Silence fell with the messenger’s words.
Talia moved and spoke as though her body were numb. “From… from my brother?”
“I last saw him weeks ago, Princess. I’ve discovered since that he has – that he has passed.” The messenger, this Nibo, seemed as choked up by it as Talia.
She seemed unable to summon more words.
Brode intervened. “Why don’t you tell us your story, Nibo? How did you come here?”
“Honored Rider.” Nibo bowed to Brode and then began his tale. “King Leofric summoned me one morning before dawn. He was troubled, distant, distracted. He told me I was to make for the Crag at once and only to place this letter in Talia’s hands. I was to burn it rather than let anyone else read its contents. Yet such was the secrecy of my mission, and Leofric’s fear, I was forbidden from taking the horse relay routes via the forts. The roads would be watched, he said. As I say, the king was distressed.”
Nibo’s shoulders slumped.
“I asked him to confide in me, but he said he could not. If I were his friend, I would ask him no more. And so, I left, and began the arduous journey over rough country. Six days ago, I came upon the edge of the Howling Hills and found streams of people fleeing to Midbell.”
He averted his eyes now.
“Forgive me, Princess, but I disobeyed your brother in making for the town myself. I know a lone traveler will not attract a swarm, but I felt
myself in too much danger in the open.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” Talia said. “My brother would not have wished you to risk your life and your mission.”
“I am relieved to hear your pardon all the same. I intended to set out as soon as the siege was over, but everyone spoke of a dragon rider who turned the battle. I thought I might get information on your whereabouts. It’s my one stroke of good fortune that the rider who saved the town should turn out to be you!”
Talia glanced to Holt at this but said nothing.
Nibo presented her the letter. It was still sealed with purple wax.
Talia took it as though receiving her brother’s own ashes and began to read. Nibo stepped back until he was at the servants’ distance from Talia, a space Holt knew all too well.
“I’m sorry I almost hit you with magic,” Holt said.
Nibo blinked. “No offense is taken, Honored Rider.” He actually bowed. Holt opened his mouth, then closed it. With the exception of the Knight Captain, the people at Fort Kennet hadn’t afforded him the title and the etiquette usually given to riders. But they had known he was a Cook, and he’d still been in his commoner cloth then. Now he wore a well pressed white shirt and had cast a magical ability. Would Nibo have acted
differently if he knew the truth?
Talia turned milk pale. “I don’t believe it.”
Nibo eyed the letter as though it were responsible for the death of his friend. “I dread what it says. I fear Leofric has suffered for it. I’ve never seen him so distressed, even when word arrived from the Toll Pass last year.”
“May I?” Brode said, walking over to Talia with his hand outstretched.
She handed him the letter without protest, her eyes fixed somewhere on the ground.
Holt could only wonder how terrible a message it could be. He patted Ash’s neck by way of comforting himself, feeling the bond glow warm.
“Your magic felt strong,” Ash remarked.
“The bolt of light?” Holt said quietly. “I’ll need to practice.”
Now he thought on it, he’d also need to name his ability, as Talia had. Her first ability was Fireball – so what was his? ‘Light Beam’ didn’t seem right. Too wordy and it wasn’t so much a beam, as Ash’s breath was, but more of a blast. A shock.
“I’ll call it Shock for now,” he told Ash. The dragon hummed in agreement.
At that point, Brode had finished scanning the letter and lowered it. “Grave news indeed.”
“What is it?” Holt asked.
Brode looked to Talia, who nodded, and then Holt was handed the letter.
He began to read.
Dearest Sister,
I write to you out of desperation. I need your help.
Evidence has reached me of a conspiracy so terrible it is hard to fathom. Yet it is undeniable to those in our family. A rot which has burrowed to the very heart of our kingdom. Given how deep it runs I dare not move without you by my side. As powerful as our opponents are, they cannot hope to stand against a dragon rider when the time comes.
I have told no one else. I cannot. I know even my conversations with Mother are overheard by prying ears in the palace, and I have long suspected that my letters to councilors are opened and read before they arrive.
