Kingdom's Vice Series: Journey to Alleria ( #1 2014) #Wattys2015

Chapter Twenty-Five

Amidst our wedding plans, flower selections, and scent choices, dark rumours circulate around the kingdom like a plague. The news is ill. The news concerns my brother—the man I knew as my brother since I was a child anyway. The Wind had cast this news to the King and to Faeore through her vision. I awoke to the sound of her screams last night. She sobbed violently for hours while her Father and Duhamas tried to sooth her with ancient chants and lullabies.

The only words I remembered hearing were: Destroy. Enslave. Besiege.

Three words that only meant one thing was coming our way: war.

‘Why is it that everyone seems to fear this Redermarke The Ruthless?’ Alec asks as he fashions me yet another crown of flowers; lavenders this time, entwined with daisies. ‘He was a scrawny little kid when I knew him. He was Kennah’s resident rat!’ he laughs to himself.

I sigh, ‘He was different when you knew him, before my mother stole him. She took him to the one place he could learn how to fight.’ I say, ‘And he was taught by the best. We both were.’

‘The Master Swordsman?’

I turn to him and stop his fiddling hands for a moment, ‘How much do you know about The Swordsman?’ I ask him worriedly.

He pulls his hands back, ‘Need to know basis. Nothing specific. Just that he’s killed a thousand men with the same sword and his armour hasn’t been pierced or polished once in all the years of combat. He’s untouchable.’

I nod, turning back to face the fields, ‘Sounds about right,’

‘Don’t worry,’ he tells me, leaning down to kiss my cheek, ‘Nothing good can come from worry.’

I smile and kiss his cheek, ‘I know, but sometimes worry deceives us into believing we can control the uncontrollable.’

He smiles back and stares into the sunset, ‘One of life’s tricks we have to unveil. We just have to see through it, Skaya. Worry only makes fools out of great people, destined for great things.’

I can’t argue with that. He has a way with words, you know. He can make even the coldest insult sound like the sweetest thing in the world. If his words were edible, I’d eat them till I couldn’t stomach anymore.

‘A nugget of wisdom,’ I laugh, twirling a daisy in between my fingers, casually picking off the petals one by one.

He laughs, ‘Oh yes! They just come to me, like moths to a flame!’

I hear a voice behind us, a familiar one.

‘Skaya,’

I spin around to see Faeore standing there in a green robe, swirling patterns of vines embroidered on the fabric. I’ve never seen an Allerian wear green before.  She clasps her hands in front of her, as she waits for me to come to her. I frown when I see the scar above her left eye; not a deep wound, but badly bruised. It’s got a purple tinge to it, which makes me think she must’ve knocked her head during her nightmares.

I scramble to my feet and hand my daisy to Alec, who seems to enjoy the scent of the flowers here, since he brings it to his nose and inhales it.

‘What is it?’ I ask Faeore, as she eyes Alec intently from afar. She leans in closer to me when she speaks and grabs my hand and brings it to her side.

‘The Wind speaks,’ she says, ‘I’ll news on an ill day.’

I shake my head, ‘Faeore, please. Uncle has already doubled the watch on the shores and on the fortress lines. We’re safe.’

She shakes her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘Take Faranel,’ she says to me, her eyes burning with the pleading that is laced in her voice, ‘ride him through the western skies, for great destruction lies below!’

I hold onto her hand to steady her, ‘Faeore, what are you—’

Before I can utter another word, Duhamas races forward and seizes her with both arms, dragging her gently away, back to the castle. My mouth still moves, but no words come out as I watch the couple leave in silence. Then I remember that Alec is waiting for me in the fields. I turn around to find him already on his feet, the plucked daisy still in his hand.

‘What is it, Skaya? What did she want?’ he asks me.

I dare not answer him.

What if he tries to stop me from taking Faranel?

What if he tries to leave Alleria?

What if...

~.~.~.~

I never thought I’d be afraid of flying, but I am. The wind swirls around us from all directions, whipping my hair about my face, scratching against Alec’s cheeks. I sit behind him on Faranel, my arms wrapped around his waist as he controls the reins.

‘You can look down!’ he yells over the howling wind, ‘It’s quite a sight!’

I squint, peek a little at the tiny little dot that was once my home. Something inside me lights up when I see the old Ivory Tower.

‘There’s the Ivory Tower!’ I note, pointing at it enthusiastically as Alec follows my finger.

He nods, ‘Ah! Yes, the Ivory Tower, the Tower of Kings! A grand hall I’d assume.’

I laugh, ‘Yes, quite grand indeed! But, nothing compared to Alleria!’

He chuckles, ‘No, maybe not!’

The feeling of the wind whistling through my hair is a sensation I never had the luxury of experiencing back in Bardhelm. It was more about what you had in the flesh: objects, trinkets, clothes, and gems—than the things you found in life that could not be bought in any currency. Thinking of home sparks the unavoidable, undeniable—inevitable question.

‘Do you think they miss us?’ I ask Alec, leaning into him, resting my head on his shoulder.

He doesn’t answer at first, he just stares straight ahead into the distance, where nothing can be seen but clouds.

‘I don’t know,’ he replies.

I feel the breath get sucked out of him when Faranel suddenly stops mid-gallop. We’re just floating in the air, hovering above the Sardille Mines when a choking sound comes from Alec’s throat. He’s not choking, I soon realize; he is weeping.

I look down and see the dark grey blanket of smoke rising up to us. The smell of it overrides all of the wonderful scents of Alleria and chokes us. Faranel whinnies and prepares to flee when I see the fires raging below. I see streaks of golden armour and silver swords clashing against blue stones. I see war. The golden armour is reserved for the best warriors of Bardhelm—The Knighthood.

Kennah is burning.

‘Don’t look,’ I tell Alec in the most strong, unshaken voice I can conjure.

He still stares at it in shock. Tears leave a trail along his cheeks, a trail that eventually leads to his lips. I pat Faranel’s side gently. ‘Araroth, Faranel!’ I command him. Faranel obeys and turns to the path that leads us back to Alleria.

So, the rumours are true. Kennah is undone. Bardhelm has been it’s undoing.

What will become of Alleria remains unknown, but not for long, for I sense Faeore will know before anyone else does.