Rise and Fall (54 page)

That’s the third time he’s checked their edges today.

Kroke sheathed his blade, set down the whetstone and took the bowl from Elyse’s hand without looking up. She stood there for a moment, waiting for any sort of comment but he said nothing.

Since the attack and the subsequent tending to Rygar, the only words Kroke had spoken to her were a few harsh instructions when dissatisfied with what she was doing. And that seemed to be just about anything, tending the fire, caring for Rygar’s wound, her cooking, and so on. So, she decided to take the initiative herself and sat down next to him. As she expected, he continued to ignore her.

“How do you like the stew?” she asked.

“It’s edible,” he said with a grunt.

She started to open her mouth to try a different approach, but failed to utter a word.

“What do you want?”

“I just wanted to see if you liked the stew.”

He set his bowl down and looked up at her for the first time. “Don’t give me that. You want to say something, so say it.”

Elyse frowned. “I want to know if we can leave tomorrow.”

“No.”

The brusqueness of his response reminded her of why she hadn’t initially liked the man. Her feelings toward him had softened after he had helped to save her life and as she witnessed the concern he had for Rygar. But with each day, she found her old feelings for the man returning. “Why not?”

“Because I said so.”

“But Rygar is doing better each day and we’ve been here for almost a week.”

“He’s not healthy enough to travel.”

“Her Majesty is right. I’m feeling much better,” said Rygar.

“That’s because all you’ve done is lay there and eat. As it is you want for a nap almost every time you get back from taking a leak. You really think you can stay on a horse all day? Don’t be stupid, kid.”

Rygar lowered his voice. “I can manage.”

Kroke grunted, then turned back to Elyse. “Like I said, no.” He picked up his bowl and started eating again but when he saw Elyse hadn’t moved and still looked at him he set it down with a sigh. “What?”

It was only then that she noticed how Kroke never addressed her as a queen or showed her proper respect. She guessed it was because her mind had been preoccupied, but now that she noticed the slight, it bothered her and even made her angry.

Even Hadan had addressed me properly before trying to kill me.

As she thought about it, she realized that she hadn’t been acting much like a queen since they had left Cathyrium. Before the attack she had been sullen about being on her own, and nervous about her meeting with Jeldor. Since the attack, she had been acting more as a servant to Rygar and Kroke. Where Rygar showed constant appreciation, Kroke seemed to expect such behavior.

She decided that helping out was not something she would change. After all, Jonrell often pitched in where other commanders would not have, and the men respected him more. However, she had forgotten how important her task was. An entire army, a city, and in the end, a kingdom, depended on her success. Before, she worried under the weight of such a task, but now she felt a sense of urgency.

“I command you to leave with me on the morrow to Ithanthul,” she blurted out.

Kroke’s face twisted in shock and then the mercenary let out a low laugh, the first she had ever heard from him. The laugh was far from comforting. “You command me, do you? I don’t care if you are Jonrell’s sister, you are not my queen. I take my orders from only one man.”

“But he gave you orders to listen to me,” she said, trying to sound stern.

“Sorry, lass. But he only told me to keep you alive. The way I see it, I have a better chance of doing that here than anywhere else, and while we do that, Rygar can get himself healed up.”

“But don’t you care about my people?” she pleaded.

“You said it. They are your people, not mine. No, in fact, you’re the reason I’m not with
my
people.”

“But the longer we sit around, the more people will die.”

The mercenary shrugged, turning away.

“And what about the Hell Patrol?”

“What about them?”

“Don’t you care about their lives?”

Kroke sneered. “I care about little in this world.”

“Don’t lie to me. I know you don’t like being stuck with me but you’ve said over and over again that you want to make sure Rygar is alright. That means you care about him. Just like you do about the others.”

Kroke cocked his head. “What’s your point?”

“My point is the longer we wait here, the more of your men will die.”

The mercenary’s eyes widened slightly but quickly resumed their normal emotionless expression. And just like that, she knew that Jonrell was right. If you pay attention to people long enough, you can learn a lot about them. And now, she knew how to motivate Kroke.

Kroke shrugged her comment off. “They’ll get out of there before things get hairy. I’m not worried.” He didn’t sound convinced.

