The Spirit of Revenge (31 page)

Cain, Malecai, and Aaron rose from their beds and donned their armor, strapping their weapons on in silence. They shouldered their rucksacks and opened the door. The three stepped out of the room and walked down the hall, their boots clicking loudly on the marble.

They soon came out into a small dome-like area, similar to the entrance room. A large window formed the entirety of the roof, letting in bright rays of sunlight.

A thick scarlet carpet covered the floor, their boots instantly muffled in the velvet fibers. The walls of the room were draped with curtains and paintings lined the walls.

A large wooden table stood in the middle of the room, piled high with a bouquet of fruits. Dozens of silver trays circled the arrangement, covered in meats, cheeses, breads, fats, and oils. Two small kegs of wine sat under the table beside a basket of goblets.

Several Citadel Guards surrounded the table and conversed merrily as they ate. The other Warriors were already there, talking amongst the soldiers. Cain, Aaron, and Malecai immediately took their trays and joined the others.

“The palace cooks prepare our meals for us,” a guard informed Silas and Joshua as they ate ardently. “Each day they put out these lavish servings…it’s about the only perk of being a Royal Guard. It’s still dull work any way you look at it, they can’t ever change that.”

Near the table, Isroc was deep in conversation with one of the guards. “I couldn’t tell you where Hallus is, mate,” the guard said as he rested a hand on Isroc’s shoulder. “None of us have seen him since he left for Braygon. I never did approve of him accepting that job as the West Rider’s leader, I liked it better when he was our captain…but times have changed I guess.”

Isroc nodded absent-mindedly as he gnawed on a slice of bread. “I know he was at Braygon, he sent me a letter a few weeks ago saying he would meet me at Mordicon or Morven at least…yet no one here has seen him for six months. It concerns me.”

The soldier nodded, “Aye, that it does, and for good reason. We can only hope he will come home. I am sure he has only been delayed shortly. He would bring the West Riders with him if he comes, we could use another fifteen thousand men.”

“Well,” Isroc replied, setting down his empty mug. “A delay is what I’m worried about; the Andreds could have something to do with it.”

The guard laughed with vexed amusement. “You truly are the son of Hallus, always the worrier. He will be fine and you know it. He’s the best damn soldier Erias has ever been graced with.”

Isroc nodded slowly, struggling to believe his friend’s words. “Well,” he said after a long moment, “has word been sent to Braygon?”

“Word of what?”

“Of this,” Isroc held his arms out, “of all of this, the gathering of troops, the coming siege of Morven. You said it yourself; Morven could use the West Riders. But where are they?”

His friend gazed up at the glass ceiling, scratching his chin in contemplation. “The Council sent out a messenger to Braygon. Now that you mention it, he’s not returned.”

Isroc hung his head at this. “Then the West Riders do not know of the impending attack, they will never reach us in time.”

Cain overheard their conversation and stepped toward the two, setting his tray on the table as he approached. “You are staying here then?” He asked his friend.

Isroc sighed. “I’m not giving up on my father…but I cannot let my heart get in the way, I am a Warrior now. I made a promise to you and myself, I will follow the Warriors unto the end. That is my calling.”

Cain nodded. “It’s good to have you at my side.”

Isroc smiled at him and the two clapped a firm hand on the other’s shoulder. Cain glanced past Isroc and noticed Adriel standing alone before a painting. Isroc saw this and his bushy brow rose with curiosity. “Ah, I see…”

“What?” Cain asked, perplexed.

Isroc chuckled. “You know. Go talk to her.”

“I just need to ask her if she’s coming with us.”

“Sure…but make your move before it’s too late, my friend.”

Cain shook his head as he stepped around Isroc. “It’s not like that.”

“Say what you want,” Isroc called after him as he walked away, “things have a strange way of working out!”

Cain crossed the room and stopped at Adriel’s side. “Good morning,” she said to him.

“Isroc and Malecai have made up their minds. What of you, Adriel? You haven’t told me of your plans. Or for that matter, why you’ve even stayed with us through all of this.”

Adriel looked at him questioningly and sighed. “I told you before I would lead you to Abraxas, then I said I would lead you safely out of Charun…and yet look where I am now. If I had wanted to leave, then I would have long ago, believe me.”

“So you’re staying with us?” Cain asked as he ran a hand through his hair.

Adriel laughed. “I never told you this, but I was planning on saying my goodbyes back in Abraxas. However, I hate to say I’ve grown fond of the lot of you. I have chosen my path; I have burned away any chance of returning to what I had before I found the four of you. So yes, I am staying until the end.”

“To the end is a great sacrifice,” Cain said, “especially when you don’t know how any of this will end.”

“None of us know how this all will end. But we fight on for those we care about…”

“I’m glad you’re coming with us, Adriel,” Cain replied, a smile pulling at his lips.

“How is the meal, men?” Darius’s voice boomed from behind them. The King stood in the entrance to the room, his sharp eyes scanning over the soldiers. Every soldier knelt to the ground before their king and the Warriors followed likewise. The King walked towards the table and the kneeling guards rose to their feet.

“I hope the meal is to your liking, Warriors. Are you ready for the task at hand?” He looked them over in turn, as he seemed to have a habit of doing.

Malecai stepped forward, “We are ready.”

“Very well,” Darius said, “I have called for a transport and crew to await your arrival at the docks. Follow me.”

