Montague, along with others in the escape party, both men and young men, unsheathed their blades. One mage grabbed Gretchen, the princess’ handmaid, and attempted to gag her with a piece of cloth she had torn from the bottom of her robe, but Gretchen fought, catching her by the wrist. Without hesitating, the farmer swung furiously at the warty one, impaling her through the torso.
Gretchen was unhurt, but obviously shaken from the close call. “Monte!” she shouted.
With his feet off balance from the strike, another black cloak lunged toward him, only to be pierced by a flying dagger that skimmed right past Montague’s face. When he looked back, he saw that Demitri had launched the blade from behind him.
With most of the attackers slain, a remaining few careened off, cackling like a pack of hyenas.
Everyone took a moment to catch their breaths, settle nerves, and gather courage. But Montague knew that they had to keep moving. It was only a matter of time before the enemy regrouped.
“Where is Burton?” Montague asked, turning to Demitri.
“I don’t know. I’m having a hard time remembering what happened. I thought he would have been with you.” His fine aim aside, Demitri seemed bleary.
After a brief rest, Demitri suggested that they had to move along. “Shadows of the dark ones are still lurking and searching the lands,” he said, lifting several of their bags. “I can hear footsteps, branches cracking in the distance.” He took a portion of the princess’ travel load and was the only one looking ahead. Everyone else was exhausted by fear and heartbreak and every step away from home hurt more than the last.
Montague consoled Olivia and Gretchen, whose heads hung low as the traveling party strode on through the fading light of the forest. Without any further confrontation they made it to the edge of the river as nightfall crept in. “It’s not safe to stay within the confines of such bloodshed. We must cross tonight,” Montague said, looking to Olivia, the princess soon-to-be queen.
The ships of Illyrium were kept docked all along the rivers throughout the main island to ensure easy transport. Those docked on the Noahl River were displaced, but the Origon River had remained calm and the vessels there were untouched.
When the party arrived at the shoreline, Montague immediately began boarding people into small cargo ships. There was blood splatter all over the dock house windows. No one, Montague thought, needed to be reminded of that color.
Before departing Montague recruited a gang of men to hunt for any meat they could find. They would stay in the ships through the night and a good meal before sleep would give them strength for the morning’s journey. Demitri preferred to hunt alone, and went off by himself. They brought back several deer, rabbits, and a-half dozen squirrels.
Out on the main deck, the sky was clear and filled with moonlight reflecting off the rolling waves of the water’s surface. Gretchen lit a small fire within an old fish barrel and had the other maids unpack pots to prepare a meal of rabbit stew with her exotic spices: cumin, curry leaves, lemongrass, ginger and garlic (provided by Montague), and coconut milk. But after all the carcass cutting, meat cleaning, and cooking, Gretchen and even the princess didn’t eat much. They were too sad and tired to stay awake any longer. After only a few bites they excused themselves to sleep in the captain’s cabin.
Montague and Demitri would stand guard through the night. As they drifted further from the land between rivers, Montague thought about his mentor and what he was going to do without him. They had a plan. Like Burton, he’d sworn to protect the Volpi bloodline and defend the people against the malevolence that hunted them. Even though Demitri was once a student of Burton it was awkward for Montague to talk about him because Demitri had walked away from the Resistance and Burton’s plan years ago.
The science minister stared into the fire as he cleaned the meat from the bones of a rabbit carcass. “So why did you kill Ben Paddett?” he asked with a prickly grin.
Montague tried to clear his emotions. “Burton took samples of the corn that Ben delivered and found toxic chemicals in it. He was sure that it wasn’t natural and believed it was the direct cause of all of these illnesses our people have been suffering recently. And not only the corn, the animal meat and the dairy were poisoned as well.” Montague became moody. “When Burton meets back up with us…”
“What if he doesn’t?” Demitri interrupted, picking his teeth with a sliver of bone from the hind leg.
“He will. He also suspected that Ben was…” Montague paused and thought about what he was about to say. “Nothing. Never mind.”
