A War for Truth

by M. Lynn

  Wren ran after him. “You are.” He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I should have guessed it. You are Marissa’s son, after all.”

  What was that supposed to mean? Trystan rubbed the back of his neck. “This knowledge cannot get out. What we have to do… if we don’t succeed.”

  Wren nodded furiously. “I won’t say a word.” He whistled and studied Briggs once more. “Wow. The Tri-Gard. It’s all really happening again, isn’t it?”

  Briggs narrowed his eyes. “Who are you, boy?”

  Wren held out his hand as he’d done to Trystan but Briggs looked at it with distaste. Wren’s smiled didn’t falter. “Wren Yaro, at your service.”

  The name rang through Trystan’s mind. “Yaro?”

  Briggs finally relaxed. “You’re Lady Yaro’s boy?”

  “From Cullenspire?” Trystan asked.

  “That’s me. After my da and brother…” His smile fell for the first time. “Well, Ma thought it was time we joined the fight, so she sent me here to an old friend.”

  “We’ve just come from Cullenspire. Your mother and sister aided us greatly.”

  Wren’s eyes widened. “They’re okay? They can’t get word to me from inside Isenore. It isn’t safe for them anymore, but they won’t leave. It’s home.”

  Trystan gripped Wren’s shoulder. “They’re doing as well as they can. They probably saved our entire mission when they nursed Briggs back to health.”

  Wren exhaled heavily, his smile returning. “Good. Good. Come on. There’s something you need to see.”

  The halls were mostly empty as Wren led them out into a courtyard where the sun beat down mercilessly. Trystan shielded his eyes.

  The estate at Whitecap sat on the cliffs overlooking the ocean with the fishing village down below. Behind it were large, grassy, normally empty plains.

  As soon as they passed the gatehouse and rounded the edge of the walls, he saw it. A sea of tents as colorful as the sails of the ships down in the harbor.

  Trystan’s steps faltered. “What…”

  “Yesterday, they mourned their king as well as their prince and princess,” Wren said quietly, gesturing to the people among the tents. Some stoked morning fires, others sharpened crude weapons. A few practiced sword-play.

  “Today,” Wren pushed on. “They’re a little lost.” He scratched his head. “We thought you were dead. I was in the room last night when you appeared and think my own heart stopped. When it started again, it was as if the ice thawed from inside and the darkness receded a little.”

  “You a poet, boy?” Briggs asked.

  Wren’s cheeks reddened. “In another life, I’d have liked to be a minstrel.”

  Briggs grunted. “I hate poetry. Never trust a man who can’t speak plainly. Just say you were happy Trystan hadn’t been sliced open in the godforsaken mountains of Isenore.”

  Trystan closed his eyes and sighed. He was used to Briggs’ insults, but others weren’t.

  Shock flashed across Wren’s face before a laugh burst from his lips. And then another. “You’re worth all the gold in Dreach-Sciene, my friend.”

  “What gold? Dreach-Sciene is a poor kingdom.”

  “Watch it,” Trystan said.

  Wren shot Briggs a wink. “Aren’t we only poor because you and your Tri-Gard friends decided to steal our magic?”

  “That’s what I’ve been telling him,” Rissa said as she joined them. Her eyes scanned the tents. “Amazing, isn’t it, brother?”

  “Uh… Pr-Princess.” Wren stuck out that hand again.

  Rissa glanced at it and then at his face. “I’m not shaking that. I don’t even know you. You might have the plague… just no.”

  “Ri, this is Wren Yaro. Wren, meet my sister. I promise, this attitude is a new development.”

  “I like attitude.” He winked.

  “Ugh. Okay, brother, I’m going to go. I need to get away from all these people and find somewhere I can just listen to the earth.”

  Wren’s eyes widened. “You have the Tenelach?”

  “I do.” She turned to leave, but he called after her.

  “Wait!” His eyes searched the crowd. “I have someone you need to meet.”

  “Why?”

  “She has the Tenelach too.”

  Rissa stopped, her entire body freezing. Her hand went to the necklace at her throat, the one that belonged to their mother.

  “You look like her.” Wren’s words were awed.

