The following is an original work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book/story are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Chapter 2
Nestled in the forest amongst the safety of seldomly traveled roads sat a quaint cabin. A small vegetable garden at the back, hand crafted curtains in the windows, an ax propped against an old stone well. The prospect of the happiness the place could have fostered burned its image into his brain.
Flames began waving out the front window as the blaze inside blossomed. Heat licked up the captain’s skin as sweat dampened his scalp underneath his moon-white hair tied at the nape of his neck. Drops rolling down his temples only to get caught in the day’s growth along his clenched jaw.
Horse hooves distantly sounded on the far side of the cabin, fleeing. He was the only one around with hearing strong enough to know the only other witnesses to the absolute truth were not perishing within the cabin as intended.
It did very little to lessen the guilt building in his chest causing enough pressure to threaten the steady pounding of his heart.
How the fuck did he get here? All his planning. All the hard work he had done over the centuries and he still ended up here. Committing the worse offense he could imagine. And for what? He had no idea. That was privileged information.
What was done was done and irreparable.
The small bundle in his arm shifted. One more witness, the catalyst. Strong light-colored eyes watched him without making a sound. Not that it would be heard over the sound of the fiery destruction before them. The roof collapsing sent embers flying up into the air.
Next to him, his mare shifted with unease as heat intensified around them. Shuffling back and forth showing her discomfort. Reminding him that there was an urgency to their task and they should have already been heading back toward the castle.
He couldn’t leave. Not just yet.
Raising his free hand, the captain did something else he despised. Digging into himself, pulling from the rarely tapped well of power within, he formed a thin barrier of cool air between them and the flames. A new layer of sweat popped up on his forehead. It had been too long since he wielded. It was taking more concentration than it should. Especially since he made one of the two men that had accompanied him light the fire using rune magic instead of just reaching out and doing it himself.
With a heavy sigh, taking the horse’s reigns in his hand, the captain took a few reluctant steps back. Allowing one moment more. Granting one more wall to fall. Stalling for as much time as possible to ensuring the horses and their passengers hastily moving through the trees, away from the castle, away from Eitiris, had the best chance.
The light forest breeze changed directions billowing smoke toward the captain and his anxious horse, parting as it met his fabricated shield that was quickly dissipating.
Squinting his silver eyes, pulling the bundle wrapped with a mother’s love closer to his chest. There was no cry as he mounted his horse. No displeasure as he settled into the saddle.
Gripping the reigns in his hand, taking one last look at the decision to seal his fate before guiding his horse back toward Eitiris, the king, and more destruction.
Turning his back, silently sending out a prayer to Idun for forgiveness — or a swift death of his own.
Tugging on the reigns as they approached the small, obscured doorway sequestered in a far corner of the castle, slowing to a stop. Tossing her head up and down, the mare let her opinion of the day’s events be known — again.
“I know, me too, girl,” muttered the captain under his breath.
Immediately a tall man in long purple robes emerged from the door. Instinctively upon seeing the man, the captain pulled the bundle closer to his chest, protecting the babe within. Of all the people in Eitiris, this was the last man that should ever be in possession of the vulnerable.
“Captain Salvotiis,” Minister Khayin greeted, his robes trailing behind as he stepped into the morning light.
A short balding man dressed in the simple brown robes of the Healers followed in Minister Khayin’s wake. The captain’s shoulders relaxed minutely. Handing the baby over to the Healer was preferable to the snake in purple. Not that any of this was desirable by any measure.
“Your men are already with the king. Have been for some time,” relayed Minister Khayin with an accusatory reproach.
“I rode cautiously,” the captain stated nodding to the bundle in his arms. Not that he owed that man any explanation—ever. “I’m sure you can understand how riding through the streets of Eitiris with a screaming babe at this hour might draw some unwanted attention.”
“Indeed,” Minister Khayin uttered suspiciously.
Dismounting, Captain Salvotiis’ attention remained on the baby still clasped tightly to his chest. Her light eyes had remained on his face the entire time. Never uttering a sound. Even now, she watched silently. He estimated she was very small for her nearly ten weeks. Still, he hoped the healers would not discern the age discrepancy of one so young.
The moment she landed in the gentle arms of the Healer, her face finally showed some emotion by contorting with displeasure. Her small pink chin wobbled. Still, the captain heard nothing above a faint whimper as they retreated through the doorway and out of sight.
“What is to be done with her?”
The words were out of his mouth before he could even finish thinking them. Fisting his hands at the loss of control, the captain held his breath while Khayin looked him over before answering.
“She will be assessed and handed to her nurse to be prepared,” Khayin answered slowly.
“Prepared?” What in the gods’ names was wrong with him? Khayin had every right to look at him the way he was. What business did the Captain of the Guard have with a nameless baby? For all intents and purposes, his involvement ended the moment he handed her over.
