by T. Norman
In the darkness Alric struggled to recognize Mic, but once he spoke, all suspicions were lifted. “Good to see you, too,” he said drily.
Gant moved toward Mic, hoping for answers. “Mic, what happened? Where were you? Where’s Apo’k? How did my dad get in here? What happened to the other men?” Gant would have continued to bombard Mic with questions had Alric not grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Give him a chance to answer your questions and he will,” Alric assured the boy.
“Sorry.” Gant turned back toward Mic. “Go ahead.”
Mic nodded. “Right. After you purchased your food, I noticed the three men watching you very intently as you went upstairs. They seemed relieved when you let that boy come with you, and it raised my suspicions. They left shortly afterwards.”
Julia’s horse was still in the stable, and she brought Mic a water skin from her saddle, helping quench his thirst. “Thanks, my dear. Anyway, when I saw Rysh, I figured I should check on him and make sure he was okay. I figured it wouldn’t hurt, anyway. I gave him a couple minutes’ head start, just in case. When I went outside I heard faint noises coming from the shower house. I ran back to see Rysh head butt this one,” Mic pointed at the assassin sitting on a bale of hay. “There was one behind him who was trying to attack while Rysh’s back was turned. I rushed forward but all I could do was knock Rysh out of the way before the attack stuck home.”
Mic turned his arm, showing the large gash through his left bicep. “You’re hurt!” Julia exclaimed. “Here let me help.” Mic didn’t resist as she got to work, wrapping his wound with cloth she tore from her dress. Julia searched her saddlebag for some medicine for Mic’s wounds.
He winced as she put a salve on the wound. “The attacker turned and fled. I picked Rysh up and was bringing him inside when I heard a commotion from inside the stable. I was about to walk in when a horse charged out with the remaining assassin on its back. Ros came rushing out afterward, chasing after the man.”
Mic grimaced again as Julia began wrapping a tight bandage around his arm. “I ran inside and left Rysh here in the hay. I grabbed a horse and went after him. He had too large of a head start on me so I eventually gave up. On my way back, Ros came trotting up to me. I’m guessing that’s a sign from Apo’k that he’s on the man’s trail, so he sent Ros back to us.”
Gant felt completely overwhelmed by all of this information, but also relieved that Mic had saved his father’s life. “Mic, I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to.” They looked at each other, mutual respect in their eyes.
“I still have one question about all this,” Alric spoke up. He had been standing to the side listening to the tale, the whole time, nodding in thought. “The boy, Pod, he was trying to kill Julia.”
“He had my dad’s sword in his hands,” Gant said with a shrug, “so it sure looked like it.” He didn’t understand Alric’s confusion.
“When Wayton was attacked, they were trying to take Julia alive. This whole time they’ve been trying to take her alive.” As Alric spoke, the severity of the situation dawned on Gant. “They’ve obviously abandoned that plan, which leads me to ask, what changed?” They all turned and looked at the bloodied assassin sitting on the bale of hay.
This whole time he had been sitting, watching, and listening. When he had their attention, he smiled wickedly. Seconds later, his body started convulsing and shaking as he fell off of the bale and onto the ground. In a matter of seconds his body lay still, his eyes rolling back into his head.
23
Tyrell rode at the head of the caravan of soldiers alongside Tomir and the captain of Castle Mordin’s garrison, Gabe Fallan. Their three-day journey had been uneventful. Tyrell passed the time by insulting Captain Fallan in as many subtle ways as possible, referencing literature or pieces of history that were outside Fallan’s knowledge base.
They were greeted outside Gold Pass by a small group of mounted soldiers. “Welcome,” their leader said, “we’ve been expecting you. Lady Stowen is in her chambers and has requested your presence upon your arrival.”
Once inside the city’s main gates, Tyrell dismounted his horse and passed the reins over to Tomir. “Take care of her.” He winced as his friend walked away with his head down. He knew he shouldn’t take his frustrations out on Tomir, but he often lost control of his emotions at the thought of having to talk to his sister. “Captain Fallan, get the men fed and the horses, as well. I don’t expect to stay long. We still have plenty of daylight, and I would like to get back on the road when we’re finished.”