Even as I write, there is a rider staying in the palace on his way to the Crag – the legendary Silas Silverstrike. He has been kind to me and offered me tonics from your Order to aid my aching belly. Were it that I could give him this note, but then it would doubtless find its way into the hands of your Commander Denna.
I know your oaths prevent you from action, but I beg that you come all the same. If the Order cannot accept that justice needs to be served, then perhaps their detractors are right to call them a burden after all.
Should something happen to me, you can find what you need where even the scourge cannot reach.
Love, your brother, Leofric
Holt read it quickly once more to ensure he’d taken everything in. It was a lot. The accusations and implications in this letter were enormous, if vague.
Struggling for something to say, Holt said, “The king must have had great faith in you, Nibo.”
Nibo smiled weakly. “I am a Coterie by birth, and by chance grew up with his majesty. It was an honor to be his servant and friend.”
A Coterie. That made sense. The highest-ranking servants whose families attended the royals for generations. Just as Holt’s own family had cooked for generations.
Talia’s anxiety transformed into rage. Flames gathered around her fists. “My brother was murdered. I’ll see whoever did this pay a thousand
times over.”
Pyra stood, stretched her long neck and tail and roared in agreement. Buffeted by the dragon’s bellow, the bells and windchimes answered her call, ringing as though to summon vengeance.
“Calm yourself,” Brode warned. He eyed the windows of Lady Ebru’s estate. Given the news, Holt understood his concern. Suddenly those high walls felt imprisoning; those windows perfect for a spy to overhear them.
First Silas Silverstrike and now a conspiracy within the court. Who could they still trust?
With great effort it seemed, Talia did calm herself. The fires around her fists went out and she straightened herself.
“The three of us must discuss our next move in private, Nibo. Please leave us but don’t stray far from the estate as I may have need of you.”
“Princess.” Nibo bowed and left the courtyard.
Once he was out of sight and earshot, Talia and Brode entered a furious discussion in hushed tones.
“Don’t think about doing anything stupid,” Brode said. “And my brother’s murder doesn’t change that?” “Technically you don’t have a brother, Ascendant.” Talia growled but Brode spoke over her.
“We don’t know exactly what happened to Leofric—” Though even Brode caught himself. Holt thought the implications plain enough. King Leofric was known to be ill but the timing of that letter and his death seemed too coincidental.
“If it smells like rot, then its rot,” his father would tell him when inspecting meat in the larder.
“Did you read it?” Talia chided. “Snakes at court. We knew the anti- rider cabal was bitter but this?”
“Might the finger not point at Silas,” said Brode. “Your brother as good as tells us he was poisoned by him.”
“He died after Silas arrived at the Crag—” “As if poison cannot be a slow death.”
Talia’s eyes popped as she grasped for answers. “Why would Silas do this?”
“We know Silas has every reason to sow discord and chaos,” said Brode. “Think, girl, what earthly reason would these nobles have to work with a rogue rider actively endangering the kingdom? It would be no good holding a coup only to all be dead a week later.”
“Maybe they didn’t know his true intentions,” Talia said.
“You’re letting your resentment of this faction cloud your judgment.” “Oh, and you’re clear headed when it comes to Silas?”
They glared at each other.
Holt found his voice. “You may both be right.” Both Brode and Talia turned their narrowed eyes upon him now. “Well,” Holt continued, “Talia seems sure there is a group working against her family. The letter speaks of a rot at the heart of the kingdom. That can’t refer to Silas. Yet we know Silas was there and he would want to wreak havoc as Master Brode says.”
“What are you saying?” Talia asked. “That Silas just happened to kill my brother right as he uncovered another plot at court?”
Holt clenched his jaw. He agreed with Talia that the coincidence sounded far-fetched. On the other hand, he also agreed with Brode. It made no sense for this cabal of nobles to actively endanger the kingdom with an incursion on the rise. Of the two theories, he thought Brode’s held more water, weak as it was.
He resorted to shrugging. “I don’t think we know enough to say for sure either way.”
“Once again, the pot boy has a point,” said Brode. “Talia, we’re basing all of this off one letter. We need more information.”
“My uncle is still in danger,” Talia said as though she had not heard them. She jumped on Pyra’s back but Pyra did not move. Talia’s face was a picture of frustration and then her gaze turned upon Pyra’s injured wing.
