All the King's Traitors

by Keylin Rivers

  “No problem, Vince!” the annoying younger one, Kuba, shouted. It was as if anything he thought made its way out of his mouth.

  “We aren’t taking you in, bud,” the tall, older boy said.

  “Ion, no need to be rude,” the Northerner piped up. It was abundantly clear that she was the one in charge of this cohort.

  Ion—what a stupid name, Vallich thought—looked insulted at her jab. In the brief hours that he had been with them, it was clear that their relationship was intense. Vallich supposed he could understand why. She was quite attractive.

  “He has a point. We have our path and you have yours,” Aurelia said. “Once we go through with your plan, we will part ways.”

  “Of course,” Vallich said, tilting his head down to feign humbleness.

  “Do you really think it will work?” Kuba asked for what felt like the hundredth time since Vallich had explained the plan.

  “I think we have a good shot,” Aurelia said.

  Vallich smirked at her, making brief eye contact. She quickly looked away.

  They all spent the next few minutes quietly cleaning up their campsite in the woods. From what Vallich had gathered, the little they had to begin with had been left behind when the soldiers appeared on the Redcliffs. Having useful nothing to hunt with, they had resorted to gathering and using makeshift traps; none which had been successful. They were reduced to eating foliage and insects. Vallich was less than satisfied with the meal, but did not want to give himself away by putting on a display of his godly powers.

  Through a few hours of observation, Vallich had gathered a few key pieces of information. First and foremost, Aurelia was a Fire-Wielder. She was stern and smart and answered to no one. He liked her. He was still unsure which of the two boys was the Lightning-Wielder, but he was certain he’d find out soon. It was clear that the boys had known each other a very long time; they could even be family based on their similar mannerisms. Yet they looked nothing alike. One was tall and toned with light skin, fair hair, and blue eyes, while the other was small for his age with darker skin, dark hair, and honey-brown eyes. The fact that they were so obviously close made it clear to Vallich that one of them was simply a tag along. Essentially useless. It pained Vallich to waste time on a non-Wielder, but he had to play nice with everyone to keep up the charade.

  He watched as Ion followed Aurelia around the campsite, offering to help with even the most basic tasks. He was more and more sure that the older boy was infatuated with her, but he was unsure whether she felt the same. She was harder to read.

  Aurelia had volunteered to take first watch. She thought a non-stop watch was most prudent due to their proximity to the trade border wall. Ion was going to take the second half of the night. Vallich volunteered, but Aurelia promptly shut him down. Clearly, they did not trust him yet. They were smart.

  The night was getting darker and the group began clearing places by the fire to lie down. Vallich cleared a patch in the sand-like dirt, being sure to rid the area of any pebbles and sticks. He then proceeded to take off his armour and lay it down piece by piece. He was wearing long green pants and a black shirt, his typical under-armour attire.

  As Kuba and Ion lay down to rest, Vallich sat up by the fire using the arm of his shirt to polish and dust off his dirty armour. He looked over his shoulder to see Aurelia sitting on a stump, facing the direction of the Redcliffs.

  He would wait a little longer, to be sure that the others were asleep, and then he would make his move to gain her trust.

  “Mind if I join you?” Vincent asked. He was holding the chest plate of his armour in his hand. She had noticed him polishing it before, by the fire.

  “Why do you treat it so well?” she asked, nodding towards his armour.

  “Oh, this?” he said with a slight chuckle. “If I want to be left alone, I have to look the part of a real soldier. In the army, we were made to clean our armour regularly or risk a beating. A soldier with dirty armour would look suspicious.”

  “I suppose so.” She motioned for him to sit on the ground next to her.

  They sat in silence for several minutes. Aurelia still didn’t know whether to trust Vincent. He did want the same thing as them—to get through the trade border and into the City of Sable. Plus, he had saved their lives. However, she knew to be wary of Wielders who had already been indoctrinated into Apollyon’s army. The King seemed to have a solid grip on anyone he got his hands on.