“Was what?” Demitri insisted.
“The one mentioned in Gabriel’s Diary, the host of the Nekrums,” Montague said. He couldn’t help but refer to the diary that Burton had suggested held the truth.
“You mean the one that will plot against the rest,” Demitri said. He was aware of the claims in the hidden text, but he obviously thought the idea a bit humorous. “Okay, I’ll play this game again. It’s been a long time since I’ve argued from that side of the fence. So then, if Ben was this ‘host of the Nekrums’ and the ‘mages’ were under his influence, why are they still hunting us, if he is dead?”
Montague shook his head. “I’m not sure.”
“You and your fantasies, Montague. You know, you and Burton always questioned my work, and you seem to believe in Burton’s ridiculous fortune telling that, at its best, angels will come and save us? You’re putting hope into fairy tales to protect yourself. I think you’re both crazy. So where is Gabriel’s Dairy now?”
Demitri was privy to the truth, but Montague always knew that he didn’t want to accept it. “It is in safe hands, making its way to the high plateau. I sent it with travelers the morning after the flood,” Montague said, brushing his left hand across the hardcover binding under his robe. He would never let a relic containing such ancient wisdom out of his hands, but he didn’t want to tell Demitri or anyone else. He carried a bag of apples and other historical books over his right shoulder.
“As for Ben, I think he just lost his mind, you know. For how old he was, he got confused; using his tablecloth to wipe his ass, rat poison instead of minerals to spray the fields. Is that not possible?”
“You can choose to believe what you wish. But whatever he was—sick, mad, or the host of the Nekrums, he was trying to kill our people. What was done is what needed to be done.” Montague said, getting up and walking away. He needed time to rest and think alone.
“You can tell yourself that,” Demitri concluded.
It was an insult Montague never thought to hear coming from a friend and especially at such a time.
Montague turned back and looked at Demitri through the twitching flames, dancing in the calm breeze. He wore a proud smile.
“It’s interesting how destiny divides—isn’t it, Montague?”
A new capital emerged from a few thousand survivors who had suffered the worst tragedy in the history of mankind. Montague La-Rose had led close to two hundred people from the sack of Illyrium. But many others had escaped as well, fleeing from the wrath of both fire and water. Eventually they too made it to the Kingdom of Ikarus, reuniting with loved ones along the way.
Since the former citizens of Illyrium had arrived at this kingdom, without a finished wall surrounding the land, no one dared venture beyond their doors after the sun went down. The streets had been silent at Ikarus, not a hint of movement. The construction was ongoing. Families slept in turns with usually one member staying awake to keep an eye and ear out for anything suspicious. They were shaken by the atrocities they had witnessed. That secure feeling the people of Illyrium had shared for decades was shattered. After the attack the Graleons had sent knights to assist in the protection of the new capital of Men during the last stages of the build. But the presence of the knights of Grale wasn’t enough to calm the paranoid terror. Most soldiers traveling beyond the land of Ikarus were robbed of their weapons and whatever food they carried by displaced looters. But only recently the new
capital felt its first tremor of darkness. Several children went missing from the orphanage, vanishing from their own beds under the watch of Ikarus and Graleon soldiers.
The Ikarus castle and temple had already been completed when the survivors of Illyrium had arrived after the sack. Most of the villages were finished. But since the kidnappings, stone masons and carpenters had doubled their efforts, working through the nights, rain or snow, to finish the wall. They had set up a road of logs that stretched from the nearby forest to the western gates, where strong men pulled huge pieces of timber and giant stones across the rolling lumber with thick ropes. To the older men, who had worked with Burton Lang long ago in masonry, the stones felt much heavier since Burton was no longer around to levitate them.
