by C. J. Aaron
The guard was on his feet. He stumbled a step forward, rubbing the back of his head with one hand.
“Ha,” the guard coughed. “Told you this one was full of surprises, Fay.”
The familiar eyes, the familiar tone of the voice.
The guard pulled the hood back from his head, unclasping the mask, letting it fall to the floor. Ryl gasped and his heart raced.
“Now is this any way to treat your friends?,” the guard asked, the smile spreading across his face. “It’s great to see you again, Ryl.”
The nameless guard, his savior from The Stocks, stood before him.
54
“Please let me say again, Ryl, I’m terribly sorry for all the smoke and mirrors earlier,” Lord Eligar said, rubbing his neck with his hand. He paused in front of the large gilded door to his quarters.
A few moments earlier, upon hearing the pleas for restraint from the familiar guard, Ryl had released his choke hold on the lord, agreeing to follow the pair to the lord’s cabin where all could be discussed over a meal, only after his shackles were removed. He watched carefully as the guard removed the iron from his ankles and wrists, letting the woodskin fade once the metal restraints clanged to the floor.
The lure of nourishment was too compelling, his mind starving for information, his stomach for food. Ryl hesitantly followed the pair up the two sets of ladders to the main deck, where Lord Eligar and the guard had led him to the stern of the vessel.
The lord opened the ornate door, beckoning Ryl into a cabin that was far and away the most illustriously furnished room he’d ever seen, let alone stepped foot into. On either side, the walls were draped in dark green silken fabric, golden trimmed lanterns hung from equally spectacular sconces on either side of the room. The entirety of the rear wall was covered in small windows set into a crisscrossing lattice of gold. A large bed lay alongside the window, the exquisitely detailed headboard depicting an arboreal scene with lifelike precision. The plush sheets and pillows called to Ryl, who’d grown accustomed to sleeping on rough pallets or the ground for cycles.
Lining one wall was a large couch, a finely detailed end table stood on either side. In the center of the room rested a massive table covered in immaculately-polished silverware, elaborately painted china dishes and crystal glasses, all arranged and ready to be served. Four large padded chairs surrounded the dining table. Mender Gencep, who occupied one of the chairs, rose to his feet as the three entered the room.
Ryl’s face must have given away his wonderment. Lord Eligar chuckled at the sight, motioning for Ryl to sit.
“I regret having to leave you locked in there for so long,” Lord Eligar said sympathetically. “We had to deal with a stowaway, of sorts.”
“The guard from The Stocks?” Ryl questioned.
“Yes. While he joined our little party in The Stocks, he was, in fact, a member of the Royal Guard,” Lord Eligar corrected. “He accompanied that snake, Maklan, from the capital.”
“He’s dead isn’t he?” Ryl asked.
“Unfortunately, it couldn’t be helped, young Ryl,” Lord Eligar said with a sigh, letting his body collapse into the plush chair at the head of the table. In an instant, Mender Gencep was at his side, filling his crystal goblet with wine. The mender moved on to fill the cups for Ryl and the guard in turn.
“Have a seat, please,” the lord beckoned. Ryl pulled out a large soft chair, surprised to find his small pack placed carefully on the cushion. He sunk into the chair, marveling at its comfort. Lord Eligar lifted his glass, swirling the deep red liquid before taking a liberal sip.
“You see, Ryl, I abhor senseless killing,” Lord Eligar continued before Ryl could open his mouth to retort. “His death was in no means senseless. As a matter of fact, it may be a pivotal factor in ensuring all of us live.”
Ryl tilted his head slightly, greeting the lord with a confused stare. Lord Eligar chuckled again before carrying on.
“I'm sorry again, Ryl. We’ll get to that shortly, I forget my manners,” Lord Eligar said, taking another sip of his wine before standing once more.
“Fay Eligar, Lord of House Eligar, at your service,” he said regally, bowing low. “This fine gentleman across from you is Mender Gencep.”
The mender stood, nodding his head to Ryl. The emotionless face and rigid attitude he'd carried so we'll during the inspection was gone, replaced by a casual, warm smile.
