The King's Scrolls

by Jaye L. Knight

  A bleak pall of quiet settled over the group. The others passed around supper, though they didn’t have much of an appetite either. The despair only seemed to grow stronger until, at last, Darq spoke again. “What did Josan mean?”

  For the first time all day, Kyrin remembered the mysterious words spoken by the dying crete. She slowly raised her eyes to Timothy. Fatigue weighed his drawn expression as he looked at the captain. He cleared his throat, his voice hoarse. “He wasn’t really Josan Silvar. He was Torin Silvar.”

  Kyrin frowned as she forced her muddled brain to process, but she wasn’t the only one with a confused look for Timothy.

  He took a deep breath. “The man who died in the mine accident, our father, was Josan. The man you knew as Josan was Torin, our uncle.”

  Captain Darq’s eyes grew. “You’re Silvars?”

  Timothy nodded in confirmation.

  “But why would Torin call himself Josan?”

  Timothy didn’t answer immediately but, when he did, his voice cut out, forcing him to try again. “To protect me.” He hung his head and shook it. When he looked up, his eyes glistened. “I’m the one the emperor is after. I’m the one who writes the letters.”

  Kyrin sat dumbfounded with the others as this information sank in.

  “You’re Taan?” Darq finally found his voice.

  “For the last few years, yes,” Timothy answered. “I assumed the name for my father, after he died.”

  Again, they just stared at him. Timothy was only a couple of years older than Kyrin, yet he’d built such a reputation as a teacher of Elôm that Daican wanted him dead. She couldn’t help but look at him with some awe.

  Darq shook his head. “I still don’t understand the secrecy of the names.”

  “When we lived north of Dunlow, before my father was killed, many of the townspeople suspected him of being the author of the letters. Then, when we moved to Dunlow shortly after my father died, Josan . . . Torin insisted that Aaron and I use our mother’s name and call him Josan, in case anything like this ever happened. He wanted to make sure any suspicions would fall on him and not us. Had he not . . . I would be the one dead right now.”

  His head bowed again, and he rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Aaron put his hand on his shoulder, his own eyes moist.

  After a moment of silence, Darq said, “You’re half crete then?”

  Timothy looked up and nodded. “Our mother was human. She died just after I was born.” He cleared his throat of the roughness. “I know this is a lot to take in, and it wouldn’t be wise of you to just take our word for it, but we do have proof of our lineage.”

  He pulled his right arm out of his coat and shirtsleeve to expose his shoulder. Tattooed on it was an intricate brown design like the ones Kyrin had seen on the other cretes. Darq rose to get a closer look. After inspecting it, he nodded. “These are accurate Silvar family markings. Only Josan or Torin could have replicated them.”

  He gave Timothy a grave look. “We must get you to safety.” To everyone else, he said, “We’ll leave here first thing in the morning, just as soon as we tend to . . .” he paused, voice lowering, “. . . Torin’s body. It’ll be difficult for Talas to travel, but we have no choice.”

  Muffled voices drifted in from outside. Dawn must have arrived, though it was hard to tell under the dim shelter of Exsis’s wing. Kyrin only knew it was the longest night she’d ever lived. Even her first night alone in Tarvin Hall, or in the emperor’s dungeon, couldn’t compare to the sorrow that ate away at her heart. She shifted her head against Kaden’s shoulder. Jace had convinced her to try to sleep, but she couldn’t bear the thought of being alone, so she’d sought shelter with her brother and his dragon. It had been about midnight then and, by that time, the falling snow and wind had intensified into a blizzard. However, the howling had died away sometime in the dark, miserable hours.

  She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. Her body ached even worse than before and an agonizing headache hammered the inside of her skull, as if trying to crack it open. All night, she’d drifted in and out of sleep for only minutes at a time before awakening to her heart and mind screaming, No! It was a wonder she hadn’t screamed it aloud.

  A fresh wave of sorrow crashed over her, as it had many times in the night. Tears rolled down her face. She raised her head just a little to wipe them away from her stinging cheeks and lips. She sniffed, but could only breathe through her mouth. Her tongue felt like a dried out sponge, while her throat was raw and swollen. No amount of swallowing brought relief.

