Exiles (Ilyon Chronicles Book 4)

by Jaye L. Knight

  With the food set before them, Jorvik and his brothers brought their own plates to their table, and Jorvik offered a simple but sincere prayer. Then they passed around the food. Kyrin’s first bite of her sandwich was every bit as delicious as it had looked. She tried a slice of the cheese wedge, which was a little bitter, but rich and smooth. Along with the honey-sweetened apple preserves, they were the perfect complement to the sandwich. All around the table, the men voiced their appreciation for the food.

  “Do you make everything yourselves?” Balen asked the brothers.

  Jorvik nodded. “We stock up on necessary supplies a few times a year from one of the nearby settlements, but otherwise everything we eat comes from right here on the farm.”

  Kyrin smiled to herself. The thought of these three brothers baking and storing up preserves for themselves was endearing. Her brothers certainly couldn’t do it. If she and her mother left, they’d all five starve no doubt.

  Now that conversation had begun, Jorvik asked about Landale, and they spoke of the Resistance. When Balen explained what had brought them to Dorland and how their meeting with King Orlan had gone, Jorvik said, “If it were up to me, I would help you take back Samara. Whether Daican plans to conquer Ilyon or not, someone ought to show him that he can’t just take whatever pleases him.”

  His vehemence surprised Kyrin. She wouldn’t have expected this from a giant, especially considering how passive their king was. But then, Darq had mentioned the giants’ aversion to injustice, and the takeover of Samara was exactly that. If only King Orlan felt as strongly as Jorvik and his brothers.

  “We appreciate the support. At least we know we have some friends here,” Balen said. “So what can you tell us about the ryrik attacks? How large is the raiding party?”

  “It was a good dozen men, at least. Perhaps more that we have not seen. We’ve killed a couple, but that hasn’t deterred them. We may have the size advantage, but the farming families around here aren’t large in number. Even for us, it’s difficult to take on so many ryriks at once.” Jorvik’s face grew solemn. “We lost two of our nearest neighbors. One of them had a little girl who was killed in the attack.”

  Everyone sat silent for a moment at the tragic loss.

  “Your brothers told us how coordinated they are and their apparent disinterest in looting. Have you noticed any other strange behavior?” Balen asked.

  At this, Jorvik rose from his seat and crossed the room to a small closet. When he returned, he laid a sword on their table, which drew an immediate reaction from Marcus.

  “That’s an Arcacian military sword.”

  “That’s what we thought.”

  Marcus picked up the sword to inspect closer. “And not a standard issue foot soldier’s sword either. This would be for officers or given as gifts to decorated men.”

  “Of course, it could have been stolen in a raid somewhere,” Jorvik said, “but it’s odd to see something like that way out here. There isn’t an Arcacian barracks for more than a thousand miles. It doesn’t prove anything, but it could be worth looking into.”

  Anne stared numbly into the fireplace, unable to let herself think for more than a couple of minutes without tears forming. She ached for Trask. Leaving him that morning still tore at her. Inside, the house was gloomy and quiet as everyone mourned in their own ways. Her mother and Elanor kept busy with their sewing, but whenever Anne glanced at them, their faces were downcast and their eyes moist. Anne felt cold and too heavy to move. Her father too just sat in silence, no doubt reflecting on the lifetime he’d known Baron Grey. She wiped the corners of her eyes and swallowed around a hard knot of grief.

  A strong knock at the door shot a jolt through every frayed nerve in Anne’s body. What would it be this time? Her heart beat sluggishly as her father stood up to answer it.

  “Captain Goler,” he said in a low, flat tone.

  Anne’s insides convulsed, and she clenched her fists.

  “Sir John,” Goler replied, sounding disturbingly pleased.

  A long, heavy silence passed.

  “May I come in?” Goler asked finally.

  “I’m not sure now is the best time.”

  “I have news I wish to share with Anne,” Goler responded, with just enough force to show he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  Anne rose stiffly and approached the door, unsure if it was truly wise. It would take all her strength not to slap him. She came up behind her father, and Goler’s hard face brightened.

