Circle of Reign (60 page)

“Where is that, do you think?” Hedron asked.

Aiden turned his attention back toward the unnatural dark fog. He considered for several moments before answering. “Northern Arlethia. There can be no doubt.”

That evening, the small party reached the first village in the Arlethian forest. Eledir was the most northern settlement within Arlethia. A small boy greeted them with a bow and arrow notched on the twine string. The weapon stood taller than him. He struggled to draw the bow in a show of strength, but instead he settled on puffing out his chest and deepening his voice.

“Who are you? What do you want here?”

Hedron and Aiden looked at each other, somewhat perplexed. The wolf cubs, over half the height of this boy, advanced to him with tails wagging. The boy stepped back, afraid. He turned to run.

“No,” Hedron called out, “it’s all right. We mean you no harm.”

“Bad wolves!” Ehliss scolded. This drew a look from Aiden that bespoke his incredulity. “What?” she asked. “They were scaring him.”

“They are not dogs or children, princess. They won’t obey you like your other royal subjects.”

“Aiden, I’m not going to—”

“
Master
Aiden, if you don’t mind Highness.” Aiden approached the boy before Ehliss could respond. He did get a small bit of satisfaction at seeing her mouth open but she was too dumbfounded to speak.

“Lad, I am Aiden, formerly master of the hold guard for Lord Therrium. Who are you?”

“Why should I tell you that? You’re a stranger so far as I can see.”

“No wood-dweller is a stranger to another wood-dweller, lad.” Aiden knelt down to the boy’s height. “What’s your name?”

The boy heaved a deep breath and looked down. “My sister calls me Fletch, but my real name is Mikahl.”

“All right Fletch, nice to meet you. Where does your nickname come from?”

In response, the boy raised his arrow and stroked the feathers. “I prepare the fletching for the arrows. Rue-anna makes the bows and the shafts. Mother weaves and treats the strings.”

“And your father?” Aiden asked.

Fletch looked down again. “He went with my brother to fight for Lord Therrium. They haven’t yet returned.”

“Mikahl!” yelled a woman thirty paces behind him. Aiden stood. The boy retreated to the woman, obviously his mother. She scolded him and sent him back to his chores. After Fletch disappeared into a nearby cottage, the woman approached them.

“You are Arlethians,” she observed. Then looking at Ehliss, she said, “Most of you, anyway. What are you seeking?”

“Kind mother, I am Aiden. The boy is Hedron and the lady Ehliss, of the Ministry of Terran Studies. We seek nothing from you except the whereabouts of Lord Therrium. We have traveled many days from the north in search of him.”

“You’ll search the rest of your lives to find him alive. His body was found last morning a few leagues from here amongst the corrupted parts.”

Aiden tried to speak but failed.

“Therrium is dead?” Hedron exclaimed.

The mother nodded. “We also found a guard near Therrium’s body, barely old enough to be a man. We thought he was dead but found a weak pulse. We tended to his wounds as best we could but he still has not awakened.”

Aiden’s heart skipped a beat. “A guard? Young?”

She nodded again. “He’s in my home resting. We do not know if he will pull through yet.”

Aiden’s mind wondered if it were possible. There was only one person it could be, assuming Lord Therrium had not yet replenished the Hold Guard. But he would not have had a chance to do so yet.

“Good mother, we have no time, but will you give him something for me?”

She shrugged. “If he awakens, yes.”

Aiden quickly wrote a note on a scrap of parchment and handed it to the woman, folded.

Something struck Hedron as he looked around at the small village. “Where are all the men? Your husband? Your son said he went to fight—”

“Dead, most likely. My oldest son as well. All the men old enough to wield a sword or bow left to fight after the army fell. It was a chaotic counterattack. Brutal, I am told. They were not successful.” She looked away as she spoke, doing her best to hide the tears welling. “The fires came—not here, but they were not far off when they were snuffed out.”

“What stopped them?” Ehliss asked. “There has been no rain.”

“The corruption,” was all she said.

Aiden could guess what she meant, though he shuddered to think of it.

“Mother, what is your name?” Hedron asked.

“Seilia,” she answered.

“What is this ‘corruption’ you speak of?” he probed further.

“You can see for yourself.” She gestured with her chin toward the southwest. “It’s not but a few leagues, as I’ve said. We were spared, thank the Ancients.”

