by Bobby Adair
“Scholar Evan,” Tenbrook said, flashing a smile that Evan couldn’t decipher. “Or should I say, Minister Evan?”
Evan swallowed, uncertain what to say. Opting for the safe route, he said, “Only for a short time. I don’t think of it as a title, so much as a set of duties until Minister Beck returns.”
“Ah, duties,” Tenbrook said, motioning for Evan to take a seat. “That’s why I called you in. We’ve both inherited lots of them.”
“We certainly have.”
Evan pulled the chair out and sat, simultaneously trying to cut through the platitudes and figure out why Tenbrook had requested his presence. He still couldn’t believe that he’d assumed Beck’s position. Sure, he knew his duties; the ones that Beck hadn’t drilled into him, he’d picked up. But practicing the role and sitting in it were two different things.
He swallowed as he eyed Tenbrook, whose aura seemed to have changed from conversational to contemplative. Evan wasn’t ignorant about who was in power among the Elders. He knew Tenbrook’s sword was swift enough to cut through the clergy’s and the Academy’s tongues, just like Blackthorn’s. He was nervous. On top of that, he’d heard the rumors about Tenbrook. He trusted Tenbrook as little as—or even less than—he trusted Blackthorn. That was one of the reasons he and Minister Beck had organized the revolt in the first place.
He swallowed and waited.
After an intolerably long silence, Tenbrook made his way over to the table but remained standing.
Evan questioned whether he should’ve taken his chair. He knew social games. By sitting, he’d put himself in a position of inferiority.
But he couldn’t risk disfavor.
“I admit we haven’t had much contact in the past, aside from several discussions on numbers,” Tenbrook said.
“Of course. You were busy on the battlefield,” Evan offered.
“I’m hoping that will change going forward. From what I’ve seen, you’re quite intelligent. Your theory on the famine was quite astute and quite convincing.” Tenbrook smiled, and Evan looked for insincerity behind that compliment. If it were there, he couldn’t see it.
“Yes,” Evan said. “I worked very hard on that.”
Tenbrook stepped back from the table, eyeing a row of empty boxes on the mantle. “I’m not going to be coy. We both know there’s a chance the leaders won’t return. And if that happens, our temporary duties are permanent.”
Evan looked around as if someone might be waiting to ambush him. He nodded without speaking, not wanting to implicate himself.
“That isn’t a surprise to you, is it?”
Evan shrank in his chair without realizing it. “Of course not. Our leaders—and our soldiers—know the harm they place themselves in each time they go outside the circle wall.”
“Of course. The soldier’s commitment is to preserve the safety of the rest. It is a duty that sometimes turns into sacrifice.”
“Of course.”
“It was you who came up with the list of names to go outside the circle wall, was it not, Scholar Evan?”
“Yes,” Evan said, swallowing as tried to determine if there was an accusation behind that statement.
“By providing that list of names, in essence, you controlled who might live and who might die. That was a powerful decision you made.”
“In a way, yes,” Evan said. “Though my intention was only to follow Beck’s orders, which were, in turn, Blackthorn’s orders.”
“Of course. You did the best job you were capable of doing.”
“I always do.” Evan was unable to resist the compliment this time.
“You do your job like a soldier does his.” Tenbrook paused, examining Evan. “Even though you are a Scholar, you understand the mindset and the ambitions of The People. And that is why I trust you, Evan.”
Evan kept his smile, knowing better than to believe it.
“How many people are currently in Brighton?” Tenbrook asked, drumming his fingers on the table.
Evan paused. He knew the answer, but he still wasn’t sure how quickly he should regurgitate it. “Twenty-eight thousand, including the people that were left behind from the other townships and villages,” he said finally.
“And how many soldiers do I have under my command?”
“Enough to protect the farmers, merchants, and clergy,” Evan said evasively, his nervousness returning.
“And the Academy,” Tenbrook added. “We can’t forget your Scholars. We protect you, as well.”
Evan gulped, but didn’t speak.
“Back to my original question, we have enough to preserve order.” Tenbrook relaxed his tone, waving a hand. “But not enough to keep Brighton under our authority, if a widespread revolt were to happen.”
“I don’t know,” Evan said evasively. “I haven’t studied military strategies as you have. I’m sure you have those things covered.”
Tenbrook smiled. “Even though our guards are well-trained, there is a large disparity in numbers between the guards and The People. Burning and spiking help enforce our authority, but they are no guarantee that people will follow the laws. Surely, your logic can tell you that.”
“Of course.” Evan swallowed.
“And that is why I called you in.” Tenbrook lowered his arm and walked over to the mantel, running his hands over the boxes sitting there, the rumored contents of which weren’t lost on Evan. He met Evan’s eyes. “I fear we’re facing a test already, only a few days into our leadership.”
“What do you mean?” Evan asked. He felt as if his bladder might cut loose.
“I have come into information over the last few days. Information that troubles me, to say the least.”
Evan kept Tenbrook’s gaze, wanting nothing more than to look around and find the soldiers that were about to spring out and carry him to his death.
