“Bryana, I really need to go. I don't have need for any of your wine.”
“Shut the door.”
Locken frowned at her.
She nodded toward the door. “Shut the door, Locken.”
He had never felt uncomfortable with his sister, but this was strange behavior. After his experience in the palace, he wanted nothing more of strangeness. Having no other option, he shut the door as his sister requested. When it closed, the air felt still and heavy. The room was cool and damp, and he noted the scent of wine on the air.
“Bryana, what is this?”
“Why were you summoned to the city?”
Locken glanced from her to her husband. Both stared at him intently. After a moment, he sighed. It did no harm sharing with them. They would find out soon enough. “Richard intends an attack.”
“Richard?”
“That's why he summoned me here. He's coordinating an attack.”
“You can't attack Thealon.”
Locken laughed softly. Was that what this was all about? Was his sister concerned for their safety?
“You will be unharmed here in Gomald. You're far enough away from the border that any fighting won't reach you here.” Even if it eventually did, it would be a long time before any fighting reached the city.
“You think I'm afraid for my safety? No… This is about more than my safety.”
“Why bring me down here?”
“You can't allow Richard’s advisor to attack Thealon.”
Locken chuckled. “It's not Richard's advisor. This was his decision.”
His sister exchanged a worried look with her husband. “No. This sounds like something from his advisor. We have seen it here in the months since he appeared.”
“Seen what?”
Terrence answered. “This is something you will need to see for yourself. Please, Locken. Before you leave, take some time, see what we've seen in our time in the city. See the reason trade has started to dwindle.”
“Is that what this is about? Are you afraid of losing trade?” He glanced from one to the other. “You’ll be unaffected in Gomald for a while, and even if the war lingers, there will be a role for trade with the south.” He offered a placating smile, but his sister and her husband ignored it.
“No. This is about more than only fear of trade. This is about fear for the future of our country. As our king—”
“I'm not your king. I am the Saeline king.”
“Fine. Then as Saeline’s king, you should be concerned as well. Let me show you before you depart.”
Locken had never known his sister to overreact, so for her to have sequestered him in this way, for them to have drawn him aside, meant that they were worried about something more than what they let on. What did they need him to see?
Locken said, “Fine. I can spare a few hours before I leave.”
His sister shook her head. “It will be more than a few hours. But it will be worth your time.”
Locken stood at the edge of the square, Terrence standing next to him. His sister remained back at the estate. Both men wore long, plain cloaks of simple black-dyed wool, the better to blend in, Terrence had said. They had the hoods of the cloaks pulled up and over their eyes, and neither man had spoken since they’d arrived. Terrence hadn’t needed to.
Within the square, three gallows had been set up that hadn’t been there when he’d wandered the city before. A crowd of people surrounded the square, and an unsettled sort of murmur made its way across the square. From the faces in the crowd, it seemed they had seen similar executions recently.
“How often are they executing people?” Locken asked without looking over.
“It's become almost daily. Most of these people are little more than thieves.”
“Executing men for thievery?” he repeated, looking over at Terrence.
Terrence nodded.
Locken struggled to believe the sentence. There were other punishments, plenty that were effective and standard throughout Gomald for such crimes. None of which did anything to get to the underlying cause of the thievery. Punishments like this served only as a show of power, not one where true justice was served.
“Did Richard sanction these?”
Terrence nodded. He had a flat face and a small nose, but his eyes were inquisitive. There was a depth to them, perhaps the most remarkable thing about the man. In Locken’s interactions with Terrence, he had learned the man had a sharp mind. That was what appealed to his sister. It certainly wasn't his outer appearance. Bryana was a beauty, and could have married much higher, but she had elected to marry Terrence.
“Is this what you and Bryana wanted me to see?” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I'll admit the executions are a bit much, but Richard is king, and if there has been increasing thieving taking place in the city, it is his right to do whatever he deems necessary to put an end to it.”
“It is his right,” Terrence said. “But those of us who live in the city, those of us who witness these killings, suspect it may not be his choice.”
Terrence didn't need to elaborate for Locken to understand. “You think it’s this new advisor?”
“That is what we think.”
“And how do the people take this?” Locken asked, surveying the crowd. Most here had a certain energy to them, almost like they looked forward to what would happen here.
“Better than they should.”
“How should they take it?”
Terrence’s gaze seemed to settle on things that Locken didn't see as he scanned the crowd. “Gomald has long favored the Urmahne faith, but the people understand their place, even moreso of late with the southern priests coming to the city. They describe the unfairness in the world and convince the people that this is justice. Executions like this make the masses feel the king supports them.”
“And yet you don't feel that way?”
“I can see on your face, Locken, that you don't feel this is justice any more than I do. This grooms people to accept violence. It grooms them to have a willingness to accept these sorts of punishments. What happens when the punishments escalate?”
Locken didn’t have a chance to answer.
