Heir of Hope (Follower of the Word Book 3)

by Morgan L. Busse

  “He claimed he killed the shadow in Azar.”

  Malchus let go of his chair and stepped forward. “Velyni?”

  Juris glanced at Malchus. “I-I didn’t catch the name. He also claimed to have banished the shadow over in Deraude, that small fishing village I told you about.”

  If there really was a Guardian with the insurgents, then they were vulnerable. Valin glanced at Malchus. “Did you know about this? Did you know there was a Guardian still in the Lands?”

  Malchus scowled. “No. And if I had, I would not have kept this information from you.”

  “But you would have felt him more than I would have.”

  “He’s probably a half-breed, the offspring of an Eldaran and a human. I would guess his blood is so diluted that his presence cannot be felt.”

  “Perhaps. But he still possesses the blade. He has Veritas. And he can use it.” Valin gripped the arms of his chair. “How could this possibly be? There were none left.”

  “If he is a half-breed, then we have nothing to worry about. This Guardian will be no match for me. He is young, and most likely new to his power, or else we would have heard of him before now.”

  “Perhaps. But I don’t like it.”

  “I will bring another shadow over today.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Malchus looked almost like one of them now. Could he withstand another tear? No one, as far as Valin knew, had pulled so many from the unseen world. Except maybe during the Nordic Wars.

  Malchus pursed his lips into one firm line. “We will not be stopped. Not now. Not when we are on the brink of expanding. Even if I have to bring the entire unseen world here.”

  He didn’t like that. Malchus might be powerful, but he could not control so many Mordra. The shadows would eventually turn on them. “We are not there yet. Only bring one over.”

  “I will need replenishment afterward.”

  Valin sighed and rubbed his forehead. Yes, Malchus was definitely becoming hungrier. “Then use one of the twisted soldiers. We have no more prisoners.”

  “There is another,” Malchus said, low enough so only he could hear.

  “Juris hasn’t told us everything.” Then he raised his voice. “Back to Cargan. What are his plans?”

  Juris sneered. “Not until I have what you promised.”

  Valin waved his hand. “The entire city is empty. You may have your choice of anything—home, coins, jewelry. Even women, if there is one we have twisted that you desire. We have no use for any of it.”

  The lies slipped so easily from his lips that it seemed impossible that ages ago he had once been a Truthsayer. Ha! “We only plan on staying in Thyra until we have the White City.”

  Which was going to be that much harder to obtain, now that Velyni was gone, if what Juris had said was true. Curse that Guardian! No wonder they hadn’t heard from Velyni. No matter. One way or another, they would have their ancient home back, along with the rest of the Lands.

  Juris narrowed his eyes. “I have your word on this?”

  “Yes.”

  People were so gullible. If Juris was really that foolish to believe them, then he deserved to be consumed by Malchus. No use keeping around a man blinded by greed. Not to mention that if he was willing to betray his own people, then he was willing to betray them as well, for the right price.

  Juris hesitated.

  Valin gave off a feeling of honesty, letting it fill the air and seep into Juris’s soul. Believe me.

  “All right.” Juris sat back. “Cargan is sending two covert groups into Thyra. I was sent to recruit the other groups hiding around Kerre. Instead, I came here.”

  “Where and how?”

  “One group will be using the catacombs beneath the city.”

  “They are patrolled by the shadows.”

  “Yes, but the Guardian, as you called him, will be with that group.”

  Valin nodded. “Go on.”

  “The other group will be using a hidden door on the eastern side of the city, near the red district.”

  Valin frowned. “Why have you never told us of such a door?”

  “Even Cargan didn’t know about it. But that lady scribe did, and she shared that with the others.”

  “And what does this other group plan on doing once they are in Thyra?”

  “A few from that group will be looking for your prisoner, the Eldaran.”

  Valin gritted his teeth. “Go on.”

  “The rest will converge on your twisted army and lock them away until their minds can be freed.”

  “And how will they do that?”

  “With the Eldaran they hope to rescue.”

  He tapped the chair again, his mind drawing deep inside, his thoughts churning. So they hoped to rescue his twisted soldiers? And by using Rowen? Her very name made his veins rush with blood. “So she is their hope, the key to their success.”

  “Yes. Without her, they cannot free those who have been twisted. Is that true?”

  Valin ignored Juris. His first thought was to crush Cargan and his men. Send out all the shadows and twisted soldiers and annihilate the whole grou—

  He paused, his finger in mid air. Ever since her treachery, he had wanted to hurt Rowen. Taking her hand had not been enough to quench the inferno inside of him. He wanted to squeeze every bit of hope and life out of her until nothing remained. Perhaps this incursion was just the thing to do it.

  He focused back on Juris. “So all the men will be with Cargan, here, in Thyra?”

  “Yes.”

  “Leaving the women and children behind.”

  Juris narrowed his eyes. “Yes.”

  “Juris, do you really want to stay in Thyra once this is all over?”

  Juris sat back, a thoughtful expression on his face. “No, not really. What good is all that gold you’re giving me if there is no place to spend it?”