“Yes, sir.” Fallan looked as if it pained him to call Tyrell “sir.” Tyrell knew how much Fallan loathed him. After years of trying to train Tyrell to be a warrior and failing, he probably couldn’t stand the idea of following him into battle. This thought brightened Tyrell’s spirits.
“I’m ready to go see Lady Stowen.” Tyrell let the word “lady” roll off his tongue in a mocking tone.
The lead guard beckoned for him to follow, leading the way through Gold Pass.
As they walked through the city, Tyrell couldn’t help but be amazed. Having grown up in Castle Mordin, he rarely made his way to other cities. Gold Pass was the third largest city in Ansaroth and was known as the trade hub of the kingdom, hence its name. Furs and lumber came from the Katarik forest in the north, fine metals and jewels came from the mines to their south, they received fresh fish from Lake Sapphire to the east, and an assortment of foreign objects came through the Sun Tower to their west.
Tyrell began to notice that even though the city was vast and extremely wealthy, there were also signs of poverty throughout the streets. Children ran shoeless through alleyways and horse filth was piled up behind the buildings. The stench was awful.
They made their way out of the lower district and into the wealthier part of the city, where there were fewer children running around and more shops and markets crowding the streets. Tyrell smelled fresh fruit as gusts of wind blew through the markets. How can one city go from absolute poverty to this? Tyrell was appalled. He was thankful he grew up in a castle where everyone was fed equally and no one was left to fend for himself.
“Here we are, sir; Lady Stowen awaits you on the top floor.” The guard had stopped in front of a large brick tower, larger than any of the towers in Castle Mordin.
He stepped past the guard and entered the tower. Inside there were three more guards posted at the main door, and they beckoned him forward and ushered him up the steps. Tyrell lost count of how many steps he climbed, and was completely out of breath when he finally reached the top. Outside an ornate door were two more guards. As he arrived they knocked on the door, awaiting a response from within.
“Come in.” Tyrell shuddered at the sound of the voice. He let out a deep sigh and entered the room.
Sitting by a large fireplace was a young woman in a blue-and-gold silk robe. The robe showed off her figure and accented her jet-black hair as it lay upon her shoulders. Her face wasn’t as pale as Tyrell’s, but they had the same freckles spotting their cheeks.
“Excuse me, I asked for my baby brother, not some handsome knight.” She rose from her chair with a smile on her face. “Who are you and what have you done with Tyrell?” She rushed forward with her arms open, expecting an embrace from her brother.
Tyrell begrudgingly spread his arms and hugged his sister. “You’ve been gone for five years, I wasn’t going to stay a boy forever,” Tyrell snapped coldly.
Amalia stepped back and admired her brother. “I know, and truly I am sorry. Things have been so busy here, and after the wedding Han and I went traveling south; oh, it was wonderful!”
Tyrell stepped away from his sister and moved toward the large window in the room. “How long until your men are ready to leave?”
Amalia let a frown cross her face. “We haven’t seen each other in years and you only want to talk business?”
“We shouldn’t delay our travels.” Tyrell ignored the look his sister
gave him.
“Tyrell, you will sit down and have a civil conversation with your sister, now.” Her demeanor changed instantly as she showed how much like their father she was.
Tyrell submitted and turned away from the window. Amalia beckoned for him to sit at the chair across from her by the fireplace.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” She was smiling at him again.
“No, thank you.”
“Guards,” Amalia called toward the closed door, “bring us some wine, thank you.” She smiled as they bowed out of the room, closing the door behind them. “Now where were we?” she asked as she turned back toward her younger brother.
“I believe we were about to have a civil conversation,” Tyrell responded sarcastically.
“Oh, yes, that’s right!” Tyrell hated that Amalia kept smiling at him. “How have you been? Tell me everything!”
