Chapter Eight #2
Adreona halted them as they reached a wall of natural stone at the base of the mountain.
The avenue made a sudden turn there, cut into the rock, and climbed upward toward the next terrace of the city, but the Amazons turned in the other direction toward a plain but commanding building that stood like a fortress among the smaller structures around it.
Its lower floors had no windows, but loopholes in the upper stories would offer archers a full view of the street below, as would the merlons and crenels running along the top of the tower.
“That has all the markings of a garrison,” Lorath said. “Or a prison.”
“Both,” Adreona said.
The escort prodded Tyrael and the others through the front gate of the fortress, which opened tall and wide enough to admit a column of mounted soldiers.
They entered a long courtyard with stables for horses and training rings for Amazon warriors.
Columns and doorways lined the walls to either side of the parade ground, but Adreona led them right down the middle toward a keep at the far end.
They passed fighters practicing with spears, javelins, and bows so intently that many failed to notice the captives in their midst. Those who did gave the party little more than a dismissive glance.
Tyrael admired the martial skill and discipline on display, having always thought the Horadrim would benefit greatly from Amazon members in their order.
They reached the keep, and upon entering it, Adreona showed them down several narrow corridors into a large stone chamber with a single barred window high in the wall.
Somewhat surprisingly, the room had been furnished with a few rugs, a table with chairs, several beds, and unlit candles.
In one corner, there was a chamber pot, and a long stone basin nearby held fresh water, fed and drained in a constant trickle by way of channels through the rock.
Tyrael recognized the engineering as a Firstborn innovation.
“I trust you will be comfortable here,” Adreona said as the Amazon escort removed the bindings from their hands. “Food will be brought to you shortly.”
“I admit,” Donan said, rubbing his wrists, “this lodging is better than I was expecting.”
“You haven’t yet been found guilty of a crime,” she said. “You are confined as a precaution, not a punishment.”
“Why confine us at all?” Lorath asked. “You can’t really suspect us of piracy, can you?”
“We take no chances with outsiders,” she said.
“You were found in Atanos, where decent and law-abiding folk don’t typically venture.
And then you claimed to have a petition you wish to put before our queen.
You can’t really believe we would allow strangers before her without questioning them first, can you? ”
Tyrael could sense that Lorath’s temper had been roused, so he interjected before the man lost control of it. “We understand. You are fulfilling your duty. We will try to be patient, though our mission is pressing.”
“I don’t doubt that. But your mission isn’t my mission.” Adreona turned and marched toward the door. “Welcome to Skovos,” she said as she left the chamber, and then a key could be heard turning in the lock.
A moment went by, and then Tyrael took a seat at the table.
Donan did the same, and Keldon fell onto his back in one of the beds, boots propped on the footboard.
Lorath paced around the room. Tyrael worried about the change he had witnessed in him following Malthael’s culling.
He had hoped Lorath’s rage would fade with time, but, alarmingly, it had only deepened.
“This city is…orderly,” Lorath said, seemingly as much to himself as to the rest of them. “It’s peaceful. As if Malthael’s reapers passed the Askari by.”
“I do not believe that is so,” Tyrael said.
“It is orderly, yes, but did you fail to notice the empty houses? The streets in need of mending? The food rationing? This city should be bustling but has lost much of its populace. The air is heavy with the same grief I have felt elsewhere.” He looked over his shoulder toward the door.
“Our welcome here speaks to a state of fear and suspicion. The Askari were always an insular people, but they behave as if their islands are under siege.”
“In a storm, you batten the hatches,” said Keldon from the bed.
Donan nodded. “Perhaps that is the price of order.”
“Perhaps,” Lorath said.
Tyrael had expected a challenging reception in Skovos, especially after everything the Harbormaster had said, but he had not anticipated captivity.
The Arabel ’s forced detour into the waters of Atanos had certainly complicated their cause, but what they had witnessed there suggested a possible reason for the mistrust. The Drowned had attacked with overwhelming numbers.
If the undead army had grown that large and they had taken over Atanos, then all Skovos could be threatened.
That would place the Amazons of neighboring Athulua on the front lines, defending against an invasion.
It seemed the Horadrim had arrived in Skovos during a time of war.
But perhaps that could be turned to their advantage.
“We must respect their laws and customs,” Tyrael said. “If we are to pursue our purpose here, we will need their trust. We should look for ways to earn it.”
“And I’d like them to earn ours,” said Lorath.
A short while later, the door opened, and two Amazon warriors entered with trays of food, escorted by two more armed guards.
“Eat,” one of them said as they placed the trays on the table, and they left without saying anything more.
The trays held the bounty of Skovos that had been absent in the market: grilled brown snapper with crispy blackened skin, soft bread, butter, olives, tomatoes, fruit, and wine.
Lorath picked up an apple and tossed it in the air before taking a bite. “Reminds me of the Harbormaster’s table back in Kingsport.”
