by M. L. Greye
Denon bowed while Sadree and Tarryn curtsied. They then exited the room through large silver coated doors behind them. Yrond passed a hand over his eyes and released a heavy sigh, returning to his seat. “I have lost both my sons.”
“My lord?” An Eve at the far left end of the table stood.
Olinia stared. “Fuladrik?”
The king raised his head. “Yes, Fuladrik.”
“Your son still seeks your life, my liege.”
The king was staring off at a distant point beyond the walls of the room. It was as if Yrond was watching a scene he longed to forget but couldn’t let go of. “What shall I do?”
“Leave, my lord,” Fuladrik said gently. “Go into hiding. Return once your grandchildren have reached their potential. Your Council will see to Evedon’s affairs while you are away.”
“Fuladrik is right, Yrond,” the queen told her husband. “Our son wishes us dead.”
He nodded wearily. “Where shall we hide?”
A woman opposite of Fuladrik stood. “The world of Ellidyrn may be an appropriate place.”
“I agree,” Fuladrik intoned.
“Are there any other suggestions?” Yrond asked. The room was silent. He nodded once and turned to his wife. “It appears that Ellidyrn is to become our new home. What have you to say?”
Archelda smiled sadly. “May time pass quickly.”
Without a word, Olinia raised her hand and passed it in front of her, erasing the Eveon Council and returning her and Will to the Courts. “Do you need any more proof?”
Will let out a short laugh and shook his head. “No, I believe you. How are you going to tell Legann?”
* * * * * *
Treveri Trosse stomped off as much mud as he could before climbing up the steps to his back porch. The summer rain the past few days had made the roads ruthless. Just walking the half-mile to town had become a day’s journey.
“Is that you, Trev?” His sister, Maewyn, called to him through the open kitchen window.
“It’s me,” he answered, yanking off his left boot and dropping it onto the porch.
“Supper’s almost finished,” she told him. “Mamma’s out visiting. She’ll be back soon.”
“Alright.” Treveri moved to the edge of the porch, carrying his boots in one hand. His mother kept a washbasin on the side of their cottage. He would use its water to clean off his boots before the mud hardened.
As he scrubbed off the grime of the day, Treveri peered out into the woods surrounding his family’s property. It was a quiet night – a nice change from the last few. The evening air was just beginning to cool from the heat of the day. Twilight spread across the clear summer sky. Treveri shut his eyes and breathed in deeply as a faint breeze brushed the back of his neck.
“What are you smiling at?”
Treveri glanced down at his younger brother, Leion, as he dunked his hands into the basin. “It’s a nice night.”
Leion grunted. “You sound like Maewyn.”
Treveri nodded for him to go inside. “I’ll be there once my boots are clean.”
He finished quickly and headed back onto the porch, his stomach growling angrily up at him. Out of habit, he glanced over his shoulder to the woods behind him once as he reached for the door’s handle. A figure at the edge of them froze his hand mid-air. He whirled. It was a young woman, dressed in white. She was watching him, her face pale. Treveri furrowed his eyebrows. Her appearance was almost ghostlike.
On impulse, he began towards her down the steps and onto the grass. “Can I help you?”
Her eyes darted past him. “Do you live here?”
“Yes,” he said slowly.
“I must lay a great burden upon you.” Her light eyes were wild, half crazed. She ripped off her silver necklace and thrust her hand forward, offering it to him, “If they find me with this it will be lost forever.” She took a step closer to him as he took one back. “Please, take it!”
“Who are they?” Treveri frowned.
Her mouth hardened. “Who is it that inflicts all unjust pain to our world?”
“You speak against the Dreens?”
“I speak against whom I choose.”
“Why are they searching for you?” Treveri asked after a moment, his eyes taking in her features for the first time. Despite her smudged cheeks and wrangled hair, she was really quite beautiful. Her dark hair complimented her fair skin and pale blue eyes.
“They search for me because of this,” she replied, referring to her still outstretched hand. “It was my father’s. They’ve already found him, now they want me. They want this.” Her gaze intensified. “That is why you must take it. I will lead them far from here. I only ask of you to live your life as if you never met me.”
