Come and get it.
To her dismay, no one did, but she recalled with amusement the few instances when men had tried to take advantage of her. Imagine their surprise when the seemingly frail woman didn't cower when they threatened her or tried to pin her against a wall. Instead, they found themselves thrown to the ground beneath her boot heel, regretting ever laying eyes on her. Yes, those moments always gave her a bit of pleasure.
Rebecca walked past a row of squalid tenements and arrived at the townhouse next to the docks where her informant hid. Patches of mold covered the wooden door of the house and the daub walls were cracked, revealing the wattle underneath. A small rectangular panel on the door slid open and a pair of dark, beady eyes stared back at her inquisitively.
"Why does the gull nest on the dock?" the voice behind the door mumbled.
"A nest on the dock is better than a nest in the wolves' den," Rebecca recited.
The small panel slid shut, and she heard the bolts on the door unlock. A heavyset man with a ruffled mop of hair and stained clothing stood behind the door, waving her inside.
Rebecca walked down a dark, narrow corridor with the man following closely behind. They entered a large room with a circular table in the center, and the man asked her to sit in one of the two chairs beside the table. She sat down as the man disappeared into a connecting room. Overturned mugs and chopped tobacco leaves littered the tabletop. The entire room was cluttered with soiled clothes, fishing rods, and rotting bait in buckets. She coughed at the stench of it all. Voices came from the adjacent room and diverted her attention from the squalor around her. It sounded like arguing: one man shouting at another and then the sound of a fist smacking the side of someone's face. Seconds later, the man who had escorted her inside rounded the corner. He rubbed his hand over a welt below his eye and walked out the front door without acknowledging her. Another man came around the corner, taking a seat in the other chair across from her. She quickly recognized his stubble beard, bagging eyes, and widow's peak. It was Durgan, her greedy informant.
"Well, 'ello, love. What brings you to my shanty? A kiss and a nightcap perhaps?" Durgan said. He always sought to charm, but it was a wasted effort on her.
"Why do I always come, Durgan?" She forced a smile. "Information, my friend."
Durgan scoffed. "Well, I must admit you've got the worst timin'. I was just tellin' Troy out there how I'd specifically said no more visits today."
"Well, how many solidi will it take to change your mind?" She dropped a small coin purse on the table.
Durgan snatched the pouch from the table and counted forty solidi. "I think this'll do, love," he smiled, revealing a few missing teeth.
"I need to find Baron Stendahl. Tell me everything you know," she said, crossing her arms, awaiting a quick response.
"Stendahl is at Gilead Palace, o' course. Rumor has it he's been appointed to lead a campaign against your friends, the Draknoir, very soon. The Aldronians have been on the move for the last two days, and my sources tell me they plan to move before the week's end. The Captain of the Guard is most likely marching off with the king's army."
"Where is the King's host headed?"
"Ithileo, but who knows how they plan to get there. Dermont's airships can't carry more than a thousand men, so I doubt he'll use them. That leaves three options in my mind," Durgan said, fiddling with a coin from the pouch. "The army can journey northeast through the Golden Plains and cross the Dulan into Ithileo, or Dermont could sail them over through the Sea of Lagrimas on frigates."
"What's the third option?" Rebecca asked.
"Well, he might send half his army through the Golden Plains and half through the Sea of Lagrimas, which might make a nasty fight on two fronts for yer lads, the Draknoir. I'm betting my money that's what he'll do," he said, shaking the coin purse vigorously.
Rebecca leaned back in her chair and let out a heavy sigh. If Dermont was attacking on two fronts, the Draknoir warriors guarding Ithileo would fall quickly. There was also no way for her to know which front Stendahl would be directly leading. Aldron was a day and a half's away on horseback, leaving her with little time to find the Captain among all the commotion surrounding the impending departure of troops. She bit her lower lip, "That will do, Durgan. Thank you for your time."
"Anytime, love. Just try to be a lil' more courteous next time and announce yer coming, will ye?" He gave her a lopsided grin.
She rose from the chair, narrowing her eyes at him. His smile quickly faded, and he nervously escorted her out the door where Troy sat smoking a pipe outside. The burly man glanced her way, but said nothing as she walked past him.
