Breaking the Gloaming (19 page)

“I am going in,” Ulysses said. “Out of my way.”

“Why?” Jacodin asked in a mocking voice. “You have been here every day the past week, asking for better quarters, asking for more arrows. Yet not once have you brought more gold with you.” He held out his hands innocently. “If it were up to me, I’d help you out. But you know how my father loves gold.”

“Besides,” Jonas added, “these archers are struggling to even hit the wall, much less the targets.” He pointed down to the men practicing below. He and Jacodin laughed.

“And you think you could do better?” Pikeli challenged them. Ulysses was surprised the young knight had kept his mouth shut this long.

“Oh, dear.” Jacodin looked at Pikeli. “I did not see you there, young knight, fearless leader of the fourth brigade. It must just be that you’re standing below me on the hill. You seem awfully short to be a leader of a thousand Valemidans.”

“I’m tall enough to take you.” Pikeli stepped forward and grabbed Jacodin’s fine shirt in his fist. The noble’s son was a full head taller.

Ulysses pulled them apart. “Enough, boys. We are on the same side here.” He glared at Jacodin and had an idea. “How about a wager, young Talnor?”

“A bet with Ulysses!” Jacodin replied. “Why, I would quite like that. What do you have in mind?”

“A little contest with the bow. You and Jonas against two other men from the brigade. You can pick one of them among the archers, and I’ll pick the other. Each man gets two shots. Whichever team hits the target the most times wins. Deal?”

“I like it,” Jonas answered with a dumb grin.

“You might have a deal.” Jacodin was more wary. “What are the terms?”

“If you win, you can report to your father that you convinced me to visit him only once a week, and I’ll buy you both a drink tonight and toast to your great skills with the bow.”

“A drink and a toast from the greatest knight in the land? I like that,” Jacodin said. “And if you win?”

“If I win, you let me through to see your father whenever I like, and you start training with these archers every day.”

“No way,” Jonas said. His smile was gone. “I am not spending my days with a group like this.”

Jacodin was quiet in thought. Ulysses could sense the pride working within him. He was not going to back down.

“Deal,” the young Talnor said at last. “Let’s go.”
 

He did not wait for Jonas to agree. He led the four of them down the hill and through the practicing soldiers to the targets by the wall.
 

Halfway there, a cloaked figure fell into step beside them.

“You are a strange group to be walking together.” Sebastian dispensed with a greeting. He wore all black as usual.
 

“You came to me before I expected,” Ulysses answered. He had summoned Sebastian just this morning.

“It’s not often a knight such as you wants to meet with a man like me,” Sebastian said. “I came as soon as I could.”

“Good. Join us and watch.” Ulysses kept up their brisk pace. “We have a war game wager. Afterward, you and I will talk.”

“I will wait,” Sebastian said, “but this better not take long. I do not have time for games.”

“Games like this are not games at all,” Ulysses replied. “When war approaches, everything is a training field. Still, this should not take long.”

Sebastian nodded and they walked in silence. The other men had been eyeing the newcomer warily. Few Valemidans knew what to make of the chief spy. Nothing like a common fear, Ulysses thought, to unite men.
 

They reached the line of archers, and the nobles’ sons began searching for their pick among the men. They enjoyed themselves while doing it, laughing at the soldiers without any regard to whether they could hear them or not.
 

“This one.” Jacodin pointed to an old thin man, maybe ten years older than Ulysses. “Fire again, good sir,” Jacodin commanded.

The old man winked at Ulysses and turned toward the targets. His arms and hands shook violently while he drew the string and released. The bow fell to the ground and the arrow sank into the mud twenty feet short of the target. The old man shrugged.

“He’s the one, he’s our pick!” Jonas looked to Ulysses. “And who is yours?”

“Shall I pick myself?” Ulysses put his hands to his chest. “Or maybe Pikeli? I hear the Sunans are trained well with the bow. Sebastian?” Pikeli and Sebastian both shook their heads. A crowd had gathered to watch them by now.

“I think it would be unfair to pick two old men to compete against two young ones, so I’ll pass on myself.” He swept his eyes over the men circling around them. He smiled when he saw his pick.