Elyse shook her head. “No they won’t. You know my brother, and this is too important to him. Otherwise he wouldn’t have come halfway across the world to get here. He won’t just get up and leave. He’ll die fighting. And I know just enough about his men to know that they’ll all die right alongside him without him ever having to ask them to.” She paused, watching her words turn in his head before saying what she guessed he was thinking. “And if you’re here with me, you won’t be there to help them, will you?”

Kroke was about to say something in return, but at the sound of a grunt they both turned back toward Rygar who had stood and leaned on a stick they had given him for support.

“What do you think you’re doing up?” said Kroke.

“The queen is right, Kroke. She may not have convinced you, but she has me. I’m not going to be the reason everyone dies. I’d never be able to look Yanasi in the eyes if that happened,” said Rygar, obviously missing the point that Yanasi would be dead along with everyone else.

“Sit down,” Kroke hissed. “We ain’t going anywhere now. It’s too late in the day. We’ll start first thing in the morning. Satisfied?” he asked, casting Elyse a look that could freeze water.

She nodded. “Thank you.”

He picked up his bowl and turned away from her, grumbling. “Then leave me to eat in peace. Let’s see how much you’re thanking me when we all end up dead on the side of the road on account I’m dragging a woman and half a man along with me into areas I know nothing about.”

* * *

An elbow from Kroke, whether intentional or not woke her as the black night turned a dull gray. He stood after glancing down each side of the road. He muttered something about checking on the horses. She winced first at the cold air against her body where the mercenary had lain, and winced a second time as she shook the night’s stiffness from her limbs.

They had spent the night huddled in an empty ditch, a mere two day’s ride from Ithanthul, using the sunken pocket of earth to block out the wind and provide cover from travelers. They spent the previous night without a fire. Without the extra blankets taken from the traitors, Elyse was sure they would have died during the night.

She wrapped one of the blankets around her as she watched Kroke disappear into the woods. Despite her fingers and toes feeling numb, her back hurting her from sleeping in such an awkward position, and just an overall sense of exhaustion, she found herself smiling at the white landscape, branches and fallen trees covered in a soft snow. Taking in her surroundings, it was the first time in days she had even bothered to give herself a moment of peace, so focused she had been on her goal to see Jeldor.

Elyse turned to the low snapping of twigs and the crunch of snow as Kroke led the horses toward her.

We’ll probably just eat dried jerky as we ride again
, she thought with a sigh. Bending down, her hand fell on Rygar’s shoulder. “Wake up, lazy. We’ve got to get moving.”

Nothing.

She shook his shoulder this time, speaking louder. “Rygar. Let’s go. We can’t just stay here all morning.”

Still nothing. Elyse moved his head where she could see him and saw that his mouth hung open and his breathing was shallow. Panicked she called out to Kroke. She heard the mercenary covering the distance to her with a quickened pace. He muttered a curse. “Keep your voice down. What’s the matter with you?”

Elyse looked back at him. “It’s Rygar. Something’s wrong.”

Kroke handed her the reins. She stepped away, wrapping them around a nearby tree. By the time she came back, Kroke had pulled up Rygar’s shirt and inspected his bandage. It was soaked in blood.

“What happened?” she asked.

“It must have opened up last night and the fool didn’t say anything,” said Kroke.

“But I thought it was better.”

“It was better but it was never healed. I warned you this could happen,” he said, cursing himself. “Start getting some wood together. We’ll need to build another fire and cauterize the wound again.”

“But I thought you were worried someone would see us.”

“And they still might. Then again, it is early. Maybe if we keep the fire low enough, the smoke won’t be as noticeable.”

Elyse didn’t argue. Even if they got caught, she owed too much to Rygar to risk his life any further. She wouldn’t see him bleed to death because of her own fear.

Some time later, the embers of a small fire faded. Elyse and Kroke packed in tight around it as they tried to make use of what little warmth they could draw from it. They had given Rygar their blankets to stay warm. They had been able to stop the bleeding again and rewrap his wound, but he had broken out in a fever and Kroke was out of herbs.

Elyse decided she had enough of feeling helpless. She stood up and headed toward one of the horses.