  “Like your friend?”

  “No. Like Marissa.” He smiled, but it held sadness this time. “That’s her family sigil, isn’t it?” He pointed to the necklace and his eyes flicked to Briggs. Briggs nodded shortly in silent communication.

  Wren dropped his hand before walking toward one of the tents. A woman with chestnut-brown hair and warm amber eyes greeted them. Her eyes held questions she didn’t voice.

  “Mira,” Wren whispered. “This is Rissa. She has the Tenelach too.”

  Mira’s eyes widened and bounced between Trystan and Rissa.

  Wren went on. “I didn’t get a chance to explain this morning.”

  “But… but we attended their funeral yesterday.”

  Wren shrugged as if that explained it all.

  Once the shock wore off, Mira dropped into a clumsy curtsy. She didn’t move with the grace of someone who’d been trained in the ways of court as Wren did.

  “Where have you come from, Mira?” Trystan asked.

  “A village on the northern edge of Aldorwood, s-sire.”

  Rissa’s pained eyes met his. They’d seen one of those villages. The starvations. The distrust. The anger.

  Mira pushed back her messy hair. Wren, now unbothered by the king’s presence, pulled her in for a quick kiss.

  When he pulled back, his lips curved. Was this man always smiling?

  “Many of the people here are from the villages. Some have come for food, but most because they don’t accept Lord Drake as their king.”

  Rissa squeezed her eyes shut. “You mean our people have come to fight? They shouldn’t need to do that. Not yet.”

  Trystan placed a hand on her shoulder and she covered it with her own. “We’ll find a way to prevent it.”

  She shrugged him off. “How, Trystan? Drake is sitting on our father’s—on your throne. Do you expect him to just abdicate?”

  A quake ripped through the earth and the surrounding people screamed. “What was that?” Wren asked.

  Rissa and Mira locked eyes and spoke at the same time. “Magic.”

  Trystan turned to Briggs, but he’d already taken off running. Trystan’s longer strides caught up quickly, and he grabbed the older man’s arm, jerking him to a stop.

  “Unhand me,” Briggs yelled, fear shining in his eyes. He looked to the sky. “Yes, I know she’s in danger,” he said to the imaginary being that always seemed to be with him. “If this idiot king would let me go…”

  “Who, Briggs?” Trystan yelled. “What’s going on?”

  “Lonara. Her magic grows weaker. She’s almost used it all up.”

  Trystan opened his mouth to call for horses, but Rissa was already on it. They’d taken four of them from people nearby. Unhealthy looking beasts.

  Wren offered Rissa help mounting, but she pushed him aside and climbed on before taking off. Trystan, Wren, and Briggs galloped close behind.

  They flew away from the tents across the plain until Lonara came into view. Horseless, she stood her ground, throwing out weak bits of magic easily dodged by her circle of attackers. It was all she could do just to stand when she pulled her sword free.

  The first attacker rode for her, preparing to trample her. Rissa jumped her horse into the path and brandished her sword. It met steel with a loud crash.

  Trystan counted six soldiers in Isenore green.

  “Rissa,” Briggs yelled. “Out of the way!”

  Wren rode for her and intercepted the next thrust of the man’s sword before expertly dispatching him.

  Ri
ssa rode hard toward Lonara.

  Briggs mumbled something under his breath before light blasted from his palms, striking each Isenore soldier in the chest. They flew from their horses and landed motionless.

  The thunder of a galloping horse reached Trystan’s ears, and he turned to find a final Isenore man riding hard toward the horizon of tents. Briggs sent jolts of magic, but the man dodged and weaved until he was out of reach.

  Digging his heels into his horse, Trystan chased after him. He couldn’t be allowed to see the people residing on the Coille estate. If that information got back to Lord Drake…

  He caught up to the man as he reached the first row of tents and lunged from his saddle, knocking the man to the ground. He hit hard, landing on his shoulder, but he pushed the pain away as he rolled to his feet and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his sword.

  The Isenore man attacked first, lurched forward with a thrust. Trystan blocked it effortlessly. He twisted his sword in an arc above his head as the clang of steel on steel rang in the air. People ran from their tents to see what the commotion was.

