Vylandor had been burning. The homes, the piers at the docks and even the king's palace had been blackened and charred by the flames. The image of it was still so fresh in his mind. Dark figures had been charging through the streets, killing all who stood in their way. Blurred in the dream-state, others had been stood surrounding Talgan. He knew them to be the members of the council, but could not see their faces. In unison, all of the faceless figures had pointed at him and cried out 'traitor'.
Trying to shake the nightmare from his head, Talgan threw back his bedcovers and stood shakily. The bedroom was cold and he quickly wrapped a nearby robe around himself then walked to the window that overlooked the main street outside.
The moon was bright tonight and illuminated the street in a silvery light, which mixed with the orange glow from the lanterns. This made the usually mundane street seem beautiful in a strange way. This street was the backbone of Vylandor. It ran the length of the city, from the eastern gates to the docks on the west side. Talgan could not recall whether this had been one of the streets in his dream, but he turned away as the images of those dark murdering figures crept back into his mind.
The coming months would be a difficult time. His foreign associates would have set their plan in motion by now and this frightened him immensely. Somewhere to the north, these foreigners were preparing to seize control of the Rotian Kingdom. All those in the capital were blissfully unaware of what was transpiring, but soon they would know. Had he made the right choice though? When he had agreed to help them, did he really understand fully what would happen? He had hoped that their solution might have been a peaceful one, but he should have realised that this would never be the case. They were a malevolent people, harsh and violent. Blood would be spilt and all blame would be on Talgan. He had come to realise that, if he had refused to help them, then he would most likely be dead now.
He thought of the noble council and King Afaron. They would not simply sit back and let the foreigners take Vylandor. They would expect Talgan to fight alongside them, but to do so would mean certain death. Perhaps he should leave Vylandor now, telling the council that he was wanting to travel whilst things were quiet in the city. Talgan shook his head at that idea. They would know for certain then that he had something to do with the coming struggle for power. No, he would remain in Vylandor for now.
He cast his thoughts back to the most-recent meeting with Afaron, when the king had told the council of his plans to strengthen the Rotian military. Training had been increased in Vylandor and some of the other regions. The king had been due to travel to Naskador, Kariska and Karthain in the coming months, but his plans had apparently been delayed. If Afaron went to Naskador now, he would be too close to the northlands for Talgan's liking. He may not have agreed with the king's way of ruling the kingdom, but he did not want the man dead.
With a deep sigh, the nobleman returned to his bed. In the morning, he would go and visit the training barracks near the docks, to see what the changes had been. As he began drifting back to sleep, he wondered what he could possibly do to delay the training of more soldiers.
Chapter 11
Gorric blinked in disbelief as he looked around.
They had seen the smoke rising from Tamriel from quite a distance away. After heading to the fishing village on the banks of the Ulmerien, the four Rotians had been given food and horses by the people there, who had quickly recognised Gorric as Celestius Orgillian's son. A stabbing pang of grief had struck Gorric's heart when someone had asked how his father was faring. Fearing for these villagers, Gorric and Khir had told them of the sudden invasion and told them to head south as quickly as possible.
Realising that there was nothing to be gained by staying in the village, Varayan had opted to stay with the three men he had been travelling with for the last few days as they left for Tamriel. Gorric and Khir were experienced riders, whilst Varayan had only ridden once back in Ashgar when fleeing the city guards and Rynn had never ridden at all. As they rode, Khir gave the two less-experienced men aid whilst Gorric never looked back and rode hard for his home. The tracks of the invading force were two days or so ahead of them by Khir's reckoning.
Gorric had reached Tamriel first as the day's light began to fade, with the others arriving minutes after. The scene before him now was one of horrific familiarity. Buildings that he remembered walking past along the main street had been burnt. Bodies could be seen littering the streets, men who Gorric had seen and talked to on a daily basis.
Tears welled in his eyes through grief and the thick smoke blowing along the street. His home was gone. Tamriel had been destroyed, just as Barentin. The foreigners had swept through the town just as they had before, burning and killing without mercy. The guards in Tamriel would have been even less of a concern for the invaders than those of Barentin had been.
Khir rode up alongside his friend. "I…I can't believe it," he muttered.
Gorric looked up to the darkening sky above and the moon that was slowly rising to cast it's silvery hue over the terrible scene before them. He could not find the words to try and comfort Khir. Behind him, he heard Rynn whisper a prayer to Ardan.
"It's no use speaking to Ardan," came Varayan's voice, edged with sadness. "He didn't listen to these people."
"My parents," cried Khir suddenly, putting his heels to his horse's flank. He raced away towards his home.
Gorric thought of his own family at the other end of the town, but realised that Khir's house was in the same direction. He glanced at Rynn and Varayan.
"Follow me, but keep your eyes open," he told them. He had no doubt that the foreigners had moved on again but it was possible that some were still here, salvaging goods and stealing possessions once belonging to the people of Tamriel.
Gorric headed after Khir, who had vanished from sight already. Rynn and Varayan looked at each other anxiously, then they too followed awkwardly on their steeds.
