“What?” snapped Gorric, cutting Khir short. “Run away to Vylandor when my family needs me here? Have you not seen and heard everything that has happened these past days?”
Khir could see the battle raging behind Gorric’s eyes. “Of course I have. However, your presence in Vylandor would be enough to see the king order the rescue as quickly as possible. Don’t forget that you are now…for the moment, Lord Orgillian.”
Gorric stared at Khir and for a moment looked as if he had been struck across the face such was his expression. “Amongst all that has happened, that thought never entered my mind.” His expression returned to one of anger. “No, that title is not mine. It is my father’s. If you want to go to Vylandor so much, Khir, then you go alone.”
“Do you not think I have the right to be here too?” Khir asked, his voice becoming firmer. “My parents were taken too. I want to get them back just as much as you but we can do nothing yet.”
“Khir’s right, Gorric,” said Kithia. “What good would you do mounting a rescue with the men available? If you died then what hope would I have?”
Gorric looked at his sister and stared deep into her eyes. His anger lifted as he gazed at her and he shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s just that they are out there somewhere and they could be being taken further away as we speak.”
Khir reached across the table and patted his friend on the shoulder. “We’ll get them back.”
The door to the mess hall opened and Ilkar stepped inside, making his way over to them. He was dressed in light chainmail, with a dark green tabard and a long cloak of the same colour. To his right side hung his sword whilst two daggers were sheathed in well-crafted scabbards on his left. He did not seem much older than Gorric but he was clean-shaven which created his boyish looks.
“The scouts left an hour ago,” he stated as he approached. Looking at Rynn, he continued. “We are ready to take you to the temple.”
“It seems that we will have one more to accompany us,” said Rynn, gesturing towards Varayan. “I hope that this will not cause any concern.”
Ilkar glanced at Varayan. “Very well. We must leave soon though.”
Varayan waited until the corporal looked away and quickly studied the two daggers from afar. One of them would be a better weapon than the knife he carried but stealing from a soldier was the last thing he should have been considering.
The five quickly finished their breakfast and rose from the table. “I must talk with Captain Sarin,” said Gorric. “Rynn, I hope our paths cross again. Having a friend who happens to be closer to Ardan than the rest of us is never a bad thing.
Varayan, when we first met, I branded you as a thief and a liar. We may not have seen eye-to-eye but, when you saved Rynn’s life, I saw perhaps a change in you. I hope you steer clear of trouble in future.”
Varayan smiled. “I don’t think you know me that well.”
With a final scowl, Gorric left the mess hall.
“I’ll await you at the gate,” said Ilkar, seeing that he may have been waiting longer than he had anticipated.
As the corporal left, Rynn took a deep breath. “Let’s hope that we next all meet under better circumstances.”
Gorric found Sarin standing on the battlements looking out towards Boraila. From the walls of Turambar, they could see all of the way downriver to the west and to the east could be seen the great forest stretching into the distance. On the south bank of the Ulmerien opposite the fortress, a handful of residences could be seen.
Sarin and Gorric stood looking to the north though, along the road which wound its way towards Boraila. To the northwest could be seen the hillside that Boraila hid behind. The day seemed unnaturally quiet. Scarce numbers of birds flew overhead. This was strange as often Turambar was circled by seabirds that had flown inland in search of different foods.
“They’re all out there somewhere,” said Gorric softly, staring at the canopy of greenery that lay before them.
Sarin nodded. “A force like that could not move undetected for long though. They may be hiding, waiting to travel under cover of night. They would be hard to see if they were wearing the blackened armour you spoke of.”
“Captain, I must admit that I am at a loss,” sighed Gorric. “I do not know what more I can do. I will of course offer my services to you here. I can use a sword and…”
“Wait, Gorric.” Sarin turned to face him. “You may know how to hold a sword and swing it, but I doubt that you know fully how to use one. There is more to it.”
“I was due to go to Vylandor once we returned from Barentin and there I was to receive full training in swordplay and diplomacy. My father wanted me to take over his role eventually.”
“I am sure that you will do so.”
Gorric shook his head. “I cannot leave yet. I will not go to Vylandor until I see my family safe once again. I fought the invaders in Barentin and I will fight them again if need be.”
“What of your sister and your friend Khir? They do not belong in battle.”
“Khir has the makings of a fine bowman,” smiled Gorric, remembering how his friend always bested him in their archery practice. “Kithia should be sent to Vylandor.”
“No, all three of you should be kept safe. Khir may be a good shot with a bow and you may believe that you can handle a sword well, but an untrained person can prove to be as dangerous as an enemy in the midst of battle.” Sarin could see the look of disappointment on Gorric’s face. “You will learn. Once you have, I believe you have the makings of a fine officer.”
“My father always said that. He was…is a great swordsman and I can only hope that I live up to his expectations.”
Sarin heard the shout from below to open the gate and there was a low rumbling as the soldiers set to work. The two men in the chamber above the gate worked together to turn the great wheels that linked the mechanism and the heavy wooden doors would then open. If the gate needed to be closed quickly though, release levers could be pulled and the doors would slam shut. It was a noisy but required process.
