This was her moment to decide where her loyalties truly lie. She would wait for Mayvard to return to her safely then the two of them could escape. Where they would go, she did not know but first, she had to deal with those who had helped destroy everything good in this realm. It was her duty, after so many years of aiding the enemy, to help bring the enemy down. She was not certain how she would do it, but she would lay the King and Queen at Lord Ivran’s feet. She would stand witness as they were punished for their crimes against the realm and she vowed right then and there that she would find a way to bring justice to Rhada as well. Rhada was the disease the King used to spread over the land, infecting the people. She was the reason the people rebelled and she would have to suffer above all else.
Chapter 8
Lord Ivran smiled down at his waking wife and when the morning sun shone into their camp, illuminating her face, he could not resist leaning over and kissing her gently on the forehead. Her brown eyes sparkled in the bright light of day like gems under a burning sun.
“Good morning, my sweet Lady.” He whispered into her ear. She smiled back at him and placed a hand on his cheek.
“You did not sleep again last night.” She could see dark circles behind his eyes and knew he had sat outside with the fire until it was nothing more than cinder and ash.
“I have too much on my mind.” He replied and he stood and turned away from her. He reached for his waterskin and filled his mouth with cold, fresh water.
“You always have too much on your mind.” She said sadly. She sat up and pushed the blankets away from her, stretched her arms above her head and stood. Ivran held the waterskin out for her and she took a long drink before replacing the cap and setting it aside. She reached out and placed her hands on his shoulders, looking deep into his eyes. “Will you ever sleep again?” She asked.
Lord Ivran sighed, knowing he was worrying her. He wished to tell her that he would be alright- that in the end it will all have been worth it. Every sleepless night and every heart-wrenching day would pay off but he himself was uncertain if that were true. He did not know whether a happy ending or a terrible fate awaited him in the next few weeks. And no matter how much he wished to put his restless wife’s mind at ease, he could not lie to her. He had never acquired the ability to lie to her. She was his partner in life. How could he expect her to stand by his side at all times if he was not completely honest at all times; even if that meant driving a dagger of worry right into her heart.
“I shall rest again when the realm is safe.” It was all he could bring himself to say. Meira sighed, leaned forward and kissed his forehead.
“The people of Kaena are lucky to have you as their leader.” Lord Ivran wished he could believe her words.
He turned away from her and began to make his way out of the tent when she stopped him and said; “I am going to wash in the river this morning. Would you like to join me?”
Ivran shook his head. “I have too many things to do today.” He replied. He almost felt the burning of her disappointed gaze in the back of his skull and when he turned to face her, the sorrowful eyes that met his gaze were irresistible. He knew he had been neglecting her and decided spending the morning with her was something he desperately needed.
“Perhaps a rinse in the fresh water will rejuvenate me.” He added and her frown turned into a smile instantly. He let her take his hand and lead him out of the tent, down the hill and towards the river that ran along their camp. They walked along the bank for quite some time until they found an area where the river ran through a grove of weeping willows. Here they stopped, shed their clothing and stepped into the cool water together. Instantly Ivran’s toes went numb and he found it difficult to walk in all the way. Meira, on the other hand, did not fear the cold water and she let her body slide in with grace. She disappeared underneath the river completely and Ivran knew he had to follow her. He took in a deep breath and felt every muscle in his body tense as the cold water reached higher and higher. He lost his footing and he was swimming against the current.
When Meira emerged, she had floated even farther into the trees and Lord Ivran began to follow, making certain to slip his head underneath just once to wet his smoke-filled hair. When he reached her, she smiled and grasped him by the shoulders.
“My darling, you are frozen!” She said with surprise. The cold water did not seem to have the same effect on Meira as it did on him and she began to wrap her body around his. She tightened her legs around his waist and wrapped her arms around his neck. She leaned forward and kissed him passionately on the lips and soon he completely forgot about the cold.
They floated for longer than either of them could remember, locked in their embrace. When they came upon shallow water, Ivran pushed Meira into the soft grass of the river bank. She never loosened her grip on him as they made love. She leaned her head back and cried out in ecstasy and he felt as though his entire body would collapse. He realized that he could not remember the last time they had made love. His mind had been filled with war and worry and never had he been able to make time for her. He had forgotten how amazing being so close to his wife could feel and soon he was crying out with the same ecstasy Meira felt.
Time crawled by without any meaning in those moments of passion. Afterward, they both lie on the river bank for a while, staring up into the late morning sky. Ivran kept one arm stretched underneath her neck and Meira stroked his fingers lightly. The smile on her face never faded as they lie there in silence.
Finally, Ivran spoke. The guilt he felt over ignoring his wife for so long was too much for him to bear. “I am sorry I have not been paying much attention to you lately.”
“Please,” Meira began. She turned her head to look him in the eyes and continued to smile. “Do not apologize to me. I know why you have been distracted and I find it admirable. I am more attracted to you now than I have ever been before.”
