Resistance (Ilyon Chronicles Book 1) (57 page)

“I’m taking you in,” Goler sneered. “I suggest you come along quietly.”

Trask looked to his father. The older man’s face had paled, and his eyes clouded with uncertainty. Trask tried to convey to him not to take any action. Landale needed his leadership. The camp relied on his information and resources.

Trask returned his eyes to Goler, sorely tempted to bend his crooked nose further since they were arresting him anyway. With a sigh of resignation, he put his hands up, away from his weapons. He still had a chance to be cleared as long as he cooperated.

Goler grinned savagely. “Wise decision.”

The soldiers promptly relieved Trask of all his weapons and clamped heavy chains around his wrists. The cold, rough metal sent chills up his arms and into his spine. Though it surely broke his heart, Baron Grey remained passive in the background. Trask traded a glance with him just before the soldiers yanked him around to lead him away.

Outside, he mounted his horse and one of the men took the reins. Goler mounted nearby, and Trask sent him a scathing look. With a clatter of hooves, they rode out of the courtyard. At the gate, Trask looked over his shoulder. His father stood alone in the castle entrance. Cold fingers squeezed Trask’s throat. This could very well be the last time he saw his father. Turning back around, he hung his head and prayed.

Five miles outside of Landale, the group of riders came upon the barracks—a large area cleared of trees and surrounded by a wood palisade. In the growing shadows, it appeared far from friendly. A sense of doom weighed on Trask, but he held on to the hope that with no solid evidence, Goler would be forced to release him.

Inside the barracks compound, everything was dreary gray wood and dirt—not a patch of greenery and no color except for the stark contrasts of black and gold uniforms and banners.
Trask longed for the forest. The group halted, and Goler jumped down. Striding over to Trask, he took him by the arm and pulled him out of the saddle.

Faces mere inches apart, Trask said, “You’ve been waiting a long time for this, haven’t you?”

“You have no idea.”

Goler’s fist smashed into Trask’s ribs. He gasped and doubled over, wincing as pain spread through his chest. Straightening, he glared at the captain.

“Once I’m free, you’ll regret that.”

Goler laughed in his face. “I don’t think so. I might not have enough evidence to hold you for aiding criminals, but I’m quite sure I’ll soon have proof of something else, and you won’t be going anywhere but in the ground.”

Goler shoved him forward and, as he took in the sights of the compound, Trask’s gaze landed on the building straight ahead. He drew in a sharp breath, and Goler gave a low chuckle.

Despite his reluctant steps, the captain forced Trask into the barracks temple. Only a couple of candles lit the dim, open space, but enough to draw Trask’s eyes straight to the two carved idols standing on a ledge at the back. Goler pulled him to a halt in front of them.

“Kneel,” he ordered. “Prove your devotion to the gods and the emperor they have chosen.”

So this was it then. Trask breathed out, all his dreams falling about him—the camp, their mission
…Anne. But acceptance and indignation settled in their place. He narrowed his eyes and looked at Goler.

“I will never bow and worship mute, blind, dead—”

Another solid fist to the ribs cut him off, and Goler drove him to his knees, but a declaration had never felt so good. Though Trask grimaced, a short laugh came out with it.

“You may force me to kneel, but it means nothing. In my heart I’m bowing before my King.”

He braced himself, but it didn’t lessen the impact of the powerful kick to his stomach. Falling to the floor with a groan, he tried to catch his breath as the pain worked up through his lungs. After a moment, he pushed back to his knees. Goler caught him by the arm and hauled him to his feet. Digging his fingers in Trask’s arm, he growled, “You and I have a few things to discuss.”

He dragged Trask out of the temple, straight to the barracks headquarters and into a small interrogation room, where he threw him down into a chair. Trask sat up straighter and tried to convince himself not to hate the man. He should have hit him back at the castle. He’d probably missed his one and only chance.

Goler glared down at him. “Where’s the girl?”

There was no point in pretending now. It wouldn’t change anything. Either way, he was a dead man. Though his expression was blank at first, a slow smirk crept to his lips. The very same kind Goler had worn not too long ago. He leaned forward a little.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Goler’s fist connected with his jaw, and his head snapped around.

“Tell me where she is.”

“Why? So you can claim the reward for her capture?”

Goler hit him again. This time warmth oozed down his chin, and he almost tipped out of the chair. He blinked stars out of his vision. Goler grabbed his shoulder and jerked him up, bending close to look him in the eyes with a murderous flame flickering in his own.

“I can keep this up all night, all day, if I have to. You won’t escape death, but you could spare yourself a lot of pain in the meantime.”

Trask shook his head. “I would never give Kyrin up to a monster like you.” He rested back in the chair. “And if I’m going to die anyway, I’d just as soon go with the knowledge I kept you from getting what you wanted.”

R
ayad walked up the small rise at the edge of camp and joined Warin, who stared into the forest. The sun was a warm glow in the west, and shadows stretched out behind him. His friend gave a heavy sigh as he approached.

