Two hours later, as they rode north, Ren steered the dogs in a wide arc, hoping to avoid running into other people, however their progress did not go unnoticed. As they near close enough to realize that it was an army encampment, another dog team and a cavalry unit of over a dozen horsemen closed in on their sled.
Gnochi looked back with concern at Ren, who called the dogs to break.
“I know,” Ren whispered. “We both are escaping convicts, remember? Don’t worry. I am a pirate. I’m used to lying about my intentions to the government and getting off free.”
Gnochi shook his head.
The other team of dogs came upon them with a swift ferocity. The lead dogs barked and nipped at Ren’s dozen, testing their might. A solitary man stepped off the sled and approached. He rested one hand on his hip, which, after pulling back a coat, revealed a holstered pistol.
The cavalry unit arrived moments after, formally encircling Gnochi, Ren, and their team.
“Morning.” Ren somehow managed to sound carefree. “We may have a problem,” he whispered. “These men are in the service of—”
“Ren of Oceanmane. Lord Gideon wishes to speak with you. We have the authority to detain you if need be. Will you comply?”
“We’ll come willingly,” Ren announced, looking at Gnochi and frowning. “Ready to meet your boss’s boss?”
The horsemen formed two columns around Ren’s dog team, ensuring no deviation. For their part, the team maintained order, but their mushing mirth was gone.
Under escort, Gnochi and Ren approached the army’s camps. Dozens of tents spread over miles, each rivaling in height and surpassing the grandeur of Nimbus’s own fleet. The closer they came, the more of the settlements he saw.
A palisade fence divided the compounds, creating walled sections and common areas. From what he saw in such a small sliver of the camp, he imagined that there were dozens of stations specific for guards, each holding multiple keen-eyed individuals, constantly watching for attack.
Ren asked one of the soldiers escorting them if Gideon had declared war on Lyrinth.
“Not Lyrinth,” the guard answered. “Silentore. Led by Jackal, but you knew that already, didn’t you?”
Gnochi swallowed a lump of fear, imagining that he heard Ren do the same. Upon entering the compound, he got a better scope of the invading force. In the current section alone, he estimated close to a hundred soldiers. Almost as many civilians ran around on errands. Every job from baking and smelting to doctoring and midwifing was accounted for. Even merchants set up shop, hawking anything from food and nonessentials to bundles of winterbush. He could only imagine how numbers like these may extrapolate out to cover a force of several thousand people.
Once the soldiers relieved the pair of their dog team, they led Gnochi and Ren through a labyrinth of the palisades to the grandest tent on the tundra. It stood high above the rest and blazed gold like the sun in an otherwise overcast sky. Ducking under a flap, Gnochi was not surprised to find the air felt warm. It was as much a display of opulence as the lavish furnishings which had been carted over the ocean.
They passed through corridors divided by hanging rugs and tapestries. Finally, they entered an open room. Flanked on all sides by armed guards, Gnochi and Ren stopped before a man stretched out on a throne.
Ren immediately dropped to a knee.
Gnochi hesitated, then followed suit. After nearly a minute of studying his boots’ lacing, he looked up and saw Gideon for the first time.
Muted green eyes, reminding Gnochi of pistachios, glared down at him. They framed a face without further hint of malice. His beard, greying, sat neat and trimmed on his chin and jaw. Gideon’s skin was without blemish; his hair was evenly cut and combed. The only imperfections Gnochi noticed were his fingernails which had been mangled, it seemed, by the teeth of an alley cat. They sat chewed to the quicks. Dried blood and torn skin marred more than half of his fingers. He hid his hands inside his robes.
Ren stuttered as if some pressure lay on his skull. “Guh—Gideon, sir.”
“You’ve failed me, Ren. I entrusted you with the safety and management of my naval arm, and you hop into bed with the first dog who turns his ass your way.” Gideon spat toward Ren, who flinched as if burning. “I didn’t take you for being so quick to change your mind. Especially after how hard I had to push you to join.”