Tyrell sighed, giving in to the fact that he was going to have to suffer through this conversation with his sister. He knew the faster they got through it, the faster it would be over and he could leave. “It’s been hard since Mom died. Dad doesn’t understand me as well as she did. Training’s been fine, it’s all I do,” he lied. He knew she wasn’t as fond of reading as he was and he didn’t want to start an argument. “I’m glad to get out of Mordin and finally experience some of the world.”
“I’m sorry to hear it’s been hard without Mom. I know she loved you so much. Dad is doing his best to understand you, but it’s hard because you are exactly like Mom.”
“And you’re exactly like Dad,” Tyrell retorted.
“Be that as it may, Dad is trying, and so am I. You just need to let us in.” She leaned forward, letting her hand rest on Tyrell’s knee. “We’re here for you.” Tyrell was thankful for the knock on the door, interrupting their conversation. “Come in,” Amalia called.
The guards entered the room with a tray carrying wine and two glasses. “You can set that down right here, thank you.” As they left, Amalia poured herself a glass of wine. “Would you like some?” She cocked her head to the side in question.
“No, thank you.” Tyrell had only tried wine once, and he and Tomir drank so much of it they were sick for a whole day. Now he tried to avoid it. Amalia poured him a glass anyway, setting it on the table in front of him.
“So tell me, are all the girls from home fawning over you now that you’ve turned into such a good looking young man?” Amalia giggled as she saw how red Tyrell’s face turned.
“No, it seems they can’t get past my awful personality.”
Tyrell was amazed at how elegantly his sister sipped her wine. “That’s unfortunate, because I believe you have a wonderful personality.”
Tyrell shook his head, wishing to stop talking about his personal life. “How is your dear husband?” he asked, feigning interest in the topic.
Amalia smiled warmly. “Oh, he’s delightful! Sadly, he left with his brother on some mission for the king.” Amalia took another drink of her wine and continued. “Which is why I am leading the soldiers to Daleon.”
Tyrell studied his sister, trying to read her facial expressions and body movements. She sat up straight and held her head high, but he knew this wasn’t the life she wanted. Growing up, Amalia was always out hunting, digging in the dirt, and she was rarely ever seen in a dress. This woman sitting in front of him bore no resemblance to the girl he grew up with.
“I know you must be thankful that he left you in charge, it gives you a chance to leave this filthy excuse for a city.” Tyrell smirked as he watched her eyes light up in shock, giving him his desired reaction.
Amalia set down her wine glass and recomposed herself. “You know me well, little brother. You’re right; I hate this life. I haven’t been out hunting in months!” She started to slouch back in her chair, relaxing in his presence. “These guards never leave my side. I haven’t had a moment of privacy since the wedding.” She practically yelled the last words, releasing the stress from her shoulders.
Tyrell smiled to himself, enjoying that he could still push his sister’s buttons and set her off with only a few select words. “Tell me about your dear husband.”
Amalia looked toward the door to make sure it was closed. “He’s not that bad, but he doesn’t give me any freedom. I know he visits the brothels quite frequently, but I don’t mind. He often comes home drunk and smelling of perfume.” She released her clenched fists, letting the blood rush back to her hands. “Okay, maybe it does bother me.”
After years of being away from each other, Tyrell was surprised at how openly his sister disclosed all this information to him. “At least you had a choice in your marriage,” he said. He took a large gulp of his wine, feeling much more relaxed. “Father still insists that I marry that oaf Lord Redwind’s daughter.”
Lord Inglest had discussed with his son many times his impending betrothal to Marian Redwind. He was looking for a desirable family to marry in to, further strengthening his power. When Amalia was to be married, their father gave her a few options of men she could marry. Han Stowen was the closest to her age, and he was still twelve years her senior.
“Oh, but Marian is sweet, and I would love to have her as a sister!” Amalia tried to hold in a laugh, but, failing, let out a loud bellow. “Who am I kidding? She’s even more of a fool than her father!”
Tyrell laughed along with his sister, letting some of his anger subside. He was amazed at how five years apart had changed her so much. When she entered her teens, they fought more often than not, disagreeing on almost everything. Now it seemed there was a small possibility that a friendship could develop between them.
