“Even if it’s Daican’s plan to seize control of Dorland?”
The king’s eyes narrowed. “You know this for a fact?”
“It is his intention to create an empire. He won’t content himself with simply ruling Arcacia and Samara. The resources that come out of Dorland alone are enough to draw his attention. Most of the gold and precious jewels in Ilyon come from your mines. That would tempt anyone with Daican’s ambitions.”
King Orlan regarded him with thoughtful eyes before shaking his head. “Without proof of your speculations, I cannot take action. I won’t be the one to declare war.”
Kyrin let her shoulders sag. That was it then. Just like that, it seemed their final hope for their mission to Dorland had failed.
“I truly am sorry for your plight,” King Orlan said in a consoling tone. “Please, accept my hospitality and remain here as my personal guests for as long as you wish.”
Kyrin watched Balen to see if he would press the issue, but they all seemed tired of arguing their case.
He gave a brief nod. “Thank you, my lord. I will discuss it with my companions and let you know when we make our plans. We will be out with our dragons.”
The king nodded and motioned for Halsen to show them out.
As Balen turned, however, Kyrin caught a look of determination that said they weren’t going out just to discuss whether to return to Landale. The king may have turned them down, but Kyrin didn’t believe Balen would give up just yet.
The moment they stepped out of the castle, Kyrin heard Jace take a deep breath as the sunshine and fresh air hit them. She didn’t really like the solid stone interior either. Despite its size, the cave-like solidness to it threatened to make her claustrophobic. One wouldn’t even have the hope of getting out if trapped inside.
Jace took her hand again when they reached the stairs, though the descent was easier than the climb. At the bottom, Balen stopped and everyone gathered around him.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” Darq said in a tired voice. “I feared there would be no reasoning with him. That is why I had hoped Prince Haedrin would be present. He might be more inclined to listen.”
Balen didn’t seem to hear him as he stared toward the gate, where the two younger giants from the throne room stood with their horses.
“Do you know who they are?” he asked Darq.
The crete captain shook his head. “I’ve never met them. The ford they mentioned must be Andros Ford. The Trayse River is very swift and rough, and the ford is the only passable area this far north. You’d have to travel a good four-hundred miles downriver into ryrik territory to find another adequate crossing.”
“So it’s the only safe way into Dorland by land?”
“Pretty much . . . and presents a straight shot to Bel-gard, which is why it’s guarded by the families in that area.”
Balen nodded slowly, a calculating expression on his face. “And if Daican were to invade, that’s exactly where he’d send his soldiers.” He glanced at the group. “Let’s find out more about these attacks. There must be a reason they mentioned Daican. If this is part of the emperor’s scheme, the king needs to know before it’s too late. If Dorland falls to his power, then our hope to stop him will surely fall with it.”
They set off across the courtyard. As they drew near the gate, the giants’ powerful horses captured Kyrin’s attention. The heavily built animals’ withers rose taller than she could even reach. Their brown and gray coats were a bit shaggy—not short and sleek like Maera’s or Niton’s were at this time of year—but she supposed thicker coats were important in the cooler temperatures close to the mountains.
The two giants noticed them coming and turned to face them.
“I’m sorry, but we couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with the king,” Balen said. “I understand you’re having difficulty with ryriks?”
The older giant with the axe nodded. “Aye. We’ve dealt with multiple attacks in the last month.”
“And you have reason to suspect it might somehow be related to Daican?”
The giant traded a glance with his younger, darker haired companion. “More a gut feeling than any sort of proof. Living so close to the forests of Wildmor, we’re used to ryrik raids, but there’s something different about these attacks. They seem more . . . organized. It just doesn’t add up to the usual sporadic attacks we’ve had to deal with in the past. They seem more bent on destroying than looting, which is unusual.”
Everything Kyrin had heard about ryriks growing up was that they were killers and thieves. They lived off what they looted from their victims. It wasn’t unusual for them to destroy their targets but not at the expense of their loot.
“This is simply our speculation,” the giant continued, “but it seems as though they’re trying to destroy everyone around Andros Ford.”
“How far is that from here?” Balen asked.
“About two days’ ride by horse.” The giant gestured to their dragons. “Half that if you were to fly.”
“Are you returning there?”
The giant nodded. “Our older brother sent us for help and stayed behind to watch over our farm. We need to get back there to help him fend off any attacks.”
“Would you mind if we joined you?”
The giant traded another surprised glance with his brother, and Balen said, “If this is some scheme of Daican’s, we want to get to the bottom of it. If not, then at least the presence of us and our dragons may discourage further attacks.”
“Well, we’d certainly appreciate the help.” The giant shot an irritated look at the castle. “We didn’t exactly find it here.” He held out his hand. “I’m Halvar, and this is my brother Levi.”
Balen shook his hand, which was humorously like watching a child shake the hand of a grown man. “I am Balen, from Samara.”
Halvar peered at him. “Isn’t Balen the name of Samara’s king?”
Balen gave a slow nod. “Exiled king now.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty, and an honor that you would concern yourself with our situation.”