“You were just going to kill me after anyway,” Ren stammered, not looking up from the finely carpeted flooring, the globule of saliva already seeping to some cold doom below. The carpet felt thick enough to insulate much of the cold from the tundra underneath before it could chill the room.
“You’d believe anything Jackal would tell you,” Gideon said. “So, it doesn’t really matter.”
“You weren’t going to have us all killed?”
“No, I was. He was right on that.”
Gnochi felt Ren tense.
“How could you? After everything we had planned to do for you. Handing the world to you on a platter. And you repay us with a pound of flesh.” Ren’s voice abandoned its despair, replacing it with anger.
“Once I destroy all evidence of the first world contained in those libraries, I will have to tie up the loose ends so the dead age can stay dead. You see, Ren, it’s nothing personal. But the information contained in these libraries can never be disseminated, lest people of this world realize what they’re missing.”
Gnochi caught a gasp in his mouth, preventing it from condemning him.
“And all the libraries have been destroyed, save the one you and Jackal were tasked with finding. Now imagine my frustration when I hear that instead of looking for the library, my two dutiful servants have been secretly mutinying against me, even going as far as interfering with the politics of the local populous.” Gideon shifted his gaze to Gnochi. He seemed to smile with half his face while still appearing deadly serious. “You’re a man of the sea and cotton sails, Ren. Tell me what happens to men caught in mutiny.”
Ren mumbled a response, but it failed to reach any other ears.
“What was that?”
“I said death!” Ren yelled.
“Yes! More specifically, death by the sea. Now I can’t just toss you out because you’re resourceful enough to survive in this barren tundra. So, I’ve thought of something else.”
“Please, Gideon, sir. Have mercy. I was misled. A fool. Please spare my life.” Ren begged, tears streaming down his cheeks. Gnochi looked away.
“Oh, I suppose I can afford to be lenient. But on one condition.”
“Anything!”
“You must relinquish your standing in Oceanmane.”
“Done,” Ren said, breathing a sigh of relief.
“Not quite.” At Ren’s confusion, Gideon clarified. “There is the matter of my pendant. You must return it.”
Ren averted his gaze.
“Don’t tell me,” Gideon belted out a thick laugh. “You don’t have it? Oh, silly me. I suppose I assumed that when I said, ‘protect this with your life,’ I meant with your life.” Gnochi suddenly remembered the trident pendant hanging heavy around his neck. He made to pull it from under his shirt, but Gideon interrupted him. “I know what you’re motioning to do. Unless you want to join Ren in his fate, you’ll remain still.”
Gnochi felt a wall rise between his mind and body. He sat with no control, watching the happenings as though spectating from above.
Ren looked over at Gnochi, tears welling in his eyes. “It’s all right. We had a good run, you and I.”
“Come gentlemen. The punishment needs to be had.” Gideon and a small army of guards led the two out of the tent to a barren patch of the tundra. He offered his hand to Gnochi. “You may hand that over now,” he said.
Gnochi pulled the trident pendant from under his shirt and tried to tune out the grunt coming from Ren’s gut. He shook his head, hoping it dispelled whatever conspiracy the pirate imagined.
“The very fact that Gnochi has this is not because he was working
for me. It is a matter of pure coincidence.”
Gideon tossed the pendant to the ice. For a moment, no one spoke.
Gnochi averted his eyes from Ren, though he imagined he could feel the pirate’s gaze warming his face. Instead, he watched the trident as it was coated by a breeze of light snow. As if on cue, it heated to a bright red, melting the snow covering it and creating a slushy bowl in the tundra.
“You let two children steal the most important lifeline you had, and now it will doom you,” Gideon said.
The pendant, which now glowed snow-white-hot, created a small pool of melted water. It continued to burrow deeper into the tundra’s surface. Gnochi only had a moment to wonder if it was the same technology used to make Jackal’s pendant blaze in fire, as was making Ren’s melt the ice. With a deep plop, the pendant broke through the bottom edge of the ice and descended into the sea’s depths below. Two guards nearby swung pickaxes at the ice, widening the pool.
“Hop in.” Gideon slapped a hand on Ren’s back.