In the past, the process of lifting large material began with chanting. Burton had brought master masons and singers together to teach them the power of sound, so that they could collaborate on creating giant structures. He’d scouted out the most beautiful voices in the kingdom, male and female, to participate in this ceremony. Once the group had locked onto a specific key, their harmonized voices produced a wave of vibration, making tons rise from the ground. Hovering, the stones were like feathers for men to maneuver with nothing more than the touch of a finger. Burton would point his wand at piles of stones and arrange them into place without ever laying a hand on a single one. Constantly amazed, the builders had thought that it was the chanting alone that made the stones rise. But when they had attempted this levitation in Burton’s absence, it didn’t work. Craftsman had tried to mimic him; shaping all kinds of wands in hopes of achieving the same effect. But Burton seemed to possess something that the builders didn’t have.
Today marked the completion of the kingdom’s outer wall as the last stone was laid. Surrounding five square miles of land, rocks weighing up to nine tons each were stacked ten feet high. The kingdom sat on the highest plateau, overlooking Illyrium Island. Its location guaranteed a flood-free existence.
Bankers at the Merlin Crown, the central bank and treasury for all three kingdoms hidden beneath the Mern islands, provided a stockpile of silver coins to the builders of Ikarus for good food, fresh clothing, new tools, and the strongest building material available; sparing no expense. The goal had been to create a new empire that was not only extravagant, but also impenetrable.
Montague was given a new job and a new title at Ikarus. Nearing fifty years of pushing his body to its limit farming crops, he was now financially secure. No more did he need to worry about tax collection. Olivia, the former princess, became queen and appointed the farmer as voice of the council and maintained their secret arrangement that kept him as her private healer. She was now the last living Volpi.
It was considered a blessing to the people that a descendent of the creator survived—a miracle. Without Volpi blood walking the planet, people of Volpik faith believed that the world would end, falling into sin. And attendance at the new temple had been growing since the establishment of Ikarus. People looked forward to the next generation of Volpis to be born and they prayed for the long life and good health of the queen.
In Montague’s current position as the council speaker, there was no more raking, or digging, or pruning, or planting; his hands became much softer now. He’d retired from hard labor. Now, the world demanded his reading, writing, and speaking skills. Although he didn’t talk with a sophisticated accent like royals, he felt much more comfortable shaking hands with people of high class. He already had good relations with the common folk, as he did with the leaders of all three kingdoms. They very much appreciated his medicine. That established relationship with foreign powers influenced the queen’s decision to also name Montague ambassador to Grale and Mern.
Behind his public duty, the cultivation of his rare herbs and spices was complicated. Whatever made them grow must have been in the soil at his farm. The running water of the Noahl and Origon rivers packed the land between with so many rich nutrients. Maybe, Montague thought, that was why the herbs were so powerful; they extracted such a high concentration of minerals from the ground converting them into healing properties.
Although the source of the recent food-borne illness had been removed from the farms, the queen was still experiencing an extended wave of headaches and hallucinations. Olivia needed a dose of nutwood and pigroot three times a day. These herbs still grew in Montague’s fields near the ruins of Illyrium, but Ikarus men had been killed in previous efforts to acquire them. The exiles were still violent and engaged any civilized party passing through the free land, as they called it—no lords, no laws. In an attempt to cultivate the herbs closer to their new home, the last expedition had brought back soil from the La-Rose farm as Montague requested. He festooned clay pots by the high windowsills of the Ikarus library for another attempt to grow these herbs somewhere other than on his family’s land. The herbs didn’t need much sunlight and only required temperatures above freezing. When tiny leaves finally sprouted from the nutwood pots after a few weeks, the ex-farmer was relieved.
Often cold and angry, the winters of Naan were usually short, sometimes only lasting three months before the frost turned back into morning dew. But this winter was creeping into its month four. And the night’s cold froze deep.
After settling in to the new capital, treating the queen, organizing conferences to coordinate between Grale and Mern ambassadors, holding hearings for convicted criminals, and searching for his sensei, Montague was happy to celebrate the completion of Ikarus.
