The Silent Pact

by Genevieve Dickinson

  Aldwin leaned back in his chair. “Good. We need to take care of this quickly. If children keep going missing, we’re likely to have a panic on our hands. Let’s just hope the Slaver is the one taking them.”

  Kasrian gave a short nod and walked out of the conference room into the darkened hallway. He grimaced when the guards at the door bowed as he passed. He’d been royalty for all of his thirty-two years of life, but he never felt comfortable being treated like a prince. And now I’m supposed to go over the generals’ heads and take out the Slaver myself. Damn it, Aldwin. Why do I keep letting you get me into these situations?

  He abruptly turned down a different hallway, one that would take him out of the castle. I need trustworthy soldiers, and at least I know where to start.

  A few short moments later, Kasrian was walking through the castle courtyard. He paused for a moment to enjoy the scent of the nearby pine trees. On a different night, he might take a detour through one of the castle gardens. Tonight, however, he needed to move quickly. Ignoring the bows from the guards at the castle gate, he continued walking out into the city.

  Nor was a big city, the capital of the kingdom, the seat of its government, and home to a good number of its citizens. Kasrian kept to the shadows of the buildings, hoping to avoid any residents who might be out enjoying the mild weather. He loved the city and its people, but he did not have time tonight for idle chatter. Or worse, another introduction to some merchant’s daughter. The thought of dealing with yet another forceful mother with an unwed daughter quickened his steps. His resolve set, he headed towards the City Guard barracks.

  When he finally reached the door, Kasrian knocked loudly and waited a few moments. He suppressed a smile as he heard the occupants scrambling about. No doubt hiding their liquor. As if I don’t know what happens on a slow night. After giving the guards time to compose themselves, he let himself in.

  The smell of smoke from the fireplace mingled with the reek of cheap alcohol. Kasrian almost staggered back. Pulling together all his strength, he held his ground and looked at the guardsmen standing before him. Three men saluted. All were in varying stages of inebriation. Kasrian suppressed a smile as he returned the salute. “At ease, men. This isn’t an inspection. Where’s the Lieutenant?”

  The youngest-looking man answered, slurring his words slightly. “On patrol near the north gate, Your Highness.” He swayed slightly, then sat down.

  Kasrian nodded and turned to head out. “Thank you. Have a pleasant evening, gentlemen.” He stopped as he glanced at the game on the table. They were playing Mage’s Hoard, a popular strategy game. It looked as though they were only a few rounds in. Something on the board caught his eye. He turned back to the guardsmen. “Who’s the blue player?”

  The drunken youth who had spoken before raised a hand. “Me, sir.”

  Kasrian gave him an appraising look, then nodded. “What’s your name, Guardsman?”

  “Arik Fowler, sir. I just joined up last week.”

  Kasrian smiled. “Thank you. You should get some rest, Arik, I think you’ve had enough for one night.” He turned and walked back out into the night, leaving the confused guardsman to stumble to his bunk.

  Another half hour of walking brought Kasrian near enough to the north gate to see the Lieutenant. He stopped for a moment to watch her walk through the nearby park. Her pace was determined, her steel-grey eyes taking in everything as she moved. Compared to the rest of the city guard, Lieutenant Nilene Drannell was not a terribly imposing figure. Many of the city’s ruffians thought her an easy target, only to realize their mistake the next morning when they woke up in a jail cell with a splitting headache. Her small frame belied her incredible strength and speed, and she used both to her considerable advantage.

  Kasrian couldn’t suppress the soft smile that crept over his face at the sight of her lithe frame silhouetted in against the lights of the city. Shaking away the thoughts that accompanied the smile, he tried to focus on the task at hand.

  Nilene’s serious expression broke into a smile when she spotted him. “Hello, Commander! I didn’t expect to see you back out tonight. What was the meeting about?”

  Kasrian smiled back. She’s the only one who remembers not to call me “Your Highness.” He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly self-conscious. “Well, that’s a long story that I don’t have time to tell at the moment. What’s important is that I need your help.”

  Nilene’s smile widened into a mischievous grin. “Oh? Have another bookcase that needs to be moved?”

