Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
T hey knew they had no chance of saving Jarryn once he was in the clutches of Nevari and beyond the borders of Desanne.
The time they had lost in Leander’s efforts to get back to the city of Saeren and find Verin were not completely wasted: as Verin had already explained, they had always had eyes on Leander given how important (and potentially dangerous) he was.
This meant that they had already been aware of Jarryn’s capture. In his wisdom, Verin had had the mercenaries who had taken Jarryn followed. He had a good idea of where Jarryn was—Verin’s trackers were the best in the country.
It meant that, mere days later, Leander found himself hiding atop a hill, looking down upon a temporary, but well-built and heavily manned, campsite located a few miles east of the small town of Xelvarn in Eamore.
He wondered what, if any, deals Nevari had with Eamore’s government to allow him to operate his military force within their borders.
He wondered if Nevari had bothered to ask, rash as he had become, driven close to insanity by his need to bring his brother to his knees.
Given the distance travelled, and time taken to get to Saeren and back, Leander estimated that Nevari had not moved since capturing his brother.
The audacity was astounding: a message to all of Vyrica that he would not be cowed.
“Jarryn is down there,” Verin announced confidently from his prone position beside Leander. “I can sense him.”
“Is he injured?” Leander asked quietly.
“I do not know the prince well. I am not as well attuned to him,” Verin answered, frowning. He glanced at his younger brother. “What of you? Does the bond tell you anything?”
Leander shook his head. “I don’t understand how it works. We did not have long to... experiment. Not that Jarryn would ever want to take advantage of me like that.”
“Of course,” Venser muttered from Verin’s other side. “The superior moral integrity of Prince Jarryn Eleinium. We should all bow and scrape when presented to him.”
Leander bristled. “You would do well?—”
“Enough.” Verin hissed, bringing an end to his siblings’ squabbling before it could even begin. “Let’s go back and report what we know to the others.”
The three brothers crawled some way down the hill before standing and hastening in their retreat to the waiting group of rescuers.
“Well?” Cade, one of Jarryn’s last remaining guards had proven himself to be the most anxious of their crew.
He had thrown himself into this rescue mission with gusto, but he was also the most vocal when it came to questioning the ideas and strategies of the Saerian members of the group. “Is he there?”
“Yes,” Verin replied with a small smile of triumph. “He’s definitely there. And so, I think, is his brother.”
“Nevari? Then they have won.” Cade all but wailed in despair.
“No they haven’t.” Composed as ever, Verin rested a hand on Cade’s shoulder, instantly calming Cade’s mind.
Venser nodded in agreement. “It adds an exciting challenge: there is no harm in the termination of mercenaries. It is a different beast entirely to do battle with the political quagmire of Saerian soldiers attacking Desanne’s King while in the lands of Eamore.”
“Exciting? Not the word I would use, brother,” Leander murmured, secretly proud of himself for keeping his anger in check after the sheer number of times Venser had displayed his callous indifference when considering the wellbeing of Jarryn.
This was nothing more than a job to Venser and Verin. To Leander, however, this meant his life. He needed Jarryn to breathe, to survive.
“Venser raises a valid point, though, regardless of how he phrased it. We cannot go in with swords raised high and kill anyone we come across. Our planning no longer applies. Think, people. We need a new plan, and fast,” Verin intoned, looking around at each of his chosen, elite men.
Leander stepped forward. “We don’t have time for this. Now Nevari has him, I don’t think he will wait to return to Eslirie to put Jarryn on trial. He will just execute him, such is his anger.”
“What would you know of Nevari? You’ve never even laid eyes on the man,” Cade asked viciously. “I am sure the usurper king wishes for a public trial an execution. That will be his final victory, the final message across all the world that the throne is his.”
Leander shared a quick glance with Verin and, instead of admitting the truth, he said, “I just know the type.”
Cade seemed like he didn’t want to accept this: but far be it for him to question the knowledge and wisdom of a god.
“What do you want to do then, Leander?” Verin asked softly.
“Send me in.” He spoke without deliberation. It just seemed like the most realistic solution.
Venser barked out a laugh. “You are powerless and have no combat experience. You’ll be killed in minutes.”
“But you just said yourself that this cannot be a combative mission. Political nightmare, remember?”
Venser begrudgingly nodded after a pause.
“I am not politically linked to Saeren. There will be no backlash if I go in alone, whether I succeed or... not. You lose nothing.”
“Except a brother,” muttered Verin.
“And you’ll both be happier for it, no doubt.”
“Don’t joke about this, Leo.”
Leander swallowed and bowed his head. When he looked up to meet Verin’s pale blue gaze, he was anything but jesting. “Work it out for yourself, Verin. This is the most viable option. ”
From his position, over Verin’s shoulder, Venser nodded, a small smile on his expression that Leander thought might even indicate pride.
Verin started speaking to other members of their group, evidently looking for other options. A few of them provided suggestions but they were half-baked and, in Leander’s limited experience with strategies, doomed to fail.
“Verin, please,” he whispered his words, but everyone fell silent anyway. “I can do this. I have to do this. My mess, remember? Just let me try.”
They stared at each other, Leander bobbing his head, his expression steely.
The Talius scion sighed. “Okay, we do it your way, Leander.”
A grin of triumph flashed across Leander’s face before he remembered what he was supposed to be triumphant about. The smile was replaced with serious and grim determination.
“How do you want to do this, then?” Verin asked as the group, at Verin’s hand signal, started to disperse, leaving only the three brothers.
Leander shook his head. “I was thinking I would just walk into the camp and request an audience with Nevari,” he explained simply.
