by T. Norman
Jonas shook with nerves. “All that our scouts report is that the enemy fort sits under its usual guard. I don’t believe they know that our army is here.”
General Tenue smiled and nodded. “Good, our secrecy has paid off. Skirling Pass is too small to fight with our whole force, and we would like to avoid getting bottlenecked again. We’ll send a small force to take Bravestone. Once we have control of the castle, we will send our army through the pass and attack Dusseldorf.” Dorian smiled at his plan. He stood proudly, waiting for questions.
“There’s no guarantee that we can take Bravestone so easily. What happens if they hold?” Zaren wasn’t surprised that Dirk was the first to speak up.
General Tenue made no attempt to hide the disgust on his face from being questioned by the prince. “We know of a secret pass leading around the Skirling Pass, and we can use it to bypass any defenses they might muster at the last minute.”
“So you want to use the same strategy we used fifteen years ago?” Dirk argued. He slouched back and shook his head. “They’re going to expect that and if they’re smart they’ll have a trap set in case we do decide to follow that route.”
Dorian was about to speak up, but surprisingly, Amalia spoke first. “A score of men, led by my husband and his brother, were taken to the Dragon Tower and then through a secret pass into Dusseldorf.” She turned to Brother Greydel. “Am I correct?” she asked.
He nodded, giving her a sly smile.
“If the enemy is able to stop us at Bravestone, these men can travel up the mountains and take them from the east while they are occupied with our forces coming at them from the pass.” Amalia smiled toward Dorian. “I assume that was the purpose of sending my husband on a suicide mission?” Her words were calm but Zaren could hear the fury in them. Amalia was not someone he wanted to cross, except on his terms.
“That is correct.” Lady Velmar spoke for Dorian, who was having trouble finding his words.
“I know of this force already.” Dirk turned and scowled at his father. “But what good are twenty men going to do? If they have a large enough force to hold out against an army, I believe they could withstand twenty men, and that’s assuming they all survive the journey.”
Allister calmly sat forward in his chair, addressing his son directly. “Where are our armies stationed?”
Dirk clenched his fists. Zaren knew how he hated his father treating him like a child. “Andarok, Vendos, Mohrr, Gold Pass,” Dirk shook his head in realization as he finished, “and Port Sarim. I take it you have something else in mind for Lord Cread and his men?”
Allister sat back with a smile. “The southern shores of Dusseldorf are almost completely entrenched with reefs, making it nearly impossible to land large ships.” He gestured toward the large map. “Keyhold is the largest opening, and it is also where the Dusseldorf naval force is located. The two main rivers that flow through Dusseldorf, the Cobra and the Snake, converge at the southern end, joining together as they flow into the Thoros Sea. The reefs in this area have slowly eroded away, leaving an opening for our ships.” Allister let his words sink in. “The Black Sons, once they exit the Skirling Mountains, will move in to destroy the small villages along the southern border. They will meet up with Lord Cread’s men and move north to surround our enemies in Bravestone.”
Zaren was amazed at how much of this plan he was unaware of. He let himself smile as he saw the confusion on General Tenue’s face. It seemed he, too, was left out of the planning of that part of Allister’s scheme.
As the meeting ended, each individual slowly rose from their chair and left the room. Zaren stood behind Dirk’s chair, waiting to follow the prince.
Zaren glanced at Amalia as she glided past him. She gave him a smile and a short wink as she left the room.
“Dirk, I think it’s time we talked. Alone.” Allister gave Zaren a nod, signaling his departure.
Zaren held his head high, turned on his heel and left the room. As he exited the chamber, he closed the door behind him, standing at the ready.
“I see they kicked you out.” Zaren hadn’t noticed Amalia emerge from the hallway next to him. She walked closer, giving him a large smile. “We haven’t been properly introduced.” Amalia stood inches away from Zaren as she raised her hand to his lips. “My name is Amalia Stowen.”
Zaren gently grabbed her hand, placing a tender kiss on the rings adorning her fingers. “Captain Zaren Kosoth of the Royal Guard, at your service, My Lady.”
