Tower of the Arkein: Kan Savasci Cycle Book 2, page 20
Alina regarded him for a moment. She leaned back in her seat. Her hand slipped from his. To Aeden it felt like he had lost a part of himself. The lingering sensation of her touch remained, however, as a haunting reminder of her warmth.
“Probably because of the troubled history of my house,” she took in a breath and looked briefly out the window, “when I was only three my mother passed to the bloody sweat, Bodigan Fever as the physickers called it. My father had medicine men, wise women, holy priests all come and try to save her. He offered a reward to herbalists and apothecaries for their best medicines, yet ultimately she passed.”
Aeden now watched her as she spoke. He didn’t dare move. He feared he’d startle her from the moment and she’d stop.
“My father passed only a year later,” she took in a breath, “and it was Godwin who had helped tend to my mother and presided over her funeral, that had so helped my father after her passing and who was entrusted to watch after me.”
Alina fell quiet. Her face was serious but if she were sad, Aeden couldn’t see it. It was more as if she had relayed a particular piece of history that had happened to someone else. But if he looked closer, at the corners of her eyes, at the shift in her posture, he could see differently. She missed having a family.
“I lost my family and everyone I ever knew,” he blurted out before catching himself.
The archduchess looked up. Not suddenly. More like one who wakes from a dream.
“What?” she asked, “How?”
The very question he feared more than anything, now stood before him. It stared him in the face like the shroud cat had years before. The question had teeth and Aeden cursed himself for walking into a corner.
The cart rumbled to a halt.
“Men ahead,” the Bodigan called.
The two words had sliced through reality and settled within the cart, between them. They were stark and bold, and begged for a response.
Aeden glanced briefly at the archduchess, as if for permission. She nodded her head ever so slightly. He slipped passed her and out onto the sun-kissed Calenite Road, thankful for the excuse.
Chapter 42
“A warning through the looking glass is often the one and only glimpse of life’s symmetrical binding.” Bindings and Intrinsic Principles - Tower of the Arkein
Dixon was already walking past the carriage toward the men standing in the road. Aeden glanced ahead to see the Bodigan dismounted. Yates remained behind toward the back of the carriage providing rear guard. Aeden’s stomach tingled as he looked about.
The road was mostly flat, cresting only slightly up a minor rise. To either side was high desert. Rock formations like jagged pillars broke the scene into fearful dimensions. Breaking the horizon was the distant Draccus Ridge.
The rock pillars provided ample locations to hide and mount an assault. Desert scrub grew in patches along the tan desert floor. Aeden’s eyes dropped to the ground and traced patterns. Footprints. Too many of them.
“A word,” Aeden shouted toward the Bodigan.
The large man looked back with a strange look in his eye. Dixon remained halfway between the cart and the two men standing in the road.
Aeden remained where he was. He too watched the men standing there. Something didn’t feel right. His gut twisted slowly, coiling into knots like a prey animal caught in a snake’s binding grip.
“What is it?” the large man asked seriously.
Aeden looked up, reminded yet again how big Alina’s personal guard truly was.
“There are too many prints upon the ground,” he said, glancing lazily toward the desert floor, “I think we need to push through, and fast.”
The Bodigan looked out at the stretch of land reaching toward Draccus Ridge. He grunted once.
“Get Dixon,” he said.
Aeden nodded and glanced to the carriage. He could see the archduchess looking through the open window. Her face was painted in lines of concern. A sudden sense of protective heroism swept over him. It was a foolish thought grounded in all the practicality of swimming with armor.
“I’ll chat with our friends on the road, you ride through and I’ll catch you up,” Aeden said flatly.
The Bodigan looked at him for a brief moment and nodded once before mounting the carriage.
Aeden hastened his step and walked toward Dixon.
“Mount up, possible trouble,” Aeden said, “I’ll talk to our friends.”
Dixon smiled, “You’re a confident monk, don’t get yourself killed.”