She ran her hands through her golden-red hair, suppressed a cry of frustration, then leapt down to land in front of Brode.
“You didn’t let us go when we could still fly,” she said, pointing an accusatory finger at his chest.
“As well I did, for I may have spared you walking blindly into a viper’s nest.”
“If Osric dies, the crown and kingdom will fall into chaos right in the middle of an incursion, unless I—”
“Impossible. You swore an oath.” “I know—”
“And even were it possible, you would not be ready for it.”
“I know!” Talia shouted these final words before slumping her shoulders and burying her face in her hands. Pyra got up and padded over to Talia, softly nudging her snout into her rider, and wrapping a wing around the Princess.
Holt realized he was still holding the letter from the king and gingerly approached Talia. She emerged from behind her hands, her eyes red but not tearful. She took the letter and carefully folded it away.
“Now we’ve got that out of our systems,” Brode said, “we need a plan.
Come closer. Ash, feel free to make a bit of noise.”
Ash needed no encouraging and began bounding around the yard with all the energy of a vastly oversized toddler.
Holt moved closer as instructed so that he, Talia and Brode formed a tight group.
“This faction at court,” Brode began, “your mother spoke about it to you, yes?”
“Ealdor Harroway,” Talia said, and she shook with anger at the very thought of the man.
“And she didn’t seem suspicious of foul play?” Brode asked.
“No…” Talia said, her anger subsiding a little. “Nothing more than the usual.”
“Wait,” Holt said, feeling left behind as ever, “when did you speak with Queen Felice?” He called Talia’s mother that, as that was how he’d known of her his whole life while King Godric, Talia’s father, was still alive.
“That’s where we were when the Crag came under attack,” Brode said. “A journey to Beordan, a northern estate for the royals to hunker down
during a scourge rising. Although from the size of her entourage it seemed like she’d taken half of Sidastra with her.”
“Oh please,” Talia said.
“But you said you were going on a mission,” Holt said, recalling the conversation with Brode in the front hall of the Crag.
Brode raised his eyebrows. “You have a mind for details. I may have embellished.”
“But riders can’t see their families,” Holt said. “Not once they’ve sworn the oath.” This was the very thing Talia had insisted herself.
Talia at least had the grace to look ashamed. “Given half a chance, anyone would go after years apart. Commander Denna said it was out of compassion,” she added hastily as though trying to convince herself as much as Holt. “My brother had just died.”
“Commander Denna let you go for the same reason she let you join in the first place,” Brode said. “To buy good will with your family.”
Talia’s expression hardened.
A prickle ran up the back of Holt’s neck. How cold and calculating could the riders be?
“So, if Talia hadn’t been a former princess, she wouldn’t have been allowed to leave to mourn the death of her brother?”
Brode shook his head. “Compassion? Denna? The riders? Even with the Commander’s desire known, the vote only passed by one to let Talia go.”
“And I’m sure you happily voted against it, Master Brode.”
Brode’s cheek twitched and he bit back on a reply before speaking as though Talia had said nothing untoward. “My point being, your mother did not believe Leofric had been murdered.”
“No,” Talia said. “She didn’t. Just said his illness became severe. Feverish and rambling she said before the end…” She stared off into the semi-distance, her thoughts now far away.
Holt didn’t think this solid evidence of anything. “Leofric said in his letter that his conversations with your mother were overheard. He must have been afraid to confide in her.”
Talia’s eyes flared with fire again, though she contained herself. “I don’t know what to think.”
“We lack information,” Brode said again. “Either Silas killed your brother coincidentally, or Harroway’s faction has indeed acted rashly and killed the king in the middle of an incursion. I find the latter unlikely, but
perhaps Harroway thinks it easier to take such drastic steps when people are pre-occupied. The fact that your uncle remains and took up the regency leads me to think Silas was responsible. Harroway would gain little by killing the king only for another Agravain to take the throne.”
Talia frowned. “I wish I could agree. Harroway fought beside my uncle in the war. They’re close. He’s a good soldier but then why did he give orders for the western garrisons not to be summoned?”