  Sweat broke out across Trystan’s brow as he played the game, performed the dance. A man from Isenore would not beat him. No one would. Not until he’d succeeded in bringing his people what was rightfully theirs.

  The man was skilled. Trystan was better. The man was quick. Trystan was quicker.

  His body worked separately from his mind, doing what it needed to do.

  When his blade finally met flesh, there was an audible exhale from the crowd. His sword slid through skin like butter before sliding back out again. The man’s eyes widened in surprise before he fell back, his body landing in a cloud of dust.

  Silence descended, but it was short lived. He didn’t know where the cheer began, but people rushed forward.

  They didn’t recognize him as anything other than a warrior. To them, Trystan Renauld was dead.

  Wren, Briggs, and Rissa returned with Lonara and lowered her carefully.

  “Is she okay?” he asked once he’d caught his breath.

  “Just exhausted,” Briggs explained low enough for only them to hear. “Using a large amount of magic drains a person.”

  Lonara mumbled something.

  “What, Lona?” Trystan asked.

  She raised her voice. “Your Majesty.” She reached out to touch his face, but he stilled as a murmur worked through the crowd.

  “The king. The king is alive.”

  He straightened his spine and turned to meet the people at his back.

  Lord Coille and Lady Destan pushed to the front.

  “What has happened?” Lord Coille asked. “Are we under attack?”

  Rissa coughed. “No, but if you don’t give these people answers, we might be.” She jerked her head to the crowd.

  Lord Coille’s gaze found Lonara. “Lona. Is she okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Lona sighed. “The woods of Aldorwood are crawling with Isenore men.”

  “It’s been a long time, Lona.” Coille rubbed the back of his neck.

  “This is great and all,” Ri interjected. “But priorities.”

  “Right.” Lord Coille pursed his lips.

  Lady Destan put a hand on his arm. “Let me. Telling of our king’s survival is…” She released a breath.

  Lord Coille gestured towards the crowd.

  She smiled. “Men and women of Dreach-Sciene. Children. Lords. Ladies. Even the very birds should hear this news. A miracle appeared to us yesterday. Trystan and Rissa Renauld were thought to have perished. Our information was false, a lie fed to us by a man who wanted the throne for himself. Your king and your princess live.” She gestured to Trystan and Rissa.

  Murmuring rippled over the crowd as Trystan and Rissa found themselves under intense scrutiny. Most of the crowd stared dumbfounded while others openly wept at the realization.

  Lady Destan turned to Trystan. “It’s your show now, my king.”

  Trystan scanned the faces before him. “Many months ago, my sister and I were sent on a mission.” He breathed in deeply. There was no way to keep the secret with Lonara’s presence or her use of magic. “My father charged me with the task of reuniting the Tri-Gard. It is a task I will not fail.”

  He ignored the gasps of shock and continued. “Briggs Villard and Lonara Stone are here to help us find Ramsey Kane. I have not abandoned you. My sister has not abandoned you. We have lost much in this pursuit, but without it, we stand to lose everything. My father knew this. He was a great man.”

  The rumble of agreement made him smile.

  “He was cut down by a coward and his throne was stolen by a man worse than that. I’m not going to lie to you. Both Briggs and Lonara used magic on this day. Anyone with the sight now knows of their presence. It is no longer safe here. Are you ready to take back your kingdom?”

  A cheer wound through the open fields.

  Lady Destan wiped a tear away and gave him a nod.

  Wren stepped up to Trystan. When he spoke, it was loud enough for everyone to hear.

  “I would have followed your father into certain death.” He pulled his sword free. Rissa jumped forward, but Trystan waved her back.

  Wren stuck the blade tip down into the ground and lowered himself onto one knee. “And I will follow his son. Trystan Renauld, though no crown sits on your head yet, you are my king. I pledge you my sword, my heart, my life. We will take back your throne and protect it until the day you return to us.”

  He bowed his head. Trystan laid a hand on his hair. “Rise, Lord Yaro. Wren. My sword. My subject. My friend.”

