by R. E. Palmer
She looked away. ‘I only hope you’re right.’
He took her hand. ‘But allow me to do the talking for your first audience. With time you’ll learn to handle the Archon as best you can.’
Elodi frowned. ‘But won’t he expect me to speak?’
He grinned. ‘Trust me, he doesn’t give anyone the opportunity to speak. But be wary, he’s always two steps ahead. He knows what you’re going to say before you do. And if he sees any sign of weakness, you’ll end up promising far more than your lands can afford.’
Elodi nodded as the knot in her stomach grew tighter. ‘Thanks for the advice.’
‘And be wary of the Castellan.’ He saw her frown. ‘The head of the citadel. It’s his duty to know everything that goes on in this place, and it’s a duty he performs particularly well with relish. He commands the Palace Guard and reports directly to the Archon.’
Elodi turned to the door as it swung open with only the faintest hint of a creak. She whispered. ‘How do you deal with all of this?’
‘You’ll learn.’ He nodded to the Proctor standing by the door and raised his eyebrows. ‘Otherwise you’ll end up like him.’
Elodi turned; she could not recall seeing an older man, or someone with a more crooked spine still able to stand. The Proctor held out a hand resembling the bark of a tree. He croaked. ‘The Council will see you now.’
Elodi inhaled deeply, aware what lay beyond the doors would likely take her breath away. Bardon murmured. ‘Follow my lead and only speak if he asks you a direct question.’
She followed. The echo of their footsteps would alert the entire palace of their arrival in the hall. And great it was. Elodi could not help glancing up as they passed through the thick doors, aware her mouth gaped wide. Light from the tall, narrow windows sliced through dust trapped in the thick air. Despite the high vaulted ceiling, the hall was hot. Sweat beaded on her forehead and trickled down her spine as she strode beside Bardon, keen to make a confident entrance. At the far end of the hall, a long table covered with a light blue cloth, stood on a low dais. Her heart hammered into her ribs as they drew near. She stumbled as the Proctor halted. The old man tutted and ushered them forward to a spot opposite the center of the dais. The Proctor shuffled back and grumbled as he took his place on a stool to their left. Behind the large table sat the six white-robed members of the Archon’s Council, all with stiff backs and shaven-heads. In the middle, the grandest of the chairs sat empty.
‘Vice-Archon?’ Bardon’s voice shook as he addressed a stern, middle-aged woman to the right of the empty seat. ‘I thought we had an audience granted with—?’
‘Then you thought wrong, Broon. You were granted a meeting with the Council, as you can see. The Archon’ — the woman covered her mouth and coughed or chuckled, Elodi could not be sure — ‘has far more pressing matters to attend than the everyday affairs of the Five Realms.’
Bardon took a breath and addressed the woman. ‘I wouldn’t describe raising the levies by fifteen percent as an everyday affair, Vice-Archon.’ Elodi shivered despite the cloying heat.
The Vice-Archon’s jaw tightened in her gaunt face. ‘I disagree. He who keeps our lands safe cannot be troubled with such trifling matters as coin and crop’ — her voice rose — ‘when he ceaselessly maintains the defenses and keeps a watchful eye on the enemy.’ The shiny heads of the Council nodded, catching the sunlight strong enough to pierce through the dust.
But Bardon held his ground. ‘Then please inform the Archon if he wishes to raise taxes, he has to allow more trade between the realms, and to do that, the restrictions on those who can travel need revision.’
The Vice-Archon held Bardon’s gaze but remained silent. When she spoke, Elodi could barely hear her voice. ‘I will inform the Archon of what I deem fit.’ She leaned forward. ‘And I am quite capable of determining the appropriate trade and travel arrangements. Both Kernlow and Galabrant have no issues with the levy. And I have already—’
‘Then can you explain why, for example, the people of Broon cannot easily sell their wool to Galabrant with whom we share a border? And I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a fine wine from the vineyards of Gwelayn.’
The heads of the Council turned to the Vice-Archon. Her chest rose. ‘If you would allow me to finish, I was about to explain.’ She picked up a goblet and drank. Elodi’s dry mouth would have welcomed a drink of cool water, but noted the aides had set no glasses for them. The Vice-Archon’s shoulders dropped as she sat back and held the cup in both hands. ‘I have commissioned a review to assess such arrangements. They will report later in the year and then, and only then will I pass judgement.’
