Nyphron Rising

by Michael J. Sullivan

  She watched as they opened the rear of the wagon and pulled out a man. A black hood covered his face. Chains bound his hands and ankles. Nevertheless, the men treated him carefully, as if he could explode at any minute.

  With four men on either side, they marched him across the courtyard out of the sight of her narrow window.

  She watched as they rolled the wagon back out and closed the gate behind them. Thrace stared at the empty courtyard for more than an hour, until at last she fell asleep again.

  ***

  The carriage bounced through the night on the rough hilly road, following a sliver of open sky between walls of forest. The jangle of harnesses, thudding of hooves, and the crush of wheels dominated this world. The night's air was heavily scented with the aroma of pond water and a skunk's spray.

  Arcadius, the lore master of Sheridan University, peered out the open window and hammered on the roof with his walking stick until the driver brought the carriage to a halt.

  "What is it?" the driver shouted.

  "This will be fine," the lore master replied, grabbing up his bag and, finding the strap, slipped it over his shoulder.

  "What is?"

  "I'm getting out here." Arcadius popped open the little door and carefully climbed out onto the desolate road. "Yes, this is fine." He closed the door and lightly patted the side of the carriage as if it were a horse.

  The lore master walked to the front of the coach. The driver sat on the raised bench with his coat drawn up around his neck, a formless sack—hat pulled down over his ears. Between his thighs he trapped a small corked jug. "But there's nothing here, sir," he insisted.

  "Don't be absurd, of course there is. You're here, aren't you, and so am I." Arcadius pulled open his bag. "And look, there are some nice trees and this excellent road we've been riding on."

  "But it's the middle of the night, sir."

  Arcadius tilted his head up. "And just look at that wonderful starry sky. It's beautiful, don't you think. Do you know your constellations, good man?"

  "No, sir."

  "Pity." He measured out some silver coins and handed them up to the driver. "It's all up there, you know. Wars, heroes, beasts, and villains, the past and the future spread above us each night like a dazzling map." He pointed. "That long, elegant set of four bright stars is Persephone and she of course is always beside Novron. If you follow the line that looks like Novron's arm you can see how they just barely touch—lovers longing to be together."

  The driver looked up. "Just looks like a bunch of scattered dust to me."

  "It does to a great many people. Too many people."

  The driver looked down at him and frowned. "You sure you want me to just leave you? I can come back if you want."

  "That won't be necessary, but thank you."

  "Suit yourself. Goodnight." The carriage driver slapped the reins and the coach rolled out, circling in a field to return the way it came. The driver glanced up at the sky twice, shaking his head each time. The carriage and the team moved away, the horses clopping softer and softer until they faded below the harsh shrill of nightly noises.

  Arcadius stood alone observing the world. It had been some time since the old professor had been out in the wild. He had forgotten how loud it was. The high-pitched trill of crickets punctuated the oscillating echoes of tree frogs that peeped with the regular pace of a human heart. Winds rustled a million leaves, fashioning the voice of waves at sea.

  Arcadius walked forward along the road, crossing the fresh grooves of the carriage wheels. His shoes on the dirt made a surprisingly large amount of noise. The dark had a way of drawing attention to the normally invisible, silent, and ignored. That was why nights were so frightening, without the distraction of light, the doors to other senses were unlocked. As children, the dark spoke of the monster beneath the bed, as adults the intruder, and as old men, the herald of death on its way.

  "Long, hard, and rocky, is the road we walk in old age," he muttered to his feet.

  He stopped when he reached a post lurching at a crossroad. The sign declared Ratibor to the right and Aquesta to the left. He stepped into the tall grass a few feet and found a fallen log to sit on. He pulled the shoulder strap of the sack over his head and set it down. Rummaging through it he found a honeyed muffin, one of three he had pilfered from the dinner table at the inn. He was old, but his sleight of hand was still impressive. Royce would be proud; less so if he knew he paid for the meal, and that it included the muffins. Still the big swarthy fellow at his elbow would have poached them if he had not acted first. Now it looked as if they would come in handy as he had no idea when—

  He heard hoof beats long before he saw the horse. The sound came from the direction of Ratibor. As unlikely as it was for anyone else to be on that road, the lore master's heart nevertheless increased until at last the rider cleared the trees—a woman rode alone in a dark hood and cloak. She came to a stop at the post.

  "You're late," he said.

  She whirled around, relaxing when she recognized him. "No, I'm early. You are just earlier."

  "Why are you alone? It's too dangerous. These roads are—"

  "And who would you suggest I trust to escort me? Have you added to our ranks?"

  She dismounted and tied her horse to the post.

  "You could have paid some young lad. There must be a few in the city you trust."

  "Those I trust would be of no aid, and those that could help I don't trust. Besides, this isn't far. I couldn't have been on the road for more than two hours. And there's not much between Ratibor and here." She turned. "You don't have to get up."

  "How else can I to give you a hug?" He reached out to embrace her. "Now tell, me how have you been? I was very worried."