The pirate flinched as if burned. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he moaned, eying around for an escape.
“Make it easy on yourself, lad.”
“No!” Ren lunged at the nearest guard, managing to separate him from his sword, then proceeded to slice through the guard’s neck. “Let us go.” He angled the sword in a defensive stance, though the snarl on his face was aggressively feral.
Gideon pulled a gun from somewhere within his robes. He aimed and promptly fired two shots into Ren’s legs.
The pirate collapsed onto the ice. Blood gushing from his legs mingled with that leaking from the neck of the deceased guard.
“Quickly,” Gideon said to two of his guards. “The ice is starting to reform.”
They attached two poles to Ren’s limp body, one around his neck and the other circling his waist. After rolling him into the water, they heaved down on the poles, pushing with their weight until only their handholds remained dry.
Initially, a deluge of bubbles spiraled to the surface, some escaping between cracks in the forming ice, others remaining trapped under the quick-freezing surface. After a few minutes, the thrashing stopped. The ice froze over the hole completely, the poles permanently stuck in the ice as a reminder.
“Now, Gnochi. We have much to discuss. You need naught fear your death. I don’t think that young Cleobelle would take too kindly to her father killing you.”
Gnochi’s mouth opened, questions dying as they tripped off his mangled tongue. He reacted with about as much confusion as he could muster.
“Besides, I know that you merely were following Jackal’s orders and forced to because of implanted memories. So, I don’t blame you for your misfortunes. Come though, let’s get comfortable so we can talk. Oh, and I know about—” Gideon opened his mouth and pointed to his tongue. “I’ll have someone bring in a pen and some paper. We want a proper dialogue, after all. It is a shame, though,” he said, resting an arm on Gnochi’s shoulder, leading him back into the tent. “That they stole your tongue. I’ve heard that your stories were simply divine.”
◆◆◆
Back in the main tent, Gnochi found himself sat across a table from Gideon. A blank piece of paper, a pen, and a deep ink well sat between them. He strained his mind, trying to decide which questions he wanted answers to first.
“There’s no rush, Gnochi, ask me whatever.”
You are Cleo’s father?
“Yes.”
The same Gideon who leads the Pantheon?
“Among other professions, yes. I also lead the eastern lands’ Luddites.”
How did you find out that Cleo and I traveled together? And how did you know about my having Ren’s pendant? Also, why didn’t you spare his life?
“One at a time.” Gideon stretched out on the chair and chuckled. “The pendants allow me to keep tabs on my people. That includes Cleobelle, though she disposed of her necklace not long after you two started traveling together. I believe it resides in Mirr now. A tanner has disassembled the pendant, removing the gem.”
Isn’t that against Luddite principle, maintaining power using first age technologies?
“You’ve got me there. I am, however, using them to ensure that those libraries are destroyed. Once all the evidence of their existence is gone, I will dispose of the remainder of my first age ties. I think my fellow Luddites will pardon my use for the greater good.” Gideon looked back at the previous questions. “I was also able to watch you because of Jackal’s pendant, which he so generously bestowed upon you.”
So, it was your hand that started the fire that burnt the castle?
“More or less. I knew that you had Ren’s pendant for the same reason. I followed your progress from Blue Haven, south to the swamp, then east to the tundra and north. You came right to us. As for why I didn’t spare Ren. Simply, he betrayed me. I don’t have the heart you do. Someone shoots me, I don’t save them.” Gideon belted out a hearty laugh. He slapped Gnochi’s thigh, precisely where the bard had been shot months earlier.
Why are you here? In Lyrinth.
“To stop Jackal and destroy the library. I’d also like to see Cleo come home. I was hoping to shield her from the echo’s stigma for a while longer.”
Are you prepared to let her go if she decides to stay?
The nonchalance with which Gideon had been answering the questions thus far disappeared behind a frown. He seemed to think on what he would next say. “We’ll cross that bridge if we have to, but that’s none of your business, regardless. I appreciate what you’ve done. Taking her in. Protecting her. Teaching her. There is no doubt that what you have managed to impart on her in months easily surpasses what her mentors have attempted over years. I would be willing to hire you as her permanent tutor, if she wants to resume her teachings back at home.
