Captain Theodoric shifted in his chair and cleared away the dryness of his throat before answering.
“You shall receive that opportunity, my Lord. The King has called all his banners to him. It seems that a disturbance has arisen and the city must be protected.”
A disturbance! Lord Guyon scoffed silently so the Captain could not hear. He calls our war a disturbance. The forces that were rising against the crown had frightened the King. Elsewise, why would he send his entire army to intimidate Bhrys? He is desperate because all his banners have turned against him.
“I have heard rumors of a new rebellion.” Lady Omylia interjected. “Lady Ashryn rode south to offer her services to the King.”
“I will not speak of Lady Ashryn.” Captain Theodoric replied gruffly.
“Of course.” Lady Omylia tensed for a moment in her chair and this time, it was Lord Guyon who grasped her hand to help calm her down.
“King Firion wished for me to remind you that Lady Ashryn had signed a contract, offering her army to the King should he ever have need of it. I have come here to tell you that the contract is still valid and the King has need of your army now.”
“There was no need for the King to send all his men to me. I understand the contract and advised Lady Ashryn against her betrayal. I do not intent to make the same mistake.” Lady Omylia ripped her hand free of her husband’s grasp and stood. “And the King should be pleased to know that Lord Guyon and I have joined our forces together. So not only will he have my army at his side, but he shall have the army of Elipol as well.”
“The King shall be most pleased by that news.” Captain Theodoric said with a smile. “We must make haste and return to Axendra. My men may rest for the day but we will begin our march home in the morning. I expect your soldiers to be armed and waiting at the gates.”
“You will not be disappointed, Captain.”
Lord Guyon stood as the Captain stood and stared across the room at him with hard eyes; anger beginning to boil beneath the surface. As he turned to his new wife, the anger grew red hot in his face and it took all his strength not to shout at her right then.
Lady Omylia snapped her fingers and the servants retreated from the walls and stepped into the center of the room.
“Take these men to the guest quarters and make certain they are comfortable. The Captain may have my room for tonight.
‘Captain,” she turned her attention to Theodoric, “should you have need of me or my husband we will be in the keep. All you must do is call upon us.”
“I shall.” Theodoric said and he turned to go. The servants darted from the room as well and led Captain Theodoric and his men down the corridor to the spare chambers. Though the castle of Bhrys was smaller than most, it did not lack in private chambers. There would be plenty room and more for all of the Captain’s men.
Once the room was emptied, save for Lord Guyon and his wife, Protector Josef and Hanley, whose presence was unknown until he stepped out from a dark corner of the room he had been lurking in, Lord Guyon spun around and faced his wife. His fists balled up in his anger and somehow, she seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.
“Fear not, my dear husband. I have not betrayed you. You and I made a pact yesterday and I intent to stay true to my word.”
“How? By sending both our armies to aid the enemy?” Lord Guyon could hardly form the words as his jaw clenched in rage.
“We shall send our armies to the enemy, not to aid them.” Lady Omylia formed a sly smile on her lips and suddenly, Lord Guyon understood. His jaw and fists relaxed all at once and all the tense muscles in his body gave a shudder as the anger melted away.
“Do you think they will suspect anything?” He asked her in a calmer voice.
Lady Omylia shook her head. “None of them will, save the High Protector. Her sword gives her the ability to see danger when it is close at hand but how much she will suspect, I cannot say.” Lady Omylia leaned backwards and turned her gaze to Hanley. She smiled warmly at the tall man and brought a gentle hand up to his cheek.
“Hanley knows what has to be done. I have discussed with him the necessity of his duty. He will lead the army and they will not fail in their task.”
“Task?” Lord Guyon asked confused. “What task? What have you been plotting behind my back?”
“Not behind your back.” Lady Omylia replied defensively. “I had a vision late last night and since you and I were not to see each other until the wedding ceremony, I decided to wait before giving you the details.” She stepped away from Lord Guyon and Hanley and reached for a wine flagon that had been carelessly set upon the mantle of the hearth. She grabbed the nearest goblet and poured herself a drink, not thinking to offer any of the sweet red to anyone else. When she brought the goblet back down, she licked the wine from her lips and sighed with satisfaction.