Amalia stepped closer so that Zaren’s hand was pinned between her chest and his. “I have a lot of needs, Captain,” she said, leaning forward and putting her lips to Zaren’s ear. “Are you sure you can handle them?”
Amalia stepped back from Zaren, beaming. “Until next time, Captain.” She gave him a wink as she walked down the hallway.
Zaren quickly composed himself as he heard the lock on the door unlatch. The look on Dirk’s face as he exited the room gave Zaren cause to worry.
“Captain, we have a lot to do in the coming days.” Dirk turned, gesturing for Zaren to follow him. “We are going to be leading the siege of Bravestone.”
Zaren couldn’t help but swear under his breath. After the initial shock passed, he let a smile creep up his face. He always enjoyed killing, and it was about time that Dirk got put to the test. He made a mental note to visit Amalia and ask about those needs before he was sent into combat.
30
Rysh woke startled and confused. He looked around the small cabin he found himself in, trying to recall where he was. Blood and anger had plagued his dreams. A small lantern hung near his bed. Attempting to rise, Rysh collapsed onto the floor under the weight of his ankle. He let out a cry of pain.
“Dad, what’re you doing?” Gant rushed in through the door, running to his father’s side. “You shouldn’t be on your feet yet; you messed up your ankle bad back there.” With minimal protest from his father, Gant helped situate him back on his bed.
“Where are we?” Rysh asked, confused. The small room and the smell of salt were unfamiliar to him.
Gant gave his father a worried look. “We’re on Valcor’s ship. Don’t you remember what happened?”
Rysh sat scratching his head, perplexed. Suddenly, memories flooded back to him. He clenched his fists as he remembered everything about the battle in Port Sarim, their attempt to flee on the raft, falling into the water with Gant, swimming toward the ship, and lastly seeing the face of the man he hated pull him from the water.
“Gant, I need you to tell me the truth.” Rysh’s voice was stern and cold. “Where is he?”
Gant shook his head. “Dad you don’t understand, he—”
“Where is he?” Rysh interrupted. He let his voice rise, letting his anger be heard.
Gant stood and left the small cabin without saying a word. Rysh sat up on his bed, trying to keep his emotions in check.
When Gant returned, a man followed in behind him. His clothes were worn, his hair was unkempt, and a scruff of facial hair obscured his face. None of that mattered to Rysh. As soon he looked in the man’s eyes, he knew he hadn’t been mistaken.
Once they were both in the room, Rysh closed his eyes, calming himself. “Gant, please leave us.”
Gant opened his mouth in protest, but the other man raised an arm to stop him. “It’s okay,” he said, nodding toward the door.
Rysh hated treating his son like a child, but he didn’t want him to see what was going to happen next.
“Rysh, I want to start by saying—” Carn began, but he never finished his sentence. Rysh lunged off the bed, grabbing at Carn’s throat. He ignored the pain in his ankle, instead focusing all his efforts on strangling the man beneath him.
“You killed everyone!” Rysh shouted at Carn. “Women, children, they’re all dead because of you!” He tightened his grip.
To Rysh’s surprise, Carn made no attempt to stop him. Instead he laid there, staring directly into Rysh’s eyes.
Carn’s eyes started to roll back into his h
ead as a large arm grabbed Rysh and pulled him off Carn. Valcor stood facing Rysh with a dagger to his throat.
“I’m only going to say this once: I don’t care what he did in his past, once someone comes on this ship they’re part of my crew and my responsibility. You want a ride on this ship, then you best leave the past where it belongs—in the past.” He stared into Rysh’s eyes, not faltering or giving way.
“Fine,” Rysh gave in. “It’s in the past.” He felt the tension of the knife on his throat release. Instinctively he raised a hand, feeling drops of blood trickle down his neck.
Valcor stood back and looked between the two men shaking his head. “If I see you two fighting again, you’re both going overboard.” He gestured for Carn to leave the room.
As Valcor turned to leave, Rysh felt a sudden wave of pain rise from his ankle. He fell onto his bed as everything went black.
