Loyalty Fallen Hub

Chapter 14

The mood was somber as the little group went outside to the horses and Brenin helped Ren mount. The young bodyguard’s leg was throbbing painfully by now, and his freckles stood out more than usual against his pale face. “Thanks,” he said briefly.

Chance moved to help Kathryn mount, but she was already seated in the saddle and gathering up the reins. He hastened to do the same and they trotted away from the little cabin. Kathryn asked, “How far away is this healer?”

“Almost exactly 50 miles. I’m afraid we won’t get there today.” Chance glanced up at the sky, which was already becoming dim. “There’s a moon tonight. We may want to keep moving in case they decide to continue through the night,” he began.

Brenin said, “No. They have been traveling without rest. They’ll have to stop tonight or risk their horses dying of exhaustion.”

“I wouldn’t put it past Xian though,” Ren observed.

“We’ll take the risk and rest tonight,” Kathryn said, glancing over at Ren worriedly as she spoke.

Chance saw the look and decided it was best to change the subject. “You wanted to hear about the dagger, didn’t you? I’ll tell you; it will help pass the time.”

Without waiting for a reply, he launched into his story with a theatrical flair. “The second war with Navinor had already been raging for a full year. It seemed likely to continue for at least another. Prince Illian was known to the soldiers as their savior, while Kathryn was widely seen as the savior of the civilians through her wise trade deals that sustained them throughout the misery of another war.

“Meanwhile, the king was struggling with ill health, and many openly suggested that the kingdom would be better led by his son. But the young prince showed no desire for anything other than battle. From what the commoners heard, Prince Illian was like the reaper on the battlefield. Not only did his strategies consistently ensure victory in all of the major battles, but he took to the field himself despite the warnings and concern of his men. He cut down dozens of enemy soldiers with his own hand and wielded a sword with an ivory hilt set with opals.

“At least, that was the story that I had heard. I never minded it much, though. The story meant little to me as long as Navinor troops were still many miles away from the little village where I drifted after growing up as an orphan. I liked living in a small village where everyone knew each other and was friendly. I often enjoyed telling stories to the children about the prince, since they idolized him and hoped to become soldiers one day. It seemed like the war was far away and would never come to the little village.”

He leaned forward a little on his horse, lowering his voice to scarcely a whisper as Brenin rolled his eyes. “Navinor did come, however. There was a massive battle just outside of the village. Illian’s troops were ambushed, but the prince, it was said, had escaped despite his men being surrounded. Navinor invaded the little village simply because they could. They burned all of the houses and murdered many of the inhabitants. Others, they took as prisoners. I was among those prisoners.”

He spoke quite dramatically. “I was beaten and battered, but I had already determined that I was not going to let them best me. I was going to make it out alive somehow. The soldiers had us all grouped together with our hands bound behind us and our ankles lashed. And they set up a few guards to watch over us before they went to sleep. They didn’t give us any food or water. I was fearful, but I kept calm.”

Kathryn rolled her eyes right along with Brenin, but she was rather enjoying listening in spite of herself. Ren was thoroughly absorbed in the tale.

Chance continued, “I began to struggle with my bonds. The knots were tight, but I could feel them beginning to loosen. And then I heard a low voice quite near me say, ‘Hey. Most of these people don’t know how to fight. But I have a feeling you do.’ I glanced over and saw a dirty, ragged young soldier with cropped blond hair and a thin face looking at me. He was bruised and cut, but unlike the rest of us, unlike me, he didn’t look afraid. There was something about his eyes. They were intelligent and serious. And somehow, I knew he would be able to help me.

“He freed himself from his bonds faster than I did; he had a small blade hidden in his sleeve. He cut me free and whispered, ‘We have to kill the guards. If I free everyone else now, most of them will be killed.’ I, being less generous, reminded him that they would serve as a distraction for us to escape. But he was so very noble. Have you guessed who the prisoner was?”

“It was Illian,” Kathryn said in a low voice.

Chance smiled at her approvingly. “Yes. He hadn’t escaped as all; he had disguised himself as a common soldier instead. Most of the soldiers were out looking for him, leaving few to guard the camp. I am quite a sly sort myself; I’m used to fighting in streets and back alleys, and it was a simple matter to slit the throats of the guard as they nodded off to sleep, exhausted by the battle. Then we untied the other prisoners and made our escape. I had been wounded in the leg upon my capture, however, and struggled to keep up. Two guards were upon me, and I was about to lose my head when Illian intervened. He stabbed one of them in the throat with his tiny blade and took a stab in the shoulder from the other before wrestling his sword away from him and cutting him down with one blow.

“He was like a whirlwind. He cut through several more guards alone with his sword, like some hero out of a storybook. It was incredible. I have never seen anything like it, and I never will again. He saved my life that day, and then gave me a job in his castle and this dagger in appreciation for helping him escape. The end.” Chance seemed quite satisfied with his storytelling capabilities.