  Kasrian was glad that the darkness hid his blush. No time for that, unfortunately. “Nothing like that. We’re taking out the Slaver. Consider yourself promoted. I need you to gather a crew of soldiers that you can trust. Get them armed and meet me in the castle courtyard at dawn.”

  Nilene nodded. “That’s almost better! Consider it done, I’ll see you at dawn.” She turned and prepared to rush off towards the barracks.

  Kasrian held out an arm to stop her. “Nilene, wait. Two things. First, I want you to add Arik Fowler to the crew you’re putting together.” She raised an eyebrow, and he shrugged. “When I stopped by the barracks, he was half under the table. He was also two turns from taking the Hoard, and his friends weren’t even close. I think we might need someone with that kind of eye for strategy.”

  Nilene gave a short nod. “Knew he was good. And your second request?”

  With a playful grin, he pulled her close. “I’m having some trouble with my new mattress. I can’t seem to get it to fit into the bed frame by myself. Think you might be able to give me a hand when we get back?”

  Nilene smiled and stood on tiptoe to kiss him quickly. She stepped back from his embrace and snapped a quick salute, then dashed away through the city streets. Kasrian watched her, letting his mind wander for a moment. It’s going to be a long day, but at least I’ll have a long night to look forward to. Suddenly in a much better mood, he whistled as he strolled casually down the city streets back to the castle.

  Chapter 3

  The Boss cursed under his breath. After days of traveling, the bandits had finally arrived at the Slaver’s camp. It was completely abandoned. The once-sturdy wooden walls were broken and burned. There was no one left to tell them what had happened.

  “Damn!” Rafe kicked the ground in disgust. “What are we supposed to do now?”

  The Boss was thoughtful. “Quiet, Rafe. I’m tryin’ to think here.”

  “Think? What’s to think about?” Rafe approached close enough for the Boss to smell his breath. “Only one thing to do. Stick the kid and leave her. We cut our losses and get on with our lives.”

  “No.” Roland’s voice made the Boss jump. Damn, that man is quiet.

  Rafe rounded on Roland. “You’re soft! That kid’s got your head turned around. Let’s kill her and get out of here.”

  His face an emotionless mask, Roland reached for his sword. The Boss stepped between them. “Hey! Remember who’s in charge here! Roland, put that away. No one’s killing anyone today. Rafe,” he held up a hand to stop the sputtering protest, “We don’t even know what happened here. Slaver might’ve just moved on to another camp. Let’s find out what’s going on before we decide anything.”

  Rafe spat on the ground and stalked back toward his horse. Roland watched him go, then turned to his own horse, where the girl was waiting. She looked more confused than scared, the Boss noticed. Bright kid. Shame she probably won’t live much longer.

  The bandits were desperate enough that they braved the main roads to track down the Slaver. Listening to gossip and questioning a few travelers got them enough information to piece together the whole story. The raid on the camp had happened days before they arrived. The Slaver was behind bars awaiting a trial and likely execution, leaving the bandits with an extra mouth to feed and no profit from their last venture.

  That night, the crew set up camp near the road. With their original plan ruined, Rafe wanted to cut their losses. “She’s costing us money to
feed and she ain’t old enough to be any real use. We should kill her now, get rid of the evidence.”

  Roland glared at him. “You want the kid, you go through me.” Rafe sneered. It looked as though the two would come to blows until the Boss stepped in.

  “How many times do I have to remind you two? I’m in charge here!” He smacked Rafe on the back of the head, sending him sprawling to the ground. “We keep her for now. Slaver’s not the only one in the market for kids. We’ll get paid what she’s worth.”

  Growling something about gathering firewood, Rafe stalked off to sulk. Roland watched him go, his hand close to his sword. After the smaller man had reached the trees, Roland relaxed and sat down by the fire. The Boss sat down next to him.

  “He right?” The Boss’s voice was blunt. “You gone soft?”

  Roland shrugged. “Grew up without parents myself. Feel bad for her, I guess. Just want to do right by the kid, make sure she grows up safe.”