Rysh lay in bed, unsure if he was sleeping or dreaming. He was rocking gently back and forth, listening to a gentle hum in the background. He kept his eyes shut tightly, trying to hold onto the peacefulness for as long as possible.
Peeking one eye open at a time, Rysh saw Julia sitting next to his bed sewing a shirt together while humming a soft tune. She glanced up, jumping in surprise to see Rysh watching her.
“Oh, Rysh, sorry if I woke you!” She set the shirt down, standing to check on Rysh’s injuries.
“Don’t worry, Julia, I actually was awake for a while, enjoying the peace and quiet.” He gave her a pained smile. He looked down to see his ankle wrapped tightly in a bandage with braces along the sides holding it in place. “Who patched me up?”
Julia averted her gaze with a bashful look on her face. “Well, I did, but I had some help from Alric.”
Rysh reached out, grabbing Julia’s shoulder. “Thank you, you did a great job.”
Julia could see Rysh adjusting his position in an attempt to stand. “You really should stay off your feet. Your ankle needs time to heal.”
“I’ve been lying down long enough. I want to make sure everyone’s okay.” And to make sure he is staying away from my son.
Julia’s shoulders sunk in defeat. “Fine, but can I at least go get someone to give you a hand?”
“Thanks, but I don’t need it. Hand me that cane.” Rysh pointed at a wooden cane sitting in the corner of the room. Julia retrieved the cane, helping Rysh move off the bed to stand on his feet. Rysh could feel a burning sensation in his ankle, but whatever Julia had done to it was working.
“Are you sure you can do this?” Julia observed him warily. She stood inches away from him with her hands hovering around his shoulders.
Rysh nodded. “I’m fine, thank you. So how about giving me a tour of the ship?” He smiled at her, trying to mask the pain.
Julia and Rysh left his small cabin and entered a hallway. Rysh glanced to his left to see a large open area with a couple tables, but turned right to follow Julia up a few short steps onto the main deck of the ship. They exited the stairs at the ship’s stern, next to the helm. A man Rysh didn’t recognize stood at the wheel, glancing periodically at a map in front of him.
“Rysh, this is Henrik, Valcor’s first mate,” Julia said by way of introduction.
The man gave Rysh a warm smile. “Nice to meet you. It’s good to see you on your feet!” Rysh reached out to shake the man’s hand. He had a firm grip and calloused hands.
“Follow me this way,” Julia said after the men had made their introductions. They made their way down a small pathway at the edge of the ship, with only a rope railing separating them from the rolling waves. Rysh struggled to move down the deck as he tried to keep weight off his injured ankle.
The small path opened up to the ship’s main deck. There were a number of people spread along it, but Rysh and Julia didn’t stop to talk with anyone else until the reached the bow. Alric and Gant were there talking with one of the ships’ crew.
When Gant turned to see his dad walking, he ran to him in excitement. “Dad, what are you doing walking around? How are you feeling? What do you think of Serenity?”
Rysh waved his hand at his son. “Slow down, son, one question at a time. I feel fine. A little sore is all, but thanks to Alric and Julia’s patch job I’ll be good as new. What’s Serenity?”
The crewmember piped up at Rysh’s question, “That’s the name of this here beauty.” As he spoke, Rysh could smell the unmistakable scent of ale on his breath. The man was obviously drunk. “My name’s Hugo, but you can call me Two Foot.”
Rysh cocked an eyebrow in confusion. “Why do they call you Two Foot?”
The burly man smiled. “Because no matter how drunk I get, and how rocky the ship is, I always stay on my two feet.”
Gant and Julia laughed at Two Foot’s explanation, though Rysh could tell that they had already heard it many times.
“Two Foot was just teaching us about being on watch. Our job is to signal back to Henrik in case any small boats or obstructions come in our way that he can’t see,” Gant explained enthusiastically.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Julia, shall we continue?” Rysh gestured for her to lead the way. His ankle was starting to bother him more and more, and he wished to find somewhere to sit and take some weight off of it.
They walked back toward the center of the ship. When they passed the fo’c’sle, Rysh could hear movement coming from below. On the other side of the forecastle was a wooden encasement with a door on the backside of it.
