Baxter frowned. “You said this was the first.” He reminded the priest.
“As of now, over a hundred men, women and children have gone missing in the woods.” The Priest paused, closing his eyes and looking down as he pressed his lips together. “And then the destruction of crops, the souring of our cattle, and the destruction of people’s homes became more evident. Lady Thea was not the first to fall ill, but she was the first of those from within the manor.”
“You speak as if this is not new for you.” Baxter accused the priest, and he admitted to knowing more than he had said with just a guilty expression. “Tell me, what do you suspect?”
“It is no longer a suspicion. I know it as fact. In my heart, when I pray on these things I am aware that it is not the act of Gods but the defiance of men who have reclaimed Crimah. The rebellion is truly upon us, organised in a way like we have never witnessed before. All the acts that had been used against us were first used against them. Earl Barrett became a master of guerrilla warfare, and the people of Zorelian were destroyed by it. Over the decades, it seems that they have come to learn the tricks themselves.”
Baxter sat back in the seat, frowning. “You mean this is retaliation for the war?” he asked.
The older man nodded. “War is not starting. It has already come to Crimah. Most of the people who lived in Crimah all of their lives, and for generations before, know that it was no longer a sanctuary. Once Crimah is claimed by the rebels, they will work towards Braykith, if they have not already started.”
Baxter did not like the idea of that. “Before I left, there had been small incidents but nothing to raise genuine alarm with my father.” He admitted. “I dare say that my father thought nothing of a few men going missing if he noticed them at all. Braykith is much bigger then Crimah and the way we live is not for everyone. People come and go frequently enough for innocent reasons that faces are not missed.”
“Perhaps it is time that your King started paying attention to those faces.” The priest said. “The new and the old.” He sighed. “You are too young to know the truth, but surely you know the songs and stories of the war that brought Zorelian off the map?” Baxter nodded. The priest smiled. “It was a defining moment in our current history. I believe we can use those same songs and stories to work out what is to happen next from the rebels. Earl Barret, however, is far less predictable.”
The room seemed to get darker as Baxter considered the men who had come to Crimah in good spirits, believing that guarding Glais and Evangeline would be a casual order. No one would have guessed that they would pay with their lives because of a mad man. “Did anyone survive?” Baxter asked. The priest shook his head. “Glais had two women with him, to tend to Evangeline.” He added the second part quickly and hoped that no one was any wiser on who those women really were.
“Earl Barret was quite certain of their demise.” The Priest rose from his seat. “He may be mad, but he is still protected.” He walked slowly across the space and poured water from a jug into a glass and took a sip. “Worse still is the rebellion is using this time for their own victories. You are walking into a trap from all sides young man, and I can see that fire in your eyes. The want for vengeance against those who have been taken from us too soon will hurt you.”
“He deserves all that is served to him,” Baxter said, but he was greeted by silence. He knew that the priest would not condone such things, but he had hoped for more than a friendly ear. “You are warning me against being irrational?” He asked.
The priest nodded. “It is a hard thing for youth to understand, but patience will save your life. It is another weapon that you can use that Earl Barret will not have,”
Baxter sighed, but finally, he thought the Priest actually did give him good advice on the matter, and it would be childish simply to ignore him. “Why are you telling me all of this?”
The priest sighed and looked to the wall as if he could see right through it and see the manor sitting just in the distance. “I have served this land with an honest heart, Prince Baxter. I would like to see it return to that.” The priest paused, and Baxter kept the silence between them. He had seen that look in eyes before, and Evangeline had taught him the trick of pressure. He looked at the Priest, and he watched the man break.
“I believe the Earl has been poisoned himself.” The Priest waited for Baxter to interrupt, but it seemed that he was waiting for the priest to elaborate. “Be it witchcraft that has tainted him, or actual poisons I have never heard of, but his emotions have been taken hostage. Never have I seen him act with such a disregard for human life.”
“If the stories of the war are to be believed, Earl Barret was always a tough man.” Baxter was quick to point out the obvious. “I was once in awe of that, and now I fear him only because those old songs and stories never painted a man that I wanted to make my enemy.”
The priest blinked in surprise but nodded. “It seems I may have misjudged you, Prince Baxter,”
Baxter grinned. “It happens often.” He chuckled, the sound seeming odd given the darkness of their conversation. “Can I count on your support again?” he asked.
“Yes. I will do all I can, but my abilities are limited.” The Priest was old and well versed in his duties as a holy man. He had never picked up a weapon, and he hoped that Baxter would not ask him to.
“If I was to infiltrate the manor, which entrance would be best?” Baxter asked.
The old man thought about it for a moment before finally making a decision. “The South side. Earl Barret has brought all of his forces into his home, and they focus on keeping intruders out. Most of the living spaces are to the north end of the manor. The South would have the lowest odd in meeting competition.”
Baxter nodded. “And Lord Darius? How does he fair in this?” Baxter would need news to report to Evangeline. He feared if he gave her nothing she might come to investigate herself and this time Glais may come to her aide too late.