Aeden approached the two men. A warm wind played with his hair and scattered dust across the Old Calenite Road. The men waved to him, almost mechanically so. Aeden’s instincts flared to life.
The details of the men resolved into greater focus as he approached. His continuing unease grew. The set of their feet and shoulders were wrong. It was a stance with aggressive undertones. The subtle way a soldier would idle about.
“Hello friends,” Aeden said as he approached.
He walked with his hands up, palms forward. His face was an outward mask of familiarity. His gut twisted into a tighter knot.
“Who do you travel with,” one of the men asked casually.
The man who spoke was clearly well muscled and tall. His companion was of a similar build. These were not farmers or merchants. They were soldiers. Aeden felt a bead of sweat form on his forehead. His thoughts on heroism now felt stupid, and faded like a Vintas sunset.
“Why do you ask?” Aeden asked slowly.
He could feel his muscles reflexively tightening. His mind raced with possibilities. He looked once more into the dense jungle of stony formations. An infinite level of cover and concealment rested just beyond the roadway.
“Road tax,” the other man said.
Aeden looked them over again. Bandits? Were they simply here to collect a tax from those traveling? For some reason, he felt disinclined to believe them. There were only two of them. Their skin was too light to have traveled the road for long.
He cleared his mind and expanded his awareness as he’d been taught through the gevecht. His breath settled deep within his stomach and a strange sense of calm permeated his body. The knot in his stomach unclenched and an active stillness took its place.
“These are imperial roads,” Aeden began, noting an absence of imperial crests and colors upon the men.
Aeden could hear the wagon rumbling forward toward them. The image of Alina’s concerned face flashed briefly through his wall of calm.
“We’ll need to inspect the carriage as well,” the first man said.
Aeden noticed they both had their hands upon the hilts of their swords. His neck tingled uncomfortably. It was time to act. Fear and hesitation would only get him killed. A trickle of anger bubbled through his sense of calm. These men were here to harm the archduchess. He could feel it.
The illusive taste of violence breathed into Aeden’s ear. It was sweet and inviting.
Without thought Aeden felt his weight shift toward his front leg. His stance changed. His breathing slowed. Thoughts of all those he had lost over the last two years flicked through his mind. He blinked and the images were gone. Resolution took root.
“We will pay your tax,” Aeden said calmly.
It was one of the many tactics employed by the Thane to unbalance one’s enemy. Words could be as strong as fists his instructor used to tell him.
The time for words, however, had passed. The soft wind that had blown across the Calenite Road stopped. Stillness claimed the air for a full heartbeat. It was the calm before a storm.
Aeden reached back, unsheathing his Templas sword. His movements were swift and precise. It rang out coolly in the warm air. With the speed of an attacking cobra, Aeden stepped forward. He brought the blade down diagonally toward the man on the left.
The sword split him from collar bone to hip. Before the blood could spill forth Aeden was already moving. His sword was now low and swept diagonally upward through the other man. This time blood formed a magnificent plume, flicking off his sword in a trail of violence.
Aeden stepped past and held his sword ready. He didn’t need to. They both crumpled to the ground in spasming fits of screams and pain. The ground humbly accepted them, soaking in their vital essence.
Movement caught his eye. There were more men. Many more men.
Aeden stepped to the side as the horse-drawn carriage rolled by.
“There’s more,” Aeden yelled. “Get her to safety, and I’ll find you.”
The Bodigan glanced at him and nodded. Aeden then glimpsed the archduchess. Her eyes caught his for a heartbeat. In that moment, everything slowed. Alina’s eyes showed concern and fear. She never looked so vulnerable. She never looked so beautiful.
The moment was broken.
“Save some for me,” Dixon said as they rumbled passed.
In a moment, the carriage was gone.
Aeden was now alone and out in the open. He needed to act. To move. To stay still was to invite death.