“Why would a necklace mark you for death?”
She smiled sadly. “It’s a Silver Heart.”
Treveri fell back a step, feeling as if she had slapped him. “And you want me to take it?” He spat the words out, disgusted by just the thought of touching it. To be a Silver Heart was a sure path to the Dark. He had a family to support and protect. There was no way he would bring such danger upon those he loved most.
“To be offered a Silver Heart is an honor beyond anything you’ll ever deserve,” she shot back, glaring.
Treveri stared at the girl. Her stance was practically majestic. This young maiden held no fear for the Dreens. Treveri lowered his eyebrows. “Who are you?”
Her chin was raised slightly, as if in defiance. “I am Caiden Derent, daughter of a Langorn Mercenary. And I do not bow to Dagon!”
“And do you not fear the Dark?”
“I am a Silver Heart,” she answered evenly. “I fear only for the Other Worlds.” She moved closer to him slowly. This time Treveri didn’t retreat. In a soft pleading voice she said, “Please, please take it.”
Without a word, his hand reached out and grasped the dangling heart. Her hand dropped, leaving the necklace to him. She let out a sigh of relief and shut her eyes. “Now, put it around your neck.” Her eyes opened. “Please, I must see you do it.”
Treveri clasped the chain around his neck and slipped it beneath his tunic. “So now what?”
Caiden suddenly went on her toes, her mouth meeting his. Treveri grunted in surprise as her kiss swept through him. His hands instinctively moved to her waist, holding her up against him. When she pulled back a moment later, her hands resting on his chest, she said simply, “Serve it well.” She touched his cheek briefly before turning towards the trees, leaving Treveri to gape after her.
He blinked, struggling to find his voice. “Will I ever see you again?”
She stopped and glanced back at him. Treveri glimpsed a tear trickle down her cheek. She shook her head. “I doubt it. Farewell, my Silver Heart.”
“It’s Treveri.” He frowned. “My name’s Treveri.”
“Goodbye, Treveri.”
And then she was gone – the darkness of the woods taking her into its depths. Treveri stood there a moment, feeling the light pressure of the heart against his bare skin. Then, just barely more than a whisper, he breathed, “Goodbye, Caiden.”
* * * * * *
It was raining by the bucket load – a nice welcome from his home world. Pavn grunted. He hated rain; it only brought him discomfort. He glanced ahead at his eldest brother and immediately wished he hadn’t. Ryth seemed completely unaware of their wet and miserable state. Envy swept through Pavn as he shook his head, relieving his hair of some of the water it had absorbed. Why couldn’t Pavn be more like his brother? Ryth was never one to allow his surroundings to interrupt his thoughts.
“Oy, this rain gets to you,” Flortt muttered from Pavn’s right. He pulled his cloak closer around himself.
“A hot bath and some ale are sounding like good company right now,” Pavn replied, loosening his grip on his horse’s reins.
“I don’t need so much.” His brother grinned. “Just roll me out in front of a Desnbi fire, and I’ll be just fine.”
<
br /> At the mention of Desnbi, Pavn frowned. He and his brothers were making their way home to Desnbi Castle. It sat just outside Tlaid’s capital city of Desnbi, overlooking the Kinion valley. It was where Pavn grew up – the place he and his brothers first conquered. Such a history should have incited some sort of attachment within him, yet he cared nothing for Desnbi or Tlaid.
But the season required his presence. It was the Month of Liberation, the celebration of Tlaidian freedom from Pavn’s sister, Lorianna. The holiday lasted the remaining few weeks of good summer weather before the air returned to its usual bitter cold. It was the length of the Kendren Battles, which had occurred three generations before. As part of the festivities, Pavn and his brothers returned home to give grand balls and banquets to the nobility of Tlaid. The commoners would celebrate in bonfires and brawls. Pavn snorted in disgust. He despised the frivolities applied to the weeks he and his brothers had spent at war with their elder sister.
“What about you, Ryth?” Flortt called out. “What are you looking forward to?”