Rebecca traversed the empty streets again, heading southward to the city entrance where her horse was stabled. A chilling breeze from the nearby sea caused her to pull her cloak tighter around her lean frame. She thought hard about how she might find Stendahl before he left for Ithileo. She'd be a fool to think Dermont wouldn't pursue an attack on two fronts as Durgan had suggested. And it was equally foolish to think she could make the journey to Aldron in time to find Stendahl, kill him, and escape without alerting anyone. Her mission was already a failure. Lord Memnon would never show her favor again if she returned now.
No.
Her pride and desire for vengeance would not allow her to succumb to defeat. She would make swift flight to Aldron and kill the Captain—even if it needed to be done in public. The errand would undoubtedly cost her life, but her master's favor would not be taken away by any Aldronian—no matter the cost.
TWENTY-TWO
As the Crow Flies
Nightmares of the Black Dragon deprived Lucius of any sleep on his final night in the Burning Woods among the faeries. The dreams were more vivid than before. When the violent images woke him, he instinctively checked his body for burns from the dragon's fire, but the only true wounds he carried were from his encounter with the banshees who had succeeded in scarring his back and deafening his right ear. The faeries' simple herbal remedies had eased much of his pain, but no one could say with certainty if his hearing would ever return.
Despite his infirmities, he had been in good spirits—especially on the previous day, when the faeries threw a grand celebration for the triumphant return of Tok. The faeries' haven in the forest—which was called Gwyltref—lit up like the sun when Tok returned carrying Lucius in his rocky hand. Syl's kinsfolk could not stop flitting about wildly and cheering loudly, their bodies shining brightly with excitement. Faerie men sung songs in Lucius' honor, and faerie maidens served him deliciously sweet cakes made of honey. All the faerie folk were in a jovial mood except for King Klik, who watched the entire spectacle from his throne with a cold expression on his face. Once the merriment subsided, Klik decreed that Siegfried would be released in the morning and advised Lucius to take rest and comfort in the security of Gwyltref. Wounded and exhausted, Lucius lacked the strength to protest for his brother's immediate release and chose to let the matter rest. After Klik departed from his throne for the night, Lucius sat for hours listening to Syl and his eight siblings discuss faerie lore. Like Syl, the faerie's four brothers and three sisters were very animated when they spoke and constantly flitted around Lucius. He enjoyed listening to their stories, but he eventually succumbed to his exhaustion and fell asleep on a soft patch of grass in the glittery, illuminated clearing.
Now he sat wide awake in the clearing, waiting for the sun to rise in the pinkish sky. He stared at the treetops around the perimeter of clearing and saw a few fairies flying among the branches, but most of the residents of Gwyltref were still slumbering in their small huts of woven hemp. Lucius stood up and walked over to his knapsack resting against Siegfried's pack next to a tree stump. Syl and the faeries had brought the packs to Gwyltref from the pitiful makeshift bush where Lucius had hid them. How the tiny beings managed to carry Siegfried's hefty bag was beyond him.
Lucius loosed the pack's drawstring and retrieved the red scroll. He sat cross-legged on the ground and carefully sc
anned the scroll, reading sections he previously skimmed to search for any answers concerning Yesu's death. When the dawning sun appeared, Lucius had found no answers to the mystery. He shoved the scroll back in his bag and leaned his back on the stump, drawing a deep breath before releasing it slowly. The significance of Yesu or Yéwa on his journey continued to escape him, and he wondered if there was any significance at all. Aside from witnessing the mysterious power of the Bezalel sigil, he had seen no divine intervention from Yéwa in the trials he faced. He was half deaf, plagued by ominous visions, and far from forging Yesu's all-powerful sword. If his father and Lumiath were correct, the task of attaining the Requiem Sword would become far more difficult for him and Siegfried. So where was this almighty Yéwa who had spoken the prophecy of the Ellyllei? Were the affairs of men and elves too trivial for him? Or perhaps Helmer and Lumiath were wrong about Yéwa—maybe he didn't even exist. Whatever the case might be, Lucius would continue on for the sake of his family and Evingrad, but he would not expect help from a God who remained silent and distant.