  "You worry too much. I'm fine." She drew back her hood, revealing long blonde hair that she wore scooped back.

  "The city has been taken?" Arcadias asked.

  "The Nationalists have it now. They attacked and defeated Lord Dermont's forces in the field and the princess led a revolt against Sheriff Vigan in the city. Sir Breckton and the Northern Imperial Army arrived too late. With the city buttoned-up and Dermont gone, Breckton's Army turned around and headed north."

  "I passed part of his supply train. He's taking up a defensive position around Aquesta, I think. Hadrian and Arista? How are they?"

  "Not a scratch on either," she replied. "Hadrian turned command of the Nationalist Army over to a man named Renquist—one of the senior captains—and left the morning after the battle. I'm not sure where to."

  "Did you have a chance to talk with him?"

  She nodded. "Yes, I told him about my brother. Do you know where Degan is?"

  "Me?" Arcadius looked surprised. "No, the seret have him, I am certain of that, but where is anyone's guess. They have gotten a whole lot smarter recently. It's like Guy has sprouted another head, and this one has a brain in it."

  "Do you think they killed him?"

  "Don't know," the wizard paused, regretting his curt words and looked at her sympathetically. "It's hard to fathom the imperial mind. We can hope they want him alive. Now that we've unleashed Hadrian, there's a good chance that he and Royce will save him. It could even be that Esrahaddon will connect the dots and send them."

  "Esrahaddon already knows," Miranda said. "He's been with Degan for months."

  "So, he found out. Excellent. I thought he might. When he visited Sheridan it was obvious he knew more than he let on."

  "Maybe he and Hadrian are looking together—planned a place to meet up after the battle?"

  The wizard stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Possible…probable even. So those two are off looking for your brother. What about Arista? What is she doing?"

  Miranda smiled. "She's running the city. The citizens of Ratibor were ready to proclaim her queen of Rhenydd, but she settled for mayor pro tem until elections can be held. She intends to honor Emery's dream of a republic in Rhenydd."

  "A princess establishing the first republic in Avry
n." Arcadius chuckled. "Quite the turn of events."

  "The princess has cried a lot since the battle. I've watched her. She works constantly, settling disputes, inspecting the walls, appointing ministers. She falls asleep at her desk in City Hall. She cries when she thinks no one is looking."

  "All that violence after so privileged a life."

  "I think she might have been in love with a young man who was killed."

  "In love? Really? That's surprising. She's never showed an interest in anyone. Who was he?"

  "No one of note—the son of the dead bodyguard to King Urith."

  "That's too bad," the wizard said sadly. "For all her privilege, she's not had an easy life."

  "You didn't ask about Royce?" she noted.

  "I know about him. He arrived back in Medford not long before I set out. The next day Melengar's army crossed the Galewyr. Alric has enlisted every able—bodied man and even a good deal of the boys. He's put Count Pickering, Sir Ecton, and Marquis Lanaklin in command. They broke through the little imperial force and at last report were sweeping south, causing a great deal of havoc. Another obstacle I needed to travel around. Getting back to the university will take a month I expect."

  The wizard sighed and a look of concern passed over his face. "Two things still trouble me. First, Aquesta is threatened by an enemy army resting in Ratibor, and they aren't negotiating or evacuating. Second, there's Marius."

  "Who?"

  "Merrick Marius, also known as Cutter."

  "Isn't he the one who put Royce in Manzant?"

  "Yes, and now he is working for the Empire. He's a wildcard I had not expected." The old man paused. "You're certain that Hadrian believed everything you told him?"

  "Absolutely. His eyes nearly fell out of his head when I told him who the heir was." She sighed. "Are you sure we—"

  "I'm sure, Miranda. Make no mistake we are doing what is absolutely right and necessary. It is imperative that Royce and Hadrian never find out the truth."

  BOOKS IN THE RIYRIA REVELATIONS

  The Crown Conspiracy

  Avempartha

  Nyphron Rising

  The Emerald Storm*

  *Forthcoming

  THE RIYRIA REVELATIONS

  If you enjoyed this novel, you will be happy to learn that…

  Nyphron Rising is the third in a six book series entitled the Riyria Revelations. This saga is neither a string of sequels nor a lengthy work unnaturally divided. Instead, the Riyria Revelations was conceived as a single epic tale told through six individual episodes. While a book may hint at building mysteries or thickening plots, these threads are not essential to reach a satisfying conclusion to the current episode—which has its own beginning, middle, and end.

  Eschewing the recent trends in fantasy toward the lengthy, gritty, and dark, the Riyria Revelations brings the genre back to its roots. Avoiding unnecessarily complicated language and world building for its own sake; this series is a distillation of the best elements of traditional fantasy—great characters, a complex plot, humor, and drama all in appropriate measures.

  While written for an adult audience the Riyria Revelations lacks sex, graphic violence, and profanity making it appropriate for readers thirteen and older.