‘Are you aware…?’ Elodi stepped forward and spoke before she realized she had made the decision. At her side, Bardon stiffened. She cleared her dry throat. ‘Are you aware, Vice-Archon, the crop yield in the southern wards of Harlyn have diminished over the last five years? We have spent many years rebuilding our farms following the Great Famine so we do not see a return to those dark days.’ She took a quick breath as the Vice-Archon moved to speak. Elodi rushed out her words. ‘But it is not only our crops suffering with the colder summers. In the north, losses of livestock due to the raids have increased? And, are you also—?’
Elodi jumped as the Vice-Archon’s voice rose to the rafters. ‘Of course, I am aware! And if you will also allow me a moment to speak, I will inform you of what is currently placing demands on our limited resources.’ She placed the goblet back on the table and glared at them over the rim. ‘Good, I see I have your attention.’ The Vice-Archon sighed as if bored with their company. ‘Now, as you well know, the Archon has spent the last two years overseeing construction of the tower at the gate. You, as leaders of your realms, will attend its opening shortly. The reason, as I’m sure you will appreciate, is so you can report back to your people how we spend the levies for their protection.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Is that understood?’
Bardon nodded. ‘Understood, Vice-Archon. But if the work on the tower is complete, why the need for the increase in the levies?’
The Vice-Archon hissed as she sucked air through her teeth. ‘The work is never complete, Broon, the threat is always present. Work on the third stage of the Archon’s plan is already well underway.’
Bardon glanced to Elodi. He stammered. ‘I… I was not informed of a third stage. Why were we not consulted?’
She dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand. ‘The Archon cannot risk revealing his hand so freely. As I’m sure you’ll know, such information may be valuable to Golesh spies.’ She folded her arms. ‘I shall raise the levy, and it is your task to justify it to your people.’
Bardon groaned. ‘But, Vice-Archon, I fear with lower crop yields in the dismal summers we’ve experienced of late, means many wards, including mine, will find it difficult to meet the increased levies.’
The Vice-Archon barely concealed a sneer. ‘Should we fail, the cost will be immeasurable, Broon, hence the third stage. The Archon is wary the enemy has been silent for many, many years.’ She shivered. ‘But we cannot become complacent, for all we know they are planning an all-out assault as we speak. We must, at all times, be prepared. But you can reassure your people’ — she leveled her gaze — ‘the eyes and ears of the Archon are everywhere. Little happens without his knowledge.’ Elodi shuffled to ease her aching back; the Vice-Archon seemed to gain pleasure from her discomfort. But Elodi planted her feet and stood tall, determined not to appear weak. The Vice-Archon continued. ‘You may also inform your people their levies have paid to install new weapons for the parapets behind the gate. I’m sure that will help ease their minds as they tend to their crops and cattle. And, of course, with the completion of the Caerwal Tower, we have the means to see into the Lost Realms and—’
‘Is that wise?’ Elodi spoke again before she could stop herself.
The Vice-Archon spluttered. ‘Wise? Do you question the wisdom of the Archon’ — her lips twisted — ‘Lady Harlyn?’ The wo
man spat out her words. ‘He is as wise as you are ignorant. Do you not think his long, extended years have given him the wisdom and knowledge to make these vital decisions?’
Elodi stuttered. ‘I… I am concerned about making ourselves known.’
‘Oh, they know we are here, and for once we can make them fearful of us. That is why we have built the tower. We want them to know we are watching and are not afraid. Our wise Archon knows what he is doing, Harlyn, it is all part of his grand plan.’ The members of the Council nodded in agreement. The Vice-Archon sat back. ‘This brings me to the last matter.’ She held Bardon’s gaze. ‘I have signed a decree to re-assign resources from the garrisons in the north to Archonholm for the next stage of the Archon’s plan. The process—’
‘Vice-Archon!’ Bardon gasped. ‘Have you not listened to a word I’ve said?’ The backs of the Council stiffened. ‘This is not the time to be weakening the defenses in the light of increased raids from the north!’
