“You will endure,” the older handmaiden said. “We all do. But there is always hope for the better.”
Janna had had nothing but heartache since her rescue. She remembered being rescued by Nath, but the details were hazy. The wizard, Hozam, had turned her into some sort of cave-dwelling creature. She woke at night in a cold sweat, screaming sometimes, seeing the face of a hairy orange-eyed monster instead of herself in the mirror. As for Nath, she envisioned a young face and soft locks of flame-red hair. He seemed like more of a dream than a reality, but the moment Virgo brought up his name, her memories began to sharpen. She still struggled with whether it was all a bad dream or not.
Nath, if you are real, you rescued me once. Please rescue me twice.
She’d thought about him on and off over the past two years, but her mind was never clear. She never saw the people who kidnapped her, but they made her drink bitter toxins that kept her calm and dreamy-eyed. It lingered with her. Some moments she was very astute and sharp, but at other times, she could be in the middle of the conversation and her mind would slide somewhere else. She would usually wake up in bed after wondering what happened. Her handmaidens would tell her.
A third handmaiden came in with a tray loaded with a porcelain teapot, cup, and saucer. She set it on the dressing table and filled the cup. With a quick bow, the woman departed.
Janna took the cup in both hands and closed her eyes. “If it wasn’t for this tea, I don’t know how I would make it. It’s the only thing that soothes me.” She drank, not noticing the handmaidens’ knowing looks exchanged with one another.
CHAPTER 77
Still in the woodland, Nath and Hacksaw drank the polymorph potion. Before one another’s eyes, they were transformed into elves. Hacksaw rubbed his face. “I feel weird without my beard. Is it truly gone?”
“You look every bit an elf to me,” Nath said, giving Hacksaw a once-over. He was a little broader than most elves, but it wasn’t that noticeable. His face was smooth and his features uniquely sharp. “Honestly, it’s an improvement.”
“I bet.”
Maefon fitted them both in some elven cloaks. “Wear these and don’t do anything sudden or aggressive. The enchantment from the potion will wear off. Once we are allowed inside the castle, stay close to me.” She tied the strings on Nath’s cloak around his collar. “Just be patient. Darkken usually has a very good feel for things. He’ll let us know what to do and when. The Brothers of the Wind will be ready too. And keep in mind, if we have to flee, then we have to flee, Nath.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because there are a great deal of visitors, including orcs and soldiers, and if we are outmaneuvered in our efforts, we will face superior numbers. I just don’t want to see you hurt, or imprisoned again, on account of me.” She gave him a quick hug and looked up into his eyes. “You know, you make a very handsome elf. And your red hair is still radiant. It’s a shame your elven look is not permanent.”
“I’m pretty sure my hair is always radiant,” he said with a smile. “At least compared to yours.”
She gave him a slap on the shoulder. “I have missed your sense of humor, and maybe your confidence a bit. I’m glad you’re still cocky. Let’s go get your sword back.” She departed.
Hacksaw watched her vanish into the woods. “I’m staying close to you, and you better stay close to me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I’m a soldier. I just have the feeling in my fingers and a turn in my belly.”
“Maybe it’s the potion. My belly moves since I drank it,” Nath replied.
“Aye, just keep your guard up.” Hacksaw ran his finger over his collar. “We’re following them into the fire.”
***
The midday sun hid behind gray clouds. Castle Janders stood proudly in the northern end of Riegelwood. There wasn’t a moat of water surrounding it, but instead, an empty gulch filled with beds of flowers. A drawbridge had been lowered across splendid beds of colorful winter daisies that bloomed year round.
Nath’s nostrils flared. He walked in step with the squad of elves. They made up three columns, five rows deep. Nath and Hacksaw were in the middle. Maefon walked between them, making a complete group of fifteen, plus Darkken, who led the way from the front.
Maefon’s hand brushed against his. In elven she said, “Nervous?”
He shook his head.