“And I thank you for looking after her as a daughter. I suppose you saw her as you would have seen your niece, Pippa. I am sorry for your losses. Having to relive those memories all as if they’re new.”
Gnochi averted his eyes as fresh grief washed through his mind. He stared at the pen, marveling at the secrets it already revealed and wondering which secrets it had yet to unveil. He motioned to pick it up again when someone entered at a brisk pace.
“Lord Gideon.” The page eyed Gnochi with distrust. He whispered something into Gideon’s ear.
Gideon rose, then walked to the edge of the room. He was ducking under to another section of the tent when he turned and addressed Gnochi. “Pardon me, Master Gleeman. A noble from Lyrinth, some man named Dorothea, of all things, is due to arrive any minute. Sit tight. I’m going to meet him, then we shall continue.”
Gnochi felt bile rise in his throat, but before he could motion to Gideon not to bring the man in, the head of the Pantheon disappeared behind the hanging divider
◆◆◆
A sound like shuffling feet roused Cleo from her restless sleep. She felt the canvas sack clinging to her hair and imagined the small checkered pattern it embossed on her cheeks and forehead. One of her captors sat her up and removed it from over her head.
As her eyes acclimated to light, she realized that she was back in the swamp, though she knew not where in the swamp she was. Her captors had erected a little camp, surrounded by spiked logs and heated by scattered torches and fires. In the center of the den, a cooking fire blazed under a large caldron that looked big enough to swallow her.
The man who sat her up, spotted her eying around. He yanked from her mouth, a sodden gag that she had not realized she was sucking on. He forced a bowl of steaming mush before her face. Cleo spat, to rid her mouth of the cotton taste, then salivated at the smell of the slop. She spooned it into her mouth, relishing the effort it made to quell her hunger. The man smiled at her compliance.
“Where is Aarez?” She asked after a few spoonfuls of the soup had restored moisture to her mouth and tongue. The man seemed not to hear her, or he chose not to respond. “The person I came in with. Where is he?” Again
, the brutish man disregarded her. From across the camp, she saw another of the captors stooping and setting upright a human, disguised by a similar canvas sack. Aarez’s face appeared. Cleo yelled across the camp to him. “Aarez!”
“Cleo! Are you all right? Did they hurt—”
Aarez’s captor slugged him in the jaw to silence him. He uttered a series of guttural sounds at the other brute. From behind her came a feral shriek and a new face.
Cleo gasped as she realized that the dirty form responsible for the noise was a woman. Just from seeing how she carried herself and yelled at the brutish men, she assumed that the woman was the leader of the three.
The matriarch spat a grunt-like command at Aarez’s captor, who quickly forced a spoon into her friend’s mouth, then shoved-in the gag and lowered the sack over Aarez’s head.
Feeling the chill of ice stab down her spine, Cleo brought her gaze back to discover the woman studying her. “Please,” Cleo begged, willing her echo to work. “Let my friend and I go.”
As a response, she smiled at Cleo’s words, waving the air before her face as if willing them away, then barked at her captor who promptly replaced the canvas sack over Cleo’s head.
Chapter 32
With pale twilight fast approaching, Harvey and Roy breached the northern edge of the swamp. They had followed the tracks as best they could that day until the snows resumed with ferocity. After that, the two traveled north with hopes that Kiren had not deviated.
As they exited the northernmost lip of the swamp near the coast, they spotted a fortress several miles into the desert.
Harvey had spent much of his time in battle school studying Lyrinthian maps and fortifications, but the size and location threw him off. He scratched at his head and was sure he had never heard of anything along the coast in the Lymar desert. “This isn’t ours,” he said.
“So, is this why we ran into the Lyrinthian armies?” Roy asked. “Look to the west. They’re camped not a mile out. Harv, are we at war?”
Harvey could not draw his eyes off the mass of tents, palisade walls, and smoke coming from the east, out on the tundra. “If Lyrinth is camped to the west,” he said, “then who is camped out there?”
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