“It’s late,”
Warin murmured. “He should’ve been here this morning.”

Rayad frowned, his own eyes searching the trees, but he spoke in an encouraging tone. “He could’ve been detained by anything.”

Warin looked grimly at him. “Do you believe that?”

Now Rayad sighed. He couldn’t ignore the unrest building inside him any more than Warin could. “Not really.”

Warin nodded as if that answer made up his mind. “I’m going to ride into Landale after dark and see the baron. I only pray Trask will be there. Will you come with me?”

“Of course.”

“There you go, girl.” Anne smiled as her white mare contentedly crunched away at a pail of oats. She ran her hand down the horse’s smooth neck. One of these nights, she would have to ask her father to go for a ride. She loved summer evenings. Her smile widened. Trask used to take her sometimes. It was during one of these rides he’d stolen his first kiss. She’d shoved him off his horse and galloped back to Marlton, though she had secretly fantasized about it for days.

The sound of horses approached outside. She leaned past the stall door, almost daring to hope it was Trask, but instead caught a glimpse of gold.

“Great,” she muttered.

And it
had been such a nice long while since Goler had stopped by. Raising up her defenses, she set off for the house. Two soldiers sat on their horses, but Goler was already inside.

“Let him leave quickly,” she whispered in prayer. “And don’t let him ask again about a ride.”

On the porch, she glanced at the soldiers and glared at their lengthy perusal of her. But what more could be expected with Goler as their leader? Some example he set. She stepped inside with the purpose to send him off as quickly as possible. He turned at the clap of her shoes with a look of unnerving satisfaction in his eyes.

“Captain,” she greeted just politely enough to hide her true feelings. Her attention shifted to her parents and landed first on her mother’s pale face before locking eyes with her father. His gaze held both regret and sympathy. Trask and Kyrin flashed to Anne’s mind.

“What is it?” She tried to keep her voice even.

Goler stepped closer, his nearness making it hard to breathe. She eyed him with the urge to step back, but stood her ground.

“Last evening, I took Trask into custody on suspicion of harboring criminals and traitors to the emperor. As a result, I confirmed something I’ve long suspected. He too is one of the traitors who have renounced our gods.”

Anne’s heart stopped before floundering to establish even a sluggish beat. She couldn’t take in a breath and dizziness overtook her, but all the while, her brain screamed not to react in front of Goler. If he saw her distress, she would be just as doomed as Trask. She swallowed, though she had no moisture to accomplish the task.

“Are you sure?” She somehow kept her expression neutral, and prayed Goler missed the slight tremor in her voice.

“I brought him into the temple myself. He refused to bow before Aertus and Vilai, and furthermore, had the audacity to profane them inside the sanctuary.”

Pride swelled in Anne’s chest, but fear sucked it away again and burned her eyes.

“What will happen to him?” she asked, carefully enunciating each word.

“He’ll be executed.” Pleasure dripped from his voice, and a knife stabbed into her chest as surely as if it were the one hanging on his belt. “Just as soon as one of the emperor’s men has had a chance to question him on the whereabouts of the girl he’s hiding. So far he’s refused to give me her location, but one way or another, we’ll get it out of him.”

Anne didn’t trust herself to speak. Her hands trembled with the desire to slap that hateful smugness off his ugly face. She stared blankly at the floor and willed herself to breathe, though her ribs shrank around her lungs.

“I know he was sweet on you.”

Her eyes lifted slowly back to Goler, who watched her with a dangerous intensity. It was easy to minimize her relationship with Trask when he was safe, but this would be much harder. She forced a shrug.

“I suppose he was.” By some miracle, she managed an indifferent tone.

“But he’ll soon be gone,” his voice slithered around her like snakes, “and you’ll be free to entertain the attentions of a different admirer.”

He grinned, and she resisted a shudder.

“Perhaps
…but I would have to give it some thought.”

The grin disappeared from the captain’s face. “What’s there to think about?”

At the bite in his voice, Anne’s indignation flared to the surface. “I’ll not be rushed, Captain.”

“Very well, but don’t think about it too long. My patience only goes so far.”

“Captain,” her father snapped, “you will not threaten my daughter. She has every right to decline your affections.”

Goler stiffened, clearly carried away by his triumph over Trask’s arrest.

“I apologize.” His voice was smooth, contrite even. After all, as a knight, Anne’s father still outranked him. “It was no threat. It’s just that I most deeply desire the approval to court your daughter.”

“Well, you don’t have it,” John told him shortly as he came to Anne and drew her close. “Now, you’ve brought your news. I’d appreciate it if you and your men would leave us to the rest of our evening, and I would ask that you not call on Anne again without my express approval.”

Goler’s eyes grew dark, but he just as quickly smiled, though it appeared sickeningly false. “As you wish.” He nodded at Anne and her mother. “My ladies.” His gaze landed once more on John, something dangerous in his expression. “Sir.”