“I see two rats.” She said with closed eyes. She stood with one hand grasping her goblet and the other resting upon the mantle for balance. “They have burrowed their way into the city without proper authorization and scampered into the nearest tavern, afraid that the Axendrian dogs will sniff them out. Your job, my Lord husband, is to seek out these rats and tell them all that I am about to tell you.” She opened her eyes once again and drank the remainder of her wine. She walked back to her husband and grasped both his hands in hers.
“Come with me.” She said and she began to pull him from the main hall. “We must not speak of it here. The tower will give us the privacy we need and I shall tell you all that I have seen.”
Chapter 18
Lord Doran’s ale had grown warm in his hands. He had lost all interest in the beverage about halfway through drinking it and now sat spinning the glass round and round lethargically, staring at the dwindling bubbles and thinking of nothing but his impending doom.
He knew that he had been the one to insist they sneak into Bhrys and try to convince Lady Omylia to ignore the threats of Axendra. But as he and Protector Raibyr shuffled through the impossible maze of hardened warriors’ bodies, he soon realized that if the army of Axendra had come to Laydon and threatened him, he would join their ranks without a second thought. Denying their true strength was impossible.
As they entered the tavern and settled into the only available table, he slunk down into a fit of despair and refused to speak to anyone, including Protector Raibyr. Raibyr had obviously felt the same way and did not even try to strike up a conversation. The two men ordered their ales in a whisper of anger then waited in silence until they were dropped down in front of them.
The tavern quickly filled with the army of Axendra and Lord Doran shrunk even lower into his chair, hoping none of them would recognize him. After a while, he realized that amongst the noisy chatter and drunken warriors, he was invisible and began to feel his tense muscles relax. Still, he twirled his half-empty ale glass in his hands, not daring to take another sip lest he lose his senses. Protector Raibyr, on the other hand, finished his ale in only a few, large gulps and swiftly ordered another.
The two men had sat in their hopeless fit of despair for nearly three hours before the tavern began to empty and the room around them had quieted down. Lord Doran looked up and saw only a few remaining soldiers, hiding in darkened corners and cradling their ales in their hands as though they were the last ales they would ever drink. They very well may be their last. Lord Doran realized. Tomorrow, the two armies of Axendra and Bhrys would ride for Axendra and war. Some of these soldiers he now looked upon would not survive. He looked down to his own ale, warm and flat in his unmoving hands, and sighed regretfully. More than likely, this is my last ale as well. He brought the glass to his lips and though normally he would never drink an ale after it had become so warm, he drank the rest of the contents down in three large gulps. He slammed the empty glass back on the table and turned his gaze to Protector Raibyr who had lifted his head at the sound of the glass hitting the wood.
“Perhaps we should head back to camp.” Raibyr said in a solemn voice. �
��It may be best to deliver the bad news to Lord Ivran as quickly as possible.”
Lord Doran nodded his head and looked away from Protector Raibyr. He was not ready to admit defeat, but as he looked at the soldiers surrounding him, he knew they had no choice.
“Perhaps you are right.” He said. He finally let go of the ale glass after hours of holding onto it and slowly stood. He stretched the stiff muscles of his legs and waited for the tingling to stop in his sleeping toes before taking a step away from the table.
Protector Raibyr did the same and the two men began slowly shuffling their way through the tavern together. When they reached the door, however, they both stopped in sudden amazement as they came face-to-face with a man who had just entered.
Lord Guyon stared at the two of them, not with amazement but with admiration. It seemed odd to Lord Doran that Guyon was not surprised by their presence in Bhrys and suddenly, Doran’s mind was screaming with the question as to why Lord Guyon was there as well.
Lord Guyon turned his head towards the patrons of the tavern and studied them for a moment before looking back to Lord Doran and Protector Raibyr and motioning for them to follow him. He led them outside where the cool, night air met them, chasing away the stuffiness of the tavern.
