“Your maid told me you were fast asleep in your chamber. I told her to let you rest awhile before making your bath. Do you feel better?”
Omylia did not answer his question but replied with another question of her own. “Do you remember that squire boy, the one I studied with as a child?”
Hanley looked at her with confusion for a moment before nodding his head in remembrance. “The scrawny one?”
“Terryn Lysander. Yes.” Normally, Omylia would laugh to hear Terryn called ‘scrawny’ but today, it brought tears to her eyes. “He is dead.”
Hanley’s gaze dropped and he shook his head in sorrow. “I am sorry, Omylia.” She knew that Hanley never knew Terryn very well and his sorrow was merely for her sake. She wiped away her tears and took a seat next to Hanley in front of the hearth.
“How did it happen?” Hanley asked as he grasped her hand and gently began to stroke it.
“I do not know. I had a dream, or vision, though my visions are not so much visions as they are feelings.” She turned her gaze away from Hanley to look at the flames. “All I know is that he has passed on and he was in a great deal of pain when he died.”
“Terryn was a good man.” Hanley replied, trying anything to lift Omylia’s spirits.
“He was a fool.” She said softly. “I told him not to work for the King. He could have been a squire for any Lord or Protector. He should have listened to me.” Omylia thought on her words then let out a small chuckle. “Listen to what I am saying!” She said loudly, throwing her arms up into the air as she did so. “I chose to be Sorceress for Lady Ashryn and look at where I ended up- locked in a dark, cramped, moldy tower room!” Omylia laughed at herself. “Apparently, I am not good at predicting the future; otherwise I never would have come here.”
“You are here because you knew this is where you belong. Someone had to warn Lady Ashryn and Protector Zane.”
“And did they heed my warning?” She asked in mockery. She knew they hadn’t. Her warning was the reason she had been locked away out of sight. Lady Ashryn would not listen to Omylia’s ‘paranoid assumption’ as she had put it.
“No, they did not.” Hanley replied.
“And now they are dead, aren’t they?” She asked, though she already knew the answer.
“Aye.” Hanley replied softly.
Omylia turned her gaze back to the fire and watched it dance joyously before her eyes. She felt the slow creeping of a smile begin to take shape. It felt wrong to feel so jubilated at a time such as this but Omylia could not resist. Finally, her future was looking brighter than ever and when she turned back to Hanley, she could do nothing to hide the smile on her face.
“Do you know what this means, Hanley?” She asked in a whisper. She was surprised when she saw a smile spread across his face as well.
“With no heirs and no Protector, Bhrys belongs to you now.”
“And to you.” She said, placing a hand gently on his knee. “You are the new Protector of Bhrys.”
Chapter 4
Lord Ivran sat with his scroll rolled out before him, carefully studying the names he had checked off. Most everyone who promised to meet up with his army had already arrived. He had received word yesterday from Lord Guyon Arnet of Elipol and Protector Thomelin Northway of Nid that they were marching and would join his ranks soon.
“We have Tanis, Lerous, Ylia, Laydon has recently joined us, Elipol and Nid are both on their way, no word from Bhrys as of yet and I fear something terrible has happened there. Eres and Adona have both failed to respond as has Hely, but then again, Lady Ivette has locked herself in her own tower and refused to emerge for six years. I was holding hope that Protector Nicholaus would take charge but he has been mute thus far.” Ivran scratched at his head and sighed. “I am afraid all those who have not responded may have joined ranks with the other side. If Bhrys has joined with Axendra, the two alone would be nearly impossible for us to defeat. It would be suicide if the others have joined as well.” Lord Ivran had feared this all along but never made light of it to anyone. Now that he said it aloud, to the Lords and Protectors and Captains who surrounded him, he realized how dire their situation could be.
“My Lord,” Protector Raibyr Raynold stood. He held to the hilt of his sword as though he expected an enemy to jump at him at any moment. His eyes were dark in color but the light from the fire danced within them, causing them to shine. “I find this news of Bhrys you bare to be most disturbing. If all the others have joined the King, it will not matter so long as Bhrys does not. We should send scouts to find out why they have failed to answer the call of war.”
