by Anna Logan
He didn’t answer the question except to say, “Two assassins. Does anyone know about your abilities?”
Talea shook her head. “Only my best friend, Brenly.”
Another nod. “I have to go. I’m going to travel around the village and see if those men are still here. I’ll find you again later.” He started backing away, then paused. “Just…be careful.” A hint of a smirk softened his permanent frown. “I went to a lot of trouble to find you, after all.”
She started to smile and reply, but he was already jogging across the meadow, back into the forest.
She leaned back against the haliop and blew through her lips. Life had just gotten a lot more complicated.
~♦~
“Kaydor has made his move. Perhaps it’s time we make ours.”
Yhkon shook his head. He folded his arms over his chest, each hand grasping the opposite bicep. “If we wait, we can use the twins. Their assistance will make everything much easier. Without them, there’s no telling that we’d survive the attempt.”
Enisham, the lead councilman, scowled. “You know as well as I the things that are about to happen. It will take no more than a couple weeks for Kaydor’s new rules to spread to eastern portion of Zentyre and affect Talea.”
Yhkon nearly laughed. “What’s this, are you experiencing some sympathy for her? I didn’t know you concerned yourself with other people’s problems. Or is it just that you like the idea of me not surviving the attempt?”
“Yhkon,” Grrake, standing beside him, sent him a cautioning look.
The lead councilman’s features contorted with anger. He was about to say something, but one of the other councilmen beat him to it.
“You know we are all conscious of the potential danger, aware of the consequences, and would prefer to avoid them. There’s no need for hostility.” Councilman Ilidyu eyed each of them, as if gauging their attitudes. “Now. I think you are right, Yhkon. It would be easier, and safer, with the twins and so we should wait for you to make your actual move until they can help. But how does Kaydor’s advance affect your plans?”
He straightened. At least Ilidyu had some sense. “Of course I am not intending to stand by and do nothing. Grrake and I will return immediately to Zentyre and to Vissler, to be ready when the announcement and drafting takes place. We will avoid interaction as much as possible, while doing what it takes to protect the wards.”
“You know,” Enisham was still glowering at him, “you are only supposed to act with our permission. You can’t just tell us your plans. We have to appro—”
Yhkon let his arms fall to his sides, where his right hand landed on the hilt of his sword as he coolly returned the councilman’s gaze. “You can remind me of that all you want, Enisham. But we both know that I will do whatever I please whenever I please and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
Grrake grabbed his arm, yanking him backward and toward the door, while he himself sighed and looked at Enisham almost apologetically. “Do we have the council’s permission?”
Enisham narrowed gray eyes were still smoldering at Yhkon. “Yes. You may go.”
Grrake dipped his head slightly almost in the same motion as he opened one of the double doors and towed Yhkon out after him. Almost the moment it was shut behind him, he stared at him anxiously. “Why do you do that? You know he could—”
“Could what? Have me revoked?” Yhkon shrugged out of Grrake’s grip and started walking away, knowing his friend would follow. “Please. He wouldn’t dare. Not when we’re so close to getting the wards.”
The older warrior kept pace with him, their strides nearly in unison. “Our being so close only makes everything more critical. This is no time to be reckless.”
He shifted his gaze sideways at him. It was the old “reckless” accusation again. How many times had he heard that word directed at himself? As if he were the most reckless on their team. “Give me a break. It wasn’t that big of a deal, and Enisham won’t be revoking me, and I’m not going to be an idiot and screw up the whole thing like you seem to always think I will.” He sped up and veered off to bound up a flight of stairs to the right.
Grrake called after him in an imploring tone. “Yhkon! You know that’s not—”
Yhkon reached the top and stopped briefly at the first door that lined the hallway. “We leave in an hour.” With that, he opened the door and entered the chamber, shutting it behind him. Inside he put his closed fist to his jaw and paced for several minutes. He was ready. Grrake was wrong about him. Whatever he’d done in the past, he was at his prime now. When the time came, he would fulfill his duty as Warden, he would show all of them he could not only take care of himself, but also accomplish the task given him. And he would defeat Kaydor, no matter what it took.