Three men emerged from an opening in the crowd, marched forward by six soldiers. When they reached the gallows, ropes were placed around their necks, words were said quickly, and trap doors were opened, dropping each man to his death.
Locken forced himself to watch. The guilty deserved that much.
“Where were the prayers?” he asked. When Terrence didn't answer, he pressed, “Where were the priests? Punishments like this—executions—require men be offered a chance to say their peace before the priests for their final moments.”
“He doesn't allow priests to offer them any final moments or peace. He doesn't offer much other than a quick death.”
Locken stared at the men hanging from the gallows. Had the people cheered?
He turned his attention to the crowd and realized that they must have cheered, but he’d never heard a reaction like that before.
“Why is it that she wanted me to see this?” Locken asked.
Terrence turned his attention away from the dead men. “Because you need to understand the king you support. You need to understand what role you have as a man with more influence than any other in the city. Much has already changed in Gomald, and I—and others—fear more change will come.” He grabbed Locken's arm. “Keep this in mind as you make your preparations. Know that there are those who don't agree with Richard’s demands. Know that there are some who see a different future, one that is more reflective of the values we hold dear.”
Locken's attention was pulled away by three of the soldiers unsheathing their swords. They jabbed the swords into the bellies of the now dead men, disemboweling them. He frowned, surprised at the brutality of that. A surprising shout of support came from the crowd.
He turned to Terrence and noted an uneasy expression on his face. It was one Locken began to share as well.
> Terrence warned that people might begin to accept violence. From what he saw, it might already be too late.
Chapter Twenty
Everything was quiet. They traveled more easterly now, having reached the start of the lower hills. No one wanted to speak, and it seemed fitting to remain silent, the quiet suiting the mood they found in the north.
They had passed one other village, that one empty as well. There had been no further Deshmahne attacks, or even sign of the Deshmahne. Multiple empty villages, but no villagers found traveling the roads, and no attackers. That seemed a disconnect, one that worried her. What else might they be missing?
It had been nearly a month since they’d begun their mission. Still they had no sign of the Antrilii. She had a growing sense from the rest of the Magi that they wanted nothing more than to find the Antrilii so they could turn around and return to their city. It was a feeling that Roelle shared.
They had seen enough and fought enough. Only… they still didn't know what had happened here. It bothered her as much as why Endric had sent them to find the Antrilii, as much as why Alriyn had returned from the north without answers.
Unless she was not meant to find them. Could the Antrilii be key to understanding it all?
What did they know? What had happened to these people?
They followed a narrow road, one that wound up and over the hills. Roelle rode exclusively now, never walking. This far north, the days were longer, and though they were tired, and she had a growing fear that she might need all the energy she could muster, they pressed onward, each day traveling well past sunset.
The Magi stayed in their daecka as they rode. They managed to maintain their positions, holding on to the training Roelle, Hester, and the other Denraen soldiers had provided. She suspected that came from the traditional Magi training, that which taught focus so they could access their abilities, making them better equipped to maintain the focus necessary to hold these positions. Maybe Endric had expected that as well.
Topping a rise, Roelle saw movement on the road up ahead.
She tensed and glanced over to Selton. “Do you see that?”
Selton stared into the distance, studying the road before nodding slowly. “If you mean the family in the distance, then I see them.”
Roelle hadn't considered that it might be a family. Not Deshmahne then. That was what she’d feared when she first saw them. She saw at least three people, but as they continued to draw closer, she noted more than three. This was the first time they had encountered anyone else along the road since coming upon the first village where they freed the villagers from the Deshmahne.
She spurred her horse, with Selton following, wanting a closer view of these people. She now counted five. Her hand went to the hilt of her sword, and she hated that it did, but she could not take any chances. They came from the north, after all.
As they approached, Selton raised his hand in a traditional Urmahne greeting.
Two children, probably not older than ten, traveled with a woman and an elderly couple. All wore dirty clothing, tattered, and patched in places. The children carried small packs on their backs, while the woman pulled a cart piled with clothes. The elderly couple seemed to struggle to just remain standing.
The children flicked their gaze from Roelle to her sword and then to the water pouch at her side. She noted their dry lips, cracked and wind burned, and the way their eyes appeared hollow and sunken. She pulled the water skin off her shoulder and tossed it to the children. They opened it and drank quickly, passing it back and forth as they did, careful not to spill even a drop.
Selton did the same, handing his pouch to the woman, who drank her fill before handing it to the elderly couple.
When all were finished, they handed the water skins back to Roelle and Selton, and Selton slung his back over his shoulder. Roelle noted that hers was not empty.
“May the gods bless your travels,” Selton said.
The woman looked up, meeting his face, and a flicker of emotion crossed her face. Was it anger? Was it something else?
“The gods?” she asked. “There are no gods.”
“Marna!” chided the elder woman.
“Would the gods have allowed Juslin and Danik to be taken from us in such a way?” she asked, heat rising in her words.