The Warriors left the room with a final glance over their shoulders. Darius led them down another cramped hall towards an archway.

They went down a second hallway and soon a third before reaching the entrance room. They crossed the entrance room and approached the doors. Two guards opened the doors with a slight bow, letting in the winter’s chill.

The group crossed through the doorway and came to the stairs, immediately thrashed with a powerful gust of wind as they stepped out into the sun-drenched peak. Darius led them down the steps and stopped at the winged statues.

“The guards will escort you to the ship. I must take my leave, friends. I have much work to do.”

The Warriors bowed as he stepped from the group and turned back up the stairs. “Goodbye, Warriors, and good luck,” he said over his shoulder. With that, he returned to the warmth of the palace.

The Warriors continued to stare after him, long after the doors had closed. They stood frozen for several moments, unwilling to leave the luxuries of the palace behind. Nevertheless, they knew what they must do.

They turned and crossed the peak, leaving the palace in the distance as they walked down the steps to the mountain road.

Two teams of horses stood a few feet away, harnessed together and tied to two different wagons. Four soldiers stood beside the wagons and gestured for the Warriors to step inside. Malecai climbed into the small interior of one of the wagons, followed by Adriel, Cain, and Aaron.

“We’ll meet you there,” Silas said as he glanced up at the horse and trade cog that still remained by the steps from the prior day.

The sun hung low over the horizon, its light smothered beneath a veil of frosted clouds. Few ships now lingered in the river, men roaming like ants up and down the gangplanks.

One ship awaited the Warriors by the riverbank, a massive transport whose four masts towered above the waters like spires. A swarm of armored men wandered its deck, an apathetic look glazed over their eyes.

The Warriors stirred from their sleep, weary from hours of an uneventful ride. The wagon rolled down the main road and soon crossed over the docks. The soldier atop the wagon pulled his reins, slowing the team of horses before coming to a stop.

A man peered over the ship’s edge and quickly descended the gangplank. “Are you the Warriors?” he asked in a warm tenor.

“Aye,” Cain replied as he stepped out of the wagon.

“Where are the others?” The man inquired.

Malecai jumped nimbly from the wagon and looked out in the direction they had come. Suddenly, several shrill screams echoed in the quiet evening.

A small blur shot across the court. Devoid of its horse, a small trade cog sped towards the river, three men inside screaming in terror as they gripped the edges of the cart.

The back wheels of the cart fell off as it neared the river, breaking with a snap of wood before flying through the air. The front wheel of the cart then broke in half and rocketed through the air as the cog skidded the last few yards towards the river. The cart slid up to the Warriors and came to a stop beside the other wagon.

The men’s fearful screams ceased abruptly as they realized the danger had passed. They remained in the small, half-broken cart and looked at each other, eyes wide with disbelief.

Malecai gestured towards the men, “Our better half.”

The cart’s third wheel rolled past them and they watched as it wobbled towards the river, and with a small plunk, sank with a spur of bubbles.

The group burst out in laughter for several moments as the three men fumbled out of the cart, chuckling with amusement.

Cain shook his head at the remains of the trade cart. “Should I even ask?”

Joshua approached one of the astonished wagon drivers and handed him a horse’s bridle. “Sorry about your cart…and your horse.”

The transport left the northern sluicegate, leaving the walls of Morven behind. The faint din of the market road and docks faded from their ears as the city gradually dwindled from view.

The ship followed the Alar east, slicing through the languid waters. Its deck was silent and a light breeze rippled through the sails.

Cain leaned against the ship’s side and peered over the map Verin had given him weeks before. He gripped the edges of the tarnished parchment and gazed over the faded ink countries, rivers, and roads.

He turned his attention to the land of Atuan and the shadow of Andred to its north. He stared at the black ink drawing of Andred, gazing into its borders with wonder, with hate.

A man walked up to Cain and coughed to state his presence, breaking Cain from his concentration. “We’ll take you as close to the capital as we can. Do you see that?” The man pointed to a formation of mountains on Cain’s map. “That’s Nimithy Valley, a fertile dale along the banks of the Alar. At the east end of Nimithy, the river makes a turn to the north and flows along the southern edge of Andred. We’ll be risking too much in staying that close to the enemy, so the closest we can get you is to the end of Nimithy valley. After that, well…you’re on your own.” Cain nodded in understanding as the man finished.

Footsteps clicked on the wooden deck behind them and they turned to see Malecai approaching. “We are coming to the Peaks of Icadras.” He pointed to the bow as a shadow engulfed the ship in blackness. Everyone on the deck lifted their eyes to the skies. Their ship sailed into the mouth of these mountains from whence the Alar seemed to pour.

Great peaks loomed far above them on either side, their snowcapped crowns scraping the clouds. Their steep walls of ice and rock formed a mighty and treacherous ravine.

Several of the soldiers grabbed the rigging that hung from the sails and pulled them tight. They followed the thinning river through the Icadras gorge, guiding ship and sail through the many winding bends.

Snow fell lightly about them, the mountains barely visible in the icy mists. The freezing waters of the Alar lapped against the ship’s wooden hull as it tore a path through the thin ice.

Hours passed as day slipped into ever-growing darkness, and through the lofty ceiling of the valley, they could see the light of day falling from the skies. Soldiers lit torches and placed them along the ship’s edge, barely lighting their way.