Brenyn felt his insides turn to ice as his eyes went wide with shock. “What? – what has happened?”
The man’s face blanched and he trembled with the terror of hideous memory. “The darking lord,” he said. “The darking lord came to the castle and demanded Princess Emilene.”
At that statement, Brenyn’s world went dark and started to spin. The pavement beneath his feet threatened to open up and swallow him. Dazed, horrified by the implications of the captain’s words, Brenyn reached out and grasped the lapels of his jacket. “What? – what do you mean he demanded the princess?”
Despite Brenyn’s actions, the captain seemed yet dazed and oblivious to Brenyn’s violation of his person. He nodded, numbly.
“The darking lord demanded to see the princess, Emilene,” the captain repeated. “I was there – inside the hall and witnessed the whole thing.” The captain’s eyes flew wider. “Prince Cole called for her to come into the hall. The moment that terrible creature saw her, he declared that she was coming with him.”
Brenyn, still clutching the man’s jacket front, felt his heart freeze and the world grow blacker until his eyes saw nothing but the captain’s terrified features as he related the events of the prior day.
“Prince Cole refused,” the man went on, his voice shaking, “and then the darking lord pointed this thing, like a scepter, at the prince… black smoke or vapor came from it and…” The man halted, breathing deeply. “Blackness spewed forth and just consumed the prince – it burned him to ash – to nothing – right there, in the hall.”
Brenyn felt his grip on consciousness slipping, but he fought it off, for he needed to hear the rest of the captain’s tale.
“What happened to Emi – to Princess Emilene?”
The captain’s eyes were wide with horror, and he seemed to look far beyond Brenyn. “After the prince was dead, the darking lord went to the princess and touched her on the top of her head with his scepter, and she… just fainted… dead away. Captain Grizeo drew his sword and tried to defend her, but the darking poured that black fire upon him, too, and just… consumed him.” The captain began to shake and weep.
Brenyn, stunned, sickened, and terrified, asked the question whose answer he dreaded.
“What happened to Princess Emilene? Did she die?”
The captain covered his face with his hands and lowered his head in grief and shame.
“The darkings took her.” He shuddered. “I should have done something, but I was afraid the darking would burn me, too.”
Brenyn sank down upon the stones of the street, dragging the distraught captain down with him. Releasing the man’s jacket, he slumped back against the wall of the building. His mind reeled. The truth fell upon him like the collapse of a mountain.
The darking lord had taken Emi.
Another harsher, unbearable truth crashed into him.
She must have been in the box when the cart passed in front of his house.
Brenyn’s heart began to pound and it seemed as if his mind would explode. Time, in that moment, ceased. The day grew dark. Upon the stones in front of him, the weeping captain was rendered immobile, lifeless.
For a few moments – or it might have been an hour – Brenyn sat like a stone while all sound and movement in the world around him ceased. For those moments – or for that hour – all was still and silent. Then, his mind grew cold, and reason asserted itself.
His heart calmed.
Time began once more.
Abruptly, the horror of the situation fled before the cold raw force of determination.
Rising, he lifted the captain to his feet.
“Captain Grizeo has a horse,” he said. “Where is it?”
The captain stared without comprehension. “Horse?”
Brenyn, his thoughts clear and cold now, spoke firmly. “The horse of Captain Grizeo – where may it be found?”
The captain blinked twice and then managed to focus. “In-in the stables. Why?”
“Captain Grizeo is dead?”
“Yes.”
“Then I want his horse. Now.”
Something in Brenyn’s manner frightened the man, making him reply cautiously. He pointed up the hill toward the castle. “His horse is in the stables.”
Brenyn grasped the man’s shoulder and turned him up the hill. “Show me,” he said. “And then I need you to show me how to saddle the beast and ride it.”
The captain, carried along by Brenyn’s impetuous resolve, looked over, frowning. “Show you – how to ride?”
Brenyn nodded firmly. “I am going after the darkings.”
The captain’s eyes widened. “They will kill you as well.”
“Perhaps,” Brenyn agreed. “Nevertheless, I am going.”
The captain seemed to regain a bit of his composure then; he wiped his eyes and nodded. “I will show you.”
They found the animal in the royal stables and the captain hurriedly demonstrated to Brenyn how to properly affix the saddle upon the horse and explained the fundamentals of staying upright upon the beast as it moved.
“How fast and how far will this horse travel in an hour – and in a day?” Brenyn asked.
The captain shook his head. “You cannot push the animal beyond its limits,” he explained. “If you make the horse go too long at a full gallop, you will kill the beast, and then you will be afoot.”
“I must catch the darkings up,” Brenyn exclaimed angrily, “and they have nearly a day’s distance on me now.”
“But neither will they push their mounts beyond limits,” the man replied, rendered cautious by Brenyn’s passion. “Hear me,” he went on, “I beg you. Horses have four gaits – walk, trot, canter, and gallop. If you wish to catch the darkings and make up the distance, vary the horse’s speed between trot and an occasional canter – never gallop unless you must cover a short distance quickly.” He shook his head. “But do not expect this animal to carry you the whole day without breaks for water and sustenance. Mistreat this horse, and you will kill it – and, as I say, you are then afoot.”
