“Thank you.” Stanwyck said with gratitude. “But I prefer to stay with my men in the camp.”
“So be it.” Lord Ivran said with a smile, admiring the man’s devotion to his people. “But a feast is being prepared in yours and Lord Onas’s honor. Tonight, once you are settled, join me in my castle for supper?”
Protector Stanwyck nodded in reply. “I shall be honored.” And with that, he turned and followed his men to their tents.
Several more minutes passed before Lord Onas and Lady Maylin came into view. Protector Raibyr Arnould followed closely behind and when Lord Onas stopped to greet Ivran, Raibyr merely glanced in his direction but followed his army to the camp. Lord Ivran tried hard not to let this bother him and he turned his attention to Lord Onas and Lady Maylin who stood before him.
Lord Onas was an aged man- double the age of Lord Ivran and it was rumored that he would fall dead from his saddle any day now. Lord Ivran looked to him now and could see why the rumor had spread. His hair was gray and thin and it could be seen where chunks of it had fallen out, leaving the bald head underneath visible. His eyes had sunken in and drooped, making it seem as though he was ready to fall asleep at any moment. His hands shook almost uncontrollably as he held tightly to the reins and it seemed as though he struggled to keep himself sitting straight in his saddle. Lord Ivran knew that Lord Onas had been a proud warrior in his younger years, making him stubborn in his old age and he ignored the healer’s advice which was to stay in bed and rest.
“Good evening, Lord Onas, Lady Maylin.” Lord Ivran said, bowing his head slightly. Lady Maylin smiled warmly and bowed her head at Ivran. Though she was the same age as her husband, Lady Maylin looked to be ten years younger. Her hair was gray but there was youth behind her eyes and her skin was still as fresh and perky as though she were in her twenties. It was apparent that she would outlive her husband by many years.
“Thank you for coming.” Lord Ivran said courteously.
“It is our pleasure.” Lord Onas replied. His voice shook as he spoke but he spoke with confidence nonetheless. “My army is anxious to fight the tyrants that call themselves our leaders!”
“That is good.” Lord Ivran said with a pleased grin. “It seems as though the entire realm is anxious for the opportunity and if we all stand together, we shall be free from tyranny.”
The feast was large; so large, Lord Ivran wished that he had invited more of his guests to join them. Two large geese had been roasted and set at the table- a ring of vegetables surrounded each one. There were baskets of bread, fruit cups and sweet cakes for each of them and the wine that flowed was plenty.
Lord Ivran watched with satisfaction as his dinner guests talked and laughed with each other. All of them were in high spirits and though Lord Ivran felt the pit of his stomach grow hard with the thought of Protector Emeric and Terryn still at the castle, he could not help but smile at his lively guests.
Lord Ivran sat at the head of the table and Lady Meira sat across from him, sipping her wine slowly and watching with sharp eyes. She was quiet by nature but cunning and she always took in her surroundings with care- watching the gestures and actions of those around her. Lord Ivran had never known anyone so apt at reading other people’s personalities. When her gaze fell upon him, she smiled and raised her glass to him, signaling the time for a toast.
Lord Ivran grabbed his wine goblet and stood slowly, holding it in the air and waiting for everyone to grow silent.
“I want to thank you all for coming and offering your support in this battle. When the desire to fight against the crown first came to me, I was certain that no one else would share in my eagerness, especially after what happened during the first rebellion. I was surprised, however, when the entire realm stood and shouted their desire to aid me.” He smiled down to them for a moment and noticed the proud looks on all their faces. Protector Stanwyck and his two Captains looked up to Lord Ivran admiringly. Lord Onas curled the edges of his lips in what appeared to be his best attempt to smile. Even Protector Raibyr was smiling now, holding his goblet in the air and looking to Lord Ivran as though he were a God on a pedestal.
“I am astounded by this realm’s courage. It is the King’s desire to instill fear into us all- to rule us with an iron fist and make us subservient in the only way he knows how- with cruelty. But it has had the opposite effect on us. We are not afraid of him or his army! We will stand up to him one last time and throw his cold corpse from that stone fortress he hides behind!” All of them shouted in approval. “We will break down the barriers that are set before us and when the sun rises, it shall rise on a new realm! A better realm where men are free and no one is afraid!” Everyone began to bang their fists on the table in their excitement and Lord Ivran had to continue in his loudest voice.
“Let us toast to our new realm- to the world that we are about to create! Let us toast to our courage and our faith in each other- our faith that if we all stand united, the forces of evil cannot prevail! To our new kingdom!” Lord Ivran held his glass forward and all repeated in unison: “Our new kingdom!”
Lord Ivran was satisfied that he had encouraged them. He was about to sit back in his chair when Lord Onas held his glass up high and shouted- “To our new King!” Everyone held their glasses out toward Lord Ivran and shouted- “To King Ivran!” They drank and Lord Ivran stood before them in amazement. He felt his eyes begin to water from the immense gratitude he felt but he held back the tears and reached for his glass instead. He looked to Meira who smiled her warmest smile at him. She held her glass up and tipped it in his direction.
