Circle of Reign (36 page)

Abruptly, without announcement, Banner Therrium turned around and stormed back to his hold. The soldiers followed. He arrived back at the pavilion, took his seat and began to lead.

“Explanations,” he demanded. The soldiers, mostly officers, were silent. “Speak!” he snapped, utilizing an unusual timbre of command. Several of the men opened their mouths, but could not form any words. “Of what create is this uncanny evil in my forest?”

“My Lord,” General Roan began, “I do not know what could have caused such desecration. But we are certain of several things. First, an attempt was made on your life by one of your own guards. This was foreseen, if I understand the account correctly, by Master Aiden, who slew the assassin. In short, my Lord, you have been directly attacked. Second, soldiers wearing the sigil of House Wellyn attacked this hold at nearly the exact same time. They were well trained, prepared for the difficulties of battling our kind. Most unnerving, they were not detected until they breached the hold wall. We can speculate the changes we have witnessed in the forest have something to do with that fact. Third and finally, none of your hold guard survived save for Master Aiden, he himself taking severe wounds while saving your life. The conclusion is simple. This was an attempt to decapitate the Western Province in one move, to kill the Provincial Lord as well as destroy the hold, throwing the entire province into chaos and unrest without leadership.”

General Roan’s assessment was delivered in true military fashion, brief and to the heart of the matter.

“Why? Who?” Therrium asked further.

“Unknown, my Lord.”

Therrium pondered for a few silent moments then asked, “What is to be done from here?”

“My Lord, it is obvious that someone wants you dead. Decisive military action has been taken against you and this province. Most indications are that High Duke Wellyn is responsible, but this is hard to fathom despite his sigil upon the dead army of black. If Wellyn has an enemy, this would be a strategy to divert blame to
him and tear apart the Realm. It is a common ploy to pit two powerful forces against each other. When they are worn down to a weakened state, the true enemy may reveal himself, now strong enough to overcome his foes and achieve his objective.”

Therrium sat considering but did not speak, as was typical of his laconic nature.

“Among other uncertainties, there is one thing clear,” Roan continued. “You cannot stay here. It will be our honor to escort you to the main body of the province’s army where we will establish a nomadic command; where I believe you will be the safest.”

“It sounds as if you are giving me an order, General.”

General Roan stood in silence for a moment, deciding how to respond. He made his decision. “Yes, my Lord, I am.”

Banner Therrium didn’t think he could smile this morning, but one forced its way onto his face anyway. “Very well, General. Collect my family and Aiden. I intend to leave within the day.”

Aiden and Reign had retreated into the hold and out of sight. A disturbance among the soldiers caught their attention.

“Stay here,” he said and ran to the entrance of the hold, which faced south. Near the southeast tower, a group of soldiers lifted up a man among cheers and carried him to a healer. The man’s head hung down, too weak to hold it up. But he was alive and wore the uniform of Therrium’s Guard. Running to him, Aiden gently lifted his head and looked at the man’s face. The wounded guard spoke in a faint whisper. “Master Aiden, I…” He couldn’t form any more words.

“Alrikk!” Aiden cried. He grabbed Alrikk around his torso, relieving the soldiers who bore him and personally carried him to the healers. Laying him upon a bed of Triarch leaves, Aiden saw the gravity of Alrikk’s wounds as well as a small Triarch leafling clutched in his hand. He was barely conscious.

“You will save him,” Aiden said to the healers.

“His wounds are grave, but we will do everything we can.”

“Did my words sound like a request, healer?” Aiden spoke more insistently this time, so as to leave no doubt. “I repeat, you
will
save him.” The healers began their work with haste.

From his peripheral vision, Aiden caught sight of the destroyed eastern wall and something strange that lay beyond. Rising up he turned his head toward the debris and saw it. Stone where the forest had once been. His chest tightened as he saw the view that stretched out for leagues.

Lord Therrium approached with Roan in tow and beckoned to Aiden. Upon sensing his Lord’s approach, Aiden turned immediately toward him and knelt on one knee.

“No,” Therrium said, shaking his head. “No, you need not bow before me. No man to whom I owe such a great debt shall bow before me. No, Aiden, rise.”

Aiden rose, but felt uneasy standing as if equal before his Lord.

“We will return to the main encampment of the army at the Roniah Crossing under General Roan’s escort and abandon the hold for the time until we can better assess the danger and origin of our attackers.”

Aiden looked away. “My Lord, I would seek your blessing to take your leave. There are…matters I must attend to.”

Therrium’s surprise was evident on his face. “Master Aiden, of what do you speak? I would have none other at my side, especially during this time.”

“If you command it, Lord Therrium, I will retain my duties and serve you still. But, I must humbly insist upon seeking your leave. I cannot speak of the nature of it, but you may trust it is vital to me. You will be safe in the heart of the army.”

“Understandably, I’m reluctant,” Therrium said. Aiden’s hope dissolved. “However, Aiden, you are the truest friend to my family, and to the Western Province. For the honor of your fallen men, my fallen men, and for giving my family life, I would grant you anything you ask. You have my blessing for any endeavor you feel to undertake.”

Aiden blinked long and brought his eyes back to Therrium’s, communicating his gratitude. He nodded and said simply, “Thank you, Lord Therrium.”

