At last, Fort Rivor appeared. However, its daunting gray walls situated on a bare hilltop put a knot in Liam’s gut. He’d spent most of his life there, but it certainly didn’t give the feeling of coming home. More like entering a prison yard, but at least it offered shelter. He shifted his attention to the thousands of off-white tents and other shelters that surrounded it. Smoke from sputtering fires rose all across camp. Even in the dreary weather, the place buzzed with activity. No amount of rain or mud would halt drills and training. Some soldiers who struggled might be forced to march until hypothermia set in but, even then, they wouldn’t be dismissed immediately. He shivered, pulling his cloak closer at the memories of his own miserable experiences.
They climbed the gradual slope that cut through the center of camp and halted at the wall of the fort. Marcus dismounted and turned to dismiss the men. Gladly, they moved off to find shelter, but Liam lingered. He’d caused his brother enough trouble. Leaving now felt like abandoning him. “Do you want me to go with you?”
Marcus handed his horse off to a waiting attendant before turning to him, his eyes solemn. “No, that’s all right.” He put his hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Go get changed and warm.”
Liam didn’t try to hide his gratitude. The thought of facing their grandfather with bad news left him colder than the weather.
Just before he turned away, a soldier came from the fort. “Captain Altair.”
Marcus faced him.
“General Veshiron wants to see you and your brother in his office.”
The knot in Liam’s stomach yanked tighter. There went his escape. Marcus cast him an apologetic look and led the way into the fort. Inside the headquarters, they followed the dim halls to the General’s office. Marcus straightened at the door and drew a deep breath before knocking.
“Enter,” the General’s commanding voice resonated from within.
Marcus opened the door, and Liam followed him into the office, forcing himself to stand at his brother’s side instead of behind him. A chill hung in the room, though perhaps Liam only felt that way. It was not a friendly space—filled with dark furniture, showcased weapons, and an abundance of black and gold trimming. A massive desk sat in the center and, behind it, a wide cabinet displaying countless medals and awards.
The General stood behind his desk and almost made the piece look small. After a quick glance at his stern face, Liam stared down at his boots. If only he could make himself invisible. Marcus, however, stood up straight and tall, ready to accept whatever the man had to say. Liam could only wish for such courage.
Clearly wanting to get it out and over with, Marcus said, “General, I regret that I bring disappointing news from Dunlow—”
“I know about Dunlow,” the General cut in.
Liam glanced at Marcus. Their father must have arrived already with the news, but apparently hadn’t been able to spare them from facing the General themselves. Marcus opened his mouth to speak, likely a well-rehearsed apology, and to take responsibility for his failure, but the General continued.
“It’s been taken care of.”
Now Liam did look at their grandfather. How could it be taken care of? The crete and those with him had escaped . . . hadn’t they?
“I have news for you two,” the General said, his tone and eyes as hard as ever. “Five days ago, your father was arrested and executed for treason.”
Liam’s heart stopped. His lungs collapsed, expelling all their oxygen. He hadn’t heard right. He couldn’t have. It was impossible. A sickening sensation buzzed in his head and pulsated all the way down to his feet. The room sat frozen and airless until Marcus gasped, “What?”
“He was caught aiding the very men you were after, and he admitted before the emperor that he had no belief in the gods.” The General scowled in contempt. “He was another one of those Elôm followers. A traitor, just like his father.”
Shock and grief hit Liam so hard he barely had the strength to contain it. No. It couldn’t be. He tried to breathe, but his lungs wouldn’t comply. He had to get out—out of this room, away from this man who had always disparaged their father. How could he look at them now with such a lack of compassion?
“May I be dismissed?” he choked out the words, ashamed of how weak he sounded.