4
The New King
T alea?”
Talea jerked her head up, staring blankly at Miss Abley’s expectant face. “Mm? What?”
The woman’s tolerant smile started to turn downward, but she drew it back just in time. “I asked you what year Zentyre became its own region, breaking free from Irlai’s rule?”
“Oh. Oh! 276th year of the 7th Age, right?”
“That is correct.” Miss Abley stalked toward the front of her stage, fingers steepled in front of her. Talea knew that look. It meant that, since Talea hadn’t been paying attention, she was in for an impromptu quiz that would be her chance at redemption. “Who was the king of Zentyre when that happened?”
“King Usel.”
“Why do we no longer have a king or queen, but instead the Leadership?”
Talea paused briefly to recollect the details. “King Quesmor died without any heirs. There was a scramble to figure out who would be king, but since no one could decide on any one individual, twenty-five noblemen were chosen to be the Leadership.”
“Excellent.” Miss Abley returned to her usual place on the stage, signaling that the interrogation was over. “Alright class. You’re not quite dismissed yet. Of course you have tomorrow off since it’s Eunday, but, Werday will be a bit different for the fifteen-year-olds. You will be beginning a tour to learn about the divisions. A couple of Lord Vissler’s men will escort you, and at the location of each job the overseers will tell you about it, perhaps show you the work being done. This will take all of next week. For the week after that, each of you will have a chance to learn your specific job, as your parent working that job will take you with them each day for—”
A distant clamor interrupted her. Talea sat up straighter and swiveled toward the door to see the source of the noise along with everyone else. Of course they could not see it, yet it didn’t take long to figure out what it was. The bell.
In the center of the village was a large bell. Its use was reserved for emergencies and village announcements. There had never been either in Talea’s lifetime.
Miss Abley swallowed and pulled her arms closer to her body. “Well, that’s the bell. I don’t know what’s going on, but I expect all of you to behave and not make the situation worse. I will lead the way, the fifteen-year-olds will take up the rear to make sure no children get left behind. Walk in pairs and remain calm and quiet. Understood?”
Nods. The bell rang on, each muffled clang echoing in Talea’s mind. What could it be? A fire? Perhaps Lord Vissler just had something to say, even though he never had in all fifteen years she’d been alive? It would have to be quite the announcement to ring the bell. Impatiently, she waited as Miss Abley exited the schoolhouse, the wide-eyed younger students following in twos. Finally, the older kids got up, and she joined them. Whether by design or coincidence, she ended up walking beside Rando. It didn’t matter. They weren’t supposed to speak anyway.
All the children in front of her prevented her from seeing the scene they approached. However, as they left the schoolyard, she did see men coming in from behind it. No doubt foresters, since the woods behind the schoolhouse was foresting land. Some of them still had axes or saws in hand, shirts dirty and sweaty
from working in the heat, many wore puzzled or anxious expressions.
They were almost to the center of the village. The younger children broke formation and began bunching together, while the teenagers separated to come on either side of them so they could see what was going on. Talea found herself between Rando and another fifteen-year-old, staring at the company of knights before them.
Iron armor that reflected the sun and clanked when they moved. An unfamiliar insignia—a maroon dragon—printed on the shoulder pieces, and on the chest of the commander. Swords and shields. Coliyes that stamped their hooves and snorted from where they’d been left at the edge of the clearing.
The space was rapidly filling up with people. Villagers fresh from their factions, conspicuously alarmed at what they found. And who could blame them? Most of them had probably never seen a knight, let alone almost a hundred of them in their village.
Which begged the question…why were they here? Who were they, even? Zentyren knights had a green insignia depicting a baby hawk in flight, then an adult hawk, representing Zentyre’s rebirth as its own region from Irlai, and its transformation from a fledgling to an “adult”; not a maroon dragon.