  “Anne.”

  What gave him the gall to skip her title? She sent him her coldest glare, and the pleased smile dropped from his face.

  “Are you ill?”

  Anne could hardly believe him. Was he truly so ignorant and self-absorbed? She ground out her words through her teeth. “What news did you wish to share, Captain?”

  He hesitated as if taken aback. However, he recovered himself and stood up a little straighter, the remnants of his smile returning as his eyes beamed with pride. “I came to tell you that I’ve been named Baron of Landale.”

  Anne stared at him. The selfish, inconsiderate, arrogant boor! Good thing her father stood between them. Tears flowed, and she couldn’t contain them.

  “How dare you?” Her voice trembled but gained volume. “How dare you come out here to tell me that after yesterday!”

  All the pride and satisfaction vanished in an instant, and he stammered, “I thought . . . you might be pleased for me.”

  Anne’s fists clenched more tightly, and she shook. “How could I when Baron Grey had to die for you to gain this position?”

  Goler’s brows bent. “He was a traitor.”

  “He was my friend!” she choked through a sob. “You have no idea how to treat or understand a woman if you expect me to just get over it. I don’t wish to speak with you right now.”

  She turned her face away from him though, out of the corner of her eye, she caught the way he blinked, and his mouth opened before snapping shut again. For just that moment, he appeared truly perplexed.

  “Anne . . .”

  “Go away!” she almost screamed at him before turning her back completely.

  Her father stepped in then. “I suggest you leave and let my family have the time and space we need.”

  A moment of silence followed, but then, without a word, Goler’s footsteps thumped across the porch. The door closed, and Anne turned back to her father. He reached out to her, and she collapsed against his chest, crying inconsolably.

  Daniel pulled on a fresh shirt and winced at the throbbing pain in his ribs. Three days of sparring with Aric had left him with a collection of painful bruises and sore muscles, but the sessions were one of his favorite parts of the day. It offered him a distraction from the matters weighing on his mind and the already suffocating feeling of the palace. Not to mention a way to get his aggressions out. He hadn’t thought house arrest would be so bad since he had his secret escape, but the inability to do something as simple as go out for a ride ate at him. If it was this difficult after just a couple of days, what would it do to his sanity after a month?

  Well, he might not go riding for the rest of his life, but he could at least visit the stable and make sure his horses were properly exercised. Any excuse to get outdoors. He buckled on his jerkin and left his room. On his way downstairs, one of the footmen intercepted him.

  “His Majesty requests your presence in the throne room, my lord.”

  Daniel didn’t stifle a sigh. “Now?”

  The footman nodded.

  Altering his course, Daniel fought mightily to rein in his rebellious emotions. After several hours of deep prayer, he’d reached the conclusion that the best way to try to get through to his father was through submission and respect as long as it didn’t go against his faith. After all, what better way to show Elôm’s power in his life than to do well in presenting himself as the changed man he was?

  With a deep breath and another plea for aid, Daniel entered the throne room. His father s
tood near the dais with Aric, but Daniel’s attention latched onto the eight other men nearby. They were his security detail, and all eight of them stood in chains. Daniel frowned and faced his father. “What is this?”

  “It has occurred to me,” his father said in his deceptively conversational tone, “that anyone you met who might have swayed you to follow your misguided beliefs would have been witnessed by your men. They, however, insist they know nothing.”

  Daniel shook his head. “They don’t.”

  “I don’t see how that’s possible if they were supposed to be with you every minute you spent outside this palace.”

  Daniel shifted his jaw. Not every minute. “Come on, Father, just let them go. This won’t gain you anything.”

  “No? Well, I will not tolerate treason, nor any who aid traitors.” His father motioned to the other security guards. “Have them taken to the arena. They can help provide the entertainment once it opens.”

  Daniel’s jaw dropped. “Father, what are you doing? These men are innocent!”