He sprinted for the nearest rock pillar. He heard a high-pitched twang followed by the whistling of an arrow. He dove for cover. He rolled once and found his feet. His sword was up before him as he rounded the formation.
“Kill him,” a man grunted as he swung at Aeden.
Aeden instinctively parried the blow, surprised to find two men waiting behind the outcropping. He cut the first man down and side stepped another blow. He heard rather than saw more men approaching.
No time.
Aeden ran.
He dodged another man and fled to the nearest pillar. He circled it and waited for the first man to approach.
It was a taller man with a long sword. Aeden slipped in under his guard, quick as an arrow. He pierced the man’s heart and slipped away once again. Running now to the next rock formation. Attempting to distance himself from those that now followed. Hoping desperately that the archduchess got away. Praying that he’d live through the encounter.
He sprinted through the jagged formations. A few half-hearted arrows clattered off the rocks in a vain attempt to find their mark. There were too many jagged rocks. And Aeden was too quick.
This time Aeden circled one of the formations coming around to the other side. He caught one of his attackers by surprise and lopped his head clean off. The man dropped his short sword. Aeden scooped it up and deflected the incoming blow of another, using the short sword to stab the man.
The man gurgled up blood, but refused to die. More men now approached. Anger and deadly intent marked their features. They were the dark cloud of buzzing death circling in ever tighter.
Aeden’s heart slowed as he remarked upon the likelihood of death. How simple would it be to let them take him? To relinquish responsibility for avenging the death of his people. Yet he knew there was no one else. He had to fight. He had to live.
With a shove Aeden released the man from the bite of his short sword. The man stumbled back into another oncoming attacker. Aeden kept himself between them and saw another ten men start to fan out.
There were so many. Too many.
“When faced with insurmountable odds remove each barrier until opportunity claims you,” a quote from his gevecht teacher flashed through his mind.
It was time to move.
He turned and ran. Aeden moved deeper away from the Calenite Road and into the maze of toothed stone formations. The topography grew denser and sharper. Aeden didn’t care. His heart rushed with adrenaline and a strange thought.
Death was an opportunity for life.
Chapter 43
“The face of death is often masked by time and distance.” Canton of Sawol
The Drunken Pony was a simple establishment as far as inn’s go. It catered to the traveling pilgrims who sought out the Monastery of the Cave.
For those traveling north, it served as a stopping point on the long road to the Old City of Trenton. For those traveling west, a place to rest on their way to the ruins and trading post of Old Calen. It was a halfway point within the northern limits of Sawol, and a sanctuary amidst the jagged rock canyons north of Draccus Ridge. If one strayed off the path, they’d likely become lost in the entanglement of geology that marked this part of Verold. If they traveled east, they’d eventually make it to the capital of Sawol, the famed White City.
Therefore, the inn sat at a crossroads. It marked the end of the cobbled Calenite Road and began the unimproved portion of dirt, cutting a path through the labyrinth of jagged stone, known as Devil’s Pass.
The Drunken Pony was an oasis in a sea of stone. Not overly large as far as inns go, but certainly not small. It was within its stone and wooden walls that a dynamic mix of people could often be found. Today was no different.
Inside, a band of monks were seated in one corner. Traveling religious pilgrims were scattered about the tables. A handful of imperial guards were boisterously drinking and occupying another table. And less conspicuously on the opposite corner, tucked into a nook, was the archduchess and her small retinue.
Aeden stumbled in thirstily, scratched, bruised, and with a cut over his left arm. A few turned to look at him and the dried blood on his dusty and travel-worn clothes. Most had their own sorrows and could care less. Aeden preferred it that way. He preferred anonymity.
His eyes scanned the room, pausing on each table, as he had done at two other inns before this. He was sure this was the place. At the last inn, a carriage had been sold without its horses. Something that had frustrated the horse keeper. The horse keeper had told him a large man and a beautiful woman were headed east.
Aeden had followed the road toward Old Calen until he stumbled upon the Drunken Pony.