The gate opened and the sound of hooves clattering on the courtyard below met their ears.
“Your acolyte friend is heading home,” stated Sarin, pointing down at the road as Ilkar’s men appeared from the fortress and rode north. In the midst of the ten soldiers could be seen Rynn and Varayan riding awkwardly as always.
“Varayan chose to go with him,” said Gorric. “I believe that the two developed some strange bond during our journey from Barentin.”
“It was Varayan that I was unclear about in all of this,” frowned Sarin. “You had said that he was staying at the tavern with you when the attack began. Where was he from?”
Gorric shrugged. “He travelled from place to place it seemed. He was not the sort of travelling companion I would have chosen but the circumstances drove us all together.” Seeing Sarin’s puzzled expression, Gorric explained. “He was a thief, out to steal money from Rynn and Forven. I did not mention it to you as I believe that he has redeemed himself partly in light of recent events. It’s best to let him vanish again and live his life as he sees fit.”
“Turambar does not often house criminals, Gorric, but I agree that we have more important things to focus on.”
“Captain, what do you think King Afaron will do once news reaches him?”
“I have already sent a messenger to the capital but the king will gather a force and march north to join us here I believe.”
“King Afaron will lead them?”
“He will want to see justice dealt personally to these invaders and he has a keen mind for battle strategies. He may well also send men to the east in order to cut this force off just in case they return that way. If they have gone into Morassia, then we could be looking at a long pursuit but the Morassian forces would slow them down considerably.”
“It will take time for them to get here though,” said Gorric bluntly. “Surely we should send some men to find and shadow the invaders for now.”
“If my scouts determine the whereabouts of this force, then we can consider that course of action.”
Gorric gazed out from the walls of Turambar and watched the twelve riders heading away. “I feel that there will be more bloodshed yet,” he told Sarin.
“In what way?”
“They did not seem like they were raiding the kingdom.” Gorric looked back at the captain with a grim expression. “It felt like the beginning of something bigger.”
Chapter 15
Rynn looked over his shoulder as their horses climbed the path leading up the hillside and smiled at Varayan’s expression as he concentrated on keeping his steed in line with the rest. Briefly, Rynn then glanced back in the direction of Turambar but it was barely visible through the trees now. He was eager to get back to the temple and seeing Boraila again as they came to the hill’s apex would be a magnificent sight. He was even looking forward to seeing Ranesch again but the task of explaining Forven’s death was always on his mind as he rode.
“I think we shall have rain before we reach the temple,” came Ilkar’s voice.
Rynn looked ahead to the corporal, who rode at the front of the line, then he too noted the dark clouds drifting in from the west. “The temple is not far. I believe we can get there ahead of any rain.”
Ilkar turned slightly in his saddle and smiled. “We have made good time. I expected us to be riding for most of the day but it seems we may get there before nightfall.”
“Good,” cried Varayan. “I don’t think I could take much more riding today. I am already saddle-sore.”
Some of the soldiers laughed, including Ilkar. “Once you have ridden for a while, it becomes second nature,” said the corporal. “I spent hours riding as a child and this fine animal is one of my best friends.” He patted the neck of his black steed affectionately.
“I don’t think this horse likes me,” muttered Varayan, drawing smiles from the soldiers riding either side of him.
As the clouds loomed above them, threatening to rain, they spurred their horses on and, as the day ran into early evening, they reached the apex. The path ran off down to the right and they saw the temple rising up from the side of the hill. Looking beyond the temple, they took in the sight that was Boraila. The port was visible through the gloom of the overcast evening but the docks were darkened by the cloud cover and only the silhouettes of ships could be seen moored there. The city it seemed was quiet and still.
Ilkar led the riders down the path and they arrived at the outer doors of the temple which stood wide open. Ilkar rode his horse into the courtyard beyond the doors and dismounted. He looked up at the temple with a puzzled look on his face.
“Nobody comes to welcome us?” he said to Rynn as the acolyte also dismounted behind him.
Rynn moved alongside the corporal. “It is possible they may all be eating in the dining hall. We do not often get visitors in the evening.”
Ilkar nodded and then turned to his men. “Wait for us here. I will see our friend safely inside then return.”
“There is a stable and a well if so desired,” said Rynn, gesturing for the soldiers to continue around to the north side of the temple grounds.
Varayan dismounted and handed his reins to one of the soldiers, flinching as his muscles began to ache from the ride. “Perhaps I will take a walk down into the city.”
“You are welcome to come inside, Varayan,” beckoned Rynn. “You can at least eat and sleep here tonight before moving on tomorrow.”
Varayan grinned. “Sleeping in a temple? This will be a first.” He glanced back towards the port. “I’ll wait out here for now though. Like I said, I have never seen the ocean and this looks like the perfect location to see all of the sights.”
“I understand,” nodded Rynn as he and Ilkar headed for the temple’s inner doors.
Varayan watched as the nine soldiers led their horses around towards the stable and then he walked back to the path in order to take in the wondrous sight that was Boraila sprawled before him.
