by Narro, B. T.
“The Goldram Army and the Takary Army are no longer the same thing,” Henry said coldly. “These horses will still be used for the Goldram Army, but Fatholl will be leading it.”
“You’re traitors!” Jek wasn’t trying to insult them. He was merely expressing his shock.
“Some Elves approached us in the common room after you and Micah retired for the night,” Henry said. “They explained the purpose behind Fatholl’s actions. They convinced us he was the one we should fight for rather than abandon our families in The Nest, only to die at Lake Mercy. Who do you think is going to starve first when the food runs out, us or you and Raymess?”
Henry’s words hurt more than the cut along Jek’s stomach. He’d never felt this way before, privileged and set apart because of it. He still was used to being on the opposite side, feeling the same anger he could see on Henry’s face.
I should’ve taken the time to speak with them, learn their names and ask them about their families. But it was too late now. All he could do was apologize. It felt so inadequate, but he did it anyway.
“I’m sorry.”
Henry nodded to him. “The Elves say when we see each other on the battlefield we won’t be enemies; we’ll be allies. Let’s hope they’re right.”
Chapter 12:
JEK
Micah hadn’t said much since they’d left Hillwak hours ago, just the two of them.
“It’s a straight ride to the forest of Lake Mercy from here,” he finally told Jek. “Now would be a good time for me to tell you what I know about the conflict there.”
So it looks like we won’t be talking about the guards anymore, Jek figured. After he’d gone back inside the inn and cleaned his wound, he’d decided not to wake Micah, figuring morning would be soon enough to tell him the bad news. There was no point in disrupting his sleep.
At first, Micah was angry with Jek for not waking him. But after Jek explained the scenario, Micah accepted there was nothing either of them could’ve done. Jek thought the real issue was that they didn’t confront the Elves when they had the chance, though he didn’t share this with Micah. Jek would, however, take it upon himself to make sure nothing like that happened again. The next time such an issue presented itself right in front of them, he wouldn’t ignore it.
“Four weeks before Fatholl attacked the palace, Waywen and Presoren’s armies began marching toward Lake Mercy,” Micah explained. “It was clear they wanted the fort there, and we couldn’t let them take it. The position of the fort, being in the middle of all four territories and directly between us and our allies, made it the most valuable land in the war thus far. The number of enemies marching toward it made it necessary for us to send nearly a third of our army there, and Zav sent just as many. But instead of attacking, our enemies have kept their distance from the fort and surrounded it.”
“To starve us?”
“Yes. The commander of the fort is a man named Tobkin Pott. He and Danvell exchanged messages through pigeons, trying to find a way for the King to organize food delivery to the fort. Two times we tried getting a caravan to them, and both times we failed. Our men were killed, and our enemies took the food for themselves. We started considering abandoning the fort, along with other desperate measures, like poisoning the food in anticipation of being ambushed. But the logistics make it impossible, especially given that those delivering it would need to die in order for the trap to seem genuine.”
“Why can’t we just abandon the fort?” Jek asked.
“Losing the fort would give our enemies the advantage they need to win this war. Still, we’ll have to abandon if we can’t get food there soon. The only luck we’ve had is with small groups taking in bags of food on horseback. But there are about seventy thousand men there now who need to be fed. We need to wheel in hundreds of crates continuously if we can’t get larger deliveries there safely.” Micah stopped to let out a sigh. “It’s clear by now that Fatholl knew Waywen and Presoren were marching. He couldn’t have picked a better time to attack the palace.”
“I’m no expert in warfare, but why don’t our men just go out from the fort and kill the enemies surrounding them?”
“They’ve been fighting this whole time, but the trees make it difficult. We don’t know where our enemies are, and they’re constantly moving. Tobkin has ordered his men to cut down the trees, and they’ve managed to clear those around the lake, but it will take too long to clear the whole forest.”
It all seemed to make sense except for one thing. “Why would Raymess go there?”
“He was part of our meetings with Danvell. He knows how important it is that we don’t lose the fort. Even more than that, most of our army is there. Without the palace, there’s no way to contact them without traveling to one of our forts where messenger pigeons know to fly. It seems logical he would put himself somewhere where he could command his army, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, but what does he hope to accomplish by being there?”
“Now that Danvell’s been killed by Fatholl’s army? I don’t know. He might abandon the fort and take all of the men back to Goldram. He might take over command of the fort and have them all venture out to attack our enemies. He might even give up on this continent, take his army east to Goldram’s docks and sail to Ovira. I’ve heard him mention this idea more than once.”
“What about the rest of the Takary Army? Why don’t they come to help?”
“They’re organizing to do just that, though it takes time. They don’t want to leave other important land unguarded. And everyone knows the only hope of keeping the fort is getting food there. Doing so would give us the time we need to fight off our other enemies. Then we can focus on Fatholl.”
Jek exhaled loudly, letting his despair come out. “So much work to do. It could be months before order is restored.”
“The Bastial Steel War lasted two years.” Micah grimaced. “And only four armies were involved instead of five.”
They went back to not speaking. There just wasn’t much left to say. Jek felt exhausted already, and they wouldn’t even reach Lake Mercy for days. It dampened his mood, and soon his thoughts became a stream of complaints. He cursed the war and all of his enemies for their insidious plans.