  “Unless you can prove that, I’m inclined to believe otherwise.”

  The guards led the men toward the door as some tried to protest and plead their case. His father ignored them, staring expectantly at Daniel. Clenching his fists, Daniel stepped forward to stop them. Other guards grabbed him by the arms and held him back. He fought against them, but they would not relinquish their hold.

  “Father, you can’t do this. They can’t tell you anything because they don’t know anything. They don’t deserve this.” But his father didn’t budge. Daniel expelled a rough breath. There was only one way to stop this, but to do so would destroy the only escape he had left. He looked at his men. If they died in that arena, they would never have another chance to turn to Elôm. He couldn’t let that happen. He jerked around to face his father. “I sneak out of the palace alone at night.”

  Everyone stopped. His father peered at him, eyes narrowed. “How?”

  Daniel bit down until his teeth hurt, the trapped feeling already descending on him heavily, but he came out with it. “An old gate hidden in the vines behind the temple.” He winced. Now he truly was a prisoner.

  He held his father’s gaze, ill feelings passing between them before his father turned to Aric. “Find the gate and have it filled in immediately. And check the wall for any more such gates.” To the guards leading away Daniel’s men, he commanded, “Take them out. They are relieved of their duty here at Auréa, and should they speak a word of what’s happened, they are to be executed immediately.”

  Daniel hung his head in regret that he had cost them their jobs, but at least they would live. The guards released their hold on him, and his father stepped closer. His voice dropped to a low, dangerous tone.

  “If I find out anyone in this palace has aided you in sneaking about, I will have them executed.” The intensity of his eyes drove home his point. “And you will not leave this palace again until you are ready to kneel in the temple and commit to the life your gods have given you.”

  The call of early morning birds beckoned Jace outside. He’d slept well last night—better than in Arvael—but awoke earlier than everyone else, save the cretes. He stood on the porch for a moment and walked down to where Darq and the others stood with their dragons. He said good morning to them, and then to Gem, who bent her head for him to rub her chin. Smiling at her purr, he looked around the yard. He hadn’t been on a farm in so long. All the sights, sounds, and smells reminded him how much he missed it and revealed a deep ache for the little valley near Kinnim.

  When he saw Jorvik and his brothers working on chores, Jace left the dragons and approached them. He gazed up at the barn in awe. Aldor’s had probably been a quarter of the size.

  “Morning,” Halvar greeted him cheerfully.

  Jace responded, and then nodded to the wide, open barn door. “Mind if I have a look inside?”

  “Not at all.” Halvar motioned for him to follow and led the way.

  Large stalls lined the long corridor down the center. One of the first held a tall sorrel mare whose sides bulged.

  “She’s about to drop a foal any day,” Halvar said.

  The mare dipped her giant head over the rope across the stall, and Jace rubbed the white star on her massive forehead. He still couldn’t get over the size of Dorland horses. A horse like this would make quick work of plowing a field back in Arcacia. He looked at her swollen belly again.

  “Today or tomorrow, I’d say,” he told Halvar.

  The giant agreed. “Are you familiar with farming?”

  “I lived on a farm for a couple of years before joining the Resistance.” A shallow sigh escaped him. “I miss it though.”

  “Maybe someday you’ll get back to it.”

  Jace looked up at Halvar and shrugged. He couldn’t really see that. As long as Daican ruled, he and the others would be fugitives. No doubt they’d spend the rest of their lives in hiding, if they survived the advancement of the emperor’s power.

  They moved on, and Halvar gave him a tour of the rest of the barn and let him have a closer look at the cattle that, despite their size, were rather docile. Jace was interested in learning more about them, as well as the crops the brothers had planted. He forgot all about the time until Jorvik’s booming voice called everyone in for breakfast.

  Jace and Halvar walked away from the pasture and back to the cabin. When Jace entered, Kyrin was already at the table, and he slipped into the spot she had saved for him. She gave him a soft smile and asked, “Where have you been?”