Lucius grabbed the wineskin in his pack and drank the last of the bywydur mixture. As the effects of the drink began to take effect, he noticed movement from the corner of his eye and looked toward the cluster of mushrooms where Klik's throne sat. Beyond the wooden throne, Brom and his legion of guardians floated slowly out of the forest and into the clearing, escorting their king to the royal seat. Following the main procession were four guardians holding ropes fastened to Siegfried's arms and legs. The elf stepped up onto the tree stump with a stoic expression and allowed his escorts to bind his wrists together. Lucius ran toward the throne, hoping to speak with his brother, but Brom and the guardians blocked his path.
"You will wait for his Majesty to address you, ground-treader," Brom ordered.
"Fine," Lucius replied, glaring at the diminutive commander.
King Klik flew up to the throne and sat down. He picked up a small staff decorated with heather and flower petals. Klik struck the side of his throne three times with the staff and everyone waited expectantly. The ground suddenly shook with the lumbering steps of Tok as he emerged from the forest and joined the gathering.
"Tok, please rouse the fair folk of Gwyltref from their slumber," Klik ordered.
The golem lifted his huge arms then smacked his hands together in a thunderous clap. Sleepy-eyed faeries exited their huts reluctantly and descended from the treetops. Very soon an enormous throng of faeries gathered around the throne, flitting about and whispering loudly to each other. Syl eventually showed up and landed on Lucius' shoulder. The yellow faerie greeted him with his familiar grin, but Lucius did not return a smile. His stomach was in knots. Klik had been slow to deliver on his promise to free Siegfried, and Lucius feared the monarch did not intend to release his brother.
"My dear kinsfolk," Klik said, raising both arms to address the crowd. "We have been shown favor by our ancestors and the forest herself. The golem, Tok, has returned to Gwyltref!"
The crowd erupted into raucous cheering and hollering. Lucius could not believe their tiny bodies were capable of producing such an uproar—he was almost happy his hearing was limited to one ear. Despite the numerous cheers, Tok did not move or acknowledge the faeries' adoration for him, seemingly content to cast his large shadow over the proceedings.
Klik raised his hands once more to quiet the crowd. "We owe a debt of gratitude to the ground-treader, Lucius, and to Syl for their heroic effort."
Lucius felt his face redden, but Syl basked in the praise from his peers.
"Syl, your willingness to serve your king by helping the ground-treader will be rewarded," Klik said with a bemused smile. He turned to Lucius and lifted his chin slightly. "As for you, Lucius ... we had an accord."
"We did," Lucius said, glancing at Siegfried. His brother straightened slightly, ready for whatever edict the king might make.
"As sovereign king of this woodland realm, I shall honor our agreement and release the prisoner, Siegfried Silverhart," Klik said, leaning back in his throne. "Brom, cut the prisoner's bonds."
Brom raised an eyebrow at the king, but immediately followed his orders when Klik scowled at him. The faerie commander cut through the ropes around Siegfried's wrists then ordered the guardians to untie the ropes fastened on the elf's arms and legs. Lucius grinned when Siegfried stepped down from the stump and approached him.
The elf smiled then turned to the king, "Thank you, my lord. Your graciousness is much—"
"Silence!" Klik yelled, slamming a fist on his throne. "You may be free from imprisonment, but I still have judgment to decree upon you, elf."
A hush fell over the entire assembly as Klik stood up from his throne and pointed his staff at Lucius.
"You may have saved this kingdom from ruin by returning Tok to us, but your association with this criminal tarnishes any favorable standing you might have with me, ground-treader," Klik said, contorting the corners of his mouth in a deep frown.
"Your Majesty—" Lucius began, but Siegfried clutched his forearm and shook his head.
"Let him speak," Siegfried whispered.
"As for you, Siegfried Silverhart," Klik said, pacing the top of the mushroom, "you killed my father and ruined my family. Blik's death brought severe grief upon my mother, leading to her premature death, and my sister fled the sanctuary of Gwyltref, leaving me to pick up the shambles of your evil."
Siegfried hunched and avoided eye contact with Klik.
"I hereby decree that you and your kin are forever banished from Gwyltref and the Burning Woods. If you should ever step foot in my realm again, then your death shall come swiftly," Klik said. He sat on the throne and narrowed his eyes. "Now get out."