Then he left. Aiden felt Lord Therrium’s eyes upon his back as he walked away. A feeling of foreboding was upon him, a warning that said he might never see Lord Therrium again if he left.

Fallen Ancients, forgive me for leaving my Lord but give me wisdom and strength as I take up a higher calling
. Perhaps the Ancient Heavens did not hear his prayers, but he could not ignore the events of this day. He thought that maybe, amongst all the sins and failures of his life, the Ancient Heavens might be showing him a path to redemption with the miraculous appearance of Reign.

Maybe a chance
.

“General,” he heard Therrium say to Roan, “burn the bodies of the enemy. Also, bring me your fastest man. I have a delivery for the High Duke.”

As the day’s light began to melt into twilight, Hedron caught sight of Hold Therrium. Innately he felt Reign’s presence, the way he had always been able to since they were born.

“It is a gift to those who share a womb,” his mother had always said. Gift or not, playing hide and seek as a child was an utter waste.

He was weary from the long sprint. He guessed he had run at full speed for roughly fourteen hours, stopping only once for a brief few deep swallows of water from a stream. His legs ached from the marathon and his chest burned from heaving fast, deep breaths.

Soldiers of the Arlethian armies were present and organized into detachments. Hedron spied Lord Therrium and his family flanked by soldiers on all sides. A command was shouted, a drum sounded a cadence, and the soldiers began to march. Within only a few minutes, the hold was abandoned. Dozens of pyres sent smoke spiraling scores of feet into the evening air. The smell of death
filled every breath he took, making him queasy. It was then he saw the fuel for the giant blazes consisted of dead men.

Thousands!

His concern for his sister heightened and he wondered if she—no, she was alive. He felt it. And she was here, in the hold. Two figures emerged from a southern entrance of the hold and walked toward him. The canopy that was so typical in the surrounding areas of Calyn was thinner over Hold Therrium, and the orange pigment of the evening sky shone through. He saw Reign’s silhouette, knowing her walk and shape instantly. But beside her was another, a man much taller. Tension gathered in him, not knowing what to expect, but it faded to disbelief as recognition finally came to him. The man’s hair came to his shoulders in back and was long enough to cover his face in front. He was wounded with several Triarch leaf bandages over various parts of his body. And a sword, as recognizable as the sun itself, was at his side.

“Aiden!” he cried.

TWENTY-FIVE

Honleir

Day 29 of 4
^th
High 412 A.U.

IT HAD BEEN THREE DAYS
since the last surviving member of Honleir’s village had perished. The Great Basin of the Schadar was cruel and unforgiving. Thirty souls of Honleir’s village had ventured out attempting the journey across the basin to reach the closest known spring and the Schadar had claimed them all—except for Honleir. Timney, his ten-year-old cousin, was the first that had died.

Any water the group had was long since consumed. They carried no provisions save for a tent or covering that could be fashioned to provide shade of even the most meager quality during the day. Any other provisions were unnecessary and burdensome to bear and therefore left behind. It was a one-way journey, successful or not. Honleir had not urinated in nearly two days and, while a vile thought to him before this journey, he would have eagerly recycled the urine, counting it as a blessing. He supposed his body had no moisture left to expel.

It was nearing midday. Honleir had stopped his night walk over four hours ago, when the sun began to rise in the east sky. He lay still in his tent, trying to sleep and expend no energy. Though he had lost his sense of direction the night before as a bout of
delirium set in long enough to disorient him, he still
felt
he traveled in the right direction; but that was little comfort against the chapped and cracked red flesh upon his face, neck and hands. He tried to keep his hands from being fully extended as skin would tear and scabs reopen on his palms. Besides setting up his dismal looking day-tent every dawn, his hands had very little to do. It was his feet and legs that bore the most grievous impairments, both externally and internally. The waning moons would give little light tonight, being the second to last night of the cycle.

And the second to last night of High Season, but little difference that makes in the Schadar
. The climate was always harsh no matter the season.

During a full first moon, the endless desert hills would shimmer as if silver glass. If he could freeze a picture in his mind to hold forever, that would be it. However, another picture remained in his mind—one he had not seen but was sure had come to pass.

Those who had stayed behind in the village were certainly no more than dust mixed with sand now. They had given all the stored water supply to Honleir’s party, knowing what they sacrificed. At seventeen, he was nearly a man but remained as yet unprepared to leave his family, especially in such a manner. Though his mother, Almena, was probably strong enough to attempt the crossing, she elected to stay behind with her husband and brother, both too weak physically.
But aren’t we all too weak?
he thought darkly. It seemed now it did not matter the choice he and the others would have made. Death was intent on finding them, but the suffering of crossing the Great Basin the past ten days could have been avoided.
I should have perished beside my family, my dust mixing with theirs and the sand
. Again it angered him that an entire village could be erased without any seeming consequence. This is what it was to be Kearon. To exist but not live, to breathe but not
be
.

And the Poems! Where is their wisdom now? Where is the great Orator Rishz’nah to save us?

Mind rendering had proven futile in his attempts while traveling. His group believed he would miraculously save them with
his as of yet undeveloped gift. He would somehow find water and restore the village.
I swore I would!
But he knew the chance to keep his promise was gone forever. He had failed and they were all dead because of it.