Lanico’s heart leaped. He had to find his breath.
There it was.
It was a love. A life. A prize that he so longed to see—to be in.
The Castle of Odana at rest. The curling wisp of the sharp walkway that inclined to meet the main entrance—all other sides were razor-edged drop-offs that was the castle itself. It was a grand spectacle. Even through its ancient years, it still had the audacity to demand attention and grandeur—and from this distance.
He never imagined his heart would have hurt for it as much as it actually did. To think he used to despise it so. Now, nothing seemed more important in his life than reclaiming it and setting his WynSprign subjects free.
The lingering mist, the atmosphere, allowed only a slight outline of the distant spire. He squinted, hungry to see more of it. The spire’s long wildly whipping flag was only barely visible to his half-breed eyes. Against the horizon, it seemed to shout at him from so far away; pleading for his return...
It was all his.
His alone.
All of it.
His dry, ragged breath burned the back of his throat. He didn’t know if he’d ever view this glorious sight again. The sun shone down on him and the breeze drifted through his silver hair and gave the sweetest sensation he had ever recalled. He selfishly drank in this moment, this sight. He needed this moment to last. He needed it for battle, for his journey ahead, for the certain death at his hands. It was a feeling that charged his spirit even more.
He was back.
He was home. The son—the King was back, and he brought the woman he would make his Queen.
Suddenly, breaking the stirring silence, his would-be-Queen yelled from below, “Lan! Go down! We can’t hold like this much longer!” He whirled to look down at her with glistening eyes. Treva was a small gem balancing on a long string below, but she grimaced up at him, her face flushed and angry. Her face, and then the small row of others that looked up at him. They were still holding straddled positions that made their legs burn in barking fury.
What in the name of Jaspia is he doing? Her thighs seared, and the young ones were actually trembling, straining above her and if one slipped... “Lan! Why are you staring at me like that? What in the fires are you doing up there?”
“Will you move ahead?” She voiced.
He wiped his misted eyes with his dirtied sleeve. He’d quite forgotten about them in his private moment of reflection. The reality of it all, the yearning was never stronger than now.
“Yes! Of course!” He heard the thickness in his voice as he called down and hoped they couldn’t hear it as well. He blinked, just once more, viewing his castle in the distance, and then carefully began the descent. As he climbed down the precipitous side, the castle and its beckoning spires disappeared from view. He’d see it again. He was certain of this with every fiber of his being. His mother said Odan had intended it, but there was never a promise of this being easy. His heart pounded and yearned—beseeched—for more. He remained focused on their task, hungry for completion—he would see this through to the end. He would not remain an outsider, elusive in his own land.
✽✽✽
They walked for hours. Treva and Anah were weak and couldn’t run nearly as long in their past physical states. Over the stretch of miles, it became apparent to the two of them that they made better timing this time, than when they had escaped. The two silently marveled at the distance they now spanned and the reduced time it seemed to take to reach familiar spots along the way.
Soon enough the woods came into view, and just beyond them the large encampment would become visible and clear from their overlooking hill. Once there and shaded within the brush, they succumbed to shock. Gasps and whispered, cursed words flew in the warm breeze as they stared. The site held an enormity that they hadn’t dared imagine. Reconnaissance from this elevation and afternoon light would aid them greatly, though there was much to behold. Rows upon rows of huts covered the landscape as rows of crops; below and into the beyond. The General Prince gulped. He hadn’t imagined this. No matter how Treva may have explained, his mind could never have conceived this. Atrocious. Revolting. Heinous. The words would never match the wickedness that stretched out endlessly before him, as some endless nightmare.
So many huts, and the surrounding trenches that butted against the out-skirting rows had been filled with what Treva and Anah referred to as ‘poison barbs’ barbs—even visible from this extended distance. All on his land. Horrific. It was far worse than he could have ever imagined in these one hundred years, but it was okay—or rather it would be okay. He was here to resolve this and now—having witnessed it, he was more determined than even before, if that was possible. This was a fuel to his already blazing fire. He clutched his sheathed sword’s grip tight. It gave a hum in response. There was no turning back.
✽✽✽
As planned, they made camp in the elevated woods where Anah and Treva had first gathered after their own escape. There the team remained hidden and overlooking the trench and, just beyond the trench, the encampment lie. The forest was on a hill, but kept them concealed by dense tree and bush. Lanico noticed this area had looked as if someone had occupied it before—twigs and grasses trampled in spots that his group hadn’t yet touched. Nothing seemed very recent. As with a few times before, he used his Fray capability. He stuck his tongue to the roof of his open mouth and with his eyes rolled back he drew in large huffs and scented the air. No immediate danger was detected so he shrugged the land’s disturbances off.
With the exception of Anah and Gish, the young warriors had adjusted clothes to appear more disheveled and had been coached by Treva on their mannerisms. Thankfully, the thick mud that had once coated them had flaked off with wear, leaving them squalid but appropriately so. Gish was to wear his same warrior gear from before.