Well, she wasn’t exactly nameless. She had been named. Thank the gods he was able to keep that knowledge to himself for the moment.
“Yes, prepared to be presented to her mother,” Khayin drew out slowly, hands folded behind his back. Captain Salvotiis hated when the man stood like that. As if he hadn’t appeared pompous enough with his beady rodent-like eyes. The posture made his chest puff out and his pointy chin nearly pierce the sky. Wafting arrogance, Minister Khayin followed the Healers and babe.
Without another word, the captain patted his horse and gave her a gentle smack to the hindquarter. Knowing she would find her own way back to the stables as she always had. It was time to perform for the king.
Stepping up to the door into the king’s personal study, the smell of smoke still lingered on his uniform and hair. The captain’s insides were a tangle of anticipation and culpability. From the sound of it, the two guards that had accompanied him were at the tail end of their tale. A rendition that was ultimately insignificant. The aftermath and the captain’s word would be proof enough.
Not that the guards were chosen for their merit. The pair had never shown much promise past an extra body to fill the ranks. More importantly, no family to explain away their absence.
Taking a moment before entering, swallowing hard, Captain Salvotiis forced the acid burning the back of his throat to retreat. Dealing with King Aesiri never caused him anything beyond the simple annoyance royals evoked in those close to them.
Killing never bothered the captain. War had taken care of any lingering lamentations in that area. Today was different as it left him floating in new territory.
Stepping through the door, King Aesiri was seated behind his desk with a blatant air of disinterest. Yet he allowed the guards to prattle on as if they were regaling the end of the Caedum.
Interest piqued behind the king’s eyes as he caught sight of his captain.
“Finally.” The king’s voice boomed interrupting the two young guards. “I expected you to proceed your men, Captain Salvotiis,” accused the king.
Your men. These two were not the Dreche, just low, unranked guards. He may have been Captain of the Guard, but they were all ultimately the king’s pawns to do with as he pleased. Unlike the Dreche.
Aesiri wanted to make certain it was understood where responsibility was being placed.
“Ensuring there were no loose ends, Your Majesty,” he offered taking a knee in front of the large wooden desk. Just like his throne, it was almost comically sized claiming the majority of the space.
“Rise.” Waiting until his captain stood tall, Aesiri eyed all three before speaking again. “It has been done as discussed?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” confirmed the captain. He could just see the two guards nod enthusiastically in his periphery.
“See that it is finished,” Aesiri said with a dip of his head. Confirmation, an order, and dismissal all in one minute gesture.
Bowing at the waist, Captain Salvotiis turned toward the door. His two guards following without a word.
Walking down the hall, heading toward a room only three doors down. Footsteps echoed bleakly against the dark stone floor. Each heavy step laced with purpose and regret.
Leading his two accomplices into his office, the captain held the door open for them. Shutting it and dipping into his well for the second time that day to render the room soundproof.
Two times. More than he usually wielded in a month, and it was still only morning. Not a great start.
Hands clenched as he walked around his two guards and stood in front of his own modestly, sized desk.
Usually he would begin by stating the guards’ name and possibly rank. He refused to learn their names and there was no rank worth mentioning.
Captain Finneck Salvotiis hesitated. Not something he did often if ever.
Folding his hands behind his back, not wanting to prolong the inevitable. He immediately cringed inwardly as he imagined himself appearing as self-important as Minister Khayin felt in his current posture. But it was the only way to conceal what was to come. And he was not, under any circumstances, using his power again that day, or even month, if he could help it.
“You performed well today, men,” the captain began. “I assume I don’t need to remind you of the importance of your discretion regarding the day’s events.” They both shook their heads emphatically, mumbling their confirmation. “Good. You two have lived up to my and the king’s expectations.”
The guards’ faces beamed with pride. Captain Salvotiis loathed and relished that feeling. The swell in his own pride as he praised his guard was an innate feeling that had never bothered him until this moment. The anguish was what he relished in. He deserved nothing less. The two before him deserved so much more.
Approaching the young guards, close enough to smell the tea they drank that morning through the thick layer of smoke clinging to them.
Hands clenched into a white-knuckled grip behind his back.
“From both the king and myself, we thank you for your service,” the captain stated as he stepped into them. Both gasping as daggers made of shifran were thrust up under their ribcage and into their hearts.
Painless, Captain Salvotiis thought as he pulled his blood-soaked blades from his guards. Their bodies falling heavily to the floor.
Without thought, using his power to open the door only steps before approaching, pretending he could ignore the ease with which he was now wielding compared to a few hours ago.
“Make sure that’s taken care of,” the captain barked at First Officer Sursem without slowing his steps. “Don’t be late. We leave for Nasbith before lunch. There’s much to prepare there,” he threw over his shoulder.
There was so much he had to do in the next few days before returning. Yet another event he could not miss — he promised.