His grandfather just let him stand there for a cruel, agonizing moment before waving his hand. It was a pitiless gesture, but Liam took it and turned for the door. Fumbling with the knob, he yanked the door open and rushed out. He strode down the hall, but his weak pretense of strength crumbled faster than he could move. His vision blurred behind sheets of moisture, and his head spun. Shoving open the front door, he stumbled out past the wall. There, in the middle of the mud, rain, and cold, he couldn’t go any farther. He bent over and braced his hands against his legs, but the last of his strength gave way, and he dropped to his knees. Bile rose up in his throat.
He dug his fingernails into his palms and dragged in a ragged breath, fighting to come to terms with the news, but the truth of it broke open the grief building inside and drowned him. As the first tears fell, he brushed them away, but they came too quickly. He gasped, and a painful, desperate cry came with it. What would he do without his father? He needed him. There were things his father needed to tell him.
Liam bent over and put his head in his hands, his chest heaving with silent cries. His father was a good man—the kindest and most compassionate man he’d ever known—yet the emperor had killed him—killed him merely over a difference in beliefs, just like Aaron had said in Dunlow. It was all wrong. If this marked the difference between followers of Elôm and followers of Aertus and Vilai, then how could the emperor be right? How could murder ever be right? That’s what it was. His father had been murdered.
Liam’s fists shook as a burning demand for justice engulfed him. But what could he do? He was nothing more than a pathetic excuse for a foot soldier. Powerless. The anger drained as quickly as it had flared, leaving behind a dark, overwhelming emptiness that yearned for comfort.
The agony of it consumed him until soggy footsteps came up behind him. Trying to blink his vision clear of tears, he looked over his shoulder. Marcus stood there—a ghostly pale version of his usual strong self. His eyes mirrored the mix of confusion, denial, and grief that slowly destroyed Liam inside. He appeared to want to say something, but was incapable of it. Lacking his own voice, Liam pushed to his feet, and the two of them embraced.
Kyrin glanced out the window as she chopped onions for the stew Lenae prepared for supper. The sunshine that had at least taken the gloom from the cabin was gone, replaced by dark clouds and cold rain. It did nothing to help her attempts to let life fall back into a normal routine over the last two days.
Blaming the sudden stinging in her eyes on the onions, she resolutely turned her focus back to her task, mentally listing the other things she could do to help. Work was a good way to stay occupied. Idleness invited too much time to think and for emotion to take hold. She scraped the onions into a bowl and had just reached for another when the door opened. Kaden stepped in, rain droplets beading on his coat.
“Tane is here. He wants to see us.”
Though he did not speak with urgency, ice flowed through Kyrin’s limbs and solidified in her chest. It would be a while before any news from Valcré didn’t immediately make her fear the worst. She stood a moment to calm herself and set her knife aside. At the door, she grabbed her cloak and put it around her shoulders as she followed her brother outside. They hurried through the chilly mist to Trask’s cabin.
Inside, many of their friends had gathered. Kyrin glanced at Talas as Kaden shut the door. He was propped up in bed, his eyes alert and color good. The crete had healed surprisingly fast, which Kyrin learned was normal for his race, thank Elôm.
Now her eyes shifted to Tane, who sat at the table. He gave her a gentle, understanding smile. She managed one in return, and they exchanged quiet greetings as Trask invited her and Kaden to join them.
Kyrin fa
ced Tane. “What brings you from Valcré? Do you have any news about the Scrolls?” No doubt the emperor had destroyed them, yet she clung to a dim hope that Elôm hadn’t allowed such a thing.
Tane shook his head. “Aric is looking into it, but he’s hesitant to question the emperor directly. Daican has been very suspicious the last few days.” He paused, resting his dark clasped hands on the table, and spoke carefully. “But that isn’t the reason I came. I know this is difficult to discuss, but I thought you two should know . . . your father has been buried at home. From what I know, it took place yesterday.”
Kyrin struggled to draw in air against the phantom cords constricting around her lungs. She hadn’t let herself even contemplate what would happen to her father’s body. To know he actually had a grave and that it was at home both tore her heart and relieved it.