They passed under the portcullis and entered the courtyard. Soldiers in full chainmail and tunics, crossbows, swords, and spears ready to bare, were stationed throughout the castle yard, manning the doors, on the walls, and parapets. They stood at attention, eyes forward and expressionless. Darkken led them to a stop. He and the elves were surrounded by the soldiers.
Nath leaned forward, looking quickly at Hacksaw. The big man transformed into an elf gave him a shrug. We are standing like toadstools right here. Nath’s hands clenched. He was feeling for his sledgehammer, but he’d slipped it through his belt loop like a sword. It dug into his side. He patted its head.
In elven, Maefon whispered, “Stop fidgeting.”
He pulled his hand away. So many soldiers boxing them in stood his hair on end. His keen sight and sense of smell picked up on some other details about the men. His eyes swept through the ones he could see without turning his head noticeably. Not all, but many of them were from the Men of Whispers. Their uniforms were ruffled and their faces unshaven. They didn’t match up with the other soldiers, who had polish on their buttons and a shine on their boots. Their itchy fingers drummed on crossbow triggers or the handles of the swords on their belts.
Nath inhaled deeply through his nose.
If I hear one click or the sound of steel scraping out of a scabbard, I’m taking Stone Smiter to them.
In front, Darkken and the castle commander began a heated exchange. The commander, holding a scroll, argued, “We have a full host of elves already. There are no more listed on the register. You may stay in the courtyard, but you will not be allowed inside.”
“The elves bring a special gift to City Lord Tobias on his wedding day,” Darkken replied. “And I assure you, he is expecting us. Commander, I respect your authority, but I assure you that you err. Is there no one that you can speak with?”
“This is the registers.” The commander held the parchment to Darkken’s face. “There is no mention of the merchant elves from Avaleen. Or a party of sixteen. You need to take your leave, or my soldiers will escort you—”
“Commander Holman!” Virgo entered the outside courtyard dressed in formal clothes. Her neck, fingers, and wrists sparkled with jewelry. She marched right alongside Darkken. She had another scroll in her hand and gave it to the commander. “This is the updated register. Read it. I’m sure you will find their names on there.” She gave Darkken a glowing smile. “We are honored to have the merchants of Avaleen among us. City Lord Tobias is eager to bridge new relationships with the elves.”
Darkken kissed her hand. “We are honored to bring Lord Tobias and his bride a most precious gift.”
Commander Holman looked over the scroll. “Aye, Counselor Virgo. I thank you for the register.” He handed the old register back to his second-in-command. “Do away with this.”
Virgo hooked her arm in Darkken’s. “Allow me to escort you and the elves to your place.”
Nath’s skin crawled as they marched from the courtyard and into the castle hall. Darkken and Virgo whispered and laughed with one another, as if they’d known one another a very long time. His hands balled up into fists.
This doesn’t feel right.
CHAPTER 78
The long hallway had been cut from white marble. Huge portraits hung on both sides of the wall, showing pictures of the city lords from generations long past. At the end of the hallway, at the top of a short, wide set of steps, were two large wooden doors that were open. Four orc soldiers were posted there, standing at attention on both sides of the door, carrying polearms.
Nath felt Hacksaw�
�s eyes on him. This time, it was his turn to shrug. The orcs glowered at the elves. They were two races that hated one another with a great fervor and passion. Nath gave one a look as they went up the steps and started into the grand hall. The orc’s bottom canine teeth stuck up to the side of his nose.
I hate orcs. How can these elves stand it?
Virgo led them into the grand hall. The guests were gathered on both sides of the aisle, but there weren’t any pews or chairs. Less than five hundred guests and dignitaries stood facing the front of the grand hall. On a higher platform, there were two thrones, bright brass chairs padded with velvet pillows, one bigger than the other. Three well-dressed redheaded halflings formed a tiny orchestra of string instruments that played quietly in the background. Behind the throne was a massive fireplace made from blocks of stone just like the ones Nath busted up in Slaver Town. Fang hung over the mantel.
Nath’s eyes enlarged. He broke out in a cold sweat. His mouth became dry. He slid into a row near the front with the other elves, feeling like he was about to burst from his skin. Fang was no more than one hundred feet away. Maefon held his hand and squeezed. “Patience.” She tipped her chin at the sidewalls.