The Vice-Archon eyes narrowed. ‘I listen, Broon. But I have to make decisions, however difficult they may be, for the good of the Five Realms and not just for a few farms.’ She straightened. ‘You have your own reserves, do you not?’
‘Well, yes, but these are—’
‘Then train more. Are you telling me you cannot see off a few untrained ruffians armed with wooden sticks?’
Elodi shuddered as Bardon ground his teeth. ‘But, Vice-Archon, aside from our small forces of full-time soldiers, our reserves comprise only a few retired, Archonian Guard, the rest are farm-workers and from other trades, they’re not experienced fighters by any stretch of the imagination. And, you cannot dismiss the raiding parties of the Ruuk as untrained ruffians. They are better led, better organized, better equipped and—’
‘Thank you, Proctor.’ The Vice-Archon pushed back her chair and stood. ‘This meeting is over.’
6. a Cry from the Woods
The mug slipped from Toryn’s hand and shattered on the floor. ‘You met him? You met my father?’
Hamar looked from Miram to Toryn sitting opposite. He took a breath. ‘I did… but only briefly, mind.’ He scratched his chin. ‘It was me who took you both in, you and’ — he glanced at Andryn — ‘your actual father, that is.’
Toryn slumped back in his chair. ‘But I thought… what about the barn?’ He stared at the table. ‘And my mother? Was she with him?’
Miram whispered. ‘No, just you and your father.’
Andryn stood by Miram. He turned to Hamar. ‘Perhaps you should tell him what really happened.’
Toryn gaped at them. ‘I wasn’t left in our barn?’
Andryn wrung his hands. ‘No. I’m sorry, son, but we had our reasons for not telling you the truth.’ He bowed his head and whispered. ‘Hamar? Please?’
Hamar grunted as he pulled in his chair. ‘You were barely three, maybe four months old, tiny little thing, with a tuft of dark hair sticking out of the top of your head. It was your screams that woke me. I found you out at the edge of the forest.’
‘The forest?’
Hamar nodded. ‘You lay by your father’s side. He was so badly injured, I thought at first, he was dead. Had you not been crying, I don’t think either of you would have survived to see morning. It was the dead of winter and bitterly cold.’ Hamar’s brow creased as if seeing the events of the night in question. ‘I struggled, but I carried you both inside. Nearly dropped the man when he suddenly spoke. I honestly thought he was done for.’
Toryn gripped his sword resting on the table. ‘So why isn’t he here? Why did he abandon me?’
Hamar held up a hand. ‘Oh no, he didn’t abandon you, not willingly at any rate. I don’t think he had any choice in the matter. He was in a terrible hurry, as if the very shadow demons of the underworld were on his tail.’
Toryn frowned. ‘What was he running from?’
‘I… we didn’t find out for a few days. He could barely talk he was in such a bad way. He grabbed my arm and kept saying ‘take my son, please save the boy’. Then he started speaking another language before passing out. I put him in my bed and could see you were half-starved, so’ — he glanced up to Miram — ‘I brought you here.’
A tear rolled down Miram’s cheek. Andryn rested his hand on her shoulder. ‘Hamar was the only one who knew your mother had recently miscarried. That’s why we could bring you up as our own and no one would be any the wiser.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Toryn stood and turned his back on the table. ‘Why the story about being left in a barn?’ He walked to the window and looked out at the clouds streaking across the darkening sky. He spoke to his reflection in the glass. ‘And why does it mean I can’t go with Elrik and the others?’
Andryn ran his hand down his face. ‘This is where it gets a little complicated.’
Toryn spun around. ‘Complicated? You mean it’s not already? You’re telling me I have to abandon my friend, my duty to the Archon, and all because I wasn’t found in a barn?’ He saw Hamar and Andryn exchange a glance. ‘Well? Is anyone going to tell me?’
Andryn leaned on the table. ‘It’s to do with your father.’
Toryn scoffed. ‘I’d guessed that much.’ He turned back to the window. ‘Who was he? Do you even know?’
Hamar cleared his throat. ‘Sorry, lad. I never found out. He’d gone before I’d risen the next morning.’
‘But you said he was badly injured.’