  They were his father’s words. Trystan witnessed many oath swearings. Marcus Renauld always finished with my friend.

  “Trystan,” Lord Coille boomed. “Your father was my best friend. I watched you grow and learn and become a man. I want more than anything for you to now be my king. When you appeared yesterday, I thought it was a ghost, but it wasn’t. Your father led me into war once and we failed. I’m ready to rewrite our wrongs.”

  He knelt and repeated Wren’s words.

  Others he didn’t know stepped forward and Trystan accepted each oath as they were freely given.

  “Help me kneel before my king,” Lonara whispered.

  Rissa helped her kneel.

  “My allegiance will forever be to Marissa and her children.”

  It wasn’t the same oath but Trystan took it all the same.

  He held back the emotion threatening to pull him under as his people put their faith in him.

  Avery and Edric knelt among them.

  When Alixa approached, a nervous buzz surrounded her. Her family name had been passed around and the distrust was evident in their eyes.

  She didn’t bring a sword but knelt in front of him.

  “If I’m going to follow you into the darkness of Dreach-Dhoun, I sure as hell am not going to miss any other battle.” The teasing glint left her eyes. “Trystan Renauld, you arrogant, stubborn man. Every part of me is yours. My king. My friend.”

  The crowd held their breath, wondering if he’d accept the oath of Eisner’s daughter.

  “Rise, Alixa.”

  When she stood, her eyes latched onto his. “I will take your oath.” He dropped his voice. “I’ll take everything.”

  She smiled and stepped back.

  Rissa was the final person to approach.

  He shook his head. “You’re my sister, Ri. A princess of Dreach-Sciene. I don’t want your oath. I don’t want that between us.”

  “Would you let Davi kneel?” she asked, her voice thickening but no tears falling.

  He didn’t respond, so she answered for him. “He gave you his oath once when you chose him as your second in command. He’d have insisted on this, needed it.” Her voice shook. “Truwa, brathair.”

  A tear tracked down his face. “Trust, sister.”

  “Let me do this. For him. Please, Trystan. You may not think you need my oath, so can I give you his?”

  He brushed another
tear from his eye and nodded.

  Rissa lowered herself to her knees. Someone sniffled, probably Lady Destan, but all he saw was his sister and next to her, he imagined Davi smiling up at him, watching him take his rightful place. He’d have been proud.

  Rissa shook bright red hair out of her face and flicked her eyes sideways as if seeing Davi as well.

  When she raised her face to Trystan, there was no smile, only grim acceptance. He wasn’t coming back. He didn’t get to be a part of this. To see his best friend claim his birthright. To fight alongside them.

  “I pledge you my sword,” Rissa began.

  Trystan held back the tears threatening to spill over.

  “My heart.” She held a hand over her heart.

  Her lip shook as she tried to push out the last phrase. The part of the oath Davi had already fulfilled. He didn’t know how she kept the tears from falling.

  Sucking in a breath, she pushed it out. “My life.”

  He waited a moment to calm his breathing before responding to her. “Rise, Rissa. My sword. My sister.” He paused. “My friend.”

  Rissa stood, and he imagined Davi rising along with her.

  He pushed those thoughts from his mind and turned to his people. “Prepare, for soon we must leave.”

  Lord Coille stepped up beside him.

  “They’ll know I’m here with Briggs and Lonara,” Trystan whispered.

  Coille nodded. “I guess it’s time we face your uncle.”

  “We must avoid a fight.”

  “I wish you’d re-consider the use of magic.”

  Trystan shook his head. Magic could do more damage in a moment than a battle could in a day. He couldn’t risk it. Not against his own people. “Out of the question.”

  “We may not have a choice.”

  Trystan turned to trudge back toward the estate. “We’ll find another way.”

  Chapter 14

  His people. Trystan had always been the kingdom’s prince. The day he’d been named Toha had changed his world. His father’s words came back to him now, and he closed his eyes.

  You are to be the kingdom’s shield against the darkness. Their hope.

  He’d barely had time to perform the function of Toha and now he was king.

  So, yes, they were his people before, but now it was… more. He held their oaths in the palm of his hand. Their lives sat on the edge of his blade.