Leaving the seamstress, they went down to the first floor, where Vesha showed Rema the kitchen. There was an odd sort of organized chaos going on inside the large room. People were kneading dough, while others chopped vegetables. There were stacks and stacks of pewter plates and cups. Rema couldn’t imagine how they all got clean. Leaving the kitchen, Vesha led Rema to the mess hall where everyone ate their meals. Afterwards, they stopped by the blacksmith who was busy making a long sword before seeing the armory filled with weapons.
Once Vesha had shown Rema the main features of the castle, she led Rema to the training room located on the ground level.
Darmik
Darmik and Neco spent the rest of the day searching the area, careful to remain a safe distance from the fortress. Just before nightfall, they managed to find a small underground cave that would serve as shelter from the elements.
The following morning, they ate a quick breakfast before heading out. Darmik wanted to get a closer look at the castle to see what was going on. Soldiers patrolling the perimeter hinted at more than just a few dozen ill trained rebels, which in all actuality made sense. There had to be a lot, and they had to be trained. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been so successful in their endeavors.
Darmik and Neco used leaves and mud to cover their clothing and skin. Crouching among the vegetation, the pair moved closer to the rebel camp. When the compound was in sight, Darmik paused to examine the area. The wall surrounding the entire castle was tall, probably twenty-feet high. The men patrolling it wore matching tunics and were armed with weapons. Approximately a hundred yards beyond the wall, the top portion of the castle could be seen. Darmik needed to find the front entrance or climb a tree for a better view.
Looking to Neco, Darmik raised his eyebrows in question. Neco responded by pointing west, indicating they should find the front of the castle first. While carefully moving around the perimeter, keeping a safe buffer, Darmik looked at the stonework in greater detail. This castle had been here for quite some time. Bright green fungus clung to the wall, and the stones looked worn from many years of hard rain. But when was it built and by whom?
Up ahead, a solid wooden gate was fitted into the wall. Sliding behind a tree, Darmik knelt down. Neco positioned himself beside Darmik.
“We won’t be able to see a thing,” Neco whispered.
Darmik pointed up, and Neco nodded. Slipping a rope out of his sack, Darmik threw it around a low branch. He pulled the rope, making sure the branch was strong enough to support his weight. Then he hoisted himself up the tree, trying not to move any branches and alert the soldiers to his presence. Once Darmik reached the first branch, he released the rope and continued climbing on his own. When he was high enough, he slid on the backside of the tree and peered around the trunk in order to see on the other side the wall and get a better view of the castle beyond it.
Darmik almost lost his footing. Inside the walled area, there had to be several hundred soldiers dressed in uniform, wielding swords, practicing a series of moves. Unless Darmik warned his father, the kingdom would soon be under attack. No wonder these people had managed to spread the rumors and free Rema. But where were they from, and how did they get here? What kingdom would have interest in overthrowing King Barjon? It didn’t make any sense. Darmik thought the rebels were citizens rebelling, but there were too many of them here, and they were far too organized to be regular people. This had to be an army from another kingdom.
Descending the tree, Darmik had an intense desire to get inside the fortress and spy. However, he’d never be able to get in, let alone remain unnoticed. And Rema—was she all right? Did she make it there safely? When his feet landed on the ground, Neco cocked his head, waiting for information.
“There’s a bloody army inside,” Darmik whispered, white mist from his breath puffing out when he spoke. “I don’t know if they’re rebels, or soldiers from another kingdom. Regardless, there’s too many, and we won’t stand a chance.”
“What do you want to do?” Neco asked. “We could observe them for a few days. See if we catch a supply run and sneak in?”
“No,” Darmik answered. “We won’t survive in this weather. We need to return to King’s City and get reinforcements and more supplies.”
“We haven’t even been here a day, and you’re ready to leave?” Neco’s face was rosy red from the frigid air.
“Yes. Now that we know the way, it won’t take nearly as long. I bet we can get down in seven days.” Darmik started back toward the cave. They needed to hunt, gather food, and collect enough water to make it through the tunnel.
“But when we return with the army, it’ll take us forever. And the prospect of that tunnel ain’t looking so enticing right now.”
Darmik spun around to face his friend. “You’re not going to tell anyone what you saw here. Is that clear?”
“You’re not going to inform your father about an enemy army on our soil?”
“I will, after I know more about those so-called rebels.” Darmik continued walking, ice crunching under his boots. “And after I’ve figured out what’s going on with Rema,” he mumbled to himself.
****
Traveling back through the tunnel and down the mountain took a week. It was astonishing that it had taken them so long to find the rebels in the first place.
Overlooking the town Darmik was supposedly in, smoke and screams filled the air. “I can’t tell what’s going on down there,” Darmik mumbled to Neco. They hid among the vegetation on a low hill just outside the village.
“Let’s focus on finding your tent first,” Neco said. “Then you can figure out what’s going on. Who did you put in your place?”
“Yelek. He’s the only one I trust who is remotely my height and build.” They slunk away from the bushes and trekked down the hill. At its base, they headed to the northern end of the town, where the army had set up camp. Darmik had left instructions with Yelek to stay here and use this village as a home base, while sending squads to search the nearby towns for the rebels.
