by Kris A Hiatt
Even in the darkness, Treace could see Raythien nod his head. It was going to be dangerous moving back closer to the fire. The light from it would make it more difficult to hide and that was exactly the location most of Shamir’s men would be. He just hoped they would be concentrating on the fire and not on their surroundings.
They turned around and retraced their steps, moving quickly to try to intercept their friends. It wasn’t long before they spotted them moving from building to building.
Raythien drew an arrow.
“No!” Treace whispered. He knew Raythien was only going to try to draw their attention and not intentionally hit either one of them, but he didn’t want to risk it.
Raythien ignored him and fired anyway.
The missile sailed through the air and stuck into the building near the roof line, several feet above their heads.
Both Moff and Kiril dove to the ground and looked back in their direction. They couldn’t fully see them, Treace knew, since they were also in the shadows, so he stepped out after a quick look in each direction to ensure there weren’t any of Shamir’s men watching.
“I told you I never miss,” Raythien reiterated firmly.
Treace ignored him. He watched the shadows, but they didn’t move right away. He waved both swords over his head and both of them came out from the shadows and began to move toward the next building in his direction.
Treace stepped back into the shadows and waited.
“I wish I had friends so loyal,” Raythien remarked.
“You do,” Treace replied as Moff and Kiril covered the remaining distance to them. He didn’t know if the man understood his meaning or not, but he hoped so. Raythien could have used Treace as a bargaining chip with Shamir. Instead, he saved his life. He wouldn’t forget it.
“How?” Kiril whispered in his ear as she hugged him tight.
“I did what you did to the tree,” Treace whispered back. “But only to the jail.”
“Behind you!” Moff exclaimed, drawing his bow at Raythien.
“Moff, stop!” Treace told him, pulling himself from Kiril’s arms and placing himself in front of Moff’s arrow. “He’s the reason I’m still alive.”
“But he captured you,” Moff argued.
“To save both of our lives,” Treace replied. “The town is full of Shamir’s men. His quick thinking is the only reason I’m alive.”
“You could have fought them off,” Moff argued.
Treace knew Moff wanted Raythien to be at fault. He didn’t like the man and wanted a reason to feel good about it. He probably wouldn’t fully accept the truth, but at least he lowered his weapon.
“He couldn’t fight off an entire town,” Raythien replied. “I did what I thought was best at the time.”
That made Treace think of something. “Where are the townsfolk?”
“All we’ve seen are soldiers,” Kiril replied.
“We should get going,” Raythien said, ignoring Treace’s question.
“Raythien, where are the townsfolk?” Treace asked again, not willing to let it go.
Raythien took a deep breath before he replied. “Dead.”
“What?” Moff asked. “That can’t be.”
“What do you mean?” Kiril asked.
“I mean they’re all dead,” Raythien replied. “Shamir doesn’t take prisoners. I’m sorry.”
All dead? Treace refused to believe that. Why would Shamir kill so many innocent people? Just because he doesn’t take prisoners? He couldn’t wrap his mind around the absurdity of it.
“They took us prisoner,” Kiril argued.
“To make a show of killing Treace,” Raythien replied. “He doesn’t care about the people of Kilindric, even if it does hold the College. None of that matters to him. There was no reason to keep them alive.”
“No reason?” Kiril asked hotly.
“Kiril!” Treace whispered loudly. “I’m just as upset as you are, but we need to get out of here.”
“So they are all dead?” Moff asked.
“Every one of them I’m afraid.”
“Where?” Kiril asked. “Where are they buried?”
“They aren’t,” Raythien replied glumly.
“Then what did they do with them?” Treace asked, confused.
“The ground was frozen and would take too long to dig through,” Raythien explained. “So they just stacked them in piles.”
“Where?” Kiril asked.
“The other side of town, near the College,” Raythien explained. “As a reminder to those few who he spared and allowed to still work and now live there.”
“A reminder of what?” Moff asked.
“That they’re lucky to be alive,” Treace reasoned. He thought of Mr. Uripo, the blacksmith, and the waitresses of both bars in town. He hoped they had somehow managed to gain work in the College, but knew deep down that wasn’t the case. He didn’t want to picture their bodies lying on the ground covered in snow, but he couldn’t help it. It saddened him and angered him at the same time. They did nothing to deserve to die. They were good hearted people just trying to live their lives. But Shamir ended them.
“Close enough,” Raythien replied. “But the commander here said it was a reminder of Shamir’s generosity.”
“And that’s the man you aligned yourself with?” Moff asked.
“I didn’t say I agreed with it,” Raythien countered. “And I’m not aligned with him anymore. If it isn’t clear who I’m aligned with now, I’m afraid you’ll never see the truth.”
Treace decided there was nothing further they could do for the city. Nearly all of her people were dead and now it was lost to Shamir. First the College, now Kilindric. He didn’t want to lose anyone or anything more to that man. “Let’s go.”
Treace led the way out of town, going shadow to shadow as best as he could.