Talea wiped her perspiring forehead with her wrist. The hot air of midsummer felt suffocating, like it converged around them and pressed in, smothering each victim. The knights paid little heed to the villagers who circled around them, gawking. They simply waited. Infants and toddlers held by their worried mothers cried, young children started to ask questions only to be shushed by adults, men exchanged glances and women huddled closer together. She examined the swelling crowd. Her father and brother were standing with the other miners, Loestin’s brow knit and Naylen’s jaw set. Seles was just arriving from the east, having come from Lord Vissler’s mansion where she worked as a maid. Brenly was with her. She kept looking. Would Wylan be among those present? Probably not. She hadn’t seen him in a week, since he’d tried to talk to her as she was walking home from school. Some of Lord Vissler’s men had spotted him, realized he was a stranger, and gave chase when he ran. When they’d questioned her after an unsuccessful hunt she’d said she had no idea who he was…which was mostly true. Ever since, there had been no sign of Wylan Cravei. Unless Vissler’s men had caught him later, he was either otherwise detained, or had changed his mind and wouldn’t be coming back at all.
In any case, it looked like every villager was now there. A few of Vissler’s men were present as well, though not the lord himself. The commander must have been satisfied, because he strode to where it would be easiest for most to see him, hand on the sword at his hip. “Laborers of Lord Vissler, I am a Kaydorian commander, sent from the capital.”
Kaydorian? What’s that supposed to mean?
“Where a new leader has taken his place on the throne of Zentyre, to lead us to fortune and prestige as a region. As of two weeks ago, Kaydor Veserron became king of Zentyre.”
She frowned. Okay, a king had replaced the Leadership. Not much of a loss there—no one cared for the twenty-five nobles who did more arguing than leading. It seemed like a display of arrogance or power to change the name of the region’s military to Kaydorian instead of Zentyren.
The commander went on. “As king, Kaydor has implemented new rules to enhance the region. They are,” the man withdrew a scroll with his other hand, unrolled it, and began reading. “Radical Xanytes shall no longer be tolerated. Anyone who expresses the belief of a Radical is liable for imprisonment, or, if they refuse to recant their beliefs, execution.
“No one that is not upper class, nobility, or part of His Majesty’s military may possess weaponry, or celiths or coliyes.
“To increase the production of resources, laborers will quit school at the age of fifteen to begin working in their respective division.
“Immigrants from other regions without specific permission will not be allowed.
“To prevent the spread of Radical Xanytes in the lower class where it is most prevalent, assemblies will not be permitted in villages until the threat is resolved.
“To grow Zentyre’s strength and fortify its capital, laborers may be drafted into the military or selected to be brought to the capital, Aydimor, to expand it.” He rolled up the scroll, eyeing the crowd for a response.
The words bounced off the walls in Talea’s brain, echoing, hammering their way into understanding. Radical Xanytes…immigrants…laborers drafted…start work at fifteen…no assemblies. Laborers. Work at fifteen. No assemblies? I’m now a worker. There will be no more assemblies here, or in any other villages. And drafting laborers? What does that mean?
Unrest traveled through the villagers. Whispers and mutters spread like fire on a windy day, adding to the echoes in her ears. Her heart was pounding, the sensation of throbbing throughout her body. She gulped in the stuffy air as the heat tried even harder to suffocate her. What did all this mean? How could some man, Kaydor, make himself king? What had happened to the Leadership? And…what should they do about it? Just accept the new rules without so much as a word of complaint?
Finally, one man broke from the throng to get the knight’s attention. It was Mr. Lasleaf. “Who gave this Kaydor the right? We work hard enough. Now you want to send our kids to slavery even earlier? And what’s this about drafting? None of us can—”
Iron against iron created a shing as one of the knights whipped the sword from its scabbard and leveled it at Lasleaf’s throat. The man went silent immediately, eyes nearly crossed to look at the glinting blade.
