Shadows of Men (The Watchers Book 1) (12 page)

              “After the meeting I pulled him aside.  I saw the way he turned the council against you and confronted him.  He did not apologize but told me he could not bear the thought of attacking whilst the High Protector is gone and risking the chance that she will escape.  I think he wants to capture her more than anyone.”

              “It must be because of the attack on South Fort two years ago.”  Terryn wondered how he had not realized this before. 

              At one point during the war, South Fort became a base for the rebels.  Thousands and more had run there attempting to escape the King’s army but Rhada led her forces there and within a day, South Fort had been burned to the ground and its people had either run for their lives or had burned with the city.  Terryn hadn’t even considered the fact that Fendrel may have lost loved ones in the destruction of South Fort and wanted revenge.

              Terryn cleared his throat before speaking again.  “We cannot let Fendrel make decisions for everyone just because he has a vendetta.”

              Lord Ivran seemed surprised by Terryn’s comment and looked to him with questioning eyes.  After a moment, his eyes softened and he replied; “Fendrel is a smart man.  Though he may wish revenge for what was done to South Fort, he would not jeopardize our rebellion for his own needs.”

              Terryn was uncertain if he believed Fendrel truly felt that way but he decided he would trust Lord Ivran’s judgment.

              “I shall put it up for a vote tomorrow then.”  Lord Ivran said as he slowly stood, placed a silver piece on the table and turned to leave.  Before he even took one step however, he turned back round to Terryn and asked; “do you believe we are doing the right thing?”

              Terryn was uncertain what Lord Ivran meant.  He spun around in his chair and studied Ivran’s face.  “You mean, about the war?”

              “Perhaps this land has seen enough war.  Perhaps it has suffered enough bloodshed.”

              “It will suffer even more if we do not do something.”  Terryn stood from his chair and placed his hands on Lord Ivran’s shoulders.  “There are evil people living behind the castle walls.  The world must be rid of them and you are the only man who can do that.”

              Instead of being comforted by these words, Lord Ivran frowned.  He had the look of a man that was standing on the brink of a nervous breakdown. 

              Suddenly, he leaned forward and whispered.  “I think someone is following me.”

              Terryn was taken aback by this news.  He leaned in closer so that Lord Ivran would not have to speak loudly.

              “There was a man standing outside my door last night.”

              “Why?”

              “I am uncertain.  I think he was trying to eavesdrop but there is no way of knowing.”

              Terryn’s heart dropped at this news. 
Is there really a traitor in our midst? 
Could
it be
Fendrel? 

              “How do you know the man was not just lost, trying to find his way in the dark?”  Terryn asked, hoping that perhaps Lord Ivran had made a mistake.

              “Because the corridors were all lit
and
I chased the man.”

              Terryn looked to Ivran in surprise.

              “You chased the man?  Did you see who it was?”

              “No.  He was gone before I could make out a face.”  Lord Ivran stood up tall once more and looked around at the other patrons of the tavern, as though one of them could be his stalker. 

              “We must be careful from now on.”  Lord Ivran said after a moment, satisfied that no one was listening.  “Everything we do now could affect our chances of winning this war.” 

              Terryn nodded.  “We must find out who this traitor is and put a stop to them.”

              Lord Ivran nodded.  “Help me keep a lookout, will you?  You’re the only man I can trust.”  He said, placing a firm hand on Terryn’s shoulder.  Terryn felt a tinge of pride swell through him at being Lord Ivran’s closest confidant. 

              “Now then, I must go spend the rest of this night with Meira.  The poor woman has been neglected these past few days.”

              Terryn chuckled and nodded his head in understanding.  He watched Lord Ivran saunter out of the room with the posture of a broken and weary man.  It was not until Ivran disappeared out the door that Terryn drank the last of his wine and decided to retire to bed.  

            
 
The next day Terryn woke early for his breakfast before making his way to the council chamber in an attempt to avoid running into Fendrel.  He was relieved when he arrived without seeing another soul on his way.

              As time wore on, the chamber slowly began to fill with the council.  Some nodded to him as they entered and others turned their heads the other way when they saw him, clearly still upset about the day before.  Terryn slumped down into his chair and waited silently while the rest of the council arrived one-by-one. 

              Fendrel came through the door and upon seeing Terryn, smiled as though they were old friends and made his way back towards him.  He sat in the empty chair next to him and spoke softly.  “I am sorry for my actions yesterday.  I understand why you think it is a good idea to attack while the High Protector is away, but you must understand we cannot risk her hearing about the rebellion and fleeing.  She must answer for her crimes along with the rest of them.”  He lowered his voice before continuing.  “It will not matter how they fight back.  This time, they will be driven from the stone walls that protect them and we will be victorious.”

              “How can you be certain of that?”  Terryn asked with scrutiny.  He knew how Rhada could fight her way through almost anything, he had seen it first-hand. 

              “Because this time we are prepared, and this time we have Lord Ivran leading us.  You think the High Protector can command an army unlike any other?  Wait until you see what Lord Ivran is capable of.  He will save the realm.”  Fendrel said this last part with confidence and leaned back in his chair as Lord Ivran entered the room.  He smiled warmly at everyone before taking his seat.  Terryn’s focus, however, remained on Fendrel.  He could feel his anger towards the man dissolving.  There was no possible way for Terryn to believe that a man who could speak of Lord Ivran in such an honorable fashion could be an enemy.  He suddenly felt admiration towards Fendrel Mendis but decided never to mention it.   