“I have no seen him, and yet I have not buried him either.” The priest confessed. “I believe he is being kept prisoner, but I cannot be certain. He has never been a very religious child, and that had continued as he grew older.” Baxter nodded. “Do not attempt a rescue.” The priest warned him.
“I said no such thing.” Baxter was quick to defend himself against the accusations. However, the lie did not sit well with the Priest. He seemed to know what Baxter was planning before it could come to pass. “I merely enquired for Lady Evangeline. She is quite concerned for his safety after the events of her last visit.”
The Priest’s eyes squinted as he looked Baxter’s face over, but there was no proof. “Do not attempt a rescue, and do not make this your business, young Prince. Your scout told me that your mission was to report to your father, and I have made that possible. Now you return to your men and report.”
Baxter did not like being told what to do from such an old man, but with no further questions to ask he bowed to the priest and left before their meeting caused suspicion from the house.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Darius sat in his room and did not dare make a noise. He held his breath for a time listening to the footsteps that passed beyond the door and only breathed freely again when they did not stop. He had once foolishly wished to be thrown into the jail that sat under the manor because then he would have some understanding what was going on here. Banished to his private quarters, Darius was not his father’s prisoner, not in a traditional sense, but he was not given permission to leave his room unless on his father’s orders.
Darius slowly released his breath and his shoulders slumped forwards as he realised that he would not be called on right now. While he hated to be controlled in this manner, the acts his father would force him to witness made him feel ill to his stomach for hours. He did not understand what was happening, but so far self-preservation had managed to keep him alive. Darius could only guess how much longer it would work in his favour. His father was growing increasingly violent as the days wore
on.
Suddenly the door swung open, and Darius sat up straight, brushing his hand back through the dirty mess of blonde hair on his head. It was a failed attempt at making himself more respectable looking. He had not been able to bathe properly for days, and the signs were starting to show. His father took up most of the doorway, the imposing man who had never shown him any direct violence now, gave Darius reasons to fear him.
Trembling the young man rose from his bed, standing as straight as he could but never meeting the other man’s eyes. “Father.” Darius addressed him as formally as he dared, and yet he was never sure what response Barret was waiting for him to give. It appeared no matter what he said the Earl of Crimah would not be satisfied.
Barret grunted in response, leaning back on the heels of his shoes and facing down the hallway before he came back to looking at his son. “Come on.” He gestured that Darius was to follow him, and before he could turn to lead the way, Darius was already close behind. Barret could always trust his son to fall into line. It was something that Evangeline never quite managed to control. Her impulsive attitudes would not break.
Barrett scratched at his jaw, not aware of the action or how his fingers ran over the place that Glais had hit him from time to time although the pain was long gone. “Today, we will be torturing one of the last Braykith men.” He announced with such ease it made Darius stumble a little over his own feet.
Darius managed to stay standing as he followed his father. “Torture?” Darius asked. He had been hoping that perhaps he had misheard what Barret had said.
“Yes. He has witnessed the sentencing and death of all of his co-conspirators. Now he is ready to break. I suspect it will be easy.” Barret laughed to himself and the door which lead to the cells was opened for him by one of the guards.
Darius paused to look at the man’s face. He did not recognise him, which was a strange thing for the young man who had grown up here in the castle. Most of the guards he could call upon by name if it was needed. A stranger stood here, holding the door open for Darius and without the usual expression he was accustomed to. “Father, I am confused. I thought Braykith was our trusted friend.” Darius had asked once before and been given silence as a response. He hoped this time that his father might give him more answers.
“I thought the same thing, but after Prince Glais attacked me in the woods, it is clear that it is only a matter of time before they come looking to strike against us.” Barret paused, turning to face Darius. “I had known all along that it was their plan and the reason Quintus never consented to you being betrothed to his daughter. First, they would use me to destroy their biggest competition and then they would take us. My greatest shame is seeing this deceit too late to protect everyone.” He put a hand on his son’s shoulder and Darius struggled not to shake it off in disgust. “Almost too late.” Barret corrected himself.
Barret walked ahead of him, and he let him. Looking back the way he had come, Darius wondered how far he could get before Barret got to him. He did not want to enter the room. The stale scent of blood and sweat was growing thicker with every step and Darius was not prepared for what was waiting for him. He heard his father call out his name, and he could not disobey him. Forcing one foot in front of the other, Darius grasped at the last of his courage.
Darius was not sure what he would see, but the man stripped bare from the waist up and tied down stopped him at the door. The prisoner could not move, and for an exposed second Darius believed the man was dead because his chest did not rise and fall as it should. Only in the silence of the room did he realise now that there was a struggling shallow breath staining the air. Darius stayed in the door frame, his father striding over to the man’s side as if the sight did not bother him.
It had taken a moment before Darius realised this was the truth he had been hoping to witness. Braykith had the rumours of torture and witchcraft, but this was very much real. “Father?” Darius wasn’t sure what he was going to follow his name with, but he was confused by the scene laid in front of him. He was waiting for Barrett to explain it, although the longer he looked, the more he saw. The man’s body was already bruised and broken in places.