“What information?” Evan asked.
“A plot to overthrow our government.”
“My God…” Evan gasped. How much did Tenbrook know?
“It has come to my attention that a group of people have deserted Blackthorn’s army. They are planning a revolt on our government as we speak.”
“A revolt?” Evan asked.
“I’m waiting on a list of names. Suffice it to say, these treasonists will be dealt with swiftly.” Tenbrook paused. “But that’s not why I’ve brought you in here.”
Evan felt his heart beating behind his eardrums. He could feel his ears turning red. “I doubt these deserters will pose a problem for you, or for us.”
“My guess is that most of these treasonists are farmers or merchants, as harmless as the pigs that wander the streets. They’re looking to capitalize on the adjustment of rule. A peasant’s game.” Tenbrook watched Evan as he spoke. “Or at least, that’s what I thought initially.”
“What do you mean?”
Tenbrook lowered his hands from the boxes. “It has come to my attention that other people might be involved. People in higher positions.”
“Higher positions?” Evan squeaked.
“Yes. I don’t think those deserters came up with their own idea. They’re not smart enough to organize.”
“You think someone else is behind this plot?” Evan asked, trying to swallow his encroaching bile.
“I do. According to my source, this plot wasn’t unleashed in the streets, but in buildings such as this one. It’s possible it might be my own soldiers. I haven’t even ruled out the clergy, or perhaps someone at the Academy.”
“The Academy?” Evan could barely contain his fright.
“Yes,” Tenbrook said, shaking his head. “I was as surprised as you are to learn this. I knew the change in leadership would come with its challenges, but I never expected they’d come this suddenly or this soon.”
&nbs
p; Evan lowered his eyes, hoping Tenbrook wouldn’t see the fear in them.
“I need your help, Evan. You seem to have a keen eye for the goings-on of Brighton—at least, in the places that I have no reach: places like the Academy, the clergy, and the marketplace. I trust you. Your task—and one of which I hope you’ll see the importance—is to find out who is behind this plot. We cannot burn these people if we don’t know who they are. I will sort through the people in my army, and you’ll do the same for these other groups. Will you help me get to the truth? Will you solidify my trust in you?”
“Of course.” Evan nodded.
“The plan threatens not only our positions but our lives. I hope you understand the gravity of our situation.”
“I do,” Evan said.
“In the coming days, you’ll hear about some people disappearing, people who are on this deserter’s list. We’re going to use every tactic available to us to glean information from them. The safety of Brighton depends on it.”
“Of course. We do what we must.”
“Needless to say, you’ll be expected to speak a word of this to no one.”
“I won’t speak of it to anyone.” The words made Evan’s stomach churn as he held onto his breakfast. He thanked the gods he hadn’t been named. Of course, he had no idea how long that silence would last.
“I wouldn’t have brought this to you if I didn’t think you were capable of finding out the truth.”
“I appreciate your candor.”
“We’ll do what needs to be done.” Tenbrook waved his hand as if he’d rather be rid of the discussion. “And then we’ll continue on to more important matters.”
“I’ll keep quiet,” Evan reiterated, wanting nothing more than to get out from underneath Tenbrook’s glare.
“Good.” Tenbrook stared at Evan, his eyes dark and piercing. “I’m glad we agree on this.”
Chapter 31: Blackthorn
The hill at the hairpin bend in the river was a favored spot for Blackthorn’s cavalry to camp when they were hunting demons in the valley. The top was flat and broad, providing enough room for a hundred men and horses to spend the night. With all the trees on top having been chopped down for firewood in years past, it afforded an unobstructed view both up and down the valley. A horse could easily trot up or gallop down the gentle slope of the ancient road on its path over the hill. Apart from the road, the hill’s slopes were too steep for a successful attack to be mounted. That gave defenders on the hill a significant advantage when the demons came.
Astride his massive black horse, in a spot on the hill where he could survey his doomed army settling in for the night in the clearings along the ancient road on the valley floor, Blackthorn watched. Nearly a mile from end to end, campfires burned in the shadow of the mountains, marking where the soldiers and camp followers were cooking or huddling against the cold. Blackthorn doubted many would sleep.
The demons that had been following the army all day were gathering upriver. When they felt confident in their numbers, when the sun sank low enough and their blood lust ran high enough, they’d come.
The militiamen who’d been given the opportunity to sleep the night before were at the rear of the column in a narrow part of the valley. They’d built a row of fires stretching from the granite cliffs all the way across to the edge of the river. They didn’t set up tents. They knew they wouldn’t sleep. They were readying themselves for the long night to come.
But they wouldn’t be ready. In those two cohorts, fewer than a hundred had the experience of battle behind them. The rest were either afraid or overconfident, with heads full of childhood stories that bore little resemblance to real war.
Still, they had the advantage. They’d likely outnumber the demons coming down the road, and they had the additional resources of training, weapons, and bonfires. The row of fires, if the men set up their defensive line close behind, would ease the brunt of the demon attack and further leverage the militia’s numerical advantage.
