Dark One Rising (35 page)

“I haven’t had any news to make me think he does. He would have tried to get to you by now if he did. He probably thinks you’re holed up in some city in Aaralyn. I’m sure he has spies searching for you, but until I have proof that he suspects, I won’t worry just yet.” He looked at her hard. “I won’t let him have you, Melenthia, at any cost.”

She breathed in deep but frowned. “I don’t want anyone to be in danger because of me. If he wants information he will force people to talk.”

“It is inevitable, Melenthia. You are a member of the royal household of Aaralyn, and your safety is more important than others.”

She raised her voice, clearly offended by his comment. “I don’t shrug off the importance of my people as easily as you. Without them there is nothing to rule over. We live to protect them.”

“Calm yourself, Melenthia. I meant no offense. My people too are important to me, and I understand the value of them. I just meant that the people will do what they feel is right to insure that the royal lineage will go on into the future. Without you, they have no future.”

She calmed a bit. “Should I be doing something?”

“No. Your safety is number one priority for me and for your brother. We don’t make any moves concerning you until we have to. For now, we wait.”

“I feel helpless, not to mention useless.”

He smiled slightly. “I’m sure you do, but I hope that you’ll just be patient awhile longer. I know you must feel uncomfortable here and miss your home, but I know soon we’ll have the answers we need.”

“I do miss home, but I’m not uncomfortable here. I enjoy your company.”

At that he smiled larger. “I’m so very glad. And I yours.” She blushed a bit so he continued. “If you would like to send your brother a letter, I will be sending out a dispatch in the morning. I can add it to the delivery if you’d like.”

She perked up at that. “Yes, I would.”

“Why don’t you go and write it and bring it down at dinner. I will make sure it goes out.”

“Thank you.” She stood to leave but then turned back. “What will happen when Fallon discovers my whereabouts?”

“I don’t know. I hope to have more answers to all this before then. We will worry about that when it happens.”

She nodded and left the room. His gaze followed her. It was getting more difficult to hide his feelings from her. There was no doubt that he was physically attracted to her, had been since he laid eyes on her. But he was also falling in love with her. He didn’t want to tell her for fear she would think it a ploy to get her to bed. He didn’t know how long he could deny her the truth of his feelings though. Eventually she would find out. He hoped that his feelings were reciprocated, but, if not, she deserved to at least know how he felt. Soon he would have to tell her. For now though, he swallowed back his longing and concentrated on more important matters. He went to work on the dispatch to Kevaan.

The next morning before breakfast Melenthia watched as the messenger rode out of the gates of the keep and onto the road toward the north. She hoped that Kevaan would get the message, that Dain was right and they had some time. She swallowed back her fear that Fallon would take down the castle, and her father and Kevaan would be overtaken as well. Her father was weak, and she didn’t know how much sicker he had become since her departure. If he was pushed too far it could kill him. Kevaan was much stronger and his head for strategy was superior, but even he could lose against Fallon if his army had grown too large for her father’s to overtake.

The man’s figure grew small in the distance, and when she could no longer see him or the dust that his galloping mount kicked up, she went back inside to have some breakfast.

***

The horseman rode hard down the main roads toward the north. It was imperative that he reach Lachlan Castle as soon as possible in order to make sure the prince got the message from King Dainard. Travel was not as easy as it used to be, especially in the northern part of the kingdom where snows and raw cold still gripped the land. He was dressed lighter for the moment, but the closer to the border he got, the heavier his clothes would need to become. He would make it as far as he could in the daylight, then hole up in the woods if possible, away from prying eyes.

His travel was uneventful for three days, but when he reached the town of Lakendra, not too far this side of the Triple Cities, unbeknownst to him, there was someone watching. He checked himself into an inn in the seedier part of town, ate dinner and retired for the night, the dispatch safely tucked away in his cloak pocket.

He awoke in the morning, put on heavier clothes for the next leg of his ride, and ate breakfast. He retrieved his horse from the stables, paid the stable hand and mounted to ride on. He rode through the small city, the merchants and sellers in the square paying him no mind. He exited out the main gate, passing several wagons and single riders coming in, and headed out onto the road again. When he passed by a small copse of trees, a horse and rider emerged from them, reining the horse in front of him. The stranger was large, wearing black leather breeches and tabard over mail, typical warrior attire, nothing extraordinary. His colors were what made the messenger cringe, however. The tabard was black with a green gryphon embroidered on the front and silver piping down the edges. He knew these were the colors of Rommel house. There was only one rider at the moment, but, as if in answer, seven other knights came out of the trees and made a semi-circle around him. He drew his sword, preparing to cut his way through. He didn’t think he could fight off that many by himself, but he would fight to the death.

The lead knight drew his sword as well, nodding his head to the others to do the same.

“What business do you have with me? State it and be on your way,” the messenger said.

The leader smiled and laughed derisively at the useless pride this lone rider held. He would never awake to see another sunrise.

“Where are you off to in such haste?”

“I have been on the road long, and I wish nothing more than to reach my destination quickly. I am weary.”

“Your burden is heavy and weighs you down. Why not give it to me and make your horse lighter on its feet.”

“What burden do you speak of?”

The leader looked over his shoulder at his men, who laughed at something they found amusing. “The message you carry in your cloak. We’ve been following you for two cities now and know who you are and where you’re headed. Why not give me the message and be on your way again.”

“I won’t. The message stays with me til death.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say.”

He knew they’d make their move, so he reared his horse and kicked him into gallop, knowing he wouldn’t make it far, but refused to stand still and die without a fight.