Not long after, they paused to look back at the town, now several hundred yards behind them. They were on a small rise that offered a good vantage point of the city. Treace wished he’d thought to come up here when he was still at the College. It would have been a wonderful view during the day. But now all they could see was a few small fires and the burning building Treace left behind.
He took Kiril’s hand and said a silent farewell to Kilindric and all of her former inhabitants. They deserved much more than to have their bodies stacked like firewood in the cold winter’s snow. So much more.
All of those people died so one man could call himself a King. Treace walked away, leaving behind those that he couldn’t help, vowing to kill the pretend King the next time they met.
Chapter 18
“It looks like your men had a little accident,” Brental suggested to Shamir.
Smoke billowed from somewhere in the city and was clearly visible against the midday blue sky. The clouds had finally broken this morning and Brental was glad for the sun. He felt his mood improve just from it being in the sky. He was tired of the clouds and snow. They were still a short ride from the city, but he could clearly see the College standing outside of it near to the shore’s edge. It felt as if he was coming home.
“Why must you always say things to get under my skin?” Shamir asked.
“I was merely making an observation.”
“No,” Shamir argued. “You were pointing out that my men failed. You always emphasize anything and everything where you presume I, or any of my proxies, have made a mistake.”
“It wasn’t intended, I assure you,” Brental told him. He was lying, of course. He got under Shamir’s skin at every opportunity and took pride in how successful he was at it.
“I’m sure it wasn’t. Much like your quarters originally being a slaughterhouse wasn’t intended. But there is one small problem. For you that is.”
Brental knew where this was going and was well aware that Shamir would remind him of where he stood in the pecking order. “You’re the King, not me.”
“Well, there is that. But also that your issues with authority keep causin
g you to lose more and more. I’m not so sure you’ll think your little barbs will continue to be worth it.”
He didn’t bother to ask what Shamir meant by his words. It was a clear enough message. Either he stop getting under the King’s skin or he’d pay the price. He wondered what the price was, but decided it better that he didn’t ask. Instead he thought he’d change the subject. “Any word from Disdane? Is he in position?”
“No, but we likely won’t hear back from him until long after he’s left his position. Given how far the ships need to sail to get word back to us.”
“So then he’s just moving on to Haven once he arrives?”
“I do forget that I don’t always include you on the planning,” Shamir told him. “But no, we’ve agreed upon a preset date for us to begin our march. If our estimations are correct, we’ll arrive at Haven just before him and while Liernin’s forces are occupied with us, Disdane crushes them before they can mount a proper defense to his assault from their rear.”
Shamir didn’t forget anything. His grin and the way he said it made that very clear to Brental. He purposely didn’t invite him to certain planning events, he was sure of that. Perhaps it was one of his ways of getting back at Brental for his continuous mocking and verbal barbs. While he didn’t like missing any meetings, Brental thought the tradeoff of insulting the King was worth it. He may miss the finer points of the plan, but he’d hear the truth sooner or later. He wouldn’t be able to make any changes to it, but he couldn’t do much about that now. “So our force will meet Liernin head on?”
“My force, yes.”
Brental left it at that and looked out the window into the city. He had been in the wagon with the King for roughly two weeks. He wasn’t certain he could hold his tongue for the remainder of the march. He knew he’d need to keep to himself while the slow-moving army continued its march.
They came to a stop a few minutes later and Drokier greeted them when they stepped off the wagon.
“My King,” Drokier said, offering a deep bow.
“What happened here?” the King asked.
“Other than a burned building, I’m not sure yet,” Drokier admitted. “I’ve still yet to meet with those we left in charge.”
“Then go get my answers,” Shamir commanded.
“I’ll return shortly,” the man replied.
Shamir nodded his head and began to look around his newly acquired city.
Brental wasn’t surprised at the smile on Shamir’s face. Despite not knowing what happened to the one building, the remaining ones seemed to remain unscathed. Considering Shamir had sent only five hundred men, he thought the men had succeeded beyond expectations in order to capture a city while only losing a single building. Shamir’s smile most likely meant that he thought the same.
“How does it feel to be home?” Shamir asked while they waited for answers.
Brental looked over the city before settling his gaze upon the College. He did miss being there, he couldn’t deny that. But looking back over Kilindric he realized that he didn’t miss it nearly as much as he originally thought. At first, he hated Kadenton. He had grown accustomed to his life in the smaller city of Kilindric and Kadenton was too large for his liking. It took too long to traverse from one side of town to the other, there were too many people, and his peace and quiet were interrupted frequently. But now, looking over the smaller city again, the realization hit him that he didn’t want to return here. There was nothing here other than the College. That used to be enough for him. Now he wasn’t so sure. The town existed mostly due to the College. Many of the businesses wouldn’t be there if not for the brothers. But now those people were dead. “Indifferent,” he told the King.
“I thought you would have been happy to see your old home again.”
“So did I,” Brental replied. He wasn’t sure why he was being honest with the man, but it didn’t bother him that he was.
“There’s nothing here worth seeing anyway,” the King told him.