“I agree.” Protector Stanwyck Wymon replied. He stood too and glanced around the fire at all who were present. “I suggest we also send spies into Axendra to find out who has joined their ranks. It would be better going into battle knowing what we are up against rather than rushing in blindly.”
“And what of the High Protector? Has there been any news of her whereabouts?” Lord Doran Caster asked. Unlike the others who had spoken, he remained seated. All of them looked to Lord Ivran for the answer.
“There has been no sight or sound of her.” He answered regretfully. “She traveled to Tyos over a month ago to aid the people there but no one has heard of her since.”
“Perhaps she befell ill luck on her journey.” Lord Doran replied. “Perhaps she is dead. Though the news would be a relief, I would like the chance myself to face her on the battlefield.”
“Just because she has failed to make an appearance does not mean we should assume her dead. And you better hope she does not make it to the battlefield. For if you were to meet her there, I’m certain it would mean the end of you!” Lord Onas Tibbott interjected. He stayed seated as well but glowered across the flames of the fire at Lord Doran. “You have seen with your very eyes what she is capable of- as have I.”
“Lord Onas is right. Let us hope we can take the kingdom before she returns, then we will hunt her down to all corners of the realm! No matter where she runs, she will not escape. We will not stop until she is found.” Lord Ivran added.
All the men shouted their approvals at Lord Ivran’s words. He beamed down to his new council with pride, knowing in his heart they would be victorious. He could not explain his newly-found optimism but he was glad for it.
Ivran waited until all were seated around the fire once more before continuing. “Very well then. I shall take volunteers to travel to Bhrys and Axendra. Is there anyone brave enough?” He looked around at the men encouragingly. It was Lord Doran Caster who stood first and nodded his head.
“I shall travel to Bhrys to find out what has happened there. I will speed word back as soon as I can.”
Lord Ivran gave Lord Doran a nod and he sat back down. Protector Raibyr stood next and spoke loud enough for all the men to hear; “I do not think Lord Doran should travel alone. I will accompany him, if he allows it.”
“I shall.” Lord Doran replied with a courteous smile.
“Very well.” Lord Ivran replied, making a note of it on his scroll with his quill. “And what of Axendra? Does anyone dare travel there?”
It was Protector Stanwyck who stood this time. He looked to Lord Ivran with pride and said; “I shall be honored to spy on Axendra for you, my Lord.” Lord Ivran found that he could not help but smile at Protector Stanwyck.
“Your enthusiasm is most encouraging.” He said and Stanwyck returned the smile before sitting back down.
“And who will volunteer to travel with him?” Lord Ivran asked surveying the men before him. When no one stood or spoke a word, his heart began to beat with anger. Are the rest of these men such cowards they will not do this small task I ask of them? He waited a few more moments before asking again; “Who would be as honored as Protector Stanwyck to travel to Axendra for the good of the rebellion?” With this question, the eyes of those who remained without volunteering were cast at the fire or down towards the ground but none dared look Lord Ivran directly in the eyes.
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��Someone must go and it cannot be me!” Lord Ivran said in anger but still no one looked up to him. He was about to throw down his quill and begin shouting at his men when a deep voice from beyond the flames called to them; “I will accompany Protector Stanwyck!”
All the men turned at the sudden interruption of their council and saw a tall burly man, with a long dark beard and bright blue eyes, standing in the dark beyond the fire. His clothes seemed worn and tattered, telling Lord Ivran that he was not a soldier but a peasant who had joined their ranks, but as he continued to look the man over, he noticed the long sword that was strapped to his back and knew it was no peasant’s blade.
“That was very brave of you to volunteer, sir. Tell me, what is your name?” Lord Ivran asked as the man drew closer.
“My name is Tirdan Mul’kal and I am from South Fort.” He bowed his head graciously before Lord Ivran, then turned to Lord Doran and bowed as well, saying ‘milord’ softly.