“How many do you think are out there, sir?” asked Captain Swan.
“With the echo, I can’t put a number to it.” Blackthorn stared at the distant line of fires that marked the defensive line at the army’s rear. “Do you have a guess?”
“At least a thousand, sir. Perhaps two.”
Blackthorn didn’t agree, though he knew Captain Swan could be right.
Behind the line of fires, camp followers were trickling down the valley, moving away from the coming battle. Blackthorn said, “The fools should be resting. They’ll get little sleep as it is.”
“They’re afraid, sir.”
Blackthorn hated fear. He hated it more as he realized what he was seeing. “The reserve cohort, do you see the formation?” Five hundred men should have been camped just down river from the thousand tasked to defend the army’s rear flank. The five hundred were gone, melted into the mass of retreating camp followers.
Following the line of the road, Blackthorn pointed at a bonfire much bigger than any other fire in the valley. “Winthrop?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How many men does he have with him now?”
“At least five hundred, sir.”
“And what do your men tell you, the ones keeping watch on the situation?”
“The same as last night. Chanting. Sermonizing. Rituals. The men are bolstered by it.”
Blackthorn appreciated the boost to the men’s morale, but he didn’t like how it was happening. As unlikely as it should have been, as unaware as Winthrop seemed to be of the reality beyond the craziness in his head, he was gaining power. That was a danger that could not be allowed to grow. Blackthorn put that aside for the moment, a problem to be solved at a later time.
Blackthorn turned his attention toward the other side of the hill, down river. He pointed to the lead elements of the Army setting up their defenses for the night. “Though it seems that all the demons on Brighton’s side of the mountains have followed us into the pass, more than you can imagine live on the other side of these mountains. If they come, we’ll need our strength from the front tonight more than we’ll need it behind.”
“Do you believe they’ll come from both directions, sir?”
“It is not whether I believe they will; I know they could. That is what we must be prepared for. Send two squadrons forward. Keep them well back of the foremost defensive line. You stay with the other two squadrons camped on the hill. Support the forward squadrons as necessary. Rest your men as much as you’re able.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ll divide command of the battle tonight. I’ll keep two squadrons of cavalry to support our position in the rear.”
“Sir?”
“You do not understand?”
“Would it not be better for you to remain here on the hill to direct the whole army?”
“Yes.” Of course, it would. Blackthorn didn’t need that question from Captain Swan. “You’re a capable captain. You’ll have no trouble managing the defense at your end. Tonight, I may need to swing my sword and shed demon blood. It has been too long since I rode with my brothers into battle.”
“I understand.”
Something’s got to matter…
As inevitable as the death of the army was, Blackthorn wouldn’t die without a fight.
Chapter 32: Evan
Evan hurried from Blackthorn’s house, looking over his shoulder. Only when he realized he might draw suspicion did he slow his pace.
Calm down. You’re not in danger. Not yet, he told himself.
The truth was, he wasn’t sure. One or more of the deserters were untrustworthy. In only a few days, his and Beck’s plan had unraveled. How could this have happened? Where were the Dunlows? Did they know about this?
And what was Beck doing now? Did he know the plan had been foil
ed? Evan’s foolish hope was that Beck would’ve absconded by now and returned so they could make a decision on what to do.
I need to warn him.
Evan needed to send out a rider to the army. He just hoped he’d catch Beck in time, before he did anything that implicated him too strongly or that Beck couldn’t talk his way out of. Cursing the danger he’d put himself in, Evan scurried down the alley, trying to determine who might’ve spilled the information.
In truth, it could’ve been anyone. The deserters were peasants, not soldiers. Tenbrook was right. They were scared men, risking their lives, fearful of the pyre like everybody else. That was the downfall of his and Beck’s plan. Not that he and Beck hadn’t thought things through, but that the men they’d recruited weren’t as motivated as he and Beck were. That thought led to another.
What if the Dunlows had betrayed him?
Evan had been so busy rounding up horses and weapons that he hadn’t spoken with them in a while. A surge of dread coursed through him. If he’d spooked the Dunlows, they might’ve sold any number of lies to the new General.
But that didn’t make sense.
If the Dunlows had spoken, wouldn’t they have given him up to Tenbrook?
It didn’t sound like they had.
He knew they’d used Minister Beck’s name to do their recruiting. They obviously knew Evan was involved. Any one of those deserters could’ve flipped and gone to Tenbrook, hoping to curry favor.
Unless… What if Tenbrook already knew Evan was involved? What if the meeting was an attempt to stack the pyre kindling around his feet?
Evan swallowed.
Dammit.
There was no way to know.
Evan felt like he was a man tossed into the River of Brighton with his arms lopped off, kicking desperately for the banks. For a second, he contemplated throwing the whole plan, blaming the whole conspiracy on the Dunlows. He might get away with it. Tenbrook would be more apt to believe an appointed Elder than a scorned merchant’s family with a grudge against Brighton. Of course, that meant the plan was finished. Could he do that to Beck?
