The Watchers in Exile

by Barbara V. Evers

  “Good.” She sliced through his ropes and handed him his sword. “This Watcher bores me. Deal with her.”

  An evil grin slid over his face as the man accepted the sword. The girl rose from the creek and turned, her eyes widening when she saw the man looming over her. He drove the sword deep into her belly.

  She fell backward, a look of shock in her eyes. Her blood washed the creek in a blush of crimson.

  Samantha nodded at the man and cut the bonds of the other one. She handed them their swords and, without a word, set off across the creek. The sooner she put some distance between herself and the others, the sooner she could locate Maligon. The plan to kill Bai’dish hadn’t worked, but she wasn’t going back to the keep. Maligon had promised her greatness. It was time he delivered.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 22

  Adana gasped awake, her heart pounding. The dream, always the dream, almost every night since meeting Brother Honest. The images replayed in her mind as she practiced her focused breathing, seeking calm. Her head broke through the water’s surface, mouth gasping for air. The river water washed into her mouth, choking her. Each time she kicked her feet and fought the current, trying to swim to the shore, the undertow pulled her further downstream. She struggled to keep her head above the choppy surface.

  “Your Majesty!” a man’s voice called from the bank.

  She twisted. A Teacher of the Faith ran along the river’s edge, his eyes wide in panic. Then another teacher, one she now knew as Brother Honest, pushed him aside and thrust a long branch toward her.

  Adana kicked toward the branch. The water sucked her under again, and she fought panic, thrashing in the fast current. All went dark. She flailed her arms, grappling for any handhold. Her lungs burned as she fought toward the surface again, then burst above the water, gulping air. She let her body go limp and drift on the current, hoping to remain afloat. Instead, the water dragged her under again.

  Something sparkled on the river’s surface above, and she kicked upward. The crown of Moniah’s Seat of Authority bobbed on the rapids, just out of reach. An overwhelming desire to grasp it overcame her, but the crown danced in the rapids, slipping from her grasp each time she lunged.

  “Can you reach the branch?” Brother Honest called to her. He thrust the large stick toward her, but the crown floated farther away, taunting her.

  She plunged after the golden image of her royalty. Roiling water drenched her face, and, as she sputtered, a large, shaggy beast waded into the river and scooped up the symbol of her authority. “No,” she cried. A large rock loomed ahead of her, and everything went black.

  Gasping, Adana stumbled then froze. Firm ground lay below her feet. She patted her clothes and found them dry, but she still felt chilled to the bone. Darkness enshrouded everything. Even though she knew it was a dream, the overwhelming blackness always terrified her.

  She brushed against the cool, stone wall and inched tentative hands forward. Fingers skimmed over slime. No sight, no vision, no sound. “Don’t panic,” she whispered over and over again while counting each breath, trying to find a way to fight down her terror.

  After traversing some distance, a faint glow appeared before her. She cried in relief and stumbled toward it. The light sparkled, blinding in the gloom. The crown of Elwar. She reached for it, and it vanished.

  Adana shuddered again, her efforts to calm her pounding heart failing after the nightmare. Montee thought the dark cave represented the tunnels underneath the Border Keep, but no matter how many times Adana dreamed about the river and the darkness, she felt overwhelmed with fear and desperation.

  In the back of Adana’s mind, Am’brosia pressed anxiously to connect. Adana shrugged the contact away. The giraffe usually provided calm and peace after the dream, but this attempt felt distressed. It didn’t matter what Am’brosia wanted to share with her, she refused to learn anything troubling at the moment. She wanted peace.

  Despite the early hour, Adana rose from her bed and tiptoed past Elayne’s sleeping form.

  She crossed the courtyard to the temple and entered its solitude. Why she chose the sanctuary, she did not know, but it seemed the logical place to go after the dream. Since her arrival in Roshar, Brother Honest had held daily services for the many refugees and soldiers flocking to the town, but Adana avoided these events, much to Montee’s displeasure.