Lord Ivran waited for Tirdan to stand tall once more then asked; “and what sort of combat training have you had?”
“My father was a soldier, as was his father before him. He taught me everything he knew and he taught me well.”
“Tell me, Tirdan Mul’kal,” Lord Doran interrupted, “were you fighting alongside us in the first rebellion?”
“I was.” Tirdan replied with pride. “When the High Protector led her army to South Fort, I defended to the best of my ability. My home and farm were burned but we have rebuilt.”
“And is this the reason you have joined today, for revenge?” Lord Ivran asked with curiosity.
Tirdan shook his head. “I am a humble man, my Lord. I have a farm, a wife and children. I live to protect and to serve them. I will be honest with you, I have other reasons for wanting to travel to Axendra, though those reasons will not get in the way of my duties, I can assure you.”
“And what are these other reasons you have for traveling to Axendra?” Lord Doran asked with skepticism. He glowered at Tirdan from across the fire, as though the man had given him some reason to distrust him.
“My wife.” Tirdan replied softly. He lowered his head in sadness as though he was trying to fight back tears.
“I know who you are!” Lord Ivran said. He could not help but notice the look of surprise or was it fear? Tirdan shot at him then. He ignored it and continued; “you are that soldier traveling with his sick wife. My men have told me about you.”
Tirdan gave Lord Ivran a nod and replied; “that is me. My wife is dreadfully ill and I fear if I do not get her to the healers in Axendra soon, she will die.”
Protector Stanwyck stood once more and looked Tirdan up and down before asking; “will bringing her along slow us down?” He did not ask with anger or fear, but with a soft, kind voice. Lord Ivran knew that Stanwyck was a good-hearted man who wanted to help the poor farmer, but he was also a man who would put his duties first- no matter what.
Tirdan shrugged his shoulders before answering; “Tis true I cannot gallop with her sharing my saddle. But if I am correct, we are very close to Axendra and it would not take more than two days at our horses’ slowest pace. Your men from Bhrys will certainly take much longer than that to arrive back at camp.”
Lord Ivran chuckled with the knowledge that this man had been eavesdropping on their council since the beginning. He could not be angry with the farmer for his courage and determination.
“You are quite correct Tirdan. You and Protector Stanwyck will return days before Lord Doran and Protector Raibyr. And if we can help a fellow soldier, who has risked his life more than once for our cause, I say it is our duty.” He looked back to Tirdan and smiled warmly at the man. “You shall accompany Protector Stanwyck and may the Gods take pity on your dear, sick wife.”
Tirdan bowed low once more to Lord Ivran and thanked him several times before standing tall.
“You should all pack at once and leave as soon as you can. Our camp will not move from this spot until you have returned safely.”
When the council dispersed, Lord Ivran stood silently to watch his men scurry away to their tents. Those who were not leaving camp shuffled slowly to the ale casks and began pouring themselves a drink. Then his eyes fell upon Tirdan as he was hurrying back to his tent. It was close to the fire and Lord Ivran suddenly knew how it was he had been able to hear their conversation without being seen.
Out of curiosity, Ivran began walking towards Tirdan’s tent and when he found himself outside the door, he called out- “May I enter, Tirdan?” There was silence for a moment then the sound of shuffling and scrambling. He stood patiently, waiting for permission to enter.
“Come in, my Lord.” Tirdan shouted back and Lord Ivran hastily threw aside the tent flap and entered the small space.
Instantly, his nose crinkled from the smoke of the small fire that burned in the center of the enclosed space. His eyes began to water but he wiped the tears away and looked around. Besides a few traveling packs, there was nothing inside but some fur blankets, and Ivran could clearly see the outline of someone lying within. Tirdan sat on the dirt floor next to the blankets, stroking a hand that protruded from underneath.
Lord Ivran smiled at the sweet gesture, knowing this man must love his wife above all else. It made his thoughts turn to Meira, the woman he loved more than anything- the woman he was risking his life for and suddenly, he understood what poor Tirdan felt. He knew then he would travel into the heart of their enemy, risking his very life if it meant giving his ill wife a chance.