“And the two of you, I understand, are well acquainted with one another,” Fay continued, motioning to the guard who'd seated himself at the other end of the table.
“We've met before,” Ryl said hesitantly. “I'm afraid I don't even know your name.”
The guard stood from his chair, walking around the table to stand next to Ryl.
“I never had the manners to forget, like our friend the lord over here,” the guard said in jest, bowing slightly. “I'm sorry our formal introduction has taken so long. The name's Andr.”
Andr held out his hand and Ryl shook it confidently. A small piece to the puzzle slid into place. He'd been afraid he would never again see the guard who'd helped him on those occasions in Tabenville. Afraid he'd never even learn the name of the man who risked his life saving that of a tribute. Afraid he’d never learn why.
“Well, now that introductions are settled, let's carry on with the food,” Eligar said, clapping his hands together once, rubbing them in anticipation. “Gencep, if you please. We haven't much time. Captain Elne says a storm brewing. It’ll be on us sometime after midnight.”
“Yes, sir,” Mender Gencep said with a small bow before scurrying from the cabin.
“Where was I? Ah, yes, the guard,” Fay continued. “His presence would have put a significant wrinkle in our plans. Word would have certainly made it back to the king.”
Fay sat gracefully in his chair, grabbing his glass of wine before leaning back, casually crossing his legs.
“You see, Ryl,” Lord Eligar said, a mischievous smile crossing his face. “We have no intentions of delivering you to them.”
Ryl’s heart surged with excitement at the statement. He anxiously sat forward in his chair, nearly toppling over the glass of wine.
“What do you mean to do with me then,” Ryl asked suspiciously, trying not to let the excitement show in his voice.
“Why, set you free, my young friend,” Fay said calmly.
Ryl’s eyes went wide. He fought back the moisture that was welling in their corners.
“Why would you do that?” he asked softly.
“Why? Now, that’s a good question,” Lord Eligar said. “And a long answer I’ll admit. I promise to be as brief as possible. Please stop me if you have any questions.”
Mender Gencep entered carrying a large platter with four plates of food. Steam rose from the heaping servings on each. The aroma that wafted into Ryl’s nose as Gencep served his master first made his mouth water. He’d always considered the food Sarial created with the limited resources available to the tributes to be delicious. The foreign mixture of spices and perfectly-prepared food was irresistible. Gencep delicately placed the nearly overflowing plate in front of him with a smile.
He dug in without hesitation, savagely devouring the delicious meal. A tender, flakey white fish was topped with a light flavorful sauce, resting on a bed of seasoned rice and sautéed wilted greens. Several bites in, Ryl stopped as the embarrassment set in. He looked up cautiously. The action seemed to faze Andr the least. He leaned back in his chair, chewing his food, watching Ryl with kind eyes. Gencep hadn’t touched his food, staring at Ryl with a sympathetic look. Lord Eligar chuckled as he delicately cut through his fish with a polished silver knife.
“Fear not, Ryl,” Lord Eligar said through his laughter. “Your table manners, or lack thereof, will not send you back into a life of slavery. By all means, please carry on, just lend me your ears.”
“I’m sorry,” Ryl said embarrassed. “Thank you, sir.”
“Please, Ryl,” the lord pleaded. “There’s no need t
o apologize. And furthermore, there’s no need to call me, sir, or lord, or any of that nonsense, I hear enough of that sniveling from the sycophants at Court. You’re here among friends now. Fay will do just fine.”
Ryl nodded as he cautiously dug in for another bite of the delectable cuisine.
“As far back as the recorded history of my House spans, we have been at odds with the king and his policies regarding the tributes,” Fay began. “No noble from my House, until yours truly, that is, has ever participated in the Deliverance. And that’s not to say the king hasn’t tried to lure us in. He’s attempted in every cycle, in fact.”
Lord Eligar paused briefly to take a bite of the flakey fish.
“Ahh, delicious as always, Gencep,” Fay admonished before continuing his story. “You see, my family hold sway over the vast majority of the iron producing mines in the kingdom. The king has, for generations, worked to wrest some of that control to no avail. My family's lands lay to the east of the Leremont, bordering the entirety of the Anvil Mountains. The Anvil range is relatively short in length, starting at sea running north before turning due west for roughly the same distance.”