“To our new King, my dear husband.” With those softly spoken words, she drank and Lord Ivran could feel the weight of the realm suddenly being placed on his shoulders. It was a weight he had been prepared to carry and his smile grew ever wider.
Chapter 29
Mayvard’s panic had driven them on at as quick a pace as his horse could run. They passed down the road in a haze of brown and white as his horse pressed its hooves hard into the ground and pushed them forward. The beast seemed to never tire- he seemed to enjoy the run and in little more than three-day’s time, they had reached North Fort. It was there that Mayvard allowed his horse to rest. He pulled whatever vegetables he could find from his pack and fed the beast more food than was necessary. He knew his horse would need its strength for the days to come.
They camped just outside of North Fort. Mayvard dared not enter because of what had happened the last time they passed through. He wrapped Rhada’s shaking body in both their blankets and gave her his cloak as well. The air in North Fort was warmer than it had been in Tyos and he would suffer through the slight chill in order to keep Rhada warm. But no matter what he wrapped her in, still she shivered. Her teeth chattered together uncontrollably and her skin was so cold to the touch, it burned. Her eyes remained open but Mayvard knew she could not see. He stood before her and tried to comfort her with soft words but his words were lost to her. It was as though she were in a waking coma. He sighed with frustration and told her that he was going into town for provisions, though he knew she did not hear him.
In town, Mayvard filled his bag with dried meats, cheeses, fruits and vegetables (with extra carrots for the horse) and tobacco for Rhada’s pipe, in case she returned to her normal state- Mayvard knew that would be the first thing she would ask for and he wanted to be prepared. He avoided the inn, walking around the building and hiding whenever he thought he saw a familiar face.
On his way to the fruit vendor, he passed the spot where Rhada had killed her would-be assassin. They had left his body lying in the middle of the road when they made their hasty escape of the small farming town. Now there was no trace that the man had ever been there. There was no blood in the dirt or imprint of a body. The only thing he could see were several track marks of carriages as they erased any evidence of a struggle. Mayvard wondered briefly who had cleaned up the mess and buried the body. But as his thoughts returned to Rhada and her current condition, he reali
zed that it did not matter.
When he returned, he saw that she had not moved from where he had left her and when he sat down next to her, she did not flinch or give any acknowledgment of his presence.
Mayvard pulled an apple from his bag and held it out to her in the hopes that her hunger would waken her. She ignored his offering and stared into the night. He pulled his waterskin from his bag and drank some of the refreshing water. Rhada did not even flinch when Mayvard put the waterskin to her lips and he found his frustration growing.
“You must eat something.” He told her as he replaced the cap to his waterskin tightly and threw it back into his bag. “At least drink some water or you are going to die.” She said nothing.
Mayvard stretched his arm across Rhada’s shoulders and pulled her head into his chest. “At the very least I can try to keep you warm.” He said and he wrapped his other arm around her and held her as though she were an injured child.
The next day they continued on and for three days they rode at Mayvard’s horse’s fastest pace, stopping only for short naps and to let his horse catch its breath. Every day was the same with Rhada. She sat and shivered and never responded. Mayvard began to worry that perhaps he would not make it in time before she either froze to death or starved or both. He had, at the very least, been able to force a little water down her throat now and then but he knew that it would not be enough.
Instead of taking the road through the Forest of the Dead (which he knew would be a faster path), Mayvard chose to travel directly south towards South Fort. He could not bear the thought of riding through the bog again, not with Rhada in her current state. When they reached South Fort, he decided she needed to be inside away from the night air. He pulled her from the saddle and helped her up the steps to the inn. Before entering, however, he pulled the hood of her cloak low over her face so that she could not be identified and pressed on.
Inside, the lights were dim but the people were boisterous. The entire place was filled with men and women, all drinking and singing in merriment. Wenches rushed between patrons, scrambling to take away empty flagons before they were carelessly knocked to the ground. Mayvard could not see through the crowd nor hear his own thoughts and he knew he would not be able to push himself through with Rhada on his shoulder. He walked closer to the hearth and set her in front of it, making certain that her hood was still covering her face before he turned and made his way to the bar. Once there, he had to push his way through two men who were laughing and arguing at the same time. Both had flagons in their hands and were swinging them around as they shouted. Mayvard had to duck underneath one to avoid being struck in the head.
He pulled himself up to the bar and searched for the innkeeper and when he saw her, he raised his hand high into the air to get her attention. She was a young girl, no older than twenty he would guess. Her hair was long and brown and trickled down her exposed cleavage like little streams.
“What can I get for ya?” She asked in a deep, throaty voice that did not match her countenance.
“A room!” Mayvard shouted over the noise. “And quickly please.” The innkeeper nodded and turned to the wall where ten or more keys hung. She plucked one from its post and threw it down on the bar in front of him.
“That’ll be twenty silver for the night and I require you to pay up-front!” Her eyes never left his hands as he reached for his coin purse and threw thirty silver down.
“The extra is for some food and ale to be sent to my room.”
“I’ll bring it up meself.” She said before pointing towards the stairs. “Up the stairs, first room on the right.” She told him then turned and disappeared into the kitchen behind her.