“How?” Her voice trembled. “Why would the emperor give him a grave?”
“Aric arranged it. He knew you would want a proper burial. He was able to convince the emperor it would serve as a constant reminder to your family of the consequences of treason.”
So grateful for his thoughtfulness, Kyrin nodded, but as her mind processed thoughts of her family and the effect her father’s death would have on them, it suddenly occurred to her. Liam! And, for the first time in days, a clear purpose rose up out of the ashes.
“We have to go.”
Kaden frowned at her sudden determination. “It could be a trap. Even if Aric was the one to suggest it, the emperor could be using it to his advantage. He has to know we would want to go there.”
“But if we leave right away, Daican will have no reason to suspect word of the burial has reached us already. Kaden—Liam,” she stressed. “What if Liam is there, at home, now? We have to try to see him. This is our best chance.”
Needing no further prompting, Kaden rose from the table. “If we leave now, we could almost reach Mernin by nightfall.”
Kyrin was ready to pack immediately, but Tane stopped them. “Are you sure that’s wise? Mernin is right near Fort Rivor. You could easily run into soldiers. If they catch a glimpse of your dragons, they’ll know something’s up.”
“We can leave the dragons in the forest once we’re near Mernin and travel the rest of the way on foot,” Kaden replied. “If it’s just Kyrin and me, no one will suspect a couple of travelers on the road.”
Kyrin agreed. Even if it was dangerous, even if they were unable to see Liam, this was something she needed to do. When their father had ridden away that morning outside of Valcré, it had been with the full expectation of returning. Their goodbye wasn’t meant to be permanent and didn’t feel adequate. She had to say that final goodbye and honor the sacrifice he had made. She wouldn’t feel a sense of closure until she did.
The men exchanged hesitant looks. Not one of them appeared entirely onboard with this plan, yet none of them had the heart to speak in protest.
“Are you sure you should go alone?” Rayad asked.
“Fewer people will draw less attention,” Kaden answered.
“I’ll go along.” They all looked at Jace. “One more person won’t add suspicion, but will still be added protection.” He appealed to Kyrin with his eyes.
He was right, and she would like him to be there. She looked at Kaden, who nodded.
“All right. We’ll leave right after lunch.”
Kyrin packed her supplies onto Ivoris to leave camp for a second time in just over a week. Had it really been so short a time since they’d set out on their mission? And here they were setting out again, but for far different reasons. She swallowed the lump it brought to her throat. Until they reached Mernin, she wouldn’t let herself think about how hard it would be to stand at her father’s grave. She only knew she needed the closure, so she focused on that.
Their friends gathered around them for a few final words and goodbyes.
“Be careful,” Rayad cautioned. “Avoid everyone you can.”
The three of them nodded.
“You’re sure things will go well with your mother?” Tane asked.
They had little hope of visiting the grave without the rest of the family knowing. To face her mother after all these years, especially now, riddled Kyrin with doubts and perhaps even a bit of fear, but she couldn’t escape it.
“From what my father told me, she knew of his faith, but never turned him in. I don’t believe she would do that to us.” It wasn’t a guarantee, but they had to go with it. “And she might be the perfect way to contact Liam.” She prayed some good would come of this.
Rayad spoke again, his concern evident. “Remember, if you’re not back in three days, we’re coming to look for you.”
Why couldn’t they just be left to their grief? Could their grandfather not even allow them one day to mourn? Liam ground his teeth as these questions tumbled through his mind while he trailed after Marcus. They’d had just over an hour to come to terms with their father’s death before being summoned again. And, as always, Marcus followed orders. It was cruel. Unmercifully cruel. But then, their grandfather was a cruel man. He always had been.
Liam struggled to keep his emotions hidden behind a fragile mask of composure that felt ready to shatter. There was no telling what the General wanted now, but Liam had little strength to face anything more.