  Beside her, Kaden breathed heavily. She glanced at him. Even in the dark, his cheeks glinted with wetness, and it broke Kyrin’s heart. The last time she’d seen him cry was the day they’d left for Tarvin Hall. He never cried after that—at least not in front of her. Not until yesterday. She laid her head back on his shoulder and gripped his arm tightly.

  Neither of them moved for several minutes, until the voices outside grew louder. Clearing his throat, Kaden brushed his sleeve across his face, and his husky voice cracked when he spoke. “It’ll be time to leave soon.”

  Kyrin gave a little nod, though moving seemed an insurmountable task, and Kaden pushed away from Exsis. The dragon lifted his wing. Kaden ducked out first and turned to offer his hand to Kyrin. She gripped it, and he pulled her to her feet.

  Outside the snug cocoon, the surrounding snow—pristine white and lit up by the sun just peeking over the horizon—seared her eyes and speared into her brain. She closed her eyes with a soft groan, putting her free hand to her head. It was as if all the blood rushed in at once and threatened to explode. She gripped Kaden as she swayed dizzily, her legs almost buckling.

  “Are you all right?”

  She squinted up at him and attempted a nod, but it only made her head pound worse. Keeping hold of her hand, he led her to the fire where the rest of their group gathered. Slowly, she grew accustomed to the brightness and could look around without crippling pain. The night’s blizzard had left the world covered in over a foot of snow, creating a dazzling view; breathtaking, if not for the sorrow.

  Jace stepped around the fire to offer both her and Kaden a cup of coffee.

  “Thank you,” she whispered as she brought the cup to her lips.

  She let out a sigh after the first sip of the strong, steaming liquid. Finally, something to relieve and soothe her aching throat. It even helped the headache after a while. Rayad came next with a small bowl of porridge. Kyrin eyed the mushy substance with an intensifying churning in her stomach, but the fatigue and weakness in her limbs called for nourishment. She accepted the bowl and brought a spoonful to her mouth. It went down hard, sticking at the back of her cramped throat on the way down. She managed to eat most of it before giving the rest to Kaden, but even he wasn’t very hungry.

  For several long moments, she stared into the flames as she searched for the shattered remains of her fortitude. At some point, she would need to get over this, to move on, but it was so hard. She didn’t want to move on, yet life couldn’t be lived forever in grief. Help me, she cried quietly inside. Blinking away the tears that ever waited to spring up, she looked around the fire at her companions.

  “Talas. Is he . . . all right?”

  “He’s conscious, which is good,” Darq answered. “He’s still with Storm. He’d like to speak to you two.”

  Kyrin glanced at Kaden, and they followed the captain to the dragons while the rest of the men packed up camp. Leetra was there with her cousin. Underneath Storm’s wing, she helped him sit up and rest against the dragon’s side. Talas sucked in his breath before letting out a groan, his eyes shut and teeth clenched. Kyrin winced and prayed for his full recovery. They’d suffered too much loss already. Once settled, he sat for a moment and caught his breath. Kyrin and Kaden knelt down so he could see them better. When he focused on them, pain and regret stole away any brightness in his eyes and roughened his voice. “I was there when your father was arrested.”

  The air caught in Kyrin’s l
ungs as emotion wrapped around her chest. Was she ready to hear this? The wounds to her heart were so raw, but she read in Talas’s eyes his need to speak.

  “It was an ambush. The emperor had men hidden around the arch. Falcor stabbed me before your father and I realized what was happening. I was able to break away. I tried to get word to Tane . . . but I couldn’t stay conscious long enough to give him any information.” Talas’s eyes closed again, and he groaned, but it didn’t come from physical pain this time. “If I had, he could’ve brought word to you, and you could’ve stopped it. I’m so sorry.”

  Tears flowed hot and fast down Kyrin’s cheeks and off her chin. Her lips trembled, and she swallowed down the sob rising in her throat. If only they’d known. It would have been so simple to rescue him with the dragons. But she shook her head. She’d thought about what Jace told her yesterday—what she herself had said in the past—and had come to the hard, but true conclusion—her father had been meant to die. They’d had so many ways they might have saved him, but he’d died anyway. For a reason unknown to her, it was Elôm’s will, and both she and Kaden had to accept it. Help us trust You!