Above the entrance to the grand ballroom, mounted above the tall, oak doors, was a statue of angels with feathered wings surrounding a depiction of Gabriel Volpi, the creator. Inside, a series of large windows trimmed with lavender curtains stretched across the entire hall. Candlelight from golden chandeliers reflected off polished marble floors. Columns reaching heights of over thirty feet rose to the painted ceiling where each picture, framed with intricate woodwork, presented images of historical battles. As symbols of strength and stability, roots and vines were etched into the surface of the stone walls representing a new beginning. The contractors took no shortcuts with the details.
Before dinner people stood in the dance floor, holding their wine glasses between fingers, smiling as if they had no care in the world. Perhaps, they didn’t. It wasn’t their responsibility to keep the kingdoms of Men safe. Montague almost envied the bliss of ignorance. They have no idea what state their own world was in, he thought. He grabbed a glass of wine from a server and found his table.
Two seats away from the newly-appointed queen, Montague sat at the royal table, staring through the skylight window. It bothered him that Demitri sat in between himself and Olivia. She had taken a liking to Demitri ever since he’d saved her from the grips of the enemy just months prior. Von Cobb had also been promoted from third minister to headmaster of science. But it wasn’t jealousy that turned Montague’s stomach. Demitri had been different ever since the day they had escaped from the sack of Illyrium.
Demitri had since recruited a number of intelligent minds to join his effort in creating advanced weaponry and medicine. The only problem Montague had with Demitri’s experiments and the newly founded ministry was that his operations went unchecked. The queen was the one and only authority figure that Demitri was mandated to report his findings to and Montague feared that Olivia was blind to his true intentions, whatever they might be. He thought she trusted him too much.
Before the meal, the ballroom filled with alluring voices. The Kingdom of Mern, a group of islands off the southwestern edge of the mainland, was known to birth some of the greatest singers in the world. The a-cappella choir was then joined with the legato sounds of Graleon bagpipes and scratchy fiddles producing an emotionally uplifting melody. Grale made the best instruments. The music would become the score to an Ikarus play that would close the night.
The crowd tapped their table knives against their glasses before the closing ceremony.
Demitri stood to deliver his speech.
His thin, salty-black hair was slicked back and the collar of his black robe, lined with red velvet, came up to his upper cheek.
When the crowd applauded, Demitri smiled wide.
It was obvious to Montague that the new headmaster of science loved every second of the attention. The Demitri of old had never been like this. That Demitri had always preferred a life to himself; only his wife and science interested him.
Demitri began, “Please stand and join hands…”
The last person whose hand Montague wanted to take was Demitri’s. His hand was wrapped with a bandage, the usual outcome when he performed dissections. On Montague’s opposite side, Gretchen locked her fingers between his.
“…My friends. Let us give thanks for this wonderful meal and the gift we are celebrating on this beautiful night. I call upon the great divine: Gabriel Volpi our creator, and the angels of the heavens. Bless this day—the Kingdom of Ikarus is finally completed!” Demitri unlocked his hands from Montague and Olivia and raised his arms in celebration. The ballroom filled with applause.
The headmaster of science continued. “This fortress will not only protect us from our enemy, our laws will frighten anyone who conspires against the throne. We have assembled an army ten times the size of Illyrium, armed with Graleon steel to protect us. This time there will be no chance of invasion!”
Montague was irritated that Demitri was allowed to give the closing speech. It should have been delivered by the master mason, whose team had designed everything from the layout of each building, to the angles of every walkway in the kingdom. But Montague knew that Demitri desired support from the people for his pending experiments. The procedures would require human test subjects, which Montague completely opposed, as did the queen, who was currently unaware.
Demitri went on. “Most of us were born in the first colony of Men. We, here at Ikarus, will once again be the greatest empire in the world.” People cheered, whistled, and banged on the tops of their tables. “Please, raise your glasses,” he said, lifting his own cup. “Here’s to our future. Our blood holds the key to the ancient past. Our children’s blood contains the key to our future. They will take us beyond our days, and one day soon, we need to pass on the torch of knowledge to the next generation so they may care for us. We will let nothing delay our progress and no one hold us back.”
Under a Veil of Gods Page 5