“That one.” He pointed to Telemachus. “If he can keep his hair out of his eyes, I think he’ll make us proud. This way, the average age of the teams will be closer.”
 

Tel walked forward, grasped the hand of the older archer and held it high. They were an odd-looking pair, but the surrounding men rooted for them all the same.
 

While Pikeli gave the competitors bows of equal quality, Ulysses drew a line in the mud with his boot. He made sure the line was far from the targets, twice as far as it had been for the practicing soldiers.

“You never said you’d make us shoot from so far,” Jonas complained.

“What, boy, afraid a grandfather is too strong for you?” The old archer said. He clapped his hand against Jonas’s back. “It’s a fine distance, I think, only the wise knight has put it so far that I can’t quite see the targets. At least it has stopped raining.”

Jacodin smiled. “You’ll just have to guess where the target is, grandfather.” He turned to Tel. “And you’ll have to pretend to be a man. Ulysses can only blame himself for making this so unfair. Good luck.”

The young Talnor took his bow and prepared to shoot first. His form surprised Ulysses. It was strong and stable. He steadied himself and released smoothly. The arrow sailed pure and struck the stone wall a foot to the right of the target. Ulysses breathed easier; he had not expected the young man to be that close on his first shot.

The old man was next. He looked far better than he had in practice. But it was a long shot. His arrow wobbled slightly and landed five feet short of the target.

Jonas went third. As soon as he grabbed his bow, Ulysses knew he had no chance. His feet were too close together. He pulled too hard on the string, and his arrow slipped from his hand and flew only a few feet. Pikeli bounced over, picked it up, and returned it to Jonas. The crowd of men laughed and mocked. Jonas’s face was red.

Tel had the last shot of the first round. He wiped his wet hair back from his forehead and crouched with the calm of a veteran. He pulled the string and released without the slightest pause. The arrow looked on the mark but hit the wall almost exactly where Jacodin’s had.

Four shots, no hits. Ulysses’s plan was working.

Jacodin took up position for his last shot. He wore grim determination on his face. Ulysses thought for a moment that he was something more than a spoiled, grown child. He almost looked like his father had many years ago.
 

Jacodin released and held his pose. The arrow struck the bullseye. The men cheered around him. He surprised Ulysses again by simply nodding and stepping away, as if he’d expected to do it and needed no praise.

The old man winked again at Ulysses before setting himself. It was a knowing wink, the kind passed between equals. He rubbed the white scruff on his cheek with his hand before taking the string. He pulled it back steadily and held it there, coiled with tension, for a long moment. He released and stayed frozen in his place. The arrow plunged into the bottom-most ring of the target. An inch lower and it would have missed.
 

The old man held his arms above his head in victory, while the men cheered, far louder than they had for Jacodin.

Jonas stepped up again. His stance looked better, but he was still far from ready for this. His arrow wobbled through the air and hit the wall ten feet high and to the right.

Tel was last. He did not spare a look for his father. Ulysses watched him, his gut clenching with the raw, hopeful anticipation only a father knows. He wanted to stand at his boy’s side, to tell him to shift his left knee out an inch, to keep his bow straighter. But he stood to the side. He did not offer advice, for Tel no longer needed it.
 

The arrow sailed just as Jacodin’s had, high and pure, and it met Jacodin’s in the bullseye.
 

The crowd roared. Ulysses’s joy was even louder inside him. He walked to his son and clasped his shoulders. They smiled at each other, knowing, loving.
 

Then Tel turned back to his men, waving in thanks for their praise. The time would come for the father and son to celebrate this together.

As the crowd dissipated, Ulysses approached Jacodin and Jonas. Jonas was whining. Jacodin took it like a man. Pikeli stood beside them, quiet for once, but with triumph written all over his face.

“You’ll report to Pikeli at first light tomorrow,” Ulysses said. “Pikeli, start Jonas with the archers. He has much to learn. From now on, have the archers train for the real siege to come. Set the targets out on the beach, and have them shoot from the walls. The battle is coming soon.”