Beyond the bruises, it was clear that his body was suffering from more than the hard-hitting fists of men. He was weak. As Barrett approached, the man could not focus. The moment his eyes found Barret they lost the fight and rolled back into his head, lids closing but struggling against it. Darius thought he had given up but the man was doing all he could in this state to stay strong, Darius admired that.
One hand clenched, feeble and not able to fully close, but it was something to show his continued existence. The man’s lips were cracked and bleeding, and the ropes that held him down remained tight and soaked with blood and flesh. The cuts had healed over in some places and infected beyond help. Darius wondered how long this man had been kept like this. He also wondered how much longer he could hope to live.
“How long has he been held here?” Darius asked, looking to one of the guards who was posted nearby, but they studiously refused to look at Darius. Their gaze seemed to stay to the walls, never once seeing the man before then or how Barret treated him. Each guard was a blind witness to this cruelty and too afraid to speak out against it.
“A few days,” Barrett answered. The man tried to open his eyes but again his body refused to co-operate, but his fist stayed as firm as he could make it.
“With no food or water?” Darius felt the question was stupid, but his mind could not be controlled. His moods swayed from disbelief that this was happening, and the instinct to run in an effort to save himself. Before this moment, Darius had never once feared that his life was in danger. He could not find that same security now. Darius watched as his father picked up a knife and seemed to be testing its weight. It was too easy to see his father using those same techniques against his own son should he feel it necessary.
“He is our prisoner Darius.” Barret turned to his son suddenly, and Darius took a small step backwards. Barret laughed in response. “This is James and the leader of those riders that trespassed onto our lands with Evangeline as their cover.”
“Not only had her visit occurred after an invitation from Benedict, but Eva's only intentions were also a peaceful message of love for her dying mother.” Darius tried to reason with Barret, and he thought for a moment he was getting through the madness. “Eva is my sister.” Darius pointed out the obvious that Evangeline could not be trespassing in her own home.
Barret scoffed, and Darius knew he had lost any ground he might have made. “She is not your sister. Evangeline is not my daughter.” He had mumbled to himself before he brought a hand down on James’ chest. The air was shoved from his lungs, and for a second James felt only suffocation before his body jumped back into life. “Come closer son, and learn the secrets.”
The mad glint in his fathers’ eyes moved him. Darius turned and fled from the room. He slammed the door behind him, but he knew it would only buy him mere seconds. It might be not enough to help him escape the manor, but it would certainly anger his father further. Darius ran through the once homely corridors with the threat of the devil coming after him. He dared not look back, or stop for supplies. Not believing he would survive should he be caught, Darius fled from the only home he had ever known and out into the world with no plans except escape.
He pushed the front doors open and did not stop as he ran down the stairs and to the front lawns. Darius knew nothing of how to tell direction and had always been raised to follow the words of his advisors. Being so gullible and naive to a genuine danger of his father, Darius was not a wise man. It was wild instinct that drove him, and not rational thought, as he took off towards the closest trees near his home. Should his father follow him, Darius would have the trees to protect him from a direct line of sight. That was the thought that propelled him forwards as Darius hit the tree line running and only just missed hitting the trees themselves in his haste.
Dodging to the left, he was
suddenly tackled to the right, and Darius fell hard to the ground. Landing on his back, his head smacking the ground, he fought through the fog so he could see his attacker. Baxter sat hard on his hips, confused but tense as they recognised each other.
“What are you doing here?” Darius asked, looking back the way he had come, but there were no signs of his father following him into the tree line just yet. “Get off me. I need to leave.”
“Wait, you are Evangeline’s brother.” Baxter recognised the small man as Darius, the fair-haired son of the Earl of Crimah and due to inherit the manor on his father’s death. Baxter was not quick to release him.
“I am, and you must let me pass.” Darius recognised the finely made clothes in the standard black stain of Braykith, but it did no0t give him any comfort. Baxter must have heard of the slaughter by now. All his men were dead, and revenge is a long-standing tradition in most of the world. Darius wondered if he had fled one death only to find another waiting for him. “My father has lost his mind since my mother passed. He is coming after me.” Darius tried to move, but Baxter kept him pinned down.
Baxter looked up, and Grant nodded, jogging off. “Grant has gone to see if what you say is true. I must warn you now Darius, if you are lying to me I will end you here, and Evangeline will be none the wiser on my involvement.” Baxter applied enough pressure to the other man’s neck that breathing became difficult but not completely cut off. It was a well-practiced move, and Baxter knew exactly how much pressure and where to put it to make it efficient.
Grant came back through the trees and knelt before Baxter. “Earl Barret is coming, with weapons and several men at his command.”
Baxter swore and released Darius instantly. “Is he riding?”
Grant shook his head. “No.”
Baxter nodded to himself. “Good, that means he does not know we are here and did not think Darius would get far.” It was also a sign that maybe he did not plan to take his son back at all. Baxter kept that to himself in case Darius did not think of it.
Delusions of Loyalty (The Braykith Series Book 2) Page 20