“Alright,” agreed Brenyn, “show me, but quickly.”
The captain mounted upon the horse and demonstrated the various gaits and then dismounted and handed the reins to Brenyn.
Satisfied that he’d seen enough and impatient to give chase to the darkings, Brenyn nodded his thanks and mounted up. Then, looking down, he asked, “Does this horse have a name?”
“Captain Grizeo named him Noris,” the man replied.
Brenyn nodded, turned, and rode down through the town, trying to adjust his movement in the saddle to the motions of the horse. By the time he reached his house he was doing better and felt more comfortable in the saddle. Tying the horse to the gate, he went in and quickly gathered up all his weaponry, some victuals for the road, and the money that remained in the pot in the cupboard.
Then he went back out, mounted up, and urged the horse on down the road. Coming around below the Graden farm, he rode up into the yard and called out to the house.
Graig came out on the porch, frowning at the sight of Brenyn on the back of a horse.
“What’s this, Bren?”
“You saw the darkings go past?”
Graig shivered. “I did – saw them go and return. Why?”
“They took Emi – they took Princess Emilene, and I am going after them,” Brenyn said.
Graig stared, trying to comprehend this rash statement as his eyes went wide. “Truly?”
Brenyn nodded shortly. “I need you to take care of my ox and the farm until I return,” he explained. “Will you do it?”
Graig nodded at once. “I will.” Then he frowned and asked hesitantly. “Do you need me to come with you, Bren?”
“No; it’s best if I go alone. Do you have any spare arrows?”
“Sure – you can have all I’ve got.”
Brenyn shook his head. “Just enough to fill my quiver. I will pay you when I return.”
Graig waved this off. “No. I’ll
bring them.”
He hurried into the house and came back minutes later with a clutch of arrows. “Here, take them all.”
“Thanks, Graig.”
“Be careful, Bren. Those creatures looked dangerous.”
“I will,” Brenyn agreed and he turned the horse away. Then he stopped and looked back. “Should I not return, Graig, you can keep the farm. Just take care of Gran’s and my mother’s graves.”
Graig shook his head. “You will return, Bren.”
“Even so,” Brenyn repeated. “Should I not return – the farm is yours.”
At that, Graig nodded reluctantly. “I will take care of your farm, Bren. You take care as well, my friend.”
Brenyn nodded and then guided the horse back upon the road and hastened to the west as the sun rose toward mid-day.
The darkings possessed nearly a full day’s advantage on him that he was determined to erase.
13.
Urging Noris into a ground-consuming trot, Brenyn set his face resolutely toward the southwest. When the darking lord had passed his farm, he and his companion had been moving steadily but not quickly. Brenyn did not know whether the creatures rested through the night or kept moving, but he decided to assume the latter, in which case they were already many miles ahead.
Therefore, he must hasten, if he were to have any chance of rescuing Emi from whatever purpose the darkings planned for her. He tried to banish the thought, for it engendered desperation, but it persisted nonetheless – what was their purpose in taking Emi?
How did the taking of a princess from a relatively unknown principality aid them in the schemes of war? The possibility that caused him the most anguish was this – was she to be a reward for some foul prince that had joined their cause? – or an inducement, perhaps? Would she simply be given to some vicious warmonger as a gift? It sickened him to think of his lovely and clever Emi being delivered into the clutches of any such man.
Despite Brenyn’s every effort to banish such thoughts, they intruded relentlessly. It was all he could do to allow the horse to maintain a reasonable pace and not tax it beyond its limits. But he fought down the urge to push Noris, for he knew that the darkings were miles ahead and he would need the horse to catch them.
Again, and again, he reminded himself that, at the pace the darkings had set as they passed by the farm – so long as his mount maintained a steady trot – he was getting closer mile by mile.
Eventually, the forested hills on the left angled away toward the south and a rolling prairie with many scattered farms spread out upon every side. The road, which for miles had run westward, curved gradually around until it was oriented toward the south.
The border with Partha was located somewhere near here, Brenyn knew, but he had never come this way along the road.
The frontier between Vicundium and Partha had not been manned militarily or even maintained for decades, ever since the respective thrones had been occupied by men and women who were bound by either blood or marriage. At what point, therefore, he crossed the frontier, he knew not, but about mid-afternoon, the buildings of a town clustered on the southern horizon, a few miles to his front. He was undoubtedly within the borders of Partha.
The road was still headed on a southerly tangent, rising and falling over the rolling prairie as it went toward the town on the horizon. Off to the east and the west, there were heights, covered in forests. The hills to the east, Brenyn knew, were those that ran away from the southern borders of Vicundium. What lay beyond them, to the south, he knew not.
As he approached the town, Brenyn reluctantly slowed the pace of his horse, in case he should encounter guards or anyone that might question his presence in Partha, but he rode up and into the limits of the town without incident.
The town, whose name he did not know, was larger than Pierum, though not by much. A castle – likely that of Prince Emand – sat upon a low hill over to the west. Brenyn made to pass through without stopping, until he reached the center of the town.
Here, there was a crossroads.