The children stared at the ground as she spoke, and she corralled them to her, whispering quiet words to them. The elderly pair looked up at the Magi, but said nothing else.
“What happened?” Roelle asked.
The woman turned her attention back to them, sighing softly. “You have been generous with your water, but I fear that is all you can provide for us.”
“What happened?” Roelle asked again. “We’re Magi searching for answers. We offer what help we can give.”
Marna considered them before pushing the children toward the elderly couple and stepping forward, lowering her voice. “They do not need to relive it,” she explained. “Magi, I don't know how to answer your question. Juslin, my husband, was with our son in the field. It was mealtime, the same time I call them in from the field every day. It's harvest, you see…”
She looked off in the distance, tears welling up in her eyes. The haunted look Roelle had seen on the faces of the children, she now saw on their mother’s face as well. Whatever had happened here had been terrible.
“Did soldiers attack?” Selton asked.
Roelle suspected that was probably the easiest way to explain the Deshmahne. How else to describe warrior priests to someone who may not have ever seen them.
The woman shook her head. “Not soldiers. I… I don't know what it was. There was a horrible stench that arose around us like a fog. I've never sensed anything like it before. I hollered to them, calling them in, and…” She paused, seeming to relive it in her mind’s eye. “Juslin and Danik were coming back to the house. Juslin was holding his nose, clutching it, then suddenly blood erupted.”
Roelle blinked. “Blood erupted from his nose?”
The woman nodded. “Not his nose. I can’t explain what happened. Both of them were there one moment, and the next, there was nothing left of them but blood. Through it all, there was the horrible smell, and a trail of dust like a fog.” She glanced back to the children. “I took the two younger ones with me and hid. We found my parents. There were strange sounds. Horrible screams. We didn't see anything… there was nothing. Nothing but the smell.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she hurried to wipe it away, as if trying to hide her tears from the children.
“Was it some sort of animal attack?” Selton asked.
“Not any animal I've ever seen. We've lived in Drestin for nearly twenty years. We've dealt with wolves and we've dealt with fox and we've dealt with thearn, but we’ve never known anything like this. No animal attacks like what happened there. When we came out, there wasn't anything left but their bodies. There was a stench, something almost too much to bear. I threw up twice while burying them, but I forced myself through it.”
“Why?” Selton asked.
The woman looked up at them, seeming to see their height, then their features, for the first time. She made a small gesture of the Urmahne. “I did it because I didn't want to anger the gods any further.”
Roelle looked over to Selton and knew that they couldn't leave these five alone, not after what they’d been through.
Roelle turned toward the woman, “If you would like, you can travel with us a while. We could provide some protection.”
The woman looked at her children, then to the older couple. “Where are you traveling?”
Roelle nodded toward the northern mountains. “North. We seek the Antrilii.”
The woman’s eyes widened as she turned back toward where they’d come from. “That way is death. No one's going north anymore. Haven't you heard?”
“We—”
The woman shook her head. “No, we’re heading south, toward Rondalin, maybe to Thealon if we can make it that far. There will
be safety there. That's what everyone we've met tells us. But if you’re determined to find the Antrilii, you’ll find them in the north.”
Roelle and Selton exchanged glances. She opened her mouth to say something to the woman, but Selton cut her off.
“How many others have you met on the road?” Selton asked.
“Not many others. We don't move very quickly. With my parents, and the children, we can only go so fast as their legs take them. We will reach Rondalin, but…”
“Take two of our horses,” Roelle said.
They couldn't afford to give up two of the horses, but she didn't feel right leaving these five wandering by themselves. “The two children can ride with you. The horse will be able to handle that burden. And the other couple can ride together. That will get you to Rondalin faster.”
The woman didn't seem to know what to say. Roelle motioned toward the line, making a hand gesture. Three riders broke off from the rest of the caravan. When they appeared, Roelle told them what she intended. Two Magi quickly dismounted, handing the reins over to the woman.
“We can provide some food as well.”
“Why? Why would you do this?”
“Because the gods want us to protect you,” Selton said.
Tears streamed from the woman's eyes. She took the horses, helped her children and her parents climb onto their backs, and accepted the offered food. As they rode slowly away, heading east and south, Roelle wondered if they sacrificed too much allowing the woman to take two horses.
“Do you think we did the right thing?” she asked Selton.
Selton nodded. “If nothing else, we helped her find her faith again. Is that not worth it?”
Roelle glanced back, thinking that perhaps Selton was right. Helping the mother find her face once more was worth the sacrifice.
If only Roelle could know what it was she was meant to do.
“What she described…” she started.
Selton nodded. “That sounds nothing like what we’ve faced.”
That was what she thought as well. The Deshmahne were men, and could be seen. What had this woman described? “Some of it sounds like what my uncle was describing.”
The Lost Prophecy Boxset Page 53