Ryth glanced over his shoulder and slowed his horse, so as to join his brothers. “I want nothing more than a full night’s rest.”
“Aye,” Flortt agreed, nodding.
They rounded the last turn of the forest and Desnbi appeared below. The rich, green valley grinned up at them, while the city tops sat shivering beneath the rain. Then, there on the hill just beyond Desnbi City, almost hidden behind the thick downpour, stood their towering castle.
Pavn turned to the neatly lined men behind him, all dressed in green. They were anticipating the holiday they would spend with the families they supported with their wages. Ryth had arranged for non-Tlaidian troops to fight with Dagon in overtaking Relivaynt so as to allow the Tlaidians full enjoyment of their holiday.
As Pavn returned his attention to Desnbi, Flortt grinned at him. “Almost home.”
He grunted. “I can hardly wait.”
14
---------------
Arynn watched as her father stuffed an extra set of clothing and food wrapped in cloth into his satchel. The only reason for his flight he had given her was that it was a matter of some urgency. Arynn sat at the foot of her father’s bed, frowning. She noticed him slip an Enblith into his pack as well. “Why must you leave today?”
“Do not worry.” Fuladrik smiled slightly as he pulled the satchel over his shoulder. “You will be alright while I am away.”
She grunted. “I am not the one to be worried about.”
“I will be just fine.” Fuladrik kissed her forehead. “I am not heading into danger. I am only leaving to give an old friend a bit of news.”
“Then, why keep your journey secret from the council?”
“The council has become slow and arrogant.” His eyes clouded. “This errand requires speed.”
“But where will you be?”
He hesitated for a moment, deliberating. Then, “I will be in Ellidyrn.”
Arynn felt her eyes widen. “You go to see the King?”
Fuladrik blinked. “You know his hiding place?”
“No, I know your thoughts,” she replied. “When you are anxious, you think too loudly.”
“Oh,” Fuladrik frowned. “Please do not share this bit of information with Yrond’s heirs.”
“Heirs?” Arynn asked, surprised. “Have you forgotten where Lord Zedgry is being held captive? I do not think I will have the chance to tell him while you are away.”
“Zedgry is not the only Lantz of Caprith, my dear.”
“No?” Arynn stared.
“No,” Fuladrik returned. “The young Legann Reien is one as well.”
* * * * * *
The camp was divided into two groups: Velvitors and Nagreth. Despite the close spaces given them to live and train in, the two would not intermingle. The Nagreth hated the Velvitors, and the Velvitors were too engrossed in their rituals to notice. Sazx frowned down at the two armies. He personally was finding it difficult to co-exist with the Velvitor king. Talik had his own ideas for following orders – when he chose to obey them.
“Captain,” Lorban moved out onto the balcony beside Sazx, overlooking the barracks, “King Talik wishes to see us in his rooms.” Only the officers and leaders of the two groups below resided in Dagon’s black castle.
At Talik’s request, Sazx grunted without turning. “If he wishes to speak with me, then he may come to me.” It was the common courtesy of allied leaders to go to the other when desirous of communication. One leader did not summon another. They summoned those below their station. Talik’s call for Sazx was an insult to his position.
“Yes, captain.” Lorban bowed, the corners of his mouth hinting a smile. He disliked the Velvitor king as much as Sazx did.
Fifteen minutes later, Sazx’s front door was pounded on. “Come in,” Sazx called without removing his gaze from the two camps.
The door burst open, and a string of curses followed. Sazx turned as Talik erupted into his front room. “I will not suffer myself to be treated so by one below my situation,” Talik fumed.
Sazx glanced past the king to the door. Lorban stood in front of it, behind Talik. Sazx nodded for Lorban to shut the door before returning his attention to the Velvitor. “You forget your place, King Talik,” Sazx said evenly. “And you most certainly forget mine.”
“You are no King,” Talik spat out, his mismatched eyes blazing.