He led them down the main road of Bhrys, through the maze of angry, tired warriors who seemed to not care for their presence. Lord Doran’s racing heart slowed a little as he realized that none of the soldiers from Axendra seemed to recognize them or care that they were there. He followed Lord Guyon with confidence until he led them to a small butcher’s shack behind an inn and closed the door tightly behind them, pulling the lock down and trapping them inside.
Lord Doran looked around and realized that Lord Guyon had somehow known about their presence in the city. He had come here first to light the hearth before fetching them at the tavern.
“What is this about?” He asked Lord Guyon with a forceful voice. He knew this man had pledged himself to Lord Ivran, but men’s hearts were a fickle thing. They could change in the blink of an eye and perhaps Lord Guyon had dragged them to this room to slaughter them like so many cattle that had passed through before them. Lord Doran eyed his potential opponent carefully, noticing the slight shaking in his hands and the perspiration forming on his brow. He grasped at the hilt of his sword but did not draw the blade out. He desired to wait until Lord Guyon made the first move.
Lord Guyon did not notice Lord Doran reaching for his blade. He turned his eyes towards the hearth and walked towards it, rubbing sweat from his brow and taking in a few calming breaths. Wandering through the streets of Bhrys, pushing his way through warrior after warrior, made him realize what sort of a fight they were in for. It made his hands begin to shake at the thought of it. He was somewhat relieved when he saw Lord Doran and Protector Raibyr. They were two friends in a sea of enemies.
He sat on a wooden stool in front of the fire and looked back up. “I am so glad you are here!” He said to them.
Lord Doran loosened his grip on his sword and took a few steps closer.
“Then you have not betrayed us?” He asked, wanting to hear the words from Lord Guyon’s own mouth.
“Betrayed you? No! Never! I would never betray Lord Ivran. I swore to aid him. I swore to aid the realm. That is why I have brought you here.”
“The Sorceress must have known we were here.” Protector Raibyr said.
Lord Guyon nodded. “She told me where I could find you. She wanted for me to deliver a message to you so that you may pass it on to Lord Ivran.” Lord Guyon leaned forward on his stool and waited for Lord Doran and Protector Raibyr to take a seat. When they had both occupied the remaining two stools, Lord Guyon sat up as tall as possible and began to explain to them all that had happened in Bhrys, starting with his arrival. Both men acted surprised when he told them he had married Lady Omylia but neither of them asked why. It seemed they both understood the necessity of the union.
Lord Guyon lowered his voice when he began to speak of Captain Theodoric and his arrival to the city. He could not be certain that they were not being listened to.
When he began explaining to them the plan he and Lady Omylia had agreed upon, both men sat in complete silence, listening intently to the details.
When Lord Guyon was finished, he stood and waited for his companions to stand as well.
“Will there be a signal for Lord Ivran?” Lord Doran asked.
Lord Guyon nodded his head in reply. “He will know it when he sees it.”
“And you share your wife’s confidence that this plan will work?” Protector Raibyr asked with skepticism.
“How could it not?” Lord Guyon responded with a grin.
It was true; this plan seemed fool proof and Lord Doran was thrilled at this news after the day of torment he had just lived through. He had struggled all that day with the knowledge that he would have to travel back to Lord Ivran and deliver the grave news they were certain to lose this war. Now, he could deliver the news that victory was most certainly theirs. He could not stop a wide grin from forming on his face.
Lord Doran reached out and placed a friendly hand on Lord Guyon’s shoulder. “Ivran will be most pleased with you.” He said.
“I am happy to be a part of the rebellion that will save this realm.” He responded.
“I believe that you, Lord Guyon, have single-handedly saved this realm.”
The hour was approaching early morning by the time Lord Doran and Protector Raibyr began their return journey. Lord Guyon had walked them to the gates and demanded they were allowed passage. He begged them to take care on their journey back so the message would not be lost to Lord Ivran. They promised him they would deliver it as quickly as they could and they mounted their steeds and were soon gone from Lord Guyon’s sight.
