Severed Destinies (31 page)

By the time he entered the tavern and ordered a drink, Varayan had freed five purses from their owners. Making a new life amongst the nobles of Vylandor was becoming a very appealing prospect.

Saroth stepped into the shadows of an alleyway as a rotian guard patrol passed on one of the main streets. He had not been in Vylandor long but needed to make his way to the residence of Talgan Akalla as quickly as possible. He did not want to be in the city any longer than he had to.

The guards vanished along the street and he darted out, making his way along the wall to his left. As he did so, he glanced up at the darkening sky. It was so much easier for him to move around Vylandor at night. It was not long before he had scaled a tall building so as to determine his position and to take note of the patrol routes.

Below him, at a junction in the street, he saw an elderly guardsman approach a patrol and begin giving them new orders. The rotians were tense and their faces showed nervous expressions. Saroth knew that word of the Shada-Kavielian attacks must have reached the city. This would make his meeting with Talgan more confrontational.

“
Finally,” he muttered under his breath before continuing towards the Akalla mansion.

“
Loosen your grip on the hilt,” Gorric barked at Khir.

“
If I loosen it any further, I’ll drop the damned sword,” snapped Khir back.

They stood in a lantern-lit corner of the training courtyard. Exhaustion mixed with the chill of the night air was stretching both of their nerves to the limit but Khir was determined to at least be able to wield a blade with some skill. His lack of ability had been painfully obvious during combat training earlier in the day and his arm still ached from where another recruit – a man nearly twice his size – had almost broken it when Khir mistimed his block.

“
Come on,” sighed Gorric. “Enough for tonight. It is dark and cold…not exactly the best time to be training. Besides, you are still not holding it right.”

Khir’s eyes narrowed. “Well perhaps I should get someone with more patience to help me then. Gorric, I need to train hard. Just as you need to train with the bow.”

“
Not everyone can be a talented archer,” Gorric mumbled.

“
And not everyone can be good with a sword,” yelled Khir, waving the blunted weapon in the air. “What happened to the Gorric who used to look forward to getting some practice with my bow in the forest?”

“
That seems like a long time ago now.” Gorric glanced up into the night sky, where the stars occasionally peered at them through dark clouds. “We have seen so much death and destruction since those happier times.”

“
True, but we are still alive. Kithia is still alive. You have to stop thinking about what happened in Barentin and Tamriel.”

“
Have you stopped thinking about what happened below Turambar?”

Khir shook his head, then cursed and threw the sword down. The sound of the metal hitting the ground echoed across the shadowy courtyard.

“
I have to believe that what we are doing now will ultimately help our families,” he stated. “Finding out where they were taken will not be easy but they must be north of the river still. They are most likely being held in Boraila.”

“
You truly believe we will see them again?”

Gorric’s question stunned Khir. “I
have
to believe that. You of all people
must
believe the same.”

“
My mother and Cassi are alive. I feel that in my heart. My father on the other hand…” Gorric trailed off, closing his eyes as he remembered Celestius rushing out to aid Barentin in its doomed defense.

“
This is what I mean though,” said Khir, stepping close to his friend. “We have no way of knowing at this moment in time whether they survived the attacks or not. Just because my parents were not inside the remnants of my home, it doesn’t mean they weren’t killed somewhere else around Tamriel. However, I don’t choose to believe that.

Do you think I want to be here in Vylandor, training to become a soldier? No, but this will give me a focus until such time as it is determined what happened to the Rotian people who were taken. Besides, you and Kithia are here. You are the only family I have right now.”

Gorric smiled then and, for a moment, Khir saw the man he remembered growing up with. “You are right, of course. I am glad you decided to join me here, my friend. I need someone alongside me to keep me sane.”

Khir glanced down at the training sword. “I think I’ve had enough for today after all. Shall we join Arlath for a brief study session before retiring for the night?”

As Gorric contemplated missing out on another dull hour of study, a shout came from above and both recruits looked up to see one of their training officers – a veteran soldier named Devanor – staring down at them from the battlements.

“
Haven’t you got better things to be doing than standing around talking?”

“
Yes, sir,” replied Gorric quickly. “We were just heading to the study rooms.”

Devanor eyed them suspiciously. “Were you now? Best hurry then.”

The officer watched the two newest recruits quickly vanish through a nearby door and then noticed the sword still lying on the ground where Khir had dropped it. Shaking his head, he slowly made his way towards the steps descending to the courtyard.

He had been one of the duty officers when Gorric and Khir had arrived at the barracks. From what he had seen so far, Gorric was already a good swordsman despite being rough around the edges somewhat. Having already killed in combat would also be an advantage to him in the coming months.

Devanor reached the courtyard and walked to stand over the sword. Not many recruits at the barracks could say that they had already killed a man but the two newcomers both could. During their first hours inside the barracks, Devanor had explained the rules of their training and then had asked them about their combat experience. Gorric’s strength and skill with a sword was not unexpected when considering who his father was. However, Khir gave him more concern.

Son of a forester from Tamriel who, up until recently, had planned to follow in his father’s footsteps, Khir would never be completely comfortable with a life in the ranks. Devanor knew this but admired the young man’s loyalty to Gorric and the immense courage he had shown to survive two encounters with these foreigners. Perhaps Khir had hidden qualities which would surface eventually with the correct training. He was accurate with the old bow he had on arrival but Devanor had noted how his aim had changed when using the composite bows used for training. Khir had refused to part with the old bow and had even requested for it to be repaired if possible. Unfortunately the blackened wood was not likely to be restored but Khir had kept it anyway.