“For the rightful kings of Aelethia: King Dainard and King Randor. I die loyal to righteous rulers and country!” He plunged through the throng of guards, cutting down three as he went, and made it almost all the way. As he emerged from the other side, he felt a stabbing pain rip through his side and felt something warm run down his tunic. No longer able to hold his weapon he dropped the sword to the ground and grabbed at his side. He pulled his hand away, red with blood, steam curling up from it into the cold morning air. A knight approached from behind and swung down and across, severing the messengers’ head from his torso. The headless body slumped sideways in the saddle and fell to the ground with a sickening
thump.
The horse, now spooked from the commotion, galloped off into the woods. The leader dismounted and kicked over the body so that he could get into the inner pocket of the cloak. He removed the dispatch from the leather pouch and unfolded it to read. He looked up at the knight beside him. “Get the body out of the road. Hide it in the trees. By the time someone notices him he’ll have already been a meal for the carrions.”

The other knight dismounted and obeyed his leader. The nearest guard leaned casually on the pommel of his saddle and smiled. “Good news, Captain?”

The guard on the ground looked up at him and smiled. “Quite good. It seems that the southern king knows of our plans to move into the coast. His spies are well placed indeed. He was sending word to warn Prince Kevaan of His Grace’s plans for bartering passage into the northeast. But better than that, it seems that our lovely missing lady is hidden behind the walls of the keep. His Grace never thought to look in plain sight. He will be most pleased to get this news.”

“The message says that?”

“No. There is another dispatch in here as well. A letter from the princess to her dear brother Kevaan, but he’ll never get that.” The guard tore the parchment into multiple pieces, then dropped them and stamped them into the mud with his boot heel.

“Lieutenant. Get to His Grace and bring him the news. I would suspect that he will make his move sooner, with knowledge of these fortuitous events. Don’t stop for anything. Get there as quickly as possible and make sure that His Grace gets the news no matter the cost.”

“Yes, sir!”

He turned his horse around and headed off in another direction. The leader remounted his steed and ordered the rest of them to move out. “Let’s be on our way. I want to be in the city before nightfall. We have work to do.”

The group of knights galloped away from the scene of death and down the road to town.

CHAPTER 21

A
lek sat upon his destrier looking down on the carnage before him. For weeks he had ridden from one end of the kingdom to the other, witnessing the accounts that had been reported all over the land. Armies of dark creatures riding through towns, coercing the strong to join their forces, killing the weak, and leaving most towns in smoldering ruin.

No one knew where they came from or who controlled them, but sketchy stories revealed that a powerful sorcerer out for a throne was behind the menacing threat.

Alekzand’r knew the stories; he’d heard them many times, and he didn’t ignore the nagging in his gut. He knew Fallon was behind the tales. The story that really convinced him came from his own hired hands. They had spoken of his mysterious work in the cellar of his estate, the darkness that he carried with him, and the strange man who had been hired as his advisor. No one had seen him arrive. One day he was just there. The wraith. Alek had yet to witness any of the destruction as it happened, but he doubted that hundreds of similar accounts could be wrong. They were too consistent, and the people too sure to be spreading wild tales made up at their dinner table. It was official enough for him. Fallon was the threat.

The choking smell of death was enough for Alek today. If nothing else it was the deciding factor for his belief that something was very wrong in the kingdom. Smoke billowed up from the city, blocking out the sun’s rays; an acrid smell pervaded the spring air. Here was his proof.

A smell of carnage reached his nostrils, and even his horse was bothered by the thick black cloud that the wind of the lake could not penetrate. He settled his horse with soothing words and forced it to start down the hillside, heading for the gates on the east side of the city.

Seeing this scene now, he was not optimistic about what he would find. The reports rolling in from all over were bleak at best. Not many lived to report to the king, and those that did, died shortly after from hunger and disease. From the looks of things, it would be the same story here.

Dain was starting to worry, for the accounts were not only growing bigger, but spreading further. He had reports from as far away as Ashlan in the west and Sailors Bluff on the coast in the east, and although those cities were larger, they too did not fare well.

There was no pattern or order to the reports, no particular plan that he could see, just destruction and chaos across the board. He had received a message weeks ago about Fallon recruiting and making troops for his disposal. He had heard whisperings that perhaps he was building his coffers to overtake Aaralyn and possibly spread his troops into the north, across his border into Isamar. He had no proof of that, or any solid information to confirm his suspicion, however. That’s what Alek was looking for now.

Dain could come up with no answers to why Fallon would be trying to invade the desert province, but only, perhaps, he wanted King Randor boxed in in order to overtake him and usurp him from his throne.

So Alek was the runner, the spy to travel the kingdom and perhaps get confirmation of what was happening, and maybe even why.

As he neared the city of Amaris, the black smoke was thicker; he tried not to breathe too deeply in fear of choking. He coughed several times, and his eyes were starting to sting and water. He reached into his pack and rifled through for something to wrap around his head. He pulled out some cheese cloth that had held his last meal, then used his water bladder to moisten it. He tied the wet material around his mouth and nose and pulled his cloak tighter on his head, hoping to keep as much smoke out of his face and lungs as possible.

The closer he got, the stronger the smell of death hit him. He gagged once, swallowing back the stench, trying hard not to breathe through his nose. When he entered the city through the gates, the scene stunned him. Most of the buildings were in ruin, scorch marks scarring what used to be pristine white outer walls. Doors hung askew on hinges, lush windowsill gardens were nothing but scorched weeds.