  “There was nothing you could do,” she murmured. “You tried . . . thank you.”

  Timothy sat quietly next to Josan’s blanket-wrapped body. A week ago, he, Josan, and Aaron had sat in their tiny cottage, never imagining that their life would change in such a series of drastic instants. Just like when his father had died, it had happened before he even knew it. Now the only family he had left was Aaron.

  No. That was no longer true. Now he had family in Dorland—a grandfather. How would it affect the man to know that the two sons he’d wanted so much to reconcile with were both dead? Moisture burned Timothy’s eyes. He would have to tell his grandfather that his father and uncle would have reconciled in a heartbeat—that they never held any bitterness over the past. But how would his grandfather and other extended family receive him and Aaron? Would it be with open arms, or with suspicion for two half-blooded cretes they’d never known existed? If only Josan were there to take them to Dorland and introduce them. It was a dream he’d rarely spoken of, but had always longed for.

  “It’s in Your hands, Elôm,” Timothy murmured. “All of it. Even things I don’t understand.”

  He had to smile through his tears. All the pain and hardship Josan had faced in this life was gone now. He would never have to endure it again. And for that, Timothy was thankful.

  Footsteps crunched in the snow. Timothy wiped his face and looked up at his brother, whose eyes reflected his sorrow.

  “The grave is finished.”

  Sighing, Timothy pushed to his feet and helped his brother lift Josan’s body. The weight and lifelessness of it sent a rush of emotion that nearly choked him. He forced himself to dwell on the truth that, just because Josan’s body remained here, it did not mean he didn’t live in eternity, and the time until they would see each other again was only temporary.

  They carried Josan up the mountainside to a small plateau just above camp, where the other men had cleared the snow and one of the dragons had dug a grave in the frozen ground. After laying him in it, they stood for a moment of quiet remembrance. Timothy lifted his eyes to the surroundings—the sparkling white snow, the frosted dark green pines below them that were the first trees he’d ever seen, the breathtaking view of the shimmering Sidian Ocean to the west, the clean, pure air.

  Timothy cleared his throat, though he still spoke hoarsely. “It’s good he’s buried up here, on the mountain. He spent too long in the Valley. I know how he missed the Dorland trees and being in the mountains.”

  “It is a good place,” Darq agreed. “Much like where we bury our loved ones back home.”

  Timothy offered him a faint smile. Josan deserved a proper crete burial.

  For the next half hour, he and most of the men gathered stones from the mountainside to cover the grave. When they finished, everyone gathered around for a final farewell. Silence surrounded them at first, while Timothy battled the intense ache in his chest and gathered the proper words.

  “None of you had a chance to get to know my uncle well.” He forced his voice to come out steadily. “But he was one of the strongest and most caring man I’ve ever known; he and my father. They sacrificed so much to help others.” He paused for a breath, but tears were already clogging his airway again. “Josan hadn’t even fully healed before he moved Aaron and me to Dunlow because he hoped it might offer more opportunities. He spent every penny he’d saved on the cottage for us. Every time things grew tougher, he was the one who sacrificed so that we could live better. I don’t know where we’d be without him.”

  Following the short funeral, the group slowly turned to make their way back toward camp but, for a moment, Jace couldn’t move as he stared at the stone-covered grave. He couldn’t restrain the images of Kalli and Aldor’s graves back at the farm. The memories and the sorrow surrounding everyone cut him deeply.

  He’d barely spoken to Josan, but he respected his selflessness and humility. He blinked hard at the cold breeze that made his eyes water, yet it was more than that. Why did two such honorable men like Josan and William die when men like Daican and Falcor lived on to cause pain and ruin? It made no sense. And why was death such a huge part of his life? A tempting thought entered his mind, to wonder if it was some sort of curse that followed him, but Kyrin had already confronted him once about such thoughts. For her sake, he wouldn’t let them take hold again, though fear of it lingered.