Standing between the portal windows shaped like rounded-off crosses were dozens more soldiers, men and orcs, equipped for battle. If Nath had to fight his way out of the castle, it would be a fight to the bitter end. The soldiers were as thick as flies in Castle Janders. He searched for an exit. The only way out that he could see were the portal windows, but they were long and narrow. He didn’t think he could squeeze through them.
This is bad. Very bad.
He noticed Hacksaw shifting on his feet. The old knight cast a concerned look at him.
Aside from the heavy security, the guests talked quietly with one another in casual conversation. The ladies in the room politely commented on one another’s gowns and jewelry. The men exchanged stories about what they saw in the streets last night. Most of it was about the Oxen Inn burning down. There were rumors of a man with flame-red hair striking the tavern with a hammer he spun like a whirlwind. Many of the men rubbed red rings around the rims of their eyes. They yawned, and the heavier ones’ jaws were sagging. They also chatted about the strange rebellion that swept through the streets. The Rebel Riders. They chuckled about the strange horse-riding bandits who they considered nothing more than pests that showed up in the names of baseless causes from time to time.
For all intents and purposes, the people seemed normal, waiting to indulge themselves in a jubilant celebration, completely oblivious to the coming storm that Nath felt running through his fingertips.
Maefon squeezed his hand again. “It will be all right,” she said in elven. “Just play along or else you’ll give yourself away.”
He nodded. On the left side of the aisle, in the same row, were fifteen more elves, similarly dressed in the fine elven robes. They stood with their backs straight, chins up, and eyes ahead on the platform. They did not have the bird feathers woven into the braids in their hair like the Brothers of the Wind. They paid no mind to the others around them. Their hands were tucked inside their robes. Nath wondered if they were Caligin.
A cleric in blue robes with silver embroidery and a very tall, fanciful hat entered from a side entrance behind the platform. He was old, pale, and wrinkling. His eyes barely seemed open, but he teetered across the platform with rickety limbs and stood in the middle.
Nath noted the side entrance. They were well concealed behind black curtains and could provide another avenue to escape. Perhaps I should dash after Fang and run. He started running through other scenarios. Now would have been the perfect time to slip into one of the Black Hand’s hiding spots at the Whistler. He knew where their treasure box was hidden. No one would be guarding it now. He could take it, his treasure and items, and be gone. With everything in hand, he could start all over again.
Darkken eased his way into the end of their aisle. All of the elves scooted down one spot. He gave Nath and Maefon a warm glance and subtle wave.
The cleric lifted his hands over his head. The sleeves of his robes slid down, revealing his wrinkly tattooed arms. He dropped them quickly as if he was shedding water from his fingers. The halflings’ music stopped. The talking in the grand hall ceased, and all of the guests turned toward the stage.
The cleric started off by saying, “Marriage… is why we gather.” He spoke with a thick tongue, and marriage sounded more like a drawn-out marewage that drew a chuckle from quite a few people. “It is this matrimonial union that brings two people together, but binds the city in which it serves too.” He gestured to the left and right entrances off to the sides of the platform. The curtains were pulled back. Tobias walked through the curtain wearing a smile as broad as a rainbow. He wore a fine suit of black leather armor that had an oily shine to it. His sword and daggers were belted on. He walked up on the platform followed by Nina, Cullon, and Worm. Nina had a bitter expression. Her left hand was tucked inside her clothing. Virgo, who had been standing in the front, made her way onto the platform and stood behind Worm.
Interesting.
Cullon wore his crisscross of knife belts. His battle axe hung between his shoulders. Nina had her sword, and Worm’s hands were concealed inside his frumpy clothing. Aside from Tobias having a nice shine on his armor, the Black Hand was as ready for action as they ever were. They faced the cleric in a slanted line, customary for most weddings.
