Chapter Five- To Truly Know Thy Enemy
For the first time since arriving in Netherhelm, I am summoned directly to Prince Aleksander.
The oldest and most ruthless of the Shadowfall siblings rarely has anything to say to the knights of his court.
Instead, he leads legions of soldiers to the Wastelands as a never-ending war rages on.
Of course, I have fought beside him, but there was hardly any need for conversation.
Instead, I was left privy to his war cries, strategy demands, and sleazy way of staying hidden behind his army.
Therefore, I ignore Elm’s concern about my summoning.
“Did you ensure Briar and her family made it out of the kingdom?” I ask.
“Yes, discreetly, as you asked,” Elm sighs. “Can I know why yet?”
“It’s complicated.”
As far as the other knights were concerned, the two guards took advantage of Briar and died. Then her family sought to make a home in the kingdom of fire magic. Elm changes the subject anyway.
“Any more whisperings of the Black Lanterns? The Pyro Brigade?” Elm asks.
I shake my head ‘no.’ The Black Lanterns are smart, a clandestine rebel faction formed in response to King Dreven’s increasingly authoritarian rule.
As the crown enforces mandatory tax hikes, saturates the villages with armed patrols, and metes out harsh punishments to anyone who dares speak against him, the people have turned to the Lanterns.
It certainly doesn’t help that some shadow figure—who I know to be the Executioner Prince—has been killing anyone rumored to be part of the rebel group.
Still, the Black Lanterns have recruited a high number of bodies to their cause, sabotaged a number of weapon shipments for the war, and even created an underground network for stealing supplies.
Their resistance is a quiet sort of scattered one that has proven hard to dismantle.
Not that I’ve tried especially hard when sent on those assignments.
The Black Lanterns are known for leaving their signature black-flamed lamps in places the King wants kept silent or dark; they’ve become both a symbol of hope for the oppressed and a whispered nightmare for the royal guard.
Rumors say that the Lanterns are responsible for starting fights amongst guards, disappearances of knights , and the burnings of weapon stockpiles. .
In contrast , the Pyro Brigade is loud and reckless.
They end up publicly executed in higher numbers because of their brazenness.
Their anger is more concentrated, making them sloppy.
Their signature is burning down structures with people inside, innocent or not.
They just aim to cause as much mayhem as possible to disrupt the order in the kingdom.
Elm speaks and drags me out of my thoughts.“The last two knights the Prince of War summoned were sent to their death.”
“He’s not executing knights,” I sigh as I strap on the thin chainmail collar around my throat.
“No, I mean he’s up to something that he wishes to keep quiet. I think it’s something dangerous.” Elmerov pulls his hair back in a tight braid. “I think Reese knows about it.”
I narrow my eyes.
“Do you think Reese gave Aleksander my name for the task?”
“Yes,” he swallows and I know it’s what he’s been trying to tell me.
Reese is hoping I don’t return from whatever it is that Prince Aleksander is sending the knights into. It’s not surprising that he wants me gone; maybe then he’ll be considered the best warrior in the knighthood.
“I’ll be fine,” I reassure Elmerov. "Someone’s gotta kick your ass in the training ring,” I smile. He visibly relaxes and claps me on the back.
“I’ll hold you to that,” he promises.
Elmerov was one of the first people I trusted within the knighthood, back when stepping into its ranks felt like a quiet betrayal of everything I had been.
Like sliding back into shed snakeskin. He had a way of loosening the tension in my chest, with a humor that never pressed too hard, only enough to remind me I could still breathe.
I could still smile. His optimism was relentless, bloody irritating at times.
But he worried over me with a softness I hadn’t realized I needed.
Our friendship didn’t arrive all at once; it unfolded in the spaces between—shared drinks in dim taverns, tending to wounds while chaos ensued around us, the silence before a River Dragon’s attack, the easy understanding that neither of us needed to pretend.
We didn’t pretend to love what we did, we just did it.
We served this kingdom because that’s what we swore to do.
Somewhere along the way, without ceremony or notice, we clicked together. We simply fit.
He leaves me in the armory with more weapons adorning the walls around me than can be seen anywhere else in one place.
