Resistance (Ilyon Chronicles Book 1)

by Jaye L. Knight

  No one moved inside the house for a long moment. Then John promptly shut and locked the door. Anne put a hand to her stomach, sure she would be sick, and reached for the back of a chair to steady herself. Her breaths came out shallow and ragged. John put his hands on her shoulders.

  “Are you all right?”

  She looked up, her head spinning. “Trask,” she cried. “What are we going to do about Trask?”

  Speaking his name opened the floodgates of her tears, and they poured down her cheeks.

  “I don’t know,” John murmured.

  Desperation and panic clamored for Anne to take action. She pulled away from her father and headed for the door. “I have to go to camp. They have to know.”

  But her father caught her by the arm. “You can’t. If Goler suspects Trask is hiding Kyrin, then he probably has men watching the roads. You could be caught yourself or accidently lead someone to the camp.”

  Anne resisted him at first, but then the full import of the situation robbed her of strength. Her legs wobbled, and she choked out a sob. “But we have to do something.”

  Her father pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “Anne, the only thing we can do right now is pray.”

  Footsteps echoed in Trask’s throbbing skull. His body protested every movement, but he pushed himself up off the floor of his cell and gained his feet just before Goler appeared. The captain glared through the bars and looked to be in a foul mood.

  “Here to tell me again of my coming fate?” Trask asked. His swollen jaw ached with every word, but he would fight this man to his last breath.

  Goler scowled and unlocked the door. He strode in, grabbed Trask by the collar, and slammed him back against the wall. Trask gasped for the air forced from his lungs and winced at the pain streaking through his head. He jerked against Goler, but couldn’t break his hold. The man growled in his face, “No, but you will tell me how to win over Lady Anne.”

  The fight left Trask for a moment. “Lady Anne?” His heart reacted to the thought of her and how difficult this must be. If only he had some way to send her words of comfort and let her know how deeply he loved her. Then Goler’s words fully sank in and defiance flooded back. He scoffed. “You think I’d ever tell you how to win her affections?”

  “No,” Goler replied, his voice ready to snap. “But I’ll still enjoy trying to beat it out of you.”

  A thick blanket of clouds hid the light of Aertus and Vilai and provided the needed cover. Warin motioned to Rayad, and they crept to a small service door in the wall at the rear of Landale Castle. He pulled one of two keys from his pocket.

  “Trask gave me these so we could get inside if we needed to,” he whispered.

  Easing the door open, he peered into the courtyard. Nothing moved amongst the shadows. At least Goler didn’t have guards stationed here. That was a good sign. They crossed the open space to the castle itself. Here, Warin unlocked one of the back doors. Inside, pitch-black surrounded them. Warin put his hand to the wall and led the way. They wound around in the darkness until they reached a torch-lit hall and followed it to Baron Grey’s office.

  Morris sat hunched over, staring unfocused at the paperwork strewn across his desk. At the creak of the door, his head shot up. His eyes widened, but weariness dragged down his expression.

  “Warin, thank the King you’re here,” he breathed. “Please, come in and see the baron.”

  Warin’s heart sank at the older man’s reaction to them, which all but confirmed his fears. The secretary hurried to the office door and looked in. “My lord, it’s Warin and Rayad.”

  The two of them walked in as the baron rose from his desk. The same weariness dogged his face, his eyes bloodshot and in need of rest. Desperation flashed in them as if devouring him from the inside.

  “What’s happened?” Warin asked, skipping any formalities.

  Baron Grey leaned on his desk and appeared more like a frail old man than a strong lord. “Goler arrested Trask yesterday. He knows he’s hiding Miss Altair and that he’s a follower of Elôm.”

  Though expected, the news punched Warin right in the gut. He and Trask had discussed this scenario, Trask making sure he’d continue to run the camp if he were gone. But it surely didn’t make it any easier to accept.

  Grey sank back into his chair. “Goler sent word to Valcré of his suspicions about Miss Altair and expects the emperor to send men to investigate. Once they decide whether or not Trask can or will provide any information…he’ll be executed.”

