SILENCE BEFORE THE STORM

Start from the beginning
                                    

"Best get this over with," he muttered before he was rapping sharply at the door with his sharp knuckles. The sound echoed off the stone walls. They waited. Andrew raised his hand and was about to bang on it when it was pulled open. His palm connected with the nose of a man about a head shorter than Lysander, dark eyes beneath bushy eyebrows and a face that seemed chiselled out of rock. Thomas started apologising immediately.

- Of course, it was Thomas who would apologise, Lysander thought - while Andrew seemed on the verge of letting loose the laughter that had become stuck in his throat despite their host's intimidating presence. Lysander glared at him and the younger boy sobered a bit. Lysander turned back around.

"I'll let that insolence go for once," the man said, turning to Lysander and extending a hand. "Ian Donovan."

"Sander Parth," Lysander couldn't help the icy note escape into his words. It was in his blood. "My companions, Asoth Hal -" he jerked his head to Thomas before making a similar gesture for Andrew "- Frient Jos."

Donovan moved aside to let them into his dull-lit chamber, adorned with wooden boards and maps; strings of red thread ran across the boards, supported by nails dug halfway into the wood. A map lay open on a desk in the middle of the room.

Lysander at once recognized it at once as that of Falargimea. He traced the eastern border, heading up North to the Bathran range and scowled. The Golanda Valley was covered in a cluster of dots. Now, he knew what village the two guards at the Mead had been discussing; Kapok.

Bitterness settled into his stomach as the meaning crashed over him. How long was Harfen going to associate himself with the Vakhor to get rid of his enemies? A quarter of Falargimea had already been lost to the Vakhor clutches. And anyhow, why had he decided to attack the valley?

"Settle down," Donovan moved into the chair behind the desk, giving Lysander a curious glance. "What do you know about Falargimea's current state?" None of the three answered as they settled down on the couch facing the desk. "I want to know so I understand how much I'll need to explain to you."

Lysander leaned forward on his knees, fingers crossed under his chin as he answered, "We know Harfen has attacked the Northern valley and three of his convicts in the Mead have escaped right under his nose. He has ordered the assassination of the VannØrn on sight or at least their capture."

He ended by leaning back in his seat. There was not much he could tell the man in front of him. Donovan arched a brow at him, affronted and he mirrored the action. For a few moments, they remained silent, staring down at each other. If he was going to work with Donovan for the next few months, he wanted the man to understand that he was not someone to be walked over like a rugged floor mat.

"Why would three healthy gentlemen with well-established lives want to join a rebellion against the king?" Donovan's voice was soft, mocking.

Lysander clenched his palms; neither their figures nor their clothes gave any indication that they were healthy gentlemen with well-established lives. His tunic was patched up in various places, to the extent that it resembled a poorly assembled quilt and his breeches hung loosely around his sunk stomach. He suppressed his urge to growl at the man in front of him. Thomas took charge of the situation and Lysander turned to face him.

"We escaped the attack on Gurdam," Thomas said, his face devoid of emotion. "Losing all that you've ever worked for gives you the guts to go against a tyrant, no matter how strong the tyrant is and what forces he has at his side."

Donovan seemed bored. "And how much are you willing to give for this cause?"

"Our lives," Andrew replied. He had been staring at their host with an uncharacteristic chill throughout the course of their interaction; Lysander suppressed a smile.

Donovan flicked his hand. The map on his table rolled shut with a snap. Lysander merely looked on, unfazed. Donovan seemed impressed.

"My men have been keeping an eye on you lot."

The words froze the three. Lysander tried to keep a level head despite the buzzing in his head.

"Then you'll know where our loyalties lie," he gritted out.

The silence that followed was heavy with tension and for a moment, Lysander was afraid their host would attack them or would turn out to be one of Harfen's bloodied men, ready to subdue them and hand them back to the empire. He called on his Draedech, prepared to lash out; he was not going back to being a rat under Harfen, even if it meant revealing the secret he had almost died to keep all through captivity. He was tired of running away from his problems. It was time he faced them head-on; he owed that to everyone who had tried to keep him safe through all the years and helped him grow up. They did not deserve their memory to be humbled by his cowardice.

The silence stretched out till "My men are to go on a mission soon. You shall join them and prove your worth. Do as my commanding officer tells you to. You put a toe out of line, and you find yourselves with the dog's work."

Lysander had to stop himself from sagging into the couch in relief.

.·:*¨༻ ༺¨*:·.
I hope you enjoyed!!

 I hope you enjoyed!!

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The Halo Of Vakh (BOOK 1)Where stories live. Discover now