  “Why will you not attend? You are the Creator’s chosen Watcher, blessed with his presence,” Montee had said. “You visited the temple every day when you lived in Moniah.”

  “What good did it do?” Adana said, aware of her own failures to please the Creator. Every day he found a new way to punish her.

  Bewildered, Montee said, “You always looked happier afterward, like a yoke had been lifted from your shoulders.”

  Adana’s response had been venomous. “Do you not recall the last time I went to the temple? You were witness to it. Mammetta and Serrin died.”

  The memory of her naive beliefs in the Creator’s ability or willingness to save them caused Adana to burn with embarrassment. They both had died, and her life had never been the same. Why should she worship a being like that?

  For a moment, her shoulder burned, and she rubbed it without thought.

  She hadn’t given Montee the opportunity to respond to her outburst that day. Instead, she’d stalked away. If Montee held faith in the Creator’s willingness to help their battle against Maligon, then she could do homage for both of them.

  Adana had other concerns.

  The news from each arriving group of refugees added to her worries. She longed to act, to move forward and stop Maligon before he contaminated Moniah forever. What must her people think? Invaded by a monster who trampled across their kingdom without any regard for the beauty and dignity of the land or the people? Monians should hate her and her inability to stop him, yet refugees continued to stream into the village, the Border Keep, and Adana’s View, seeking protection.

  Adana wandered up the candlelit aisle and slid into a pew, the smooth surface and coolness of the wood providing relief to the heat of her worries. She closed her eyes and inhaled the tart aroma of polish and the reassuring scent of melting candle wax. Her mind drifted back to a time when places like this gave her great comfort, providing a welcome solace. As she sat in the dim light, she wished she could trust again. Childish fairy tales, like the ones she clung to in her youth, could make the circumstances more tolerable.

  Shaking her head, she opened her eyes and chided herself for wishing for old myths. Comfort and ease would not defeat Maligon. Strategy and shrewd decisions would help her, nothing else.

  A flicker of movement in the shadows near the altar brought Adana’s attention back to the present. A tapestry of the Creator looking over his people as a loving parent rippled as a teacher entered the temple through a side door.

  The teacher knelt before the long, wooden altar and bowed his head. The candles illuminated the person, providing Adana with his identity—Brother Honest.

  After a moment, he rose, turned, and bowed toward Adana. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, for greeting the Creator prior to acknowledging your presence.”

  That he knew of her presence annoyed Adana. Montee had been correct to ask if he was the son of a Watcher. Men weren’t Watchers. Only women. The thought that he might have inherited latent Watcher skills made her uneasy.

  “May I join you?” he asked as he approached.

  She inclined her head in acceptance.

  Honest settled into the pew beside her and gazed upon the tapestry. “This is my favorite part of the day. So quiet and peaceful. I can feel the Creator’s presence well during this hour.”

  Adana did not reply, she just stared straight ahead at the image hanging before her. This tapestry hung in every temple in the surrounding kingdoms. As a child, it had been her favorite, when she had still felt the Creator’s presence as a comfort.

  “You have lost your confidence in the Creator,” Honest said. It was not a
question.

  Trained to stillness, her annoyance at his statement remained buried below the surface. Adana responded as the queen. “We are limited in our ability to understand how others rely on him.”

  “Father Tonch told me you were his greatest pupil, your faith strong beyond your years.” Honest turned to face her profile. “He also told me you seemed to have forgotten all that after your mother died.”

  “Didn’t you ever question the truth of it all? Your mother died, too.” The naked truth of her words surprised her, but they did not seem to bother Honest.

  “No. My belief kept me moving forward at the time. That’s when I decided to become a Teacher of the Faith. I saw the pain so many felt, and I knew the Creator provided peace for them.”

  Adana shifted sideways to look at him. “Does your Creator provide peace for Moniah? For Elwar? For all of us, so this war does not have to happen?”

  “It’s not that kind of peace.”

  She snorted. “Of course not. Rationalizations ease our disappointment in him.”

  Brother Honest looked at her sadly. “Then why are you here?”