All the men from Marcus’s unit filed into the fort, where the General awaited them.
“This way,” the man ordered sharply and marched off.
The men followed him around the back of the fort. There Liam saw them—the new additions. Two life-sized figures of Aertus and Vilai had been erected in the large courtyard, protected by an elaborate awning. The men halted as the General turned to face them.
“With the increase of traitors being discovered, including in our army, the emperor has decreed that all soldiers are required to report and show their devotion to the gods at least once every week. Attendance and participation is mandatory. Anyone who refuses to show up or bow will be arrested and executed. There have already been eleven arrests here in Fort Rivor. If you don’t want your name added to the list, bow before your gods.”
Almost as one, the men around Liam dropped to their knees, including Marcus. However, Liam’s muscles seized and his joints locked up. He had to work hard to lower himself to the ground beside his brother.
Shallow breaths shuddered in his lungs. He’d bowed before Aertus and Vilai before, many times, but there’d never been any emotion involved. After a lifetime of unfulfilled dreams and unanswered prayers, he’d followed the expected worship practices with little thought. Yet here, in this moment, a deep, pulling conviction pounded in his heart. This was wrong. He didn’t know why exactly, but he felt it. Maybe because he knew if his father were here with them, he would still be standing right now. One man among a hundred, choosing to die rather than submit to what he did not believe in. His father had made that choice, and as hard as it was to bear, Liam believed he was right. He refused to accept that his father had died for nothing. His eyes rose to the idols. In one week, he’d be here again, but he wasn’t sure if next time he would bow.
“The crossroads must be close,” Kaden said. “It’s only another two miles from there, right?” He glanced at Kyrin.
She nodded and adjusted her cloak. Mud clung to the hem, making it heavy and cumbersome. She’d rather cast it off, but the air was too chilly. For over two hours, she, Kaden, and Jace had trudged along the edge of the wet road where the path wasn’t quite so rutted and sloppy. Not knowing who might be around, they’d left the dragons deep in the forest where they’d camped for the night. In her weariness, Kyrin longed for one to ride, but they pushed on. They didn’t have much farther to go now.
She glanced at the sky. At least it hadn’t rained since the previous afternoon. Even so, the clouds hung low and thick with the threat of rain, and the air was misty.
“I wonder what Michael and Ronny look like,” Kaden said, drawing her attention away from the weather.
Such t
houghts had been on Kyrin’s mind all morning. They were so close to meeting the family they hadn’t seen in over ten years. It was tragically fitting that this would bring them together and back to their home. Their two younger brothers had only been babies when they’d left. A longing had grown inside of her to finally see them again, yet a more fearful part of her secretly hoped they would be able to visit their father’s grave and contact Liam without anyone else ever knowing they’d been there.
Kyrin looked at Kaden, that fear rising to the surface. “How do you think Mother will react to us?” Though she believed what she’d told Tane, that their mother was not a threat to their safety, she did feel a threat to her emotional well-being.
Kaden shrugged. If only Kyrin could be so unconcerned. “I don’t know. I think—”
Jace held up a hand for them to stop.
Kyrin halted. “What?” she whispered.
“I heard something.”
They all listened and, as Kyrin scanned the area, a long-ago memory formed. “It’s the crossroads.”
Movement flickered behind a thick stand of evergreens and underbrush ahead and to their right, but before they could even hope to respond, a group of five soldiers on horseback appeared less than thirty yards away, coming along the west road from Fort Rivor.
It was clear they’d been spotted. The three of them tensed, and Kyrin tried to keep her heart from racing. They must remain calm and not draw suspicion. It was their best chance of the soldiers riding on without paying them any attention. Kyrin drew in a deep, steadying breath, but it seized the moment the lead soldier locked eyes with her.
“Kyrin?”
Marcus’s voice barely reached her, but it sent her heart plunging toward her feet. For a millisecond, everything stood still as a wave of dread crashed down on her. “Run!”