“So who is left here?” Aiden asked.

“Just the women and children and those men too infirm to fight. The same as everywhere I expect. My husband is—” Seilia swallowed a lump in her throat. “—was, rather, a carpenter.” She reached toward a small wreath-like pendant hanging around her neck: a carving of Triarch leaves.

“The detail is exquisite. It’s beautiful,” Ehliss said.

“He taught my little ones as they watched him work. Rue-anna is most gifted with the wood, even at seven years old. She’s also good with a bow, that one is. Mikahl not as much, but he works where he can, snaring birds and plucking their feathers for fletching.”

“To what end, good mother?” Aiden asked.

“Making bows and arrows, of course. We will need them. The Senthary will come again and we hear rumors that the army is no more and we are without a Lord or any real leader. Arlethia may fracture.”

Hedron and Aiden looked at each other.

“You cannot stay,” Hedron warned. “The Senthary are not your most immediate concern. It would be wise to flee south and inland as much as possible.”

“I won’t leave my home,” Seilia protested. “No one in Eledir will. We have been here for centuries.”

“He is right, Seilia. A force greater than the Senthary arrives not another half span hence from the north,” Aiden said. “For your children’s sake you must flee. Take those who would follow and run. We must find the remnants of the army.”

“You aren’t listening, Master Aiden. There is no army left.”

Aiden looked at her curiously when she addressed him formally.

“Yes, I know who you are. Not by sight, just by your name and Helvish accent. I wasn’t sure until just now. There are few that hail from the ghost village of Helving.” Seilia referred to the wispy white moss that hung from the ubiquitous Furlop trees in the cliff village. When the wind blew, the moss truly did appear to be specters sailing through the air.

“What of General Roan, then?” Aiden asked.

“I do not know of any survivors. Perhaps a few here and there, but after the corruption came, there were strange vibrations in the forest. Heavy, as fast as a wood-dweller. But, not long after, there were no more. None of us could sense anything save for the Sentharian armies setting up camp. There is talk of demons in the forest, that the Senthary fight alongside devils. My children fear to close their eyes at night for even a moment.”

Aiden understood better than the others. Twice before had he felt the thunderous footfall that was at least as swift as a wood-dweller’s, coming from monstrous beings he still did not comprehend. Helsyans, Jayden had called them. The first time he encountered one, he had failed. The second time, he did not. Therrium still lay lifeless all the same if what Seilia reported was true.

“Seilia, hear me,” Aiden said. “There
are
demons, both in the forest and coming from the north. The like of which you have never imagined, nor your children in their worst nightmare. We
have met them and they are most feral. I beg of you to heed my words. Take your little ones and travel southwest at speed. Do not delay.”

She pondered for a few moments. “I will not leave. What will you do?” she asked.

When he saw there was no arguing with the woman, he no longer tried to persuade her. “We must make our way to Calyn. The city will be in panic.”

“I have heard militia from all across Arlethia are gathering there. Men and some women, even children who are old enough to carry a sword. They are not soldiers, though. My children are making what they can for weapons to aid them. Their efforts are noble but I fear too little.”

“Who leads?” Hedron asked.

“No one that I know of.” Seilia crossed her arms, enfolding them in a shawl against the chill of the season. “Rumors are rife with mass disorganization and power grabs. Other groups of our people are fleeing into hiding.”

Aiden glanced at Hedron, and he could tell the boy felt his gaze.

“Therrium has a son,” Hedron recalled. “Maybe eleven years of age by now, beyond the age of innocence. Farahan, I think.”

“There is no such thing as innocence anymore. A boy cannot lead in a time of war,” Seilia said. “Some say that Therrium’s wife has fled with her children regardless. What do you hope to accomplish? We do what we can but little hope prevails in the land. What will you do?”

Aiden looked back at Seilia. “I, good mother, am going to show the demons my steel.”

FORTY-THREE

High Duke Emeron Wellyn

Day 3 of 2
^nd
Dimming 412 A.U.

“IT IS DONE,”
Tyjil reported. “Field Marshal Baylent reports a victory against the Arlethians.”

