The Prince turned towards the voice. It was Therian, the Paladin Commander. He was coming down from the main deck with an entire squad of fresh troops.
Focusing a massive wave of power, Fadan pushed at the entire squad so hard it would have rocked the ship itself, but none of them so much as flinched. They had Syphons protecting them.
“Protect the Prince!” Sabium shouted. “Protect your Prince!”
Staggering back, Fadan searched for a weapon to defend himself with.
“Fall back!” Lucilla commanded. “Form a line around the Prince!”
A couple of rebels managed to break free from their engagements but were immediately intercepted by the Commander’s men. Everyone else was too busy facing their own deaths to be of any help.
Therian’s sword hissed as he unsheathed it. “There will be no more offers of surrender, young Prince,” he said. “I warned you.”
Fadan stumbled over a bucket, scooping it up and hurling it at Therian’s head, but the Commander simply parried it away with a swing of his blade.
“I agree with you, Commander,” Lucilla snarled, her face twisted in a scowl. She had finally gotten away from the main fight and was marching towards Therian. “No surrender.”
One of the Commander’s escorts charged at her. She quickly disarmed him with a swirl of her sword. She grabbed the now unarmed soldier’s collar, swung her head back, and head-butted the man in his temple. The Paladin collapsed, but a second one was quickly upon her, followed by a third, and then a fourth.
She was surrounded, her back completely exposed. The Paladins struck at once, and there was no way she could possibly defend all those attacks, when out of nowhere, Shayna was there.
Therian turned, fuming. “Sergeant,” he snapped, “kill those two, immediately.”
The Sergeant barked a “Yes, sir,” then signaled the four men still protecting Therian to follow him. The group piled around Lucilla and Shayna.
Fighting with their backs to each other, the women’s swords looked like lightning, parrying the flood of attacks coming at them from every side. They needed help, and they needed it now. Fadan spun, trying to find anything heavy enough to knock down, at least, some of their attackers.
“Now us, young Prince,” Therian said, his sword aiming high. “Your father will be very sad to learn of your tragic death, but, at least, this way we can find ourselves a decent heir.”
“No!” Sabium commanded, stepping in front of the Prince, his head high, his chest thrust forward.
Fadan was going to push him away but never had the chance. Therian smacked the pommel of his sword over the old Mage’s head, and the poor man fell to the floor.
A stream of blood ran down Sabium’s forehead as Fadan quickly kneeled beside him.
“Master?” he called, slapping the Mage’s cheeks.
Therian stepped forward, his narrowed eyes looming down on him like a hawk’s. Fadan felt something turn in his stomach, and a cry of rage stuck in his throat.
There was a sharp scream of pain. Fadan turned to see a Paladin withdrawing his sword from Shayna’s chest.
“NO!” he screamed.
Lucilla caught her friend with one arm and kept fighting with the other, but without someone to cover her back, she was hopeless. A Paladin shoved his sword through her back. Then another, and another.
Fadan watched Lucilla fall to her knees without letting go of Shayna or letting out a single yelp. A sea of tears flooded Fadan’s eyes and he felt himself choke.
“You’ve brought your father nothing but shame,” Therian said, swinging his sword back. “The throne deserves better.”
Fadan did as he had been taught to. He didn’t even think. Lunging forward, he grabbed the blade of Therian’s sword with his bare hands and tried to yank it from his hands. But the Commander was far too experienced for such a desperate maneuver. He stepped back and pulled the sword with him.
The blade slid between Fadan’s hands as if they were a sheath. Pain shot up his arms, and he screamed as blood gushed out to cover his palms.
“Time to die, your majesty,” Therian said. “For Arrel!”
Fadan back stepped until he collided with a wall. A scream stuck in his throat as Therian’s sword swung back. But the blow never came.
Fadan realized the sword was frozen in midair and Therian’s expression had changed to one of shock. Only then did Fadan see Doric, standing behind the Paladin, his hand holding a dagger. The blade was buried deep in Therian’s skull.