It was an hour before the two of them stood and made their way back to where they had left their clothes. Meira dressed Ivran first then Ivran helped Meira step into her gown. They walked hand-in-hand back to the camp, neither of them wishing for the morning to end. It had been a blissful release for Lord Ivran and suddenly, his optimism returned. He could not help but feel the entire world was on his side that morning and nothing could stand in the way of their victory.
When they approached the camp, Meira kissed him one last time before leaving him to do his work. She spent her days with the other wives, cooking wonderfully delicious meals for him and his army. Every night the wives made certain all the men were well fed and Ivran was more grateful to them than he was of most his soldiers.
He watched her go for a moment, finding it hard to take his eyes off her, thinking about what a wonderful Queen she would make. It wasn’t until he heard his name being called from the fire pit that he turned his gaze away. He saw Lord Onas sitting alone, staring at him. Ivran smiled warmly at the old man and made his way to the fire. It seemed as though someone had tried to restart it but all that remained was a small billowing tendril of smoke that rose into the bright morning light and disappeared.
Lord Ivran took a seat next to Lord Onas who handed him a waterskin. Lord Ivran realized how thirsty he had become after his morning swim and put the waterskin to his lips for a much needed drink. Instantly the harsh liquid from within burned his tongue and throat and he could not help but cough to choke down the spirit.
“Too early in the ‘morn for you, huh?” Lord Onas said, trying to oppress his laughter.
“I was expecting water.” Lord Ivran replied and he handed the waterskin back to the old man.
Lord Onas took a long drink of the spirit and licked his lips when he was done then set the waterskin aside.
“At my age, that drink is the only thing that keeps me going. I have to give my body a good shock every now and again in order to stay awake.” He chuckled at this and Lord Ivran smiled as well. He realized he had no right to judge the poor old man. Lord Onas had been through many
tough times in his life.
“So then,” Lord Onas began, “I see we got everyone off last night well and good?”
Lord Ivran nodded his head. “Yes. Lord Doran and Protector Raibyr are on their way to Bhrys and Protector Stanwyck and Tirdan are making their way to Axendra.” Lord Ivran could not help but notice the dissatisfied look on Lord Onas’s face at the mention of Tirdan’s name. “Is something the matter?” He asked with curiosity.
“I am not sure that I feel comfortable sending Stanwyck with this Tirdan fellow. What do we even know about the man?”
“I know that his wife is sick and he is determined to get her to the healers, even if it means risking his own life. I find him admirable.”
“And how do we even know that person he travels with is his wife?” Lord Onas asked with skepticism.
“I saw her with my own eyes.” Lord Ivran said with some annoyance. He could not understand why Lord Onas seemed so determined to turn Tirdan into an enemy.
“Did you see her face?” Lord Onas asked as he took another swig from his waterskin.
“No.” Lord Ivran admitted. “Her face was covered with a blanket. I did not ask to see her in case she was covered in a pox or some such thing. I did not want to embarrass the poor man.”
“It just seemed odd to me that a man who knows his duty is to protect his land would bring a sick wife to war with him. That is not a proper thing for a soldier to do, now is it?”
“Well, Tirdan is not a proper soldier. He is a farmer from South Fort.”
“I am not convinced.” Lord Onas said spitefully.
“And why not?” Lord Ivran asked. He was beginning to think he would not be able to bear Lord Onas’s questioning any longer.
“Did you see his hands? They were soft and smooth- not a flake of dry skin on them and his skin had not a single sun spot visible to the eye. That is not exactly the physique of a man who has been plowing fields for years. And something else, he reminds me of someone I knew many years ago, a man by the name of Natharian Stoneward.”
Lord Ivran tilted his head slightly at Lord Onas and gave him a curious look. “That does not mean anything.”
“Perhaps not. But he is a spitting image I would say.” Lord Onas took another sip from his waterskin. “And another thing- how does a farmer have the coin to pay for a decent healer from Axendra?”
“He had a small inheritance from his father, plus I felt so poorly for the man, I gave him what coin I had on me as well.”
“That was very generous of you, but why would he bother making the journey at all if he knew he could not pay for it?” Lord Onas’s skepticism was beginning to worry Lord Ivran. He began to wonder the same thing until he remembered the sword.
“Actually, he had a rather expensive looking sword with him.”
“Yes, I saw it on his back. Impressive.” Lord Onas replied.
“No, this was a different sword he had in his tent. It was sharp and made from the finest steel I have ever seen. A bit worn from wear, rusted, but well made all the same. He said he had acquired it through his wife’s uncle who gave it to Tirdan for trade, in case he hadn’t enough coin to pay the healers.”
Finally, Lord Onas nodded his head in resignation. “I suppose the man was telling the truth then. Perhaps my eyes deceive me or it is just by pure coincidence the man looks so much like the old Captain.”
Lord Ivran nodded as well and suddenly the inscription on the sword came flooding back to his memory. He was uncertain of the reason, but the words bubbled in the back of his throat and made their way out of his lips.
“Lim canarte bae elei.” He whispered.
Lord Onas shifted in his seat at these words, leaned closer to Lord Ivran and asked; “What was that you said?”