  “Very true. There will be no merchants here, no shopkeepers, no women. So what if I offered you a ship and a crew in exchange for the location of all your hideouts? You could sail anywhere. You could go to Hont, or Avonai. Or even across the ocean to the Lands beyond.”

  He stiffened. “Why? Isn’t the information I brought good enough?”

  “I would like more.”

  Juris crossed his arms. “I have no love for Cargan or most of the men. But I don’t know about giving you children.”

  “Did I say I was going to harm them?”

  Juris worked his jaw. “Then what are you going to do?”

  “I want to make sure Thyra will never be taken from me, not even by its descendants.”

  “You won’t harm them?”

  “No, I’m not as evil as you seem to think. They will simply live out their lives in a different kind of reality.” He had never twisted children before, but there was a first time for everything. Their young minds would probably be receptive to his influence.

  Juris seemed to be debating whether he liked the idea or not. “When can I have this ship and crew?”

  Valin smiled. “After all of this is over. I’ll need some of the men to create a crew for you.”

  Juris made a face. Did Juris really think he could just ask a couple men to sail for the man who had sold them out? Not that it really mattered. Juris would not live to see that ship or his crew.

  “All right. I’ll mark the spots on a map. ”

  “Yes. That would be good.” Valin stood. “Malchus, I wish to speak to you for a moment.”

  Juris went to stand. “And what about me?”

  Valin turned around. “Stay where you are. We will dismiss you shortly, after you’ve marked the map for us. Your information has been most valuable. You will be well paid.”

  Juris sat back down, his eyes narrowed. Perhaps the man wasn’t such a fool after all. Valin grinned at him bef
ore heading toward the far end of the room. Malchus followed.

  “I have a plan, a plan that will take care of Cargan and his rebels once and for all.”

  “And Rowen?” Malchus said darkly.

  “You do not need to fear my affection for her. It died the moment she turned on me. In fact, I plan on using her. With her, I will not only crush the remaining Thyrians, I will crush all hope. Including hers.”

  “And how do you plan to do that?”

  “We will capture everyone who steps into this city, using our twisted soldiers. I will leave a few in the barracks as bait, then we will surround Cargan and his men and capture them. They won’t dare hurt their own, not if they are here on a mercy mission. Then I will have all of them brought here, to the arena down below.”

  “And what about the women and children you asked Juris about?”

  “I want them here, too. I will send out additional parties of twisted soldiers to their hideouts. We will capture all of them and have them brought here. Think about it, Malchus. We will have all the people of Thyra.”

  “Why all this effort?” Malchus rubbed his lower lip. “Why not send the shadows after everyone and be done with it?”

  “No. I want as many people here as I can: Cargan, his men, the women, and the children. I want Rowen to see them. And I want them to see her: the one person who could’ve saved them. Then I will turn our twisted soldiers on the populace.”

  “Using their own to kill them?”

  Valin slowly smiled “Yes. Ironic, really.”

  “And what about the Guardian? This Son of Truth?” Malchus crossed his arms. “He could prove detrimental to our plans.”

  “I need you to take care of him. Send your shadows after him. And if by chance he gets past your shadows, it will be up to you to dispose of him.”

  “And Rowen. What do you plan to do with her? Lock her up again after you display her as your captive?”

  “No.” Valin looked out the window. Rain fell across the city. “I’m done playing with her. It is time to crush her.” He closed his hand into a fist. “I will use my mark and drain every bit of power out of her. And then she will die.”

  Malchus sneered. “About time. Now, may I have Juris?”

  Valin glanced back at Juris. The man looked bored as he waited for them to return. “By all means. You will need your strength. Just have him mark the map before you use him.”

  Malchus turned around with a grin on his face and eyes shining.

  Chapter

  39

  Three days later, Caleb stood beside Lore and stared at the city of Thyra from a grove of trees just beyond the walls. The sun would be rising about now, if there were any sun to be seen. Instead, dark clouds hung over the city like a menacing fog. A sharp, cold wind blew, tinted with the smell of salt. Fields of dull green grass around the city waved in the wind.

  The hundred or so men with them were spread between the trees, but they couldn’t stay here long, not if they didn’t want to be spotted.

  Lore rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t like it.”

  “Don’t like what?”

  “This storm.”

  Caleb pulled his cloak up around his neck. He agreed, mainly because he didn’t like the rain and the cold.

  “It will make visibility difficult.”

  Caleb looked up at the dark sky. “It won’t affect me. I doubt the rain can reach the catacombs.”

  “True, but I wouldn’t want to be going where you’re going.” Lore turned toward him. “Are you ready?”

  Out of habit, he checked his daggers. One on either side of him, one strapped to his chest, and one in his boot. But they would be no good against the shadows. He lifted his hand and stared at his palm. The white mark stood out against his darker skin, and it had a faint light to it. “As much as I’ll ever be. And you?”

  Lore looked back at Thyra. A sad wistfulness came over his face. “As much as I’ll ever be. At least our journey is almost over.”

  “Yes.”

  Both men stood silent. Other groups moved or talked quietly as Cargan gave last minute instructions to the leaders.