Fay took another large swig of his wine before carrying on.
“The sea and stone protect us on two sides, making an invasion of any real measure far too costly, with low guarantees for success. We’ve had small skirmishes at our borders between a few of the other Houses, and that only serves to raise the price of our iron for everyone. Not a popular notion in the Court as you can guess, so they generally leave us alone,” Fay stated plainly. “My father was especially vocal in his opposition to the Deliverance and the tribute system. Though we do not openly defy the Ascertaining Decree as Royal Troops and Menders are stationed in every town and village in the Kingdom of Damaris, you could say, we’ve been lax in its implementation.”
Fay smiled at the sight of Ryl’s empty plate.
“Gencep, can you please help the young man to another serving?” Fay asked politely. “Fill up now, my friend, I’m afraid this may be some of the last quality cooking you might have in some time.”
“Why’s that?” Ryl asked cautiously.
“I promise, I’ll get to that soon,” Eligar apologized. “I was young, just over twenty cycles when I inherited the rule of my household with the passing of my father. The king saw this as a fresh opportunity to cultivate the untapped soil of our lands, so the offers to attend the Deliverance arrived via the king’s messengers nearly every moon.”
Gencep returned with another steaming plate, placing it carefully in front of Ryl. He hungrily started in on the second dish of succulent food, this time with more manners and less haste.
“I held strong for the first cycle, politely declining the invitations as quickly as they arrived,” Fay continued. “That is, until the old man showed up.”
Ryl’s ears perked up at the mention of an old man. He stopped eating, looking on with rapt attention as Fay continued his tale.
“As a household, we do not own all the iron mines outright,” Fay continued. “There are a few private families that have staked their claims to certain plots of land for generations and we’ve had amicable partnerships with them for nearly as long. We provide the manpower, refine and sell the iron, they in turn make a healthy profit. Of them all, Old Man Averine is by far the wealthiest and hands down the most eccentric of the bunch. The three mines on his land produce more than all the others combined. He doesn’t make it known, and certainly doesn’t look the part, but he’s far wealthier than most of the nobility you’ll meet in any Court in the land.”
Lord Eligar laughed to himself quietly.
“I was there the day he met with my father. Averine happened to pass a Royal messenger leaving with my father’s usual rejection on the way in,” Fay reminisced. “The old man was so irate, he threatened to destroy all his mines if my father ever accepted the invitation to the Deliverance.”
Fay finished his goblet of wine, holding the glass out for Gencep to refill it, before quickly taking another sip.
“So you can understand, I was a little more than surprised when Old Man Averine showed up on my doorstep demanding that I accept the king’s invitation a little over eight cycles ago,” Lord Eligar stated. “It seems there are those who’ve been waiting for someone like you for a long time Ryl.”
“Who’s been waiting for me?” Ryl gasped, interrupting Lord Eligar.
“Averine never told me, and I never asked.” Fay shook his head. “He made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t going to divulge any information. Anyway, whoever it is, is very well connected. They knew about you, or more specifically, about your test results in advance of the Deliverance. Averine fronted me a sum far greater than any of the Houses that I know could or would offer for your sponsorship in particular. He promised to match any amount in excess as well. The old man even handed over the deed to one of his mines on the spot.”
“What did he want you to do with me?” Ryl asked skeptically.
“That’s where things get confusing, I’m afraid,” Fay said apologetically, running his hand through his hair. “Averine’s instructions were very vague. I was to sponsor you, find a way to fake your death, making it look like an accident, and ensure your delivery to a predetermined location. I was hoping you could tell me more.”
Ryl stared blankly back at Fay. He looked around the table, all eyes were on him. He had no idea what he was to do, where he was to go.
“Where did he ask you to deliver me?” Ryl replied
“The Outlands,” Fay replied.
The name sent a shiver through Ryl’s body, as images of the Horde flashed into his mind. Their tearing claws swiped at his face, serrated dagger-like teeth gnashed together in powerful jaws that nearly split their heads in two. Of all the places to be set free, why the Outlands?