It was time to implement the task, for their time of rest was brief. “Anah, Gish, it’s time for your watch,” Lanico started, eyeing the pair. His eyes spoke of intensity where his hushed voice didn’t. This feeling, this moment, it had become quite real—for all of them. They were now his warriors, under his command. “Head farther onto the southern edge of the encampment, but stay in the treeline—out of sight.”
Gish grunted by way of approval and Anah nodded. Luckily for them, their placement was stationary and unlike the other warriors, the need for even more walking was limited. The plan: Anah was to perch in the trees and be the lookout while Gish was to crouch and blend in among boulders beneath her. They needed to view the tower at different angles and take note of guard positions there, while detecting any weaknesses. It was a safer task—they were not to enter the encampment and risk being seen. In case they were, at least Gish’s attire could buy them seconds...until identified, of course.
Lanico continued, “Good. Take count of the guards there. If you see any interruptions down there or chaos, run back here. Understand? Anah—right? Understand?” She rolled her eyes and nodded dramatically. He was well aware of the fire in the girl. He had to make sure she’d stick to the plan. He sighed and continued, “Treva and I will take care of any problems that arise. We’d rather you two not get involved—not yet.”
The two warriors nodded and it was apparent the lack of talking was starting to bother Anah.
“Good. Now, move out.” His quiet voice was stern, but guiding—a General’s.
The two disappeared into the trees, staying close to the border as planned.
He turned to address the remaining warriors.
He could tell Treva’s nerves were getting the better of her as well. Lanico was also unnerved, but worked to contain this, making it less noticeable on him. She paced their small area.
“Okay,” Treva started in a loud whisper that bordered vocal, “remember, return here by sunset! You have more than a few hours.” Her eyes were set to Marin at her words. Though she addressed Felena and Freck as well. “Okay? Sunset.”
“I know, Mother,” Marin said calmly, but there was a
nnoyance behind his response. He was no babe. He understood this command.
She looked intently at the three. “Do. Not. Forget—you are there only to observe,” Because if any issues arose, there wouldn’t be any stopping her. She wouldn’t mention that to them though.
The three young warriors nodded—not that they’d ever disagree with her anyway. She was small, but she’d rip their heads off with one swoop. There was no doubting that.
Treva made a sharp nod. She turned placing steps away from the trio, walking toward Lanico. He cast her an appraising look, scanning her face. He noticed at her turning away from them, her once-stern expression became vacillating, nervous. To anyone around her she needed to seem solid, a resolute rock. Lanico understood that need as well, and that it was now his turn to take command.
As they neared, just before passing each other, he flicked his gaze to hers saying, “It’s alright,” in his unspoken way. He’d switch places with her now. It was his time to speak to the young warriors. To give them his order.
Concealing her worry, Treva remained standing a short distance away with her back towards them all, listening.
“Warriors,” Lanico started with a cocked brow and a deceitfully arched curve of his mouth. The warriors straightened at his attention, and for them he wore a sly, adventure-hungry face, engaging them. His voice continued the whispered shout, “You ready for your mission?” They all nodded. “Move out! Go!”
Their eyes almost gleamed and they inhaled the slightest of smiles. Though they wouldn’t say or admit to it, it was a challenge—an adventure. For better or worse, Lanico found that young warriors often believed themselves invincible.
Marin dashed to his mother and embraced her from the side. It was fast. “We’ll be fine. I promise.” He gave her a reassuring grin.
Treva looked at her son bravely, fighting back the gnawing fear in her pit and savoring the warmth of his brief hold. Her throat was sore fighting back the urge to cry. She gave him a stiff nod. Her face, however, once more appeared assured for him as she said, “Do well, Marin, my son.” She waited for him to turn away and begin his walk toward the others who were waiting for him in the distance. At the sight of his back, she walked around a broad tree trunk, and utterly melted to the ground. Her sobs remained silent through the bouncing heaves. Over the years she had lifted so many prayers to Odan that were, by now—countless. Keep them safe. Keep them save. Please… keep him safe.
Lanico remained watching them. Once they descended in the order and in the direction planned, they danced through the trench and between the rusted poison barbs. Undetected by the tower, he waited until they turned through the exposed area of huts and disappeared beyond. Then he went to her; he knew where she was. He determined he was always aware of where she was. He trusted, when it came to Treva, he was aware of many things.
His tall frame cast a shadow over her. She was sitting at the base of a large oak tree. “Lan…” Treva began to stand, bracing a steadying hand against the bark. Her eyes were pink and puffy.
He came in close, grabbing, pulling her into himself to hold her tight. He was a refuge, a living fortress, for her. And for their son—
Yes. He knew she was a warrior, but she was a mother too. The fear of losing Marin all over again was proving to be too much for her weathered heart. He understood that no amount of training and battling would have prepared her for this, this feeling, this moment.
