Chapter 44
“You should try to sleep.” Robin’s voice came from somewhere inside the green cloak she had wrapped around herself like a blanket. She was sitting on the floor near the small open fireplace of the monk’s hut.
Ian looked down at her, standing as he was to ease the numbness in his muscles.
He had been sitting for several hours. But the attempt at sleep had been futile.
He kept his ears alert to every sound that rolled in with the wind and crashing waves, hoping to hear the general’s approach.
Waiting was difficult enough. Not knowing if the general would even come at all made it endlessly painful.
“We have a long few days ahead of us,” Robin said. “We need to be as rested as possible.”
Ian knew she was right. The Majis ships would approach at dawn.
He lifted his hands into the air, stretching out his whole body before he dropped to the floor beside Robin again.
At least they had the luxury of a fire in the small hut, unlike the cold camp where the others waited.
“I will try,” he said, leaning his head back against the stone wall.
Ian closed his eyes. He trusted Zimri. But he also did not want to be caught in a small building with no way out if the old general had decided not to trust him.
The sharp hoot of an owl sounded from outside the hut. Ulli.
Ian was instantly on his feet, Robin beside him. For the first time in several hours, his body felt calm. The waiting was over.
Moments later, the wooden door of the cottage eased open and the familiar face of the old general peeked through.
“Zimri,” Ian said. He turned to the side so that the light from the fire would illuminate his own face, making him appear less hostile.
Zimri looked inside the small hut, but before he stepped inside, he turned to speak to someone behind him.
“It is safe. Wait here.” Stepping inside, he closed the door behind him.
“I have four men outside with instructions to let no one out of this hut alive should anything happen.” His lined face softened into a smile.
“Although I do not think it will come to that.”
Ian stepped forward, extending his right hand. “Thank you for coming.”
Zimri grabbed his forearm in a tight clasp.
“I am glad to see you are uninjured after the other day.” He released Ian’s arm, his face stern.
“I do not know what game you play—and I am here expecting some answers.” He looked around Ian to Robin, who was standing cloaked and tense against the wall.
“But I also do not want to see you dead.”
“I am here to provide answers,” Ian said. “But first, have you any news of my father?”
Zimri’s smile fell. “There has been no change.”
Although it was the answer he was expecting, Ian tried to ignore the tightness that gripped his chest. “Come, let us talk as quickly as we can. Has there been any change in the formation of the armies on the shore tomorrow?”
Zimri crossed his arms, tilting his head back as a flash of suspicion crossed his face. “That is information I would have readily shared with you a few days ago, my prince, but after the attack—” He looked at Robin again. “I will need you to provide some of those answers first.”
As quickly and concisely as he could, Ian explained the truth behind the Majis and the multi-generational deception that the kings of Chendas had employed to keep their power intact.
Zimri listened, his arms crossed and his face passive, never leaving his place next to the door as he was prepared to flee at any moment.
“We—” Ian paused, having noted Zimri’s distrust of Robin.
He reworded the beginning of his statement.
“I believe that when the ships attack, the Iseldis soldiers will be caught in a trap, stuck between the enslaved armies from the ships and the chaos wielders of Gareth’s own soldiers behind you. It will be a full-scale slaughter.”
Zimri shook his head, a scoff on his face. “That is not possible. Gareth cannot attack our men publicly. It would ruin him.”
“If our men all end up dead, who is to know?” Ian responded. “The closest village was turned out when the monastery was.”
“You are mistaken, my prince,” Zimri said.
He looked at Robin again, the distrust on his face obvious.
“I have been working side by side with General Gautho for months, now. He has shown me time and again that he is committed to the safety of Iseldis. He and his men could be protecting themselves in the fortress of Chendas, yet they are here on the front lines, fighting for us and with us.”
“It is a trap,” Ian said, stepping forward.
Though he had expected this outcome, his panic grew as he realized this conversation would not save the lives of his men.
“Gautho was a key instrument in the plot to kill Erich. He cannot be trusted. I beg of you, General, for the love of Iseldis. For the love of my father. Retreat with your men back to the castle. Do not order them to stand the line tomorrow.”
Zimri’s face was cold. “No. For the love of Iseldis, and for the love of your father, I cannot abandon my post. Even if there is some truth to your words, I have spent my life preparing for the Return. I have spent my life preparing for the fight that we will fight tomorrow. Even if I die, I will do it standing at my post. Unlike you.”
Ian exhaled, defeated. “Protect yourself, General. Do not die heedlessly tomorrow.”
“Also for the love of your father,” Zimri said, opening the door, “I will leave you here unharmed tonight.” He looked at Robin.
“Though I doubt Lady Lockwood would have let me leave unscathed.” He looked back to Ian.
“The words you have spoken tonight are treason. And I cannot make that promise next time you are in my sight.”
Ian nodded. He wanted to thank his old mentor for coming to the hut at all, but he had no pride left to save, and he could not let go of one last chance to save his men. “I beg you to reconsider, General,” he pleaded.
Zimri did not even acknowledge Ian’s words as he stepped out of the door into the darkness.
Ian stared at the open door. If he ran after the old man and bested him, perhaps he could insert himself as the leader of the Iseldan army in the morning and order them as their prince to stand down.
But Zimri’s reaction was telling as the outcome of that wild thought. While the soldiers of Iseldis were loyal to the royal family, they were also loyal to their kingdom and driven by fear. The same narrative had shaped them all, and a wild, discredited prince would have no sway over them.
He felt Robin step up next to him, the slight pressure of her arm against his. “It was good of you to try,” she said. “But it looks like this fight is up to us, now. As it always has been.” She walked forward and stepped through the doorway into the darkness.