Ulysses turned from Pikeli to Jacodin. Ryn’s son had been hiding his skills, drowning them in taverns. Valemidas could not afford to let men like him go to waste.
 

“Put Jacodin in charge of half the brigade’s swordsmen, and put Tel in charge of the other half. Let them organize and plan for a melee to take place in a week. Whichever of them wins, I will advise the prince to raise him to knighthood.”
 

Jacodin met Ulysses’s stare. There was respect in his gaze.
 

Ulysses stepped to him and spoke in a low voice only he could hear. “You have greatness within you, like your father. Ryn fought by my side with valor before he gained his noble house. Age and riches have slowed him, but you have his spirit. I would be honored to fight beside his son in this war. Our city needs you. Be an example to your peers.” He nodded toward Jonas.

“Thank you,” Jacodin replied. “My father does not talk about his past much.”
 

“When a man has grown soft by his own choices, it might shame him to think of his former strength.”

“Different strengths are needed for times of peace and war,” Jacodin said. “My father is powerful in the politics of this city.”

“The difference between peace and war is only circumstance. Ask yourself which kind of strength you would rather have. The strength to fight and preserve peace, or the strength to merely live in peace.” Ulysses turned to go.
 

“You cannot manipulate men into whatever you wish,” Jacodin said.

“I lead men,” Ulysses said, glancing back, “and men follow wisdom. You would do well to do the same.”

Ulysses studied the group still around them. They looked too tired and uncertain for what was to come. “For Valemidas!” he chanted as he walked away.

“For Valemidas!” they responded.

Ulysses needed to speak with Ryn, but not before he dealt with Sebastian. He tapped the spy’s shoulder as he departed. Sebastian followed him.

They walked in quiet as a light mist began to fill the darkening sky. Ulysses led him up the stairs in the tower at the southwest corner of the wall. Once they reached the ramparts, looking over the beach to the south, Sebastian spoke first.

“The Sunans will be as numerous as this sand. They believe their leader is their god. The disorder and disunity we have seen among the Valemidans would not be tolerated in Sunan.”

“You sound disappointed in our people,” Ulysses said, “but you have become one of us. What has kept you here?”
 

“Duty,” Sebastian answered. “My father sent me away to learn from this land and its people when I was twelve years old. I learned how to find my way among the shadows and those who dwell in them. In time I enlisted with the prince’s network of spies, and you know the story from there. I am here now because it is my duty to Andor.”

Ulysses found Sebastian’s open, honest gaze unnerving. It was too honest for a spy. “When did you last hear from someone in Sunan?” Ulysses pried at a different angle.

Sebastian glanced out to the sea. “Merchants were long a source of information. Now that trade has cut off, the messages are few and far between. I pick up bits and pieces from smugglers, from the black markets that our prince pretends he does not see.”

“And when did you last pick up one of these bits of information?” Ulysses wanted his question answered.

“It was about a month ago, from a smuggler.”
 

“And the smuggler confirmed that Sunan would be invading this winter?” Ulysses asked.

“Yes, he said their full fleet would arrive in a few months. His Excellency will be leading the voyage and the war.” Sebastian touched his temple when he said the Sunan leader’s title.

“His Excellency has tattoos like yours?” Ulysses guessed.
 

Sebastian stared at Ulysses. “Why does that matter?” Sebastian’s tone hinted that knew the Sunan leader’s tattoos, even though he once claimed to have never met him.

“Your tattoos mark you as a Sunan here.” Ulysses touched the blank, wrinkled skin beside his eyes. “I need to know more about our enemy. Do all Sunans have them?”

“Almost all,” Sebastian said. “The men receive them once they reach the age of enlisting, usually around ten years old. Women do not have them unless they serve in the temples. Servants of His Excellency’s house receive them only upon death, as their rewards for lives of service. The tattoos show our place in society.”

“Your tattoos, the pyramids,” Ulysses said, “they show that you are of the royal house?”
 

“My pyramids?” Sebastian hesitated and glanced back toward the river. “No, my father was a warrior. Pyramids are the symbol of Sunan. It is a common tattoo.”
 

Ulysses knew it was a lie. He pressed further. “What are you going to do with the Icarian powder?”