Mayvard turned and headed back to where he had left Rhada and when he emerged from the crowd of drinking men, he saw that she was not alone. A tall, scrawny man with a thin, sickly looking beard sat next to her. He had leaned close to her face and was trying to carry on a conversation. His flagon he held out in front of him and with his other hand, he reached down and began to stroke her thigh.
Mayvard puffed his chest out in anger and walked to the scrawny man, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him to his feet. The man dropped his ale and Mayvard could see the panic in his eyes.
“Hands off my wife!” Mayvard shouted and he shoved the man aside. He raised his hands in the air defensively, realizing that Mayvard was twice his size.
“I meant no harm.” He said. “I did not know the lady was married.”
“She is.” Mayvard replied gruffly and he reached down, placed his arm around her shoulders and lifted her to her feet. He placed another hand under her legs and carried her through the crowded tavern. The men who saw him coming stepped aside courteously to allow him passage and soon he was up the stairs and in the quiet solitude of their room.
Mayvard laid Rhada down on the only bed in the room and pulled the blankets up to her chin. She was wrapped in both of their blankets and her cloak but still she shivered. He tucked the blankets behind her shoulders, making certain that no outside air could get underneath then looked to her with sadness.
He could see her eyes peeking through the hood and for the first time since they had left Tyos, there was life behind them. She gazed up at him in silence for a moment then she turned away and looked down at the blankets that were on top of her.
“It does not matter how many layers you wrap me in.” She said in a low whisper. Mayvard felt his heart leap for joy at the sound of her voice. “The cold comes from within me.”
“I know.” He replied. He knew that that was the reason why she suffered from the cold and he did not. “I just want to help.” He said this with sadness in his voice, as though in his desperation he was completely helpless.
Rhada turned the corner of her lip into as much of a smile as she could and replied- “I know.” Her voice cracked as she spoke and Mayvard had to strain to hear her. “But you cannot.”
“No.” He answered, knowing all too well that it was true. “Nor can any healer. But Myranda can. She will know what to do.”
Rhada looked to him with worry in her eyes and shook her head. “I will never make it.”
“Do not say that!” Mayvard said sternly. He scooted himself closer to her and looked her directly in the eyes. “I am taking you to Axendra and we will make it in time. You just need to hold on.” At those words, Rhada’s eyes began to water. They fluttered open and closed and for a moment, Mayvard worried she would lose consciousness. He grasped her by the shoulders and held to her tightly.
“Rhada?” He tried to get her attention but when her eyes opened, he knew that she was back in the realm of darkness. He sighed and laid her head gently down on the pillow. He grabbed the other pillow from the bed and lay down on the floor at the foot of the bed. Almost immediately his eyes closed from exhaustion and soon he was snoring into the night.
The next morning, Mayvard carried her down the stairs and found the inn to be pleasantly empty. When the innkeeper saw him, she sighed and walked back into the kitchen. When she returned, she held a large sack of food and practically shoved it into his hands.
“I knocked on your door for twenty minutes last night but you did not answer. Did you forget about the supper you asked for?” Mayvard realized that he had.
“I was exhausted last night and must have fallen asleep. My apologies.” The innkeeper smiled warmly at him.
“Well, it’s all in there and I stuffed some breakfast in there for you as well.”
“Thank you.” Mayvard replied and he took the sack with gratitude.
When he stepped out of the inn, he was greeted with the bright, early morning sun and the sight of an army assembling in the street. He stopped suddenly and tightened his grip on Rhada. She looked ahead and they both watched as men were shouting orders, strapping their weapons to their steeds and climbing up in their saddles ready to march.
“You there!” Mayvard shouted, pointing to the man nearest him. He spun around in his saddle and peered down at Mayvar
d then smiled warmly at him.
“Morning friend.” He shouted.
“What is happening? Is there a war?” He asked with concern.
“You have not heard? Better kiss your wife goodbye and make certain your blade is sharpened. Lord Ivran has called us to battle. We march on Axendra!”
Mayvard felt his heart drop at these words and wasted no time in getting Rhada up into the saddle and securing his pack and mounting behind her. He grasped her from behind so that she would not fall and kicked his horse into motion. He knew that he must reach the castle before all the armies of Kaena descended upon them.
Chapter 30
Myranda stood on the balcony in her chamber, staring off into the distance at the city that surrounded her. She took in deep breaths of the cool night air and watched as the distant lights twinkled and vanished. She smiled at the beauty of the sight before her, never growing tired of it. There were times when she wished she could go back to Axendra and live as she had growing up- in her parent’s large, two-story home with her twin sister. She found herself missing the simplicity of her childhood- before she knew that she was a Sorceress.
Their home had been on the very edge of the city and some days, she and Syranda would travel through the crowded streets and meet new people or play games and on other days, they would vanish into the forest and not emerge until the sun was setting. She sighed with sadness, knowing her childhood was long gone, along with her parents and her home.
Along with the gift of having certain powers, came the torment of long life. Myranda had already surpassed those that she knew and cared for in life. Her age was very close to the High Protector’s but even Rhada would perish long before Myranda departed this world. Some called it a gift as well and would often times express their jealousy to her. Myranda called it a curse.
Shadows of Men (The Watchers Book 1) Page 30