  The Boss snorted a laugh. “Safe. Don’t think that’s likely to happen. Whoever pays for her isn’t likely to be the protective type.”

  Roland gave a small nod. “I know.” His dark eyes fixed the boss with a determined glare. “Just try, right? Don’t dump her on someone that’ll hurt her.”

  “Fair enough.” The Boss had known Roland long enough to see that it was dangerous to antagonize him. He only hoped he could keep Rafe from hurting the girl until she was safely out of their hands.

  Weeks passed as the bandits wandered the countryside, avoiding the lingering forces from Nor and searching for a solution to their dilemma. Finally, one dark night on the road, the answer appeared in the form of a strange man who wandered into their camp.

  After making sure he had no weapons, the Boss offered the man a place at the fire. The stranger accepted gratefully. “Thanks, friends. Been a while since I’ve been able to rest a bit. Ever since that idiot decided to bring in a noble boy.”

  “We heard about that.” The Boss handed the stranger a bowl of stew. “You one of the Slaver’s men?”

  The stranger laughed. “No, just sold to him from time to time. Slaver was most of the business in the area. Now he’s gone I’ve pretty much closed up shop.”

  Rafe snorted. “Don’t suppose you want a kid. She’s going cheap.”

  Roland glared at him, then looked at the Boss. The Boss shook his head, and Roland moved to sit closer to the girl’s bedroll. Autumn sat silently, eating her stew and watching the conversation intently.

  “Not in the market, I’m afraid. But if you’re interested . . .” the stranger looked around as if fearful he might be overheard. The bandits leaned in, intrigued.

  “Ever hear of the Cult of the Black Covenant?” The bandits hadn’t and shook their heads. The man went on. “They have a temple up in the Shadow Mountains.” He licked his lips and stared at Autumn, who squirmed under his gaze. “They pay good coin for innocent souls like this one. Might be worth the trip.”

  Roland pressed his lips together into a fine line. “Kids? What do they need kids for?”

  Rafe snorted impatiently. “Who cares? We’ve had her too long as it is. I’m sick of lookin’ at her. Doesn’t matter to me if they want her for dinner, so long as they pay.”

  Roland raised a fist, but the Boss spoke up before he could throw a punch. “Roland, calm down. It’s a cult, right? This is probably how they recruit or somethin’. Anyway, it’s the best idea I’ve heard so far how to get paid for all this trouble.”

  Outnumbered, Roland nodded grudgingly. The strange man nodded. “Well, if you want to find them, here.” He gave them a crudely drawn cloth map. “Won’t have much use for it myself. I’m headed to Bloodstone. They tell me there’s better opportunities there for a man like me. Thanks for dinner, I’ll be on my way.”

  Without another word, the stranger stood up and walked away from the fire. The bandits watched him go suspiciously. When he was out of sight, they huddled around the map to plan their route. In the morning, they would head for the temple and hopefully enough money to make the trip worthwhile.

  

  The wolves came the next night.

  Autumn was roused from a deep sleep by a calloused hand shaking her shoulder. “Come on, Girl. Wake up.” She recognized the urgency in Roland’s gruff voice. Her eyes snapped open.

  The fire had long since burned out, leaving only the dim light of the moon. Autumn couldn’t see anything at first, but soon she could make out the outline of the other two bandits, facing the trees with their swords raised.

  “Climb that tree, little one.” Roland pointed to a large pine tree close to their camp. “Be quick. Go.”

  Autumn nodded and rushed to the tree he had pointed out. She quickly clambered up the branches as high as she dared. By the time she reached a limb that felt strong enough to hold her, she could hear the howls. She shuddered. Wolves were commonplace in the forest where her father lived, but she had never heard so many before.

  In the darkness, Autumn could only see shadows below. She heard the wolves crash through the trees and descend upon the bandits. She saw the glint of moonlight on swords and heard their battle cries. She heard teeth tear into leather and flesh, the scream of a dying man, the yelp of a wolf in pain. As quickly as it had started, it was over. The night was quiet again.

  Autumn stayed in the tree for a few moments, still terrified by what had just happened. When she felt sure the wolves wouldn’t come back, she cautiously climbed down from her hiding place. Roland. I have to find him. He’ll get me out of here.