  He didn’t seem brainwashed. What Vincent clearly did seem though, was that he had his own agenda. She didn’t quite believe his tale that he was going to the City of Sable to visit an old friend. But she couldn’t fault him for the lie, he was smart to hide his true intentions; it's not as if they had made theirs known either. For all she knew, he could also be trying to find the Free-Wielders. Until she knew more, though, she would never ask.

  The strangest thing was how familiar he was. It was as if she had known him, or at least seen him before. There was something about the way he carried himself; and those grey eyes. It was if they burned right into her soul and she had no idea why.

  “Where were you trained?” she asked, breaking the silence.

  “I was sent straight to Frontguarde from Míastrad,” he answered, still focused on polishing the chest plate. It was quite dirty, covered in a thick layer of dust. “You?”

  “Frontguarde first. Then, when I was deemed non-compliant, they sent me to a Northern camp on the outskirts of Azul.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve only heard terrible things about the Northern camps.”

  “It was the worst, but I got out.”

  “How, may I ask?”

  Aurelia shrugged. “I starved myself for weeks so I could slip out my window. Once I learned to conjure, I set fire to the commanding Eleventh through my cell window while he was walking through the courtyard. He was wearing a long cloak at the time. It went up in flames, and I slipped out during the commotion.”

  Vincent chuckled. “You know, in the evenings, they now take Godstones away from anyone in training.”

  “Really?” Aurelia said, trying to refrain from laughing.

  Vincent nodded. “You’ve clearly had quite the influence.”

  Aurelia felt her cheeks flood with warmth at his brilliant smile. He was quite handsome. She silently scolded herself, quickly dismissing the fluttering in her lower abdomen.

  “Do you mind my asking a question?” he said, looking up from his polishing.

  Aurelia nodded.

  “Were you there? For the Battle of Burrath?” he asked quietly.

  “I was very young,” she answered, staring off into the forest, “but yes, I was there.”

  “Well, may I say,” he was speaking quietly, “I am very glad you survived.” He stared at her with such intensity that she had to look away.

  When she turned her eyes back to him, he was still watching her. His eyes twinkled in the night light. She lowered her head in her hands and racked her brain, trying to recall where she knew him from.

  “Did I upset you?”

  “No, no,” Aurelia responded. “It’s just that you look so familiar.”

  “I get that sometimes.” He shrugged. “The uniform, maybe?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Is it such a bad thing?” He smiled. “A familiar face?”

  “No,” Aurelia said softly, “I suppose not.”

  Silence crept back up between them. Aurelia could feel his shoulder brushing softly against the side of her knee as he continued to clean his armour on the ground beside her. She wanted to angle her legs away, to break the contact, but he wasn’t moving, and she feared it would be awkward if she did. Why wasn’t he moving? They were strangers after all.

  “I find even when I look at it, it brings back horrible memories,” he started, making her thankful for the break in the silence. “The fights waged and the beatings doled out. Nothing but pain.”

  Aurelia looked down at him, but couldn’t see his face. From the way he spoke,
he clearly hated the army. “I was still in training when I left, so I never had to fight,” she said. “But I will never forget the beatings. They were particularly harsh on Northerners.”

  “How did they catch you?” Vincent asked. He had stopped polishing to look up at her.

  Aurelia hesitated. She rarely told this story, but she felt an unexplainable connection to Vincent. He was like her, he had survived the pain and made it out on the other side. And the familiarity, she must have met him in the army. With a sigh, she crossed her legs on the log, her shins now pressed against his back. The touch made her uncomfortable and she immediately pulled her legs into her chest, wrapping her arms around them tightly.

  “I… we…” her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “We’d had peace for over forty years in Burrath. There was no reason for Azanthea to invade, no reasonable reason that is. My father was the Northfang clan leader and the Grand Leader-Elect of the United Clans of Burrath at the time the invasion started.”

  “Your father was the Grand Leader-Elect?” Vincent asked craning around her legs to get a better view of her face. “You are the daughter of Wolfmere?”