From the right side entrance, Princess Janna entered, wearing a trimmed white gown, no veil, with her bouncing silken blond hair down over her shoulders. The guests were awed by the truly gorgeous bride. They sighed and murmured excitedly as she walked up on the stage, carrying a small bouquet of flowers. The trains of four handmaidens dressed in blue were behind her. Janna’s head was downcast. She took her spot across from Tobias, and her chest heaved gently from a sigh.
Nath felt sorry for the young princess. Her body language said it all with her slumped shoulders and doubt lingering in her beautiful eyes. She was lost and alone. He had been there before.
The cleric nodded to the bride and the groom. “It is time to light the fire of unity. Let this fire burn everlastingly as a sign of your new covenant to one another.” He turned, walked between the two throne chairs, stumbled on his robes, caught his balance, and with a smooth recovery made his way back to the fireplace. He looked at the sword hanging over the mantel and scratched his chin. “That’s new.” With a wave of his hand, the logs inside the huge fireplace ignited. He returned to his spot in the front and looked at Tobias and Janna. “May your passion burn just as brightly for one another.”
Smiling, Tobias gave an affirmative nod.
Janna lifted her eyes to him and gave a weak smile.
The cleric said, “Face your guests and let’s join hands.” Standing between them, the cleric held both of their hands. He closed his eyes. “Let me pray a blessing. Will the guests please close your eyes and join me?”
I’m not about to close my eyes!
Nath kept his head down, but he scanned the crowd. Everyone had their eyes shut, including the Black Hand, Maefon, Darkken, and the elves. Even Hacksaw closed his eyes. Confusion and doubt swelled inside him. Sweat beaded on his brow. Wasn’t something supposed to happen? Wouldn’t now be the perfect moment for Darkken to strike? Yet, the man did nothing. This time Nath squeezed Maefon’s hand. As the cleric was praying she squeezed back in a series of pulses that he took to mean settle down or be patient.
The cleric continued, “As one river greets another, a greater river flows, the trees are bountiful and the harvest is sweet, please let this blessing be upon this young man and young woman.”
Nath’s stomach sank into his toes. He quickly relived the deception that Nina unleashed on him in the Channel, where they set him up and turned him over to Prawl. That put him through two years of unending torment and misery. He wasn’t going to go through that again.
No, I have to get out of here. Something is wrong!
He tried to pull away from Maefon. Her sticky fingers held him fast.
“Amen,” the cleric said.
Everyone opened their eyes. There was a rustle of clothing and scuffle of shoes on the floor as the suffocating silence was broken.
Nath started to breathe easier as things returned to normal, but the muscles between his shoulder blades were still tight. He glared at Maefon.
She glared back. Under her breath she said, “Wait.”
The cleric spoke a few more ceremonial things and said, “This marriage will join House Janders with House Tobias. Tobias will become the new city lord of the throne. He is the chosen spouse of Princess Janna. This union is legal, binding, and longstanding. It will serve the best interest of Riegelwood and its citizens, and it is a great honor for both parties. What is done cannot be undone, as it shall all be witnessed in the eyes of the people.”
Nath couldn’t believe what was happening. The Black Hand was moments away from putting Riegelwood in permanent tyranny, and he was just standing there, doing nothing. He realized that they were outnumbered, but he couldn’t just let this happen. His heart raced.
“Before I join these hands to recite the sacred vows,” the cleric said, “as is customary, I will ask if anyone objects to this wedding. Even though there is nothing to object to. Both parties come willingly to the altar.”
Princess Janna’s sad eyes searched the crowd with a pleading look. She was a woman trapped, forced to make a decision best for others, but not for her. In the long, silent moment, she started to deflate. Her eyes watered then cleared.
The cleric cleared his throat loudly. “With no objections, and I didn’t expect there would be” —the guests chuckled—“we will join their hands and complete this ever-binding ceremony.”
Nath leaned forward. Darkken’s rust-colored eyes were fixed ahead. He was as captivated as the rest of the audience. Anger building, Nath whispered to Maefon in elven, “We can’t let this happen. We must strike.”
Enslaved: The Odyssey of Nath Dragon - Book 2 (The Lost Dragon Chronicles) Page 24