“This is my wife’s son, you worm,” Doric spat, then pulled the knife out and allowed the Commander’s body to fall lifelessly to the floor.
It hadn’t taken long for the rest of the Paladins to surrender once their Commander fell, not that Doric remembered much after killing the man. He had simply stood there, shaking and staring at the dead body. Even now, he still had a hard time believing he had actually killed him. He had barely done anything at all during the rest of the fight. It had taken him forever to even realize there had been a fight going on.
Hagon had been the real hero. He had rallied the rebels when Lucilla had fallen and forced the remaining Paladins to surrender. His actions hadn’t just won the day for them, they had also spared even more bloodshed.
Doric knew Hagon despised him. It was no secret between them. Nevertheless, the two of them had shared a cell for the past three months. Had shared the rare scraps of food thrown at the floor of their cell. Had cleaned each other’s wounds with dirty rags after their torture sessions.
Yes, Hagon despised him. Or at least, he had, once. Doric was no longer sure. It didn’t really matter now. They were free again, and Doric had helped. He had helped.
The remains of the battle were revolting. The floor, thick with blood, was dark and slippery. Bodies laid everywhere, fallen in impossible positions over the floor or the occasional container. Together with the other rebels, Doric had washed blood from the floor for what had felt like hours while others took care of the dead bodies, preparing them for a proper pyre once they reached the shore.
They had lost fifty-seven people, and almost one hundred others had been wounded. Among the dead were several people Doric knew, including Eirin and Lerica, childhood friends of his, and Alman Larsa, a man who would have been the Duke of Niveh if his parents hadn’t refused the Emperor’s orders during the Purge. He had, apparently, been the one who had brought the Prince into the Rebellion.
When the cleaning was finally done and Doric had climbed up to the main deck, the storm was already behind them. An endless blue sky and a cold, salty breeze greeted him. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Well, after Cassia, of course.
He spotted the Prince in the fore castle, staring into the distance with his arms folded over his chest, bandages wrapped around his hands.
“Your majesty,” Doric greeted.
Fadan seemed to pull himself from the depths of his thoughts and turned to face him. “Doric,” he said. “I’m… happy that you’re okay. And thankful, of course. You saved my life. All our lives, actually.”
“I did very little.”
Fadan nodded absently. “You did plenty, believe me.”
“Are you alright?” Doric asked. “I heard you lost some friends today.”
“Yes,” the Prince replied, turning back to face the ocean. “I’m fine.”
“Please, forgive me the question but… does your mother know where you are?”
“She does. You may be pleased to know that, by now, she has probably left Augusta.”
That caught Doric by surprise. “I’m sorry, what?”
Fadan smiled. “My mother has escaped the Citadel. Or, at least, I hope she did. I can’t be sure, but she has a very competent spy helping her.”
Doric mumbled something unintelligible, and before he could actually formulate a sentence, Hagon stepped up to him.
“Doric,” Hagon said. “Would you mind introducing us?”
“Uh… Yes, of course. Your majesty, this is
‒‒”
“Lord Hagon Sefra, I know,” Fadan interrupted. “Sabium has told me about you. You are my mother’s cousin.”
“That’s right,” Hagon said with a weak smile.
“How come we’ve never met?”
Hagon looked down, then back up. “Me and… my wife, Shayna…” He cleared his throat. “We uh… have been with the Rebellion for a very long time.”
Fadan swallowed. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Hagon nodded, and there was a small pause before he said, “I came to inform you. As the highest ranking member of the Rebellion here, I have assumed command of the ship.”
“Very well,” Fadan said.
“We are headed to Ragara,” Hagon continued. “We can’t risk taking you back to Augusta, but we can drop you near Capra if you so desire. I can spare a small escort, of course.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Fadan replied. “I’m not going back to Augusta. Tell me something, Lord Hagon. Where would one find the Rebellion’s leadership?”
Hagon and Doric exchanged a look.