“I wanted to thank you for your bravery. It seems not even my own council dares travel to Axendra but you, a farmer, have no fear of the place.”
“My desire to save my wife outweighs my fear, my Lord.” He replied as he gently set his wife’s hand down.
“Of course it does.” Lord Ivran answered. He took a few steps closer and tried to get a good look at Tirdan’s wife but every part of her was covered with the blankets, except her hand.
“What is her name?” He asked with curiosity. He wished to show Tirdan that he genuinely cared for his people.
“Eva.” Tirdan whispered, turning his gaze to her covered face and smiling.
“And what ails her?”
Tirdan looked down to her with sadness and Lord Ivran could see that he was fighting back tears.
“No one is certain. None of the healers in South Fort or Laydon could tell me what her sickness is. They all told me to take her to Axendra. That is where the best healers in the entire realm reside.”
“They are also the most expensive healers in the entire realm. Can you afford such an expense?” He asked with concern.
“I will do whatever it takes to save her- even if that means spending every copper I have to my name.”
“I’m afraid copper will not be enough. They will want gold. They will not even set eyes on her unless you present the gold to them first. Forgive me for seeming so blunt, but I do not think a farmer from South Fort would be able to afford such a thing.”
Tirdan turned his gaze to Lord Ivran and replied- “My father was quite a successful merchant, I inherited some from him.”
“Will it be enough?” Ivran asked. He worried he may have offended Tirdan but he wanted to make certain the poor man did not make this journey in vain.
“It will have to be.” Tirdan replied with a soft voice.
Without speaking another word, Lord Ivran turned and left Tirdan’s tent. He walked briskly to his own where he found his wife sleeping peacefully in her bed. He smiled down at her beautiful face, trying not to imagine his life without her.
Moving quietly so he would not wake her, he began rummaging through his pack until he found his coin purse. Quickly he turned and walked back to Tirdan’s tent where he found the poor man sitting exactly where he had left him.
He walked closer to Tirdan and set the coin purse next to him on the blankets. Tirdan blinked down at it for a moment, obviously confused by Lord Ivran’s kind gesture.
“In case what you have i
s not enough, there should be plenty of gold in there to satisfy those greedy healers.”
Cautiously, as though the coin purse was a poison, Tirdan reached down and lifted it closer to his face. He seemed stunned by the weight of the purse, knowing it was full of gold.
“My Lord! I… I am speechless.” He said, never taking his eyes off the purse. “I thank you kindly with all my heart but I cannot accept this!” He held the purse back to Lord Ivran who shook his head at it.
“Nonsense.” He replied, refusing to take the gold back. “I have plenty to spare. You take that gold and you get your wife the help she needs. That is a direct order from me to you.” He turned on his heel to leave but before he reached the tent flap, he stopped abruptly and turned his head slightly at the sight of something he had seen with the corner of his eye.
It was the hilt of a sword, standing out above the traveling packs it had been shoved behind. He took a step closer to study it.
He spun back around and looked to Tirdan in confusion, noticing the long sword that was still strapped to his back.
“What kind of farmer’s family is lucky enough to own two swords?” This he asked with suspicion. A good sword was hard to come by, even for a Lord, but two swords was nigh impossible. He could understand a blade that was forged years ago, passed down from father to son over the course of a few generations. Though some families lose their inheritance over the years, most are reluctant to part with their swords if they had one.
Tirdan’s eyes darted from the half-hidden sword back to Lord Ivran. Ivran studied the man’s gaze carefully but saw no sign of panic. He suddenly relaxed, knowing whatever his explanation was, it would be true.
“My wife’s uncle gave that to me to trade for some gold, in case I needed the extra money for the healers.”
Lord Ivran nodded his head in understanding as he looked back to the blade. “Mind if I take a look at it? I could probably tell you what it is worth.”
Rise of Darkness (The Watchers Book 2) Page 4