Harroway. The name at last clicked into place in Holt’s mind. Ealdor Harroway was the new Master of War. Alexander Knight had told them that Harroway had sent revised orders not to march to Sidastra’s aid.
“He must be up to something,” Talia said. “The western regions have always had a good relationship with the Order, given where the Crag is. Maybe he wanted those troops kept well away from the city so he could make his move unhindered once the incursion ends?”
Brode barked a laugh. “If so, the fool will regret that when the swarm arrives on his doorstep.”
“Maybe,” said Talia. “It does seem like a strange gamble.”
“All the more reason why he and Silas must be acting separately,” Brode said. “Harroway couldn’t have anticipated the riders being wiped out. I bet he counted on our aid in the battle while plotting to undermine us the moment it’s over. Politics,” he said with a venom as potent as the blight. He tapped his feet then began pacing. “Everything falling apart at once seems too much to be pure chance. None of it adds up. There is something we’re missing.”
A sound of breaking clay made them all turn. Whether on purpose or because of his blindness, Ash had knocked over some potted plants as he bounced around the courtyard. Pyra blew smoke at him but it seemed playful.
The trio turned back to face each other.
“Well,” Holt began slowly, “whatever his involvement with your brother’s death, it seems to me like this Harroway needs to be confronted. He’s in the capital, and that’s where we were heading. And I still need to find my father there. Nothing has changed, really. Other than your uncle may need saving as much as everyone else.”
“One thing has changed,” Talia said as fire curled around her fists. “I’ll make sure Harroway and anyone involved in his scheming is brought to justice.”
Brode cleared his throat pointedly.
“Not personally, of course,” Talia corrected. “That would not be proper. Though, I feel that should the evidence that Leofric gathered be placed into the right hands… well, I hope they take all necessary action.”
Holt recalled the last line of the letter. “What did your brother mean by ‘where even the scourge cannot reach’?”
“I’ll tell you later,” she said and, like Brode, looked warily up to the open windows above them. “But I’m sure I know.”
“Very well,” Brode said. “Sidastra is still our destination, but much will have to change, Holt, namely our road. The garrisons and roads are no longer safe to us, if Harroway’s treachery is true. Nor is open country much better, with Silas and his swarm out there. If he returned to the Crag, he’ll have discovered an echo of Pyra’s song from the bodies she burned, and news of Midbell won’t be far behind. But what I wouldn’t give for one fair fight with him,” he added darkly.
Holt bit his lip. “So nowhere is safe.”
“Now you’re getting it,” Brode said. “Not even the skies, even if Pyra wasn’t injured and Ash could fly. No road bodes well, so we’ll take the least dangerous option. The Withering Woods.”
An instinctual shiver ran up Holt’s spine at the name. Nothing good was said of the Withering Woods.
“But that forest has blight in it?” Holt said. “What if the scourge are there?”
Both Brode and Talia gave him confused looks. “Scourge are everywhere right now,” Brode said.
“Did you think you’d had your last encounter with them?” Talia asked. “Well, no…” he trailed off, not knowing what he had thought. When
he’d taken Ash’s egg, he had certainly not considered this. His life was to fight the scourge now.
“It still seems like a risk,” Talia said.
“Activity in the woods should be low,” Brode said. “The swarm seeks people out, and the woods are barren of people. Once there, the tree cover will help shield us from eyes both above and on ground. We can’t fully hide from Silas detecting your bonds and the cores of the dragons but even a Lord cannot cast their net so wide. Soldiers don’t patrol there, and the forest’s eastern borders run close to Sidastra. If we make it through, we’ll be in striking distance of the city.”
“If,” Talia said sharply. “If we make it through.” Pyra growled haughtily.
“Do you have a better idea?” Brode asked. It seemed she didn’t.
Ash stopped leaping around the yard and padded over to Holt’s side. He seemed to sense a finality to their discussion.
“I’m not afraid.” Judging by how the others faced Ash, it seemed he had spoken to the group at large, broadcasting his speech out like Pyra sometimes did.
“Well I wouldn’t want to go there without you, boy,” Holt said. “So, it’s settled,” Brode said. “We make for the Withering Woods.”
