Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
T hezmarr went into mourning for those lost on the battlefield. Atop the cliffs where not so long ago they had held the mock battle, now six funeral pyres burned for the fallen warriors.
They gathered around in silence, and Thea noted that the eyes of those who’d been there that day were haunted.
Throughout the night, the shieldbearers had murmured in their sleep and she didn’t need to be in their dreams to know that reapers stalked there, casting their shadows across minds when they were most vulnerable.
Thea had dreamt of them too, and the seer and the fate stone, as though all their destinies were entwined.
Now, as the flames licked the sky, the first snow of winter began to fall.
Thea lifted her face to the clouds, closing her eyes against the icy flakes that kissed her skin and thinking of the shieldbearer they had lost amidst the ruins.
She had despised Lachin at first, considering him just another mindless lackey following Seb around.
But as the weeks had worn on, he’d changed.
He’d become more than that… He’d become an ally.
And had the forces of darkness not snatched him from the midrealms so soon, he might have one day become her friend.
The tightness in Thea’s chest did not abate.
Her cohort had lost one of its own. And a good one at that.
With the cold numbing her face and making her nose stream, she stood shoulder to shoulder with Cal and Kipp, saying her silent farewell to Lachin.
And when the fires had burned out and they returned to the fortress, they watched as the Guild Master carved Lachin’s name, along with those of five others, into the stone swords in the great hall, acknowledging their sacrifice to the midrealms.
The following days saw a change in Thezmarr and its guild. A looming sense of danger spurred them on through their drills and sparring matches. They had seen what enemies could do with a single swipe of their claws and the fact that one of the rheguld reapers had escaped was not lost on them.
With only a handful of weeks until their initiation test and the rancid scent of burnt hair still lingering in her nostrils, Thea pushed herself harder than ever.
Despite the winter storms that constantly lashed Thezmarr, she rose before the others every day to perform her own set of weapon and strength drills as well as endurance training, and she retired long after her peers, determined to prepare her mind as thoroughly as her body for whatever came next.
It had been one thing to hear Hawthorne’s words of warning about the scourge, another entirely to see the festering shadows for herself. Everyone was on edge, everyone was waiting.
‘This is not the last we have seen of their black hearts and foul curses,’ Cal murmured as they trekked through the Bloodwoods back to the fortress one afternoon. ‘The midrealms have been darkening for years… And now, every day is worse than before.’
‘But no one talks about it. Not even to us,’ Kipp replied. ‘It’s not a good sign, is it?’
Thea couldn’t shake the feeling that she had been marked in some way. She still flinched at the memory of the warm splatter of blood that had hit her face. She had scrubbed her skin raw multiple times, and yet the stain remained, lingering on the surface.
But she steeled herself. ‘I don’t know what to make of it. All I know is that the Warswords prevailed that day in Delmira. They’ll continue to do so.’
‘You saw Vernich’s leg. Not even the Warswords are invincible,’ Kipp said.
Silence settled between the friends as the fortress came into view.
Thea knew something was different as soon as they passed through the gatehouse. Several gleaming thoroughbred horses were being tended to in the courtyard and half a dozen guards bearing the Harenth sigil were stationed at the entrance.
‘What’s going on?’ Cal murmured beside her.
Unease coiled in Thea’s gut. ‘King Artos is here.’
‘What?’ Kipp said. ‘None of the royals ever visit Thezmarr.’
Thea was already making her way up the stone steps. ‘They do now, apparently.’
There were more guards inside the fortress, but no sign of the king or the Guild Master. It was Esyllt who Thea spotted on his way to the Great Hall, and she made a beeline for him.
‘What’s all this about, Sir?’ she asked when she caught up with him.
The weapons master looked older to her all of a sudden. He was thinner and new lines around his face made his demeanour even more stern. But oddly, his expression softened upon seeing her. Perhaps it had to do with her tending to his wound on the battlefield.
‘There is to be a feast tonight,’ he told her, glancing at Cal and Kipp, who fell into place behind her.
‘What for?’
Esyllt seemed to hesitate a moment before answering tersely. ‘King Artos wished to celebrate the victory at Delmira.’
The trio stilled.
Celebrate? Thea thought. While they had defeated most of the reapers, not only had one escaped, but they’d returned to Thezmarr to burn funeral pyres. How could they think to celebrate in the face of that loss?
The thoughts must have been plain on her face, for the weapons master cleared his throat.
‘The king also wishes to honour the dead and their sacrifice for the midrealms,’ he told them stiffly.
‘His Majesty has generously brought all the supplies for the feast, along with his household staff to tend to the tasks at hand.’
‘That’s a lot of people…’ Cal murmured.
Esyllt nodded. ‘King Artos intends to reward all of Thezmarr. You’d best get back to your quarters and clean yourselves up. Everyone is to be presentable, dressed in their best for our royal guests.’
The three friends did as their weapons master bid and rushed off to their rooms.
The fortress was buzzing and those who hadn’t been at Delmira were downright excited.