When they finally caught up with Khir, they found him standing before the smouldering remains of his home. The walls had crumbled and the strong timber supports were blackened and looked ready to fall. The only recognizable feature was the fireplace, although the chimney had fallen, covering the floor with rubble.
Gorric sighed and turned his head to look along the street. In the dimming light, he could not see to the very end, where his family's estate stood.
"There's nothing left," came Khir's voice softly.
"I'm sorry, Khir," said Gorric, still looking along the street.
Khir made his way into the gutted house, stepping over the rubble as he moved. His eyes scanned the debris as he picked his way through. He hoped that something had survived, anything that he could take as a reminder of his home. He also looked for signs that would indicate his parent's fate. As he moved around the charred fireplace, towards the bedrooms, he could see that the rear of the house was nearly intact compared to the front. A door still stood, almost defiant in the aftermath of the attack. Khir knew that the door had led to his parent's bedroom and, with a deep breath, he entered.
In the street, Rynn glanced around at the destruction, shaking his head. "This will happen to every town unless these men are stopped."
"I wonder where they have gone to now," said Varayan, trying to recall the other locations situated north of the river.
Gorric looked across at them. "They will not head north, as that leads to Morassia. They would not go unnoticed there for long."
"Surely they would not continue west," frowned Rynn. "A force like that could not strike at Boraila. Towns are lightly defended, but a city would be able to repel them easily. Guard Commander Vohlkern has many men under his command."
"Perhaps they should have sent some men here and then this catastrophe may not have befallen my home," snapped Gorric.
Rynn bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Gorric. I didn't mean any disrespect."
Gorric shook his head slowly. "No, I apologise. This is all too surreal. Barentin destroyed, my father lost and now this." He swep
t his hand out towards the remains of Tamriel. "This invading army will pay for the deaths that they have caused. I don't care who they are or what their motive is. It's no good tracking them any longer. We must let people know, so I suggest that we make for Turambar. The soldiers there will know what to do."
Varayan shifted uncomfortably at the thought of being locked inside a fortress with a fair number of soldiers. "Perhaps we should just head straight for Boraila. Rynn is eager to get home."
"These invaders may have gone to the forest west of here to make camp," stated Gorric. "If we make for Turambar, then we can continue on to Boraila after. It's a safer route."
"I agree," nodded Rynn. The acolyte noticed Gorric slump slightly in his saddle.
Gorric, seeing the concerned look on Rynn's face, forced an unconvincing smile. "I'm just tired."
"We all are," added Varayan.
The three turned as Khir emerged from the debris, clutching something in his hands. As he drew closer, they could see that he held a bow and a narrow leather quiver containing five arrows. The bow was slightly blackened, but seemed to be usable.
"My father's hunting bow," Khir said to them. "I could only find five arrows that were any use." The forester's son looked at Gorric. "They weren't in there."
Gorric could see the relief in his friends' eyes. He could not bring himself to ruin Khir's hopes that his parent's were still alive. He knew that they could have been in another part of Tamriel when the attack happened, but he simply smiled weakly at Khir. "I hope there wasn't another bow. You know how bad I am with them."
Khir smiled back and nodded, then shouldered both bow and quiver. As he remounted, they realised that night had fallen completely.
Gorric stared into the darkness at the end of the street, where he would find out the fate of his family.
"I'm sure they're alive," said Khir, knowing his friend's thoughts. "Let's go."
The four made their way along the street, glancing into the ruins for some sign of life. Ahead, they could see the wall to the Orgillian estate and the gate was wide open. As they approached, Gorric dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to Khir. He then stepped through the gate and looked across at his home. His heart sank as he saw the damaged building. It still stood, but windows were broken, walls were charred and the front door was hanging from it's hinges.
Behind him, the other three dismounted and, whilst Varayan stayed back to watch the horses, Khir and Rynn moved alongside Gorric.
"It still stands," said Gorric proudly.
"Your father had it built to last," remarked Khir.
Rynn glanced to his left and saw a body lying near to the wall. He tapped Khir on the shoulder and pointed, then made his way to the fallen figure. Khir left Gorric watching the house and made his way to the body. As he saw the face, he felt both relief that it was not one of the Orgillian family, yet sorrow at the fact that he had known the person now laying dead before him. He did not even hear Gorric move alongside him.
"Varro," sighed Gorric, looking down at the body of the guardsman.
Varro lay on his back, his eyes glazed and staring up at the night sky. A crossbow quarrel had taken him in the chest and it seemed that, not content to let the poor guardsman die from that lethal wound, his killer had cut the man's throat.
Gorric felt nauseous at the sight of someone whom he had seen and talked to nearly every day lying cold on the ground. Fear gripped him as he imagined finding the same scene inside his home, but he spun away from Varro's corpse and strode towards the house.
"He was a friend?" Rynn asked Khir, looking down at Varro.
Khir nodded. "He was one of the guards for Gorric's estate who we had known since we were children. Gorric was planning to make time to talk with Varro, as he had been too busy of late."
Rynn laid a hand on Varro's shoulder. "May Ardan guide you," he whispered to the corpse.