Brom and the guardians drew their swords and quickly surrounded Lucius and Siegfried. The assembly of faeries in the clearing gasped and spoke in hushed voices about this unexpected development. Syl flew up from Lucius' shoulder and faced the king.
"My lord, please! Lucius and his brother are much-needed allies in our fight against the banshees. Let us not be hasty in breaking any fellowship, your Majesty. I appeal to your mercies as royal advisor."
"I have shown mercy, Syl. Banishment is a lesser punishment than death, is it not? Tok will be a sufficient ally in our war in the Southern Passage. Now, turn aside lest you wish to be exiled as well," Klik said, fiercely grimacing at his subordinate.
Syl pressed his lips tightly and clenched his fists, but bowed his head in deference. Turning to Lucius, he whispered, "I'm sorry."
"It's alright, Syl. Thank you for your help, both here and in the Southern Passage," Lucius said, feeling his chest tighten. He had grown close to Syl in the last few days and lamented the fact they might never see each other again.
"Time to go, brother," Siegfried said, placing a hand on Lucius' shoulder.
Lucius nodded and turned his back on Brom and his eager enforcers. He walked to the center of the clearing to retrieve their packs. Every fairy in Gwyltref watched them closely, some saddened to see Lucius leave while others expressed relief at the interlopers' departure. After a final farewell to Syl and his family, Lucius and Siegfried entered the forest. They headed north toward Jun-Jun Pass, hoping to reach it before midday. The walk was unbearably quiet due to the eerie stillness of the forest, which Lucius had not experienced since he first set foot in the place. He wondered if Klik was responsible for silencing the realm—his final act of contempt before they left the Burning Woods. The silent environment visibly unsettled Siegfried, who kept walking faster to the point of sprinting. Lucius continually lost track of the elf, incapable of keeping a fast pace due to his injuries.
He was relieved when they exited the forest cover around the noon time and rested on an outcrop encircling the northern border of the woods. Lucius climbed onto a smooth boulder and pulled out a sweet honey cake he saved from the previous night. He quickly devoured it as Siegfried surveyed their location. The elf jumped onto a rock formation facing north, scanned the horizon for a m
oment, then sat cross-legged on the large stone.
"I'm sorry for rushing you through the forest, Lucius," Siegfried said, exhaling deeply. "The quiet ... it unsettles me greatly."
Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Why? The silence didn't bother you when we first entered the woods."
"Yes, but that was before I faced it night and day during my imprisonment," Siegfried replied. He stared at the autumn-colored trees of the Burning Woods for a moment. "Klik imprisoned me in a hole under the earth where I heard nothing ... I saw nothing. Only darkness and a haunting silence dwelled there."
Lucius swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, Siegfried."
"You need not be sorry, Lucius. You freed me from a horrible fate of my own doing. Though I assuredly deserved death, I am grateful that you did not leave me. Thank you."
"Of course, Siegfried. You would've done the same for me," Lucius said, smiling. "Besides I cannot hope to complete this errand on my own. I barely escaped the Southern Passage with my life, so your company is quite necessary if I'm to continue living."
Siegfried chuckled, but suddenly lifted his chin up thoughtfully. "I was told you lost your hearing in one ear?"
"Yes, this one," Lucius said, tapping his deaf right ear.
Siegfried hopped down from the rock formation, threw off his pack, and searched contents inside. He pulled out a small glass bottle and walked over to Lucius. "Remember this?" Siegfried held up the glowing vial of bywydur for Lucius to see.
"I've already drank some bywydur this morning. It didn't restore my hearing," Lucius said.
"Of course it didn't," Siegfried said, smirking as he removed the stopper from the vial. "Diluted bywydur is not suitable for healing such a wound. Undiluted bywydur, on the other hand, can be applied directly to a wound. The result is quite miraculous. Now lean your head to the left."
Lucius cocked his head to the side and Siegfried let a single drop of bywydur fall into his ear. Siegfried said something while standing on his right, but Lucius only heard a muffled rasp. "I didn't hear a word of that. It didn't work."
The Blade Heir (Book 1) Page 20