“I trust everyone has come to a decision?”  Lord Ivran said above the low hum of whispers that filled the room.  Some people nodded and others began shouting their ideas and complaints.  No single voice could be heard over the shouts of all the people who were trying to speak.  Ivran held up a hand to silence them and they all obeyed.

              “I think it would be best to put the decision up for a vote.”  Most everyone seemed to be pleased by this prospect and they all sat up taller in their chairs and waited for their turn to raise their hands.

              “All in favor of attacking while the High Protector is away?”  No one raised their hand, not even Terryn who had recently had his mind changed by Fendrel.  Lord Ivran gave him a questioning look before sighing and turning back to his council.  “We shall wait then.”  Terryn couldn’t help noticing the disappointment in his voice.

              Before the council dispersed, they agreed to meet in two weeks’ time to discuss their strategy and the room emptied.  Fendrel patted Lord Ivran on the back and thanked him before leaving.  Terryn sat still in his chair.

              Lord Ivran took the seat Fendrel had recently vacated and asked; “what made you change your mind?”

              “Fendrel.  He was right.  Rhada would find out about the rebellion and she would disappear.  She does not deserve to escape punishment.”

              “Please,” Lord Ivran begged, “do not call her by name.  The name rings in my ears and leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”  Ivran sighed again.  “Perhaps I am too eager to attack and get this war over with.  I lay awake at night worrying.  I have not slept in days.”  Terryn knew it must be true from the look of the dark circles forming underneath his eyes.

              “Do not worry, my Lord.  All will work out for us, you will see.  It is time for a man such as you to save the realm.”  Ivran smiled at that.

              “Go home.”  Terryn continued.   “Rest, and come back in two weeks with a solid plan.  These people see your strength and are ready to follow you anywhere.”

              “Let us hope I do not lead them to their doom.”

              That night, Terryn sat in his room with his pack stuffed full of his clothes and his small carving knife resting in his open palms.  A sudden realization had struck him as he was packing his things to leave Mordrid; he realized that he had no skills in battle.  Terryn, who never quite learned how to defend himself, did not even own his own sword.  His parents had been esteemed members of the court and said that fighting wars was for barbarians.  They practically forbade him from learning to wield a weapon when he was younger.

              As he sat and examined his carving knife, he shuddered in fear. 
What am I to do when the fighting begins?  Am I to hide like a coward in some dark corner of the castle? 
He shook the thought from his mind.  He could not be responsible for starting this rebellion and then not participate when things became dangerous. 

              Terryn clutched the knife tightly in his grasp, stood and pushed his small traveling pack aside.  He walked to the door and threw it open angrily, not even bothering to close it behind him.

              When he descended the stairs, his heart leapt with joy at the sight of Fendrel.  It was Fendrel that he sought; he desperately needed to speak with him.

              “Hello Terryn.”  Fendrel said in acknowledgement and he smiled warmly at him.  “Come down for an ale before you’re off, have you?”  Terryn shook his head.

              “I need your help with something.”  He replied and he sat in the chair next to Fendrel.  He lowered his voice as he spoke so that no one in the tavern would hear.  “I need to know how to fight.”

              Fendrel reached up and began to stroke the small scruff of hair protruding from his chin.  His dark eyes darted up and down as he looked Terryn over.  “You’re a bit scrawny.”  He observed aloud, not noticing Terryn wince at the insult.

              “I know I am not suitable to join an army but I feel it is my duty to help when the rebellion begins.  I need to be a part of it.  I need to contribute in some way.”

              After a few moments of consideration, Fendrel nodded his head in agreement and smiled.  “I will help you.”  He said and he turned to the tavern wench and ordered another ale.

              “We have less than two months to turn you into a warrior.  That is not much time.  Your training must begin immediately.”

              Terryn looked around nervously.  He was supposed to return to the castle that night and did not know how they would be able to practice without the King taking notice.  “That will be difficult.”  He finally said with disappointment.

              “Write to the King.  Tell him your mother has taken a turn for the worse and you must stay by her side.  Of course, you will stay here and I will teach what I can in that short amount of time.”  Terryn, surprised by Fendrel’s knowledge of his private life, nodded.  Fendrel’s plan might work, so long as the King did not get suspicious and send scouts out to his mother’s home to investigate.

              The tavern wench returned with the second pint of ale and set it down in front of Fendrel who pushed it over to Terryn then raised his own glass high in the air and waited for Terryn to do the same.  When he did, Fendrel tapped his flagon against Terryn’s, making a loud
clank
sound resonate throughout the small tavern.

“We shall begin your training in the morning.”  He said as he took a sip of ale.  He set his glass back down and moaned with pleasure at the taste of the bubbling liquid.  Terryn took only a small sip and felt the ale mix with the butterflies in his stomach.  He suddenly felt the urge to vomit.

              “What if the King finds out?”  He whispered in fear.

              Fendrel raised an eyebrow at him before answering; “now is not the time for fear.  First rule of being a warrior; never let fear take hold of you and cloud your judgment.  You must be brave, Terryn.”

              At these words, Terryn sat up taller in his chair.  He puffed out his chest and took a deep breath for courage.  He let it out and felt the fear escape his body with his breath.  His tense muscles relaxed and he smiled at Fendrel.

              The two of them sat together for hours, drinking ale and talking about the rebellion.  When Fendrel stood to retire to his room, Terryn ran excitedly back to his own room as well to begin writing his letter to the King, begging for an extended stay at his mother’s home due to her declining health.  Neither of them noticed the cloaked figure sitting in the dark corner of the tavern, silently watching their every move.