“Would you… like me to take you to the Rebellion’s leadership?” Hagon asked, excitement seeping into his voice. “Because I can tell you for a fact that they would be thrilled to have you join.”
“I’m the Prince, Lord Hagon,” Fadan replied, turning his gaze back to the sea. “I’m not joining any Rebellion. The Rebellion, however, might be interested in joining me.”
Epilogue
The Gathering Storm
Cassia had been dozing in and out of sleep, woken occasionally by the constant rattle of the carriage. When it stopped, she immediately sprung up in alarm. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Without a word, Venia stuck her head out the window. “Why are we stopping?” she called out.
“We need to rest the horses,” the guard Captain replied. “We’re far enough from the capital.”
Venia’s head returned inside and gave Cassia a questioning look.
“He’s right,” Cassia said. “We can’t just keep on going without rest.”
“I’m pretty sure we could,” Venia argued lightly, “but you’re the boss.”
The two of them stepped out of the carriage. Forest surrounded them, golden sunlight streaming between the swaying branches. They had been following an ancillary Imperial road, that much was obvious, but she wasn’t entirely sure where they were exactly.
With unsurprising efficiency, the Legionary escort dismounted, tied their horses, then dragged the carriage off the road.
It had been so long since Cassia had felt this way. So… light. There was an intoxicating, earthy smell coming from the damp forest floor, and it called to her in invitation. Cassia ambled around, her fingers running through the moss patches on the tree trunks. Venia followed.
“Your majesty?” the Captain called.
Cassia swung around. “Am I?” she asked. “Still the Empress, I mean.”
“Of course,” the man replied. “An Imperial marriage is not easily broken.”
“I suppose. Anyway, we haven’t even been introduced. Might I know your name?”
The Captain smashed a fist over his heart. “Darian, your majesty.” He wasn’t particularly well built for a Legionary, but his chiseled jaw would have made most of the statues in Augusta jealous.
“I like that name,” Cassia said. “Tell me, Captain Darian, where are we headed?”
“I was coming to ask the same.”
“You don’t have a plan?” Venia asked. “So… what, we’ve been going in some random direction?”
“Easy, Venia,” Cassia soothed. “The Captain is on our side.”
The spy wasn’t so sure. “Is he? How much gold do you have? What happens when you can’t afford his soldiers’ wages?”
“Maintaining unit cohesion is my responsibility,” Darian replied in Cassia’s stead. “If the Empress cannot afford the Maniple’s pay, I will procure it.”
“Procure it?” Venia asked.
“I think he means steal it,” Cassia explained.
Venia sent Cassia a bored look. “Yes, thanks for clarifying that to the closest thing to a thief here.”
“Watch your tongue!” Darian warned, his hand going to the hilt of his sword.
Venia was going to bark something back, but Cassia stopped her with a gesture. “Will you both calm down!”
“This woman cannot speak to you this way, your majesty,” Darian objected.
“She…” Cassia took a deep breath. “Just ignore the way she speaks to me, alright? Now, can we focus on the matter at hand, please?”
Venia and Darian shared a bitter glance, but both gave up on the argument.
“Our priority was to put as much distance as possible between us and the capital,” Darian continued. “We can plan our next move calmly now.”
“Which makes perfect sense,” Cassia told Venia. The spy rolled her eyes.
“One possible destination could be the Empress’ home in Fausta, but that will likely be where the Emperor will look for us first.”
“Yes, that would be a bad idea,” Cassia said. “What I want is to find the Rebellion. They can keep us hidden, and they can lead me to Fadan.”
Venia sent Darian a smile. “How would you like to join the Rebellion, Captain?” she teased.
“The military does not hold political opinions,” Darian replied coolly. “It’s something spies could do well to learn.”
Venia snorted but did not reply.
“So how do we contact the Rebellion?” Cassia asked. “Any ideas?”
“I infiltrated a Rebellion cell years ago,” Venia offered, “but those people were arrested shortly before I entered your service.” She shrugged. “Does speak to my credit, though.”