Now he stood inside the wooden building. The sounds of conversations ebbed about him. Music played quietly above the din. The song was a familiar one and as old as time, The Drunken Sailor.
He moved from table to table, casually looking upon the numerous faces. Aeden froze as he found the dark, almost iridescent hair of the archduchess. Next to her was the massive bulk of the Bodigan. Yates sat across from them.
Where was Dixon?
Aeden moved toward the quiet corner, toward the archduchess. He kept his eyes down and approached from an angle, keeping a support column between them. He sidled about it and slipped into a chair next to the Bodigan.
The large man’s hand immediately fell to a short blade at his side. Yates looked up and smiled awkwardly. It was Alina’s reaction, however, that Aeden had been most curious to see. Her face moved from surprise, to happiness, to concern. It was the final two that rested most heavily in his heart. She cared.
“I’m thirsty,” Aeden said as if he’d been with them all along, “Where’s Dixon?”
Yates slid his beer toward Aeden, “Have some.”
Aeden drank greedily.
“Dixon didn’t make it,” Yates said rather casually.
Didn’t make it? Was he late? Or had he died? Aeden had the sinking sensation that it was the latter.
Aeden put down his beer and looked at the others for confirmation. It was as clear as day. Dixon wouldn’t be joining them. Aeden searched within for a greater emotional response, yet he couldn’t find one. The lack of response concerned him.
“What do you mean he didn’t make it?” Aeden asked more seriously.
It was the Bodigan who responded.
“He decided he couldn’t leave a man behind,” he grumbled, “even if it was you.”
Aeden looked down at the table. Had he unwillingly become responsible for another man’s death? He didn’t want the responsibility. He wasn’t ready. Now he felt something, it was the sour taste of guilt.
“I didn’t see him along the road, or among the dead,” Aeden said half to himself.
The archduchess looked up at him with a curious expression before looking away. It was the subconscious response to news that doesn’t match one’s expectation.
“Glad you made it,” Yates said, “I was starting to get bored, no offense my lady.”
Alina only nodded slightly. She seemed out of sorts, distracted.
“I’m surprised you made it,” the Bodigan grunted respectfully, “How many were there?”
Aeden remained silent. He didn’t want to think on how many there were. How many more lives he was responsible for claiming. They had their orders. This he knew. They were Rory’s men. The archduchess hadn’t lied when she said he was spiteful. The dying words of an interrogated man, however, failed to fill in the missing gaps of information that now plagued his mind.
Were they after him? Did they know the archduchess was with them? How far was Rory willing to go to exact revenge?
“Too many,” Aeden replied softly.
The tone of the conversation was too casual. They were talking about the violent death of men the way one would talk about a change in the weather.
“We should rest,” the archduchess began, “and get you tended to, for tomorrow we start early.”
The Bodigan grunted.
“Yes, my lady,” Yates responded.
Aeden nodded his head, taking another sip of beer. He was just beginning to realize he was hungry too, but he didn’t want to displease the archduchess. Perhaps he could join them after a quick meal.
“Come with me,” the archduchess said as she stood, looking directly at Aeden.
Aeden looked up from his beer mug. Surprise clearly written upon his face. He quickly masked it and stood.
“Yes, my lady,” he responded, almost too eagerly, as he followed her up a flight of stairs.
Suddenly he wished he had stopped for a bath, instead of rushing to ensure her safety.
Chapter 44
“The true beauty of a woman can be measured from the intensity of her gaze and the color of her eyes.” Old Q’Bala Saying
“You’ve proven yourself to be more trustworthy than I had anticipated,” Alina stated, threading a needle gently through Aeden’s arm.
Aeden struggled not to wince as she mended one of his wounds. He couldn’t recall how he had gotten it. He had been so focused on survival that trivial matters fell away to adrenaline fueled focus. It wasn’t until he knew there were no more that he realized how bone exhausted he had been. His father would have chastised him for expending too much energy in combat.