“This leads down to the hold. This is where the crew stays,” Julia explained. They didn’t open the door, instead moving to the doorway across from them leading to what looked like a kitchen.
Inside, Cal was bustling about, with a variety of foods on the counters. “Hey, Rysh, good to see you up and going.” He gave his greeting in a hurry as he busied himself with his work. Rysh could see a small limp in his step as he moved.
“What happened to your leg?”
Cal shrugged. “One of those bastards got a lucky shot and hit me in the calf with their crossbow. Didn’t get too deep, though, so I should be able to walk it right off.” He smiled at his misfortune.
“I’m giving Rysh a tour; I’m just going to show him the mess,” Julia said. They stepped past Cal, looking down into the room Rysh first saw as he left his cabin. “This is the mess. Valcor will hold meetings in here and it’s also where the crew eats, unless it’s nice out, then they’ll eat up on the deck.”
Julia ushered Rysh back out toward the main deck of the ship. As they exited the galley, Rysh saw Valcor and Mic climbing out of the fo’c’sle.
“Rysh, I thought I heard you limping around,” Valcor said with a smile. “How are you feeling?”
Rysh smiled politely at the large man. “As good as can be expected. You have an amazing ship here; she’s very impressive.”
A huge smile spread across Valcor’s face. “That’s because she’s the fastest ship in the sea.” As Valcor spoke, a third man was climbing out of the fo’c’sle. He was missing a hand, but in its place was a mace fastened to his forearm Rysh cocked his head to the side, trying to figure out how he knew the man.
Valcor saw Rysh’s confusion, stepping in to explain. “Rysh, I believe you’ve already met my friend here.”
Realization hit Rysh as the man raised his head to look Rysh in the eye. “Don?”
Don let a rare smile crease his lips. “It’s been a long time.”
31
Two guards marched down the hallway, torches guiding their way. The light gave them a false sense of security, as it hindered their night vision. Tyrell was able to stalk from door to door without being seen. He finally arrived at the door he was searching for.
Before they left Castle Mordin, Tyrell had found some of his mother’s journals. He had searched through them for some idea of what could have happened to her, when he finally found some notes about visiting a strange man in the dungeons of Daleon.
Tyrell didn’t know where these dungeons were located exac
tly, but he assumed that an armed guard patrolling the hallways was probably a good sign that he was close.
He worked his way in and out of corridors, going farther and farther into the castle. As he rounded a bend, he came across a dead end hallway. Discouraged, he turned to backtrack when a sliver of light caught his eye.
Tyrell slowly walked down the hallway to the back wall, reaching out his hand. Even though this wall was made of stone, it felt warm to the touch. The wall disappeared before his eyes, causing him to jump back in surprise. Where the wall once stood was now a large wooden door.
Tyrell peeked back down the hall to make sure no guards had followed him. Seeing the coast was clear, he moved closer to examine the door. There was no handle or lock. Tyrell slowly reached his hand toward the door on impulse, feeling a tingling sensation emanate from his fingertips.
A rush of heat ran through Tyrell’s whole body as he came in contact with the door. As he placed his palm on the wood the door slowly creaked open, revealing a chamber beyond.
He stepped through the door, looking around the strange room. Bookshelves covered each wall, full of dust-covered books and cobwebs. There were a few small tables scattered about the room with different objects on them, seemingly without order. In the very center of the room was a large desk with a map laid out on it. Tyrell was surprised to find no dust on the desk.
Someone was in here very recently, he told himself.
“Can I help you?” Tyrell jumped at the words. He turned quickly, instinctively drawing a dagger from his belt. Lady Allison Velmar stood in the doorway, watching him with her piercing eyes.
“What are you doing here?” Tyrell demanded. His voice shook with surprise and worry.
Lady Velmar smiled at the young man. “I should be asking why you are here. How did you find this place?” Tyrell hesitated, the dagger shaking in his hand. He wasn’t sure if he should fight or run. Allison stepped closer to Tyrell, well within the reach of his dagger. “Put that dagger down before you hurt yourself,” she demanded. Her voice was strong and dangerous.