  She found him quickly. Her foot caught the sole of his boot, and she fell to the ground. The grass was wet, but there had been no rain. Blood, she realized, cringing slightly as she looked over at Roland’s face.

  His eyes had begun to glaze over, but his lips were moving. “Little girl . . .” he wheezed. “I’m so sorry. I’m so . . .” his breath stopped. Autumn sobbed uncontrollably. She felt strange mourning the death of the man who took her father away from her, but she cried all the same. He was a good man underneath. He wanted to keep me safe. Who will protect me now?

  She was still sobbing at dawn when the other bandits came back to the camp. The Boss was covered head to toe in blood. Autumn couldn’t tell how much of it was his own, but he was missing a few fingers. Rafe staggered out of the forest behind him. His ear had been torn off, and he was still bleeding.

  Autumn felt her stomach twist with anger when she saw Rafe. Roland was a good man. My father was a good man. But they’re gone, and he’s still here. It isn’t fair! She sobbed harder than ever before.

  The men spoke to each other, but Autumn wasn’t listening. She didn’t care anymore. Eventually, the Boss lifted her up onto his horse and they rode away from the camp. Autumn stared straight ahead, but she wasn’t watching the road. She thought about death. Someday I’ll find a way to stop it. Good people shouldn’t have to die.

  Chapter 4

  The boy cleared his throat before reading the passage, conscious of his tutor listening carefully to every word. “With their battles won, the twins could not agree how best to rule their new empire. They argued for many days until at last, they thought of a solution. They would divide their land into two kingdoms so that each could rule over their own domain as they saw fit.

  “Nor, the brother, was a mighty warrior. He envisioned a kingdom like the kings of old ruled. He believed, as they had, that the best way to ensure a kingdom’s future was through the direct bloodline of its rulers. The kingdom which bears his name is, even to this day, ruled by the direct descendants of Nor himself. Like their founder, the people of Nor value strength and martial skill. Their soldiers are among the strongest in the world.”

  Esren cleared his throat again, trying to hide his annoyance. He hated history lessons. The actions and decisions of long dead people didn’t interest him in the least. In the moment of silence, he briefly considered faking some kind of illness to get out of reading further. He stretched his hands upward, then leaned f
orward to set his elbows on the desk. It might be boring, but at least it’s better than another day of failing to learn enchantments. He continued on under the watchful gaze of his tutor.

  “Nor’s sister Katrell had great skill in magic. Unlike her brother, she dreamed of a kingdom where the ruler was chosen for their potential to rule well and wisely. Katrell believed that the one most qualified to rule might come from anywhere in her kingdom, whether from her own family or from the family of the lowliest peasant farmer. In each generation, there is a Choosing in the kingdom of Katrell. The best and brightest of the realm are brought together when the omens are right. The most worthy is declared the Chosen, the rightful heir to the throne of Katrell.”

  “Very good, Esren.” The elderly tutor acknowledged him with a curt nod before turning her attention to her other student. “Catrine, continue on the next page, please. Tell us about the War of Blood Right.”

  Catrine cleared her own throat and began reading aloud from the old tome where Esren had left off. Her voice was stronger and more confident than his. Esren grimaced slightly. Catrine enjoyed their lessons far more than he did. He did his best to feign interest as she read.

  “Queen Katrell’s prediction came true at the first Choosing. The Queen’s five children did not share their mother’s magical talent or her fitness to rule. They were not considered worthy to be candidates at the Choosing. Instead, the title of Chosen would be claimed by Ilia, a merchant’s daughter with extraordinary potential. When Queen Katrell passed away some years later, Ilia was declared the new Queen of the Kingdom of Katrell.

  “The old Queen’s children were enraged. Not only had they been denied the chance to succeed their mother, but they felt their rightful place had been taken by a commoner. They approached their cousins in Nor for help. In Nor, such a thing would be unheard of, and the sons and daughters of King Nor were angry. Claiming it was to protect his sister’s legacy, they convinced their aging father to go to war against Queen Ilia.