  The last phrase was barely audible.

  Warin cleared the tightness in his throat. Trask would want him to make sure this didn’t jeopardize the mission. “Do you think Goler suspects you of disloyalty?”

  Grey shook his head. “I’ve done my best to appear apathetic.” Something changed in his expression, and a fiery look came to his eyes as his fingers dug into the arms of his chair. “But I won’t let him do this to my son.”

  Warin winced. He’d be right there with the baron in any attempt to break Trask free if he didn’t have to consider the far-reaching consequences of any rash actions. “I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you, but you must uphold your pretense of loyalty.” He winced. The words tasted so wrong. “I implore you, my lord, do not take action in this.”

  The baron’s lips set in a grim line, and he glared at him. Warin had never before seen him display any anger toward one of his friends.

  “How do you expect me to stand back and watch my son be tortured and killed?”

  Warin sighed with a heavy heart. “By remembering the people. I know it’s a hard choice to make, but Landale needs your leadership.”

  Grey shook his head again and rose abruptly to pace. “I just don’t think I can do it.” His fists clenched. Without looking at Warin, he said in a thick voice, “He’s my son.”

  Warin grimaced, sharing the man’s pain, but sometimes leadership meant sacrifice. Too many people counted on them. “We still have time. Hold off any action, at least until there’s no other way. I don’t know yet what we can do, but you know we won’t just stand by and watch him die. Please, my lord. Trask wouldn’t want any of us to put him before the people of Landale. He would want them taken care of first. That’s why he set up camp and is in custody now, because of his desire to help people.”

  Grey hung his head and morphed again into a mere shadow of a man. “It’s only a matter of time before I’m discovered too.”

  “Perhaps,” Warin acknowledged, “but Landale needs you for as long as you can keep up appearances.” He glanced at Rayad, still unsure the baron would heed his words and make the necessary choice between leader and father—an unimaginable choice.

  Rayad stepped up, his voice understanding, yet firm. “I apologize, my lord, but there’s nothing you can do for Trask. Not on your own. You would only be arrested and executed right along with him. What would that accomplish?”

  Grey just stared off at nothing with glazed eyes and didn’t respond. Had he even heard Rayad?

  At last, he looked up, his expression sagging. “Please, there must be a way to save him.”

  Warin rubbed his beard, knowing of no way to give the man hope. “We can’t break him out. There are too many men stationed at the barracks.” He glanced away from the man’s stricken face, wanting a way as much as the baron did. “We’ll set watches at the barracks. Our best chance at saving him would be if he’s moved. He wouldn’t be under such heavy guard then.”

  “Do you think he will be moved?”

  “Not until they’re ready to execute him, either here or in Valcré.”

  Grey’s eyes misted. “But you think you have a chance of stopping it?”

  “We’ll certainly try,” Warin promised and whispered a prayer inside.

  The training swords met with a violent crack. Kaden pushed his advantage and forced his instructor back two steps. Sweat rolled down his face, and he panted, but did not slow. He pressed forward, attack after attack, moving almost recklessly,
but right on the edge of precision. The frustration burning inside him needed an outlet.

  Another ten minutes passed, maybe fifteen, before his instructor stepped back and called the match to a halt. Kaden frowned at him, far from ready to quit. He would fight until he practically dropped just to be rid of the restlessness that gnawed at him. His instructor nodded past him, and he looked over his shoulder. Two of his guards approached. A third stood at the edge of the training field.

  When the men reached him, one ordered, “Go inside and change. The emperor has summoned you to the palace.”

  The news doused Kaden like ice water. His shoulders sagged and his arms fell heavily to his sides. He’d finally run out of time. He filled his lungs and let the air out slowly. Somehow, he’d known all along that he wouldn’t escape.

  His fist tightened around the practice sword, but he handed it over to his instructor and trudged up to the Hall in silence. Upstairs, the guards waited outside while he stepped into his room and closed the door. Stopping in the center of the room, he just stood—his only moment of privacy to prepare for meeting the emperor. He closed his eyes. Elôm, whatever happens, help me stay strong and faithful to You…like Kyrin did.

