Chapter 39
We shift to the outskirts of town to allow ourselves a moment of privacy before addressing the kingdom.
The Kingdom of Andorwood is quiet as the shadows dominate the sun’s midday glow.
The dark buildings tower over us, and I move closer to Silas as the thick air swirls around me.
The salty sea breeze mists our faces, and I hear footsteps in the distance as we make our way through the back roads.
The oppressive black castle looms over us, its tall points shooting into the sky like jagged teeth.
A dense fog begins to roll in as we make our way close to town, and an unsettling feeling washes over me.
I glance in all directions—searching for signs of life beyond Silas, Fenmore, and Aerona—but the haze filling the air blurs my vision.
The weight of my axes feels familiar on my back, and the clink of metal echoes around us.
It was Silas’s idea for me to bring my axes—he mentioned earlier that the more prepared we are, the better.
Fen had argued that it conveyed a negative sentiment, but Aerona had the final say, determining that we all should be armed.
I didn’t disagree and felt thankful that I could have something of my own to protect us if needed.
I look toward Fen, who moves calmly. It’s obvious that she has done this countless times, so even though this is a significant announcement, it’s nothing new to her.
A sword rests across her back, and she is dressed in tight clothes, perfect for running or fighting if needed.
Aerona stays close to her children, but her eyes are always forward, never worrying about what lurks in each dark alleyway.
She wears a jeweled dagger at her waist, and I realize this is the first time I’ve seen her armed.
Silas’s face is like stone, and he also keeps his gaze fixed ahead.
He grasps my hand, pulling me closer to his side, as we move together.
He wears his familiar armor, but he stands taller and exudes power as we move closer with each step.
Without glancing in my direction, he whispers, “Keep your eyes forward. It isn’t our business what hides in the alleys. I wouldn’t want you to witness something you’d regret.”
“Alright,” I respond.
Silas leans down as we continue to walk. “Larkin and Warrick are close by. They will remain hidden and cloaked, but they’re watching in case someone should try anything.”
Nerves envelop me, and I turn my gaze to the road ahead. Even with Larkin and Warrick watching our backs, I can’t shake the feeling of unease. We move forward as a unified force, silently heading toward the heart of what appears to be an abandoned kingdom.
We near the end of the street, and Aerona stops, turning to face us. “I will go first, should anything or anyone come forward. Fenmore will come forward next, followed by you two.”
We all nod and move around the corner, the street opening up into a vast space filled with people and various vendors.
Even in the open, the air feels dark and thick, filled with a mix of defiance and chaos that hangs heavy around us.
Smoke permeates the air from cooking fires and the dimly lit torches that illuminate the center.
Hushed voices echo around us, and even though people wander while shopping, everyone moves with a purpose—to get what they need and then get out.
I attempt to study the faces we pass by, but most of the civilians are cloaked, and their faces are barely visible.
I try to spot Larkin and Warrick in the crowd, but I fail—everyone looks the same in the crowd.
Although I feel as if thousands of eyes are upon us, most keep to themselves and their daily shopping, while others slightly raise their heads as we pass.
They all separate and huff as we pass by, giving us space to walk toward the center of the square.
I can’t help but think my presence causes their disdain.
I hesitate, but I look toward the alleyways to find numerous cloaked figures staying back, shielded by the smog, dust, and darkness that the narrow entrance offers.
As the last few people part, allowing us to step into the center of town, the color drains from my face.
Before us sits a wooden platform, built so that the crowd has visibility to whatever is happening on the stage.
Stains of old blood and various other liquids taint the ground, and worn ropes line the platform.
I glance at Silas, and his expression remains the same—focused, steady, and unafraid—though I know he feels my stare.
His jawline tenses slightly as he realizes I know exactly what this platform was used for.
Before me is the place where Silas—among many others—would fight for his life publicly. Royalty or not, Silas was humiliated here—he was made a man here—and now, he will declare his reign in the place that nearly broke him.
Aerona steps onto the platform first, giving the people the chance to stop what they are doing and give her their full attention.
A silence sweeps across the crowd, and a chill runs through me.
Everyone’s cloaked faces slowly turn toward us as Fen hops onto the platform next.