Verin stared. “Come again?”
“No, no, he might be on to a good plan here,” Venser interjected.
“No, it’s a ridiculous plan, and you know it.”
“He has divinity on his side, even if it’s just the chance to meet him, Nevari is a pious man, far more pious than Jarryn. He will not have Leander killed without at least speaking to him.”
“Exactly,” Leander agreed, bolstered by his brother’s support.
“Gods protect you in this folly, Leander. Because we certainly can’t,” Verin said finally after much watchful deliberation.
“I’ll be fine.”
“You’d better be.”
“Right, I have a vague plan,” Venser said, and the three bowed heads to discuss and agree on various eventualities and their individual roles in this ill-fated rescue mission.
They concocted a plan to enter the enemy’s haphazard camp, leveraging each of their unique skills and expertise.
Venser, with his knowledge of the land as well as military prowess, mapped out the best route for Leander to take, while Verin, an expert in diplomacy, provided a quick and disorganised attempt at schooling Leander on what to say.
Fuelled by determination, Leander didn’t need weeks of preparation to be ready. He was a master of deception, and knew this was an all or nothing mission with any number of possible outcomes, only one of which was favourable. He had to succeed.
With their combined efforts, the three brothers crafted a daring scheme that held the promise of succeeding against all odds.
“Once you locate Jarryn, have him send a signal using Aesthesia, Venser will sense it, and we will arrange an extraction. Yes?”
Leander nodded his understanding.
“And remember, the key to infiltration is confidence. Act like you belong there. You are the son of a goddess, don’t forget that,” Venser added softly.
“Everything you know as a divine being, even if you don’t have your powers now, led you to this moment.
You have skills of deceit and deception, put that silver tongue to good use and it will see you right.
Nevari will want to meet you and once you have gotten your audience, do not let him cowl you—he is a king, but he is young and inexperienced…
and you know better than anyone how susceptible he is to your suggestion. ”
He nodded. “Okay.”
“And once you are with Nevari, you’ll need to use your charisma and persuasion to convince him to release Jarryn,” Venser continued.
“Just be cautious, Leander. We don’t want to escalate this situation any further.
” Venser, who was nodding in agreement, added.
The twins’ minds connected and they spoke as if their very existence was all about cohesion.
“Remember, your words carry weight, even if you are no longer a demigod. Use those words to your advantage.”
“I understand.” Leander’s expression was something fierce to behold. “But if he doesn’t listen to reason, I will do whatever it takes.”
Venser opened his mouth, possibly to argue that they were trying to avoid whatever it takes , but he thought better of it.
“Are you ready?”
“No,” Leander uttered. “But I’m never going to be prepared for this.”
“Remember, your demigod status means you have a duty to protect those who cannot defend themselves. Dare I say it, Prince Jarryn currently falls into that category and he will die without your assistance.”
“I won’t fail him, Verin.”
“Together, we will pull off the impossible.”
The two smiled at each other, a restorative look that gave them both strength in this time of desperate measures.
“Well, we’d better not waste any more time. If you’re doing this, we’d best get on with it.” Venser had never been one for inaction. When he wanted something done, he wanted it done yesterday.
Nodding his agreement, Leander smoothed down his clothes. Whilst not in his finest wear, he still wore the colours of the Talius family, indicating his status as a noble. That should get him into the camp initially and his name should put him in front of Nevari.
“I’ll be back. We’ll be back.”
With one final, brave smile, Leander left his brothers. He would find Jarryn, and bring him back, once he had faced Nevari.
“Halt in the name of the King!”
Leander did not stop walking as he approached King Nevari’s pop up camp in Eamore’s land. Perhaps, he thought for a moment, there was an agreement between the two countries, one Vyrica was not privileged enough to share in.
“We said—halt!”
“There’s someone here who is dying to meet me. I am here to see your king,” Leander called out when he was close enough not to have to shout. His Desannian was a little rusty after months of not using it, but his accent was pure and there would be no misunderstandings. “He will want to see me.”
“Oh really? A wastrel such as yourself has business with His Majesty? I think not, little rat. Get away with you.”
Leander supposed that, after days on the road with no option to clean properly—for he had set a demanding pace that his twin brothers had no choice but to follow—he did look a bit like a street urchin.
Even the brocade waistcoat was damaged and barely recognisable, with the blues and silvers of his house being lost to days of grit and dirt.
He would forgive the guards for making such an assumption.
“I’m quite serious, gentlemen.”
“Ohoo, look at this little rat, gentlemen indeed. Quite polite for vermin. I’m not sure it would be right to spear such a courteous little thing without hearing him out,” one of the men said, an insipid smile playing on his lips as he waved Leander forward to speak with them more intimately.
“Go on then, little rat. Tell me why His Majesty would like to see you.”
“Because I’m the property of Jarryn Eleinium,” he said simply with a shrug. “I’m the nephew of King Caisa. I’m the son of the Myracle, Leía. Take your pick.”
The guards took a step back, expressions aghast, as if they had realised how they had spoken to a demigod, horrified at the notion of offending someone like him. And then realisation set in… property of the prince, how had the mighty fallen into disgrace, a little rat indeed .
Yet, they couldn’t send him away.
Leander watched the cogs turn in their mind as they both reached the conclusion he knew they would: that Nevari would very much agree with Leander’s first statement. He would, indeed, like to set eyes on Leander.
“Come with us,” one of the guards said gruffly, taking Leander’s arm.
Whilst he didn’t think he was a captive yet, this felt very much like being frog-marched, humiliation and all, as soldiers from around the camp came to inspect the disturbance as rumours began to spread of a demigod within their midst.