  Instinct urged him to fight this with everything in his power, but common sense called for compliance, if only to see if a better opportunity presented itself. So he changed into a clean uniform and joined the guards. They passed through the Hall and out to the courtyard. Along the way, Kaden spotted Sam. Remorse etched his friend’s face—helpless to intervene. Kaden just met his gaze with grim acceptance. He’d anticipated this for so long he was ready to get it over and done with. He couldn’t live this way anymore. The next execution would have made him snap anyway.

  They followed the same path Kyrin had taken when this all started. Kaden had wished to take her place that morning after the promotion, but at least she was safe now.

  The guards escorted him inside the palace, but never once said a word to clue him in on what this meeting entailed. Not that any meeting with the emperor could really end well at this point. He glanced down the halls they passed. Cold, empty halls. Without Kyrin, they lost any hint of warmth or welcome. Not a single familiar face met them. But for Elôm, he was on his own.

  A large door loomed ahead, and nausea turned his stomach. They entered the emperor’s office, and he set eyes on Daican for the first time. He’d never met him face to face. The closest had been the day they brought Kyrin to the square. A lot of good those memories did to calm his unease, but they kept the fight burning inside him. His hands warmed as he took stock of the emperor. He could probably take him, given the chance. But the guards would never allow the opportunity. He’d get a sword to the throat first.

  The men stepped away and left Kaden standing in the center of the room. Daican approached him.

  “Kaden Altair,” he said, his voice smooth, pleasant even, giving Kaden a firsthand look at the mask he so skillfully employed with Kyrin. But Kaden had already seen behind the mask—what it hid.

  “Your Majesty,” he replied cautiously as he fought the impulse to speak what was really on his mind. It left a horrible taste in his mouth, but if he didn’t proceed with extreme caution, his fate truly would be sealed.

  Daican’s gaze bored straight into him and said far more than his relaxed expression. “I’m sure you’re wondering about this meeting.”

  “It’s not every day one of us is summoned from Tarvin Hall.”

  “No,” Daican agreed. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I thought you should be one of the first to know the status on your sister.”

  Kaden’s chest constricted. Had she been caught? If so, he would fight to the death to free her, guards or no guards. Please, let her be safe.

  “I’ve received word on where she might be hiding,” Daican continued, and Kaden let out his breath as slow as he could to hide his relief. “One of my captains has a man in custody who might be the one harboring her. It’s only a matter of time before we discover her location.”

  The emperor measured his reaction without so much as a blink. Despite the intense scrutiny, Kaden kept a straight face. He’d gotten good at that.

  “What do you think of this news?” Daican pressed.

  The question was a snare—one of dozens Kaden could fall into. Maybe he was in one already, and it just hadn’t closed on him yet. He shrugged. “It is what it is.”

  “Indeed,” Daican murmured. He paced a couple of steps before facing Kaden again. “You two were close, were you not? You are twins, after all.”

  “Yes, but I can’t change the way things are or what’s happened.”

  Again, Kaden received the full intensity of Daican’s stare that was determined to wrench the truth out of him one way or another. Well, he’d have to try a lot harder.

  “I’m told you share some of your sister’s skills—that you, too, are good at reading people.”

  Suspicion clawed the edges of Kaden’s mind. “I’m pretty good.”

  With a sweeping look, Daican said, “It’s a shame. Your sister was quite valuable before she turned on my kindness and generosity.” He paused to wait for a reaction Kaden never provided. “So, tell me, Kaden, how do you read me?”

  A dangerous question that was. But he wouldn’t pander to the emperor. “I don’t believe you’re as kind and generous as you make yourself out to be. I think it’s something you use, when it suits you.”

  A smile curved Daican’s lips, but a cold, hard glimmer appeared in his eyes. “And you don’t like me very much, do you?”

  Kaden’s jaw tightened, and the hot coals that had smoldered since Kyrin’s near execution seared his insides. His restraint slipped a little. “What do you expect after I saw my sister humiliated, injured, and made out to be a criminal?”