Darmik took out a wool hat from his sack and placed it over his head, trying to remain anonymous. The perimeter of the army’s camp was surrounded by crude wood fencing with soldiers patrolling it.
“We could wait until it’s dark,” Neco suggested. “I bet we could slip in then.”
“I’ve never had to assign a guard like this,” Darmik said. “Things must be tense if Yelek felt these precautions necessary.”
Darmik searched the faces for someone he recognized. There was a young man clutching the hilt of his sword, his body tense, eyes roaming the land. Nudging Neco, the pair approached the soldier.
“Kerek,” Darmik said in a low voice. The young man stood up straighter, recognition flickering in his eyes. “I’ve been on a mission,” Darmik continued, “and I don’t want anyone to know I’m back yet. I need to be granted entrance.”
“Of course, Commander,” Kerek quietly replied. “Follow my lead.”
Several other soldiers nearby took notice of Darmik and Neco, but they mistook them for commoners from the village. The soldiers gave them looks of either hatred or fear. Darmik kept his head down, careful to avoid eye contact with anyone.
“Corporal,” Kerek said, “I have two men who have information for Sergeant Wilek. I’ve checked them—they pass.”
“Papers?” the corporal asked.
“Yes,” Kerek replied.
The corporal opened the gate, granting them entrance. “Don’t leave their side, Kerek.”
“Yes, sir.”
The three entered the camp. The ground was muddy from heavy rainfall and thousands of boots tramping over the ground. Kerek led them through dozens and dozens of tents until they came to a large one flying the commander’s flag. Darmik opened the flap and stepped inside, motioning Neco and Kerek to follow.
The room was alight with several half-used candles. Four men stood around a table, arguing with one another.
“Commander!” Yelek said. Silence fell t
hroughout the tent. All men turned toward Darmik and saluted in respect.
“Everyone except Lieutenant Yelek out,” Darmik ordered. The soldiers, all lieutenants of the company, exited the tent. “Kerek, back to your post. Thank you for your assistance. It won’t be forgotten.” Kerek nodded before leaving. “Neco, go eat. I’ll bring you up to speed once you’ve rested.” Darmik raised his right shoulder, the signal for Neco to do some spying.
Neco half smiled. “Yes, Commander.”
Darmik turned his attention back to Yelek. “Thank you for filling in while I was gone. I want a complete update.”
Looking relieved, Yelek slid onto a chair next to the table. “It’s good you’re back, Commander. The situation here is hostile.”
“Explain.”
Yelek told Darmik that from the moment the army arrived, the people refused to speak to any of the soldiers. Squads were sent to the nearby towns and villages, and they met with the same hostility there. Anyone suspected of harboring or aiding the rebels was killed, and their body used as an example to ward others away from similar behavior.
“Any traces of Rema?” Darmik asked.
“Nothing,” Yelek replied. “Even though no one is talking, we haven’t found any proof that the rebels even exist.”
“Is that what you believe?”
Yelek’s eyes sliced over to Darmik’s. “Why do you ask, Sir?”
“You’ve been here for over two weeks. You must have an opinion as to what’s going on. And I want to hear it.”
“As far as proof is concerned, Sir, there is none. However, someone probably organized the citizens and told them not to speak to the army.”
Darmik agreed. Did that mean the rebels had infiltrated the people of the kingdom? Or had they simply passed through, giving hope and some sort of plan? With any luck, Neco would find out something while snooping around the town.
****
Sitting atop his horse, Darmik rode through the village, surveying the atmosphere for himself, a squad of soldiers accompanying him. The people he passed carefully kept their heads down, eyes averted. Like everywhere else in the kingdom, these people were gangly and malnourished from a lack of food.
Neco managed to learn that a group of men rode through the area several weeks ago, telling everyone to avoid the army and that the kingdom was about to fall out of unfit hands and back to the rightful heir. And something about a key—people spoke of the key arriving to restore peace and prosperity.
At this point, Rema could practically walk into the castle, and it would be handed over to her. That is, if the people had their say. But they didn’t, and that’s where Darmik came into the equation. Commanding an army of ten thousand men gave him the power to suppress the rebels and Rema.
King Barjon had the support from the Kingdom of Emperion. It was Emperor Hamen after all, who had sent Barjon to Greenwood Island with a small army to overthrow the king and queen. Emperor Hamen controlled the largest and deadliest army known to man. He promised protection over Greenwood Island on the condition King Barjon open trade with Emperion and consult the emperor on all matters.
The alliance proved most beneficial for the king and emperor. However, the people of Greenwood Island suffered, starving to death. And seventeen years of cruelty had taken its toll. Revolution was brewing in the air, and it was Darmik’s job to stifle it. It was his duty to protect his father and his brother. Exactly how Rema fit into all of this, Darmik still couldn’t be sure. He knew he couldn’t bring any harm to her, yet it was his job to protect his father.
“Murderer!” a young woman screamed at Darmik. Two soldiers grabbed her arms, restraining her from coming at their commander.
“You gonna chop off my head?”