“What do you think you’re doing?” asked Kroke.

“Going to Ithanthul.”

“Are you mad? He isn’t fit to travel,” said Kroke with a gesture to Rygar. “Or do you not even care what happens to him?”

She snapped her head around and felt her anger rising. “Why do you think I’m going? If I make it, I can send help and possibly a healer to you. Neither of us can do him any good right now.”

“The roads are too dangerous for you.”

“I’ll manage,” she said, though not completely convinced.

Kroke let out a sigh and cursed. “Let me go then. You can stay with Rygar.”

She shook her head. “No. I’ll be able to talk to Duke Jeldor, you won’t.”

“You have to get there first. Do you expect to just waltz right through the miles of land between here and the city without anyone stopping you? Something can happen at any moment if you aren’t careful.”

Elyse opened her mouth to argue but was cut off.

“The man is right, woman. Anything can happen.”

They both turned at the voice and saw a soldier with a drawn bow standing over them on the road. The arrow was pointed at Kroke. Two others stood on either side with arrows notched as well. “You can get your hand away from that belt.”

Elyse caught Kroke lowering his hand, cursing yet again. She took the opportunity to speak first, not sure what else to do. “Please, kind sirs. We need some help. We are on our way to Ithanthul…”

“To meet with Duke Jeldor, eh? Aye, I heard you. Talking loud enough to scare away all the game around here. And who do you think you are that he would want to see you.”

“Don’t say….” started Kroke but Elyse shouted over him.

“I am Queen Elyse. Your Ruler,” she said, trying to sound as regal as one could covered in filth and freezing.

The soldiers laughed.

“My ruler, you say?” said the man. “I only have one ruler.” He let out a loud whistle and moments later the sound of hooves clicked closer along the dirt path.

A voice that sounded strangely familiar called out. “You found something?”

“Yes, My Lord, something you may be interested in.”

“What is it?” said the voice as a man familiar to Elyse strode into view.

“This commoner claims to be the queen. In fact they were arguing about who was going to stay with this one while the other came to speak with you. He looks pretty bad,” said the soldier pointing to Rygar.

“My Lord, surely you can see who I am even despite my appearance,” said Elyse.

“All I see are potential spies,” said Jeldor.

“Aye, my Lord, They were probably sent by Lord Bronn,” replied one of his men.

Jeldor looked down at Rygar. “Bring the wagon for this one and have Osher look at him for now until we get back to the castle. Tie the other two up.”

“Tie us up? What for?” asked Elyse.

Jeldor quickly hid the smile pulling at the sides of his mouth, but could do nothing for the sparkle in his eyes. “To be put in the dungeon for questioning, of course,” said Jeldor. “I’m sure if given enough time we can get to the truth of things.”

Chapter 23

Jonrell scribbled in a large ledger, recording the latest shipment of supplies from Lyrosene. He trusted no one else to track the things so crucial to an army’s success. Any mistake would be his, and anyone brave enough to tamper with the supplies would have to be smart enough to change multiple books of record.

Still, Jonrell couldn’t be everywhere at once, forcing him to rely on someone else to check in the goods as they came in from Lyrosene, as well as those produced and consumed each day in Cathyrium. Lord Caliva handled those tedious tasks for him.

Caliva rattled off more numbers while Jonrell’s quill scratched at a furious pace to keep up. “…ten bushels of mixed beans and barley, two hundred quarters of corn, fifteen quarters of wheat malt, twenty quarters of oatmeal, five barrels of vinegar, ten barrels of wine, and twenty barrels of salt. That does it for the food.”

Jonrell flipped several pages, dipped his nib into ink. “Go on.”

Caliva ran down the lists, detailing the amounts of iron, lead, bolts, and cable that came in on the wagons that morning. “…and the last wagon contained twelve barrels full of arrows.”

Looking up from his ledger, Jonrell raised an eyebrow. “Arrows?”

“Yes, my prince. Illyan sent a note with today’s shipment saying that they are compliments of General Grayer. Apparently production amongst the fletchers has increased at such a rate that he could spare sending them our way. He goes on to say that Grayer hopes to have twice that many on the next shipment.”