by Tim Marquitz
She eased back into the throne, its seat comfortable at last. If Elizabeth had truly been found, it would only be a matter of time before Shade fell upon her and brought the last nineteen years of uncertainty to a close.
She could not wish for a happier ending.
Eight
The sun had crept high in the sky by the time Darius slowed to let Sebastian catch up. The heat of the day penetrated the canopy in a shower of golden lines, which warmed his skin, as he passed beneath.
He came alongside his father who glanced over at him. “Are you done sulking yet?”
Darius stopped and turned to glare at Sebastian, annoyance clear in the tight lines of his face. “I wasn’t sulking.” He spun the rest of the way around to look back the way they’d come. “I should have known better.” His hands swung about as he spoke, as though he might chase his anger off with his motions.
“Known better than what? Than to trust the villagers to treat us kindly after I’d risked life and limb to free them from the Red Guard tyranny?”
His father shook his head. “The moment you told me the resistance tried to recruit you we should have left Deliton behind.” He growled, whipping his head around to look at Sebastian. “Rebellions are not won through honorable combat on an open field. It’s only the end result that holds any value for a resistance movement, for anything but victory means death for them. They’ll do anything to win.”
“To include pretending they are Red Guard so they can draw us further into their conflict and spare their own forces.” Sebastian sighed. “I should have seen it coming, as well.”
“How would you?” his father asked. “I’ve kept you sequestered your entire life, so this is my failure to sow. You know only combat, not people…all thanks to me and my foolish notion that I could protect you from the callous stupidity that runs so rampant in the realm.” He gnashed his teeth, a whispered curse slipping from between them. “I gave no thought to the world we’d return to once your training was complete, but only of your mother and the sweetness of the revenge we’d bestow upon her murderers. I thought only of myself.” Darius turned away, his eyes misted silver. “I’m sorry, son.”
Sebastian set a hand on his father’s shoulder. “I hold no ill will towards you for what you’ve made me.” He tugged Darius around to face him. “You’ve kept me alive and protected me from the fate that has taken the rest of my kind. For all your yearning for revenge, you were there for me as no other could have been. I could ask for no greater father than you.” He painted a cruel smile across his lips. “And I, too, want what you want; more than anything. I want to see the entrails of the witches splayed across my sword. If there is a different life to be had, it will wait for me on the other side of what we must do. When mother’s spirit has been sated, we can begin again and worry then of the fools that litter Mynistiria.”
A tear spilled from Darius’ eye and carved a trail down the dust that colored his cheek. He pulled Sebastian to him and hugged him tight, finally letting him loose with a hardy slap on his back. “And so we shall, my son.” He wiped the tear away, smearing his face with a streak of dirt. “Come now, let’s get moving. We’ve a ways to go before we reach the next shining example of humanity.”
Sebastian chuckled as they marched on. After a while, Darius pulled ahead once more and Sebastian slowed. He was tired, and his steps were leaden. It had taken a lot more energy than he’d been prepared to expend to conjure the fireball he’d used to ignite the wood pile at Deliton.
Though his father had been an expert teacher when it came to the arts of war, a general who had stood behind his sword far longer than Sebastian had been alive, his knowledge of spell casting was limited to what he had gleaned from Sebastian’s mother. It wasn’t enough.
After Darius’ defeat at the hands of the Red Guard army, their might bolstered by the witches of the High Council, he was enslaved and forced to serve the witches. When Sebastian’s mother had come to power years later, he had become her personal servant, bound to her whims through the use of magical sigils drawn into his flesh. His servitude slowly became companionship, in secret, and the sigils were removed in secret as their trust blossomed into love. He learned much in the ten years they’d been together, and that knowledge was what Darius had drilled into Sebastian.
Though it was a good foundation, much of what he had been exposed to was beyond him. Darius was no warlock and had never experienced the intricacies of magic firsthand. He was, however, a warrior-bred, through and through. He began to teach Sebastian to fight as soon as he could walk, doing the best he could with regards to the magical aspects. It was difficult for both of them. Rather than risk doing harm to Sebastian by pushing him toward a goal Darius couldn’t comprehend, he focused his training on the military arts, letting Sebastian come largely into his own as far as his magic was concerned.
In doing so, Sebastian had never learned the lessons most witches learned early in their life. Though he had inherited his mother’s power, he was twice cursed by being male on top of his father’s lack of knowledge. Slower to gain mastery than women, warlocks came into their strength later in life, the subtlety of dexterous use mostly beyond them. So, while Sebastian might one day grow to surpass the greatest of the witches in pure power, he found himself limited by his age and his gender. The tiny ball of fire he’d summoned, a task so easily performed by the captain he’d killed, was the equivalent to climbing a small mountain for him.
His feet dragged in the humus, his boots scraping an obvious trail behind him as he walked. He adjusted his cloak to take the weight from his shoulders when he stumbled over a buried root. Sebastian caught himself before he fell, cursing under his breath as he felt a twinge of pain at his ankle, his foot slightly twisted as he regained his balance. He bent down to examine his ankle when he heard a sharp snap come from the woods, somewhere behind him. His father still in sight ahead, it wasn’t him that had made the sound.