Ren cocked his head with a frown. “That’s a load of rubbish, though.”

“No it isn’t,” Chance argued. “I told it exactly as it happened.”

“But you can’t have. Illian was never captured; we’d have heard news of it,” Ren protested.

Kathryn said softly, “Something did happen, actually. That year, Illian went missing for two days from the front. Those days were simply omitted from his report. He never said what had happened. Now, I’m guessing he took a small force in an attempt to infiltrate Gregory’s encampment and end the war, but instead found himself facing an ambush and capture. He didn’t wish to admit it because it would be harmful for morale. And before long, it became easier to simply pretend it had never happened.”

“See, your dearly beloved has a good head on her shoulders,” Chance remarked. Ren reddened a little at the words, and Brenin harumphed, but Chance continued, “That’s exactly right, little ex-princess. He told me to maintain the utmost secrecy. And out of respect for the fact he’d saved my life, I of course did. For your information, the little healer we are going to see was also at the village at that time. But he doesn’t really consider himself loyal to Illian. If anything, he blames Illian for the fact that the battle took place there that killed his parents. He remained at what was left of the village for a while, helping those who remained, but eventually he left and found himself in the place we’re about to go to.”

“What’s his name?” Ren asked curiously.

“Cal. Calix, that is. He won’t like it if you call him Cal when you first meet him. Oh, and he’s quite a grumpy child. You shouldn’t expect him to treat you like a proper princess, Miss Kathryn.”

“I wouldn’t expect anyone to treat me like a princess if I cannot even hold the title,” Kathryn replied in a low voice.

“You called him a child. Does that mean he’s around my age?” Ren questioned.

Chance’s face broke into a wide smile. “You admit you’re a child, then? But no. I mean he’s an actual child. I think he’s about 15 or 16, last I recall. It’s been a while since I saw him, though.”

As they got ready to pause for the night, Kathryn noticed that Ren’s breath was coming in harsh gasps and he seemed to be in a great deal of pain. As Brenin helped him down from his horse, Chance remarked, “I sort of thought you’d be the tough fellow who wouldn’t let your pain show because it might embarrass you in front of the girl.”

Ren retorted, “I am tough! But the thing is, it hurts like the devil!” He was still pale and shaky, and the bandage was stained with blood.

Kathryn hurriedly laid out a bedroll for him, but Ren reached out a hand to stop her. “You don’t have to do that, Princess,” he began.

“I’m not a princess,” she said briefly. She pulled his arm over her shoulder and helped him limp over to his bedroll. Then she glanced over at Chance. “You can sleep on the other side of the clearing.”

“Sure; wouldn’t want to ruin the magic,” Chance said cheerfully.

Ren was a bit startled when Kathryn put down her bedroll right next to his. “Uh…Kat, what’re you…”

“I’m worried about you going into shock.” Kathryn lay down next to him and turned towards him so she could put her hand on his forehead, which was unnaturally warm. “Just go to sleep. I’m going to watch over you for tonight.” Ren was pretty sure he hadn’t been in any danger of going into shock prior to that moment.

“Ooh, you get to play the sympathy card, Ren!” Chance cheered. “I’m rooting for you, buddy!”

Brenin snorted, hiding a smile.

“Shut up,” Ren told them. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Kathryn hated having time to think. Up until now, they’d had little opportunity. Now, at night, right next to him, she was thinking about the fact that she felt numb. In her mind, she knew her father had abandoned her and her brother had betrayed her. But her emotions were frozen and sluggish. It was a disgusting feeling, but perhaps it was also protecting her from the overwhelming grief of what had happened. She lay staring up at the sky in silence. The moon was bright, and the stars somehow seemed closer than usual.

Chance interrupted her thoughts with, “Feel free to drop off, Miss Kathryn; I’ll look after our mutual friend if you want.”

Brenin broke in, “No need. I’ll take the first watch.” He glared suspiciously at Chance. “I suppose you can take the second.”

Kathryn looked at Ren’s white, still face. He seemed to be asleep now, but his breathing was uneven. “I’ll look after Ren myself,” she said firmly.

She rolled over in her bedroll to make it clear she didn’t want to talk anymore. With a shrug, Chance also rolled over. The moon rose higher in the sky and shined down on the little clearing. There was a gentle breeze.

Chance was nearly asleep when a hand tapped his shoulder, and he startled wide awake to find himself looking up at Brenin’s grim, lined face.

Brenin said, “I want to talk to you.”

He turned and slipped away through the trees, more silently than should have been possible at his size. Chance followed, carefully stepping to avoid any twigs that might awaken their sleeping companions.

Once they were far away enough that their voices wouldn’t be heard, Brenin turned to Chance. “How good is this healer?” he demanded.

Chance raised an eyebrow. “He’s good,” he replied quietly. “The best.”