Devanor picked the sword up and sliced the air with it twice. He would have to take a personal interest in developing Khir’s swordmanship. Otherwise, he doubted the recruit would ever survive beyond his first true battle.

Chapter 27

Rynn leant on the balcony railing, staring out at the sleeping city of Vylandor. Lanterns had been lit throughout the streets and he could see almost as far as the docks on the western side. He could not help but be reminded of Boraila, where he would gaze down on his home from the safety of the temple roof. He had spent many hours there but never again would he hear the ringing of Ranesch’s bell as the old cleric searched high and low for him.

He looked down into the gardens within Jolas’ estate and could make out the frequently-tended flower beds, the narrow path running across the grass and even the two horse statues that stood watch near the wall. The estate was kept almost immaculate by the number of house staff and gardeners Jolas employed.

Out in the city, Rynn could hear laughter. The people of Vylandor were not aware of the darkness which now dwelt in the north of their kingdom but soon they would be. He imagined then that the laughter would cease and a feeling of uncertainly would replace it.

He clenched his fists as unexpected anger rose within him. How dare these people laugh whilst so many others suffered at the hands of the invading army. He hoped that they would know fear like the people of Boraila, Tamriel and Barentin had. Then perhaps they would understand what he and the other survivors had experienced. They would know how it felt to watch friends and loved ones die in such brutal fashion.

A voice called to him at that moment and he froze. It was a voice he had only heard once before, back in Turambar. Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes found the footlocker at the base of his bed. Taking a deep breath, he tore his gaze away and returned to watching the city. The voice called a second time and Rynn shook his head.

“
I have no interest in reading it,” he whispered. “Leave me be.”

Rynn, now is the time.

Despite wanting to remain on the balcony, Rynn entered the warmth of the bedroom and found himself staring down at the footlocker. As he reached out to open it, he cried out through gritted teeth. He wanted to pull his hand back but his body would not listen. He flipped the lid open and began pulling the contents out until the red-ribboned scroll revealed itself.

Read.

“
No,” yelled Rynn. “I will not.”

As he picked the scroll up and began loosening the ribbon, there was a knock at the door. “Rynn, we heard you shout,” came Jolas’ voice. “May I come in?”

Immediately, the acolyte dropped the scroll back into the footlocker and, as he found himself once more in control of his own body, slammed the lid shut.

“
Of course,” he replied shakily.

The door swung open and Jolas stepped into the bedroom, glancing around warily as he entered. “Why did you cry out?”

Rynn walked to the balcony doors and closed them. “I fell asleep and was woken suddenly by a nightmare.”

Jolas looked down at the bed and frowned. “You were not in bed though.”

“
No. I sat down for a moment on the footlocker and must have just drifted off.”

For a moment, Jolas did not look convinced but then he nodded. “You have been through a lot and it is only expected that your dreams would still be plagued with dark images. Can I get you anything?”

Rynn smiled. “Thank you but no. Has Varayan returned yet?”

“
No. He has been gone some time now.”

“
He is an explorer at heart. The city is so big that he has probably got lost but I expect he will be back soon.”

Jolas raised an eyebrow. “As long as he isn’t getting into trouble. I understand that he tried stealing your money when you first met.”

“
Varayan simply hasn’t had the start in life that many of us have. However, we have been through much together and I trust him.” Rynn rubbed at his eyes. “If you don’t mind, councilor, I am very tired.”

“
Of course. I will see you in the morning.”

As Jolas left, Rynn glanced once at the footlocker and then sat down on the comfortable bed. He expected the voice to return but all was silent, apart from Jolas’ footsteps echoing along the corridor. He wished Varayan was back in the house so that he could spend some time talking to him about the scroll and what had nearly happened. He did not wish to discuss it with anyone else.

He allowed his thoughts to settle on Kithia. She would most likely be asleep at the house of Karrid by now but he longed to see her again, despite being with her for part of the day. His feelings for her were growing stronger but soon he would have to leave for Kariska and that meant leaving her alone with Arlath.

The blond recruit was clearly interested in her and the mere thought of them together created a rage in his heart. She did not blush when Rynn spoke to her yet, within minutes of meeting Arlath, her cheeks had reddened and her every movement was for his benefit. He could not help but feel hatred building for Arlath, despite not knowing the man.

It was then that Rynn made a bold decision. He would leave for Kariska as soon as possible and would ask Kithia to go with him. He would explain to her how he felt and her answer would dictate whether he came back to Vylandor or remained with his parents.

He looked back at the footlocker. When he left the city, he would leave the scroll behind too. He feared what would happen were he to read it. Despite not knowing what the outcome would be, something told him that it would lead him along a darker path than he desired.

Talgan had been expecting another visit from his foreign contact and had prepared himself for the meeting. Armed with the knowledge that so much Rotian blood had been spilt north of the river, the councilor feared for his own life. Now that the invasion was underway and Afaron knew what was happening, how would the foreigner react? Would he aim to silence Talgan or were there more questions to come on the rest of the kingdom?

Talgan had placed his sword behind the desk in his study and had loaded a light crossbow, placing it next to his chair. His estate guards were patrolling the walls both inside and outside the compound. Despite this protection, he still felt a chill in his spine. The foreigner was dangerous and he wondered whether the man had been involved in the massacre of the Rotian people.

It was not a surprise to him when the dark figure entered the study. There had been no shout from the guards or house staff but, under cover of darkness, Talgan imagined that the man would only be seen if he wanted to be.