“Lim canarte bae elei.” He repeated a little louder for Lord Onas’s old ears to hear. “It was the inscription written on the sword.”
“In blood we rise.” Lord Onas replied. Lord Ivran turned his full attention to the old man and stared at him in disbelief. “That is the direct translation of the inscription.” Lord Onas told him. Lord Ivran could not help feeling anger towards the smug look on Lord Onas’s face. It was a look of knowing that he had been right all along.
“No!” Lord Ivran shouted. He stood now and grasped angrily at his beard. “That cannot be! What a fool I am!” He turned and rushed to Tirdan’s empty tent and once inside, stood in disbelief.
Lord Onas shuffled his feet carefully as he walked into the tent as well and stood by Lord Ivran’s side.
“She was here!” Lord Ivran cried out, pointing to the mess of blankets that lay on the ground, no longer concealing a traitor from his eyes. “She was right here and I let her go! I could have killed her with my own hands but I let her go!” Lord Ivran could hardly believe the harsh truth that was now undeniable. The air around him began to thicken, making it hard to breathe.
“Then we now know who Tirdan really is. Captain Mayvard Stoneward. That is not a face we shall soon be forgetting.” Lord Onas said.
Lord Ivran moved closer to the pile of blankets, knelt down and lifted his still full but abandoned coin purse.
“I sent Protector Stanwyck off alone with the enemy.” He whispered. His hands shook from anger and disbelief. Most of his anger was towards himself. He wondered how he could ever live with himself should something happen to Stanwyck.
“What will you do?” Lord Onas asked.
Lord Ivran stood slowly, clutching to the coin purse, squeezing it tightly without realizing he was hurting his own hand.
“I shall go after her myself.” He said through gritted teeth. He could not allow her to spy on him and then run free. He would catch up to them- he would find Rhada and with his own, mighty sword, he would slay the greatest enemy the realm had ever known.
Chapter 9
Heavy clouds rolled in earlier that evening, preventing any light from the sun reaching the world below. Now that night had come, the clouds had thickened and shrouded the land in an even heavier darkness. There was not even a sliver of the moon to guide Valindra’s way as she trudged slowly down the deserted corridor. All she had to light her path was a small candle she had taken from Myranda’s bedside table. The flame flickered and threatened to go out at any moment. At best, it only let her see a few steps ahead but she kept her eyes averted to the doors she passed.
Myranda had told her to travel down six floors then enter the fourth room on the right. Valindra had only been in this corridor when traveling to the maids’ privy, and even then she never dared go at night. As a child, Valindra had suffered a terrible fear of the dark and that fear followed her into adulthood. This particular corridor had very few windows to light her path and on a night such as this, the darkness was heavy.
But this was not a time to let her fear get the better of her. Myranda had trusted her with a task- one that was of the utmost importance. Even as she crept along, she could think of nothing else but the poor prisoner who awaited her. Not even her fear of the dark entered her mind. She focused on the wall and counted ‘three’ as she passed the third door. She wondered briefly what was behind all these doors- if perhaps there were more prisoners stuffed away from sight. She could not stop to check, however. Time was precious in these few moments. Myranda warned her that guards would most likely be patrolling the hallways and if she was caught, she had to tell them she was on her way to the privy and abandon the plan.
“Four.” She said aloud without realizing. She stood outside the door for a moment, studying the wood and the hinges and noticing they had rusted. She realized this particular room had not been used in years.
Carefully, she pushed the door open and was surprised when it only creaked a little. She stepped into the dark room and shut the door quickly behind her.
Immediately her nostrils flared with the foul stench of the room. She reached a hand up and pinched her nose closed, trying to avoid getting sick. She wondered how the Queen could stand to come in here and do such horrible things
to this man with this stench lingering around her. Then she realized the foul room must have been part of the torture. She could not imagine the horror of being locked away in a room of your own filth week after week.
Bravely, she took a few steps closer to the bed and watched as the light from her flame moved up his body and to his face. She stood over Emeric for a moment and tried her best to fight back the tears that pooled in her eyes. Even when the light from her candle reached his face, he did not stir. His eyes were shut and his mouth was open. He breathed heavily into the stale air, as though with each breath, he could not quite fill his lungs. His arms, which had been tightly tied to the bed posts, shook with each exhale and Valindra could plainly see where his wrists had been cut and bruised by the ropes that held them. Blood had run down the length of his arms and pooled onto the sheets below and was now dry and flaking. His hair and beard grew wildly around his face, having not been shaved in some time. But underneath all the hair and filth, Valindra saw a handsome man. His skin was soft and delicate, like that of a young boy. His jaw was strong, giving an almost stern look to his face without taking away the kindness of his eyes.
Valindra set her candle on the table and sat down next to him on the bed. She pulled the waterskin, which was strapped around her shoulder, over her head and yanked the lid off. Gently, she reached a hand underneath Emeric’s head and lifted it off the pillow. He did not open his eyes at her touch but he let out a low moan. She tipped the waterskin over his lips and poured in a slow stream of fresh, cold water.
Rise of Darkness (The Watchers Book 2) Page 7
