“What good are you then?” Rommel spat, slamming his fist onto the desk.
“As I was saying,” the man continued. “While we will not lend aide, neither will Lord Roth oppose your ascension to high lord.”
“What about Lord Ober?” Rommel addressed the second man, casting him a scrutinizing glare.
“He will send his forces…” Ober’s counselor said.
“But?”
The man shifted uneasily, glancing at Roth’s counselor. “My lord wants to advance above House Roth in exchange for his service.”
Roth’s counselor roared, “Outrageous!”
“Done,” Rommel said.
“Lord Roth will hear of this!”
“Let him stew,” Rommel said. “Little investment begets little reward. If your lord wishes to reconsider, however…”
“No. My lord was clear. House Roth will not assist in this harebrained scheme of yours.”
“Then he made my decision for me,” Rommel said. “We launch tonight.”
Callum choked.
“Have something to say, boy?” Rommel asked.
“Uh, well,” Callum started to say, but Platz cast him a glare. “No, my lord.”
Rommel narrowed his eyes then looked at the others and said, “Commence the attack at midnight. Dismissed.”
The men turned to leave and Callum fell in line behind Platz.
“Not you, Callum,” Rommel said.
Callum froze in his tracks, looking between Platz and Rommel.
“You heard him,” Platz said, taking his leave.
When everyone had left and the door closed, Rommel held out his hand and said, “Let’s have it.”
“Have what, my lord?” Callum asked, confused.
“Platz tells me you’re a good soldier, superb skills in the training ring, but your attention is lacking and you shirk your responsibilities. We’re on the eve of perhaps the greatest insurgency in history and you’re distracted. I need you focused. Our plan hinges on you and your contact, gods help us. If there was another way, we’d take it. So let’s have it,” Rommel said, beckoning with his hand. “I want to see what’s so enamoring that you can’t pay attention for fifteen minutes.”
Callum reluctantly pulled the parchment from his pocket and handed it to Rommel. The lord unfolded it and glanced at it.
“What’s this?” Rommel asked, flipping it over several times.
“It’s all I have from my mother, my lord,” Callum said.
“This? This is what drew your…”
Rommel paused, his eyes narrowing as he looked more closely at the parchment, then he tossed it into the fireplace.
Callum’s eyes widened as panic flooded through him.
“There, no more distractions,” Rommel said, turning back to his desk.
No, no, no, Callum thought.
With Rommel’s back turned, Callum reached in and pulled the parchment from the fireplace. He pushed it against his leg, dampening the tiny flame that had caught hold of a corner. Refolding it, he shoved the now charred parchment back into his pocket before Rommel noticed.
The lord sat down in his chair and glanced over at Callum. “What are you still doing here? Go. Alert your contact of the change in plans.”
Darkness reigned. The streets were empty. Or at least they appeared so. Callum knew that somewhere beyond what his eyes could see, two armies were mobilizing as swiftly and silently as possible.
Callum approached the large, solid oak doors of House Gramoll’s outer gates. Inlaid in the bottom right was a small door, enough to fit a man if he ducked. His knuckles rapped against the wood. One long tap, two shorts, followed by one more long: a cadence identified only by his contact.
The small door cracked open, groaning as it did.
“What are you doing here?” an unseen voice said. “I told you never—”
“The attack is tonight,” Callum said.
“What?” Gerald whispered harshly. “Is he mad? Does he know what today is?”
“I’m sure that is precisely the reason Rommel moved up the timetable,” Callum said, looking around him. “Can you do it?”
“Aye, but—”
“Await the signal,” Callum said, and left without another word.
He hated using the man. That’s all Gerald was, a mark. Callum knew the rules. Don’t get attached to your marks. But still, it wasn’t what he had in mind when he joined Rommel’s guard. In fact, the only reason he applied was to get inside House Rommel. He’d followed a lead indicating his mother lived there, or did at one time. It was all he had to go on.
The trail had run cold and then he got wrapped up in Rommel’s scheme. Luck finally shined in his favor, though. The letter in Rommel’s desk was the best lead he had. He needed to see that letter again if he wanted to know for sure. At the very least, he needed a name. Maybe he could find her if he knew her name. With regards to his father… Callum didn’t even want to pursue that line of thinking yet. Not without confirming the—
A set of hands grabbed him, yanking him into the deep dark of an alley. Fear spiked within him, accompanied by a surge of adrenaline. He tried to resist, but the hands held firm.
“Be quiet or you’ll wake the whole street,” a voice whispered—Rommel’s voice.
He settled down, his fear ebbing, replaced by relief. The hands released him. He turned to look at Rommel, but couldn’t see a foot in front of his face. The rustle of steel plate armor told him they were not alone. Rommel’s whole team was in place.
“He’s ready?” Rommel asked.
“Yes,” Callum said.
“Good,” he said. “Report to Platz at the western wall.”
“My lord? The plan was—”
“Plans change. That’s an order,” Rommel said with finality.
“Yes, my lord,” Callum acquiesced and bowed in the darkness, not that anyone could see him.
He moved off into the night, careful to avoid impaling himself on an unseen weapon.
Platz was overseeing the breach, but Callum was supposed to be a part of the infiltration team. It didn’t make any sense to him. It was his contact after all. He deserved to be there as Rommel beheaded Gramoll and ascended to high lord. He yearned for a place of respect among Rommel’s men.
In the end, he had little choice. He did what he was told. Insubordination led nowhere but the gallows.
Arriving at House Gramoll’s western wall, he checked in with Platz. The moonlight softly illuminated the area.
“Can you believe this? After all I’ve done,” Callum fumed to his superior.
“He didn’t inform me of the change,” Platz said, frowning, his displeasure likely directed at his lack of involvement in Rommel’s ever-changing plans than over Callum’s predicament. “Try not to get in the way. This isn’t the training ring.”
Callum bristled at the comment.
“Here we go,” Platz said. He held up a hand, signaling no one Callum could see. Platz ducked behind a supply cart. Callum followed his lead, watching the wall from behind it.
The night stilled, his heartbeat growing louder and heavier with each second. An explosion rocked the ground…
Soul Siphon is a collection of novellas that tells the tale of Alexander Drygo through the eyes of those closest to him. The collection includes Midnight Blade, Kingsbane, Ash and Steel, and Sentinels of the Stone. See where it all began with Soul Siphon on Amazon.
Soul Render (Soul Stones Book 1) Page 33