His complaints didn’t stop when the day ended. They turned toward his darkness, which awaited him in his sleep.
After his inevitable attack, he woke with Micah’s hand on his shoulder. “It’s over,” the adviser said. “Just a nightmare.”
Jek knew Micah was trying to calm him, but he exploded with anger instead. “Just a nightmare?” Jek pointed at the cuts on his torso. “Does this look like just a nightmare?”
Micah removed his hand. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
With deep breaths, Jek felt frustration leaving his body. “No, I’m sorry.”
He cleaned his wounds, silently complaining to himself. Dealing with his darkness outdoors was incredibly annoying and even dangerous, as the risk for infection increased. Without a lamp, he needed to create his own light. The only water was what he had in his pouch, which made the situation even more difficult. He hated knowing that whatever he poured he wouldn’t be able to drink. And keeping the towels and bandages clean during the trip was a constant challenge, too.
“I can sense how annoyed you are,” Micah muttered, sitting back up. “I’m truly sorry this happens.”
By the third day, Jek couldn’t figure out if he was eager to get there or if he dreaded it. All he knew was that he was sick of riding all day. He didn’t know Greenedge as well as Micah, so he relied on the King’s adviser to tell him when they were close.
It seemed as if they’d entered the start of the forest. The trees were sparse and thin, but they still blocked his view. None seemed to grow straight, and their limbs reached out in every direction. With many being low, it quickly became a nuisance to navigate through on horseback.
“We have to start being careful.” Micah spoke quietly. “I have no idea where the enemies are, b
ut they may be close.”
“Let me know if you sense anyone.”
“I will.”
Micah had only recently told Jek all he could do with psyche. It truly wasn’t that much. In the palace, Jek practically had begged Micah to tell him more about psyche, but the man never said much. Jek had encountered jammed doors that were easier to open. It was even more difficult to get Micah to speak about his childhood. That door was made of stone and had no handle.
They rode without disruption until nightfall. Both decided a fire wasn’t worth the risk, so they put up with the cold.
Another night. Another nightmare. Another wound that needed cleaning and bandaging.
Too cold to sleep shirtless, he was sure some blood had stained his shirt before he sat up and removed it, though it was too dark to tell, and he didn’t care to use Bastial Energy to check. He slipped it back over his head when he was bandaged and ready to go back to sleep, letting the still-wet blood on his shirt press against his bandage without regard.
In the morning, he asked, “How far do you think we are from the lake?”
“Another day or two.”
A terrible thought struck Jek. “Could it be possible the fort’s already been taken?”
“I doubt it. I don’t see why they would attack when their siege has been working so well.”
As they came farther west, green treetops shrouded the sky, their trunks thicker than even the heaviest of men. They grew straight, with a series of thin, sagging limbs heavy with leaves. In the space between the smooth trunks, clusters of younger, grayer trees eagerly grew. There was no clear path in any direction, and the hills made it so they were often riding on an incline.
“I can see why wheeling in crates of food has been difficult,” Jek commented.
“Yes, especially when a few flaming arrows could destroy the cargo.”
Jek wondered what the chances were of encountering enemies before reaching the fort. He and Micah were only two men on horseback, unlike the throng of hundreds who accompanied each delivery. Certainly not every route to the fort could be watched at once.
“We should change,” Micah said. “Put on your green robe, and I’ll don my cloak with the Takary crest. We don’t want our allies mistaking us for enemies.”
Jek did as he was told, though not without question. “And if our enemies see us first?” They dismounted and opened their bags.
“Unmarked clothing isn’t going to save us from them.” The confidence in his tone made Jek decide not to pry.
Readying himself for battle, Jek breathed slowly and closed his eyes, feeling the energy of the forest. Both Bastial and Sartious Energy were dense among the trees. He moved his hand through the air as he focused, feeling energy sticking to his skin like water.
“We could use a good archer,” Micah said quietly, mostly to himself. He looked around cautiously, sometimes even glancing over his shoulder. It made Jek turn for a look as well. He found nothing but birds, bugs, and, once, a deer.
They didn’t ride more than ten miles before night came. Although it was even colder than the night before, lighting a fire could mean their death. For all Jek knew, the spot where they chose to sleep could be along an enemy patrol route.
Needless to say, his slumber was sporadic. After his darkness came and ripped him open, Jek had trouble getting back to sleep. His worries tormented him until Micah awoke to find him sitting up.
“You should get some sleep.” Micah yawned and stretched his arms. “I’ll stay up for a bit.”
With some relief, Jek thanked him and managed to sleep for a few hours before his worries woke him again.
Jek was overcome with joy when they finally reached a clearing in the trees the next day and he could see the shimmering waters of the massive Lake Mercy. Atop a mountain on the other side of the water was the sweet Takary flag with its blue soaring wings.
Their horses happily galloped around the wide lake. Jek saw what must’ve been thousands of trees, now no more than stumps.