  Aurelia was taken aback. She hadn’t expected to hear her father’s name spoken by this stranger. She pulled her knees in tighter. He seemed to be completely enthralled in her words. It irked her.

  “How do you know about my father?” She glared at him, her hand twitching towards the Godstone around her neck. To her knowledge, they all but eliminated Wolfmere in the lessons taught. He did not fit their desired narrative of a barbaric and unwieldy north.

  “Forgive me, Aurelia,” he said with a light smile. “It’s just that I’d heard so many rumours while in the United Azanthean Army. I apologize for my insensitivity.”

  Aurelia relaxed slightly, letting her guard down a little. It had been so long since she had heard anyone speak her father’s name with any type of enthusiasm. If he was even mentioned at all, he was normally demonized.

  “Please, continue,” Vincent said. “I’d like to know more about you.” He flashed his handsome smile again, his familiarity once again striking her.

  “Well, everything they teach you in training is utter trash. My father had many wonderful ideas. He was going to use the ancient texts to create a more modern society. We had many brilliant people working on it. We were on the brink of discovery. Schools, trade, electricity, we were going to have it all. Bring back all the truly good wonders of the ancient human world. Learn from the mistakes of the past and build a harmonized world for the future.

  “I suppose Apollyon couldn’t have that, so he declared war. When father evaded death on the front lines time and again, he decided to send one of his minions.”

  Vincent listened intently, the sounds of the forest and crackling of the fire the only noise around them. His soft hair brushed her chin and a cool shiver slithered up her leg.

  “Well, everyone in Azanthea knows how that ended. The killer is celebrated and feared. The heir to the God-King.” She shrugged, trying to come off as unaffected and strong. “After my father was killed, that was it. The war came to an end and they caught me. I was just a girl.”

  She tried to act strong, but her heart sank as she told the story and a mild nausea set in.

  Vincent stared at her for a moment, his eyes surprisingly wide and his voice eerily eager. “You must want revenge, no?”

  “He was only a boy at the time,” Aurelia said, “but he has since become one of Apollyon’s truly monstrous creations. I pity him.” She paused, holding her hands together, squeezing them tightly. She would not allow the tears to come.

  “Do you want revenge, though?” Vincent asked, his face completely unreadable. “Would you kill him if you had the chance?”

  Aurelia clenched her hands tighter, her nails digging into her palms, drawing blood. She looked at Vincent with fire in her eyes. “I would tear Vallich’s heart out.”

  Chapter 22

  Azul, 12th Day of the Month of Warmth, 1114 A.F.F.

  Kari and Xenophon walked in stride through the sprawling city of Azul. Home to over a million people, the noise of the city bustled around them and the smell of sewage pinched her nose.

  She rarely got to spend time off the island that was home to the House of the Historians, and never did she get to walk through the city without a battalion of escorts. So, when Xenophon asked her to accompany him into the city, she jumped at the chance.

  Things was different now. Over the past few days, people had been treating her oddly. Well, more oddly than usual. Many were fearful of her, assuming Apollyon would only choose someone as twisted as Vallich. It probably didn’t help that it had been widely known that she was Vallich’s only friend—if you could even call her that after his betrayal.

  In the market, that was crowded to the brim, merchants and buyers alike cleared the way for her. Some even bowed. Xenophon seemed to take no notice; it was something he was used to as High Historian. Though she knew she was far further above them by birthright, Kari still found it awkward and mumbled a muted ‘thank you’ each time.

  “Are you nervous?” he said with his head bowed towards the stone road below.

  “More and more each day,” Kari replied, keeping her head held high. There was no shame in admitting fear, but there was shame in running from it.

  A weak smile crossed Xenophon’s face. “You are brave, my dear.”

  Kari nodded. Each event would be a spectacle, with Azantheans coming from the entire country to watch. The first were to arrive today.

  “What is it you fear the most?”

  Kari’s fingertips went to Mímrvor, his soft whispers calming her. “Dying.”