“On the contrary,” Sazx retorted, “I am King of the Nagreth. As King of the Velvitors, you should know and understand the ranking of our Lord Dagon’s empire. He is the only one above either of us – we are equal.” Sazx moved to a stuffed chair and lowered himself into it. He gestured for Talik to take the seat opposite of him. “What was it you wished to say to me?”
Talik glared at him, refusing to sit. Another insult. “My men are growing restless – they are tired of your drills. Why do we not attack?”
“It has been less than three days since your arrival.”
“My men want action!” Talik shot back. “Why do we wait?”
Sazx leaned back in his chair, purposely prolonging his answer. “We wait for Lord Oldron’s birthday.”
Talik frowned. “Why then?”
“That evening, there will be a grand ball for all of Relivaynt’s royals,” Sazx explained. “It will be held at Castle Relivaynt, as always, and it will demand the attention of Relivaynt troops.” He paused. “Relivaynt will be weakest during this ball, giving us the advantage.”
“Of course.” Talik nodded once. “Forgive me my short temper, Captain. I was only acting upon the frustrations of my men.”
“And your eagerness to obtain the Lady Aeorin had nothing to do with it?” Sazx raised one eyebrow. “How very selfless of you.”
The fury returned. “Lady Aeorin has nothing to do with it!”
“Of course not.” Sazx stood, pointing towards Lorban. “If you have any other complaints or suggestions, you will come to my Second. You will not summon him. You will go to him. He will be acting in my absence.”
“You are leaving us?”
“In the morning.” Sazx nodded, keeping his own anger on the subject hidden behind his mask of calm. He had no desire to return to Caprith to use some Silver Heart as bait in the capture of Dagon’s niece. He did not like the idea of wooing the princess as Dagon wished him to. She was, after all, half Saerdian.
“Why?” Talik demanded.
Sazx frowned. Whatever his orders were, it was none of the King’s matter. “Urgent business in Caprith requires my attention.”
“So I must communicate with your Second?” The King asked, disgusted.
“Yes. Now, I have other issues to attend to.” He gestured to the door.
As the King left, still fuming over being treated as an equal rather than a superior, Sazx turned to Lorban and shook his head. “I will not envy your time with the Velvitors.”
Lorban grunted. “Nor would I.”
* * * * * *
It was hot.
Legann wiped his forehead on his sleeve. Maybe he should turn back now. He’d been walking aimlessly for the past hour or so. It had started out as a relief after another nightmare. Well, really it was the same nightmare he’d had ever since he could remember. Its return had left him anxious and restless, causing him to skip breakfast and head out into the grove just outside of Willowvale.
Legann sighed, running a hand though his hair. He instantly regretted the movement. His hair was damp from his sweat. Legann pulled a face. It was time for a swim. He’d heard a river earlier. If he retraced his steps he could probably find it. Or he could just continue forward, Legann realized as his ears caught the sound of rushing water. His wandering mind had missed the noise.
As he quickened his step, Legann noticed his heart also pick up its pace. He frowned, wondering why he suddenly felt a rush of anxiety, as if he wouldn’t make it to the river in time. Legann doubled his pace, wanting to reach the river faster.
When the woods gave way to water, Legann found himself standing on a rock lining the river, staring at the back of a sleek, black cat. In front of the animal, Will was crouched on the ground with Olinia huddling behind him. Neither of them had glimpsed Legann yet, but he doubted the cat was ignorant of his arrival. As if to prove him correct, it glanced over its shoulder to him, baring its gleaming teeth. Legann grimaced. Was this the reason why he’d felt the need to hurry? To get eaten by a panther?
“Legann,” Will hissed, “don’t move.”
So they’d found him. That was slightly comforting. At least when the beast leapt at him, Will and Olinia would know who it was attacking. Legann locked eyes with the cat. “Get Olinia out of here,” he told Will.
“And leave you to die?” Olinia blurted.
“I’m not going to die, princess.” And he wasn’t. Legann found the panther’s mind. By locking eyes, just as he used to with his family’s animals, Legann managed to sneak into the panther’s thoughts. It had happened accidentally, in all honesty. Legann hadn’t intended on finding its mind. But the moment he did, his own mind flooded with images.