He watched them disappear into the blue of pre-dawn as the gates swung closed once more. He could not say why, but he felt sad that Lord Doran and Protector Raibyr left. A part of him wished they could have ridden to Axendra with him to keep him company. He turned back towards the city and immediately his eyes were drawn to the castle of Bhrys, standing upon its hilltop above the rest of the city. Though the castle was his new home and the city now belonged to him, he felt desperately alone. Of course he had his new wife to keep him company but there was something about Omylia that crawled underneath his skin and made him shiver.
As he made his way back to the castle, he had to push his way through the crowd of soldiers that had taken up residence in the streets for the night. They lined the sides of the road, stretched out on sleeping mats or sitting in groups chatting with one another. Lord Guyon had to step over sleeping men. He could not help looking over the armor of the warriors that he passed. Most were from Axendra, of course, but he recognized a few of his own men, emerging from their rented rooms to mingle with the enemy. A few of them recognized their Lord and leader passing and nodded in respect. Lord Guyon nodded in return but did not stop to chat with any of them. He hastily returned to the castle and did not stop walking until he reached the keep where he knew his new wife waited for him.
As he approached the door, he stopped and listened to the faintest sound of someone moaning on the other side. He stood idly for a moment before pushing the door ajar far enough to peer in.
There was Omylia, naked in their bed, atop a man who Lord Guyon immediately recognized as Hanley. Both were thrusting and swaying and moaning and Hanley’s hands traveled up and down Omylia’s body as though they owned it. Omylia moaned with pleasure and took one of Hanley’s hands and began slowly sucking on his fingers.
Lord Guyon felt a rage build up inside of him that he had never felt before. He could feel his face turn bright red from the heat of the anger that boiled within him. He was about to storm into the room when Hanley began to speak.
“I will do it!” He cried out as his body shook from pleasure. With these words, Omylia smiled slyly and placed his hand upon her breast.
“Yes!” She cried out in pleas
ure.
“I will rid you of your husband!” Hanley closed his eyes tightly and cried out in pure ecstasy as he climaxed.
Omylia held fast to his shoulders and whispered, “and we shall remain together, forever and always.”
Lord Guyon turned and left just as quickly as he had arrived. He retreated to the common room which he found empty and grasped a wine goblet and quickly filled it to the brim. He drank the wine down without tasting it and quickly filled it again.
So that is her game! He thought to himself as he stared into the dying fire of the hearth. She married me so she could have me killed and steal my army! He took another long drink and, in his anger, threw the empty glass into the flames.
I have been seduced by a witch! This only made his anger grow and he decided then and there that he would not be Omylia’s victim. He would make her regret her betrayal. He would make her pay.
Chapter 19
The night was darker than most nights. Thick, heavy rain clouds had filled the sky above, blocking any possible light from reaching the ground. The darkness settled around the camp like a thick blanket, making the men huddle around the campfires, trying their best to shield themselves from it.
Lord Ivran was amongst them, sitting before the fire with hardened eyes. He watched the flames as they danced before him, like children at holiday celebration. They swirled and spat, blinding his vision from anything else against the darkness of the night.
All around him, men were laughing and shouting; not one of them seemed to be put off by the thickness that seemed to choke out the light. Lord Ivran was alone in his blackened world. He did not take notice of the men as they japed and laughed and drank themselves into a stupor. He did not notice the ale as it was carelessly dropped and spilled onto his arm by a man who stood over him. He did not even take notice of his wife as she took a seat next to him and thrust a flagon of ale into his limp hands. All his attention remained on the flames. His eyes were fixed on them as though looking away would destroy the only remaining light forever. He knew what lay beyond the flames; just on the other side of the fire. He could not look that way. He could not see the man’s face nor acknowledge his presence but he knew he was there all the same. It did not seem to matter how much he tried to pretend he did not exist; denying his presence could not make him disappear.
Rise of Darkness (The Watchers Book 2) Page 19