“The last thing I want is for Dorland to fall to Daican as Samara has. I don’t wish for your people to suffer under his rule, and I won’t be able to free my own people if he continues to gain power. I will let the king know we are not staying. You ride on ahead. We’ll follow you from the air and join you when you make camp this evening.”
Halvar nodded, and he and Levi turned to their horses.
Guiding the rest of the group with him, Balen said, “Prepare to leave. If we can find evidence that Daican is behind these ryrik attacks, then King Orlan will have to take action. And if we don’t, we can always return here in a few days and speak to Prince Haedrin. I’ll let the king know we’re leaving.”
“Will you tell him what we’re doing?” Darq asked. “He might not like the idea of dragons near the border.”
Balen paused for a moment. “Why don’t we see what we can find out first?”
A faint smile grew on Darq’s face.
The first scattering of stars sprinkled the deep blue sky overhead as the pink glow on the western horizon ahead of them grew dimmer. At the front of the group, Balen and Darq’s dragons angled toward the ground. Glancing down, Jace spotted where Halvar and Levi had stopped and dismounted in the meadow below them. He directed Gem to follow the lead dragons.
By the time they landed, Levi had a small but growing fire to light the area and cook their dinner. Following Balen, they all gathered around the giant brothers.
“I apologize if we pushed on later than you would have,” Halvar said. “We just want to get back as soon as possible.”
“If you’re worried, I could take a couple of us on ahead to scout the area around the ford and make sure there aren’t any ryriks around,” Darq offered.
Halvar gave him a grateful look. “We’d be much obliged. Our older brother’s watching the farm all on his own. He insisted Levi and I both go to Bel-gard in case we met up
with trouble. I tried to stay with him, but he wouldn’t hear of it. It’s foolish if you ask me, but that’s Jorvik—always putting our safety above his own.”
“Give us a couple of hours to rest the dragons,” Darq told him, “and then we’ll head out.”
They gathered their provisions from their packs and sat with Halvar and Levi around the fire. The two giants had many questions about Samara and the Resistance in Landale. None of it was pleasant to recall, especially when they spoke of the losses they had suffered. Kyrin grew quiet when they mentioned her father, and Jace reached over to take her hand. She’d had to relive the memories of his death too often lately.
Thankfully, Balen changed the subject. “So it’s only the three of you on your farm?”
Halvar nodded. “Our pa was killed by a she-bear with cubs about three years ago while he and Jorvik were out hunting.”
Jace winced. Considering how tall and powerful Halvar and his brother were, just how big were bears in Dorland? He decided right then and there that he didn’t want to find out firsthand.
Halvar continued quietly. “Our ma didn’t handle it well and there wasn’t much fight in her when she got sick that winter and died.”
“I’m sorry,” Balen told him.
Halvar shrugged. “That’s just part of living way out here. It can be a hard life, but we wouldn’t trade it.”
“We heard you say your family has been guarding the ford for generations.”
“We’re the closest to the ford—only about three miles—so we’ve always looked after it and paid attention to who came and went.”
“Have you personally suffered from any of the ryrik attacks?”
“We were the first. They burned down our chicken coop, but we drove them off before they could get at the barn or cabin. I don’t think they were prepared for such a fight. After that, they moved on to the other farms in the area, but they’ll no doubt try again.”
“And we pray to Elôm they haven’t while we’ve been away,” Levi joined in.
Halvar murmured in agreement.
“Well, whatever the ryriks are up to, we hope we can figure it out and help you put a stop to the raids.”
With all this talk of ryriks and their trouble with the emperor, Jace was glad when, during a lull in the conversation, Halvar started singing what must have been a giant folk song. Levi joined in midway through. For being such a simple people, they were quite impressive singers. Everyone applauded when they finished. Just before starting a new song, Talas jumped up to get his flute from his pack. Between the brothers’ deep voices and Talas’s lively flute playing, the mood lightened considerably.
Now seemed to be as good a time as any for Anne to master the spinning wheel. Her mother had wanted to teach her for years, but after one very unsuccessful attempt, Anne had lost interest. However, with the continually foul weather, she was ready to try just about anything to stay occupied. She might start to lose her sanity otherwise. After most of the morning, she was finally getting the hang of it. The sound of Elanor reading from one of Anne’s favorite books made the attempt more enjoyable. They’d begun taking turns reading chapters every day while working on their various projects.
They were just about to break for lunch when a sharp knock at the door cut through the gentle sound of the rain outside. They all froze. The knock came again with more force than it should have if someone had simply dropped by for a social call. A moment later, Anne’s father came down from his study and went to the door. Anne held her breath.
The door swung open and the sight of gold and black filling the doorway sent a jolt into her chest. But it wasn’t Goler or Dagren, which only raised her suspicions further.
“Good morning,” her father greeted cautiously. “Can I help you?”
“Captain Goler and Captain Dagren have called a gathering of all the locals in and around Landale Village. Attendance is mandatory.”
“Right now?”
The soldier nodded firmly. “They plan to make an announcement at noon. We are to escort you and your household to the village.”