“Very helpful. What about you, Captain?”
“I’m afraid this sort of thing is not my field of expertise,” Darian admitted. “I have nothing.”
“Well,” Cassia sighed, “there is one person… If she’s not with the rebels, then no one is. The Arch-Duchess of Pharyzah.”
The others considered that for a moment.
“We can be in Pharyzah in a week, at most,” Darian offered.
Venia crossed her arms thoughtfully. “I suppose that’s as good an idea as any. You know this woman well? Can we trust her?”
Cassia shrugged. “Not very well, no. But if she is with the Rebellion, we should be fine.”
There were no objections from any of the others.
“Alright, then,” Cassia said. “We have ourselves a plan.”
Darian gave her a curt nod. “Very well. I will inform the men. Meanwhile, you should make yourselves comfortable. Unfortunately, we can’t risk entering city centers, so finding inns will be hard. I expect we’ll be sleeping by the side of the road most of the times.”
He gave a salute, turned on his heel, and left under Venia’s suspicious stare.
“Oh, relax Venia,” Cassia told her. “If Intilla chose him, it’s because he can be trusted. Besides, we’re free.” She opened her arms and took a deep breath. “When was the last you just enjoyed the wonderful forest air?”
“Yeah, yeah…” Venia reluctantly unfurled her arms. “We’ll see how wonderful you feel after sleeping in that carriage for a week.”
This was three times as far south as Aric had ever been. The sun was so mercilessly hot that everyone had to keep their heads wrapped in white turbans at all time so it wouldn’t cook their skins. Horses wouldn’t have survived the journey, and walking this far south would have been torture, so the Company and the other senior Hunters had ridden atop saddled camels. Everyone except for Prion, of course.
It hadn’t taken long for the deserter to be caught, mostly because of his own stupidity. Paladins had arrested him trying to swindle Glowstone shards, stolen from Lamash, in the streets of Radir. The Paladins hadn’t had too much of a hard time figuring out he was a Conscript on the run. The sentence, of course, had been the Pilgrimage.
Prion h
ad begged for mercy for the entire first day and the better part of the second’s morning. But being dragged across the Mahar for miles and miles eventually took its toll, and he became quieter and quieter. Now he only mumbled from time to time, pleading to rest or for some water.
By order of Grand-Master Sylene, everyone ignored Prion’s pleas, but every now and then one of the senior Hunters gave him something to drink. Aric felt like it was a cruel joke.
“This is sadistic,” Clea told Aric as they crossed a dune crest. “It’s inhumane.”
Aric agreed. No matter how much he disliked Prion, he surely didn’t deserve this. No one did.
Without a word to Clea, Aric spurred his camel forward and galloped along the line of over fifty Hunters until he stopped next to Sylene.
“Grand-Master,” he greeted. “A word, if I may?”
Sylene nodded.
“This…” Aric waved towards the back of the caravan, where Prion was being dragged on foot behind a camel, “is this really necessary?”
“I think you already know the answer to that, Captain,” Sylene replied.
“This is needless cruelty. It would be more humane to just kill him.”
Sylene shot him a glare. “This isn’t just an execution, Captain. That Conscript abandoned his Company, his fellow Guildsmen. Is that the kind of person you want by your side when you enter a Dragon’s cave? Someone willing to turn tail and leave you? The Pilgrimage is a symbol. You all belong to the desert now, and you do not turn your back on the Mahar.”
Aric gritted his teeth in frustration. How could anyone agree with this? Even if Prion was well fed and hydrated, leaving him all by himself so far south into the desert was certain death. They weren’t teaching Prion a lesson. They were needlessly prolonging a miserable death.
“Grand-Master I must insist‒‒”
“No, you will not,” Sylene interrupted sharply. Aric obeyed and simply looked away. “Good. Now, there’s something I would like to tell you. I received a visit from a Mage.”
Aric perked up. “Eliran?”
The Grand-Master shook her head. “It was a man. An old man.”
The Dragon Hunter and the Mage Page 48