“Did Averine tell you why I needed to be delivered there of all places?” Ryl gaped.
“No, I’m afraid he didn’t,” Lord Eligar said with a sigh. “He said you’d know what to do from there.”
He looked down into the bottom of his glass of wine, swirling it absently for a moment.
“Well, it matters naught anyway,” Fay said remorsefully. “Events have been set in motion now that can’t rightly be stopped.”
“How are you going to deliver me there? How will you make my death look like an accident?” Ryl asked the lord as the questions flowed from his mouth.
“That took planning, my friend. Luckily I had eight cycles to do it. Though your early Harvest complicated things a bit,” Fay admitted shaking his head. “How do you like the ship?”
Ryl was caught off guard by the sudden change in direction.
“It’s beautiful, sir. I mean, Fay,” Ryl stumbled through the words. Fay chuckled at the response.
“Thank you, Ryl, you’re too kind,” Lord Eligar said honestly. “In truth, this ship is a relic. Hardly seaworthy and beyond serviceable. It’s a wonder what a fresh coat of paint and some extra gold can do, no?”
Ryl cocked his head to the side, regarding Fay with a look that combined confusion and astonishment.
“It’s all about appearances, Ryl,” Fay continued. “This mixed up, narcissistic world demands it. I’m sure, by now, you’ve figured out that there are not nearly two hundred soldiers standing by to guard you. In fact, Andr is the only guard I have on this rotting boat. We’re operating with twenty-five sailors, a skeleton crew barely enough to keep us afloat. Your cell was certainly not reinforced with any iron and not one of the cannons that stand ready on the gun deck is capable of firing, nor have they since my father was a boy. I had them removed from a maritime display at the museum in the city of Leerin.”
Fay downed the rest of his wine, putting the glass down carefully, waving off Gencep. He leaned forward, placing both of his elbows on the table, crossing his fingers together, using them to support his chin..
“Now, Ryl, why would I go through all the trouble, all the deception?” Lord Eligar asked.
>
“To keep up appearances,” Ryl answered skeptically.
“Aha, you were listening,” Fay said with a smile. “That’s right, appearances, my boy. When the forward powder magazine on a frigate explodes at sea, you don’t expect to find two hundred survivors. A more believable number would be, say, somewhere in the range of twenty-five. And it wouldn’t be a stretch to believe that my precious tribute, sealed away for his safekeeping in a reinforced iron box two decks down, ironically above the offending magazine, wouldn’t have survived, nor would his body be found. So you see, Ryl, it’s all about appearances.”
Ryl nodded his head at the complexity of the deception Lord Eligar had weaved, yet a question still remained.
“If I’m to die again, for the second time in nearly as many days I might add,” Ryl said curiously. Fay and Andr exchanged puzzled glances. “How do I make it to the Outlands?”
“Very good question,” Fay said, nodding his head. “This is where our friend Andr comes in. I hate to assume, but I don’t expect you have much experience navigating a skiff or any sort of small boat on the ocean?”
Lord Eligar paused briefly, although the question was rhetorical.
“Even as we speak, the crew is preparing a small boat for two. You’ll sail under the cover of darkness,” Fay continued. “As we suspected, the captain reported that we have a warship following us, still barely a sail on the horizon, but gaining steadily. Andr will guide you to the Outlands, and accompany you from there. It will be a hard night sail for the both of you, but the captain believes you should reach land by first light. From there, Ryl, it’s up to you.”
“Thank you, Fay,” Ryl said appreciatively. “What’ll happen to you?”
“Your concern is touching, Ryl. There’s no need to worry about us,” Fay said, leaning back in his chair again. “Everyone here signed on knowing the risks, besides, our rescue floats only hours behind. They’ll assuredly hasten once they see the show we have in store.”
The table fell into silence as the four finished the remainder of their dinners. The plan seemed sound, yet a thought continued to work its way into Ryl’s head, something that had been bothering him. He was hesitant to ask. Taking a deep breath, Ryl mustered up the courage.