Halting at the junction of the two roads, he glanced along the secondary intersecting road, both to the east and the west. To his right, the west, it seemed to run straight toward the castle, but the other way, to the east, the road left the confines of the town and went out across the prairie and toward the far hills.
He sat for several moments in an agony of indecision.
Which way had the darkings taken?
Looking around, he spied an old man sitting on a bench and smoking a pipe in front of the market that sat upon the southwest corner of the junction of the roadways.
Pointing, Brenyn asked the man, “Where does that eastern road go?”
The old man removed his pipe and used the stem to indicate the road. “That road runs to Fenden village, young fellow. Do you have folks there?”
“No,” Brenyn replied, “I seek someone that travelled along this road last night or perhaps this morning.”
“Who might that be?”
“Darkings,” Brenyn told him. “A darking lord and another darking that drove a cart.”
The old man stiffened, staring at him with his pipe frozen in midair halfway to his mouth. “Why would you follow darkings, lad? Folk avoid them, and for good reason.”
“They took the – they took something of mine.”
The man, his eyes yet wide, shook his head. “They wouldn’t have taken the way to Fenden – that road ends at the village.”
“Does no road go through the eastern hills?” Brenyn asked.
The old man shook his head. “Not since I was a lad. That’s wild country there, to the south of Vicundium.”
“So the darkings likely went south?”
The old man nodded. “Nothing likely about it – I saw them myself – we all did – after the sun set last night, just when night fell. Everyone hid in the doorways and alleyways.” He shook his head. “Never seen a darking before, but we knew at once what they were. It’s a fearful thing that those creatures have come to Partha.”
“So,” Brenyn asked sharply. “They went south?”
“They did.”
Saying nothing more, nodding his thanks, Brenyn spurred the horse and hastened through the town and out onto the prairie once more. The darkings then, as he had suspected and feared, had not stopped to rest but had continued on through the night toward whatever destination drew them and their precious cargo.
Throughout that day, Brenyn alternated the gait of his horse between a canter and a fast trot, gauging the animal’s condition and slowing to a walk on occasion for perhaps a half-hour. When he passed a stream or other body of water near the road, bearing the captain’s advice in mind, he paused to allow the horse to drink.
Then, with desperation as companion, he hastened onward.
Ahead, as the afternoon wore away, a line of brownish hills rose upon the southern horizon, sporting a few groves of trees. He passed through another town, smaller than that behind him, just before sunset. There was no junction of roads in this village, so Brenyn wasted no time in seeking knowledge of the darkings. They would have passed through deep in the night, anyway.
The sun slid behind the hills and, a half-hour later, the road climbed up and into the highlands, winding as it rose upward.
There were few people here, among the hollows of these hills, only scattered shacks tucked back into the low places. Brenyn ignored these as he hurried onward. He could conceive of nothing that would have caused the darkings to halt here.
Evening fell and twilight gathered among the hills.
There was yet some grass here, though much of it was dry, browned by the winter. Brenyn halted and dismounted, removing the bit from the horse’s mouth to let the animal rest and graze upon whatever it could find. In less than an hour, he was again on the move, though he let his mount walk now.
Full night fell before they found the crest of the hills.
Once they had descended upon the southern slope, Brenyn halted. The ho
rse, he realized, needed a short rest – and he did as well, despite his anxiety over Emi. His heart hurt, his thoughts tormented him; and he was sickened by the knowledge that Emi had been inside the box borne upon the darkings’ cart when they had passed by his farm. Rest, therefore, did not come readily. That night, though cool, was not unbearably cold, perhaps because he had travelled a good distance to the south of where he had started. While holding the horse’s reins, Brenyn sat upon the ground and leaned back against a grassy mound. Despite his worry over Emi, he soon realized that he was utterly fatigued. In case sleep should find him, he secured the reins of the horse to his wrist.
The chill of morning woke him. Over to the east, the sky was already brightening with the approach of dawn. With a horrified start, he realized that he had slept the night away. He knew not if darkings ever slept, but if they did not, then they had gained several more miles on him while he dozed.
Quickly mounting up, he urged the horse into a hasty trot. Before and below him, the hills dissolved into a broad and rumpled plain from which tendrils of smoke arose in several places. As the sky lightened further, he could see that there were many towns and villages scattered abroad upon that wide region.
The road descended the hills and went straight on toward the heart of this area of flat plains. At the base of the hills, he came upon a guard hut where there was apparently a border between this new land and Partha behind him. But the hut was unmanned.
Brenyn hastened onward, into the south.
When the sun was barely more than an hour in the sky, the road brought him into a small village.
The village had been torched and was in ruin. Many of its structures, clustered upon both sides of the thoroughfare, were burned, as were more than a few of the residences further from the main road. Very few people were abroad in the streets, and those that were shied away from Brenyn and his mount as he rode past.
At last, near the far side of the town, he found an older man standing next to a burned-out structure, with shoulders slumped, staring silently at the blackened wreck. The man either did not fear strangers, or was given utterly over to despair, for he did not move away when Brenyn drew near.
A Plague of Ruin: Book One: Son of Two Bloods Page 12