Thezmarr had never played host to a royal feast before, and that King Artos had brought the palace chefs with him was all anyone could talk about.
But to Thea, it seemed wrong. The embers in the pyres were barely cold.
A reaper was free somewhere out there, and there had been a moment each day where she could still feel the trickle of fresh blood down her face.
But there was nothing for it. Thea made quick work of changing into a clean shirt, wondering if Wren and the others would don their best dresses. Sam and Ida had always dreamed of attending a ball, and Thea supposed this was the closest they might ever come to a formal occasion.
In the rush to the Great Hall, Thea got separated from Cal and Kipp, bodies pressed all around her as they shoved their way through the corridors, everyone eager to get a good seat where they might glimpse upon the king – or better still, the beautiful young princess.
Thea was forced onto a bench with shieldbearers whose faces she recognised but names she didn’t know.
She craned her neck, looking for Cal and Kipp, but the tables were more crowded than normal and she couldn’t spot them amidst the fortress staff and warriors.
Instead, she turned her attention to the head table, where the Guild Master had offered his usual place to the king.
King Artos of Harenth sat in the high-backed chair, his gilded crown gleaming atop his head, his daughter, Princess Jasira to his right and Osiris to his left. The Warswords were at their regular seats, whereas people like Audra and Esyllt had been moved to another table entirely.
Thea’s breath caught as Hawthorne’s eyes met hers for the briefest of moments. He wore the same mask of unbroken violence as always, but the twitch in his jaw told Thea that something was amiss.
She trained her gaze elsewhere.
Even from a distance, Thea could sense the magic rolling off the king, and for a brief moment, she wondered what he felt from them all.
He was an empath, not a mind whisperer, but what did that entail?
Was it merely a matter of feeling emotion from others or was it more than that?
Could he influence it? Manipulate it? Kipp had said he was the most powerful in the Fairmoore family in centuries…
Servants from the palace came forward with silver trays of food, the aroma of roasted meat making Thea’s mouth water.
Great dishes of baked potatoes, honeyed carrots and buttered greens were placed all down the middle of their table, along with freshly baked bread, jugs of rich gravy and decanters of fine wine.
It was a display of decadence that Thezmarr had never seen before.
When what seemed to be the entire population of the fortress had been seated, King Artos raised his palm in a wordless command for silence.
Quiet fell, and the king got to his feet, goblet in hand.
‘Greetings, people of Thezmarr,’ he said, his voice projecting to the far corners of the Great Hall.
‘First, thank you for hosting myself and my household in your wondrous fortress. After the events that transpired at the ruins of Delmira last week, both myself and my fellow rulers of the midrealms felt it was important to show our gratitude and unity in a tangible way. I am here as a representative of not only my kingdom, Harenth, but Tver and Aveum as well. The feast we have tonight is to honour the great work you do here and across the lands to protect us and our people.’
He paused a moment, allowing his words to settle over the hall.
‘Last week, the midrealms experienced a furious assault, an assault that threatened the very fabric of the peace we have worked so hard for. But our warriors of Thezmarr, our Warswords, liberated our lands from the darkness. Tonight we celebrate that liberation.’
Thea shifted in her seat, feeling a tightness in her gut.
Around her, several others were fidgeting as well.
Again she tried to search the tables for her friends, wishing they were at her sides to exchange glances with.
She couldn’t see her sister’s bronze top knot either, the hall was simply too full.
‘Of course, we wish to honour those who lost their lives,’ the king was saying, his voice sombre.
He listed the six names one by one. Thea’s hand clenched around her goblet and she couldn’t help but look to the giant swords where only days ago they had carved their comrade’s name.
Who else’s name would she see marked there before she met her own end?
King Artos raised his drink. ‘To the fallen!’ he called.
‘To the fallen!’ the hall echoed back, raising their own goblets and tankards and drinking deeply.
The king, however, was not finished. ‘The events at Delmira and the loss of such promising warriors have forced our hand,’ he told them.
At those words, Thea’s skin prickled and she watched as the unease washed across her cohort. She sought Hawthorne’s gaze again, but he didn’t look at her. His eyes were on the king.
King Artos addressed Osiris. ‘Guild Master, shall I share the news?’
Osiris stiffened in his seat and Thea got the impression that sharing whatever news it was had not been the original plan. But the Guild Master had no choice but to clasp his fingers together on the table and nod.
King Artos cleared his throat again. ‘I shall stay on in Thezmarr for another week. Due to the looming threat of these creatures from beyond the veil and the darkening days, your Guild Master, along with the rulers of the midrealms have agreed that we need more warriors in our midst… Which is why we have decided that the pending shieldbearer initiation test shall be moved up.’
There was an audible gasp from all around Thea, whereas Thea herself wasn’t actually sure the air was reaching her lungs.
Moved up? She twisted in her seat again. Where in the realms were Cal and Kipp?
‘The trial will take place in two days’ time.’
The hall erupted.