As they came around to the front of the mountain, Jek soon realized there wasn’t a fort like he’d imagined. The structure in its entirety was enormous; however, instead of being surrounded by walls, it was built into the mountainside. It was basically a block of stone with a gaping entrance like a mouth, which looked to burrow deep into the mountain. On its very top, several men with bows and wands stared indifferently, none offering a wave.
It took the better part of an hour to navigate up the twisting path and reach the entrance, where two men came forward.
“Who are you?” one asked.
“I’m Micah Vail, and this is Jek Trayden. We’re here to help. Has Raymess Takary come?”
“He has. But unless you’re bringing food, you’re of no help to us.”
Micah ignored the comment. “May we enter?”
With a petulant wave of his hand, the man motioned for them to pass.
“What about our horses?” Jek asked. “Is there a place for them inside?”
“Yes,” the man grumbled.
I hope not everyone here is as surly as these men, Jek thought.
A short stone tunnel led them into a vast cavern. Five archers were coming out just as he and Micah were coming in.
“Excuse me,” Micah said. “Can you point out the stable to us?”
“Are you new here?” one of the men asked incredulously.
“Yes.”
He pointed while he groused. “They should be taking us out of here, not sending more of us in.”
The others muttered in agreement as they left.
The man had pointed them toward a tunnel branching off from the cavern. Lit by sconces, it was too narrow for Jek to walk beside Micah and his mount. Halfway through, they had to stop and go back to allow three men with horses out.
Luckily, the tunnel opened into a wide room divided by wooden stalls. A balding fat man snorted out a laugh from his stool, his back hunched over.
“Haven’t seen a green mage as young as you.” He braced himself, then heaved his body upright. “Pleasure to meet you. My name’s Seffry.”
“I’m Jek, and this is Micah.”
Seffry surprised Jek with a warm smile. “How old are you, young man?”
“Seventeen.”
“And you can really manipulate Sartious Energy?”
Jek nodded.
Seffry whistled. “Well, it’s certainly a pleasure to meet you both. You can leave your horses with me and come back whenever you need them. I’ll take good care of them, or as best I can in this dank and unforgiving place.” He laughed heartily.
“Thank you, Seffry,” Micah said. “We need to speak to Raymess Takary. Do you know where he is?”
“Yes, but this place is a maze for fresh eyes. I would show you, but I can’t leave my post. Go through the cavern, straight through from the entrance. Look for stairs to your left after the first tunnel. Then go left again and straight until you come to more stairs. You can’t miss him after that. If you need help, ask anyone. Just be aware that people are hungry and irritable, so it might take some persistence.”
Jek and Micah thanked him and left.
Following his directions, they eventually came to the only room Jek had seen so far blocked by a wooden door. No guards stood outside, and the thickness of the door was sure to absorb the sound of a knock. Amused, Jek waited to see what Micah would do about the predicament.
Jek was slightly disappointed when Micah—without any hesitation—calmly drew a dagger and used its handle to produce a loud yet somehow polite knock, perfectly executed.
“Come in,” a muffled voice called.
Lamps hanging from the ceiling lit the cozy room. Two rugs covered the stone floor. One was embroidered with open wings and the other with Zav’s crest, the head of a roaring lion. Tables and chairs were scattered about, disorganized and untidy. One entire wall was covered by a map that looked to be of Lake Mercy and the many miles of forest around it.
Raymess was off to the
side, conferring with a man Jek didn’t recognize. The Prince—now King—perked up at the sight of them.
“Thank the stars you’re both alive.” He smiled and shook their hands. “What do you know of my family?”
“Your mother and sisters are safe,” Micah said. “We took them to Facian.”
Raymess let out a breath of relief. He looked older and more like Danvell than Jek remembered. He had a short beard of brown, many shades lighter than his long, black hair. He had the same soft features as Jessend and Lisanda, with a petite nose and a small chin that looked fuller with his new beard.
Raymess introduced the other man. “This is Tobkin Pott. Tobkin, you know Micah Vail from the messages we’ve exchanged.”
“I’m glad to finally meet you,” Tobkin said. “Though I wish the circumstances were better.”
Micah nodded as he shook the man’s hand. Tobkin was tall and thin, and by far the oldest in the room. But Jek guessed he was no older than forty by the lack of gray among his shaggy brown hair. His face was much too thin. He looked hungry, as did Raymess. Jek was hungry as well but more curious to learn what they had planned.
“And this is Jek Trayden, the King’s Mage,” Raymess said.
“It’s an honor,” Tobkin surprised him by saying. “I’ve heard much about you.”
“Thank you. I’m here to help however I can.” Jek looked to Raymess, figuring he would take that as his cue.
“How much have you told him about the siege?” Raymess asked Micah.
“Everything I know.”
“Good.” The King ground his teeth together. “I want to kill Fatholl more than anything in this world. I know my father was murdered. You don’t need to tell me. The King of Zav was killed along with the Kings of Waywen and Presoren.”
Jek thought of Harwin. “Is the Prince of Zav safe?”
“Yes.”
Micah furrowed his brow. “So it’s been confirmed that Fatholl’s army killed them?”
“Yes. Psychic Elves were responsible.”
“We’ve been considering giving up the fort,” Tobkin said sadly. “We don’t have enough food to sustain our army.”