Rynn opened the inner door of the temple and stepped inside. Ilkar followed him, glancing warily back into the courtyard as he did so. The two made their way down a series of corridors and eventually Rynn pointed out the door to the dining hall ahead of them.
“It is dark in here, Rynn,” stated Ilkar. “Should the clerics not have lit the candles by now?”
“Usually, yes.” Rynn came to a halt before the door. “It is strangely quiet also.”
Ilkar laid one hand on the hilt of his sword and with the other opened the door to the dining hall. Inside, the hall was dark and empty. “They are not here,” he whispered.
“Let us see whether Ranesch is in his chambers,” suggested Rynn, turning and heading back the way they had come.
Ilkar swiftly joined him but, as they passed the entrance to the temple, one of the Turambar soldiers - the youngest of the ten named Halian - came sprinting through the inner doors.
“Corporal Ilkar,” he called as he approached. “You must come quick.”
Ilkar, seeing the young man’s wide eyes, held up his hand, signalling Halian to calm himself. “What is it?”
Halian glanced at Rynn, then leant forward and whispered into Ilkar’s ear. The corporal was silent for a moment, then turned to the waiting acolyte. “Wait here. I will return.”
“What’s wrong?” asked Rynn, growing concerned.
“Do not leave the temple, understand?” Ilkar’s words were firm and it was then that Rynn realised this corporal was much older than he looked.
“I…I understand,” Rynn stammered.
As Ilkar and Halian ran from the temple, Varayan passed them in the courtyard and joined Rynn. “What’s happening?” he asked the confused acolyte.
“Something’s very wrong here. We can’t find the clerics.”
Varayan glanced back outside. “I was looking down at Boraila and heard a shout from the soldiers. It sounded like they found something out by the stable to me.” He looked around at the dark corridor they stood in. “Did you finish searching the temple?”
“No.”
“Well then, why don’t we continue looking?”
“Very well, but do not take anything.”
Varayan looked hurt. “Steal from a temple? How little you think of me.” A wicked grin played across his face.
“What is happening here?” Ilkar asked, not expecting an answer from any of the nine soldiers who stood alongside him.
Halian had led him to the back of the stable where the soldiers had discovered an open grave. Lying heaped in the hole were the bodies of many clerics, their white robes stained with blood. They had been killed with blades and, to Ilkar, it looked as though they were executed. Throats had been slit and some showed signs of being beaten before they had been murdered.
“Who would do such a thing?” said Halian, shaking his head at the horrific scene.
Ilkar assumed that most of the order lay in this shallow grave, which meant that Rynn may have very well been the last one alive.
“I believe that these invaders have been here,” stated the corporal, looking up at his men. “They could have attacked the temple under cover of night and the Borailans would have been none the wiser. They must be evil men indeed to slaughter clerics.”
“They obviously do not fear Ardan’s wrath,” said Halian.
Ilkar’s gaze lingered on the corpse of an older cleric for a moment. The old man’s white hair was matted with blood and he was badly bruised. It seemed to Ilkar that this cleric had been beaten to death. Tearing his eyes away from the body, he turned and took in a deep breath. “We will take Rynn and Varayan down into Boraila. We will alert the city guard and bring them up here. After that, we must return to Turambar as quickly as possible to report to Captain Sarin.”
“Corporal, it just does not make sense for someone to travel all the way up the hill, kill these clerics and then flee back the way they came,” pointed out Halian. “What motive would they have and, more importantly, how w
ould they know the temple was here in the first place?”
“I can’t answer these questions,” snapped Ilkar. “None of us can. These murderers alone know why. Come, bring the horses. I’ll fetch Rynn and Varayan.”
Ilkar ran back around the wall of the temple grounds towards the outer doors. As he turned the corner, he slid to a halt. Standing before the temple was a company of men wearing blackened armour. At the front of them stood a slight man dressed in dark green robes and an eerie silence descended as he turned to look at Ilkar with his slate-grey eyes.
“Varayan, this is pointless,” groaned Rynn. “We have looked in nearly every room and there are no signs of any of the clerics.”
Varayan noticed another door in the diminishing light set back in an alcove up ahead of them. “What about that door?”
“Ranesch always told us to stay away from that door,” replied Rynn, catching his eager companion up. “Only the oldest clerics were allowed to know what was beyond. It was always locked.”
Varayan’s eyes lit up. “Now there’s a challenge,” he chuckled, moving to the door.
“No, it is not permitted,” said Rynn, grasping Varayan’s arm. “Anyway, I do not know where Ranesch kept the key.”
“Who needs a key?” Varayan laughed, and pulled out a set of lockpicks.
“Where did you get those?”
“I’ve always had them. The last time I used them was back in Ashgar. That seems an eternity ago.” Pulling free of Rynn’s grip, Varayan began working on the lock.
“I thought you had changed your ways.”
Varayan laughed again and shook his head. “Once a thief, always a thief. Why give up something I am so good at?”
“Well, with everything that has happened recently, I thought you might consider your options for the future.”
Severed Destinies Page 13