  “Halvar was showing me around the barn and the cattle.” He paused. “It brings back memories.”

  A hush fell for Jorvik to offer a prayer. When he concluded, Jace opened his eyes and looked around. A mountainous bowl of fluffy scrambled eggs sat in the center along with an equally large bowl of fried potatoes and onions. On one side sat a platter of enormous strips of bacon. Another plate sat to the opposite side with slices of buttered toast just waiting for a thick slathering of jam. Jace’s stomach growled. The giants sure knew the value of a good, home-cooked meal. He’d take this over fancy fare any day. The others seemed to agree, especially with the way Kaden filled his plate until it nearly overflowed.

  Kyrin leaned forward past Jace to see her brother. “You’re really going to eat all that?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  Kyrin shook her head. “You’d think Mother and I starve you.”

  Jace chuckled at them and eagerly filled his own plate, though not quite as full as Kaden’s.

  Though they enjoyed the meal, they did not linger over it. After helping Jorvik and his brothers clear the tables, they left the cabin to saddle their dragons and horses. Jorvik had offered to take them to the ford to see if they could spot anything he and his brothers hadn’t. They all headed west, toward the trees in the distance. It wasn’t long before Jace spotted a sparkling ribbon of water ahead. The closer they came, the more he distinguished its features. Though not wide, it flowed swiftly, riddled with rocks and steep banks. Not good for crossing, as Darq had said—all but in one area.

  When they reached the ford, they landed near the pebbly shore. The opposite bank sloped up gradually about fifty feet across from them, and though the water still moved along at a quick pace, it appeared shallow. They dismounted as Jorvik and his brothers joined them.

  “This is the ford,” Jorvik said. “Individually, one might find crossing points at other places along the river, but as a group with supplies or horses, this is the only safe way to cross into Dorland on foot.”

  They approached the river to have a better look. Jace studied the ground for any signs of people, but it didn’t appear anyone had passed this way in at least a week. However, dozens of deer tracks left deep impressions in the moist dirt. He looked upriver. A couple hundred yards off, the tree line started. Thick towering pines that would offer cover from detection—just what a ryrik raiding party would want.

  “Naeth and I will take a look around on
the other side,” Darq said. “Talas, you and Leetra fly around the area and see if you spot anything unusual.”

  The cretes returned to the dragons and took off.

  “Why don’t we spread out?” Balen suggested. “Jace, you can make a search to the north, and I’ll go south. We’ll see if we can find anything.”

  Jace nodded and headed north with Kyrin and Holden while everyone else stayed close to Balen. They moved along slowly, and Jace scanned the ground for any imprints or disturbed soil. When they reached the trees, he searched for paths that led in and out of the forest. He also kept a close watch, just in case someone was hiding in the underbrush waiting for them.

  “Find anything?” Kyrin asked.

  He shook his head. “If anyone has passed this way, it hasn’t been for a while. Either that, or they’ve covered their trail well.” Which was very possible. They were ryriks, after all. No other race of people was more skilled in the woods.

  They turned back to the ford. Just as they joined up with the others, Darq, Naeth, Talas, and Leetra landed nearby. The captain spoke urgently. “Talas and Leetra spotted a lot of smoke northeast of here.”

  Jorvik looked in that direction. “Go; we’ll meet you there.”

  Everyone scrambled to their dragons and launched into the air. Jace loosened his sword once Gem had leveled out. With the dragons, chances were they wouldn’t even need their weapons, but his blood still stirred in anticipation of a possible fight. It wasn’t long before a thick, gray plume of smoke billowed on the horizon. His gut cramped. Something big was burning—something like a cabin or barn.

  In less than five minutes, they reached the source of the smoke, confirming his suspicions. A barn similar to Jorvik’s blazed with roaring flames shooting through the roof. He looked around for the culprits. Only four giants occupied the yard. No ryriks were in sight, but the forest stood only a hundred yards from the cabin, providing a quick and convenient escape for the attackers.