He gave his sister a wicked smile. “So, when can I expect little nieces and nephews running around?”
Tyrell ducked as his sister threw her empty wine glass at him, narrowly missing his head. The glass shattered against the brick wall behind his chair. “Don’t kid about that! If I have my way, it’ll be never.” She smiled at Tyrell again as she relaxed back in her chair.
The two sat and continued to chat with one another about Amalia’s travels, Tyrell’s training, and impending war all the while occasionally throwing more banter at each other. Tyrell let himself relax, and felt happiness for the first time in a long time.
24
“I don’t like the look of this.” Rysh voiced his opinion as the group looked on at Port Sarim. A score of soldiers patrolled the streets around the town, more than they felt comfortable with.
“Do we have a choice?” Alric offered in retort.
“No, we don’t.” Rysh turned back to the rest of the group.
After they were attacked at Arbor Inn, they quickly made their way to Port Sarim, hoping to leave Ansaroth as soon as possible. Julia had been kept under close watch since the attempt on her life. She hated the lack of privacy and wished for time alone.
Apo’k had yet to catch up with them, but as long as they had Ros, they knew he would find his way back to them.
“I don’t see any ships in the harbor,” Gant observed. Julia hadn’t thought to look at the harbor, being so focused on the number of soldiers present.
They all looked toward the south end of the city, seeing the truth in what Gant said. The harbor was completely empty, but there were a few ships sitting a ways off the coast.
“Just our luck.” Rysh had grown more frustrated as they continued on their journey, obviously letting the number of setbacks get to him. “No matter, we can’t turn back now. We need to sneak into town, find someone who has a ship and is willing to get us to Dusseldorf, and then somehow get out on their ship.” The disappointment was evident in his voice.
Julia hated seeing Rysh like this. He was their leader, and normally kept up their morale. This side of him made her feel uncomfortable.
“We shouldn’t waste any time. The longer we sit here, the more likely we are to be found.” Gant, as usual, was quick to pick up where his father left off. He was becoming a strong leader, which Julia admired in him.
/> Alric nodded his agreement. “Gant’s right. We can’t all go into the city, though; it would draw too much unwanted attention. With all these extra soldiers we need to be even more careful.”
Julia knew what was going to happen, so she chose to speak up quickly before she lost her chance. “I want to go in. I know what you’re going to say, but having a girl with you will make you seem less threatening. If anything, it will draw suspicion away from us.” She had been left out too many times, and wanted to feel as though she was contributing to the group.
Rysh shook his head. “I’m sorry, but we can’t risk it.” Alric interrupted him before he could continue.
“Rysh, I know you swore to protect Julia, but she has proven time and time again that she is more than capable.” Julia smiled at Alric. She had grown quite fond of the old man—when he wasn’t consuming large quantities of alcohol, that is.
“I agree with them,” Gant spoke up. “Like Julia said, having her with us will lower suspicion. Also, this way we can keep a close eye on her.”
“We?” Rysh regretted his inquiry as soon as he said it, seeing the scheming in his son’s eyes.
“Yes, we, I’m coming with you, too.” Gant put his hands on his hips, holding his head high.
Julia jumped in, knowing Gant would listen to her voice of reason. “Gant, you shouldn’t come with us. You might not think it, but you do actually look pretty threatening. I think you and your father would be too much, even with me there. Alric should go instead.”
Gant opened his mouth to protest, choosing instead to lower his head in silence. He crossed his arms, surrendering to Julia’s decision.
“All right, it’s settled, then. Julia, Alric, and I will ride into town and see what we can find. We don’t have the money to stay in town, though, so we’ll come back out after nightfall. Let’s establish a primary and secondary campsite now, where we can meet up later.”
The group set off into the woods, finding a secluded opening where they could make camp, and a second area farther away for a backup camp in case something happened at the first location. After they settled in, Rysh decided it would be best if they left one horse behind, sharing the other two as they rode into town. It was rare for a family to own three horses and he wanted to avoid unwanted attention.