‘Oh, he was. Take my word. It amazed me he could get out of bed, let alone walk away.’ Hamar lent forward. ‘While he still slept, I checked his injuries. I know a fair bit about wounds inflicted by a blade, and he’d suffered many judging by all the scars. But he had others, and not your ordinary wounds. No, these were from dark, poisoned weapons by the look of them. I’ve treated many in my time but nothing—’
‘So why can’t I go?’ Toryn strode back to the table and snatched up his sword in its scabbard. He swiveled and glared at Hamar. ‘You said I can’t go. Why?’
Hamar held up a hand. ‘Oh, you’ll have to go alright, but not with Elrik and the knights.’
Toryn drew the sword. ‘You said I can’t go because they’ll find out.’ He tilted the blade to catch the reflection of the fire. ‘Who? And what will they find out?’
Andryn placed his hand on Toryn’s, holding the sword. ‘Sit down, son. Let me try to explain. But please, put this away.’ Toryn’s shoulders dropped. He slid the blade into the scabbard and laid it back on the table. Andryn sat beside Miram. ‘If you go south, we believe the Archon may see you as a threat.’
Toryn gawped. ‘Me? A threat to the Archon? How can the likes of me be a threat to the likes of him?’ He slumped into a chair and folded his arms. ‘This gets more absurd.’
‘Let me try to explain.’ Hamar rose. ‘When I dressed the man’s wounds, I found marks. Back in the day, they trained me to keep my eye open for such signs. I’m afraid your father’ — he whispered — ‘I believe your father…’ Hamar gripped the back of the chair. He glanced at Toryn and sighed. ‘You see, I believe your father…’ He turned over his hands and spoke to them. ‘He had these markings on his palms, they were… the symbols of a wyke.’
Toryn’s jaw dropped. ‘A wyke! I thought they’d all been… but does that make me—?’
Miram stroked his shoulder. ‘Not all sorcerers were bad.’
Toryn stared into the fire, shaking his head. ‘My father was a wyke?’
Andryn sat beside him. ‘My grandmother told me about wykes. She said some did good deeds. One passed through in her day. In exchange for lodgings, he helped them protect their crop from blight. But others played nasty tricks on unsuspecting folk. Many came to fear wykes and took to hunting them down.’
Toryn turned to his father. ‘But you wouldn’t know what sort he was. And why was he being hunted?’ He took his mother’s hand. ‘Am I a’ — his mouth twisted — ‘wyke?’
Miram kept her eyes on Toryn’s hand in hers. ‘We don’t know if it’s passed on or a talent
you have to learn. No one knows much about them these days. We didn’t think any still lived until your father showed up. But if you go south, we fear the Archon may get wise to you.’ She placed her hand over his and squeezed. ‘The old law still stands. At the very least, you’d be thrown into his dungeons.’
Hamar patted his back. ‘But if it helps, I think your father was one of the good ‘uns.’
Toryn kept his eyes on the flames. ‘How could you know? You never spoke to him.’
‘When I first found you, I thought wolves had attacked you. But’ — Hamar glanced again to Andryn — ‘it turned out not to be wolves, or any creature we’d normally see in these parts.’
Toryn gawped at Hamar. ‘What are you trying to say?’
Andryn held up a hand. ‘Hold on, Hamar. Let’s start with what we know for certain. The day after Hamar rescued you, a company of Archonian Guards turned up asking questions. They were obviously tracking your father and wanted to know if he’d been here. We said nothing, being worried they’d take you away.’
Toryn stared at all three faces. ‘And they believed you?’
Hamar nodded. ‘Had no reason not to. Word of your father must have reached the ear of the Archon who would have placed a handsome reward on his head. The guards were keen to catch him and left, not wanting the trail to go cold.’ He shuddered. ‘But they weren’t the only ones following you. The dogs and horses sensed it first. You couldn’t see it, or hear it, but the air didn’t feel right. And at night, sent a shiver down the spine to be outside. Something watched us from the wood, no doubt about it.’
Toryn thought for a moment. ‘But if they pursued my father here, why didn’t they go after him?’
Hamar shrugged. ‘Maybe some did, I guess that was your father’s intention when he left so soon. But whoever or whatever sneaked about in those trees, was also interested in you.’