  His question galled her. She did not know the answer. Was it the dream, the presence of this man in it, or was she seeking some solace from her youth in this room?

  He took her lack of response in stride, sighed, and sat back in the pew. When she peered over at him, his eyes were closed. Several minutes passed, and she found herself examining his profile, wondering about his part in her vision.

  As if he heard her thoughts, he said, “Do you believe in prophecy? In the visions Watchers receive?”

  “Of course.” Why did this man ask so many questions?

  He smiled. “Tell me about your vision.”

  “What?” Adana sat forward, her back rigid. Did he somehow know she came here to escape the vision in her dream?

  He did not open his eyes. “Your Majesty, I only seek to help. I am gifted at interpreting visions.” When he finally did open his eyes, the light of the candles sparkled in his usually serious brown eyes. “I interpreted for your mother once.”

  Adana sank back on the bench. If Mammetta had lived, she would have begun sharing her past visions with Adana. Instead, Adana knew of none of them.

  “What did she see?”

  “A young girl facing a divided path in the early years of her reign.”

  Before Adana could respond, the door in the rear of the temple creaked open, revealing Montee silhouetted in the early morning light. The First Vision closed the door behind her and walked up the aisle, a pleased quirk to her lips. “Your Majesty, I never would have thought to look here, but Joannu insisted she saw you enter the temple.”

  She looked between the two of them and frowned. “You are here, but I fear not in the capacity I had hoped.”

  Adana stood and slid past Honest. “I sought some peace and quiet. Too much noise in the village.”

  Montee shot a questioning look at Honest, who shook his head, further annoying Adana. At the same time, the puncture spot on Adana’s shoulder began to tingle. She hadn’t noticed that the ache had dissipated while she talked with Honest. She paused in her steps. Was her shoulder agreeing with the sentiments of Montee and Honest? Or maybe it was something else. It didn’t hurt. Good news, possibly?

  “I assume you sought me out for a purpose?”

  Montee nodded. “A pigeon from Adana’s View has arrived, and Karyah’s and Ostreia’s units are here. We await your presence.”

  “Forgive me, Brother Honest. Our discussion was…diverting, but I must attend to my duties.” Adana exited the temple, her thoughts turning toward the cave in Teletia and what her Watchers might have found there.

  * * *

  When Adana arrived in the solarium, she found Prince Jerold pacing like a trapped hyena. A relieved, but tired-looking, woman sat in one of the chairs, a young boy beside her. Karyah and Ostreia stood at opposite ends of the room, vigilant until relieved of their duties.

  Adana stopped and studied the seated woman, noting that she returned the same intense stare. It had been two years since she’d seen Queen Morana of Teletia and her son, Prince Navon.

  Montee closed the door behind her as she followed Adana into the room. “My lady, as we hoped, our Watchers found King Ariff’s family in the cave.”

  Every time Adana thought of the cave, now that she knew its true location, she felt a spark of hope. She longed to see it with her own eyes, a desire from her childhood, reawakened with this new slant on its location and purpose.

  “Queen Morana, Prince Navon.” Adana inclined her head in their direction. “I am pleased to see you well.” She looked around the room in confusion. “Where is King Ariff?”

  Morana nodded regally at her. “Your Majesty, we, too, are relieved to find you here. Thank you for sending your Watchers to find us. My son and I join you here, but King Ariff—”

  “He’s gone into Belwyn to save my mother!” Jerold’s interruption startled them all. He began pacing again, his head bowed and shoulders tense.

  Adana frowned at Jerold’s reaction. She sat in a chair, contrasting its padded embrace to the solid benches in the temple. “That is good news, is it not?”

  Jerold stopped his pacing and faced her. “Forgive me, my lady. I would prefer to do something. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes,” she said. “But my First Vision keeps reminding me to gauge our actions carefully.”

  “It is true,” Montee said. “Perhaps Karyah or Ostreia can provide us more information on King Ariff’s plan?”