The two soldiers forced her to her knees. “Kneel before your prince,” one of them demanded, sliding his sword from its scabbard.
The woman struggled against their strong hands, her eyes locked on Darmik. She spat at him, wrinkling her nose in disgust. Darmik’s thoughts drifted back to the town in Telan where he ordered a half dozen men be killed for treason. They had spread the word that a blood heir survived the attack seventeen years ago and would be restored to the throne.
Darmik swung off his horse, standing before the irate woman. Her bloodshot eyes never left his.
“Release her,” Darmik ordered.
“But sir, she’s out of control!” one of his soldiers said.
Darmik looked to the men, waiting for his order to be obeyed. Each soldier let go. She remained kneeling on the ground.
Lowering himself to her level, Darmik whispered, “Let’s talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you!” The woman laughed, exposing yellow, decaying teeth. “Your time is done!” She swiftly stood and reached for Darmik’s sword. Darmik grabbed her wrist, stopping her.
Her eyes widened and she fell to the side, a sword sticking out from her back.
Darmik looked to his soldier, who had jammed the sword into her. “I had the situation under control,” Darmik said, seething with rage. “There was no need to kill her.”
“She threatened your safety,” he responded. “Standard protocol, Sir.”
Looking around, Darmik saw several people watching from behind closed windows and down dark alleys. He quickly removed his cape and covered the woman, concealing her identity.
“Let’s get her back to camp,” Darmik said, standing. Thunder boomed in the distance. A storm was coming. It seemed everyone except Darmik and his squad had suddenly disappeared. “Quickly now,” Darmik ordered. “And keep your eyes open for retaliation.”
The squad of soldiers formed a circle around their commander as they rode back toward the camp. The woman who was murdered had been someone’s wife. She was probably a mother too. And Darmik’s soldier took her life without a second thought because Darmik was threatened. Was his life more precious than hers? Did she deserve to die in his place?
A scream, wild and untamed, shattered the silence. A man ran toward them, sword in hand. All of Darmik’s men unsheathed their weapons and turned toward the assailant, ready for the lone attack. When the man was twenty feet away, several other screams rang through the air. Darmik glanced behind him. Dozens of people came running from the alleyways and buildings, wielding stones and small swords.
“Behind you!” Darmik yelled to his men.
As they turned to face the new attackers, more men and woman came running, joining the original attackers. They were now surrounded on all sides by a hundred people, wild with anger.
Darmik grabbed one of his men. “Get out of your tunic and head back to camp. Get archers. Now! Go!” He hoped his soldier would be able to slip through the crowd unnoticed in the fray.
Swords sliced through the air, followed by the sound of piercing flesh. Rocks flew around them. Several of his men were hit in the head, toppling off their mounts. Darmik had no desire to kill these people, who were desperate and starving to death. He wanted the opportunity to talk to them and make things right. But that was not going to happen right now.
Darmik’s men surrounded him, using their bodies as shields. He wanted to push them away, so he could fight and defend himself, but it was no use. The horses went crazy in the chaos.
Arrows sailed around them. People yelled “retreat,” while additional squads from the King’s Army arrived. Bodies lay littered on the ground. Dozens of them. Blood flowed in the street like water.
Rema
Entering the large indoor training facility, Rema was astonished by the number of people practicing inside. There were roughly six groups of twenty running through various drills, one person leading each group. Wooden practice swords and weapons lined the walls.
“Is this the training you mentioned?” Rema asked, remembering Vesha alluding to it.
“Partly. In addition to hand-to-hand combat,” Vesha said, indicating the soldiers practicing, “we have conditioning, combat skills, and additional practice as needed or assigned.”
“How oft
en?” Rema asked.
“Daily. Conditioning is held outside. Skills class is here in the morning. We rotate. There isn’t enough room for everyone all at once. Training is mixed with school and duties.”
These people were more dedicated than Rema first thought. It took a lot of discipline to devote oneself to training on a daily basis. Not only that, but the room contained both men and women. The King’s Army didn’t allow women to join. Paying particular attention to the women, they appeared just as capable as the men did. Where the women lacked in strength, they made up for in speed. Still, it was rather unconventional to allow men and women to fight alongside instead of separating them.
Rema spotted Mako walking around to each of the groups, offering advice and giving individuals pointers. When Mako glanced Rema’s way, she smiled at him, and he immediately came over to her. He thanked Vesha for showing Rema around, and instructed her to join her assigned training group.
Silently, Rema and Mako stood side by side watching Vesha throw a series of punches as she melted alongside twenty men and women, all of similar age. Her group’s leader had his back to Rema, so she couldn’t see his face to determine if he, too, was young like Vesha. The other leaders looked to be in their twenties or thirties, and it seemed that all of the soldiers were clustered according to age.
Focusing on Vesha’s group, they all moved with the grace and skill from doing these drills repeatedly. The leader must not have liked something he saw because he raised his hand and everyone stopped—all attention on him. He demonstrated the drill much faster than they had been doing it. His quick, elegant, and lethal movements mesmerized her, his muscles flexing and tensing, revealing years of training.
Red (The True Reign Series) Page 8