Anne pressed her hand to her stomach. Whatever announcement required an escort into Landale could not be good. Her blood flowed like ice water through her veins. Could they have been found out? She fought to calm herself. If Goler knew her family followed Elôm, he would have had them arrested . . . unless this was some scheme concocted by Dagren.
After a tense pause, her father nodded. “Very well. Let me see about having the carriage hitched.”
He turned to the women, not quite masking the tension in his expression, though he spoke calmly. After all, what could they do but comply? “Get your cloaks. It will be wet out there.”
He then stepped out, giving them privacy from the soldiers waiting on the porch. A heavy silence fell when the door closed behind him, filled only by the erratic beating of Anne’s heart. Finally, her mother took the first action and pushed to her feet.
“We’d better get our cloaks,” she said, her voice low.
Wordlessly, they tied them on and waited near the door. Anne tried to convince herself that this was more posturing by Goler and Dagren to intimidate the locals, but a cloud of doom pressed down on her. She drew a deep breath and prayed inwardly. Lord, whatever this is, protect Your children.
Her father returned several minutes later and escorted them out. The carriage waited near the porch, and just behind it, a wagon for the servants. Elian stood near the carriage with his horse, his face taut. The four guards had mounted and waited to leave. Anne’s father helped the three women into the carriage before climbing in himself.
The soldiers’ horses splashed around outside, and then the carriage lumbered forward. As they rolled away from Marlton, Anne’s mother looked at her father, her hand clutching his arm.
“What do you think this is about?”
He shook his head and murmured, “I don’t know.”
Anne kept praying to keep her mind from all the worst-case scenarios. She peeked out the window a couple of times and couldn’t help but hope to catch a glimpse of Trask or his men. It would ease her mind to know help was nearby.
Silence followed them the rest of the way to Landale. When they reached the edge of the village, Anne spied more than one soldier out the window.
“That’s a lot of security,” she whispered.
Her father nodded solemnly. “They must know people won’t like whatever announcement Goler and Dagren plan to make.”
Dread rose up within Anne and turned into a gnawing urge to flee. But, as the carriage rolled to a stop, she sent up another prayer and stiffened her spine. They had faced and overcome more than one trial in the last couple of years. She had to believe they would overcome whatever this brought as well. Her father helped her down from the carriage. They stood at the edge of the village square, where it appeared most of the villagers had already gathered.
A cold mist coated her face, and she shivered. She pulled up her hood and walked beside Elanor as her parents led them into the gathering. Murmurs surrounded them. The confusion on the villagers’ faces told Anne that they were no more sure of what was happening than she was. A terrible thought invaded her mind. What if this was a move to flush out believers, and they would all be required to bow before Aertus and Vilai?
But with a quick scan of the area, she could find no sign of any idols, and a little of the pressure squeezing her lungs let up.
A few restless minutes after they arrived, Captain Dagren stepped up onto a flat wagon that elevated him above the crowd, and the murmuring died. Several soldiers stationed themselves around it. A hush fell across the entire square as they all peered up at the captain.
“People of Landale,” his voice rang out, “I have called this gathering to address a problem—a problem that affects every single one of us: the problem of rebellion.”
He said the last word with a sneer. Anne peeked at those standing near them. Most of the people she knew maintained loyalty to Baron Grey and Trask as wel
l as faith in Elôm, but their faces remained a bland mask.
“For over two years, Landale has found itself at the very center of rebellion and treason against His Majesty, Emperor Daican. Violent rebels hide within your forests. Criminals who would use dragons to make forest travel unsafe and increased security necessary.”
Anne resisted a scoff. The people of Landale would have to be blind to buy any of this. Dagren and his men were the ones responsible for making the area unsafe. However, she checked her anger toward him.
“The emperor sent me to put an end to it once and for all. To eradicate such rebellion, one must destroy it at its heart. It didn’t start with the lowlifes and outcasts—it started right here in the very center of your community, with your leaders.”
He swept his arm to his right and all eyes followed it. The door opened on a nearby building, and a group of soldiers, including Goler, led Baron Grey out in chains. A gasp escaped Anne’s mouth, but the other audible reactions all around her drowned it out.
The soldiers led him through the crowd and up to the wagon. Anne covered her mouth with her hand as tears poured into her eyes. Bruises and bloodied gashes covered the baron’s face, yet, when he looked out over the people, he appeared stronger than he had in a long while.
With a solid thud, soldiers set an execution block on the wagon. Anne’s heart lurched inside her, and panic burst through her body.
“Father!” she gasped. She turned to him, and his eyes mirrored her desperation. “We have to do something.”
The slight shake of his head told her there was nothing they could do. Even if they tried, unless the whole village joined them, they would never get past Dagren’s men alive.
Her attention jerked back to the wagon, where Dagren spoke again.
“Baron Grey of Landale has been found guilty of treason against the emperor, denying the gods, and aiding the rebels. He is therefore sentenced to death. Treason will never be tolerated. Not by the lowest of Arcacia’s citizens, nor the highest.”
Exiles (Ilyon Chronicles Book 4) Page 19