Brental didn’t agree, but neither did he fully disagree. The College was the reason he resided here in the past. Now that Shamir killed all of the townsfolk, who would support the lives of those within the College’s walls? He didn’t see the College functioning long without a town to support it. Perhaps that was all part of Shamir’s plan. He thought it best to not ask for details. He didn’t, however, see any harm in visiting his old home. “I’d like to make an appearance if you don’t mind.”
“We’ll be here a few days for certain. Wait until after we get the report. I wouldn’t want my advisor to miss any important meetings.”
Brental knew that wasn’t the case. Shamir wanted him to wait simply because it wasn’t his idea. Shamir had excluded Brental in several meetings before, he didn’t see how this one was any different. It’s not like this one would be of any true importance anyway.
“Well, it seems you won’t have to wait long anyway,” Shamir remarked.
Brental followed the King’s eyes to find Drokier leading two other men toward them.
“My King,” the men said in unison, bowing.
“Tell him what you told me,” Drokier instructed one man.
It was easy to tell which of the two men was of higher rank. The one poor young man couldn’t hold anyone’s eyes. He simply clutched at the bottom of his jacket and kept his eyes on the ground. The other man’s armor was newer, more ornate, and he stood tall, even under Shamir’s intense gaze.
“We had The Wolf captured, sir. We were holding him until you arrived,” the proud man said.
“Had?” Shamir asked. “What happened?”
“He burned down the building,” the cowed man replied.
“Shut up!” his superior scolded. “He had help, sir,” the man said to the King. “The best we can guess is that someone started the building on fire so that the guards would remove him from his cell. They were ambushed once they got out of the burning building.”
“You captured him, but not his accomplices?” Brental asked. He had never seen Treace without one or more of his friends with him. It made sense to him that he wouldn’t be alone. How did they manage to capture the man who was far and away the best fighter of his little group of idiots?
“Raythien brought him in,” Drokier told them. “Alone.”
“But Raythien left us months ago,” Shamir replied.
“He told us that he was a spy working directly for you, my King,” the man told him. “He said that no one knew but you so that his secret was safe and he could bring The Wolf to you.”
“And you believed him?” Shamir asked.
“Yes,” the man said, unashamedly. “Not only was he was quite convincing, but he did deliver The Wolf.”
“And this one was one of the guards who let him escape?” Brental surmised.
“Yes,” the man replied.
“I didn’t let anyone escape,” the accused younger man argued. “The building was on fire from the inside, so we opened the cell thinking it was best to not burn the man the King wanted. We didn’t have time to secure him without us all being burned alive.”
“He claims The Wolf knocked him out once they let him outside. I found him unconscious and the other guard with an arrow in his neck,” the superior explained. “I went back to my quarters, which I had temporarily offered to Raythien, to consult with him and he was gone. So, too, were The Wolf’s swords. Only then did I realize that I was lied to.”
“Did you see him put his hand to the wall before it lit on fire?” Brental asked the younger man.
“No. He never even moved.”
Brental looked to Shamir and shook his head. There was no way the young man was telling the truth. You couldn’t burn a building like that so fast. Especially if you weren’t even putting your hand on it.
“How unfortunate,” Shamir said. He looked to Drokier. “Kill him.”
The younger man dropped to his knees. “No, my King! I’m telling you the truth! Honest! I’m telling you the tr—” the man begged
before being interrupted by Drokier’s sword puncturing through his shoulder and down into his chest cavity.
He cried out in pain for just a moment.
Drokier removed his sword and the body slumped silently into the snow.
“And this one?” Drokier asked, speaking of the town commander.
“I can hardly fault you for believing Raythien. He had served me loyally for years and he’s always been a clever and convincing one,” the King said to the man.
“Thank you, my King,” the man replied, offering a deep bow.
Drokier frowned before cleaning the blood off of his sword and slid it safely into its scabbard.
It was clear to Brental that Drokier was looking forward to killing the other man as well. It was easy to kill someone who couldn’t fight back. He surmised that Drokier wanted to be able to kill The Wolf outside of real combat, much like he tried before. Just like last time, his quarry had escaped. “On the bright side,” Brental told him. “You may just get the opportunity to fight The Wolf again once the battle begins.”
“I look forward to it,” Drokier replied.
Brental doubted that very much. But thinking of Treace did make him realize something else. If Raythien pretended to still be aligned with Shamir, what information did he acquire? “Do all of your men know of the full plan?”
Realization dawned on Shamir’s face, followed by a quick smile. “No. Luckily for us, none of the men who took the town knew the whole plan. They knew of our march here and little else.”
“Then our surprise remains intact,” Drokier remarked.
“And if Raythien does provide Liernin with information, it will be incorrect,” Brental told them. The failure of Shamir’s men may actually turn out to be in their best interest for a change.
“Good fortune for us,” Drokier said.
“But it also means that Liernin will have more of an advance notice of our arrival,” Brental reminded them. He knew Shamir would shrug off the warning, but it needed to be said.