  Rayad gripped his shoulder and stood with him, much as they had at the farm.

  “Let’s go,” he murmured after a moment.

  Jace finally tore his eyes from the grave, and they trailed the others back to camp. As they neared, Kaden’s angry voice snapped Jace from his dreary thoughts.

  “They can’t just get away with what they’ve done.”

  His eyes jerked up and latched onto Kaden, who was grabbing up his supplies in swift, irate movements. Kyrin stood before him and spoke imploringly. “Kaden, please.”

  He stalked past her, straight for the dragons. Dread washed through Jace.

  “Kaden, stop,” Kyrin tried to no avail.

  She followed him, but Jace intercepted her. He knew exactly what was going through Kaden’s mind. “I’ll talk to him.”

  Her pleading eyes met his. “Please stop him. He’s going to get himself killed.”

  Jace nodded and hurried after her brother. “Kaden.” He didn’t look up from tightening Exsis’s saddle, but Jace pressed on. “I know what you are doing, but you can’t.”

  Kaden’s gaze did rise now. His eyes were red and moist, but also hard with the driving need to take action, to avenge—feelings Jace knew too well.

  “They killed my father,” Kaden said, his voice stretched taut and almost breaking. “They killed Josan and took the Scrolls. They’re destroying everything! Someone has to do something.”

  He went back to work on his saddle.

  Jace tried desperately to think of the best thing to say. Didn’t the same thoughts still lurk at the back of his mind and whisper for action? Even after his talk with Rayad, they still tempted him. But whatever those thoughts demanded, he had to get through to Kaden, and he was quickly losing time. He glanced at Kyrin, who watched from a distance with fearful eyes. She could lose her brother today too. Jace wouldn’t let that happen. He’d resort to force if necessary, but that was the last thing he wanted. He had to make Kaden understand.

  “Listen, if I thought this was the way to do it, I’d be on Gem right now joining you, but it isn’t.” He paused to let the words sink into his own mind. “We can’t do this. They’d just kill us, too, and what would that accomplish? We both know if you go down there, you won’t come back.”

  Kaden glanced at him, but didn’t stop. He didn’t care. Not right now, anyway. Jace struggled. He’d never been good with words. But another look at Kyrin centered in his mind the most important thing in all of this.

  “If
nothing else, think of Kyrin. Do you really think she could bear to lose you too? Is your revenge worth your life when it won’t change what’s already happened? I know it isn’t to her. She needs you, now more than ever.”

  Jace could not bear to see how it would devastate her to lose both her father and brother in the space of a day. She would never recover.

  At last, Kaden stilled. A brutal battle raged on his face, and a tear dripped from his eye. He swiped it away and looked up again. Surrender settled in his eyes. He gave a slow nod, and Jace let out a long breath. Thank You, Elôm.

  Once each of the dragons was saddled, Captain Darq recruited Jace and Kaden, the tallest and strongest of the group, to help Talas onto the captain’s dragon. It wouldn’t be a pleasant trip for the wounded crete, but he would have to endure.

  As they prepared to leave, Rayad approached Kyrin and Kaden with a compassionate look. “I wanted to give you something before we leave. Tane left it for you yesterday. Aric wrote down things your father wanted you to know.”

  He handed a folded parchment to Kyrin. Her breath caught as she took it with shaking fingers. Part of her desired to open it immediately, desperate for her father’s words, while another part of her wasn’t sure she could do it. She needed time to allow the words to sink in, and to cry over them. Time she didn’t have now. Working to keep tears from overflowing, she looked up at Kaden. Praise Elôm he was still here, thanks to Jace.

  “We’ll read it when we get home?”

  He nodded, his teary eyes meeting hers.

  Carefully, Kyrin tucked the parchment into the inside of her coat.

  “Aric tried to find a way to get him out,” Rayad told them quietly. “But the emperor took no chances, and your father didn’t want Aric to risk himself.”

  Kyrin stared at her feet, using every thread of willpower to keep from crying. As horribly painful as it was, she was so proud of what her father had done. He was a hero, just like his father, and she would make sure people remembered him that way.