trapped in a cupboard. The man deserved it. Or was he a victim of association? Markus began to sweat. A part of him liked what he had done. It seemed like justice for what they did to him and his friends. Another part believed it necessary to escape exposure. Yet, another part said he should never have come. Now, he needed to hurry. The other travelers would soon question why their friend hadn’t come back. Markus closed in on the group of men. They all sat around the fire, roasting a pig. They chatted about nothing important. Markus crept near one of their horses. He opened the carrying sack on the floor below, looking for anything important. He listened to their conversation, hoping to learn why they attacked. He found nothing but provisions for the trip. He pocketed an apple for the trip back.
Markus watched the men, listening for any concern for their missing comrade.
“Finish your supper and get to bed. Keep an eye out for any other magical wielders. The less we have to deal with, the easier this will be. When we arrive at the castle tomorrow, we’ll have plenty to do. Our man on the inside will complete his task within the week. Then, it’ll be up to us to take control of the place.”
Markus backed away and headed back to the castle.
Day 2 - Evening
Linette nudged Winthrop awake when the time came for his Decayed testing. “Come on Winthrop, if we don’t leave soon, you’ll miss your test.”
He rolled over and sat up. His bloodshot eyes stared back at her. “Okay, let’s go.”
Winthrop followed her out of the barracks and back into the courtyard. The notice had arrived soon after they settled in the barracks. It provided directions to the dungeons, where the Decayed lived. Linette led Winthrop down a spiraling staircase that seemed never-ending. The further down they went, the darker and cooler it became. Whoever made this castle had dug through the rock bed the castle sat on to make an impenetrable place to keep those who betrayed the empire. Winthrop squealed a few times when rats ran by him. She tried not to laugh, but couldn’t help herself. After he glared at her, she held her tongue. The end of the staircase opened into the foyer of the prison.
Two guards sat at a small wooden table playing cards.
“Can we help you?” One of the guards asked.
“Yes, he is here for testing,” Linette nodded toward Winthrop.
“I see. You must be Winthrop.” The guard glanced at a scroll and looked up at him, assessing him.
Winthrop nodded but kept his face down.
“I’ll be interested to see this test.”
“Talent isn’t inherited,” Linette stated.
The guard stood up. His stomach bulged over his leather belt.
“Yes, but he’s the son of Jack the Ransacker. I’d imagine some of his nastiness would pass down to his offspring.”
Winthrop snapped out of his daze. “My father saved a village and gave his life for it. You watch your mouth.”
The guard put his hands up. “Yes, see that anger. I recommend you calm down for your test.”
Linette put her hand on Winthrop’s shoulder, trying to relax him. She heard footsteps coming down the stairway.
“Perfect, you’re here and ready for your test,” Aurora said. “Now, let’s see what happens. Come, Winthrop.” Her smile had a deviousness to it.
Winthrop glared at the guard and followed Aurora with Linette in the rear. They entered a hallway of cells. It smelled like mold and grew hotter as they approached, like a fire burned inside. One of the stories parents told their children was that the Decayed represented paths to hell—that they exuded heat like the door to a forge. They walked down and passed several prisoners. Linette thought they were all Decayed, but when they reached the halfway point, she noticed that the cells from here on smelled like death while before they reeked of excrement. Yet, none of the prisoners lay dead, all of them looked up when Aurora walked by. At the end of the wing, a wooden chair sat against the wall. The cell adjacent held a Decayed. His skin had a gray look to it and dark lines spread out from his eyes. He frame was thin, but beneath the drooping skin his muscles were toned.
The King's Defense Page 4