Adrenaline sparked in Sebastian’s veins, but he stayed where he knelt, shifting only slightly to widen his field of view, scanning the trees to the edge of his peripheral vision. He rubbed at his ankle with more animation than it needed, complaining out loud as he searched for the source of the noise.
He could hear nothing but the quiet sounds of the distant forest. It told him as much as if he had heard someone call out. Sebastian clenched his teeth, but kept his frustration from his face, smoothing his emotions away as he rose to his feet. Exaggerating a slight limp, he hobbled off after his father, calling out to him to slow so he could catch up.
Darius turned and Sebastian faked a stumble, drawing his father to him quickly. Darius ran to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder for support, concern evident in his wide eyes.
“We’re being followed,” Sebastian whispered as he shifted his weight to be near his father’s ear.
“Come on, boy. Let’s find a place to set camp so we can get a good look at that leg of yours,” Darius answered loudly, tapping Sebastian’s side twice to let him know he had heard and understood the warning.
Sebastian shifted again and hid his hand from being seen from behind as he pointed out the general direction he believed their follower to be.
Darius gave the shallowest of nods. “We can’t break off without arousing suspicion. Ready for a fight?” His words were little more than a soft exhalation.
“No,” Sebastian whispered back. Though his ankle was nothing more than an annoyance, the hard travel and previous battles had taken their toll on him. He could fight if he must, but he didn’t believe he had to.
A man who believes he has the advantage doesn’t track his enemy, he engages. Only someone uncertain would expend the energy necessary to follow someone through a forest given the effort it takes to remain unseen. Had their follower intended to do them harm, and felt capable of it, they would likely have already been attacked. He knew his father was thinking the same, for it was he that taught Sebastian such wisdom.
The two moved slow through th
e woods without another word, each casting furtive glances back in hopes of spying whoever it was that trailed them. Sebastian could see no one, but the widespread silence of the insects beyond their immediate vicinity assured him he was still there. The bugs never lied.
While the trip was made more tedious by their closeness, the fake limp an aggravation to them both, they stayed together, the whole of their senses trained on the forest around them. No one showed their face, and they continued on until the sun began its slow descent below the trees. At last, they settled for the night, pitching a small camp but starting no fire. The watcher still unseen, they settled beneath a concealing web of foliage that hung from a cluster of giant trees. The greenery providing a good measure of cover from the eyes that had lurked behind them for hours, they sat more comfortably, the weight of miles fading slowly from their weary bones.
Sebastian peered off in one direction, his father the other. Through the fugue of weariness, Sebastian kept his eyes on the trees despite his wish for sleep. His sword at the ready, he stared off into the silent darkness and waited. It would be yet another long night.
Nine
Morning was slow to come. Sebastian and his father had slept in fitful bouts, each taking turns at watch. Whoever followed them had kept his distance, never approaching the camp. The fact that he remained in hiding could be interpreted in different ways, the majority of the possibilities having flitted through Sebastian’s mind hundreds of times over the course of the night. Either he was correct in assuming the tracker was afraid of them, or he knew they were aware he was there and he’d stayed away simply to wear them down, their weariness becoming a disadvantage at some later point in their travels. Sadly, assumptions were all Sebastian had.
To add to their misery, a number of Red Guard patrols had crisscrossed the dark skies above their encampment. The piercing screeches of griffons shattered the silence, startling Sebastian and Darius from their languid slumber several times. The night was full of their sounds, and it did nothing to ease Sebastian’s mind as he sat tense, waiting for someone to leap from the bushes.
At the first hint of orange in the sky, he saw his father climb to his feet and stretch. A yawned groan floated in the morning air, punctuated by the muffled pops of his knees. Sebastian smiled but he knew he’d sound no better when he got up, the cold comfort of the earth a horrible substitute for a feathered mattress and warmed rushes. He tested his ankle to find it was a little sore, but nothing that would limit his motion.
Sebastian got up slow, knowing his father would be impatient to leave, but unwilling to rush. His blurry eyes were on the trees. Hidden as the pair was by the mass of foliage, it was unlikely they could even be seen, but he had no desire to be proven wrong. It was far too early to be worrying about being killed.
He heard his father watering the trees and waited until he was finished, giving him another moment to secure his pants before Sebastian followed suit. He chuckled as he relieved himself behind the broad shelter of a tree trunk. Now would be the perfect time for an ambush.
Grateful he got to finish his task without interruption, he turned back to find his father. A short distance away, Darius stared at the lightening sky through the shifting canopy.
“I suspect we’ll see more patrols today. After all the excitement, they’ll be thick in the area,” he whispered, his voice barely carrying to Sebastian’s ear. “We’ll stick to the deeper woods to keep their eyes off our backs.”
Sebastian yawned and gave a halfhearted nod. His day had just become more tedious. While the thick forest might protect them from being spotted by the soldiers, it made it that much easier for their follower to draw closer without being seen, and that much harder for them to navigate. Though he preferred the certainty of the Red Guard to the unknown threat that lurked behind them, he said nothing. It was also too early to provoke his father.