  “What will you do when this is all over?”

  Caleb paused. “I’m not quite sure. Balthazar offered me a place amongst his tribe.”

  Lore glanced at him. “Really?”

  “Yes. I’ll probably find a new profession. Guardian and assassin don’t mix.”

  Lore chuckled. “No, they do not.”

  Ironic how they could laugh about that now. He and Lore had come a long way since their first meeting on that balcony in Avonai.

  “And what about Nierne? I’ve seen how you two look at each other.”

  Caleb ran his thumb along the handle of his dagger. “It will depend on her. If she still wants to be a scribe, I will leave and let her. But if she is open to the idea of roaming the Great Desert with me . . .”

  Lore nodded and looked back toward the city.

  Caleb glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “And what about you?”

  Lore remained silent. The murmur behind them increased. “I pray to the Word that Rowen is still alive. And if she is, I will stand beside her. I promised her a long time ago I would walk her path with her. But so far I have only been able to follow her.”

  Caleb didn’t ask what he would do if Rowen was dead. But he could see the question hovering across Lore’s face. He was too much of a realist to say she was still alive. He didn’t believe she was, not if these Shadonae were like men he knew back in Azar, his cousin included. But Lore needed hope, a reason to keep going, even if there was only a sliver of it to hold onto.

  Cargan approached both men. “It’s time to go. Your group is waiting, Caleb.”

  Caleb nodded. He looked again at Lore. “May the Word watch over you.”

  Lore reached over and grasped his forearm.

  Caleb hesitated, then returned the gesture.

  “And may He also watch over you, my friend.”

  Friend. The word warmed his heart. He let go. “I’ll see you on the other side.” Lore nodded. Caleb turned. Four men waited on the edge of the grove, including Simon. Endre, the merchant, had volunteered to come with his group. There was also Victor, a tall, quiet man. And Char, a guardsman who had not been twisted during the siege. He looked younger than his thirty years, with a boyish face and fair hair.

  They were all dressed in dark clothing, covered by dark green cloaks. He didn’t really know them, apart from their names and brief history. However, unlike other groups he had been a part of in the past, he was determined not to lose one man.

  Simon approached him, his lips pressed together. Simon still did not like him. He wasn’t sure if that was because of his Temanin blood or because of his relationship with Nierne. Only a blind man could not see the affection Simon held for Nierne, vows or no vows.

  At least he was free to pursue Nierne.

  “We are ready.”

  Caleb motioned toward Simon. “Then lead the way.”

  Simon turned and both of them approached the other three men.

  Another bitter gust of wind came up. Caleb held his cloak up to his face until it passed. Simon and Char checked the field, then motioned for the others to follow.

  They stepped away from the grove.

  There was no fear inside him. Rather, adrenaline poured through his veins. A grim smile spread across his face.

  He loped behind Simon, the other men behind him. Across the field they went in a half slouch, toward the eastern side of the city. He never looked back. If he saw Lore again, it would be at the end of this mission.

  It took about twenty minutes to cross the field. As soon as they reached the wall, they followed it around the city, staying as close to it as possible. The wind continued to blow, whipping across their faces and freezing the tips of
their ears.

  The wall curved north. Another twenty minutes. Simon raised his hand in a fist. The men slowed. Caleb looked around and stretched out, feeling for that unusual chill that marked a shadow. He felt nothing, just the wisps of the men’s souls around him. Simon dropped his hand, but the men moved more slowly now.

  After a half hour, they reached a part of the city where bushes and thistles grew beside the wall. The men circumnavigated the brush, but stayed as close to the wall as they could. The clouds grew more ominous above. Caleb kept his cloak gripped around his neck and stretched his feelings out again.

  About halfway through the wild brush, Simon stopped. They were about ten feet away from the wall. A small door could barely be seen past all the twists of naked branches. “Looks like the brush has covered the door.”

  “Is there a path?” Victor said.

  “No.”

  Caleb stood beside Simon and looked across the bushes. Tiny thorns grew along the slender branches and a few crisp, brown leaves clung to the ends. “We’ll have to make one.”

  “I concur.”

  Victor and Char stepped forward and pulled their swords out. Caleb stepped back, his arms folded. This was going to make a lot of noise. His gaze traveled the bushes, but could see no way to get through without hacking away. “All right, men. Start.”

  The two men approached the bushes. Whack, whack. The branches shuddered and fell. He glanced at the top of the wall, about a hundred feet above him. The sound echoed all around them. If this had been a normal day in Thyra, the city guard would be rushing to investigate. But no one appeared, because there was no one there, at least not that they could see.

  The men finally reached the wall. They came back through the path they had made and waited. Sweat dripped down their faces, mixing with the layer of dirt and dust from the trip.

  Simon opened his cloak and pulled at a thin silver chain that hung around his neck. At the end of it was a key. He made his way along the path, tiny barbs grabbing his cloak and poking at his clothing. Caleb followed, along with the rest of the men.

  Simon stopped before the door. It was made from thick slabs of wood, and there was an ancient language engraved around the edges.