Aleksander asked for light armor, not full, so I’m sporting a small bit of chainmail as well as the sleek form-fitting steel plates that were made for me.
The mirror shows me a familiar image: darkness in my eyes and my jet black hair.
Green flecks the dark irises; the color coming from the snake venom I’ve ingested since birth.
I push my fingers through the wavy strands of my hair and opt for a warrior’s helmet, leaving my face open.
Black swirling steel adorns the head, a long nose-like piece jutting from the center of the helmet and down the bridge of my nose, casting my eyes in shadow.
After the second time I had my nose broken, it was essential to add to my armor.
It’s my most cherished possession, handmade for me, and has been with me for over a dozen battles, countless beast slayings, and one very interesting accidental killing of a pickpocket who decided to try his luck on a Royal Knight.
I mull over the reason Prince Aleksander could be summoning me to the Enchanted Tree Garden as midnight approaches.
Moonling trees yawn and stretch over the onyx cobblestone wall.
It seems they wish to greet me but their attention is on whatever is happening below.
They are stripped of their leaves as fall prepares for the unforgiving winter.
The beauty of the trees at this point in the year is in their vulnerability, something that should be cherished.
I note the strange scent in the air, a mixture of copper and dirt.
The Enchanted Tree Garden is lacking its usual sentries, causing me to tense; something is wrong.
Only the royals are allowed inside, it’s one of the strictest rules of the palace.
Above the massive stone wall, I can see color rising from the tree branches.
They are like limbs, moving on their own and casting hues of red and purple into the sky.
They don’t answer to the wind or the elements around them, they are entirely autonomous.
Nothing about me being summoned here is right.
Still, I palm the sword on my belt and proceed through the archway.
My carefully trained senses are on high alert, my magic reaching out to sense what I’m about to walk into beyond the massive tree line. I’m met with the unmistakable taste of agony. A gift and a curse from my serpentine magic. This quickens my steps and hardens my resolve. Someone is in pain.
As I hurry through the trees, the branches reach out to slow me, an eerie shushing sounds in the wind. What the fuck?
My boots skid to a halt in the gravel below me as my mind tries to catch up with what my body already knows. Prince Aleksander is killing someone in the Enchanted Tree Garden. For fuck’s sake. Isn’t one Executioner Prince enough?
Only…
“What is the meaning of this!” I demand, rounding around the last tree and rushing to the body that is a heap on the ground.
Prince Thorne Shadowfall’s arms are restrained by chains to the trees above him, but he’s collapsed. It’s the blood though… so much blood pouring from the opened flesh on his back.
Thorne was asleep hours ago! How could I have missed this?
His spinal column is exposed, tendrils of muscle reaching out to return to the earth at his feet.
Aleksander stops me. “Stand down!”
I remember myself and turn from Thorne who is wholly unresponsive.
I sense his heartbeat though, my magic feeling the weak fluttering thing in his wrist. His body has given up stitching itself back together as he’s expended all of his energy.
And is that… I look harder to the chain around his neck and see that it is suspended to the trees above him.
Aleksander snaps his fingers and the tree branches move, hoisting Thorne up like a marionette. Vines crawl around his ankles and extend his legs outward. His arms and neck are pulled up and out. A weak groan escapes him as more blood gushes from the muscles flayed in his back.
“Why am I here?” I ask Prince Aleksander.
Why does this sicken me? Thorne is my target, I’m meant to kill him. If his brother decides to do it, that just makes my job easier. So why do I want to rip Aleksander’s head off?
“You are to take care of this,” he gestures at Thorne as if he had no hand in creating said issue.
“Why—”
“I’m sorry. Did I give you the impression that you could speak?” Aleksander presses his face against mine threateningly.
I swear I see blood in his teeth. Titans bleed me.
“You are going to get him down and back to his bed chambers. You are going to ensure that no one knows of this. If you refuse, I’ll kill you now. If you betray me by mentioning this, I’ll behead you before the rest of the knights,” he vows.
I swallow hard. To be beheaded in front of the knighthood is to strip your name of honor and glory, both in life and death. I can’t decide whether or not I care about that in such a crooked kingdom. However, I do have a vested interest in my head staying firmly in place.