The commander leisurely strolled forward and gestured at the knight and Mr. Lasleaf. “We will not hesitate to enforce King Kaydor’s rule. Remember your place. You are laborers. You will always be laborers.” He paused, scanning their faces, expression smug and stern at the same time as he said the next word with an emphasis that made it echo more than any of the others: “Property.”
Talea blinked. So that was it. They would accept the new rules without another word of complaint, because they were property. Much the same as a yuley was property, to be worked or slaughtered or handled however the owner chose. And they would be treated as such if they did not comply. They had no say when the Leaders were elected, they had no say when Kaydor seized the throne, and they had no say now. Her chest felt tight. It shouldn’t be this way.
The commander made a circular motion with his hand, and a large portion of the soldiers broke from their positions and delved through the crowd. Talea jumped backward as one of them shouldered past her and bumped into Rando. They made their way to the outside edges of the group, where they created a perimeter, making it impossible for anyone to exit the area without meeting resistance.
“Listen up!” the commander’s shout brought her focus back to the center. “Here’s how this is going to work. You will all gather by family, and you will line up in front of,” he waited, as a few of his men carried over a table from a coliye-drawn wagon, “this table, and that table.” He pointed at the second table that was brought over.
Talea hesitated, even as the students around her dispersed to join their families. Shouldn’t they…do something? The word rebel sounded risky, reckless. It sounded too serious. But, something. They should do something, right? Not just go along with it?
Seles appeared at her side, grabbing her arm and holding her close. They joined Loestin and Naylen, the latter of whom was clearly fuming. “This is ridiculous!” he whispered through gritted teeth. “We can’t just—”
“Let it be,” Loestin shook his head once. “Trying to stop it will do more harm than good.”
Naylen’s hands balled into fists.
As everyone bunched by family, some of the knights began directing—more like forcing—them into line. Soon all of them were in one of the two rows in front of the tables. Since the Anduls were toward the back, Talea had time to survey what was happening. As a family reached the table, the knight sitting behind it would ask a few questions she couldn’t hear, jotting down information on some paper. Another soldier, standing
nearby, would look them up and down, as if inspecting a yuley to buy. Then he’d say something to his partner, and they’d send the family to one of two groups; those on the right, and those on the left.
As she kept watching, a pattern became visible. Those on the right were the families that included the strongest, healthiest looking men. Those on the left were mostly older couples and their children, women, and less physically fit men.
Talea dug her fingernails into her palms. Not only did that likely mean they intended to draft the portion of the population that could do the most work and make sure quotas were met, but it also meant that people she’d known her entire life would be gone, forced to fight for a usurper. Her gaze shifted to Naylen in front of her. Broad shoulders, muscular arms. And, though the knights didn’t know it, he’d trained himself with a bow, and was a fair shot.
So, it also meant that her own brother would be drafted.
It almost wasn’t worth paying attention as their turn finally came. The knight asked his questions of Loestin: their names, was this his entire family, did they own any weaponry—to which her father said “no” since he had no idea that Naylen had fashioned a bow and arrows that worked surprisingly well—what was his job division, where did they live, how old were his children. The other soldier made his inspection. Talea kept her eyes on her feet as he glanced at her briefly, but when his gaze travelled on, she watched. Watched as he scrutinized Naylen with far more deliberation, and then Loestin. He leaned in toward the seated knight and murmured his conclusion.
Talea only caught one word. “Both”.
She didn’t hear the man’s instruction for them to advance to the group on the right, and nearly tripped when a soldier prodded her forward. They shuffled their way into the nervous villagers. Mothers kept close to their adult sons and wives to their husbands, children to their fathers and older brothers. Seles’ face was strained, lips in a tight line. Loestin was the same. Talea looked to Naylen, and their eyes locked. She could tell immediately that he wasn’t going to be drafted without a fight.