  The two Watchers held equal rank. Ostreia served as a Strategist, trained in espionage and military strategy. Karyah, on the other hand, commanded four units of Watchers. No visible signal passed between them, but Ostreia stepped forward and bowed to Adana. “My queen, I’m pleased to provide information.”

  “Excellent,” Adana said. “I appreciate your steadfast service after such a long journey. I will keep you from food and rest only a moment. What can you tell us?”

  “When King Donel of Elwar sent soldiers to aid in Belwyn’s fight against Maligon, we did not know Maligon had infiltrated Empress Gabriella’s soldiers with his own supporters. We must consider the possibility that they met the same fate as you did in the forest.”

  Shocked, Adana nodded. Two days before Adana left Elwar to return to Moniah, Kiffen’s father had sent troops to Belwyn. It hadn’t occurred to her, but knowing how far Maligon’s treachery reached, it made sense to suspect the traitor had followers in the troops sent to Belwyn, too. Even if not, Quilla might have recalled Elwar’s troops and denied Belwyn aid once she seized the throne. Her actions, so far, indicated an alliance with Maligon.

  She glanced at Jerold.

  “I agree.” He registered no surprise over Ostreia’s words. With her thoughts focused on Moniah and Kiffen, Adana failed to recognize the truth he already presumed. They must accept that nothing remained of Elwar’s assistance for Empress Gabriella.

  Ostreia continued. “King Ariff took two of Karyah’s units with him to Belwyn. The other two units remained with us.”

  “So, King Ariff and ten Watchers?” Adana considered this news. Would a small group fare better than an army?

  “He hopes to slip into Belwyn unnoticed and find a way to release Empress Gabriella and the Watchers held captive.”

  “How many days since he left?” Jerold asked the question Adana had planned to ask, but she understood his need to lead this discussion.

  “Four days.” Ostreia hesitated, then added, “Your Highness.”

  How did she know his true rank? Adana glanced between them. He didn’t register surprise. Then, Adana recalled his outburst a moment ago when he referred to Gabriella as his mother. A Watcher wouldn’t forget such an important disclosure.

  “Thank you Ostreia. Karyah. You deserve rest. Please tend to your needs and those of the units who accompanied you.”

  The women nodded, but before they left, Adana said, “It should be noted, few know
of Sir Jerold’s identity. Please do not share this knowledge with anyone.”

  “As the Seat says,” the two Watchers responded, then exited the solarium.

  Adana looked around the room, her gaze falling last on Navon. Anyone could strike at this one room and wipe out three ruling families in one quick act. The realization hit her like a punch to the stomach, and she breathed deeply to calm her voice before she spoke again. Had Jerold realized their vulnerability?

  “We have the future of three kingdoms in this room.” Stating the words sent a cold chill down her back. With tentative fingers, she checked the location of the pinprick on her shoulder. After a morning of conflicting signals, no warning resonated from it. She breathed a sigh of relief and sensed a brief contact from Am’brosia, a note of comfort and assurance.

  For the moment, all was safe.

  “Jerold, Adana is correct.” Morana nodded in agreement. “I objected to Ariff going with the Watchers’ forces to Belwyn, but we must accept the truth. Ariff is not the future of Teletia, Navon is. Your mother is not the future of Belwyn. You are.”

  The young man, known for so many years as Empress Gabriella’s most dedicated knight, turned away from the women for a moment, his shoulders hunched. When he turned back toward them his eyes revealed the difficulty of the changes in his life. “I’ve spent so much time protecting the empress and hiding my true self, it’s hard for me to think of myself as a prince or future emperor.”

  The statement startled a harsh laugh from Adana. “I might not have been in disguise, but I assure you, Queen Quilla allowed me little room to feel like the next Seat of Moniah, either. It’s as foreign to me as it is to you, I imagine.”

  Despite her laugh, Adana sat back in her chair and glanced up at Montee in concern. The woman shared the same burdened look. Their presence together was risky. If Maligon learned of it, he could win the battle with one excellent assassin.

  Were there traitors in Roshar?