The High Duke’s private chambers were exquisitely appointed with ornately carved dark rich wood panels inlaid on the walls. The images carved therein were great battle scenes of the past along with his ancestors depicted in powerful settings. The quarters were small by design, allowing Wellyn to be free from distractions when he needed solitude. He sat at his desk with anticipation dripping down his temples.

“What else does the message say?” the High Duke asked. “Why did a Field Marshal send the report and not High Lord Marshal Tulley?”

Tyjil was scanning down the rolled paper that had arrived moments earlier from a messenger bird.

“The Lord Marshal is reported as killed in battle, as were many of the officers. Baylent requests instructions on new leadership for those forces along the northwestern border of Arlethia. He has provided a list of the remaining officers and their ranks.” Tyjil pulled a second page from behind the first and held it up for the High Duke to see.

“And the southern contingents?”

“Baylent reports no contact with those detachments. Their success seems to be unknown currently.”

Wellyn lost himself in a quandary.

“Ah, the Ancient Heavens have smiled upon us,” Tyjil continued reporting as he read farther down the paper. “Therrium is dead. Our scouts found him yesterday afternoon, it appears.

“The men,” he continued, “are uneasy, according to Baylent. The change in the forest as well as rumors of demons aiding their victory…oh my, this is delightful!” The High Duke’s Advisor seemed to glow during this part of the report.

With the announcement of Therrium’s death, Wellyn felt hopeful. “How many men are left?”

“No prisoners were taken, my Liege, but it seems to me that the entire Arlethian army has been exterminated at the northern front. Perhaps even General Roan has fallen.”

“No, Tyjil, our soldiers. How many are left?”

“Not knowing the status of the forces at the middle and southern fronts, Baylent reports less than thirty-four thousand.”

Wellyn cursed.

Addressing Wellyn’s displeasure with the reported loss of his forces, Tyjil said, “My Duke, the plan is working. The Borathein cannot be more than two days from the Arlethian Border. My own scouts have reported that they have arrived within the borders of the Northern Province. Arlethia will soon be cleared of the inhabitants there and we will take possession of our new lands, those that do not cycle. We will be free to search for the Lumenatis at our leisure and root out the Gyldenal.”

“And for the Borathein’s help, they obtain the rest of the Realm.” Wellyn’s reluctance was obvious.

“For the time being, my Duke, but once we have harnessed the power of the Lumenatis, we will have dominion wherever we wish.”

“It will not be long before they realize the Realm’s land is cycling. We will not have much time to discover this mythical power you speak of.”

“No, my Liege, it is not mythical. I have witnessed and felt its essence. It is real.”

“Yes, yes, when you were still banished and had your ‘revelations’ in the haunted forest. You do sound quite mad when you speak of it, Tyjil.”

“Thank you, my Duke,” the old serpent-looking man replied, clearly taking it as a compliment. “I have proven my words in part, have I not, yes?”

Wellyn nodded. “You have. Whatever Dark Influence you obtained among that ancient scourge in the Tavaniah has been most effective. It’s not that I doubt you, Tyjil. The gravity and size of the risk I am taking weighs on me.”

“It is the risk we both have taken.”

A knock at the door interrupted their discussion.

“Enter,” Wellyn said. One of the Khans outside the chamber opened the door and admitted a page.

“High Duke Wellyn, I apologize for my interruption.” He knelt quickly and held out a roll of paper. “Another message has arrived by wing.” The boy’s hands were shaking and sweaty.

“What does it say?” Wellyn asked.

“My Duke?”

“You’ve read it, haven’t you?”

The page became even more nervous. He nodded.

“Well then, boy, tell your Duke what it says,” Wellyn demanded.

In a shaky voice the boy said, “The South—Lord Hoyt, I mean. He has defected and joined the Arlethians!”

Emeron Wellyn stood up abruptly and his chair fell backward to the stone floor. Tyjil backhanded the page and snatched the message away. The boy yelped at the physical rebuke and remained kneeling with his head bowed.

“Where did this come from?” Tyjil demanded.

“A bird, my Lord. A falcon, the same as the other.”

“This message claims to be from Field Marshal Baylent as well.” Tyjil examined it closely, as if the message were suspect. He compared the new message with the previous one for several minutes.
The page began to get up but Tyjil slapped him again, ceasing the boy’s movement. Finally, he looked up at Wellyn, who stared at him intently.