“Who is he? Tell me about him.” Brenin’s foot tapped restlessly as he waited for the reply.

“As I said, his name is Cal, and he’s around 15. His parents were healers before him until they died in the war,” Chance began.

“Not that. Is he the one everyone was talking about?” Brenin’s tone became sharp.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Chance said lightly.

“Don’t play games. There was a young healer; the people in his village called him a monster and threw him out. They died weeks afterwards. Is it him?”

“Yes.” Chance’s response was very quiet. “But Cal didn’t kill them.”

Brenin shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t like to admit it, but like most of the older generation in Iridalys, he was a bit superstitious.And there was something very unsettling about a whole village expiring. “What is he?”

“He’s nothing special.”

“How did they die?”

“They were already sick. The first one became ill, and Cal tried to treat him. The treatment was unsuccessful, and the villagers threw him out. They dropped like flies after throwing out their only chance at survival.” Chance’s tone was matter-of-fact. Evidently, he had little sympathy to waste on the villagers.

Brenin glanced back at the encampment, his face softening to an expression that betrayed both grief and fear. “Ren is dying,” he said quietly.

“Cal can help him.”

“Can he do miracles? Ren said he was hit by a Viper bolt. The infection is already spreading.” Brenin took a deep breath and leaned against a tree. They could hear crickets, and somewhere far away a wolf howled.

“Ren seems pretty tough to me,” Chance said gently. “He can make it.”

“I’ve seen wounds like his before.”

“Believe me, you’ve never seen a healer like Cal. I know you have no reason to trust me, but it won’t be long before you see it yourself.”

Brenin was quiet, studying Chance’s face and seeking some kind of assurance there. Apparently he found it. He turned away with a yawn. “Well, I’m going to bed. You take the watch.”

“But you only just started yours-”

Brenin had already slipped through the trees and returned to the encampment. Chance shook his head with annoyance.

In the meantime, Kathryn heard the soft sound when Brenin returned to his bedroll. She waited until she heard the deep, even breathing that told her he was asleep. Then she rose from her bedroll and walked about a hundred yards away from the clearing. She stood half-hidden by the trees, watching Chance as he stood looking intently up at the sky.

Chance didn’t know that Kathryn was watching him. He whistled softly.

A pigeon cooed and swooped in out of the sky. It landed on his glove. He quickly scrawled out a message on a tiny piece of paper and put it in the capsule on the pigeon’s leg before launching it off his fist into the sky. “Head home, buddy,” he said softly. Kathryn waited a few more minutes before returning to her bedroll. She could guess who Chance had sent the message to. She could only hope there was nothing in it that would cause them harm. At the moment, the priority was to get Ren help, and only Chance could do that.

Far away at the palace, Illian stood at the bedside of his dying father with a completely expressionless face. The heavy black curtains at the windows kept all the moonlight out, and the only light was from the dim glow of a kerosene lamp. The only sound was the labored breathing of the sick king, whose face was gray and still. The royal physician told Illian sadly, “He might not survive the night.”

“Illian,” The king whispered weakly. “I want you…to send everyone…out.”

Illian waved his hand slightly, and the servants hastened to exit the room. Then the king held out his withered hand. “Come here, son.”

Illian walked over to him, but he didn’t take his hand. “Yes, Father?” he said coldly.

“Illian, you…are going to be…king. You will be…a strong…king. I made sure…of that.”

“Thank you.” Illian’s eyes were devoid of any pity or sadness.

The King’s eyes showed anger, even now. “Illian, all I did…was for our kingdom,” he rasped. He clutched at Illian’s tunic. “The kingdom…the kingdom…is what matters.”

“I only want to know one thing from you, Father.” Illian stood stiffly, but there was a faint tremor in his voice. “Why didn’t you take me back?” Uncharacteristically, he raised his voice. “Why was I wounded and alone hundreds of miles away from my home when my mother died? Why were you hiding back here like a coward while I led armies in your defense?!” He pulled free of his father’s grip. “What kind of father does that to his son?” he hissed.

“Because. I needed you,” the king whispered.

Illian stood still for a moment, staring down at him in disbelief and scorn. Then he said, “Well, then. I guess there’s nothing more to be said.”

He turned to go. “Illian, wait!” The king struggled to sit up, grasping after his son desperately with a hand that dropped weakly to the blanket a second later. He lay back and closed his eyes as he murmured faintly, “Kathryn…” Perhaps the name was borne of some sense of regret after all that occurred. Or perhaps it was simply the last name he remembered as all of his senses faded.

Illian whitened and he bit his lip until it bled. Then he opened the door and left to the sound of the physician calling, “The King is dead!”

The cry went out throughout the castle. “The king is dead! Long live King Illian!”

Illian strode down the hall towards the throne room with a cold, emotionless face. Under his breath, he said, “Long live the king.”

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