Sebastian retrieved his equipment and passed his father a piece of salted beef he’d pulled from his small pack. He grumbled as he gnawed at the leathery meat, slivers of it getting caught between his teeth. They hadn’t been ready for a long journey, and their quick departure from Deliton had left them unprepared for more than just a few days in the wilderness. They had not claimed the supplies promised them by Jonas, setting off without them. Fortunately, they’d reach the village of Cammpras before the day’s light failed. They could buy what they needed there, or scavenge it; whatever they deemed most appropriate at the time.
Barely awake, Sebastian set his mind on the task ahead and focused his senses once more on their surroundings. Their unwanted companion had all night to re-position for a fresh start, so until they could pick him out of the background noise of the forest, it was best to stay alert.
His father looked over at him and motioned to Sebastian’s leg with his eyes. Sebastian waved him off. “If he didn’t take the bait when it was fresh, he’s not likely to do it now,” he whispered.
Darius shrugged in agreement and slipped between the foliage cover, and out into the woods. Sebastian followed, adjusting his scabbard for ease of access just in case he was wrong. No longer pretending his injuring to be limiting, it felt as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He could move freely until they reached the deeper forest.
They moved through the clustered trees, not bothering to hide their trail or quiet their passage. It had taken only minutes for Sebastian to pick out the telltale sounds of their shadowy friend. He smiled when he realized he had done it before his father had. Darius gave him a furtive glance over his shoulder when he’d spied the tracker, and caught Sebastian smiling. Sebastian winked and continued on. His father slowed just enough to nudge him in the side with a sharp elbow. Sebastian covered his laugh with a cough and pulled ahead so Darius couldn’t see the grin that was still plastered on his face.
Several hours later, the grin had melted away, replaced by a fine sheen of sweat, which misted his face and stung his eyes. The space between the trees had shrunken, the trunks growing incestuously close together. Gnarled roots and vines tugged at their feet to make every step a challenge. Sebastian wiped the moisture from his brow and mumbled a curse as he gracelessly slipped between two massive tree trunks.
Though the sun only peeked through the canopy on rare occasions, its heat penetrated without effort. Beneath his tunic, Sebastian sweltered. He’d taken his cloak off long ago, its length rolled and stuffed through his belt. Once through a cluster of bushes, he paused and looked to his father. Darius smirked with cruel abandon, mouthing words but not saying anything aloud.
Sebastian didn’t need to hear to know what was said. “Get used to it, boy. This is what warriors do,” he muttered, mimicking his father’s inflection. He’d heard the saying a million times during his training, Darius repeating it every time Sebastian complained. It was like a mantra these days, reminding him to keep his tongue in his mouth and his grievances to himself. He did just that.
By the time the sun began its descent, the trees had thinned a little, easing their effort and speeding their pace. Their shadowy companion still behind them, Darius called a halt, raising his hand but saying nothing. Sebastian drew up beside him and peered through the branches ahead and spied what had brought his father to a stop.
Off in the distance he saw what he presumed was Cammpras, a number of small buildings marking the edge of the village. Distorted sounds drifted past, harsh voices raised in anger. He listened closer but could pick out no words. He looked between the closest homes and saw flickers of movement, red and silver passing in flashes.
“Red Guard,” he whispered, shaking his head. “Damn it.”
Darius nodded, casting a glance toward the trees behind them. Sebastian split his focus, keeping his ears to their back and his eyes on the village. Their follower had stopped his advance just as they had, so Sebastian felt fairly confident it wasn’t a minion of the witches on their trail. If it were, he wouldn’t have gone silent at the sight of his fellow Red Guard. It was a minor comfort to know s
omething of the man at their backs.
Another burst of voices echoed from the village, followed by a storm of motion. Sebastian clearly recognized one of the Red Guard as he hovered in his line of sight, his sword in his hand. The man shouted at someone he couldn’t see, but the tone was clear. It was an order. The village was under siege, just as Deliton had been.
Sebastian’s stomach rumbled and he growled back. He’d been looking forward to food and sleep, not a fight. With the Red Guard occupying the village, the only way they would be able to gather supplies would be to take the squadron out. As tired as he was, he wasn’t sure he had it in him. Frustration building, he thought it best to scout out the situation. His father would expect it.
He crept to the side, clearing more of the town to his view. As he looked for the Red Guard’s transport, he caught a shimmer of movement from one of the nearest homes. He ducked deeper behind his cover, motioning for his father to do the same.
Darius dropped at the hand signal, a lifetime of military training making the action instinctive. Sebastian stared off at the hut, the shuttered windows cracked but a few inches. Between the slats he could see flesh; a face peering from the crack. It sat low, in an obvious effort to be surreptitious. The face dropped from sight an instant later.
Sebastian glanced off toward the rest of the buildings near the edge. He sighed when he saw that all of the shutters facing the forest were open just a tiny bit, just enough to allow someone inside to see out without giving themselves away, if they were careful. He let his eyes drift over the windows and after a few moments, he saw the nearly imperceptible flutter of a face at another. A moment later he saw yet one more flash of movement, catching a glance of red through the slats. The soldiers were impatient.