Her swift movement is graceful, her long black hair flowing in the wind, and she smiles, but nothing in her eyes shows kindness.
Silas turns to me, his jaw tight, and extends his hand to help me step onto the platform.
I follow his lead and try to step onto the wooden surface.
I place one foot on the step and begin to move when a large hand wraps around my shoulder, stopping me.
The action catches me off guard, causing me to stumble backward a few steps away from Silas’s grip, nearly crashing to the ground.
Before I have time to react, Silas lunges forward with his sword drawn, pointing at the man’s throat.
“Get your fucking hand off her,” Silas’s voice booms through the square.
The crowd grows quiet, and everyone steps back. The old man’s voice whispers in my ear, and he doesn’t release my shoulder—as if this is the only time he has to speak to me.
“Your Majesty,” the old man’s voice trembles. “Don’t let your guard down. They are closer than you think.”
I study the old man’s face, aged by time and hardships.
“What do you mean?” I whisper back.
The sword remains poised at his throat, but Silas’s startled rage dissolves as he permits the man to keep speaking. The crowd hangs back, and Fen widens her stance, utterly aware of the situation unfolding.
“Th…the creatures,” the man stutters.
I angle my head, and Silas lowers his sword. “What do you know about the ship?”
The old man narrows his eyes. “Your Majesty, I’m not sure what ship you are referring to.”
“But you said creatures. Which creatures, then?” I ask.
Aerona’s voice shouts above us, “Enough!”
The man jolts.
Silas leans close enough to whisper in the man’s ear. “There are better ways to get our attention. Next time, I suggest speaking to us privately instead of nearly knocking down the Queen of Daramveer in such a public space.”
“I’m sorry,” the old man rasps.
Silas’s eyes dart to the crowd and back to the man. “Go and hide before things get bad here. Take your loved ones.”
“Bad, Your Highness?”
I watch Silas, and he speaks gently to the old man. “Protect yourself. Go to the mountains. Trust me.”
I grab Silas’s arm, and the man nods, backing into the whispering crowd. I watch his figure disappear into a sea of cloaked civilians, and fear bubbles up into my chest.
If he wasn’t talking about the ship, what did he mean?
I move back toward Silas and hop onto the platform, shaking the old man’s words from my mind.
I join Fen and Aerona, turning to face the crowd.
Their eyes shift to me, and I give them a reassuring nod.
Silas follows me, hopping onto the platform with a warrior’s grace.
Even though this isn’t much higher than the ground, I feel miles above those standing below, and a wave of nausea hits me as I stare at the cloaked figures.
Hushed whispers move through the crowd, and I hear grumbles of curses flowing in our direction—my direction.
Silas steps forward with his sword still drawn, facing the people of Andorwood.
Many figures before us remove their hoods, and I study their faces.
Shadow and Lumor Wielders stand in front of us, each looking unique except for their hair color.
Rebels, criminals, and travelers fill the crowd, and I know that everyone before us came to Andorwood with a common goal—to start a new life in a kingdom that had hope.
I can only pray that one day faith can be restored.
Children, adults, and elderly Wielders stand before us, and even though looks of caution, concern, and hatred shine back at me, I’m filled with anticipation that they will unite to help us defeat a common enemy.
Silas wastes no time. “Andorwood!” His deep voice carries through the crowd. “I stand before you today to announce change, hope, and a new future free of fear, doubt, and hiding.”
The crowd falls deathly quiet and still. I stand beside Silas, in awe of his steadiness and his ability to speak before an audience. The last time I declared something to a crowd, I almost spilled my guts in front of everyone. Anxiety fills me, and I will my hands to steady themselves at my sides.
“Malachi is gone,” Silas shouts.
Hushed whispers fill the crowd, and Fen steps forward, shushing them. Her presence commands attention, causing them to quiet once more.
“He fled, abandoning Andorwood without a second thought. Your king has left, and he won’t be returning,” Silas continues, stepping closer to the crowd.
“Malachi lied to you all. He ruled this domain with fear by haunting us in the shadows of this kingdom and our minds. He tormented and tortured all…” He pauses. “Myself included.”
Someone from the crowd shouts, “Good fucking riddance.”