Both men then followed Gorric, leaving Varayan feeling somewhat vulnerable on his own with the horses. As he watched them disappear from view, he became aware of the sudden silence. It was eerie that nothing stirred within the town. He ran his hand along the side of one of the horses and found comfort at the warmth of the beast.
By the time Khir and Rynn had entered the Orgillian home, Gorric had already started to search frantically through the debris littering the many rooms. All of the possessions deemed valuable had been taken and furniture had been tipped or broken. Finding no signs of his family downstairs, Gorric sprinted up to the next floor, leaping three steps at a time. He began searching the bedchambers, first his mother's and then Kithia's.
"I'm going to search down here," Khir said to Rynn. "Why don't you go help Gorric?"
Rynn moved to the base of the stairs, then turned to look back at Khir. "Gorric's already searched this floor though. Why search it again?"
"In his frantic state, he might have missed something." Khir headed away down towards the kitchen.
Rynn stood for a second in thought then, upon hearing a curse from Gorric, made his way to the upper floor. He peered into the first bedchamber and, seeing the state it had been left in, moved on. As he went to look into the next room, Gorric strode from it, his larger frame nearly sending the acolyte reeling backwards as the connected briefly.
"What can I do to help?" asked Rynn.
"Search in that room," ordered Gorric, pointing at a closed door without even turning to look at him.
"What room is that?"
Gorric had vanished around a corner, but his voice called back. "A spare bedchamber."
Rynn sighed and headed into the room. Inside, he found a spacious bedchamber which seemed to have been overlooked by the invaders when they had been ransacking the rest of the house. It was untouched and Rynn thought to himself that it would not have been a bad thing to have been a guest of the Orgillians. He glanced out of the window as he passed it, looking out to the south over the silenced town. He noticed a large wardrobe opposite the bed and made his way to it. As he opened it, he heard Gorric curse again and realised that he could never understand how his companion must have been feeling at that moment. His home had been torn apart. People he knew were dead or missing and there were no signs of his family.
A scream startled the acolyte and a figure leapt from the open wardrobe, landing heavily on him and knocking him to the floor. It gripped a knife in one hand and raised it's arm to strike. For a split second, Rynn was back in the muddy courtyard of the tavern in Barentin, the dark magic-user standing over him ready to deliver the killing blow. Suddenly, Rynn instinctively reached up and grasped his assailant's wrist, stopping the knife from being plunged into his chest.
"Gorric, help," was all he could cry.
The attacker's strength was not great, but Rynn could not shift the weight in his favour. It seemed that this person was determined to end his life. Then, Gorric was in the room. With a cry of utter rage, he lifted the figure off Rynn easily and the knife fell to the floor. Rynn jumped up and watched as Gorric gripped the assailant in a crushing embrace. Then, they could only hear sobs.
Confused, Gorric looked up at Rynn, who shrugged. Spinning the thin figure around violently, Gorric's eyes widened. "Kithia?"
He relaxed his grip as tears welled in his eyes and he kissed her on the cheek then held her close. Rynn frowned at the strange scene before him. Seeing the acolyte's expression, Gorric smiled. "Don't worry, Rynn. She's my sister."
Chapter 12
"I really am sorry."
Kithia was not sure whether apologising to Rynn for trying to kill him would ever create a better atmosphere between them, but she would keep trying.
They were camped just inside the Great Northern Forest, sat around a small fire which they believed it had been safe to light. As they chewed the remnants of the food from the fishing village, they watched Kithia closely.
When the invaders had struck Tamriel, they had executed the attack with the same tactics used in Barentin. They had swept through the town, ransacking homes and
dragging people off into the night. The men who had fought for their families had died in the streets and it was mostly the women and children who had been taken, although some men had survived. It was all over quicker than the attack on Barentin.
Kithia had told them of how men had entered their home and that she had been upstairs alone at the time, giving her chance to hide. Elna and Cassi had been taken, but the foreigners had not found Kithia, who could only find the small knife to protect herself with. She was unsure as to why they had not searched the spare bedchamber, but the entire force had left the town soon after she had hidden and had headed west.
All of them knew that this meant the invading army were in the forest, but whether their destination was Boraila or not was unknown. A small force would not be so bold as to attack a city.
Gorric watched his sister as she devoured her food ravenously. He was so glad to see her alive and yet a feeling of despair ate at him whenever he thought of his mother and baby sister. Would he ever see them again? He pondered as to why the invaders had taken so many prisoners. Where exactly were they taking them all?
Kithia looked around at the four men. She still could not believe that Gorric and Khir had escaped the attack on Barentin and, with these other two strangers, had made their way back to Tamriel. When Gorric had told her of their father's bravery, she had wept bitterly. She could not bear to think that she would never see her father again and so had pushed the grief deep down inside. She had always been strong-willed and she needed to be now more than ever. Gorric would need her.
"Kithia, are you sure that they didn't…?" Gorric's question trailed off as he found the words hard to say.
She smiled warmly and shook her head, understanding what her brother meant. "No, they didn't touch the women in that way."
Gorric nodded and his head bowed as he became lost in his thoughts once again.
"How're you feeling, Rynn?" Varayan asked the quiet acolyte. "That was quite a scare Kithia gave you."
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