“I didn’t think it would feel like—” Her voice sounded small against his chest.
“It’ll be okay,” he responded calmly, stroking her tied hair. He set his lips to the crown of her head kissing, saying, “We trained him well.” His whisper was cracking, betraying his own emotions. His countenance, his visage was not in alignment with his feelings. He was holding back his own fear. Trying to convince himself as well as her. He had been trying to seem untroubled this whole time. Moving forward, that was the only way. “Let’s help them further,” he said low.
She angled her face to look up at him. Her features washed in confusion.
“The plan.” He managed a hint of a smile for her. “We need to do our part now, and keep watch.”
He noticed how her eyes grew serious and she nodded, seeming to remember her purpose, their own mission. Right now, it was to watch and protect. To jolt into action at the first sign of distress. “To our positions,” she whispered in answer.
“To our positions,” he replied, still pressing her into himself for that moment’s touch.
They rose into the leaf-dense treetops and took close watch over the encampment. Gish and Anah were already at their planned posts. Marin, Freck, and Felena were down there, below, blending.
They perched, side by side to endure the agony of waiting.
✽✽✽
The trio of warriors stopped at the planned spot, a crest of the plateau that leveled out and witnessed the sea of hundreds of huts mazing though its expanse. The trench that Anah and Treva had crawled and danced themselves through; it was here, in this range. Anah had mentioned that this section of the trench had been long neglected. To their amazement, they could now see-understand what she had been trying to describe to them. The poisoned barbs she mentioned before, they now understood were metal orbs adorning poison filled spikes that rested, dotted throughout the length of the trench. In a way, they resembled the poking radii of dandelion heads – but deadly. To discourage escape, the poisoned barbs had been designed in various sizes and placed in precarious positions. Piled clusters intentionally set so that even the slightest brush from a foot could cause them to fall, rolling to pin the escapee, promising a long and agonizing death. Rusted and aged, these barbs had been forgotten by time. Who knew what their old poison would be capable of by now?
Treva and Ana had proven triumph over the trench. They were able to make these barbs out clearly and avoid lethal contact–if their movements remained precise. The movements that Anah had practiced so long ago, in the privacy of her hut were choreographed perfectly. She had taught them, in preparation for this. It was likely though, that Anah never would have imagined her cunning dance would be used for getting them back into the encampment.
Both Treva’s and Anah’s abandoned huts were located near this area, which was why they suggested moving in this direction. They knew the layout here best. Anah had been monitoring the security and the schedules daily. She had long studied the layout beyond her hut—night after night using the moon’s light and in the shade of dark to seek out this secured path, and her efforts had paid off.
The chosen spot that Treva and Anah had used for their own freedom was not located in a well-traveled area. Mostly because this great trench waited, threatened. Escape attempts were rare. Aside from the dangers of the trench itself and being spotting by those in the watchtower, slaves still had daily portions of food; still had huts to sleep in. But out there, beyond the trench...there lay a promise of unknown threats that stirred dread in most.
To their group’s advantage, the Mysra were not interested in maintenance in general, but unknown to Nizen, his subordinates had ignored the maintenance of this section near the trench altogether. For this section of the border, the Mysra had relied heavily on the watchtower and its eyes-in-the-sky. It appeared there were many things that the Mysra guard Nizen didn’t know. Another shortcoming on his end were the lax ways the paired tower guards often had. They didn’t always keep their eyes peeled for suspicious activity. They grew tired often enough and would engage in conversation to keep alert, even when rotated with another pair of guards. Gish had called them lazy boulder heaps, and he would have known. Aside from his position as the horsemaster and trainer, Gish was also tasked with a nightly watch schedule at the nearby tower.
Routinely, and for appearances sake, things had been kept more secure and updated toward the center of the encampment and at the encampment’s border near the castle base. Those areas were highly trafficked by slaves and guards alike. The Mysra’s lack of attention to detail near the trenc
h had been a mistake that Lanico’s group now found themselves benefiting from.
The forest overlooking the hill was a distance behind them. Marin could almost feel Lanico’s and his mother’s eyes sweeping over them, watching every movement, monitoring for any sign of threat. But nerves had the better of Marin. The charge of this place, the horror stories, sent his fingers trembling and his heart pounding. He tried to contain his panted breathing like Freck and Felena. The two had weathered far more intense situations in their recent past. They didn’t exactly view agony, terror, and killing the same way and that was evident on their purposefully unassuming faces. Marin wasn’t jealous of what they had to encounter and survive back at the Great Mist, but he did consider that he was jealous of Freck’s bravery. Freck’s movements even now were so fluid, as if he had already traversed all of this. His guidance of their small faction, seamless.
The Legacy of Lanico: Return of the Son: Book two of the Legacy of Lanico series Page 13