Keldon laughed. “You don’t believe her trade with Skovos is legitimate, do you?”
Donan picked up the wine bottle. “Adreona did mention smugglers.” Then he pointed at a stamp on the glass in the shape of a trident, the same as the marking on the bottle back in Kingsport.
“I suggest we all eat,” Tyrael said. “We would not want to appear ungrateful.”
Hunger was one of the many mortal experiences to which Tyrael had learned to adjust, though he could still be caught off guard at times by just how hungry he had become without noticing.
He ate an entire fish himself, along with bread, apples, and everything else the trays had to offer.
It seemed the others were hungry too, because they managed to clear the table in minutes.
With full bellies, they each claimed a bed and rested, though none of them removed their armor or slept.
As the day wore on, the light through the window faded to a red square of sunset against the opposite wall, until that too was gone, and then the chamber descended into a twilight blue.
Donan used his flint to light the candles, which offered a warm glow against the night.
He sat at the table, bent in study over the book he had purchased.
Tyrael felt glad that the young man had something to occupy his active, curious mind.
Eventually, they blew out the candles, and while the others drifted off to sleep, Tyrael did not.
Sleep was a mortal need he had yet to master.
His mind was simply not accustomed to it, and he often ignored or defied the bodily signs he received from his limbs, lying awake in contemplation.
That was why he was still up when the door opened suddenly later that night and a woman strode in, accompanied by three Amazons.
She carried a lantern and moved with authority, her chin held high, her thick silver hair falling loose about her shoulders; her guards wore silken tabards clasped with heavy medallions and helmets that suggested a higher rank than the warriors they’d previously encountered.
Lorath and the others woke in startlement at the intrusion and leapt from their beds, ready to fight with their bare hands. The woman appeared to feel no threat from them as she marched to the table and set down her lantern, illuminating the room.
“I am Captain Myrina,” she said, “leader of the Askarra Guard and chief advisor to Queen Etara.” Unlike Adreona’s efficient, battle-worn armor, Myrina’s appeared unblemished, gilded, almost ceremonial.
Tyrael rose from his bed. “We are honored to meet you, Captain Myrina. I am Faysal, and with me are—”
“I know your names,” she said, looking him over as she spoke, seemingly fixated on his armor. “So, it’s true.”
“What is true?” asked Tyrael.
Myrina began to circle around him with calm, confident strides, and Tyrael could feel her eyes studying him. Despite his discomfort, he held his ground, eyes forward, trying to appear unconcerned, resisting the urge to turn and face her.
“Here in Skovos,” she said, “we are surrounded by the remnants of ancient days. We are quite familiar with the appearance of angelic armor, though only its semblance carved in stone. I have never beheld a man wearing it in the flesh.”
“It is…uncommon,” he admitted.
“How did you acquire it?”
“He is uncommon,” answered Lorath.
The captain glanced back and forth between them. “And what brings such uncommon company to Skovos? You don’t look like pirates or smugglers. So, what are you? Treasure-seekers? Mercenaries?”
“We are scholars,” Donan answered.
Myrina raised a skeptical eyebrow in the younger man’s direction. “Scholars?”
“Of a kind,” Tyrael answered. “We bring a petition for the queen.”
“A petition?” Myrina stepped a bit closer to Tyrael, still keeping a wary distance while looking directly up into his eyes. In hers, he saw pride and layer upon layer of deception.
“On whose authority do you bring it?” she asked.
“By our own authority,” he answered. “Does the queen not hear the petitions of the people?”
“But you are not of our people,” answered Myrina. “What is the nature of your petition?”
Tyrael now took a step toward her, a calculated provocation that roused her guards to ready their weapons, but she held up her fist to belay them.
“I mean no disrespect to your rank, Captain,” he said, “but we will only present our petition to your queen.”
The wrinkles around Myrina’s brown eyes twitched, and he could almost see her mind working, calculating, strategizing. “Very well,” she said at last. “I am satisfied you pose no immediate threat to the queen, aside from wasting her time. You will have an audience in the morning.”
With that, she pivoted away from Tyrael and spoke to the others. “My apologies for disturbing your sleep.”
Then she marched from the room, and one of her guards grabbed the lantern from the table before they followed her out the door, locking it behind them.
“Well, that was odd,” Donan spoke into the darkness.
“You ask me,” Keldon said, “she came with a question she never asked. But I think she got her answer all the same.”
“Do you think she knows who we are?” Donan asked.
“I don’t know,” said Lorath. “But I do know that if we’re picking captains, I prefer Adreona. This Myrina is obviously more politician than soldier.”
Tyrael agreed with that assessment, though he could only guess at Myrina’s hidden agenda.
Whatever her aim, the presence of the Horadrim in Skovos had unsettled her enough to bring her to their cell in the middle of the night.
Tyrael was sure now that his decision to hide their true identities had been wise.