  Daican seemed almost amused by the heat in his voice. He stepped closer, eye to eye with Kaden. The fact that Kaden was taller was nothing compared to Daican’s confidence in the power he held. “The question is, will you serve me? Will you take your sister’s place here at Auréa?”

  So that was his game—to replace Kyrin with the next best thing. But could Kaden do it? Could he keep up this perilous charade with so many deaths around him, some of which he may even cause by serving the emperor? The act was hard enough to maintain back at Tarvin Hall. Yet, what was the alternative? At least this still left him with the possibility of escape. He had to try.

  “I’ll do what I must,” he answered even as it sickened him inside.

  “A wise answer,” Daican replied. The cruel smile resurfaced. “But, of course, it will have to be tested.” He inclined his head toward the doors. “Let’s take a walk to the temple, shall we?”

  Kaden’s heart sputtered. Of course, it could never end any other way. It was foolish of him to think otherwise. He breathed harder, heat reclaiming his chest, and drew himself up taller. “Don’t bother. I refuse to bow to any but King Elôm, the one true God of Ilyon.”

  Kaden winced as he struggled to draw in a breath past his throbbing ribs. He coughed, and pain ripped through his chest. Fog swirled in his brain, disjointing his thoughts, but he hadn’t given Sam up. He knew that much for sure, and it offered a comforting satisfaction amidst the pain.

  “Put him in this one,” Aric’s voice echoed ahead of him.

  Kaden raised his head with effort as the guards pushed him into a dungeon cell. No longer supported by them, his knees buckled and hit the stone hard. The cell door clanked shut, the grating shriek tearing through his pounding skull. He glanced around the area, though one eye was almost swollen shut. In the wavering torchlight, his gaze caught on a man in the cell beside his. He blinked.

  “Trev?”

  The name barely made it past his lips, but the other man looked at him, his face a bruised and bloodied mess. Trev glanced out of the cell at Aric just before the guards all turned and marched away. The light faded with them. In the darkness, Kaden crawled to the back of the cell and leaned against the wall where h
e breathed out a cross between a sigh and a groan. The bullies at Tarvin Hall never beat him up quite this badly. He gingerly wiped his sleeve across the blood dripping from his chin and spit some out of his mouth. The thick tang coated his throat, and he longed for water to wash it down.

  “Daican finally went after you too?” Trev’s hoarse voice filled the empty space.

  “Yeah.”

  The other man’s long sigh rasped in Kaden’s ears. Kaden looked in his direction, though pitch-blackness hid everything. “How did you end up down here?”

  “I helped Kyrin escape.”

  This sent a shock through Kaden’s sore muscles. Sam never told him who helped Kyrin out of the dungeon.

  “The investigation was heating up,” Trev explained. “I didn’t want them digging any deeper, so I turned myself in.”

  Kaden breathed slowly in and out, his lungs hitching at every stab of pain through his ribs. “Thank you for helping her.” It was little consolation for being down here, but it meant everything to him.

  “I was glad to do it,” Trev replied without regret. He moved farther back in his own cell with a grunt and sucked in his breath. Finally, he settled.

  “How long have you been down here?” Kaden asked.

  “A few days. A week, maybe. It’s impossible to say.” He shifted again. “They’ve been working on me to find out who helped Kyrin once she was outside the palace.”

  Kaden rested his head back. How many times had Trev faced the same sort of interrogation he just had, and yet remained unbroken? “They wanted to know if I knew anything…and who told me and Kyrin about Elôm.” He paused. “So, you believe in Elôm too?”

  “Yes.”

  “I suppose we’ll both be executed in the square then.”

  “I expect so,” Trev said with a tone of resignation. “Just as soon as they realize we won’t talk.”

  Kaden put his arm around his ribs and tried to draw a deeper breath. The darkness was almost suffocating, and his pulse elevated. It must be a little of the same claustrophobia Kyrin suffered from so often. If so, he’d have to get used to it quickly. No telling how long he and Trev would sit here before meeting their fate.