  Though it was not the full truth. It wasn’t death alone that she feared. She feared the darkness where Mímrvor’s song couldn’t reach her. She feared losing her other half.

  “Only the weak die,” he said quietly.

  Kari looked up at him, his gaunt face ghastlier than usual in the deep shadows cast by the sun. She smiled at him weakly. He would die one day.

  They stopped behind the large crowd that gathered around the grand gates to the city. Peasants, traders, merchants, and dignitaries all gathered to witness the arrival of the God-King’s contestant.

  A bony hand fell on Kari’s shoulder. “And you, my dear, are not weak.” Xenophon’s murky eyes locked onto hers, the lines around his mouth cutting deeper into his aged face as his lips curled into a gentle smile.

  Kari was not so convinced. She had been too ashamed to admit her oversight about Vallich, too fearful of the punishment that would accompany the admission. She was betraying her God-King with every moment that passed while her secrets remained locked away.

  She allowed herself to let the thought pass. There was no malicious intent. She was no traitor, and she intended to prove it by winning her spot by the God-King’s side. She would be the one to ascend.

  Xenophon turned away and together they began walking into the crowd. As people parted, letting them through to the front of the line, Kari fought to conceal her disgust at the crowd around them. The smell was putrid and some of the peasants appeared as if they had washed themselves in the sewage that littered the streets. Kari was careful not to touch any of them for fear of catching a poor-man’s disease.

  Kari recalled her lessons with Dane, a brilliant soldier and scholar. He had taught her about the city. He had preached that the poor of Azul were lazy and inhuman, unfit to live in the city of a God. But the God-King was merciful and, to the disbelief of most everyone, tolerated their presence.

  At the time, she had been skeptical. What made her different from them? But being in this crowd now, Kari was certain Dane’s words were true. It was positively barbaric. As they approached the front of the crowd, a fight broke out to their right, between two peasants barely sober enough to stand let alone throw punches. And to their left, the crowd roared and chanted at her.

  As unappealing as it was, there was something flattering about it. Ka
ri waved. The crowd to the left swooned. She was their champion, and soon, she would be their God.

  They came to the front of the crowd. The gathering opened up to reveal the gate, a beautiful metal arch in the white wall that surrounded their city. The street beyond it was lined with dignitaries and the richer families of Azul. In front of them, facing the crowd, was a line of soldiers standing on the cobblestone road.

  Kari looked back to Xenophon, who smiled at her.

  “Kari, may I ask you something?”

  “Anything, my liege.”

  The circles around his eyes deepened. “I realize it’s probably nothing, but I have to do my due diligence.” Kari held in a breath at his words. “A guard saw Vallich coming to the House of Historians the morning of his betrayal. He only comes to the island for two reasons—”

  “To use the library or to see me.” Kari’s heart pounded in her chest, and she was so thankful in this moment that Xenophon was but a human. With the connection of a Godstone, any Wielder standing so close would be able to hear the pounding through her chest.

  Xenophon nodded and observed her closely. “Did he say anything at all that seemed… out of sort?”

  Kari shook her head, but kept her lips tightly sealed for fear she would be unable to lie to the man who raised her. If she told the truth of Vallich’s treacherous words, she would be dead.

  Xenophon raised an eyebrow. “Well, are you going to tell me why he was there?”

  “It’s Vallich.” Kari waved a hand as nonchalantly as she could. “He was seeking pleasure after a long night of wine and brawls.”

  “Apologies for my shock,” he said, though there was no trace of surprise in his voice. “But I didn’t know you and Vallich had that kind of relationship.”

  “Oh, no!” Kari put her hands up defensively. “No, no. He simply had too much of the drink. Probably couldn’t find anyone else awake at that hour.”

  “He has never had the problem of finding anyone before,” Xenophon said, crossing his arms and looking into the crowd. It was true—Vallich could find someone willing and enthusiastic anywhere he went. Kari bit her lip. This was it, she was caught.